Even under everyone’s watchful eyes, Laura didn’t back down. Her posture was shy, almost withdrawn, but there was something in her eyes that revealed a quiet understanding of the situation.
It was as if, in that moment, the entire scene had been recorded in her mind, and somehow she already knew what needed to be done. In a few words, Laura seemed to have an idea—an idea that could help without turning the situation into a direct confrontation between Eryanis and me.
Emily, who had been standing next to Laura, suddenly turned toward her. Her eyes reflected confusion and a flicker of growing anxiety, as if she feared where things might be heading. With a slightly trembling voice—somewhere between reproach and concern—she exclaimed: “Laura! What do you think you’re doing?”
Emily’s words came out almost like a whisper, low enough that only Laura, Victor, and Rupert, who were closest, could hear. Even so, there was enough firmness in her tone for them to reach me, faint as they were.
Laura leaned forward slightly, her eyes shining with a mix of determination and uncertainty, and said in a confident—though not entirely steady—voice: “Don’t worry, boss... I’ve got a plan... I think”
Eryanis, in turn, lifted her chin with a firm gesture, holding Laura’s gaze for a few moments. When her voice finally broke the silence, it carried that same lofty tone, infused with an almost instinctive confidence, as if every word were proof of her superiority and absolute control over the situation.
And yet, from what I could read in her eyes—clear, though impenetrable—there was no trace of dark intentions or thoughts that strayed from reason. She certainly didn’t seem to harbor any extreme ideas... nothing resembling a desire to wipe out humanity, for instance.
When Eryanis finally spoke, her voice sliced through the air like freshly formed ice blades, each syllable carrying a chilling precision and an authority impossible to ignore. With a slight arch of her brow, she tilted her head forward and, in a probing tone, asked: “Interesting... what kinds of ideas do you have in mind, human?”
Laura flinched slightly as she felt the crushing weight of Eryanis’s gaze settle on her, as if every inch of her skin were being examined in silence. She drew in a deep breath, her shoulders trembling almost imperceptibly, then lifted her head with deliberate effort.
Her voice, though calm, carried an unexpected firmness, spreading through the room as if it meant to fill every corner: “Actually... the method I came up with isn’t all that special... it’s pretty simple, really”
After speaking those words, Laura paused briefly, as if allowing time for the weight of her declaration to sink in. Her eyes locked on Eryanis, studying every detail of his expression in search of any hidden reaction: “Instead of facing each other directly, you will face anomalies. You are free to handle the situation in whatever way you deem appropriate. My only role here will be to observe... and to measure which method, in the end, proves to be the most effective”
She paused for a moment, letting the information settle. Then, she turned her gaze from Eryanis to me, her eyes reflecting a mix of responsibility and slight apprehension: “Each of you will have a chance to handle the problem on your own” she continued, her voice slightly firmer now, carrying a hint of authority: “The solution won’t be measured by destruction, nor by absolute control, but by the satisfaction of the outcome... by how the anomaly stabilizes, or how much it acknowledges your presence”
After Laura spoke, Althea was next to respond. She floated through the room with an almost ethereal lightness, as if the floor were merely a suggestion, not a necessity.
A mischievous smile curved her lips enigmatically, and her eyes sparkled with a hint of malice. When her voice echoed through the space, each syllable carried an almost hypnotic musicality: “Hmm... an interesting idea. The winner won’t be the strongest... but the one who shows the deepest understanding”
Her words hung in the air, sharp as blades, sparking invisible tension between them. Eryanis clenched her fists, knuckles tightening under pale skin, and for a moment I could almost feel the indignation pulsating beneath her calm exterior—a storm contained by sheer discipline.
She restrained herself, taking a deep breath, because refusing the challenge would be admitting weakness—and weakness was something Eryanis would never allow. A heavy silence settled, filling the room as if the very air feared breaking the tension.
Finally, her voice cut through, firm and relentless, carrying the weight of unquestionable authority: “So be it”
There was a faint tremor at the edge of his words—almost imperceptible, yet enough to betray the effort it took to stay in control. Every syllable felt heavy, deliberately chosen.
