Chapter 31 Eye catching

The inheritance archive grew quieter the deeper Amos read. Somewhere above him, the estate slept peacefully. Meanwhile, below ground, Amos was uncovering that theros bloodline had existed for centuries.

“The written prophecy...”

He lazily turned another page, then paused again. A few ancestors had been singled out by heads of the family—important figures, dangerous ones, influential ones. And in one instance—

“Absolutely do not let any descendants ever do what he does.”

“That sounds like a promising lead.”

Amos pulled the marked volume closer.

Kairos E. Kyros.

The Heartbreaker.

Even the title alone sounded like a future criminal case.

The portrait attached to the record showed a beautiful man with long golden hair and sharp eyes that somehow looked charming and horrifying simultaneously.

Amos stared at it silently.

“That's one very good-l0oking man.”

He continued reading.

Kairos E. Kyros rose to fame begin during the Era of Fracture, a period by collapsing kingdoms, widespread famine, and rampant lawlessness. Gifted with remarkable charisma and intelligence, he expanded House Kyros’s influence through both diplomacy and tactics deemed deeply unethical even by the standards of the time. He trusted no one and saw morality as nothing more than a steppingstone.

“Oh.”

Amos leaned back a bit. Now that was intriguing. The journal spoke of Kairos constructing vast information networks decades before other noble houses, manipulating succession wars of nobles and royalties, and forging secret alliances across the continent. Then, Amos came upon another section.

Created a new life.

Amos blinked. Then reread the line.

“Excuse me?”

He turned the page faster.

A homunculus created in his own image. Purpose: to protect the prophesied child should House Kyros fail in future generations.

The room seemed to grow colder. Amos stared quietly at the words: Karos, the new life. The hidden presence spoken of in the character records, somewhere deep within the treasury.

“That monster created a guardian meant to survive generations just to reach me.”

A faint chill ran down Amos’ spine. Excitement.

“That is unbelievably cool.”

The next marked ancestor came across as unmistakably loud, even in writing. Euros E. Kyros. The Crazed Lion. In attached painting, he was a towering, broad-shouldered man, laughing while drenched in blood. Amos couldn’t help but respect instantly.

“You look mentally unstable.”

The biography confirmed it instantly.

Famous for charging straight into battle against overwhelming odds, he personally took down three enemy commanders during the Battle ofless Valley despite sustaining fatal injuries. He even refused medical treatment until after the victory celebrations were over.

“I am right. That’s incredible.”

Another annotation followed.

Possessed poor impulse control.

“That's just a common trait among battle maniacs.”

“He challenged a dragon after hearing of a dragon's prowess.”

Amos kept reading with growing disbelief.

“He made it through, but Dragon didn’t.”

THAT was peak Kyros behavior.

Amos proudly approving from several generations later.

Then came the final marked volume bearing the name RemediosE. Kyros—The Saint.

The contrast struck him at once. Her portrait radiated a calm unlike the rest—silver hair, gentle eyes, simple clothing in place of noble extravagance. And yet—

The archive surrounding her records contained the heaviest protective barriers so far. Amos opened the volume carefully.

Remedios E. Kyros had an exceptional gift for healing and wielded considerable political influence. She peacefully resolved the Southern Famine Crisis, even under military pressure from neighboring kingdoms. Later, several religious organizations canonized her, despite House Kyros officially discouraging any form of worship.“…Canonized?”

Another note followed underneath.

She once walked alone into an active battlefield and forced both armies to cease fighting.

“How.”

No surviving family records explain the event clearly.

“Fair enough.”

Among all the overwhelming accomplishments, one smaller line caught Amos’ attention most.

She believed strength existed to protect, not dominate.

Amos glanced at the journals scattered around him. Kairos. Euros.edios. Each a completely different person, with their own ideals and unique strains of madness. And yet—all unmistakably Kyros, all bearing the Eos name, all connected to the prophecy in some way. Amos slowly leaned back in his chair.

“This family really kept producing unique people.”

Individuals who bent entire eras around themselves. His father stood among them too.

Aros E. Kyros—swordmaster, patriarch, and a man whose mere presence made nobles instinctively lower their voices. He was so powerful that even the Empire allowed House Kyros to do almost whatever it wanted.

