Henry parked the sedan directly in front of the locked entrance to Audubon Park.
"We're here," he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling the keys from the ignition.
He turned in his seat, his cold gray eyes glaring at me through the rearview mirror.
"The rest of you know how this works, so I don't need to repeat myself. But you, you follow my orders blindly. Stay close to one of us at all times. Do not wander off on your own. Got it?"
I simply nodded. I wasn't planning on doing anything else anyway, truth be told, I was terrified.
I had seen field logs of what these anomalies usually looked like, and "beautiful" was a concept entirely alien to them.
Fortunately, it was midnight, meaning the park was completely deserted.
We quieted our breathing and slipped past the perimeter gates. I hadn't set foot in a public park since our sudden move from China years ago.
Even though Audubon was a world away from the lush, sprawling parks of Asia, standing beneath the canopy of ancient oaks brought a sudden, heavy wave of nostalgia.
I found myself thinking of the old days, of Kai, mom, and dad, back when we were still a whole family.
Julie noticed the shift in my posture, realizing my mind was wandering into dark territory. She glanced back at me, her tone blunt and unyielding.
"During a deployment, you shouldn't dwell on memories that trigger negative emotions," she warned. "Spirits and localized anomalies feed on that kind of energy. You'll practically light a beacon for them."
I wasn't sure if she was just trying to distract me or if that was a verified rule inside the official Section 77 field manual.
To be fair, I had never actually finished reading the handbook, whenever I tried, my mind would drift off into space after the first three sentences.
I was far from an expert on paranormal theory.
We moved silently away from the parking lot.
The park's standard lighting was completely dark, casting long, twisted shadows across the paths. We marched past the edge of the golf course, our boots crunching softly against the grass, until Layla spoke up.
"Guys, I don't think it's anchored to the golf course. An anomaly tied to children would seek high density, it's likely hidden deep within the tree line or near the lake."
"Makes sense," Julie agreed, scanning the dark terrain.
"I came out here less than a week ago to conduct a preliminary sweep, and to absolutely crush Jacob in a golf match. I didn't register any active fluctuations near the fairways."
We circumnavigated the course and cut deeper into the heart of Audubon Park, methodically checking the banks of the various lagoons.
Suddenly, Julie halted dead in her tracks by the edge of a massive, still lake.
"It's here," she said, her voice dripping with absolute certainty.
Henry looked down at the black, murky water, then shifted his gaze to me.
"Alright, then. Looks like we're going for a dive. Don't worry, it's fresh water, so your eyes should be fine."
I had no idea what he meant by that, but before I could ask, Julie was already wading into the lake, submerging herself up to her waist. We followed her into the chilling water.
Julie looked back at Henry, who gave her a curt nod before reaching out and roughly grabbing my hand in a tight, iron grip.
Beside us, Layla and Jacob linked hands with them, forming a tense human chain in the dark water.
"Everyone ready?" Julie whispered.
"Yes," the squad replied almost in unison.
Julie muttered a phrase in a language I couldn't comprehend and pulled herself completely under the surface.
The rest of the Black Team followed without a second of hesitation, and Henry's weight dragged me down into the freezing blackness right along with them.
When our heads broke the surface, we weren't in the normal Audubon Park anymore.
The weather, the midnight hour, and the general layout remained the same, but the environment itself had mutated into something profoundly deeply unsettling.
The massive oak trees no longer looked like the typical flora of New Orleans.
Instead, they possessed a bizarre, simplified structure, they looked exactly like the trees a kindergarten child would draw on construction paper, only rendered with a hyper-realistic, physical texture.
The woods stretched out infinitely in every direction, an endless maze of childlike geometry.
Henry scanned the perimeter for a brief moment before clicking on the tactical flashlight mounted to his shoulder harness.
"Looks like our anomaly has a childish imagination."
"Wait... where the hell are we?" I asked, wiping the strange water from my face.
"Ugh, did you even glance at the guide?" Henry sighed, shoving me unkindly toward the edge of the woods.
