Darkness.
Not empty… not cold… but alive.
Arin floated in a realm between thought and form. His body dissolved, rebuilt, unmade, and reshaped again. The dual cores in his chest spun violently—one a radiant sun of pure life, the other a pulsating black hole of annihilation.
They clashed within him.
Creation wanted to build.
Destruction wanted to consume.
And Arin?
He screamed wordlessly in the void.
> [System Override: Host Stabilization In Progress…]
[Soulframe Binding: 92%… 96%… 100%]
[System Sync Complete.]
Light tore through the dark. And Arin's eyes snapped open.
---
He gasped for air like he'd been drowning.
The sky above was bright blue. Warm wind caressed his skin. Birds chirped from distant trees. Grass rustled beneath his back.
He blinked hard. Alive. Breathing.
Then the pain hit.
A sharp stab across his ribs. Muscles torn. Skin scorched from inside. His cores were stable… barely. If not for the system's auto-stabilization, he'd be ash.
He sat up slowly, groaning.
And then he noticed her.
Lyra.
She sat cross-legged beside a small campfire, her white cloak fluttering gently in the breeze. Her long, silver hair shimmered like moonlight. And in her lap, she held his shirt, carefully stitching it with golden thread.
"You're awake," she said softly, not looking up. "You slept for two days."
"…Two?"
"Your soul almost burned itself out. Dual cores aren't meant to coexist. You're… not supposed to be possible."
He coughed, bitter laughter escaping his cracked lips. "Yeah. Story of my life."
She smiled faintly.
"You erased an entire village, you know."
His face darkened. "They were going to sacrifice me."
"I'm not judging." She looked up, eyes glowing faintly violet. "I'm saying… that kind of power is terrifying."
He fell silent.
The fire crackled. Wind whispered through the trees.
Arin's fingers twitched. Creation hummed under his skin. Destruction growled in his bones. Both forces coiled in his blood like sleeping beasts.
He clenched his fists.
"I didn't ask for this," he muttered.
"No," she agreed. "But now the world turns because of you."
---
Later that evening, Lyra handed him a warm drink brewed from spiritroot herbs. He drank in silence, watching her from the corner of his eye.
There was something about her…
Not just her beauty—though that was distracting enough. But the way her aura felt. Ancient. Calm. Almost divine.
"Why are you helping me?" he asked.
She turned toward him, firelight dancing across her flawless face.
"Because I was there the day the gods cursed you," she said softly. "I saw the mark. I felt the moment you were branded."
His breath caught.
"You were… there?"
She nodded. "I was sent to observe. But I was too weak to act back then. I was still bound to the Mortal Veil."
He narrowed his eyes. "You're not human, are you?"
She didn't answer directly. Just looked at him with those soul-deep eyes.
"I'm many things," she said. "But right now, I'm the only one standing between you and the Divine Executioners."
"Executioners?"
Lyra stood and walked to the edge of the clearing. Her gaze turned upward—to the clouds above, where thunderheads now rolled unnaturally fast.
> "The gods have felt your awakening. They're terrified."
Thunder cracked in the distance.
> "They'll send their agents. Warlords. Cults. Enforcers. And eventually… the Pantheon itself."
Arin stood, blood rushing.
"Then let them come."
Lyra turned, and her expression shifted—something between admiration and concern.
"You're powerful, Arin… but raw. The cores are fused, not harmonized. You're still a weapon. Not yet a god."
He clenched his jaw. "Then teach me."
She blinked.
"You want me to—?"
"You said you've been watching me. Then help me control it. Help me survive."
Her eyes softened.
"…Very well," she said. "But first, we move. This place will be ashes by morning."
---
That night, they ran through the forests of the Southern Wilds.
Arin moved faster than any human should, each step enhanced by flickers of white energy. Lyra moved like wind—fluid, untouched, barely making a sound.
They didn't speak.
But each time she looked back at him, he caught something in her eyes. Worry? Or… something else?
