The void was painted with ruin. Worlds drifted like ashes through endless silence, their suns shattered, their laws broken. Among the wreckage stood Heaven's Mistake, dusting cosmic debris from his shoulder as if it were nothing more than sand.
He laughed quietly, the sound echoing through galaxies. "Is that all you've got? I was hoping for something that'd at least make me sweat."
A dying Weaver floated before him, its threads torn, its body flickering between existence and memory. It spoke through a chorus of collapsing dimensions. "You mock the Loom of All… but you are not beyond it. Even you can be unraveled."
Heaven's Mistake smirked. "Try me."
The Weaver fell silent. Then its eyes — twin spirals of creation — flared. From every corner of the multiverse, shimmering strands stretched outward, connecting realities together like veins of light. He could feel them pulse — billions of echoes, billions of Weavers answering one desperate call.
A storm of divine presences filled the void. Every thread shimmered with consciousness. The multiverse trembled beneath their combined arrival.
For the first time, even Heaven's Mistake paused mid-step, his grin fading just slightly. "Oh," he muttered, amused. "You actually brought friends."
They appeared — uncountable, layered across realities. Weavers from different timelines, different beginnings, even those who had perished reborn through paradox. The sight itself bent sanity; their joined light was brighter than birth, heavier than truth.
And they moved as one.
The first wave hit him like a collapsing dimension. Entire galaxies detonated upon impact, light bursting across eternity. Heaven's Mistake laughed as he was driven backward, flipping through the wreckage, parrying with his spoon.
Each strike cracked the void, each dodge twisted probability. His laughter grew louder — genuine, joyful madness. "Finally! Something fun!"
He unleashed Laughter Shockwave, an eruption of sound and chaos that split a million Weavers apart. But for every one that fell, another billion took its place. The storm didn't stop — it grew.
Then, in the heart of the chaos, all the Weavers began to converge. Their forms blurred, merging thread by thread into something titanic — a being that dwarfed galaxies. Its body was made of spinning equations, its eyes the color of inevitability. It was the embodiment of every law Heaven's Mistake had ever broken.
The Weavers had become one — The Prime Loom.
Its voice thundered through existence. "You have defied the fabric of everything. Now be undone by what you mock."
Heaven's Mistake spun his spoon once, smiling crookedly. "Sure, sure. Big speech, loud voice — I've heard this part before."
The Prime Loom swung. The blow crushed light itself. He parried — and for the first time, he staggered. The spoon groaned in his hand before fracturing down the middle, then shattered completely into silver dust.
Heaven's Mistake stared at his empty palm. For a heartbeat, the multiverse went still.
Then he chuckled softly. "Guess playtime's over."
He clenched his fist. Reality bent.
Unbound by Fate awakened in full, threads of destiny snapping in panic around him. Prophecies crumbled, inevitabilities screamed. The Prime Loom tried to calculate his next move — but found no future in which it survived.
He vanished — Paradox Step.
The Loom's colossal arm fell where he had stood, but somehow, he appeared behind it, already mid-swing. The punch landed, and with it, Madness Surge roared. His laughter amplified through the void, closing his wounds, turning insanity into power.
Every impact bent reality inward. Every strike broke and remade worlds.
They collided again and again — fist against hand, madness against law. Each time their blows met, multiverses died, folded, then reformed in new patterns. Every dodge created a newborn cosmos. Every clash erased a thousand more.
The Weavers cried out in unison, their combined mind fracturing under the paradox. "You cannot exist!"
Heaven's Mistake's grin sharpened into something terrifying. "And yet, here I am."
The Prime Loom unleashed its final strike — the Absolute Rewrite, an attempt to erase him from all timelines at once. The fabric of existence screamed as all reality bent toward one single truth: his unmaking.
Heaven's Mistake stood unmoving. He whispered, almost gently, "You should've known… Heaven already rejected me."
The air shattered.
His curse bloomed.
Forbidden State — Heaven's Rejection.
Light recoiled from his skin. His hair glowed white, his eyes swirling with galaxies of madness. Reality could no longer recognize him; he was something existence refused to define.
He lunged forward, his fist dragging the weight of collapsing universes. The Loom's body — infinite and divine — split in two, its threads unraveling in an explosion of raw creation.
And in that single moment, everything broke.
Every reality collapsed and remade itself. Every law screamed and rewrote its own meaning. The multiverse rippled outward — some dying, some being born — all orbiting one unstoppable constant: the laughter of Heaven's Mistake.
As the Prime Loom's voice faded into dust, he floated amid the chaos, eyes half-lidded, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Now that," he said softly, "was fun."
The void answered with silence — until new stars began to form around him, drawn to his madness like moths to flame.
The universe itself had become his echo.
And Heaven's Mistake smiled, already wondering what he might break next.