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

The aftermath of the feast was nothing short of spectacular.

My culinary efforts had not gone to waste, as the dining hall buzzed with an energy that mirrored the vibrancy of the dishes I had created.

Each of my crafts shimmered with a touch of divine interference, their colors vivid, almost surreal, and enticing fragrances—it was a full-blown sensory attack the moment they were put on the dining table.

I leaned against the far wall, my arms crossed, and allowed myself a rare moment of quiet satisfaction. Watching my confidantes, bastioneers, and even the Heavenly Maids—though they tried to maintain their subdued demeanor—dive into the meal with unrestrained enthusiasm was nothing short of glorious.

But, what about me? What do I feast?

Well, it was simple. I only need to watch my cooking being genuinely appreciated to heavenly peak, and use that pride and ego to feed my narcissism.

I was named Narcissus for a reason~

The main course, a delicately layered terrine of braised abyssal meat—harvested from the massive Leviathan carcass found near the so-called River of Limbo, I had no idea where that place was—was the star of the evening.

Cooked to tender perfection, it was infused with the flavors of rare Carcosan herbs that Viviane had recommended. The layers shimmered faintly with the addition of a catalytic glaze derived from Viviane's water magic, each bite sending an almost euphoric wave through the senses.

For those less inclined toward the alien richness of the abyssal meat, I had prepared roasted roots and vegetables similar to what were being cultivated in our hydroponic farm, enhanced with a subtle neuroactive seasoning derived from my knowledge of neuromorphic technology. These dishes weren't just food; they were engineered for optimal physical and mental restoration, tailored to complement the biological and neural makeup of each person present.

Dessert was a triumph of decadence and creativity—a chilled confection spun from an experimental fruit crop that I haven't named yet, paired with a delicate, shimmering glaze made of crystallized neural alloy flakes. The flakes dissolved on the tongue with a faint crackle, leaving behind a taste both sweet and invigorating.

Kara, ever the stoic, betrayed herself with an unguarded sigh of contentment after her third helping. Amelia, her sharp and analytical nature momentarily subdued, leaned back in her seat, her Cognitive Engine whispering contented affirmations of metabolic optimization. Even the maids—my 'Heavenly Maids' as I proudly referred to them in my mind—couldn't completely hide their awe.

One of them, Maid-11, almost dropped her fork when her mouth quivered from the burst of flavors. Another maid leaned slightly toward her companion, whispering something in hushed tones before glancing my way with wide, reverent eyes. I could practically hear their thoughts: "How could someone this tyrannical cook something so divine?"

Pride swelled in my chest. Not the hubris of domination, but the satisfaction of seeing the impact my efforts had on the people I relied on.

However, amid the revelry, I found myself making mental notes. As much as the feast had been a success, there was room for improvement.

Tailored dishes for each individual—crafted to align with their personal tastes, neural chemistry, and even their preferred combat roles—was an idea that excited me. It would take more time, of course, but cooking had become a deeply meditative process for me in Carcosa. The thought of elevating this practice into something more intimate and specialized filled me with anticipation.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Not to mention, I was also enhancing the capabilities of my people with the magical dishes that I made, which was a big 'yes' for the progress of my dream bastion.

Once the feast had concluded and the participants had returned to their tasks or retired for a brief respite, I gathered a select group in the workshop chambers.

Kuzunoha, Verina, Charis, Viviane, Naosi, Lydia, and Amelia stood around the worktable where schematics and neuroactive projections awaited.

The glow of the Cognitive Engines embedded in the walls illuminated the space, creating a surreal atmosphere of intellectual innovation.

At the center of the table lay the foundational schematics for our next project: bastion-wide upgrades to our defenses and infrastructure.

Viviane began by summoning small orbs of water from the air, their translucent forms glinting faintly as she manipulated them into the Neuro Alloy framework scattered before us.

Yes, we taught her the method to transmute Neuro Alloys out of available metals and water. Because of her fae magic bullshittery, it was ten times more efficient than when it was being done by either Verina and Kuzunoha.

Both of them felt like something was taken away from their soul when that realization happened.

At this point, the Neural Alloys were the backbone of bastion's technology—materials transmuted from base metals into neuromorphically hyper-reactive compounds using water as a catalyst—Viviane's nature as a water nymph who is capable of producing water out of nothing allowed us to accelerate the process of alloy creation, shaping the materials into numerous adaptive frameworks that resonated with the Landship's neuromorphic network.

As I watched the alloy shimmer and take form, we talked about which type of 'alloy' structure that we wanted to utilize as the main material for the new defensive Cognitive Engines.

Then, I outlined the enhancements to my team.

The first subject was Automated Defensive Turrets.

The turrets were to be adaptive, learning systems designed to analyze and respond to threats in real-time. The barrels, made from reinforced Neural Alloy infused with the ability to retract, fold, and morph based on the situation.

