"Ryuxian's breath was ragged. The Stardust Gem pulsed wildly against his chest. His vision blurred, but he didn't need to see to know—he had lost."
Staggered through the shimmering boundary of the fate realm, his body barely holding itself together after the battle. His limbs ached, the Stardust Gem pulsed erratically against his chest, and Nyx's faint glow flickered within. He could still feel the suffocating presence of the Shadow Weaver, the twisted successor who had embraced the dark side of fate. The encounter had left more than just wounds on his body—it had left a mark on his very essence.
The Lynx Sage stood at the threshold, his green eyes scanning Ryuxian with a knowing gaze. His presence had forced the Shadow Weaver to retreat, but not before Ryuxian had caught a glimpse of something unsettling in his opponent's eyes—pain, betrayal, and something disturbingly familiar.
"You've seen it now, haven't you?" the Lynx murmured, stepping closer. His presence was steadying, grounding Ryuxian's spiraling thoughts.
Ryuxian clenched his fists. "He's... like me. A successor. But he's fallen so far into the abyss that he's become something else."
"The fall is always easier than the climb," the Lynx said, his voice tinged with something between sorrow and understanding. "And sometimes, those who fall believe they are the only ones who see the truth."
Ryuxian looked down at his hands, faint threads of cosmic energy still clinging to his fingertips. He had fought with everything he had, but it wasn't enough. He had barely escaped with his life. If the Lynx hadn't interfered...
Nyx stirred inside the gem, her presence brushing against Ryuxian's mind like a whisper of moonlight. We must become stronger.
The realization settled in like a cold weight in his chest. The Shadow Weaver had been toying with him. If Ryuxian wanted to stand a chance the next time their paths crossed, he needed to master his abilities, to truly wield the power of a Thread Weaver.
Lynx turned away, staring at the sky where threads of fate shimmered, ever-changing. "Rest for now. Your body is weak, your spirit strained. The true battle has yet to come."
Ryuxian hesitated. "Do you know who he was before he became like that?"
The Lynx's tail twitched. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, with a quiet sigh, he spoke.
"He was once a protector, just like you."
Ryuxian felt a shiver crawl down his spine.
"He wasn't always a Shadow Weaver. He was a Celestial Thread Keeper, a guardian of balance." The Lynx's eyes darkened. "Until he defied fate itself and was cast into the abyss. His real name... was Xeylen."
The name sent a ripple through Ryuxian's mind. There was weight to it, something that felt unfinished, as if their destinies had been intertwined long before their clash.
"And now," the Lynx continued, "he walks the path of unraveling. He believes the threads of fate are chains, and that by severing them, he can free existence from destiny itself."
Ryuxian swallowed hard. The battle hadn't just been a clash of power—it had been a battle of ideology. Xeylen wasn't just another enemy. He was someone who had stood where Ryuxian stood now… and chose a different path.
A dark wind howled in the distance, carrying whispers of something unseen.
Ryuxian clenched the Stardust Gem tightly.
"I won't let him win."
Lynx smirked, the sharp glint in his eyes returning. "Then prepare yourself, young successor. Because the next time you face him… there will be no turning back."
Ryuxian sat at the edge of the mountain, his breath uneven, his hands trembling from exhaustion. The battle had drained him, not just physically but deep within—the kind of exhaustion that gnawed at his soul. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palm. He had lost.
The weight of that reality pressed against his chest like a crushing tide. He wasn't strong enough. The Shadow Weaver—Xeylen—had toyed with him, danced around his attacks, shattered his defenses like they were nothing. Even now, his mind replayed the moment Xeylen's hand wrapped around his throat, the sickening smirk on his face as he whispered:
"You're not ready. You're just a child pretending to be a weaver."
A growl rumbled in Ryuxian's throat, frustration and rage intertwining. He hated it. Hated the helplessness, the way his power had felt like mere sparks against an overwhelming abyss.
"We must become stronger."
Nyx's voice was barely a whisper, but it steadied him. The Stardust Gem pulsed against his chest, the soft glow of her wings flickering within. She had been there with him, guiding him, shielding him when his body nearly collapsed. But it wasn't enough.
Lynx's presence loomed behind him, steady as ever. "You're letting anger cloud your mind," the sage murmured. "That won't get you anywhere."
