Every week.
A new Light World fell, like beads cut from a string.
Light worlds fell like beads cut from a string.
And the worst part?
The news never travelled inside the Light territory.
At least not… properly.
After all, the Light faction's walls were not just made of barriers and fleets, they were made of fear, they were made of… rules.
They were made of… minds being watched.
Every month, world-wide mory checks continued.
People lined up in silence, children were told not to cry, families held hands while strangers looked through their thoughts.
World leaders smiled and bowed and offered their minds first, to prove loyalty. They acted proud in public, but in private, even they swallowed their anger like poison.
And so, inside Light territory, the Anomaly's "truth" died in the throat before it could beco a shout.
Outside Light territory, though?
That was an entirely different story.
Outside, it spread.
People talked, they argued, they compared recordings, they gathered details, they built a… bigger picture.
And each ti another Light world vanished, another set of confessions appeared—projected in neutral plazas, on rcenary route-stations, inside trade hubs, in the skies above worlds.
Every confession carried the sa core.
*Light knew.
Light allowed it.
Light… benefited.*
And the most frightening part?
Many of the broken rulers said the sa thing Archon said—
"My world deserved it."
And while those words did co from fear, there was still… so level of truth behind it, truth that was confird through their own mories.
They were the proud supporters of Light's system, they did the dirty work so Light could stay beautiful.
The Anomaly was not "random."
He was choosing targets that… represented the rot.
The Universe watched those confessions like people watching a slow-burning fire. They didn't know whether to be horrified or… fascinated.
And sowhere in all those recordings, the Anomaly kept appearing.
Smiling.
Always smiling.
Like a man who never once doubted the ending.
For a while, the Light faction did not feel the damage.
At least not directly.
In Light territory, things looked stable on the surface.
Temples remained full, public prayers beca normal, loyalty oaths beca expected, world leaders competed to appear… more faithful than the others.
They begged Light forces to investigate them first, as if it were a privilege. And when Light forces found "supporters" of the Anomaly, the world leaders punished them publicly.
After all, they were all terrified of being labelled… impure.
So people kept quiet.
But…
Cracks do not always appear first in the middle of a city; sotis… cracks begin at the roads.
At the gates.
At the… borders.
Because even Light worlds traded.
Even Light worlds hired rcenaries.
Even Light worlds needed routes for resources and information.
Even Light worlds had people who travelled—envoys, rchants, scouts, scholars, diplomats.
And those travellers… heard things.
A rchant would step into a neutral market and hear a rumor over the price of spirit ore. A rcenary would drink in a tavern and hear soone casually ntion how a Light ruler confessed on a giant screen before being erased. A diplomat would attend a eting and find that the room went quiet when they walked in, then the mont they left, the talk returned like a flood.
And when these travellers returned… they talked.
"A Light world fell."
"Two fell."
"No, not two. Seven."
And those whispers spread, even while everyone pretended nothing was happening.
Light caught it, of course.
How could they not, when they read mories every single month?
And the mont they caught this, they responded the way they always did.
They made… another rule.
They called it "Protection of the Mind."
The rule was simple:
*Talking about the Anomaly's confessions gave power to the Anomaly's war.
Speaking of it was an action against Light.
Those who stood with Light must not do it.*
And just like before, the new rule was repeated. The world leaders, the priests, even the parents repeated the rules to their children like they were bedti stories.
And then sothing strange happened.
Sothing worse than silence.
People began… erasing their own mories.
At first, it was only a few.
A rchant who traveled outside and heard too much would return and panic. He knew the scans were coming, he knew that even if he did not speak, his mind could betray him, so he went to a mind mage, or used an artifact, anything that could… help him manipulate his own mind—
And he removed the mory.
Not the whole trip, of course, just… the parts that felt dangerous, the parts that involved the Anomaly, the parts that involved confessions, the parts that ca with… doubt.
Then he returned ho… *clean.*
And when he was scanned, he passed.
Of course, it wasn't easy; mory patches were directly linked to the Anomaly, but Light understood that the core of one's being had no relationship with the Anomaly, even if he was an Anomaly agent, it wasn't his will and he…
He lived.
And that started a wave.
The next rchant learned from him.
Then the next.
Then the next.
Soon, it beca a new normal.
Travellers returned with… empty patches in their minds.
And with that—
Sothing else, sothing far, far scarier began—
People stopped trusting their own thoughts because they couldn't rember what they had decided to forget.
It created strange problems.
Little problems at first.
A husband forgot a promise he had made because it was made during the sa trip where he erased mories. A woman forgot a face she had t and couldn't explain why she felt fear when she saw the sa person again. A trade leader erased a negotiation mory and later signed a deal that destroyed their own company because they had forgotten the warning signs.
So forgot debts.
So forgot insults.
So forgot threats.
Relationships beca unstable, not because the love faded, but because couples couldn't keep a clean tiline in their minds anymore.
Trust beca… a strange thing.
"How do I know you didn't erase sothing important?"
"How do I know you didn't erase sothing about ?"
Friends argued over events that one rembered and one didn't, families fought because one mber swore sothing happened and the other looked at them like they were insane.
And worst of all—
People began living like prisoners inside their own heads.
They policed their thoughts, they watched themselves think, they flinched at curiosity, they forced themselves to forget questions before the questions could beco dangerous.
It wasn't just fear of Light anymore.
It was fear of their own mind.
They lived with half-mories and patched stories, smiling in public while their private selves felt… hollow.
And still… the Anomaly continued.
Five years passed like that.
Five years of *stability.*
Five years of *loyalty.*
Five years of inspections and kneeling and… rules.
And in those sa five years, more than two hundred and fifty Light-connected worlds vanished.
Of course, not all those worlds were High Level Worlds. The Anomaly didn't target worlds because of their strength; his targets were now clear.
He targeted those who did Light's dirty work.
And with all these erased worlds, the Anomaly's ssage—no matter how much the Light tried to suppress it—
It spread.
A ssage that was far scarier than Seraphielle's.
*You can kneel.
You can be scanned.
You can erase your own mories.
You can obey perfectly.
And still… you might be next.
After all, the two hundred and fifty worlds that were devoured were no different. They followed Light's rules too, they lived under suppression too, they allowed Light to search through their mories every single month as well—
And yet—
It still happened.
So what's stopping the Anomaly from targeting your world?
Because Light clearly wasn't capable of stopping him.*
That truth settled into Light territory slowly, like… poison sinking into water.
At first, people denied it.
They blad soone else, then they begged Light harder, but then…
A single question spread.
"What do we get in return?"
It began with a small, extrely small whisper, sothing that was instantly removed from mories the mont it began.
But…
Removing it from mories did not stop this question from spreading.
Because even after this question was removed, it reappeared.
Again, and again, and again—
So stubbornly that it was almost… scary.
And how could it even be stopped?
After all, the question held all the legitimacy; it was the most… logical question that would appear in soone's head after all the series of events because—
What did they get?
These were the sa people who were being watched, who were being inspected, who were being ruled, people who got their minds opened like books, people who were told what to think and what not to think, people who were punished for words, people who were punished for doubts, people who were punished for even rembering rumors.
And still… their worlds fell.
The world leaders felt it the hardest.
These were beings who once stood at the pinnacle, beings who ruled an entire world, beings who held so much strength that they could decide another's fate with a wave of their hand, beings who were… feared, respected, and loved by millions.
And now?
Now they smiled while strangers read their mories every month.
User Comments
0 comments from readers