Reincarnated in a depressing erotic world but living a normal life (right?)

The Anomaly in the Abyss

Within the very core of Shija’s being, hidden in a dimension that no being was capable of seeing, lay an ancient object: the Scroll of the Forgotten Era. This artifact, the heart of the Kyōgetsu style, had been passed down from master to disciple for centuries. Its design was cruel and perfect: it would only release its forbidden secrets when the disciple exceeded the limits of the master, ensuring that each generation was a superior version of the previous one.(What happened...?)

And for a microsecond, by executing that impossible cut, Shija had achieved it.

(What is... this...?)

However, at the precise moment the scroll’s seal began to fracture, an external factor was introduced into the equation: Melioris’s serpent of divine essence.

(.... It's... so... cold...)

As a result, an anomaly occurred.

(Where... where am I?)

Shija’s consciousness did not fade into nothingness. Instead, he awoke in a place that defied logic. There was no sky, no ground, and no pain. He found himself suspended in the middle of a deep, dark sea—an abyss of stagnant waters that seemed to stretch infinitely in all directions.

(I can’t... I can’t move... The cold is splitting my bones...)

The cold was the first thing he could feel. It wasn’t the cold of ice, but a gelid absence of life that pierced to the very depths of his bones.

(Darkness... there is only darkness and this... ice that burns me...)

Shija was submerged in an absolute nothingness. The place was an infinite expanse of abyssal waters where the density of the vacuum was such that light was not merely non-existent, but seemed to be forbidden.

(The... weight... is absurd... I feel... as if... I were... going to drown...)

There was no up or down, only a cold that devoured the very notion of his own skin. In that sepulchral silence, time felt like a viscous and stagnant substance.

However...

<>

Suddenly, the silence was torn apart.

(A voice?! No... that’s impossible...)

The scream did not come from a specific direction; instead, it resonated from the very walls of his mind.

(What... what is happening?)

They were two infantile voices perfectly superimposed: one masculine, firm yet tender, and one feminine, crystalline and mischievous. The joint cry vibrated in the stagnant water, stirring the depths.

<>

Then, the atmosphere changed. The playful tone vanished, replaced by a melancholy that pierced deeper than the cold itself. The young female voice resonated again, but this time she wasn't shouting; she spoke in a soliloquy that seemed to float in the sea currents, as if asking the void itself.

(That echo... I recognize it, but it shouldn't be here. My mind is playing tricks on me; it has to be the cold.)

In the midst of his confusion, Shija turned his consciousness from side to side, desperately searching for the origin of the voice in the total blackness. No one was there, but the presence was so real that he could smell the scent of fresh flowers amidst the odor of saltpeter and death.

<>

But almost immediately, the young male voice responded.

<>

His tone was calm, laden with a determination that did not belong to a child.

<>

As if the darkness itself were a canvas sensitive to words, the abyss began to mutate.

<>

The absolute black was invaded by brushstrokes of vibrant watercolor; electric and neon colors danced in the water, responding to the rhythm of the voices.

(I can’t see anything.)

Because of that, when the girl’s voice spoke with a tone now laden with a bitter maturity, the vibrant watercolor in response turned dismal; the brilliant colors withered into shades of gray and sad blues that sank into the depths.

<>

The boy’s affirmation followed the statement.

<>

The consequence of those words was immediate: space altered into a dense, dark smudge—a black ink that devoured any trace of light.

(The environment reacts to the voices...?!)

Shija, floating in the midst of this chromatic chaos, felt his own mind fragmenting before the sudden mood shifts of that internal world.

<>

But his thoughts were abruptly cut short when the girl suddenly shouted, her voice regaining an electric joy that caused space to fracture like shimmering crystals.

<>

Then, the environment began to crumble.

<>

The watercolor images cracked, falling in shards of reality that dissolved before touching the bottom.

(What the hell is going on?!)

Shija witnessed everything without understanding, trapped in a whirlwind of foreign emotions that felt like his own, despite not being so.

<>

<>

Then, the two voices overlapped once more, filling every corner of his consciousness with one final cry.

<>

At that instant, space shattered completely. The watercolor, the crystals, and the darkness exploded into a thousand pieces, dragging Shija toward the next level of depth.

"What... what was all that?"

Upon finishing, Shija snapped his eyes open, this time feeling that the air—or whatever filled his lungs—was gelid and sterile.

"I can't keep up with the rhythm..."

As he pulled himself up, or at least tried to, he noticed that the environment had changed drastically. There was no longer water or vibrant colors.

"Is this... some kind of temple...?"

Shija now found himself in the middle of a clinical laboratory of blinding whiteness and incomprehensible technology.

"...."

Finally, observing his surroundings closely, Shija found himself submerged in an unnatural silence. The air did not carry the scent of saltpeter or blood, but rather the chemical stench of ozone and industrial antiseptic. The laboratory stretched out before him like a necropolis of metal and polymers; a labyrinth of infinite corridors illuminated by neon tubes embedded in the ceiling that flickered with a mechanical frequency, casting rhythmic shadows upon an epoxy resin floor so polished it looked like a dark mirror.

