The Anomaly's Path

A Grade 8 Gate...?

The words hung in the heavy air like a weight, choking the life out of the Hall before the purple mist even touched us.

Around me, the silence was absolute and heavy. Students who had been laughing and showing off their family crests just seconds ago stood frozen. I could see the color draining from their faces, the slight trembling in their hands as they reached for their weapons.

A Grade 8 Gate wasn’t a test. It wasn’t a controlled exam in the Sealed Valley with teachers waiting to pull you out when things went wrong.

It was a disaster of the worst kind — the kind that wiped entire cities off the map, leaving nothing but ruins, ash, and graves. My jaw clenched as I stared through the windows at the mist pressing against the glass.

No... this is wrong.

A cold, sharp feeling tightened in my gut. I wasn’t scared of the dark or the monsters, I had died once back on Earth, and I had nearly died a dozen times since crawling out of the Path Trial. Death was an old friend.

But this... this wasn’t fear born from weakness. It was the terrifying, sickening feeling that the ground beneath my feet had completely vanished.

How the hell is there a Grade 8 Gate opening here? Right now?

My mind raced, digging through every piece of lore from the game.

The Fallen’s attack on the Academy during the festival was supposed to happen. I knew that. The Astra Union knew that. Morgana knew that. We prepared for it.

They had a Space Affinity user, who was supposed to drop teams through three paths: the main hall, the tunnels, and the sky above the courtyard. It was meant to be a sudden, attack designed to cause chaos and force the heroes to choose who to save.

A Grade 8 Gate did happen in the original game... but that was supposed to be a big event in the third year. It took the Fallen months of preparation, sacrificed members, and large anchors inside the academy to force a Gate that big to open.

It was their final move.

So why was it happening now? In our first year? During the banquet?

Did my existence do this?

Of course, I knew it was because of me.

I wasn’t supposed to be here. Leo von Celestial was supposed to be a side-character minor villain who died early. I had changed things. I saved people who were supposed to die. I bought Julian from the auction. I saved Julia.

I brought my mother and little Mia to the academy, something that was never supposed to happen at this point in the story. In the game, they stayed safely at the Celestial estate, far away from the main events.

But because I existed, because I changed their decisions and brought them closer to me, they were here.

My gaze drifted slowly across the hall.

I saw Arthur, his knuckles white as he gripped his sword, eyes wide with the shadows of Oakhaven burning all over again. I saw Roan, his usual lazy smirk completely gone, eyes fixed on Helene. I saw Caster holding his shield over Julia, who was shaking badly.

I saw Alice, Riven, Cordelia, Lyssaria, Malva, Seris...

Every face in the crowd was someone who had fought alongside me, argued with me, or simply tried to survive in this world. And most of all, my mother, Mia, and Lyra were waiting in the other banquet hall, trapped in a nightmare they were never supposed to be a part of.

What about the innocent people in the academy city? The visiting guests? The hundreds of staff and students who didn’t even know what a Grade 8 Gate really meant?

Thousands of innocent people could die here today, crushed under rifts and monsters, all because my presence changed the timeline.

I knew this world was cruel. I knew people died in wars and gates, I had read about it, I had seen it, but I never wanted to be the reason for it. I hated the thought that my selfish actions, my desperate attempt to survive, had turned me into the indirect killer of everyone around me.

I had never cared about the plot. I didn’t care about being a savior, a hero, or a messiah for a world that wasn’t even mine to begin with. I just wanted to live my life, survive the fucking world, and protect what was mine.

But I had forgotten a fundamental truth: choices never exist in a vacuum.

When the leaders of the Astra Union or the rulers of great houses make a choice from their high places, a single stroke of their pen decides who lives, who dies, and whose homes get destroyed.

They don’t always mean to ruin lives, but their power forces the world to bend around them anyway. They move the pieces on the board, blind to the small lives crushed beneath their grand plans.

...And now, whether I wanted to admit it or not, I was doing the exact same thing.

