The blind old man lifted his right hand, wiping the blood calmly from his face as if it were rain. Then, with slow grace, he returned his hand behind his back and resumed gazing out over the endless sea. He inhaled deeply, letting the clean ocean breeze brush against his aged skin, as though it were trying to carry away the weight of his memories.
"...At the beginning of my life, I was just like you. Just like every Chosen of Truth in their reckless youth—consumed by curiosity.
From the moment I first opened my eyes, I had a hunger for knowledge that devoured every boundary. I questioned everything. Studied everything. Pulled apart the very fabric of what I saw to understand it."
He paused—eyes unseen, yet soul wide open.
"But after each great discovery… there was always something that made me feel small—something I could never explain."
"It was the balance," the old man continued, his voice more distant now, as if speaking not just to Robin, but to the universe itself.
