Anomaly

Arthur watched the anomaly in silence — a small body that anyone might mistake for a child. Its skin, white and so pale it seemed to drain the light around it, turned almost translucent from certain angles, revealing nothing behind the surface but absolute emptiness.
There were no organs, no inner shadows — nothing that suggested life as he understood it. The anomaly’s eyes glowed with an intense gold, like candles eternally lit, a fire that never flickered no matter where one looked from.
Sometimes, Arthur had the distinct feeling that this light pierced through everything — the environment, the mist, even his thoughts. The thing standing before him wasn’t human.
Not even something biologically conceivable. And yet, it was there, only a few steps away, breathing a silence that felt older than the air itself.
Even after all his years dealing with anomalies, this was the first time Arthur had encountered something so... fascinating. The anomaly seemed to possess an unusual understanding of the human world — their customs, their beliefs, the way society was structured, and even how they thought.
That knowledge, as improbable as it was intriguing, had always struck him as one of its strangest traits. Moreover — and perhaps this was what impressed him most — despite its habitual indifference, the anomaly could still show faint traces of concern for other humans.
Small gestures, nearly imperceptible, revealing something resembling empathy... though, from what Arthur had observed so far, such a sentiment was limited and surfaced only under very specific circumstances.
Arthur kept his eyes fixed on the anomaly as it slowly sank into the ground, as if the floor had turned into some kind of quicksand.
In the final moments, just before it vanished completely, he glanced at the luminous messages floating above it — symbols so intensely bright that, the first time he saw them, he thought they might blind him.
It wasn’t the first time Arthur had seen those words. In fact, the text changed every time he looked at the anomaly through the monocle.
Even so, those were the only lines that lasted more than a few moments above the anomaly — hours, in this particular case. Usually, the inscriptions vibrated and rearranged themselves each second, as if not even the system itself knew how to classify it.
Thinking along those lines, Arthur shifted his gaze toward the window. Outside, a tentacle covered in suction cups slowly curled around the vehicle, squeezing the metal with muffled creaks.
He adjusted the monocle with a light tap, narrowing his eyes as he observed the message hovering before him, suspended in glowing air.
At first glance, it might seem like the second case was worse. But that impression was mistaken. The difference between the two was clear: in the first, the description genuinely sounded dangerous — albeit vague — while the second merely indicated that the anomaly was unknown to the monocle.
Arthur had encountered the second type countless times, and most of the time, those anomalies were taken down with relative ease. The first case, however, was entirely unprecedented.
It was the first time Arthur had seen that kind of warning — and not just that: every Conceptual Virtue he had seen displayed different messages, yet strangely similar in tone, as if they shared a common origin.
Lost in thought, Arthur felt a light touch on his shoulder. Turning around, he found Victor watching him with a serene expression — strangely calm for the situation they were in. With an ironic half-smile, Victor asked: “Is there anything here that can actually help us not die?”
Arthur stayed silent for a few seconds, his gaze unfocused. Finally, he shook his head. He felt Victor’s hands resting on his shoulder tremble for a brief moment — an involuntary reflex of fear. Turning slowly toward the window, Arthur added in a low voice: “Nothing useful. She’s a complete mystery... but that doesn’t mean she can’t be taken down. Just... not by regular people like us. That doesn’t make her invincible — just something beyond what humans are capable of fighting”
Of course, Arthur hadn’t revealed everything he knew — especially the fact that anomalies of this kind rarely appeared without reason. Most of the time, they didn’t even bother to notice whatever lived beneath them.
Any form of life was insignificant, comparable to mere ants in their presence. But this time, something broke the pattern. The anomaly was watching, reacting... as if, somehow, what crawled below truly mattered.
Arthur had the distinct feeling that this anomaly wasn’t there by chance. By mentally piecing together the incidents that had been happening so far, he could — at least to some degree — deduce where this thing came from and why it remained there, suspended in the sky above the ocean.
Victor, of course, had no idea about the tangle of thoughts running through Arthur’s mind.
Knowing only Arthur’s superficial thoughts, a faint, almost involuntary spark of hope lit up in Victor’s eyes. He grasped the implied meaning in Arthur’s words, and his gaze also drifted toward the outside world.