By sunrise, they reached the edge of a cliff overlooking a massive valley. In its center stood a temple made of crystal and bone, pulsing with faint red light.
"The Temple of Threads," Lyra said. "Where fates are written and erased."
Arin narrowed his eyes.
"I feel… something calling me."
"That's because your power rewrote the fate lines. You've already begun to pull on the Loom."
She stepped closer, her voice suddenly lower. "If you enter that place, you'll be seen by more than just gods. Time, fate, and death will start paying attention."
He didn't hesitate. "Good. I'm done hiding."
---
They stepped through the temple's threshold. And everything changed.
Reality rippled.
One moment, Arin was on stone. The next—he stood inside a mirror of the world, a phantom realm where colors bled and sounds echoed twice.
A voice spoke from everywhere and nowhere.
> "Another one dares the Loom…"
The air shifted.
From the shadows emerged a being draped in golden chains, her face veiled, her arms long and fluid like silk. She radiated immense pressure. Even Lyra stepped back.
Arin didn't.
The being's eyes glowed through the veil.
> "Creation and Destruction… fused in mortal flesh… The last time that happened, stars died."
She drifted forward, examining him.
> "You are an error. A miracle. A threat."
"Yeah," Arin said calmly. "I've been called worse."
The being raised her hand—and time froze.
Birds paused in mid-air. Flames hung still. Even Lyra couldn't move.
Only Arin stood, heart hammering, caught in the center of cosmic scrutiny.
> [System Alert: Divine Entity Detected — Weaver of Fates, Tier: Ascendant God]
[Power Comparison: 0.5% Match]
[Warning: You will be erased.]
The Weaver leaned close.
> "You have potential. Chaos follows you like a shadow. But without balance, you'll fall. Do you wish to know your true path, Arin Kaelith?"
"…Yes."
She reached out, finger touching his forehead—
And in a flash, he saw everything.
---
A burning throne of bones.
A sword forged from the first star.
A woman with eyes like his—screaming.
Beasts made from emotion itself.
A god falling from the sky, begging for mercy.
And Arin… towering over broken worlds, alone.
---
He staggered back, breath ragged. "What… was that?"
The Weaver's voice echoed like thunder.
> "Possibility. One of many paths. Walk wisely."
Then she faded into threads of gold.
Time resumed.
Lyra gasped, catching Arin before he collapsed again. "What happened?!"
He looked at her, eyes haunted.
"…I saw the end."
---
That night, as the stars wheeled above them, they sat beside a quiet river, the temple far behind them.
Lyra had stripped her cloak and now wore only a simple white tunic that clung to her as she sat with her feet in the water. Her hair shimmered under starlight, her legs bare, smooth, long.
Arin found himself watching her too long.
She noticed—and smiled softly.
"You keep staring."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. You're not the first."
He snorted. "I bet."
She leaned back on her palms. "Is it the goddess aura or just the legs?"
He laughed. "Maybe both."
She turned to face him.
"Why are you still so human?" she asked. "With all that power… you could be cold. Detached."
He looked away, voice low.
"Because the boy they threw into that ruin… still hurts."
She stared at him a moment longer, then slid beside him, their shoulders brushing.
Warm. Close.
"I'll help you," she said. "Not just with the cores. But with the pain. If you'll let me."
His heart jumped. He turned—and found her face inches from his.
Her lips were soft.
And when she kissed him—the cores pulsed together in perfect harmony.
Creation glowed.
Destruction purred.
Balance—if only for a moment—was achieved.
They pulled apart slowly.
"…That helped," he murmured.
She smiled. "Told you."
But just as peace touched them, the wind turned icy.
Lyra stood immediately, eyes narrowing. "They've found us."
A red sigil flared in the sky.
From the trees emerged armored figures in black and gold—the Knights of Divine Judgment.
Each carried a blessed relic.
Each had one purpose.
> "Target confirmed. Arin Kaelith. Destroyer-class anomaly."
> "By order of the Pantheon, we deliver divine judgment!"