Chapters 9-14: "The First Thread of a New Fate" to "The Breaking of Fate." Supernatural & Dark Fantasy Manga Web Novel - Crimson High: The Blood Pact
Chapter 9: The First Thread of a New Fate
The Loom was no longer collapsing.
It was rebuilding itself—but not in the way it had existed before.
At the center of it all stood Riku Kurobane.
Or at least, the new version of him.
His body no longer felt entirely human—his very essence was woven into the fabric of reality itself. The moment he had fused with the Original Thread, something within him had shifted, something that went beyond pacts, beyond power, beyond even the Headmaster’s understanding.
For the first time in history, the Loom did not have a ruler.
It had a creator.
And Riku was it.
The Headmaster and the First Pact-Holder stood before him, their battle halted by the sheer weight of the power radiating from Riku.
Neither of them had ever stood before a true Weaver.
And neither of them could predict what he was about to do.
The First Pact-Holder’s golden eyes burned with disbelief. “Riku, you can’t keep it. That power isn’t meant for mortals.”
The Headmaster, now reshaped by his absorption of the Loom’s energy, only smirked. “So, what’s your move, new god?”
Riku looked down at his hands. Threads of existence itself coiled around his fingers, waiting for his command.
He could see everything.
The threads of Crimson High, binding the souls of the students in contracts they never fully understood.
The threads of every pact-holder in history, their fates decided long before they had ever made a choice.
Even the threads of the Headmaster and the First Pact-Holder, intertwined in a cycle of war, of control, of never-ending conflict.
"This is what I am now."
The master of fate.
And his first act would change everything.
For centuries, the Loom had functioned as a cage—binding souls, controlling destiny, shaping power through sacrifice.
Riku could end it.
He could cut the final thread and erase every pact, every contract, every unnatural bond that had ever been forged.
The school would crumble.
The faculty would cease to exist.
The Headmaster’s reign would be undone.
And yet…
Riku hesitated.
Because the moment he reached for that final thread—
He saw something even more terrifying.
As Riku prepared to erase the Loom, his mind was flooded with visions.
Not of the past.
Not of the present.
But of something buried even deeper.
Something sealed within the Loom itself.
For the first time, he saw the true reason the First Pact-Holder had built the system.
Not for control.
Not for power.
But for containment.
Deep within the threads of fate, something moved.
Something that should never have existed.
Something that had been kept bound by the very pacts Riku now controlled.
And if he erased the system entirely…
He wouldn’t be setting people free.
He would be releasing the thing that had been sealed away before time began.
The true origin of all pacts.
The first entity to ever feed on power and sacrifice.
A being not bound by laws, but by necessity.
Riku’s breath hitched.
"No."
For the first time, he understood the full weight of the Loom.
If he destroyed it, he would be breaking the last seal.
And the thing on the other side…
Would devour everything.
The Headmaster’s eyes gleamed.
Because he already knew.
He had known all along that the Loom wasn’t just a system—it was a prison.
And he hadn’t been trying to destroy it.
He had been trying to take control of it before Riku realized the truth.
"You hesitated," the Headmaster said softly. "That means you saw it."
Riku whirled toward him, fists clenched. "You knew what was inside the Loom, didn’t you? And you still wanted to control it?"
The Headmaster’s smile didn’t fade.
"Of course. Power means nothing if it isn’t used."
Then, in a blur of motion, he moved.
Not toward Riku.
Toward the core of the Loom.
Toward the thing Riku had just seen.
And with a single, terrifyingly calm motion—
He cut his own thread.
The moment the Headmaster severed his own existence, the Loom convulsed violently.
The energy he had absorbed from the system didn’t vanish.
It transferred.
Straight into the sealed entity.
The First Pact-Holder’s eyes widened in horror. “No—what have you done?!”
A crack formed in the heart of the Loom.
And something on the other side laughed.
The Loom was fracturing.
The seal was failing.
The Headmaster had sacrificed himself, not to end the system, but to feed the thing inside it.
Riku had seconds to act.
The First Pact-Holder turned to him, desperate. “Riku, you’re the only one left! If you don’t hold the Loom together, it will consume everything!”
Riku took a slow breath.
This was it.
His first act as the new Master of Fate.