“I accept your terms, human” The voice rang steady, though an undercurrent of tension remained: “As long as I may compete with Zentharys, the method matters little... However, I will make sure you speak only the truth, no matter what thoughts you try to conceal. I do not fully trust you”
As she said this, her eyes gleamed with a mixture of challenge and curiosity. There was a hunger in her to prove herself, a burning desire to show that nothing could destabilize the order she represented.
Althea, floating lightly by my side, seemed to hold back a laugh that threatened to escape. Her eyes twinkled with a mix of amusement and anticipation as they turned toward me. Her voice, sweet and teasing at the same time, broke the silence: “That’s what she says, dear sister... and you? Will you refuse, or accept the challenge?”
For a moment, I hesitated. Competing against my sister had never been on my list of desires, but there was something in her gaze—steady, almost defiant, yet carrying a vulnerability only I seemed to notice—that kept me from stepping back.
It was as if an invisible weight hovered over us, a silent plea stretching across the space between our bodies without the need for words.
Deep down, I knew Eryanis wouldn’t stop until she proved something: maybe to me, maybe to herself, maybe to all of our sisters, as if we were bound to a fate demanding demonstrations of strength and determination.
And somehow, I understood that this could be the only chance to lighten the burden she carried, a weight no one else seemed able to see but which burned silently inside her.
In the end, I had no other choice. A heavy silence surrounded me, broken only by the sound of my own restrained breath. Slowly, I exhaled a sigh of resignation, heavy with fatigue and acceptance: “Alright... I accept”
Later, Laura guided us through the silent corridors of the facility. Unlike the chaos outside my room, this time the group was small and controlled: besides Eryanis and me, only my sisters—Althea, Nekra, and Nyara—were present.
Laura led the way, with Emily, Victor, and Rupert just behind, keeping a respectful distance that prevented any feeling of crowding or commotion. Honestly, the calm was comforting; it would have been uncomfortable to navigate the narrow corridors with a full crowd, so I silently appreciated the absence.
The hallways were long and cold, lit by white lights casting straight shadows across the metal floor. We walked for several minutes until finally stopping in front of a metal gate, its rigid, cold bars contrasting with the quiet softness of the rest of the corridor.
Laura turned to me, her steps slowing until the sound of her movement nearly disappeared. Her voice emerged, low: “This is the first test”
She gave me a quick side glance, gauging my reaction, before continuing: “I won’t go into details about the anomaly. Discovering it yourself is part of the evaluation”
The door creaked open slowly, a soft groan from the hinges. A subtle wave of emotion escaped from inside, as if the air itself carried fragments of invisible thoughts and feelings.
When the door fully opened, I stepped cautiously forward, feeling the cold floor beneath my feet. I blinked a few times, adjusting my eyes to the light illuminating the space, and then began absorbing the details around me.
Entering that space was like stepping into a shattered mirror: colors twisted into unreal tones, reflecting lights that shouldn’t exist; the walls breathed with an almost living rhythm, undulating gently as if they had a memory of their own.
Every emotion experienced there was immediately distorted, inverted, returned in grotesquely opposite forms—joy turned into contained despair, confidence into sharp doubt. Eryanis stepped in for a moment, as always, her presence dominating the space effortlessly.
Her elegant, confident stance gave the impression of someone used to holding high status, and the aura of assurance she radiated felt almost tangible. For a moment, she simply stood there, motionless, observing the space before her. No words were spoken; just a heavy, calculated silence.
Finally, she broke the stillness with a firm, almost indifferent voice, loaded with contained authority: “It’s just a dissonance” Her words sounded precise, like a statement of undeniable fact. She tilted her head slightly, evaluating, then added: “If there’s inversion, just apply the natural rule of correspondence”
Eryanis raised her hand with almost ritualistic precision. The next moment, she snapped her fingers—a simple, almost mundane sound, but charged with silent authority. A snap so subtle it seemed nothing, yet it carried the weight of everything. It worked. I could feel it too.
