Color

“It's completely normal not to find anything wrong. Mysterious heteromorphs are complex. There are humanoid ones like snake men or ghouls, but there are also many extraordinarily bizarre entities. Often, they simply exist normally, yet our perception prevents us from detecting them; even if we see them, we cannot comprehend what we're looking at. I can't explain in greater detail because I've never encountered one myself—my father told me about this when he was still alive.”

Beneath the bell tower, Officer Angel explained softly after their fruitless search.

The fat mayor had already been escorted away by the town's only three police officers, but his mad laughter still echoed in Lynch's mind, dripping with malice.

With the cooperation of the police and other officials, the townsfolk had been temporarily pacified and gathered together on the square.

Keeping everyone together would allow them to respond quickly if anyone's symptoms began to flare up.

Even so, Lynch and Officer Angel made them stay more than ten meters away from the bell tower. Ordinary people had no place confronting a mysterious heteromorph.

The ground floor of the bell tower remained as it was: walls stacked of massive stone masonry, a floor made of wooden planks, and that stain on the floor still glaringly noticeable.

The two lit their gas lamps and circled the ground floor several times without discovering anything. Yet the mayor's final reaction made it clear that Lynch's deduction wasn't wrong—the heteromorph was right here.

Officer Angel's subdued explanation sent a chill down Lynch's spine. Glancing at the gas lamps on the wall and touching the worn desks and chairs in the corner, he had an eerie feeling that something nearby was watching them.

“If we can't even comprehend it when we see it, how are we supposed to find it?”

“I don't have a good answer either. All we can do is observe as closely as possible, spot any abnormalities, and rely on our imagination to comprehend their existence. It's better to be oversensitive—what we catch might just be the truth.”

Easier said than done. Breaking through the limitations of human perception was hardly simple.

Holding their lanterns, they went up and down the several-story bell tower multiple times. Unfortunately, still bound by common sense, they found nothing at all.

“Ah! I can't take it anymore! Don't stop me, we're going home!”

Shouts, scuffles, and the sounds of physical restraint followed before things quickly fell quiet once more.

Their hearts sank. Uncovering the truth was indeed not the end; death was still claiming victims.

Exchanging a glance, their anxiety mounted.

Faster. They had to be faster.

Observe, imagine, and find the anomaly.

“No! I don't want to die! Help me, I want to go home!”

Lynch wished he could plug his ears, yet the wails from outside continuously drilled into his mind, twisting his expression.

But glancing at Officer Natalie beside him, her expression remained calm and collected, as if she hadn't heard a thing. This was the mental fortitude of a veteran hunter. Compared to her, I...

Huh?

Right. Compared.

To spot an anomaly, one first had to know what was considered normal here; otherwise, there was no benchmark to judge by. They didn't understand this place at all, so of course they couldn't spot what was out of place.

How foolish of me.

The two immediately dashed outside toward the agitated crowd and grabbed several formally dressed town officials, asking if there had been any notable abnormalities in the bell tower recently.

The officials looked bewildered and shook their heads. However, seeing the disappointment on their faces, the official in charge of public buildings spoke up.

A few days ago, a stain had suddenly appeared on the previously clean floor.

It was as if a section of the floorboards had abruptly discolored. It couldn't be washed or scrubbed clean, resembling the natural aging of wood, and even a fresh coat of paint failed to cover it up.

No one had paid any mind to such a trivial detail; if the two hadn't pressed for answers, the official would have long forgotten about it.

Their expressions tightened, their breaths catching in their throats.

In the world of the occult, any anomaly could be a portent.

This is it.

Perhaps.

Hurrying back inside the bell tower, they spotted the prominent stain on the floor at a glance.

It was roughly the size of a dinner plate, dark red, and looked like a puddle of dried blood. Yet when Lynch rubbed it with his cane, there was no sensation of any coating or residue. Just as the townsfolk said, it seemed to be nothing more than simple discoloration.

He tapped on it. Beneath lay solid foundation stone without any hidden hollow space. Inspecting the planks, they were continuous with the rest of the flooring, showing nothing out of the ordinary.