"We're still technically in Audubon Park, but we've entered the anomaly's localized domain. Unlike standard Entities, anomalies are sentient constructs. You can't just hunt them down, you have to play their game to force them to manifest. Their domains usually take the form of a 'spot-the-difference' puzzle within a monotonous, repeating environment. The anomaly is always the single out-of-place variable. Civilians can't perceive the game, but we can, thanks to our Chthonoids. Now start searching."
The squad immediately fanned out, their eyes darting across the identical, crayon-like trees, searching for anything that didn't belong.
I wandered aimlessly through the surreal woods, feeling entirely helpless.
Trying to find a microscopic flaw in an infinite forest felt impossible. But as I walked, a dangerous thought crossed my mind: 'As a carrier of Rhohonoids, could I perceive the anomaly faster than the others?'
Henry had explicitly warned me to NEVER experiment with my abilities without his direct supervision, but the sheer frustration of the endless search got the better of me.
I stopped walking and closed my eyes.
I didn't actually know how to consciously trigger my latent powers, but I remembered what Julie had whispered just minutes ago: Spirits feed on negative emotions.
Entities ran on Rhohonoids. If Chthonoids were triggered by chemical spikes like dopamine, which explained why sugar and caffeine stabilized my vision, then Rhohonoids had to be bound to negative stress hormones like cortisol. It was a complete shot in the dark, a reckless hypothesis, but I was desperate enough to try it.
Fortunately, dwelling on the darkest corners of my mind was my absolute specialty.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to remember that bloody, horrific day: Kai hadn't been in the car, he was stuck at school while I was home running a severe fever. My parents were driving me to the pediatrician's office. I couldn't remember the exact mechanics of the crash, but the memory of a deafening, metallic roar echoed in my skull, followed by our car violently smashing into the concrete guardrail.
My parents died on impact. My physical injury, the jagged scar on my ankle, partially healed, but the crushing guilt had remained a permanent fixture in my chest.
If I hadn't gotten sick that day, they would still be alive. We wouldn't have been bounced around from estate to estate. I wouldn't have retreated into selective mutism, becoming a burden to my older brother.
The suffocating wave of grief, anger, and self-loathing washed over me, flooding my system.
Suddenly, my Rhohonoids sparked to life.
The simultaneous activation of Chthonoids and Rhohonoids tore through my senses. It was a violent paradox: chaos and peace, light and dark, happiness and burning rage all colliding at once.
My eyelids snapped open. My field of vision was completely washed in a dark, crimson hue.
But I didn't just see the forest anymore.
I could smell the anomaly.
Guided by a strange, instinctual pull, I marched directly toward a tree a few yards away. I looked up into the simplified, geometric branches.
Hanging from a limb was a single piece of fruit.
None of the other infinite trees carried them. It was a perfectly red apple, drawn with the exact, crude simplicity of a child's crayon drawing.
The moment my fingers brushed against the surface, a deafening, structural rumble vibrated through the entire park.
The rest of the Black Team came crashing through the underbrush, sprinting toward my position as the domain began to fracture.
Fortunately, they were too focused on the environment to look directly at me: if they had, they would have easily noticed my blood-red eyes and realized I had disobeyed orders.
"Good job, Nico," Layla said, drawing her stilettos as she stepped up beside me. "But here comes the hard part."
Right on cue, the crayon apple detached from the branch and plummeted to the grass. The moment it hit the ground, it began to violently contort.
The vibrant red skin rotted into a sickening ash-gray in seconds, twisting, twitching, and expanding exponentially. The childlike illusion shattered as the anomaly expanded into its true, horrific form.
It stood nearly eight feet tall, a skeletal, emaciated nightmare composed entirely of stretched gray skin and exposed bone. Long, matted black hair cascaded over its face, but beneath the dark strands, a hideous, unnatural smile split its jaw wide open, revealing four rows of jagged, overlapping teeth sharper than any tactical blade.
The real mission had just begun.