Eyes That Saw Too Much: The Story of the Glasses That See the Future

Chapter 1: The Glasses

Verias exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke and sat down on the cobblestones. The purple smoke of the magical herbs dissolved into the night air. In that instant, something snapped deep within his chest.

The world before his eyes appeared double.

The scene of the present, and the scene of tomorrow.

A girl is running toward him. Her red hair sways in the wind. She is laughing. And in the next moment, she is lying on the ground, covered in blood. On the same cobblestones. In the same spot.

“...Damn it.”

Verias's fingers trembled. The cigarette fell to the cobblestones, scattering sparks.

The glasses of foresight.

He had found them three days ago in the back of a decaying library. Ancient characters were carved into the silver rims: “He who sees the truth shall be killed by the truth.”

At first, nothing happened. But last night, the moment he put on the glasses, the world changed.

He saw the future.

And it always came to pass.

In the morning, he saw a scene where an old man fell at the market. Three minutes later, the old man tripped on a stone and split his forehead open.

At noon, he saw a scene where a child cried in the square. Five minutes later, the child lost sight of their mother and began to wail.

At dusk, he saw a scene where a man started a fight in a tavern. Ten minutes later, the man threw a cup and shed blood.

Everything happened exactly as he had seen it, without a single deviation.

He could not change it.

Verias ran. Toward the direction where the girl would appear. His heart leaped into his throat. The hope that he might “make it in time” made the blood in his entire body boil.

But at the same time, there was a voice whispering deep within his brain.

"It's useless. You can't change anything."

Despair, with the same intensity as hope, made his bones creak.

He turned the corner.

A girl with red hair came running by, smiling.

"Wait!"

Verias shouted. The girl stopped in surprise.

At that moment, stone debris crumbled from the roof of the building.

A massive block of stone crushed the spot where the girl had been standing.

If he hadn't stopped her, her skull would have been shattered.

"...Did I change it?"

Verias's throat went dry. His hands were shaking. Behind his glasses, his vision blurred.

The girl was stunned, but eventually she looked up.

"Thank you... so much..."

She ran off, not even realizing that her life had been saved.

Verias collapsed to his knees. He pressed both hands against the cobblestones. His breathing was ragged.

Hope burned in his chest.

"I can change it. The future can be changed."

But the next moment, the glasses projected a new scene.

The girl is being attacked by a man in an alleyway. Three days from now. The same girl. Covered in blood, unmoving.

No...

Verias's fingers dug into the glasses.

No, no, no.

The future had not changed.

The place of death had merely shifted.

Despair had devoured hope.
Chapter 2: Ballpoint Pen

Should I call you Prophet Verias?

The voice cut through his earlobes like a cold blade.

Verias turned around. A dark room in an inn. Moonlight streamed in through the window.

A woman in black stood there. Silver hair. Sharp eyes. A slender sword at her waist.

Who are you?

My name is Ceries. A scribe of the Time-Chanter.

The woman took a pen from her pocket. An old ballpoint pen, dripping with black ink.

That is...

The Pen of Fate Recording. Events written with this pen will surely come to pass.

Ceries smiled. But there was no warmth in that smile.

And your glasses are the Glasses of Foresight. A magical tool that sees the future. Left behind by the last prophet five hundred years ago.

Verias bit his lip.

Then you must know. These glasses are a curse. Even if you can see, you cannot change anything.

Yes. That is the essence of prophecy.

Series walked over to the window. The moonlight illuminated her profile.

Five hundred years ago, the last prophet went mad. He saw the end of the world. And he desperately warned everyone—the king, the people, the priests. But no one believed him. And just as prophesied, the royal capital was engulfed in flames. A million lives were lost.

And so?

He lamented, 'Why can I see it, yet I cannot save them?' Then he sealed the glasses away and took his own life.

Series turned around.

But he left one thing behind. A record. It said, 'Even if you can see the future, you cannot change it. But precisely because you can see it, you can make a choice.'

Verias choked on his words.

A choice?

Who to save, and who to abandon. Choosing that.

Series' words pierced his heart.

Don't mess with me!

Verias stood up. His fists were trembling.

I want to save everyone! I don't want anyone to die!

That is arrogance, Verias.

Series' voice was cold as ice.

You are not a god. A prophet is not someone who saves everyone. They are merely one who sees the truth. And one who is forced to make a choice.

Verias clenched his fists. His nails dug into his palms. Blood began to seep out.

Why... why does such a curse exist...

"It is not a curse. It is a trial."

Series spun her ballpoint pen. The ink traced an arc in the air.

"Three days from now, a calamity will befall this city. You must have seen it."

Verias's spine froze.

He had seen it.

