Anomaly
Chapter 171 – When logic escapes [12]

I don’t know how much time passed since I fell into the vortex. All I could feel was my body sinking deeper and deeper. It was like being submerged in a pool—but without the resistance of water, no friction at all, as if I were being swallowed by emptiness. And that emptiness seemed endless.

The deeper I fell, the more I felt my head about to explode. A growing pressure built up in my mind, and with it came flashes of memories—confused, fragmented, but intense. It was as if, with every meter I descended, parts of me were being violently ripped away by oblivion.

Almost like an analog process, the deeper I plunged, the more memories surfaced. That entity, which before seemed so strange and distant to me, became something so familiar that even I was surprised by how naturally I recognized it.

But this was different from simply remembering. Actually, I had never really forgotten. It was like my memory, for some reason, had chosen not to recall—as if there was a subtle barrier, not of forgetting, but of refusal.

And the more I sank into that dense, silent darkness, the more memories seeped into my mind like ancient echoes returning home. I remembered the entity’s name, its gestures, its presence, who it really was. All at once, like an overwhelming wave of recollections.

Yet, I felt no pain, not even a hint of rejection—just a strange sense of familiarity. Deep down, I knew: those memories were precious. They were part of me. Fragments of something that had always been there, dormant, waiting for the right moment to wake up. They were me.

By then, there was no denying it anymore—and deep down, that’s all I had been doing until now: denying. But the truth was, I had known for some time. I realized it, felt it, recognized my true nature. What I really am. What I have always been, in fact. I’d known this for a long time, even if I didn’t want to admit it. And now, with some memories recovered, there was no room left to run. Denying it didn’t make sense anymore. In fact, it would be like denying myself.

Those whirlwinds of thoughts raced through my mind in seconds. Then, my eyes slowly opened. In front of me, my Alter Ego watched silently, its red eyes shining with an almost hypnotic intensity. I just stared back, and it did the same. We stayed like that for a few moments, carefully studying each other.

Somehow, even though it didn’t have a defined face—no features, no expressive traits—I could feel, deep down, that my own expression had become a little more like its. As if something inside me was being shaped by that empty, profound reflection.

The next moment, when my eyes scanned the surroundings, I didn’t notice anything different from what I remembered. In a way, everything that had happened—even the moment when I saw my past self-talking to Virtue... or rather, to Nyara—didn’t seem to last more than a split second to those around me. Yet, from my perspective, it stretched for hours, as if time had warped just for me.

Arthur’s eyes and the others’ were still fixed on Nyara, who floated gently beside me, as if gravity no longer affected her. Her gaze remained steady on me, intense and calm at the same time. The next instant, I looked directly at her.

Honestly, my mind was a storm of thoughts—confused, overlapping, impossible to organize. I had no idea where to start. Still, almost automatically, the first words that came out of my mouth caught me off guard. Even I didn’t know why I said them.

My eyes locked exclusively on Nyara. The next moment, my thoughts turned to her, echoing clearly and firmly in her mind: (Nyara, don’t think just because you’re my little sister I’ll let what you did to me before slide. Prepare for the consequences)

I blinked right after saying the words, still a bit stunned by what I’d just said. To be honest, I was surprised with myself. It was something I really wanted to say, that I was about to say—but it came out before I realized—almost like an automatic impulse.

Maybe it sounded like I was angry at Nyara, but I’m not. Or rather, the feeling is more like someone trying to discipline their own brother or sister, trying to correct patiently, even if it sometimes seems too harsh.

Nyara, on the other hand, widened her eyes for a brief moment. Her expression—until then as cold and empty as a concrete wall—wavered, as if a shadow of doubt tried to break through that icy barrier. It lasted only a second, but I saw it. I felt it in a way that can’t be ignored. She didn’t understand. Of course not. How could she? To her, I was the one who erased everything from her memory. To her, I’m the villain. The enemy.

But suddenly, was I the one who looked irritated? And threatening to punish her for what she’d done before? It was obvious Nyara would be confused by that. She slightly furrowed her brows, her eyes narrowing in a mix of surprise and uncertainty.

Her lips parted, as if about to say something, but no words came out. The hesitation in her gaze was almost tangible, like she struggled to understand what was happening. She simply didn’t seem to know how to react to such an absurd situation.

The next moment, Nyara narrowed her eyes in my direction. Her expression twisted into a mix of disbelief and fury—a silent but sharp rage. She stared at me as if I had betrayed everything she believed in, her piercing gaze digging into me like blades eager to cut through flesh and soul. Then, she took a step in the air. Not literally—the space around her simply bent, as if reality itself folded before her will, defying natural laws just to obey her.

The hesitation was swallowed by something formless—a silent presence creeping through the cracks of reality, as if the very fabric of the world was holding its breath. It wasn’t light, nor shadow. It was a subtle void, an absence heavier than any matter, a diffuse, unlocatable pressure making the space around pulse with a disturbing irregularity, as if the universe had momentarily forgotten how to exist.

