Anomaly Chapter 204 – The Burden of Remembering [24]

I kept watching the scene with a blank stare, like my senses were dulled by the abnormality unfolding before us. My eyes were fixed on the footprints — grotesque marks of dark, thick, almost viscous blood that slowly and thodically appeared on the ceiling above us.

Each new footprint was accompanied by a wet, muffled sound, like raw at pressed against stone. They were getting closer. Inch by inch, the marks converged on the exact spot where Nyara and I stood.

Gravity seed irrelevant to whatever was moving above our heads. Next to , Nyara stood still, her face bathed in a cold serenity, almost inhuman. Her eyes stared into nothingness with absolute indifference, as solid as mine.

There was no fear, no surprise — just an empty silence, like this was just another whisper among the many the veil of the unknown murmurs on moonless nights. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Nyara, Althea, or even Nekra show real surprise. It’s as if sothing inside them broke long ago, or maybe... they already knew what lies beyond the visible world.

Anyway, the wet, repulsive sound kept echoing through the narrow corridors, like raw flesh dragged across stone. With each mont, new footprints appeared on the dusty floor, forming an irregular trail inching slowly, relentlessly closer to where I was.

There was sothing intrinsically wrong about the rhythm of those steps — as if the creature making them didn’t fully understand the art of walking, just mimicked it. Then, in an abrupt silence, the last footprint appeared re inches from . Whatever was leaving that trail of black blood... was now there, standing at an almost intimate distance.

We could feel the presence — heavy, pulsing, like the very air around us was being consud by an invisible hunger. Nyara and I just watched, motionless, our indifferent expressions the only sparks of light in the oppressive darkness of the corridor.

It was watching us, I could feel it — even without eyes, even without a visible form, there was an ancient intelligence, sothing beyond human understanding, examining us with a silence that scread. We waited. One second. Two. Too long for any sane man. But nothing happened. No attack, no additional sound. Just the crushing weight of its presence.

Confused, I closed my eyes for a brief mont — and when I opened them again, I noticed sothing terribly wrong. Where my iris had natural golden patterns before, there now seed to be a swirl of colors, like a liquid rainbow being sucked into my pupils.

The hues danced and twisted unnaturally, pulsing as if they had a will of their own. It was then that the world in front of ... changed. Reality seed to unravel, shattering like glass plunged into viscous darkness.

The air thickened, almost solid, and every sound seed to co from sowhere too distant to reach. The first thing I noticed in this new, profane scene was a face — or sothing daring to pose as one. It had no mouth, eyes, or nose. No recognizable features, yet sohow impossibly, I knew it was watching .

Its outline vaguely resembled a human head, but there was sothing horribly wrong with its symtry, as if shaped by hands that had never seen a real face, or rejected the logic of human form. Its surface looked like wet, textureless flesh, pulsing softly like the belly of a sleeping... or hungry creature.

Closer inspection confird what was already clear: the figure before had human proportions. Arms, legs, torso — everything in place, structured with almost academic anatomical precision. Yet, the skin, if you could call it that, resembled the viscous, matte texture of crude oil, with a surface that absorbed light instead of reflecting it — like a solid void where reality hesitated to touch.

It showed no intention to move. It stood there, motionless, maintaining a fixed gaze that didn’t seem to co from eyes but from an indistinct point where a face should be. It didn’t blink. Didn’t twitch. Just watched — or at least projected the feeling of watching — like a black mirror reflecting the act of seeing without revealing anything of itself. I kept my eyes on it for a while.

Then, the entity raised one hand. There was no noise. No air displacent. No preparatory gesture. The movent happened just like a shadow stretching at dusk — inevitable, but with no perceptible origin.

It was as if its presence escaped ordinary physical laws, sliding on a plane that ignored ours, yet interfered with it with unsettling ease.

The gesture was minimal, almost indifferent. Still, there was sothing — an imperceptible shift in the atmosphere, a faint pressure lodged under the skin. The feeling wasn’t imdiate danger, but inevitable consequence.

If that arm completed its movent toward , the result would be final. Not exactly death, I think, but a ticulous destruction, maybe... functional. Being reduced to fragnts — crushed, twisted, undone beyond repair — didn’t seem like a remote possibility, just unpleasant.

My body, though tougher than an ordinary human’s, was far from invulnerable. This wouldn’t be a good experience. But there are worse things than pain, and that presence seed intimately familiar with them all.

It was a matter of milliseconds. A golden field manifested around and, in absolute silence, expanded to envelop Nyara and the anomaly standing before . The light didn’t flicker or radiate heat — it simply was, defining a space where the rules seed suspended, or redefined.

In the next instant, while my eyes still adjusted to the faint glow, I noticed the anomaly’s arm had extended in front of . A long, disproportionate limb, with fingers too thin, almost shriveled, ending in bony joints that curved like ancient claws.

There were no muscles, no flesh, yet sothing about the way that arm existed suggested strength — a quiet, concentrated power, capable of crushing bones and organs as easily as crumpling wet paper. It hovered inches from my face. Still.