Every small choice I made, every person I saved, every path I changed, every thread I pulled just to make my own life easier, was reshaping the future. I had treated this world like a game, convincing myself that as long as I wasn’t wearing a villain’s mask, my actions wouldn’t hurt anyone.

My choices were no longer just mine. They were crashing into the lives of everyone around me, dragging people who should have been safe into the crossfire. If they died here today, it wouldn’t be because of some abstract ’fate’ or ’plot.’ It would be because I made a choice, and they paid the price for it.

Will I even be able to bear the weight of that? If the bodies start piling up, will I look in the mirror and realize I turned into a monster worse than the pathetic minor villain I was born as?

If this timeline shattered here... none of them were making it out.

They are all going to die.

The thought echoed in my head, loud and relentless. They’re going to die because of me. Because I tried to play god. Because I thought I was smart enough to rewrite the script without paying much price.

A cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck. My vision narrowed, the noise of the hall fading into a low, distant buzz. I could feel the weight of everyone in this room pressing down on my shoulders until I could barely breathe.

I reached up, pressing my palm flat against my face, trying to block out the broken windows, the purple fog, and the crushing truth that I had brought this disaster down on the heads of people I was starting to care about.

"Leo..."

A voice called out, muffled and far away.

"Leo!"

My hand dropped from my face, and I blinked, forcing my eyes to focus. Roan was standing right in front of me, his hand hovering near my shoulder. He was looking at me with a strange, worried expression, his brow furrowed.

"Hey... man, are you alright?" Roan asked softly, his voice low enough that the others nearby wouldn’t overhear. "You look pale as a ghost."

It was only then that I realized why he was looking at me like that.

I looked down at my hands. A faint, dark mist was clinging to my sleeves, leaking from my skin and pooling around my boots.

My mana was wildly out of control, reacting to my silent panic by bleeding black Soul Flame mist across the floor. I had been so buried in my own thoughts, drowning in guilt, that I hadn’t even noticed my own power going unstable.

I forced my mana to calm down, swallowing the bitter taste in my throat. "I’m fine," I muttered, my voice rough. "Just... thinking."

Before Roan could say another word, a step sounded on the floor.

Near the center hall, Professor Vance was trying to organize a group of shaking students alongside Professor Eleanor. His thin coat was wrinkled, his brown hair was messy, and his tablet was shaking in his hands as he checked the barrier readings.

He looked completely out of place, a researcher thrown into a war zone.

He paused, seeing the panic spreading through the rows of students. He took a deep breath, stepped up onto a low ledge near the pillar, and spoke in a clear, loud voice.

"To be completely honest with you all," Vance said, a small, embarrassed smile touching his lips, "I’m terrified right now. I mean... who wouldn’t be? It’s a Grade 8 Gate. The kind of thing we read about in old books or teach in classes. I’m afraid of dying. I hate pain — I really, really hate pain. And I’m scared to death of watching people I know get torn apart."

He paused.

"But that’s just what makes us human, isn’t it? Fear isn’t a sign that you’re weak or that you’ve failed. It just means you have something you care about losing. A fighter’s life is about standing in front of danger, but feeling afraid while doing it doesn’t make you any less of a warrior."

Roan let out a short, dry snort, leaning his hand against his hip. "I disagree, Professor," he said, offering a deadpan, terrible attempt at humor. "I’m a proud elven prince. Feeling this afraid just means I’m closer to being a terrified elf than a human."

A few quiet, breathless chuckles broke out among the surrounding students. In a room thick with the stench of death, the awful joke landed like a breath of fresh air, cutting through the suffocating tension just enough for people to inhale.

Vance laughed softly, nodding. "Fair point, Roan."

Vance stepped down from the center and walked through the crowd, offering quiet words of encouragement to several students before stopping near the eastern window group. He looked at Arthur, Amelia, and the others, reminding them that the frontline wasn’t about being invincible, but about keeping composure so those behind them didn’t collapse.

