…. …..
A young man was wandering around the streets of the city with a letter in his hand.
He turned around the corner and finally decided to open it.
His hands continuously shaking while opening the letter.
Inside was a letter of acceptance from a prestigious university. He had finally done it after years of trying and applying he managed to get in.
He always wanted to abandon his monotonous life and pursue the dreams he had longed for, but because of his family's situation, he could only work hard and try to obtain a scholarship.
'I really got accepted!' the boy screamed out loud, not caring about any bystanders.
Upon seeing it, tears of happiness fell onto the letter. Not wanting to ruin it, he immediately tucked it away in his pocket and continued his walk toward his destination.
'I better tell my parents the news. They've waited so long.'
Strolling down the streets, the boy picked up the pace, smiling from ear to ear. Looking at the other people around him, he felt as if they too were proud of him.
The streets had never seemed so colorful or maybe he had chosen to ignore it before.
'Once I graduate, I'll be one step closer to my dreams… I better not jinx it. There's still a long way to go.'
After some time, the boy finally arrived at the house. But the house lacked something. He remembered that his dad painted it once a year, combining every color known to man to make it as lively as possible.
Now the house looked grim, nearly abandoned.
'Did something happen? Don't tell me Dad fell sick and couldn't do it this time.'
The young man rushed toward the doorknob, which was completely covered in moss, making him more and more anxious.
He burst into the kitchen.
There stood his family, waiting for him with a cake on the table.
Frozen in their seats. Slowly decomposing.
After blinking numerous times to make sure everything was real, he slowly approached the table, getting closer to his 'family.'
The boy felt an overwhelming sense of panic, barely able to swallow, afraid he might choke on his own breath.
'Mom… Dad… Sister… what happened?' he cried uncontrollably, staring at the mere skeletons before him.
All of a sudden, a cold hand grabbed his, gripping it as hard as it could. But he felt no pain, no matter how hard she squeezed.
The young boy already knew who it was he just didn't want to accept it yet. He still refused to let go of his loved ones.
"Congratulations, Olly… you finally did it."
…. …. ….
"NO! NO! NO! WHY? STOP!" Oliver screamed.
He jolted awake, as if rising from the worst nightmare he had ever experienced.
A middle aged man rushed toward him and covered his mouth to stop him from screaming.
'Is still the middle of the night,no reason to wake up everyone else now' thought the man while looking at the agitated boy.
After noticing that the boy was starting to calm down, the man quietly tried to comfort him.
"Everything is alright, kid. It was just a bad dream. Everything is over."
Hearing the man's words, Oliver fell silent and stayed still for a moment.
Hoping the lingering awkwardness and the fear would simply fade away.
The man looked at Oliver for a moment, remembering that this scrawny boy had arrived not long ago with his entire body injured. Not even weeks of recovery should have brought him to his current condition and he had even fought today, judging by the bloodied sword lying near his arm.
'How did he recover that fast? He can't be blessed like the general and the other officers… only noble blood can do that, after all,' the man thought, looking the boy up and down before finally speaking.
"Are you hungry, kid?"
Oliver looked at the man for a second, then gave him an awkward nod.
Now that he was fully awake, he could feel his stomach begging for nutrients. He had never felt this hungry even in his past life, when not eating for days had once been common for him.
Oliver followed the man closely, and in no time they arrived at a campfire surrounded by people dressed just like him. Over the fire hung a pot of food, emanating a strong fragrance rich with spices. There was no meat in it, but the vegetables and condiments were enough to satisfy any hungry person.
Oliver swallowed hard, saliva pooling in his mouth at the sight of the appetizing meal.
'Is it really that good? Or am I just too hungry to tell the difference?'
Oliver's fixation on the pot was soon broken by a short cough meant to catch his attention. It came from an old man with a white beard so long it nearly touched his knees. He was the only one around the campfire standing on a log, probably using it as a chair.
After making eye contact with Oliver, the old man simply sighed and said:
"Are you that hungry or what, boy? Can't you see the food isn't even ready yet?"
The old man continued, not giving Oliver a chance to respond.
"Someone grab him a bowl! This little screamer even interrupted my story right when it was getting interesting. Youngsters these days have no shame."
Oliver could only accept the scolding. His face turned red with embarrassment, remaining stiff as a statue.
It didn't feel hurtful. Somehow, it reminded him of the times he couldn't wait for the food to be ready back in his old life, always getting scolded by his grandpa for never being patient.
'Some things never change, right?' thought Oliver somehow feeling relieved after this scene
"Come on, bearded one, it hasn't been long since he arrived here. Cut him some slack," said the man who had helped him earlier.
"Hmph. Take a seat then, boy. You better get used to this nameless lifestyle pretty quickly."
"Nameless?" Oliver asked, not understanding what the man meant.
"Did you hit your head, boy? Have you forgotten… we are all slaves whose name has long been forgotten" the bearded man said, a hint of sadness in his voice.
"Slaves…"
Oliver couldn't believe it or maybe he simply didn't want to. He had been thinking about it for a while now. His clothes. His weapon. The strange bracelet on his wrist that flickered from time to time. The general's speech had already confirmed most of his suspicions.