Ryuxian didn't turn. "Then what will?" His voice was raw, filled with frustration. "Tell me, Lynx. How do I stop being weak? How do I stop—" His voice cracked, and he hated himself for it. Hated the way his chest felt too tight, his throat closing up.
He had fought for his life. And still, it wasn't enough.
Lynx sighed, stepping closer. "You think strength is about power alone?" His green eyes bore into Ryuxian. "Then you've already lost."
Ryuxian whipped around, teeth clenched. "Then what am I supposed to do? I did everything I could, but he was—" He swallowed hard. "He was better."
Lynx nodded. "Yes. He was."
The truth cut deep.
Lynx sat beside him, his voice quieter now. "You're still holding back, Ryuxian. You fight like someone who's afraid of breaking. But Xeylen? He has no such hesitation. He wields his power without restraint, without fear."
Ryuxian exhaled sharply, staring at his trembling hands. Was he afraid? Afraid of what? Of losing control? Of becoming something worse?
Lynx studied him. "I won't waste time with meaningless words. If you want strength, then get up."
Ryuxian hesitated. His body screamed at him to rest, but his pride wouldn't allow him to stay still. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself up.
"Good," Lynx said, standing. "Your training starts now."
The Training Begins
Lynx led him deep into the heart of the mountain, where the air felt heavier, the energy denser. The walls shimmered with woven threads of fate, each one pulsing faintly like strands of the cosmos itself.
"This place will strip you down to your core," Lynx said. "It will break your mind, your body—until only what is real remains."
Ryuxian wiped sweat from his forehead. "What do I have to do?"
Lynx gestured to the glowing threads. "Weave."
Confusion flickered across Ryuxian's face. "Weave?"
Lynx's gaze hardened. "You rely too much on brute strength. On instinct. That won't work against someone like Xeylen. You need control. You need to master the very threads that shape reality itself."
A flick of Lynx's wrist, and a thread unraveled from the air, dancing between his fingers. "You think weaving is just about power? No. It's about command. About bending existence to your will."
Ryuxian swallowed. "And if I fail?"
"Then you die," Lynx said simply. "Here, in this place, the threads do not forgive."
Then he realised Xeylen was once a protector.!!
The silence between them was deafening. Then, Ryuxian exhaled, stepping forward. "Then I better not fail."
Lynx grinned. "Good answer."
The First Trial: Weaving the Unseen
The moment Ryuxian reached for the first thread, pain lanced through his skull. It was like trying to grasp liquid fire, his nerves screaming in protest.
"Feel, don't force," Nyx whispered.
He steadied himself, letting his instincts take over. Slowly, he reached again, this time listening rather than demanding. The thread hesitated… then moved in his grasp.
Sweat dripped down his brow, his breaths coming out in sharp gasps. The thread pulsed, alive, writhing like a living thing. He could sense its nature—delicate, yet infinitely strong.
"You feel it now, don't you?" Lynx said, watching.
Ryuxian nodded, voice strained. "It's… alive."
Lynx smirked. "Good. Now, make it yours."
Ryuxian focused, commanding the thread, shaping it not with force, but with understanding.
For the first time, it obeyed.
The first step had been taken.
The air inside the mountain was thick—heavy—like the world itself was pressing down on Ryuxian. Sweat clung to his skin, his muscles burned, and his lungs screamed for relief. But there was none.
Lynx stood before him, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "Again."
Ryuxian gritted his teeth, his body barely holding together. His hands trembled as he reached for another thread of fate. The golden strand flickered in and out of focus, resisting him, mocking him.
"Command it." Nyx's voice was steady inside his mind.
He inhaled sharply and tightened his grip—not with force, but with presence. He let the thread know he was there, that he wasn't bending to its will. It would bend to his.
The thread twitched, then obeyed.
Lynx's gaze sharpened.
"Then stop wasting my time. You've already lost."
Ryuxian know he's not in his casual cool mind, he wants to avoid things as much as possible, he doesn't like the way he's feeling, his anger and frustration had the limit.
"Good. But that's only the beginning."
The Second Trial: The Body as a Weapon
Lynx's fist moved before Ryuxian could react. A sharp, cracking impact against his ribs sent him sprawling backward, pain exploding in his side. He barely had time to breathe before Lynx was on him again.
A second blow. A third. Each one sharper, faster.
