The old man leaned on his wooden cane, his sharp eyes studying the young spirit boy. "Look here, kid. I see you transferring your life force into that armored servant of yours. That means you already know how to channel it. Give me a little taste of that 'Fountain' every couple of days, and in exchange, I'll teach you how to seal it. I'll teach you how to control the flow so you don't attract every monster in this realm."
"Stop calling me 'Fountain,' you half-dead geezer," the boy shot back.
"Hah! Fair enough. My name is Gergelt. Just call me Gelt."
The boy wrinkled his nose. "Gelt? What an ugly name. It sounds like someone choking on a piece of dry bread. I'm just going to call you Geralt."
The old man blinked, then threw his head back and laughed. "Oho! You have a knack for naming, don't you? Geralt... I like it. From today on, my name is Geralt."
That brief exchange was the foundation of their unlikely alliance. Arthur remembered that day perfectly. Before Geralt finally faded away, he had passed that name—and the legacy of a legendary warrior who had failed to cross over—down to him. It was through the weight of that inherited will that Arthur had eventually managed to subjugate his ultimate weapon: Excalibur.
The Present: The Frozen Forest
The memory faded, leaving only the biting cold of the winter night.
"Hey," Magnus said, his voice cutting through the tension. "Your name was Gakeru, right?"
Gakeru narrowed his eyes, his iron gauntlets humming. "It is. What of it?"
"I introduced myself as Magnus, didn't I?"
"You did. What's your point?"
Magnus lowered his stance, his hand gripping the hilt of his iron sword. "Forgive me. I lied."
Suddenly, the snow beneath Gakeru's feet began to melt. A massive, glowing magic circle materialized on the ground, projecting five intricate, spinning layers of runes.
Gakeru's instincts screamed. He sensed the sheer, unadulterated Destruction emanating from the array. He bent his knees to jump back, to escape the blast radius, but he was a fraction of a second too late.
"My true name..." The boy's voice resonated not from his throat, but from the mana in the air itself. "...is Arthur Warhen."