The quiet hum of mana filled the air.
Ryuji sat cross-legged in the heart of the hidden chamber beneath his mansion. Faint candlelight flickered across the rune-carved walls, casting strange shadows across his focused expression. His eyes, once full of curiosity, now held something deeper—purpose.
On a nearby table rested a golden coin. Nothing special at first glance—just an antique devil coin from an old treasury chest he'd discovered. But to Ryuji, it wasn't the coin that mattered.
It was what it represented.
"Alright," he muttered, stretching his fingers. "Let's see if this works."
He'd spent the last two weeks studying the scrolls and tomes found in the sealed chamber—lost knowledge of a nearly extinct Devil lineage once obsessed with the manipulation of fate itself. While most Devils relied on raw power, contracts, or demonic magic, this branch had taken a different route: Fatecraft. The art of subtly nudging destiny.
It wasn't flashy. It wasn't even reliable.
But it was terrifying.
Ryuji didn't want to summon meteors or rewrite time. Not yet. He just wanted to start small—something so minor that the universe wouldn't even notice. That's what the scrolls had advised. "Do not tempt Fate. Whisper to it."
He held the coin in his palm and focused, channeling the technique.
A shimmering thread—almost invisible—floated just above the coin. A string of probability, a strand in the fabric of destiny. Most beings would never even perceive it. But with his enhanced intelligence and growing attunement, Ryuji could see the possibility.
He took a deep breath and whispered the incantation from the scroll:
"Let chance tip in favor, no more, no less—twist the thread, but do not sever."
The room pulsed.
The thread wavered.
And the coin glowed ever so faintly.
Ryuji let out a shaky breath, sweat beading on his forehead. He hadn't tried to force anything grand—just a single, specific influence:
"Tomorrow, when I pick a book at random from the library, let it be something useful."
That was it. No direct power grab. Just a probability tweak. A nudge.
The next day, he walked into the grand library, the memory of the experiment still fresh.
He reached for a random book—eyes closed, hand outstretched.
His fingers landed on a worn spine.
Pulling it out, he opened his eyes.
The title read: "Devil Body Dynamics: An Analysis of Touki Flow and Core Fortification."
Ryuji blinked.
He flipped it open and scanned the pages—detailed diagrams, forgotten martial arts principles, and even a rare technique to stabilize internal energy and awaken deeper layers of Touki.
"…No way."
He shut the book and laughed, half in disbelief. "It worked. It freaking worked."
But the victory was short-lived.
That evening, as he prepared to study, he noticed something odd. A mirror cracked in the hallway for no reason. A servant tripped while carrying silverware—thankfully uninjured, but the timing was uncanny. And when Ryuji tried to summon a basic fire spell, the flame sputtered oddly and turned black for a moment before correcting itself.
He froze.
"…Backlash?"
It wasn't strong. Nothing life-threatening. Just… ripples.
The scroll had warned him. "The more you twist fate, the more it twists back. The universe demands balance. The bigger the favor, the bigger the price."
Ryuji stared at the book on his desk.
He got what he wanted.
But it wasn't free.
He closed his eyes and leaned back, mind racing. "So that's how it is. One step forward... one step sideways. If I'm going to master this, I need control. Precision."
And more importantly—limits.
The path of Fatecraft was a razor's edge, and Ryuji had just taken his first step across it.
He smiled to himself, the fire of ambition burning brighter than ever.
"Let's dance, destiny."