Excerpt 14

  (Page 5, Section 1)

  The common defines the world. The uncommon moves beside it. The rare lingers at the edges of the known.

  The abnormal is not of this world—it is an intrusion from beyond.

  Abnormality defies all patterns, all laws, all norms. It is not merely unexpected; it is often unwelcome.

  Many who wear this curse are puppets to something darker. Possession. A parasite of the soul.

  To the trained eye, the signs are clear: their essence is wrong, their memories corrupted. A soul's frequency that does not belong. A mind twisted by foreign whispers.

  But rarer still are those born into abnormality—beings not shaped by time, but by something ancient and unfathomable. It is as if the world itself conspires to raise them.

  These are not people who follow stories.

  They devour them.

  They become legend.

  And sometimes… they rewrite the world in blood and ash.

  Source: Anomalies – Scholar Oblivion

  Excerpt 14 End

  Swish!

  Hassan dodged the strike, barely shifting his head in time. That was the final straw. His patience snapped. With clenched fists and a sharp grunt, he struck back—his punch landing clean.

  Puh!

  The boy dropped instantly, arms hugging his stomach as he crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain—then started bawling.

  An adult rushed over and quickly pulled them apart.

  Why won’t this brat ever learn? Hassan thought bitterly.

  Three weeks. Three entire weeks of this nonsense. The same kid kept coming back, itching for a fight, as if he’d suddenly win one through sheer stubbornness.

  As Hassan turned around, he spotted a group of children gathered in a loose circle, watching him with wide-eyed wonder.

  Apparently, the kid who kept challenging him was the leader of their group—some kind of playground tyrant. Ever since Hassan effortlessly beat him the first time, the boy had become obsessed with reclaiming his title. It was annoying.

  Still, not all of his time had been wasted. Hassan had been slowly picking up more of the zamongarai language. He couldn’t speak it fluently—not without raising a thousand questions—but he was beginning to understand fragments.

  That alone was dangerous. If he started talking too well, especially with adult-level vocabulary, they might send him for another soul reading. And that… was the last thing he wanted.

  While he mulled over the risks, a voice from one of the nearby adults broke through his thoughts.

  “Food… ready… eat… small… first.”

  He didn’t understand every word, but the message was clear enough. They were being called to eat.

  His body had grown again—noticeably. He was now one of the largest children in the group, if not the largest. At this rate, he figured it would only take another two or three weeks before they bumped him up to the next age group again.

  As he shoveled food into his mouth, a ripple of disturbance rolled through the group. Curious, he turned his head—and froze. A robed zamongarai had just stepped into the clearing.

  He wasn’t like the others.

  His frame was smaller than most adults, his skin a stark, unnatural white. His eyes—pure white orbs without pupils—gleamed faintly under the tent’s light. Even his robes seemed untouched by any impurities.

  What truly set him apart, though, was how the other adults reacted. Their expressions shifted to a mix of fear and reverence. Some lowered their heads. Others stepped back entirely.

  But the strange zamongarai didn’t look at them.

  He was staring at Hassan.

  A shiver traced down Hassan’s spine. He can see me... No—not just see. See through.

  The robed figure began walking forward, each step deliberate, silent.

  Hassan’s instincts screamed at him to run, but that would be too suspicious. He stayed seated, pretending not to notice.

  It didn’t matter.

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  The stranger stopped right in front of him and stared down. Several seconds passed—long enough for Hassan’s nerves to start unraveling.

  Then, without warning, the zamongarai’s eyes began to glow.

  A pulse of unnatural light washed over Hassan’s vision. And then... he felt something. Not touch. Not pressure. Something deeper. Something that reached into him. A presence. A probe. It didn’t hurt—but it felt unnatural. Off. Violating.

  It was like something cold had slipped into the space between his mind and soul.

  He nearly cried out, hoping to draw attention, hoping it would make the sensation stop. But then—

  A louder commotion interrupted the moment. The glow vanished instantly.

  Hassan gasped internally, relief flooding his chest. He turned and saw a group of new zamongarai entering the tent. Most of them wore robes and carried staffs, their faces weary and battle-worn. Each step they took echoed fatigue—like survivors returning from a battle the others hadn’t seen.

  The strange zamongarai said nothing—he simply stood beside Hassan, watching him in silence.

  Hassan began to sweat. What is he waiting for?

  He had a guess. Some of the other children were being approached, picked up, even carried away by the newcomers.

  Then he saw someone similar.

  His caregiver.

  They emerged from the entrance, scanning the group—and locked eyes with him. Relief flooded Hassan’s chest. Yes! They’re here to bring me back!

  If they arrived just a bit later, that white-eyed creep might have dragged him off somewhere.

  The caregiver exchanged a few words with one of the robed adults, who nodded and gestured toward Hassan. The caregiver approached quickly. But before they could reach him—

  The white-robed zamongarai spoke.

