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

Chapter 118: The Second Trumpet

It happened suddenly, like a switch flipped in the fabric of the universe. One moment, I was standing on the eerily still surface of that calm, shallow sea, the Drowned Revenant looming before me in its deathly serenity.

Next, the world convulsed.

A violent pulse rippled through the air, distorting everything around me. The horizon bent, folding over itself as if space and time were caught in an unseen hand's cruel grip.

My head pounded, and my vision blurred, doubling and tripling the world around me. The sky above flickered, oscillating between the blackness of void and flashes of blinding, impossible light. The clouds spun like gears in some infernal machine, jerking and twisting in awkward, staccato rhythms. Every sense I had was being pulled apart.

Then the sound hit. A deep, echoing blast like an imaginary trumpet, loud enough to shake the reality.

It resonated from nowhere and everywhere all at once, vibrating through the air, the sea, my skull. My ears rang with its sound, and I staggered, clutching my head. Each blare sent waves of nausea through me, as though my entire being was being rewired by the noise.

The Drowned Revenant, however, was frozen, inanimate. This time however, I could somewhat still move my body and experience all of the grueling process vividly.

Maybe because we were in a different realm with a different law of physics, but things went much more violent than before.

The sea beneath me maddeningly rose, undulating like liquid glass, forming jagged, unnatural shapes that jutted toward the sky. The surface reflected a thousand impossible images—swirling fractals, endless spirals, faces of forgotten gods—all colliding into each other in chaotic disarray.

The horizon twisted into a knot, stretching like elastic before snapping back in sudden bursts of motion.

The sky, once a serene white night, cracked open. Jagged seams of reality tore through the air, splitting it like glass shattering in slow motion.

Through the rifts, I saw glimpses of other places, other worlds—a kaleidoscope of shifting, incomprehensible landscapes. Fields of stars twisted into knots, oceans spiraled upward, mountains inverted themselves, crumbling into skies filled with falling stones.

Everything spun violently, like a whirlpool of stars, galaxies, and something darker. Colors I couldn't name bled into each other, swirling in mesmerizing chaos.

My balance faltered as up became down and down became nowhere. My senses betrayed me; I could no longer tell where the sea ended and the sky began. Shapes formed in the distance—great, eldritch forms writhing beneath the surface of reality, teasing the edges of my perception.

Then, the world blinked. The horizon twisted like a wrung-out rag, and the sky tore open with a thunderous crack. For one unbearable moment, everything was frozen—the sea, the sky, the very air itself—locked in a distorted, grotesque tableau of shifting shapes and colors.

And then I was kidnapped away from this world with a mere presence of a soft voice.

"Is it a little bit too late to be a good girl?"

I've been turned into some sort of spirit, a spectator that was forced to be brought into this world to see a foreign yet related vision in some way.

Although the only thing I experienced right now was exhaustion, I was conscious enough of a mind to comprehend the new space around me.

It was a room that exuded opulence and refined elegance at first glance, a space clearly designed for someone of noble lineage. High, vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes and a gleaming crystal chandelier set the tone for a chamber steeped in luxury.

The walls were covered in rich blush-pink damask silk, trimmed with gold filigree, while dark walnut paneling and embroidered tapestries of hunting scenes hinted at the family's wealth.

Every corner of the space reflected careful curation, from the antique cherry wood vanity covered in silver brushes to the tall wardrobe housing a visible array of exquisite gowns. The oriental rugs looked very fancy, and grand windows bathed the room in soft light, overlooking the vast estate.

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Despite the extravagance, personal touches like an open book, a lace shawl casually draped over a chair, and a harp by the fireplace hinted at the young woman's personality, making the room feel like both a regal display and a private retreat.

There was a grand four-poster bed, draped in ivory gossamer and piled high with velvet cushions, while the ornate fireplace, marble-carved and framed by plush armchairs, added warmth and grandeur to the room.

And on that comfy and regal bed, there happened to be a girl who seemed to be the focus on my current vision.

"It has been 6 months…" she mumbled with a dejected look as her scarlet eyes lazed to the ceiling, laying rest on her body that was draped in a soft pink and comfy-looking pajama.

Her glistening golden locks were sandwiched by her own urge to stay on her. And for one, her hair was long enough to reach her shin, which was surprising for a small and adorable figure that looked like a 7 years old child.

What's more surprising enough, I could clearly perceive the entirety of this golden youngster, or kid.

And if I want to be blunt, I had an idea or two of who this child might be.

Regardless of age, I could recognize that perfect face anywhere I go.

Moments later, the door creaked open, and a maid entered silently, moving with practiced precision.

There was something wrong with the servant. Unlike the young lady here, the maid was pretty much devoid of life.

The clink of a silver tray was the first sound of the morning as it was set upon a nearby table, the scent of warm milk and pastries following. The servant crossed the room and gently pulled back the curtains, allowing the full light of morning to pour in, casting the room in a golden hue.

The young noble lady blinked, adjusting to the brightness before slipping out of bed with a quiet, dignified air. She allowed the servant to assist her into a dressing gown, the cool fabric sliding over her skin. Her steps were measured and calm as she crossed to the vanity, where her morning routine was attended to with delicate care.

The servant brushed her long hair, tying it neatly with a silk ribbon, while the girl sat still, staring at her reflection with an unreadable expression.

If I were to be given this vision-session without any further knowledge coming from the last vision and that one weird dream I got, I would think that this girl was none other than someone kingdom's princess.

Though, despite the lavish treatment, one important aspect was omitted until now.

There wasn't a single conversation or communication attempt from them either, and I could see that the young lady was used to this in an indifferent manner.