As the weight of those gazes fell upon him, Edward was hit with a wave of symptoms: dizziness, nausea, headaches, paranoia, fear, and anxiety.
He didn't dare look directly at the eyes watching him. Instead, he clutched his head with both hands and shrank into a corner, murmuring under his breath.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry..." He repeated the word over and over, his face twisted in anguish and remorse.
Cain observed him for a moment before making another gesture with his hand.
The eyes retreated behind an invisible veil in the air, blending back into existence.
Then, as if plucking something from thin air, Cain produced a small vial filled with a translucent blue liquid.
"Here. Drink this," he said to Edward, who was still rocking back and forth in the corner.
Cain sighed silently, crouched in front of the young man, and delivered a sharp slap—snapping him out of his trance, if only for a moment.
Grabbing Edward's shoulders with both hands, Cain spoke sternly, his expression severe.
"Listen to me, Edward."
The young man stared back, eyes wide—whether from shock or lingering fear, it was hard to tell.
"If you don't pull yourself together, your mother will die. And you won't even get the chance to try saving her. You know why?"
Edward trembled, his voice stammering. "W-why?"
Cain leaned in until their faces were mere inches apart, his expression still severe—now edged with something unhinged.
"Because her precious little boy couldn't keep his damn composure over a few eyes staring at him. Did your mother raise you to be this much of a coward? Weren't you supposed to have lived a hard life? So quit whimpering like a scared baby and do as I say for once."
He grabbed Edward's hand, forced it open, and pressed the vial into his palm.
"Drink it. Now."
Edward's hands shook as he took the vial, uncorked it, and downed the liquid in one gulp.
"Good. That's how it's done," Cain said, his demeanor shifting back to normal.
Though Edward had snapped out of his mental spiral, the memory of it remained, lodged deep in his mind.
"What… was that?" he asked, his voice still laced with fear.
"Those were the Dignitaries of Grace. Basically, divinities like the one I know."
"They were watching us because a holy war has broken out, and they're gathering intel. And no, they didn't actually reveal themselves—I showed them to you."
"Why the hell would you do that?" Edward demanded, disgusted and bewildered.
"Because you asked. And because I wanted you to see them for what they really are. Don't mistake them for benevolent saints. They only care about their own kind—if they need to do things like this to save their own skins, they will. Remember what you just felt."
"Oh, trust me, I'll remember whether I want to or not. But one thing I don't get—why did you act like that with me? Wouldn't it have been easier to just force me to drink the liquid?" Edward recalled Cain's sudden shift in demeanor.
"Because my body and mind react that way whether I like it or not. Though I'll admit, part of me wanted to. Seeing you like that was frustrating. I once lived a life where my job was pulling people out of unstable mental states—by force, if necessary. Eventually, it took its toll on me too."
"Plus, due to certain side effects, I absorb remnants—or powers derived from them—that are also corrupted. It affects me negatively, makes my behavior erratic."
"So… is it dangerous for me to be near you when that happens?" Edward asked warily.
"It shouldn't be. Even when I act like that, I keep enough control to avoid doing anything I'd regret. Living this long teaches you self-restraint. Within limits."
"I see… Well, I guess we should keep moving. Get to my mom's place." Edward said, pushing himself up from the corner.
"Yeah. Good idea."
Cain stepped ahead, exiting the ruined building. Once outside, he froze, staring at something on the ground.
"What's wrong?" Edward finally gathered himself and followed, stepping out into the open air.
As he approached, he saw what lay on the scorched pavement.
The charred corpses of a teenage boy and a small girl, locked in an embrace.
Both of them stood there, silent, staring at the scene.