I looked at my hand stretched out in front of , studying it with a certain detachnt. The fingers were still there, though a bit too crooked, the bones hinting they’d dangerously flirted with collapse.

There was a slight involuntary tremor, almost imperceptible, as if the tissue was trying to rember being flesh after almost becoming sothing else — sothing crumpled, misshapen, irreparable.

Behind , so close that her breath seed to carve words right on my neck, Nyara’s voice sounded low, unhurried: “It’s been a long ti since I last saw your authority, sister”

When I heard Nyara’s words, my eyes quickly shifted toward her. She noticed my gaze and, with a slight sideways smile, tilted her head as if trying to understand what was strange. I have to admit I was surprised — after all, I don’t recall ever testing this ability on any of my sisters before. I always imagined they, like anything else touching my field, would freeze. But at least with Nyara, it seed to have no effect.

Ignoring the curious look I gave her, Nyara stayed still, her eyes slowly scanning the edge of the golden field I had created. Her gaze, sharp and calculating, analyzed every inch of the shimring light barrier fluttering softly in the wind.

With an expression mixing curiosity and a slight hint of doubt, she finally broke the silence, her words echoing hesitantly in the air: “Why does it seem so short? Also... there’s sothing strange, it feels incomplete”

Honestly, I had no idea how to answer Nyara’s musings. I an, this power... wasn’t it sothing I already had when I woke up in that forest? Was it already part of my arsenal even before my mory disappeared? Although, technically, I seed to master it at that mont, deep down I never bothered to really think about it.

At that ti, my priority was different: trying, with every ounce of strength I had left, not to end up as a al for those bizarre dogs. In the end, I chose to just set that question aside, at least for now. Ignoring Nyara’s thoughts, I turned my gaze back to the being before . Its hand remained still, suspended inches from my face, as if hesitating between a gesture and nothing.

For a mont, so strategies ran through my mind — cold calculations, various possibilities — but in the end, I went with the most direct thod: a punch. No emotion, no hurry, just a pragmatic decision. I focused on the spot on the anomaly where a strange glow pulsed, sothing that might be the equivalent of a heart.

Without changing my posture, I circled its arm and moved closer to the body of that dark, viscous form. Then, with the indifference of soone performing an inevitable procedure, I clenched my fist and struck, applying all my force to that vulnerable point on the anomaly.

But at the very mont my punch should have collided with its body, sothing unexpected happened — my arm simply passed through that indistinct form as if it were air. I couldn’t hide the surprise washing over ; my eyes widened as I blinked, incredulous at the scene.

The sensation in my arm was strangely contradictory: I definitely felt sothing there, a faint and almost tangible contact, yet at the sa ti, it was like there was nothing blocking my movent, like my fist had crossed a shadow with no substance. It was a disconcerting feeling, a mix of touch and emptiness that left completely disoriented.

The mont I pulled my arm back from the anomaly’s chest, the feeling of “touching” sothing simply vanished, as if it had never existed. It was strange, almost like my hand had passed through an illusory shadow, a ghostly presence that faded into thin air.

I alternated my gaze between the creature’s weak spot and its face, feeling a crushing weight of helplessness. For the first ti, the situation was completely out of my control — or rather, I couldn’t even properly touch it, let alone figure out how to kill it.

A whirlwind of doubts invaded my mind. Then, behind , Nyara, who had been silently observing everything, spoke with a low, firm voice, cutting through the tense silence hanging in the air.

“Sister, do you want to kill it?” Nyara asked, her face carrying a curious mix of doubt and fascination. Setting aside the fact she used the word “kill” which definitely didn’t fit her style. I simply nodded, saying nothing.

Noticing my silence, Nyara continued, analyzing the situation carefully: “Hmm... looks like it’s in an alternate dinsional field, different from this one we’re in now, but clearly doesn’t know how to control it properly. Still, the fact that it tried to attack you shows it has so knowledge — or at least a way — to temporarily enter this reality. It’s probably the mont it’s getting ready to strike, right?”

Nyara’s words sounded more like enigmatic questions than concrete answers, filled with a mystery that seed to slip between the shadows of the conversation. Still, it was impossible to deny that every sentence she said carried a hidden aning, like a secret about to be unveiled. Moreover, Nyara clearly had much deeper knowledge about the matter than I did; that made not only trust her.

With that thought, I dived into intense reflection while keeping my eyes fixed on the anomaly before . To sum everything up into a single strategy, I knew I’d have to act at the exact mont it attacked — a precise, ruthless instant.

At the sa ti, I’d have to ti my activation of the golden field perfectly, because without that protective barrier, my chances of reacting were minimal. Without it, I’d hardly manage to dodge the incoming blow and launch an efficient counterattack at the sa ti.

Honestly, when it ca to offensive anomalous abilities, I was completely unprepared... It felt like I had this huge gap in that area. And then, all of a sudden, for so inexplicable reason, a wave of stupidity washed over — like I’d wasted precious opportunities by just ignoring all the anomalous abilities right in front of .

(... anyway, why hasn’t that guy shown up yet?) I thought, uneasy, as a familiar image ford in my mind — a face almost identical to mine, but with vibrant red eyes.