(POV – Protagonist)
Personally, I've always found Arthur to be quite the mysterious figure ever since the moment I first saw him—not in a bad way, of course. There was just something about the way he carried himself, that constant calm of his, that made him hard to read.
He also seemed to have a number of abilities I hadn't fully witnessed yet. Maybe that's why I wasn't as surprised as I thought I'd be when he suddenly emerged from the mist—and more impressively, without being attacked by the anomalies roaming outside.
That said, I don't personally see Arthur as a bad person. Of course, that doesn't mean he's on my side or anything. At the end of the day, I'm still an anomaly. I'd say Arthur is on humanity's side—and since I'm not hostile toward humans and even help them when I can, our goals end up aligning more often than not.
Still, in the beginning, when Arthur's wavering silhouette appeared through the thick fog, everyone inside the diner assumed it was just another anomaly. In an instant, their bodies stiffened and their faces tightened in fear, bracing for the nightmare to start all over again.
But as the figure grew clearer, revealing familiar features through the haze, that tension gave way to pure surprise—as if none of them had expected to see an actual human out there, especially not like that. Most likely, they were shocked to see someone walking through the mist at all—after all, no monster had shown up yet.
Of course, there's also the fact that Arthur clearly used his cane to make it here. It's not that the anomalies weren't trying to reach him... the truth is, my Alter Ego was silently taking them out one by one before they could even get close.
As Arthur approached the door, two men rushed over and opened it for him, letting him in. It was only then that I noticed something I hadn't picked up on before: Arthur looked worn down.
His eyes were heavy and sunken, like he hadn't slept in days, and the distant look in them made it clear just how exhausted he was—not just physically, but in a deeper way, as if something inside him was slowly giving out.
I honestly have no idea where Arthur had been when the fog started spreading, but judging by his condition—his slightly tattered clothes, tired expression, and unsteady steps—it wasn't hard to imagine he'd been wandering through the mist for quite some time.
While the two men helped him settle into one of the diner chairs, my eyes drifted back outside. Even though the thick fog had swallowed up most of the scenery, I could still make out, through the blurred outlines, the vibrant red eyes of my Alter Ego watching in silence.
Still, I chose to put that aside for a moment and turned my attention back to Arthur. His eyes were fixed on me, too, and for a brief second, I felt a strange pressure between us. I figured I should probably say something, but the words just wouldn't come—it was like something inside me had shut down.
Arthur probably wasn't expecting anything from me anyway—I've never been much of a talker. That silence between us actually felt more natural than anything I might've tried to say.
In the end, I let go of my internal thoughts and raised my hand, giving Arthur a small wave. At the same time, I focused my mind on a single word, projecting it to him using my anomalous telepathic ability: (Hello)
It was a simple gesture—so simple I wasn't even sure it counted as a greeting. But Arthur didn't seem to mind. He just gave me a nod in return. A moment later, as the little girl returned to her mother's arms, Arthur and I were already sitting across from each other.
The first thing he did when we locked eyes was glance down at the camera mounted on my chest, raising an eyebrow as if wondering what it was for.
But when Emily's voice came through the camera, he didn't seem as surprised as I thought he would be. His expression was almost tired, like he'd grown used to this sort of thing.
Emily's voice, slightly distorted by the audio quality, came through firm, yet with a hint of ironic lightness: "Arthur, good to see you're still alive. Honestly, with everything going on out there, it wouldn't have been too shocking if you'd fallen victim to one of the mist anomalies"
While Arthur and Emily talked, I stayed quiet, my mind wandering, my gaze drifting across the diner window. The wind filtered through the thick fog outside, creating a white veil that made the world beyond look almost ethereal.
Out there, near the edge of the mist, I could see a glow—vibrant red eyes, like some unseen presence was watching, waiting. Even without seeing him directly, I knew where he was. The sensation was unmistakable. I could feel it, like an invisible thread connected me to my Alter Ego, guiding me without words. He was there, hidden in the fog—unseen by everyone else, but not by me.
As I got lost in thought, trying to process everything going on around us, Arthur finally broke the silence. With a wry smile, he said: "Well, thanks for congratulating me on being alive, I guess"
His expression was a mix of weariness and sarcasm, like he'd already come to terms with how grim things were. He paused for a moment before continuing, his eyes locking onto the distant horizon, as if reliving the hard times.
"Anyway, there weren't that many dangerous anomalies. Most of them relied more on sound than sight, so it was relatively easy to get past them" he said, letting out a light sigh. I could see the tension in his shoulders, but he tried to mask his exhaustion with that casual tone.
As soon as Arthur's words reached my ears, I turned to look at him, tilting my head slightly while my eyes blinked slowly. He seemed puzzled by my reaction, but said nothing.
