The figure’s head tilted down, looking at Damian’s frozen face standing before it.
Then it spoke, the voice carrying something that might have been amusement.
"Survive?"
The word hung in the frozen air.
"You’re asking the wrong question, Fate."
The voice grew stronger despite the figure’s weakened state.
"The question isn’t whether he can survive what’s coming. The question is..."
Another pause, loaded with meaning.
"Whether the universe can survive him."
Silence fell between the figure and the barely-visible threads in the sky.
Then the figure’s head tilted back up, looking at where Fate’s presence lingered.
"But for you to ask me that question, despite everything that just happened..."
The voice dropped lower.
"It seems like you still have your last move to play before our game ends today."
The weak chuckling sound emerged from the fading threads, distorted and strained.
"No, I really can’t do anything now. You’ve made sure of that."
The threads pulsed faintly.
"But in the game of chess, the most important move, the move that truly defines the entire game..."
The voice paused.
"It isn’t the last one. It’s the one that started the game in the first place."
The figure went completely still, staring up at the threads that were barely visible now.
"What are you talking about?"
The question came out quiet, almost a whisper.
"Do you truly think you were the one who started all of this? That your pieces were white?"
Fate’s voice was fading, growing more distant with each word.
"All this time, you never even realized the side that you were actually playing on."
The figure stood there in silence for a long moment, processing those words.
Then it whispered again.
"I see..."
The voice carried something that might have been revelation.
"I understand everything now."
The threads were almost completely gone now, just faint traces remaining in the sky.
But the weak voice of Fate emerged one final time, carrying absolute certainty.
"Mortals can run from me, they can play their games, they can delay the inevitable with their schemes and sacrifices..."
The words came slower, each one taking effort.
"But in the end, I shall always prevail."
A final pause.
"He is no exception to that truth."
And then the threads vanished completely, leaving the sky empty and dark once more.
The figure stood alone in the frozen world, looking up at where Fate had been, lost in its own thoughts.
Then its translucent hand reached down, picking up the two destroyed halves of the novel from the snow.
The halves shimmered and disappeared, fading from existence as if they’d never been there at all.
"Indeed..."
The figure’s voice came out quiet.
"Against Mortals, Fate shall always prevail."
The words carried weight, layers of meaning that went deeper than their surface.
Then something changed.
The snow that had been suspended in the air started falling again, flakes drifting down naturally.
The wind resumed, carrying distant sounds from the training center.
Time began moving once more.
’–piece? What does that me–’
And Damian’s thought finished forming as time caught up to him, his mind trying to process what the figure had offered.
But his thoughts came to an abrupt stop as he looked at the figure standing before him.
’What the–’
The figure’s form was translucent now, wavering like smoke, barely solid.
The black energy that had surrounded it before was thin and weak, struggling to maintain cohesion.
’It was solid just a moment ago, and now it’s...’
Damian’s eyes widened as he stared.
’Did it do something?’
"You..."
The word escaped Damian’s mouth before he could stop it.
"What happened to you? Why are you–"
"From now on, Fate itself won’t be able to directly interfere with your life."
The figure’s voice cut through his question, calm and matter-of-fact.
’Fate?’
Damian’s thoughts stuttered.
’So Fate really is a conscious entity...’
The implications of what he’d just heard, spread through his mind.
’Does that mean all the laws of the universe are conscious? Are they all watching, all aware of what happens?’
He looked at the blurry, translucent form standing before him.
’And it became like this because–’
Before the thought could finish, the figure waved its hand.
Riip
Space tore open beside them, a dimensional rift splitting reality like fabric being cut.
And something started emerging from the tear.
The handle came first, wrapped in some kind of black material, longer than any normal grip should be.
’Is this... an axe?’
Then the blade itself pushed through, and Damian’s breath caught in his throat.
The entire weapon was forged from unknown material that looked like solidified darkness, edges so sharp they seemed to cut through the air itself as it moved.
The design was menacing in a way that went beyond mere appearance, brutal and efficient, every line and curve speaking of violence and death.
Thump... thump...
But what made his heart hammer against his ribs were the five marks carved into the blade’s surface.
They looked like flowing blood, deep crimson lines that moved and pulsed as if alive, writhing across the black metal in patterns that hurt to look at directly.
