The man stepped forward, boots cracking dry earth beneath him.
His sword was half-drawn. The metal shimmered faintly with runes—each one a Name, carved by blood, etched to kill.
The boy couldn't move.
Something in the man's presence froze him.
Not just fear.
It was pressure.
Like the weight of centuries pushing down on his chest.
"You don't even know what you are," the man said, voice calm. "But that name… the one inside you… it's too loud. The world is listening now."
The boy clenched his fists. "I don't care who's listening. I didn't ask for this."
The man's eyes narrowed.
"No. But you answered."
And then he vanished.
A blur of black.
The boy barely dodged—instinct more than skill. The blade grazed his shoulder, blood spilling hot and fast. He cried out, stumbling back.
"Call it," the man said behind him. "Say your Name. Or die."
"I can't—"
"You must."
The boy gritted his teeth. His chest was burning again. The mark. The letters. They were moving beneath his skin.
He fell to one knee.
The ground trembled.
"Call it, or the village dies."
He looked up.
The assassin stood between him and the village gate now.
Behind that gate — Yume. The old woman. The children. The villagers who looked at him like he was a god.
Or a curse.
The boy pressed his palm against his chest.
The name boiled there, waiting.
"I… I don't even know how."
"You already did it once."
"But it hurts."
The man raised his blade again. "Good. That means it's real."
Lightning cracked above them.
The wind howled through the stones.
And then… the boy screamed.
"𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄—!"
His voice wasn't human anymore.
It echoed across the hills like thunder cracking the bones of the sky.
The mark on his chest exploded with light — red and gold and black.
His shadow rose behind him, massive, flickering, like a beast with wings.
The assassin froze for a heartbeat.
Then charged.
Time slowed.
The boy couldn't see clearly.
Everything was color and light and sound.
But when the blade came down — it stopped.
Mid-air.
The boy didn't even touch it.
But the moment the blade neared his chest, it shattered.
Like glass.
The man was thrown back by a force that wasn't wind. It was something deeper — like a will, ancient and violent, pushing outward from the boy's body.
He stood slowly.
The air around him was burning red.
Symbols floated in the air. Strange ones. Letters from a language long dead.
They spun around him like fireflies.
The man got up, coughing blood.
"You shouldn't… you shouldn't be able to do that yet," he gasped.
The boy's voice came out low and broken.
"Neither should you be alive."
He raised his hand.
One of the symbols darted forward like a dagger.
The man barely dodged — it cut through a tree behind him like it was paper.
The boy didn't understand what he was doing.
But the power moved when he felt.
When he was angry.
When he was afraid.
When he remembered what it felt like to be nameless and kicked in the dirt.
He took a step forward.
The man took three steps back.
Then vanished again.
This time, the boy moved faster.
He caught him mid-strike.
Not with his hands.
But with his will.
It wrapped around the man's body like invisible chains.
The mark on the boy's chest was glowing brighter now.
A voice whispered in his head:
"Speak his ending."
"What…?"
"Say his last name. Let him vanish."
He didn't know how.
But his mouth opened.
And a sound came out.
Not a word. Not a name.
But something final.
Something cold.
The man screamed.
He collapsed, gasping. The brand on his face faded to nothing. His body flickered like mist — and then vanished into dust.
The boy fell to his knees.
The light faded.
His hands shook.
And the voice inside him — quiet again.
Yume found him minutes later.
She saw the cracked earth. The broken trees. The strange, burning letters fading in the air.
"You called it again, didn't you?"
He nodded.
She helped him up, her hand warm but trembling.
"You're not ready."
"I didn't have a choice."
She looked around. "No. But the world is changing now. That name… it's waking up too fast."
The boy looked at the dust blowing in the wind.
"What happens if I keep using it?"
She didn't answer for a long time.
Then said:
"Eventually, it might not give it back."
Later, in the village shrine, the old woman unrolled another scroll.
It was blank.
But as the boy walked near, something appeared on the parchment.
Three glowing letters.
Not his name.
But a message.
Written in the same old divine ink.
"THE FIRST GOD AWAITS YOU IN THE CITY OF STONE."
TO BE CONTINUED...