"Could the Ultimate Saiyan Form Exist?"

City of Kazan

Just as John started his motorcycle to head home, a second tremor shook the city. This time, the shaking was much more intense. It wasn't unusual for aftershocks to follow an earthquake, but something inside him told him this wasn't normal. He couldn't explain it—just a gut feeling.

The tremor lasted a full minute, though to him, it felt like an eternity. As soon as the ground stopped roaring, John twisted the throttle and sped through the streets of Kazan. The city, usually calm and orderly, was now engulfed in chaos. People were running in all directions, buildings were cracked—some had completely collapsed—overturned cars littered the sidewalks, and the constant wail of emergency sirens echoed endlessly through the dust-filled air.

John swallowed hard, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. He didn't know how strong this second quake had been, but something deep inside screamed that the earthquake itself wasn't the real problem—something far worse was happening. An ominous feeling loomed over him like an invisible shadow.

He pressed down on the accelerator, weaving between stalled cars and debris-covered streets. He zigzagged past fallen poles and flickering streetlights. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, urging him forward, pushing him not to stop.

When he finally turned onto the street leading to his house, his breath caught in his throat. The scene was devastating. Several homes had completely collapsed, reduced to piles of rubble and dust. Others were engulfed in flames, with tongues of fire mercilessly devouring walls and roofs. The acrid scent of smoke and burnt wood filled the air.

John's heart nearly stopped when he saw his Uncle Robert's house. The flames consumed it with fury, casting an eerie orange glow over the surroundings.

—God…—he murmured, helplessness washing over him.

But when his gaze shifted to his own home, his expression changed entirely.

His house was untouched.

Not a single crack in the walls, no sign of fire, not a scratch. It was as if the disaster had deliberately skipped over it, as if an invisible barrier had shielded it from the destruction around it.

John slammed the brakes, staring at his home in disbelief.

—What the hell…?

His shock lasted only a moment because something inside the house caught his attention—a quick flash, like a golden flicker shining from within. It blinked for an instant and then vanished.

His instincts kicked in immediately. Without hesitation, he moved toward the garage entrance, approaching cautiously. He pushed the door open and stepped inside quietly, ready for anything.

But what he found wasn't a thief. It wasn't an animal. It wasn't just any ordinary object.

It was an eye.

A glowing eye resting on the living room table, hovering slightly above the surface. It wasn't an ornament or a gemstone. It was a real eye, with an organic texture, glistening as if coated in some viscous substance. It had a long, golden, slit-shaped pupil—like a reptile's.

A shiver ran down John's spine. His breathing became erratic as he stepped forward, hypnotized by the mysterious object.

—What the hell is this?—he murmured, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Hesitantly, he reached out and touched the eye. The moment his fingers made contact with the slimy surface, the glow vanished abruptly, and the eye dropped to the floor with a dull thud. The sensation was indescribable—like touching something that shouldn't exist.

It was definitely an eye.

But… whose? Where had it come from?

John felt a wave of nausea and straightened up, forcing himself to set the mystery aside for now. He rushed upstairs to grab the essentials—his wallet, the money hidden in a shoebox, a briefcase with important documents, and a family photo album. As he passed through the living room, his gaze fell once more on the strange object, resembling a dragon's eye.

For a moment, he hesitated. He didn't know what it was, but whatever it was, it had protected his house. Maybe it could protect him too.

As he stepped outside, he saw his Uncle Robert, his face covered in soot and his expression filled with despair.

—Uncle! What happened? Why did the houses catch fire?

The man shook his head.

—I wish I knew, kid. Some people say they saw a purple light fall onto the rooftops just before the fires started. Others think it was a gas leak or an electrical issue, but… I don't know what to believe anymore.

John frowned, another chill creeping down his spine.

—That doesn't make sense… With the maintenance these houses get, there shouldn't be any explosions from gas or electricity. What the hell was that light?

For a brief moment, his mind drifted back to the eye he had found inside his house. Something in his gut told him everything was connected.

Uncle Robert sighed, looking at his home being swallowed by flames.

—Well, at least your house was spared, kid.

John tried to lighten the mood with a smile.

—Maybe it's my parents' spirits protecting it, haha.

The man managed a weak smile.

—Maybe… Are you heading out?

—Yeah, Uncle. I'm going to check on Grandma. If you want, you can stay at my house while I'm gone.

—No need. I was thinking of moving anyway. With the house insurance, I'll take the opportunity to relocate to the city center. My daughter starts college next year.

—Well, if anything comes up, let me know, Uncle—John said before pulling him into a firm hug.

—I understand, kid. Take care on the road. See you later.

Wasting no more time, John climbed onto his motorcycle and started the engine. A deep unease settled in his chest.

The disaster wasn't over yet.

And the worst was yet to come.