In fact, it was only after he spoke that I realized what had happened: despite the colossal anomalies outside, the city was still relatively intact. If those things had made it inside, the place definitely wouldn't look this untouched.
Something was off—but one thing was clear: for some reason, the larger anomalies weren't coming here. Emily, who'd seemed lost in her thoughts up until that point, appeared to notice the same strange inconsistency.
"Wait! Are you saying you haven't seen any of the big ones?" Emily asked, her voice filled with genuine confusion.
I saw Arthur raise an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly like he was trying to make sense of the question. His puzzled expression deepened before he spoke, his voice edged with uncertainty: "What do you mean by that? Most of the anomalies out there are massive—way bigger than an elephant. We're talking over ten feet tall here. This isn't just a matter of size" He paused, probably trying to piece the situation together, then turned back to the camera on my chest, more alert now.
Emily took a moment to respond. I couldn't see her face, which made it impossible to tell what she was really thinking, but it seemed like she was deeply reflecting on something. After a beat of silence, she finally spoke, her hesitation still present in her words: "You... actually, never mind. It doesn't matter anymore. What matters now is finding a way to get rid of this fog. Maybe then, all the anomalies hiding inside it will disappear too"
Arthur nodded at her words, and in the next moment, his gaze locked onto the fog ahead, distant and thoughtful. It was a familiar look—the one he always had when something serious was weighing on his mind. He seemed to be sorting through tangled thoughts, trying to piece together a coherent idea.
I could feel the weight of the moment, and as I watched him, I couldn't help but whisper, my voice low, almost as if I feared interrupting him: (You look... deep in thought)
Arthur heard my voice inside his mind. His shoulders flinched slightly, as if a chill had run down his spine, but he quickly composed himself. His eyes turned to me, his lips parting like he was about to say something—but before any sound could escape, a deafening crash tore through the air.
The ground shook violently, as if something massive had just slammed into it, sending shockwaves through the concrete, like a crater had been punched into the earth by an invisible monster. The diner, once a warm and cozy refuge, was now swallowed by absolute silence. No voices. No whispers. The atmosphere, once casual, now felt heavy and oppressive—like something dark was about to consume the entire place.
Then, from the dense, icy fog, something began to emerge, dragging itself forward in a grotesque crawl. First came a hand—but it wasn't just any hand. Its shape was twisted, misshapen, as if ripped straight out of some ancient nightmare.
The fingers—long, gnarled, and contorted—stretched out into the emptiness, while something far larger, still hidden in the mist, seemed to be using the hand like a foot, anchoring itself upright with it. But the most disturbing part was the eyes—dozens of them—unnaturally embedded across the surface of the hand.
The giant eyeballs, wide open, blinked slowly one by one, each blink carrying an unbearable rhythm. Before anyone could react, the eyes turned toward the diner, studying every soul inside as if they were searching for something... or maybe, as if they already knew exactly what they were looking for.
The diner fell into utter silence. No one spoke. No one breathed. The thick tension spread through the air like it had weight, like even the atmosphere was holding its breath. Everyone's eyes were locked on the grotesque hand before them—not out of curiosity, but because it was impossible to look away. Something invisible seemed to hold our gazes captive, glued to the horrific display.
And then came another hand. Then another. And another. Until there were too many to count—an endless mess of twisted fingers and monstrous palms.
I couldn't tell how many hands there were—just that they kept coming. The only conclusion I could reach was that this thing—whatever it was—had to be enormous. So massive, it defied all logic.
The many eyes stared at us with a disturbing calmness—unblinking, unrelenting. Then, suddenly, the hands crouched, the muscles of its legs tensing, like it was about to move. The silence was total, as if time itself had slowed to a crawl.
And then, outside the window, something materialized. A face. It was enormous—so big it filled the entire glass pane. It looked like a woman, but something was deeply wrong. Her long hair, black as midnight, cascaded down like a thick, dense curtain.
But what stood out most was her mouth—stretched unnaturally wide, like it had been torn open by invisible forces, the flesh at the corners pulled and disfigured into a permanent scream.
And the eyes... no, those weren't eyes. They were two pitch-black orbs—completely opaque, devoid of light, life, or soul. No glimmer. No reflection. Just absolute darkness, like even her existence had already been erased.
Inside the diner, no one moved. Even Emily, who had been talking nonstop just minutes ago, was now silent—as if swallowed by the crushing weight of the scene around us.
My eyes quickly scanned the room, but everything was wrapped in absolute silence. The stillness was so heavy, it felt almost audible. Somehow, it was as if time had stopped in that place—like even the air itself had frozen.
Well, from their perspective, it must be truly terrifying. Like being in one of those horror movies, where all you can hear is the distant echo of your own breathing and the muffled sound of your footsteps.