Tapestry of Fate

The world was suspended—as if the river of time had struck a dam—and at the epicenter stood a lone witness, observing the face-off between the apex of existence within reality and the apex beyond it.

Though she could no longer see, she could still feel. Sparks of Resonance bore silent witness as a familiar frequency reached her.

"Kyorin?" she called out.

And she received the voice it had longed to hear.

"I wish I could speak to you under better conditions," Kyorin replied gently.

Then, turning his gaze toward the goddess, he spoke: "Goddess Lucia, what reason lies behind your agitation?" he asked, calm yet piercing.

"Such unrest does not befit a goddess entrusted with the operation of reality," he implored her to let go of her anger, only to be met with a storm of divine weapons locking onto him.

"You have the gall to show your face here," the goddess scowled, her voice cold. "Because of you, the unrighteous ones have triumphed."

Kyorin blinked, genuinely perplexed. "And what's wrong with that?" he asked. "Hasn't history always told of both righteous and unrighteous victories? Aren't both part of the same eternal pattern?"

"The righteous were meant to win!" the goddess screamed. And in that instant, Solaris III ceased to exist—shattered by her cry, replaced by a void that swallowed the entire galaxy and the inhabitants.

"Have some patience, goddess," Kyorin urged, reaching for reason, but she would not yield. "This is all because of you."

Kyorin pointed at himself, uncertain. Me?

"Yes, you," she said, stepping forward. "An anomaly—birthed with divine powers that eclipse even mine." She spat the words, each one burning with reluctant truth.

As she approached, her form began to change. The closer she drew, the younger she appeared, until she stood before him as a girl no older than seven.

She leaned in close—her eyes wide, her brows drawn tight in accusation. And in a sharp, sorrowful, childlike voice, she complained, "You have ruined the intended story."

They locked eyes—pale yellow and blood red—one calm, the other unrelenting, yet equally stubborn, when a voice warned the goddess.

"Little girl, mind your language. He has eaten more salt than the rice you've done," a serene voice echoed through the void, as Lucia turned to see an abbot and Xia manifest within the emptiness.

Lucia gazed at the newcomers and quickly gauged their frequencies.

The woman with navy hair posed no threat, but the abbot who accompanied her made Lucia shudder—the frequency he emitted exceeded the very bounds of the reality she had crafted.

Xin Yao looked at the goddess with a gentle smile and offered a curt bow. Xia followed suit, and in unison, they both said, "We have met the Supreme Creator of the reality upon which we stand."

Lucia paused. She gazed at Kyorin, then at the woman. Reluctantly, she withdrew all the divine weapons aimed at Kyorin.

She had momentarily forgotten who now stood before her. Thanks to Xin Yao's calming yet commanding presence, Lucia composed herself.

She could not afford to provoke either the woman whose frequency exceeded the bounds of any reality she had created or the man whose frequency could not be measured.

For a fleeting moment, she considered using the mortal woman as ransom. But she knew even that act could be countered, delayed, or undone by the navy-haired boy. So she stopped.

"Good, but let's talk on firmer ground." Xin Yao snapped her fingers, and a platform materialized in the empty void beneath them.

Lucia watched as the abbot effortlessly created the platform within her reality, without her consent or authority.

Yet she ignored it—what was the point in worrying about her authority being challenged when her reality was already in shambles?

She could no longer salvage the story she had written for her chosen one, nor grant that chosen one the glory she had once promised.

In her failure as a god, her eyes turned to the root cause of all this chaos—Kyorin. Seeing his face, she could only pout and glare at him with quiet indignation.

Watching her expression, Xin Yao giggled and whispered into Xia's ear, "Your son is already bullying girls at such a tender age."

Kyorin heard her but chose not to respond, convinced that Xia, who understood his nature, wouldn't make a fuss. But to his surprise, Xia exclaimed, "Unacceptable!"

Kyorin looked at Xia, wide-eyed and scandalized. "Exactly what sin have I committed?" he asked.

"Y-You…" flustered, Lucia summoned the Book of Fate and opened it to show him the devastation his mere presence had caused.

The Fractsidus who had once harvested his flesh had grown so powerful that even the righteous had fallen before them.

Kyorin glanced at the passage and asked, "Is it okay for me to read this?"

His eyes fell on the journey of the Righteous One, and he squinted, tilting his head. "I'm not criticizing your writing, but... I've never seen a god use a ♡ for the letter 'o' and dot their 'i's with ♡s."

Lucia instantly snapped the book shut, her face burning with embarrassment. Then, with a huff, she flipped to the pages detailing Kyorin's story—and oh, how strange they were.

Were those pages written in ink or blood?

