Beyond the Horizon(An apocalypse novel)

Chapter 11: Anomalies

Grimm didn’t speak, only tightening his grip on his weapon. Brandon wasn’t deterred at that, glancing towards Mr. Morgan, who still reeled from the sudden violence.

"I got a skill after killing the beast."

His voice knocked the vice-principal back to reality. The man looked at the corpse, then at the boot on its head. A mixed look in his eyes.

It wasn’t long before he spoke. He looked the triumphant boy in the eyes.

"She used to be a person. No need to disrespect her corpse any further."

"B-But I got a—"

"Yes, you got a skill. We’ll get to that later; we need her out of the room right now."

He tapped Brandon’s knee, prompting the boy to take his leg off the corpse. It was truly still now; the veins and darkness had stopped spreading.

Still, the man wasn’t taking any chances as he nudged her head with a foot.

Nothing.

Gesturing towards another hesitant teacher, he grabbed the girl’s arms, and the other man grabbed her legs, wincing at the cold as he did so.

Mia sat silently to the side; reality seemed to have finally settled in for her. Her friend was gone.

On the other hand, Miles watched it all occur with a strange sort of detachment. He hadn’t felt much watching the girl’s head get stomped. She was a corpse, after all.

He watched both teachers step out without feeling much either.

If anything, he felt a sense of relief that the corpse was finally out. It was one less hidden danger. Not everyone seemed to agree with him on that.

His attention was more focused on Brandon, and the words he had said.

’A new skill?’

Could that be how Grimm had so many skills as well? It was a likely probability in his mind.

Now Brandon had two skills, just shy of Grimm’s three. Both boys still glared at each other as Miles pondered his own skill.

[Delusion.]

As far as he could tell, it meant lying to yourself. Deceiving oneself so much it warped your sense of reality.

’How is that a skill?’

Why he was granted it was another question, but he had no ideas about that either. While he hadn’t lived the most normal life, among his peers, he was hard-pressed to find a precedent for [Delusion].

’Why does Brandon get [Inferno]?’

As far as he could tell, the boy was a bully. Grimm had suffered particularly under the whims of him and his friends.

The mere fact that Miles, being the loner he was, knew about it said something about its severity.

Yet, in the end, both of them had obtained skills; many more had not.

Perhaps there was no criteria for any of this. He shook his head.

’No point in chasing pointless topics.’

He turned his attention back to his skill. Specifically, its description.

’A mirror of my mind, is it?’

An idea bubbled up in his mind, one he wasted no time in testing.

Looking at the foul, black blood the corpse had left on the floor, he imagined it gone.

Nothing.

The blood still lay there.

’Let’s try something else.’

He closed his eyes, then began taking deep breaths.

[Delusion] meant deceiving yourself; it wasn’t a delusion if you still fully believed it to be false.

’There is no blood on the ground. There is no blood on the ground. There is no...’

He thought about using the skill, then opened his eyes.

The blood was gone. Like it had never been there to begin with. That wasn’t all; he felt a pressure in his head. As though something were pushing against his skull.

It wasn’t too bad, but it felt distinctly unnatural.

More importantly, the blood was gone.

He looked around, wondering if anyone noticed its absence. Yet, there was no surprise or change in their behavior; they were all still focused on the tension between Brandon and Grimm.

’Only I see it?’

It wasn’t a hard conclusion to make. The clues were in the name, after all. He was only lying to himself here.

Still, he wondered if he could push it further.

The smell still lingered, even though there was no blood, so he went for that next.

He imagined a clean, fresh-smelling room, with a slightly chilled temperature to offset the heat blaring from the heaters.

The change happened before he closed his eyes. The smell of blood, sweat, and cold rotten meat vanished. His breaths felt fresh and cold, in the way autumn typically was.

The pressure in his head worsened even more. Yet he didn’t stop; he couldn’t.

If this was real, there was something he needed to do. He had to do it.

Closing his eyes, he imagined this time, with care, something completely different. A crow.

Lush black, lustrous feathers, a gentle yet regal disposition, a clean black beak, and to top it all off, brilliant silver eyes.

He took care in it. Like a painting.

It wasn’t long before the image fully formed in his head. Then carefully, hesitantly, he opened his eyes.

And there she was, standing where the blood had been. Exactly as he’d imagined her.

She looked around inquisitively before her eyes caught him. Holding his gaze for a moment, she spoke.

"Hello, dear. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?"

It was in a perfect British accent, just like he remembered it.

"Miss R—"

The pressure in his head skyrocketed. It was so sudden that it wiped his thoughts blank, automatically deactivating the ability.

The smell returned with a vengeance, throwing him into a coughing fit as the sudden pungency disrupted his already shocked mind.

He found hands already holding his shoulders as he recovered. It was Mrs. Kathy.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes... yes. I’m just a bit dizzy, is—"

He paused mid-sentence.

The blood was gone, and so was the crow.

Right then, the white screen of the system popped up again.

The text on it was blaring red.

[Warning. Warning. Rapid convergence of localized anomalies detected.]