"This... this child?" One of the leaders, a scarred woman named Vara, hissed. She was a Rank 2: Space-Time Weaver. She stepped forward, her hand resting on a blade made of condensed gravity. "You claim he is the Son of Prophecy? He looks like a stray found in the solar-rubbish."
Fang Yuan didn't flinch. He didn't even look at her. His gaze was fixed on the massive Star-Core Reactor pulsating in the center of their hideout.
"Before you judge my appearance," Yuan's voice vibrated with the authority of a Rank 3: Galactic Overlord, "tell me of your strength. You speak of breaking the Council, of 'Unraveling' the universe. What can a few rats in a basement truly achieve against Rank 5 Judges?"
Vara bristled, but the oldest leader, a grey-skinned entity named Elder Krow, raised a hand to stop her. He sensed it—the Gravitational Anchor emanating from Yuan was far more stable and terrifying than any Rank 3 he had ever met.
"We are more than rats, Boy," Krow growled. "Our Sect consists of ten thousand World Breakers, five hundred Space-Time Weavers, and three Galactic Overlords—including myself. We possess a fleet of 'Stealth-Warp' ships that can bypass the Council's scanners. And most importantly..."
He pointed to a massive, ancient loom in the corner. "We possess the Broken Spindle of Fate, an artifact left behind by the Great Weaver. With it, we can mask our presence from even a Rank 5 Judge for a limited time."
Yuan walked toward the Spindle. To them, it was a holy relic. To him, it was a piece of junk he had discarded ages ago. But he saw its value: it was the perfect battery to hide his own ascension.
"Ten thousand soldiers and a broken toy," Yuan said, a thin, cruel smile appearing on his face. "Enough to start a riot, perhaps. But to kill a God? You are missing the most important piece."
"And what is that?" Vara challenged.
"The Null-Logic Key," Yuan replied, his binary hearts glowing through his chest. "You have the threads, but you've forgotten how to tie the knot. I am here to teach you... for a price."