Noah dropped from the tree without a sound.
His landing was soft, knees bent, arms low—like a panther moving through the underbrush. In the pale light of the rising moon, he pulled the dark hood over his head and adjusted the smooth black mask over his face.
Only his eyes remained visible.
Crimson.
They gleamed faintly beneath the shadow of the hood, glowing like twin embers in the dark.
He looked up.
The mansion loomed behind the treeline, quiet and still. Somewhere inside those walls, Cael was moving.
Noah exhaled slowly.
He reached for the blowgun slung behind his belt and gave it a final check. The bamboo was polished, oiled, and ready. Three darts rested in a hidden pouch at his waist—already laced with paralytic toxin.
He took one last glance behind him, ensuring no one had followed.
Then, without hesitation, he stepped into the night like a ghost born from vengeance.
Noah reached the outer wall of the estate—a structure of ancient stone and layered ivy, tall enough to keep out most threats, natural or not. But he knew better.
He crouched near the base of the northeast section, brushing aside a patch of moss.
There it was.
A small gap, just wide enough for someone to crawl through if they kept low.
Unnoticeable unless you knew it was there.
'Same as in the game.'
He lay flat and slid forward on his elbows, dragging himself into the narrow passage. Dirt scraped against his shirt, and the wall above him hummed faintly with the weight of generations. On the other side, his hand touched soft grass.
He pulled himself out and stood carefully, adjusting his hood and mask once more.
Before him stretched the noble gardens of the Ardean estate.
And they were massive.
Flowerbeds arranged with surgical precision. Marble walkways coiling between patches of lilies, violets, and silver-belled plants that shimmered in the moonlight. Grand stone fountains burbled quietly in the distance, and trimmed hedges curved like the arms of a maze.
The rich scent and natural aroma of flowers. Roses, jasmines, tulipans and a more types of then and varios colours.
It was… beautiful.
Too beautiful perhaps.
Noah moved like a shadow through the garden, his eyes scanning every angle. He kept to the edges, stepping lightly over moss patches to avoid noise. Every few meters, he paused, listening for movement.
Ahead, a pair of guards passed down a path, chatting idly, their torches bobbing in the dark.
He pressed himself against the back of a tall statue—one shaped like a druid holding vines—and mimicked the pose with eerie precision, blending into the structure.
They walked past him without a glance.
He didn't move until their footsteps faded completely.
'Good. Their patrol routes haven't changed.'
He advanced again, deeper into the estate.
Each step brought him closer to the building that housed the staff.
Closer to Cael.
The deeper Noah moved into the estate, the more careful he became.
The pathways widened here—flanked by rose arches, stone benches, and tall statues of past Ardean family heads. The nobles of Gaia magic clearly valued aesthetics over practicality.
But it worked in Noah's favor.
Every curve in the stone, every decorative column, every fountain—a hiding place.
He darted between them in complete silence, adjusting his pace with the rhythm of the guards' movements. When footsteps drew near, he froze.
He ducked behind a marble pillar shaped like a twisting tree.
When two guards turned the corner, he mirrored the stance of a nearby statue—one arm across his chest, the other down by his side.
They passed within two meters.
One of them glanced toward him for a second…
...and then kept walking.
'Still works.'
Noah's heartbeat was calm. He wasn't nervous. He wasn't excited.
He was focused.
After years of playing the game, he had learned the estate's layout by heart. Even the smallest environmental exploit, he had memorized.
The guards' rotations were slower here. They relied on magical alarms for interior defense, not expecting anyone to reach the inner chamber.
But Noah wasn't just anyone.
And tonight wasn't just part of the story.
It was the beginning of his own script.
At the far end of the path, he saw it: the side building of polished marble, octagonal in shape, with tall windows and a pair of bronze doors.
The Vault of the Whispering Nature.
Noah moved to the wall and pressed his back against it. He crouched beneath one of the arched windows and peeked through the glass.
His eyes narrowed.
Someone was inside.
And they weren't alone.
Noah's breath slowed as he crouched beneath the window, just enough to see inside.
The room was lit by four golden candelabras hanging from the ceiling—ornate and forged from fine brass, their design spiraling like vines. They cast a warm, flickering light across the chamber's polished floors and smooth stone walls. The place screamed nobility and expensive.
At the center stood a raised pedestal, etched with runes and roots carved into the marble. Upon it rested a staff—long, slender, and made from pale wood braided with green metal, crowned by a softly glowing emerald orb.
The Staff of Whispering Nature.
But that wasn't what stopped Noah's breath.
It was her.
Tied to a chair near the pedestal was a girl.
She looked about his age. Long green hair with streaks of yellow, tangled and messy, cascaded over her shoulders. Her wrists and ankles were bound with a rope. A cloth covered her mouth, muffling her frantic cries.
Amelie Ardean.
The heir of the Ardean family. A future elite. A crucial character in multiple questlines.
