Chicago, 2004. Kai and Mark, now 6 years old.
The snow was beginning to melt, giving way to damp grass and the scent of fresh soil. It was the beginning of spring — and the first school year for the Grayson twins.
It was funny seeing Mark so excited about something so... mundane. Ever since he'd found out that his father was the real Omni-Man, his fascination with heroes grew more intense each day. His eyes lit up every time he saw Nolan in a headline — whether saving a plane, stopping a runaway train, or facing a villain in metal armor in downtown Chicago.
— "Did you see, Kai?! He flew toward the meteor and shattered it to pieces!" — Mark said, eyes wide, spinning in the backyard with arms out like he was about to take off.
Kai smiled. — "He's really strong."
Mark paused for a second, hand on his forehead like a hero scouting the horizon.
— "One day I'm gonna be just like that. Maybe even better, like… like Super Ultra Omni-Man!"
Kai raised an eyebrow, amused.
— "You're gonna have to train a lot for that. Like... a lot."
— "I'm already training!" — Mark replied, running off to try and climb the small garden wall. He slipped, hit his knee, and landed flat on the wet ground.
— "Was that your 'heroic leap'?" — said Kai, holding back a laugh.
— "That was just... a failure simulation. Heroes mess up sometimes too, right?"
Debbie appeared at the kitchen door, hands on her hips and a dish towel slung over her shoulder.
— "Boys, your backpacks still don't have your names on them! Let's fix that before you go trying to save the world, please?"
— "I want mine with a rocket design!" — shouted Mark, still lying on the ground, dramatizing his "heroic fall."
— "And yours, Kai?" — Debbie asked in that sweet tone mixed with the pragmatic edge of a mom who knows the week will be long.
— "No design. Just the name."
— "So serious," she murmured, ruffling his hair affectionately before going back inside.
Kai watched his mother disappear through the door, then looked at Mark, already standing and pretending he'd never fallen.
As much as he tried to keep a neutral face, something about it was comforting. That ordinary life. That noisy house. The wet earth on the knee. The mom calling them in. The brother with dreams too big for his size.
It was all… temporarily beautiful.
And somehow, that's what worried him the most.
The First Day of School
The first-grade classroom smelled like chalk, modeling clay, and new books. Colorful alphabet posters decorated the walls, and the constant sound of scraping chairs and nervous giggles filled the room.
— "Twins? Oh, how adorable!" — said Ms. Lillian, a short red-haired woman with a soft voice and glasses hanging from a chain around her neck. — "So you're Mark, and you're… Kai?"
— "That's right," Kai replied, calm but alert, scanning every detail of the room. He counted the children, noted the number of windows, the depth of the chalkboard, the angle of sunlight through the glass.
Debbie smiled, adjusting their hair. — "If they cause any trouble, just call me directly, okay?"
— "Mom!" — Mark protested, already blushing with embarrassment.
— "I'm kidding… mostly," she said, winking at the teacher. Then she knelt to their level and whispered: — "First day. Be kind. No superpowers, deal?"
— "I don't have any yet," Mark sighed.
— "I know," she smiled. — "But one day you will. And even then, the rule still applies."
Kai just nodded.
When Debbie left, Mark picked a seat by the window and quickly started chatting with the kid next to him, a boy named Jamie who talked while spitting crumbs. In just a few minutes, they were laughing like lifelong friends.
Kai, on the other hand, chose a seat discreetly toward the back.
— "Are you the quiet brother?" — asked a blonde girl with two pigtails and a chewed-up pencil in her hand.
— "Depends," Kai replied, eyes still on the board.
— "Depends on what?"
He finally looked at her. — "On who's asking."
She paused, surprised, then smiled — half challenge, half curiosity.
— "I'm Becky. I bet I'll get a higher grade than you."
— "Good luck," Kai said without arrogance, but with a calmness that felt like a warning.
During the first activities, Mark raised his hand every five minutes, eager to participate in everything — vowel reading, spelling games with colored blocks. He made plenty of mistakes, but never gave up.
Kai only raised his hand once — to discreetly correct the moon phase order on the board, then returned to silence. Ms. Lillian raised her eyebrows and took a post-it note to jot something down.
At recess, Mark dragged Kai to the playground.
— "I met a kid whose dog eats paper! Can you believe that?"
— "If it's a lab, I believe it."
— "How do you know that?"
Kai just shrugged. He always knew things. Mark thought it was amazing — like having a mini-genius as a brother.
