Chapter 166: The Headless Anomaly
Impossible! How could this be?
White Cat’s mind screamed, his eyes wide with disbelief, thoughts grinding to a halt in chaos. Sitting on the peeling, rusted bench, he stared at the headless anomaly less than half a meter away, swallowing hard. Against grudges, he struck with confidence, but before an anomaly, his fear was uncontainable.
He’d always wondered why the Kisaragi Train held so many humans but so few grudges. After traversing over ten cars, he’d observed carefully: each stop saw one or two grudges board, four at most. This puzzled him. Each grudge took one human—one “ticket”—when disembarking, yet humans always outnumbered grudges.
He’d had two theories. First, the Kisaragi Train, an anomaly, had no final station, endlessly traveling, with grudges boarding to slaughter humans, maintaining a controlled population like livestock. Second, anomalies might board too—but he’d dismissed this. The Special Division taught that anomalies, embodiments of merciless rules, never allied. Trapped in a killing rule without finding its pattern, death was certain. If two anomalies met, the weaker died. This was etched in his mind.
Yet, the Kisaragi Train shattered this belief. It was undeniably an anomaly, but now a headless creature with a head dangling at its waist—an anomaly too—had boarded. Two anomalies coexisting without conflict? Absurd!
His spiritual pressure confirmed the anomaly’s killing state, the girl before it ensnared in its rule. Despite his mental turmoil, White Cat’s survival instinct surged. As the group fixated on the anomaly, he quietly slipped toward the rear. Mikasa Itsuki, ever watchful, followed silently.
The girl, panicking, sought White Cat’s guidance but found him gone. “Do you know where my head is?” the anomaly’s waist-bound head asked again, its tone now hostile, eyes suspicious.
“I-I don’t know,” she stammered, legs buckling. Collapsing, tears streamed down her face, her eyes brimming with terror.
“Don’t know?” the anomaly roared. “Why didn’t you answer earlier? Lying now? Did you steal my head?” It stepped forward, hands swiftly plucking her head off. Examining it, the anomaly swayed, then sighed, “Not this one.” It tossed the head aside.
Thud. The head hit the floor, rolling with a sickening gurgle. Blood poured from the girl’s headless body, pooling on the floor. Her face, streaked with tears, froze in horror, eyes wide. Chaos erupted in the cramped car as people screamed, quickly stifling themselves, fleeing the rolling head.
White Cat, watching from the rear, flinched. The head slowed, wobbling, its terror-stricken expression haunting. Before he could process, the anomaly spoke again: “Excuse me, do you know where my head is?” It faced a young man, voice anxious.
The man trembled but, with better composure, bolted. “You stole my head!” the anomaly snarled, enraged. The man froze, body locked as if bound. White Cat saw him try to scream, but the anomaly gently removed his head, inspected it, and sighed, “Not this one.” It discarded the head like trash.
In under a minute, two were dead. White Cat tried to calm himself, but his body shook. Reaching for a cigarette, he hesitated—drawing attention could be fatal. His mind spiraled, echoing his therapist’s warning: his psychological resilience was poor.
Calm down. Think clearly. Don’t panic.
Whether through self-assurance or the anomaly’s focus elsewhere, White Cat steadied his racing heart, sorting his thoughts. By his earlier logic, the anomaly’s first kill should have secured its “ticket” to disembark. Yet it continued, intent on slaughtering the car. Amid fear, relief flickered: the anomaly killed those closest, following a proximity rule.
“Sir, should we retreat?” Mikasa whispered, sensing the moment. “Everyone’s distracted by that headless grudge—perfect time to go.”
White Cat nodded instantly, abandoning curiosity about the anomaly’s pattern. The Kisaragi Train was nightmare enough; another anomaly aboard was catastrophic. While the group was preoccupied, they slipped toward the rear car, leaving the others to their fate.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 167: A Safe Point?
As the group’s linchpin, White Cat’s movement drew notice. Some, silently tracking him, followed without alerting those ahead, tacitly sacrificing them as decoys. With an anomaly behind, White Cat shed his composed facade, sprinting wildly.
