A guttural scream erupted from Jack's body as the Pneuma within him went on a rampage, breaking free from the confines that his body usually maintained for his well-being.
Ommmmm...!
The air around him rippled and distorted as if there were a nearby heat source, but it was Jack's energy influencing the environment. Even the ground beneath his feet cracked slightly.
At that moment, the eerie music changed, as if the record—the source of the whole affair in this ballroom—could sense the danger the operator might pose.
To the horror of the survivors, their bodies turned simultaneously, facing Jack. They began to walk rigidly toward him, stretching their hands forward in an eerie choreography.
"Do you have some sensitivity? HAHAHA! You can't control me, and now you want to stop me. But you're too slow." Clenching his dagger tightly, Jack lunged toward the phonograph.
But, to his surprise, an older woman stepped in his way with a speed impossible for her age—no, impossible for any human.
HELP! the woman shouted. But her body twisted grotesquely. One of her outstretched arms snapped, and the bone pierced her skin. The sharp piece was thrust against Jack, intent on stabbing him.
Swish!
With his reflexes heightened by the Fighting Instinct he had unleashed, Jack evaded the attack and used his Pneuma-reinforced dagger to slash the outstretched arm.
The music kept drilling into his mind, trying to disturb it and wrest control of his body. His energy and instinct fought against this ever-increasing influence, but it caused him to slow down. A burly man put his hand on Jack's shoulder, trying to stop him.
"Boy... that thing gets into our heads. It makes us move. It talks to us. It wants your body. It wants to twist you like it does us," a strange voice said. When Jack turned to get a good look at the man's face, his brown eyes shrank, disturbed by the sight.
The man's face was twisted. His skin was stretched and rotated at impossible angles, tearing it apart and covering him in blood. His jaw was unhinged, and his scalp was torn open, revealing the red flesh beneath.
But worse than the sight itself was the impact it had on Jack. He could feel his skin writhing unnaturally and a strange desire arising in his body. He wanted to be twisted. He wanted to be changed by that thing.
This was a mental attack! A memetic attack! A cognitive danger! Jack's mind was racing, trying to figure it out. His willpower and instincts helped him overcome the unnatural desire. He kicked the man and moved away.
"Looks like it won't be easy..." Jack noticed that he was surrounded. He bent his body, held the handle of his dagger, and slowly sketched a cruel smile, influenced by his unleashed fighting instinct.
"Don't be distracted!" Laria's words brought Jack out of his mild trance, but he simply turned to look at his girlfriend, his expression unchanged.
"I'm not distracted..." Jack became a blur to the naked eye, and a spurt of blood splattered to the ground along with an outstretched arm.
He showed no mercy, severing the arm of a woman who tried to catch him. He wasn't going to stop. He wasn't going to think about the possible hostages because, in situations like this, where you had to act fast, UNMSO members had the right to make drastic decisions.
Jack knew that if the music spread beyond the ballroom, the situation could escalate into a truly frightening incident that would worsen the losses. Field agents like him were taught that if they had to kill five to save one, they should do it.
Likewise, if they had to kill one to rescue five, they would do it. If they had to die to save the rest, they wouldn't hesitate! Humanity has thrived because of people like Jack, who will kick, punch, and shove anyone who gets in his way to give those in good shape a chance.
A chance to stay healthy. This weighed on their consciences; not a moment went by when he or his team forgot the faces of those they had sacrificed for the greater good.
Jack always made sure to remember the faces of those he hurt. Still, he managed to approach the phonograph, breathing heavily and with difficulty.
"I'm here, you bastard," he muttered, taking out his dagger and rolling up his sleeve to reveal his wrist.
When over a hundred people were against you, maintaining stamina became problematic. Luckily, neither he nor Laria had been affected by the twisted music yet.
Now, however, he had to take much more extreme measures. He had no resources or weapons nearby, and his enemies could still move even if they were severely wounded or dead. He didn't have much time alone with the machine playing the anomalous record.
"The old incantations were done with blood, you know? Now I look like that blond bastard, but thanks to him, I was inspired. Enjoy it." Jack slashed his left wrist, spilling his thick, red blood onto the floor.
He drew a circle around the phonograph with his blood before crouching down to start outlining more details.
