Anomaly

Chapter 403 – Worship of the true gods [49]

I stared out at the horizon ahead, now completely overtaken by the ever-expanding sphere, slowly devouring everything around it. At the same time, the drunk man was plummeting toward the asphalt below, his body spinning wildly as he was dragged down by relentless gravity.

His screams tore through the air, growing louder as he got closer to the impact, which, honestly, was kind of strange, considering the violent wind should’ve swallowed any sound at that speed. Still, his screams were perfectly audible to me, high-pitched, desperate, almost animalistic.

Then again... I don’t even need to say it, the outcome wasn’t going to be pretty. Human versus asphalt from that kind of height? There’s no point pretending there’s any suspense. It’s not a fight, it’s an execution. An inevitable, brutal, and quick result.

If I had to bet, I wouldn’t even bother stepping into the arena. Quick spoiler: the human doesn’t stand a chance. It’d be completely one-sided, ending the moment he hit the ground, his body splattering across the hot pavement into a shapeless, silent mess. A scene... not exactly pleasant.

Naturally, the scene didn’t sit well with the other people around. Their murmurs spread like a low buzz, reaching my ears clearly, not that they were even trying to be subtle. Some whispered with curiosity, others with obvious discomfort, and a few even shot quick glances my way before looking away, as if they were afraid of drawing my attention.

That said, their judgment toward me was far less harsh than I had expected, especially after watching a man fall from the top of a building. Though, technically, it wasn’t even my fault.

Still, most of them seemed to find the situation... acceptable, in a way. After all, the drunk guy started it. The fact that I hadn’t even touched him helped a lot with that perception, a kind of collective relief that kept them from immediately labeling me as guilty.

Even so, it was obvious no one there was truly comfortable. Between hesitant glances and uncertain steps, it was clear that, despite understanding the situation, most people were still reluctant to just stand by and watch a man die.

The rest... well, they were clearly afraid. They insisted, with absolute certainty, that I must have done something, anything, to make him lose his balance and fall off the building. As always, it was easier to build a simple narrative than to face the obvious: the guy was completely wasted, barely able to stand, tripping over his own words and his own feet.

But no, let’s ignore all that. Let’s pretend none of it matters and just blame the “anomaly” because it’s not human, because it’s convenient, because it fits perfectly into the story they’ve already decided to believe.

That same old idea that I’m some kind of threat, something destined to destroy everything around it. Yeah... I’ve heard that enough times to recognize the pattern before they even finish speaking. And honestly, I don’t care.

I never planned on letting the guy die. Truth is, I was barely paying attention to him. He was just another loud, persistent presence, saying the same things I’ve heard from so many others that they’d long since lost any meaning.

I can’t say how long he kept rambling about me being a “freak” before he tried to shove me off the rooftop. I just remember the strong smell of alcohol, the obvious lack of balance, the way his hand reached toward me without any real force behind it. Ironic, in the end. He tried to push me... and he’s the one who fell.

Anyway, I looked away and let him keep falling. There were only a few seconds left before he hit the ground, just another grotesque scene I’d rather not watch until the end.

Around me, some people had stepped closer to the edge, drawn in by that morbid curiosity humans never seem able to resist. Their faces were tense, uncomfortable, as if they were all thinking the same thing.

The kids, on the other hand, were kept well away from the ledge. Not just because of the insane height, which was intimidating enough on its own, but also because, thankfully, someone had the sense to keep them from witnessing something that would definitely scar them.

I let out a quiet breath, more like a restrained scoff, and stepped back from the edge, straightening up with some reluctance. Still, I couldn’t resist taking one last look down. There he was, the drunk, still caught in his inevitable fall, his body twisting awkwardly as he rapidly approached the asphalt: (Guess that was enough time for him to cool his head) I muttered to myself, dryly.

Right after that, shadowy tentacles, dense and writhing, exuding a dark mist like smoke, silently emerged from my own shadow behind me. They rose like living serpents, twisting through the air before darting quickly toward the falling man, who was still flailing his arms wildly as he continued dropping toward the ground.

My action, inevitably, drew everyone’s attention. The murmurs died out, replaced by silence. People turned to look at me, watching the scene with a mix of awe, disbelief, and a subtle fear, more noticeable in the adults, whose expressions hardened the moment they saw my tentacles.

The children, on the other hand, reacted exactly as you’d expect: eyes wide with wonder, some of them even pointing and smiling, completely captivated by the almost surreal spectacle of the shadowy tentacles.

