The moment Rey left the footwork floor, he stored every book into his inventory.
All except one.
Appearances still mattered. Walking out empty-handed would raise questions he did not want answered.
Now, only one thing remained.
His katana.
And the shadows breathing down his neck.
Rey slowed his pace, mind already moving faster than his steps. The tails were still there. Careful. Disciplined. Relentless.
So he gave them what they expected.
He wandered.
Stalls. Crowds. Turns that meant nothing. Hands brushing wares he had no interest in.
Then—
A slight stumble.
A soft metallic clink.
He looked down, irritation flickering across his posture as if something had fallen.
And in that instant—
Reality bent.
Rey didn't vanish.
He thinned.
His presence collapsed inward, crushed until it was barely a ripple. Eyes slid past him. Intent failed to lock. Even if someone stared straight at him, their mind rejected what it couldn't register.
Invisible.
Not by illusion.
By absence.
He moved.
Not fast.
Not reckless.
Perfect.
Each step carried him entire lanes away, his silhouette dissolving between people, rooftops, and shadows. He used stalls as cover, leapt through narrow gaps, skimmed walls like a wraith.
Behind him—
Panic.
The watchers broke formation.
They searched openly now. Fear burned discipline away. Eyes wide. Breathing heavy.
He had been there.
He was just there.
And then—
Nothing.
If they failed, they were dead. Not maybe. Not later.
Certain.
While desperation swallowed them whole, Rey was already at the edge of the smithing district.
Two minutes.
That was all it took.
His clothes shifted as he moved. The long coat returned—the familiar mask. Every trace of the boy vanished, replaced by the cold, sealed presence they already feared.
He stepped into the smithy.
And the air changed.
Smith Rastin stood near the furnace.
And beside him—
Someone else.
The moment Rey's eyes landed on the man, his instincts screamed.
Not danger.
Not killing intent.
Something worse.
Pressure.
The man was tall. Broad-shouldered, but cleanly built. No wasted bulk. His face was sharp, striking, almost unfairly handsome. Calm eyes that didn't wander.
Eyes that measured.
Rey felt it immediately.
Not a physical threat.
Mental.
Like standing too close to a drawn blade without realising it had already been swung.
The man noticed him too.
Their gazes locked.
For a heartbeat—
The world tightened.
Neither moved.
Neither blinked.
Something passed between them. Silent. Heavy. Violent without motion.
Then—
"Sir!"
Rastin suddenly stood, moving quickly toward Rey.
The other man stiffened, ready to react.
But what followed shattered his expectations.
Rastin smiled.
A real smile.
He cleaned his hands hastily and greeted Rey like an honoured guest, even clasping his hand.
"Come inside," Rastin said warmly. "I've been waiting for you. Your katana is finished. I was completing the final adjustments."
The man by the furnace froze.
That smile.
Rastin never smiled like that.
Rey nodded once, eyes never leaving the other man.
Rastin turned slightly.
"Oh, don't worry about your commission," he said casually. "I'll complete your weapon before the tournament ends. But if you don't mind… I need to speak privately with my guest."
Dismissal.
Cold.
Final.
The man hesitated, confusion flashing across his face, but he nodded and headed out.
At the door—
He looked back.
Rey looked back, too.
Their eyes met again.
This time, the pressure sharpened.
A promise without words.
The man left.
Rey didn't notice Aiden hovering above, eyes narrowed as he watched the departing figure.
"Hoh…" Aiden muttered, disappearing just as silently.
Rastin returned with the katana.
It wasn't the same weapon Rey had left.
The hilt was longer, wrapped in dark leather that absorbed light. The blade itself felt heavier, denser, as if it carried restrained violence.
Rey drew it.
The air hummed.
A single test swing.
Perfect balance.
"Good," Rey said, sliding it back. "But tell me something."
Rastin stiffened.
"Who was that man?"
Rastin misunderstood instantly.
"Did he offend you?" he asked nervously. "Say the word, and I'll make sure he—"
"Don't," Rey interrupted coldly. "Just answer."
Rastin swallowed.
"He commissioned a Stage 2 spear. Even brought a Peak Stage 1 hand gauntlets from me as a spare weapon. A student for the tournament. His name was… Gravion Thalrik."
Rey's fingers paused on the sheath.
Gravion.
"So?" Rey said flatly.
"He seemed friendly," Rastin added quickly. "Didn't mean any offence. Maybe he mistook you for someone else."
Rey's voice dropped.
"I don't mingle with children. But if he keeps staring, he'll lose the privilege of doing so."
Rastin broke into a cold sweat.
"About the katana," he said hurriedly. "I reforged it with Stage 2 materials as you requested. It reached the threshold… just shy of full Stage 2. Peak Stage 1."
Rey nodded.
"That's enough."
He turned and walked out without another word.
Only after the door shut did Rastin collapse back onto his seat, sweat pouring down his face.
That wasn't furnace heat.
That was survival.
"…I should warn that kid," Rastin muttered shakily. "That man's presence is sharper than any blade I've ever forged."
Outside—
Rey stepped into the street, katana at his side.
Somewhere in the market, Gravion Thalrik paused mid-step.
And smiled.
Because he felt it too.
That meeting—
Wasn't a coincidence.
It was the opening clash of something far bigger.
....
Outside the smithy, Rey caught sight of him again.
Gravion hadn't left.