The emotions around me aligned, stabilized, as if pieces on a board were carefully being set in place. There was order, clarity, balance. Yet, something remained.
The same strange feeling I’d sensed before persisted: a sense of artificiality blending with naturalness, a familiar strangeness that paradoxically felt forced. It was like looking at a painting too perfect, so symmetrical the eye didn’t know whether to admire it or suspect it. Everything was right, in place... yet nothing felt entirely real.
“Done” Eryanis murmured, and instinctively snapped her fingers again. Instantly, everything around returned to how it had been, as if time had obeyed her will.
The air felt heavier, charged with a silent energy, the faint tinkle of the snap still echoing in the corners. With a steady, challenging gaze, she concluded: “Your turn, Zentharys”
When it was my turn, honestly, I didn’t know exactly what I was supposed to do. It wasn’t like I could snap my fingers like Eryanis and resolve everything instantly. So, I didn’t try to impose anything. I just observed.
I felt sadness wrap around me like a cold fog, but I realized it didn’t come from nowhere—it was born from joy itself, like a shadow following light. I recognized the contained anger lurking beneath calm, and the calm that at times seemed loaded with silent anger. Every emotion felt contradictory, yet somehow complete.
Instead of fighting these feelings, I chose to accept them. Accept that each had a place, a reason for existing, even if I couldn’t fully understand them. Why? Honestly, I didn’t know. I just felt deep down it was the right thing to do. An instinct? Maybe.
“It’s okay... it’s not wrong to cry from joy” I whispered, more to myself than the quiet room surrounding me: “Besides... it’s okay to love and simultaneously show disdain; to feel pain amid laughter. There’s no wrong in your actions. You’re simply... human”
The room seemed to sigh, as if the very air recognized the weight of the moment. The walls, once pulsating and restless, finally calmed, and for a brief, absolute moment, everything was serene. There was no resounding victory, no rigid imposition of order—just a strange sense of acceptance, silent and almost tangible.
Honestly, in the end, I was surprised it had worked. Yet, doubt remained: was my method or Eryanis’s more effective? Comparing, I realized mine, though functional, carried an almost imperceptible subtlety, less flashy, less “powerful” against Eryanis’s strength and presence.
***
(POV – Laura Cavendish)
Laura, observing everything from the side, remained wide-eyed, nearly unable to process what she saw. Her eyes, widened, reflected an intense mix of shock and confusion, following every movement in the scene. A shiver ran down her spine as an impossible thought emerged: (I can’t believe... the [Angel of Death]... she actually did it?) The sound of her own heartbeat seemed to echo in her ears, amplifying the disbelief coursing through every fiber of her being.
Of course, Laura wasn’t alone in these thoughts. Emily, Victor, and Rupert shared the same silent apprehension, each absorbed in their own way by the strange phenomenon before them. Still, Laura stood out, her gaze fixed on the small anomaly. For a moment, she slightly diverted her eyes, turning her attention to another recently arrived presence.
That’s when she noticed something the others apparently didn’t: a subtle glow in the anomaly’s eyes. A faint, almost imperceptible reflection, pulsating with a life of its own. What could that glow mean? Laura had no idea.
It’s worth noting that Laura didn’t really have a concrete plan when she proposed this competition to the two anomalies. For a moment, panic gripped her—the thought of them actually fighting alone terrified her. She had no idea what might happen if the confrontation became real.
That’s why she tried to present a relatively peaceful solution, something that seemed safe and controllable. Yet the [Angel of Death] surprised everyone by handling the situation skillfully, in a way Laura could never have anticipated. To be honest, Laura hadn’t even considered this approach.
The anomaly was largely harmless. Its presence was limited to emitting emotions, like an ethereal reflection of human feelings, alternating between joy, sadness, anger, and serenity almost imperceptibly.
However, prolonged exposure to these conflicting emotions could have devastating effects on the mind: someone could lose psychological balance, slowly descending into madness. So, while considered physically safe, any interaction demanded caution.