Only after finishing his rounds did he slowly step closer to me, stopping right beside my shoulder. He lowered his voice so only I could hear his words over the low rumble outside.

"I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, Leo," Vance said gently, his eyes searching my face. "But whenever I look at you, you remind me of someone else."

I stayed quiet, staring straight ahead, but my heart pounded against my ribs.

"Professor Morgana," Vance continued, a faint, sad smile touching his lips.

"When she was a student here, she was exactly like you. Reckless, arrogant, and incredibly stubborn. She used to try and carry every single burden by herself, fighting a war in her own head that she refused to let anyone else see. To be honest, even now, she hasn’t changed much."

Vance looked back at me, his hazel eyes turning quiet and serious.

"You’ve been trying to force something, haven’t you? Just like she always did. You’re trying so hard to control every outcome, to force yourself to accept things, to carry every single burden alone as if you’re the only one responsible for the world turning. But forcing yourself to accept something isn’t the same as actually accepting it. When you force a piece into a puzzle where it doesn’t fit, you just end up breaking the whole thing."

His words struck somewhere deep inside my chest, echoing in the quiet corners of my mind.

"You’re the Primus of the first year, Leo," Vance said, his tone turning firm and steady. "Look around you."

I shifted my eyes slightly, following his gaze.

I saw Roan tightening his grip on his spear, forcing his hands to stay steady. I saw Alice rolling her shoulders, hiding her fear behind a fierce scowl. I saw Arthur taking deep breaths, trying to find his balance.

I saw Riven, Lyssaria, Sylvia, Caster, Julia... all of them scared, all of them hiding their fear, but all of them standing their ground because they had no other choice.

"They’re scared," Vance whispered. "They’re terrified out of their minds. But they’re looking at you, at Arthur, at the top ranks, waiting to see if the people in front are going to break. A fighter’s life is to stand in the storm. You don’t have to be fearless to lead them, Leo. You just have to stand..."

Vance patted my shoulder once, a warm, solid weight, before stepping away to call the rest of the faculty together to organize the evacuation lines.

I stood there alone for a long moment, staring down at my boots.

He’s right...

The truth settled over me not like a sudden shock, but like a quiet, heavy weight. I had been acting like an idiot.

...Again.

How many times was I going to fall into the same trap? Every time I felt like I grew, every time I thought I was moving forward, a crisis would hit and I’d immediately fall back into the same narrow way of thinking.

Without even realizing it, I was so obsessed with the "original story," so scared of my own status as an "anomaly," that I kept seeing every change as my own personal failure.

What was the point of having a ridiculously high Intelligence stat if I couldn’t even step back to see the bigger picture? I was overthinking every detail, yet missing the most basic human truth right in front of me.

Vance was right.

Drowning in guilt over my choices wouldn’t change where things stood now. If my decisions dragged this disaster down on their heads, then my decisions would have to be the thing that pulled them back out.

You don’t get to regret making waves when the flood is already at the door; you just grip your sword and cut through.

I had been trying to force my sword art’s Third Form, forcing my Lightning, my Space, and my Soul Flame to work together through sheer will. I was forcing myself to "accept" my past, forcing myself to "accept" the blood on my hands, as if acceptance was a checklist I could finish by clenching my teeth hard enough.

You can’t force pieces to weld together when you’re treating half of them like a curse.

My past on Earth, the weak, pathetic life I lived before dying, wasn’t a weakness I needed to bury. The desperate, blood-soaked survivor who dragged himself through the Path Trial wasn’t a monster I needed to tame.

My fear for my mother, for Mia, for Sylvia, for these idiots standing beside me... it wasn’t a weakness I needed to hide.

It was just who I was.

The human flaw wasn’t having feelings; it was throwing away half of yourself because you were too scared to feel them.

I had been running from the weight of my own choices, treating every change I made like a crime against the original story. But if my choices had reshaped this timeline and brought this disaster down on us, then running from them was nothing but cowardice.