These turrets would feature an innovative ammunition system. Instead of relying on finite resources, the material used for projectiles would be a recyclable substance derived from the Neural Alloy framework—the same concept with the projectiles of the Prismforges' form of weapons.

The turrets would gather and retract spent projectiles, transmuting them back into usable ammunition unless the entire stockpile was completely degraded and then depleted.

As for now, I had only three schematics when it comes to the turrets.

The first one being Sentinel Turrets, compact and agile, designed for precision attacks on smaller, faster-moving targets.

We still have enough Theotech to build the propelling system, similar to that of a railgun—a concept of gun that uses an electric circuit to create a magnetic field that accelerates a projectile. But instead of electricity, we would be utilizing a Theotech.

Precisely a certain Theotech that was able to somehow allows the substructure of the universe to break its pattern in a miniature level, allowing a secluded space and time that yielded more energy than it consumed, which then we could delegated to all sort of weird shenanigans in—including propelling a bullet at a high speed.

The second type was Obelisk Cannon, heavier, slow-firing turrets intended for obliterating larger, more durable threats. Their immense power came at the cost of significant energy draw, and the fact that their ammunition was bigger and denser. And thus, the Foundational Template for this turret would be tinkered a little bit for a better calculation and spatial reading, ensuring the best performance and accuracy.

These turrets would be acting on their own after all.

And then lastly, Weaver Nodes. To put it simply, they were multi-barrel turrets that could create a web of projectiles, ideal for crowd control and disrupting formations.

Their projectiles were also homing and would be placed within the insides of the Landship as well, since they were designed to be non-lethal. Regardless, their primary roles were mostly meant for close-range disruptors and support for the bastioneers and the other turrets.

I already planned for a much more complex and absurd turret design, but they used too much of the Theotech material, which was extremely precious.

There was a chance that our loot from the Theotech Vault wouldn't cover the expenses if I started to become wasteful with it now. After all, we also needed the Theotech material to create replacement of Prismforges and many other Cognitive Engines within the Landship if necessary.

The idea behind these turrets were the same with all of the neuromorphic tools we created: They learn and evolve. Connected to the neuromorphic network of the landship that consisted of a lot of observer-based Cognitive Engines, they all would interact with one another, sharing data and information, processing it all together, correcting them per the Foundational Template, and to better themselves.

Of course, turrets weren't the only thing that I planned to integrate into this Landship.

The next thing that I planned to add into my beautiful moving-bastion of mine.

Was drones.

The drones were an ambitious project.

Connected directly to the Landship's neuromorphic network and the Cognitive Engines of individual bastioneers, these drones would act as extensions of the bastion's collective intelligence, capable of supporting all fronts in numerous scenarios.

These being Supportive Drones, Assault Drones, and Defensive Drones.

Supportive Drones, were units that would focus on logistics and battlefield repairs, capable of deploying restorative Theotech nanites—similar to that of Lupina's Theotech when she still had a full body—or stabilizing damaged structures. Their sleek, rounded design allowed for seamless navigation through confined spaces.

Though, for some reason, we ended up adding cat-ear onto them, because I said that the design was meant to be friendly, and everyone suggested that it could be friendlier, and thus, it does not possess a pair of cat ears…

Assault Drones, meanwhile, were agile and aggressive, equipped with integrated Neural Alloy blades and short-range plasma emitters. These drones would strike with calculated precision, using data gathered by the neuromorphic network to anticipate enemy movements.

Bastioneers could also order their personal Cognitive Engines to deploy these drones from the base and bring it with them in an expedition, for example. This way, I didn't only upgrade the Landship's defense, but also the Landship's offense!

Lastly, we have Defensive Drones—heavily armored units that could generate either energy barriers or retractable physical barriers to protect key areas or personnel. Their designs were bulky and massive, around three times the size of a normal human.

They also have their own personal Prismforges that they could use for offensive measure. As such, they were actually quite useful other than defending. In which case, Primus could link herself to these bad boys and use them to her heart of content.

Yes, they were named Defensive Drones to mess with people in case that I got an intelligence leak in the future. And just overall, a fun design in naming your most powerful and offensive weapon to be more tame and non-intimidating than what it looks like.

Just like how Landkreuzer P. 1000 Ratte and Panzer VIII Maus were a thing in Earth's history.

Each drone type would be housed in specialized hangars built directly into the Landship's infrastructure. The hangars were each equipped with automated repair stations and recharging docks, all of them being automated with their own specialized Cognitive Engines that were taught and flash-cultivated to perform their job well, and evolve as time went on.

Drones would deploy through retractable hatches, seamlessly integrating with the Landship's exterior and vast interconnected neuromorphic design.

With the schematics finalized, we began the labor-intensive process of bringing these concepts to life.

Before we knew it, hours passed in a blur of coordinated effort. By the time the sun of Carcosa began its descent, signaling the imminent approach of the Ordeal of the Dusk, the bastion had taken its first steps toward becoming a fortress that could withstand anything this maddening world threw at us.