"It's naïve of me… really. To think I could save you all !!.... To think you were just defenseless people caught in fate's web."
"You called for a savior, and when one arrived, you built a cage. Shall I show you what it means to trap a serpent?"
His voice was different now—darker, edged with something ancient, something inhuman, a voice that resonated with unseen power. His lips curled into a smirk, but there was no warmth in it, only a chilling display of dark amusement.
"And yet, again and again… I make the same mistake."
A hushed murmur swept through the villagers, a wave of fear rippling through their ranks. Some took cautious steps backward, their movements jerky and uncertain. Others gripped whatever they could for protection, even though they knew—nothing could protect them from the one standing before them now, the embodiment of their darkest fears.
"You think you know me?"
The moment he said that, another chuckle bubbled up from his throat, but this time—his body began to change, the transformation beginning.
The Serpent Code whispered to him, a voice slithering through his mind, a dark temptation.
You always were meant for something more, weren't you?
Another voice echoed—the presence of his own Thread Weaver, a force he never truly acknowledged until now, a primal power stirring within him.
Something inside him snapped, a breaking point reached.
His skin rippled, the flesh twisting and contorting. His bones twisted, stretching unnaturally, the skeletal structure shifting and reforming. His shadow, which had once left him, returned—but it did not take human form, a dark parody.
It took shape as something vast… something monstrous, a creature of legend.
"You think I'm a human?"
The villagers' breath hitched, their eyes widening in terror, witnessing the impossible.
Before their very eyes, Ryuxian's body contorted, shifting and unraveling into something new—a great white serpent, a creature of myth made real.
His cloak disintegrated into threads, weaving into his new form, the fabric merging with his scales. His body expanded—larger than any mortal beast, his ivory-white scales gleaming under the sky like polished obsidian, reflecting the light with an eerie sheen. His once violet and blue eyes now burned pure, no longer bound by human expression, but radiating a cold, divine power.
The ground trembled beneath his sheer presence, the earth shuddering under the weight of his transformation.
A divine being.
A nightmare made real.
A White Serpent.
Fear Like Never Before
The villagers had always heard of the White Serpents—legendary beings, divine omens, bringers of fortune, figures of ancient lore.
But what stood before them now… was something else entirely, a terrifying manifestation of their deepest fears.
A forgotten village, filled with forgotten people, clinging to the remnants of their existence.
And now, standing before them, a forgotten god, a being of immense and terrifying power.
Yet, this wasn't a being of mercy, a benevolent deity.
Their fear shifted, morphing into something primal and raw. It was no longer the kind of fear they had known all their lives, a familiar dread.
It was primal, the terror of the hunted.
It was the fear of prey facing a predator, the chilling realization of their own vulnerability.
"You think I'm one of you?"
His voice—no longer confined to human tones—echoed through their minds, vibrating deep into their bones, a telepathic roar.
Then—his threads appeared, a terrifying display of divine power.
What had been unseen before, what had always remained in the background, now burst forth in full, terrifying clarity, a manifestation of his true nature.
A million.
No—millions upon millions of threads spiraled around him, weaving in and out of the air in intricate, unreadable patterns, a storm of unseen connections.
They stretched high into the sky, reaching towards the heavens, a network of cosmic threads.
They plunged deep beneath the earth, anchoring his power to the very core of the world.
A storm of fate itself, a manifestation of his absolute control.
And then—
He struck.
Threads pierced the ground like divine spears, shattering the earth beneath the village, the very ground they stood on. The very foundations of their world trembled as fate's unseen strings wrapped around reality itself, tearing at the fabric of their existence.
Screams erupted as the villagers fell, struggling to stay upright as the ground cracked and split, the earth opening up beneath them. Some tried to run—only for their own threads to
Screams erupted as the villagers fell, struggling to stay upright as the ground cracked and split, the earth opening up beneath them. Some tried to run—only for their own threads to coil around their ankles, dragging them back into the madness, pulling them into the chasm of fate.
The air buzzed with energy, alive with a force no mortal should ever touch, a raw, untamed power.
Fate does not wait for those who hesitate.
It takes.
And it devours.
The forgotten village—abandoned by the world, erased by history—was finally remembered, its existence violently reclaimed.
And fate had come to collect, a reckoning long overdue.
The Dance of Chaos
Above them all, the White Serpent moved with unnatural grace, his immense form weaving through the storm of threads, untouched by the chaos he unleashed, a divine conductor amidst the symphony of destruction.
His body weaved through the storm of threads, untouched by the chaos he unleashed, a being of pure, unadulterated power.
Every motion—a silent command, a telepathic decree.
Every flick of his tail—destruction incarnate, a ripple of devastating energy.
Some villagers tried to fight back, their desperate attempts futile. Arrows, blades, spells—all turned to nothing before they could even reach him, their efforts swallowed by the storm.
The threads swallowed them, twisting their attacks into mere illusions before fading away, reducing their defiance to ephemeral whispers.
There was no battle, no contest of equals.
Only inevitability, the crushing weight of fate.
And as Ryuxian watched them, watched the fear in their eyes, he realized something, a chilling revelation.
This wasn't just their fate, a predetermined outcome.
It was his, a path he was now irrevocably bound to.
He had always fought to control fate—to change what was written, to defy the threads that bound him. But now…
Now, fate moved through him, a current carrying him along its predetermined course.
And he let it, surrendering to the power that surged within him.
The Judgment of the Serpent
The last of the resistance collapsed, their cries fading into whimpers.
The storm of threads slowed, winding back into the depths of the earth, retracting like the tendrils of a monstrous beast.
Silence fell over the village, a heavy, suffocating stillness.
The sky, once choked by gray clouds, cleared, revealing a vast expanse of blue.
Sunlight poured down upon the ruins of the forgotten land, illuminating the devastation.
For the first time in years—perhaps centuries—the village felt the warmth of light, a stark contrast to the darkness that had consumed it.
The divine serpent coiled, his enormous form towering over what remained of the people, a majestic and terrifying presence. His violet and blue eyes gleamed, no longer reflecting human emotion, as he looked down upon them, a gaze that held the weight of divine judgment.
Then—without another word—he vanished, his form dissolving into threads.
His form dispersed into threads, scattering into the wind, leaving behind only the echoes of his power.
The villagers—those who remained, survivors of the storm—could only stare at the empty space where he had been, their minds reeling.
A savior?
A destroyer?
A god?
No one knew, their understanding shattered by the sheer magnitude of what they had witnessed.
All they knew was one thing, a truth etched into their very souls.
They would never forget him, the White Serpent, the bringer of fate.
Never again, their memories forever stained with the terror of his presence.