The morning had begun as any other.

  Ren attended classes while his father went to work. The academy courtyard was calm, filled with the quiet sounds of practice and instruction. Children stood in small groups beneath the watchful eyes of the elders.

  Thin lines of invisible force moved through the air.

  Threads.

  They were faint, almost impossible to perceive unless one had trained their senses. Yet every child here was learning to feel them.

  “Again,” an elder commanded.

  A boy stepped forward, raising both hands. His breathing was uneven as he attempted to draw the surrounding threads toward his body.

  The air trembled.

  For a moment the threads gathered.

  Then they snapped apart violently.

  The boy staggered back, collapsing to one knee.

  Some children snickered. Others looked away, afraid their turn would come soon.

  “Failure,” the elder said calmly.

  A girl stepped forward next.

  She moved slower, focusing her breathing as she extended her fingers. The threads responded more gently this time, swirling like faint strands of silk.

  Ren watched everything.

  Every movement. Every mistake.

  The academy called this exercise Thread Sensitivity Training. The goal was simple: learn to sense the flow of threads and maintain control without allowing them to collapse.

  Most children struggled because they forced the threads to obey.

  But threads did not obey force.

  They responded to rhythm.

  Ren understood that instinctively.

  Memories from past1 life lingered quietly within him.

  A boy beside him whispered.

  “Ren… do you think we’ll pass the second test this month?”

  Ren glanced at him briefly.

  The boy’s hands were trembling.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Fear. Expectation. Weakness.

  Ren answered calmly.

  “If you rush the threads, they will reject you.”

  The boy blinked.

  “Huh?”

  “Threads are not tools,” Ren said. “They are currents. Move with them.”

  The boy looked confused but nodded anyway.

  The elder called another student forward.

  Ren watched again.Nothing seemed unusual.

  The elders were strict but composed. Children moved in ordered exercises.

  And yet ,The threads of fate had begun to tighten.

  Ren felt it faintly.Not through sight.Not through sound.But through instinct.

  Like the whisper of a distant wind.

  Something was wrong.He could not yet understand it.Classes ended earlier than expected.

  “Return to your homes,” an elder announced. “Training resumes tomorrow.”

  The children scattered quickly.

  Some laughed. Some complained. Ren walked alone.

  The sky had begun to shift toward late afternoon, sunlight stretching long across the village paths.

  Everything looked normal. Too normal.Ren slowed his steps.

  The threads around the village felt… disturbed.

  Not broken.But stretched.

  Like a web being pulled from different directions.His chest tightened slightly.

  Then—

  A scream echoed in the distance.Ren froze.Another scream followed.

  Then shouting.

  Smoke began to rise beyond the rooftops.Thin, dark columns cutting into the sky.People began running through the streets.

  “What happened?!”

  “Someone call the elders!”

  “Fire! Fire!”

  Ren’s body moved before his mind could react.

  He ran.

  The wind rushed past his ears as he sprinted through the streets.

  More smoke.

  More shouting.

  More chaos.

  A house collapsed somewhere nearby with a loud crash.

  Ren turned the final corner toward his home.

  His heart stopped

  His house was gone.

  The wooden structure had collapsed inward, blackened by fire. The roof had caved in completely.

  Smoke drifted slowly into the sky. People stood nearby whispering. Some looked at him with pity. Ren walked forward slowly.

  Step.

  Step.

  Step.

  The world felt strangely quiet.

  His mother had called him once more that morning.

  He remembered her voice.

  Soft.

  Patient.

  “Ren, eat properly before you leave.”

  He remembered her hands placing the bowl in front of him.

  He remembered his father adjusting his coat before leaving for work.Small things.Ordinary things.

  Now—

  Only silence remained.

  A villager spoke quietly behind him.

  “…they were inside.”

  Another voice replied.

  “The attack was sudden.”

  Ren stood still.

  His mind noticed everything automatically.

  The direction of the burn marks.The timing of the collapse.The angle of destruction.

  This was not random.Not an accident.Not misfortune.This was deliberate.

  Precise.Targeted.His chest tightened.But his expression did not change.

  He had known something like this would happen . In his past life , he experienced it . But he wasn't strong enough to protect his family . And in his present life , he loses his parents again .

  He had felt the disturbance earlier. But he had not been strong enough. Not yet.The world had claimed what he could not protect.

  Ren stared at the ruins for a long moment.Then he spoke in his mind.

  “A man walks through life believing the world will give him time.”

  The nearby villagers fell silent.

  Ren’s gaze remained fixed on the destroyed house.

  “But time is a lie.”

  He knelt slowly, picking up a small burned fragment of wood.

  “When fate decides to take something from you, it does not ask if you are ready.”

  His fingers tightened around the fragment.

  “It simply takes.”

  The wind carried ash across the street.Ren stood again.His eyes were dry.His voice lowered further.

  “So if the world insists on cruelty…”

  He looked toward the distant mountains beyond the village.

  “…then I will learn cruelty better than the world itself.”

  Silence spread around him.

  The boy who had once walked peacefully through the academy fields no longer existed.

  Something colder had taken root.Ren turned away from the ruins.In that moment, a single thought burned cold and steady in his mind.

  He would grow stronger.

  Strong enough that fate itself would no longer dare touch what belonged to him.