Gloria stood quietly for a moment, arms crossed and brow furrowed, before finally breaking the silence.
"Guruji… what were all these events? The mist, the planet, the cathedral—Everett opening his Chrono-Strain Eyes and then collapsing? What happened?"
Guruji said nothing. His silence was loud, almost reverent.
Then—soft as air slipping through cracked stone—someone behind them whispered a name:
"Fate-Satus."
The voice was warm, calm… and oddly familiar.
Both Gloria and Guruji turned. A childish figure stood at the edge of the garden path. His eyes shimmered like starfire—quiet and ancient.
"You're not like other prophecy-users," the figure said. "You're more unique… more knowledgeable. I brought you all here."
Gloria blinked. "So… this was your plan?"
She looked around at the vibrant garden, the twin moons overhead, and the memory of the dead planet behind them.
"Fine," she muttered. "Then tell me, Satus—what does any of this mean? Why were those planets broken? And what in the spiraling void is 'everything in the middle of everything' supposed to be?"
Satus smiled gently and turned, stepping off the garden path toward the city beyond. His voice came back as he walked:
"Come with me, Gloria. You'll see."
She exchanged a glance with Guruji—he nodded—and together they followed the Fate-Manas into the city of ethereal light.
As they entered, every being who saw Satus bowed, then quietly stepped aside.
"This," Satus said, spreading his arms, "is our civilization. The civilization of Manas."
He didn't wait for their questions.
"We began on a single planet. Unlike others, our world birthed not life, but spiritual thought. It gave awareness to the very elements—mountains, clouds, fire… even the laws that govern the cosmos."
He turned to face them, his expression unreadable.
"Thus were born the Manas."
"Wait," Gloria said, "you mean like… you?"
"Yes. I am Satus—Fate Manas. One of the earliest."
He continued walking.
"In the beginning, there were only seventy-nine pure-blooded Manas. Children of the planet itself. Born not from biology, but from divine resonance. Our birthright began at Tier Four."
Guruji stumbled. "You… started at Tier Four?"
Satus nodded solemnly.
"For most mortals and even aliens, Tier Four marks the end of a long and perilous journey. For us, it was the beginning. A blessing, yes—but also a cage. The laws of our planet could take us no further than tier seven."
He paused.
"We were mighty. But we were finite."
They reached a high balcony, overlooking countless floating islands. Rivers of energy pulsed through the sky like glowing veins.
"We grew. Mixed-blood Manas were born. Our civilization spread—from your Milky Way to hundreds of galaxies. We were the most prosperous in this quadrant of reality."
His tone shifted. Darkened.
"But karma does not forget."
Satus turned to them. His eyes were dimmer now.
> "We conquered. We consumed. We dominated civilizations—hundreds, maybe thousands."
"But destruction is not just an action. It is a law."
Gloria swallowed. Guruji remained still.
"From our own actions, the Destruction Manas was born. A being formed from death and despair. Its birth was inevitable… and catastrophic."
He looked away, as if haunted.
"That Manas destroyed us all."
Guruji finally asked, "But weren't there other laws? Creation? Preservation? Shouldn't they balance Destruction?"
Satus gave a dry laugh.
"All laws are equal, yes—but only to the universe itself. Not to the planet that gave us birth."
He looked skyward.
"Planets are made of laws. They aren't just rocks in space. Some give birth to peace. Others to disaster. Our planet… was rich in spiritual energy. But it was also heavy with karmic weight."
Gloria frowned. "So… the Destruction Manas was karma?"
"Exactly. A mirror of our sins. We could not conquer fate. So fate conquered us."
They were quiet for a long moment. Wind rustled a tree made of translucent crystal.
"But…" Gloria asked softly, "if you knew the Destruction Manas would be born… why didn't you stop it?"
Satus's voice was low.
"Because I am fate. And even I cannot change fate."
The weight of those words settled heavily in the air.
"So…" Gloria murmured. "You're Tier Seven. A controller of fate. And even you can't stop it?"
"No," Satus said. "But I can try to trick it."
He gestured for them to walk again.
"After the fall of our civilization, we formed one final plan. We poured our essence into the creation of a new Manas—a supreme Manas, born from all our knowledge and energy."
He stopped before a giant crystalline flower, its petals curled inward like a sleeping star.
