Destiny...
She walks the thread with unblinking eyes, knowing each step before it's taken.
No soul escapes her quiet weaving, no fate is unwritten, none abandoned. She spins the loom with effortless grace — every thread a life, every knot a binding chain.
From the first embrace, the end is already known: the joy, the sorrow, and the joy again.
But then came one — a thread unraveling, a shadow mocking her design. It ripped through the pattern, defied her laws, and left her staring at the frayed line.
Now Destiny stands in broken silence, her once-perfect gaze uncertain.
The one who slipped beyond her reach has made the weaver doubt the weave itself. And somewhere far beyond all known realities, her focus clings to this single rebel thread...
Hoping to discover the root of this fracture.
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Since the final battle in the Ninth Organism, countless years had slipped away—over ten thousand, to be exact.
