The Anomaly's Path

The town of Greyrock sat at the edge of the lawless territories, about a day’s ride from Duskfall.

It was a small place, where the buildings leaned against each other like tired drunks, their wooden frames rotting from the perpetual mist that rolled off the nearby marshes.

The area around Duskfall had been a thorn in the Empire’s side for generations. It was too close to the border and too far from any garrison, and it was full of people who knew how to disappear when trouble came looking for them.

The Empire had tried to clean it up more times than anyone could count. Soldiers had marched in. Laws had been declared. Criminals had been arrested.

...And nothing ever changed.

Because the people here did not care about laws. They cared about silver and survival. They cared about keeping their mouths shut when strangers asked too many questions. And they cared about information.

Information was currency in places like this.

A rumor could buy you a meal, a secret could buy you a month of safety and a name could buy you a way out.

A single street ran through the middle, lined with wooden buildings that leaned against each other like drunkards holding each other up. The inn was called The Rusty Nail, and it was famous for two things: cheap ale and loose lips.

The Rusty Nail was full of such people tonight.

"Did you hear about the monster wave in the east?" The voice came from a fat man with a red face and yellow teeth. He was sitting at the bar with a cup of ale in his hand, his words already starting to slur together.

"Monster wave?" another man asked. He was younger and thinner, with nervous eyes that darted around the room like he expected someone to jump out of the shadows at any moment.

"The whole village wiped out. They called it Wayford and it happened more than a month ago."

The thin man leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I heard it wasn’t just monsters."

The fat man raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I heard... people did it. Some people came in the night and slaughtered everyone."

A few heads turned toward their conversation. The room got a little quieter.

The fat man lowered his voice. "Where did you hear that?"

"I have some sources."

The thin man looked around the room, then leaned in even closer. "Come closer. This is sensitive information. Do not tell anyone I told you."

The fat man leaned in. The thin man whispered something in his ear.

The fat man’s eyes went wide. "Demonic humans?"

"Shh!"

The room went quiet for a moment. Then someone laughed.

"Demonic humans," another man said, shaking his head. "Next you will tell me the gods walk among us."

"Believe what you want," the thin man said, sitting back in his chair. "But I am telling you what I heard."

The fat man waved his hand. "Enough of this. Have you heard the recent rumor?"

"What rumor?"

The fat man grinned. "Someone has been killing the slave traders these days."

The thin man’s eyes narrowed. "Killing them how?"

"Brutally." The fat man leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. "The bodies they found were burned and torn apart. Some of them were nothing but ash. Others looked like they had been hit by a storm of blades."

A murmur ran through the room.

"They say he comes at night," the fat man continued. "They say he moves like a ghost. You do not see him until he is already standing over you. And by then... it is too late."

"Who is he?"

The fat man shrugged. "No one knows. But they gave him a name."

"What name?"

The fat man grinned wider. "The Grumpy Spark of Duskfall."

A few people nodded while others looked impressed.

The thin man snorted. "The Grumpy Spark of Duskfall? That is the best they could come up with?"

"Better than what they were calling him before."

"What were they calling him before?"

The fat man leaned in. "The Butter Knife Bandit."

The room erupted in laughter.

"Shh! Shh!" the fat man hissed, waving his hands. "Be quiet! I heard he is close to this area. What if he hears you?"

"And what? He will kill us with a butter knife?"

At the bar, the men burst into muffled laughter. "What kind of stupid name is that? The Grumpy Spark? Sounds like a faulty kitchen stove!"

The thin man wiped tears from his eyes. "The Butter Knife Bandit. That is the stupidest name I have ever—"

Suddenly a chill ran down their spines. They stopped laughing. The room got colder. The laughter died. The fat man’s chuckle faded into a cough. The thin man’s snicker caught in his throat. The men at the bar, who had been slapping the wood and wiping tears from their eyes, went still.

The room grew cold.

The fat man looked around, his red face slowly turning pale. "Why did it get so cold all of a sudden?"

