Anomaly (6): No One Understands Perfect Black
No one in the world truly understands perfect black. The darkness we face in everyday life always clings to faint remnants of light. But people mistake the pitch-black night or the utter void felt when they close their eyes for it.
"………."
Bark, the action captain of the Red Beard gang, was no different. The darkness he knew was just the shadows of back alleys untouched by firelight or the discomfort when moonlight hid behind clouds. But now.
He had realized what true black really meant.
"Wh-what the hell!"
"I can't see a damn thing!"
Perfect darkness. No change even if you blinked or shook your head—no speck of difference in the endless jet-black void.
"Magic!?"
"L-light the fire!"
"I-I'll do it!"
Someone shouted desperately from the darkness. He was the only one who could handle 1st rank Phenomenon magic, even if just superficially.
Crackle, pop!
Mana gathered at his fingertips, and a fist-sized flame bloomed.
It was only for the briefest instant. The moment the flame's heat and faint glow tried to illuminate everything around—
Pfft—.
"……Huh?"
A dazed voice leaked from the man who had lit the fire. It wasn't wind. He hadn't botched his mana control. It just went pfft.
And vanished into nothing.
"What the hell! You bastard! Light it again, quick!"
"I-I'm trying… I keep doing it…!"
The panicked man snapped his fingers again, squeezing out more mana, but this time the flame didn't even form before the mana vanished.
As if something had swallowed it whole.
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
A sound came. Like rats gnawing at the ceiling, or insects burrowing into wooden walls—a regular, chilling noise.
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
"M-maintain formation! Back to back, grip your weapons tight!"
Bark bellowed, veins bulging in his neck. But his frantic shout had no effect.
"I can't see! I can't even tell who's next to me!"
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
The sound continued for a while. Then it sped up. It started coming from everywhere.
From below their feet, above their heads, right by their ears.
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
Scritch scritch scritch.
Scritchscritchscritch.
A sound so close it felt like it was gnawing at their eardrums. Or maybe it wasn't a feeling.
Scritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritchscritch.
At his feet. Something crawled up.
Piercing through his leather boots. Up his calves. Past his thighs. Hundreds, thousands of needle-like legs groped his skin in a spine-chilling caress.
"U-uaaaahhh!"
Bark thrashed his body in convulsions. He flailed at the air, slapped his thighs and neck like a madman.
Nothing was there. No substance met his hands, yet the sensation was unnaturally vivid.
"Uaaah! Get… get off! Get off my body!!"
A scream erupted from the darkness. Not Bark's voice. One of his underlings.
Terror spread like contagion. Perfect blackness, the tightening sounds from all sides, hallucinations burrowing into flesh. The formless horror of the unknown snapped their reason with horrifying ease.
"F-fuck! Don't come near me! Stay back, stay baaack!"
Clang!Shing!Stab!
Metal tore through the dark. Someone swung their weapon. Blind, frenzied slashing.
Bark surrendered to the madness too.
"Don't touch my body! I'll kill you!"
Slash! Hot blood splashed across Bark's cheek.
"You crazy bastard! It's me! Me! Kyaack!"
"Die! Die! All of you die!"
It was hell. Who cared if they were friend or foe? Nothing was visible. Anything you touched was the enemy. They hacked at each other, shattered bones, rampaged.
And yet.
"S-save…!"
"……! ……!!"
"………!"
In an instant, all screams vanished.
Not because breath had failed. Gulp—.
The darkness devoured the screams.
"……!!"
Bark opened his mouth and screamed at the top of his lungs until his throat tore. But no sound came out. Veins swelled to bursting in his neck, but the roar that should have exploded was sucked straight into the jet-black void.
A space where even screams were forbidden. Nothing visible, sounds still scritchscritchscritchscritchscritch.
Bark's eyes bulged wide. Something was emerging from the blackness. Through cracks filled with darkness.
Countless crimson pupils stared at him. One, two, ten, a hundred. Innumerable eyes filled every direction.
Above, below, left, right—no escape, nowhere—
'……Ah.'
The line of terror snapped.
The alley's darkness lifted.
With the slowly revealed interior came a rush of blood stench.
One new fact I'd learned: Dusty had eaten the screams.
And one freshly realized truth: Humans eagerly destroy themselves before the unknown terror.
I hadn't done much at all, and here they were, scaring themselves shitless and stabbing each other.
I tilted my head at the gruesome scene before me.
"……Tch."
What a mess.
I glanced sideways at Evel, just in case she was shocked.