“Sir, wait!” Mikasa’s voice called. White Cat paused briefly, then grabbed Mikasa’s arm, deploying his spiritual pressure. In seconds, they vanished from the trailing group’s sight, stunning them. That even White Cat, so powerful, fled the “headless grudge” deepened their terror.
After an indeterminate run, White Cat stopped in a car. Three foreigners huddled in a corner, trembling, while two grudges sat centrally. Exhaling, he collapsed onto a seat, sweat-drenched and panting. Prolonged spiritual pressure had exhausted him. Mikasa, dragged along, felt like he’d glided through wind, arriving effortlessly. Glancing at the grudges, he avoided their gaze and asked curiously, “Sir, was that grudge really strong?”
“Not a grudge,” White Cat corrected, catching his breath. “An anomaly.”
“Anomaly?”
Seeing Mikasa’s confusion, White Cat explained briefly. He’d brought Mikasa because the boy’s performance impressed him. Despite being duped earlier, White Cat admired Mikasa’s vigilance. Unlike others, Mikasa maintained composure on this horrific train, a rare trait for a high schooler. If they escaped, White Cat vowed to recommend him to the Special Division.
Learning of anomalies, Mikasa gasped, stunned by their existence. “Sir, are these what we’ll face in the Nightmare Space?”
White Cat chuckled wryly, realizing Mikasa still believed the “movie world” lie. He was to blame for the ruse, now unquestioned by the group. “Yes,” he said, too tired to clarify. Explanations could wait if they survived the Kisaragi Train.
The trembling foreigners, spotting them, babbled excitedly in an unfamiliar tongue. White Cat ignored them. A whistle sounded, and the train stopped. The door screeched open, and the two grudges rose, dragging two foreigners away. White Cat tensed, knowing what followed: new passengers. Grudges were expected, but anomalies were now a risk.
Seconds later, a bloodied grudge boarded. White Cat relaxed—grudges were manageable. Distinguishing grudges from anomalies visually was simple: anomalies, rule-bound entities, might look odd but lacked the gruesome wounds of grudges. Spiritual pressure could confirm, but probing an anomaly risked triggering a fatal rule.
“Sir, what now?” Mikasa asked, seated nearby. Despite his resilience, the train’s relentless dread strained him.
“No idea,” White Cat admitted, inhaling deeply. “I thought grudges made the train relatively safe. But with anomalies boarding, it’s too unpredictable. I haven’t cracked the train’s pattern.”
Constant movement left little time to analyze the Kisaragi Train’s killing rule. Yet, it clearly summoned grudges to kill, with a small chance of anomalies boarding. He clung to his theory: as a train-shaped anomaly, it must have a final station. Surviving until then might mean escape. Dodging boarding anomalies was key.
“Sir, we shouldn’t stay in the cars,” Mikasa suggested hesitantly.
White Cat frowned. “Moving risks running into anomalies.”
Sitting still, he could flee if an anomaly boarded. Roaming cars, bad luck could land them in an anomaly’s path without others to shield them. “I mean,” Mikasa clarified, “we could hide in the passageway between cars.”
White Cat’s eyes widened. “You mean…?”
“We’ve crossed many cars,” Mikasa said, smiling confidently. “Grudges stay in their boarding car, never moving elsewhere. If anomalies act the same, the passageway might be the safest spot.”
Standing, White Cat praised, “You’re right.” As a monitor, he’d missed this. Though a steam train, the Kisaragi Train’s passageways were distinct. Perhaps they were a safe point? Elated, he patted Mikasa’s shoulder. “Well done.”
If they survived, Mikasa would replace his current aide. For an ordinary person, swiftly deducing a potential safe point after learning of anomalies was remarkable. They moved to the central passageway between cars. Beyond a bathroom and crew room, they stayed outside, avoiding enclosed spaces.
White Cat hoped this was truly a safe point. He hadn’t yet savored his monitor privileges and refused to die here.
(End of Chapter)
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