The night of the third day. The city engulfed in flames. A swarm of magical beasts breaking through the castle walls. People fleeing in panic. Screams. Blood. Death.

And that red-haired girl, too, lying fallen amidst the flames.

"You... who are you..."

"A scribe of the Chronos. One who records fate. And at times, one who guides those who choose fate."

Series tucked her pen into her pocket.

"Verias. You have choices. One: do nothing and abandon everything. Two: try to save everything and lose everything. Three..."

She cut her words short.

"Make the most painful choice."

"That is..."

"Find it yourself. A prophet is not one who sees the future. It is one who chooses the future."

Series jumped out the window. In the moonlight, her figure dissolved into the darkness.

Verias was left alone in the room.

The glasses projected a new scene.

Three days later. Flames. Magical beasts. Death.

And, deep within the glasses, another scene overlapped.

Another future. A future where someone lives, and someone dies.

Countless choices spread out like a web.

"Are you telling me... to choose?"

Verias's voice dissolved into the darkness.

Hope flared up. "There are those I can save."

Despair tightened around his throat. "There are those I cannot save."

Two emotions, with equal intensity, gripped his heart.
Chapter 3: Tobacco

Verias was smoking a cigarette atop the castle wall.

Smoke from magical herbs rose into the night sky. Stars twinkled. A quiet night.

But behind his glasses, he saw hell.

Six hours left. At dawn, a swarm of magical beasts will come.

The castle walls will crumble. The soldiers will be wiped out. The people will flee in panic, and half will die.

And the deaths of specific individuals were clearly visible.

A red-haired girl. Her name is Mira. In the eastern alley, her throat will be torn out by a magical beast.

The old soldier Gald. At the south gate, he will fight to the end and collapse.

Elsa, the innkeeper. In the north square, she will be pierced by claws while shielding the children.

Everyone, without fail, will die.

However, Verias saw it. Another future as well.

If he evacuated Mira from the east, she would survive. But in the eastern alley where she would no longer be, five children would be left behind and all would die. Because Mira was supposed to play the role of guiding those children.

If he had Gald retreat from the south gate, he would survive. But the south gate would collapse sooner, and a hundred people would be left behind. Because Gald's defense was supposed to buy time.

If he evacuated Elsa from the north, she would survive. But the children she was supposed to protect would all be wiped out.

The choice was cruel.

If you save one person, someone else dies.

There was no way to save everyone that he could see.

"Damn it... damn it...!"

Verias threw away his cigarette. The fire went out on the cobblestones.

"What kind of prophet am I... what kind of choice is this...!"

His fist struck the stone wall. His skin tore. Blood dripped. Pain raced through his entire body.

"I am... I am...!"

Hope shouted, "There must still be a way."

Despair whispered, "You are powerless."

The two voices clashed inside his skull.

At that moment, a voice came from behind him.

"You haven't given up yet, have you?"

Series.

The scribe in black robes stood in the moonlight.

"You..."

"Verias. Are you not aware? Of the most painful choice."

"What do you..."

Series took a step closer.

"The future is infinite. But your glasses only see 'the future if you do nothing'."

Verias's breath hitched.

"In other words..."

"If you act yourself, the future changes. But that is a future where 'you become the sacrifice'."

Series took out a ballpoint pen.

"With this pen, I can write one destiny. Just once, tonight."

She pointed the tip of the pen at Verias.

"You destroy the core of the beast swarm. That is possible. But you will die."

Verias's whole body froze.

"That is... the most painful choice..."

"Yes. Saving everyone at the cost of your own life. That is the only path left to you."

Series's eyes shone in the moonlight.

"But you have the freedom to choose. You can save yourself and abandon someone else. That is not a mistake. As a human, it is a natural choice."

Verias clenched his fists.

Blood dripped. His heart beat violently.

Hope burned. "I can save them. I can save everyone."

Despair bit back. "By dying yourself."

Fear crept up. "I don't want to die."

Courage roared. "Even so."

All emotions swirled within him at once, at maximum intensity.

"I am..."

Verias looked up.

Behind the lenses, he saw the future.

A future where he dies. But Mira is smiling. Gald is alive. Elsa is hugging the children.

And another future. One where he lives. But a mountain of corpses. A burning city. Survivors sinking into despair.

"I have to choose... me?"

"You are a prophet. One who sees the future. And one who chooses the future."

Series' words pierced his chest.

Verias took off the glasses.

With his naked eyes, he looked up at the night sky.

The stars were twinkling. A beautiful night.

"Hey, Series."

"What?"

"After I die, what will happen to these glasses?"

"They will be sealed. You will be the last prophet."

"I see..."

Verias adjusted his glasses.

He took a cigarette from his pocket. He lit it. Purple smoke rose up.

