Mythos Of Narcissus: Reborn As An NPC In A Horror VRMMO-Chapter 284: Naosi’s Viewpoint: Intruder Aboard

Living in this bastion had been the best thing to ever happen to me.

It wasn’t just because I had access to the Script, an invaluable guide filled with impossible wisdom that had turned me from a mediocre bandit into a legitimate crafter and super-duper bastioneer, but because life here was extraordinary in ways most people could only dream of.

I had met people—beings—that the average person might never even see in their lifetime.

Kuzunoha, the Collector, a woman whose name alone could send scholars into frenzied debates about whether she was a saint or a demon. Though, I doubt that there would be any scholars that I could refer to at the moment.

Viviane, the Lady of the Lake, a nymph whose very presence could make water sing and shimmer with life. Albeit, she act like some sort of this bastion’s elder, to the point that Lady Narcissus, who was supposed to be some sort of a demigod herself, still greets our fae grandma with respect and pride.

And now, we even had Lupina, a Theotech Vessel in the form of a living, autonomous entity—a being whose very existence was a mystery even among the most sophisticated Theotech relics.

This bastion wasn’t just your average place of survival—it was a haven of progress, knowledge, and sheer madness, all wrapped in the gilded structure of a Landship that should not exist.

And I had a front-row seat to all of it.

Not bad for someone who used to dig holes and set up half-broken traps for a bunch of bandits before Lady Narcissus had dragged me into their world—forcefully recruited me, as I liked to say.

Now, I built instead of destroyed. Created instead of scavenged.

I had purpose instead of just scraping by.

And at the moment, that purpose included getting myself an extra serving of lunch.

I made my way toward the automatic canteen. It wasn’t as good as Lady Narcissus’ divine cooking, but it should be enough to replenish my snack supply.

My stomach was already anticipating something good when I spotted a familiar figure standing off to the side—someone I didn’t expect to see here.

Tall, with sandy blonde hair, pale skin, and sharp green eyes, Yora had the kind of presence that could have been intimidating if she weren’t so awkward about it.

I remembered that I barely conversed with her back then. Now, we were a good colleague to one another.

I raised an eyebrow, shifting my course toward her.

"I thought you were with the Theotech Site expedition?" I asked, tilting my head. "Did you get tired of crawling through that abyssal death trap?"

Yora blinked, startled by the sudden approach, then shook her head. "No, I… I have some tasks here."

I waited for her to elaborate.

Despite the universal Theotech bio-upgrade on brain processing power, it seems that it won’t just change someone’s personality outright.

She hesitated before continuing, "The neuromorphic network needed help with processing all the data coming from the site. The findings are… complicated."

I folded my arms. "Complicated?"

Yora’s expression shifted slightly, her usual reserved demeanor cracking just enough to reveal a spark of something else—excitement, maybe even pride.

"Oh, you have no idea," she said. "Even by Theotech standards, the things we’re finding down there are insane."

I gave a small chuckle. "Well, considering the kind of freaky stuff I’ve heard about the abyssal levels, I believe you."

She nodded. "It’s not just relics—it’s things that don’t even make sense. Conceptual matter, anomalous phenomena, essences that shouldn’t exist in any stable system. Living water. Thinking fire."

"Yeah, see, that’s exactly why I’m not part of that expedition." I grinned. "I prefer just working on things that don’t suddenly grow teeth or whisper forbidden knowledge into my skull."

Yora gave a faint smirk at that, though she quickly masked it. "Fair."

We continued talking, exchanging bits of information about our respective tasks—me discussing some of my recent projects, Yora occasionally mentioning fragments of Theotech research in between her usual stiff, measured words.

But then—

Something felt off.

I paused mid-sentence, my breath hitching slightly as a strange tension crawled up my spine. Yora must have felt it too because she stopped talking, her green eyes sharpening in alertness.

The air rippled.

It wasn’t a sound, nor was it visible—but it was there.

A psychic tremor, a disturbance that pulsed through the mind rather than the body.

My first instinct was to reach for my MSU backpack, my fingers brushing against the psychic interface as I initiated a connection with my Cognitive Engine assistant—linked to the Landship’s neuromorphic network.

A familiar upbeat voice rang through my thoughts, chipper as always.

[ "Heya, boss! You feeling that weird mind-quake too?" ]

"Yeah," I muttered telepathically to my own CE Assistant. "What the hell is happening?"

[ "Localized psychic disturbance, five-kilometer radius! It’s fluctuating in intervals, though—not a full-scale phenomenon. Shouldn’t be an issue unless you’ve got high innate psychic sensitivity." ]

I glanced at Yora. "You alright?"

She nodded, though her expression was tense. "It’s unpleasant, but manageable."

The tremors persisted, rolling through the very fabric of reality like distant thunder reverberating through the mind. Though there was no physical shake, no true quake in the land beneath our feet, the pressure it carried was undeniable—a suffocating, invisible force pressing against thought itself.

