An Anomaly Crystal (Retouch)

[South Korea Demilitarized Zone (SKDZ) — March 19, 1996]

The ground suddenly began to tremble.

At first, the soldiers stationed at the guard post thought it was nothing more than a minor earthquake, typical of the unstable mountainous region. The tremor was brief, localized, like a long breath suddenly held in the lungs of the earth. Yet strangely, the military seismic sensors buried deep underground transmitted unusual data back to headquarters—data that did not fit any known pattern.

The waves of vibration bore no resemblance to tectonic movement. No fault shifts, no after-cracks. On the contrary: the tremor pulsed. Rhythmic. As if something were trying to beat—like the heart of a being just awakening from a long sleep.

The South Korean military wasted no time. In less than six hours, a covert black unit was dispatched to the epicenter—a hillside in Goseong, a borderland littered with mines and barbed wire. Their first suspicion: underground sabotage by North Korea or another state, perhaps a new tunnel being dug. But that suspicion quickly collapsed.

When the soldiers dug deeper, they uncovered a fractured hollow that emitted a faint glow. At the bottom lay something never recorded in human history.

A crystal.

Its form was simple, almost beautiful: no larger than a human heart, translucent blue-white. Yet it hovered a few centimeters above the cracked stone, untouched by gravity. Its inner light pulsed gently, like the heartbeat of a living creature.

Its presence was strange—no entry point from the skies, no meteor trail. It was as though the crystal had always been there, buried within the earth for an unfathomable time. The place where it was found resembled a small altar.

The surroundings were unnatural. Tree roots that brushed against the crystal appeared scorched, insects lay shriveled and dead, and the air around the hollow felt heavy, as if burdened by an unseen weight.

They tried to touch it. Every tool broke, every machine failed. Electronic weapons died instantly. Yet the crystal… sang.

Not with sound. Not with radio frequencies. It sang through thought. Soldiers who lingered too long near it reported hallucinations: a sky burning, the shadow of a crying girl, and a voice repeating a single phrase thousands of times in countless tongues:

“When she arrives, one relic shall awaken.”

[April 1996 — National Assembly, Seoul]

The crystal was soon given a codename: The Anomaly Crystal.

Efforts to move it failed time and again. Every machine that attempted to lift it shut down, as if the crystal rejected the touch of metal and electricity. In the end, the government decided to construct a research facility near the discovery site, under strict military control.

Two new organizations were established. The first: Korea Anomaly Division (KAD)—composed of scientists, linguists, psychologists, and theologians. They were granted full authority to study the origin and meaning of the phenomenon.

The second: South Korea Anomaly Response Division (SKARD)—a military unit free of political oversight, operating entirely in secrecy. They were trained to face threats that defied ordinary logic. Their mission was clear: protect the Crystal, guard the secret, and prepare for the worst.

Ancient documents were scoured. From old Korean manuscripts to the sacred texts of the world’s great religions, a pattern began to emerge. Recurring themes, as if whispers of the past had now taken shape:

Two flames.

A sundered God.

A judgment born of love and destruction.

[September 1999 — The Prophecy]

The Crystal began to change. Every thirteen days, it pulsed brighter, releasing ripples of light in a steady rhythm. KAD realized the light was no mere natural phenomenon—it was a code.

They named it the Crystal Prophecy.

The first deciphered text read:

“From the ashes of the First World shall come one without past, without name, without allegiance.

She will be loved. She will be feared.

And through her, all shall be judged.”

Other prophecies proved more difficult. Some were written in languages with no relation to any known human tongue. The words were heavy, hard to even think, nearly impossible to pronounce.

Thus, a new division was created: Korea Echo Division (KED), a group of linguists and cryptographers tasked with unraveling messages seemingly not meant for human minds.

Within KAD, fierce debate erupted. Were the prophecies a guide—a message meant to lead humanity toward a destined future? Or a warning—a foretelling of destruction drawing ever closer?

The answer was never clear. But one thing was certain: time was moving forward. And with every pulse of the Crystal’s light, all who studied it felt they were racing against something unseen.

[Third Month, 2001 — The Sky Sunders]

That day came without warning.

Military radar detected a massive object entering the atmosphere. Its path was too controlled, its descent too deliberate to be called a meteor. The nation prepared for disaster. But there was no explosion. No devastation.

The object landed with a soft thundering impact.

When the investigation team arrived, they found something that defied reason.

Not metal.

Not stone.

But a girl.

Her body was burned, covered in wounds and blood. She was surrounded by flames that neither consumed her body nor scorched the ground beneath. She was unconscious. Her breathing was faint, but present.

And in that instant, something extraordinary occurred: the Anomaly Crystal could suddenly be moved. Machines that once failed now worked flawlessly. As if the Crystal had been waiting for the girl’s arrival.

[After the Fall]

From that day forward, KAD and SKARD no longer dealt solely with mysterious light. They now faced a living being—someone who might be the answer to all the prophecies. Yet new questions loomed.

Who was this girl?

Why had she fallen from the sky?

And what was her connection to the Crystal’s voice, now louder and clearer, resonating throughout the research facility like a song?

The whispers were no longer faint, but sharp, piercing the minds of all who came near the Crystal:

“When she arrives, one relic shall awaken.”

[Interim Epilogue]

The mystery did not end there. The Crystal, once passive, grew increasingly active, its light responding to every change in the girl. At times it pulsed like a heartbeat. At times it flared with blinding brilliance.

And behind it all, another threat lingered. Intelligence reports hinted that foreign powers had begun to catch the scent of this secret. Japan, America, even Russia—all wanted to know what Korea had uncovered in the DMZ.

But for those who had heard the Crystal’s whispers directly, the greatest threat was not other nations, but something far older, greater, and more alien than humanity could comprehend.

Two flames.

A sundered God.

A judgment born of love and destruction.

And at the center of it all, a girl—now sleeping upon the earth for the first time.

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