Published at 12th of January 2026 7:42 am

Chapter 1905 The thick thread

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Somewhere in the Middle Sector-

In a vast location that resembled an enormous cavern buried deep within the bowels of the earth... a place drowned in darkness, illuminated by nothing but several strange plants whose faint glow was weaker than moonlight just before it vanished beyond the horizon... atop a solid stone seat, ancient and unyielding, its surface eaten away by moisture and infested with moss-like organisms clinging stubbornly to its cracks...

A young man slowly opened his eyes.

"Hmmm?"

The young man's eyes were completely black, devoid of whites, yet laced with red veins spreading chaotically across their surface, as if bloody lightning had struck them and left behind frozen scars of power.

That long-black-haired youth, his hair flowing freely down his back, rested his head casually on his right fist. With an unhurried motion, he raised his left hand and gently waved it through the air-

Whoosh

An overwhelming number of threads appeared around him-trillions of them. No... far more than that.

Their sudden manifestation completely erased the visible features of the cavern. The walls, ceiling, and floor vanished from sight, swallowed by the spectacle. Only with careful focus could one realize that these were countless threads rather than a solid, unmoving canvas flooded with color.

These threads were not uniform in any sense. They differed wildly in length, thickness, and intensity of radiance. Some were thin as hair, others thicker than cables. They glowed in yellow, black, blue, and every color imaginable, each hue carrying its own presence. Merely looking at a single one of them imposed a distinct aura upon the mind, as if whispering a unique story...

Each thread represented a different fate.

Then-whoosh-with another casual wave of his hand, the youth swept aside all the threads that filled his field of vision, forcing them away as if they were nothing more than drifting mist. From their midst, he drew forth a single strand...

The only red thread among them all.

Compared to how that familiar thread had appeared 650 years ago, it had undergone a profound change. It was now far thicker, vastly brighter, unmistakably clearer-pulsing rhythmically, like a living heart overflowing with power.

"Interesting," the long-haired youth murmured, a rare and subtle smile forming on his lips.

All those scattered threads were connected to that thick red strand, wrapped around it with suffocating force, as though countless destinies depended on its continued existence.

If that red thread were to collapse, everything else would collapse alongside it, dragged into ruin without exception.

Whoosh-with a third wave, most of the background threads faded from existence, dissolving into nothingness. Only the thick red thread remained, encircled by just a few lingering bindings.

No-what remained could no longer be called mere threads.

They were shackles. Massive restraints. Thick ropes used to bind ships in place, blazing with such intense light that the cavern itself was forced into artificial daylight. These were fates of terrifying strength, so overwhelming that they made the thick red thread appear astonishingly thin by comparison.

And yet...

That red thread no longer seemed fragile, nor did it feel like something born from nothingness.

The thread had reached the other end.

"Another one?" The black-haired youth raised an eyebrow slightly. "The little one found a way to bind his fate to another Behemoth- even if it is through hostility, the connection became strong almost instantly..."

After a brief moment of silence, he continued, his smile deepening with hidden meaning,

"Not bad."

Only 650 years ago, that thread had appeared out of nowhere-a thread that carried unmistakable hostility directed straight at him.

At the time, it was pitifully weak, connected only to insignificant fates, perhaps no more than two or three at the level of a planetary emperor within the Middle Sector. And yet, something about it had felt profoundly wrong. No one should have known Sivar personally, nor the truth that an entity like him stood hidden behind the Syndicate of the Hidden Hand.

Anyone who did know him should have felt fear-deep, instinctive fear-not hostility.

And yet, the hostility had been clear, sudden, and eerily calm. It was not the rage of madness, but the calculated animosity of someone who placed him at the back of their mind, patiently preparing to draw closer over time. Someone who, for some inexplicable reason, believed they were capable of dealing with him.

In that instant, Sevar understood.

An entity was standing behind all of this.

It had already sent a candidate after him.

This was not the first time he had sent a candidate after him, not really. It had always been done under the guise of training, testing limits, and applying just enough pressure to be irritating-a calculated form of harassment more than a genuine threat.

And this time, too, it was never meant to be any different.

All he needed to do was wait.

Wait until the bond between them grew a little stronger.

Wait until it became truly connected, stable, and complete.

At that moment, he would be able to activate the Master Law of Causality and erase him with effortless precision, killing him while he was still hiding inside his cave... exactly as had happened before, following the same familiar pattern. So he set the matter aside for a time. He ignored him deliberately, allowing events to unfold on their own. He waited for the link between them to thicken and solidify. He waited for the little brother to reach the Middle Belt, to step into that stage of existence, and to begin interacting directly with the members

of the Syndicate.

And indeed, after nearly a full century of silence and apparent stagnation... the thread began to tighten at an alarming pace.

Yet, at the very same time, something deeply unsettling was occurring. The fates connected to the little brother began to multiply at a terrifying rate, increasing explosively within an incredibly short span of time.

First came fates from the 99th Young Sector and the 100th Young Sector. Then followed fates from the 100th Middle Sector and the 99th Middle Sector- numbers that quickly climbed into the billions, still rising without any sign of

slowing down.

Then, all at once, the 101st Young Sector and the 101st Middle Sector were drawn in, arriving in overwhelming numbers. One of the threads bound to the little brother was Hedrick, the individual who currently carried the collective fates of all inhabitants of those two sectors upon his shoulders.

At the same time, Sevar sensed fates from every corner of the universe rapidly binding themselves to him, moving with shocking speed. Only later did the reason become clear: they were individuals who had purchased his products- creations that had fundamentally transformed their lives, as well as the lives of everyone around them.

And as if the sheer quantity were not already absurd, the quality of the fates connected to the little brother began to rise as well-growing stronger, heavier, and more influential by the moment.

Hundreds of multi-planetary emperors, centennial emperors, and even newly emerged millennial emperors became bound to him in succession. After them came a number of Guardians and Monarchs, including Althera of the 99th Middle Sector, her deputy, the children of Intiras and Morpheus, and figures of even higher importance.

At the same time, several of the Behemoths themselves brushed against him one after another-the Behemoth of Purity, the Behemoth of Savagery, the Behemoth of Curses, the Behemoth of Destruction, the Temporal Behemoth, and finally, today, the Sorcerer Behemoth.

And even beyond them were beings of even higher standing, every single one of whose lives had been altered by the little brother's existence. What, exactly, had the little brother done over the past 650 years to influence

so many entities of such terrifying stature?!

What was he doing... Robin Burton... striking and entangling all of those

threads?

And most of them were hostile, no less-as if he were deliberately trying to strangle himself. As if he were leaping forward like a madman, actively seeking out fates and forcibly binding them to himself, intentionally and without

hesitation.

If Sevar attempted to use causality right now -even causality of the sixth

degree, to interfere with the red thread in any manner, the backlash would be

catastrophic. The reaction would be so violent that it could wound him at his very core, leaving an injury severe enough to cause him to miss that distant event two million years in the future...

At present, there was only one thing he could do.

Observe.

And remain silent.

"Every single time before this, the candidates tried to hide themselves, clinging

to the walls and moving carefully so the thread would never fully connect," Sevar murmured. "Yet you turned it harder than the heart of a dead star... did

the All-Knowing teach you this trick?"

He slowly extended his hand and brushed against the thread-the thread that

had grown so thick it now resembled a solid metal spike.

"... Or are you simply lucky?"

Then-whoosh-everything vanished once more, erased as though it had never

existed.

Sivar closed his eyes again, his expression calm.

"It's fine, little brother. I won't do anything for now," he said softly.

A smile curved his lips.

"And from what I can tell... I may not even need to do anything myself either.

Heh."

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