The road did not end.
Alpha walked through the skeletal remains of forgotten towns, past the ruins of once-great citadels, and across fields where the bones of the dead lay buried beneath layers of dust and time. War had left its fingerprints on every stone, every broken wall, every scorched tree.
Vanitas remained silent.
The blade had not whispered to him since the encounter with the woman in the ruins. It should have been a relief, yet the absence of its presence felt… unnatural. As if something was watching, waiting for him to take another step toward whatever fate it had in store.
The air grew colder as he moved deeper into the unknown.
He found the boy by accident.
At first, Alpha had thought it was another corpse, another casualty of a war that had long since ceased to recognize the difference between soldier and bystander. The figure was small, barely more than a shadow curled against the roots of a fallen tree.
But then he heard the breath—weak, but steady.
Alpha knelt.
The boy was young, no older than ten, his face gaunt, his clothes torn. His dark hair was matted with dirt, his skin streaked with the grime of survival. When Alpha reached out, the child flinched violently, curling in on himself.
Alpha withdrew his hand.
He had seen this reaction before.
A child who had learned that hands only reached for him when they intended harm.
Slowly, carefully, Alpha pulled a strip of dried meat from his pouch. He placed it within reach. "Eat."
The boy didn't move.
Alpha did not press him. He leaned against the tree instead, resting his arms on his knees. The night stretched around them, silent but for the distant rustle of wind through the trees.
Minutes passed. Then, a hand—small, hesitant—snatched the food away.
Alpha didn't react. He simply watched as the boy devoured the meat with desperate hunger.
When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and finally spoke.
"…Are you going to kill me?"
Alpha exhaled. "No."
The boy studied him for a long moment, his eyes wary. Then, in a voice quieter than before, he muttered, "You should."
Alpha said nothing.
He had heard those words before.
The boy did not tell him his name.
Alpha did not ask.
They walked together in silence, the child trailing several steps behind, never quite daring to close the distance. He never spoke unless spoken to, and even then, his answers were short.
Still, Alpha learned enough.
The boy had come from a village long since burned to the ground. His family was gone. He had been alone for days—maybe weeks. Hunger had driven him to the edge, but something else had kept him alive.
Something heavier than mere survival.
Alpha did not ask what it was. He knew the weight of ghosts all too well.
They stopped at an abandoned farmstead as the sun dipped below the horizon. The remnants of a fence stretched across the field, rotted and half-collapsed. A well stood nearby, covered in creeping ivy, its stones cracked with age. The house was nothing more than a broken frame of wood and forgotten memories.
It was shelter. It would do.
The boy hesitated before stepping inside. His small hands hovered near the doorway, as if touching it would somehow make it real.
Alpha waited.
After a long moment, the boy entered, his bare feet silent against the dust-covered floor.
Alpha lit a small fire. The boy sat across from him, arms wrapped around his knees.
He watched the flames like they were something foreign, something that didn't belong to him.
Alpha had seen that look before, too.
"You haven't spoken much," Alpha said.
The boy shrugged, but didn't answer.
Silence stretched between them, comfortable in its own way. Alpha leaned back against the crumbling wall, the warmth of the fire pressing against his skin.
"You have a name?"
The boy hesitated. Then, after a long pause—
"…I don't remember."
His voice was steady. Not afraid, not sad. Just… empty.
Alpha exhaled slowly.
Names were fragile things. They could be taken, lost, erased.
"Then we'll find you one."
The boy glanced up, wary. "How?"
Alpha thought for a moment. "You choose."
The boy frowned. "That's not how names work."
"It is now."
A flicker of something crossed the boy's face. Not quite amusement, not quite disbelief. But it was something.
He didn't answer, though. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the fire.
"Why are you helping me?"
The question was quiet, uncertain.
Alpha didn't answer immediately.
Because I have seen too many die.Because no one else will.Because if I don't, who will?
But none of those words came out. Instead, he said, simply—
"Because I can."
The boy stared at him for a long moment, then turned away again.
He didn't speak again that night.
But he didn't sleep as far away from Alpha as before.
Days passed.
The boy ate when Alpha gave him food. He walked when Alpha walked. He said little, but he stayed.
And when Alpha woke one morning to find the child crouched near Vanitas, staring at it with quiet curiosity, he did not move.
"Your sword talks," the boy said. Not a question. A statement.
Alpha sighed. "It does."
The boy glanced at him. "What does it say?"
Alpha considered lying. But the truth was simpler.
"Things I don't always want to hear."
The boy tilted his head. "Like what?"
Alpha hesitated. Then, finally—
"It told me that power always has a price."
The boy was silent. Then, he looked back at the sword.
"…What did it cost you?"
Alpha's fingers curled slightly.
Everything.
"I don't know yet."
The boy hummed softly, thoughtful. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper—
"Maybe that's worse."
Alpha had no answer to that.
They reached a crossroads that evening. The road split—one path led into the dark wilderness, the other toward the distant ruins of a city swallowed by war.
Alpha looked at the boy. "You can go anywhere from here."
The boy didn't answer immediately. He glanced at the road ahead, then at Alpha. His small hands clenched at his sides.
"…Where are you going?"
Alpha turned his gaze to the horizon. "Forward."
The boy was quiet for a long time. Then, hesitantly, he spoke.
"…Then I'll go with you."
Alpha looked down at him. The boy met his gaze, his expression set.
For the first time since they met, he stood beside Alpha, rather than behind him.
Alpha nodded. "Then we'll keep moving."
The boy hesitated again, then murmured, "What if I never remember my name?"
Alpha started walking.
"Then we'll find you one."
This time, the boy followed without hesitation.