Anomaly

Chapter 413 – Worship of the true gods [59]

(POV – Laura Cavendish)

Feeling powerless wasn’t exactly new to Laura. After all, her job revolved around studying, cataloging, and, whenever possible, neutralizing threats that existed far beyond anything remotely comprehensible by human standards.

Creatures, phenomena, and anomalies whose mere existence seemed to challenge the most fundamental laws of reality itself.

Over the years, there had been countless moments when Laura found herself trapped in situations where all of her knowledge, training, and preparation amounted to absolutely nothing.

Times when every memorized protocol, every contingency plan, and every hour spent studying proved utterly useless in the face of the unknown. Situations where she genuinely believed she was about to take her last breath.

In truth, that kind of thinking was far from uncommon among those who worked at the facility. It was practically an unofficial dark joke among the staff: more than half of them were fully convinced that, sooner or later, they’d end up dying because of some random, absurd, or cruelly unpredictable anomaly.

Some even made bets or sarcastic comments about what would eventually kill them, as if turning the inevitable into a joke somehow made it easier to live with. But knowing that didn’t make any of it less terrifying. Awareness and preparation never truly erased fear, they only taught you how to keep functioning in spite of it.

It was during this time that Laura met the [Angel of Death], a humanoid anomaly unlike anything she had ever encountered before. Unlike most anomalies, which typically inspired nothing but chaos, violence, or sheer discomfort, this presence had protected her when she needed it most.

The entity showed no hostility and carried an overwhelming power, as if the environment itself bent to its will. Its very existence felt fundamentally wrong to human eyes, something that should not be allowed to walk among the living, and yet there it was.

Laura had been afraid at first; not being afraid would have been impossible. Anomalies rarely followed any understandable logic and, for the most part, weren’t even capable of communication. The [Angel of Death] was no exception.

It didn’t speak, didn’t explain its intentions, and certainly didn’t offer comfort. It simply watched. And to humans, anything that cannot be understood almost always becomes an object of fear.

Even so, there was something about it that prevented Laura from seeing it as a threat. Maybe it was the fact that it never displayed aggression without reason, or perhaps it was the strange sense of judgment radiating from its presence, as though it evaluated every individual standing before it and decided, by its own criteria, who deserved mercy, and who deserved condemnation.

Laura gradually came to believe that the [Angel of Death] wouldn’t harm humans. At least, not those it deemed innocent. But that belief came with a far more unsettling question. If a being known as the Angel of Death seemed to possess a clearer sense of justice than many human beings, what exactly did that say about people themselves?

About those capable of torturing, betraying, and executing members of their own species while convincing themselves they were doing “the right thing” At the very least, in that regard, the [Angel of Death] had one convenient excuse: it wasn’t human.

Laura began seeing the [Angel of Death] as far more than just a powerful anomaly. To her, the figure had become something closer to a benevolent guardian of humanity. The entity’s actions only reinforced that perception.

Ever since the day it had first been discovered in the forest, the [Angel of Death] had never once hesitated to intervene in anomalous situations, repeatedly appearing to assist humans whenever circumstances beyond comprehension threatened to spiral out of control.

Sometimes Laura caught herself wondering how many lives would have already been lost if not for the existence of the [Angel of Death]. How many families would have been destroyed, how many cities would have suffered, and how many people would have never even had the chance to survive.

It was impossible to measure the true impact of its existence, but Laura was certain of one thing: the death toll would be far higher without it. And yet, what Laura felt wasn’t limited to admiration or gratitude.

More than anything, she saw in the anomaly something she had never truly found in her own life: family. She hadn’t exactly grown up with what anyone would call healthy parental figures.

Her mother was almost always absent, buried in work or hiding behind whatever other convenient excuse kept her away from home. Even when physically present, there always seemed to be an invisible chasm between them, as though Laura were little more than another inconvenient responsibility to be tolerated.

Her mother provided the basics, food on the table, clean clothes, a roof overhead, but everything was delivered with the cold efficiency of someone fulfilling an obligation, never with genuine warmth. There were no unexpected hugs, no comforting words after a bad day, not even the simple reassurance of feeling wanted somewhere.

Laura understood that early on. It became painfully obvious, even in childhood, that her mother had never dreamed of having children. Laura’s existence felt less like the product of love and more like the consequence of a decision her mother likely regretted in silence every single day.

Her father, however, was somehow worse. On the rare occasions when he even crossed her path, he behaved as though Laura were invisible, as though her presence occupied no space whatsoever within the house.

And in the even rarer moments when he actually noticed her, there was no warmth, curiosity, or even irritation in his expression. Only an empty, distant, almost disturbingly indifferent stare. The kind of expression that made Laura wonder whether he even knew who she was.

Sometimes, when their eyes happened to meet during dinner or while passing each other in the hallway, he would stare at her for a few brief seconds with subtle, nearly imperceptible confusion, like he was trying to place someone he was supposed to know, but couldn’t quite remember from where.

That hurt more than any cruel words ever could. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t openly expressed contempt. It was worse. Complete absence. As though, to him, Laura had never truly existed at all. By the time she entered college, Laura had completely given up on the idea of ever having a family.

