"This is the story; please help me, heavenly messenger!" The teenager wouldn’t stop pestering him. He’d recited his entire narrative at Eminem speed, despite not being asked, and he had no interest in helping him. But it got worse!

How could anyone, fresh out of the belly of a leviathan—a deep-sea creature, devourer of ships, embodying death’s authority over the seas—be called a heavenly messenger? Clearly, he was a messenger of the abyss!

Anyone else seeing a person emerge from a monster’s mouth would assume an even greater threat had fallen upon them. They’d blame their own bad luck as they desperately fled the monster that had slain the leviathan.

And this son of a... dear young man believed he was some envoy of his faith, someone who would unconditionally help him with a problem far beyond the interests and domains of his god.

Since when would the moon, a natural satellite, care about what happened to…

"What do they call you again, kid?" The kneeling boy, still in awe, raised his head enough to see his eyes, radiant as stars.

"Holy envoy, my name is Dante. Unfortunately, I lack a family name." What on earth would the moon want with Dante, the nameless? A poor young fisherman who, by his pale, thin appearance, seemed to have gone days without eating.

It was clear this boy was in total misery, and his pleas would be ignored even by the goddess of poverty, who, contrary to popular belief, wanted everyone to be poor to demonstrate her benevolence.

"Come on, boy." With a tired, heavy sigh, he pondered briefly over his words. He had plenty of concerns at the moment, and his memory was faulty. His body hadn’t recovered well, and he could tell he was far from his peak. At the very least, some light rest could restore him.

"I’m no saint, and far from helping you, I even feel compelled to kick your divine-bootlicking ass." How could someone who fought gods day after day tolerate this boy's unjustified, foolish, and weak faith? He was obviously at his limit, ready to give him a thorough beating!

"But I’m lost, so I’ll spare you if you tell me where we are." He’d tried looking at the stars a few times to get his bearings, but with the celestial scene constantly shifting, it was currently impossible to navigate by them.

"We are in the lands of wind and storms,with the most beautiful flowers and the brightest jewels, governed by the magnanimous King of Whales." The boy proclaimed with utmost reverence; every word from his mouth was ingrained since childhood.

He barely contained his laughter. The king and his people must be quite hefty to warrant such a title. A country ruled by whales… What a silly name—only humans could come up with something like that.

What did wind have to do with whales? This didn’t seem like a fishing-based country from the introduction, with no mention of the sea, maritime storms, or even its navigators. Truly, a foolish name from mortals.

It was refreshing to know he’d landed in the lands of a mere mortal king. What would he do if offended? Call his mundane guards? While sitting his fat ass on a throne of gravel?

He might as well nab a few coins from the grand royal treasury that these clowns always had. Recruiting a few men with some potential wasn’t out of the question either.

"Which continent?" Maintaining a threatening, annoyed façade, he asked again, as the boy didn’t seem to know how to talk.

"I’m sorry, sir, but I know very little about the world." The boy seemed deeply ashamed of his origins. Nothing could be done; by his appearance and manner of speaking, it was obvious that what little he knew had been taught by some political or religious leader with little interest in teaching. After all, it was easier if he remained an idiot.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Well, in that case, I’ll have to ask someone smarter… Is there anyone like that around here?” The best way to understand a people was through their youth, and right now, this youth representative was calling a man who looked like a beggar the envoy of the moon.

Without much expectation, he turned back to the boy. "Get up and show me where the nearest town is or any place where people gather around here." In his mind, it could easily be just a small village where the boy was from, or even that he lived alone in the middle of nowhere in a straw hut.

Even if these lands had a ruler, not everyone lived near him. The boy could live days away from the ruler’s lands or even farther, depending on how powerful he was.

"Of course, envoy! I’ll show you my home where you can eat and rest!" Dante lowered his head for a moment, and with his hand in front of his mouth, he whispered, "Will roasted fish be enough?" This didn’t go unnoticed as he recalled eating the walls of a fish’s stomach just seconds ago. He already tasted bile rising in his throat.

‘I don’t want to eat fish for a while.’ He was, in a way, steeped in fish vomit... and that vomit… Some experiences didn’t need to be relived!

The beach faded behind them as the two walked into the tall woods, trees and flowers swaying gently in the wind. Civilization seemed distant at this moment; no light or smoke from flames was easily seen.

“By the way, what is your name, envoy?” Dante was running out of breath having to call him the envoy of the moon at every moment. Yet, this question was rather complicated.

"I don’t have a name." The boy looked a bit shocked at that, not once wondering if it was a joke or serious. Believing it from beginning to end. He already felt miserable without a surname, so how would it be if he didn’t even have a name?

"Then how do people refer to you?" Not having a name or nickname made coexistence in society impossible. At the very least, some form of identification was needed.

"Apparently, people call me the envoy of the moon, even though I’m not an envoy and haven’t come from the moon." He could already feel his throat drying again. The difficulties were bound to continue for quite some time.

Sensing the puppy-dog look, he added, "Of the people I know, most usually refer to one another by some remarkable event or position. So they called me the Rebel From the Ashes, Godslayer, General of the Thirteen, Tyrant of the Thousand Nights. Among others."

The boy’s youthful eyes sparkled again; the man before him was greater than he thought! Ordinary people only had one name, nobles had two, and even kings only had three, while the man before him had more than five!

How important he must have been, and how many ancestors he must have had. His lineage was not of bastards but of true noble warriors. Still, he could feel the burden as he spoke of it. The General’s shoulders seemed to sink under the weight of responsibility. His legacy was greater than any other.

“I didn’t know it was possible to earn names like that! How did you get that last one? It sounds so cool!” He looked at the starry sky for a moment, remembering that battle.

“I was one of the leaders in a battle, the battle of the thousand nights. The name was given not only for the time the fight lasted, but because, as part of the strategy, we halted the seasons and the sun, plunging the world into eternal night for a thousand days. The enemy, weakened without sunlight, was pushed to their limit until they were defeated.” He had some pride in that—what other person could boast of defying the natural laws for almost three years?

But that was the nature of battles against the divine. Even death had been a god’s creation, wielded as a weapon. Various concepts regarded as natural today were, in fact, weapons forged to crush those who dared challenge them.

A human couldn’t create concepts, but he could undermine them. Some concepts were created on top of others; to simplify, snow had been created from water, clouds, rain, and cold. What would happen if the god of water was prevented from exercising his power? Through a chain of events, the god of snow would lose control, though not instantly; eventually, he would.

Few divine beings could be considered isolated cases; most were interconnected in ways they didn’t fully understand. After all, how many layers of concepts were stacked on top of each other?

Basically all gods depended on at least the existence of time and space which created a third, reality. However, even those who control time need space to act and a reality to exist. Basically…

“Can I get a name like you? Please, give me a name, General!” The man looked at him for a few moments,He returned from his frequent ramblings, after all he always needed to mark this knowledge with fire and steel.Since this could be the difference between victory and defeat as well as life, death and destruction

Giving minimal attention to the boy. recalling any notable event that could serve. With a snap of his fingers, he proclaimed,

“Beach Lunatic!”For the boy, this name may be meaningless But for him, it gives a new idea, a profound insight had been unlocked. He remembered once again.Names, at the end of the day, had power and that could help him…