The forest didn't move.
Not the leaves.
Not the wind.
Not even the fire behind them dared to crackle anymore.
The figure stepped from the shadows with the silence of a shadow itself — cloaked in robes that dripped like liquid smoke. A chain of red prayer beads hung from their hand. But it was the mark on their throat that sent a chill down the boy's spine.
It wasn't a tattoo.
It was glowing.
And alive.
Yume didn't move.
The boy tried to steady his breath.
But it wasn't working.
The pressure this man gave off felt like the sky was bending above him. His legs wanted to run. His chest felt like it might explode.
"He's not even speaking," the voice inside him whispered.
"And already… your name fears him."
The man finally lifted his head.
His face was hidden behind a cracked white mask. But his voice was sharp — like something breaking under water.
"By command of the Holy Court, bearer of forbidden name," he said slowly, "you are sentenced to erasure."
The boy's lips parted. "But I didn't—"
"Silence."
And then… the Name Killer moved.
It wasn't fast.
It was impossible.
In a blink, he was already in front of them.
His prayer beads snapped apart and hovered in the air — glowing like sparks from a holy flame.
"MOVE!" Yume shouted.
She pushed the boy aside just as three of the beads shot forward like knives. One grazed her arm, burning straight through her jacket, searing skin.
She fell back with a scream.
The boy stumbled beside her.
Blood.
Smoke.
The masked man stepped closer, lifting his fingers.
More beads floated around him.
"They burn the soul," Yume gasped. "He's using Holy Bindings."
"I can't fight him," the boy whispered. "I don't even know how—"
"Call it," the voice inside him roared.
"Call your name. Let it break free."
"But I don't know what it is—!"
"It already knows you."
Then, something inside his chest began to pulse.
The mark.
The runes.
They lit up — brighter than ever before. His skin felt like it was turning into fire. His eyes burned.
The Name Killer raised a hand. "One more breath, and I'll strip it from your throat."
"SAY IT," the voice roared.
And this time… he did.
The boy didn't speak it.
He screamed it.
A name that was not a word — it was a storm. A curse. A command written by gods no longer worshipped.
The air cracked.
The trees around them twisted like they were alive.
And the prayer beads exploded midair before reaching him — shattered into dust by the blast that burst from his body.
The Name Killer stopped.
His mask cracked.
Yume stared in shock.
A mark had appeared in the sky above the boy, glowing gold and black, spinning like a cursed sun.
The boy stood in the center, panting, skin glowing with letters that danced across his arms and chest.
"What… what did I just do?" he whispered.
Yume's voice trembled.
"You… you called your name."
The masked man stepped back, staring at the golden glyph in the sky.
"A forbidden one," he muttered. "No... worse."
He raised his hand again.
But this time, his beads did not answer.
They hovered… then turned to ash.
The boy looked at him. Something inside his eyes had changed. There was still fear — but deeper… there was a silence.
A fire that didn't burn out.
"I don't want to fight," he said. "But if you come near her again..."
He didn't finish.
He didn't have to.
The ground cracked around him.
The masked man stood still for a few seconds longer.
Then — slowly — he dropped his arms.
"This one is not ready," he muttered, as if to himself.
He turned away.
Vanished into the trees without a sound.
Later that night, the sky finally cleared.
Yume wrapped her arm with a torn sleeve. The burn was deep, but she didn't complain.
The boy sat near the edge of the river, hands still shaking.
He looked at his reflection.
His eyes… had changed.
They weren't glowing anymore.
But something inside them wasn't the same.
"I didn't even know what I said," he whispered. "But it came out like… it was waiting."
Yume sat beside him.
"That's how names work. You don't find them. They find you."
He looked up.
"Then why does mine feel like it wants to break me?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she pulled out a folded piece of cloth from her bag — a patch marked with an old, faded crest. It showed a cracked crown wrapped in thorns.
"My brother had this," she said. "He said it belonged to a group of cursed name-bearers once. They hid across the empire, waiting… training…"
She placed it in his hands.
"He thought it was a lie. A story."
"And now?" he asked.
She looked into his eyes.
"I think they were real. And I think… you're the reason they existed."
To be continued…