In the part where his throat was slit, there was a knife emoji, with trails of blood. In the margins of his lowest moments, symbols of despair and spite decorated the text like curses made manifest.

"Am I… that bad?" Kyorin asked, genuinely bewildered.

Lucia whined, "Why do you have such powers?" Her voice cracked with frustration.

Instead of answering, Kyorin gazed at her and asked, "Could you not have pondered 'that' when you first became aware of my existence in your world?"

Lucia paused, her eyes fixed on Kyorin as he spoke calmly, "Tell me, have you not always been vexed by how I possess such godly powers?" he asked.

She thought back—indeed, she had asked how a mortal could wield such power… but never why he possessed it.

She looked at him, quietly pondering, and when no answers came, asked, "Why?"

"Similar to how you've chosen your so-called 'Righteous One,' someone else has chosen me as theirs," Kyorin replied.

"Who are they?" Lucia demanded.

Kyorin drew a line in the empty void where a crease opened. The line stretched endlessly, expanding as myriad energies from a virgin void, a void where reality had yet to form, began to seep in.

Lucia squinted her eyes, seeing something that even a creator god would only dare to call divine: a woman sitting cross-legged, her lower half dissolving as energies flowed into the emerging realities.

"Who is she?" Lucia asked, surprised by the vision.

Kyorin looked at the figure with pride and said, "The source of all energy—from which you, I, and the sum of all realities draw power—the one referred to as GOD, and also my sworn sister… Guixu."

--

A/N: Not related, but in my original cosmological hierarchy, she represents the Water Element among the five elements of the material world. GOD: Generator, Operator, and Destroyer.

--

Lucia staggered slightly, stunned by his declaration. Her divine logic reeled as Kyorin went on, voice steady and absolute.

"She once granted me a blessing—one that ensures, no matter what universe I choose to incarnate in as a mortal, I may be rejected by all creatures..." He gave her a knowing smile.

Lucia avoided that smile, feeling ashamed as Kyorin continued, "…but never by the energies themselves. They will forever be by my side, even when I do not call upon them."

"I believe this solves the mysteries of my ludicrous compatibility with Resonance." Kyorin said as Lucia asked, "Then what about that terrifying power that makes the energy useless?"

A flicker of fear crossed her face as she asked about the second power he possessed—unlike the first, this one was inevitable and could destroy the very construct known as energy.

Kyorin placed his hand on his chest, his upper body tilting back as if Lucai had just uttered something unbelievable.

With a raised brow, he asked, "Excuse me? How do you expect me to harm my sister?"

Kyorin then clarified. "Every form of energy—whether natural, like 'kinetic, potential, quantum,' or mystical, like 'qi, resonance, mana,' or even 'spiritual,' is all part of my sister. How could I ever harm them?"

"Then, what is that second power?" Lucia asked, unwilling to let go of her unease until it was explained.

Kyorin drew a circle in the void, and a yin-yang symbol emerged. "That power," he clarified, "is the power of balance."

Lucia frowned. "That still doesn't explain why energy is becoming useless."

Kyorin smiled knowingly. "It's because the energies have become balanced that they are unusable."

"Explain," Lucia demanded.

Kyorin continued patiently, "At the lowest, a universe contains around 4.2 × 10^69 joules of energy."

He then conjured a rock and continued, "One joule of energy transforms from one form to another every 1.49 × 10^(-39) seconds." he let the rock fall.

"But with every transformation, only 0.835 joules become usable," he explained the inevitability of the process, "and the remaining 0.165 joules are lost to entropy—unrecoverable, unusable."

"This is the cause and effect of material existence—impermanence," Kyorin explained, revealing the world's intrinsic tendency toward decay.

"And I am the reason for this," he admitted, placing his right hand on his chest.

Hearing his explanation, Lucia's eyes narrowed as she asked, "Exactly what is your authority?"

"As the Tao of Unness, I possess the authority of Eudaimonia (εὐδαιμονία)," Kyorin said, his voice calm but resolute.

He paused thoughtfully, then added, "The word εὖ (eu) means good, well, and δαίμων (daimōn) means spirit, the inner guiding force."

He took a slow breath, eyes steady and deliberate. "I am the kindred spirit who grants well-being to all." Kyorin unfolded his arms wide.

"The one who observes what is happening, who contemplates the true nature of this state, and how it can be attained." He raised a finger, and the fallen stone began to rise.

Gravity seemed to lose its hold on the stone for a split second as it was subtly disturbed by the electromagnetic stability within the stone's atoms, weakening the usual balance.

This disruption caused the stone to be drawn instead to the faint electromagnetic forces in the suspended air around it—forces usually too weak to influence something so dense.

