The Anomaly's Path

”...Seris.”

The name slipped past my lips, heavy and raw in the quiet of the massive library.

The girl sitting behind the desk tilted her head.

Her raven-black hair shifted over her shoulder, and those deep crimson eyes locked onto mine. A soft, amused smile spread across her pale face — a smile so natural, so completely believable, that for a fraction of a second, my heart pounded against my ribs.

My mind spun in circles. What is she doing here? Is Seris actually the leader of the Hollow Syndicate? How could she run the largest black-market network in the world while sitting through lectures at the Academy?

I took three slow steps forward, my eyes glued to her face. I pulled back a chair and sat down across from her desk, folding my hands in my lap.

We stared at each other in total silence.

”...”

”...”

She didn’t break eye contact. She leaned her chin on her palm, watching me with a playful, curious glint in her eyes, as if waiting to see what I would do next.

Then, my brain finally caught up with my instincts.

I took a deep breath, letting my passive ability run silently in the background. My Soul Perception flickered on like a faint, hum in the back of my mind. I didn’t just see the person in front of me, I felt her. Or rather... I felt what was hidden behind the flesh.

Seris had a very distinct soul.

Her soul was quiet, steady, and dense — like a heavy, unyielding stone buried deep beneath a calm lake. It carried a strange, subtle chill that felt like a quiet winter night.

But the person sitting across from me?

This soul felt completely different. It was constantly shifting, fluid, and chaotic, flickering with a hundred different textures and colors all at once. It was a soul that belonged to a monster of deception.

No. This isn’t her.

A cold wave of clarity washed over me. In the original game lore, the Archivist was never a single person, a swordsman, a mage, or a noble. They were known by a single, terrifying whisper among the players: The Mirror of Lies.

A master shapeshifter who could mimic anyone, taking their voice, their face, and their way of moving and speaking so perfectly that even their closest family members couldn’t tell the difference.

My shock instantly vanished, replaced by pure irritation.

”When are you going to change your face?” I asked, my voice flat and completely devoid of emotion through my mask.

The Archivist blinked, their smile lingering for a brief second before they let out a light laugh. ”Oh? What ever do you mean, guest? Is this not a face you hold dear?”

”Stop playing games,” I said, leaning back into the chair and crossing my leg. ”The pale skin, the black hair, the crimson eyes... It’s a remarkably good replica of Seris. If I were an ordinary guy, I might have actually fallen for it.”

”You sound so certain,” they purred, tapping a slender finger against their cheek. ”How can you be so sure I’m not really her? Perhaps your quiet little friend at the Academy has a second job?”

”Because your soul is a mess,” I replied coldly. ”Her soul is steady. Yours looks like a storm of fake faces. Besides...”

I narrowed my eyes behind my mask. ”...using her face to mess with me is just creepy.”

Inside, my blood was boiling.

This bastard knows.

Of course the Archivist had looked into my past. They knew I had been spending time with Seris at the Academy. They knew about our conversations in the hallway, and probably even knew that I had asked her to the festival just to repay a debt.

They had shown me her face on purpose — to throw me off balance, test my control, and see how I would react.

I hated it. I hated the idea that some underground broker was peeking into my personal life like a spectator watching a play.

”Don’t push your luck, Archivist,” I warned, my voice dropping into something cold and dangerous. ”You deal in secrets. House Celestial deals in destruction. Keep digging into my personal life, and I promise you — the Hollow Syndicate will need a new leader by tomorrow morning.”

I wasn’t angry or throwing a fit.

My voice was calm, steady, and cold. The Archivist stared at me. Through my Soul Perception, I felt their chaotic soul pause. They realized that pushing this any further would cross a line from teasing into a war they didn’t want.

”My, my,” a new voice spoke — flat and robotic, coming from everywhere at once. ”How scary, little prince. But you should know, I already know exactly who you are, Leo von Celestial.”

With a simple snap of two pale fingers, the illusion dissolved.

The black hair, pale skin, and crimson eyes faded away like melting wax, changing into the face of the short-haired messenger girl who had led me here earlier. She leaned back in her chair, wearing a plain dark coat, a polite but unreadable smile on her face.

”There,” the Archivist said, using the girl’s voice. ”Is this better for you?”

”Much better,” I sighed. ”Now, can we actually talk business?”

”Of course,” the Archivist said, folding their hands on the desk.

”So, care to explain why the heir of House Celestial is causing such a big scene at my auction? You pushed my best auctioneer to the edge, blocked many high-value sales, and wrecked my whole schedule — all just to get a private meeting with me, didn’t you?”

