The room was quiet—too quiet. Only the soft rhythm of Michibiki’s breathing broke the silence, slow and steady against Yukio’s chest. In the dim light, he could feel her weight resting comfortably on him, her head tucked beneath his chin. At some point during the night, she had migrated across the bed again, using him as a pillow like it was her divine right.

  Typical.

  Before he could even drift back into a deeper sleep, a sudden flash of light sliced through the darkness. Yukio flinched, blinking blearily as a rectangular window of blinding white energy hovered inches from his face.

  “Ugh—what now…”

  He mumbled, throwing an arm over his eyes.

  The air around the glowing panel shimmered as text scrolled across it.

  ---

  [System Alert]

  [System Unlocked: Threads of Fate]

  New Path Unlocked — Threads of Fate

  Your connection to fortune deepens. Destiny itself stirs at your touch.

  First Unveiling: Loom’s Whisper

  You hear faint echoes of the Loom of Fate.

  Small outcomes may be nudged—a step avoided, a strike landing true, a coin falling in your favor.

  Fate may be shifted for yourself or others, but never fully controlled.

  Integration with the Wheel of Providence: occasionally mitigates debuffs or amplifies buffs.

  Thread Tithe: 50% of earned experience is claimed to fuel this path.

  System Note: Destiny resists force. The more you pull, the more it pulls back.

  ---

  Yukio stared at the screen, half-conscious.

  “Fifty percent… tithe? Fate manipulation? Yeah, sure, whatever…”

  His voice was a low, sleepy mumble.

  “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

  At that, the glowing panel flickered and vanished. Darkness returned, warm and quiet again. Michibiki let out a faint sigh and burrowed a little closer, arms tightening around his waist like a contented cat.

  Yukio’s lips curved faintly.

  “Can’t even stay on your side of the bed,”

  He whispered. But instead of moving her away, he instinctively pulled her closer—mostly to keep her from falling off the edge, or so he told himself.

  Just before sleep claimed him again, he thought he saw something—thin golden strands, faint as mist, weaving lazily through the shadows above them. They pulsed once, like a heartbeat, and disappeared

  He was too tired to care.

  ---

  Morning arrived unkindly.

  The sun’s first rays spilled across the bed, landing directly on Yukio’s face. He groaned and rolled over, trying to escape the light, only to find that the other half of the bed was empty.

  He blinked awake to see Michibiki already up and dressed. Her pristine white robes glowed faintly in the sunlight, and her silver hair shimmered as she tied it back with practiced ease.

  “Morning, sunshine,”

  She said cheerfully, that teasing lilt already creeping into her tone.

  “Slept well? Because I did.”

  Yukio opened his mouth to answer, but before he could get a single word out—she grabbed his leg and yanked.

  Thump.

  He hit the wooden floor like a sack of potatoes.

  “Ow! Okay, okay, I’m up!”

  He groaned, rubbing the back of his head.

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  Michibiki looked down at him, arms crossed and eyes glinting.

  “Not fast enough.”

  Yukio climbed to his feet, stretching with a yawn that cracked his jaw.

  “You know,”

  He said, rubbing at his neck,

  “most people wake others with words, not by reenacting a kidnapping.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  She said sweetly.

  “Now get dressed. We’ve got work to do.”

  He paused mid-stretch, raising an eyebrow.

  “Work?”

  Her grin widened.

  “Training. You want to survive out there, right? Then it’s time to stop relying on your luck like it’s a cheat code. We’ll train outside the Evergreen Forest. I already packed lunch.”

  Before he could protest, she shoved his gear into his arms and pushed him toward the door.

  “Hurry up, before you change your mind!”

  They stepped into the main hall, where the innkeeper, Miyato, was already arranging breakfast trays. He looked up as they passed.

  “Off early, you two?”

  “Dragging this idiot out for training,”

  Michibiki said brightly, waving as she marched Yukio toward the exit.

  “Don’t wait up—we’ll be back late!”

  Miyato chuckled, shaking his head.

  “Good luck, kid.”

  Yukio gave him a look that silently said, Send help.

  ---

  The morning town buzzed with life. Vendors set up stalls, the smell of bread and roasted meat filled the air, and adventurers clanked past in mismatched armor. By the time they reached the gates and hit the dirt road leading toward the forest, the noise of the city had faded to birdsong and wind.

  For the first time since waking, Yukio’s brain caught up with the memory of that system message. He flicked his hand, and the glowing text reappeared before him.

  He reread the lines slowly, eyes tracing the words Threads of Fate again and again.

  A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  “So it wasn’t a dream,”

  He muttered.

  “A new system skill… and tied to my Wheel of Providence, no less. Fate itself, huh?”

  His smile turned sly. Fifty percent of my experience? Fine. Worth it if I can twist fortune itself.

  Then his eyes narrowed slightly as one line replayed in his mind:

  The more you pull, the more it pulls back.

  He exhaled softly.

  “Yeah, that sounds… safe,”

  He said under his breath.

  “What was that?”

  Michibiki asked without turning around.

  “Nothing!”

