[Born Without a Name, Bound by Fate]
The night wind reeked of salt. Waves crashed against the shore as an old boat drifted slowly toward the dock, its hull swaying like a forgotten token tossed by fate.
In a dim corner, a young woman curled up, clutching her swollen belly, her forehead slick with cold sweat. The sea breeze tangled her hair, muffling her barely audible whispers.
She didn't know who the child's father was.
She only knew one thing:
She couldn't stop.
She had to survive—with the life growing inside her.
She hadn't even thought of a name for the baby.
**
When the boat docked, she was moved like cargo. The men at the port spoke in clipped tones, their eyes sharp and businesslike. She couldn't understand their language, but she recognized the gestures—no one cared who she was. Only where she could be sold.
In the end, a merchant took her in.
It wasn't mercy.
It was hesitation.
He didn't believe in gods or karma, yet he believed in cause and effect. When he heard she was pregnant, he didn't speak right away. After a moment's silence, he simply said:
"Let her stay."
**
Three years passed.
She lived in the man's estate, keeping accounts, managing affairs. Never once did she make a mistake.
Slowly, he realized—this woman wasn't just quick and capable.
She was sharp. Insightful. Uncannily precise with numbers and people.
One day, he looked up from his papers and asked her—suddenly, yet without emotion:
"What's your name?"
She froze, caught off guard. A moment passed before she replied, barely above a whisper:
"I was never given one."
He didn't press.
He simply nodded, thoughtful. Then, almost as an afterthought, he said:
"Then the child shouldn't remain nameless either."
**
That day, the child who had never been formally acknowledged…
was given a name for the first time.
Elric.
Elric Zane.
"Shake the heavens, steady the earth, anchor destiny."
She didn't interrupt.
She only looked into the boy's eyes for a brief moment.
But the boy—
He would grow up barely remembering the word "son" ever coming from her lips.
What he did remember, from birth until the age of three,
was everyone calling him—
The feral child.
—
[Chapter Prologue]
She never had the chance to name him.
Fate had already chosen for her.
And he—would walk from that nameless beginning, toward the name he would one day claim…
and the rules of the world he would rewrite.