I Killed The Game's Protagonist-Chapter 57: The Price of Delay

The city’s eastern gate was already broken.

Smoke rose in heavy plumes from the outskirts. The clash of metal, the howls of beasts, and the scream of the dying echoed across the stone streets.

Noah stood at the frontline, blood already staining his academy uniform. A standard white-forged blade rested in his right hand, chipped and dirtied, but still sharp enough to kill. His breath came steadily, despite the chaos around him.

In front of him surged a wave of death—skeletal soldiers with rusted weapons, mutated beasts stitched together with black magic, and corpses reanimated into snarling monsters.

And yet, he didn’t flinch.

He shifted his weight and activated his core.

Mana flooded his legs—fast and clean.

In a blink, he shot forward like a cannon, his body a blur.

The first skeleton didn’t even react before its head flew from its shoulders. Noah twisted, his elbow slamming into a zombie’s jaw, then drove his blade into its chest. The body fell limp before hitting the ground.

A guard behind him stared, wide-eyed.

"Who the hell is that kid...?"

Noah didn’t answer. He was already moving.

He ducked beneath a swinging axe, planted a foot into the earth, and channeled mana upward.

His next strike crushed through the ribcage of a towering ghoul, splitting it clean in half.

A beast leapt toward him—fangs open, eyes glowing with green fire. Noah dropped low, sliding beneath its stomach, then pushed himself upward with a spinning kick. The beast hit a wall with a crunch.

The frontline wavered—but didn’t fall.

Noah stood among the guards, panting slightly now, sweat rolling down his temple.

The wall didn’t hold.

Cracks gave way to collapse, and within moments, the undead spilled into the outer districts like a flood. Screams rang out from alleyways and burning rooftops. Civilians ran in all directions—some toward safety, others into the mouths of monsters.

Noah moved through the chaos, breath sharp, legs coated in dust and blood. A group of guards had formed a broken line near a merchant square, trying to slow down the tide.

A corpse-wolf pounced on one of them.

Noah dashed forward. His legs surged with mana—speed first, always speed. He reached the guard just in time to slam his shoulder into the beast, knocking it aside.

The man stared at him, barely able to speak.

"Run," Noah snapped. "Regroup and hold the line."

He didn’t wait for thanks.

A shriek overhead—undead with torn wings and birdlike faces dove from the sky, raining terror on the streets. Noah slid under a falling lamppost, grabbed a loose brick, and hurled it with augmented force. The flying creature crashed into a chimney.

But they kept coming.

Street by street, the damage spread. Fires ignited. Homes collapsed. Blood painted the cobblestones. The smell of rot and ash was everywhere.

He turned a corner—and froze.

A child stood alone, shaking, next to the lifeless body of a woman. A skeletal soldier advanced toward him, sword raised.

Noah’s feet exploded into motion.

One blink.

Two.

The blade came down—Noah’s arm caught it mid-air, muscles trembling under the pressure. His free hand drove the hilt of his sword into the skeleton’s skull until it shattered.

He crouched next to the child, who looked at him with wide, tear-stained eyes.

"Go," Noah said, pointing toward a narrow alley. "Now. Don’t stop running."

The boy ran.

Noah stood again, the sounds of battle still crashing around him.

At least fifteen percent of the city was gone—engulfed in fire, rubble, or blood.

And it wasn’t over.

Barricades turned to debris. Smoke choked the sky. Noah stumbled through the ruins of what had once been a garden square, now little more than broken stone and bodies.

A low growl pulled his attention forward.

A massive abomination stood at the heart of the rubble—its body a patchwork of corpses, stitched together into a towering beast with too many limbs and eyes that didn’t blink. Behind it, what remained of a defensive line braced themselves, fear in every movement.

Noah gritted his teeth. His legs screamed from overuse. His arms ached.

Still, he moved forward.

The beast roared—and lunged.

And then the earth cracked.

Roots exploded from the ground beneath the abomination, thick as tree trunks and moving like serpents. They wrapped around the creature mid-leap and dragged it downward, slamming it into the stone with a thunderous crash. Branches shot from the soil next, impaling anything undead nearby.

A calm voice followed the chaos.

"Took you long enough."

Noah turned.

From the top of a collapsed watchtower stood Cael, the Staff of Whispering Nature in his left hand. Emerald light pulsed gently from its core. His white hair was wind-blown, his uniform untouched by the filth of battle.

Without waiting for praise, Cael leapt down, landing with effortless grace. Wherever his staff pointed, the earth responded—roots entangling enemies, vines lashing out, branches shielding wounded guards.

For a moment, Noah said nothing.

Then he nodded. "You’re late."

Cael stepped beside him. "I was never meant to be early." freewёbnoνel.com

Together, they stood back-to-back, the last defenders of a city torn open by the dead.

The city burned, but the dead began to slow.

Noah stood at the center of the square, blood staining his hands, smoke rising from the scorched earth. Piles of broken undead lay around him—beasts, corpses, twisted things no longer moving. His blade was dull now, chipped to the edge of uselessness, but he held it still.

His chest rose and fell in ragged rhythm. Every limb ached.

But he kept going.

A final strike shattered the spine of a charging ghoul. Its body hit the ground with a heavy thud—and then there was silence again.

He turned.

Cael had moved forward alone.

The sky above them darkened further, thick with unnatural clouds. In the distance, just above the cratered remains of a noble estate, a lone figure floated in the air—robes torn, face pale and cracked, but eyes glowing with twisted power.

Saphielle’s master.

Or... what remained of him.

His body pulsed with necrotic energy. The very air trembled around him. With a flick of his fingers, he sent a blast of dark energy toward Cael.

But the boy didn’t flinch.

The Staff of Whispering Nature spun in his hand, and a wall of living wood rose from the ground, absorbing the blast. Cael’s expression didn’t change.

"Guess it’s you and me now."

Noah didn’t move toward the fight. He stayed behind, shielding survivors and cutting down stragglers that wandered into the streets. His role wasn’t glorious—but it was necessary.

Then something... strange happened.

From behind the dark figure in the sky, another person appeared—stepping out of the shadows like a puppet cut from string.

A girl.

She wore the academy uniform. Her long hair flowed gently in the breeze. Her face... was blank.

Her eyes were open, but lifeless.

It was Saphielle.

Or something that looked like her.

Cael’s grip tightened on the staff. Even the twisted master turned toward her briefly, as if curious.

And far away—within the memory—Saphielle watched it all.

Her heart skipped a beat.

’That’s... me.’

Her voice echoed faintly in the dark.

’Why am I there? What am I doing there...?’

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