It started at 3:14 PM.
The city was alive — people laughing, cars honking, children playing. Then, without warning, the sky began to shimmer. Like glass under pressure.
Then — CRACK.
A glowing blue line ripped across the clouds. Jagged. Silent. Wrong.
People stopped. Some pointed. Some pulled out their phones. Some even laughed.
Nobody understood what they were seeing.
Then the light widened.
A Gate — swirling, humming, alive — opened like a wound in the sky. Blue light bled from it, distorting the air. Heat and static buzzed.
Then… Something moved.
It stepped forward — tall, monstrous, unreal. Black skin slick like oil. Gold eyes burning. Its body shimmered and shifted, as if reality itself rejected it.
Someone screamed.
Panic followed.
There were no alarms. No defense. No plan.
Because this Gate opened far too early.
And it marked the beginning of the end.
Two Days Earlier
That morning, during sports period, the class lined up for a 400-meter race beneath the harsh sun.
The whistle blew — and the others burst forward.
Arin ran after them, already falling behind. His legs burned, breath struggled, and every step felt like he was sinking. The gap widened. He pushed on.
Halfway through, his foot caught. He stumbled — then hit the track hard.
Nobody noticed. Nobody stopped.
For a moment, he just lay there, staring at the blue sky overhead, the distant sound of cheering in his ears.
Then he got up.
Slowly, limping, hurting, he finished the race.
At the end, Jean stood grinning, surrounded by claps and cheers.
"You did it again, Jean!" "You're unbeatable!"
Arin crossed the line unseen.
Bent over and panting, he looked at the crowd, then walked away without a word.
Back in class, he went to his usual seat near the window. He rested his head on his folded arms, eyes watching the hills in the distance.
There, in that silence — in the open sky and flying birds — he found peace.
Then he saw it.
A flash — bright blue and fast — tearing silently across the sky before disappearing behind the hills.
Not lightning. Not a plane. A meteor?
Nobody else saw it.
But Arin's heart raced.
That evening, he followed a path he knew — through the woods beyond town. It was quiet. Too quiet. No birds, no wind, just a faint, electric hum in the air.
Then he saw it.
A ship. Floating. Torn. Alien.
Hovering above the ground like it was caught between falling and flying. Its hull shimmered in dim light, etched with unknown marks.
Inside — a black stone floated. Symbols glowed on its surface, pulsing like veins.
It called to him.
Arin stepped forward, drawn.
He reached out.
His fingers brushed the stone—
And something exploded inside him.
Not pain — power. Endless. Wild. Alive.
Visions slammed into his mind:
A burning world. Skies filled with monsters. Cities crumbling under shadow.
He screamed.
Then — darkness.
He woke up drenched in sweat, gasping in a hospital bed.
The door opened. Mira rushed in.
"Arin!" she cried, rushing to his side. "Are you okay?"
The doctor stepped forward calmly. "Heatstroke. He needs rest."
Mira gently hugged him. "Thank God… thank God you're alright," she whispered through quiet sobs.
Arin didn't speak.
Outside the window, the sky was darkening.
Something had changed.
Something had awakened.
That evening, Mira made warm soup and placed it gently beside Arin's bed.
He hadn't said a word since waking up, but when their eyes met, she gave him a soft smile and brushed the hair from his forehead.
"You scared me, you know," she whispered.
Later that night, he sat alone by the window.
The moon hung low, its light pale and distant.
He touched his chest, half-expecting to feel that power still burning — but all he felt was a strange calm, like something inside him was waiting.
He thought of Mira — the way her hands had trembled when she hugged him, how tightly she held back tears.
He couldn't tell her.
Not about the ship. Not about the stone.
She already worried too much.
If she knew what really happened… it would break her.
So he stayed silent.
And outside, the world quietly shifted around them.
Two Weeks Later — Mira's Restaurant
The restaurant was calm during the lunch hour — a few regulars eating, soft clatter of plates, sunlight filtering through the front windows.
Arin sat at the counter, a bowl of rice and miso in front of him. He picked at it quietly, his eyes drifting up to the small TV mounted on the wall.
The screen flickered, showing a live broadcast.
[On TV – News Studio – Two Weeks Since the First Gate Opened]
Interviewer: "Thank you for joining us today, Sir Vale. I know you've been… busy."
Sir Vale Rynhart, national chairman of the Scout Division, sat across from the interviewer, his silver-streaked hair and sharp eyes giving him a seasoned, severe air.
Vale: "Thank you for having me. I wish it were under better circumstances."
Interviewer: "It's been two weeks since the first Gates opened. Can you tell us what we're dealing with?"
Vale: (sighs) "We're still figuring that out. We know they're not natural — they tear through space like… wounds. And more are appearing every day."
Interviewer: "Do we know where they're coming from? Who — or what — is behind this?"