Then that was strange. What kind of influence could have caused it to discolor like this?

“Ahhh!”

Another bloodcurdling scream rang out from outside. It seemed whoever had succumbed earlier was undergoing a gruesome transformation.

Lynch clenched his fists, forcing himself to turn a deaf ear to the noise.

An abrupt discoloration was unnatural and likely caused by the influence of a mysterious heteromorph. But there was nothing there—no sign of any creature in sight.

Imagination. Think with imagination.

There had to be a reason. How could it be impossible to find, unless...

A flash of insight struck Lynch's mind. He grabbed Officer Angel's hand and scrambled backward several paces, pulling away from the stain.

“Unless this stain itself is the mysterious heteromorph.”

“Impossible. We checked it just now—it's merely a patch of different color. There's nothing physical there.”

“You were the one who told me: imagination, open our minds. Who says a color itself cannot be a mysterious heteromorph?”

Natalie drew in a sharp breath.

And the very moment their minds recognized the truth, the scene before their eyes transformed.

The stain began to radiate luster, growing vivid and bright—a luminous mass of glowing red.

It was difficult to describe what kind of color it was. Human language was far too impoverished to capture even a fraction of it.

It was equally difficult to describe the sensation of beholding it; one could only say it was magnificent and prismatic, beautiful as though it existed only in dreams.

Expanding, contracting, expanding, contracting.

The color writhed and flickered subtly, gorgeous yet eerie, making it impossible to tear one's gaze away.

Throughout the entire town, every living thing—whether human, beast, or plant—glowed with a faint aura, extending a slender thread of light from within to connect to this mass of color.

“What... is this?”

Lynch swallowed hard, trying to moisten his parched throat, but his voice remained raspy.

“Whatever it is!”

Officer Angel snapped out of her daze, her eyes sharpening as she drew her sword with a metallic ring.

She drew and slashed.

A flash of light sliced clean through.

A rift opened across the floorboards, exposing the solid foundation below.

Yet the mass of color on the floor remained there, entirely unaffected.

It had no discernible shape, no physical substance—it was merely a mass of color.

It was purely a conceptual color.

How could one harm red? How could one slice blue?

A blade meant to sever all things could not cut through turbulent color.

“Let me try.”

Lynch deftly drew his firearm and loaded a fresh cartridge.

An acid round fired at point-blank range, followed immediately by a swirl of Death Coil.

If physical attacks didn't work, then supernatural abilities would—there was bound to be something effective.

Unfortunately, no matter how powerful the ability, it couldn't harm the color itself. The only things damaged were the floorboards and foundation.

Then tear up the floor entirely.

Officer Angel delivered several swift slashes, cutting away the entire section of floorboards, only to find that the detached wood reverted to its normal color while the mass of color remained firmly anchored to the foundation stone.

Dammit. It couldn't be covered, harmed, or relocated.

No wonder the mayor hadn't shown the slightest panic when led away.

What were they supposed to do now?

Officer Natalie, skilled in direct combat, was at a complete loss, and Lynch had exhausted his immediate arsenal. The two could only watch helplessly as the mass of color pulsed and twitched like a living heart, steadily siphoning vibrancy through its connections to every living organism.

“Ah! Help! Let go of me, let me go home! Somebody help!”

The desperate shrieks outside struck like heavy hammers, pounding against their hearts over and over.

Lynch slowly closed his eyes, then snapped them wide open.

“I have an idea, Natalie. If none of these methods work, what if we alter it conceptually?”

“You can't. To harm a heteromorph on a conceptual level requires at least high-tier power. You'd be better off fighting it head-on.”

“No, I don't intend to harm it. I only want to alter one of its concepts.” Lynch narrowed his eyes, a faint trace of anticipation in his voice. “We change it from 'the color residing in the bell tower' or 'the color residing in the town' to 'the color residing on something else.'”

“Hm?”

“This doesn't require interfering with it directly, but it will still effect a change.”

“We can try!” Officer Angel gripped Lynch's wrist. “How do you plan to change it?”

“It's practically child's play, but... it might just work.”

Lynch blinked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he called out loudly:

“Bring me some paper!”