No one answered.

_

I stood on the second floor of the inn, looking down at the men below.

The fat man was still laughing. The thin man was still wiping tears from his eyes. The whole room was filled with the sound of their stupid, ignorant laughter, and I felt my jaw tighten.

Stop laughing, you damn bastards.

The men below shifted uncomfortably. One of them coughed while another cleared his throat.

"Cough, cough. O-okay. No one will say that Grumpy Spark whatever that name is," the fat man stammered, but his face was red from laughing.

That bastard. Maybe I should kill him.

A moment passed in silence. Then I heard the sound of someone snickering behind me. Some figures were shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Shut up, you bastards," I growled, my face burning with embarrassment. I gave them a cold glare, my hand twitching toward the hilt of my sword. "At least pretend you are not laughing while we are on a mission."

I will kill whoever gave me that stupid name.

"We are trying, Leo! Really!" Ren said, though his shoulders were still heaving.

I hate them all.

I sighed again and sat down at the table. Around me were the members of my team, the knights who had chosen to stay with me after we left Wayford. To stay hidden, we had all changed our appearances.

Ren sat to my left. His hair had been dyed gray, and his face was covered in a fake scar that ran from his forehead to his jaw. He looked nothing like the young knight.

Across from me sat Lisa, the female knight with short-cropped hair and sharp eyes. She had changed her name to Elena and taken to wearing a patch over one eye.

No one dared to ask why.

Beside her sat Dorian, the scarred man who had lost his wife years ago. He had grown a thick beard and started walking with a limp that came and went depending on who was watching him.

There were others too, six of them in total.

I looked at my own reflection in the dark window glass.

My hair was brown now, not black. My eyes were dark, not blue, and I had even taken a temporary alias: Roran.

It felt right to carry his name while I finished his work.

In the last month, I had not been idle. Between raiding slave camps for information, I had trained until my body gave out. Seraphina, when she was not meeting with informants, had pushed my lightning affinity to its breaking point.

The first time I manifested black lightning in front of her, she had nearly dropped her sword. "Are you my father’s secret bastard?" she had asked, her eyes wide with shock.

I could not tell her I was her descendant from a future that had not happened yet, so I just shrugged and kept swinging.

Under her training, my progress was terrifying.

I also noticed some things and changes in my body since the day I woke up after that incident. My body changed a lot as if a seal on my body had been cracked. My body physically changed a lot and I did not know how to explain it, but I could feel it. Something inside my body had changed, and I could feel it. I did not know if it was a seal or something else, but it was not truly broken.

There were still some things left.

My mana core now felt like a vast vessel, capable of holding more than it ever should at my rank. Every breath I took, using Roran’s technique, pulled in mana like a whirlpool. My whole body felt like a mana container, which should not really be possible.

What is happening with my body?

Other than this, I also increased in rank. My mana rank also increased, and I could also feel my skills getting stronger.

My control over Space and the Black Flames had sharpened, and I had even developed a new technique, something I could not wait to test.

Besides my training, we tried to find Voss’s location and checked nearby places around Duskfall. We tried to find it, but it was in vain. Many times we failed, but we found some other slave traders and criminals, and we killed them. Or at least I killed them.

I thought we were never going to find any information, and I felt so frustrated that I was not making any progress. That was until recently.

Some days ago we heard some news. A trade was going to happen today, and we got the information that the demonic humans could appear and also "that" person who leaked the information. I clenched my jaw. I had so many questions for that person, and most of all I felt disappointed, truly disappointed. I never thought it would be that person.

"Are you sure the info is true?" I asked, my voice dropping.

Ren nodded, his face turning serious. "The informant was terrified. He said a trade is happening tonight. The two demonic humans are meeting their inside source here. They are exchanging a vial of something called ’The Catalyst.’"

My jaw clenched. "I have a request. If Silla and Grog show up, I want you to handle them."

