Chapter 1: Nameless
A gray sky loomed overhead, thick clouds
smothering everything in sight.
A young boy sprinted down a steep hill, his boots tearing through wet soil. He had blonde hair plastered to his forehead, sharp green eyes wide with focus, broad shoulders, and a frame unusually tall for his age. Behind him, a dark shadow weaved between the trees, closing the distance.
'*He's going to catch me at this rate*.'
Sensing something behind him, the boy suddenly ducked.
A projectile tore through the air above his head, slicing past where he had been a heartbeat earlier. He stumbled forward, shock and fear flashing across his face, then veered sharply to the left without slowing.
The shadow drew closer.
The boy risked a glance over his shoulder.
What followed him was an abomination—its neck unnaturally long, its ears stretched so wide they could easily be mistaken for wings. Aside from those deformities, it looked disturbingly human. It walked upright on two legs and even wielded a ranged weapon with unsettling precision.
Yet the boy didn't look surprised.
As if this were normal.
He pushed harder, accelerating to a terrifying speed, his legs blurring as he raced through the forest. Still, the creature kept pace, its footsteps pounding closer and closer.
*Just a little bit closer…*
Without slowing, the boy raised his sword.
A moment later, the blade struck something taut—a hidden string stretched high between the trees. The tension snapped.
The boy skidded to a stop and spun around, gripping his sword with both hands as he dropped into a fighting stance. A wide grin spread across his face.
"That's one more down."
The abomination charged, closing the final distance—
—and a massive wooden trunk crashed down from above.
The impact was instant and brutal. The creature's skull and body flattened beneath the weight, its form reduced to a lifeless smear against the forest floor.
The boy sighed, lowering his sword.
"Ah, man… I really need to find another method to kill Aeskarmis," he muttered. "Its organs and skull are completely flattened. How am I supposed to sell them now?"
Pulling a backpack from its hiding place nearby, the boy began to slice and peel the skin from the fallen creature. Moments later, the abomination had been reduced to little more than bones. Its skin and organs were carefully harvested by the tall, handsome young man.
"This is getting harder with each expedition," he muttered, brushing a strand of blonde hair from his forehead.
He stood, hoisting the heavy backpack onto his shoulders. For any other person, carrying such a load for miles through the forest would have been nearly impossible—but for him, it felt light, effortless even.
After walking for several hours without stopping, the boy finally reached the edge of the forest. Passing the last towering tree, a small village came into view in the distance. He stood at the mountain's edge, looking down at it with narrowed eyes.
To reach it, he would have to descend yet again.
"I swear," he muttered, irritation seeping into his voice, "all I ever do is climb up or crawl down this damn mountain.
He made his way down slowly. As he descended, the thick veil of clouds finally parted, and a blinding white radiance poured down from above, washing over the land. The boy paused, taking in the breathtaking scenery spread out before him.
Eventually, he reached the village.
Children played in the streets while adults went about their daily lives. It was a small place—everyone knew everyone, and every unfamiliar face was noticed immediately.
One of the children kicked a ball a little too hard. It rolled down the street, bumping gently against the boy's boot before coming to a stop.
A child came running after it. He bent down to retrieve the ball, then froze.
The boy's towering shadow swallowed him whole.
The child's face went pale, as if he were staring at the devil himself.
"I—I'm so sorry, Nameless- i mean Riven," the child stammered.
Riven looked away, clicking his tongue sharply in irritation.
'*I hate this place. I hate these people.They don't even see me as human.*'
He glanced back at the trembling child
The child turned and fled in terror, sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him. He slipped, crashing hard onto the dirt, and looked back just in time to see the menacing figure of the young man looming behind him.
Riven didn't react.
He simply turned and began walking again through the village streets.
Wherever he passed, conversations died. People fell silent, bodies stiffening, eyes refusing to meet his. No one moved until he was gone.
Eventually, he stopped in front of the butcher's shop.
An old man stood behind the counter, his hands stained dark from years of work. He looked up at Riven with a cold, assessing stare.
"What did you bring today, nameless?"
Nameless.
That was what they called those without a family name. In Carláss, a surname dictated social standing—it was identity, history, and worth all bound together. A nameless man, one without renown, was treated as less than nothing.
Riven shrugged the heavy backpack off his shoulders and set it down on the counter.
"Here," he said flatly. "One fresh Aeskarmi."
He opened the pack and unloaded its contents. Skin. Organs. Bone fragments still wet with blood.
The butcher leaned forward, inspecting the haul with a mix of interest and distaste.
"For a nameless," the old man said slowly, "you bring good stuff, boy. I'll give you ten cc for the skin and five cc for the organs."
He crossed his arms, clearly expecting no argument.
Riven's eyes hardened.
"Hey, old man. Stop being cheap," he snapped. "Everyone here knows it's at least fifteen cc for the skin and ten for the organs. And I'm selling you a fresh one—I just hunted it."
He pointed at the goods.
The butcher lifted his index finger and waved it side to side in refusal.
"That's for other people," he said. "For a nameless like you? That's my price—and that's me being generous. Other shops wouldn't even buy from you."
Riven's eye twitched.
Veins bulged along his forearm as his hand clenched into a fist.
For a long moment, it looked like he might explode.
Then he exhaled sharply.
"Fine," he said through his teeth. "Whatever. Just give me the money."
The old man tossed the coins onto the table without a second glance at the boy, then turned to greet a new customer.
As Riven walked away, he caught snippets of their conversation.
"Hey, why do you keep buying from him? He's nameless, you know. People will stop buying from you even, man. They say you sell them meat that came from a nameless."
A deep frown appeared on the old man's face. "Don't you think I know that? If it were up to me, I'd kick that filthy boy out of this village. But the church told me to keep buying from him. They said they'll get rid of him… just not yet. Who knows when. All I know is I want it done as fast as possible."
A heavy sigh escaped him, leaving the words hanging in the quiet shop.
Far from the village, atop a wind-battered hill, stood a dilapidated house. Wood warped and rotted, vines crawling across its surface. Smoke curled lazily from its crooked chimney. Inside, furniture made from the same decaying wood filled the small space.
A couch sat in front of the fireplace, its cushions frayed. Paintings adorned the walls and the table—smiling faces of two elderly people and a child frozen in time.
Riven stood in the kitchen, stirring a rusty pan over the fire. He hummed softly under his breath.
"I waited all day for this moment," he murmured. " I even Bought cow meat… tsk. Almost cost me my entire profit today. But it doesn't matter. Today… today is a special day."