Far from the Frozen Continent, and far from the skies of Tempest, in a dimension inaccessible by ordinary magic or spatial travel... lay the "Sanctuary of the Fabric".
It wasn't a physical place in the conventional sense. It was an infinite hall built of pristine white marble, its ceiling a cosmos studded with millions of stars. In the center of this hall stood giant golden looms operating on their own, weaving luminous threads of various colors. Each thread represented the life of a person, the destiny of a nation, or the end of a world. This was the place where the "Absolute Script" was written.
Suddenly, the air tore open with a deafening roar, and Kaito crashed heavily onto the marble floor, coughing up golden blood. His screen, which granted him the title of "God of Fate," was cracked and completely extinguished.
Behind him, "Layla," the Guardian of the Fabric, landed with quiet steps, but her luminous veil was trembling, revealing her inner turmoil.
"We have failed," Layla said, her voice echoing in the empty hall.
From among the giant golden looms, an entity emerged. It was neither human nor angel. It wore a long cloak that completely covered its body, and its face was an open book, its pages flipping at a frantic pace, each page bearing the history of entire universes. This entity was known as **"The Weaver"**, one of the grand architects of the Higher Administration.
"Layla..." The Weaver spoke, its voice not coming from a mouth, but echoing directly as thoughts in their minds. "I sent you to cut a single anomalous thread. But I see now that the entire 'Central World' has trembled."
Layla pointed toward a cosmic map floating in the air, representing the world of *TenSura*.
"The anomaly, Akira Yuzuki, is no longer just a human carrying strange energy. He swallowed my 'Light of Genesis'. And when we tried to erase him, the world itself protected him. That world's will, called the 'Voice of the World', increasingly rejects our authority."
The Weaver raised its long, pale hand and touched the cosmic map. The pages of its face flipped wildly before stopping at a completely black page.
"Impossible..." The Weaver whispered, and for the first time in eons, a hint of shock appeared in its voice. "Akira Yuzuki's thread... it has vanished from the loom of fate. It wasn't cut; it became 'nothingness', devouring the adjacent threads. He has ascended and acquired the Ultimate Skill: **Lord of the Void, Azathoth**."
Hearing this name, the eyes of Kaito, who was lying on the ground, widened in pure terror.
"Azathoth?! The Blind God of the Void?! How can a glitch in fate acquire a power that devours authority itself?! Send the entire 'Purge Army'! We must annihilate him before he swallows us!"
The Weaver looked at Kaito with disdain, and with a simple flick of its finger, Kaito was completely silenced, unable to utter another word.
"You are a failed pawn, Kaito. Your arrogance almost caused the seal to break prematurely. We cannot send the 'Purge Army'."
The Weaver turned toward Layla.
"You know the rules of the cosmic game, Layla. If we intervene directly with our full power, the lords of that world—like Guy Crimson and the True Dragons—will perceive us as a nightmarish threat and unite against us. Not to mention, that boy is now protected by the absolute power of the Void. A direct attack will only make him stronger."
"Then what do we do?" Layla asked coldly. "Do we let him tear up the script we wrote for this world?"
The pages of The Weaver's face began to flip again, this time slowly and cunningly. It raised its hand and began to pluck at the threads of fate of the Central World, manipulating some dark red strings.
"The Void cannot be defeated with brute force... it is defeated by chaos it cannot swallow," The Weaver said, as an image of massive, dark armies materialized before it. "We will no longer dirty our hands. We will use the chess pieces of that very world against him."
"Do you mean..." Layla's eyes narrowed.
"Yes. We will accelerate the **'Tenma Great War'**. We will awaken the dark ambitions within the Eastern Empire, and we will whisper into the ears of fanatical angels. We will make the entire world burn in an endless, bloody war, and we will place Akira and his friends in Tempest at the very center of this holocaust."
The Weaver pulled a very old, black thread from the loom of fate, a thread that had been dormant and folded away for a long time.
"And we will send him a special 'pawn'... someone from within the fabric of his world, someone who bears an ancient grudge, to be the maestro orchestrating this war against him."
In that moment, the hall of the Sanctuary of the Fabric rang with the sound of quiet funeral music. Akira was no longer just fighting a system trying to execute him; he had become the target of a global war, its threads woven in the shadows to destroy everyone he loved.