Oblivion's Throne-Chapter 94: careful what you wish for

Orion sat cross-legged on the cold training floor, his mind straining under the weight of everything Aryan had just told him. Vyomnetra's Eye—his newly awakened Perception Sigil—wasn't just about seeing faster. It was about rewiring the way his brain processed reality.

Aryan stood in front of him, arms crossed. "Activate it."

Orion inhaled, then exhaled slowly, activating the Eye.

A sharp pressure stabbed through his skull. His vision widened—colors overcorrected, depth flattened, and the world twisted at the edges.

He blinked hard, trying to adjust, but it was like drowning in raw data. Every movement, every micro-shift in Aryan's stance, the faintest contraction of muscle fibers—it all crashed into his mind at once. Too much.

His breath hitched. His head throbbed. He pressed a palm to his temple, fighting the nausea.

Aryan clicked his tongue. "Your brain can't keeping up."

"No shit." Orion squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his forehead. The afterimages still burned in his retinas.

Aryan crouched beside him. "Vyomnetra's Eye doesn't just enhance sight. It forces your brain to process more information than it should be able to handle. You're not just perceiving reality faster—you're rewriting your own interpretation of it." He tapped Orion's temple. "The human mind isn't built for that."

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

Orion swallowed, trying to push through the migraine. "So how do I keep up?"

"The biggest mistake people make with Perception Sigils is thinking they need to absorb everything" Aryan said bluntly. "You have to train your brain to discard unnecessary data. You need to filter. Prioritize."

Orion exhaled. It made sense, but his instincts fought against it. His body wanted to react to everything—every flicker of movement, every shadow. That's why it felt so overwhelming.

Aryan continued. "That's why Vyomnetra's Eye is even more powerful than your other two Sigils. It doesn't just lift a veil off your vision—it forces your brain to confront things it normally ignores. You could see through illusions, notice hidden patterns, be able to see movements that haven't happened yet—"

Orion's head snapped up. "Wait. Prediction?"

Aryan smirked. "It's not magic, it's physics. Your mind picks up minute shifts—the way a person's weight shifts before they throw a punch, the slight change in airflow before something moves. Your brain is already capable of this at an unconscious level. Vyomnetra's Eye makes it conscious."

Orion's stomach turned. So that's why it felt so wrong. His brain wasn't just processing what was there—it was processing what was about to happen.

"That's why it feels like reality is warping," Aryan said. "Your mind is trying to account for events before they unfold."

Orion exhaled sharply. "And if I push too hard?"

Aryan's expression darkened. "You break."

"The brain is a fragile thing," Aryan continued. "It's not like your muscles—you don't just tear it and let it heal stronger. Push too far, and you'll burn out your visual cortex."

Orion grimaced. So not only did he have to fight against sensory overload, but he also had to make sure he didn't break his own perception of reality?

Aryan tilted his head. "Feeling discouraged?"

Orion wiped sweat from his brow. "Not at all," he said, voice steady. "Let's take it further."

Aryan's smirk returned. "Good answer."

He gestured to the room. "Get up. Let's put that Eye to the test."

The training room dimmed, its ambient lighting shifting to a neutral gray. Aryan stood a few meters away, rolling his shoulders, his stance relaxed. Orion forced his breathing to steady.

Filter out the noise. Prioritize.

"Come at me." Aryan ordered.

Orion activated the Sigil of Vyomnetra's Eye.

A sharp stab of pain shot through his skull. His pupils contracted.

Aryan moved.

Orion saw everything—the subtle dip of Aryan's shoulder, the faint redistribution of his weight before he lunged. The punch was already in motion before it actually happened. Orion's instincts screamed at him to dodge, but his body lagged behind his mind. His limbs felt sluggish, out of sync.

The hit connected.

A brutal impact to his ribs sent him staggering back, pain blooming across his side.

Orion clenched his teeth and refocused.

Aryan attacked again—this time, a kick. Orion saw the trajectory forming before the motion was complete. He twisted his torso, his movements still sloppy, but the attack barely grazed his side.

They repeated the exchange. Over and over. Each time, Orion's brain adjusted—his muscles adapting to the insane speeds at which he was perceiving movement. His breath was ragged, sweat rolling down his back, but he was keeping up.

Then, Aryan vanished.

No—that wasn't right. He hadn't disappeared. Orion's brain simply lost track of him for a fraction of a second. His perception folded in on itself—the excess data, the sheer overload, became too much. His head throbbed violently.

A sudden flash of pain exploded behind his eyes.

Orion stumbled.

His vision fractured—double, triple overlays of reality stacking over one another like a shattered mirror. His breath hitched. His mind was fragmenting under the weight of too much information.

Then came the sharp, invasive agony.

A searing stab in his skull. A sensation like something was digging deep into his brain. The world blurred. His nose and eyes dripped blood. His vision swam.

Aryan rushed towards him to check his state. However, to Aryan's surprise, Orion used the pain to ground himself. Through the haze, he saw an opening.

Aryan was distracted, rushing to him, thinking the fight was already over.

Orion moved.

With everything left in his body, he lunged forward, his dagger clawing through the air—and he felt it.

His dagger scraped against skin.

A pause.

Aryan stood over him, frozen, before slowly touching his cheek—where a faint, shallow scratch marred his skin. A drop of blood beaded at the edge of the wound.

Silence.

Then Aryan's shoulders shook. A low chuckle escaped his lips, growing into full-blown laughter.

"You..." He wiped the droplets of blood from his cheek, still grinning. His eyes shone with something wild. "You're really the son of that madman."

Before Orion could even process that, the training room's alarm blared.

[WARNING: HIGH GRAVITY DISTORTION DETECTED. SAFETY PROTOCOLS ENGAGED.]

A sudden shift in the room's gravity field sent everything tilting—like reality itself had just been thrown off balance. The training system had reacted to the unstable forces emitted from Aryan's laughter.

Orion gasped for breath, his head still pounding, his limbs trembling, but a single thought cut through the haze.

He had landed a hit on Aryan.

The gravity stabilization took a few seconds. By the time the room settled, Orion was still on the floor, trying to keep his mind from spiraling into unconsciousness. His body felt fatigued, his nerves still misfiring from the overload.

Aryan crouched in front of him, eyes studying him.

"You'll get used to it," he said. "Eventually."

Orion let out a slow breath. His lips felt dry, his skull still pulsing with pain. But there was something else—something clawing at his thoughts.

He lifted his gaze. "Do you know the Academy's plan?"

Aryan's grin didn't fade, but something shifted in his expression.

"That's a broad question, Orion."

"I mean the real plan. The special candidates. The way they're training us. The way they're pushing us past our limits." Orion's voice was hoarse, but steady. "They're expecting something. Preparing for something. I want to know what it is."

Aryan leaned back on his heels, exhaling through his nose. "You think I have answers?"

"I know you know more than you let on."

A beat of silence. Then Aryan shrugged. "You're not wrong."

Orion's fingers curled against the floor. "Then tell me."

Aryan stared at him for a long moment. Then, he clapped his hands together once, standing.

"You'll figure it out," he said lightly. "Eventually."

Orion's frustration burned in his throat, but before he could push further, Aryan's gaze darkened.

"Be careful what you wish for, Orion." Aryan said, quieter this time. "You might not like the answer."

And with that, he turned and left the training room.