The Anomaly's Path

Malva didn’t realize she was alone at first.

She had been walking two steps behind Leo, her cold black eyes scanning the ground for cracks, her Void mana humming quietly under her skin. But as she passed under the shadow of a broken stone arch, the thick purple mist rolled in like a wave, swallowing sound and light in a single beat.

The mist didn’t just block sight, it swallowed sound, weight, and direction. Her dark eyes narrowed as she looked around. Leo was gone. The ruined street ahead was gone. There was only the swirling, silent fog and the cold stone beneath her boots.

She raised her hand, ready to use her Void affinity to track Leo’s mana through the distortion—

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Slow, steady footsteps echoed through the mist ahead of her.

Malva’s body went completely still. A thin, pitch-black edge of Void energy formed around her right hand. Her stance shifted into a ready, defensive position. She held her breath, her training taking over as every muscle prepared to strike.

Out of the swirling fog, a tall, lean figure stepped forward.

He wore a plain, long black coat that seemed to drink in the light around it. His hair was as dark as a night without stars, falling in loose, smooth waves around a pale, unnaturally smooth face that looked like it was carved from cold stone.

He moved with a quiet, deadly grace, his hands bare and relaxed at his sides.

When he stopped ten steps away, the mist parted slightly, showing his eyes. His left eye was a deep, cold black. His right eye burned with a strange, pale silver mark, a twisting spiral surrounded by sharp cracks, pulsing faintly, casting silver patterns across his sharp face.

A gentle, hauntingly beautiful smile touched his pale lips.

"Ah..." his voice rang out, smooth and deep, carrying a strange echo that vibrated through Malva’s bones. "We meet again after so long. How are you... my daughter?"

Malva’s heart didn’t leap, it stopped.

The Void energy around her hands flickered wildly, then faded into nothing. The cold, blank mask she had built around her mind for years shattered in a split second.

Her breathing turned shallow and rough. Her lips trembled, her pale face turning white as a ghost. Her mind tried to reject what she was seeing, but the weight of old chains seemed to wrap around her throat, choking her.

"No..." she whispered, her voice barely a breath, choked with deep terror. "No... you’re... you’re not... real..."

"Is that any way to talk to your father?" the man asked softly, taking a slow step forward. The silver mark in his eye glowed with a pale, sick light. "After everything I gave you? After the strength I carved into your very soul?"

"Go... go away..." Malva gasped, stumbling back a step.

Her legs felt like lead. Her body, usually so sharp, so deadly, refused to move.

Memories she had buried deep in the dark corners of her mind came flooding back like a wave of ice and blood, all tied to those eyes. Those horrible, empty eyes looking down at her without a single shred of humanity, watching her suffer with a chilling, detached curiosity, measuring her pain as if calculating a tool’s strength.

She turned and ran. She didn’t use a technique. She didn’t use her Void steps. She just ran like a scared, broken child, her boots slamming against the ground, her vision blurring as cold sweat poured down her face.

I have to get away... I have to find Leo... I have to run...

She tripped over a sharp stone, crashing hard onto the cold ground, her knees scraping raw against the rock. She scrambled back up on all fours, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps, but the slow, steady footsteps were already right behind her.

"Running again, Malva?" the man’s smooth voice echoed from directly above her. He stopped, looking down at her with that same terrifying, gentle smile. "You make me look like some sort of monster. It hurts my feelings."

Malva curled up on the ground, her hands clutching her head, her body shaking violently. The air around him was empty of life, it was a void deeper and darker than her own power. Looking into those eyes felt like drowning in an ocean of black nothing.

"Please..." she choked out, her voice broken, completely stripped of its usual coldness. "Please... no..."

"You belong to the Ruin, my daughter," the man whispered, reaching a long, slender hand down toward her dark hair. "You always have—"

Slash!

A streak of cold, silver-white light cut through the mist like a blade. There was no big explosion. No sound of thunder.

