Long before Levie was born under the silent sky, He existed as something older than kings, older than kingdoms, older than the gods themselves. In his past life, 
He was known as the Fate Weaver, a mortal who had discovered the secret of threads that bound all living things — threads that dictated destiny, birth, death, and the turn of the world.
He walked the lands as a shadow unseen, yet every ruler, every priest, every god knew his name.
He shaped kings, whispered secrets to empires, and carved prophecies so precise that even the gods trembled when they unfolded.

Yet power is never free. Every act He performed left a ripple, and soon the gods grew fearful. They whispered among themselves: “This mortal touches the world too much. He threatens what we control.”

It was not hatred that led him to vanish. It was foresight. Levie saw a vision — one where the gods would rise against him, the kingdoms would crumble, and countless lives would be extinguished simply because he existed. He could not stop the future without disappearing himself.

So he made the hardest choice a soul could make.

He wrote a prophecy — a line so precise, so absolute, that it would predict the coming savior. But he erased his own name from it. 
He removed every trace of his existence from the world, every memory, every record. He became the unborn, the shadow that waited in the folds of time, unseen by gods and men alike.

His last act was one of love for life itself. He hid himself not to escape, but to protect the world from the power he wielded. Every thread he touched in his past life whispered a warning: “Do not follow me. The world is not ready.”

And then she died.

Not in battle. Not by godly wrath. He died in silence, His soul folded into the unseen spaces between destinies. Yet the threads he wove were not broken — they waited, patient and quiet, for the day she would return.

Now, centuries later, the world has shifted. The comet that should have heralded her reincarnation never appeared. But she came anyway — a child born without a star, a mortal outside destiny, a shadow that defies prophecy.

He is Levie.
He is the one who wrote fate itself.
And the world does not yet know what it has unleashed.

The people of Zuwana had waited all year for the Night of the Comet.


A bright silver trail that crossed the sky, blessing every newborn and marking their destiny.


Elders said it was the breath of the ancient spirits.


Parents believed it guided the life of every child who saw its light.


So that night, the whole village gathered outside.


Children sat on their mothers' laps, eyes fixed on the stars.


Inside a small hut near the river, a young woman named Mala screamed in labour.


Sweat ran down her face, but her eyes were filled with hope.


"Hold on, Mala," the midwife whispered. "Your child will be born under the comet. This is a blessing."


Every child born under the comet grew strong, wise, or great.


Silence spread through the whole village.


Before the midwife could answer, the baby cried.


A strong, loud cry — not weak, not sickly, but sharp and full of life.


It felt as if the whole world held its breath.


The midwife lifted the newborn boy, but her hands shook.


But the moment she touched him, she felt a cold rush inside her chest, like something was missing… something that should be there.


Like he had no thread connected to the world.


"What is it?" Mala asked, fear rising in her eyes.


The midwife whispered, almost afraid to speak:


Outside, the elders began chanting in panic, trying to call the comet back.


Mala held her baby close, tears falling onto his small face.


And in that quiet, frozen night, the boy opened his eyes for the first time.


Like the eyes of someone who didn't belong to this world.


"His name," she whispered. "What will you call him?"


Mala looked down at her son and felt something she couldn't explain — fear and love mixed together.


The boy who would break the world's old rules… simply by growing up.


Chapter 1 - Chapter 1