"We sent him to sleep in oblivion. To be awakened only when the Destruction Manas would rise again."
Gloria stiffened.
"You mean… Everett?"
Satus didn't answer. Not directly.
Instead, the world shifted.
The balcony, the sky, the floating islands—all cracked like glass struck by fate itself. The fragments dissolved into brilliant stardust as a new space opened around them: vast, endless, divine.
They were standing in cosmic silence.
No gravity. No time. Only reverence.
And in that silence… floated an egg.
It pulsed with ancient light. Covered in glowing runes—each one older than stars, older than language. The egg burned softly, as if resisting the very concept of containment.
All around it, they gathered.
Creatures beyond imagination. Ants the size of ships. Dragons made of galaxies. Fairies with wings like nebulae. Buffaloes with spiral horns wider than moons. Divine butterflies, fluttering like living prayers.
Some creatures were no larger than breath. Others… were titanic—hundreds, thousands of times larger than planets. They stood, floated, coiled, and hovered around the egg. Worshipping in silence.
Then—
A golden light poured in from above, like liquid divinity. It bathed the egg. The runes blazed. The space around it ignited.
Flames erupted.
Golden fire spread outward—thousands of kilometers wide—setting the void ablaze. Galaxies flickered. Space-time itself trembled.
It was not destruction.
It was birth.
From the blinding flames, a child stepped forward.
His eyes shimmered like stars compressed into thought. His body radiated calm, but his voice cracked the universe.
He was Satus.
And he spoke with the weight of destiny.
"Your name shall be Miracle. You are the Miracle of our civilization."
He raised his hand.
> "Go, child. Descendant of Manas. Carrier of our flame. Awaken, and give birth to the Miracle that even fate could not predict."
> "Go—descendant of fire. Descendant of stars. Avenge yourself. Show them what fate-defied looks like."
As his words echoed, the flames bent, flowing into the egg like golden rivers. The runes on the egg glowed brighter, singing silently. One by one, they awakened—symbols of time, war, peace, love, death, rebirth.
The creatures around them bowed.
And space itself could not contain the miracle.
It shattered.
Cracks spread through the cosmos like fractured glass. The egg vibrated. A final hum rang out—low, beautiful, full of meaning.
Satus appeared once more.
He raised one finger.
And with that single gesture—
A black hole tore open.
The egg was drawn in—burning, pulsing, resisting—but it did not break. Instead, it chose to enter.
And with its passage, a story ended.
And another began.
Planets formed. Planets died. Stars were born. Civilizations blinked into existence and were forgotten.
Eras passed like raindrops.
Until, finally…
The egg arrived.
Earth.
The black hole flickered out beside a tiny orphanage under a thunder-torn sky.
The egg landed gently. It had survived supernovas, cosmic collapse, entropy itself—but now, quietly, it touched soil. It pulsed once more.
And it cracked.
With no sound.
It didn't shatter—it dissolved.
And inside, a child sat quietly. Eyes closed. Skin warm.
Everett.
The storm still roared above.
Inside the orphanage, a woman stirred—a thin, middle-aged lady with tired eyes and a heart far stronger than her frame. The thunder had woken her, and she reached instinctively for the rosary at her neck before grabbing a shawl and stepping outside.
She saw the boy.
So calm. So alone. So impossible.
Her breath caught. She looked around—no footprints, no shipwreck, no crater. Just a child, untouched, in the middle of the garden.
She dropped to her knees beside him, hands trembling.
> "Where did you come from?" she whispered. "Where are your parents?"
The boy didn't stir.
A breeze passed over them. The thunder faded, just for a moment.
And in that quiet, something stirred in her heart. A whisper—not of words, but of certainty.
She smiled gently, brushing dust from his cheek.
"You… you're a miracle."
Then, as if the truth had just revealed itself to her:
"That's it. Your name. Your name shall be Everett Miracle."
She scooped him up, holding him close, the way she had done for dozens of orphans before.
But this time… the warmth felt different. Deeper. As though the universe had left something behind in her arms.
—And Gloria gasped, back in the present.
She had shouted.
Satus turned to her calmly.
Her voice was hoarse. "Was that… real?"
Satus didn't nod.
He didn't have to.
"If our Manas defeats Destruction… we will have defied fate. If not… we will have fulfilled it."
He smiled faintly.