The Anomaly's Path

The wind howled through the broken ruins, carrying the smell of old dust and something else — something stale and cold, like air from a tomb that hadn’t been opened in years.

Across the outer plaza, the bodies of corrupted candidates lay scattered on the stone. Their purple eyes had finally gone dark, their breathing slow and steady as they slept off the monster’s control.

We had won the first battle against the guardian.

But the war wasn’t over.

I stood near the collapsed archway that led deeper into the inner ruins, my back against a crumbling pillar, my eyes fixed on the dark opening ahead.

The fog was thicker here, swirling lazily around my boots like it was waiting for something. A deep purple glow pulsed from beyond the archway, heavy and slow, like a heartbeat. Like something was watching us from the dark.

Riven walked up to me, his steel-red eyes hard and his jaw tight. His daggers were still gripped firmly in his hands, dripping with thick black blood.

”...Leo,” he said, his voice low. ”Let me come with you. If that statue is already awake, those brainwashed puppets aren’t going to fight like normal people. They’ll just throw their lives away to stop you. Let me come with you all.”

I shook my head. ”No.”

”Why the hell not?”

I looked at him. His face was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He was tired. We were all tired.

”The statue doesn’t care about numbers Riven,” I said. ”The more people we bring inside, the more puppets it gets to play with. You will stay here and help the others. You are strong and I am sure, you’ll be able to handle things here.”

Riven’s jaw tightened. He wanted to argue — I could see it in the way his fingers twitched around his weapons, his shoulders tensing like he was about to step past me. But he stopped. He just stood there, glaring at me.

”Tch, fucking bastard. This is the last time I’m listening to you. Don’t give me your damn orders. And also... fuck you,” he muttered, turning his head away. Then he looked back at me, his steel-red eyes hard.

”But if you’re not back in one hour, I’m coming in after you. And I won’t ask for permission.”

I almost smiled. ”...Fair enough.”

Cordelia stepped forward, her voice tight. Her face was pale, and her hands were shaking, but she was trying to keep her back straight, trying to look like a princess. ”And if you don’t come back?”

I tilted my head and looked at her. ”Oh, and when did you start caring for me, princess? Stop raising death flags for a dead man.”

Cordelia’s face flushed red. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. ”I... I wasn’t... you arrogant bastard! I was just asking!”

”Sure, sure. Anyway, if we don’t come back, you’ll take whatever supplies we found and run south,” I said. ”Keep running until you find a way out of this valley. And try not to die from the monsters — that would be embarrassing for a princess.”

I had found a small stash of dried food in a collapsed basement an hour ago.

It wasn’t much — just some salted meat and hard bread, but it was enough to keep them alive for a few more days. Julia was already dividing it among the survivors, her small hands trembling as she worked.

Caster sat right beside her, his radar device pressed tightly to his chest, his eyes wide and hollow.

Nyra stood near the front of the collapsed building, her amber eyes fixed on the fog, her claws ready. Lyssaria was beside her, shield raised, her face calm but her knuckles white. They were watching the perimeter, waiting for another wave.

Further back, Lara was helping Iris bandage a wound on a boy’s arm. Finn and Cora sat back-to-back, their eyes closed, saving what little strength they had left. Sam was curled in a corner, his nervous twitch worse than before.

Riven stared at me for a long moment. I could see the protest still burning in his chest — the pride of a person who hated being left behind. But then his shoulders dropped, and he let out a long, heavy sigh.

”Don’t die in there, Celestial,” he said.

I didn’t answer. I turned toward the dark archway.

Behind me, the others gathered. Arthur stood with his sword resting on his shoulder, his golden eyes fixed on the darkness ahead. His face was calm, but I could see the tension in his jaw.

Amelia stood beside him, her midnight-blue hair tied back, her staff in her hand. Roan was spinning his spear lazily, a small grin on his face, but his eyes were sharp. Elisabeth stood apart from the others, her violet eyes cold, her hand on her sword.

Five of us.

Honestly?

I didn’t want to take Arthur with us. Actually, I didn’t want to take anyone with me.

But I didn’t have a choice.

I needed Arthur in this fight. It wasn’t about his strength or how easily his light could counter the darkness. But because right now, he was still just a kid. A kid trapped by his own past, unable to move forward.

I wanted him to overcome that. I needed him to see the monster’s illusions again and again, so that in the future, he wouldn’t have trouble fighting against any mind-type monster.

I knew it was cruel.

But I didn’t have a choice.

In the game, this fight was necessary for Arthur’s growth. If the monster never appeared, it would affect his development, his mentality, his ability to face what came next. I didn’t want that. It was a gamble. Arthur might lose his mind in there.

But that was also why I was bringing Roan and Elisabeth — and especially Amelia.

Even in the game, she helped him when he fought this monster.

Besides, I had another motive.

I needed to calm my emotions — or at least learn to control the flames. I had a feeling that here, I could work on it. I knew it was a risky gamble with my life too. But hey, my master was a god of gambling. That’s a different thing. He never won a game.

