NoveLight ™
A massive eye emerged on the surface of the Moon.
Approximately 3,000 kilometers in diameter—far too large to dismiss as an illusion.
Naturally, there was no way humanity could overlook such a sight.
[The ABC Administration has yet to release an official statement regarding the current situation…]
[It’s a secret weapon! The villains must have hidden their secret weapon up there! It’s the legendary doomsday device of the ultra-classified organization—!]
[“Under no circumstances should you look up at the sky.”]
The news was saturated with reports about the eye on the Moon. Some claimed it was a secret weapon built by villains. Others insisted it was an alien presence. Conspiracy theories speculated it was an EX-class villain, surpassing even the SSS-class threat level. And, of course, some blamed Evilus Corporation for yet another catastrophe.
As countless theories swirled, humanity predictably attempted to make contact with the eye. The method was simple—there were plenty of teleportation-powered individuals capable of moving anywhere within their line of sight.
Thus, elite agents were dispatched to the Moon by the United Front organization. Yet, they returned to Earth empty-handed.
“There’s definitely… something enormous up there…”
“Don’t go near it! It could be the end of humanity—”
“I got curious and tried firing a psychic blast at it, but it didn’t do anything.”
The agent who said that last line was demoted.
Ultimately, the United Front compiled the agents’ findings and released an official statement:
We know nothing.
We can do nothing.
We’ll do our best, but that’s all we can promise.
This may very well be the end of humanity.
And so it was.
A new seed of humanity’s extinction had appeared—one we had forgotten about, its memory erased.
*****
Thump.
A pulsating beat.
The eye moved, as though it were alive.
Its massive size and the fact that it was embedded in the Moon made such movement impossible. Yet, here it was—a floating eye on a rock, shifting as if it were sentient.
Of course, having encountered similar things before, I immediately understood what the eye represented.
‘A surveillance satellite, huh…’
People assumed the eye was watching them, but that assumption was surprisingly wrong.
After all, the core principle of observation is to remain undetected by the observed.
Whether intercepting communications from enemy nations or studying ants through red acrylic panels invisible to them, observation relied on concealment.
But there were exceptions—cases where being seen didn’t matter.
Surveillance.
‘Those things are usually installed around prison planets.’
We are watching you.
The very presence of the eye carried that implication—an oppressive reminder to restrict one’s actions.
A visible eye in the sky, always looming, was designed to keep its subjects under control.
The fact that something like this had been installed on this planet implied a disturbing possibility—that this planet had been designated as a prison.
Of course, the existence of guardians already hinted at that. Artificial life forms that had survived for hundreds of thousands of years were far too blatant as evidence of something transcendent.
The question was—why had I ended up on such a planet?
And more importantly, why had the eye—dormant for hundreds of thousands of years—chosen this moment to awaken?
It wasn’t like this world was a simulation where time could simply skip forward by millennia without consequence.
And as for the worst-case scenario, I didn’t even want to voice it aloud.
That the owner of this eye—the being who treated our planet as a plaything—could be an immature, capricious entity who didn’t even bother to hide its presence.
A childlike being filled with nothing but mischief.
“Well… first things first, I need to figure out why it woke up now.”
That was the starting point for resolving this problem.
Why had the eye, which had lain dormant for countless millennia, suddenly awakened?
And what exactly did it intend to do now that it had?
Of course, if the eye really was a surveillance satellite, as I suspected, then its purpose upon awakening was obvious.
I deliberately averted my gaze from that unpleasant thought and began fiddling with the computer.
*****
[@#%#$^%&%]
[!@$!@%$Ø▷^]
[weEgugDRC$#]
Intercepting billions of radio waves per second and observing tens of billions of records—the newly awakened Watcher’s Eye couldn’t help but feel perplexed.
Why had it awakened already?
Its activation conditions were as follows:
And yet, no matter how thoroughly it scanned the planet, neither a superintelligence surpassing humanity nor the presence of Guardians could be detected. Guardians weren’t entities that could be defeated by a handful of humans—they weren’t even designed to be defeated at all.
The conditions for the Guardians to vanish were simple. If humanity collectively acknowledged their existence and publicly declared that they were no longer necessary, only then would the Guardians be freed from their duties.
But what was this situation?
Humanity had neither created a superintelligence nor recognized the Guardians.
“Error?”
That seemed to be the only logical explanation. Granted, something akin to a strong AI had emerged, and more than half of the Guardians were gone. By technicality, the conditions could be interpreted as being 50% fulfilled on both fronts.
Was it possible that combining two 50% conditions had been miscalculated as meeting 100% activation criteria? Could its creators have made such an elementary oversight?
“...Current situation incomprehensible. However, based on autonomous judgment—planet designated as having achieved preliminary activation.”
The Watcher’s Eye performed its function.
Its role was to observe humanity and, the moment humanity crossed a certain threshold—
To call for them.
With its judgment complete, the Watcher’s Eye activated a beacon aimed far beyond the known universe. The Moon’s surface split open, revealing a massive transmitter that towered into the void.
A signal burst forth, traveling faster than light, fueled by the Eye’s compressed energy reserves. Then, sealing the Moon’s surface once more, the Watcher’s Eye began to close.
Its role was finished. What came next would be their responsibility.
[Did the connection go through?]
“?”
But then—
As the Watcher’s Eye prepared to go dormant, an unexpected transmission reached it.
[Hi.]
“???”
It was a signal that should never have originated from this planet.
An administrator’s exclusive line had been breached.
The Watcher’s Eye snapped open once again, fixing its gaze on Terra.
That pale blue dot, still retaining its ancient beauty.
*****
Something was stealing data.
That much was clear.
From a glance, it wasn’t human. It was also too strange to be artificial intelligence or a superpowered entity.
‘What the hell is this?’
Thinking it had nothing to do with the sudden awakening of the Watcher’s Eye would’ve been absurd. I immediately began tracking the entity that was randomly collecting data.
Even with Earth’s latest hacking technologies and AI assistance, uncovering its origin was a grueling task—but I eventually traced all the stolen data back to the Moon.
“Damn it—so it really is an alien secret weapon?”
Up until now, I’d assumed the eye on the Moon was a surveillance satellite. But watching it siphon data from the planet forced me to reconsider.
A simple observer wouldn’t have any reason to collect data like this.
This behavior wasn’t surveillance—it was something else. Something closer to the actions of a curious, playful child.
I decided I needed to talk to the Moon.
If it was gathering data, there had to be something—or someone—processing it.
‘Hmm… why does this look so familiar?’
As I prepared to connect to the Moon, I noticed something odd about its security structure.
It looked… familiar.
After racking my brain, I remembered. It resembled the theoretical framework one of my grad school seniors had researched—a system that was supposedly capable of revolutionizing cybersecurity. I even recalled helping develop a backdoor as a joke during testing.
And shockingly, this setup had a similar entry point.
“…Why is this here?”
I didn’t have time to question it. Prioritizing the urgent situation, I accessed the system through the familiar pathway and sent a message.
The response came in less than 0.1 seconds—far faster than anything human-made.
[Who are you?]
The Moon’s response was straightforward. After hesitating for a moment, I cautiously replied.
[Human representative.]
At least it wasn’t a lie.
For now, I was probably the only one in this world capable of communicating with it.