To destroy the Loom meant erasing the system, but it also meant unleashing the horror that had been trapped for eternity.
To repair it meant maintaining the cycle, ensuring the Loom continued—but under his control.
The old system had been built on suffering and sacrifice.
But Riku was not the First Pact-Holder.
He was not the Headmaster.
He was something new.
So, instead of choosing between destruction or preservation…
He did something no one had ever done before.
He rewrote the system.
Riku grasped the threads of existence, bending them, reshaping them, reforging the Loom under his own design.
He tore away the suffering.
He unbound the forced pacts.
And he sealed away the horror inside—permanently, beyond even the reach of time.
The Loom shuddered.
Then—
It settled.
The golden and crimson threads no longer wove chains—
They wove choices.
Pacts would still exist, but now…
They would be made by will, not force.
And the Headmaster’s throne?
Empty.
Because Riku did not rule.
He simply watched.
The Master of Fate—not as a god, but as a guardian.
And the world shifted under his command.
- The First Pact-Holder, once a godlike being, now stands as an equal to those he once ruled over.
- And Riku Kurobane, the new Master of Fate, has created something never seen before—a world where fate is a choice, not a prison.
But far in the distance, in the deepest corners of existence…
A single thread twitched.
And a whisper echoed:
"We are not done yet, Riku Kurobane."
Chapter 10: Echoes of the Old World
The air was still.
The Loom had been rewritten.
For the first time in centuries, the system did not control the students of Crimson High—nor did it bind them to a fate they never chose.
No more forced pacts.
No more sacrifices.
No more Headmaster.
Riku Kurobane stood at the center of it all, watching.
His presence was no longer just physical—he existed within the threads of fate itself, woven into every corner of the school.
But as the dust settled, one truth remained.
Power never disappears.
It only changes hands.
A murmur spread through Crimson High as students stumbled out of their dorms, classrooms, and hidden pact chambers.
The sigils on their arms had vanished—no more burning pain, no more whispers of demons lurking in the shadows.
For the first time in their lives, they were free.
Or at least… that’s what they should have felt.
“What… what just happened?”
A third-year student, Renji Sakamoto, gripped his arm where his sigil had once been, staring at the empty space.
Beside him, his younger sister, Mayu, shivered. “The pact’s… gone. I can’t feel it anymore.”
A second-year boy stumbled forward, his face pale. “Gone?! But that’s—no, no, I needed it. I needed my pact.”
Another student—one who had relied on the power of his demon contract for protection—snapped.
“Who did this?” His voice was sharp, panicked. “Who the hell took our pacts away?!”
In the remains of the Faculty Chamber, the few surviving teachers gathered, their usual composed expressions shattered.
Professor Yamada, the old, weary history teacher, sank into a chair, rubbing his temples. “This is… unprecedented.”
Professor Aiko, known for her strict adherence to the pact system, stood rigid, her nails digging into her palm. “Everything is gone. Do you understand what this means?”
Across the room, Professor Mori, a faculty member who had once secretly opposed the system, chuckled darkly. “It means we’re all just human again.”
Aiko whirled toward him. “This school was built on contracts! On power! Do you think these students can survive without it?”
Mori folded his arms. “Maybe not all of them. But maybe… that’s the point.”
Silence.
Yamada exhaled slowly. “We have to find him. We have to find the one responsible.”
Aiko’s eyes darkened. “We already know who it was.”
A crowd had gathered in the ruins of the Headmaster’s Tower.
Students. Faculty. Survivors.
And at the center, Riku Kurobane stood, waiting.
For the first time, they saw him not as a student, not as a pact-holder, but as something far beyond human.
His form was almost the same—almost.
But the air around him pulsed differently, as if the world itself responded to his presence.
Renji stepped forward, trembling. “You… You did this, didn’t you?”
Riku met his gaze. “Yes.”
The whispers grew louder.
“He took our power.”
“He destroyed the pacts.”
“Who gave him the right?”
Professor Aiko, her eyes cold and calculating, raised her voice. “And what now, Kurobane? You’ve shattered the system, rewritten the rules. But what about those who needed their pacts? What about the students who relied on them?”
Riku’s expression didn’t change. “They never needed them. They were made to believe they did.”
