The God of Destiny's golden threads of fate scattered like broken glass. His once all-powerful presence had withered away into something fragile, almost human. I watched him struggle to comprehend what had just happened. The look in his eyes was one of pure disbelief, as if reality itself had betrayed him.
"How… how could this happen?" he whispered, clutching at his chest as though trying to feel some remnant of his power. "I am destiny… the arbiter of all outcomes… How could I lose?"
I knelt beside him, trying to make him see the truth. "You're still trying to hold onto something that's gone. Your powers, your control over fate it's all over. Celos didn't just defeat you; he dismantled the very foundation of your power. You're not bound by destiny anymore."
But he didn't seem to hear me. He looked around with vacant eyes, searching for the threads that once guided everything according to his will. "No… this can't be… I am destiny itself… The paths, the narratives, they have to be there…"
I grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to meet my gaze. "They're gone! Your control is shattered, and there's no fixing it. But that doesn't mean you're finished. You still have a choice—to accept this and find a new path, or remain lost in your delusions."
For a moment, his eyes locked onto mine, full of confusion, doubt, and something almost childlike—a deep fear of the unknown. Then, as if the weight of everything finally crashed down on him, tears welled up in his eyes. He looked so broken, like a man who had just lost everything he'd ever known.
"I was supposed to be unchangeable," he whispered, more to himself than to me. "I controlled every thread, every possibility… How could it all be gone?" His voice was trembling, fragile.
I softened my tone. "Destiny isn't just about control. It's about the journey—sometimes things happen that are out of your hands. You were bound by your own rules, but now you have the chance to live beyond those constraints."
He looked at me, tears streaming down his face. It was the first time I saw the God of Destiny as something more than a tyrant—he was just someone who had never known life outside of absolute certainty. "You… you would let me join you?" he asked, his voice shaking.
I nodded. "Yeah. You're free to choose now. I could use someone like you on this journey. No more rules, no more binding yourself to absolutes—just freedom to explore and grow."
He stared at me for a long moment, the tears still falling, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Perhaps… this is my true fate. My destiny was never to control everything… but to let go." His voice was soft, almost at peace.
Then, something shifted. A red flame flickered into existence on his forehead, a symbol of rebirth—a new path forged from the ashes of his shattered control. As he opened his eyes again, they were different—calmer, accepting. "I… accept my destiny," he said, his voice filled with both sorrow and relief. "I'll follow you, Sion."
Just as the moment settled, a harsh coughing sound drew my attention. I turned to see Celos doubled over, gripping his chest in pain. His dark aura flickered like a dying light, and his usually confident demeanor was replaced by strained grimaces.
"Celos! What's happening to you?" I asked, rushing toward him.
He laughed bitterly, though it was clear he was suffering. "This… is the price… for pushing anti-concepts to their absolute limit," he managed between gasps. "You think you can just defy the very fabric of reality without consequences?"
I knelt beside him, trying to understand. "But you were in control! You dismantled the God of Destiny like it was nothing!"
Celos gritted his teeth, struggling to keep his composure. "Anti-concepts… they don't just negate. They erase, rewrite, and destabilize everything—including the user. When you push them to the level I did, you're fighting against the very laws that make existence possible. I tore apart the boundaries of logic, causality, and reality itself to win this battle—but that comes at a cost."
I watched in horror as cracks began to form along Celos's body, almost like fractures in a delicate glass sculpture. Dark energy seeped from those cracks, distorting the space around him. "It's like holding a paradox inside you," he continued, his voice strained. "The more you use anti-concepts, the more you destabilize yourself. My own existence is unraveling bit by bit. It's only a matter of time before…"
"Before what?" I demanded, gripping his shoulder.
"Before I cease to be," Celos replied, a grim smile on his face. "The more I push anti-concepts, the less I belong in this reality. I can hold myself together for a while, but I'm always walking the edge. One wrong move, and I could just… vanish."
I clenched my fists. I didn't like the idea of someone as strong as Celos being reduced to this. "Isn't there anything you can do? Any way to stop it?"
Celos shook his head. "This is the price I pay for being what I am. Anti-concepts are the ultimate weapon, but they're also a curse. They consume everything—including the user."
Destiny, now by my side, watched in silence. The tears had stopped, replaced by a solemn understanding. "Even those who reject fate cannot escape the consequences of their own power," he murmured. "It's ironic, in a way."
Celos chuckled weakly. "Yeah, life's full of irony. But don't worry about me, Sion. I'll be fine… for now. I just have to be careful how far I push it next time."
Even as he said it, I couldn't shake the unease growing in my chest. Celos was right—he was powerful, maybe even unstoppable—but at what cost? If every battle brought him closer to the brink, how long could he keep this up before he truly broke?
For now, though, all I could do was watch as he steadied himself, hiding the cracks beneath a forced smirk. The war was over for now, but the tension hadn't left. I could feel it—a lingering shadow over our next steps.
As we turned to leave the battlefield, Destiny glanced at me with a faint smile. "You've given me something I never thought possible—a new path. I'll follow you, Sion. Let's see where this journey takes us."
With that, our strange alliance was forged. But in the back of my mind, I couldn't shake the fear that next time, Celos might push too far. And if that happened… would there be anything left of him at all?
A shadow moved in the distance. Before any of us could react, a spear, jet-black and humming with dark energy, tore through the air and pierced Destiny's torso. His eyes widened in shock as blood spurted from his mouth, his body jerking as he gripped the spear embedded in his chest.
"No!" I shouted, rushing toward him, but I wasn't fast enough.
Destiny's breath hitched, his voice choking on blood as he whispered, "Sion..."
Everyone turned to the source of the attack, and there she was-the Weaver of Fate.
Her cold, calculating gaze met ours as she stepped forward, her presence sending shivers down my spine. Her form was wreathed in shadows, dark tendrils swirling around her like living chains.
The Weaver's eyes bore into Destiny with icy contempt. "Pathetic," she spat, her voice like venom. "You were never worthy of controlling fate, let alone writing the story of this world. You were always just a tool, a failure clinging to false power."
Destiny gasped for breath, his hand reaching out weakly toward me as the light in his eyes began to fade. "Sion... why...?"
"Hold on!" I yelled, but his strength was leaving him, his grip loosening as his hand fell limp. The red flame on his forehead flickered out, and his body stilled. My chest tightened, anger boiling up inside me. "What was your purpose of doing that!"
The Weaver sneered, her aura growing darker and more suffocating. "There's no room for weakness in the tapestry of fate. He was a blemish that needed to be erased. He had the audacity to think he could shape reality, but all he did was entangle himself in his own threads. I simply cut them loose."
Celos stepped forward, his face pale and strained. The aftereffects of using anti-concepts at full power were showing-his breaths were labored, and his form flickered like a glitch in reality. "You think you can take over now?" he asked me, trying to steady himself.
The Weaver's aura surged, crackling with power as she prepared for battle. "You're all so caught up in the details, in clinging to your precious concepts and fates. But I will tear it all down and write my own story, a story where I hold the pen."
Destiny's body lay still, his once-defiant gaze now empty. The tears he'd shed were dried on his cheeks, and all that remained was the spear protruding from his chest, a cruel reminder of how fragile even gods could be.
But I couldn't let her rewrite everything. Not after what we'd been through. I clenched my fists, ready to face whatever came next. "We're not letting you take over. You might think you control the narrative, but this is where your story ends."
Celos nodded weakly, summoning what strength he had left. "Even if I fade away, I'll make sure you never take control. Sion, let's put an end to this."
The Weaver smirked, her dark aura intensifying as she readied herself for the final clash. "You think you can stop me? You'll soon see how insignificant you truly are."