They sat under a small tree, the sunlight filtering through the newly-awakened spring leaves. Mark talked nonstop. Kai listened, answering only when necessary.
Far off in the courtyard, Ms. Lillian spoke to another staff member, notebook in hand, looking intrigued.
— "The quiet brother… Kai? He read all the instructions before I finished speaking. And he corrected an astronomy mistake I didn't even notice."
— "Seriously?"
— "At six years old. But the strangest thing… is how hard he tries not to stand out."
On the other side of the courtyard, Kai sighed softly.
Mark laughed loudly at a joke involving a rock that looked like poop. Becky approached with a new challenge in mind.
On the Second Day of School
Kai entered the classroom like always — silent, observant, his footsteps too soft for a six-year-old. Mark came in behind, tripping over his shoelaces while enthusiastically telling Jamie he wanted to punch a mountain in half someday.
Becky, still thinking about how Kai knew the answers the day before, was already waiting in the middle row with two sheets of paper and three sharpened pencils. When Kai approached, she crossed her arms.
— "I bet you can't beat me in a surprise math test."
Kai raised an eyebrow.
— "Who made the test?"
She held up the papers with a smug grin.
— "I did. Ten questions. No calculator. No cheating."
— "What's the prize?"
— "Hmm… If I win, you give me your snack for a week."
— "And if I win?"
Becky hesitated.
— "Then… I carry your backpack home for a week."
Kai shook his head with a smile.
— "I'll carry my own backpack."
Becky hesitated again.
— "Then… if you win, just tell me what you want later."
Kai nodded, amused, though he knew it would be unfair. He had no intention of asking her for anything.
Mark widened his eyes. — "You guys know you don't have to turn everything into a tournament, right?"
But no one listened.
The "test" happened during recess, seated on the ground near the side stairs, as if they were on a top-secret mission. Becky handed over the paper with trembling excitement. The questions were decent — multiplication tables, logic problems, and a final riddle involving apples and twin brothers.
Mark sat nearby, chewing his jelly sandwich, watching the scene like it was a superhero battle.
Becky sweated.
Kai finished calmly, scribbling answers in the margins with perfectly organized handwriting, almost feeling guilty. When he was done, he handed it over.
— "Here."
Becky reviewed the answers. Then looked at him in silence.
— "You… got them all right."
— "I know."
She wrinkled her nose, but didn't seem mad — just impressed.
— "Alright. Tell me what you want later."
— "Deal."
— "You're really weird, you know?" — she said, not meeting his eyes.
— "I've heard worse."
Mark whistled in awe.
— "Wow! She seemed so confident… I thought no one could beat her!"
— "I beat her," Kai replied, smiling.
In the days that followed, the school routine settled.
Mark kept trying hard, earning gold stars on activities and collecting new friends like trading cards. He was the kind of kid who fell, got up, and laughed at his own pain — including falling again in the courtyard on Wednesday and scraping his other knee.
— "Not again…" — Debbie said, blowing on the wound at home while Mark cried and Kai stood at the doorway holding a bag of ice.
— "It was just a hole in the ground! It came outta nowhere!" — Mark protested.
— "You jumped off the slide, Mark," Kai corrected.
— "Yeah, but the hole was still there!"
Kai placed the ice on the couch and muttered:
— "If you keep this up, you're gonna end up as a statistic." — Then he placed his hand on his forehead. — "So much for my peaceful life."
The Invisible Visitor
Kai had significantly reduced his use of Void energy. The side effects, though manageable due to his Viltrumite physiology, had been too intense to ignore. The whitish coloration that had overtaken part of his hair had taken weeks to fade, and that alone could've led to a trip to the doctor… who would definitely notice his body was far more resistant than a normal child's. Any slip-up, and Nolan might suspect his powers.
The "Six Eyes" — as he called them in memory of his previous life — still activated during moments of contemplation or necessity, but he avoided prolonging their use.
In the days that followed, the familiar rhythm of childhood began to form. Debbie took care of both boys with almost superhuman affection, always making sure to give equal attention to each. Mark, naturally more impulsive and extroverted, was a constant source of energy, while Kai remained quiet — but ever watchful.
One morning, as Nolan read the newspaper in the kitchen and Debbie washed the dishes, Kai noticed something.
Someone was watching the house.
It wasn't sight, hearing, or smell — it was a sensation, a discomfort in the back of his mind. He briefly activated the Six Eyes, his irises pulsing blue as the world expanded into layers and infinite threads of perception.