The walls were of a clinical white, a shade so pure it was aggressive to the eye, constructed with panels of unknown alloys that displayed not a single seam or rivet.

"Is this death, perhaps...?"

As Shija "floated" through them, he noticed the internal complexity of the structures: swarms of fiber optic cables glowing with pulses of bluish light, pipes carrying cryogenic liquids that hissed faintly, and integrated circuits that reminded him of the compass he used to carry with him, but on a monumental scale.

"No... it’s not that."

Thus, Shija moved deeper and deeper into what appeared to be a containment zone.

"This place... something feels... unsettling..."

On both sides of the corridor stood observation chambers with reinforced glass windows several decimeters thick. Inside, Shija glimpsed machinery that defied his comprehension: articulated robotic arms lying inert over metallic stretchers, circular scanners that seemed destined to dissect the very soul, and flat-screen monitors that, despite being turned off, reflected his spectral silhouette with terrifying clarity.

"This place... lacks any trace of life."

There was no sign of vegetation, nor dust, nor life. It was an environment designed for absolute precision, a place where individuality was treated as a variable to be corrected. On some doors, laser-engraved, alphanumeric nomenclatures and biological warning symbols could be seen; Shija could not read them, but they conveyed a sense of primordial danger.

"Does this place have no end, perhaps?"

The scale of the facility was overwhelming; it seemed as though the base plunged kilometers underground, a hive of dark science operating under the laws of a world Shija never imagined could exist within his own.

"¡¡¡AAAAAAAGGGHHH—H-HAAARRRGGHH!!!"

However, the facility’s sepulchral silence was once again buried all at once.

"¡¿?!"

It was not an alarm, nor the shattering of glass, but a sound that caused Shija's intangible essence to vibrate to the point of dissolution.

"¡¡AAGGHHHHAAAAAAAAAA—!!"

They were two overlapping screams of pain, soul-shattering, laden with an agony so profound it seemed to liquefy the cold air of the corridor.

"It can't be?!"

And those voices... Shija recognized them...

"¡¡!!"

Though the voices had changed—no longer the inquisitive, childlike tones from before—they were now mature voices, fully aware of the torment they were enduring, yet retaining that strange bond of perfect synchronicity.

(WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!)

Shija could perceive how, within the scream, one could feel the snapping of breaking bones, the tearing of the psyche, and a desperation that did not seek salvation, but a definitive end.

"—¡¡AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGHHHH!!"

Shija stood paralyzed in the middle of the hallway, feeling those screams bounce off the clinical white walls, growing sharper with every echo. The agony was so tangible that the neon lights above his head flickered violently, and the screens of the darkened monitors filled with distorted static, as if the suffering of those voices were capable of interfering with the laboratory's electronics.

"I can’t stay still!!"

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Shija frantically located the source of the screams, moving through the facility "levitating" at his maximum capacity until he found the origin.

(It's there!!)

The screams were coming from behind one of the heavy reinforced alloy doors at the end of the corridor, one that had a light indicator flashing in a frenetic red.

"—¡¡KRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHH—!!"

It wasn't just a cry of physical pain; it was the sound of two souls being forced to fuse or being dissected while alive. The maturity in their voices added an extra layer of horror: they were no longer children playing; they were adults who understood perfectly that they were being destroyed in the name of something Shija still could not comprehend.

"What?!"

But as Shija, driven by an urgency born from his most primordial instincts in an attempt to help, accelerated his advance, the reality of the laboratory gave way.

"DAMN IT!!"

Causing Shija to fail in reaching the door...

"<<¡¡KRRRR-AAAAAA-SHHHHH!!>>"

And in turn, as his intangible essence brushed against the reinforced metal, the sound of the screams reached a breaking frequency.

(¡¡RRRRRRRRRRR-SSSHHHHHKKKKK!!)

Space did not shatter like glass; instead, it tore like old flesh.

(¡¡KRR-TSCHHHH!!)

The clinical white walls buckled inward, the monitors exploded in a rain of silicon, and the neon lights melted into filaments of black light.

(¡¡VROOOOMMM-HMMMMM!!)

The entire laboratory began to collapse upon itself, swallowed by a gravitational force that came from no physical direction, but from the very center of the voices' agony.

"Kghh?!"

Immediately after, Shija felt the ground disappear beneath his non-existent feet. He was no longer levitating; he was falling.

<<"¡¡ahahahahaahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!">>

It was a dizzying descent toward a place even deeper—an existential breach opening beyond science and memory.

(♪♫♬ ♩♪♫ ???????????? ♪♬ ♩♫ ♪...)

As he fell, the remnants of the laboratory—shards of metal, severed cables, and fragments of screens—surrounded him like ashes in a cosmic fire, disintegrating as the pressure increased and a melody began to resonate, falling deeper and deeper...

"¡¡AAAAAAHHH!!"

Into the rabbit hole.