Dread, a name synonymous with multiple different feelings.
For the weak, it was a form of fear. At the mere sound of the child's name, their hearts would sink. They were afraid that the stories in which were told about the kid would come to fruition and multiply, turning them into the victims of yet another tale.
But even then, those that feared him and his actions blame the young child for their actions.
Hell, who could?
Afterall, any one of them would do the same if they just so happened to be in a similar predicament, and they were the big, strong adults of the world...
Yeah... those big, strong adults... You know, the ones that couldn't even spare a young child from having to drench their hands in blood just to live a measly one day longer...?
So although the weak did fear Dread, they also couldn't help but feel at least a few ounces of sadness and pity towards him.
However, It wasn't just the weak that felt intense emotions for the young child, the strong did too.
Contrary to how the weak saw Dread as a fearful being, the strong saw the child as one to be respected.
But why?
How?
How could one feel respect for another when all that they do is run away from their own battles and push them onto others like a spineless coward?
Not to mention those that have risen through the ranks and gained power from doing the complete opposite as the boy.
...The answer was simple.
It was because they were strong - because they had survived and seen more than enough that they could understand the kids' actions.
To be able to survive the treacherous reaches of War Field, everyone had to do all that they could. Kill, flee, sacrifice, anything at all... The world was selfish and the people that lived in, even more so.
Now imagine being a child, one that probably still hasn't even hit puberty, and doing the same thing, adapting one step at a time, doing all that they must, just so that they might have even the smallest increase in likelihood to make it to safety...
The strong, no not just the strong, but all, couldn't even dream to envision their survival... It was a futile struggle in their eyes, an impossibility.
And yet, it was possible.
Children of War were the proof. Proof that the impossible could be overcome.
Because of this, they were to be held in the utmost respect.
Dread was no different.
So when people heard that name fall from the young boy's lips, they erupted into a cacophony of different voices.
Some were harsh, demanding that the kid be thrown out for trying to impersonate someone else. Others were full of joyous glee, cheering for the boy as they raised their glasses in a show of praise and celebration.
Vigil, unbothered by the commotion, continued to stare at the beautiful receptionist, waiting for the process of becoming a merc to continue.
While all of this was happening, Tiamat decided to pull the device that could determine truth from lies out onto the table for all to see. When she did, the hall had fallen into a deep silence, awaiting what was to be said next.
"Before we continue, I must ask... When you say that you wish to be called Dread, am I correct in assuming that you chose that name because that is who you are?"
The question confused Vigil.
What did she mean by that?
She had asked him for his preferred name and he'd given it, so what was the problem?
Tilting his head to the side, he responded in a slightly confused tone.
"Yes...?"
Looking at the device and seeing as it was glowing green, Tiamat continued.
"So, you are Dread, the Child of War, correct?"
This question was what made Vigil finally understand what this questioning was all about.
From the looks of it, they were trying to determine if he truly was the guy that everyone had heard about and not just some kid playing make believe and using someone else's name.
But if that was all, then why did it seem like they were making a showing out of this whole situation?
Was it because he pretty much just announced to the world that he's a Child of War?
But if that was the case, then why did they care? Why did they seem oh so invested in who he was?
The boy just couldn't wrap his head around it all.
Snapping him out of his thoughts was Tiamat's stern voice.
"Well? Your answer?"
Vigil quickly looked back up at her and responded in a tone that held no room for debate.
"Yes, you are correct."
Seeing as the device was still glowing a translucent green, Tiamat continued.
"Alright then, final question, just to make sure. How long were you wandering around War Field? Alone, I mean."
Something about that question seemed to annoy the boy.
He didn't know why, but there was just something about it that irked him to no end.
Vigil looked at the receptionist with a look that betrayed his feelings, making her involuntarily flinch with a look that conveyed both confusion and concern in her eyes.
"A little more than two years, that's how long I had survived."
At the sound of that sentence, everyone in the hall, the mercs, the receptionists, the waiters, the bartenders, everyone turned their heads to look at the device laying on the desk...
...The device that was still glowing with the same translucent green color.
They were in utter shock.
In their lifetimes, there had maybe been one or two Children of War that had come close to reaching two years of lone survival. However, this was the first time that they had heard of one, much less seen one, crossing that threshold.
This was not to say that it hadn't happened before, after all the world's history did span millions of years, and in that time there was even someone that had reached five years alone.
And that's not even counting the time before that, when history was barely documented.
But still... A feat like this was a first in the past hundred years or so.
The shock was palpable.
Seeing as the device was still green, Tiamat, being the good receptionist that she was, quickly snapped herself out of the momentary feeling of shock.
She then cleared her throat and began talking to the boy once again.
"...Ahem. So, with those questions out of the way, I have finally confirmed your identity as Dread. Even if you aren't Dread, we will know soon, as no more information about you being out in War Field should come up in the next few days. With that being said, allow me to ask this one last time. Are you sure that this is the name in which you wish to go by?"
It was at this point that Vigil stopped caring about how many questions were thrown at him. Just wanting to finish up, he answered in a flat tone:
"Yes, I am sure."
"And are you sure that you want to become a mercenary?"
"Yes, I am sure!"
Once he gave her the confirmation, Tiamat silently nodded her head then turned away from him. She then proceeded to walk towards the back of the hall. Once she got there, she crouched down in front of a large unadorned chest.
After crouching down for a minute or two, seemingly trying to unlock the great chest, she was finally able to open it.
When she did, she reached down into it and took out a small rectangular box.
Or at least what seemed to be a box at first, but as she turned around and started walking back to the desk, it was revealed that said box had a large hole that spanned from one end to the other.
'What is that?'
Vigil had become curious. Something about that object gave him an odd feeling that he wouldn't be able to describe if asked.
It was not a bad feeling per se, but a feeling none the less.
When the receptionist had reached the desk, she gently laid down the box and began to explain what would happen from there.
"Alright, all that you need to do is take off your gauntlet, put your arm in this here device and keep it there for ten seconds. After that, you will officially become a mercenary."
Hearing this, Vigil could help but ask the woman in a dubious tone:
"That's it? I thought it would take longer?"
In response to the young child's words, Tiamat flashed a small smile.
"Oh trust me, by the end of this, you're going to wish that it was an even shorter process."
She said as she beckoned over a mercenary that seemed to have overcome their shock, to come over towards them.
Something about that sentence did not bode well with Vigil.
It sounded way too ominous.
As he was thinking this, a large lizardman with pale white scales that towered over the young boy came up behind him holding a wooden chair in his hands.
The lizardman then put the chair down and picked up the boy, setting him atop it and pushing it towards the receptionist desk, making it easier for Vigil to reach his arm into the device.
When this process was finished, Tiamat spoke up once again.
"If you would, please reach your right arm through here until your hand is fully poking through the other side."
She said as she gestured towards the device.
Before doing so, Vigil wearily looked up towards the woman that now had a small smile plastered across her beautiful face. At the moment, to him, that smile looked anything but kind. In fact, he would even vouch for it to be called evil.
However, even with that in mind, he slowly raised his arm, took off the armor that covered his forearm, and put it through the machine as he was instructed.
When he finally did, Tiamat grabbed hold of his hand and whispered:
"Clench that jaw and try not to pass out."
At the sound of those words, Vigil couldn't help but panic.
'No... no, no, no, no. Wait, wait, wait!'
Afterwards she said one last thing.
"Inmate, Dread, has been recognized..."
Along with those words came a pain that Vigil would never forget.