Silence.
Neither of us spoke.
I remained standing tens of kilometers away, my gaze locked onto the hidden dimension concealed within the leader's shadow.
The seven black panthers had not moved.
Nyxaroth remained silent.
None of them seemed aware of what I was witnessing.
Or perhaps...
They already knew.
Within that hidden world, the colossal white dragon gazed back at me, its silver-purple eyes carrying the weight of countless ages.
It did not blink.
Neither did I.
For what felt like an eternity, we simply observed one another.
Then—
The dragon smiled.
"So..."
Its voice echoed directly inside my consciousness, ancient yet calm, carrying neither hostility nor joy.
"...the eyes have awakened."
My pupils narrowed.
"You know this technique?"
A low chuckle reverberated through the hidden space.
"Know it?"
The dragon tilted its enormous head ever so slightly.
"I watched it become known as a technique."
I frowned.
His words were strange.
Become known?
Wasn't Seraphim created as a technique?
The dragon seemed to read my thoughts.
"No."
Its answer came immediately.
"It was never created as one."
My expression changed.
The dragon continued before I could interrupt.
"You mortals gave it that name."
"Technique."
"Art."
"Ability."
"Weapon."
"It is none of those."
A brief silence followed.
"To the ones who first possessed it..."
"...it was simply the way they saw existence."
The hidden dimension grew quieter.
Even time itself felt slower.
"The beings you know today as the Aeons never cultivated Seraphim."
"They never trained it."
"They never learned it."
"It was as natural to them as breathing."
The dragon's eyes drifted upward, as though looking toward memories beyond imagination.
"Their sight pierced truth."
"They perceived the flow of Authority."
"They observed the Laws that bound creation."
"They looked beyond matter."
"Beyond energy."
"Beyond dimensions."
"They saw existence itself."
Every word caused Seraphim to resonate faintly within my eyes.
The sensation was strange.
Almost nostalgic.
"As for why..."
The dragon smiled faintly.
"...because that was simply how they were born."
I remained silent.
The dragon continued.
"The Aeons are unlike any race you know."
"They are neither beasts."
"Nor gods."
"Nor spirits."
"They were born from the Universe's own Will."
"Living incarnations created to preserve balance."
"They exist beyond ordinary dimensions."
"Watching."
"Maintaining."
"Correcting."
"They intervene only when the balance of existence is threatened."
His tone held no worship.
Only familiarity.
"As children..."
"They already possessed what countless civilizations would later call impossible."
"They did not seek enlightenment."
"They were born enlightened."
"They did not cultivate perception."
"They were perception."
I slowly absorbed every word.
The dragon laughed softly.
"You look disappointed."
"I expected something more..."
I admitted.
He nodded.
"Most do."
"They imagine secret manuals."
"Hidden inheritances."
"Ancient rituals."
"But the truth is often simpler."
"What is natural for one race..."
"...becomes an impossible dream for another."
Silence settled once more.
Then the dragon spoke again.
"It did not remain hidden forever."
"The Aeons never intended to conceal it."
"They believed that if understanding could be shared..."
"...then perhaps others could walk the same path."
"So they taught."
"They demonstrated."
"They explained."
"They even simplified."
"They believed all life could eventually comprehend their vision."
The dragon slowly closed his eyes.
"They were wrong."
I frowned.
"Not because mortals lacked talent."
"But because they misunderstood one fundamental truth."
His silver-purple eyes opened again.
"A technique is never merely movement."
"It is perspective."
"It is understanding."
"It is how its creator experiences existence."
The words struck me harder than expected.
He continued.
"Every technique..."
"...is the world seen through its creator's eyes."
The sentence echoed inside my mind.
The dragon smiled.
"To master another's technique completely..."
"...is to slowly become them."
"...to think as they think."
"...to perceive as they perceive."
"...to abandon your own path."
Silence.
"That..."
"...is why no mortal ever reached one hundred percent."
I instinctively lowered my gaze.
Because somehow...
I understood.
No matter how perfect a copy became...
It remained a copy.
The dragon nodded.
"The greatest geniuses in every era came close."
"They reproduced movements."
"They recreated perception."
"They imitated understanding."
"But imitation..."
"...is not identity."
A deep sigh escaped him.
"So generation after generation failed."
"Civilizations rose."
"Civilizations disappeared."
"Empires flourished."
"Empires crumbled."
"But Seraphim remained beyond reach."
"An impossible summit."
The hidden dimension trembled faintly.
"Even those rare individuals capable of comprehending fragments..."
"...never exceeded a fraction of its true nature."
"They celebrated reaching one percent."
"When in truth..."
"They had barely touched its shadow."
I remained quiet.
My thoughts became heavier.
One percent...
And yet Seraphim already surpassed Prime Instinct to an absurd degree.
How terrifying had its original state been?
The dragon answered before I voiced the question.
"Far beyond imagination."
His eyes softened.
"But the Universe could not wait for miracles."
"The Breach had already begun."
My expression sharpened.
"The Breach?"
The dragon nodded slowly.
"The Neraphyx Breach."
"The collision between realities."
"The corruption spreading from another existence."
"The Aeons fought."
"They always fought."
"They always restored balance."
"But one truth became painfully clear."
"They were too few."
The dragon's voice carried genuine sorrow now.
"They could not stand everywhere."
"They could not protect everyone."
"They needed allies."
"They needed those born beneath them to survive long enough to fight beside them."
"So..."
"They changed their approach."
"If mortals could not inherit Seraphim..."
"...then Seraphim would inspire something they could."
I listened intently.
"The greatest minds from countless civilizations gathered."
"They abandoned perfection."
"They pursued possibility."
"They studied fragments."
"They analyzed failures."
"They accepted limitation."
Then—
The dragon smiled.
"And from those countless failures..."
"...Prime Instinct was born."
Silence.
"It was never meant to rival Seraphim."
"It was never meant to replace it."
"It was created to allow ordinary beings..."
"...to survive."
His gaze met mine once more.
"And by mortal standards..."
"It became one of the greatest techniques ever created."
The dragon paused.
Then shook his head gently.
"But compared to Seraphim..."
A faint smile appeared.
"It remained little more than a child's first step."
I stood frozen.
The world I thought I understood...
Had just become infinitely larger.