Amos stared quietly at the countless journals surrounding him then finally sighed.

“I suddenly understand why grandma worried about me.”

***

The deeper Amos went into Kairos E. Kyros’ diary. The less human the man seemed.

At first, it looked like the chronicles of an ambitious noble—strategic alliances, political manipulation military restructuring, economic warfare. Just the usual, terrifying noble affairs.

Then Amos turned another page.

“…What the hell.”

The handwriting grew sharper in the later entries—more obsessive, more desperate—as though each passing year convinced Kairos that ordinary methods would never suffice.

“The kingdoms are weak, the churches are clueless, and humanity is going nowhere. The prophecy must not under any circumstances be trusted to incompetent rulers.”

Amos frowned slightly. Then continued reading.

“If the prophesied child is born into weakness, they will perish. If brought forth into an era of peace, they will grow complacent. If they arrive without the preparation, House Kyros will be unable to fulfill its purpose.”

The next several sections described things no sane person would ever record—secret laboratories hidden beneath abandoned lands, mana experiments on prisoners, artificial monster breeding, forbidden magical research. And worse, every single experiment came with results: detailed findings, success, failure rates, and even body counts.

The deeper records became increasingly horrifying.

Kairos apparently orchestrated border conflicts intentionally just to study large-scale battlefield mana behavior. One entry casually mentioned sacrificing an entire opposing nation's citizens to test a newly developed curse barrier. Another described the deliberate destruction of a rebellious noble territory, a complete erasure.

The final note beneath the report simply read:

“Acceptable losses.”

Amos stared at the words for a few long seconds before quietly flipping to the next page. The magical research sections, somehow, were even worse. Kairos had crafted that would later be outlawed by nearly every major kingdom. Some were furiously crossed out in the margins, accompanied by notes like:

“The instability is excessive, leading to progressive degradation of the soul and resulting in reality distortions that surpass the acceptable threshold.”

One particular section carried an additional seal. Warning markings surrounded the page itself. Amos opened it immediately.

Inside lay the unfinished framework of a terrifying magic—a compression-based spatial collapse spell. Just the theory made Amos’ skin crawl. It worked by compressing mana, matter, and space itself into a singularity-like implosion point. The listed side effects were grim: internal mana collapse, spatial fragmentation, permanent nerve damage and the potential for localized dimensional instability.

“That’s insane.”

Then Amos paused because parts of the framework looked familiar, his eyes narrowed slowly.

“Wait.”

Spatial compression, condensed collapse mechanics, and mana layering.

The structure resembled his very own magic.

Amos slowly reread the notes.

Then found the final annotation beneath the spell theory.

“Can only be completed by descendants with overwhelming mana capacity and mana pool strength.”

“Normal humans cannot survive usage.”.

Amos leaned back slowly.

“…You absolute lunatic.”

Kairos hadn’t simply created dangerous magic.

He had worked on designing weapons meant only for future generations of the Eos bloodline—devices so powerful that ordinary people couldn’t even wield them. Then came the war crimes. Real ones. Amos eventually stopped speaking altogether as each page revealed something worse than the last. Mass memory manipulation. Secret assassinations. Engineering famine on purpose. Experiments in biological mana contamination. Illegal creation of homunculi. And always—always justified with the same: for the prophecy, for the future, for House Kyros.

Amos closed the diary briefly.

Many head who came after called Kairos the greatest monster House Kyros had ever produced. They weren’t wrong. Kairos wasn’t evil in the simple sense—that would have been easier. He truly believed he was safeguarding humanity’s future, and that conviction let him cross lines most people never could. It worked. House Kyros survived disasters that wiped out countless noble families. Their bloodline grew monstrously powerful, their lands thrived, their influence lasted for centuries. Kairos built it all on foundations soaked in blood.

Amos sat in silence, eyes fixed on the charred pages. His attention wandered back to the spatial magic framework, to the chilling theories crafted for descendants like him, and at last to a single final sentence scrawled near the diary’s end.

“If the prophesied child is born, they must never become weak enough to hesitate.”

Then Amos quietly closed the diary. He felt uneasy.