Chương 5: Anomaly

Lio stared at the empty corner for another three seconds, his mind attempting to process the sight before him. Then his body moved without a conscious thought. His legs carried him forward with an urgency, propelling him up the weathered stone steps toward the Delver's Union entrance. His hands roughly grabbed the double doors, shoving them open with enough force that they slammed against the interior walls—drawing the startled attention of the several occupants inside. How… how is this happening?

The thought cycled through his consciousness, growing increasingly frantic. For the first time in more than a hundred years, Lio was feeling something he never thought he would feel again. Fear. And a little bit of hope. But how was this possible? For centuries, Lio had experimented with the loops in every conceivable way, testing their boundaries, searching for weaknesses, trying desperately to find some method of controlling it or escaping.

And he'd learned, after hundreds of failures, that major changes to the loops were impossible. It was one of the fundamental laws of his existence, as immutable as gravity or the passage of time. Loop 17 had served as the first definitive example. To be honest, he'd been a bit mad then, having lost his mind over these repetitive years. So much that he'd committed murder in broad daylight—driving a long iron knife through a merchant's throat in the crowded market square.

The city guards had immediately arrested him, processed him through Crater City's judicial system, and locked him in a cell where he remained until the loop reset. And yet… Nothing else had changed. For example, the merchant had a daughter. Lio had even met her in past loops, and he knew that every loop, she would go and attend the evening festival. Now, going to a party when your own father was just murdered would be terribly insensitive, wouldn't it? But then Lio found out that her cat had escaped that night.

A stupid, random occurrence. She chased it through the streets, until it somehow led her directly to the festival grounds. She even arrived at exactly 7: 43 PM—the same time she would have arrived if her father had never died. Another example was Loop 82, when he'd saved a child from drowning in the eastern canal. The mother, overwhelmed with gratitude, canceled her afternoon shopping trip to stay home with her son. Then a fire had broken out around three houses down.

It was small and contained, but it was enough that the local guards evacuated everyone in the area. The mother and child were displaced to a temporary shelter—which just happened to be right next to the market. She even ended up buying the exact same items at the exact same stalls at the exact same times she would have if Lio had never saved her son. The last time Lio had properly tried was Loop 121. Under the cover of night, he'd burned down a huge warehouse to cinders.

The workers who'd been employed there suddenly had no job, no income. Surely that would change things? But then the owner of a nearby shop had a heart episode and needed emergency workers to cover his inventory. And he hired exactly those displaced workers. They ended up working the same hours, walking the same routes home, and having the exact same conversations with their families. That was when Lio had finally realized the harsh truth. The world itself was fighting against his own influence.

Reality always seemed to correct itself, either through small coincidences, minor accidents, or convenient circumstances. All of it seemed to conspire to return people to their predetermined paths. Lio could affect people's emotions, their knowledge, or their awareness of events. But their actions remained fixed, enforced by a universe that for some reason, wouldn't let a butterfly effect happen. Which meant that… William being in the wrong place, at the wrong time, doing the wrong thing, was impossible. Unless…

Something had changed. Lio stumbled forward into the Union building, his legs shaky under him. The interior was made of a whitewashed marble, the floor polished smooth, though the cleanliness was a losing battle. Eventually, a Delver covered head-to-toe with grime and blood would come stumbling around. Vaulted ceilings stretched overhead, supported by thick stone pillars that gave the space an almost cathedral-like quality.

Perhaps that was intentional, as some people did come here to grieve for their lost family members. Administrative desks lined the walls in organized rows, each staffed by clerks processing the mountains of paperwork. Notice boards just like the one outside covered every available surface, plastered with job postings, floor maps, safety warnings, and the ever-growing list of the missing and confirmed dead. And amidst all this, Lio could barely breathe right. His chest felt tight, deathly tight.

It was like thick iron bands had wrapped around his ribs and were steadily constricting, like a predatory snake. His vision swam at the edges, and the marble under him seemed to pulsate, going from white to red, red to white. Breathe, Lio. Breathe… He forced air into his lungs and began counting in his head. Four seconds of intake, two seconds of holding it in, and three seconds of exhaling.

This was a calming breathing technique he had developed during the early stages of the loops, when his mental breakdowns and panic attacks had been the most common. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Though—maybe because he hadn't had an attack like this in hundreds of years—it barely helped. His hands were shaking badly enough that he shoved them into his pockets before anyone could notice.

His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms, until he could feel the wetness of blood creeping out.

"Sir? Excuse me, are you alright?" A clerk appeared besides Lio, a young woman seemingly in her twenties, wearing the standard Union uniform of grey and blue. Her face showed concern as she took in his paleness, his heavy breathing, and the cold sweat dripping down his face.

"I'm—" His voice caught, and came out rougher than Lio intended. He coughed, clearing his throat, and tried again.

"I'm fine. I'm just looking for someone." The clerk didn't look convinced. Her eyes flicked down to his bare feet, his sleep clothes, and the general dishevelment of his appearance.

"Are you… in need of some rest, sir? If you need to sit or lie down, there are benches along the—" She paused, frowning.

"Or if you're... looking for shelter, the Union unfortunately doesn't provide housing, but I can direct you to the nearest Crater City Relief Office. They can handle cases like yours, seeing how young you are." Cases like his. She thought he was homeless.