Ren blinked. "You are not going to fight them?"

"Honestly? I wanted to kill them personally, but I have someone else to deal with." My voice came out cold, flat, empty. "The person who sold out Wayford and leaked Mia’s information. I am going to make them pay."

Ren nodded slowly. "We can handle them."

Elena smiled. "Do not worry, Shadow of Duskfall. We have your back."

My eye twitched. "Do not call me that."

They laughed.

The door to the room opened.

A few figures walked in. They were draped in heavy merchant cloaks. Despite their concealment, I felt it immediately, the demonic mana they carried.

My knuckles turned white.

"It is them," I whispered.

Ren’s hand went to his sword. Elena’s eye narrowed. Dorian’s fake limp disappeared.

We waited a little.

A new figure followed shortly after, their face and body completely shrouded in a grey veil. They moved to a corner table and placed a mana barrier around them, cutting off all sound.

Grog reached into his cloak and pulled out a small case. It was made of dark wood, carved with symbols that made my skin crawl. Inside, a glass vial sat nestled in velvet. The liquid inside was dark, almost black, and it seemed to move on its own.

The Catalyst.

"Now," Ren whispered.

I did not wait. I reached out with my mana and felt the space around the case. The distance between my hand and the table. The folds in the air.

Spatial Slip.

Tempest vanished from my side.

The blade reappeared on the table, its tip embedded in the wooden case. The vial inside cracked. Dark liquid seeped out, sizzling as it touched the air and spreading across the wood in a dark, glistening stain.

The room went silent. Then chaos erupted.

"Ambush!" the male demon roared, his cloak tearing as his body began to swell with dark mana.

"Go, Leo!" Ren shouted, drawing his own sword to meet the demons as they lunged.

I did not need to be told twice. I moved and killed the demon in front of me, cutting his head clean off in one precise strike.

The shrouded figure did not fight. They turned and bolted toward the back alley. I did not let them out of my sight.

I tried to run toward it, but Silla lunged at me, her blade aimed at my throat. Elena intercepted her, steel clashing against steel with a sound that echoed through the room. Grog swung his massive fist at Ren, who ducked and rolled under the blow.

I got enough time to move away. I ran toward the figure. The figure in the grey cloak was already moving, pushing through the crowd of panicked patrons, heading for the back door. I followed behind it.

We burst into the alley behind the inn.

The air was cold and damp, thick with the smell of wet garbage and old rain. The figure was fast, faster than I expected. Their grey cloak blended with the shadows, and they moved with a purpose that spoke of familiarity with these streets.

I pushed harder by sing Volt Step, I became a blur, weaving through the screaming crowd and out into the rain-slicked alleyway.

The figure reached a dead end, trapped between a brick wall and a stack of crates. They spun around, holding a small dagger, their voice muffled by the veil, a strange, genderless tone.

"Wait! Are you the one... The Grumpy Spark?" the figure hissed, their hand trembling.

"I am not the Grumpy Spark of Duskfall," I said. A cold smile spread across my face. "I am someone you know very well."

The figure tilted their head. Their voice came out muffled, distorted, impossible to place. "I do not know you."

"Ah. Right." I reached up and touched my face. "You do not recognize me like this."

I pulled off my concealment. My black hair with white streaks fell across my forehead. My eyes returned to their usual ocean blue colors that glowed in the darkness.

I took a step forward.

The figure’s hand twitched. Their eyes widened behind the mask.

"Y-you?" The voice cracked, the distortion slipping for just a moment. "Leo? How are you alive?"

I spread my arms wide.

"How am I alive?" I said, taking another slow step forward. "That is the wrong question."

I took another step. "The right question is... how are you alive?"

The figure’s breath caught in their throat.

"Because I saw you die," I continued, my voice dropping to a whisper. "I saw your body. I saw your blood. I saw you fall."

I stopped in front of the figure.

"So tell me..."

A dark smile spread across my face. It did not reach my eyes.

"...Elder Marta."