Mythos Of Narcissus: Reborn As An NPC In A Horror VRMMO

The world had shifted once again.

It always did, and yet it never felt natural.

The Ordeal of the Midnight had ended, and with it, Carcosa's eternal abyss retreated to make way for something no less ominous—daylight.

Still, the more I tried to see things with my current heightened existence, the more I noticed how dire the reality was.

Carcosa's "morning" was nothing like the warmth of a sunrise on Earth, nor was it the hopeful emergence of a new day. Instead, it was a bleeding sky—a slow, seeping transition where the endless darkness of the night gave way to a suffocating expanse of light-drenched unreality.

The blazing black sun hung in the heavens, its presence devouring shadows and warping depth, stretching the land into an unnatural panorama of elongated shapes and shifting perspectives.

Where the night had been an ever-shifting abyss, the day was a distortion of clarity—too sharp, too vivid, too still.

And yet, despite it all, we were here.

Alive.

With the Forest of Fallacy purged, the Landship resumed its course toward Quruize Citadel. The great metallic bastion, its hull still marked with the aftermath of the battle, pressed forward across the warped terrain. The screw-propellers churned through the land, sending ripples of displaced matter cascading behind us, leaving behind only a vague impression of our passing.

We had conquered another Ordeal.

And that called for a celebration.

"Another day conquered," I mused, stretching my arms as I surveyed the grand banquet hall within the Landship. "Which means another feast."

The hall and deck had been transformed.

Long, elaborately decorated tables stretched across the chamber, lined with rows upon rows of dishes—a spread fit for an empire. The scent of roasted meats, rich sauces, freshly baked bread, and exotic fruits filled the air, mixing with the warm glow of Theotech lanterns hanging from the ceiling.

We actually didn't need these since they were meant to be a tool for an outside expedition, but it looked cool and more festive. And it was just a coincidence that everyone also felt that things should be more eye-candy.

The bastioneers gathered in droves, their earlier exhaustion both physical and mental replaced with eager anticipation. The Heavenly Maids moved with their usual grace, serving dishes and refilling goblets. The Duolos, ever the odd ones out in these social gatherings, were represented by several vessels—standing politely, observing, partaking in food more out of curiosity than necessity.

They also had built quite the relationship with the bastioneers and the Heavenly Maids. Especially my daughters, who liked their appearance and what they represents for our bastion.

"Don't you think that all of these Calamity Objects always give this sense of murkiness in their stench?" Callista said.

"They certainly do. Albeit, we have zero idea that does that represent. Then again, we're somewhat of a newborn with barely a week of experience living in this world," said one of the Duolos vessels amongst those that were feasting on the food in front of them.

"Don't you have enough reference of memories and knowledge from the Vandasisismos you converted? You even got their muscle memories, no?"

"None of them pertain to the specific details of this topic, though."

"Huh."

"You know that you have a bio-engineered Theotech upgrade that allows you to do things like infrared smellings and the likes, right?"

"Right, I forgot."

"You even got an enhancement to your brain processing power and memory, how did you manage to forget," the Duolos vessel chuckled.

"These adorable fellows are even smarter than you," Kara mocked as she laughed, holding a giant mug of liquor in her hand.

"Oh they sure are~"

In Carcosa, each day survived was a victory over inevitability. A feast was not merely indulgence—it was a testament that we still lived.

And so, we celebrated.

I walked through the banquet, occasionally stopping to exchange words with my confidantes and bastioneers, bonding more now that I was in a much more comfortable state where tension between superior and its employers are pretty much unneeded.

Verina was seated near the end of one of the long tables, quietly enjoying a glass of fine amber liquor. Lupina was already three plates in, devouring her food with a wolfish grin as if she had just fought an entire war alone.

Kuzunoha was leaning back against a chair in the corner, swirling a glass of deep glistening red and gold wine made out of the concoction of my Valtherion blood, her crimson eyes twinkling with her usual amusement as she watched the festivities unfold.

Everything was in place.

Except for one small reserved section of food.

A long, untouched table stood to the side—forbidden from being eaten by anyone else.

It was a promise for someone who helped us a lot back then.

Kuzunoha, noticing my glance, took that as her cue. With a wave of her hand, arcane sorcery surged through the air, enveloping the entire spread of reserved dishes in a shifting field of energy.

And in the next breath.

It was gone.

Transported to the Moment Unfold.

A telepathic ripple echoed through my mind the moment the food arrived.

A presence stirred in the link—dark, abyssal, and oddly excited.

"My, my…" came the amused voice of the Drowned Revenant, tinged with genuine delight. "So much food and liquor. You spoil me, my dear master."

I smirked. "I keep my promises."

