He had a theory. Back when Fenrir had mentioned a "grandmaster," the title alone had been enough to make that massive snake hesitate. Someone capable of intimidating a creature like Nythra had to be some kind of a legendary figure, right? A wise sage clad in flowing robes, exuding ancient power? Maybe a battle-hardened warrior who commanded armies with a single word?
But alas… what greeted him was—
'...Seriously?' he thought, blinking at the sight before him.
A disheveled old man was lay sprawled on a worn sofa, with his robes that were rumpled beyond recognition. Half-empty bottles of liquor surrounded him like a personal fortress, and his hand loosely held another drink that swayed with his snoring. His beard was unkempt, his hair was an unruly mess, and he looked like someone who'd lost both a bar fight and his dignity… decades ago.
Fenrir let out a deep, exhausted sigh and padded closer. Without ceremony, he opened his jaw and bit down—not gently—on the old man's foot.
"OW!"
The old man's eyes snapped open as he jolted upright, knocking over several bottles with a clattering cascade. He flailed for a moment before steadying himself, blinking blearily at Fenrir.
"Bloody—! You again?! I've told you there are plenty of ways to wake me up without chewing on my damn foot!"
"Forgive me, Grandmaster." Fenrir rumbled, sounding anything but apologetic.
"We require your guidance. This is... important."
The old man rubbed his face, grumbling under his breath.
"Yeah, yeah—humor me then. What's so urgent you had to assault me out of my nap and liquid meditation?"
At that cue, Fenrir gestured toward Sköll, who approached with careful steps. The white wolf gently placed the basket onto the floor in front of the old man.
The old man raised a brow.
"...You brought me a gift? Please tell me it's whiskey. Or at least rum."
His gaze dropped to the basket.
Inside, a baby stared back.
The old man muttered under his breath.
"A... brat?"
'The fuck did he just say?!'
He bristled internally. Sure, technically he was a baby right now, but a brat? Rude! And worse, he couldn't even voice his anger right now.
Fenrir sighed.
"We found him in Nythra's territory."
That seemed to catch the old man's full attention. His drunken haze lifted—just slightly—as he leaned in to inspect the infant more carefully. He sharpened his gaze as if piecing together a puzzle.
"Is that the reason why your ka...?"
Fenrir gave a small nod, understanding the unfinished question.
"Yes," he confirmed.
"We had... a few disagreements with that snake."
"Huh... I see..."
The old man leaned back, scratching his scruffy chin. His robe shifted, revealing more bottles scattered around the couch. With a sigh, he looked at the baby again.
"Well then, brat. Got a name?"
'Ugh, he reeks of booze.'
The baby thought, scrunching his face. And seriously, what's with that? Does he really expect an infant to just answer him? His mind prepared to snap back mentally—of course he had a name! He's—
Wait.
What was his name again?
His mind hit a wall. Panic swelled for a moment. Wait... no, no, this isn't right. I—I had a name... didn't I?
His thoughts scrambled. I had a... life? Before this tiny body? The realization spiraled through him like a fog creeping into his mind. He knew he existed before—he just... couldn't grasp it. Not fully.
Why can't he remember?
The old man studied the baby with narrowed eyes, but the haze of alcohol was doing little to dull the sharp glint of thought behind them.
"Awfully quiet for a baby, huh?" he muttered, scratching his scruffy beard.
Fenrir nodded, glancing at Sköll.
"That's what we thought too."
The infant stared back at the old man, furrowing his tiny brows.
'Wha—what is he looking at? Quit staring at me like that!'
His thoughts swirled in confusion, grappling with a nagging emptiness.
'I had a life... before this? Why can't I remember...?'
He knew he'd existed before, but the details slipped through his grasp like water through his fingers.
The old man hummed thoughtfully, leaning in closer. His gaze wasn't just inspecting—it was analyzing, like he was reading something invisible. Then, as if making a decision, he straightened.
"Well... been a long time since I've had a human companion."
He shrugged.
"Let's keep it."
The room fell into complete silence.
Fenrir let out an incredulous sigh.
"You make it sound like we just picked up a stray cat."
Sköll tilted his head.
"He is kind of small..."
'Hey! I'm not a stray!' the baby wanted to shout.
'And 'it'? Seriously? I'm right here!'
Sköll's gaze lingered on the baby for a moment longer before he asked:
"How about a name?"
The old man let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his head.
"Do I really have to go through that tiresome process too? Names are a hassle..."
He glanced at the baby, then at the half-finished bottle of red wine in his hand. His gaze shifted back and forth between the two, clearly weighing his options—or perhaps his inspiration.
"...Alright," he said at last, lifting the bottle slightly.
"Your name will be Velren."
Velren...?' The baby blinked.
'Wait—wait a second!'
He darted his gaze to the bottle on the old man's hand
'Is that name inspired by the wine in his hand?! What the actual—'
Suddenly, the floating screen flickered back into view, forming its letters in that familiar glitchy pattern:
[Requ3st3d nam3: "Velren." D0 y0u accept?]
"Hell no! That name definitely came from that damn wine bottle!'
Without hesitation, he swatted at the screen with his tiny hand, fully intending to decline—
Nothing.
It didn't even budge.
'What?! C'mon, work with me here!'
The screen glitched for a moment, then displayed another message:
[N0 alt3rnat3 1nput d3t3ct3d. Nam3 ass1gnm3nt pr0c33d1ng...]
[Du3 t0 unava1labil1ty 0f us3r-sel3cted alt3rnat1v3s, th3 request3d nam3 w1ll be giv3n.]
'Wait, wait—hold on!'
Too late.
The screen blinked once, finalizing the name with an irritatingly cheery chime:
[D3s1gnat10n confirm3d: "Velren."]