Rain fell like silver needles over the docks, each droplet carrying the scent of salt, iron, and fear. The sea was still churning from what had happened hours ago — a dragon-type monster had risen from the depths and turned the training expedition into a massacre.
They called it a "beginner's voyage," a test of courage for trainees from Golden Angel Academy. But Soji Phoenix knew better now. There had been nothing "beginner" about that creature.
He sat at the edge of a medical cot, bandages winding around his shoulder and neck. The infirmary light flickered with the dull hum of the generators — powered by Fragments Energy, the unseen force that fueled every tool and weapon of mankind.
"Your vitals are stable," the medic murmured. "You're lucky to be alive, cadet. Out of twenty-four trainees, only eight returned breathing."
Soji didn't respond. His gaze rested on his palms — rough, trembling, burned at the edges from handling the rifle too long. His reflection in the metal tray beside him showed eyes of pale bluish black, faintly shimmering as if the sea itself were staring back.
He remembered the monster's roar — the sound of thunder tearing through water.
He remembered Finn, screaming for the others to fall back, flames pouring from his arms like a living inferno.
He remembered the way the dragon's tail had impaled two of their classmates like paper dolls.
And then… that thing inside him had stirred.
A burning line traced down his spine, as though molten fire was carving into his flesh. The tattoo that had slept since childhood — the moving eye that never opened — had awakened.
He didn't remember the details clearly. Only the sensation of something ancient gazing through him, something that whispered:
Gaze upon the gods, and they shall gaze back.
When he woke again, the monster was dead — half of its body vaporized, the sea boiling around it. But he knew it hadn't been his shot that killed it.
---
Golden Angel Academy stood like a city within walls — a fortress of marble and gold, rising above the flooded plains. The next morning, Soji limped through the gate, the heavy rain replaced by pale sunlight that gleamed off the academy's wingshaped spires.
Cadets in uniform hurried about, some laughing, some whispering. But every pair of eyes that met Soji's carried the same silent question — how did he survive?
He ignored them. The familiar scent of gun oil and burned ozone filled the air from the weapon ranges to his left.
His dormitory room was still the same — spotless, orderly, cold. Two handguns rested in their holsters on the desk; beside them, his favorite rifle: a modified RSK-14 with dual modes — Sniper and Rapid Fire. The rifle that had saved his life.
He set his palm on it and closed his eyes. For a moment, the room darkened.
From beneath his shirt, the tattoo shifted — black lines crawling faintly across his skin before returning to stillness. It always moved now, restless, as if aware of something unseen.
A knock came at the door.
"Soji, you in there?"
Finn's voice.
Soji opened the door to find his friend leaning against the frame, his arm wrapped in fresh bandages. His reddish-gold eyes burned faintly — the residue of Burning Devotion.
"You're alive," Finn said, smirking faintly. "For a moment I thought you got cooked with the rest of them."
Soji exhaled. "You look worse than me."
"Yeah, well, turns out turning your emotions into fire isn't exactly healthy for the nerves." Finn stepped inside, looking around the silent room. "You remember what happened out there?"
"Some of it."
"Then you know something was off. That thing we fought… it wasn't just a monster. It wasn't supposed to exist at that level. That was at least a Rank-One Threat."
Soji's fingers clenched slightly. "The instructors said it was a mutated variant."
"Lies." Finn's voice hardened. "You saw the color of its scales, didn't you? That wasn't mutation. That was Fragments Corruption. Whatever's happening in the southern trench, it's spreading faster than they're telling us."
Soji didn't reply. He could still hear the whispers in the back of his mind — the voice that had called out to him when he was about to die. The voice that opened the eye.
Finn turned to leave, but hesitated. "By the way, they're testing us again next week. A long-range assessment. Targets move this time. Living ones."
Soji frowned. "Living?"
"Low-grade monsters, captured and restrained. They say it's to 'simulate real field conditions.'"
He didn't need to ask what that meant.
The academy didn't believe in mercy. It trained killers for gods.
---
That night, Soji couldn't sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the dragon's tail piercing through the air — and then the reflection of something vast, watching him through the shattered sea.
He turned over, the faint hum of the city outside fading into silence.
The tattoo on his back pulsed. Slowly, like ink flowing beneath the skin, it slithered upward to his shoulder, then his neck. The eye opened — not fully, just enough to leak a thin gleam of golden-black light.
In that instant, the room vanished.
He saw the world… and beyond it.
Flashes of towers burning under divine fire. Shadows walking on clouds. Chains wrapped around the sun.
And above all — eyes.
Thousands of them, gazing down from the firmament, judging, watching, waiting.
Soji gasped and fell to his knees, clutching his face. Blood ran from his nose and the corners of his eyes.
You have gazed where mortals should not, the voice whispered, soft as wind yet heavy as the ocean.
And the price has already been paid.
The eye closed, and everything went silent.
Soji lay trembling, his breathing shallow. He didn't know what the voice meant. He didn't know what price he had paid.
But somewhere deep within him, the fragment of a god's gaze turned once more — and smiled.