Two NPCs stood out.
Noah, the blacksmith—a gruff man with burns across his arms, who eyed my Shard Blade with something between fear and fascination.
"That weapon of yours… it's not forged by any hammer I know. But I can strengthen it—if you bring me fragments."
Then there was Liora, the healer. Her hands glowed faintly as she pressed them to the girl's wounds. "Your bodies aren't like ours. Bearers bleed differently… but I can stabilize you, if you let me."
For the first time, I realized this wasn't a solo grind. NPCs had skills we needed. Their survival depended on us—and ours, on them.
The girl glanced at me as Liora worked. "We need them. Even if your AI doesn't trust them."
I didn't answer, but she was right.