Name sat on the ground once again.
The setting sun painted the sky in soft golds and reds, beautiful and cruel...marking his return to the same cursed moment.
He didn't try to think. What was the point?
He already knew: there was no way to fight them.
No way to escape them.
No way to even scratch them.
The army of white cloaks stood in the distance, unmoving...waiting.
A bitter thought crawled through his mind.
Maybe Crown is watching me.
Watching me die… over and over.
He looked to the heavens, voice breaking as he screamed:
"Save me! I can't do this! Please...save me from this hell!"///////////////////////////////
But there was no answer.
The sun dipped below the horizon.
The three moons rose again.
And so did his death.
He died time after time.
Crushed by invisible forces.
Shattered like glass.
Ripped apart by hands he never saw coming.
Ten times, fifty times, hundred times.
He lost count.
Each death was worse than the last...each return more unbearable.
He prayed to stay dead.
But he always came back.
A slow, gnawing fear took root in his chest and began to grow.
"What if this is my punishment?
What if I really did kill them all… and now I'm cursed to suffer for it?
What if this is forever?"
When he respawned again, the fear overtook him.
He staggered to his feet.
His legs were weak...shaking, refusing...but still, he ran.
He stumbled.
Tripped.
Fell.
Again and again.
But he kept running.
The moons had not yet risen.
"If I can get far enough away… maybe they won't follow.
Maybe… maybe that's the answer."
He ran until his lungs burned.
Ran until his feet were raw.
And when he finally looked back…
The army was still standing in the distance.
Unmoving.
Uncaring.
A fragile smile cracked across his face.
"It worked…"
For one fleeting moment, he believed.
But foolish Name didn't know...
They didn't need to move to kill him.
He never even saw the hand.
Just the faint motion of a single finger… pointed in his direction.
And then, like a bug beneath a boot...
CRACK.
His body twisted inward, spine shattering, bones collapsing under invisible pressure.
His last expression remained frozen on his face:
A hopeful smile.
This time, when Name died...
He didn't see the setting sun.
There was no golden sky.
No army of white cloaks.
No cursed ritual.
Only darkness.
For a brief, fleeting moment, Name thought he had escaped.
Maybe it was finally over.
Maybe he was free.
But then...
"Were you having fun?"
The voice came from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
Soft. Feminine. Mocking.
The Unknown Lady.
Name's breath caught in his throat.
The darkness wasn't comforting...but at least it didn't carry the sick warmth of that golden light, the one that always meant the suffering was about to begin again.
"Why are you here?" Name asked.
"You looked like you were enjoying yourself," the Lady replied sweetly. "So I thought I'd ask… what's so fun about dying?"
Name said nothing.
"Huh. So you don't want to share your fun with me?" she said again, her voice playful, dripping with sarcasm.
That was enough.
Name snapped.
"If you're not here to save me, then fuck off."
The Lady laughed.
It was melodic...almost beautiful.
But beneath the music was something rotten. Cold. Disgusted.
"Save you? Why would I save a roach like you?"
"I made myself clear before...you're an arrogant little filth who doesn't know his place."
Name clenched his fists, though he couldn't feel his body. Just the rage.
"Was it you?" he said. "Did you erase my memories?"
The Lady burst into laughter.
It echoed in the void, graceful and cruel.
"Your arrogance really knows no bounds," she said. "Do you actually believe I would need to erase the memories of something as pathetic as you?"
Her tone got ruder with every word.
"Just days ago, you were rotting on the side of a station like garbage. And now you think you're important enough to warrant memory manipulation?"
She paused.
Then, coldly:
"Do you truly believe you...a starving rat...slaughtered an entire clan and killed the Previous Zenith?"
The darkness felt heavier now. Like it was crushing his lungs.
"Come on," she scoffed. "There should be a limit to imagination."
"Just because someone told you you're special, you think you're powerful now? High and mighty? You think that washes away all the filth of your past?"
Another pause.
This one longer.
Quieter.
Sharper.
"You're pathetic, Name. I've watched every second of your misery. And I haven't seen anyone more delusional than you."
Every word the Unknown Lady said echoed like truth in his skull.
He couldn't deny it.
He wasn't the one Crown had been searching for. He never was.
Maybe that other person...the real one...could face monsters like these.
But he was just a poor boy.
A boy who couldn't even win fights against kids his own age.
A boy who had forgotten his place.
"Our meeting ends here," the Unknown Lady whispered beside his ear.
"Enjoy your miserable deaths."
Her voice faded.
And so did the darkness.
Light returned.
Blinding, golden light.
The cursed light of the setting sun.
Name opened his eyes and found himself back on the field once again...
...facing the army of white cloaks.
Still. Silent. Waiting.
Then, slowly...
The sun dipped below the horizon.
The moons rose above like cruel gods watching from a fractured sky.
And the mechanical voice returned:
"The Ritual of Will begins."
Like puppets on string, the army of white cloaks raised their voices as one:
"You killed our Zenith!"
"You killed us!"
But this time…
Name screamed back.
"I didn't kill you, you freaks!"
"You're the ones killing me, over and over!"
"Why don't you just kill me for good?!"
His voice cracked. His throat burned. But he kept screaming.
"I couldn't even scratch your skin! I'm helpless...and you torture me like this?"
"I don't know who did this to you! I don't know what that other Name did!"
"But I don't deserve this. I'm not him."
His fists trembled.
His knees gave out.
He collapsed into the sand and stared at the ground. Quiet. Defeated.
"I'm just a foolish boy…"
"…who forgot his place."
Silence.
Only the wind.
No answer from the cloaked figures.
No sound from the sky.
Then...
"You have passed the Ritual of Will."
Name's head snapped up.
The mechanical voice spoke again, cold and absolute:
"You have overcome your fear of uncertainty."
There was a pause.
Then a shift in the air.
A new vibration. A resonance.
"Apace Achieved."
"Will Name: Will of Revelation."
"Apace Name: Apace of Symbolism."
"Ability Name: Weight of Names."
The words burned into the sky.
Into Name's mind.
Into reality itself.