The Temple Beyond the Thread

As our hero sat quietly beneath the shadow of the academy towers, watching the golden-marked students laugh and show off their abilities like fireworks in the sky, a storm churned behind his eyes.

He was disappointed — no, wounded. A part of him still refused to accept what the Mirror of Truth had shown… or rather, hadn’t.

Around him, Fateweaver buzzed with energy. Students performed small feats of magic, conjuring sparks and illusions, comparing marks as though they were medals. Their futures were already unfolding, wrapped in golden threads and silver glows.

And Kaito? He was still nothing. Not even a footnote.

Each smile from the others felt like a dagger. Each boast, a hammer against the cracked shell of his self-worth. The emptiness in his chest had grown colder, deeper. He couldn’t take it anymore.

So he left.

Not with purpose. Not with defiance. Just… sorrow. He walked until the academy walls disappeared behind the trees. Until the sounds of laughter faded. Until he felt alone enough to break without anyone watching.

He walked into the wilds beyond the academy — a place forbidden to students, tangled with old roots, shadows, and silence.

And there, in the depths of that silence, something happened.

The world... rippled.

Kaito staggered, suddenly lightheaded, as if the air itself had been pulled from his lungs. The wind stilled. The forest went quiet.

And then— light. Not bright, but ancient. Pale. Cold.

It formed like threads unwinding from nothing, twisting and reweaving in front of him. The ground beneath his feet melted into mist, and before he could cry out—

He was no longer in the forest.

Kaito now stood inside what could only be described as a temple — vast, cracked, overgrown with vines that moved as if breathing. The ceiling stretched endlessly above him, constellations carved in glowing symbols. The walls were engraved with stories that pulsed faintly, though the language was unreadable — or maybe unread by fate.

Dust filled the air. Yet it felt… untouched. Unwalked. Forgotten.

As though no living soul had entered in centuries.

And then, from the far end of the temple — a shape.

A being, seated on a throne of broken stone and roots, his presence both ethereal and immense, as if time bent around him.

He didn’t speak at first.

But Kaito knew, deep down, he wasn’t just looking at some old spirit.

He was looking at something that was never meant to be remembered.

“I’ve waited too long,” the voice said — deep, weary, vast.

Kaito flinched, taking a step back. “W-What is this place? Who are you?”

The entity didn’t move. His body was shrouded in shadow, but glowing cracks of starlight pulsed along his form, like a dying sun beneath armor made of night.

“I had many names,” he said. “But even gods can be forgotten.”

Kaito didn’t understand. “Why me? I don’t even have a mark—”

“That’s why,” the Entity interrupted. “Because this world never planned for you. Because they never saw you coming.”

A pause.

Then he said: “And because I’m dying. And I’ve chosen you.”

Kaito stared. “I don’t… I don’t want to be chosen. I wanted to belong. I just wanted the same chance as everyone else.”

The Entity’s voice softened. “And what did they give you, Kaito Mori? Laughter? Pity? A place in the shadows?”

Kaito clenched his fists. His throat tightened.

“…Nothing,” he whispered. “They gave me nothing.”

“Then take everything,” the Entity said.

He stood, finally — towering, fractured, divine. The temple shook with the weight of his presence. His eyes, twin stars burning through the void, locked onto Kaito.

“I am the last of those who defied the Prophets,” the Entity said. “I broke from the script. I learned to wield power not written for me. And for that… they erased me.”

He raised a hand — not in threat, but in offering.

“I give you my knowledge. My strength. My rebellion. My truth.”

Kaito took a step back, afraid.

“If I take it… what happens to you?”

The Entity smiled — a flicker of sorrow in the cracks of his face.

“I cease. But the story continues… through you.”

The moment Kaito accepted, the temple blazed to life.

Symbols ignited across the walls. Ancient energy surged through the air. The Entity’s body began to disintegrate — not into ash, but into light, thousands of threads of pure, chaotic magic unraveling and wrapping around Kaito.

Kaito screamed.

Not in pain — but in change. The light didn’t burn him. It rewrote him.

His skin marked itself with shifting sigils — not golden, silver, or bronze — but something else entirely. Something unclassified. Uncontrolled.

Something forbidden.

His body trembled, his heart surged, and his mind was flooded with memories not his own — battles fought, gods defied, truths buried beneath centuries of lies.

And then, as the Entity’s form faded entirely, only his voice remained:

“Do not be an option, kid. Be the first. And surpass me.”

And just like that — Kaito was back.

He blinked.

The forest surrounded him once more. The academy walls were visible in the distance.

But nothing felt the same.

His hands trembled, glowing faintly with symbols that faded into his skin.

The world hadn't noticed.

No one saw.

But something ancient had been passed on.

And deep within him, a storm was beginning to rise.

End of Chapter 3