The air in the Ogre village was thick with anticipation. A wide circle had formed at the center of the settlement, surrounded by flickering torches and dozens of crimson-eyed onlookers. The Ogre chief, standing tall and solemn, raised a hand and spoke.
"The challenger shall step forward. Representing our pride, our strength, and our way of life— my most trusted warrior."
A muscular Ogre with ash-gray skin and wild, red hair stepped forward, his body towering even among his kind. Unlike the younger warriors who often carried themselves with prideful swagger, he moved with the weight of experience—calm, composed, and precise.
"Do you understand the rules, Varvatos?" the chief asked.
Varvatos nodded. "No killing. No maiming. Just a demonstration of strength and spirit."
The Ogre warrior grunted. "Aye. Let's see what kind of man you are."
As both opponents took their positions, Veldora leaned lazily against a tree trunk near the edge of the crowd, smirking. "He's got no idea what's coming."
One of the elder Ogres stepped into the center, raising a staff. "Begin!"
The Ogre warrior wasted no time. He charged forward, the ground trembling slightly beneath his heavy footsteps. His fist, large as a boulder, came swinging toward Varvatos with incredible force.
But Varvatos didn't flinch.
He sidestepped cleanly, letting the ogre punch whiff past him, and gently placed his palm against the Ogre's side. A faint ripple of magical pressure pulsed from his hand, sending the ogre staggering a few steps back.
"Hmph," the ogre growled, cracking his neck. "Fast."
"Not just fast," Varvatos replied, smiling faintly. "But I'll let my moves speak."
They exchanged a flurry of movements—the ogre brute strength clashing with Varvatos' elegant footwork and well-placed counters. The crowd watched in stunned silence. Though Varvatos never went on the offensive with lethal intent, each of his subtle movements showed overwhelming control. He redirected the ogre's strikes like a leaf dancing in the wind.
After a few more clashes, the ogre backed away, panting lightly, sweat glistening on his muscular frame.
"You're… not just strong. You're beyond."
Varvatos exhaled, still relaxed. "And I haven't even used magic."
The elder raised the staff again. "That's enough."
The ogre turned to the crowd and knelt. "He's worthy."
Gasps and murmurs filled the air. Then slowly, one by one, the Ogres began to kneel. Even the younger ones who had doubted Varvatos' strength now looked at him with newfound awe.
The Ogre chief stepped forward, pride and humility in his eyes.
"You have proven your strength and restraint. Both are the mark of a true king. We, the Ogres of Jura, pledge ourselves to your cause."
Varvatos placed his hand over his heart and gave a respectful bow. "Then rise, for we will build something worthy of your strength."
Veldora clapped slowly, grinning. "Well done, king of the monsters."
Varvatos chuckled. "Not yet, but we're getting there."
The warm glow of the setting sun cast golden rays over the Ogre village as Varvatos stood at the center, surrounded by all five hundred Ogres. They had just pledged themselves to his cause, and now a new chapter was about to begin.
The Ogres, tall and proud, still bore the signs of a rugged tribal life. Their muscles were hardened by training, their minds shaped by survival. Yet, there was something missing—identity. Unity. A symbol that would carry them into the future.
Varvatos glanced around, eyes shimmering like stars. "You're still Nameless," he said, his voice resonating with both warmth and authority. "And that will change today."
A wave of murmurs spread through the gathered Ogres.
"I will bestow upon each of you a name—one that marks your place in this new world we will build together. A name that binds us through honor, purpose, and strength."
The Ogre chief took a hesitant step forward. "Varvatos-sama… naming all five hundred of us… such a feat is extremely dangerous. We are aware of the risks involved. Naming drains magicules, and if you push too far…"
Varvatos simply raised his hand gently, and a quiet stillness fell over the crowd.
"Worry not. I have power to spare."
Veldora leaned lazily against a tree nearby, arms crossed, his eyes glowing with interest. "Hah. This is going to be entertaining."
