Emma’s eyes fluttered open.
The world was unchanged.
The gentle stream continued to flow beside her, its water glistening under the faint glow of the morning sun. The grass swayed slightly in the cold morning breeze, their blades sharp against the orange light. Even the small pile of charred wood, where she had once made fire, remained undisturbed.
As if nothing had happened.
But Emma knew better.
She pushed herself up, smooth and controlled, but didn’t move from where she stood. Instead, her fingers curled around the thin bracelet on her wrist. It shimmered. A quiet hum vibrated through her skin. The silver band pulsed once before shifting, its structure warping in a seamless motion, stretching, expanding... until she was holding a sleek, gleaming blade.
An ethereal glow pulsed from its surface, its light not from this world.
The Sword of Fate.
A faint smile touched Emma’s lips.
She closed her eyes.
Her grip tightened around the hilt, and in that instant, she saw it.
The strings of fate.
Just like before, in the artificial dungeon. They were everywhere. Threadlike, delicate yet absolute, stretching through the air, interwoven into the fabric of existence. Each object, every single thing, whether living or inanimate, had a string.
The trees. The rocks. The air. The stream beside her.
She could see them all.
And that meant she didn’t need to look.
Her eyelids pressed shut. She exhaled, steady and slow, letting herself sink into this new perception. The world around her was no longer defined by sight but by the intricate web of connections that surrounded her.
Then... In that moment..
A breath.
Deep. Low. Close.
Her heartbeat remained calm, but her fingers curled tighter around the hilt.
It’s here.
Emma saw the strings of the beast before she ever saw its body. It had three strings. Three fates.
Not normal. Not ordinary.
And that meant one thing.
Until I cut all three, it won’t die.
The air stilled.
The beast didn’t move.
It was waiting. Watching.
Expecting her to turn, to make a mistake.
But Emma didn’t move.
She didn't turn.
Instead her fingers shifted.
A precise flick of the wrist. A seamless arc of motion.
SHNK!
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A single, effortless stroke of the Sword of Fate, slicing through one of the three strings.
MUUUUUUUU!
The roar shook the air.
A raw, enraged sound that vibrated through the ground beneath her feet. The beast knew. It understood.
Emma had adapted.
And in that moment..
It lunged.
Time folded.
Space warped.
The mist around its body thickened, shifting unnaturally as the beast surged forward... its form nothing but a blur, its massive horns aimed straight at her.
But..
Emma was already moving.
She lunged to the side, smooth, controlled, dodging effortlessly as the beast’s horns tore through the air where she had just stood.
Her eyes were still closed.
Yet she saw everything.
Through the strings of fate, she knew its movements before they even happened.
The beast twisted, pivoting its massive, mist-wrapped form. The air around it warped. The mist coiled tighter.
SWOOSH!
It was in front of her.
Its mouth opened wide.
A blast of pure, radiating absence beam surged forward.
The air collapsed around it.
Space itself dissolved..
Everything in its path simply ceased to exist.
But Emma.
Wasn’t there anymore.
In a blur of motion, she had moved, reappearing behind the beast.
SHNK!
The sound of metal piercing flesh.
A deep, guttural MUUUUUUUUU ripped from the creature’s throat.
Emma’s blade was embedded deep in its back, twisting as she ripped it free.
Before the beast could react, she leaped away, skidding backward on the grass. The momentum carried her low, and in a fluid motion, she pivoted, her blade slashing cleanly through one of its hind legs.
Ichor... green and mist-like, splattered onto the grass.
The beast staggered.
MUUUUUU!
It vanished.
No trace. No presence.
But Emma wasn’t fooled.
Her lips curled slightly.
She could still see it.
The strings of fate remained.
It was trying to run.
A soft, amused breath left her lips.
"Trying to run from me, huh?"
Her stance shifted.
And then..
She moved.
Her body blurred through the forest, weaving past the trees with an impossible speed, leaves and dirt scattering behind her. The morning air lashed against her skin, the world around her reduced to flickering blur..
And There.... In the distance.
The last two strings.
Closer than before.
Emma’s grip on the Sword of Fate tightened.
Got you.
She pushed forward, her speed increasing as she tore through the forest. Though her eyes remained shut, she moved in a seamless precise way, weaving past trees and leaping over jagged roots as if the dense colorful woodland were nothing more than an open field. Her breath remained steady, each step controlled, each movement calculated.
The world around her blurred and glimmers of morning light that seeped through the thick canopy above. The whisper of wind against her skin, the rustle of disturbed leaves, the faint splash of her foot brushing against a shallow puddle... all of it blended into an ever-changing rhythm of motion.
Yet through it all, she saw.
The strings of fate pulsed in the void behind her closed eyelids, thin yet unbreakable threads that stretched and shifted as the beast fled. They trembled with every movement, every change in direction, every frantic attempt at escape.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
The chase continued.
Emma didn’t stop.
Her body remained light, her steps carrying her across uneven ground without hesitation. Yet something caught her attention. A slight shift. A change in distance.
Her grip tightened.
Whenever she increased her speed, the beast’s strings seemed to grow farther. Whenever she reduced her momentum, the strings inched closer, but not close enough to strike.
Another second passed, and she understood.
The beast wasn’t just running... it was controlling its strings.
Each of the remaining two fates twisted, shifting unpredictably, scattering in erratic directions to prevent her from severing them. The moment she gained ground, they moved farther. The moment she slowed, they drew near, but never enough to be within reach.
Clever.
Emma exhaled slowly, a quiet smirk forming.
But it wasn’t clever enough.
She adjusted her stance mid-stride, her fingers flexing against the hilt of the Sword of Fate. If the beast wanted to play defensively, then she would take that control away.
Her next move had to be aggressive.
Even if it meant looping again.
Her decision came in an instant. Without hesitation, she swung her arm back and threw the Sword of Fate forward.
The weapon blurred through the air, spinning with definitive speed, its ethereal glow streaking like a comet through the morning. It didn’t move in a straight line but curved... rising, twisting... flung upwards in a perfect arc.
The beast’s strings reacted.
Emma could feel the disturbance, the way the threads of fate trembled at the weapon’s sudden movement.
Still running, she opened her eyes just slightly, just enough to catch the sight of her own hands as she lifted them, shaping her fingers into a rectangle.
As if framing a photograph.
She muttered as a slight smile tugged on her lips....
“CLOVAC!”