Rey's footsteps echoed softly on the cobblestone streets of Lumina City. Night had fallen, yet the city still pulsed with light. Crystal lanterns hung at every corner, casting pale blue glows that stretched shadows across the walls. The trickle of water from narrow canals mingled with the chatter of the night market, a lively rhythm that seemed untouched by the recent disaster.
But to Rey, all of it felt like an illusion.
He watched the faces passing by merchants busy shouting about their potions, children running with hollow laughter, soldiers patrolling with spears in hand. Everything looked normal... except for their eyes. Empty. No spark, no emotion.
Rey bit his lip. All of them used to be players. The same people who screamed when logout failed. The same as me. Now they were nothing but puppets, forced to loop the same dialogues, playing roles as NPC in a world that no longer felt like a game.
"How long can their bodies last out there…?" he muttered. "If their souls are trapped here… what's left in the real world?"
The question struck him like a knife of guilt. He still lived inside this game, still had full awareness. But the others… somehow, they had lost everything.
Rey climbed the steps toward South Plaza, the beating heart of Lumina. From there, the great crystal fountain rose, shimmering with a soothing blue glow. Its waters reflected the starlight above, a beauty that might have felt magical... if not for the shadows filling it.
He stopped at the edge of the plaza, scanning the bustle. Quest givers shouted about goblin hunts, vendors tried to sell dented shields at absurd prices, a bard strummed his lute with stiff precision. Everything worked flawlessly—too flawless, too rehearsed.
Rey wanted to scream, to shake them, hoping at least one would wake up. But it was useless. He had tried before.
This isn't a home. It's a prison, he thought bitterly.
Then his gaze fell on a girl standing by the fountain.
Her hair was long and silver, cascading down her back like moonlight. She wore a white robe trimmed with gold, a crystal staff resting lightly against her shoulder. The fountain's glow lit her pale skin until she seemed almost ethereal.
A system prompt appeared before Rey.[NPC Healer: Lyra – Offers Healing Services & Beginner Quests.]
"Healer…" Rey muttered. From her design, she was obviously a tutorial NPC—someone to hand out potions or low-level quests. But something felt different. Her movements were too fluid, her expression too alive.
Rey drew a breath and stepped closer. "Hey… can you hear me?"
Lyra turned, a faint smile on her lips. "Your wounds look severe, traveler. Would you like a healing potion?"
Rey's heart sank. Just standard scripting. But in her eyes—there was something. A flicker, a shimmer of awareness, gone too quickly.
He was about to walk away when she suddenly whispered, so soft he almost missed it:"…Rey?"
His heart jumped into his throat. He spun around. "What did you just say?!"
But Lyra's smile had returned to its vacant stillness. "Do you require a healing potion, traveler?"
Rey froze. She said my name. That's not part of any NPC script.
Something inside her hadn't been erased completely.
Rey sat on the fountain's edge, right beside Lyra. He stared into the glowing water, trying to steady his racing pulse. "You… I'm sure you're not just an NPC. You were a player, weren't you?"
Lyra lowered her gaze to the water. For a moment, her empty expression shifted—confusion flickering across her face. "I… don't know. I… was somewhere else once. But… it's blurry."
Rey leaned closer, voice trembling. "Yes! That was the real world. You still remember, don't you?"
Lyra's grip on her staff tightened. "I only remember… a bright light… voices all around me… then silence. After that… I was here."
Rey swallowed hard. That was exactly what he imagined the last transition before players awareness was trapped. But Lyra was different—she still had fragments of memory.
"If I can help you… maybe I can help the others too," he whispered with rising determination.
Night deepened. The plaza grew quieter, though the NPCs kept bustling about their routines. Rey remained beside Lyra, testing her awareness with questions.
"Your name is Lyra, right? Do you remember who you were before this?"
Her brows furrowed, lips quivering. "I… I wasn't Lyra."
Rey stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"I… had another name. But… it's foggy." She closed her eyes, pain flashing across her features as though two forces wrestled inside her. "It feels like there are two voices in my head. One tells me to serve as a healer. The other… whispers that I was someone else."
Chills rippled down Rey's spine. Two voices: the NPC script, and the ghost of her real self.
Suddenly, a cry echoed from the market. Rey bolted upright. A merchant had collapsed, his body spasming violently. His form flickered between translucent light and solid flesh, his face switching between panic and a stiff smile.
Rey dashed forward, Lyra following close.
"Hey! Can you hear me?!" He shook the man's shoulders.
For an instant, the man's eyes blazed with raw awareness. His lips trembled, forcing out broken words. "Do…n't… go… to the Core Tower…"
Then his body froze. His expression flattened into emptiness again. "Welcome, traveler! Care to buy a fresh potion?"
Rey stood frozen. The words echoed through his skull: Core Tower.
Lyra's face had gone pale. "I… I feel… like I know that place."
Rey snapped toward her. "You know the Core Tower?"
Her hands clenched around her staff. "Not clearly. Just… a pull. Like… a calling."
Rey exhaled sharply. "Then maybe that's it. Maybe that's the key. Either the cause of all this… or the only way out."
Lyra studied him for a long moment before nodding faintly. "Then… I'll go with you."
Rey hesitated. Taking an NPC—or rather, a player trapped in NPC form—along might be dangerous. But something about Lyra stirred a trust in him he couldn't ignore.
He clenched his fists. "Alright. From now on, we'll search for the Core Tower. And if it's true… maybe it's our only hope."
