Anomaly

There was a brief silence—heavy, but not uncomfortable. I watched Laura take a deep breath, as if she could finally release the air she’d been holding in.
Her expression showed a genuine, almost gentle relief, and even Emily seemed to allow herself a moment of rest as the rigidity that had ruled her movements slipped away. Eryanis, on the other hand, remained still, her eyes fixed, as unshakable as a statue.
Her gaze locked on me carried a strange, almost suffocating weight, as if two wills inside her were waging a silent battle. For an instant, I was certain she would snap back, that the words were about to escape her lips... but instead, she simply looked away, as though admitting anything would not only be difficult but an impossible wound to reveal.
And yet, even with her back turned, I caught something subtle: her lips trembled slightly. It might sound insane, especially considering the way Eryanis has behaved until now, but... isn’t she trying to hold back a smile? I can’t say for sure why, and maybe it’s just my imagination, but that’s the only explanation I can think of.
Meanwhile, farther back, Victor and Rupert exchanged words in hushed voices. Rupert was the one who broke the silence first, slowly stepping up beside Victor. His eyes narrowed, as if searching for the right way to put into words what weighed on his mind.
“This anomaly...” he began, letting the words hang for a few moments. The air between them seemed to grow heavier, thick with an uneasy hesitation. His face took on a strange, almost disturbed cast before he went on: “If I’m not mistaken... when it was first discovered, didn’t it drive an entire battalion to kill themselves?”
Victor, his expression even darker than Rupert’s, merely nodded in silence. The gesture, simple yet heavy, made Rupert blink repeatedly, as if trying to confirm he had understood correctly. Little by little, disbelief spread across his features, confusion giving way to a mixture of shock and denial.
“So...” he started, his voice faltering for a moment: “You’re telling me that everything could have been resolved if... we had just talked to the anomaly? Or something like that?”
Victor’s face grew grim again, shadowed by a tangle of emotions that couldn’t be put into words, until he finally sighed with resignation, as though accepting an inevitable burden. Seeing this, Rupert brought a hand to his temple, massaging it lightly as he drew a long breath, struggling to contain the irritation threatening to break through.
Rupert seemed genuinely angry—or maybe just in disbelief, at least from where I stood. His expression was a strange blend of shock and frustration, as though trying to make sense of something that simply defied reason. But honestly, it wasn’t like I had anything to say that could comfort him.
To be blunt, I didn’t really care that much about the fact that people had died. I mean, it probably happened some time ago, and I didn’t even know them. At most, I feel a bit of weight because of Rupert, seeing him carry this pain, but I can’t say I care enough to truly share his burden.
Either way, putting Rupert and Victor aside, Althea—who floated gently beside Eryanis as though gravity were nothing more than a suggestion—wasn’t about to let the moment pass. Her lips curved into a low, almost feline smile, steeped in quiet confidence. The resonance of that gesture seemed to ripple through the air, spreading in subtle waves across the room.
The atmosphere compressed for an instant before her voice, laced with delicate mockery, drifted out: “Fufufu... and yet, somehow, the dear sister seems to have had a far more pleasant outcome. Don’t you agree, Eryanis?”
The moment those words echoed, all of us—Laura, Victor, Emily, Rupert, and myself—froze in place, as though the air had suddenly turned heavy. Then, almost in unison, we slowly turned our gazes toward Eryanis.
There was no mistaking it: Althea’s words carried the unmistakable tone of provocation. Knowing the personality Eryanis had displayed so far, it wouldn’t have been surprising if, at any moment, the two turned that charged silence into an open clash.
Yet, contrary to what I—and surely everyone else—expected, Eryanis only scoffed, letting out a curt: “Hmph” Then she crossed her arms theatrically, as if to mark her disapproval, before her proud, lofty voice rang through the room: “I admit... Zentharys may have come out on top this time”
When she spoke those words, her tone carried a strange mix of reluctance and arrogance, as though the very confession were a wound to her pride. Then, turning her gaze directly on me, she narrowed her eyes with a challenging gleam: “But next time, I’ll win. So don’t get too full of yourself, Zentharys”
Honestly, I didn’t really know what to say. I mean, at what point exactly had I gotten “full of myself” or anything like that? To be fair, I’ve always been more passive than anything else. Hardly anyone would look at me and think I’m arrogant, or that I walk around acting all high and mighty.
In any case, apparently the challenge had ended with me being declared the winner—at least according to Eryanis’s own words. Still, I couldn’t understand why she clung so hard to this. To me, victory seemed irrelevant.
Both she and I managed to resolve the situation; it’s true we took different paths, but in the end, wasn’t the result the same? The methods may have differed, but does that really matter? After all, she used the power that rightfully belonged to her, while I had to rely solely on my wits and effort.
