The blank page floated above Klein, suspended in an unseen force that made the very air around it tremble. He could feel it—the weight of an unwritten story. A presence more terrifying than any god, more immutable than any fate.
Because this wasn't just an unfinished book.
It was the last page.
The ending.
And it had never been written.
Klein stepped forward, his heartbeat loud in his ears.
His fingers twitched, as if they wanted to reach for the page. But he didn't. Not yet.
Because if he did—if he touched it—
Would he see?
Would he finally know how his story was meant to end?
Or worse—
Would he write it himself?
The Fool's voice echoed behind him.
"You hesitate."
Klein turned slowly.
The Fool stood there, watching him, their presence flickering at the edges like a candle in the wind. Their face—the blurred, ever-changing version of his own—held an expression he couldn't decipher.
"I don't even know what this is," Klein admitted, his voice quiet. "What… what is this place?"
The Fool tilted their head.
"This?" Their smile was unreadable. "This is the Archive of Unwritten Endings."
Klein swallowed.
"The… what?"
The Fool chuckled. It was a strange sound, as if multiple voices were laughing at once—each a different version of himself.
"It is exactly what it sounds like. A place for stories that were never allowed to finish. A collection of fates that were… cut off. Corrected. Erased."
They gestured to the endless shelves around them.
"Each book here belongs to a being that was supposed to exist—but never did."
Klein felt something cold curl in his stomach.
"And this one?" He pointed at the blank page.
The Fool's gaze darkened.
"This one is yours."
—
A Story That Was Never Meant to End
Klein's hands clenched into fists. "You're saying my ending was… removed? Why?!"
The Fool sighed.
"You already know."
Klein ground his teeth. He hated this—this half-answered, cryptic nonsense.
"Say it." His voice was sharp. "Say it plainly."
The Fool looked at him—really looked at him.
And for the first time, Klein understood.
The moment he had returned to existence—the moment Yeaia had pulled him from that abyss—
The story had changed.
It had been corrected.
Because Klein should not have been here.
Because his existence, his very presence in this world, had already been erased.
He had already reached an ending once.
And yet—he stood here.
Defying that.
Unwritten.
A living contradiction.
"You should not exist," the Fool murmured, as if reading his thoughts. "And yet, you do. You are beyond fate now, Klein Moretti. No one—not the gods, not the Outer Deities, not even the one who rewrites—can dictate what happens next."
Klein exhaled sharply.
He had noticed it.
The strange inconsistencies. The rewritten history. The way things kept shifting just slightly out of place.
He had felt it.
Something else had been trying to correct the narrative. To put him back where he was supposed to be.
Gone. Forgotten.
He was an error.
A story that refused to end.
Klein lifted his gaze back to the blank page.
If this was true—if his ending had been erased—
Then… what now?
Did he write a new one?
Or did he walk away, leaving his fate forever unwritten?
The Fool spoke again, voice almost gentle.
"You are free to decide."
Klein stared at them.
And he did something he had not done in a very long time.
He laughed.
A sharp, bitter laugh.
Because that was the cruelest part of all, wasn't it?
Freedom.
All his life, he had fought against chains—of fate, of gods, of rules written long before he ever existed.
And now, standing here, with a blank page before him—
He was free.
And he had no idea what to do with it.
—
The Hand That Writes
Klein reached out.
His fingers hovered over the blank page.
The Fool watched him carefully, silently.
A pen appeared in his other hand.
Not one he had chosen.
Not one he had summoned.
It was simply there.
Waiting.
A pen meant to write the ending.
His ending.
His fingers curled around it.
It felt… cold.
The weight of it was heavier than he expected.
A simple instrument. A simple act.
And yet—the most dangerous thing in existence.
Because once written, an ending could not be undone.
Klein inhaled deeply.
And then—
He lifted the pen.
And began to write.
The words spilled onto the page, not as ink, but as light.
Reality trembled.
The bookshelves shuddered.
The Archive of Unwritten Endings began to shake.
Klein kept writing.
And with every stroke of his pen—
The world changed.
The Fool exhaled, watching him.
And for the first time—they smiled.
—
A New Ending Begins
The moment the last word was written—
The world broke.
Not in destruction.
But in rebirth.
Klein felt himself being pulled.
The shelves collapsed. The ink bled into light. The pages of every erased fate burned themselves back into existence.
And Klein—
Klein fell.
Not into darkness.
Not into emptiness.
But into something new.
The Fool whispered, their voice a fading echo.
"A story that refuses to end… will always find a way to begin again."
And then—
Silence.
Klein opened his eyes.
And he was somewhere else.
Somewhere that had never existed before.
Somewhere beyond fate.
Somewhere outside of the written world.
He had left the page.
And he had entered the unknown.
---
End of Chapter 69.
---