Not dangerous.

Not loud.

Just… off.

Patch stopped walking, his fur rising just enough to signal a warning.

He stared toward the twin mounds—those strange, quiet hills people joked about but rarely approached.

A faint vibration pressed against my chest.

Not sound.

Not wind.

Something subtler.

A thin line of distortion flickered between the mounds, like reality trying—and failing—to stay aligned.

Patch hissed softly.

I took another cautious step forward, testing the air with the edge of my palm.

The temperature dipped for a moment, then snapped back, as if the environment couldn’t decide which state it belonged to.

A symbol flashed at the edge of my vision—brief, sharp, gone before I could react.

I blinked.

“What… was that?”

Before I could figure it out, a low thrum rolled across the ground.

The soil trembled beneath my shoes, and every instinct in my body whispered:

This place is not normal.

But the distortion didn’t grow.

It simply hovered, pulsing faintly, as if waiting.

Patch nudged my ankle once—his version of “enough.”

I took a step back.

The vibration eased.

The world steadied.

Whatever was inside those mounds…

It wasn’t waking up yet.

But it was aware.

Watching.

Waiting.

---

A note from THREEZHUGE

This chapter marks the first moment when UFO Park stops feeling like a normal place.

The “Eight Trigrams” foundation under the mounds will matter far more later—and this is your first glimpse.

Thank you for reading.