Mythos Of Narcissus: Reborn As An NPC In A Horror VRMMO-Chapter 300: My Tenth Ordeal Of The Midnight

The world shifted its course, as it usually did every night.

The toll of the Ordeal of the Midnight had begun.

The moment the final hour of the Ordeal of the Dusk faded, a new presence coiled into existence—a vast, unseen force pressing against the edges of reality. It was as though the very air had thickened, the tension winding tight, carrying the unspoken weight of an inevitable storm.

From my vantage point in the observation dome, I watched as the Landship ceased its advance, the great machine halting its vast momentum in preparation for what was to come.

The entire bastion followed suit—the bastioneers, the Duolos, and the Heavenly Maids all shifting into a state of absolute readiness.

No one dared to take the Ordeal of the Midnight lightly, regardless of how advanced and prepared we are in terms of weaponry and information.

This was the part of the night where the Ordeal's intensity increased in folds—where the true horrors that lurked within Carcosa's endless abyss clawed their way into existence.

And as always, it would begin with the arrival of a special Calamity Object—an entity unlike the others, born of this realm's ever-shifting logic, embodying an anomaly that would demand our full attention.

And, perhaps, if fate was particularly cruel tonight—a Qliphoth Object.

I remained still, watching the UI interfaces surrounding me, each one displaying rapidly fluctuating energy levels, warping signatures, and chaotic predictive mappings. The Ordeal Intensity Prediction System was already running at maximum capacity, overclocking its processes to achieve the fastest results possible.

Forcing it to work beyond its limits would undoubtedly strain the Landship's power grid, but Kuzunoha's Theotech-enhanced systems had been prepared for this. Even now, the air around us shimmered subtly, a faint, abnormal field emanating outward—an indication that reality itself was being warped in tandem with the prediction system's function.

The price of foresight was never without its consequences.

A soft voice broke through the heavy silence.

"Father."

I turned my gaze slightly to the side. Charis stood beside me, her golden eyes reflecting the dim glow of the Landship's operational displays. Her posture was composed, as always—graceful, poised, the very image of a noble daughter.

But there was a rare hesitation in her expression.

Her voice was quiet, carrying something unspoken beneath its usual elegance.

The question came softly, almost hesitant, yet carrying an undertone of significance that I couldn't ignore.

"Is it truly necessary for us to visit Quruize Citadel?"

I turned my gaze toward Charis, my brow arching—not in confusion, but in curiosity. It was rare for her to voice concerns without a firm reason, rarer still for her to speak so openly about an unease that had no direct cause.

"What makes you ask?" I prompted, my voice measured, giving her the space to articulate what was clearly weighing on her mind.

She hesitated, exhaling softly as she clasped her hands before her. The golden glow of her eyes shimmered against the dim light of the observation dome, reflecting the countless projections of the Landship's ongoing surveillance feeds.

"It is… a feeling," she admitted. "Something I cannot ignore."

I remained silent, letting her continue.

"There are… too many threads converging," she murmured, her gaze distant, as if trying to see beyond the present, grasping at something just out of reach. "I do not know what it means, only that it is significant. I fear that when we reach Quruize, something—or many things—will come to pass."

I observed her carefully, letting her words settle.

Charis was not a seer, nor did she possess precognitive mapping like Viviane, yet her insight had always been strangely accurate, as though she could sense the weight of fate itself shifting. It wasn't foresight, not in the traditional sense—but perception.

A delicate awareness of the unseen currents that wove through the moments before they became reality.

Her words carried weight. Not because they were backed by tangible evidence, but because Charis, with her quiet poise and precision, never spoke without reason. Find your adventure at novelbuddy

A warm smile curled at the edges of my lips.

"Then that is all the more reason to prepare properly," I said, meeting her gaze with unwavering confidence. "And thanks to you, my dear Charis, I am now aware of it ahead of time."

For a moment, she simply stared at me, searching for something—perhaps reassurance, or perhaps an answer she already knew.

And then, her expression softened, the worry in her golden eyes settling into something calmer.

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"You are always like this," she murmured.

I tilted my head slightly. "Like what?"

Her lips curled—a faint, knowing smile.

"Unshakable."

A quiet chuckle escaped me.

