Anomaly

So... Chronas wanted to share her authority with Victor. Or, at least, that’s what I understood from her words a few seconds ago. Well... I don’t really know how I feel about that. I mean, apparently, I did the same thing with Victor once—but even now, I’m not entirely sure what that really meant.
Personally, I never felt anything different—no change, no strange connection, nothing. So it never occurred to me to take it back from him... or even to think much about it.
At the same time, Victor’s eyes seemed to plead for help as he stared at me—there was disbelief there, confusion, and a silent request for me to do something.
From his point of view, this must all be happening out of nowhere... well, honestly, for me too. I just don’t know what to do. Should I try to stop her? Say something?
But something inside me screams that doing so would be wrong. Chronas made this decision on her own... and even though I don’t understand it, I feel like I should respect that. Still, I wish I at least knew why—what made her want to do something like this.
Emily and Laura, who were also watching, looked just as confused as I was. The two exchanged uncertain glances before turning back to me, as if expecting some kind of explanation.
All I could do was shrug, giving them a look of pure uncertainty—after all, I had no clue what was happening either. I mean... I was barely warned about this at the last minute.
With those thoughts running through my head, I slowly stepped toward Chronas. My eyes, still locked on Victor—who continued to stare silently—finally shifted to Chronas, who also noticed me approaching.
Although my expression on the outside remained unchanged — cold, almost emotionless — inside, I was struggling to organize the storm of thoughts crashing through my mind. I took a deep breath, trying to piece together a single thread of reasoning amid the chaos, until my thoughts turned to Chronas: (I... won’t stop you, Chronas. I trust your judgment, and... I think I understand why you want to do this. But still, I have to ask... are you absolutely sure?)
Chronas heard my words in silence. Her face remained expressionless, but I noticed a faint glimmer—a subtle, almost imperceptible light—spark in her eyes before she finally nodded. Her gesture was steady, her decision made without hesitation. I wanted to respect that—to respect her choice.
I glanced at Victor, who was watching me with a confused expression. He had clearly noticed the exchange between me and Chronas, but since I hadn’t mirrored my thoughts to him, he had no idea what we’d just talked about.
Seeing that, I just shrugged, sounding casual and calm: (She seems pretty set on sharing her authority with you) I said, in a calm, almost indifferent tone: (I don’t see any reason to stop her. In fact, I want to support whatever choice she makes)
Victor blinked for a moment, as if he needed time to process what I’d just said. Then, slowly, he turned his gaze to Chronas, who was still staring back at him. The discomfort was obvious—his shoulders were tense, his eyes uneasy, clearly unsure.
His lips parted slightly, but no words came out at first. He stayed silent for a few moments, his eyes wandering as if searching for an answer in the void, before finally letting his voice slip out — low and a little unsteady: “But... isn’t that dangerous? What if... something happens to Sara because of it?”
I didn’t respond to Victor’s doubts—at least not right away. Like I mentioned earlier, even though I once “shared” my authority with him—or something like that—I personally never felt any different.
I never thought I was an exception, or that things would be any different with Chronas. To me, it all seemed the same. So, after a few seconds of thought, I just shrugged.
To be honest, the very idea that something could actually happen to a virtue sounds absurd to me. From my point of view — and maybe it’s just instinct — I feel that if something were to go wrong, it would be Victor who’d be in danger, not Chronas.
(I don’t think anything bad will happen) I said with my usual detached tone, making Victor raise a brow: (I did the same with you, and I don’t feel any different... I haven’t noticed any changes. Though, to be honest, I don’t remember enough of the past to confirm—or deny—what I just said)
Victor gave me an exasperated look at my words, which sounded colder than I meant them to. But really, what else could I say? It’s not like I could just stop Chronas from doing what she wanted.
Besides, she was clearly doing this to protect—or at least help—Victor himself. What kind of older brother would I be if I didn’t support that? A terrible one, for sure.
Even though he still seemed reluctant, Victor eventually nodded, uncertainty clouding his face. He clearly wasn’t sure about accepting this: “Guess I don’t really have much of a choice here” he muttered, scratching his head nervously. After a small sigh, he added: “So... what exactly am I supposed to do now?”
He asked the question while turning toward me, looking for some kind of guidance. I just shrugged again: (No idea... I’m as new to this as you are, buddy. Although, apparently, I already shared my authority with you once...) I admitted before sighing and adding: (I don’t even remember doing it)
Victor looked exasperated again, but after a few seconds, he just shrugged back, as if giving up. At the same time, I turned to Chronas and asked: (By the way, Chronas... what exactly would Victor be able to do after gaining your authority over space-time? Would he be able to stop time? From what I’ve noticed, the one I gave him seems to trigger... sensations, maybe premonitions, whenever something bad is about to happen)
Hearing my words, Chronas stayed quiet for a few seconds, as if carefully thinking before replying. Her voice was soft but distant when she finally spoke: “I’d have to grant him a considerable portion of my authority for him to actually control time. His body wouldn’t be able to handle that much power... I’ll give him only enough to be useful, without putting him at risk. He’s probably already near his limit, considering the influence of his sister’s authority”
At her words, Victor blinked and turned toward me with a strange look. Well... maybe Chronas could’ve phrased that differently. It looked, for a moment, like I was trying to kill him — which, clearly, wasn’t the case.