”I didn’t cause any real trouble,” I scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. ”I followed every single rule your market wrote. And how can you be so sure I came here just to meet you?”

”Oh, please,” the Archivist chuckled, leaning forward.

”There are only a few people in the world rich enough to waste millions of gold on cheap tricks just to get my attention. You wanted a direct line to the top, and you knew causing trouble for my staff was the fastest way to get brought here.”

”Fair enough,” I admitted, dropping the act. ”I came here to make a deal.”

”A deal?” The Archivist raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in their eyes.

”Do you know who I am, little prince? I sell information to different domains, trade secrets that can destroy noble houses, and control the flow of the underworld. What could a student like you possibly want from me that you couldn’t buy on the auction floor?”

”I’m not here for information,” I said flatly. ”I’m here to buy a prisoner in your deep vaults. A boy who recently failed his mission.”

The room went quiet.

I kept my expression hidden behind my mask, but inside, my mind was sharp and focused.

The boy I was after wasn’t on the auction floor. He was locked in the Syndicate’s vaults — a prisoner, not for sale. He was why I came here. He was a genius, a broken one, and in the original game, he would have become a nightmare.

In the original timeline, two years from now, he would have escaped this prison, killed his captors, and become a ruthless criminal who controlled the black markets and destroyed noble families for profit.

He was a genius — a weapon waiting to be made. I didn’t want to wait two years for him to become a villain. I wanted to buy him now, before he was completely broken, and turn his mind into my own greatest weapon.

”A boy?” The Archivist tilted their head, genuine surprise flickering in their words. ”You came all the way underground, caused a riot in my auction, and asked for a meeting with me... just to buy a single prisoner?”

”Yes.”

”How strange,” the Archivist murmured, leaning back in their chair. ”Even if you somehow know about our private holding vaults, you must also know that the boy you are asking for is a complete failure. He was assigned to an elite Syndicate scout team, failed his very first mission, and brought back zero results. All of his teammates ended up dead.”

I nodded slowly. ”I know.”

”And you still want him? A useless orphan who drags everyone around him to the grave?”

”Come on, Archivist,” I sneered slightly through my mask. ”Do you really believe that bullshit? You and I both know he didn’t fail because he was weak. He killed his own team because they tried to killed him.”

The Archivist froze. Then, a low, genuine laugh echoed through the room.

”My, my...” The girl’s face smirked brightly. ”You really are a terrifying little creature, aren’t you? You know things you shouldn’t possibly know. But tell me, prince... what could you possibly offer me in exchange for him? Gold? House Celestial’s political backing?”

”Information,” I said directly. ”I will give you a piece of secret information that even your vast network has never heard.”

The Archivist raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical. ”Are you truly confident that you possess knowledge I haven’t already gathered?”

”Yes,” I replied without a single second of hesitation.

The Archivist stared at me, their soul flickering with intense curiosity. Getting this boy was supposed to be the hardest part of my trip tonight, and I knew the Archivist wouldn’t just hand over an asset for a simple promise.

”A tempting offer,” the Archivist said, tapping their fingers on the desk. ”However... a direct information trade doesn’t sound entirely fair to me. After all, I hold all the physical cards in this room.”

”What do you propose, then?”

”A game of truth,” the Archivist smiled. ”I will ask you three questions. You will answer them honestly. If your answers satisfy me, I will hand the boy over to you. But if you fail or lie, you leave empty-handed and pay a fine of a hundred million gold credits for wasting my time.”

I narrowed my eyes. ”How do we enforce the answers?”

The Archivist pulled a parchment scroll from the desk drawer and unrolled it. A faint glow radiated from the paper — a Mana Oath Contract.

”A Mana oath contract,” the Archivist explained smoothly. ”It won’t force you to reveal deep family secrets or force you to harm yourself, but it will prevent you from telling a direct lie to my questions. Do we have a deal?”

I looked at the glowing parchment, weighing my options. I couldn’t afford to walk away without the boy, and I knew how to navigate tricky questions without revealing my reincarnation or the game’s system.

”Deal,” I said, leaning forward and pressing my mana-infused finger against the bottom of the parchment.

The contract flared with a soft golden light, binding the agreement.

The Archivist leaned back, their crimson-tinged gaze locking onto my mask with focus. The atmosphere in the room shifted, turning heavy and serious.

”Then let us begin, guest [Loki],” the Archivist said, their voice ringing with authority.