"Well," I said lightly, "someone has to be."

Though, in truth, it wasn't quite as simple as that.

Beneath the veneer of absolute certainty, there was always the shadow of uncertainty, the knowledge that even the most meticulous plans could crumble in an instant under the weight of Carcosa's ever-changing chaos.

And Charis knew that.

She always saw through the smallest fractures in my masks, even when I smiled with perfect confidence.

But she didn't press.

She didn't need to.

Instead, another voice chimed in—one far less delicate than Charis' quiet musings.

"Ahhh, Charis, don't stress too much~!"

I turned just in time to see Lupina bounding over—practically bouncing, her vibrant hair swaying with each lively step, tail flicking with amusement. Her sharp, wolfish grin was bright and confident, in stark contrast to Charis' quiet unease.

"Whatever happens in Quruize, we'll handle it like we always do!" Lupina declared, planting her hands firmly on her hips. "And besides, your Father is unstoppable! There's literally nothing out there that can outdo our overly perfect leader!"

Charis exhaled, shaking her head, but her expression eased further, the tension giving way to something less heavy.

"And even if Narcy were to somehow fail," Verina's voice chimed in, this one smooth and deadpan. She was leaning against one of the reinforced columns of the dome, arms crossed, her usual unreadable expression in place. "Then the worst that could happen is that we all die, and the Landship collapses into a tragic ballad of unparalleled destruction," she continued, her tone so neutral that it looped back into playful mockery. "A poetic end, really. The kind of disaster that would be remembered in grim legend."

"I don't think you're helping much with that kind of comment," Lupina said, flabbergasted.

Meanwhile, I could see Charis chuckling from it.

"Ah, looks like it finally completed the process," Verina relied.

The Ordeal Intensity Prediction System completed its analysis.

The holographic projections sharpened, finalizing their denomination of the special Calamity Object.

Forest of Fallacy.

The moment the name was disseminated across the bastion's network, the world outside the Landship changed.

From the abyssal void of Carcosa's night, titanic trees burst into existence—monstrous, towering, ancient, their blackened bark stretching toward the sky like grasping fingers. Within seconds, they multiplied, spreading like a disease, their vast canopies merging into a dense, suffocating woodland.

The entire environment shifted, as if the Landship had suddenly been swallowed by a realm entirely separate from Carcosa.

The Duolos who had been scouting ahead vanished behind the thick veil of trees. The once-clear landscape was gone, not physically, but out of sight—replaced by this maddening, illogical forest.

And with it—came the Ordeal Intensity Prediction System's final result.

A single phrase, cryptic and foreboding, appearing across every UI screen, reaching the eyes of every bastioneer, every Duolos vessel, every Heavenly Maid:

"Where the land slumbers, the truths are lies.

Neither the merrymen nor the mermaids know where to lie.

For everything under the stars reverberates until there is nevermore."

A riddle.

A warning.

And absolutely nothing useful.

I exhaled slowly, my smile curling at the edges as I leaned forward, my fingers pressing lightly against the console before me.

"…Well, that's certainly poetic."

The Ordeal Intensity Prediction System was many things, but it was not prone to vagueness. The fact that it had failed to provide a direct analysis meant that this Calamity Object was beyond conventional understanding.

It was an enigma.

And its gimmick remained unknown.

Without wasting another moment, I extended my perceptive awareness outward, allowing my mind to reach beyond the confines of my physical form—prying directly into the core existence of the Forest of Fallacy, seeking its fundamental truth.

And yet—

What I found wasn't clarity.

It was the same fragmented riddle, bleeding into my consciousness like a whisper from the depths of an unreadable dream.

Where the land slumbers, the truths are lies.

Neither the merrymen nor the mermaids know where to lie.

For everything under the stars reverberates until there is nevermore.

I clicked my tongue, the motion almost amused.

The Forest of Fallacy wasn't concealing its nature.

It was rewriting it.

And we were now trapped inside its illusion.

As I lifted my gaze, the weight of the trees pressed down around us, their endless canopy blotting out the sky. The Landship, despite its unrelenting frame, was now ensnared within an impossibility—a forest that had no beginning, no end, no path forward.

And from the depths of the twisted woodland, a flicker of motion stirred.

Something was watching.