I Killed The Main Characters

The bell above the door of the Resource Emporium chimed as Noah stepped inside, his boots clicking against the polished wooden floor. The shop was a peculiar mix of cluttered and organized, its shelves lined with everything from rare potions to enchanted trinkets. The faint scent of aged parchment and herbal tinctures filled the air, and behind the counter stood Old Man Wilfred, hunched but alert, as though he'd been expecting him.

"Noah," Wilfred grunted, barely looking up as he scribbled something into a thick ledger. "Took you long enough. What brings you to my shop today?"

Noah strode forward, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets, his usual arrogant smirk firmly in place. "Our shop, Wilfred. Or have you forgotten I'm a shareholder now?"

Wilfred snorted, finally glancing up, his sharp eyes gleaming with something between amusement and irritation. "Shareholder, sure. But don't think that gives you the right to come in here like you own the place."

"I do own part of it," Noah shot back, leaning casually against the counter. "And I'm here to discuss business."

"Business?" Wilfred set down his quill and crossed his arms. "Fine, then. What do you want to know?"

"The past few months," Noah began, his tone brisk, "how has the shop been performing? Any notable increases in revenue? Customer feedback?"

Wilfred raised an eyebrow. "What is this, a board meeting? The shop's doing fine. Better than fine, actually. Sales have been steady, especially with those enchanted scrolls we started stocking. Students and professors alike have been buying them like hotcakes."

Noah nodded, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Good. But steady isn't enough. We need exponential growth. Expansion, Wilfred."

"Expansion?" Wilfred barked out a laugh. "Boy, this is a little shop, not some empire. Where exactly do you think we'd expand to?"

"Outside the academy, of course," Noah replied, his eyes gleaming. "There are towns nearby, villages that could use supplies like the ones we offer. Even cities. Imagine Resource Emporium branches in the capital!"

Wilfred's laughter died, replaced by a scowl. "Branches? Are you mad? Do you have any idea how much work that would take? How much risk?"

Noah shrugged nonchalantly. "I'll figure it out. I always do."

Inwardly, he was less confident. He'd been toying with the idea of borrowing money from his father, but that was a delicate situation. His relationship with his family was strained, to say the least. Almost being disowned didn't exactly leave the door open for financial favors.

The two men stared at each other, the silence stretching between them like a taut rope. Finally, Wilfred sighed, rubbing his temple. "Fine. We'll revisit the idea next year. But don't think I'm making any promises."

"That's all I ask," Noah said smoothly, though his mind was already racing with plans.

Wilfred leaned against the counter, his sharp gaze softening slightly. "How've you been, boy? And I don't mean business-wise. I mean... you."

Noah blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. "I'm... surviving," he said after a pause. "The academy's been taking it easy on me lately. I don't know if it's out of sympathy or fear. Probably both."

"And the curse?" Wilfred pressed, his voice low.

Noah's lips thinned. "It's not contagious, if that's what you're worried about. My life is... moving on as normal. Or as normal as it can with this thing hanging over me."

Wilfred studied him for a moment before nodding. "You ever wonder why she cursed you? The Witch of Envy, I mean."

Noah stiffened, his gaze narrowing. "Not particularly. What's there to wonder about? She's insane."

"Maybe," Wilfred said, his tone thoughtful. "But there's a story about her. A story you might want to hear."

Wilfred's eyes took on a distant look as he began. "Over two centuries ago, the world was thrown into chaos by the Witch of Envy—also known as the Frost Queen. She was no ordinary witch; her power was vast, her magic chilling. They say she enveloped the world in ice, plunging it into a cold so bitter that thousands perished."

Noah listened, his curiosity piqued despite himself.

"But," Wilfred continued, "her wrath wasn't born of hatred for the world. It was born of love. Twisted, destructive love. The Frost Queen loved a man—a man who seemed to exist across timelines, appearing and disappearing like a phantom. She loved him so deeply, so madly, that when he rejected her, she unraveled."

He paused, his gaze flicking to Noah. "She became a marionette of her own despair, controlled by the strings of her emotions. Her love consumed her, and in turn, she consumed the world."

"A hero from the Velden family—now royalty. He managed to slay her, ending her reign of terror. But even as she died, the Frost Queen spoke words that many believe to be prophetic."

Noah leaned forward, intrigued despite himself. "What did she say?"

"She vowed to always love her white-haired phantom," Wilfred said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Through timelines, through lifetimes, no matter what. Her curse, they say, is one of love—love so deep it corrodes. And when she curses someone, it's not to harm them, but to bind them to her in some twisted way."