Vale: (shakes head slowly) "No. Not yet. We're tracking the patterns, collecting data, running simulations… but there's nothing consistent. The truth is, these Gates break every rule we thought we understood."
Interviewer: "But the casualties have been… relatively low so far?"
Vale: "We've been lucky. Most of the Gates — so far — have been minor. D-rank, C-rank… manageable. Our scouts have been able to contain them. Close them before they destabilize."
He pauses.
Vale: "But they're getting stronger."
Interviewer: (sits forward) "How strong are we talking?"
Vale: "…We've identified signs of higher-tier anomalies. B-rank, maybe A. And if an S-class Gate opens before we're ready…"
He trails off.
Interviewer: "Is that what keeps you up at night?"
Vale: (after a beat) "It's not what might come out of an S-class Gate that scares me. It's what we still don't know."
Interviewer: "So what's the plan, going forward?"
Vale: "We're building teams. Training awakened individuals. Coordinating with every major government. But the truth is…"
The screen flickers.
Vale: "…we're not ready. Not for what's coming."
BZZZT. The feed cuts to static. No Signal.
Arin stared at the screen, spoon still in hand.
Mira stepped out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.
He turned toward her as she approached.
She smiled and set a fresh plate beside him. "Your birthday's tomorrow. Invite some friends, alright? I'll make that curry you love."
Arin gave a small nod.
He had no friends. But he didn't want to disappoint her.
Later that day, a Gate had appeared — small, glowing faintly — right across the street.
Police arrived quickly and followed protocol, sealing off the area with yellow tape.
A tall inspector stepped onto the scene, his badge glinting under the sun. "What's the situation?"
One officer replied, "It's just a D-rank Gate, sir. We've called the scouts. They'll arrive tomorrow morning."
The inspector nodded. "Alright. Maintain perimeter. No civilians near the zone."
Everyone assumed there was still time.
Some passersby stopped to stare. A few recorded videos.
"Too weak to open," someone muttered. "Just flickering."
But something was different this time.
And nobody saw it coming.
Back at school, the teacher entered with a stack of papers.
"Test results," she said. "Some of you surprised me."
She paused at one name. "Arin. Perfect score."
Silence filled the room.
Jean glanced over.
His smile faded for just a second — then returned.
He said nothing.
But inside, something twisted. Jealousy.
After school, Arin turned the corner near the gate.
Jean was waiting. Two boys stood behind him, silent.
"Perfect score, huh?" Jean said coldly. "Think you're better than me now?"
Arin met his eyes. "I never said that."
Jean stepped closer, voice low. "No one goes from invisible to perfect overnight. You think we're all that stupid?"
His eyes narrowed. "You're not smart. You just got lucky. Or you cheated."
Arin's voice stayed calm. "I didn't cheat."
Jean shoved him.
Then swung.
Arin moved — faster than he expected.
He slipped past the punch and countered with one clean strike.
Jean gasped, stumbling back.
"I'll let it go," he muttered, backing away.
Some students nearby had seen it.
They didn't laugh. They didn't look away.
They just watched.
Sirens. Screams.
The Gate near the restaurant had flared wide.
It wasn't supposed to open.
A slick, black claw — massive and dripping — tore through the rift. It grabbed an officer and hurled him like a ragdoll.
Chaos spread. People ran.
Arin froze. Mira.
He bolted toward the street—
But the main road was blocked by police barricades.
"Stay back!" an officer shouted. "You can't enter!"
Arin didn't stop.
He turned sharply, heart racing.
He knew another way.
A narrow alley behind the buildings — a shortcut only he remembered.
He ran, feet pounding the pavement.
But just ahead — he stopped.
A small boy sat on the ground, crying near a broken bench.
Behind him… a monster approached.
Its gold eyes locked on the child.
Arin's chest tightened.
He looked down — saw a loose brick near the wall.
He grabbed it — and hurled it straight at the creature.
THUD.
The stone slammed into its head.
The monster turned, now staring at Arin.
It let out a low snarl — and charged.
Arin's heart pounded. What do I do?
He didn't know.
But he didn't back down.
There was something inside him — strange, burning… waiting.
The monster lunged, swinging a jagged blade-like arm.
Arin dodged — barely.
He backed up, then planted his feet.
"I need to end this fast… I have to get to her."
The moment the monster lunged again, Arin slipped forward and drove his fist hard into its chest.
CRASH.
The creature slammed into the wall of a nearby house and crumpled, stunned.
From the corner of his eye, Arin saw police officers rush in and grab the crying boy, pulling him to safety.
Without waiting, Arin turned and kept running — down the alley, toward the restaurant.
His breath was heavy. His hands were shaking.
He didn't understand what had just happened.
But something inside him had answered.
Something was no longer asleep.
He neared the back door of the restaurant — He grabbed the doorknob—
A scream. A woman. Mira.
Arin's eyes widened.
His grip tightened.