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

Just before I attempted to find a way to make this realm mine…

Something slithered into my awareness.

Not a ripple. Not a whisper.

Something arrived.

A presence so utterly wrong that even before I saw it—my instincts screamed.

And then—

The world bent inward.

The air did not stir; it fractured, folding around an intrusion that had no right to exist. A grotesque shape coalesced from nothing, its form unraveling into being, as though reality itself was struggling to stitch it into coherence.

And what emerged should not have been.

It was fish-like, yet so much more abhorrent.

A grotesque mass of veined membranes, its slick, pulsating skin churning like a thing that had never stopped growing, as if its body was locked in an eternal, cancerous evolution. A creature malformed in the shape of hunger itself.

It shuddered. Twitching. Convulsing. Trying to adjust to the mere act of being perceived.

Its head tilted—or rather, its humanoid face did.

Yes, it had a face.

A face that should not belong to it.

A smooth, eerily symmetrical visage of something that understood human features but had never worn them before.

It had eyes.

It had lips.

But they were wrong.

Too smooth. Too still.

A grotesque mimicry of a person's face, stretched over something utterly inhuman—a mask pretending at an identity it did not own.

It turned toward me. Its expression did not move.

And yet—I knew it was watching.

My gaze narrowed. My senses sharpened.

Something like this—something so malformed, so detached from natural existence—should have a traceable past, a history embedded into the fabric of reality.

I extended a thread of perception toward it.

"Let's see what you are."

I reached into its past.

And the moment I did—

Something slammed into me.

A pulse of something foul and incomprehensible, surging through my mind like a vice of jagged void.

Not rejection.

A warning.

A warning carved into the very essence of the thing, something that had been placed there—by whom? By what?

My thoughts snapped apart for a fraction of a second, unraveled and rewound, as if something had reached inside me—tried to reset me.

Like a broken thread in a loom, like an error in reality that someone was trying to correct. My breath hitched. Spiritual backlash. A defense mechanism woven into its existence.

I severed the connection immediately, the taste of something rotten and ancient still clinging to my mind like oil. My form blurred as I ascended instantly, slipping into Floating Through Life and rising above the creature before it could even twitch.

And yet—it did not follow.

It merely… watched.

Its trembling form quivered beneath me, its very presence retching against reality, like a thing that had never been meant to be seen. Stay tuned for updates on My Virtual Library Empire

But something was off.

For all its overwhelming presence—for all its grotesque display of higher existence—

There was an emptiness in it.

A missing piece.

I could feel it.

Something was wrong with its existence.

If it touched me—if even a fragment of its being made contact with mine—something irreversible would happen.

Not destruction. Not consumption. Something else. Something I was not willing to test.

My fingers curled.

How fascinating.

Then, it shuddered.

Its veins bulged, thick with an unseen force. Its throat quivered—and then—it roared.

No—it wailed.

The sound did not travel through the air.

It bypassed sound entirely.

It reverberated through my soul.

A killing wail. Not merely a scream. A resonance.

A soul-consuming frequency that twisted the very air around us, warping reality not by force, but by sheer concept.

And the world responded.

The space around us cracked open, splitting like a wound in the fabric of existence.

And from those invisible wounds—

Harpoons materialized.

Hundreds.

Thousands.

A rain of gleaming, spectral spears, stabbing into the ground like the remnants of a forgotten war.

Each one humming with something ancient—something filled with hate.

I felt the wail tugging at me.

Not violently.

Just a pull at the edges of my consciousness, like the very concept of my existence was being invited to unravel.

Unpleasant.

But ineffective.

If I were anything less—if I had been mortal, or merely a lesser demigod—

My soul would have been peeled apart at the seams.

But I was neither.

And now—

I was intrigued.

Instead of recoiling, I tilted my head, exhaling with amusement.

"Interesting."

I had nothing pressing to do.

And this encounter was far too intriguing to ignore.

My gaze shifted to the countless harpoons impaled into the surreal, shifting ground.

They weren't randomly scattered—there was a pattern, an unseen logic to their placement. Each harpoon was embedded deliberately, as if marking the scars of an ancient, ongoing hunt. Some jutted out at odd angles, half-sunk into the warped terrain, their tips glinting like fangs thirsting for another kill.