Ryuxian coughed, rolling onto his hands and knees. The taste of iron filled his mouth. His vision blurred, his limbs shook.
"Get up."
Nyx's voice was quiet but unyielding.
Ryuxian pushed up. His legs threatened to collapse, but he forced them to hold. He would not break.
Lynx's foot came swinging toward his head. Instinct kicked in—Ryuxian ducked. The air behind him snapped as the kick missed by inches.
Lynx's grin widened. "That's better."
Ryuxian didn't have time to celebrate. Lynx struck again.
The next hour was a blur of agony. Strikes, counterstrikes, falls, recoveries. Ryuxian wasn't just being trained—he was being torn apart. Every weakness in his stance, every hesitation in his movements was punished.
At first, his body fought against him, sluggish, unresponsive. But slowly…
Slowly, something changed.
His steps became lighter. His dodges more precise. The blows still landed, but less frequently.
His body was learning.
The Third Trial: The Mind Unchained
Ryuxian's breath came in ragged gasps, his vision swimming with exhaustion. His body ached, bruises forming beneath his torn garments, but Lynx had yet to relent. The sage's emerald eyes glowed faintly in the dim cavern light, his expression unreadable.
"Strength is not enough," Lynx said, circling him like a predator. "Control is not enough. What you lack, Ryuxian, is the mind to wield both as one."
Ryuxian wiped the blood from his lip and met Lynx's gaze with a defiant glare. "Then teach me."
Lynx raised a hand, and the threads of fate surrounding them suddenly surged, intertwining into an intricate web that shimmered with cosmic energy. The space around them twisted, folding into something beyond reality. Ryuxian's breath hitched as his own presence felt… untethered. The mountain walls, the floor beneath him—everything wavered like a dream on the verge of dissolving.
"This," Lynx said, his voice a whisper carried through the shifting void, "is the realm of the unseen. Here, thought shapes reality. Fear can unmake you. Doubt can shackle you. If you do not master your mind here, you will not leave intact."
Ryuxian steadied himself. The air felt thick, filled with whispers of forgotten fates, the echoes of choices never made. His surroundings stretched and contracted, forming illusions—no, reflections—of his deepest insecurities.
The battlefield reappeared before him. The Shadow Weaver loomed, his smirk sharp as a dagger.
"Still so weak," Xeylen's voice taunted. "Still grasping at strings, thinking you can weave destiny."
A cold sweat broke across Ryuxian's skin. His body refused to move, frozen as Xeylen strode forward, his presence suffocating.
"Break free," Nyx's voice urged, a ripple of warmth against the chill of his fear.
He forced himself to breathe. This was an illusion—no, something more. The fate threads responded to him, reflecting his mind. If he succumbed, he would truly lose himself here.
Ryuxian closed his eyes. He had to let go. Not of power. Not of control. But of fear.
The moment he did, the illusion shattered like glass.
He stood alone in the void once more, the remnants of the illusion fading into threads of light that curled around his fingers.
Lynx observed him, nodding approvingly. "Better."
Ryuxian exhaled sharply. "That was… different."
Lynx smirked. "And necessary. You cannot wield fate if you are bound by fear. Now, again."
Days blurred together. The training was relentless. Pain and exhaustion became his companions, but so did clarity. Each lesson wove together into something more than strength or skill—it was understanding.
He learned to weave threads not just with his hands, but with intent.
He learned to fight not just with his body, but with presence.
And he learned that power, true power, was not about force alone. It was about balance.
The Final Trial: The Abyss Beckons
Ryuxian stood at the peak of the mountain, the sky above him a canvas of swirling constellations. The air crackled with energy, the Stardust Gem pulsing against his chest in resonance. Nyx's light shimmered, steady and unwavering.
"You are ready," Lynx said, his gaze heavy with something unspoken. "But readiness does not mean victory."
Ryuxian clenched his fists. "I don't need victory handed to me. I'll claim it myself."
Lynx's expression softened just slightly. "Good."
A gust of wind carried whispers of the inevitable battle ahead. The Shadow Weaver still waited. Fate itself was still unraveling. And Ryuxian's journey was far from over.
But this time, when he stepped forward, he did so as something more.
Not just a warrior.
Not just a successor.
A true Thread Weaver.
And the echoes of destiny would never be the same again.
And soon… he wouldn't just survive. He would win.