But anyway, one thing I learned from Roran is: never gamble unless you are sure of your victory. And I had a feeling I would win.

I cleared my thoughts and looked back at Riven. ”Keep the others safe. If anything tries to come out of that gate, cut it down. But don’t follow us in. No matter what you hear.”

Riven gave a firm nod.

I took a breath and stepped through the archway.

The darkness swallowed us whole.

_

The inner sanctum was nothing like the outer ruins.

The ceiling was so high that I couldn’t see it — lost in a thick, purple fog that swirled like living smoke.

The walls were made of black stone, smooth and polished, covered in carvings of weeping figures — knights, kings, children, all of them with their faces buried in their hands. Their stone tears had worn grooves into the rock over centuries, dark streaks that glistened in the dim purple light.

The floor was black and glossy, like obsidian, reflecting the fog above like a dark mirror. Our boots left faint prints in the grey ash that covered it, but the ash was thin, barely a layer, as if something had swept it clean recently.

The air was cold and damp, heavy with the smell of rot and old water. It felt like walking into a massive tomb.

A tomb that was somehow still... breathing.

As we moved deeper, the purple mist grew thicker, clinging to our clothes and our skin like wet wool.

It muffled the sound of our footsteps, swallowed our voices, pressed against our eyes like a blindfold. The only light came from the walls themselves, faint purple veins that pulsed slowly, like blood flowing through stone.

Go back, a whisper said.

I kept walking.

Why did you leave them...?

I didn’t blink.

You couldn’t save anyone on Earth. What makes you think you can save them here? You push everyone and acting pathetic till the end you die. They still wait for you. Every holiday. Every birthday. You never called.

You never went back.

What make you think you could change?

Why are you trying so hard to change now?

Why are you now trying to save everyone?

You stole his body. His name. His life. And for what? So you could fail again?

You’re not a hero. You’re not even a good person. You’re just a coward who learned to swing a sword.

You ran from Earth. You ran from your family. You ran from Amelia.

When will you stop running?

The voice wasn’t loud. It was soft, gentle, and terrifyingly familiar. It sounded like the people I used to know, the ones I had left behind in my first life. My mother. My father. The friends I had stopped calling.

My chest tightened. My jaw clenched. The words dug into places I thought I had buried.

But I had Soul Perception.

I could feel the crucial difference between a real voice and a fake one. This one was hollow. Empty. It was a recording, not a living person.

Still... it hurt.

[...Leo,] Nova’s voice cut through the haze. [The fog is messing with your head. Don’t let it get to you.]

I’m fine, I thought back. Just keep watching.

But my hands were shaking.

We had been walking for what felt like miles. The corridor opened into a massive chamber, at least a hundred feet across, maybe more. Pillars lined the walls, each one carved with weeping faces, their stone tears pooling at their bases.

Between the pillars, tall alcoves held broken statues, knights and soldiers with shattered faces, their hands frozen in postures of grief. Some were missing arms. Some were missing heads. All of them had been weeping once, their stone tears still visible on their cracked cheeks.

At the far end of the chamber stood another archway, darker than the first. The purple glow beyond it was brighter now, pulsing rapidly.

The statue was close.

Then I felt it.

A sudden shift in the air. A heavy weight pressing against the back of my neck.

Something was moving inside the fog. Something is wrong...

I stopped.

My boots slid silently on the glossy stone. I held my breath, keeping my body perfectly still. I didn’t turn around.

Behind me, the others stopped too.

”Leo?” Arthur’s voice came through the mist, muffled and strange. ”Why did we stop?”

I didn’t answer.

”Leo?” Roan called out, his voice sharper now. ”Hey, what’s wrong?”

I didn’t move. My head was low, my hair falling over my eyes. My right hand slid down to the hilt of Tempest. The leather wrap felt cold against my palm. Real.

”Leo...”

A soft footstep crunched in the ash behind me.

Amelia stepped out of the purple mist.

Her silver-violet eyes were wide, soft, vulnerable. She looked small in the dim light — not like the noble girl who had broken our engagement, but like the eight-year-old from the Celestial gardens, the one who used to weave flower crowns with shaking fingers.

”Leo, please...” she whispered, her voice breaking with a raw, desperate emotion that shouldn’t have belonged in this place. She reached her hand out toward my shoulder, her fingers shaking.

”The mist... it’s showing me the day I chose Arthur over you. I remember how you looked at me. Like I had ripped your heart out. I was scared, Leo. I was so scared of losing you both. I thought if I chose him, you would hate me, and if I chose you, I would lose him. I made the wrong choice. I know that now. Please... just look at me.”

She took another step closer. Her hand was inches from my shoulder.

”Remember the cherry blossoms?” she continued, her voice dropping to a trembling whisper. ”...In the garden behind the Nightshade estate. You said you would always protect me. You said no matter what happened, you would never leave. You lied... Leo. You left. You left all of... us.”