The atmosphere seemed to bend, as if about to collapse under the weight of something invisible and colossal. There was no light, but everything shimmered with a disconnected glow, as if reality was cracking from the inside—subtle fissures in the very concept of “here” The air vibrated with an aimless anxiety, a restlessness seeming to rise from the floor, the walls, time itself. Beneath the skin, something moved with uncomfortable slowness, like an ancient memory desperately trying to remember who it was, scratching the edges of consciousness.

Then, something moved. Not before the eyes, but beyond the senses—a subtle dance of opposing forces, entwined like invisible needles sewing the contours of reality with threads of silence and tension. The air seemed to hold its breath, and even time hesitated. It was as if the whole world was on the brink of collapse…but hadn’t yet been given permission to fall.

Nyara was at the center of it all. Silent. Still as an anchor in the middle of chaos. Her fixed gaze seemed to hold up the absurdity around her, as if her mere presence kept everything from collapsing completely. A second later, the world reacted. The ground beneath Arthur, Laura, and the others simply ceased to exist as solid ground.

The stones broke loose and began to float in impossible geometric patterns, defying all logic. They spun slowly, as if following the rhythm of a broken clock, whose gears danced in the air to the sound of an inaudible melody.

The trees twisted as if waking from a deep sleep, their trunks and branches bending in impossible directions, staring directly at every person in the scene. It was like being in the middle of an invisible crowd, under the weight of dozens of piercing gazes coming from all directions at once.

The sky, once gray and dull, seemed to fold onto itself—like a sheet of paper tearing at its own edges—revealing layer after layer of heavens, one behind the other, all pulsing in unreal tones, as if the world itself was shedding its skin.

Nyara hovered at the center of the forming chaos, suspended like a portent. Her eyes shone like compact suns, radiating an incandescent light that tore through the surrounding shadows. Her presence made time itself hesitate—the seconds faltered, unsure whether to speed up in panic or freeze in awe of the moment’s magnitude.

And then she spoke—or rather, her voice echoed, reverberating through the air like a divine whisper, ancient and undeniable.

“You... you dare...” Nyara began, her voice trembling with hurt and disbelief. Her eyes burned, fixed on the other with a mix of pain and anger: “To talk to me like that... after everything you did to me?”

But there was no anger in her voice. There was something more subtle—and much more dangerous: a deep sorrow, heavy with confusion and a silence that seemed to trap the air around her. The voice echoed, warped like a glitch in a reality that once seemed unshakably solid.

Every word she spoke not only pierced the silence but tore apart and rebuilt the space around her, as if the world itself hesitated, lost between what was and what would cease to be.

An unexpected flower bloomed in the silent void between us—its delicate stem twisting like a shy promise. In moments, it grew wild, rising until it became a huge mountain, dominating the space like a silent giant. But just as fast as it appeared, it withered, crumbling to dust and shadows in seconds.

The logic of existence unraveled there, stitched and patched by the impatient fingers of an irritated child playing god with a mischievous smile. And me? I stood frozen, caught between disbelief and stillness, just watching that chaotic spectacle unfold before my eyes.

My gaze never left her as she struggled, caught between raw pain and silent indignation. Her body trembled, almost like the world around her was a broken toy she was trying in vain to fix. Reality twisted around her, contorting into crooked angles and shadows that seemed to stretch in response to her suffering.

But even amid that whirlwind, there was no fear in her eyes. No surprise. In fact, no emotion seemed to cross her face—just a cold emptiness, as if something inside her had already shattered forever.

(I won’t deny my fault in her current state, but you, Nyara... forgetting me is unforgivable. Using your powers against me? That, yes, is unacceptable. You will pay for that—and that’s exactly what I’m going to do) I communicated mentally, my tone sounding bored.

The effect was immediate. A sharp sound, like breaking thin glass, echoed in the distance, slicing through the heavy silence of the environment. Nyara froze in midair, paralyzed, eyes wide once again—this time, not from fear of a physical threat, but under the weight of my words.

It was as if my tone hit harder than any blow. Maybe it really did. She seemed unable to understand how I could be so… relentlessly indifferent, as if my emotions were a cold wall she couldn’t break through.

How could I just watch all that without even frowning? The winds of distorted reality hesitated around me, as if the very air carried the weight of the moment. The world, though wounded, remained silent, waiting for something uncertain.

And I stayed there, looking at her—without judgment, without reaction. Just letting her carry the burden of her own fury, feeling the immense emptiness she couldn’t fill, like a cold echo reverberating inside her. Of course, inside I felt crushed by a deep, restless guilt.

I knew, maybe better than anyone, how destructive Nyara was in her very essence—a presence whose mere existence seemed to pull everything around her into a whirlwind of chaos and self-destruction. Nyara was the embodiment of ruin, a force that corroded everything, including herself.

Yet, there was a painful paradox inside me: I also knew Nyara was completely innocent, a pure and delicate soul, incapable of wishing harm even to a fly. It was a cruel irony, almost torturous, that such a ruthless existence could carry within itself such a genuine and fragile purity.