It is only a name, a demon snarls in response, and for some reason that makes War swell with pride.

The Nephilim named their young only out of convenience. But their given names did resemble names more than words: Absalom and Joachim, Salem and Alphaeus. Rare had been the Nephilim who went by their birthname instead of choosing a new, more fearsome one, one their enemies would have no trouble remembering.

Death's true name had been common knowledge among the horde. Strife was old enough that the only remaining Firstborn already knew his name, and even if not both he and Fury shared theirs willingly.

But none yet lived that knew who War had been.

War had hated the Nephilim, abhorred them with a passion that lingered eons after they were gone, and those who would eventually become his fellow Horsemen were no exception. They had disdained and looked down upon him like every other, one sheep in a flock, and by the time his rage had given him the strength to gain their notice he had already become War.

"You never cared before," he'd said once, in a fit of anger after their fifth attempt to weasel it out of him. "Why should it matter now?"

He understood, of course. Their given names were more personal than their chosen ones; a secret part of themselves known only to those with whom they willingly shared it—with the notable exception of Death, perhaps explaining his mask. Their bond was much stronger now than it had been, and his siblings craved that knowledge as though it would prove his forgiveness—for being among those who had stomped out any possibility of peace in his life, made him into the weapon he was today.

But every person needed a secret to themselves. The truth was that it was vital, essential to the youngest Horseman that he be War, not that hurt and angry boy with vengeance in his heart, and if he had trouble explaining why to his brethren then they would simply have to content themselves with no explanation at all.

They are important to him. He must feel as though they see who he is, not who he had been.

Unfortunately this obstinacy had made his "name" a popular subject of debate throughout Creation, and even after his siblings had stopped trying there were still those who offered their cooperation in exchange for his "true name."

"War is my true name," he'd taken to telling them, but none ever believed him. Death, Strife and Fury were titles to describe their owners and inspire fear; to most War was no different.

So the demon's haughty response to War's boast filled him with an irrational satisfaction, and eased his increasingly poor mood as little else on this shattered Earth yet had.

"Yes," he said simply, and drew his blade.