The Anomaly's Path

The world was spinning.

I stayed down for a long time in the mud of the ravine, my face pressed against the cold, iron-scented dirt. The silence after the Skitter-Wight attack was heavy, broken only by the wet drip-drip of purple ichor falling from the leaves above.

My chest felt like it had been stomped on by a horse. The creatures were dead, but they had left their mark—my skin was a map of shallow tears and deep, throbbing punctures.

My left leg was burning where one of them had taken a chunk out of me, and my shoulder felt like it had been put through a meat grinder.

But inside?

Inside, it felt like a dam was about to burst.

The Flowing Vessel Art was not just humming anymore. It was roaring. Every time I took a breath, the mana did not just move—it surged, slamming against the edges of my core. I could feel the barrier. It felt like a thin, translucent wall of glass that was spider-webbing under the pressure.

Honestly, it was strange.

I knew that sooner or later I would break through to a new rank, but I never expected it to be this soon. And it was not only because of Roran’s art. It was also because of Mia’s power. Ever since the day she healed me, my body had become... strange.

I did not know how to explain it.

It was as if my soul had become stronger. Not only had my body’s regeneration increased, but my physical body had improved a lot. I did not know much about her powers, but I knew one thing—her power was dangerous. Very dangerous.

Especially if it fell into the wrong hands.

Let us not forget, it also came with a very dangerous flaw.

Her... life.

I sighed, pushing the thoughts aside, and forced my fingers to move. They scraped against the leather grip of my sword. The dark, unpolished steel was slick with slime, and as I pulled the blade closer to my face, I saw a new notch near the tip.

The steel had held, but the vibration of hitting so many skulls had left my arm numb up to the shoulder.

”Stop staring at the dirt, Leo. It is not going to give you an award.”

Roran was standing ten feet away, his arms crossed over his massive chest. He did not look tired. He did not even look like he had been walking.

”I... I cannot move,” I wheezed, my voice sounding like sandpaper. ”My mana... it is gone.”

”Then find more,” Roran barked. ”You think a monster waits for your core to refill? You think the world stops because you are tired? Sit up. Now.”

I cursed him under my breath—a long string of words that would have made Mia throw me out of the orphanage—but I dragged myself to a sitting position. Every muscle screamed in protest. I crossed my legs, resting my sword across my knees. The dark metal felt cold, grounding me.

”...Ten minutes,” Roran said, leaning back against a jagged rock. ”If you do not pull enough mana to move in ten minutes, I am leaving you here. The smell of thirty dead wights is like a dinner bell for the things that live in the deep bush.”

I did not waste time arguing. I closed my eyes and reached out with the Flowing Vessel Art. Usually, pulling mana felt like a slow trickle, but now, with my core bone-dry, it felt like a vacuum. I dragged the energy from the damp air, forcing it through my vessels and into my core.

My core did not just fill. It throbbed. It felt like a toothache in the center of my chest—a sharp, rhythmic pulsing that grew more intense with every drop of mana I added. The wall was right there. I was staring at the ceiling of my rank, and I could feel it buckling.

”Time is up,” Roran said.

I opened my eyes and stood up, my legs shaking beneath me. The lightheadedness from before was gone, replaced by a strange, buzzing energy that hummed just beneath my skin. I wiped the blood from my nose with the back of my hand and gripped my sword.

The tall grass at the far end of the ravine did not just rustle. It snapped.

Something was coming.

I tensed, raising my blade. Roran did not move. He just watched, his arms crossed, his face unreadable.

The grass parted.

...And then I saw it.

A monster emerged from the shadows, and my blood ran cold. It made the Skitter-Wights look like house pets.

This was a Spine-Cutter. It stood as tall as a man at the shoulder, its body covered in overlapping bone-white plates that looked like serrated armor. Each plate was jagged, sharp, designed to deflect blades and crush bones.

Its head was low to the ground, with no visible eyes—just a smooth, armored skull and a wide, vertical mouth filled with rows of translucent, needle-like teeth. Its tail was the worst part. It was long and flexible, a whip of vertebrae ending in a thick, jagged blade of bone that scraped against the ground as it moved.

The creature took a step forward, and I felt the ground tremble beneath my feet.

This was a Grade 2 monster-Low rank. On paper, it was only one rank above me. But in reality, it was a predator designed to kill things much larger than me.

”This one hunts by movement,” Roran whispered. ”It feels the air shift when you breathe and the ground shake when you step. If you hesitate, you are dead.”

The Spine-Cutter didn’t roar, it simply moved.

SHRACK!

I tried to use Starlight Steps, but my feet were heavy. The creature’s tail whistled through the air, catching me across the ribs. I felt the bone-blade tear through my skin, carving a hot line of agony across my side.

I flew backward, slamming into the muddy bank of the ravine. The air left my lungs in a violent cough that sprayed red across my lips.

The beast was on me before I could blink. It pinned my left shoulder to the mud with a heavy, armored paw. I felt the claws sink in, grating against my collarbone. I screamed, the sound raw and desperate. Its vertical mouth opened, revealing rows of translucent, needle-like teeth aimed straight for my throat.