He took a deep drag.

The bitterness of the magical herb spread across his tongue.

"I've chosen."

"I see."

Verias smiled.

In that smile, fear and courage lived together. Despair and hope coexisted.

"I am a prophet. I see the future, and I choose the future."

He finished smoking his cigarette.

The fire went out. The smoke vanished.

"Write it down, Ceries. My destiny."

Ceries gripped her ballpoint pen.

Letters of light floated up into the air.

"Prophet Verias shall destroy the beast's core at dawn. The city will be saved. The prophet will fall into an eternal sleep."

The letters melted into the night sky.

Destiny was written.
Chapter 4: The Future That Could Not Be Seen

Dawn.

Verias stood outside the castle walls.

From the horizon, a swarm of beasts approached. A roar. Footsteps that shook the earth.

At its center, a massive shadow. The core of the magical beast. If that is destroyed, the swarm will collapse.

However, the core is deep.

To charge in alone, to whittle away one's life, and to destroy it.

That was the only path the glasses saw.

"I'm scared..."

Verias's voice trembled.

"I'm scared... I don't want to die..."

Tears streamed down his cheeks.

Fear dominated his entire body. His knees shook. His teeth chattered.

But hope was burning, too.

"But... I want to save them..."

He clenched his fists.

"Mira. Gald. Elsa. Everyone."

Deep within the glasses, the future shone.

People surviving. Smiles. The future.

"If that's the case..."

Verias began to run.

Toward the swarm of magical beasts. Toward death.

Hope and despair pushed him forward at the same speed.

He drew his sword. He unleashed his magic. His body glowed.

The magical beast attacks. Claws tear at my shoulder. Fangs bite into my leg. Blood sprays out.

It hurts.

I am going to die.

I am scared.

But, I move forward.

I saw the core. A black crystal. A pulsating mass of malice.

"There!"

Verias poured all his magical power into his sword.

His body burns. His bones creak. His life force is being whittled away.

"Uaaaaaaaaaa!"

The sword pierced the core.

An explosion.

Light enveloped the world.

The swarm of magical beasts collapses. Their roars turn into screams. The darkness vanishes.

And then, Verias's body collapsed.

He falls to the ground. Blood flows. His vision darkens.

"Did I... do it...?"

The glasses shattered.

A crack runs through the lens.

The future, I could no longer see.

But in that moment, Verias saw.

For the first time, without the glasses, he saw.

On the castle wall, Mira was waving.

Gald was saluting.

Elsa was shedding tears.

"Thank you, Prophet!"

He heard the voice.

Verias smiled.

"You're welcome..."

He closed his eyes.

Hope filled his heart.

Despair was no more.

Because he had chosen.

The future, for himself.

His consciousness quietly faded away.
Final Chapter: Record

Series stood on the hill.

Below her, the city spread out. People were living. They were laughing.

"Prophet Verias. He became the last prophet."

She took out a ballpoint pen.

I write words on a blank page.

"He saw the future. He knew despair. Yet, he chose hope."

"A prophet is not one who sees the future."

"They are one who chooses the future."

"And he made the most painful choice of all."

"In exchange for his own life, he saved the future for everyone."

Series put down the pen.

But at that moment, a voice came from below the hill.

"Series!"

I turn around.

A young man came running.

"I have a report! The prophet Verias is... alive!"

Series' eyes widened.

"What did you say?"

"He is severely wounded, but he is breathing! The town healer is working desperately to treat him...!"

Series started running.

Running down the hill. To the town. To the infirmary.

There, Verias was lying down.

Covered in bandages. But his chest was rising and falling.

He is alive.

"Why..."

Series was stunned.

"I should have written it with the pen of fate. 'Fall into a sleep'..."

At that moment, Verias opened his eyes.

"Series..."

"Verias!"

He smiled.

"The way you wrote it... was too soft..."

"Huh?"

"'Fall into a sleep'... you didn't write that I would die..."

Series gasped.

"Don't tell me... I..."

"You chose it too, didn't you? A future where I live."

Tears welled up in Series' eyes.

"...You fool."

She laughed.

Verias laughed too.

"The prophet is dead. But the human Verias is alive."

He gripped the broken glasses tightly.

"The future, I can no longer see it. But that's okay."

"From now on, I will create the unseen future myself."

Series nodded.

"Yes. That is what it means to live."

Outside the window.

Mira was laughing in the square.

Gald was repairing the castle walls.

Elsa was handing out bread to the children.

The future is not seen.

But it is certainly there.

Beyond hope and despair.

Beyond the choices made.

Verias closed his eyes.

This time, it was not death.

It was a true sleep.

And a new morning comes.

An unseen, beautiful future.

[End]