Chapter 11
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: In the Goddess's Blind Spot
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"...Rene, did you do something by any chance?"
It didn't seem to be Rene's doing, unfortunately. The status window showed her shaking her head, after all.
So, these anomalous artists really think I'm a goddess and are acting on their own?
Well... strictly speaking, that's true. But how did they figure it out?
There were no survivors in the atelier. Whether Anomaly Management Bureau agents or anomalous artists, they were all swallowed by the pure white flash and died.
None of the anomalous artists' works remained either. I'd resurrected and killed them all once.
And yet, here they were?
I couldn't understand why, so I asked.
"...Why do you all think I'm a goddess?"
The one who answered my question was Jang Bar.
"I heard about it."
"Heard?"
"Exactly fifty years ago, some of us set out to create a goddess. That number grew until it reached 150 before we knew it."
"Ah."
150 people—that matched the number listed in the atelier survivors' log. 150 anomalous artists.
A slight doubt crept in.
Sure, 150 anomalous artists and fifty years was impressive. But was that enough time to birth something worthy of being called a 'goddess'?
From what I remembered of the original story, attempts to create gods happened all the time.
Gods weren't just the grand mythical beings we imagined. Over 99% were attempts to make minor deities.
"...No matter how I look at it, 150 people doesn't seem enough."
"Every one of those 150 was a genius whose name would live on in art history. Our expectations were sky-high as a result."
Ah, so each individual was that exceptional.
For a global artist collective, 10,000 members might seem a bit small, but it was far from negligible.
The foundation of anomalous art was anomalism. Every artist in Pietà wielded anomalous powers.
They were a massive group boasting around 10,000 pure anomalous users—elite forces even the Management Bureau treated as top priority.
Selecting 150 from such a group... I could guess just how extraordinary those anomalous users must have been.
As these thoughts crossed my mind—
"Noble one."
"Uh...?"
The title 'noble one' felt so awkward that I made a vague face, but Jang Bar continued.
"Please evacuate."
"Why?"
The raid seemed to have wrapped up without much issue.
As long as these guys didn't make a move, what could go wrong?
"Advent of Chaos soldiers will raid this place soon."
...It wasn't over after all?
My head throbbed, so I pressed my brow with one hand.
What was this Management Bureau, some anomaly-exclusive punching bag?
Two days ago, they tangled with the artists, then a containment failure hit, and now today artists and Advent of Chaos goons were crashing the party together?
"Can you explain that in detail?"
"Of course... Gah?!"
Whatever Jang Bar was about to explain, something spreading from the end of the corridor beat him to it.
Recognizing its identity wasn't hard.
It was the thing the Advent of Chaos goons always used for raids in the game.
CA-2B-17
'Cognitive Dissonance'
A colorless, odorless, extremely hazardous nerve disruptor.
I recalled it as one of the products from an anomalous entity the Advent of Chaos had stolen from the Management Bureau.
Its effects were...
"Jang Bar! Get the goddess out of here!"
"We'll hold them off... Cough...!"
...potent enough to threaten even anomalous artists.
"Haa..."
I let out a soft sigh and summoned starlight.
The artists were ones I could probably talk down and send away. The Advent of Chaos was fundamentally different.
Those bastards were pure villains who genuinely wanted to watch the world burn.
"Rene, I'm counting on you."
Starlight poured from the ceiling.
The ominous colored gas diluted in the starlight, and the artists clutching their heads regained their clarity.
"Ah?"
"My mind... It's clear again?"
All eyes naturally turned to me.
"One of my abilities."
I was still a baby goddess, and naturally, my powers had limitations.
But neutralizing 'Cognitive Dissonance' wasn't difficult. For about ten people, I could maintain it all day.
"'Cognitive Dissonance' won't affect you anymore."
As they gazed at me with awe, I commanded them confidently.
"So go capture the ones who dared pull this on me and bring them before me."
The anomalous artists' goal was their goddess—me.
So why was the Advent of Chaos raiding the Management Bureau?
I'd just have to ask them face-to-face.