Something in them called to me.

It wasn't the familiar hum of Theotech—this was different.

Something deeper. Older.

I floated down toward the farthest harpoon, extending my fingers and brushing them along its surface.

A pulse seeped into me.

Not knowledge. Not history.

Hatred.

Raw, unfiltered wrath.

It struck me like a whisper from the dead, venomous and burning, a violent emotion distilled into something tangible. A spirit of pure aggression coiled around the harpoon, its presence like a scar upon the world itself. It did not speak in words.

It simply whispered a singular, insatiable need.

Pierce. Kill. Bury deep.

The moment the essence sank into me, the truth unveiled itself.

This thing. This eldritch aberration that was sighted by my very eyes.

It wasn't merely a creature.

It was a concept.

A Pallid Whale.

Or rather—a fledgling form of one.

A Pallid Mermaid. The fragmented, juvenile state of something far greater—something far worse.

A Pallid Whale was not a being.

It was a curse.

It was hatred given form, a concept that existed across untold realities—across distant planes of existence.

And the only thing I knew for certain—

"It must be pierced."

A pulse shuddered through the realm. My instincts screamed—I turned, just as space tore open in front of me. A rift of nothingness.

And from within, the Pallid Mermaid emerged.

It lunged.

Its enormous maw gaped open, its jaws lined with spiraling rows of translucent, needled teeth, too many to belong to any natural thing.

I pivoted—tilting my existence out of alignment, slipping effortlessly out of reach as its grotesque head snapped at the space where I had just been.

Its form shuddered, the membranous flesh of its body pulsing with an unnatural hunger.

And then—it vanished.

No motion. No transition.

Just gone.

I twisted midair, already anticipating its next appearance.

It reappeared behind me. Close. Far too close.

It lunged again, its humanoid face still frozen in that unsettling, unreadable expression.

This time, I moved.

The world stretched—the air warped.

I folded through existence, reappearing beside a distant harpoon, ripping it from the ground in a single, fluid motion.

The fight had begun.

The Pallid Mermaid's pursuit never ceased.

Each time it vanished, it reappeared closer. Faster.

It did not move—it displaced.

An entity of relentless hatred, untethered from the laws of space, driven solely by a singular hunger to hunt.

And yet, despite its erratic vanishing, its existence followed a pattern.

Each time it lunged—each time it snapped—each time it phased through reality like a nightmare given agency—I moved with it.

"Hahaha!"

Floating Through Life allowed me to drift beyond physics, aligning myself in places before I had even decided to be there.

And in between its lunges—

I struck.

"HHAAAAAAANGHHH!!!"

Harpoon after harpoon pierced its veined flesh, sinking into the grotesque membranes, embedding deep.

The moment a harpoon dug into its body, it did not merely wound—it resonated.

Like an echo of an ancient hunt.

Each impact drove the hatred further into it, as if the harpoons themselves were not weapons, but reminders. A force engraved in history that demanded its prey to be pierced.

The Pallid Mermaid wailed, its voice now fractured, unstable, as if the harpoons were not merely harming its flesh—but forcing it to remember.

The more it lunged, the more it pinned itself into its own fate.

Its movements became erratic—less calculated, more desperate.

The harpoons that I relentlessly thrown at it did not simply pierce it.

They bound it, like shackles of an inescapable past.

The Pallid Mermaid wailed, its body convulsing, attempting to dislodge the spears.

But they held firm.

It twisted. Writhed. Displaced. Blinked.

Yet no matter how many times it phased between space, the harpoons remained lodged within its shifting, veined flesh.

It was breaking.

And then—

A change. Its shrieks turned silent. Its body stilled mid-blink.

I narrowed my eyes, gripping the last harpoon in my hand.

Something was about to happen.

The Pallid Mermaid stared at me, its empty, humanoid face frozen in an unreadable expression.

Then—

It vanished.

Not in a blink.

Not in an attack.@@novelbin@@

It simply ceased.

The air fell deathly silent.

I hovered in place, harpoon still raised, my perception scanning every inch of existence.

Gone.

But not out of defeat.

This was a retreat.

And if a Pallid Mermaid could retreat—

It meant it was not alone.