Noah's scream tore through the house like a war cry in the middle of a silent morning.
Then came the stillness.
His chest grew heavier with each breath. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the bed. He stared blankly at the wall, motionless, waiting—listening—until the last echo of his voice faded completely.
The birds outside, once chirping, had fallen silent.
Even the wind seemed to stop.
He remained like that for a long time.
Breathing in.
Breathing out.
Thinking.
The tears that had poured down his face were now drying. But the heat behind his eyes hadn't vanished. It wasn't grief. It wasn't confusion.
It was hatred.
Cold.
Calculated.
Absolute.
Eventually, Noah stood.
He stepped across the creaking floor and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His body had returned to what it had been five years ago: a sixteen-year-old boy. The vessel he reincarnated into.
A character who had never once appeared in the game.
Messy black hair fell loosely across his forehead. His bare chest revealed a lean, athletic build—not overly muscular, but trained and capable. His jawline was sharp, giving him a striking appearance…
But what stood out most—were his eyes.
Crimson red. Pure. Unnatural.
They didn't belong to a background character.
He stared at himself in silence.
Same face. Same house. Same body.
Same world.
Outside, the crooked wooden fence was still broken. The same morning sun peeked through the same old window.
Everything had reset.
Everything—except his memories.
Five years. That's how long it had taken for him to finally realize what Cael truly was.
Five years of loyalty.
Five years of friendship.
Five years of trying to be a better person in a world that had felt so real.
For what?
To be betrayed.
There would be no hesitation this time.
Cael dies.
But not yet.
Not immediately.
In the original timeline, Cael hadn't shown up until a month later—on the day of the academy's entrance ceremony. That's when their story had started.
Until then, he had time to prepare.
Noah closed his eyes and mentally retraced the early-game routes, the choices, the branching quests.
And then it hit him.
The Staff of Whispering Nature.
The first time he met Cael, the bastard already had it in hand—a powerful early-game magic item, capable of casting mid-tier spells. It belonged to a noble family. The only way to get it early was by stealing it.
Cael must've stolen it when he arrived in the world.
'Shit. How did I never ask him where he got that staff?'
Without it, Cael shouldn't have been able to access magic of that level so quickly. It had always seemed like a story event… but now he knew better.
"Not this time, you bastard. This time, you won't get the staff."
"This time, you'll get your death. Eheh… heheheh…"
He opened the wardrobe and pulled out his clothes—simple and familiar. Brown trousers, worn boots, a loose white shirt.
Just as he finished dressing, he froze.
Footsteps.
Someone was walking toward his room.
The door burst open.
"NOAH!!"
A voice filled with fury echoed into the room, followed by fast, heavy footsteps. His mother stormed in, her long dark hair pulled into a loose braid and her eyes blazing with maternal rage.
Before he could even react, she had grabbed him by the ear.
"Do you have any idea what time it is!?" she snapped, tugging hard.
Noah yelped and dropped to his knees, clutching her arm with both hands.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I had a nightmare!"
He pressed his forehead to the floor, groveling like a child caught stealing bread.
His mother narrowed her eyes but sighed, letting go of his ear.
She rubbed her temple.
"You woke up your sister and both your brothers. They were crying, thinking something horrible happened."
Noah stayed frozen for a moment, breathing heavily.
Then his mother softened.
"Get dressed properly and come downstairs. Breakfast is ready."
She turned toward the hallway but stopped when she felt something.
Arms.
Wrapping around her waist.
Noah hugged her tightly, burying his face against her side.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
His voice was low, cracking. Repeating like a broken record.
His mother blinked in surprise, then slowly rested her hand on his head, gently stroking his hair.
'That's right… Noah had a family.'
A father.
A mother.
Three siblings.
They were six in total.
Everyone had dark hair, just like now.
But only he had crimson red eyes.
His throat tightened. His chest ached.
The warmth of his mother's embrace pulled him back, and yet…
a memory broke through.
A wall of flames.
Screams.
Blood.
And the monsters—so many monsters.
The horde had come when no one was prepared
A tragedy that claimed hundreds… including them.
His family—gone.
Tears welled up in his eyes again.