She buried whatever childish expectations she once had of receiving affection, support, or even acknowledgment from those people. She convinced herself that some things simply weren’t meant for her.

At least, that’s what she believed... until she met the [Angel of Death]. Despite being an anomaly, something as far removed from humanity as the sky is from the bottom of the ocean, it was, ironically, the one thing that had shown Laura more care and consideration than her own blood family ever had in her entire life.

It was almost laughable, in a bitter sort of way. A creature that, by all logic, should have been incapable of understanding affection or empathy treated her with more kindness than the people who were supposed to have loved her from the very beginning.

That was precisely why Laura felt so anxious now. Ever since meeting the [Angel of Death], she could count on one hand the incredibly rare occasions when the anomaly had truly seemed to find itself in a situation beyond its ability to handle.

Most of the time, she always seemed to have absolute control over everything around her, as if chaos itself bent to her mere presence. More than that, Laura had never actually seen her suffer. And that said a lot.

Coming from an anomaly that had already been wounded in the most brutal and varied ways imaginable, if there was such a thing as pain, the [Angel of Death] had probably experienced it firsthand. Deep cuts, burns, punctures, devastating impacts, none of it ever seemed capable of pulling even the slightest genuine reaction from her.

No screams, no hesitation, no obvious signs of discomfort. Just that same cold, indifferent expression, as though her body simply wasn’t capable of registering suffering. That was why the scene in front of Laura felt so deeply wrong.

As she watched the [Angel of Death] clench her teeth hard enough that her jaw looked like it might crack, Laura felt the air catch in her lungs. The anomaly’s skin seemed to bubble and boil beneath the surface, as if something alive were thrashing underneath her flesh, warping it in grotesque ripples.

In certain places, the heat was so intense that the air around her shimmered faintly, carrying a metallic, burnt scent that made Laura’s stomach twist.

This wasn’t normal. If something was capable of making her react like this, of making her show real pain, then whatever it was had to be far beyond anything Laura even wanted to imagine. And faced with that, all she could do was watch.

Frozen. Useless. A bitter sensation tightened in her chest until it almost hurt. Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms in a pathetic attempt to release the growing frustration. She hated this feeling. That same suffocating helplessness from before.

It was like this with her parents. It was like this when she couldn’t do anything except watch everything collapse right in front of her. And now... It was happening again. Exactly the same way.

***

(POV – Protagonist)

First of all, I need to say this: I could barely even remember what pain felt like. But this? This was on an entirely different level. For whatever god might actually be listening to me right now... this hurt like hell.

I could feel my skin bubbling, as if someone had dropped me alive into boiling oil. Every inch of my body burned, throbbed, and twisted in agony. And yet, my outward appearance was the least of my problems.

The real pain wasn’t coming from my body. It was coming from my mind. It felt like all the pain that should’ve been spread across muscles, bones, nerves, and skin had been violently ripped away from every part of me and compressed into a single point: my mind.

An absurd, crushing pressure pulsed inside my skull, as if something was trying to split my consciousness clean in half. My vision wavered. Dark spots danced in front of my eyes while my breathing came out in short, uneven bursts.

Every breath felt insufficient, as though even drawing air required more effort than I could afford. I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached, tasting metal as I bit down on my own tongue without even realizing it.

My entire body trembled involuntarily, small spasms running through my muscles as I fought to stay conscious. I was focusing every last fragment of strength I had left, gathering an almost inhuman level of self-control just to keep from blacking out.

My mind screamed at me to give up. To just let the darkness swallow me whole and end this. But I refused. If I passed out now, I had the terrible feeling I might not wake up again.

But while every fiber of my being was being torn apart by the brutal sensation of being cooked alive, something became clearer to me than ever before: I finally understood just how strong I really was.

In the middle of that unbearable suffering, I realized how much power I was actually capable of drawing out from within myself, far more than I had ever imagined.

It was as if the pain itself was violently tearing something free from the deepest layers of my existence, exposing a strength that had always been there, simply waiting for the right moment to surface.

And above all else... there was that. The form that appeared before me. Three flames of absolute white floated in the void, pure and impossibly radiant, like fragments of something divine, something primordial.

Each one rotated around itself in a perfect circular motion, while the three of them also orbited one another in a synchronized dance. But that was only the surface. Only the faintest glimpse of something far too vast to describe.

Behind that vision, I could feel the existence of something infinitely greater, a colossal, incomprehensible structure, as if those three flames were nothing more than tiny gears within a mechanism far beyond my current ability to understand.

There were layers upon layers hidden behind the manifestation, entire concepts my mind simply couldn’t process without threatening to tear itself apart. Even so... I didn’t need to understand all of it. Not yet. Just this small fraction was already enough.

That tiny sliver of power, that brief window into something far greater, would be enough to solve this situation. And just like that, the pain stopped in an instant. Not because of outside intervention. Not because of some complex mechanism or grand explanation.

But for the simplest and most absurd reason imaginable: I wanted it to stop. That was all. A single thought. One clear, absolute act of will. And the agony vanished as though it had never existed at all, as if reality itself had acknowledged my command, and obeyed without hesitation.