Even though the Pneuma helped close the wound, he was exhausted from the impulse of his activated instinct. Overusing the Pneuma was never a good idea because it was the fundamental energy of all living things. While it could replenish itself over time, the aches and pains had already set in.
Still, Jack smiled as he outlined lines and patterns, and finally, a complex circuit. The music worsened, and the twisted, mangled dancers crawled toward him, sobbing in pain. Yet the smile on the man's face never disappeared.
If he had to sacrifice himself here to resolve this threat, this anomaly, and above all, so that Laria could survive, he would. Though he had faith in himself — after all, he had come out of worse situations — his mind inevitably thought of Laria.
How was she faring in her struggle against the anomaly's influence?
...
How did Laria handle this issue? The nature of her Pneuma came into play. Her energy had healing properties when applied directly, but when applied within her body, it strengthened not only her physique but also her defenses against special circumstances.
Her Pneuma's healing properties had a surprisingly positive effect on her. She took advantage of this to lean against the ballroom wall, putting as much distance as possible between herself and the source of the sound.
Though it seemed useless, she tore her dress to stuff pieces of cloth into her ears. She did not seek to mitigate the influence of the music, which seemed to manifest in a way other than simply propagating sound.
No, she wanted to create a symbol. The Pneuma was strange indeed, but Laria was not a witch simply because she knew how to make special potions inherited from her family.
Though very occult, the Pneuma had to do not only with the body but also with the soul. Laria's knowledge of this dangerous anomaly led her to formulate several hypotheses.
'Music doesn't propagate through the air like normal sound. Therefore, what other medium would it use to affect people? I only have a few ideas, and none of them please me,' thought the brunette before closing her gray eyes and entering a meditative state.
In her induced trance, she detected traces of the anomaly clinging to her body. She tried to control it and twist her essence into a wild, senseless dance.
However, her Pneuma resisted strongly, 'curing' these effects. Broadly speaking, these effects could be considered an attempt to corrupt her flesh. But Laria was concerned about something else, so she focused her attention on the deepest part of her being: her soul.
There it was: her soul, translucent and giving off a faint halo of light. But she could also see what appeared to be black tentacles attempting to enclose, overpower, and twist her soul into impossible shapes.
'There it is,' said a projection of Laria in his space of consciousness, a special place where his soul and mind dwelled together.
Anyone who wished to truly master the capabilities of the Pneuma had to meditate. Although this energy arose from the heart as a biological force that served as protection and a method of attack, its metaphysical components were undeniable.
In a world like theirs, where ghosts could arise and corpses could be reanimated in different ways, the existence of concepts such as the soul was undeniable.
As a physician and researcher, how could Laria ignore such a crucial aspect of her essence? She may not have been capable of healing her soul the same way she healed her body, but she understood the close relationship between the two vital components that made up a complete human being.
Seeing those black appendages attempting to encase her soul was not good news. Fortunately, the Pneuma could protect against corruption, though this defense could be circumvented or shattered depending on the intensity.
Sensing the threat, she guided part of her Pneuma into the space to cover her soul with visible energy. Noticing the change, the black tentacles stirred. They were confused because the soul they should have possessed with relative ease had increased its resistance.
They did not seem to notice Laria's appraising gaze as she blended completely with her soul and assumed the control that belonged to her alone. Then, it strengthened her.
She couldn't just reinforce her body! Because her soul was enhanced by her Pneuma, she created a gigantic scalpel in this mental space. She manipulated it to cut every corrupted tendril, leaving none intact.
The pieces vanished into black smoke. Still, she radiated bursts of Pneuma throughout the space to purify any residual traces.
Though it may seem easy, it was a long, strenuous process. Even Laria could feel the anomaly's intrusive attempts increasing in intensity, yet she did not give up. She kept fighting to stay free.
She would not be overpowered by a terrible-sounding song! Her silent battle raged inside her body while outside, only her body remained standing, leaning against the wall, her breathing becoming more and more agitated, and her skin covered in cold sweat.
She also created "symbols" in this space, such as earplugs and music of different genres. All the while, she harnessed her ability to imagine whatever she wished to strengthen her willpower and determination.
The anomaly did not like her attempts at all, worsening her attack and causing her to lose more energy. Exhaustion made sleep want to take over her body, but Laria knew that if she faltered, she would end up dancing until her body was as twisted as an old rag.