Each mark seemed to contain something vast and terrible, power compressed to a point that reality itself struggled to contain.
The axe fully emerged from the dimensional tear, hanging suspended in the air between them.
And the moment it completely manifested–
Thud
Pressure slammed down on Damian like a collapsing mountain.
His knees buckled instantly, hitting the snow hard as his entire body was forced down by weight he couldn’t resist.
’This pressure–’
His thoughts came fragmented, struggling under the oppressive force.
’It’s crushing me!’
He tried to lift his head, his eyes catching movement above.
Dark clouds were gathering in the sky, rolling in from nowhere, swallowing the stars and moon as they spread.
’These clouds...’
Recognition hit him like ice water.
’They’re exactly the same as the tribulation I faced!’
The clouds churned faster, lightning beginning to flash in their depths.
Boom Boom
Thunder rumbled across the heavens, building toward judgment.
’What kind of axe is this?! Just existing is enough to trigger a tribulation?!’
The figure looked up at the gathering storm, those dark clouds preparing to unleash catastrophe on the weapon.
Then it spoke, voice calm and carrying absolute authority.
"Begone."
The single word cut through the building thunder.
And the clouds stopped.
Just froze in place, lightning still flickering in their depths.
Then they started breaking apart, dissolving like they’d been dismissed, retreating until the night sky was clear once more.
’This...’
Damian’s mind couldn’t process what he’d just witnessed.
’Did this guy... just dismiss a tribulation with a single word?’
Tribulations represented the universe’s rules, they couldn’t be reasoned with or avoided.
You either survived or died, but this figure had simply told it to leave.
’And the tribulation actually... listened?!’
The figure’s translucent hand rose again, pointing toward the suspended axe.
And the five blood marks pulsed once, then began sinking into the blade itself, disappearing beneath the black surface as if locked behind invisible chains.
The crushing pressure vanished instantly.
Pant... pant...
Damian gasped, air rushing back into his lungs as the weight lifted.
The figure turned toward him.
"The axe you currently possess isn’t strong enough to help you in your fight against the nightmares that are coming."
The voice was matter-of-fact.
"This is the only weapon suitable for the path you’ve chosen."
It gestured toward the suspended axe.
"Come, try to lift it."
Damian’s hand moved unconsciously, reaching out before his mind fully processed the command.
His fingers wrapped around the long black handle, the unknown material cold against his palm.
And the moment his grip closed–
Thud
The axe dropped to the ground, hitting the snow with a sound far too heavy for its size.
’What?’
Damian’s eyes widened.
The weapon hadn’t even shifted when he’d pulled, as if his grip meant nothing.
He adjusted his stance, planting his feet firmly, and pulled harder.
But nothing happened.
’Move!’
His muscles strained, Aura flooding through his arms as he channeled everything toward the simple task of lifting the axe.
But the weapon didn’t budge even a fraction.
Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cold.
’Let’s go all out!’
His Telekinesis activated, invisible force wrapping around the axe’s form.
But the axe remained perfectly still again.
’Even Telekinesis powered by 500 Will isn’t enough?!’
His thoughts came disbelieving.
’Just how heavy is this thing?!’
Suddenly, the figure’s laughter cut through his efforts, that voice carrying genuine amusement.
"The axe isn’t a normal weapon."
Damian looked up, his hand still gripping the handle.
"It has a consciousness of its own, an awareness that judges those who try to wield it."
The translucent form shifted slightly.
"Unless it finds you worthy, unless it chooses to accept you as its master, you won’t be able to use it at all."
’I see... A sentient weapon.’
Damian’s eyes remained locked on back the weapon lying in the snow.
"A weapon like this should have a name, right?"
The question left his mouth as he continued staring at the menacing blade.
For some reason, the figure remained silent for a long moment.
Then it spoke.
"What do you think its name should be?"
Damian’s eyes lifted from the weapon, finding the translucent form standing before him.
His crimson gaze searched that impenetrable darkness where a face should be, looking for answers he knew wouldn’t come easily.
"Who really are you?"
The question came out quiet but demanding.
"Are you... my future self?"
Silence fell across the frozen landscape.
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