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

The Ordeal of the Dusk unfolded in its usual rhythm, the spiraling chaos of Carcosa becoming something of a grim symphony that my Landship had grown accustomed to navigating.

Hours into the ordeal, the relentless spawning of Calamity Objects began to slow. The air shifted, signaling the hibernation phase, where the chaotic energies receded briefly, granting us a lull before the next inevitable wave.

I always love the Ordeal's hibernation phase.

I hope that I will encounter it every night.

Standing atop the observation deck, I surveyed the battlefield below, the ever-busy turrets retracting for self-maintenance while the drones buzzed back to their hangars. The bastioneers and maids alike took this brief moment to regroup, and while most would consider this downtime a reprieve, for me, it was an opportunity.

"Charis," I called to my ever-attentive daughter, who had been at my side for most of the Ordeal. "I'll be heading to the workshop. Oversee things here until I return. Notify me if anything unusual stirs."

Charis straightened, her expression one of focused determination. "Understood, Father. Leave it to me."

"And leave her to me!" Lupine chimed in, still being cradled by my daughter.

"What can you even do, without me," Charis said as she squished Lupina's cheeks.

"Hwuuuuuu! Hwelp!!"

With that, I made my way to the Landship's workshop.

I'm planning to craft something in preparation for the Theotech Expedition tomorrow.

"Hmm, I think I don't need to make anything complex."

While Verina's Furnace and Kuzunoha's arcane mastery had been instrumental in crafting some of our most advanced equipment, this workshop had been meticulously designed to ensure that the bastion could function independently of their abilities if needed.

After all, reliance solely on my confidantes' talents could bottleneck innovation, especially when someone like Naosi needed to maintain and enhance the Prismforges or our myriad Cognitive Engines.

Yeah, Naosi got a lot of roles as the bastion's sole crafter, and I might need to allocate some of the Heavenly Maids to help her from time to time.

"Ah, right, I haven't rewarded Naosi too for being our first test subject for the Mirroring Well shenanigan."

The moment I entered the workshop, the familiar hum of neuromorphic machinery greeted me. The walls shimmered faintly with neural alloy conduits, their soft glow casting the room in an otherworldly light.

Tools of every conceivable function lined the walls—their ergonomic designs were only limited to my obsession with efficiency and precision.

I approached the central workbench, setting aside my usual creat56n of mass innovation for something… simpler.

The Heavenly Maids had been a constant presence in the bastion, working tirelessly yet never receiving the same tools or upgrades as the bastioneers. While they weren't equipped with Prismforges or personal Cognitive Engines, their divine portfolio granted them unparalleled agility and reaction times, and many more abilities that would make them an annoying enemy in battle.

If I wanted them to reach their full potential in combat, I needed to create a weapon tailored specifically to their strengths—something simple and barely remarkable, yet devastating in their hands.

And what better choice than a knife? Or rather, an oversized, impossibly sharp, and beautifully crafted knife.

"Well, this should be fun."

Per the courtesy of Sir Aethernet, there was a research on Earth stating that humans possess a remarkable tendency to want to hold or handle objects, particularly knife

The human urge to hold a knife is deeply rooted in our evolutionary history, psychological mechanisms, and cultural traditions. From the earliest days of Homo sapiens, tools like knives were essential for survival, serving as instruments for hunting, food preparation, and protection.

The brain's tool-use neural networks, particularly within the parietal lobe, reinforce this connection, triggering a natural curiosity and desire to handle such objects. Furthermore, the tactile feedback from handling a knife—its weight, balance, and sharpness—offers a sensory experience that engages the brain and heightens the appeal.

It was similar to smoking and doing drugs to a small extent.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

The knife's duality—being tools of creation and destruction—evokes a mix of attraction and caution, reflecting the human psyche's fascination with power and risk. While this urge can have positive implications, such as improving motor skills and fostering a sense of competence, it also intersects with darker psychological phenomena, like the taboo surrounding objects associated with harm.

Ultimately, the human relationship with knives highlights the profound interplay between biology, psychology, and culture, offering insights into the tools that have shaped our history and continue to influence us today.

And according to the history and information I got from appraising the history of my bastioneers and the Heavenly Maids, the things that I mentioned still hold true.

"This might work."

The design came together in my mind as I worked.

The blade itself would be forged from a highly durable variant of Neural Alloy—one that was notoriously resistant to reshaping through conventional means.

But where normal hands faltered, my All-Tampering Divine Dexterity excelled. With a mere touch, I could mold even the most stubborn materials as if they were pliable clay.

The alloy was tempered to achieve molecule-level sharpness. Each blade's edge was so fine it could cut through the molecular bonds of most materials, effortlessly slicing through armor, bone, and even certain forms of conceptual matter found in Calamity Objects.

But raw sharpness wasn't enough. The weapon also needed to be ergonomic, perfectly balanced for close-quarters combat.

