c16: The Eye of a Moment
"The Eye of a Moment"
The silver-haired boy sat quietly on the edge of the narrow bed in the dim chamber. His pale purple eyes suddenly deepened, revealing within them a faint and intricate pattern, something like a six-pointed star magic circle slowly forming in the depths of his pupils. The pattern rotated faintly, radiating a pale golden glow that seemed almost unnatural, like the mysterious power whispered about in old Valyrian legends.
Reflected in the silver-plated round mirror before him, the boy's eyes emitted that faint golden light, and his entire demeanor shifted abruptly. The restless, calculating look that usually lingered there faded, replaced by a cold stillness, silent and distant, as if the young dragon-blooded prince had suddenly become someone else entirely.
Within his field of vision, everything around him slowed.
The dust drifting lazily through the slanted sunlight from the narrow window moved like falling snow trapped in amber. The faint flutter of the curtain stirred as slowly as a banner hanging over the walls of the Red Keep on a windless day. Even his own breathing became deliberate and heavy, his chest rising and falling as though time itself had thickened like syrup.
His hand lifted slowly in front of his face, trembling slightly in shock as he watched every tiny movement with unnatural clarity.
Then
His brain felt as though it had been struck by a heavy hammer.
Thud
The boy collapsed heavily onto the wooden floor.
Viserys sat there for a moment, breathing hard, his silver hair falling across his face as he clutched his head in pain.
"Damn it…"
The strange world before him shattered instantly.
The faint six-pointed star pattern vanished from his pupils, the golden glow fading as quickly as it had appeared. The cold, distant demeanor disappeared as well, leaving only a tired boy with tears streaming from eyes that now throbbed with needle-like pain.
His pupils burned, forcing him to shut them tightly.
His mind ached as though it had been stretched too far.
However, in that single instant brief as the flash of dragonfire he had seen far more than he ever thought possible.
Time had not truly stopped, yet it had felt as though the world itself had paused before him. Every motion, every flicker of dust or breath, had unfolded slowly under his gaze, as if the realm of men had been forced to obey his sight.
"It hurts…"
Viserys finally managed to crawl back onto the edge of the bed, covering his eyes with both hands. Tears still slipped through his fingers as his breathing gradually steadied. It took a long time before the pounding inside his skull began to fade.
But by then, he already understood.
He knew what ability had awakened when his Moon Attribute reached twenty.
It was a rare form of dynamic vision something that reminded him of the impossible clarity described in ancient Valyrian scrolls, the kind of perception that great dragonlords were rumored to possess when guiding their dragons through war above the Seven Kingdoms.
To him, it resembled the legendary "bullet time."
Everything around him appeared to slow down.
"This ability… is very useful."
Almost immediately, Viserys grasped the advantages such a power could give him.
In dangerous situations, it would allow him precious extra moments to react, to observe details others would miss, to judge the movement of an opponent or the path of a blade. A mistake that might kill another man could become an opportunity for him. In an evenly matched fight, even a heartbeat of advantage could decide life or death.
And his Moon Attribute reaching twenty meant more than this single ability.
His mental strength had already grown far beyond that of ordinary people. His memory had sharpened until it bordered on photographic recall. Conversations, faces, even pages of books could remain etched clearly in his mind, as if carved into stone.
In truth, the ability of the Instantaneous Eye did not truly slow time itself.
Rather, his mind processed information at an astonishing speed. In the first glance, his brain instinctively reconstructed the opponent's movement, predicting the next motion before it even finished. What appeared to him as slowed movement was actually the result of his own heightened perception.
Others were not slower.
He had simply become faster.
For a moment, excitement flickered across Viserys's face.
But the smile vanished almost as quickly as it appeared.
He inhaled slowly and forced his mind to calm, remembering how fragile his current position still was.
"The road ahead is long."
After all, this was a world filled with mysterious and strange powers. In the histories of the Seven Kingdoms recorded by the maesters of the Citadel in Oldtown, there were countless references to sorcery, dragons, and prophecies. The very fact that he had been reborn here from another world occupying the body of the young prince Viserys Targaryen was already a miracle beyond reason.
And not just any prince.
He now carried the blood of the ancient Valyrian dragonlords, the same bloodline that had once produced kings like Aegon I Targaryen, the Conqueror who united the Seven Kingdoms with dragonfire, and his own elder brother, the tragic prince Rhaegar Targaryen, whose shadow still lingered over their house.
So much so that other strange things had gradually become less shocking to him.
Furthermore, Viserys kept one secret carefully hidden.
He had never told anyone that he could see the drifting black mist.
Not the castle servants, not the maester, and certainly not Sir William.
Since learning that the strange black mist could strengthen his body and perhaps even nourish his soul his attitude toward it had changed completely. What he once treated with curiosity now demanded caution and restraint.
After all, in a world where shadowbinders from distant Asshai were rumored to practice dark sorcery, and where the red priests of Volantis spoke of visions in flame, mysterious powers were rarely harmless.
