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

The fragmented threads of Carcosa's past weaved around Viviane and me like a surreal tapestry as we pushed forward. Each step seemed to echo through countless forgotten histories, the anchors Viviane and Kuzunoha placed tethering us to our original timeline yet unable to spare us from these chaotic glimpses.

"Careful, Narcissus," Viviane warned, her voice calm yet firm as the fabric of reality shifted once more. "These fragments are more than mere memories—they are echoes of what was, and sometimes, what should never have been."

The swirling chaos solidified, the air growing heavier and denser.

A new world then slowly began to form, emerging from the twilight path.

My boots clicked against cobblestones as the dissonant hum of the Nihil gave way to the vibrant bustle of a Victorian-esque city.

I really didn't expect that there was a time like this in the history of Carcosa, considering its nature.

We stood amidst a sprawling street bathed in the glow of magical orbs hovering above wrought-iron lampposts. Carriages, both mechanical and pulled by ethereal steeds, clattered along the roads. The air buzzed with chatter and the faint hum of spells being cast as casually as one might light a candle.

I looked around, taking in the scene—ornate buildings with spires that pierced the sky, elaborate arcane symbols etched into their facades. People walked the streets dressed in rich, layered garments, their clothing laced with shimmering threads of magic, and that very same hint of magical experience also applied to the tools and objects that they carry as well.

"This..." I muttered, trailing off as I absorbed the spectacle. "This is beautiful."

Compared to my gloomy days of not being able to comprehend the faces of people I saw, and the bleak background of modern depression behind them, alongside the absurd horror and chaos that was the current Carcosa—it was fair to say that this place was definitely fitting with what I imagined for a fantasy world to looks like.

"Beautiful, perhaps," Viviane replied, her tone cool and analytical. "But beauty often masks ugliness. Look closer."

At her words, my gaze shifted, noticing what I had overlooked. Demi-humans—beings with animalistic traits like fur, tails, and pointed ears, or just straight up animals with human-like anatomy—moved through the crowd, their bodies adorned with chains and collars that glowed faintly with restrictive spells. Their eyes were downcast, their movements brisk and subservient.

I saw a cat-eared boy probably no older than ten being yanked along by an elegant woman holding his leash. A group of heavily armed guards herded a line of shackled demi-humans into a towering factory, its chimneys belching ominous green smoke into the air.

Viviane's voice cut through my rising discomfort. "An era where humanity's mastery of magic exceeded its morality. They wielded immense power, yet their sense of superiority was as boundless as their cruelty."

"Are these the products of ohrtending? Considering the need to use blood as a catalyst and all."

"Correct," Viviane didn't even bother to look at her surroundings, as if she had already known of this era than what she was willing to admit. "This era happened a long time ago ohrtending was founded by the kilnalan. You know, the race of one of your so-called confidantes. Her ancestors gave humanity a way to fight back against the horror, but that creates the supply for human sacrifices thanks to the nature of the magic.

"And at this time, humanity was quite thriving with their numbers, and that large numbers allows them to justify some level of pruning on which people hold the reign, and which people were collared, or even outright sacrificed for the greater good and advancement of their own kind."

"Sounds different from what I heard about humanity. I thought they were much more united."

Viviane's lips curved into a bitter smile. "This was a time millennia ago, Narcissus. Humanity was still clawing its way out of primal fear and into dominion over their world. Fear and control go hand in hand, and those who are different often bear the brunt of that insecurity.

"While our timeline now bears a much better version of humanity, it doesn't change the fact that they were originally rotten from the core."

Her words hung heavily in the air as we continued walking, the sights around us growing more oppressive. A demi-human girl knelt by the side of the road, scrubbing cobblestones with a bucket of murky water as passersby paid her no mind.

Their fate didn't really concern me, nor did it chime a sympathy out of me. But it did make me wonder if the modern era that I formerly lived in was any better, since this kind of sight still happens in the bleak corner of society.

I stopped beside her, but before I could speak, Viviane placed a hand on my shoulder. "This is but an echo," she reminded me. "You cannot change what has already been."

"I think you're overestimating my character."

"I apologize for holding high hope for the younger generation, then."

I tore my gaze away and followed Viviane. The bustling city blurred as the fragment began to dissolve, the vibrant energy of the Victorian-like world giving way to something darker. Ahead of us stood a grand, intricately carved door that pulsed faintly with magic.

