Unwritten Mythos

The threads danced, shimmering as countless puppets surged forward to clash with Enko. He moved with brutal precision, his waist snapping downward as his kick sent the puppets sliding across the floor like they were on ice. Mei's threads twitched, pulling the puppets back to their feet, only for Enko to repeat the maneuver, effortlessly sending them sprawling once more.

Huh?

Mei's eyes narrowed. Something was off.

Enko shifted his stance, charging directly at her. With a flick of her fingers, Mei shot out a thread, aiming to pierce him. But as if he had foreseen her every move, Enko ducked low, sliding across the ground with uncanny grace, closing the distance between them. His strike sent her slipping, much like her puppets before.

Mei pulled herself upright using her threads, but Enko repeated the action, his every movement timed perfectly to knock her off balance again.

What in the world...?

"Can he... always make me slip?"

Doubt clawed at her thoughts as she prepared to put some distance between them. But in that moment, a voice whispered in Enko's ear.

"Thirty seconds left. Get out now!"

Enko didn't falter, continuing his relentless pursuit, charging straight toward Mei.

"Enko, what's your plan?" Mei's fingers twitched, pulling her threads to lift her back to her feet.

Enko attacked again, but this time, Mei was ready. Her fingers curled, and the puppets she had concealed sprung into action. In an instant, the killing array was triggered.

Swish, swish!

Countless threads radiated from all directions, skewering Enko's body in a web of sharp precision. Mei tugged the threads, forcing him to kneel before her.

"Interesting ability you've got there. Care to explain how you made me slip earlier?" she asked, her tone laced with intrigue.

Enko's mouth curled into a laugh, his defiance unwavering. "You guess."

Mei's grip tightened on the threads, pulling them taut as Enko's body contorted. "It's fine. We have time to figure it out... don't we?"

Enko's eyes gleamed with a sinister light. "But I feel like you don't."

Mei's instincts flared. She frowned, a sudden premonition gnawing at her mind.

BOOM!

The explosion roared from below, the sound deafening as flames erupted, engulfing the building. Mei's eyes widened, quickly directing her threads to pull her and the puppets skyward. But Enko wasn't finished.

In the chaos, he opened his mouth and exhaled a chilling breath. The frigid air rushed toward Mei, freezing her legs solid in an instant. Unable to move, she plummeted from the sky, crashing toward the burning wreckage below.

Enko stood above her, his eyes cold, yet triumphant. "I told you, I'll win against fate, just this once."

Mei lay trapped, her limbs frozen, helpless to stop the flames and destruction racing toward her. She glanced at Enko, now resolute, standing amidst the impending inferno.

"So," she murmured, "you knew my location all along, using that future sight to plant the bomb ahead of time."

Her voice remained steady, even as the building collapsed beneath them, the flames devouring everything in their path.

"The plan's decent," Mei admitted, "but... what about you?"

Enko's lips curled into a chilling smile. "If I die taking you down with me, I'll call that a worthy end."

The explosion reached its crescendo, the world around them disintegrating into flames and rubble. The two of them plunged toward the fiery abyss below, with nowhere left to stand.

Mei's eyes flickered with resolve. 'I still have one last trick.'

She bit down on the capsule hidden in her mouth, a last-ditch gambit. "I didn't think I'd need this so soon," she muttered, as the flames enveloped them both. "But it's only half-complete."

RUMBLE!

The entire structure collapsed, sending shockwaves through the area as buildings crumbled and fell. Amidst the inferno, a dark energy began to swirl around Mei's fallen body, seeping from her core and growing more intense with every second.

Her form dissipated in the blaze, turning into an ethereal mist. From that mist, skeletal arms and a skull emerged, wrapped in burning black flames.

"Your plan wasn't half-bad," Mei's voice echoed, distorted and otherworldly. Her skeletal hand extended, grabbing Enko by the head. With a sharp twist, she tore open a rift in the fabric of space itself.

CRACK!

Reality splintered, and Mei stepped through the crack in space, dragging Enko's limp body with her.

The semi-finished Potion: Goddess of Death.

An elixir with the characteristic of immortality, forged from the fusion of Potions of 001-009, enhanced with alot materials to create a being transcending life and death.

