A Name for a Monster

Limping Back to Civilization

The dirt road leading back to Veyleigh felt twice as long as when they had first left. Arlan's body screamed in protest with every step, his ribs aching from where the Black Hounds had kicked him, his muscles sore from the battle with the Wraith. The weight of exhaustion hung over him like a lead cloak, each breath slow and deliberate.

Shade walked silently beside him, his movements smoother, more purposeful now. He barely seemed to touch the ground, his new form giving him a predatory grace. Bones, still in his Ratman form, strode alongside Arlan, occasionally grunting as he helped steady him when his steps faltered.

For all their bickering, they had watched over him. Even now, they stayed close, as if sensing that he wasn't at full strength.

"You smell bad, Master," Bones muttered.

Arlan groaned. "Yeah? Well, you smell like wet fur and grave dirt, so let's call it even."

Bones clicked his teeth, unconcerned. "Still standing. Still fighting. Strong."

Arlan managed a smirk. "Yeah. You two kept me alive. Can't complain about that."

Shade flickered at his side, his eerie new voice quieter than usual. "Master… must rest."

Arlan sighed, glancing ahead. The city gates were close now. "Yeah. First thing on the list."

Two Days of Darkness

Arlan barely remembered checking into the inn. He had tossed a few coin at the owner for a larger room—one that would fit all three of them—before stumbling upstairs.

The moment he saw the bed, he collapsed face-first into it.

And he didn't wake up for two whole days.

When he finally stirred, his body felt… better. Still sore, still stiff, but the deep, clawing exhaustion had faded. His wounds had started to heal, and more importantly, his mind felt clearer.

As he sat up groggily, the first thing he noticed was that the room was eerily quiet.

Too quiet.

He glanced around.

Shade stood in the corner, unmoving. Watching.

Bones sat on the floor, cross-legged, playing with a stolen fork.

Arlan blinked. "...Have you two just been watching me sleep this whole time?"

Shade nodded.

Bones grinned. "Guarding."

Arlan groaned. "Gods, that's creepy."

Bones twitched his ears. "You alive. That means we did good."

"...Fair enough."

Arlan stretched, rolling his shoulders. His body still ached, but hunger gnawed at his stomach. He needed food.

As he dug into the simple breakfast the innkeeper had brought up earlier, a thought crept into his mind.

His summons had changed. They were stronger now. They weren't just mindless creatures following orders—they had become something more.

They deserved real names.

A Name for a Monster

Arlan chewed thoughtfully. "Do either of you… remember anything from before?"

Bones tilted his head. "Before?"

"Before I brought you back." Arlan gestured vaguely. "Your past. Your name."

Bones clicked his teeth. "I was rat."

"Yeah, but—" Arlan sighed. "Never mind."

He turned to Shade. "What about you? You were a goblin, right?"

Shade was silent for a long moment. His hollow eyes flickered with something unreadable.

Then—he spoke.

"A name… Vrekk."

The word felt strange on his tongue, like an echo of a life long lost. He didn't know why he remembered it, or if it had even been his real name. But it was there, buried deep in whatever remained of his past.

Arlan nodded slowly. "Vrekk, huh? That's… not bad."

Shade—tilted his head slightly, considering it. He didn't reject it.

That was good enough for Arlan.

Then—Bones clicked his claws together.

"Ooh! I want name! Strong name!"

Arlan sighed. "Alright, what do you want to be called?"

Bones puffed out his chest. "Skullcrusher the Mighty!"

Arlan stared at him. "...No."

Bones huffed. "Fanglord Bloodfang?"

"Absolutely not."

"Chomp?"

Arlan ran a hand down his face. "Bones, that's worse."

Bones rubbed his chin, thinking. "Meatlord the Devourer."

Shade muttered, "Stupid."

Bones shot him a glare. "No, strong!"

Arlan groaned. "Bones, you need something real. Something that doesn't sound like a title a drunk mercenary would give himself."

Bones crossed his arms. "Then master choose."

Arlan leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "Something strong, huh?"

He thought for a moment.

Then, he smirked.

"Gorrick."

Bones blinked. "Gorrick?"

"Yeah. It's a warrior's name. Sounds strong, doesn't it?"

Bones mulled it over, clicking his teeth. He repeated it under his breath a few times, rolling the syllables around like a new piece of armor.

"...Gorrick."

Slowly, a grin spread across his face.

"Gorrick is strong name."

Arlan chuckled. "Glad you approve."

Shade—sighed. "Took long enough."

Arlan leaned forward, glancing between them.

"Vrekk. Gorrick." He nodded. "Alright. That's settled."

Something in his chest felt… lighter.

His summons weren't just tools.

They were his monsters. His people. His family.

And now—they had names.

The Hunt Continues

Arlan pushed himself up from the chair, rolling his shoulders. He still wasn't fully healed, but time wasn't on his side.

The Black Hounds were still out there, and the Sunken Mausoleum was the last known crypt marked on the necromancers' map.

Whatever was down there—whoever was behind it—wasn't going to wait for him to recover.

"Alright," he said, tightening his cloak. "We move at dawn."

Vrekk twirled his dagger, his new form shifting slightly in the candlelight. "Hunting again?"

Gorrick cracked his knuckles, grinning. "Crush more?"

Arlan smirked. "You bet."

The hunt wasn't over yet.