Aiko’s lips curled in disgust. “That’s easy for you to say. You had power. You had a pact. You had control.”
The murmurs of agreement spread.
Riku raised his hand—and the air fell silent.
“Let me make one thing clear.” His voice, though calm, carried the weight of authority. “No one will suffer under a system they never chose again.”
“Then what do you expect us to do?” someone shouted. “You want us to just live like normal people?”
Riku’s eyes sharpened. “I want you to live without fear. I want you to live with choices.”
Renji’s hands shook. “…And if we don’t want that?”
A long silence.
Riku exhaled. “Then that’s your choice too.”
Not everyone wanted to be free.
As the crowd grew restless, a single voice rose above them all.
"Then maybe we don’t need you."
From the back, a group of students and former faculty stepped forward.
Their leader—a fourth-year named Akihiro Takeda, one of the strongest pact-holders before the collapse.
Though his sigil was gone, his aura remained imposing.
He locked eyes with Riku, his voice steady and dangerous. “You think you saved us, Kurobane. But all you did was weaken us.”
Riku remained still. “…And what do you intend to do about it?”
Akihiro smirked. “We’ll rebuild. Not your way. Ours.”
A murmur of agreement rose from the crowd.
“There are those of us who thrived in the old world. Who were strong. Who won’t just accept this so-called ‘freedom.’”
Akihiro took a step forward, his presence challenging.
“You took our pacts. But power doesn’t disappear, Riku. It just changes hands.”
He extended his hand, and behind him, students and teachers gathered, forming a faction of their own.
“And if we can’t use demons to become strong…”
His eyes burned with something new.
“Then we’ll find something else.”
As Akihiro and his followers left, the air shifted.
Deep beneath the ruins of the Headmaster’s Tower, something stirred.
Something left behind.
Something older than the pacts themselves.
And as the Loom rewrote itself, it awakened.
A whisper echoed through the ruins.
“If power is gone… then we must make a new one.”
And unseen by all, a single, blood-red thread slithered through the debris, searching for its next host.
Riku watched as Akihiro and his faction vanished into the night.
Reina stepped beside him, arms crossed. “You know this isn’t over, right?”
Riku sighed. “It never is.”
Kaito, battered but alive, limped toward them. “So… what do we do?”
Riku looked up at the sky, the threads of the world woven beneath his fingertips.
“…We wait.”
Because he could already feel it.
A new war was coming.
And this time—it wasn’t about pacts or demons.
It was about something far worse.
A war over who would control the next system.
And Riku Kurobane?
He was no longer just a fighter.
He was the Master of Fate.
And he would not lose.
Power never disappears.
It simply changes hands.
Though the Loom had been rewritten, and Riku had reshaped the very fabric of Crimson High’s existence, a new war was already beginning.
And deep in the ruins of the old system, something was waiting.
Beneath the ruins of the Headmaster’s Tower.
The air was thick, suffocating, the remains of shattered sigils pulsing with a strange, lingering energy.
Akihiro Takeda stood at the center of a growing circle of former pact-holders and ex-faculty, a makeshift torch in his hand, illuminating the darkness.
"Keep moving." His voice was sharp, controlled. "Whatever power existed before Riku rewrote the Loom, it has to be down here."
One of the students, Toma, hesitated. "Akihiro, are we sure this is a good idea? The pacts were destroyed for a reason."
Akihiro turned, his gaze piercing. "Riku stole our power. He took everything we worked for and told us to just… accept it." His grip on the torch tightened. "I refuse."
A former faculty member, Professor Aiko, stepped beside him. "If there is power left behind, we will claim it before anyone else does."
Another student, Yuki, shivered as they passed the remnants of ancient sigils burned into the stone walls. "This place feels… wrong."
Then, they heard it.
A whisper.
Not human.
Not demon.
Something older.
Something waiting.
Akihiro’s breath hitched. "Did you hear that?"
Toma stepped back. "Yeah, I heard it. And I think we should leave."
But before anyone could react, the ground beneath them split open.
Dark tendrils erupted from the cracks, writhing, shifting, reaching for the intruders.
And then—they spoke.
"You seek power?"
A pause.
The air vibrated, the very stone shaking beneath them.