Viviane gestured to it. "This will take us to the next fragment. Stay close."

Explore more at empire

Without hesitation, we stepped through.

And the next world began to form.

The air was thick with ash and the acrid stench of burning flesh. The once vibrant world we had left behind was replaced by a desolate battlefield, stretching endlessly under a sky choked with crimson clouds.

This was a place of death.

Human soldiers clad in tattered uniforms fought desperately against a ceaseless wave of what appeared to be Calamity Objects. Their weaponry was eerily reminiscent of World War I—bolt-action rifles, crude machine guns, and mortars. Yet, they also wielded strange devices that glowed with unstable arcane energy, fusing technology and magic in a desperate bid for survival.

Towering above the carnage were monstrosities of incomprehensible form—a titan resembling a skeletal reaper, its hundred scythe-wielding arms slicing through men like paper—a swarm of maddening, amorphous shadows—and the reanimated corpses of fallen soldiers, their faces twisted in eternal agony as they turned on their former comrades.

Viviane grabbed my arm, pulling me out of the path of a spectral projectile that screamed through the air. "Move!"

We navigated the battlefield, dodging stray bullets and eldritch blasts as the human soldiers fought a losing battle. A young man barely old enough to be here screamed as he was impaled by a shadowy tendril, his lifeless body dragged into the writhing swarm.

"This is different from what I expected, again," I said, as the ear-shattering shockwave traveled into my hearing canal.

"This is desperation," Viviane replied. "An age when humanity realized their dominance was but an illusion, shattered by the emergence of the Calamity Objects. They fought with everything they had, yet it was never enough."

We pressed on, the chaotic sounds of war fading into the background as another door materialized before us. Unlike the last, this one was cracked and scorched, its surface etched with the scars of battle.

"Quickly," Viviane urged, and we stepped through.

The next world emerged from the ashes of the death and the damned, forming a spiral of deep sorrow before scattering into a manifestation.

The oppressive silence hit me like a physical blow.

We emerged into a world, or timeline that defied logic, a twisted vision of religious fervor turned grotesque.

"Ah…"n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

"This is definitely my least favorite timeline," Viviane said with barely an expression on her face."

The architecture was both awe-inspiring and horrifying—gothic spires adorned with writhing, angelic figures that seemed to shift and watch us as we moved.

Every surface was inscribed with glowing litanies, their words incomprehensible yet exuding an unsettling aura. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and rot.

Then there were the people.

A woman stumbled past us, her face serene despite the sword impaling her skull, its hilt protruding like a grotesque halo.

A man knelt in prayer, his skin melting and reforming in an endless cycle of torment.

Nearby, a monstrous figure with a grotesquely enlarged head and a single, hanging eyeball dragged itself forward, its ribs clicking as they supported its grotesque frame.

A child stood near the edge of the square, his face stitched into a perpetual smile, his hands clasped in prayer. He turned to look at me, his stitched smile twisting into something resembling sorrow.

"What is this?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Viviane's expression was unreadable. "This is the era of the False Gods."

Her words sent a chill down my spine.

I forced myself to ask, though I dreaded the knowledge, "False Gods?"

Viviane's gaze remained fixed on the horrifying scene. "A time when humanity's desperation birthed gods of their own making—constructs of faith, suffering, and the collective will to survive. They prayed for salvation, and in their prayers, they created beings of immense power.

"But these gods were not benevolent. They fed on their worshippers, perpetuating an endless cycle of devotion and torment."

As she spoke, a group of worshippers passed by, chanting in unison as they carried a man whose body was writhing with golden veins. His eyes glowed with an unnatural light, and his lips moved as though reciting some holy text.

The sight made my stomach almost churn. "They definitely messed up big time."

"They didn't have a choice," Viviane said simply. "When faced with annihilation, humanity will cling to any hope, no matter how twisted or painful."

I swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling over me. The horrors of this era were unlike anything I'd ever seen—an unholy fusion of faith, suffering, and despair.

Viviane gestured toward the center of the square, where another rift awaited, its surface shimmering with an eerie, golden glow. "We must keep moving. There is nothing for us here but madness."

As we approached the door, I couldn't help but glance back at the horrifying figures, their suffering etched into every fiber of their being.

The child with the stitched smile raised a hand in farewell, his eyes glistening with something I couldn't name.

I turned away, stepping through the door with Viviane at my side.

And thus, we left the era of the False Gods behind.