"It's about time. The patrol convoy should be back by now, right? Let me take a look."
Atop one of the steel watchtowers lining the walls of Glory Base, a gunner peered through his targeting scope, scanning the horizon out of sheer boredom.
As a soldier stationed inside the base, most of his duties were monotonous. It was a dull yet relatively safe position, except in the rare instance of a beast tide attacking the base. During such times, the typically uneventful job transformed into a high-risk endeavor, where a single mistake could cost one their life.
However, such occurrences were exceedingly rare, often years apart. As a result, base defense remained a popular posting—after all, in a world where idleness was a luxury, everyone had to contribute somehow.
"What the hell is that?"
The gunner froze, his eyes glued to his scope. What he saw would be etched into his memory for the rest of his life.
A massive, crimson-winged creature with a terrifying yet majestic form emerged from the distant horizon. Its wings were so vast they seemed to blot out the sky. Following closely behind it was an entire flock of similar beasts, though slightly smaller in size.
These creatures exuded raw strength and overwhelming power. Their every movement radiated a sense of unstoppable might, leaving the stunned gunner awestruck. For a moment, he stood frozen, his mind unable to process what he was witnessing.
When he finally snapped out of his stupor, his face turned pale with terror. Staggering back a couple of steps, he slammed his hand down on the emergency button.
Woo-woo-woo—!
A deafening alarm blared throughout the base, accompanied by flashing red warning lights that painted the walls in an eerie glow.
"Report! I've spotted an extremely powerful swarm of airborne beasts heading our way!"
Without hesitation, the gunner activated his communicator and relayed what he had seen to the base's command center.
His reaction was entirely understandable. In this world, there were only two categories of creatures: humans and beasts. And judging by their unfamiliar forms, these monstrous entities clearly did not belong to humanity.
If they weren't human, then they had to be beasts—there was no middle ground.
But what happened next left the gunner even more bewildered.
He received orders from the command center:
"Remain on high alert, but do not fire unless instructed to."
"...What? You want me to just stand here and watch?" The gunner could hardly believe what he was hearing. While he knew that his laser cannon wouldn't even scratch those massive beasts, the idea of waiting passively for death felt equally absurd.
"They're not beasts—at least, we don't think they are. They may be allies. But we can't confirm this yet. So, under no circumstances are you to open fire."
"Wait, hold on—allies?" The gunner interrupted the communications officer, convinced he must have misheard.
"That's correct, though it's not confirmed," the officer reiterated before abruptly ending the transmission, moving on to inform other artillery teams.
Feeling as though he were in a waking dream, the gunner returned to his scope and once again observed the approaching creatures.
This time, he noticed something else—beneath the massive flock of dragons was the very convoy he had been searching for earlier. The patrol unit was kicking up a trail of dust, moving steadily toward the base while maintaining the same pace as the airborne beasts.
"They're not beasts?" The gunner recalled the command center's words and began studying the creatures more closely. It was only now that he realized their forms didn't resemble any known species of beast.
If these creatures weren't beasts, then they were either a completely new, unidentified species or—just as the officer had said—allies.
Logically, he should have leaned toward the former. But the sight of the patrol convoy beneath the creatures gave him pause.
After all, beasts and humans were mortal enemies, locked in an endless battle of survival. Yet, the towering monstrosities flying above showed no signs of hostility toward the humans below.
This simple observation made it difficult to label them as beasts. However, the scene that unfolded next utterly shattered the gunner's understanding of reality.
Through his scope, he saw the leading crimson dragon, its scales gleaming like molten armor. Perched atop its head—between two imposing horns—was a small figure.
"...Fenrir?" The gunner murmured in disbelief. The figure was familiar to him.
Glory Base wasn't particularly large, nor was it small, but its God Machine users were few enough to be widely recognized. A newly inducted God Machine user like Fenrir, in particular, had left a strong impression on many.
"How is this possible? How is he in that position?" The gunner was utterly baffled, his mind struggling to reconcile what he was seeing.
Unable to accept what his eyes were telling him, he reached down and pinched his thigh as hard as he could.
"Ow! ...Okay, this isn't a dream."
He winced from the pain, but the reality of the situation only left him more confused.
"What the hell is going on?"
The confusion wasn't limited to the gunner alone. All the soldiers stationed along the walls were equally dumbfounded. The dragons were simply too massive to ignore, their presence impossible to overlook.
As the patrol convoy entered the base, most of the dragon flock remained outside, hovering menacingly. The largest among them—the crimson dragon with Fenrir atop its head—followed the convoy inside.
This caused widespread panic among the base's residents.
Facing such an overwhelming creature, the average person felt an instinctive, primal fear. The mere sight of the dragon made them want to drop to their knees in submission.
Though base security forces worked quickly to restore order, and Fenrir ordered the crimson dragon to suppress its aura, the lingering fear was difficult to dispel.
But the civilians weren't the only ones gripped by panic. Even the base's top officials were deeply unsettled.
Unlike the general populace, however, the officials had no choice but to step forward and confront the situation. It was their duty, whether they liked it or not.
...
"There's no need to be so tense," Muria said, breaking the silence of the conference room with a warm smile. "After all, I did grow up in this base. You should all be quite familiar with me."
The officials exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions a mixture of complex emotions. After debriefing the patrol unit, they had learned the full story of the events that had transpired.
They now understood that the young man standing before them—Fenrir—was no ordinary God Machine user. In truth, he was a being on par with the godlike entity that sought to destroy their world.
This revelation filled them with an almost paralyzing sense of dread. For years, they had unknowingly lived alongside a being capable of wiping them out at any moment. Only now, after Muria chose to reveal himself, did they finally comprehend the truth.
"How should we address you?" The base commander asked cautiously, carefully choosing his words.
"Fenrir," Muria replied casually. "You've all grown used to calling me that, haven't you?"
"But... isn't Fenrir just an alias? Could you tell us your true name?"
"You ignorant fools!"
The sudden, derisive outburst came from the crimson dragon, who had taken on the form of a red-haired warrior standing behind Muria. It was the dragon known as Auston.
"Do you even understand the magnitude of what you're asking? To utter the true name of an entity like him is to invite death!"
The officials were stunned by Auston's sharp rebuke.
"Why would learning a name be so dangerous?" one of them finally dared to ask, curiosity outweighing caution.
"Ninety-nine percent of you would drop dead on the spot," Auston sneered. "The remaining one percent might qualify to become his lowliest retainer. But even that is unlikely."
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