"Next time, I can try practicing repeatedly and controlling the intensity of releasing this ability."
After resting for a while, Viserys's eyes had mostly recovered. The stabbing pain behind his pupils had faded, leaving only a faint soreness.
But he did not immediately attempt to activate the Momentary Eye ability again.
He had learned caution.
Repeated experiments within a short period might damage his eyesight. Even in this world of swords and dragons, he did not wish to spend his life squinting like an old maester reading scrolls by candlelight.
In his previous life, he had worn glasses.
He had no intention of repeating that inconvenience here.
However, as he carefully recalled what had happened earlier, Viserys realized something important. When he first activated the ability, he had released all of its power at once.
Now he understood that he could try to restrain it deliberately.
"That might not slow the world as much… but it would extend the duration."
"And the backlash wouldn't be so strong."
At least, his eyes would not tear uncontrollably like before.
Viserys fell into silent thought.
In truth, he was exploring an unknown road alone. There were no teachers for such abilities, no ancient manuals hidden in the castle library.
Even the scholars of the Citadel would likely dismiss such things as superstition.
Everything depended on his own guesses, experiments, and deductions.
…
A few days later.
The expected bad news finally arrived.
A black raven, bearing a sealed message from the continent of Westeros, had flown across the sea by resting aboard several trading ships before finally reaching the volcanic island fortress of Dragonstone.
The cunning bird conserved its strength carefully during the long journey.
Only when the dark towers of Dragonstone came into view did it finally spread its wings again, flapping upward toward the highest part of the fortress.
It landed on the top of the Sea Dragon Tower a tall, black stone structure carved in the shape of a coiled dragon facing the sea, one of the many strange Valyrian constructions that dominated the castle.
The stairways within the tower were narrow and winding.
Below the raven cages at the summit were the chambers used by the castle's maesters. Because Prince Rhaegar Targaryen rarely concerned himself with the daily management of Dragonstone before the great war that would later be remembered as Robert's Rebellion, the tower was usually quiet.
Only Maester Daniel lived there now.
With a sudden flap
The raven landed.
Tiny silver bells attached to silk threads near the cage jingled softly.
Hearing the sound, Maester Daniel slowly climbed the spiral stairs from below. The elderly man's steps were careful and trembling as he reached the top.
He removed the letter tied to the raven's leg.
At first he only glanced at it casually.
But the moment he read the contents clearly, his expression changed drastically.
His hands trembled.
Grabbing the cold stone handrail, he hurried down the narrow staircase as quickly as his old legs allowed, heading toward the gardens near the Dragontail Gate where the young prince usually trained.
Meanwhile
Viserys was practicing swordsmanship in Aegon's Garden.
The garden had been named centuries ago in honor of Aegon the Conqueror, whose fortress Dragonstone had once been before the Targaryens seized the throne of the Seven Kingdoms.
"Thrust!"
"Slash!"
Sir William stood nearby, giving instructions.
Though the knight had been seriously injured not long ago, thick bandages were still wrapped around his ribs beneath his tunic. Even so, he had already recovered enough to stand and walk.
He positioned himself beneath the shade of a twisted black tree, carefully observing the boy's movements.
"Keep your wrist steady."
"Again."
Following the middle-aged knight's instructions, Viserys practiced diligently.
He swung the longsword again and again with careful precision. Because of his still small frame, the blade looked almost like a two-handed greatsword in his grip.
The boy held the hilt tightly with both hands.
His movements were slightly awkward due to the weapon's weight, but he persisted in correcting each posture, striving for perfect form just as Sir William had taught him.
Sweat ran down his forehead.
His boots dug into the soft grass.
Sir William watched quietly.
The seasoned knight's face remained pale from his recent wounds, but his sharp eyes never left the young prince.
Though his expression stayed calm, a flicker of surprise appeared in his gaze.
"This child… how did he do that?"
He clearly remembered the first day he placed a sword into the boy's hands.
At that time, Viserys had struggled even to lift it properly.
Yet now—
The young prince wielded it with growing confidence.
"Could Viserys truly possess talent comparable to his brother?"
Sir William could not help recalling Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.
In his youth, Rhaegar had been one of the most gifted warriors he had ever seen, capable of mastering nearly any weapon with frightening speed. Knights across the Seven Kingdoms had praised the prince's skill long before the tragic battles that would later end the Targaryen dynasty.
Yet Viserys's astonishing rate of improvement made Sir William wonder if his earlier casual praise had somehow become prophecy.
Even Viserys's height seemed to have increased slightly.
Perhaps only a few centimeters but the knight could not be certain whether it was real or simply his imagination.
The boy remained slender.
His long silver hair reached his shoulders, shining like pale moonlight beneath the sun. His youthful face still carried the softness of childhood.
And yet
Sir William always felt something different now.
A strange maturity seemed to be quietly growing within the young prince.
Especially in those pale purple eyes, bright and clear like polished amethysts.
Every time Viserys turned his gaze toward him, Sir William felt a faint, inexplicable unease in his heart.
"This…"
....
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