  He said quickly, forcing a grin.

  “Just talking to myself!”

  “Uh-huh,”

  She said flatly, clearly not believing him.

  They continued in silence for a while. The road wound through sun-dappled trees, the air fresh and cool. Yukio found his fingers twitching unconsciously, as if he could feel invisible strings brushing his skin. The Wheel of Providence was chaos and chance, but this… this felt deliberate. Like touching the edges of something vast and alive.

  Was it a gift—or a trap?

  ---

  The forest eventually opened into a wide, open plain. The grass stretched endlessly, tall and golden in the sunlight, rippling like waves under the wind. A clear river wound lazily through the field, glittering like liquid glass. Michibiki stopped by the bank, her eyes scanning the terrain before nodding.

  “This will do,”

  She said. Then her expression sharpened.

  “Set your weapons and armor aside.”

  Yukio blinked.

  “Wait—we’re starting now?”

  “Now,”

  She said firmly.

  “You want to use magic later, right? Then your body needs to survive the strain first. We start with the basics.”

  She lifted a hand, and her left eye glowed faintly blue. Yukio shivered under the sensation of being scanned from the inside out.

  “Hmm,”

  She said after a beat.

  “Looking at your stats… yeah, you’re weak.”

  “Thanks,”

  He said dryly.

  “Great confidence boost.”

  “If it weren’t for your absurd luck stat,”

  She continued matter-of-factly,

  “you’d probably still be losing to slimes.”

  He winced.

  “...Ouch. You don’t pull punches, do you?”

  “Why would I?”

  She said, smirking.

  “Besides, Lord Fukui’s blessing gave you a growth boost. You’ll catch up fast—with some effort.”

  Yukio rolled his shoulders, taking a half-step back.

  “All right, fine. What’s the first lesson?”

  She dropped into a fighting stance, balanced and coiled.

  “Lesson one: Don’t die.”

  Before he could react, she vanished.

  “Wait—what—”

  He began, but a voice rang out behind him.

  “Think fast!”

  Instinct screamed. He twisted just in time to see a blur of motion—her leg, arcing toward his head. He barely got his arm up before the kick crashed into his guard, rattling his bones.

  “She’s fast,”

  He thought, teeth gritted.

  “Not bad,”

  Michibiki said approvingly—and then the world turned into a flurry of motion. Fists, elbows, kicks—each one precise, relentless. Yukio blocked what he could, but blows still hammered into his ribs and shoulders, each one like a miniature earthquake.

  He ducked low, desperate, and swung his leg out in a sweeping arc.

  Michibiki leapt effortlessly, twisting midair.

  “Predictable,”

  She said. Her heel came down in a spinning kick that smashed into his head.

  Yukio saw sky, then ground, then sky again as he hit the dirt hard and rolled. He forced himself up, gasping, water from the nearby river spraying as his feet slid through mud.

  Don’t quit. Don’t fold. Get up.

  But Michibiki was already gone.

  “You think you can rest?”

  Her voice called from above.

  He looked up—and saw her descending in a blur of white robes and silver hair, a windmill kick cutting through the air. He raised both arms, catching the strike just enough to shove her back. His forearms screamed in protest.

  She landed lightly, as if gravity didn’t apply.

  “You’ve got decent instincts,”

  She said, rushing forward again.

  “But instincts aren’t enough.”

  Her fist came at his face. He moved to block—but it was a feint. Her knee snapped up and slammed into his chest, the impact knocking the breath clean from his lungs.

  The next thing he knew, he was airborne, then splashing into the cold river.

  The shock of the water made his heart jump. He surfaced with a gasp, hair plastered to his face.

  “Are you trying to kill me?”

  He shouted, coughing.

  Michibiki stood on the bank, smiling serenely.

  “If I wanted you dead, you’d be floating downstream. Come on, lazy bones—up! Don’t tell me you’re tired already?”

  Yukio dragged himself onto the grass, panting.

  “I—I think my soul left my body for a second.”

  “Good,”

  She said cheerfully.

  “Means you’re learning humility.”

  He glared weakly. “You’re the worst teacher ever.”

  “Correction,”

  She said, helping him to his feet.

  “I’m the teacher who’s going to make sure you live.”

  Yukio managed a small grin despite the exhaustion.

  “And here I thought I was just paying for personal torture sessions.”

  “You are,”

  She said with a wink.

  “But look on the bright side—you survived round one.”

  He let out a shaky laugh, brushing his soaked hair back.

  “Barely.”

  She stepped back, her expression softening just a bit.

  “Barely is still progress, Yukio. And from progress comes strength.”

  The breeze picked up, sending ripples across the river. Yukio glanced down, and for a fleeting second, he swore he saw golden threads glimmering beneath the surface—thin, shifting lines that pulsed faintly with light.

  Fate, waiting.

  He blinked, and they were gone.

  Michibiki’s voice cut through his thoughts.

  “Don’t get distracted. Round two starts soon.”

  He groaned.

  “You’re serious?”

  She smiled—bright, unrelenting, terrifying.

  “Always.”