"I'm not—" Lio started, then stopped. What was he going to say? That he was a Delver? Looking like this? Barefoot and in sleep clothes with pockets bulging with stolen supplies and money? He cursed mentally. He'd been too shocked and too panicked by William's disappearance that he completely strayed from his plan. There was a reason why he arrived at the Union building only to talk to William before he changed into some real clothes!

"It's quite alright, sir," the clerk continued.

"No judgment here. But you really can't stay in the Union building if you're not registered. There are rules about—""I'm fine," Lio cut her off quickly.

"I'm really looking for someone. That's all."

"I understand, but—" the clerk opened her mouth again—probably to insist he leave or provide some sort of identification—but then she stopped. Lio wasn't sure what expression he was wearing. He had let it slip without noticing, the neutral mask he kept up for strangers falling away. But what anyone else would see—like the clerk—was that this young man's eyes looked dead, like there was no life in it at all. His face held all the warmth of a corpse.

And they were fixed on something across the hall with such an intensity that was unsettling, maybe even frightening. Like a hunter staring at its prey. The clerk took a small step back. Her face had gone pale, an instinctive fear gripping her heart.

"I... of course, sir," she managed to say, her voice quiet as a mouse.

"Take your time, please." She retreated quickly, glancing back once before hurriedly disappearing behind one of the administrative desks. Lio barely noticed, as his entire area of vision had narrowed to a single point across the Union hall. There, seated at one of the large communal tables, surrounded by four other people engaged in animated conversation, was William Bone. William was lounging in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, laughing at something one of his companions had said.

The group around him—rookie Delvers by the naive and stupid look on their faces—were listening and talking with an easy drunken familiarity. A half-empty beer bottle sat in the center of their table, the amber liquid sloshing around as someone reached across to refill their cup. The Union didn't particularly care about drinking on the premises. As long as no fights broke out and no property got damaged, the clerks turned a blind eye.

Delvers needed somewhere to unwind before descents, and the Union had learned long ago that trying to enforce sobriety just pushed people to even shadier establishments. It looked completely, perfectly normal. Except William should be outside. But he was here instead. In the wrong place at the wrong time doing the wrong thing. Lio's legs moved once again without any sort of conscious thought, carrying him across the polished marble floor toward William's table.

As the distance closed, ten feet becoming five, one of William's companions—a girl with short brown hair and flushed cheeks—noticed him first. Confusion flashed across her face as she took in his bare feet, his sleep clothes, and the general state of him.

"Hey, uh..." She nudged the guy next to her, words slurring slightly.

"Who's... who's this kid?" The others turned to look. Their eyes were glassy and unfocused from the alcohol. One of them—a lanky boy with a crooked nose—squinted at Lio like he needed glasses.

"Th'hell?" he mumbled.

"We don' serve... we're not givin' out charity, kid. Go find the... the relief place or somethin'." Another one giggled.

"Look at 'im. Barefoot an' everythin'. Poor bastard." William turned in his seat, following their gazes, until his eyes landed on Lio. And for the first time in a thousand years, Lio didn't know what the young man would say next. William tilted his head back slightly, his expression changing to something kind of like concern, though the alcohol was making him sluggish.

"Hey, you alright there?" His words weren't as slurred as the others, though there was a definite drowsiness to them.

"You look like you need—" Lio's hand shot out and grabbed William by the front of his shirt. He leaned in close, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper.

"Why aren't you outside?" William blinked. Then the delayed shock seemed to hit first, then confusion, then a flicker of alarm flashing through his face.

"What are you—""William Bone," Lio continued, his voice low and dangerous.

"Aren't you supposed to be outside? By the pillar?" The others at the table had gone quiet, their drunken chatter dying out as they registered the intruder.

"I don't—I don't know what you're talking about," William stammered. He tried to lean back, but Lio's hand tightened in his shirt, holding him in place.

"I've never—""You're always there," Lio demanded, his tone turning even more frightening. His eyes bored into William's with such intensity that the other boy stiffened up.

"So why. Aren't. You. There."

"Man, I think you got the wrong—" Lio's grip tightened, and he pulled William even closer, until their noses were nearly touching.

"Tell me what changed."

"I—I don't—" William's face had gone pale. His eyes darted to the side, looking for help, but none of his companions were moving. He gulped.

"I was gonna—I mean, I was planning to go outside. To the, uh, the pillar thing you're talking about. I always do that in the mornings, y'know, talk to people heading into Ghenna and—""Then why aren't you there?" William hesitated. His mouth opened, and closed.

"Then why aren't you there!" Lio repeated in a quiet shout, shaking him.

"There was this girl!" William blurted out.

"She just—she came up to me when I was heading out, and she tossed me this bottle. Said it was a gift or something, and that I looked like I could use a drink. So I—I brought it inside to enjoy it, you know? And then these guys saw me and asked if they could join and—" His voice cut off as Lio's grip tightened even more.

"What girl?" Lio's voice had dropped to being barely audible, but the intensity in it made William flinch.

"I don't—I don't know! Some girl! She had like blonde hair and… really weird eyes. I'd never seen her before! She just appeared and gave me the bottle and left!" Lio stared at him for a long moment. Then his hand loosened, releasing the viselike grip on the other boy's shirt. William sagged back into his chair, sucking in a panicked breath. Lio's mind was racing, trying to process what William had just said. A girl. A girl he'd never seen before had given William a bottle of beer.

A scenario that had never happened before.