The reason why the potion is called semi-complete lies in its incomplete nature—it hasn't fully ascended to the level of a true god. There are still critical components missing, elements Mei has yet to discover.

But what is certain is that the **Goddess of Death Potion**, when combined with her existing powers as the **Puppeteer**, triggered an unexpected chain reaction.

For the longest time, Mei's **Puppeteer** abilities were thought to control fate. That was the story everyone believed—the mere perception of her threads weaving the strands of destiny. But upon merging the essence of the Goddess of Death with the Puppeteer's thread, something far deeper and more terrifying emerged: the genuine ability to influence fate.

It wasn't, however, as simple as controlling the full scope of someone's destiny. Mei's newfound power was far more insidious, akin to a dark ledger like the **Death Note**. She couldn't rewrite life, but she could thread the inevitable fate of **death** into the fabric of existence.

The concept of the **Goddess of Death** itself was something Mei had fashioned after the design from a movie—a chilling tale of inevitability: **Final Destination**. In that story, death was omnipresent, both an unstoppable force and an invisible specter that lingered. Mei's thoughts had mirrored that exact concept, combining it with the advanced immortality traits of **Potion 009 Splitter**.

But unexpectedly, this fusion birthed a new branch of her abilities.

Now, Mei had transcended the limitations of matter and spirit, gaining the power to send objects—whether physical or immaterial—into a realm beyond reality. A place where existence itself no longer held sway. Moreover, she could move freely between the material world and this spectral plane, slipping through the thin veils between the realms of the living and the dead with ease.

...

Outside the wreckage of the shattered buildings, a tense silence enveloped the gathered crowd as they clenched their fists, staring at the destruction.

"Is the Fateweaver dead?" one soldier murmured, eyes wide with disbelief.

"There's been no sign of life in the ruins," another confirmed, uncertainty lacing their voice.

"In theory, we… succeeded?" someone ventured, yet the word hung in the air, heavy with doubt.

But just as the murmurs faded into a chilling stillness, crackling energy surged above them. A dark rift opened in the sky, and from its depths, a black figure emerged.

She wore a flowing black robe, her hands and face nothing but white bones, and her form flickered with black flames and mist.

"Fire cannot burn, water cannot wet, and the Death will naturally not die," she proclaimed, her voice echoing with an ethereal resonance. "But I cannot help but applaud your efforts."

Raising her hand, countless threads of fate materialized, swirling around her. "I hadn't even come looking for you, yet here you all are, rushing to see me. This is a taboo in life."

With a swift motion, she severed the threads, the very fatelines of those present. As each thread snapped, it signified the end of their existence.

In that very moment, twelve shadowy figures manifested atop a distant building, their presence palpable.

One among them, a white-bearded old man, pinched his neck in a gesture of preparation. In the blink of an eye, he leaped from the heights, crashing down amid the ranks of the Kitsune soldiers.

"Who?!" the soldiers shouted, startled.

With a swift pat on one soldier's shoulder, the old man's hand plunged into the soldier's chest. He gripped the heart tightly, twisting it with a merciless force before yanking it free!

Puff! Pop! Pop!

Gouts of blood sprayed forth as the soldier's body contorted, morphing into a grotesque weapon—the old man now wielding a massive sword forged from flesh and bone.

"Who are you asking?" he mused with a grin. "I'm just an iron smith, surprised that in my old age, I still have the strength to enter the fray. Oh, perhaps I should introduce myself: we are the Chaos Insurgency."

With pride, he declared, "I am the 12th seat, Swordsmith."

Brandishing the grotesque sword, the Swordsmith unleashed a devastating swing. The flesh and bone erupted from the blade, ripping through a throng of soldiers in a crimson cascade.

As bullets erupted from countless rifles, they hung suspended in the air, a moment frozen in time.

From above, another figure descended, hands clasped behind his back. He extended a single finger, and with a mere gesture, the suspended bullets shifted direction.

This man, adorned with glasses and eyes gleaming a haunting purple, regarded the chaos below with an eerie calm.

"I am the Chaos Insurgency's 6th seat, Sinner. Naira Sorkin," he declared, his voice smooth yet edged with an unsettling intensity.