[Innocent shall receive a second chance.]
…
[System Window – Ark]
NAME: Noah Orthar
AGE: 20
PERSONAL ATTRIBUTE:
Innocent (Divine)
PERSONAL SKILLS:
Gáe Bulg
STIGMA:
Innocent Shall Receive a Second Chance (487 --> 486)
OVERALL STATS:
Stamina: E (36 --> 39)
Strength: E (24 --> 32)
Dexterity: E (28 --> 30)
Vitality: F (10)
…
Again…
Noah sat at the long table, his fingers lightly tapping against the wood, his mind elsewhere.
Everyone was present—except Adam, who was still recovering in his room. The discussion was in full swing. Plans, strategies, abilities—everything laid out exactly as before.
And that was the problem.
This was the third time Noah sat at this table.
Jonas led the discussion, just as before. Kairos and Sigurd sat opposite each other, throwing occasional glares. People hesitated before revealing their abilities, debating how best to handle the siege.
Noah knew it all. Every word, every decision, every outcome.
But there was one thing he didn't know.
How he died.
The last time, he had abandoned all hesitation. Ruled with force. Beat Kairos and Sigurd to establish dominance, threatened the others into submission, and used Jonas as a puppet leader.
It worked. The first night was a complete success.
And yet—
Something was missing.
Noah remembered fighting. He remembered pushing back the Nagas, holding the line.
Then, suddenly—he was here again. Back at this table.
No pain. No final moment. Just… nothing.
As if his own death had been erased from his memory.
Each time Noah tried to recall his last moments, his thoughts shattered—like glass cracking under pressure.
And the music—that damn music.
It wasn't a melody. It wasn't a song. It was whispers, layered over each other, crawling into his mind like fingers reaching from the dark. Each time he grasped at the memory, the whispers turned into a deafening roar, drowning out everything else.
Something killed him.
And he never even realized it.
After the meeting, Noah rose from his seat without a word.
The others continued discussing details, but he had already heard it twice before. They would argue, distribute roles, and prepare for the night's assault. Nothing new.
He had other matters to deal with.
First, the battlements.
Stepping onto the fortress walls, he immediately spotted it. The crow. Still there. Watching.
Noah's fingers curled around his spear, but he held back. No point in attacking—he had already tried, and it dodged with unnatural precision. It's waiting for something, or making sure of something.
He turned away and headed inside.
…
Adam's room was dimly lit, the boy still asleep when Noah entered.
Carefully, he peeled back the bandages on Adam's leg. The wound was healing, but it would take time—time they didn't have.
Noah frowned, recalling a passage from the book.
Sylix isn't just about power. It flows through your body like breath, but it can be guided. Strengthened. Even used to accelerate healing.
He sat beside Adam and nudged him awake. "Hey. Listen up."
Adam blinked blearily. "Noah?"
"I'm gonna teach you something. It'll help your leg heal faster."
He guided Adam through the process, instructing him on how to sense Sylix within himself and direct it toward his wound. Not with force, but with precision. Like nudging a current in a river.
Adam's brow furrowed in concentration, his breathing steadying as he tried to follow Noah's words. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress.
Finally, Noah stood up.
"I'm heading out."
Adam frowned. "Out where?"
"Scouting. Gonna see what's beyond the fortress."
"…Alone?"
Noah smirked. "What, worried about me?"
Adam scowled. "You just got here. And you already act like you know everything."
Noah only shrugged. He couldn't explain it—how he knew exactly where to step, what to say, how to move.
To everyone else, he seemed unnaturally composed, his decisions precise, his actions bordering on perfection.
Instead, he simply said, "I just saw something from battlement and i want to check it out"
With that, he turned and walked out.
Noah moved like a shadow, slipping past the climbers hard at work.
Cedric was enhancing weapons in the arsenal. Elara hauled massive boulders, her strength making the task seem effortless. Others dug deep trenches for traps, while a group huddled around Jonas, refining the strategy they had set during the meeting.
Noah barely glanced at them.
Still, he called for Jonas, who quickly made his way over.
Jonas gave him a reassuring nod. "Everything's going well."