He stood at the edge of the street, half-turned, speaking with another man from the central district. Relaxed posture. Casual tone.
Waiting.
Rey stopped.
Not openly. Just enough for instinct to take control.
'Is he waiting for me?
Testing me?'
His fingers twitched once before the katana vanished into his storage.
No reason to escalate. Not yet.
'Aiden,' Rey said inwardly, voice tight. 'Check him. Why does my gut keep screaming?'
Silence.
Then Aiden appeared beside him.
Not smiling. Not teasing.
Serious.
"Kid," Aiden said slowly, eyes locked on Gravion, "do not go near that one. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever, if you can help it."
Rey frowned. 'That bad?'
"It's worse than strength," Aiden replied. "You could kill him with half your power. That isn't the problem."
'Then what is?'
Aiden's voice dropped.
"The thing behind him."
Rey stiffened. 'A backer? Someone strong enough to scare you?'
Aiden almost laughed. Almost.
"No. Not someone."
Rey felt a chill crawl up his spine.
"Something."
'…Explain.'
Aiden exhaled.
"Fate."
The word hit harder than any blade.
"He's a chosen one," Aiden continued. "Not a minor spark either. Silver Fate. A Heaven's Pick."
Rey's thoughts stuttered.
Silver.
"Heaven bends for him," Aiden said. "Luck coils around his life like armour. Opportunities fall into his hands. Disasters twist away from him. Those who stand in his path rot, slowly or violently."
Rey swallowed.
"The pressure you felt wasn't killing intent," Aiden went on. "It was Heaven recognising the unknown. Something inside you reacted. In the White Space, one of the eight gates almost tore itself open."
Rey's heart thudded.
"And there's more," Aiden said grimly. "Time and space cling to him unnaturally. Like stretched threads. That boy didn't just walk into this era. He either crawled back from the past… or slipped in from elsewhere."
A regressor.
A returnee.
Rey's jaw tightened.
"So you're telling me," he said quietly, "that if I cross him, I become a side character in my own life."
Aiden didn't deny it.
"Unless," he added, "you grow faster than fate expects."
Rey looked back at Gravion.
Silver threads shimmered faintly around him, invisible to most. A halo of probability. Of inevitability.
'No,' Rey thought sharply.
'I won't kneel to a protagonist.'
"Aiden," Rey said, voice low and burning, "tell me the truth. Can we kill a Heaven's Pick?"
Aiden studied him for a long moment.
"Yes," he said. "But not like this."
'Then how?'
"Raise your core," Aiden answered. "Your luck is chained to it. Right now, your fate weight is light. Increase it, and Heaven stops favouring him alone."
Rey recalled his status.
Luck: Core-dependent.
His breathing steadied.
'So that's the battlefield,' he realised. 'Not strength. Not skills.'
Fate.
Unknown to Rey, inside the White Space, something shifted.
The binding threads around him recoiled. Not fully broken.
But weakened.
A single black thread remained, wrapped tight.
Aiden noticed.
He didn't speak of it.
Rey turned away first.
Zero adjusted his clothes. His posture softened. His presence dulled.
A normal boy again.
He walked.
Behind him, Gravion felt it.
A faint resistance.
Like something brushing against his destiny and refusing to bend.
Gravion smiled.
Later.
The spies moved.
Duke-family watchers closed in with precision, encircling the restaurant where Rey ate calmly, unaware of any outside eye.
Two sat nearby, pretending to eat.
More waited outside.
This time, he wouldn't vanish.
Or so they believed.
Rey noticed them all.
He didn't react.
Finished his meal.
Paid.
Left.
Taxi.
Gone.
Again.
Frustration rippled through the watchers.
But Rey didn't care anymore.
He had what he came for.
...
Back in the Martial Mall—
Gravion stood on the second floor.
The Footwork section.
He was here to seize another opportunity that would help a future villain reach Tier 3, turning him into a problem for everyone.
There were two books here that could help him grow, and he wasn't going to let those two books fall into the hands of someone bad.
'Hope they are here; otherwise, it will be difficult to find them after entering the university.'
The same attendant.
"Do you have," Gravion asked casually, "any ancient books? Ones that don't work?"
The attendant froze.
"…No."
Disappointment flickered across Gravion's eyes.
Then—
"Who told you to ask that?" the attendant blurted out. "Was it a boy carrying a dusty box?"
Gravion's pulse spiked.
"Yes."
The attendant paled.
"I shouldn't have sold them," he muttered. "Eight books. All gone. If influential people find out—"
Eight.
Gravion's mind raced.
Eight?
In his past life, there were only two.
Footwork.
Physical Enhancement.
Enough to turn that villain into a monster.
'What would eight have done?'
He forced calm.
"Can you describe him?" Gravion asked. "I'll warn him."
The attendant nodded.
"Noble-looking. Calm. Kind. Overpaid without hesitation. Bought a bow, a short sword, and arrows, maybe new."
Gravion's eyes sharpened.
A bow user.
A smile spread slowly across his face.
'No matter what,' he vowed, 'I won't let anyone steal my opportunities.'
Elsewhere—
Rey walked home, unaware that the Heaven's Pick he intended to avoid had just marked him as an anomaly.
Two fates had brushed past each other.
They hadn't clashed yet.
But the threads were already tightening.
And when they finally snapped—
The world wouldn't stay silent.