Rene could toy with their minds and extract whatever answers we needed.
"This is an order."
And there was no one here who could stop ten frenzied anomalous artists.
I quietly wished peace upon the soon-to-be-dragged-in Advent of Chaos operatives.
Irritating as their stunt was... I knew all too well how gruesome the fate was for anyone targeted by anomalous artists.
They probably wouldn't arrive in one piece.
That much was certain.
The Management Bureau was a facility hidden underground.
As such, the only place fresh air could enter was the air circulation system on Basement Level 1.
Five minutes had passed since 'Cognitive Dissonance' was released into that system. By now, everyone in the Bureau should be thoroughly dosed.
With that certainty, Park Cheolmin issued the entry order.
"Capture the target within the hour, secure with anomalous restraints, and haul them back to HQ. Can do?"
"Piece of cake, Captain."
They were professionals. Slipping past doped-up, unresisting people to grab a sitting-duck target was child's play.
Park Cheolmin and the team thought so right up until 30 seconds ago.
Until they noticed the entire corridor had turned into mirrors.
"All units, halt!"
Something was off. Park Cheolmin's instincts, honed over a decade in the shadows, screamed it.
No matter how anomalous the Management Bureau was, they didn't cover corridors in mirrors.
Park Cheolmin knew the Bureau better than anyone, so he was certain.
This wasn't a normal corridor.
They'd already stepped into anomalous territory.
"Heh heh heh..."
A creepy old man's voice echoed at that moment.
"Jang Bar?"
Park Cheolmin recognized the owner instantly.
It was the voice of the man he'd spent the last two days plotting the Bureau's downfall with. Unforgettable.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
Up till then, he'd chalked it up to friendly fire.
"What the hell is this? I'm your ally!"
"Kuhaha, ally?"
That's when things went south.
A footstep echoed somewhere in the corridor, striking the mirror floor.
Ripples spread through the endless hall, and circus-tent curtains—white with red stripes—floated up over the mirrors.
"How could the ones threatening our goddess be allies?"
"...Fuck."
They'd clearly lost it bad.
Anomalous artists were already mad, but this was next-level insanity.
Park Cheolmin barked urgent orders while thinking that.
"Smash the mirrors! Anti-anomaly rounds, grenades, whatever! Hurry!"
The Advent of Chaos special forces reacted fast.
Before the words finished, they swapped magazines to anti-anomaly rounds and aimed at the floor mirrors.
That's when the anomaly hit.
The curtains parted, revealing pitch-black void.
Countless eyes stared out from within.
"Let's see you go mad!"
Clap—!
With the applause, letters writhed up from the mirrors.
Why is the perspective in a painting's performance always the audience's?
Pietà artist Jang Bar offers viewers a new viewpoint.
You are a circus performer! Swing on the trapeze, tame beasts, breathe fire, juggle, ride a unicycle, spin plates, don a clown mask, make people laugh, flip through the air, and delight the crowd to your heart's content!
"Mad..."
The special forces' reflections in the mirrors were no longer in tactical gear.
They wore ridiculous circus outfits.
One held a flaming steel hula hoop, another gripped knives between fingers while clutching a clown mask.
Some had tightrope poles, aerial swings, circus balls, plates and sharp steel rods...
In the mirrors, they unconsciously performed their acts.
The acts became reality the moment they looked away from the mirrors.
Guns replaced by circus props, bodies moving on autopilot.
"Wh-what the...?"
The first to wobble was the soldier mimicking tightrope on empty floor with a long pole.
The instant he wondered, How was I doing this? he lost balance on the drawn rope line below.
And... regretfully, no goddess was here to catch the stumbling soul.
"Gaaahhh!?"
The unbalanced soldier plummeted into the mirror, crushed flat.
"Wha—what...?!"
"Fuck, fire! Fire! Help!!!"
"Hic, I—I... hate heights..."
"No, if I break the plates they'll come kill me the audience will grab me and■■■and■■■and■■■chewing■swallowit"
In the goddess's blind spot, a circus brimming with madness and screams began.