Damian couldn't believe it.
The young man had just spoken his new name.
"Adrian Cross."
My name.
In his past life, Ratty had never had one.
He'd been a stray living off trash and scraps, eyes hollow, body half-starved.
Now, that same one had said his family name—as if he wanted to belong.
Damian let out a slow breath. Who would have thought that in the eyes of the future ruler of the Absolute Death Domain, he had somehow become a father figure?
It was almost ridiculous. Yet it warmed him all the same.
Maybe this was how it felt to have family.
He thought back to Elian.
He had once believed marriage would give him that same warmth.
Before the wedding, Elian had been kind and quiet, every smile a promise.
Afterward, the smiles stopped.
Every night Damian came home from the field—bloody, tired, sometimes limping—and hoped for a single kind word.
Instead, Elian's voice met him at the door:
"Why can't you stay home like other partners?"
"The others bring back more every trip."
"Jones next door just bought the newest coat, and we've got only a few thousand credits left."
Sometimes Elian healed him, but not often.
More often there were complaints, silence, and that cold disappointment that never changed.
Damian had given him everything—every core, every credit—and kept none for himself.
He stayed weak, unable to advance, until one day Elian's affection simply ended.
He fell in love with someone else.
Even after marriage, Elian had never taken his name.
That had hurt more than any wound on the battlefield.
Now, things were different.
Now a young man had taken his name by choice.
Just a loaf of bread, a few bottles of nutrient fluid, and one and a half crystal cores—and that choice felt like redemption.
Ethan laughed from the front seat. "You've got a son now."
Caleb grinned. "Give it a week and he'll be calling you Papa Cross."
The others chuckled.
Even Marcus smiled faintly, saying only, "Names matter."
Damian smiled too, but for him, it wasn't a joke.
The laughter faded, but the warmth stayed.
He looked at Adrian again—silver hair glinting under the cabin light, gray eyes quiet, no longer trembling with hunger.
He'd given the boy food, a roof, and now a name.
Somewhere deep down, a foolish thought whispered: maybe this was how you saved a life before it turned dark.
Maybe this time, he could finally have a family.
He didn't yet know—
that the same warmth he longed for
would soon burn him alive.