Ryuxian coiled low, his golden eyes narrowing. The scent was ancient—older than the ruins, older than the celestial being that had just tested him. It wasn't the scent of a god.
It was something different.
Threads can be cut. Woven anew. But only the foolish believe they are the ones holding the needle."
"The moment you resist fate, you make an enemy of something far greater than gods."
The figure stood at the edge of the ruins, half-shrouded in the shifting shadows of the broken pillars. They didn't move. Didn't speak, just silence.
But they were waiting.
Ryuxian flicked his tongue again, tasting the air. Still unfamiliar. Still unsettling.
> "Well?" he called out, his voice sharp, testing. "You gonna stand there all day, or do I have to come over and introduce myself?"
The figure shifted, stepping forward into the dying light.
A man.
Tall. Draped in dark robes that fluttered like they weren't entirely bound by reality. His face was mostly hidden beneath a hood, but Ryuxian could see his eyes.
Black. No whites, no irises—just two endless voids, swallowing the light.
> "You reek of defiance."
The man's voice was smooth, but wrong. Like it wasn't just one voice, but many, layered over each other.
Ryuxian bared his fangs. "Yeah, I get that a lot."
The man took another step forward, and suddenly—the ruins changed.
The stones around them shifted—not breaking, not crumbling, but twisting. Reality bent at the edges, warping like a dying flame.
The air itself turned thick.
> [Fateweaving Instinct Activated]
A flicker of possibilities flashed in Ryuxian's mind—a future where he attacked and his body was split in two. A future where he ran and the ruins swallowed him whole. A future where he stood his ground and…
He clenched his coils.
No matter which thread of fate he followed—this man was dangerous.
> "You're one of them, aren't you?" Ryuxian murmured. "Not a god. Not a mortal."
His tongue flicked out again. The scent. It was familiar, in a way he couldn't quite place. Like something just outside of memory.
The man tilted his head slightly. Watching. Calculating.
> "I am merely a weaver of forgotten threads."
The way he said it sent a chill through Ryuxian's scales.
The Black Thread of Fate pulsed within him, reacting to the man's presence. Warning him.
> "And you," the man continued, "have caught the attention of something far greater than you understand."
Ryuxian laughed, low and sharp. "Yeah? Well, join the club. I've been real popular lately."
The man didn't smile. He simply lifted a hand—his sleeve shifting unnaturally, as if his arm wasn't entirely… solid.
> "The Black Thread has chosen you."
A pulse.
> "And yet, you resist it."
The air split.
Reality twisted again, and suddenly—shadows surged toward Ryuxian, fast, sharp, impossible to dodge.
Instinct.
He reacted, coiling tight, his body flexing as he launched himself into the air—
But the shadows weren't solid.
They passed through him.
And suddenly—
He was somewhere else.
---
The Loom of Fate
"Every thread has a purpose. Every path has been walked before. And yet, you… you refuse to follow."
"This is not power, Ryuxian. This is consequence."
A dark void.
Silent. Endless, it can swallow anyone anything
Ryuxian's body hovered in the abyss, weightless. No ruins. No sky. No ground, he felt very weak under this shadow. No matter who he's
Son of Heaven!? Who the hell still he's a weak small snake.
And before him—
A loom.
Massive it collided each other the sight felt Impossible, he felt he doesn't remeber these type of scene even in anime that he watched. But deep down his fear grapping his throat and he didn't flinch.
Threads stretched across infinity, weaving into patterns he couldn't comprehend. Some burned with light, some pulsed with shadow. And in the center—
A single black thread.
His.
> "This is where fate is woven."
The man's voice echoed beside him. Ryuxian turned sharply—but he wasn't alone.
Other figures stood within the abyss. Hooded. Faceless. Watching.
> "All things are written here," the man continued, stepping toward the loom. "Paths decided. Destinies sealed."
His black, empty eyes turned toward Ryuxian.
> "Unless someone dares to rewrite them."
A challenge.
Ryuxian bared his fangs, his coils tightening. "You dragged me here to give me a philosophy lesson?"
The hooded figures shifted, moving unnaturally, their forms distorting. Their watchfull void eyes didn't let him to make a move.
The man lifted a hand toward the black thread.
> "This thread is yours."
The thread shuddered.
> "But it does not belong to you."
A jolt of energy surged through Ryuxian's body. The thread pulled at him—its presence inside him burning, twisting, warping.
Something was changing.
> [Fateweaving Instinct Expanding…]
The loom pulsed. The black thread coiled tighter.
And for the first time—
Ryuxian felt it.
Something pulling at his fate.
Something trying to claim him.
A whisper, barely audible, yet deafening in his mind.
> "Let go."
He snarled.
> "No."
The hooded figures moved.
The loom shuddered.
