Anomaly (7): Eyes in the Abyss
────Aaaargh!
Screams echoed on. It was a familiar voice—one Garon knew well.
Drool, drool. Vertically torn red pupils. Countless eyes floated in the air, staring down at him. And then, blink. His muscles seized up all at once. Cold sweat trickled down his jaw.
Humans instinctively freeze when faced with mysteries beyond comprehension. But some overcome that terror and press forward. Garon was one such man.
Crunch. He bit down hard on his tongue. The sharp pain flooding his mouth yanked his rationality back into focus.
────Aaagh! Aaaaagh!
Again, that familiar voice rang out—the cry of Bark, his right-hand man and enforcer since their street days.
"Bark! Where are you?! I'm coming!!"
Garon's booming roar erupted as he gripped his curved sword's hilt tight and vaulted over the threshold without hesitation, hurling himself into the pitch-black void.
"Get out of my way, you fucking monster bastards!"
He circulated mana through his body. His muscles swelled explosively, thick veins bulging. Boom! With a thunderous crash, he kicked off the floor, his blade slicing one eye clean in half in a single stroke.
────Aaaaaargh!
The bisected red pupil convulsed in a scream. This time, it was one of Bark's subordinates.
"Bark, you bastard! Where are you?!"
Slash! Slash! Garon cleaved through the horde of floating eyes, pushing forward. Drip, splat, splat. The red pupils twisted in rage, weeping blood tears as they glared at him.
Ching!────! The metallic rasp. Nothing visible. All around were only those grotesque, bloody eyes. But his honed beastly instincts, crossing countless lines of death, were sharper than sight.
Garon reflexively twisted his torso and swung his curved sword upward. Clang!────!! Sparks flew from the darkness, his wrist numbing from the impact. Iron chains? No—far colder, heavier.
Whish! Ching! It didn't end there. They came relentlessly from behind, below, everywhere.
"Hup!" Clang! Clang! Crack!
In the lightless void, he relied solely on the air's flow against his skin, senses razor-sharp.
────Aaaargh! The screams kept resounding. All voices he knew well.
Garon gritted his teeth, swinging his sword as he advanced. Then, suddenly—
────Ugh, uwaaaaaah!
────F-Fuck! Don't come closer! Stay back, stay baaaack!
────Die! Die! All of you die!
────You psycho fuck! It's me! Kyaargh!
Garon's steps halted. His ragged breaths came in gasps, his eyes beginning to tremble faintly. Something was off. No—blatantly wrong.
────Ugh, uwaaaaaah!
────F-Fuck! Don't come closer! Stay back, stay baaaack!
The scream from when he'd bisected that eye just moments ago replayed verbatim. The pitch, the slurred pronunciation, even the dying gasps—perfectly identical. As if someone had swallowed their voices and mimicked them.
────Aaaargh! Bark's scream again. Identical, down to the tiniest detail.
"F-Fuck……."
Garon's sword hand shook. "So that's it, Bark... You're dead...."
Ten-odd years ago, crawling through back-alley gutters, choking down mud. The memory flashed: clinking cups with Bark, vowing to rob the world blind and rape every woman who caught their eye—that noble resolve.
His eyes sank deep and still. "Then I'll avenge you."
He gripped the curved sword with both hands, crushing tight. All mana circulating his body surged into his arms. And as he stepped forward to swing down—
His foot wouldn't move.
"……?"
Like spikes driven into the floor, his lower body wouldn't budge an inch. Bewildered, Garon looked down.
Crack, craaack! Thick ice had already engulfed his ankles and crept up to his calves.
"Wh-When did this...?!"
And then—
────Whish!
"Guhk!"
Before he could resist, a chain pierced his solar plexus.
"Kuh...."
His taut thread of consciousness snapped limply. As he crashed to the floor, vision blurring—
Swoosh────.
The enveloping darkness slowly receded. Clutching his fading awareness, Garon barely lifted his head to look up.
The mansion hallway, darkness fully lifted. In its center, three figures in grotesque masks looked down at him.
###
"Making money is tough...."
I adjusted my mask and gazed down at the fallen man. The Red Beards, was it? Sigurd had said they were a gang of human scum guilty of every low crime imaginable. But what was this? Such loyalty from trash like them?
And this guy—he was shockingly strong. No wonder Sigurd, a third-stage Heart Image mage, bolted the second he was spotted.
At first, I thought he'd frozen in fear, but nope—he charged right in and shattered one of Dusty's eyes. I knew mana wasn't exclusive to mages. Knights and adventurers circulated it through their bodies for enhancement in close combat. But I hadn't expected this level.
I panicked and fired chains, but he deflected them like he could see through the dark with animalistic reflexes. Even Dusty, who devours mana circulating inside bodies, was overpowered. A mere executive looking like some early-novel bandit mook, yet this strong? If Evel hadn't frozen his feet, Dusty's eyes would've all popped.
"Did I do good?"
"Yeah. You did great."
A bright grin came from behind Evel's fox mask. We'd worn them to hide our identities in case of trouble. Mine was a Hahoe mask—I'd carved it from wood myself, arriving at the mansion only after staying up all night. Curves were harder than expected.
"Whew."