Within moments, my tentacles reached the man. They coiled firmly around his body, secure, but not rough, cutting off his fall in a way that was sudden, yet controlled. The dark smoke shifted slightly at the moment of contact. Without hesitation, the shadows reversed their motion, pulling him upward smoothly, beginning his ascent back to the rooftop.

In just a few seconds, my tentacles had fully wrapped around him, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. I avoided any sudden movements, the last thing I wanted was for him to slip, and guided him back to the top of the building, setting him down in a safe spot, far from the edge and any immediate danger. The moment his feet touched the cold concrete, his body completely gave out.

He staggered like someone who had lost all sense of balance, then dropped into a clumsy seated position. His face was hard to look at: tears mixed with snot streamed uncontrollably, and his wide, unfocused eyes looked like they couldn’t lock onto anything real.

His entire body shook, not lightly, but in constant spasms, like every muscle was on the verge of collapsing. The sharp smell of alcohol still lingered in the air, now mixed with raw, unfiltered fear.

Leaving the drunk behind, I completely ignored him. He was no longer a priority. My attention shifted back to the energy sphere, invisible to the naked eye, yet impossible to ignore. I could feel it. It was still expanding slowly, like a silent tide swallowing everything in its path, moving street by street, building by building, consuming the city in an invisible, inevitable embrace.

The scene... no, this was far from just a scene. It looked like something straight out of the end of the world. A massive pillar of light, blinding and overwhelming, tore through the sky like a divine spear. Subtle? Not even close.

That’s when an unsettling thought started to form. Where were the military? By now, I expected helicopters cutting through the sky, sirens echoing through the streets, some kind of desperate containment effort... anything. But there was nothing. No distant sounds of operations, no organized movement, no sign of human interference. Nothing.

Normally, in anomalous cases, the only ones involved are members of the organization itself. Still, that doesn’t mean I’ve never seen military or police on site, I have, more than once. The difference is, they don’t interfere. They stay back, like silent observers, securing the perimeter, blocking off streets, keeping civilians away... but never crossing the invisible line that separates “our” work from theirs.

I always knew the organization had influence, but I never imagined it ran this deep, enough to keep even the armed forces at bay with nothing more than an unspoken agreement... or maybe something more. There’s a kind of unspoken hierarchy, something no one explains, yet everyone seems to understand instinctively.

Then again... thinking about it, that’s to be expected. A global organization that deals daily with absurd things, anomalies, impossible artifacts, phenomena that defy all logic, couldn’t operate in the shadows without having some level of control over the world.

Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if that recent discussion among the members was tied to some kind of catastrophic event... something that almost happened, or worse, something that did happen and was erased. Maybe while I was casually walking around last week, they were already preventing the end of the world, again.

I let out a quiet huff, annoyed at the direction my thoughts were taking. There was something almost darkly ironic about it all. In the end, it was just a reflection of my life since the exact moment I stopped being human and became an anomaly.

I exhaled slowly, running a hand over my face, as if that alone could push away the invisible pressure building around me. The truth was simple and uncomfortable: I had absolutely no idea how to stop this ever-expanding, apocalyptic sphere capable of erasing anything it touched as if it had never existed.

Still, not knowing didn’t mean I was powerless. My eyes narrowed slightly as a spark of possibility emerged in the middle of the chaos. Maybe I didn’t know how to fix this... but I knew someone who did.

Or rather, a few names came to mind. Faces began to take shape in my head one after another, familiar figures who, in the overwhelming majority of situations, were far from inspiring any kind of trust. Trusting them felt like an extreme sport all on its own.

As I mentally went over my less-than-promising options, a subtler thought slowly rose to the surface of my mind: (Maybe... my sisters could help?) The possibility lingered there for a few seconds, uncomfortably plausible.

(Although getting them to agree is gonna be a pain...) I finished the thought, already feeling the beginnings of a headache just imagining the conversation. Depending on their mood, asking for help could very easily turn into a draining negotiation. Still, as annoying as the idea was, my sisters remained one of the very few remotely viable options. The thought hung in the air for a moment.

The thought had barely fully formed before I shrugged it off, brushing it aside like a passing annoyance. No point dwelling on that right now. Either way, I’d figure out what to do once I finally met up with my sisters.

Even so, I couldn’t help letting out a quiet, almost inaudible sigh, hoping they were still at the church. Because honestly, it’d be a real pain to wander around the streets, checking every corner of the city trying to track them down.