And then—
The world collapsed, he again felt into deep abyss. He told himself not to losse a hope or complain about it, he died as an adult, he understands how emotions play the role of someone so he tried to dismiss the thought but the fear of unknown it's not easy for him.
---
Back in the Ruins
Ryuxian slammed into the stone floor of the ruins, gasping. His scales burned. His mind spun. He can't even take care of himself with his serpent body, the weakness made him feel raged in his heart, he didn't asked for this.
The man stood over him, unshaken. Watching.
> "You resist well."
His void-like eyes gleamed.
> "But for how long?"
Then—he vanished.
No sound. No trace. Just… gone.
Ryuxian lay there for a moment, catching his breath. The ruins were still. The air no longer thick with unseen forces.
But the Black Thread of Fate inside him?
"You think it belongs to you. But you are the one bound to it."
"What you carry is not a gift. It is a question waiting to be answered."
It had changed.
> [Fateweaving Instinct Enhanced.]
[New Pathway Unlocked: ???]
He exhaled slowly.
Something told him this wasn't the last time he'd see that man.
And whatever was happening to his fate?
It was far from over.
The Loom of Fate (Continued)
Ryuxian gritted his fangs, his body burning with an unfamiliar force. The black thread before him pulsed, twisting in ways he couldn't understand. It wasn't just a part of him—it was something watching him, testing him.
The hooded figures in the void began to move, their forms shifting like ink bleeding into water. The man with the void-like eyes remained still, his gaze fixed on Ryuxian.
"We are not watchers. We are keepers. And you have stepped beyond what was meant to be kept."
"There is no fear in the void. Only inevitability."
> "You are resisting the inevitable."
The voice was steady, patient—too patient, as if time meant nothing to him.
"I died as a man. I was reborn a monster. But power does not belong to form—it belongs to will."
Ryuxian exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus. His body felt like it was being pulled in multiple directions, as if reality itself was trying to decide where he truly belonged. The loom of fate before him continued to weave, and for a brief moment—
He saw something.
A flash of futures.
A kingdom burning.
A throne of shattered gold.
A pair of silver eyes staring through the darkness.
His own fangs sinking into a god's throat.
The vision passed as quickly as it came, leaving Ryuxian breathless.
> "The Black Thread is rewriting itself," the man murmured, tilting his head slightly. "You are changing it."
Ryuxian snarled. "I don't care about fate. If someone thinks they can decide my future for me, they can—"
The void shuddered.
The hooded figures suddenly moved in unison—fast. A blur of shadowed forms lunging toward him, arms outstretched.
Ryuxian reacted.
Coiling tight, he twisted his body midair, dodging the first swipe of their clawed hands. The second one came faster—too fast. He braced for impact—
But something inside him snapped.
[Fateweaving Instinct Activated]
His body blurred, moving on its own. He didn't dodge—he stepped through the attack. The figure's claws passed through him like mist, as if he had briefly ceased to exist in that moment.
He landed several feet away, his golden eyes wide.
That wasn't just an instinct.
That was a power.
The hooded figures hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second.
But Ryuxian saw it.
> "Hah." His fangs glinted as he smirked. "You're scared of me, aren't you?"
The air shifted.
The man with void-like eyes remained still, but something about his presence deepened.
> "Fear is not the word," he said calmly. "Expectation is."
The figures moved again, but this time—Ryuxian was ready.
[Fateweaving Instinct—New Pathway: Phantom Step]
As the shadows lunged—he vanished.
Not dodging. Not running. Just gone.
For the briefest moment, he wasn't anywhere. Not in the void. Not in reality.
And when he reappeared—he was right behind the man.
The void-eyed man turned just slightly, as if he had already known.
> "Impressive."
Ryuxian didn't hesitate—he struck.
His fangs lunged for the man's throat—
And passed through nothing.
The man dissolved. A swirl of black mist dispersing into the void, reforming several feet away. He stood there, untouched, unreadable.
> "Not yet," the man murmured.
The loom behind them shuddered violently. The black thread twisted—and snapped.
The void collapsed.
Everything rushed back.
---
Back in the Ruins (Again)
Ryuxian gasped as his body slammed into the stone floor, his chest heaving. His mind was spinning, his veins still thrumming with whatever power had awakened in him.
He forced himself up, his muscles aching.
The ruins were still. The presence of the void-eyed man was gone. He felt exhausted is it training or testing but his emotions and body everything in turmoil like he doesn't have time to understand what's happening then he went to slumber..
But inside him—
The Black Thread had changed.
> [Fateweaving Instinct Evolved.]
[New Pathway Unlocked: Phantom Step]
[??? Remains Unwritten.]
Ryuxian exhaled slowly.
Whatever had just happened—
It was only the beginning.
And someone out there was watching him.
"If fate is a story already written, then I'll burn the pages."
"Let them watch. Let them expect. I don't dance for ghosts."
"The Black Thread didn't choose me. I took it. And I'll decide what that means."