Chapter 4: The First Thread to Cut
The city was restless.
Severence moved through the skyline like a phantom, his presence unnoticed, his form blending with the shifting darkness. The night in New York had a rhythm to it—cars below wove through endless streams of light, pedestrians moved in hurried steps, and the distant hum of civilization droned on without end.
But he had no interest in the mundane.
His focus was elsewhere.
The tremor in fate he had sensed earlier had not faded. If anything, it had sharpened, drawing his attention like a blade pressing against skin. It was the unmistakable pull of a life soon to be lost. A cruel fate about to be sealed.
Yet, as he moved, something became clear.
The woman in the alley… she was no one.
Not a hero. Not a villain. Not a force meant to shape the world. Her life would come and go like countless others—unnoticed, untouched by destiny.
And that meant she was not his to save.
Severence slowed, his gaze narrowing. The threads of fate were wrapped tightly around her, pulling her toward death with certainty. A cruel fate, yes—but not an important one. If he severed it, nothing in this world would change. She would live, and perhaps in time, she would fade just as easily.
His hand flexed at his side.
This is not my purpose.
He had learned long ago that to sever fate carelessly was to invite chaos. Every world had its own balance—heroes who would rise, villains who would fall, struggles that needed to happen. If he simply cut every injustice, he would leave behind nothing but disorder.
Only those who shaped the world's course—only they were his to change.
And this woman was not one of them.
He exhaled and turned away.
Her fate was not his concern.
Yet, the weight of reality settled around him. Fate, no matter how cruel, had a way of reinforcing itself. The woman screamed—short, panicked, followed by the desperate sounds of struggling. The three men had made their move.
A knife gleamed briefly under the dim streetlights. Then came a single gasp.
It was over in moments.
Severence did not turn back.
He did not need to.
A thread had been cut, but not by his hand.
Reality moved forward, unchanged.
---
Farther into the city, he continued his search.
The skyline stretched endlessly before him, artificial lights drowning out the stars. From up here, New York felt less like a city and more like a living organism—a mass of people, all moving, struggling, surviving.
He ignored them.
He was searching for something else.
Severence did not know what form fate's cruelty would take in this world, but he felt it. Somewhere, there was a thread waiting to be severed. A force bound to someone who mattered.
He focused.
For a brief moment, he closed his eyes and reached out—not with sight, not with sound, but with something deeper.
Fate was a current, always flowing. And within that current, he could feel its disturbances. Small ones were constant—people making decisions, forging their own paths. But there were larger ones, the moments where fate locked itself in place, refusing to bend.
Those were the moments he sought.
And he had just found one.
It was distant, but undeniable.
A thread was being tied into an unbreakable knot.
A cruel fate, a point of no return.
Severence's eyes opened.
A single name echoed within him.
Tony Stark.
A man whose actions would define the course of this world's future. A man whose fate, at some point, had been locked onto sacrifice.
This was what he had been waiting for.
He moved.
Wind howled as he stepped forward, the city blurring past him. Each step covered distance impossible for a normal being, his form slipping through the fabric of the world itself. He was neither running nor flying—simply moving, ignoring the limits of reality.
Minutes passed in seconds.
And then, he stopped.
He had arrived.
Stark Tower loomed above him, a testament to one man's ambition and arrogance. The building's sleek glass reflected the city below, its presence a symbol of modern progress.
Severence studied it with detached curiosity.
He knew of Tony Stark, of course. Even before stepping into this world, he had known. His name echoed across realities, a figure entwined in the fates of countless others. A hero to many. A fool to some. A man who would one day make a choice that no one else could.
And yet, for all his brilliance, Stark was still bound.
Fate had already marked him.
Severence took another step forward.
He would watch. Observe. Understand.
Only then would he decide if Tony Stark's fate was worth severing.
But one thing was certain.
The moment Severence entered this world… fate had already begun to change.