Anomaly

Chapter 382 – Worship of the true gods [28]

Faced with the priest’s strangely... feverish gaze, my only reaction was to raise an eyebrow slightly, an automatic gesture. It had been a long time since my expression was anything other than a deep well of indifference, still and opaque, like stagnant water.

The way his mouth parted, trembling, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t... The way his entire body quivered in a kind of distorted reverence. And above all, his eyes.

The way his eyes were fixed on me. No... not exactly on me. The feeling was strange, hard to explain: he wasn’t seeing me. Not really. It was as if he were looking through me... or beyond me. As if, standing before him, there wasn’t just who I was, but everything I could become. Everything I carried. Everything I represented.

At last, under the priest’s intense stare, by now, he seemed to have forgotten how to blink, I paused for a moment, organizing my thoughts and carefully choosing how to approach the situation. My original goal, the real reason I had come here, was simple at its core: to stop him from continuing whatever it was he was doing.

Even so, it was frustrating. Sometimes I hated having such fragmented memories. That said, up until this moment, all I had was a persistent, instinctive feeling that what he was doing was deeply wrong. Not just unusual, but dangerous in a way I couldn’t explain.

I lacked concrete reasons, solid arguments... anything that could justify the urgency pulsing in the back of my chest. But in the end, I knew: I didn’t need to fully understand in order to act. I had no intention of standing still, waiting for things to spiral out of control, when I could clearly feel this would end badly.

I felt an almost irresistible urge to sigh as I reflected on how strange my life had become. Ever since I turned into an anomaly, everything felt out of place. In fact, by now, I was certain that my so-called “transformation” hadn’t been as simple or superficial as I had first imagined.

As these thoughts piled up, my sisters seemed... at ease. Light, even. Clearly, they weren’t caught up in the same complications or philosophical reflections as I was: “The outing was quite enjoyable” Eryanis remarked.

Her voice was calm. She ran a hand through her shimmering hair, strands that resembled liquid crystal, reflecting the light in a subtle, mesmerizing way, with a smooth, natural motion. Even so, despite her words, it was impossible to tell whether she was being serious or not, her expression remained elegantly neutral.

“It’s remarkable how much humans have managed to create, even considering their almost nonexistent span of existence” she continued. Her head moved slowly up and down, as if confirming an internal conclusion, something that only made sense within her own logic: “That place we stopped at... what was it called again?”

She rested her hand on her chin, tilting her face slightly in thought: “Ah, yes... a pastry shop” She nodded again, just as calmly as before: “Those sweets were delicious”

Leaving Eryanis aside, still seemingly lost in thought, likely reliving the taste of the sweets she had tried, Nekra didn’t appear to share the same enthusiasm.

“My horns are... sore” she said quietly, carefully bringing a hand up to them. Her expression was... melancholic. Nekra almost always seemed that way: downcast, melancholic... distant. Still, there were nuances. Somehow, I could tell.

There was what I had come to think of as her “natural melancholy” a constant trait, almost part of her essence. But this was different. Now, she was in what I could only describe as a “downcast melancholy” The difference was subtle.

Maybe it was in the way her shoulders slumped just a little more, or in how her eyes avoided any contact, settling instead on random spots on the ground. Or perhaps in the unusual delicacy with which she touched her own horns. At first glance, the two states seemed identical. But they weren’t.

The rest of my sisters also chatted animatedly about their experiences during the outing. The most recurring topic was the countless leisure spots we had come across along the way. Tenebrya, in particular, seemed completely fascinated by the amusement park we had spotted in the distance, her eyes practically lit up every time she thought about it.

We were resting in one of the many clothing stores Althea had made us stop at, not out of necessity, of course, but simply because she had decided, with absolute conviction, that I would look “beautiful” in one of the pieces on display. Or rather... in any piece on display.

In fact, from Althea’s perspective, there didn’t seem to be a single outfit in any of the stores we visited, or perhaps in the entire world, that hadn’t been made specifically for me. According to her, the clothes didn’t just suit me, they had clearly been designed with me as their very inspiration. Her words, not mine.

Nyara and Chronas shared a curiously similar temperament, though with very distinct nuances. Chronas was, without a doubt, more reserved. Nyara, on the other hand, carried a lighter, calmer presence. Throughout almost the entire journey to the church, the two of them remained silent most of the time.