He squeezed his mother tighter.
She didn't ask questions.
She just held him, resting her chin on his head.
"It's alright, Noah," she whispered softly. "Whatever it was… It's over now."
But Noah knew better.
It wasn't over. It had barely begun.
Noah walked down the creaking wooden stairs, his steps slow and quiet. The scent of toasted bread and herbal tea filled the air, mingling with the soft morning light streaming through the kitchen window.
At the table sat his little siblings—his younger sister, barely six, clumsily trying to cut a piece of buttered bread, while the two twin boys argued over who had more jam on their toast.
His mother was serving porridge with a ladle, humming quietly.
And at the head of the table sat his father—broad-shouldered, dark-haired, with weathered hands and a calm presence. A man who worked with pride, laughed loudly, and carried the weight of their modest home on his back.
Noah paused in the doorway.
He didn't speak.
He just looked.
This was his family.
Alive. Smiling. Together.
'I won't lose this again.'
He walked in and took his seat.
His mother placed a bowl in front of him without a word, then patted his shoulder as she passed.
His father set down his mug and looked at him with a mix of concern and authority.
"You alright, son?"
Noah forced a faint smile and nodded.
"Yeah… just a bad dream."
His father studied him for a second, then gave a small grunt of understanding and leaned back in his chair.
"Well, maybe this'll brighten your day."
His mother turned around, unable to hold back her excitement any longer.
"You got in, Noah!"
"Huh?" he blinked.
"The letter came this morning," his father added. "You've been accepted into the Arkesia Academy."
Noah froze.
He knew, of course. He remembered. That's where the main story began. That's where Cael would appear. Where everything would spiral.
But hearing it again, like this—from them—made his heart skip a beat.
His siblings cheered without understanding what it truly meant.
His mother hugged him from behind, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders.
"We're so proud of you," she said, her voice thick with joy.
"Our Noah… going to the most prestigious academy in the continent!"
His father stood and clapped a strong hand on Noah's back.
"We'll tell the neighbors. They'll lose their minds."
And just like that, Noah was pulled into a group hug, laughter bubbling around him.
He let himself breathe in the warmth.
Even if it was temporary.
Even if the road ahead would be soaked in blood.
This moment was his, and his only.
And he'd do everything in his power to protect it.
After breakfast, as the bowls were being cleared and the twins argued over who got to sweep the floor, Noah stood from the table and brushed the crumbs from his shirt.
"I'm heading out for a bit," he said casually.
His mother turned from the basin. "Where are you going?"
Noah scratched the back of his neck.
"Just… need to pick up a few things. For the academy."
It was a half-truth. He would eventually need supplies—but not today.
Today, he had something else in mind.
His father leaned back in his chair and dug into a small pouch from his belt.
"Take this," he said, tossing a few silver coins into Noah's hands.
Noah caught them instinctively, blinking.
It was more than he expected.
"That's a lot…"
His father gave a shrug.
"Buy some good meat for tonight. Real meat. Not that dried stuff your mother always tries to pass off as stew."
His mother rolled her eyes but smiled.
"Hey!"
The room filled with light laughter. Even Noah couldn't help but smile.
A proper dinner. With real meat.
Something rare in a humble household like theirs.
He nodded slowly.
"Alright. I'll bring something good."
His little sister ran up and tugged at his sleeve.
"Don't forget the potatoes!" she added with a tiny pout.
He crouched down and ruffled her hair.
"I won't. I Promise."
Then, with a small satchel slung over his shoulder and a coin pouch in hand, Noah stepped out into the morning sun.
As he walked down the path away from his home, he looked back once more.
The door was still open. His mother was waving from the frame.
He waved back.
And then turned forward.
'First, I'll get to that mansion before you do... and then I'll kill you, you bastard. I'll shove that damn staff right up your ass for everything you've done.'
But tonight, at least, he would bring home dinner.
Because even in a world full of monsters, some things were still worth coming back to.
Noah moved through the cobbled streets of the lower district, hands in his pockets, hood slightly raised.
Vendors shouted out prices for bread, cloth, and spices. Children ran through narrow alleys. Guards in faded armor leaned against the walls, barely pretending to patrol.