"Then kneel."
Meanwhile, on the highest rooftop of Crimson High…
Riku Kurobane stood alone, his hands resting on the edge of the crumbling balcony, his gaze fixed on the dark horizon.
Below, the school was trying to heal.
Students were adapting to their newfound freedom—some embracing it, others resenting it.
But Riku knew.
Something was coming.
Reina’s voice broke the silence as she stepped up beside him. “You sense it too, don’t you?”
Riku nodded, his eyes not leaving the horizon. "Akihiro is making his move."
Reina sighed. "You knew he would."
"Of course." His voice was steady. "Some people aren’t looking for freedom. They’re looking for something to follow."
She crossed her arms. "And you’re just going to let them?"
Riku glanced at her. "What would you have me do? Stop them? Kill them before they become a threat?"
Reina’s jaw tightened. "Maybe."
He turned fully to face her. "I didn’t rewrite the system just to become a dictator."
She scoffed. "No, but you might have to become a king."
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Kaito appeared, still bandaged from the last battle. "Bad news."
Reina frowned. "Worse than what we already know?"
Kaito nodded grimly. "Scouts spotted Akihiro’s faction heading underground."
Riku’s gaze darkened.
"They found something."
Kaito ran a hand through his hair. "We don’t know what yet. But whatever it is… it’s not normal. Something in that place is alive."
Reina’s fingers curled into fists. "Then we stop them before they unleash whatever the hell is down there."
But Riku…
Riku remained silent.
Because deep within the threads of fate, he could feel it.
Something old.
Something wrong.
Something that even he wasn’t prepared for.
And then, for the first time since he became Master of the Loom,
He heard a voice he did not recognize.
"Do you think you are the first to rewrite fate?"
Riku’s breath caught.
Because the voice was coming from inside him.
The sky above Crimson High darkened unnaturally, the very stars flickering.
Reina and Kaito both stiffened.
"What the hell is that?" Kaito murmured.
But Riku already knew.
"A warning."
He closed his eyes—and for the first time, he reached beyond the Loom.
Beyond the pacts.
Beyond time.
And what he saw froze his soul.
Because deep in the place where all threads originated, something was waiting.
Something older than the Headmaster.
Older than the First Pact-Holder.
A being that had once created the very idea of fate itself—
And had been waiting for someone like Riku to take its place.
"You have rewritten the world," the voice said, calm and patient. "But you are not its master."
Riku opened his eyes, his pulse pounding.
Reina stepped forward. "Riku? What’s wrong?"
He slowly exhaled.
"Something’s coming."****"And I don’t think I can stop it."
Back underground, Akihiro and his faction were trapped in the black tendrils.
The whispering voice echoed around them.
"Your pacts were broken."
The tendrils coiled tighter, forcing the faction to their knees.
"You lost your strength."
Akihiro gritted his teeth. "Give it back to us."
The darkness chuckled.
"No."
Then—
"But I will give you something new."
The tendrils plunged into their skin.
The students screamed as their bodies convulsed, their very souls rewritten, reshaped into something twisted.
Their veins darkened.
Their eyes turned black.
And when Akihiro finally stood, his new power pulsing violently, he smiled.
"Riku took our pacts."
He flexed his fingers, feeling the dark energy coursing through him.
"Now we take his fate."
Riku turned back toward the school as he felt it.
A pulse.
A new power entering the world.
The sky above cracked, the very stars flickering.
Reina’s breath hitched. "Riku…?"
Kaito took a step back. "Tell me you felt that."
Riku exhaled slowly.
Then, for the first time in his new godhood, he felt fear.
"It’s begun."
The first war of the new fate.
And this time, the enemy wasn’t demons.
It wasn’t the Headmaster.
It was something far worse.
It was those who wanted to rewrite fate for themselves.
Akihiro’s faction was coming.
And they were no longer human.
- Akihiro’s faction has unlocked a forbidden power—one that even Riku does not understand.
- A being older than fate itself has awoken, and it sees Riku as an imposter.
- The first war of the rewritten world is about to begin.
And deep in the void, the Oldest Weaver watched.
And it smiled.
"Now let us see if you are worthy, Riku Kurobane."
