One year before Jay fell into the Wall—At the same time Poul was preparing for the reclamation battle—
The Nameless King lay in the mud.
Rain poured endlessly from the sky.
The cold, wet earth clung to his pale face, sticking to his skin like a second layer. His lungs burned, desperately begging for air. Each breath felt heavy, incomplete, as if something invisible was suffocating him.
His vision blurred.
Shapes twisted.
The world felt distant.
And then—
Footsteps.
Slow.
Approaching.
Through his fading sight, he saw a silhouette.
A young woman.
Brown hair, long and slightly damp from the rain. She wore a large pink dress that swayed gently as she moved. Beside her stood a man holding a sword, his black hair soaked, strands clinging to his face.
They were coming closer.
Closer—
And then—
Darkness swallowed everything.
…
Voices.
Muffled at first.
Then clearer.
The Nameless King slowly opened his eyes.
Light.
Too much light.
It hurt.
Everything was too bright, forcing his eyes to narrow as he struggled to adjust.
A soft, high-pitched voice broke through his confusion.
"Ah! You're finally awake!"
Startled, he turned abruptly, his hand brushing against something—
Soft.
Yet firm.
Almost like… the ground?
Ignoring it, his instincts took over.
He began searching for his bone sword.
"Huh? What are you looking for?" the voice asked again.
His vision gradually stabilized.
And then—
He saw her.
A giant.
Brown hair.
Smooth skin.
No scars.
Not a single mark.
His eyes widened.
How is that… possible? Is she extremely powerful? No… that's not it. The scars aren't visible. Yes… that must be it.
"Hm…" she looked away slightly, her cheeks faintly flushed.
"Why are you… staring at me like that?" the young woman continued.
The Nameless King observed her more closely.
Her "armor"—
Was a blue dress.
Thin.
Fragile.
It looked like it could tear with the slightest force.
He stared at her from head to toe, disbelief evident in his expression.
Such weak protection.
He clenched his fist.
Preparing to strike.
But before he could move—
Another giant stepped into view.
The room was enclosed by walls.
His vision had fully returned now.
The second giant wore a white coat. His hair was purple, the shade of a violet flower, and his eyes matched.
He carried a white folder.
Approaching calmly, the giant opened it and pulled out a sheet.
"Well, according to the examinations we conducted…" he began, adjusting his posture slightly, "he is almost fully recovered."
The Nameless King frowned.
What is 'fully recovered'… and 'examinations'? Are those names of weapons? Techniques?
He turned his attention back to the young woman.
Her expression—
Bright.
Relieved.
Happy.
Without hesitation, he threw aside the blanket and stood up from the bed.
His eyes scanned the room.
Searching.
But—
No sword.
He walked past the man in the white coat, continuing his search.
Behind him, the young woman lowered her head slightly.
"I'm sorry… and thank you."
Then she ran toward the other giant.
The Nameless King kept moving—
Until—
He passed a mirror.
And saw—
Himself.
A tall man.
Black hair.
Black eyes.
Scars etched across his face.
Burn marks covering both arms.
He wore strange clothing—
A thin hospital gown.
His eyebrow lifted in surprise.
He stepped back.
Then forward—
Slash!
His fist cut through the air.
Crash!
The sound of shattering glass echoed through the corridor.
A sharp pain followed.
Looking down at his hand, he saw shards of glass embedded in his fingers.
Blood pooled beneath them.
He tilted his head.
And began pulling the fragments out one by one.
This… cuts? I thought I struck the giant in front of me.
Footsteps echoed rapidly through the hall.
He began walking again, removing the last shard—
When—
A woman appeared, screaming.
A sharp, piercing scream.
It made his ears ache.
At that moment, the brown-haired woman returned, sweat running down her forehead.
"What happened?!" she asked, her voice filled with panic.
Her hands rose to cover her mouth.
The floor—
Covered in blood.
A trembling woman crouched nearby.
And standing before her—
The Nameless King.
Watching.
With the same gaze as a—
He shook his head abruptly, forcing away an unwanted memory.
Then took a step forward.
Closing his eyes briefly, he thought—
No… they're different, right? It can't be the same person from that day…
Even with the same hair?
The same face?
No… they're different! Their eyes… their expressions… they're more alive than…
He clenched his teeth and continued walking.
"Idiot! What did you do to your hand?" the young woman snapped, grabbing his injured hand.
"…"
He looked at her.
His eyes trembled.
"Why didn't you—"
It couldn't be.
It's him… The man who killed Cobel… the former King of the Giants… my father… is standing right in front of me.
The Nameless King raised an eyebrow slightly.
Opened his mouth.
And forced out words:
"W… ha… t…?"
His voice was rough.
Dry.
As if unused for years.
It sounded unnatural.
But—
She smiled.
"Bring bandages!" she called out, then turned back to him. "What's your name?"
He tilted his head.
"Come on… what's your name?"
A bead of sweat slid down his face.
"N-a-m-e… name. For example, mine is Eli. My name is Eli. What's yours?"
Still tilting his head, he remained silent.
Eli sighed.
The silence stretched.
Name… what is that? Isn't that the thing that giant who almost killed me said I didn't have?
As he thought—
A nurse and a male attendant arrived with bandages.
They approached him carefully.
"Excuse me, we're going to wrap your boyfriend's hand, alright?"
Eli, distracted, answered automatically—
"Huh? Ah—yes."
Then—
She froze.
"!"
Her face turned bright red.
Covering her face with both hands, she thought—
He's not my boyfriend!
Meanwhile, the attendant began wrapping the Nameless King's hand.
Then asked casually:
"Why did you punch the mirror?"
Silence.
The Nameless King looked away.
Opened his mouth—
Closed it again.
An awkward tension filled the room until the bandaging was finished.
Eli grabbed his arm and guided him back to the room.
Beside the bed was a plastic bag.
"There are clothes inside."
He tilted his head again, eyebrows raised.
"Cl… o… th… es? Clothes… what is… that?"
Eli pressed her finger against her nose, thinking—
How does he not know what clothes are? How?!
She grabbed the bag and pulled out a set of formal clothing.
Holding it up, she said:
"This is clothing! Now, go on—get dressed."
The Nameless King touched the fabric.
Stronger.
More durable than what he was wearing.
Without hesitation—
He removed his current garment.
And began putting on the new one.
But—
Eli was still there.
Her body froze.
Then—
She quickly covered her eyes, her face burning red as she struggled to hold back a scream.
This pervert! Does he have no shame at all?!