Names… give meaning to existence.
To bear a name is to carry weight — of legacy, of sin, of flame.
But to be nameless… is to vanish from the world's memory. To be no one. To burn without light.
I lost my name once. I won't lose it again.
Even if I must burn the heavens to reclaim it.
To live without a name… is useless.
Packing his belongings into a travel case, Shita paused by the open window. The wind that passed through carried faint traces of smoke and iron — reminders of the Fire Clan's relentless training. He looked toward the horizon, where the crimson sky bled into dusk. The time to leave had come.
He had made friends here — people who'd changed him — yet the path ahead demanded that he move forward alone. His training remained unfinished, his goal unfulfilled, and his rival, Red Fire, had become stronger than ever. That truth scorched his pride more than any flame.
The gate had been rebuilt after the incident. No one suspected he was the cause, and he intended to keep it that way.
This would be the last time he'd see the Fire Clan.
---
"Yo! Hurry up, Shita. We don't have all day," came a familiar voice.
Standing by the gate was Jaze, his mentor — the man who'd saved him countless times.
"Wait up! I'm coming!" Shita called.
Before Jaze could reply, another voice cut in.
"Hold it. I'm coming with you two."
A red-haired youth approached, his gaze sharp and unwavering. The air around him shimmered faintly, as though the heat bowed to his will.
Jaze frowned. "Aren't you supposed to be the next clan head?"
"I was one of the candidates," the youth said, slipping his hands into his coat pockets. "But I'm relinquishing the position."
"Why?"
"Not your concern."
Jaze exhaled through his nose. "Fine. But you're joining Shita's squad whether you like it or not."
"I didn't follow you to join some 'idiot squad.' I have my reasons."
"Good for you," Jaze replied casually. "But rules are rules. And you should thank Shita — if not for him, you'd still be struggling to control that power."
Red Fire's eyes narrowed, but he didn't answer. The silence between the three was thick enough to ignite.
They boarded a sleek black vehicle. The engine roared to life, and the Fire Clan faded in the rearview mirror.
---
The Black Halo
The drive lasted an hour, through winding roads and hollow valleys until the world ahead erupted into towering architecture.
The Black Halo Headquarters rose like a fortress of shadows and light.
Its design defied symmetry — a spire of black steel twisting into the sky, encircled by rings of floating platforms that rotated slowly, emitting faint blue energy. From afar, it looked like a broken halo suspended above a cathedral of iron.
At its base sprawled a bustling plaza lined with holographic mission boards and digital sigils etched into the marble floor. Every few seconds, beams of light shot into the air — signals of squad deployments across realms.
The walls of the building reflected faint distortions, like liquid obsidian. Between those walls pulsed streams of energy that gave the illusion that the structure itself was breathing.
Above the entrance, the insignia gleamed:
a fractured ring encircling a dying flame.
It was said the symbol represented hope through ruin.
---
"Whoa," Shita whispered. "It's huge."
Inside, the lobby resembled a fusion of technology and elegance — vast marble floors embedded with glowing veins of light, mechanical pillars that rose and rotated with precision, and transparent walkways that overlooked the training yards below.
The atmosphere was alive with movement — mercenaries in combat gear, assassins in silent black coats, and elemental users with faint traces of aura energy trailing behind them.
A woman in a dark uniform approached. "Welcome to the Black Halo. How can I assist you?"
"Squad assignment request," Jaze said, handing over his ID card.
The receptionist froze, eyes widening. "A–are you the Ash Executioner?"
Jaze sighed. "That name again… yeah, that's me."
"Could I… have your autograph?" she stammered, holding out a notebook.
He chuckled and signed it quickly.
"Didn't know you were famous, Master," Shita muttered.
"Used to be," Jaze said, sliding his card back. "Now I'm just tired."
"The squad request has been processed," the woman said, her tone respectful now. "Please proceed to the upper floors."
---
The upper levels were different — less polished, more personal.
Each corridor bore the marks of its occupants: murals, hanging weapons, trophies from missions. The air smelled faintly of ozone and sweat — the scent of battle and ambition.
When they entered the mission chamber, a tall man with sharp eyes greeted them.
"Been a while, Jaze. You look more… alive," he said.
Jaze grinned. "Still breathing, Marcus. How's the organization holding up?"
"Busy," Marcus replied. "There's talk of a group hunting the Book of Liv. It sounds impossible, but if it's true, we'll have to tread carefully."
Jaze's smile faded. "The Book of Liv, huh. Guess peace was too much to ask for."
Marcus shrugged. "Squad recommendation confirmed. You'll need one or two more members. The last arrives tomorrow."
"Good. Then we'll rest for the night."
As they turned to leave, Red Fire glanced at the towering glass that overlooked the city. The neon sign of Black Halo glowed faintly against the clouds — a flicker of light fighting against the void.
Names… give meaning to something.
And now, my name will be carved into this world again — not in words, but in flame.
---