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

"Everyone, stay back," I ordered, immediately recalling its luring nature from the description I'd read. "Do not approach the visions. It will try to pull you in with whatever you desire most."

The Harbinger moved slowly, its body pulsing with illusory promises of water and safety, just out of reach.

Although, because there was really no reason in our biome and environment to need any of those hopeful visions, none of the bastioneers were really affected.

Verina concocted a dastardly dangerous spell into her musket before blasting it toward the Hawsrbinger's face from far away. Unfortunately, overwhelming firepower wasn't enough to ward off spirit-like entities.

However, because it could still be influenced by the attack, I ordered the bastioneers to attack it with their crossbows, sending a flurry of projectiles alongside my Fortcracker, and more of what Verina prepared in her arsenal.

Frustrated by the barrage of attack, the figure dissipated into a swirl of sand and mist, leaving only a trace of dried soil in its wake. The tension eased, and the bastion was safe once again.

We collected a small bag of dried sand from its remains that dropped in our piece of moving land, which I suspected might have some use in the future.

It wasn't after another hour where we stumbled upon the next Calamity Object. It seemed like today would be another lazy day for the Ordeal.

Just as we settled back, a strange glimmer caught my eye—small, jagged shards of crystal appeared scattered across the ground near the center of the bastion. I opened the interactive screen to confirm my suspicion.

—

[The Broken Crown]

[Description: A shattered, crystalline crown that floats just above the ground, surrounded by faint whispers in ancient, forgotten languages. Any who approach the Broken Crown feel an overwhelming need to pick up its pieces and put them together.

However, with each shard they lift, their sense of self erodes, as the Crown's original owner—an old, fallen monarch—attempts to rebuild themselves through the wearer. As the pieces are reassembled, the landscape begins to change, the world warping to resemble the lost kingdom of the Crown's past.

Anyone who completes the Crown fully becomes a vessel for the ancient king's spirit, losing their identity completely]

[Hint: The Crown can only be safely discarded if the shards are returned to the place of the monarch's downfall, which often requires confronting their ghostly shade]

—

The shards faintly glowing and whispering in languages long dead.

"Keep away from the shards," I warned. "Do not pick them up, no matter how strong the urge."

Lupina, now securely strapped to Verina's waist, gazed at the shards warily. "Why would anyone feel like touching broken glass?" she muttered, though her eyes were fixed on them with unnerving intensity.

Despite my warning, the fragments seemed to call out, tempting the bastioneers to piece them together. Callista shifted nervously, shaking her head as if clearing a fog.

Kuzunoha, ever the pragmatist, extended a gloved hand and swept the shards with her proficient telekinesis, and onto her gloved hand. "All we need to do is just completely dispose of it," she said as she turned the shards into arcane dust and ignored its existence.

With the threat neutralized, we continued our survival for the Ordeal of the Dusk.

For the next three hours, we encountered the common Calamity Objects that we already met before, like the Bloodhounds, Sandstalker, Crawling Husks, Shardfiends, etc.

We even met a pack of Skinwalkers. Thankfully, Verina and Kuzunoha was quick to identify the fake and banish the imitator without any further damages done to the morales and in terms of casualties.

Though, some of us got wounded. They were all treated, not with my Valtherion blood, but with the available medicines.

My golden blood was still confidential, only known by my confidantes. I won't use it unless we run out of herbs and medicine, or if one of us suffers a critical condition.

It won't also be coming from my blood vessel either, but from Kuzunoha's storage. That way, we could just pretend that the golden potion was a precious Theotech relic that Kuzunoha looted from the past.

—

[The Lichen Queen]

[Description: A towering figure wrapped in robes of moss and lichen, her skin pale and cracked like ancient stone. The Queen moves slowly, her movements graceful yet unsettling, and her touch causes life to bloom uncontrollably—flowers sprouting from skin, moss covering armor, vines weaving through weapons.

She whispers promises of eternal life and beauty, but those who accept find themselves rooted to the spot, becoming part of her living garden. As they grow more entangled in the vines and flora, they lose their sense of individuality, their thoughts blending with the Queen's, until they become little more than statues in her silent, green kingdom]

[Hint: The Queen can be kept at bay by reciting a personal memory aloud, as individual recollections weaken her hold on the mind, but she often tries to drown memories with her sweet, hypnotic promises]

—

Later into the night, the air grew damp, a strange greenish fog rolling in from the south, and with it came the slow, deliberate footsteps of The Lichen Queen.

She moved like a spectral figure, her towering form wrapped in robes of thick moss and draping lichen, her touch leaving trails of blooming flora wherever it fell. Her cracked, pale skin seemed to drink in the life around her, and a faint whisper filled the air, promising beauty and eternal life.

"I know that this is obvious, but do not let her touch you," I reminded the bastioneers. "She'll root you in place, and her garden will consume you."

I also took my time to inform everyone of the gimmick that the Lichen Queen possessed, since it would be nice if we defeated it without laying a single ammunition or weapons.

As she drew closer, her whisper softened, becoming almost melodic. "Would you like to feel peace, at last?" Her voice was honeyed, each word sinking into the mind like warm soil, inviting rest, a return to nature.

Lupina, held securely to Verina's waist, was the first to chant and remind everyone, "Remember something personal, something only yours," she shouted to the others. "The memories keep her away!"

The bastioneers each began murmuring aloud, recounting moments from their lives—names of family members, places they once called home, sounds of laughter. I joined in, recalling the details of my life before Carcosa, albeit in a much more vague sense.

The Lichen Queen paused, her mossy robes rustling, unable to draw near as the memories dulled her allure from ever taking a grasp on our consciousness.