The hilt was designed with a slight curve, contoured to fit snugly in the hands of the Heavenly Maids.

Yes, I already have the mapping and proportion of their hands in my head. Since all of them possessed the same physical vessel, I didn't need to make another perfect variant.

On top of that, the hilt should be wrapped in a neural-reactive material that responds to the wielder's grip, subtly adjusting its texture for maximum comfort and control.

A weighted pommel ensured perfect balance, making it an extension of the user's arm.

"It is starting to take semblance, heh."

Each blade would also bore an intricate lattice of numerous Theotechs that I've found in the universal MSUs, powering their function even further in many angles that a normal person won't notice immediately.

"And, walaa~!" I said with a glee as I raised the first knife of the batch that I made today. "This should make them squeal by just holding them alone."

As I finished the first blade, I gave it a test, swinging it through a dense block of reinforced material.

The blade slid through it effortlessly, as if it were slicing through air.

Satisfied, I set to work on the remaining nineteen, each one crafted with the same meticulous care and precision.

Once all twenty were complete, I gazed at the row of gleaming blades arrayed before me. They needed a name, of course. My usual naming scheme sprang to mind—two simple yet evocative words combined into one.

"Metalweave," I said aloud, the name rolling off my tongue with a sense of finality. "A fitting title."

With the weapons complete, I issued a summons for all twenty Heavenly Maids to gather in the meeting hall.

As they made their way through the Landship, their hushed whispers filled the corridors.

"Do you think we're in trouble?" one murmured.

"Maybe it's a punishment…" another said, her tone tinged with nervousness.

"Don't be ridiculous," a third replied, though her confidence wavered. "What if it's a reward?"

"You know, toxic positivity is a slow and insidious killer."

"Don't you mean 'confidence'?"

"Hmm, I wonder if we're going to have another feast again~"

"I think I started to notice some patterns…"

By the time they entered the hall, their curiosity and apprehension were palpable. They stopped in their tracks as they spotted the Metalweave knives displayed on the central table, their polished surfaces gleaming under the dim light.

"Step forward," I commanded, my voice calm yet firm.

The maids hesitated for a moment before approaching the table. One of them—Maid-11, if I remembered correctly—reached out and grasped the hilt of a Metalweave. The moment her fingers curled around it, her eyes widened in shock.

"This… it's…" she stammered, her voice filled with a foreign sensation that she had never experienced before.

Her reaction was immediate and visceral. The weapon seemed to mold itself to her grip, the neural-reactive material adjusting perfectly to her hand.

It was as if the blade had been made specifically for her—because, in truth, it had been. Her expression shifted from shock to elation, and she clutched the weapon as if it were an extension of her very being.

"Aaahh~!!"

Okay, I didn't expect her to moan like that.

Seeing the positive welcome, other maids quickly followed suit, each one picking up a Metalweave and experiencing the same reaction. Their excitement filled the room, breaking their usual composed demeanor.

"This is incredible!" one exclaimed, spinning the blade with expert precision as their eyes were gleaming with spark.

"I've never held a weapon that feels so… natural," another added, her voice tinged with disbelief. "This is only a mere knife… yet, I felt like I don't ever want to release it from my hand."

"It's like it's alive," Maid-14 whispered, holding the blade reverently. "This is a weapon made for the gods!1"

I allowed myself a small smile, watching their reactions with quiet satisfaction. "How do they feel?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"Perfect!!

"I've never felt anything like this before. It's… heavenly."

"Aaaaaahhhnn~!"

"In the name of all things that are great, I'm scared that this knife might mindbreak me."

"I don't want to give it back!!"

As their excitement settled into a quiet reverence, I addressed them. "These are yours," I said simply. "A reward for the beginning of your service to this bastion. And a promise of more to come."

The room erupted into cheers, the maids' gratitude spilling over in a rare display of unrestrained joy. For a moment, they weren't the disciplined and stoic Heavenly Maids—they were simply individuals who had been recognized and rewarded.

"But," I continued, raising a hand to silence them, "There is more. Tomorrow, I will be leading an expedition to a Theotech Vault. And all of you will accompany me. We have detected numerous dangers and threats that are unknown and ineffable in origin. But, to you Heavenly Maids, it should be nothing but a walk in a park, am I right?"

Their excitement turned to determination, their postures straightening as they absorbed the gravity of my words.

Without hearing anything, I already knew their true feelings to my statements.

"If this expedition is successful," I said, "There will be even greater rewards waiting for you. Weapons, tools, and perhaps even something far greater than you can imagine."

Their loyalty and morale soared in that moment, their resolve shining through their expressions, similar to that of a group of soccer fans who saw their favorite team scoring a goal.

As they filed out of the room, each carrying their Metalweave with a sense of affection.

Yeah, I think I made the knife a little bit too comfortable to hold.