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

"Wake up, Viviane," I hummed to myself. "You can't laze around forever, even if there is nothing to do."

The truth of the matter was obvious, being a divine adjudicator in a world rife with sin and ignorance was dull work.

"How many days has it been since the last visitor…?"

Mortals were predictable—until the last 'Recalibration', where I met no mortal at all in my never-changing post.

Heh, that was quite the depressing reality to remember.

Back then, the mortals would always seek judgment and absolution like moths to a flame, their desires as shallow as the waters at my lake's edge. They brought offerings, stories, excuses—all of them hoping for approval, for validation, for some sense of meaning bestowed by my so-called 'blessing'.

As if blessing was anything more than an accident of existence.

This lake, however, was mine. For untold years, I had inhabited these crystalline waters, polishing my thoughts against the mirror-smooth surface like stones in a brook. I judged, I mused, and I waited for the rare spark of intrigue to break the monotony.

Today, once again, that spark was nowhere to be found.

"... Why in the aether are you staring at me, fish?"

The Recalibration had ended, that cosmic upheaval of land and sea finally settling like silt at the bottom of a stirred pond. The sun shone faintly through my aquatic abode, shafts of pale light illuminating the forge where I once crafted gifts for heroes long since forgotten. It was a relic of a past life, now cluttered with barnacles and memories best left undisturbed.

I stretched lazily in my watery sanctuary, flicking a wayward guppy from my domain. "Shoo. You're not part of today's revelations."

Even my waters, the ones I had once claimed as the cleanest in existence, did little to stir me from my ennui.

Then I had an idea. A small one, but better than idleness.

With a single graceful movement, I conjured a vision upon the water's surface, rippling outward until the world beyond the lake unfolded like a map. A trick I had perfected long ago, though rarely used for anything more than idle amusement.

The lands near my lake had shifted significantly after the Recalibration. Where there were once sprawling hills, now jagged cliffs rose, their shadows darkening unfamiliar valleys. Forests had been twisted, rivers rerouted, and even the air itself seemed to hum with the dissonance of a world forcibly reshaped.

"A new arrangement of chaos," I murmured, watching the scene unfold. "Let's see what it's brought me."

The vision flowed outward, displaying the nearby landscape. There were ruins aplenty, no doubt stripped bare by scavengers who came too late to save themselves from irrelevance. A pack of strange beasts prowled the edge of a fractured gorge, their forms glistening with the malice of something birthed in Carcosa's depths.

But it was further west, near the newly arrived land with desiccated skirts, that I saw them.

A bastion, small and poorly made, with less than fifteen souls scurrying about its confines. One would think that mere mortals needed to band a group bigger than fifty souls to consistently survive the Ordeal, but it seemed like my assumption was proven wrong once again as time let on.

They bustled with an urgency I rarely saw outside the desperate or the foolish. The former built walls to keep death at bay. The latter, well... Enjoy new adventures from empire

"Oh?" I murmured, watching the scene unfold. "What's this? A pilgrimage?"

The group appeared to be arming themselves with remarkable care, each wielding a peculiar spear-like weapon that glinted strangely even in my farsight. But their preparations weren't what caught my attention—it was their destination.

They were heading here.

Straight to my lake.

I leaned closer to the vision, the water's surface trembling beneath my touch. What business did these mortals have in my domain? Surely, they weren't aware of who I was, what this lake represented. Few in this era were.

Still, it was curious.

"An offering?" I wondered aloud, though I doubted it. Their faces didn't carry the reverence of those seeking divine favor. Nor did they appear to be the kind who wandered into such waters by accident.

The wind above carried the faint hum of approaching twilight, and I frowned. It was less than an hour until nightfall. Surely, they weren't so foolish as to risk traveling during the Ordeal of the Dusk.

But no. They were prepared. Confident.

"I see," I murmured, my voice rippling through the vision. "You're not running from death. You're marching toward it, aren't you?"

Perhaps they were neither desperate nor foolish. Perhaps they were bold.

A dangerous trait, that one.

The image swirled, focusing closer on the group as they moved. They seemed well-organized, their leader—a striking figure with a certain elegance in her movements—giving instructions that the others followed without hesitation. She was young, sharp-eyed, and oddly radiant in the murky atmosphere of this fractured world.

"Hmm…" I tilted my head. "Not quite mortal, are you?"

Her presence piqued my interest. There was something about the way she carried herself, an air of authority laced with an undercurrent of... what was it? Playfulness?

Her followers appeared to follow and trust her in respect and reverence. Maybe I could finally meet a decent individual after all the years of no reception.

Of course, she would need to pass my 'judgment' first.

But then, my focus shifted as my senses caught something else. There was a faint but distinct 'arcane' signature emanating from the group—not from their radiant leader, but from two others.

Arcane sorcery was something that could only be found within the Graveyard of Histories, so seeing their signature again after those eras felt quite alarming.

Regardless, I doubted that they could pose a harm to a 'Lady of the Lake'.

"Intriguing, indeed."

One of them exuded an aura of measured sophistication, her presence like the restrained heat of a dying star. Her movements were deliberate, her energy woven with purpose.

It was also easy to discern this individual as one of the Kilnalans, thanks to their signature exhaust horns.

I remember quite the amount of good memories from interacting with them. It was a little sad to know that there were less of them now, thanks to a certain 'incident'.

The other... the other was different. A fox-like creature, her energy wild and unrestrained, yet oddly familiar. Something about her struck a chord deep within me, a faint echo of a memory I couldn't quite place. It was as though I had encountered her essence before, in some forgotten chapter of my existence.

"Who are you?" I whispered, more to myself than to the vision. The fox's smirk, her casual confidence—it gnawed at my mind like the edges of an unfinished thought.

Another interesting thing I noticed was the fact that this crimson-haired fox was none other than an Animaphage, an extremely hostile kin to the Kilnalans—which made this cast of bastions far more ordinary.

They were also the ones who possessed the signature of the arcane's leylines, meaning that their souls had been attached to none other than the stream of creation, powered by the very cosmos itself.

I had no names for these individuals, but I didn't need them. Their energy spoke louder than words.

The weapons they carried were also intriguing. I watched as they demonstrated their functionality to clear their path—the spears' blades shifting in response to the wielder's intent. Some form of symbiosis between weapon and user. How quaint.

"That one has a touch of the arcane," I murmured, recognizing the subtle glow of enchantment woven into the weapons. "And it definitely comes from them, not their radiant leader."

I stood half-way above the surface, letting the liquid residue of my lake raced down to where it belong—letting the vision collapse into ripples. They would arrive soon, their steps guided by purpose or folly.

It had been too long since I'd been approached by anything other than fish and forgettable mortals. Perhaps it was time to remind this world that Viviane still judged, still watched, still played the game of gods and men.

"Come, then," I said to no one in particular, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. "Let's see what you've brought me."

I sank back into the water, allowing the surface to still once more. The lake would welcome them, whether they sought its depths or its dangers.

As for me?

I would wait, as I always did.

For judgment was not given lightly. Nor was it given without purpose.