The Extra Who Stole the Hero's System-Chapter 55: Your Name - 2

"But before we begin, Master," I said, letting my tone carry a quiet reverence, "may I ask something minor? You called yourself the Herald of Eudenia—but surely that’s a title, not the man. What name did the world first give you?"

My eyes held his, steady but respectful. Not pressing. Not threatening. Just... curious. After all, names have purpose. And I needed his to erase him.

The question hung in the air, sharp and clear, cutting through the tense silence of my room. Herald’s expression, usually so impassive, now held a flicker of something unreadable—surprise? Annoyance? Intrigue?

I leaned on the instincts I’d picked up from all those Xianxia novels I used to binge in my past life. The main characters in those stories didn’t shout to be heard—they spoke calmly, deliberately, like every word was a sword carefully drawn. They used reason, not volume. Wisdom, not pride. That’s the tone I aimed for now. I wasn’t trying to start a fight, I wanted them to listen. To really hear me.

"My name?" Herald repeated, his voice calm, yet with a subtle shift in tone, as if I had just stepped onto forbidden ground. "I have given you my name. Herald of Eudenia. That is how I am known."

"Known, yes," I countered, my voice steady. This was a gamble. A dangerous one. But I needed that name. "But is it your true name? The one that carries the essence of who you are, before titles and legends?"

He tilted his head ever so slightly, like a hawk trying to determine if the creature before it was prey or something less easily devoured. The silence between us stretched.

"You are braver than most to ask that question," Herald said slowly. "Or perhaps... more foolish."

"I’ll take either," I replied, forcing a faint smile to my lips. "Foolishness has led more men to greatness than caution ever has."

"Or to their deaths," Herald replied smoothly.

"True," I nodded. "But some deaths matter more than a thousand safe lives."

"Is that what you’re after, Kai Lorne?" he asked, his voice low, almost gentle. "A meaningful death?"

"No," I said quietly. "A meaningful life. But if death comes with it, then so be it."

Herald was silent again. Then he let out something that might have been a breath, or the faintest trace of a laugh, dry as old paper.

"Words well spoken," he said. "Too well. You’ve rehearsed them."

"Maybe," I admitted. "But that doesn’t make them any less true."

Herald’s lips, hidden beneath the shadow of his hood, curved into a faint, grim smile. "You ask for something dangerous, boy," he replied, his voice smooth. "True names are not given lightly."

"Nor are they asked without reason," I countered, offering a slight nod, careful not to let eagerness show in my face. I needed to sound reasonable, logical, not desperate. "We stand on the brink of something vast, don’t we? A war against an ancient evil— the cult. You came to ask for my help, not to judge my worth. How can a judgment be fair if made upon a false name?" I paused, letting the implication hang in the air. "You demand my trust, my commitment, yet you withhold your true identity." It was a subtle challenge to his authority, to his demand for absolute obedience.

"Trust," Herald echoed, as if tasting the word. "A beautiful notion. Very Fragile. Easily broken."

"And stronger when tempered," I said softly.

Herald’s head turned slightly toward the moonlit treetops, as if the stars might offer him counsel. He didn’t speak, but his body language had shifted—he was no longer showing sheer dismissal. Not yet open, but no longer entirely closed.

"Do you believe names hold power, Kai?" he asked suddenly, without looking at me.

"I do," I said. "Which is why I don’t give mine to just anyone."

"And yet you gave it to me." He said.

"Because I had to," I said. "Because you already knew it. Because pretending you didn’t would have been a waste of both our time. But if I had a name deeper than Kai Lorne... I wouldn’t give it lightly either."

He looked back to me, then. Silent approval flickered.

"A fair point, perhaps," Herald finally conceded, his voice a low murmur, almost to himself. "Though audacity is a trait that can lead to both greatness and ruin." He took a slow, deliberate breath, his gaze sweeping over the carnage of the courtyard, then back at me. "The Face of Asmodeus operates in shadows. They seek to corrupt, to infiltrate, to twist the very fabric of identity. True names... they hold power. They are vulnerabilities."

"And trust," I added, pushing the point gently. "Trust is built on transparency, Master Herald. If I am to be your hand, your disciple, to face this darkness with you, then I must know who I truly serve. Not just a title, but the man beneath the legend." I tried to infuse my voice with a subtle sincerity, a hint of the ’loyal but questioning’ disciple.

"You truly believe it matters?" Herald asked, not scoffing, but genuinely testing the thought. "That a name makes the man more real?"

"I believe names are like doors," I said. "Some closed. Some sealed. Some wide open. I just want to knock before I walk through yours."

Herald was silent for a long moment, the only sound the faint rustle of the night breeze through the trees. He seemed to be contemplating, weighing my words against centuries of ingrained caution.

"You are... different, Kai Lorne," he finally said, his voice almost a whisper, a hint of something unreadable in its depths. "Not just in your abilities, but in your mind. You probe, you question, you see beyond the surface. A dangerous trait, perhaps. But one that may be necessary for what lies ahead."

"I just want to know who I’m fighting beside," I said. "Is that so strange?"

"It is rare," Herald said simply. "Rare and... costly."

He turned fully towards me, his hood still obscuring most of his face.

"Very well," Herald said, his voice gaining a new resonance. "You seek my true name. A name I have not spoken aloud in centuries. A name that carries the weight of a world long lost, a life long past." He paused, and for a fleeting moment, a profound sorrow, a deep, ancient pain, flickered across his face, quickly masked by his usual impassivity.

"I will give it to you," he said, as though issuing a sentence. "But understand—if ever you speak it aloud in malice, in betrayal, or in recklessness, I will know. And I will act."

I nodded once. "I understand."

"In the time before Eudenia raised me," he began, his voice with the echoes of history, "before she wrapped me in her chains, I was known as Aradel. Aradel Kein."

The name echoed in the room like a bell rung at midnight—soft, deep, and far-reaching.

And just like that, I had what I needed.

But I didn’t feel the triumph I thought I would, it was just one of the steps I had taken to ensure my survival in this world.

Aradel Kein.