She was supposed to be untouchable at this stage of the story.
And yet—here she was.
Terrified. Crying. Powerless.
Noah narrowed his eyes.
Then, a second figure entered the candlelight.
He stepped slowly into view, cloak brushing the floor, movements calm and composed.
And then, with a flick of the wrist, he pulled down his hood.
With another motion, he removed the mask.
Noah's jaw clenched behind his own mask.
Cael.
His white hair shimmered like silver in the candelabra light. His eyes were a bright, chilling blue, and his smile…
It wasn't charming.
It was poison.
"I want you to see my face," Cael said softly, stepping toward Amelie. "Just before you die."
Amelie's body trembled. She tried to scream, but the gag held her voice down. Her eyes darted around the room, desperate. Helpless.
Cael raised his hand and reached for the staff.
He took it from the pedestal slowly, savoring the moment.
Then turned to her, lifting the weapon like a painter presenting his masterpiece.
"Say goodbye."
He leveled the staff toward her face.
Noah moved.
The air inside the vault was still.
Time seemed to slow.
Cael raised the staff, its emerald core pulsing with stored mana, ready to release a spell that should've never been cast—at least not here, not now.
Amelie's eyes widened in panic, her muffled scream rising again behind the cloth.
Cael's grin widened.
And then—
TWU!
A sharp hiss split the silence.
The dart flew through the open window with invisible precision, its tip coated in the crushed toxins Noah had brewed earlier beneath the trees.
It struck Cael directly in the neck.
He froze.
His eyes twitched. The staff slipped from his fingers and clattered against the floor, rolling away from Amelie's face.
Cael staggered back two steps—
Then collapsed.
Face-first.
Hard.
On top of her.
Amelie gasped through her gag, struggling beneath the sudden weight. Her breathing came in short, panicked bursts, but her body couldn't move.
Heavy silence returned.
Then… footsteps.
Slow, measured, deliberate.
From the shadows of the window, a figure stepped through the open door like smoke—hood raised, mask reflecting candlelight.
Amelie trembled beneath the ropes, her breath shaky, her cheeks still wet from tears. The sudden absence of weight on her chest brought only a fleeting sense of relief—replaced quickly by confusion and fear.
She couldn't move. She couldn't speak.
Then—
A voice.
Low and calm.
Almost gentle.
"You can open your eyes now. Everything's alright."
She hesitated.
Slowly, cautiously, Amelie let her lids part.
Her vision adjusted to the candlelight—blurred at first, then sharp.
The first thing she saw was a man kneeling in front of her.
Wearing a dark hood. A mask that hid his face completely.
Except for his eyes.
They glowed like blood under moonlight—deep, crimson, and unwavering.
For a second, she forgot how to breathe.
He reached forward, carefully, and began untying the ropes around her ankles. His movements were swift but not rough—like someone who had done this before.
Then her wrists.
The ropes fell away with a soft thud to the marble floor.
She was free.
But before she could react, he leaned in slightly.
"Please," he whispered, "don't scream."
His tone was firm—but not threatening.
More like someone asking for a favor… not demanding obedience.
"I'm going to take this bastard out of here."
He took air and continued.
"You don't need to worry. Just stay silent."
Still paralyzed, Amelie nodded slowly.
He reached for the cloth that gagged her mouth, placing one hand behind her head to keep it steady. Then, with deliberate gentleness, he pulled it away—inch by inch, making sure not to hurt her.
She winced as the fabric left her lips, raw and sore from struggling.
When she opened her eyes again—
He was gone.
The room was silent once more.
Cael's body had disappeared.
The only thing that remained was her…
…and the Staff of Whispering Nature lying beside her on the floor.
The weight wasn't a problem.
Not like before—his body was sixteen again, younger, lighter, and far from the strength he'd built over five long years. And Cael, despite his heroic build and well-groomed muscles, was surprisingly light.
Lighter, in any case, than the burden of five wasted years.
The forest floor crunched softly beneath Noah's boots as he pulled Cael's limp body toward the gap in the estate's outer wall.
Face down, dirt in his mouth, drooling like a sedated animal.
"Tsk."
Noah paused for a moment and reached into the pouch on his belt, pulling out the small case containing his last two darts.
With deliberate calm, he crouched, grabbed Cael by the hair, and lifted his head just enough to inspect him.
"Still breathing…" he muttered.
Without hesitation, he jabbed the first dart into the side of Cael's neck.
A small twitch. No reaction.
"And one more—just in case."
He stabbed the second dart into Cael's upper thigh, a less practical but more painful spot.
"Wouldn't want you waking up early, you little shit."
He let Cael's head drop with a dull thud against the dirt.
Then grabbed him by the arms again and resumed dragging the unconscious bastard through the undergrowth, his body thumping over roots and rocks.
Above them, the moon lit the trail.
And the predator returned to the woods with his prize.