For a moment, an image appeared vividly in his mind: that of a small entity with features shifting between those of a child and a young adult, as if trapped between two stages of life. The memory — or perhaps intuition — made his heart beat a little faster, carrying with it a fragile sense of hope.
Outside the vehicle — more precisely, on the rain-soaked metal roof — I watched the colossal anomaly that, from time to time, tore through the clouds amid the relentless thunder.
Strange lightning ripped across the sky, lighting up the churning sea below, while gusts of wind whipped my long hair back and forth like wild strands. It was hard to stay focused amid all the chaos—but I had to.
Cold rain drummed against my body without pause, but it didn’t bother me. Cold, heat... I barely even remember what those things are supposed to feel like anymore.
Those ideas feel distant now—almost abstract—even though not that much time has passed. Just a few months, maybe a year, since I became an anomaly.
Funny... I feel like I should be panicking right now, but aside from a faint sense of unease, I don’t feel anything at all. The human capacity to adapt is unbelievable... in so many ways. Ironic, really, considering I’m technically not even human anymore.
But putting my wandering thoughts aside, the situation was far from good. Several tentacles were wrapped around the vehicle, squeezing the metal shell with unsettling cracks.
Before I could even think about facing the anomaly above, I had to deal with the immediate problem—and that meant getting rid of the grotesque tangle keeping us trapped.
As the thought crossed my mind, the vehicle’s metal surface around me began to darken beneath a smoky stain, like a thick fog creeping along the steel.
Within seconds, dozens—maybe hundreds—of shadowy tentacles emerged from that stain, writhing like starving serpents.
They lunged toward the suction-covered tentacles, coiling around them with force in a silent struggle that made the air hum around me. I glanced upward for just a moment, toward the creature still floating high above, watching everything unfold.
I didn’t need to speak a single word or issue any mental command. My Alter ego—who understood me as deeply as I understood myself—reacted the exact moment I thought. The thick, smoky black tendrils tightened around the anomaly’s suction-lined appendages with increasing strength.
I could see those twisted limbs tremble under the crushing pressure. Then came the sound: a wet snap followed by a harsh, guttural crack, like flesh being violently torn apart.
In a single motion, all the tentacles holding the vehicle in place were severed. Dark, misshapen fragments flew in every direction, leaving an acrid, almost metallic smell hanging in the air.
Right after that, a deep bellow echoed—a dense, guttural sound, like a whale song carried from far away, but far more vibrant, so powerful that I felt my entire body shake with the reverberation.
(If the goal was to get its attention, I guess I pulled it off) I thought, turning my eyes to the sky as a light breeze brushed across my face.
The guttural growl continued, dragging on, echoing for long minutes. At the same time, a metallic sound—like locks being forced open—cut through the noise of the rain.
Instinctively, I turned toward the back of the vehicle and saw the door opening slowly, groaning as it gave way inch by inch. The rear was completely exposed now.
Realizing that, I lifted my gaze back to the sky. The rain kept pouring, heavy and relentless, soaking my clothes and turning the top of the vehicle into a slippery sheet of metal.
Going back was simply impossible. If what Rupert had said was true—and honestly, I couldn’t imagine him lying about something like that—then one way or another, we had no choice but to move forward. To keep going. To head toward Tenebrya.
The problem? I had absolutely no idea how we were supposed to do that. I thought I’d feel some sort of sign once we got closer... and in a way, I do. But it’s strange—the sensation comes from every direction at once. In the end, I’m not sure which path to take.
Another guttural growl echoed, pulling me out of my thoughts and forcing a quick grimace out of me at the infernal noise that thing kept making.
As soon as I looked up, all the blood seemed to drain from my body. Outwardly, I kept the same indifferent expression as always—still, impassive. But inside, a cold panic spread like a blade, leaving me pale in spirit.
The clouded sky grew even darker above us, heavy and silent. Then, from within the dense, shadowed clouds, dozens—maybe hundreds, maybe thousands—of storm-like tentacles began to emerge, one after another. Each one tore through the sky like a sharpened spear ready to crash down on us.
If that thing hit us, we wouldn’t stand the slightest chance of surviving. To be honest, I had zero confidence I could stop all of them if that anomaly really decided to hurl them at me. I mean... wasn’t that basically impossible?