  “He… make… come… with… me.”

  Hassan’s heart dropped.

  But the caregiver didn’t seem alarmed. They simply offered a calm, polite reply in their language. He couldn’t understand all of it, but he caught one word: later.

  The white-robed figure held a gaze for a moment longer—then turned and walked away.

  The caregiver stepped closer and examined him carefully, their brows furrowing slightly. Likely confused by how much he’d grown.

  Without comment, they picked up an animal hide and draped it over his shoulders before carrying him away.

  As they stepped outside the tent, Hassan squinted up at the sky. It was a clear stretch of pale blue, but the cold bit into his skin like tiny knives. Snow blanketed everything—piled so high it reached halfway up the caregiver’s side.

  Was there a snowstorm while we were inside? he wondered. The main tent must’ve been built well, or maybe even reinforced with magic. He hadn’t noticed the freezing temperatures until now.

  Despite the snow, the caregiver moved without struggle. Their pace was steady, their steps light. Even with snow halfway up their legs, they barely slowed down. It was almost comical—like watching someone glide through powder while everyone else trudged.

  Around them, other zamongarai were bustling. Despite the weather, many looked cheerful.

  “Safe… over… next…”

  Those were the only words Hassan caught, but they hinted at something important. Whatever threat or hardship had come—maybe the storm, maybe something else—it seemed to be over.

  Still, signs of damage were everywhere. Tents sagged under the weight of snow. Some had collapsed entirely. He wished he understood more of what had happened in the camp, but he was still limited to just bits and pieces of the language.

  Eventually, they reached the caregiver’s tent. Snow had piled high on the roof, but unlike others, this one still stood firm.

  Once inside, Hassan immediately understood why. The structure wasn’t held up by fabric alone. From the ground up, packed earth formed solid ridges, supporting the walls and center poles—probably shaped and hardened by magic.

  As he was set down, the cold hit him full force, seeping into his bones. The caregiver seemed to realize this and quickly worked to ignite a fire in the center of the space.

  It would take some time for the warmth to fill the tent, but at least it was something. Hassan settled near the flames and began reviewing what he had gained in the past five weeks.

  #####

  Name: None

  Race: Zamongarai

  Age: 85 days

  Tier: 0

  Attributes:

  Physique: 1.56 → 4.06

  Mind: 11.18 → 12.88

  Soul: 10.97 → 12.26

  Talents:

  Human Intelligence (Rank 3: 33% → 41%) – Expand

  Human Soul (Rank 3: 15% → 34%) – Expand

  Zamongarai’s Physique (Rank 1: 1% → 99%) – Expand

  Zamongarai’s Sense (Rank 2: 30% → 87%) – Expand

  Zamongarai’s Soul (Rank 1: 25% → 99%) – Expand

  Vessel Control (Rank Unknown) – Expand

  Skills: Physique Manual (Basic: 18% → 30%), Mind Manual (Basic: 32% → 42%), Soul Manual (Basic: 22% → 38%), Tracking Manual (Basic: 0% → 18%)

  System Training Space – Time remaining until reset: 16 hours, 2 minutes, 5 seconds – Current Mode: Tutorial

  #####

  Compared to five weeks ago, the difference was massive. His attributes had shot up, his talents evolved, and his skills were making visible progress.

  Physique especially—it had exploded. He could feel the difference in his body: the way his movements carried more weight, more control. If only the talent itself wasn’t stuck…

  Zamongarai’s Physique: 99%

  Zamongarai’s Soul: 99%

  Both were just below the threshold—but no matter what he tried, they wouldn’t break through. They were bottlenecked.

  At least his senses had evolved. He could now detect things in his environment far more clearly—subtle sounds, faint scents, distant motion. Hearing and sight had both improved enough that training them felt rewarding.

  Still, there were signs his mind and soul were slowing. Not just the stats—but how fast his related skills were progressing. It felt like he was pushing up against an invisible ceiling.

  With the Mind Manual, part of the problem was habit. His old thought patterns from Earth still clung to him. But something told him that if he could just push through the first wave of resistance, things would flow again. The beginning had been the hardest part—now, it was mostly friction.

  As for soul… that was more complicated.

  He had recently gained access to the Tracking Manual, but progress was minimal. There wasn’t enough space—or opportunity—to practice it properly.

  Unless… I go back to the forest.

  That thought sat heavy in his mind. Dangerous, yes—but it might be exactly what he needed. Not just to train tracking. Not just to break through his bottlenecks. But to be ready—really ready—in case anyone ever discovered the truth.

  That white-eyed zamongarai... even remembering him sent chills crawling under Hassan’s skin.

  He cast a glance toward the caregiver, who sat cross-legged near the fire, motionless and silent. Hassan’s gaze lingered, and he made up his mind.

  It wasn’t just boredom. It wasn’t just about growth.

  He had to return to the forest. To train. To prepare. To survive—just in case.