The young humanoid man stared at the single thread, even seeing it with his own eyes, he couldn't believe what was happening.
He finally reached toward the thread, desperate to understand what mistake he might have made.
His hand trembled as it extended. The moment his fingers brushed it, a violent explosion ripped through the chamber.
He was hurled like a ragdoll, smashing through three divine barrier walls before skidding into a meditation chamber far beyond.
Pain lanced through every bone, but he forced himself up.
As his vision steadied, he lifted his head and froze.
A woman sat calmly before him, her form was beauty beyond mortal conception, one would even say angels might have been sculpted from her silhouette. Her golden robes were made of threads, each containing its own script of fate. Her eyes were holding depths that could swallow stars, yet her face appeared no older than thirty. She held a jade cup in one hand, steam rising from some kind of tea that had somehow remained undisturbed despite the violent intrusion.
She lifted her gaze from the cup, "Arion… why are you crashing into my chambers?"
He bowed instantly, ignoring the screaming pain in his ribs, "M-Master! Forgive me. I attempted to read a Fate thread, but something occurred—something completely unprecedented!"
Her sharp eyes narrowed, and she set the cup down. This was her personal disciple, one of the most gifted in millions of years. For him to appear in such a state meant the matter held utmost gravity, "Explain."
Arion described everything: the merging, the collapse, the solitary thread.
When he finished, she stared at him. Silence stretched between them. Then she sighed lightly, "Arion… are you getting old? Are your hands trembling now? Did you miscast Thread of Fates?"
His voice shook, "Master, I swear upon my core, I did not miscast. This was not a mistake."
Her gaze pierced through him, searching for deception or incompetence.
She rose gracefully, her robes settling around her, "Very well. If I discover you truly made an error after all this time… I will personally send you to the Hall of a Thousand Unfinished Threads."
Arion visibly paled. That hall was a torment even divine beings feared, endless heaps of worthless mortal fate strands, requiring centuries to untangle. It was where disciples who failed their duties were sent to contemplate their inadequacy whilst sorting through the meaningless choices of insects and beasts.
He desperately prayed it was not his error.
She raised her hand, "Thread of Fates, manifest."
The chamber lit with thousands of golden strands, far more than Arion's limited hundreds. They filled the space like a forest of light, each one branching into countless variations. This was a spell cast with Heavenweave Divine Concept, one of the peak concepts in the universe.
Then the impossible repeated.
The threads quivered.
Her expression shifted from mild curiosity to shock.
The threads collapsed inward, merging violently, and converged into one. The walls cracked under the pressure, and even she, the Pavilion Master, staggered, forced half a step backward by the sheer pressure of the convergence. Her teacup shattered on the floor.
"Master—!" Arion cried.
But she only lifted a hand to silence him, her palm raised whilst her eyes remained fixed on the singular thread. This was a sight Arion had never witnessed in all his years under her tutelage.
"How… can this be?" she whispered.
Arion stared at the lone golden thread, its radiance almost painful to behold, "Master—could it be… that a Primal Being has transcended? Someone finally surpassed the Heavenly Order?"
The Heavenly Order, the name given to the unknown force or being that defined the universe's rules. Everyone in the universe named it differently; some called it nature, some called it god, some called it the Great Architect.
But no one had ever surpassed it, and whether it was a being or the universe itself, none truly knew.
She shook her head slowly, "No. A true transcendence would shake every galaxy, every timeline. The very fabric of space would announce it." She paused, her voice dropping, "But even then, the threads would remain countless, possibilities would remain infinite."
She approached the lone thread, her movements careful, "This is something far more terrifying."
Arion swallowed, "…Master?"
"Arion, the universe now moves toward one outcome, one path, one destiny. No matter what anyone does, this is the only future."
Her voice was barely above a whisper, "One fate now governs everything."
He stared at the golden thread in horror, "Then… does this mean all alternate timelines have been erased?"
"No. They still exist, but it means no matter what choices are made, no matter who alters their fate, no matter how many beings try to shatter destiny, no matter who even changes their timelines… all paths will finally lead to one singular, immutable outcome."
The thread pulsed, and for a moment, both master and disciple felt the weight of absolute certainty pressing down on them.
Arion trembled, "Who… or what… could cause such a thing?"
"I do not know," she admitted, "But whatever caused this is rewriting the Heavenly Order. And such audacity speaks of a power that eclipses even the Heavenly Order's dominion."
Arion was shocked hearing this. Every single cultivator in the universe was trying to find a way to transcendence, a way they could somehow surpass the Heavenly Order itself. But no one truly knew if that was even possible or not.
And now, this event signified that there existed something that was stronger than the Heavenly Order!
She turned to face him fully, "Do you not see, Arion? This is the first true proof that tells our path is right; it shows that surpassing the Heavenly Order is possible. We have all been wandering blind. Yet now… someone has lit a torch in the darkness."
Then, slowly, she smiled, "And this benefits us greatly. With one dominating fate line remaining, our Pavilion will dominate the information field of the universe. We no longer need to monitor hundreds of divergences; our predictions will be perfect, for once, we will know the one true future."
Arion blinked, his horror momentarily forgotten, "Master, are… are you serious?"
She clasped her hands behind her back, already calculating possibilities. Her smile widened, "Of course. The cause behind this upheaval does not concern us. Whether it is a monster, a god, or a being beyond both, it does not matter."
She turned back to the thread, "What matters is that the Heaven-Weaving Pavilion will profit from this, by selling more accurate information across the universe."
Arion quickly said, "But Master, distributing such accurate information will disrupt—"
"Disrupt? My foolish disciple… nothing can be disrupted. The moment all the threads merged, everything changed. There is only one outcome now. Even if we reveal it or conceal it, the end remains unchanged. Thus, since the river flows only one way, let us ride its current and gather every fragment of profit fate now lays before us."
Silence filled the chamber.
And far across the endless ocean of galaxies, the Source Domain quietly pulsed around Adrian, its ripples rewriting the fates he did not even know existed.