Chapter 12: The War of Unwritten Fate
Power never disappears.
It only transforms.
Riku had rewritten the Loom, reshaped the world, and unshackled Crimson High from the pacts that once controlled it.
But not everyone wanted freedom.
Some sought power beyond the system.
Some would rather rule than be ruled.
And now, Akihiro’s faction had returned—reborn in something darker.
But they were not the only threat.
Far beyond the threads of fate, in the void where existence itself had been woven, something watched.
Something older than the Loom.
Something that was not pleased with Riku’s interference.
The first war of the New Age had begun.
And Riku was about to face his greatest battle yet.
Crimson High was no longer the same.
The skies above the school had changed, dark clouds swirling with unnatural energy, as if the heavens themselves were rejecting the world Riku had created.
Below, students stood in shock, watching as a group of figures emerged from the ruins of the Headmaster’s Tower.
Their eyes were different now.
No longer human.
No longer pact-holders.
Something else.
At the front, Akihiro Takeda stood, his blackened veins pulsing, his eyes void of light, but filled with a new, monstrous power.
"Riku Kurobane!" His voice echoed through the school, layered with something inhuman.
Riku, standing atop the ruined faculty balcony, slowly stepped forward, gazing down at the approaching army.
Reina and Kaito flanked him, their expressions grim.
Reina crossed her arms. "Well, they look different."
Kaito exhaled sharply. "This is bad."
Riku didn’t reply.
He already knew.
This was far worse than anything they had ever faced before.
Akihiro spread his arms, letting the students and faculty see him.
"You were all fooled," he called out. "Riku didn’t save us. He left us powerless."
Some of the students whispered among themselves, uncertain.
But others—the ones who had relied on the pacts for strength, for survival—watched Akihiro with something else in their eyes.
Hope.
Akihiro smirked. "But I found something better."
He lifted his hand—
And the air around him darkened.
Shadows slithered from his fingertips, twisting, shifting, devouring the very light around them.
It was not demon magic.
It was not pact energy.
It was something else.
Something that had never belonged to this world.
One of his followers stepped forward—a former second-year student, Rina, who had once been weak. She had once begged for a pact to protect herself.
Now, she smirked.
And with a simple gesture, she raised her hand—
And a crimson thread erupted from the ground, splitting the very stone beneath them.
A shockwave tore through the courtyard, sending students stumbling backward.
Kaito swore under his breath. "What the hell was that?!"
Reina’s eyes narrowed. "He found something worse than demons."
Riku finally spoke. "They didn’t reclaim their old pacts. They made new ones."
Akihiro grinned. "That’s right, Kurobane."
His eyes glowed darkly, his voice laced with amusement. "You erased the pacts. You made the Loom your own. But there was something left behind, wasn’t there?"
He gestured to his faction. "We found it."
Riku stared at him, unmoving.
"You don’t even know what you’ve bound yourself to."
Akihiro chuckled. "Maybe not."
His expression twisted.
"But I do know one thing."
The air cracked around him.
"I’m stronger than you now."
And then—he attacked.
Akihiro vanished.
One moment he was standing there—the next, he was behind Riku.
Riku barely had time to react before a blackened fist slammed into his side, sending him flying.
He crashed into the ruined stone balcony, dust and debris exploding around him.
Kaito cursed. "Riku!"
Reina moved instantly, her crimson threads lashing out, trying to bind Akihiro—
But the moment they touched him—
They disintegrated.
Reina’s eyes widened. "What—?"
Akihiro laughed. "Your old magic doesn’t work anymore, Reina."
Riku stood slowly, wiping the blood from his lip. "Neither does yours."
Akihiro raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Riku exhaled—and the air around him shifted.
The Loom reacted to his will.
The threads of fate itself pulsed, vibrating under his command.
And with a single motion, Riku extended his hand—
And rewrote reality around them.
For a moment—everything stopped.
Akihiro’s attack froze midair.
The students watching became silent.
Even Reina and Kaito felt it.
The world was changing again.
But this time—it was not Riku’s doing.
Riku’s eyes snapped upward.
Because he felt it.
A presence descending from above.
A presence that had been waiting.
A voice whispered within the Loom.
"You think you understand fate."
Riku’s blood ran cold.
