Silence.
Not the quiet of peace, but the kind of stillness that comes when the world itself hesitates—when the air is thick with fear, awe, and the weight of something incomprehensible.
All eyes were on me.
Some were wide with wonder. Others were shadowed with unease. A few… were sharp, calculating.
The woman who had held me—my supposed mother—trembled. Her hands clutched the fabric of her dress, fingers digging so deep they turned white. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks.
Vaelith, still kneeling before me, placed a hand over my tiny chest. His touch was careful, almost reverent, and he muttered something in Elven.
Golden energy flickered across my skin, weaving delicate patterns of light before fading.
Then, his voice came, quiet but trembling with a power that demanded attention.
"This child's given name is truly monstrous."
A ripple of unease spread through the gathered warriors. Some stiffened. Others exchanged wary glances.
Someone, braver than the rest, dared to ask, "What do you mean?"
Vaelith slowly exhaled, steadying himself. Then, with measured reverence, he spoke again.
"Noctis. Dominic. Aurelius. Eldermere."
The words hung in the air like divine scripture.
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then—
Gasps. Murmurs. The sharp intake of breath from men who had seen battle and yet found themselves unprepared for this.
The weight of the name pressed against the room, as if something beyond mortal comprehension had just been spoken into existence.
Even Vaelith's usually steady demeanor faltered. A single bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
"His true name consists of four words."****"And each one carries considerable will."
A sharp inhale from the woman who held me—my supposed mother. Her grip on me tightened, as if afraid I would be taken from her.
"What do they mean?" she pleaded.
Vaelith turned to her, his usual arrogance softened. With careful movements, he placed me back into her arms, his expression unreadable.
Then, clearing his throat, he straightened and retrieved a leather-bound book from the air—summoning it with a flick of his wrist. Theatrics, as always.
"As per the ritual of names," he began, voice commanding once more, "we shall now read the meaning of this child's name."
The room held its breath.
Flipping through the pages, Vaelith traced his fingers over delicate ink before speaking.
"Noctis—'of the night.' An ancient word, long extinct, yet still carrying power.
"Dominic—'lordly, sovereign, of the Lord.'" A name of command, of kingship.
"Aurelius—'golden, gilded.'" A name of radiance, of divine favor.
He hesitated.
A pause, just long enough for the weight to settle before he continued.
His voice, quieter now.
"And then… Eldermere."
The tension snapped taut.
Vaelith's throat bobbed as he swallowed. His hands tightened around the book. The flickering torchlight cast uneasy shadows across his face.
"That… is where the confusion begins."
A shift in the air. It wasn't just uncertainty. It was something deeper.
Fear.
His next words came slowly, deliberately.
"After a child of the four main sentient races is born, as per the agreement of the Continental Peacekeepers' Alliance, their abilities, bloodline, and mana resonance are discovered."
He lifted his gaze, scanning the room.
"This child has already displayed monstrous talent. His mana is impossibly pure. His blood rejected the ritual. And his body…" He glanced at me, expression unreadable. "Holds something far more advanced than even the greatest magical artifacts. Nanobots, infused into his very essence."
Another ripple of shock. The warriors stiffened, their hands twitching toward their weapons as if instinct demanded it.
Vaelith ignored them.
Instead, he turned a page, pulling forth another book from his robes. This one smaller, older. Bound in deep blue leather and stitched with golden thread.
The Book of Divine Names.
He ran his fingers across the cover before opening it.
"Young Noctis here…" His voice had dropped to a near whisper. "His bloodline is greater than the Greek pantheon. Greater than the Norse gods. Greater than all recorded divine lineages."
The flames in the sconces flickered, casting uneasy shadows.
"This child…" His voice trembled slightly now. "Bears the lineage of the Original God."
The words hit like a thunderclap.
A collective intake of breath. The warriors recoiled. Even the strongest among them—the knights, the monks, the samurai—visibly paled.
Someone whispered.
"Not just a god…"
"But one of the primordial's"
A silence heavier than before, crushing
"His liniage is faint, but divine"
Vaelith slowly closed the book, his gaze never leaving mine.
And then, in the hush of the candlelit room, he uttered the final words.
"A monster lays before you."