It was exactly as he remembered.
'Some things never change.'
But he wasn't here to reminisce. He kept his pace steady until the buildings thinned out and the stone roads gave way to dirt paths lined with wooden fences. Eventually, the final gate appeared—a checkpoint that led out of the city proper.
The guard at the post barely glanced at him.
"Going somewhere?" the man asked, chewing on a dry root.
Noah gave a polite nod.
"Foraging before I leave for the academy."
"Be careful with the wolves out there," the guard muttered, waving him through.
Noah stepped beyond the city limits. The air shifted—cleaner, sharper, and filled with the scent of pine and damp earth.
Ahead lay the outer forest, dense and quiet.
He walked for over two kilometers, following the familiar trail of flattened brush and broken twigs. He remembered this route well—this was where players used to farm rare materials early in the game.
And he intended to do the same.
He crouched near a patch of moss and scanned the base of a gnarled tree.
"There you are."
Small violet flowers with serrated leaves grew in clusters—Nightveil Bloom. In the game, they were used for sleep-inducing toxins. He picked them carefully and wrapped them in cloth.
A few steps further, beneath a half-rotten log, he found Ghostcap Mushrooms, pale and almost translucent.
He gathered five, checking for the fine black specks around the stem.
'Still potent.'
Finally, near a streambed, he spotted what he'd hoped for—young bamboo reeds. He cut a piece cleanly with a small knife and hollowed it with a sharpened stick.
The memories came back like muscle memory.
In the original game, there was an obscure crafting recipe buried deep in a side quest that few players ever finished. It wasn't flashy, but it worked: an early-game blowgun—simple, silent, and deadly when combined with toxins.
He sat under a tree and began crafting.
He split the bamboo to carve a thin channel.
Used thread from his shirt's inner seam to bind the base.
Cut a few thin darts from nearby branches, sharpened them carefully.
Then he crushed the Nightveil Bloom and Ghostcap into a paste and coated each dart tip.
A primitive weapon, yes.
But against unarmored targets?
Lethal.
He tested the airflow through the blowpipe and loaded a dart.
'One shot to the neck and they'll drop like a sack of bricks.'
He smiled faintly.
"Let's see how noble your bloodline is against sleep poison, you overpowered NPC-loving fuck."
He tucked the blowgun into his satchel and concealed the darts in a cloth wrap.
The sun had begun to lower behind the trees. In the distance, half-hidden among vines and mist, stood the towering silhouette of the noble mansion.
By the time the sun kissed the tops of the trees, Noah was already perched in the high branches of an old oak, nestled deep within the outer woods.
Before him stood the mansion.
It was even larger than he remembered.
A vast estate of polished white stone, wrapped in living vines and crowned with flowering balconies. The walls didn't rise like a fortress—they blossomed, naturally grown and reinforced by layers of earth-infused magic.
The House of Ardean.
Gaia mages. Masters of nature-based spells and earth manipulation. Rich, powerful, and paranoid.
He squinted, scanning the scene.
The outer wards were still dormant. They only activated at night, which meant he had a window. Literally and metaphorically.
From his position high above the treetops, he could see the full extent of the estate's gardens.
It was… breathtaking.
A winding maze of flowers, hedges, and ancient trees shaped into elegant arches. Colorful blossoms shimmered in the dying light. Magic coursed subtly through the land, nurturing the plants with soft pulses of green mana.
'The perfect cover… and the perfect trap.'
His gaze swept across the grounds with clinical precision.
And then—
"Bingo."
In the middle of the garden, half-hidden behind a row of silver-petal lilies, a figure moved.
It darted from shadow to shadow, clearly trying not to be seen.
But from Noah's vantage point, there was nowhere to hide.
A dark cloak. Black gloves. Light steps.
It was subtle. Almost convincing.
But not for him.
Noah narrowed his eyes.
'You arrogant son of a bitch… you're here early.'
There was no doubt in his mind.
Cael.
He watched silently as the figure knelt beside a flowerbed and fiddled with something—maybe a charm, maybe a hidden door.
'So that's how you did it the first time.'