The three ethereal women, the Moirai—Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos—stood in front of Chronos, the god of time. Each of the women radiated an aura of divine authority, their forms shimmering slightly, reflecting their connection to the tapestry of fate. Their expressions revealed varying degrees of shock and fury, but it was Clotho who snapped first, her voice like a thunderclap.

  “HOW DARE YOU?!” Clotho’s voice resonated with power, shaking the space around them. Her fingers trembled, the very threads of fate reacting to her anger. “You dare meddle with the weave of destiny?!”

  Lachesis, the one with the calmest demeanor, extended a hand to steady her sister. “Sister, calm yourself,” she urged, her voice a soothing hum against Clotho’s stormy wrath. She turned her gaze to Chronos, trying to maintain composure. “Surely he had a reason to save the boy?” Her eyes searched Chronos’s face, seeking confirmation.

  But Chronos only laughed, the sound soft and almost mocking. “I can’t believe it!” he said, an amused grin spreading across his face. “The Moirai, leaders of fate, came to visit me because of a little impulse I had.”

  “Impulse?” Atropos’s tone was colder, carrying the weight of finality as she spoke. Her eyes, like deep wells of knowledge, bored into him. “You… that little ‘impulse’ changed the boy’s fate. Fate is not something you can just play with, Chronos.”

  Chronos rolled his eyes, his smile fading into a look of exasperation. “Tch, insolent,” he muttered. “You think that just because you are the Moirai, you can oppose me? I do whatever I want with time.”

  Lachesis quickly interjected, her voice laced with diplomacy. “Of course we don’t think of opposing you, Chronos,” she said, her hands raised in a gesture of peace. “We truly just wanted to understand your reasoning. Why would you alter fate just to save a single human?”

  Chronos leaned back, sighing as if the question bored him. “Thought it would be interesting,” he said casually, shrugging. “To see what a human could do if given the chance to fix his mistakes.”

  Clotho, her rage now tempered by disbelief, shook her head in incredulity. “Do you mean to tell us that you plan to keep letting this human rebirth, even when he dies again?” she asked, her voice carrying a mixture of caution and wonder.

  Chronos’s smile returned, and there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Quick to catch on, I see,” he replied, the words dripping with amusement. “Yes, that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

  The room seemed to shiver with the implications of his words, the fabric of fate wavering under the force of the god’s will. The Moirai exchanged glances, knowing that their domain had been irrevocably altered. For the first time in eons, a mortal would be given the chance to defy his fate, not once, but as many times as it took to fulfill Chronos’s whims.

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  ***

  “Watch the remaining buildings!” 433 screamed, his voice cutting through the tense silence. His eyes widened as he saw flashes of movement from the corners of his vision. His warning came just in time—three figures launched themselves from the three remaining buildings, their descent swift and purposeful.

  Vera and Flint turned sharply, instantly on alert. Flint’s eyes narrowed, and with a single fluid motion, he pulled the ground beneath him into a defensive position, raising a slab of rock as a makeshift shield.

  The attackers hit the ground without missing a beat. One of them, a muscular man with glowing lines etched across his arms, charged at Flint, his fist cloaked in an aura of intense energy. Flint’s rock wall shattered on impact, but it held long enough for him to sidestep and counter with a sweeping leg strike, sending the man stumbling back.

  Meanwhile, Vera found herself face-to-face with a woman who seemed to blur as she moved. The assailant’s speed was disorienting, like flickering shadows in the corner of Vera’s vision. Vera focused, watching the patterns of the woman's movements, anticipating the next attack. The moment the woman lunged, Vera spun, catching her opponent’s arm and twisting it violently. The woman yelped in pain but quickly retaliated with a low kick aimed at Vera’s knee.

  433 stood in the middle of the square, assessing the battlefield. He had the advantage of knowing their positions from before, but it didn’t stop the dread from crawling up his spine. He knew he had failed the last time. He could see the third attacker now—a woman with an icy demeanor and a calculating gaze, moving in his direction. Her eyes were locked on him, exuding a confidence that made it clear she wasn’t someone to be underestimated.

  Taking a deep breath, 433 steadied himself. He had trained for moments like this without weapons, relying only on what his body was capable of. He lowered his stance, his muscles coiled like springs, ready to unleash their force. The woman approached swiftly, aiming a precise strike at 433’s chest. He deflected the blow, feeling the weight of the impact reverberate through his forearm. She wasn’t just a regular fighter; her moves were efficient and deadly.

  Flint and his opponent continued trading heavy blows; each hit shaking the ground beneath them. The attacker tried to gain the upper hand by swinging wildly, but Flint kept his stance firm, using his earth-based defenses to cushion the impact and create openings.

  Vera was engaged in a rapid exchange of strikes with the speedster, each move a test of reflexes and precision. She could feel the frustration growing in her opponent, who expected her agility to overwhelm Vera. But Vera wasn’t fazed. With each counter, her confidence grew.

  433’s focus tightened as his opponent tried to break through his defenses, launching a flurry of rapid punches. He dodged the strikes, absorbing the rhythm of her attacks. A slight hesitation in her stance was all he needed. He sidestepped a heavy punch and delivered a sharp elbow to her ribs, hearing the satisfying crack of bone. His opponent staggered, clutching her side in pain.

  “Don’t lose your focus!” Vera called out, noticing the slight hesitation in 433’s expression.

  433 refocused, knowing what needed to be done. This fight wasn’t just about survival; it was about redemption. His hands moved with precision, his strikes calculated. He didn’t allow fear or doubt to cloud his actions. He aimed his next blow squarely at the woman’s throat, knocking the wind out of her and sending her crumpling to the ground.

  The three comrades regrouped in the middle of the square, their opponents incapacitated. Flint wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, a grin spreading across his face.

  433 scanned the area, making sure no other threats lingered. His chest still heaved from the exertion, but his mind was clearer than ever. He hadn’t just survived; he had changed the course of events. But as the silence settled over the square, 433 couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something far more dangerous.