"Anomaly?"
I gaze at the sketch, searching for any clue that could help me understand the word. My eyes scan the right-hand page of the book. A certain passage catches my attention.
Canis Ortega founded the Falan Empire three millennia ago. After defeating the Demon King who had terrorized the world, the people hailed her as a hero and devoted themselves to her cause. Even hostile tribes and races respected her enough to declare a ceasefire in the war of races.
Under her command, scattered villages and wandering tribes were brought together, their banners united beneath a single name. She would later return to her birthplace, a modest settlement that would grow into what is now known as the City of Ortega.
Three years after the empire's founding, Canis Ortega yielded the throne to her sole disciple, Phoebus Caesar Falan. On the day of her departure, she vanished without a trace. It is said that before leaving, she entrusted Phoebus with a final message—a warning of the Demon King's eventual return.
Phoebus continued her legacy, strengthening the empire and forging alliances among the various races of the world. The Canis Confederation—a peace treaty agreed upon by all races except demonkind—was established during his rule.
To this day, the Confederation endures, its people waiting for the prophecy to be fulfilled.
This was the history of the empire I never bothered to learn. I recalled all the times I slept through history classes without a care. The teacher always scolded me for it—so eventually, I just stopped attending his classes altogether. I had always thought his lessons wouldn't matter… but now I see I was wrong.
I clasp my hands together and pray sincerely.
I'm sorry, teacher! I underestimated the power of history!
Father studies me, clearly puzzled by my sudden display of piety. He gives me a look that says, Are you okay?
I compose myself. Gazing at the sketch of Canis Ortega, I frown. Why didn't the book mention her as the first anomaly? What even is an anomaly?
Noticing the frown on my face, the Count places his hand over the left-hand page of the book—directly above Canis Ortega's sketch. It is faint, but I feel it: mana flowing from his hand into the page.
The sketch begins to shift, lines rearranging themselves into words—then sentences—then entire paragraphs.
My eyes widen in awe. I lean closer to the text, only to find that the words are nothing but gibberish.
Unwilling to accept it, I grab the book with both hands and bring my face closer—searching for something, anything, I can understand.
"What kind of language is this? It's all so scraggly! How can anyone read this?!"
He chuckles, lips curling upward as if he finds my reaction amusing.
I shoot him an annoyed glare.
Avoiding my gaze, his eyes drift back to the book. He clears his throat a little too dramatically and gestures toward the page.
"This is written in the Old Tongue—a lost language that almost no one remembers. Even I can only read a few sentences."
Old Tongue… I search my mind for even a hint of familiarity, but nothing comes. Unease begins to seep into my thoughts, but I push it aside and shift my attention back to the text.
Father places his finger on the second paragraph.
"She made the holy tome obey her…"
Then he moves to the final line.
"Canis Ortega—an anomaly. From what I've deciphered, she was able to wield the power of a holy tome."
I pause, gathering my thoughts.
"If she was the first… could there have been a second?"
The Count leans back against the couch.
"Yes. Over a thousand anomalies have been recorded throughout history, and a few still exist today. A person is considered an anomaly when they can wield only a single attribute of magic. In exchange for losing all others, they gain access to Arcana-class magic of that one attribute."
My brows furrow in frustration. As I recall the events of the novel, a knot twists in my stomach. Amon never encountered any anomalies—another crucial piece of information missing from the story.
Maybe the author simply left it out… kept it in their head. But as my mouth runs dry, a more terrifying thought takes hold.
The future might be changing. No—it already has.
The Count places a hand on my shoulder. The warmth of his smile steadies me, reminding me of my resolve—to live and protect my family.
Seeing the fire rekindle in my eyes, Father continues,
"Anomalies are powerful. The way they cast magic differs from standard theory. I'm sorry—I don't think I can explain it very well."
The Count pauses, resting his chin on his hand as he stares blankly at the floor. Then, suddenly, his eyes light up.
"I might not be able to tell you more, but I might know someone who can."
-----
As I lay on my bed, the sheets warm against my skin, I wonder if the panic and unease I felt earlier have already begun to fade into something unreal.
Dinner had been pleasant as always—Father's voice calm as he explained my situation, as though it were nothing more than a passing concern. Ethea stayed quiet, though it was obvious she had taken it the hardest.
It wasn't until Mother hinted that someone might help that Thea regained her usual cheer.
Father's words still linger in the back of my mind. Holy tomes. Anomaly. A world that no longer follows the novel's lore.
I purse my lips as one thought keeps returning: If the lore of the novel differs from this world… can I still trust its happy ending?
A knock at the door cuts through my thoughts.
A head of white hair peeks through the opening.
"It's me, Thea."
She steps inside and makes her way to the dressing table, setting down a large round bottle filled with a blue liquid.
"This is a mana-regenerating potion. I don't know if it'll work… but I think it's worth a try."
My mouth falls open.
This is her prized potion—the one gifted to her by the master of the Magic Tower when she first entered. A potion of this quality could only be produced by Arcana-class alchemists. Even ordinary ones cost at least a hundred gold.
This… is priceless.
"This is priceless."
Thea puffs her chest, hands on her waist.
"Good. Then you know how valuable it is! That's why I think it might help you—even just a little."
The corners of my lips lift.
I can't let my little sister keep worrying like this.
I reach out, gently patting her head.
"Keep it. Even if I drink it… I don't think it'll work on me. My mana didn't run out—it disappeared."
Thea lowers her head, her shoulders slumping. After a moment, she looks back up at me and nods.
"Thank you… for worrying about me. But you don't have to! Even if I can't use magic, I'll learn swordsmanship! And if I can't use swords, then I'll use a bow!"
"At this rate, you'll end up trying every weapon."
She lets out a small chuckle.
"That's not a bad idea."
I can't help but laugh with her.
After a while, the laughter fades. I pick up the potion and hand it back.
"Here. This is yours."
She accepts it without hesitation. As she reaches the door, she pauses and looks back.
"You better protect the county like you promised!"
Before I can respond, she slammed the door and disappeared.
I lie back on my bed, closing my eyes as sleep slowly takes me.