Chapter 2: The Start of a Legend
> "The wind after death carried no scent. Only silence."
The air stilled.
Ash floated like snowfall where the beast had fallen — a creature not born of nature, but of rupture. Limbs like wires, mouth like torn silk, eyes like hunger. And now it was still, its body unraveling into fading blue particles.
The boy stood over it, unmoving.
He didn't know what it was.
He didn't know why he could kill it.
He didn't even know who he was.
The only certainty was this: he was alive, and that thing was not.
Then—
> "You're not bad, for a guy who looks like he hasn't eaten in a week."
A voice, casual and bright, rang out from above.
The boy turned slowly, eyes narrowing. Across the crumbled street, sitting atop a crooked lamp post as if it were a throne, was someone completely out of place.
A young man — maybe a few years older — with wild silver hair and a long coat that was too clean for this decaying world. He grinned like he had nothing to fear, legs swinging like a child.
> "You don't talk much, huh?" the stranger said, hopping down. He landed light, almost soundless. "Or is the strong, silent act just part of the package?"
The boy didn't answer.
Not because he didn't want to — but because he wasn't sure if speaking would make anything clearer. His voice still felt strange in his throat. Like it belonged to someone else.
The stranger didn't seem to mind.
> "I'm Varin," he said with an overly dramatic bow. "Explorer, survivor, and apparently now your babysitter."
He walked closer, eyes drifting to the still-glowing remnants of the creature.
> "Ripple-Class anomaly. Nasty one. Most newbies get skewered before they can even scream." He looked up. "But you handled it. Nicely done."
The boy remained still.
Varin stepped past him, crouching by the creature's core — a cracked orb of glass-like energy, pulsing faintly before fizzling out.
> "So… what's your name?" he asked casually.
The question lingered in the air like a thorn.
The boy's jaw tightened. No image came to mind. No sound. No memory.
Only a void where something like a name should have been.
But he couldn't show that.
> "...Revien."
The name left his lips without thought. It felt cold. Sharpened. Fitting.
Varin blinked. "Revien, huh? Sounds like someone important."
The boy — now Revien — said nothing.
Because the name wasn't his.
But it would do.
For now.
> "Alright, Revien," Varin grinned. "Here's the crash course. You've landed in the middle of a broken continent, filled with monsters, madmen, and mysteries. We call this place Elarra. Or what's left of it."
> "Monsters like the one you just turned into glitter? They come from Rifts — tears in reality. Nobody really knows who caused the first one, but we know what's on the other side."
Revien stared at him, eyes cold but curious.
> "Anomalies. They leak through. Twist the land. The weak ones get people killed. The strong ones rewrite cities."
> "And then…" Varin's voice lowered, "there's the one behind it all. The one even the cults whisper about."
He paused.
> "They call him... He."
A cold pressure settled in Revien's chest. Like something far away had just noticed him.
Varin continued. "Anyway, you're what we call a Graymarked. No history, no memories, no scars. But you've got power. More than you know."
He stood, brushing his coat clean again.
> "Stick with me and I'll explain the ranks, the rules, and how to survive long enough to pick a real name."
Revien didn't respond to the jab. Only gave a slight nod.
The path ahead was broken. But for the first time since waking, it no longer felt empty.
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