Chronas seemed detached from the world around her, walking with a distant gaze. Even so, in a rare moment of curiosity, she tried some local treats. I remember, in particular, her reaction to caramel-drizzled popcorn, there was no obvious excitement, but the way her fingers lingered just a little longer when touching the sweetness betrayed a certain appreciation.

From what I could tell, it wasn’t exactly the popcorn she liked, but rather the texture and flavor of the syrups. Ever since then, she started showing interest in anything that had some kind of drizzle on it. Nyara, on the other hand, seemed curious about pretty much anything edible, though in a quieter, more reserved way. Most of the time, she stayed behind me or one of our other sisters.

Finally, when I turned my attention back to the priest, leaving my sisters aside, I noticed he was muttering something under his trembling breath. His body shook unevenly, as if seized by spasms, and for a moment I thought he might be having some kind of serious episode. But... no.

His half-lidded eyes glistened with a damp, almost reverent light. His chest rose and fell in short, shallow breaths: (He’s just emotional...?) I thought. It sounded strange even to myself, admitting that, but I couldn’t find a better explanation.

It was as if he stood on the verge of a seizure, yet sustained by something that wasn’t pain... but devotion, or perhaps ecstasy. Though his voice was low, I could clearly understand every word slipping past his lips.

“I knew it... I knew I hadn’t been forgotten!” his voice rang out, firm and filled with unshakable conviction, as if declaring an absolute truth to the world itself. His eyes burned with feverish fervor, and a slight tremor ran through his lips, not from doubt, but from exaltation. He truly believed what he was saying, without the slightest hesitation.

Emily and Laura instinctively stepped back, not just a step, but almost a jump, startled by the priest’s sudden, unpredictable movements. His hands trembled faintly as he gestured through the air, and his murmuring, once low and contained, rose in volume until it echoed through the space, carrying a striking intensity.

If there had been any lingering doubt in Emily and Laura’s minds about the priest’s sanity, it was now completely gone. One look at their faces was enough, any uncertainty had been replaced by a clear conclusion.

“It was a test... a test of my faith!” he continued, lifting his face slightly, as though awaiting confirmation from the heavens... or... from me: “I’m certain of it. They wanted to see how far I would go... how long I would stand firm, even without help, even in silence” He took a deep breath, his chest swelling with pride: “And I endured. I waited”

His fingers slowly curled, as if finally grasping something that had always been meant for him: “But now...” his voice dropped, almost reverent, heavy with expectation: “now my time has finally come”

I felt an almost uncontrollable urge to ask what the hell this crazy priest was talking about. Until recently, I didn’t even know he existed, his presence in my life was the result of some absurd coincidence, the kind that feels completely out of place. Still, he was doing something I simply couldn’t ignore or pretend I hadn’t noticed.

And that was exactly why, when he spoke again, his words came charged with a feverish euphoria, completely out of sync with the situation. The tone, too loud, too vibrant, felt off... wrong. My body reacted before I could even form a coherent thought. My mouth slowly opened, overtaken by silent disbelief, as I just stood there, staring at him, unsure how to react.

“Finally... finally I will be freed from this mortal shell!” his voice trembled, not with fear, but with ecstasy. His eyes gleamed feverishly, as though already beholding something beyond this world: “At last, I will ascend... I will join the divine! I will finally fulfill the dream that consumed me!”

He took a step forward, his hands slightly raised, like a devotee before an invisible altar: “You... great benevolent beings... you came for this, didn’t you?” A distorted smile spread across his face, too wide, too intense: “You came to free me from this torment... this filthy burden that is existing as a human!”

His breathing grew erratic, filled with a sickening devotion: “This flesh... fragile, corrupt, repulsive... filthy!” He gripped his own arms, as if trying to tear off his own skin: “I don’t belong to this... I never did!”

His words weren’t just conviction, they were pure obsession, boiling in every syllable. The way he spoke was disturbing, as if he had already abandoned any trace of sanity. And that was exactly what made me step back.

A heavy feeling settled in my chest, a primal instinct screaming danger. Before I even realized it, my body was already moving backward, step by step, while a single certainty echoed in my mind: I needed to get away from this lunatic... as fast as possible.

However, instead of listening to my most basic survival instincts, the ones screaming at me to keep my distance from any unpredictable lunatic, I was overtaken by an almost irrational impulse.

Before I could stop myself, a single question slipped from my lips, carrying all the disbelief and confusion building up inside me: “What the hell are you talking about? Did you escape from a mental hospital or something?”