But she seemed fine, more than I'd expected. A sturdy forest child, as always. Come to think of it, she was weirdly calm even when we first encountered a magic beast in the woods. Maybe because she handled cold ice, or maybe she was just thick-skinned. Or perhaps she's numb to this kind of thing.
"I see why you went to the trouble of making a contract just to keep it secret."
I turned at the voice from behind. It was Sigurd. His gaze landed on my left arm, bandages peeled back.
Roll, rollick. The eyes embedded between the geometric lines blinked. Pupils rolled around before slipping smoothly under my skin.
"You're a monster."
"That much? Don't all wizards do this sort of thing?"
"Ridiculous."
Sigurd snorted.
"How did a freak like you get into the party? I doubt Rainerus would let you join seeing this."
"It's a secret."
"Tch."
Hummm—.
I rewrapped the bandages around my left arm. Dusty hummed in complaint. A signal it wanted to eat their eyes.
"………."
I glanced at the sprawled corpses. For someone from 21st-century modern life, it was shockingly emotionless.
"You ate screams already. Hold off."
I patted my left arm to curb Dusty's appetite. Not some grand final act of conscience or humanitarian duty.
Just… kinda gross, you know? Beast eyes are one thing, but human eyeballs sticking to my arm? Nah.
"U-uuuh…."
Then. A groan from the blood-puddled floor in the center. The sole survivor, still breathing.
The guy who'd strutted ahead most boldly when entering the alley. He knelt amid the corpses, alone. Eyes unfocused, white foam at his mouth, he swung slow, endless air punches at nothing.
Leaving him behind, we exited the alley.
"Sigurd, you know the mansion's location, right?"
"Yes."
"Lead the way."
"Don't order me around, you mortal."
"Not a mortal, it's Iris. I didn't say anything before, but call me by name from now on or else."
"Ha! Unbelievable! Fine."
Sigurd quieted down a bit.
It was night.
Galon, an executive of the Red Beard gang, propped his feet on a wooden table and downed strong rum.
"Why the hell is that bastard Bark so late?"
Galon slammed his empty glass on the table and clicked his tongue.
Last night. Some gutless rat had crossed into Red Beard territory and sneaked all the way to this mansion.
They'd caught it before the safe was robbed and chased it off, but the organization's pride was thoroughly crushed.
Galon had quickly identified the rat and sent action captain Bark that morning—with orders to drag it back alive, even if he had to break its limbs.
But he still hadn't returned.
"Should've just told him to bring the head."
With dozens of men, failure was impossible. Bark, obsessed with torture, was probably giggling somewhere in a back alley, toying with the rat.
As Galon irritably scratched his beard and reached for the bottle—
Flick, flick, tick-tick—.
The mana lamp lighting the room flickered, then snuffed out.
"…What? What's with this?"
Galon's thick brows twitched. He clicked his tongue, lowered his feet from the table, and felt an unpleasant chill creeping from the floor.
And moreover.
'……Why's it so quiet?'
Galon's eyes narrowed. Red Beard members stood double and triple guard inside and out the mansion. You should hear their crude banter outside the door, faint footsteps in the halls.
But now, dead silence.
"Hey! Who's on duty out there! Light the damn lamp now!"
Galon bellowed at the firmly shut door. No reply from beyond, not even a stir.
"These fuckers…!"
Galon scowled fiercely and shot to his feet. As he groped for and grabbed the curved sword on the table—
Scritch.
A sound. From the darkness, beyond the door.
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
Galon froze mid-step.
"Who's there."
He raised the sword, glaring into the dark. No answer. Instead, over the scritching, screams layered one by one.
—U-uaaaahhh!
—F-fuck! Don't come near! Stay back, stay baaack!
It was action captain Bark's voice, and his men's.
"B-Bark?! You back!?"
—Die! Die! All of you die!
—You crazy bastard! It's me! Kyaack!
"These goddamn fuckers…!"
Someone had clearly raided the mansion. No other way his men would scream like that. Galon ground his teeth.
"Fuck! Where are you! Where the hell are you!"
Galon gripped his sword and screamed madly, charging toward the screams. He hurled himself at the door by instinct alone, then slammed a full-force kick.
Bang—!
The thick wooden door flew open as if shattering.
"I'll fuck you all u—!"
As Galon spat curses and lunged through—
"……Huh?"
His eyes met something beyond the door.
Roll, rollick. Crimson dots densely filled the air past the threshold. Dozens, hundreds of glaring red pupils all fixed on him at once.