Behind a camouflaged force field, 600 meters from the house, a presence hid within a gravitational distortion: a bald man with a scar on his face, wearing a dark suit and olive green tie.
Cecil Stedman.
"That's the guy from the Agency…"
"…he's already watching my dad. And now, he's watching us."
Kai deactivated the power before it drained too much of his energy.
He couldn't act on it yet.
Just... remember.
Through Other Eyes
Observation Room — Global Defense Agency. Underground Base. Location: Unknown
Dozens of screens displayed simultaneous transmissions, but one had center stage: the Grayson household.
Cecil Stedman took a sip of coffee — black, strong, as bitter as the job — and crossed his arms as he stared at the paused image of Nolan Grayson having breakfast with his family.
— "He's good. Too good," he muttered to himself.
— "Grayson?" — asked Donald, his assistant, typing with one hand while reviewing reports. — "He saved a cargo ship in the Panama Canal last week. The UN sent flowers."
— "Yeah. And he saved a satellite from crashing over Hong Kong last month. Surgical precision. Not too many witnesses. Not too much effort."
Donald frowned. — "So... you still think he's hiding something?"
Cecil sighed, set down his cup, and leaned over the control panel. With a swipe, he shifted to infrared mode, then to the area's gravitational scan.
— "You think someone with that level of power has no secrets? He came from space. Literally. We've never trusted anyone blindly, and we're not starting now. But…"
— "But what?" — Donald pushed.
— "He never slips," Cecil concluded, tone a mix of frustration and admiration. — "Nothing out of place. No overreactions. No poor decisions. Always right on time. In the right place. Like it's… rehearsed."
Donald hesitated.
— "That could just be experience. Or control. He's a warrior, not a politician."
— "Maybe," Cecil said, but his expression didn't change. — "Or he's showing us exactly what he wants us to see."
Cecil zoomed in on the breakfast table.
Nolan smiled.
Mark talked with a full mouth.
Debbie brushed a lock of hair from Kai's face… who looked directly at the corner of the room.
At a hidden camera that no human should have been able to detect.
The boy's gaze lasted less than a second.
But it was enough to chill the surveillance room.
— "And the other one?" — Donald asked, clearly unsettled. — "The kid… Kai?"
Cecil didn't answer immediately. He zoomed in again, studying the boy's face — too calm, too composed for a six-year-old.
— "I'm watching."
— "Any readings?"
— "None," he answered flatly. — "And that's the problem. He doesn't stand out… almost like it's on purpose."
A heavy silence followed.
— "So what do we do? Step up surveillance?"
Cecil shook his head slowly.
— "No. Just... keep your eyes open. They've got plenty of time to show us who they are. And we've got time to be ready."
He picked up the now-cold coffee and downed it in one go.
— "If it's just paranoia, I'll sleep easy. If it's not… better we find out now than when it's too late."
Grayson House – Late Afternoon
The sun slowly set behind the tidy houses of suburban Chicago. Debbie closed the living room curtain, holding a mug of hot tea, when she heard the sound of hurried footsteps coming from the kitchen.
Mark ran in, his shirt stained with tempera paint and a wide smile on his face.
— "Mom! Mom! Today Becky helped me make a rocket out of a soda bottle! It exploded in the courtyard! The principal didn't like it much, but it was epic!" — he gestured as if the rocket were still flying.
Debbie laughed, fixing her son's wet hair.
— "And you didn't get hurt, did you?"
— "No! I just got a little vinegar in my eye, but Jamie said it was real acid! We almost became superheroes!"
Kai appeared just behind, calmer, but with water splashes on his pants. He approached the sofa, climbed up cautiously, and hugged one of the large pillows.
— "The explosion set off the fire alarm," he said plainly.
— "Mark…" — Debbie sighed, but her tone was more amused than scolding. — "Just promise me that next time, you'll leave the rockets in space, okay?"
— "But Mom!" — he protested, flopping down beside Kai. — "I need to train for when I'm a real hero!"
Kai gave a half-smile.
— "Training doesn't mean blowing up the school, Mark."
Mark gave his brother a light shove on the shoulder, no force behind it.
— "You thought it was cool too! I saw you laughing!"
— "Just a little," Kai admitted, eyes still on the TV.
Debbie watched them with affection.
Sometimes it was hard to remember they were just kids.
Other times… it was impossible to forget.
