Anomaly

Chapter 374 – Worship of the true gods [20]

(POV - Dominic Virel)

At first, Dominic felt a slight tightness in his chest, a subtle yet persistent unease. Could it really just be a coincidence? The idea felt flimsy. A supposed “child” who gets lost on the way to the bathroom and, by pure chance, ends up in his private resting space... no, something was definitely off.

It took Dominic a moment to accept that. He could be considered a decent man in certain respects, but that never meant he was naïve. Quite the opposite, he was well aware of his own reputation.

He knew what people whispered in the streets: a lunatic, a man who worshipped anomalies, someone who strayed dangerously far from what was considered normal. Even so, Dominic wasn’t bothered by those judgments. He never truly cared.

From his perspective, there was far more logic in believing in a living, tangible god, something present, something that could be seen, felt, feared, than in distant deities sustained only by ancient words, recorded in worn-out books and repeated through increasingly distorted accounts. To him, faith without evidence was nothing more than comfort.

After all, while people prayed to the unseen, the real world remained the same: cruel, indifferent. People suffered. People died. And no god seemed willing to answer their constant pleas for mercy.

That was the pure truth, a raw, unchanging certainty that no prayer, no matter how fervent, could alter it... unless humans themselves chose to rise and change it. However, reality was different when it came to the beings scattered throughout Dominic’s private room in photographs.

The walls, nearly fully covered, displayed carefully arranged pictures. And in every single one, there was something in common: those beings. They weren’t idealized paintings or artistic interpretations... they were records. Proof. All of them were real. Alive. Present.

The information Dominic had gathered about these beings, meticulous notes, fragmented accounts, testimonies that bordered on the unbelievable, always pointed to the same inevitable conclusion: they were, without a doubt, gods.

Not gods in the simplistic sense of old human religions, bound to outdated myths or yellowed pages of forgotten books. No. They were something far beyond that. Beings beyond mere human comprehension.

Entities that defied any label or definition. Infinite in existence, beautiful in a way almost painful to mortal eyes, and endowed with a power that warped the very concept of reality. They weren’t ideas. They were presence.

And that was exactly what made them so... worthy of worship. To Dominic, it made no sense to place faith in something he had never seen, never touched, never even felt. His belief didn’t stem from blind hope, but from evidence. From experience. Faced with such concrete proof, he would choose, countless times, to believe in what his own eyes could behold... and perhaps one day, what his own hands might reach.

It was largely for that reason that Dominic didn’t feel particularly embarrassed, or even uneasy, at the woman’s last words. Deep down, he had to admit it himself: keeping photographs spread across an entire room was, at the very least, an eccentric habit... perhaps even questionable in the eyes of most.

Still, there was no guilt in his chest. Quite the opposite. What was so wrong about surrounding oneself with what one worships? After all, how many people keep images of their symbols of faith hanging on their walls, small statues resting on tables, tokens of belief carefully placed in every corner?

Dominic simply took that habit a little further, much further, perhaps. His devotion wasn’t lukewarm or restrained; it was intense, saturating the space like a lingering scent. To him, those images weren’t mere objects, but living representations of the entities he prayed to, anchors for his faith and instruments of connection.

And in the end, Dominic genuinely didn’t care what others thought. He never had. If other people’s opinions had ever carried any weight in his decisions, he would have never taken the first step toward building the church, let alone sustaining it with so little external conviction.

So Dominic’s reaction to the young woman’s words was nothing more than a low, almost muffled chuckle, laced with natural ease, as though that kind of comment no longer held any weight for him: “I hear that more often than I’d like” Dominic remarked.

His voice came out indifferent, devoid of any annoyance or irritation, as if the label simply didn’t matter. And in truth, it didn’t. He didn’t care, he never had. For Dominic, pretending otherwise would have been pointless.

The other woman beside her, with a more rigid posture and a serious expression, let out a sigh, as if already used to dealing with that kind of situation. Her eyes briefly scanned Dominic before she spoke in a measured tone: “Forgive my friend’s lack of tact regarding your...” She cut herself off, hesitating for a moment.

Her lips pressed together slightly as she searched for a word that wouldn’t sound too offensive to describe what she was seeing. The brief pause was enough to make the moment awkward. The scene drew a faint, amused smirk from Dominic, entertained by her struggle. “Hobby” the woman finally concluded, tilting her head slightly.