The man’s head flew off his shoulders in a clean, silent arc, dropping heavily into the dirt at Malva’s knees. His body swayed for a moment before falling sideways into the gray rot, black, tar-like liquid oozing from the neck onto the ground.

Malva froze, her gasping breath catching in her throat.

"...Malva."

A flat, emotionless voice called her name from above.

Malva slowly, trembling, turned her head upward, her chest heaving as she tried to pull air into her starved lungs.

Leo stood three paces away, holding Tempest loosely in his right hand. The black steel blade was dripping with dark, viscous fluid, but his expression was what made her heart drop into despair.

His ocean-blue eyes were completely cold. No warmth, no concern, no relief. He was looking down at her with the same detached, cold glare he used on monsters, a look of absolute, unyielding coldness that saw through every lie, every secret, and every mask.

He didn’t offer her a hand. He didn’t ask if she was hurt.

Leo looked down at the severed head at her knees, then shifted his flat, icy gaze back to her trembling body. Slowly, he raised Tempest and pressed the blade against her neck, enough to draw some blood.

"I will ask you once," he said, his voice flat and cold. "So answer carefully. Otherwise, I’ll choke the life out of you."

He paused for a moment and then asked, "Are you... by any chance related to... The Fallen?"

_

"Malva?" I called out, my voice flat.

Silence.

I stopped and turned my head. The space behind me was completely empty. The ruined street, the crumbling walls, and Malva were all gone, swallowed by the thick fog that had drifted between us without a sound.

Malva wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t just wander off in a place this dangerous. Her presence was usually so quiet that I had to track her by her mana, but right now, the distortion in the air was hiding her Void affinity completely.

I clicked my tongue, my jaw tightening as I scanned the thick fog.

Ever since we passed the ruined fountain at the edge of the lower district, the air had been changing. It wasn’t a sudden burst of mana or an obvious trap, it was slow. A creeping, heavy pressure that thickened the fog around the broken stone archways.

It rolled in slowly at first, but now it stuck to the skin like cold grease, choking the light and smothering sound until even the scrape of my boots against the ground felt far away. I slowed my pace, resting my right hand lightly on the hilt of Tempest.

It’s actively suppressing my senses.

My spatial awareness, which normally gave me a clear view of everything around me, had hit a wall. The fog was packed with decay and corrupted mana, scattering my perception like light hitting a broken mirror. Even my Flash Instinct was quiet, dulled by the strange stillness of the air.

I wasn’t too worried about the corrupted mana itself, though.

I activated my Continuum Bloodline. The veins under my skin didn’t burn or flare. I just let the bloodline do what it was made for, pulling in the corrupted energy from the air, filtering out the rot, and turning it into my own mana.

In a dead zone like this, where normal fighters would choke and fall, my body treated the strange mana like free fuel. It gave me a big edge.

Still... don’t overdo it, I warned myself, pulling back before the draw could rise.

Damn it, I had to be careful. The memory of my fight during the Gate Tournament was still fresh, pushing the bloodline too hard, feeling my mana channels crack, bleeding from my eyes while Mana Burn nearly tore me apart from the inside.

I barely survived that mess. I wasn’t eager to do it again just to show off my reserves.

I took a deep breath, focusing my mind as I reached out with Soul Perception, pushing my awareness into the fog. The mist actively blocked my sight, scattering my focus like water hitting a hot blade.

I gritted my teeth, pushing my senses to their limit, searching for that familiar, cold, dark soul signature she had.

There.

About fifty steps ahead, off to the left past the archway. My eyes narrowed as I locked onto her soul.

Malva’s soul, usually quiet and cold, was wildly unstable It was drowning in a huge wave of terror and despair. I had seen her cold and emotionless through the worst situations, but right now, her soul looked like a dying flame being crushed by ice.

I had never felt anything like it from her. Not during the exams, not during our fights, not even when facing Morgana’s pressure. She was terrified out of her mind.

What could make someone like her panic like that?