Because that voice—
It was not human.
It was not demon.
It was the voice of the being who had once controlled the Loom before any of them.
The true master of fate.
The Oldest Weaver.
"You are an imposter, Riku Kurobane."
The sky split apart.
And a figure descended.
The moment the being appeared, both Riku and Akihiro staggered.
The very threads of the Loom strained against this new presence, as if rejecting its return.
The figure stood tall, faceless, its body composed entirely of golden, shifting threads.
It did not have a mouth, yet its voice spoke within every mind present.
"You took my place, boy."
Riku gritted his teeth. "I remade the Loom."
The Weaver tilted its head. "And now I will take it back."
Akihiro stepped back, for the first time unsure. "What the hell is that?"
Riku clenched his fists.
"Something worse than you."
- Akihiro has gained a power even Riku does not understand.
- The Oldest Weaver has returned, seeking to reclaim the Loom.
- Riku must now fight a war on two fronts—against Akihiro’s faction and against the true god of fate itself.
The sky burned.
The earth trembled.
And Riku Kurobane—Master of the Loom—stood at the center of it all.
"If you want the Loom back," Riku exhaled, his power surging, "then come take it."
And the war of fate’s inheritance began.
Chapter 13: The War of Fate and Shadow
Power does not fade—it transforms.
Riku Kurobane had rewritten the Loom, reshaping the very fabric of fate itself. But power, once taken, must always be challenged.
Now, he stood before the Oldest Weaver—the true master of fate before him, a being so ancient that even the Loom itself strained against its presence.
And below, Akihiro’s faction was still changing, twisting into something even worse than before.
The battle for fate’s inheritance had begun.
The air itself shattered.
The Oldest Weaver loomed over the battlefield, its body composed of golden, shifting threads that moved as if they were alive. It had no face—only an empty void where eyes should have been, a presence so immense that the very world struggled to contain it.
"You do not belong in this role."
Its voice did not come from a mouth. It bypassed sound entirely, embedding itself directly into the minds of everyone present.
Riku clenched his fists, his newly woven Loom pulsing with energy beneath his fingertips. "Then take it from me."
The Oldest Weaver did not hesitate.
With a single motion, it raised its hand—and the sky cracked apart.
Threads of pure, unfiltered fate shot down like divine spears, aiming directly for Riku.
Riku moved instantly, his own black and crimson threads surging upward, clashing against the Oldest Weaver’s attack. The moment their energies met—
Reality itself rippled.
The students below stumbled back, their bodies shaking from the sheer force of the impact.
Reina shielded her eyes. "That’s not normal magic—that’s the damn structure of the world breaking apart!"
Kaito gritted his teeth. "If they keep fighting like that, there won’t be anything left to fight for!"
But Riku couldn’t stop now.
The Oldest Weaver tilted its head slightly, its presence growing heavier. "You do not understand the power you wield, child. You rewrite threads without knowing their cost."
Riku exhaled. "Maybe." His black threads shifted, wrapping around his body like armor. "But I learn fast."
And then—he attacked.
Riku lunged forward, his body moving at impossible speeds, twisting reality with every step. The Loom bent to his will, responding to his command rather than simply existing as a passive force.
The Oldest Weaver extended a hand, attempting to seize control again—but something was different.
The golden threads hesitated.
For the first time, the Weaver faltered.
Riku smirked. "You don’t control the Loom anymore."
With a flick of his wrist, the entire battlefield changed.
The sky inverted. The ground twisted.
The battlefield was no longer the Oldest Weaver’s domain.
It was Riku’s.
The new Master of Fate had rewritten the rules of battle.
And for the first time, the Oldest Weaver had to fight on someone else’s terms.
But then—
The sky turned black.
A second presence surged into existence.
And the war for fate became something even worse.
Beneath the ruins of Crimson High, something else was happening.
Akihiro’s faction, already twisted by the power they had found in the ruins, was being pushed further.
The black tendrils that had bound them before were now merging with their very souls.
The shadows no longer whispered.
They commanded.
"You seek power?"
The voice was not Akihiro’s.
It was something else.
Something inside them now.
One of Akihiro’s followers, Rina, gasped as her body contorted unnaturally, her flesh shifting, her arms elongating into something inhuman.