The Revenant's presence rippled with satisfaction. "Even though it was unnecessary. Even though I do not require such things… You still follow through."

"Of course," I said smoothly, "Because your efforts are acknowledged. I won't have my allies feeling unappreciated."

A pause. Then—a soft chuckle, uncharacteristically warm.

"…Then I suppose I shall indulge," she murmured. "Truly, you are a peculiar one, master."

Kuzunoha, who had been listening to the exchange with her usual smirk, cut in with a sly remark. "Careful, Revenant~ The more you enjoy her cooking, the more addicted you might become."

A scoff came from the Drowned Revenant. "A risk I am willing to take."

I chuckled. "Enjoy yourself. You earned it."

And with that, the connection faded, leaving behind only the lingering sense of satisfaction from having kept my word.

Three hours passed in a warm blur—a brief, fleeting eternity suspended between laughter, clinking goblets, and the soft hum of life persisting. The scent of roasted meats still lingered in the air long after the last plates were cleared, mixing with the faint sweetness of half-finished confections. Even the Duolos vessels, who had never truly grasped the meaning of leisure or indulgence, stood in their silent observation—witnesses to something far more profound than mere sustenance.

But as the final echoes of the feast faded into the hollow corridors of the Landship, the atmosphere subtly shifted—a collective understanding passing through the bastion.

The banquet was over, and the work began.

The massive collection of Theotech materials we had salvaged from the spire was already deeply integrated into the Landship's infrastructure, the most notable achievement being the Ordeal Intensity Prediction System—a monument of arcane and computational synthesis that had likely spared us from even greater casualties during the last night.

But the Theotech yield from that expedition had been... excessive.

Too excessive for even Kuzunoha's usual nonchalant indifference toward resource management.

Heh, I had almost forgotten how greedy I was during the dismantling process. And now, those untouched remnants were finally finding a new purpose.

The core engineering sectors of the Landship buzzed with activity—a hive of methodical motion and humane precision. Bastioneers, both seasoned veterans and newer recruits, which was only two so far, being Primus and Ishmael—moved in coordinated units through the lower decks, their hands guided by blueprints streaming directly into their MSUs via the neuromorphic network.

The Duolos vessels, ever the silent workforce, synchronized seamlessly alongside them—wielding limbs and precision tools with inhuman efficiency.

They even used their newly acquired mutations and their ohrtending power.

And as such, the ship itself seemed... alive in its reconstruction.

Every section of the bastion was adapting, evolving—growing with each modification.

The Living Quarters were the first to undergo transformation.

The cramped, utilitarian spaces that had once barely sufficed for survival were expanded—walls folding outward as hidden Somashift layers unfolded new dimensions into reality. Private rooms blossomed into existence, their interiors shaped to each occupant's subconscious preferences via the neuromorphic network—whether it be the stark minimalism of Verina's quarters or the lush, over-decorated chambers Lupina had been not-so-secretly requesting for weeks.

Excessive comfort was no longer a luxury at this point.

It was something I could give them.

The Hangars followed next.

Their labyrinthine bays stretched deeper into the Landship's guts, reinforced with Theotech plating capable of withstanding direct Calamity breaches. Autonomous drone swarms now operated with even greater precision, cycling through launch, repair, and recharge routines with mechanical grace.

The towering Warpiece Drone—the crown jewel of the bastion's arsenal—was given its own dedicated housing, surrounded by stabilization pylons and recharging nodes to ensure that it would always be ready to unleash devastation at a moment's notice.

Even the Medical Sector was not left untouched.

Viviane oversaw the integration of Theotech diagnostics, blending ancient technologies with the neuromorphic network's self-repair protocols. The new systems were capable of scanning genetic code down to the molecular level—detecting even the most subtle mutations or anomalies caused by prolonged exposure to Carcosa's shifting reality.

Any deviation—any sign of corruption—would be found.

And erased.

Everything was faster. More precise. More efficient.

And yet, even as the renovations unfolded, I couldn't help but feel a quiet unease lingering beneath the surface.

This expansion was necessary, of course. Every improvement increased our chances of survival. Every layer of reinforced plating or advanced system was another barrier between us and oblivion.

Though, at this point, I was already at the level where I should be focusing on the endgame thanks to the benefits that I gained from several major events in the past.

Around 20 more Carcosan days before this world will be flooded from players from Earth.

It should be enough time for me to build my own foundation.

Amidst the bustle of the renovations, my perceptive extension spread across the Landship, keeping an eye on everything.

And that was when I noticed a quiet moment.

Within the hydroponic farm, nestled deep within the Landship's interior, two figures sat near the hanging vines, sharing sweet leftovers from the banquet.