I didn’t waste time thinking. I channeled black lightning into my legs and used Volt Step.

My body blurred through the mist, leaving a faint trail of black sparks behind as I closed the distance in a flash. I burst into the clearing near the broken courtyard and skidded to a stop on the cracked stones.

Malva was on the ground, curled into a ball, clutching her head and shaking like a dying animal. And standing over her was a man.

He was tall, lean, wearing a long black coat. His left eye was dark, but his right eye held a pale silver mark, a twisting spiral surrounded by sharp cracks.

My chest went cold. I recognized that face right away. I had spent hours looking at character art and lore back on Earth while playing the game. That face belonged to the Leader of The Fallen. A disaster-level threat.

However... looking at him, I frowned. Wait...

My eyes flicked to his soul. Or rather, the complete absence of one.

An illusion?

My Soul Perception didn’t register a soul standing over Malva. There was no life, no weight, no presence.

It was an illusion, a high-grade projection born from the fog because of the Gate. We had fought similar illusion beasts during the exam, monsters that fed on deep memories and trauma to freeze their prey before moving in for the kill.

The man standing over Malva wasn’t real. But the illusion was pulling directly from her deepest memories to show a face she knew. The words he was speaking were clear enough for me to hear as I stepped into range.

"You belong to the Ruin, my daughter," the illusion whispered, reaching down toward her hair. "You always have—"

I didn’t wait for it to finish.

I stepped forward, drawing Tempest from its sheath. Using Spatial Slip, I folded the space between my blade and the illusion’s neck.

Slash!

The black blade cut through the air silently. The illusion’s head flew off, slamming into the dirt at Malva’s knees. The body collapsed, melting into a pool of foul, dark liquid. The illusion was gone, but the silence that settled over the street was heavy enough to crush bone.

Malva was still on the ground, gasping for air, her pale skin covered in cold sweat. She slowly raised her head, her dark eyes looking up at me, wide with panic and fear.

I stood three steps away, holding Tempest loosely. I didn’t offer her a hand. I didn’t ask if she was hurt. I kept my face completely blank, my eyes locked onto her with a cold stare that saw through every lie and every mask.

I looked down at the pool of black liquid melting into the stone at her knees, then shifted my gaze back to her trembling body.

He called her daughter...

The words echoed in my head, heavy and crushing.

Questions pounded against my mind like a hammer. The Fallen Leader’s daughter? Is she a spy? Has everything she showed me been a lie from the start? Why is the child of a cult leader sitting in the Academy? Did she also help in opening the Gate’s?

In the game, the Fallen Leader never had a daughter. There was no lore, no hidden event, no secret quest mentioning a child. Nothing. Did my presence change the timeline this much? Or was this secret buried so deep that no player ever found it?

A cold, bitter sting burned in my chest, quickly turning into cold rage.

Why was it always like this? Why did every person who walked beside me turn out to be hiding a web of lies? Was I just doomed to be surrounded by people who know how to betray? I had trusted her quiet presence, relied on her in battle, and all along, the blood running through her veins belonged to the biggest threat in the world.

My jaw clenched. I wanted this to be a mistake. A part of me, the foolish, desperate part, wanted her to deny it, to tell me the mist was pulling a random face out of thin air just to play mind games with us.

"I will ask you once," I said, my voice flat and cold. "So answer carefully. Otherwise, I’ll choke the life out of you." I paused for a moment and then asked, "Are you... by any chance related to... The Fallen?"

Malva flinched as if I had struck her across the face. Her lips parted, her chest heaving as she tried to pull air into her lungs, but no sound came out.

"Answer me, Malva," I said, stepping closer, my voice dropping lower, heavy with cold threat. "Is that bastard your father?"

Malva looked up at my cold, empty eyes, her hands shaking against the stone. The cold mask she had worn for a long time was completely gone, leaving only raw terror and shame on her pale face.

"I..." her voice cracked, broken and barely heard over the soft hiss of the swirling purple mist.