Chapter 3 — Name
"What are you?" Arthur Pendragon asked. A simple question. But not an easy one to answer. Human. Reincarnated. Possessor of a Sacred Gear. User of a power that didn't belong to this world. None of those answers would help me here.
"I'm human," I said. Arthur didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue either. His gaze remained fixed on me, sharp and observant, like he was trying to peel something apart that he couldn't see.
"What's your name?" he asked.
Name. Right. I didn't have one. Not here. Not anymore. For a moment, the thought lingered in my mind—then something clicked. A name that felt… fitting. Natural. Like it had always been mine.
"I don't have one," I replied honestly before pausing slightly. "…Wait. I know what it should be." I met his gaze. "León D. Nemea."
Silence followed. Then—Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly. It wasn't the name. It was something else. The moment the words left my mouth, the air between us shifted. Subtle. Barely noticeable. But enough. The pressure around me had changed. Not stronger. Not heavier. Sharper. More defined. Like something that had been scattered had just aligned into place.
Arthur's hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of his sword as his gaze hardened. "…What did you just do?" he asked quietly.
I hadn't moved. Hadn't activated anything. And yet—something about my presence had clearly changed. Basic Haki, barely trained, flickered along my aura. Combined with Remolus Nemea, it gave the faint impression of strength beyond a normal low-class devil. Enough to make a skilled exorcist like Arthur hesitate.
He took a measured step back, reassessing me. "You're… not weak," he muttered under his breath, almost to himself. "A low-class devil by classification… but there's something off. Something I can't read entirely."
I exhaled slowly, letting the rain fall freely over me. My voice remained calm, almost indifferent. "I'm not here to fight. At least, not yet."
Arthur's eyes scanned me carefully, still wary, but the tension didn't escalate. He seemed to decide, silently, to wait—finish strong, observe, and strike only if necessary. For now, the street remained quiet, rain dripping steadily, two figures standing under the cold light of the lamp. The presence of Haki, combined with a Sacred Gear he couldn't yet gauge, made me a small enigma in his eyes—and that, for now, was enough.