For a brief moment, it felt as if the world was breathing in, holding its breath in uneasy anticipation. The air became thick, laden with something unspoken yet deeply felt, like a presence unseen yet lingering just beyond perception.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it ceased.

The pressure lifted, evaporating into nothingness like mist before the morning sun. The air, once tense with unseen weight, returned to its natural state. The atmosphere settled, but not in a way that suggested true calm—more like the lull after an inexplicable phenomenon, where the mind struggles to determine whether danger has truly passed or if it simply waits in hiding.

I released a slow breath, only now realizing how taut my muscles had become. Across from me, Yora flexed her fingers, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off a burden she hadn’t realized she was carrying.

Neither of us spoke at first, but the shared glance we exchanged held the same thought.

That was absolutely not normal.

Yora let out a slow breath. "Well. That was awful."

"Yeah," I muttered. "Let’s hope it doesn’t happen again."

But just as I was about to relax, my Cognitive Engine assistant pinged me again.

[ "Hey, boss? Small update. We’ve got an unknown individual on the Landship deck." ]

I stiffened. "Unknown individual?"

Yora’s head snapped toward me at the words.

[ "No signs of hostility. No immediate threats. They just… appeared. Automated defense didn’t activate per suggestion of the unified consensus, since there’s zero registered aggression detected. But—" ]

"But?"

[ "Their mental state is unstable. Signs of fear, hesitation, distress. A mental reinforcement is recommended to prevent potential breakdown." ]

I shared a glance with Yora.

"Well, that sounds like something we should check out," I muttered.

She sighed. "Let’s go."

We made our way to the upper deck, stepping out into the open air where the Landship stretched wide beneath the shifting sky. The wind carried the faint hum of machinery, the ever-present pulse of a moving city keeping itself alive.

And there—standing awkwardly near the edge of the deck—was the intruder.

A woman.

She was pale, but not in a way that suggested sickness—more like someone who had lived under a sky that never saw proper sunlight. Her short, jaded blonde hair was wild, messy, her bangs uneven as if cut by an unsteady hand. Her clothes were rugged, tattered, pieced together from strange materials—something about them felt aquatic, abyssal, as if they had been harvested from the depths of some unknowable sea.

But the most striking feature?

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Her eyes.

The moment my eyes locked onto her, I felt an instinctual tension settle into my limbs.

She was different.

Her pupils were stark white, shaped like perfect circular rings, surrounded by an abyssal black sclera that swallowed the light. The contrast was unsettling—almost unnatural—yet there was something strangely earth-bounding about it, like looking into the eye of a storm caught in a moment of eerie stillness.

I didn’t know what I had expected when the Cognitive Engine assistant warned us about an intruder.

But I hadn’t expected her.

She stood rigid, her entire form coiled like a spring wound too tight, as if the very air pressing against her skin felt unfamiliar. Her body language spoke of someone out of place, someone cornered by circumstances beyond their control.

She looked lost.

She looked tense.

And then—

The air thickened.

The already charged atmosphere of the deck shifted as something pulsed from her form, something neither fully seen nor entirely understood.

In the space between breaths, a weapon took shape in her grasp.

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A harpoon—long and sharp—formed out of a crimson, gel-like substance, stretching and solidifying in her grip like living resin responding to her will. The deep red mass pulsed, its surface shifting between fluid and solid in an unsettling rhythm. Not quite liquid. Not quite flesh.

It was an act of reflex, instinct rather than intent. I could see it in her stance—the way her fingers trembled slightly as they tightened around the weapon. She was afraid. But she was ready to fight.

A sharp click resonated around us.

The automated defense turrets stationed along the upper decks of the Landship—the same ones designed to immediately engage any unauthorized entity—powered down.

Every last one.

I didn’t have to check my MSU to know what had just happened.

She had deactivated them.

Not by force. Not by hacking into the neuromorphic network. By something else entirely.

Yora reacted immediately, her voice cutting through the neuromorphic link as she relayed everything in real-time.

"Unknown individuals has just neutralized all automated turrets within range of the deck. Possible external Theotech interference—unknown method. Proceeding with confrontation."

[ "Should I send some Assault drones to your area?" ]

"No need," I replied to my Cognitive Engine assistant. "Don’t think that it won’t be any helpful at a greater extent."

No hesitation.

Our Prismforges were in our hands before another breath could pass.

I willed my own weapon to shift, the crystalline core of my Prismforge responding instantly, morphing into the shape of a broad, bladed spear. A weapon designed to parry, to strike, to kill if necessary.

Beside me, Yora’s Prismforge reshaped itself into a long, segmented chain-blade, the edges humming with shifting energy, ready to lash out at a moment’s notice.

We stood firm, weapons raised, minds locked into combat readiness.

Neither of us attacked first.

But neither did she.

A silent standoff, the three of us frozen in place, waiting for the first inevitable move.