Unwanted Encounter

White. Complete nothingness. No thoughts, no concepts—nothing. Until two beings of immense power emerged from the abyss. With their boundless strength, they shaped everything—ideas, words, creation itself.

They were the beginning.

Yet, their hunger for creation was unending. To aid in governing their work, they brought forth deities of every kind, beings tasked with watching over and creating worlds. However, a problem arose: ambition. With every great ambition, a fate was set. Whether it led to fulfilled dreams or unfinished destinies, that was up to fate itself.

Recognizing this, the two creators forged a world at the heart of their creation—a utopia, where different races from various worlds were born. Among them, one race stood out, a race crafted in the creators' own image: humans. 

Humans were weaker than most other races but possessed an unparalleled determination—not to evolve themselves, but to transform their surroundings. The creators were impressed and blessed humans with divine power. But this blessing came with a price: humans were charged with fixing the fate of other worlds when it strayed from its intended course.

Thus, the Fateweavers were born—correctors of stories and weavers of fate, tasked with setting worlds back on the right path.

—

"This is a good essay and all," came the voice of a lime-haired man, his eyes scanning the paper in his hand. Across from him sat a pale, silver-eyed boy with snow-white hair, looking nervous and fidgeting in his seat.

Malphas.

He anxiously twisted a pencil between his fingers, his foot tapping nervously against the cold, hard ground. Around him, people were busy—some writing, others talking, a few eating and chatting. Behind a wall, faint yelling could be heard as a chef barked orders to the kitchen staff.

'God, I really don't want to rewrite this again,' Malphas thought. 'I think this is the third time he's made me review the history of Central Utopia...'

"You know, Malphas," the man said, pulling Malphas from his thoughts, "it's not bad. But you missed one key detail."

Malphas perked up, his shoulders relaxing a little. "And what's that?"

The man placed the paper in front of him and pointed at the second sentence. Specifically, the number two.

"I don't... see the problem," Malphas said, leaning back in his chair.

"The problem is, there weren't two beings at the beginning. It was just one. How did you miss that?"

"I-I mean, I just thought two made more sense for creating everything," Malphas mumbled, his voice getting quieter. "So I stuck with it."

The man's face contorted into a mixture of disbelief, disappointment, and exhaustion. "You've got to be kidding me..."

"No..." Malphas squeaked.

The man rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. "Look, kid. You've only been here for two days, but you've caught on to everything else so fast. How is this the one thing you're stuck on? It should be the easiest."

"I guess history's just not my strong suit," Malphas muttered, sipping a chocolate milkshake.

The man sighed again, shaking his head. 'To think this kid, who just showed up out of nowhere, can grasp advanced mathematics and science in a single day, yet struggles with basic history. At this rate, I could have him ready for the academy in two weeks. The sooner, the better, because they only has seven months before their second trial begins.'

Suddenly, a buzzing sound came from the man's pocket. He pulled out his phone, glancing at the caller ID: Doctor Hale.

"Hey, Malphas" he called out catching Malphas's attention "I've already paid. Wait outside for me while I take this call."

"Okay." Malphas stood up, grabbing his milkshake and wandering toward the exit, his eyes darting around the room like a curious child.

The man answered the phone. "Hello?"

-"Hey Caelen I found the records on this Malphas kid that showed up."

"Yeah? And what did you find about his injuries?"

Caelen remembered when he'd helped Malphas take a bath, noticing bloodstains in strange circular patterns that seemed like wounds but had already vanished.

-"According to the records, his left shoulder was cut open but nearly healed. There were also two puncture wounds in his chest—one just missing his heart—and a large stab wound in his stomach."

Caelen flinched. 'If those were his injuries, how were they completely gone by the end of the same day?'

-"I've also sent you images of his malnourished condition. It was severe. But from what you described, it seems to have gotten worse within hours of his escape from the hospital."

"I get what you're saying. I'll check out the photos later. Thanks for the info, Doc."

-"Of course. And make sure to bring him to the hospital. We're guessing the reason for his rapid regeneration is tied to his malnutrition."

"Will do. Gotta go."

-"Goodbye." Click

Caelen hung up the phone with a sigh. 'Could this be some sort of ability? Or maybe an adaptation from surviving his first trial for so long? There have been cases of Fateweavers' bodies adapting to their environments, but this... this is something else entirely-'

Looking out the window, he saw Malphas, now approached by a beautiful girl holding out a piece of paper. It was Lucinia—the last person he wanted Malphas to meet.

Caelen quickly stood up, rushing to the door just as Malphas reached out to take the paper.

"MAL—" he shouted, only to be cut off.

"I refuse," Malphas said bluntly.

Caelen froze mid-step, his hand reaching out to snatch the paper. Both his and Lucinia's faces were full of confusion.

Lucinia broke the silence with a single word.

"WHAT?!"