Toma staggered, his eyes completely black now, his veins pulsing with sickly dark energy.
But Akihiro—
Akihiro smiled.
"Yes. We seek power."
The black tendrils tightened, pulling them deeper into the abyss.
And when Akihiro emerged from the darkness, his body was no longer human.
His eyes burned with a crimson light.
His flesh had hardened, infused with something beyond mortal comprehension.
And his voice was no longer entirely his own.
"Then let the world see our new gods."
Back on the battlefield.
As the sky darkened, both Riku and the Oldest Weaver froze.
Because something else was coming.
Something both of them had failed to predict.
The air split open, and from the ruined ground Akihiro’s faction rose.
But they were not the same as before.
Their bodies pulsed with unstable energy, their shapes barely recognizable as human anymore.
The students watching screamed in horror.
Even Reina stiffened. "What the hell did they do to themselves?!"
Riku’s eyes narrowed. "They went too far."
Akihiro lifted his gaze toward Riku—toward the Oldest Weaver—
And then—he laughed.
"Looks like I’m not the only one fighting for control of fate, huh?"
The Oldest Weaver turned its faceless void toward Akihiro. "You are an anomaly."
Akihiro grinned, his new form barely holding itself together. "Yeah? So are you."
And then—Akihiro attacked the Oldest Weaver.
The battlefield erupted into chaos.
- Riku vs. the Oldest Weaver—The battle of fate and its inheritance.
- Akihiro vs. the Oldest Weaver—The battle of corruption and control.
- Akihiro vs. Riku—The battle of power and defiance.
The very Loom itself trembled.
This was no longer a fight for the school.
This was a war to decide the next age.
Akihiro’s new corrupted power clashed against the Oldest Weaver’s divine presence, neither of them able to immediately overpower the other.
Riku moved instantly, taking advantage of the chaos, his own threads wrapping around the battlefield, rewriting pieces of reality as the fight unfolded.
But as the battle continued, one thing became clear.
This was not going to be a short war.
It was only the beginning.
And the one who survived would determine the next age of existence.
- Riku has rewritten the battlefield, but can he truly defeat a being that once controlled all of fate?
- Akihiro’s faction has become something beyond human—but can they even control what they’ve become?
- The Oldest Weaver is trying to reclaim its throne, but now, for the first time, it has to fight for it.
And deep within the Loom, at the very core of fate itself—
A single thread snapped.
And a new entity stirred.
Something older than even the Oldest Weaver.
Something that was never supposed to wake up.
And it whispered one word.
"Riku."
Chapter 14: The Breaking of Fate
The world trembled.
The sky above Crimson High had split open, its once-familiar form now a warzone of celestial threads and corrupted shadows.
Below, three forces clashed:
- Riku Kurobane, the new Master of Fate, wielding a rewritten Loom, bending reality itself to his will.
- The Oldest Weaver, a godlike entity of pure golden threads, the original architect of fate, seeking to reclaim what was stolen.
- Akihiro Takeda, once a pact-holder, now something beyond human—a creature born from the forbidden power left behind in the ruins of the old system.
And far beneath them all, at the core of fate itself, something older than gods and monsters began to awaken.
This was no longer just a battle for power.
This was a battle for existence itself.
The air cracked as Riku and the Oldest Weaver collided again, their attacks ripping through the fabric of reality.
The golden threads of the Oldest Weaver surged forward, seeking to bind Riku’s essence, to reclaim the Loom.
But Riku had already rewritten the rules of fate.
With a flick of his wrist, his own black and crimson threads coiled, intercepting the golden attack—but this time, they didn’t clash.
They absorbed.
The Oldest Weaver’s head tilted slightly. “You learn.”
Riku’s eyes burned with defiance. “Faster than you thought.”
He clenched his fists—and the stolen golden threads twisted, turning against their master.
For the first time in eternity, the Oldest Weaver’s own power was being used against it.
The divine entity’s presence flickered for a moment, its once-untouchable form now visibly struggling.
But before Riku could capitalize—
Akihiro struck.
A blackened claw tore through the battlefield, nearly cleaving Riku in half.
He barely twisted away in time, landing several feet back, eyes narrowing at what Akihiro had become.