Wasn’t the case... right? Honestly, I can’t quite remember, but I don’t feel like Victor is dying or anything like that. Though he seemed a little confused, Victor didn’t appear too bothered by it. He simply shrugged, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips: “Even if your intentions are... let’s say, questionable... since you don’t remember anything yourself, I can’t deny that your power has been useful. Honestly, I’ve lost count of how many times I survived a mission just because I felt something was about to go wrong. Actually, I’ve got to admit... I’m grateful to you for that”
Chronas watched the exchange in silence, her gaze distant — as if her mind wandered through places where time flowed differently. No clear emotion crossed her face; she didn’t seem to hold any specific thought.
Then, after a brief moment of stillness, her lips parted and her voice flowed out — soft yet steady, like a whisper that bent the air around it: “I don’t know how useful my power will be compared to my sister’s — probably less — but I believe I can share enough of my authority so you can anticipate about five seconds into the future”
The instant Chronas spoke those words, Victor and I both turned to her, stunned. She kept that innocent, downcast look — as if she truly believed her ability didn’t even come close to mine.
But seeing the future? Damn, that had to be one of the most overpowered gifts ever! If I had something like that, I could’ve avoided so many messes — and maybe some of the most irritating situations I’ve ever been in.
Chronas, clearly unaware of why we were staring at her like that, glanced between Victor and me for a few seconds. Her eyes narrowed slightly, confusion evident on her face, before she asked in a calm, hesitant tone: “What? Did I say something wrong?”
Though still puzzled by the chain of events, Victor went along with it — resigned to accept whatever his little sister, Sara, was about to do.
Deep down, he didn’t fully understand what it meant to receive the authority of a Virtue — he only knew it was something profound, almost sacred, like giving away an essential part of oneself. To make sense of it, he compared it to donating a kidney.
Still, even if Victor didn’t entirely grasp the meaning behind Sara’s gesture toward him, all it took was a glance at the other Virtues’ faces — each frozen in silent disbelief — to realize that what she was about to do was... extraordinary.
An act that, in the eyes of the others, bordered on the unthinkable — maybe even the absurd. Of course, he was also glad to see that Sara, his sister, genuinely cared about him. After all, guessing what she felt had become nearly impossible — ever since she turned completely expressionless, her emotions had become a mystery to everyone, including him.
So, sitting at the edge of the bed, Victor silently watched as his younger sister approached. As usual, she wore that neutral, unshakable, almost mechanical expression.
Nothing about her suggested she was giving away “half her life” — which, according to the other anomalies, was the true meaning of her act. Then, she broke the silence with a calm, detached voice: “I think what I’m about to do might look strange from a human perspective... but don’t panic. You’re not in any danger”
Victor didn’t really understand what Sara meant, but he nodded anyway, hesitant. She stepped closer, closing the gap between them until only a few inches remained. For a brief moment, their eyes met — hers steady and unreadable, that cold gaze Victor was slowly getting used to.
Then, to Victor’s complete surprise, Sara raised her hand and reached toward his chest. For a moment, he thought she was just going to touch him — but in one sudden, fluid motion, her hand passed through his body.
A deep, reverberating sound — something between a crack and a muffled thunderclap — filled the air. Victor’s eyes widened, his heart racing, waiting for the pain... but it never came. No cold, no pressure — only a strange absence. It was as if her hand had teleported somewhere else entirely.
At the point where her touch should’ve been, a luminous rift opened — a tiny, living galaxy. Thousands of minuscule stars shimmered within it, pulsing quietly, as though the universe itself resided inside him.
Victor wasn’t quite sure how to describe the feeling. He could sense Sara doing something inside him, yet—curiously—there was no pain, not even discomfort. It was strange, as if the area she touched simply stopped existing, as if he couldn’t feel anything at all. He stayed silent, watching.
Sara slowly moved her hand toward his and, with an almost mechanical gentleness, intertwined her fingers with his. Her touch was cold, light. He looked up. Sara stared back with the same unshaken, serene, emotionless expression, as if none of this meant anything.
Then Sara slowly let go of Victor’s hand and took a step back. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment before she looked away: “It’s done”
Victor blinked, confused. He didn’t feel any different—no chill, no shift in the air, nothing to suggest that anything had truly happened. With a quiet sigh, he shrugged. Maybe it just wasn’t the right time. At some point, he thought, this strange power to foresee the future—or whatever it really was—would eventually prove its worth.