Her struggle had meaning because it gave those controlled by the anomaly more freedom. Now, they could control their movements and avoid reaching Jack, who was finishing drawing incantations with his blood.
Even the manipulated corpses had fallen to the floor like puppets whose strings had been cut. This put a big smile on Jack's pale face.
A pulse of energy coursed through his creation. Soon, a strange wind blew through the ballroom, bringing everything to an absolute halt. There was no sound or movement; everything came to a standstill as the ambient Pneuma mobilized.
The world itself possesses Pneuma, and Jack's blood seal was a crude attempt from the past to harness this powerful yet turbulent energy. This omnipresent energy enveloped the phonograph and formed a blood-tinged dome, halting its influence completely.
Jack sat on the ground, pressing the wound on his body to avoid losing more blood. Everything inside him ached. His fighting instinct had pushed his body to the limit, and now he was paying the price for his actions.
"Damn it..." growled Jack before attempting to stand up. His legs were limp as noodles; he could barely move them.
He had to call the local UNMSO office and contact his colleagues. What if this event were not an isolated occurrence? He needed to confirm that!
The cries of anguish and pain made the operator look at the mess in the ballroom. A place of joy had been reduced to a sad event that the city and perhaps the country would never forget.
Worst of all were the looks on some people's faces. Their eyes were filled with anger and hatred as they looked at Jack. Then, they realized the brunette man was looking at them. They directed those negative emotions toward the sealed phonograph.
"It feels like you've failed, doesn't it?" Laria said to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and causing Jack to let out a loud sigh of annoyance.
"I do it for them, but emotions are unreasonable," he said, justifying the expressions those people directed at him. Inside, however, he felt hurt.
Fortunately, others had acknowledged his efforts to resolve the situation with a nod of thanks. The variety of responses in this type of situation was certainly a fascinating case study.
"Come, finish this for us." Laria took Jack's left arm and pulled him closer to get a better look at his wound.
She didn't care that drops of blood fell on her expensive dress, staining it. She had already torn pieces of cloth from her clothing and used one of them to cover his wound before transmitting her Pneuma to him and taking advantage of its healing properties.
"I just want a nice bonus for this," Jack joked before kissing Laria on the cheek. She simply turned to look at him with her gray eyes before sketching a small smile.
"UNMSO won't refuse, my Berserker," she answered. They took advantage of this brief, intimate moment while she bandaged his wound to enjoy it as a couple.
...
UNMSO arrived quickly, as did the couple's companions. A team in charge of sealing object-based anomalies contained the object effectively.
During the report that night, they discovered that the main cause of the chaos was a vinyl record that had acquired anomalous properties in an unknown manner.
The next day, the tests began, with Jack's team participating. They were able to determine that the vinyl record was the cause of the chaos. It contained only one audio track: a mostly unintelligible song played in a room with security measures for anomalous objects.
Through more strenuous testing, they recorded a version of the song on a device that manifested no major anomalous properties, only a subtle suggestion to slow dance. However, further examination revealed a comprehensible phrase in the song's audio after processing it with technical means.
[The one who watches you greedily will not stop.]
When Jack and his team received it, they could not quite understand it. However, Jack, being someone with a developed sixth sense, felt that these words were not said randomly; they were a message for him.
He could not explain where this feeling came from or why an anomaly would give him a message. However, his mind connected some strange events that had been happening to him for a long time.
Jack had a feeling that something or someone was watching him. His sixth sense allowed him to sense when a person laid eyes on him. That fleeting line of sight falling on him at key moments disturbed him.
Although he always acted as if he didn't notice, he did. He always noticed. This situation only further set off alarm bells for Jack, who had not slept well during the entire process of dealing with the anomaly, five days of exertion despite his condition.
In the end, he needed two full days of rest to fully recover under Laria's care. She forced him to take a break by giving him a potion that put him into a deep sleep.
Jack was not the only one upset. The whole team took this matter very seriously, even if three of them did not suffer from the incident. Even if humanity was thriving, this anomaly was a reminder that they could not live in peace.
They could not do so when the world itself seemed to hate them.
After Jack woke up, they received a message from UNMSO headquarters. They had to deal with another anomaly similar to one they recently solved, located in a remote town in the Federation.
They were also informed that similar anomalies had appeared all over the country and the continent. Their task was to solve the anomaly and, if possible, find the cause of the problem.