The leaders of the Astra Union didn’t break under the weight of their decisions, they stood by them and faced the storm. I chose to change their fates. I chose to save them. And now, I had to choose to stand in front of them.

A quiet, deep shift vibrated within my soul domain.

The wild, thoughts that had been churning inside me suddenly calmed. The sharp edges of my Soul Flame didn’t go out, they settled, weaving smoothly into the cold currents of my space affinity and the humming frequency of my lightning.

It wasn’t a power boost. It was... clarity.

Acceptance wasn’t about erasing the results of my actions, it was owning them, completely. I didn’t need to force the world to bend where I wanted it to. I just had to decide, with absolute certainty, that the threat standing in front of my family no longer had a place in this world.

I took a slow, deep breath, letting the cold air fill my lungs, and let it out.

I wasn’t alone. I didn’t trust everyone in this world, and I probably never would. But I didn’t need to trust the whole world to fight alongside the people right next to me.

I looked back over at Professor Vance, who was checking barrier readings.

For a guy who usually looked like a strong wind could knock him over, that speech was surprisingly good. Seriously? How did a guy with that kind of speech pull zero women and get bossed around by Morgana every day? He sounded like a legendary mentor for five minutes straight.

Still... I owe him a drink after this.

Slap!

A heavy palm slammed into my upper back, nearly knocking the wind out of me.

"So?" Roan’s voice boomed right next to my ear, a huge grin plastered across his face. "You back with us, Primus? Or do I need to slap some more sense into your gloomy head?"

I slowly turned my head, glaring at him with pure murder in my eyes. "Do that again, Roan, and I’ll test if an elf can live without a spine."

"Ah, there he is!" Alice cackled from a few feet away, resting her longsword over her shoulder. "The arrogant bastard is back! For a second there, I thought our top ranker was about to burst into tears."

"Shut up, Alice," Riven muttered, though a slight smirk tugged at his lips. "Though I have to admit, seeing the ’great Leo von Celestial’ look scared was almost worth the Grade 8 Gate opening."

"Tch," I clicked my tongue softly, a small smile on my lips as I turned my attention back to the front.

Before the banter could continue, Helene’s voice cut through the hall again, sharp and firm.

"Listen up! The Astra Union has been told, but main help is hours away. Professor Morgana and Damon are holding the ridge at the Sealed Valley to block the main breach, but the city and the outer academy areas are already full of monsters. We can’t protect every inch of the city walls, and I know many of you are not built for big battles. But we must hold the core district and keep the beasts from flooding the inner shelters!"

She looked at us, her eyes grave.

"I won’t lie to you. Some of you may die tonight. If anyone wishes to fall back to the underground vaults with the non-combatants, step back now. Your lives are your own."

For a second, silence stretched in the hall. Nobody moved right away, but you could see the hesitation in their eyes, the heavy weight of the choice pressing down on them.

Slowly, a few lower-ranked students quietly stepped back toward the shelter lines, their heads down. But the strong fighters, Elian, Sylvia, Seris, Arthur, Roan, Alice, Riven, Cordelia, and the rest, stayed where they were, their faces hard.

Helene stared at those who stayed, a faint, proud gleam passing through her cold eyes. "Good. Follow me. We take the courtyard!"

"Wait," I called out, stepping forward before the group could move.

Helene stopped, turning her head. "What is it, Leo?"

"The guests in the second VIP banquet hall," I said, my voice steady and clear. "My mother and sister are up there. Are the VIP quarters safe?"

"It is protected by Professor Valerio and Professor Zane’s shields," Helene replied quickly. "The guests are being taken to the central inner shelter by a squad of elite guards."

"I need to see them," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. "I’ll check them on my way before joining the group."

Helene searched my face for a second, then gave a single nod. "Five minutes, Primus. Don’t make me come looking for you."

"Understood."

Without another word, I turned and ran toward the hall, my boots clicked against the floor.