The strangers lowered their weapons.
"We're not here to fight," the leader said. "We're survivors."
Ethan studied them carefully. Their armor was cracked, their eyes tired—but honest.
"You said your world lost its fate," Ethan replied. "What does that mean?"
The man took a slow breath. "It means our future vanished."
He explained how their world once depended on fate to guide magic, births, and balance. When fate broke, chaos followed. Cities collapsed. Power went wild. Only a few survived.
Lyria's voice trembled. "And you think Ethan caused this?"
The man nodded. "When fate shattered here, the shock reached other worlds."
Ethan felt the weight of their words.
"So this is the price," he whispered.
One of the survivors stepped forward. "But you also gave us freedom. We're not controlled anymore."
Hope and fear mixed in the air.
"What do you want from me?" Ethan asked.
"To learn," the leader said. "How to live without fate. And how to stop what's coming next."
"What's coming?" Ethan asked.
The man looked up at the sky.
"Something that feeds on broken worlds."
The Fate Mark pulsed—warning.
Ethan tightened his grip.
"Then we face it together," he said.
Because running was no longer an option.