Varvatos then turned back to the chief. "You, who've shown leadership, wisdom, and strength—your name shall be… Benimaru."
The chief's body was enveloped in crimson light. His already impressive form began to glow brighter. In moments, his figure grew taller, more refined—his horns extended slightly, his black hair turned into a flowing crimson mane, and his presence became even more commanding. His muscles grew leaner but denser, and a flame-like aura began to dance around him.
"I feel… reborn," Benimaru said, placing a hand over his heart, awed by the surge of power flowing within him.
Varvatos smiled and turned to another Ogre—one who had remained quiet, always in the shadows. "You… I see the depth in your stillness. The grace in your silence. From today, you are Souei."
Souei's evolution was less flashy. His aura turned cool and dark. Shadows licked at the edges of his form, and a mysterious elegance coated his presence. He vanished for a second, reappearing behind Varvatos before bowing.
"A name I will cherish. Thank you, my lord."
Next, Varvatos turned to a stern-looking Ogre who carried a long blade with reverence. His age showed in the form of wrinkles and gray hair, but his discipline and battle experience radiated like a beacon.
"You're a warrior of tradition and honor. Your name shall be… Hakuro."
In a blaze of silver and violet energy, Hakuro's body reversed in time. His hair turned snowy white but flowed like silk, and the creases on his face vanished. His sword glowed at his side as his aura grew sharp like a honed blade.
"…I have not felt such vigor since my youth," Hakuro whispered, falling to one knee.
Varvatos chuckled softly, "You look like you could take on ten armies now."
Then came a tall, curvaceous female Ogre with violet hair and a spark of fire in her eyes. Her strength was clear, and her confidence undeniable.
"You," Varvatos said, locking eyes with her, "carry the spirit of a guardian and a storm. Your name shall be Shion."
A swirl of deep purple energy surrounded her, causing her muscles to tone further, her figure to grow even more defined. Her violet hair glimmered as her aura thickened. Her hands clenched with newfound strength.
"I will protect you with everything I have, Varvatos-sama!" she declared passionately.
Another female Ogre stepped forward, her demeanor gentle, with soft pink hair and a calm grace. "And you," Varvatos said, "will bring warmth and wisdom to this kingdom. You are Shuna."
As her name was given, a soft pink radiance enveloped her. Her form became more elegant, her eyes deepened with wisdom, and her aura began to glow with sacred energy. She looked ethereal, like a priestess born from moonlight.
For the next several hours, Varvatos continued.
Each name chosen carefully. He spoke with each Ogre, looked into their hearts, learned their passions and skills. The process wasn't fast. It wasn't mechanical. It was deeply personal.
He named warriors, craftsmen, hunters, cooks, and children. The names flowed from him: Gakuro, Kenshiro, Reika, Ayuna, Toran, Rikka, Daigo, Yuzu, Kozan, Mira, and many more.
With every name, a glow of transformation. Bodies grew taller, leaner, sharper. Power surged in them—some developed affinities to fire, wind, or shadow. Others became agile scouts or sturdy defenders.
By the time the 500th name was given, the moon had climbed high in the sky.
Varvatos sat on a boulder, slightly slumped, a hand on his forehead.
"Five hours… I may not be tired… but coming up with that many names? That's a trial."
Veldora laughed from a distance, "I'm amazed you didn't just start naming them Tree, Rock, Stick, and Log."
"I was close," Varvatos muttered with a dry smile.
The newly named Ogres gathered in front of him, now a formidable force. Uniform, powerful, and glowing with respect.
Benimaru stepped forward, bowing deeply. "You have given us more than names. You have given us meaning."
Varvatos stood, placing a hand on Benimaru's shoulder. "Then rise, for we have much to do. This kingdom won't build itself."
The crowd erupted into cheers and bows. Veldora crossed his arms, pride in his voice. "This is going to be one hell of a nation."