To anyone watching, it was the perfect image of a broken girl seeking forgiveness at the end of the world.

My hand twitched on Tempest’s hilt. For a split second, a heavy hesitation hit my chest.

Remember the garden? her voice echoed directly inside my mind. The cherry blossoms? You promised you’d always protect me.

I didn’t say a word. I didn’t look into her silver-violet eyes, and I didn’t offer a single second of hesitation.

My body moved before the fog could shift.

Lightning tore through my veins. Tempest left its scabbard in a blur of black steel. The weight of the hilt pressed against my palms as the blade sank deep into her chest, just below her ribs, burying itself up to the hilt.

The sound was wet and heavy.

Amelia’s eyes went wide with shock, disbelief, and sharp pain.

Her fingers dug into my arms. Her grip was weak, her knuckles slick with the blood spreading between us. She didn’t pull away. She couldn’t. Her chest hitched, her breath rattling in her throat as the dark red stain spread across her shirt, spilling down onto the grey ash at our feet.

”Leo...?” she gasped. Blood leaked from the corner of her mouth and trailed down her chin.

Behind me, the silence exploded.

”LEO! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” Arthur roared. His golden eyes blazed with rage. His sword left its scabbard with a sharp scream, his boots tearing through the ash as he lunged forward.

”He’s gone mad! The statue got to him!” Roan shouted, his spear already spinning, the tip humming as he looked for an opening.

Elisabeth stayed silent. Her violet eyes narrowed, watching my shoulders, tracking the strike. Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword, waiting.

Arthur didn’t wait. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, his blade coming down in a heavy arc aimed at my head.

I didn’t blink.

I twisted my body to the side, letting his blade whistle past my ear. My leg shot out, my boot slamming into his chest. Black lightning crackled along my calf as I kicked. Arthur flew backward, crashing into a stone pillar with a heavy thud, coughing as the air left his lungs.

I turned my back on him and looked at Amelia.

Her eyes were fluttering, losing focus. The light in her silver-violet eyes was fading. Her hands slipped from my arms.

I gripped the hilt tighter and pushed the blade deeper.

”...Die,” I whispered.

With a final, brutal twist of the blade, the last string of life inside her snapped. Her body went entirely limp against the steel, hanging like a broken doll.

An unnatural, suffocating quiet settled in, pressing down on the cavern like a weight. The smell of iron hung thick in the air.

From his place by the pillar, Arthur stared at me, the rage freezing on his pale face, his sword trembling in a hand that had suddenly lost its certainty. Beside him, Roan stood frozen beside him, his spear stopped mid-spin, his knuckles white. Elisabeth was the only one who didn’t react, though her grip on her sword tightened.

No one dared to breathe.

No one dared to break the silence.

_

Meanwhile, outside the sanctum gates...

Crash—!

A skeletal guardian slammed into a pillar, its bones shattering under a blast of magic.

Riven stood at the front of the outer plaza, his daggers flashing, his steel-red eyes fixed on the wave of corrupted candidates pouring out of the fog. They came in dozens — their eyes glowing purple, their faces entirely blank, their bodies moving like mindless puppets on strings.

”Hold the line!” Riven shouted, cutting down another puppet. The creature didn’t even scream; it just crashed heavily into the dirt.

The outer ruins had turned into a battlefield.

From the fog, more shadows emerged. Brainwashed candidates from old trials, their bodies driven like stolen cars, throwing themselves at the defensive line without any care for their own lives.

Alice stood right beside him, her massive greatsword swinging in wide, brutal arcs that sent bodies flying backward. ”Fuck! There’s too many of these bastards!” she yelled over the noise.

Cordelia was a blur of motion, her rapier piercing through the gaps in their armor, dropping them one by one. ”If Leo doesn’t finish this soon, we won’t have a line left to hold!”

Near the back, Julia was pressed against a stone pillar. Her small hands were placed flat against the rock, her Spatial Pressure stretched to its absolute limit. Her face was completely pale, pink hair clinging to her sweaty forehead, but she kept shouting out warnings, telling Riven where the next attacks were coming from before they even appeared.

Caster was behind her, frantically tapping his radar, his glasses sliding down his nose. ”The purple dome is still holding! I can’t get a clear reading on the inside!”

Lyssaria and Nyra were guarding the wounded survivors further back, their eyes fixed on the fog, their bodies tense. Lara was dragging a boy behind a broken wall. Finn and Cora were fighting back-to-back, their claws red with black blood.

Sam was curled in a corner, his hands over his ears, his twitch worse than before.

Suddenly, a massive boom echoed through the ruins. The ground trembled violently, and the purple fog rippled like water.

Riven kicked a lifeless body off his blade, turning his head to look back at the heavy iron doors of the inner sanctum. Dark purple light was bleeding through the cracks in the stone.

He gripped his daggers even tighter, his knuckles turning white.

”Damn it! Hold the line!” he roared, turning back to face the horde. ”We don’t leave this door until he comes out!”