Noah's mind raced, the pieces clicking into place. "Are you saying—"

Wilfred nodded gravely. "It's possible the Witch of Envy sees you as her phantom, reborn yet again."

Noah's blood ran cold. He had known the curse was significant, but this... this was an entirely different level of disturbing.

Noah leaned back, his thoughts churning. The Frost Queen's story had never been part of the game's lore—or at least, not part of the route he had played. This was new, uncharted territory.

Wilfred watched him closely. "That's as much as I know," the old man said, his tone gentle but firm. "Whatever this curse means for you, boy, you need to tread carefully."

Noah nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. If the Witch of Envy truly saw him as her lost love, what did that mean for him? For his plans?

He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Thanks for the... story," he said, his voice tight.

Wilfred waved him off. "Don't thank me. Just don't die before we make a fortune with this shop, alright?"

Noah managed a faint smirk. "I'll do my best."

---

Noah leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers against the counter. His mind was still swirling with thoughts of the Frost Queen and the prophecy Wilfred had shared, but he decided to shift the conversation. Too much heavy thinking in one sitting wasn't his style.

"Wilfred," Noah began casually, his tone lighter than before, "do you know any good swordsmanship instructors in the academy?"

The old man raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the sudden change in topic. "Swordsmanship? Since when do you care about swords? I thought you preferred brainwork over brawn."

Noah shrugged. "I never said I didn't care. Let's just say I've been considering adding a bit more... versatility to my skillset."

Wilfred snorted. "Well, I'd tell you to save yourself the trouble. Most of the instructors here are decent, but they're not what you're looking for."

Noah tilted his head, intrigued. "And why's that? Isn't this supposed to be one of the top academies in the world?"

"Sure, it is," Wilfred said, leaning forward on the counter, "but swordsmen here are more like... generalists. They're good at a lot of things, but not truly exceptional at any one thing. If you're serious about learning the sword, you'll want to seek out the real masters."

"And where would I find them?" Noah asked, his curiosity piqued.

Wilfred leaned back, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Great families, boy. Families that've dedicated generations to honing their swordsmanship. They don't just teach you how to swing a blade—they teach you the philosophy, the discipline, the art."

"Alright," Noah said, sitting up straighter. "Let's hear it. Which families are worth my time?"

Wilfred grinned, clearly enjoying the chance to lecture. "Well, for starters, there's the Ashenwalds. They're from the Western Continent, known for their dual-blade techniques. Swift, precise, deadly. Problem is, they're too rigid. If you don't fit into their mold, they'll discard you."

Noah nodded, filing the information away. "Next?"

"The Drakemores from the Southern Continent," Wilfred continued. "They're famous for their heavy swords and brute strength. Their style's all about overpowering your opponent, but it's not exactly subtle. Great if you want to smash things. Not so great if you're looking for finesse."

"I'm not a barbarian," Noah said dryly.

Wilfred chuckled. "Didn't think you were. Now, the Velmiris from the Eastern Continent—they're all about speed and agility. Their swordsmanship is almost like a dance. Beautiful to watch, but their techniques rely heavily on innate talent. If you're not naturally quick, don't bother."

"Let me guess," Noah said, smirking. "You're saving the best for last?"

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Wilfred's eyes gleamed. "Damn right I am. The Winterhearts, boy. From the Northern Continent. They're the pinnacle of swordsmanship across all four continents. Their techniques are as precise as they are devastating, and they teach not just the physical aspects of combat, but the mental and spiritual ones as well."

Noah leaned forward, intrigued. "What makes them so special?"

"Their lineage," Wilfred said, his voice dropping slightly, as if revealing a sacred secret. "For centuries, they've trained only the best. Their family estate in the Northern Continent is practically a fortress, and every member of the Winterheart family is a warrior to be reckoned with. They're said to carry the blood of ancient heroes."

"And they're open to outsiders?" Noah asked.

"Not easily," Wilfred admitted. "But with enough persistence—and the right connections—you might be able to convince them."

Noah sat back, his mind already racing with possibilities. The Northern Continent wasn't a place he'd considered visiting before, but now...

"After winter break," he said decisively, "I'll make the trip to the Northern Continent. If the Winterhearts are as good as you say, it'll be worth it."

Wilfred nodded approvingly. "Good choice, boy. Just remember, they won't be easy to impress."

Noah smirked. "I don't need to impress them. I just need them to teach me."

As the old man chuckled, Noah's thoughts turned inward. If he could secure training with the Winterhearts, it would be a significant step toward redeeming himself in his father's eyes.