The fear hit me, cold and heavy but I calmed myself down.

I looked at the creature’s neck—the small, fleshy gap between its head and its body plates. I did not have room to swing my sword. I did not have the mana for a massive lightning bolt.

But I had something else.

I reached out with my free hand, grabbing the monster’s neck, and focused every ounce of my remaining mana on a single pinch in the space right behind its skull.

POP!

My brain felt like it was being licked by a flame. Blood sprayed from my ears and nose, and for a split second, the world glitched. I was not under the paw anymore. I had folded a tiny pocket of space to jerk myself two feet to the side.

My shoulder screamed as it tore free from the claws, taking strips of flesh with it, but the monster’s jaws snapped shut on empty mud.

I pushed myself up, my left arm hanging limp. I gripped my sword with my right hand as the Flowing Vessel Art turned the mana in my veins into a flood.

”GO TO HELL!”

I swung. The blade caught the creature in the soft gap. The bone plates tried to stop it, but I was not just using muscle anymore.

BREAK!

Inside my chest, the vibrating pressure reached its limit. The glass ceiling did not just crack—it shattered into a million pieces.

A wave of cold, sharp power exploded from my core, rushing through my veins like liquid ice. My vision cleared instantly. I could see the monster’s heart beating through its plates. I could see the flow of the wind.

I could see the tiny gaps in its armor where the bone plates did not quite meet.

Black Lightning erupted from my sword, the obsidian arcs thicker and more violent than ever before.

ZRAKK-BOOM!

The electricity cooked the monster from the inside. I twisted the blade, the newly awakened strength in my arms allowing me to shear through the creature’s spine. With a sickening squelch, I carved the sword all the way through, and the Spine-Cutter’s head rolled into the grass.

The body slumped over. I collapsed with it, my face landing inches from the dead beast. I lay there for a long time, my heart hammering a triumphant rhythm against my bruised ribs.

The mana in my body did not feel like a flickering candle anymore. It felt like a deep, steady pool.

I had broken through to next rank.

I looked up to see Roran standing over the corpse. He looked at the severed head, then at the blood-stained, notched blade in my hand.

”A bit messy,” he said, and for the first time, I did not see a sneer. ”But you kept your head. Most people just scream until they are eaten.”

I coughed, a jagged, bloody grin spreading across my face. ”I told you... bastard. Now fuck off.”

Roran grunted and turned back toward the village. ”Clean your blade, kid. The next lesson starts when we get back. And if you think this was hard, you are going to hate tomorrow.”

I gripped my sword’s hilt, pulling the dark steel free from the carcass with a wet snap. My body was a wreck, and I was covered in enough blood for three people, but for the first time since I woke up in this world, I felt like I was finally in control.

I lay there for a moment, staring up at the dark canopy, a broken laugh escaping my lips. It was not a happy laugh. It was the laugh of someone who had stared death in the face and spit in it.

”Ha... haha...”

I pushed myself up onto my elbows, still laughing, still bleeding, still alive. But then I felt it.

A presence.

Not like the Skitter-Wights. Not like the Spine-Cutter. This was something else. Something worse.

The air grew heavy. The temperature dropped. The birds that had just started singing again went silent. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

My senses screamed at me. Danger! Run now!

I froze. My hand tightened around my sword. I looked up at Roran.

He was not looking at me. He was looking at the tree line behind me, his hand on his sword.

”Don’t move,” he whispered.

I did not move. I could not move.

Something was watching us from the shadows. Something big. Something that did not see us as a threat. Something that saw us as... prey.

The leaves rustled. A low growl rumbled through the clearing, deep enough to vibrate in my bones.

And then, from between the trees, two purple eyes opened in the darkness.

_

Author’s Note — Spine-Cutter

Monster Name: Spine-Cutter

Grade: Grade 2 — Minor (Low)

Description:

The Spine-Cutter is a solitary predator found in the deep jungles around Wayford. It stands as tall as a man at the shoulder and is covered in overlapping bone-white plates that act as natural armor. These plates are jagged and serrated, designed to deflect blades and crush bones.

It has no visible eyes. Its head is a smooth, armored skull with a wide, vertical mouth that opens to reveal rows of translucent, needle-like teeth. Its most dangerous feature is its tail—a long, flexible whip of vertebrae ending in a thick, jagged blade of bone.

Behavior:

Spine-Cutters are ambush predators. They do not rely on scent or sound like the Skitter-Wights. Instead, they hunt by sensing movement. If you stand still, they might not see you. But the moment you move, they strike.

They are patient hunters. They will stalk their prey for hours, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. Once they engage, they do not retreat. They fight until either they are dead or their prey is.

Weaknesses:

The gaps between their bone plates are vulnerable, especially the soft flesh of the neck. They are slower than Skitter-Wights, relying on power rather than speed. Their armored heads make frontal attacks useless — you must strike from the side or behind. They are territorial and will not chase prey beyond their hunting grounds