The sky was breaking.
The floating stones hovered above them, casting flickering shadows across the ruins. The giant—the First God—stood half-formed, its marble skin split with glowing cracks.
It looked at him.
Not with eyes.
But with memory.
The boy's knees gave out. His chest burned like fire, and the mark on his skin pulsed wildly, glowing a dark red now—hotter than ever before.
The god raised its hand again.
Stones screamed in the air.
And then—
A voice.
Not the boy's. Not the girl's.
Something old.
"You are the echo of my name…"
The voice came from inside the boy's head.
It didn't speak in words. It spoke in understanding. Like a soundless bell ringing in the bones.
"You spoke what should not be spoken."
"You carry what was locked away."
The boy gritted his teeth. "I didn't ask for this!"
"No god ever does."
The girl pulled him to his feet, her silver hair whipping in the wind.
"You need to stop it!" she shouted.
"I can't!"
"You must!" Her eyes were glowing now too, faint silver rings flashing in the pupils. "If it awakens completely, the world will shatter again! Do you want another Cataclysm?!"
"What do I do?!" he yelled.
"Speak it again," the voice inside whispered. "Speak the name."
The boy shook his head.
"No."
"SPEAK IT."
"I won't!"
The ground cracked beneath him.
The god was not walking—it was dragging its weight forward, pulling the earth with it.
The girl raised a blade—thin, silver, hidden in her sleeve. She slashed her palm.
Blood fell onto the stones.
Symbols lit up where it touched.
A ward?
A shield?
No—it was a prison sigil.
She wasn't trying to protect them.
She was trying to lock him down.
"What are you doing?!"
She didn't answer.
The marks on the stones began to glow, spiraling around the boy's feet.
He tried to step out.
He couldn't move.
She looked at him, face calm.
"You're the key," she said. "If I can't destroy the god, then I have to destroy the lock."
His heart dropped.
"You're going to kill me?!"
She didn't flinch. "If that's what it takes."
The boy's mark flared, blood dripping from his nose. The god was almost upon them now—its massive hand reaching, not for her—
—but for him.
And then the ground exploded.
Not from above.
But below.
A streak of black fire erupted from the earth, slicing through the ward circle, blasting both of them backward.
The boy landed hard.
Something inside him cracked.
When he looked up—
The god was kneeling.
Its head lowered.
Smoke coiled from the boy's hands.
And something new was written on his arm.
Not glowing.
Not pulsing.
Just quiet, carved like ink beneath the skin:
"Raekhael."
He didn't know what it meant.
But the god did.
Because the moment it saw the name—
It spoke again.
"I remember now."
"I… was your shadow."
"And you were my voice."
The girl stared at him like she was seeing something that shouldn't exist.
"You just commanded a god," she whispered.
"No," the boy said softly. "I remembered it."
The god turned to dust.
Like it had been waiting for that one moment.
Like it had been trapped, not by stone—
—but by forgetting.
And now that it had heard its name, it could finally sleep.
Silence.
Heavy, deep, like the whole world exhaled.
The statues were still again.
The floating stones dropped harmlessly.
The girl walked toward him, slowly.
"Raekhael…" she whispered. "Is that your true name?"
"I don't know," he said honestly.
She crouched beside him.
"No one speaks names like that anymore. Not unless they want to die."
The boy looked down at the black name on his arm.
"I didn't choose it."
"I don't think it matters anymore," she said. "Because now others know it too."
"…What do you mean?"
She looked up at the sky.
Far, far above the clouds—
A crack of golden light had opened.
And seven silhouettes stood inside it.
Watching.
Waiting.
And one of them whispered—
"The Nameless has spoken the Name of God."
"He must be erased."
TO BE CONTINUED…