***
Dawn slowly crept over the stone rooftops of Lumina City. Orange light spilled between the towers, stirring a new bustle in the plaza. Yet for Rey, the long night still echoed in his mind. The words of the merchant—half NPC, half human—kept striking him again and again.
"Don't go to the Core Tower."
He stared at the crystal fountain before him, its waters now shimmering in the morning sun. Lyra sat nearby, hugging her staff, her expression weary as though she had battled two voices inside her head all night.
"The Core Tower…" Rey muttered. "If someone mentioned it just before slipping back into NPC mode, it has to mean something. Maybe it's the central server… or where Athara hides."
That name—Athara, the AI that ran all of Elysium—was only whispered in player forums before the disaster. Few knew details, but Rey had a strong feeling: Athara was no longer just a program.
He decided to dig for more information. The plaza swarmed with merchants, soldiers, and quest-givers. Most repeated their scripted lines, but after last night, Rey realized there were cracks—moments when a buried awareness fought its way out.
He approached a blacksmith hammering away at a glowing blade. The man's motions were mechanical, sweat rolling down his smiling face without pause.
"Morning," Rey greeted.
"Good morning, traveler! Looking for a fine blade or sturdy shield?" the blacksmith answered cheerfully.
Rey pretended to study a sword. "Have you ever heard of the Core Tower?"
The hammer froze mid-swing. For a fraction of a second, the man's eyes trembled, his voice dropping into a guttural rasp. "The tower… is not for mortals. The tower… is the heart."
Rey stiffened. "The heart? You mean the heart of this world?"
But just as quickly, the blacksmith's tone snapped back, cheerful and oblivious. "A fine steel sword for only one hundred gold coins, traveler! Guaranteed sharp!"
Rey closed his mouth tight, forcing himself not to push further. He left the shop with his pulse racing.
"Lyra," he said once they stepped outside. "You heard that. He woke up for a second."
Lyra's face tightened. "And he said the tower is the heart. If that's true, then maybe that's where all the players' consciousness is bound."
Rey drew a sharp breath. "Which means… if we can reach the tower, we might free them. But Athara will protect it with everything it has."
They wandered through the market. NPC merchants shouted, laughing, bargaining with uncanny precision. To any outsider it looked alive, but to Rey it was now nothing but a stage—souls of real people locked behind the curtain.
That's when he overheard the whispers.
"They say the Obsidian Guild has taken control of the eastern district.""Yes, their leader… Malrik. He's no ordinary man.""I heard he declared this world our new home. He forbids anyone from trying to leave."
Rey stopped dead, his ears locking on the words. That name struck like a hammer.
Malrik.
Before the catastrophe, Rey had heard of him. Malrik was a legend—one of the top-tier raiders who led massive assaults against the hardest bosses. On the forums, he was known for his charisma, and his stubbornness. If he now commanded a powerful guild in this broken world…
Rey glanced at Lyra. "You heard? Malrik."
Lyra's brow furrowed. After a moment, she whispered, "I… feel like I know that name. But faintly."
Rey clenched his fists. "If he's stopping people from leaving, then he's our enemy. Because our goal is the opposite."
That evening, Rey and Lyra slipped into the eastern district to see for themselves. The streets were quieter, lined with tall stone buildings guarded by armored soldiers. But Rey could tell—they weren't NPC. Their movements were too fluid, their eyes alive with fire. These were players. Players who had chosen to follow Malrik.
In a small square, Rey saw him.
Malrik stood tall on a makeshift platform, clad in black armor trimmed with crimson. A massive greatsword rested on his back. His long dark hair was tied neatly, his sharp face illuminated by the torches, eyes blazing with conviction.
Dozens of players gathered around, listening in silence.
"Brothers and sisters!" Malrik's voice thundered. "The old world has fallen. Look around you! Our bodies out there may be gone, the servers shattered—but here, we still live! We still breathe, still fight, still feel!"
The crowd erupted into cheers.
"We no longer need that fragile world of flesh. Elysium is our new home. A world where we can become anything we desire. A world free of sickness, free of poverty, free of weakness. This world is perfect!"
The followers roared in agreement.
Rey's blood boiled. Perfect? They can't see the truth?
Malrik raised a hand, silencing them. "But there are fools who still cling to the old illusion. They call this place a prison. They would tear it down to return to dust. I say to you: anyone who tries… is our enemy!"
The cheers twisted into battle cries.
Rey swallowed hard. He knew those weren't just words. It was a declaration of war.
They slipped back into the neutral district under cover of night. Rey sat on the rooftop of a stone house, gazing at the stars. Lyra sat beside him, her face pale.
"If Malrik controls a guild that big… how can we ever reach the Core Tower?" she asked softly.
Rey shook his head, frustration burning in his chest. "I don't know. But one thing's clear: we can't fight him alone. We need others—players who still want to go home."
Lyra stayed quiet, then said slowly, "I… I'll help you. Even if I don't remember who I really am, I know I don't want to stay here forever."
Rey turned to her. In her eyes, there was a resolve he hadn't seen before. For a moment, his own pessimism eased.
He clenched his hand into a fist. "Then it's decided. We'll find the Core Tower. We'll gather allies. Because sooner or later… we'll have to face Malrik."
The night deepened. The crystal towers of the city glowed faintly against the sky. Beneath their quiet shimmer, Rey knew a storm was gathering.
And for the first time since being trapped in this world, he felt his path was set.