The kerosene lamps lit up once more in the bizarre space where the Black-Robed Cultists had gathered before.
But unlike before, there were only two lamps this time.
Dim yellow flames danced inside their glass covers, casting circles of light far smaller than usual. Most of the space lay submerged in thick darkness. Two Black-Robed Cultists, one tall and one short, stood facing each other beneath the lamplight.
Since they knew each other well, neither wore a hood. Their faces flickered between light and shadow in the firelight.
"Confirmed." The tall man spoke, his voice lower than usual and carrying a barely perceptible, suppressed fury. "The ones on the sea were the Shadow Thief and the Crevice Dweller."
The short man's eyelid twitched.
He had already prepared himself when he sensed that terrifying power, but hearing the confirmation firsthand still made his breath catch for half a beat. "The power produced by the fusion of those two anomalies far exceeded expectations." The tall man continued, not speaking quickly, yet every word seemed to have been bitten down on before being forced out. "We thought it was an ordinary Disaster Level, but it turned out to be Catastrophe Level... a true Catastrophe Level."
"We had no deployment at that level," the short man said.
"We have nothing at that level," the tall man corrected. "Those were the two most core anomalies in our hands. Now they're gone. No—they were 'stolen' by someone else!"
Both men fell silent.
After all, that had been a Catastrophe Level anomaly—and it had once been in their hands.
Among ordinary, commonly seen combat forces, Disaster Level Psychics were already absolute upper-echelon figures. Disaster Level Psychics normally never acted.
Not only because the cost of acting was severe each time, but because the destructive power unleashed once