Skies Over the Pacific – Evening
The clouds were thick over the ocean, broken only by the sound of distant thunder and two silhouettes breaking the sound barrier.
Nolan Grayson — Omni-Man — flew alongside the hero who, to the world, was nearly a living legend: the Immortal. Cape billowing, eyes fixed on the horizon, he seemed completely unbothered by the high-altitude winds.
— "This storm is throwing a Filipino cargo ship off course. If it enters the eye of the hurricane, nothing will be left," said the Immortal, pointing to a red dot on his wrist communicator.
Nolan nodded, eyes sharp on the ocean line.
— "You take the lead. I'll cover the rear."
— "Fair." — The Immortal increased speed and dove toward the ship.
Within seconds, both were beneath the clouds. The waves crashed violently against the cargo ship's sides, tilting it dangerously. Crew members ran in panic on deck, trying to secure containers as lightning slashed the sky.
The Immortal landed firmly, immediately ordering the men to abandon the upper deck. Nolan hovered above, eyes scanning the vessel with surgical precision.
— "The stern engine's compromised," Nolan murmured, descending into the command cabin. — "I'll push them out of the storm's path."
Without waiting, he placed his hands under the cargo ship's base and, with calculated force, began pushing it along the currents, steering it away from the storm's core. The Immortal flew to the front of the vessel and released the loose containers, tossing them into the sea to lighten the load.
After several tense minutes, the ship was out of danger, floating in calmer waters beneath light rain. The crew applauded. The Immortal gave a nod and took off, meeting Nolan in the skies above.
— "Well coordinated," said the Immortal, tone neutral.
— "How many times have you done this?" Nolan replied with a half-smile.
— "A few hundred, maybe. But you're new. Still finding your rhythm."
Nolan returned the nod, though his gaze sharpened slightly.
— "Have you ever trusted someone too much, Immortal?"
The question caught the other hero off guard.
— "Yeah. And it cost me dearly."
— "I see."
— "Why ask?"
Nolan looked away, eyes watching stars emerge in the clearing sky.
— "Just… learning from someone who's spent more time on Earth than I have."
The Immortal studied his face for a moment.
Something didn't sit right.
The tone. The expression.
There was a coldness in the subtext that made him uneasy — but he said nothing.
— "If you're learning, learn this: no hero is immune to vanity. Not even the immortal ones."
With that, he took off in a gust of wind and silence.
Nolan remained behind for a few seconds, hovering alone, before following.
His eyes glowed subtly for an instant.
And he headed home...
Grayson House – Shortly After
The front door opened with a soft creak.
— "I'm home," said Nolan, hanging his soaked coat on the rack.
Debbie came from the kitchen with a dish towel in hand, hair tied in a makeshift bun.
— "Tough mission?"
— "Not really. Hurricane in the Pacific. A cargo ship was almost lost, but the Immortal and I handled it," he replied, grabbing a glass of water like he was talking about fixing a roof leak.
— "How is he?" — she asked, smiling. — "The Immortal."
— "Same as always. Arrogant. But competent." — Nolan smiled back, but his gaze drifted to the window briefly. — "Working with him always reminds me how fast humans age. He's a curious exception."
Debbie watched him for a moment, trying to read beyond the casual tone. But she let it go and returned to the stove.
At the top of the stairs, in the shadows, Kai lay on his side, elbow propped on the floor, chin resting in his palm, watching the house like someone observing a stage.
When he sensed his father's approach, his whole body tensed for a second.
He briefly activated the Six Eyes — just enough to see.
Nolan's aura was subtly altered. The gravitational vibration around his body had shifted. Nothing visible to the naked eye, nothing that screamed battle... but still, it was different. As if he had used real force. Contained power. Caution disguised as control.
Kai deactivated the eyes.
His father was lying.
Not through words.
But through omission.
Something had happened out there.
Something big enough to leave him like this… unbalanced, even if only inside.
And for Kai, that said everything.
"You're testing your strength, Dad… Against whom, exactly?"
He rolled to the side, slowly descended the stairs, and yawned — the act of a sleepy child, perfectly staged.
— "Is dinner ready?" — he asked with a rough voice, still pretending to be groggy.
— "Almost," said Debbie with a smile, unaware of the invisible tension in the air.
Himalayas – Minutes Later
The wind howled through the mountains.
The Immortal hovered in silence before a remote cave, where he kept a meditation base and old archives. It was his refuge, far from the noise of the world.