I removed my mask and slowly scanned the surroundings. Red Beard gang members lay scattered like rags—most crippled for life or dead. Shockingly, all Sigurd's handiwork. While Evel and I headed straight for the executive's room, he'd handled the rest alone.
"Hahaha! You pathetic barbarians! Crawling on the floor suits you well!"
From behind his ornate gold-leaf mask, Sigurd's voice boomed with bravado. He stood casually amid the blood-smeared floor, flicking his wrist like it was nothing. Honestly, as a simple country girl, it was cognitive dissonance. I'd thought this was a standard fantasy, but it suddenly flipped to dark fantasy.
The labyrinth city lived up to its gritty image, but surely this wasn't daily life?
"But you fought pretty barbarically yourself...."
"What?! How dare you call this Sigurd de Lavalier's noble combat style barbaric!"
Sigurd's style was anything but mage-like. A mage in fisticuffs? The crunch of those thugs' nasal bones still echoed in my ears.
"Not 'you bastard,' it's Iris."
"You bastard Iris!"
"………."
Anyway. With everything handled, time to secure the target: mana stones. And grab anything else valuable while at it. We'd trashed the whole mansion for this—might as well loot.
We entered the executive's room. Unlike outside, it was luxuriously furnished: plush carpet on the floor, expensive paintings on the walls. Quite extravagant for a back-alley crime gang.
"Let's see... where could it be."
Then—
────Whine.
Dusty started whining hungrily.
"Tch. Hold on."
────Whiiiine.
Normally it'd quiet down at that, but this time it threw a fit—uncharacteristically. Probably exhausted from the fight, starving bad. A glance at my left arm: one eye floated up, shedding tears.
...Looked seriously aggrieved. Must've hurt getting slashed by the executive.
"...Still, no human eyes. We'll hit the labyrinth later—eat your fill then."
Dusty sniffled and finally retreated.
"Nothing obvious. Anything over there?"
"Nope."
We ransacked the room. Flipped the carpet, yanked open every drawer. After thorough searching, we found a safe behind a flashy landscape painting on the wall by the desk.
"...Looks pretty sturdy."
"Out of the way."
Sigurd rolled up his sleeves irritably and stepped forward. Crunch! The mangled door came off in his hand.
...Brute.
More than that—why'd you hide behind me in the alley if you're this strong?
I asked, and his answer was a sight.
"Ha! Foolish question! I merely observed those pathetic barbarians' assault to test if you lot were worthy of joining this great operation! To gauge your meager skills personally!"
Sigurd tossed the crumpled safe door aside, chin raised in his signature arrogance.
"Don't slander this Sigurd de Lavalier's noble strategy with such shallow doubts, you blood-clot Iris!"
"Wanna die?"
So basically, he tested if we could handle the executive he couldn't beat. Sneaky like when he tricked me into the contract at the guild. All that haughty act hides a sly side. Wanted to flatten him again, but held back. Money first.
I took a deep breath and peered into the pried-open safe.
"Oh."
It brimmed with radiant light. Fist-sized mana stones filled it—dozens at a glance.
"The request said 'rare mana stone,' right? Not just one."
"These are regular mana stones. But their size means we could fetch at least 10 gold coins combined. Bigger haul than expected."
10 gold coins. The 5-coin reward already seemed huge—this was double.
This... is what they call euphoria...?
My lips twitched. Enough for one bed per person awhile, greasy meat every meal, lavish desserts—a comfy rice-guzzling life.
But a doubt crept in. If these were all ordinary, where was the 'rare mana stone' from the request? Mixed in? Or deeper in the safe?
As I leaned to check the dark corner—
────Vrrrrmmm!!
Dusty vibrated wildly.
"Wh-What?!"
Before I could control it, black shadow burst from my bandages, lunging into the safe.
"Hey! Wait! Don't eat! Or at least half!"
I clamped my left arm desperately, but hunger-maddened, it devoured every mana stone in the safe. In 10 seconds flat, 10 gold coins' worth vanished into my arm without trace.
"You mad Iris bastard! What're we supposed to do with all that gone?!"
Sigurd yelled in horror. I stared blankly between the empty safe and my arm.
────Whine....
The eye on my arm rolled guiltily, then drooped, avoiding my gaze. Like saying, 'I lost control 'cause I was starving...'
"......Ugh."
I clutched my neck. Breath caught... dizziness spun my vision... about to collapse.
My 10 gold. My solo bed. Daily meats and comfy life—digested in its gut.
Worse: if the rare one was mixed in that pile? Not just lost money—mission failure. There goes the 5-gold secret reward too.
"………."
"………."
Crushing despair silenced us both. Then—
"Iris."
Evel tugged my sleeve from behind.
"What. I'm in a shit mood."
"Look at this."
I turned. Evel held out her hand. On her small palm sat a small wooden box, wrapped neatly in carpet.
"Huh...?"
I snatched it, flipping the lid. Inside, a nail-sized black mana stone glowed faintly.
"O-Ohhh!! That's it!! No doubt, Iris!!!"
Sigurd bellowed excitedly.
"My noble eye pierces its value! That's the 'rare mana stone' we sought!"
Ignoring his fuss, Evel looked up with sparkling purple eyes.
"Did I do good?"
"Fucking perfectly, Evel!!"
A thrilling euphoria I'd never felt surged as I hugged her tight, ruffling her hair wildly. Today's gacha? SSR!!