The Anomaly's Path

The golden glow of the Mana Oath Contract faded, leaving a heavy silence in the air.

I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms. The contract was active. If I told a direct lie, the mana tied to me would react and expose me. But telling the truth didn’t mean I had to reveal every secret I had — I just had to avoid lying.

The Archivist placed both hands flat on the desk, the messenger girl’s face wearing a calm, sharp smile.

"Let us start with something simple," the Archivist spoke, their voice echoing through the library.

"You walk into my Shadow Market with High-VIP status from House Celestial, but you act like a trained criminal. You know secrets about my private vaults and the boy inside that even my most officers don’t know."

The Archivist leaned forward, locking eyes with me.

"First question," the Archivist said, their voice clear in the quiet library. "Are you here tonight on House Celestial’s orders, or are you acting alone for your own reasons?"

I didn’t need to think about that one.

"I’m acting alone," I said, my voice steady through my mask. "House Celestial doesn’t know I’m here, and they don’t know about the boy. Everything I do tonight is for myself."

A moment of silence passed. The parchment on the desk stayed still, glowing softly. No alarm. No red flash. It was the truth.

The Archivist watched me closely, their eyes showing mild interest. "...An heir playing his own game in the shadows. Very well."

"Now for something deeper," the Archivist tapped a finger against the desk. "A boy who killed his own team, called a failure, locked in the darkest part of my vault... Most people see trash. You see something worth causing a scene for. So..."

The Archivist’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Second question: What is the true nature of the power you see in that boy — and what do you intend to turn him into?"

This was trickier, but I knew how to answer without revealing my knowledge of the future.

"The power I see isn’t about mana or sword skills," I said calmly. "It’s his mind and his lack of hesitation. He was pushed into a corner, betrayed, and chose to survive by any means. People like him don’t break easily — they adapt."

I paused, letting the silence stretch for a moment before finishing my answer.

"As for what I intend to turn him into? I am not building a hero, and I am not building a mindless servant. I just want him to work for me and help me."

Again, the contract remained dormant. Truth.

The Archivist let out a quiet sigh, leaning back into the chair. "A knife in the dark... How remarkably honest of you, little prince."

The Archivist closed their eyes for a brief second, taking a slow breath. When they opened them again, the playful, lighthearted energy in the room completely vanished, replaced by a suffocating, heavy pressure.

"You have answered two, guest [Loki]. Now for the third and final question." The Archivist rested their chin on their fingers, staring straight at me through my mask.

"What are you?"

The simple three-word question hung in the air like a weight.

I stared back, my face hidden behind my mask while my mind raced. The Archivist wasn’t just asking for my name or title. They already knew I was Leo von Celestial. They were asking something deeper.

The Archivist knew too much. They knew I survived a trial that usually took two months, even though I was stuck inside for seven. They knew normal people have one affinity, while I have three. They knew I used to have a weak B-rank core, but my growth made no sense to anyone watching.

Of course they were questioning what I actually was.

What am I supposed to say? I thought, feeling a bitter sting in my throat.

I can’t tell the truth under this contract, can I? Should I admit I’m just a guy trapped in a twisted game world? That the Oldest Watcher gave me powers just to mess with my life? That they keep throwing rewards and death traps at me like I’m some kind of toy?

Not to mention I’ve practically died twice already, I thought, a dry smirk forming under my mask.

And recently, Seris ran a blade through my chest to stop me from exploding from my own power. That counts as a near-death experience. Actually, that makes three times now.

I looked at the glowing contract on the desk. Under this contract, I couldn’t lie, but I didn’t have to reveal every secret either. I just had to speak my core truth.

"I am just a guy," I spoke slowly, my voice dropping into a quiet, honest tone. "A guy who is constantly trying to survive in a world that keeps trying to kill him."

The Archivist didn’t interrupt, so I kept going, letting out a faint sigh.

"I don’t have some grand, heroic dream. I don’t want to conquer domains or rule the underworld. At the end of all this... I just want a normal life. I want a peaceful home, a carefree routine, a loving wife, and kids. I want a life where I don’t have to put my life on the line every single week just to see tomorrow."

I paused, my jaw tightening slightly.

"And I want the people I care about to have that too. The ones who stayed with me, who fought beside me, who didn’t run when things got ugly. I want them to live. I want them to be happy. I want them to grow old and die peacefully in their beds, not in some cold ditch with a sword in their hand."

I let out a dry, quiet laugh.

"Maybe that’s selfish. But... who gave a damn? I am a selfish person."

Silence settled over the massive library.

The parchment on the desk glowed brightly before fading back to normal. The Mana Oath was satisfied. The contract had accepted my words as truth.

The Archivist stared at me for a long moment before letting out a soft, mocking laugh. "My, my... How remarkably dreamy of you, little prince. A killer with the mindset of a retired farmer."

"..."

I stayed completely silent, staring back without saying a word. Inside, I felt a little let down. I had braced myself for tricky riddles or mind games. But these three questions? They were surprisingly simple.

Why did they ask these specific things? I wondered. What was the Archivist’s real motive behind this game?

The Archivist seemed to catch the shift in my silence. A dramatic, wounded expression washed over the messenger girl’s face. She placed a delicate hand over her chest, letting out a dramatic gasp.

"Oh, stop looking at me like that!" the Archivist pouted, shaking their head. "You really hurt my feelings, little prince. You sat there expecting some grand, evil mastermind scheme, didn’t you? You thought I was going to corner you with impossible traps!"

I kept my mouth shut, letting the silence press heavily on the room.

"I asked what I asked because I wanted to know who I was doing business with," the Archivist sighed, dropping the act and smiling sweetly. "And I must say... your answers were far more entertaining than I expected."

"Hey, it’s an honest living," I muttered, shaking my head. "Now, I’ve answered all three of your questions. The contract is satisfied. Hand over the boy."

"Woah, woah, calm down, prince," the Archivist chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. "I never said I wouldn’t give him to you. But this is still a black market, and money is still the blood of our operation. You don’t expect to walk out of here without paying a single credit, do you?"

I narrowed my eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Simple," the Archivist smiled, the messenger girl’s face looking thoroughly amused. "I will place the boy on the auction block for the second half of tonight’s event. You can buy him fair and square. Consider it your final fee for wasting my auctioneer’s sanity."

"You bastard," I grunted, clicking my tongue in annoyance. "You just want to drain my wallet a little more."

"A businessman must always protect his profits," the Archivist replied smoothly, completely unbothered by my glare.

I let out a long sigh, tossing my head back against the chair. "Fine. Whatever. Just make sure he actually makes it to the stage."

"He will," the Archivist assured, leaning forward and resting their elbows on the desk. The playful look on their face slowly diminished, replaced by a sharp, businesslike demeanor. "Now that our little game of questions is finished... let us talk about real business. You surely didn’t cause all that trouble downstairs just for a single broken boy, did you?"

I straightened up in my chair, dropping the annoyed act instantly. The air between us turned cold again.

"I can see how eager you are," the Archivist continued, tilting their head. "You came here looking for information. Name your price, guest [Loki]. What is it you truly came to learn from the Hollow Syndicate?"

I looked straight into those sharp, shifting eyes.

"I’ll pay you enough. But..." I said, my voice heavy and serious. "I want you to tell me everything you know about... The Fallen."