But he didn't want to accept it.
After all, how unlucky could someone be to reincarnate as a slave? How terrible must his karma have been in his past life to be reborn like this?
All he had under his 'name' was this newfound power. He now realized how important it was. Maybe it was a gift born from all his past misfortune. With it, maybe he finally had a chance to change his fate.
But only maybes weren't enough,this life he has to be decisive and do everything in his power to not end up like before.That was more terrifying for him than dying.
'At least after dying, there is a chance that everything is over,' Oliver thought, completely lost in his thoughts.
Seeing that the boy was deep in thought, a mix of emotions crossing his face, the bearded man decided to break the silence and swiftly change the subject.
"Say, boy, don't you want to hear a story before going back to sleep?" the bearded man said, continuing,
"After all, you interrupted me earlier. I have to start from zero once again."
"You should agree, kid. At least you'll have something to listen to while eating. This grandpa's stories never cease to amaze me," said the man who had helped Oliver earlier.
Looking around the campfire and noticing so many eyes on him, waiting for a decision, Oliver quickly agreed.
He was handed a bowl of food and sat down, waiting for the old man to begin his story.A hint of curiosity showing on his face.
He took a spoonful of food, savoring each mouthful, feeling his stomach growl with satisfaction. Even though it was a simple meal filled with vegetables and carefully seasoned to make up for the lack of meat, it tasted better than he expected. Oliver knew he had no right to object to the kindness of the people around him, who shared the little they had. He was grateful that these people were so kind to him a person they barely knew.
Seeing the boy indulge himself so openly, the old man gave a faint smile, reminded of better times. He coughed twice to draw everyone's attention, then began to retell an old tale passed down from generation to generation one that should never be lost to time.
" There was once a time when humans walk freely on this land whether they were slender humans with long ears , humans that were enormous in size with a sturdy build strong enough to carry boulders on their shoulders or humans small enough to fit through every crevice while mining for ores.
"But times change, as they say. Peace could no longer be held, and disaster erupted, its source unknown to us. What were once beautiful lakes became pools of lava swarming with devils. Mountains transformed into vast craters whose bottoms could not be seen, no one daring enough to venture into their depths. What was once warm turned cold, and what was once cold burned instead. Natural disaster after natural disaster followed.
The continent swarmed with monsters, destroying everything in their path and pushing humanity into a corner, nearly wiping us out and forcing what remained of us to the far North. What happened to the other humans, I do not know."
Oliver remained silent, not expecting the story to be so heavy.
"But…"
The old man's voice suddenly changed. He began to speak with such fervor that everyone around the campfire became mesmerized by it .
He even rose to his feet, unable to contain his devotion to the tale.
"Just when humanity was cornered, on the verge of embracing despair, five stars descended from the sky a gift from the gods themselves, sent to aid mankind.
Each star chose its own hero, becoming a weapon for them to wield, shining as brightly as they once had in the vast cosmos.
"The heroes, blessed by the gods, gained supernatural abilities strong enough to wield the gifts bestowed upon them.
With their newfound power, they resisted and shattered the veil of despair that had covered humanity, forging their own destiny, fueled by a single emotion —
Hope."
The old man finished his story and stood there, waiting for praise to follow. Contrary to his expectations, the other Nameless simply looked at one another, unsure of what to say.
It reminded them of the stories their families used to tell before they became Nameless.
The silence was soon interrupted by a curious voice. The old man looked to see who it was, only to be surprised.
A scrawny boy with raven hair, covered in bandages, stared at him with a glistening look in his eyes, searching for answers. It was that strange kid who had screamed his lungs out in his sleep.
"Old man, what happened to the heroes after that? Did they sacrifice themselves in the end? What happened to the monsters? Is this story even real to begin with?"
Oliver bombarded the man with a myriad of questions all at once, leaving no room for him to respond.
"This boy…" the old man grinned from ear to ear as he looked at him.
"I don't know, kid. I only know what I already know. Whether it's the truth or not, that's something you'll have to find out yourself. This story might be real, or maybe it's just something my father made up when I was a child."
"What I do know is that the cataclysm was real, and the five heroes were actual people who later formed their own dynasties and ruled over the known world. Whether they truly wielded godlike powers… that, I don't know."
"This old man sure speaks strangely," Oliver thought, still wanting to ask more questions, only to be interrupted again.
"Enough tales for today. It's almost midnight," the old man said as he stepped on the fading campfire, making sure it was properly extinguished.
"If you want to hear more stories, boy, there's no rush."
"For now, go to sleep. Tomorrow is the Naming, after all."
"The Naming?" Oliver asked, curious about the term.
"You'll see tomorrow," the old man replied, casting Oliver one final glance before walking away.
Oliver thanked the man who had helped him earlier and returned to the place where he had slept before, hoping no bad dreams would return,laying there waiting to fall asleep.
"Hope might be the answer…"
…
But this time, as Oliver drifted into sleep, his mind did not fall into another nightmare.
Instead, he found himself standing inside an enormous library. Towering bookshelves stretched endlessly in every direction, old and barely holding together. Strangely, there were no books upon them, their purpose unknown.