Noah barely reacted, his mind elsewhere. Jonas followed his gaze and sighed. The others were glancing at Noah—some dismissive, some outright irritated.
To them, he looked like dead weight. A good-for-nothing standing idle while everyone else worked.
Jonas hesitated, then asked, "Are you really okay with not leading?"
Noah didn't answer immediately. His eyes were unfocused, his mind drifting between past and present failures. It didn't matter. He wasn't here to play leader, unlike them he was not playing he was running for his and his brother's life.
He exhaled and clapped Jonas on the shoulder. "I'm heading out. I'll bring back whatever I find. Stay in touch."
Jonas studied him for a moment before nodding. 'I'll keep a link open.'
Noah wasn't worried. Jonas' ability was his mind. His intelligence, his telepathic reach—he could manage everything from anywhere.
With that, Noah turned and slipped through the gates.
The fortress loomed behind him, a grey monolith against the fading light of evening.
Its stone walls were weathered, the air around it heavy with the scent of earth and moss. The jungle that encircled it hummed with life—distant animal calls, the rustle of leaves in the wind, the soft whisper of something ancient in the air.
Noah's footsteps were silent as he moved past the fortress, his gaze lingering for only a moment before the path ahead claimed his focus.
He stepped into the jungle, the dense foliage swallowing him whole.
The air was thick with humidity, but it didn't bother him. He felt it all—each breath that filled his lungs, each pulse of life that passed through the jungle. A quiet awareness lingered, a hum beneath his skin, as if the world itself was speaking to him in a language he could almost understand but not fully grasp.
This was his third walk through the same day yet it was his first time stepping out of the trial bounds.
Every step, every breath, was the same as before. He sensed the days that had been erased, the layers of time slipping away like water through his fingers. The others believed this was their first time, their first trial, but Noah knew better.
And yet, with each passing moment, the world felt like it was unraveling—an endless loop of choices never made, paths never taken.
Noah's eyes lifted to the sky, the fading sunlight casting long shadows that seemed to stretch beyond time, pulling him further into the space between moments.
For a brief second, he felt small in the face of it all—an infinitesimal part of an infinite question. But there was no fear. Only a strange peace, as if the answers lay somewhere just out of reach.
Move on…
The jungle thickened as darkness crept in, but Noah never altered his path.
His movements were unwavering, as if he were cutting a straight line through the world itself. If a tree stood in his way, he leaped onto its trunk and vaulted forward without hesitation. Every step was deliberate—not for efficiency, but for memory.
This way, he could return without error.
Then, in the distance, a flicker of light.
Faint at first, but steady, nestled within the dense foliage. He adjusted nothing, only moving forward with the same relentless pace.
The closer he drew, the more the light unraveled into something structured—fires crackling, silhouettes shifting. And then, he arrived.
A village.
The naga settlement was nothing like what the climbers would expect. No crude war camp, no den of savage brutes—but a home.
Thatched huts lined the clearing, their roofs woven with thick jungle leaves, smoke curling from their chimneys. The fires weren't for war but for warmth. The soft glow illuminated naga families—warriors kneeling to play with their children, mothers weaving baskets from thick reeds, elders sitting together in quiet conversation.
Their scales shimmered beneath the firelight, hues of green, blue, and deep violet reflecting like gems.
The armored nagas stood vigilant, spears in hand, but they weren't patrolling in aggression. They were guarding something they cherished. Protecting what was theirs.
Noah's breath was steady as he observed, but his mind reeled.
Then, something stirred inside him. A low vibration, a pulse of memory buried deep within his unconscious. And then—
…
[A dormant memory trigger has been activated.]
…
A screen flickered before him, the text shifting as if struggling to materialize.
…
[Your repressed memories have begun resurfacing due to exposure to the Ancient Tongue.]
…
A ringing filled his ears, drowning out the distant crackle of fire. The naga voices—their speech—it wasn't meaningless. It wasn't gibberish. It was structured. Intentional. A developed language, rich in consonants and intricate tongue movements.
And somehow, deep within himself, Noah understood fragments of it.
…
[System Update in Progress…]