“You flatter me, miss” Dominic replied, making a casual hand gesture, laced with indifference. A small smile formed on his lips, more out of habit than sincerity: “You can be honest... this is a situation... at the very least bizarre, and I imagine quite uncomfortable” Without adding anything further, he looked away, as if he wanted to end the subject before it became even more awkward.

With calm steps, he walked over to the small table beside the bed, a simple piece of furniture he used as a desk, and sat down. The wood creaked softly under his weight. He then opened the drawer with a familiar motion and pulled out a few letters.

“What are those papers?” asked the same young woman who had earlier called his hobby bizarre. Dominic glanced up for a moment, but showed no sign of irritation. With his usual composure, he replied: “Letters... more specifically, letters from children from the various orphanages I fund every month” He didn’t need to think much before answering, there wasn’t much to think about.

In truth, he collected considerable sums from believers and devotees, more than enough to sustain a life filled with luxury and indulgence. Still, it meant little to him. Compared to what Dominic truly sought, money was nothing more than the crudest and most fleeting expression of human greed, something heavy, tangible... and, at the same time, empty.

He did not chase fleeting riches, nor was he seduced by the easy allure of gold. He knew that, in the end, all of it would lose its meaning in the final moment of death, when hands once full would inevitably become empty.

No, what Dominic sought was beyond that. Something that would not wear away with time, that could not be taken or lost. He longed for something greater than the material world, something that could withstand mortality itself. Dominic sought the eternal.

“That’s quite a...” the serious-looking woman paused mid-sentence, frowning slightly as her eyes drifted away. Her lips parted, but she hesitated once more before finishing in a more restrained tone: “... commendable act on your part”

Dominic gave a faint, almost imperceptible smirk, as if the reaction had slipped out unintentionally: “Thank you for the compliment... I suppose” he said lightly, though distant: “Although, to be honest, I don’t usually talk about this with others. I’m not exactly looking for recognition”

He paused briefly, his gaze losing focus for a moment: “In the end... paper is nothing more than money” he continued in a quieter, more reflective tone: “And money completely loses its value the moment we leave this world”

His words carried more than simple opinion, there was conviction in them. Dominic then looked away, studying the photographs scattered around with careful attention. His eyes traced every detail, as if finding in them a silent confirmation of his beliefs. When he spoke again, his voice had changed. It was firmer, more purposeful.

“That’s why I follow these entities” he declared with unwavering conviction: “Because they are truly eternal... present. Not like some supposed creator we’ve never seen, never touched, never truly felt”

His smile slowly widened, gaining a subtle gleam: “Beings so beautiful... so powerful... so worthy” There was something different in his tone now, an intense, almost devotional passion. The words came out with fervor, as if each syllable were a small prayer.

Unexpectedly, one of the children reacted to his words, shifting awkwardly as if unsure what to do with their own body. Their shoulders hunched slightly, and a shy smile appeared as they glanced away.

“Hehe... being praised like that makes me a little embarrassed...” they murmured, bringing a hand to their face in a failed attempt to hide the blush spreading across their cheeks.

Another voice, belonging to a different child, followed soon after. Dominic couldn’t quite explain why, but he sensed a hint of pride in the tone: “Hmph...” the voice muttered, with a certain childish air of superiority: “I suppose I can at least say your eyes are in the right place, for noticing the obvious”

Dominic wasn’t entirely sure why the children were speaking that way. There was something odd about their choice of words, as if they perceived the world from a different angle. In the end, however, he simply sighed and chose not to dwell on it too much. They were children... very special ones, he concluded, with a faint trace of curiosity.

That said, it wasn’t as though Dominic was free of doubt, quite the opposite. There was something that kept bothering him, a persistent feeling he couldn’t ignore. The children... for some reason, they felt strangely familiar.

It wasn’t the simple familiarity of having met them before, nor a clear memory of a past encounter. It was something more diffuse, the unsettling impression that he had seen them somewhere, even without being able to pinpoint where or when. Their gestures... there was something about them that stirred fragments of memory.

Celebrities, perhaps? The thought crossed his mind for a moment, bringing with it a spark of curiosity. It would be, at the very least, an interesting coincidence, even a pleasant one. But Dominic knew that was unlikely. He barely watched television, rarely followed any kind of media, and would hardly recognize someone famous with such certainty. So if that wasn’t it... where exactly did that feeling come from?