As a result, the stone gently lifted upward, suspended by the interplay of altered electromagnetic fields rather than defying gravity outright.

"I am the guide shaping what state will come to be," Kyorin signaled toward the suspended stone, adding, "and how that state will be achieved."

"And, the only conclusive state for energy and the universe," he vehemently declared, his tone carrying finality, "is entropy—the heat death of the universe."

Lucia was shocked by the revelation. She had believed the anomaly to be a threat, but that anomaly ended up being a higher force of existence, an unmanifested existence.

Now aware of his powers, Lucia asked him, "Was I wrong?" Her eyes searched his serene face for an answer. "Was I wrong in mistreating you? If so…"

Her knees buckled as she knelt. "Please forgive me, Almighty." She kowtowed.

Kyorin walked to her and gently helped her stand. "You are a creator god and the writer of fate. Whatever you write, I believe, is for the welfare of the universe."

Lucia gazed at him, and he smiled. The intensity in his eyes stirred something in her, a mix of relief and unexpected warmth. She quickly turned her gaze away, flustered.

Yao leaned toward Xia and whispered teasingly, "Look at him… he may grow into a playboy."

Kyorin's eyes flicked toward Yao, catching the comment. She froze mid-smirk and cleared her throat, silencing her antics.

He turned back to Lucia and consoled her. "Goddess, your seeing me as a threat was not an act of offense, but of benevolence."

Lucia, however, went back kneeling. Kyorin, aware of her stance, asked, "Tell me… what have you realized?"

"That I have misused my powers and been blinded by the illusions of omniscience," she replied, looking at him and recalling the past, when she dismissed a strange thought.

"I forgot that there's always a bigger fish," she answered, her head bowed.

She remembered the final line she had written for Kyorin: Unable to endure the mortal pain, Dan Kyorin will die.

But Kyorin had endured. He had endured hell itself—and when nothing was left of him, he died.

Solemnly and shamelessly, she admitted, "Though I may write fate, it is the doers who bring it into reality."

"I also..." Her voice faltered, uncertainty blooming in her chest like a storm cloud on the verge of breaking. Her eyes, once ablaze with divine certainty, now drifted, lost, unfocused, clouded by despair.

She looked at him, searching for something she could no longer name. "I also believe... that I am unworthy of creation," she whispered.

Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, trembling like starlight caught in water. Her link to reality began to waver—fragile, fraying.

But the collapse was distant, a process so slow it would take 4.2 quintillion years to begin collapsing. Kyorin was holding it back, his presence subtly delaying her unraveling.

"Goddess," Kyorin said gently, stepping closer, his voice a balm against her anguish. "You are worthy of the starry throne."

He reached out and wiped the tears from her cheek with the tenderness of someone who had long understood pain.

"Those red eyes, akin to blood gems—they know sorrow deeply," he said, not out of consolation, but from the truth he knew about her.

He continued, "And your silver hair reminds me of decay and death… a fate many fear."

Lucia averted her gaze, yet Kyorin's eyes never wavered from her. His voice was steady as a river. "But to me, it meant liberation."

He smiled, not to reassure, but to validate. "You did not wrong me by bringing death—you freed me. In doing so, you showed mercy. That mercy… could only belong to the one worthy of creation."

Lucia gazed at Kyorin.

Even after such torment, he continued smiling. She wanted to ask why. But she already knew.

Her omniscience answered the question before it was voiced, yet frustration stirred within her.

She couldn't hear the answer in his own words, which made it ache. So she asked, "Why show kindness and not wrath to someone who wronged you?"

"I've said this before—I forgive you," Kyorin replied. Then, gently, he added, "But I never promised I would forget your actions."

He paused, eyes distant. "So, in my final moments, I made it so that my body would indeed be tortured and not remain. Because that's the only point where even I can no longer bear it."

Lucia smiled faintly. She knew Kyorin was the cause of the story unraveling into something else, but what could she do now?

What had happened, had happened. There was no one left to blame. It was merely a singular tragedy swept into the waves of fate.

"Am I still a swan?" Lucia asked softly.

Kyorin gazed at her with deep, intoxicating eyes and answered, "Forever."

Lucia, lost in that gaze, could only think: 'If I could hide them away from the world…' Her eyes drifted to his, where she saw herself. 'If I could seek refuge in them…'

"—!!?"

She blinked, flustered, and turned her face aside. Then, sheepishly glancing back at him, she asked, "Do we have a fix?"

"We, huh?" Yao teased, poking her side.

Lucia shot her a glare. "Shut it!"

Ignoring them, Kyorin answered, "There is indeed a way to fix it."

To be continued...