I just tried to understand the situation. To be honest, I’m still trying to process those reckless words I blurted out the moment I stepped into the room. Even now, I’m not sure why I said them. It was as though something welled up from inside me, an irresistible impulse, a quiet certainty that those were the words that needed to be spoken. The reason, however, remains a mystery.
Still, I feel that the reason Eryanis believes I was the true victor is that I managed to handle the situation without resorting to any anomalous ability.
How can I put this into words...? It’s not that I chose not to use them because I thought they weren’t necessary; the truth is, I didn’t even have anything suitable to use in that moment. If I had called on my abilities, all I would’ve done was completely wreck the place, leaving nothing but ruins in my wake.
Unfortunately, a truth I have to accept is that, in my current state, my powers lean much more toward large-scale devastation than toward precise, controlled destruction. But aside from that, the very next moment we left the place. Emily, Victor, Rupert, and Laura followed closely behind us, their footsteps echoing softly down the corridor.
Just before we crossed the doorway, I noticed Emily speaking quietly to someone through the earpiece she always kept tucked into her ear. I didn’t try too hard to listen, but from what little I managed to catch, other researchers would be sent later to examine the changes that had taken place inside the room.
Even now, I still wonder what exactly that anomaly was, and what its true form might be—if there really was such a thing as a “true” form at all.
As that thought crossed my mind, I realized the sound of our footsteps was the only thing echoing through the place. No whispers, no faint rustling in the distance—just that steady rhythm breaking the suffocating silence. Everyone seemed to have been swallowed up by a near-oppressive stillness.
I couldn’t be sure why Eryanis remained so quiet, though it was easy enough to understand Laura, Emily, Rupert, and Victor’s silence. Althea, however, was different. She floated gently at my side, her body light as though gliding through the air, carrying with her a playful smile that clashed entirely with the atmosphere.
For a moment, my eyes drifted to Eryanis, walking beside me. Her arms stayed crossed, tense, as if she were guarding secrets no one else should ever reach. Her bare feet, protected only by a thin strip of cloth covering the soles, touched the ground with almost noiseless grace, like someone long used to moving without leaving a trace.
I hesitated, torn between silence and the nagging doubt forming in my mind. But curiosity weighed heavier, and unable to hold back, I simply asked: “Eryanis”
At the sound of her name, she flinched ever so slightly, as if the word had struck deeper than just her ears. Slowly, she turned her face toward me; her expression was the same as always, that unshakable seriousness she never seemed to let go of.
“Do you remember anything?” I asked in a low voice: “From before you woke up? Or better yet... can you tell me where you were before you came to me?”
For a moment, I stayed silent, my eyes fixed on Eryanis—who, in turn, stared right back without uttering a word. There was something almost challenging in that silence, as if neither of us wanted to yield first. For a brief second, I thought she might just ignore me.
“I’m not sure...” she finally murmured, her voice breaking the stillness. It was low, dragging, as though the words were too heavy to take shape. After a short sigh, she added, thoughtfully: “All I remember is darkness... and several bright lights in the distance, as if they were calling me from somewhere far, far away”
For a moment, I tried to make sense of what she was talking about. The doubt gnawed at me: was that place she described real, or just something beyond my understanding? My thoughts drifted, tangled in shapeless confusion and endless possibilities.
But Eryanis didn’t waver. Her soft yet steady voice cut through my hesitation: “When I was in that place, I felt your presence... but there was no path, no direction that could take me to you. That’s when Mom helped me. She said you would need me”
I froze in silence at those words. What the hell was that supposed to mean—that I would need her? The confusion pulsed in my mind like an endless echo, and instinctively I glanced at Nekra, Althea, and Nyara, who stayed close by.
All I got in return were looks filled with a mix of warmth and puzzlement. In other words, they had no idea what Eryanis was trying to say. Still, that didn’t mean I could just dismiss her words.
Deep down, there was something about her that kept me from treating her like some lunatic. Yes, she might sound strange, almost disconnected from reality at times, but she wasn’t the kind of person who gave off any sense of deceit. Quite the opposite—in some deep place within me, I knew she wouldn’t lie to me.
And this isn’t exactly important, but for some odd reason, ever since Eryanis appeared, my Alter Ego has been completely silent. Of course, he’s still within me—it’s impossible for us to truly separate—but somehow, since her arrival, he’s chosen to retreat. It’s as if he’s locked himself away in some quiet corner of my mind, just watching from afar, with no desire to interfere.
The thought flickered through my head for an instant, quick as a spark, before my own words echoed inward. I wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular, but I knew without a doubt my Alter Ego would hear them: (Are you sure you’re not going to step in this time? Normally, you’re the one who takes the lead and interacts with them first...)
Of course, for reasons still beyond me, all I got back was a simple scoff. Outwardly, I kept a neutral expression, but inside, it was as if an invisible eyebrow arched slowly upward: (Is it just me, or has this guy been getting more and more impatient lately?)