But tonight, his mind found no peace.
"Have you ever trusted someone too much, Immortal?"
That question… it carried a weight he recognized. He'd heard versions of it before. In voices that preceded betrayals, wars, and collapsing kingdoms.
He removed the mask he wore to withstand high-speed flight pressure and sat cross-legged like a monk.
— "Viltrumite… you hide more than you say," he murmured to himself.
He ran his fingers over an old symbol carved into the cave wall: a forgotten sign from an age even the Guardians no longer remembered.
— "And I… I've seen this before."
His eyes closed.
But the thought remained.
Interlude – Sunset Lectures
In the backyard, while Mark played with a toy airplane, Nolan sat with Kai.
— "You know…" — Nolan began — "One day, you'll realize the world is fragile. Full of injustice. The weak… the weak always pay the price for the mistakes of the strong."
Kai looked up.
— "And you think that's... natural?"
— "It's inevitable. It's how the universe works. Powerful civilizations shape the course of history. Just like the Viltrumites did. We're part of that, Kai."
Kai took a deep breath. — "And Mom?"
— "Debbie is… human. She's important to me. But you and your brother have the potential for much more. You're heirs to something grand."
"So that's it. He's starting to plant the seeds."
Kai didn't reply.
But inside, he was recording everything.
Prologue of Change – Paths Not Taken
The sky was gray that Wednesday afternoon. It wasn't raining, but the wind carried the scent of a coming storm.
Kai walked hand-in-hand with Debbie and Mark down the narrow neighborhood sidewalk, returning from the local bookstore — one of the few that still offered children's storytime on Saturdays. Debbie loved encouraging her sons to connect with the real world, the simple things, the human touch.
Kai, as usual, walked in silence. His gaze wandered across the houses, the trees, the small cracks in the sidewalk that no one else noticed.
— "Mom, did you see how big that dragon was in the book?!" — Mark exclaimed, excited. — "It had, like... seven heads! And it could fly! I want one!"
— "Dragons aren't pets, sweetheart," Debbie replied, laughing, balancing a bag with borrowed books.
Kai kept pace. Said nothing. But inside, he was thinking how the world felt hollow to him, lacking the enthusiasm Mark had. If someone asked:
"When did I stop thinking dragons were cool in my past life?"
"Was it the years at the office? Or maybe after killing too many dragons in video games?"
Despite that emptiness he felt for the world, there was something in that sidewalk, that cloudy day, that warm hand holding his… that felt comforting.
Then he felt it.
A sharp noise. Screeching brakes. The snap of metal twisting.
A few meters ahead, a child — maybe four years old — broke free from the nanny's hand. Playing with a toy car, he didn't see it roll into the street.
Nor did he see the speeding van coming.
But Kai saw.
He saw each second stretch before him. The Six Eyes activated reflexively. The data flooded in — distance, reaction time, vehicle weight, wind direction. He saw all the possibilities in an instant.
He could stop it.
He knew he had powers.
All it would take was a move. Maybe use the void again. Create a space distortion like before.
But… what if someone saw?
What if they discovered he had powers?
In the end, the second — which in his perception lasted minutes — passed.
He didn't move.
Time continued. The impact came, muffled and brutal. The sound of something breaking. Screams.
Debbie instinctively covered her children's eyes. Mark tried to turn, but she held him tight.
Kai remained still, blue eyes wide beneath Debbie's hand…
He saw everything, even through the attempt to shield him.
Inside, he burned.
The probabilities scrambled in his mind.
He saw every possible action.
Saw what could've been.
But chose none.
When they got home, silence ruled.
Mark was restless, trying to understand why their mother seemed so sad.
Debbie said the child would be fine — that the paramedics arrived quickly, that he only fainted.
But her voice lacked conviction.
Kai went upstairs and locked himself in his room.
He sat on the floor.
For a long time, he didn't think about anything.
He just stayed there.
Feeling the weight of his decision.
"Not acting… is also acting. The world moves even when I choose to stay still. If I had acted, would I have changed this world? Am I really part of here? Or do I still belong to Earth… the other one?"
He didn't cry.
But he felt it — for the first time since arriving in that world — the weight of being who he was, and the danger that came from simply existing.
From that day on, he began paying more attention to choices.
To what it meant to act… and what it meant to abstain.
And there, in that small omission — perhaps just another burden for someone already tired — was born the first crack in the wall he had built between himself and the world.