I Killed The Main Characters

Noah stood in front of the wide, marble reception desk, feeling the chill of the air in the Special Training Room Hall.

It was a massive building, with high ceilings and walls lined with intricate designs, giving off an aura of prestige and importance. His heart beat steadily in his chest as he approached the woman behind the desk.

She was middle-aged, with her hair tied into a tight bun, her eyes fixed on the clipboard in front of her as she scribbled down notes with quick, efficient strokes.

"Name?" she asked, her voice clipped and professional.

"Noah Ashbourne," he answered, his tone steady.

The woman didn't look up as she jotted down the details. "Year?"

Noah hesitated for a moment. "First year."

"Age?"

"Sixteen."

She continued writing, her hand moving quickly across the paper, still not sparing him a glance. There was a long pause before she asked, "Class?"

Noah swallowed. This was the part he wasn't sure how to answer.

"I haven't been placed yet," he said cautiously.

The woman stopped writing. There was a brief moment of silence before she responded, her tone slightly sterner this time.

"This is the gate to the Special Training Rooms. Only S-class students are allowed access."

As she spoke, she finally looked up from her notes. The moment her eyes met Noah, they widened in surprise. She noticed his red blazer, the unmistakable symbol of the elite students at Ravenwood Academy.

More specifically, she saw the yellow tie he wore—marking him as one of the newly formed Vanguard cadets, the academy's top-tier program reserved for only the most exceptional students.

Her expression shifted immediately, and her posture stiffened.

"Oh, I… I'm terribly sorry, sir. I didn't realize you were from the Vanguard," she stammered, clearly flustered by her earlier mistake.

"Please, go right ahead. You have full access."

Noah smiled politely, raising a hand to show it was no big deal.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it."

He walked past the reception desk, making his way down the hall towards the heavy doors that led to the Special Training Rooms. These rooms were the reason he had accepted his place in the Vanguard.

There were many privileges granted to those in the program, but these training facilities were by far the most valuable.

For now, he didn't have a specific goal in mind—he just wanted to get a feel for the room, maybe practice some magic, and if he was lucky, start acquiring more runic abilities.

After entering the training room, Noah exhaled deeply.

The space was vast, with high walls designed to absorb the strongest magical attacks, and the floors were padded to soften the inevitable falls that came with intense physical training.

The air felt different in here—heavier, charged with the magical energy that permeated the academy.

Noah took off his red blazer and loosened his yellow tie, folding them neatly before placing them on a nearby bench.

He was wearing a simple black undershirt now, and as he rolled up his sleeves, he felt a sense of anticipation bubbling up inside him.

He dropped to the floor and started warming up, going through his usual routine of pushups, situps, and stretches. His muscles tensed and released with each movement, the familiar rhythm helping him clear his mind as he thought through the recent events.

Why had the vice-master chosen him for the Vanguard? He hadn't expected it.

When they announced his placement, Noah had felt a mix of confusion and unease. There were so many other students more talented, more experienced—students from noble families with powerful connections.

And yet, here he was, wearing the red blazer of the Vanguard. He didn't know why, but he wasn't going to question it, at least not openly.

The Special Training Rooms alone were enough to make the decision worth it.

As he continued with his exercises, Noah's mind wandered to the mechanics of runic abilities.

He'd been thinking about them ever since he found out he could use them. In the original game, runic abilities were powerful skills tied to the very essence of magic.

Some could be learned through study, like reading a grimoire and memorizing the spells inside, but others—Noah remembered—were acquired in much more unconventional ways.

Runic abilities could be formed in moments of intense pressure. It wasn't just about learning magic from books or practicing spells in safe environments.

No, the most powerful runic abilities came from situations that forced the caster to push their body and mind to the limit. It was like unlocking a hidden part of themselves, a part that only revealed itself when their very survival depended on it.

Noah muttered to himself as he moved through the exercises, "In the game, there was a type of runic ability tied to illusion magic. But to acquire it, you had to crush a rune stone, absorb its energy, and integrate it into your own magical core. Like reading a grimoire, but faster… more dangerous."

The problem was, such runes were rare, and even when one was found, they didn't always activate easily. The body had to be ready, the mind sharp.

Most importantly, there had to be a trigger—some event or circumstance that pushed the individual past their usual limits.

"And there's always a downside," Noah muttered, standing up as he prepared for the next part of his training.

"Runic abilities can't be activated without cost. Every time you use one, it draws on your life force, your energy. Use it too much, and you'll burn yourself out."

It was a high-risk, high-reward system. Acquiring more runic abilities would make him more powerful, but it would also mean walking a razor's edge between strength and collapse.

Noah stretched his arms and legs, feeling the tension leave his muscles.

He wasn't planning to push himself to that level today, but he did want to try something different. His magic was growing, bit by bit, and he could feel that he was on the verge of unlocking new abilities.

He raised his hand and focused his magic. Slowly, an icy spear began to form in the air, materializing in front of him

The shaft was pure white, the tip razor-sharp, glinting in the soft light of the training room. Noah grasped the spear tightly.

He wasn't blessed by the God of Swords, which meant that he had no inherent advantage in weaponry. But that didn't matter. Anyone could wield a weapon; it was just a matter of skill and determination.

Wielding the ice spear required intense concentration. The air around him grew colder, and as he started to swing the spear, he could feel his body reacting to the freezing temperature.

His breaths became visible, misting in the cold, and with each exhale, icy clouds formed around his mouth.

At the same time, his body grew warmer, his internal magic heating up to counter the cold of the spear.

Noah's movements were slow at first, careful and deliberate as he swung the spear in a wide arc.

But soon, he began to pick up speed, his body moving with increasing intensity. His eyes started to glow faintly, a cool blue light radiating from them as the magic inside him surged. The cold burned through his veins, but it was a familiar feeling by now.

'Perfecting one weapon, one path,' he thought to himself, 'is more advantageous than being naturally talented.'

He knew that some students—those blessed by the gods—had an easier time mastering their magic.

Their talent came naturally, effortlessly.

But Noah didn't care.

He would make up for it with persistence and practice. He would master this weapon, this magic, and push past his limits, even if it took every ounce of strength he had.

Noah's mind drifted toward the second Act, which was set to unfold the coming week.

Maya, who was the Boss of that Act, was already being pushed to her absolute limit.

His thoughts flashed back to the game, where the entire academy was consumed in a gloomy atmosphere, purple and dark skies looming overhead as monstrous beings circled like vultures.

A sudden shiver ran down his spine, the idea of Maya becoming the final boss unsettled him deeply.

Shaking the thought away, he tightened his grip on the spear and resumed his swings, repeating the coordinated path over and over again.

Suddenly, a voice broke through the rhythm of his movements.

"Why do you keep repeating the same move over and over?"

Startled, Noah lost his grip on the ice spear, and it clattered to the floor, shattering into pieces. His feet stumbled as he fell and turned toward the voice, blinking in surprise.

There, standing just a few feet away from him, was a girl.

She stood in the light, her pink hair glowing softly in the dim room, her green eyes sparkling with a playful smile. She tilted her head to the side, watching him with curiosity.

Noah recognized her instantly.

She was a second-year student, another member of the Vanguard.

'Liliana was it?...' He thought, her name ringing in his head.

Her bright smile widened as she looked down at him, clearly amused by his reaction.

"Don't mind me," she said, her voice soft but teasing.

"I just wanted to see how the first-year cadet was doing."

Noah stared at her, still catching his breath, his mind racing with thoughts.

"Ready for today's patrol?"

Lilian asked her green eyes glimmering.