Or rather—what he was still becoming.
Akihiro’s body was no longer stable.
His arms had elongated, his veins pulsed with unnatural energy, his eyes burned with something deeper than madness.
His faction stood behind him, no longer human. Their bodies had begun merging with the tendrils of darkness, their very souls rewritten by the power they had stolen from the ruins.
Akihiro grinned, his voice layered with something inhuman.
"You’re still fighting like this is a battle, Riku."
He extended his hand, and the very ground beneath them writhed, turning into something alive.
"But this isn’t a battle anymore."
His shadow pulsed.
"It’s an evolution."
Riku exhaled sharply. "You don’t even realize what you’ve turned yourself into, do you?"
Akihiro laughed. "And you don’t realize what I’m about to become."
And then—
The sky shattered completely.
Far beneath the battlefield, at the core of the Loom, where even the Oldest Weaver’s threads dared not reach…
It woke up.
A presence beyond understanding.
Not golden like the Oldest Weaver.
Not shadowed like Akihiro’s corruption.
Not rewritten like Riku’s Loom.
Something else.
Something that had never followed the rules of fate to begin with.
A single, ancient voice spoke—
"You have all disappointed me."
The moment those words echoed through the battlefield, every force stopped fighting.
Even the Oldest Weaver.
Even Akihiro.
Even Riku.
Because that voice—
It did not belong to anything that should exist.
And it was coming.
The sky turned white.
Not empty.
Not void.
But white, like a canvas that had never been painted on.
A blank existence.
And then—it stepped forward.
A figure that did not belong to any world, any story, any fate.
Its form constantly shifted, as if it had never been fully created.
Sometimes it was a god.
Sometimes it was a monster.
Sometimes it was nothing.
It had no true shape.
Because it had never been written into fate to begin with.
The Oldest Weaver, for the first time in all of eternity, took a step back.
"Impossible," the divine being whispered.
Akihiro, despite his arrogance, felt it too.
Something beyond the system.
Something that had been forgotten.
Riku’s hands trembled as he finally understood.
This wasn’t just the first Weaver.
It was the one who came before the Loom was even woven.
Before pacts.
Before fate.
Before choice.
The Forgotten Weaver.
The true beginning.
And it had just woken up.
The Forgotten Weaver’s voice was not loud.
It didn’t need to be.
Because its very presence forced the world to listen.
It turned to the Oldest Weaver first.
"You thought you could shape the universe without my permission?"
The Oldest Weaver did not answer.
Because it couldn’t.
The Forgotten Weaver extended a hand.
And the golden threads that made up the Oldest Weaver’s form began to unravel.
A god was being erased.
Not killed.
Not destroyed.
Unwritten.
The Oldest Weaver let out a sound that had never been heard before—a sound of fear.
It turned toward Riku.
"Boy."
Riku tensed. "What?"
The Oldest Weaver’s golden form flickered violently.
"Run."
And then—it was gone.
Unwoven from existence.
The war for fate had just become something far worse.
And now, the Forgotten Weaver turned its attention to Riku.
For the first time, Riku did not know what to do.
The Loom was his.
The Oldest Weaver was gone.
Akihiro was still a problem.
But this?
This was something that had never been meant to return.
The Forgotten Weaver tilted its head, studying Riku.
"You are different."
Its voice was neutral, but Riku felt its weight crushing his very soul.
"You rewrote the Loom.
You reshaped fate.
And yet, you do not understand what you have taken."
A long pause.
And then, the Forgotten Weaver spoke one final sentence.
"Will you give it back?"
Riku’s breath hitched.
Because he knew.
This wasn’t a threat.
It was a choice.
Give up the Loom.
Return fate to what it was before he ever touched it.
Or fight against something that even gods feared.
A choice that was never meant to exist.
And Riku Kurobane had to make it.
- The Oldest Weaver is gone—unwritten from existence.
- The Forgotten Weaver has returned, and it is asking for the Loom back.
- Akihiro is still evolving into something far beyond human.
- And Riku is standing at the edge of the greatest choice in history.
Does he surrender fate itself?
Or does he fight for his own version of reality?
And if he refuses…
What will the Forgotten Weaver do?
To Be Continued..........
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