Mythos Of Narcissus: Reborn As An NPC In A Horror VRMMO-Chapter 299: Drowning Judgement

The towering form of One Thousand Sins loomed over the distant horizon, its grotesque mass of writhing tentacles and the singular, reality-rending eye casting an oppressive weight upon the battlefield. Despite its stillness, despite its lack of overt hostility, its mere presence demanded reverence.

It was an entity that did not lash out blindly. It did not rampage nor mindlessly consume. It judged.

But what unsettled me the most was its sheer authority—an influence so potent it seeped into the very fabric of the land, making even the air feel heavier.

Yet… it was not a Qliphoth Object.

That much I could confirm.

I had faced a true Qliphoth Object before. I had fought against one. I had bound one. The weight of that experience had imprinted itself into the very core of my being. The Drowned Revenant’s presence had been different—colder, deeper, filled with an entropy that gnawed at existence itself.

This… was something else. A Calamity Object, but one that straddled an unknown threshold.

I weighed my options carefully. Any rash action could be judged before it could even be executed.

Kuzunoha, standing beside me, was undoubtedly capable of converting the entity into arcane essence. Viviane could tear open a rift and expel it from this place. But both methods would require action—and action could be interpreted as sin.

No, there was a better option. One that had been waiting, watching, ever since I returned to Carcosa.

The Drowned Revenant.

A smile curled on my lips as I leaned slightly against the observation dome’s reinforced railing. The glass-like material shimmered with the shifting UI displays, illuminating my reflection in ghostly hues.

With a single thought, I connected to the telepathic link—one that extended far beyond Carcosa itself.

A gateway of communication between two worlds.

A link to the abyssal queen who now sat within the depths of the Moment Unfold.

At the same time, I sent my vision.

The image of One Thousand Sins, of its towering, motionless judgment, flooded into the Revenant’s mind.

A quiet ripple of interest stirred through the connection.

"Now, what could possibly be the occasion for my dearest master to seek my gaze so urgently?"

Her voice was the same as ever—smooth, layered with the weight of something ancient, yet tinged with something far more recent. Curiosity.

She had changed since our pact.

"I have something that needs to be gone," I replied simply, allowing the sight of the looming entity to deepen within the mental link.

The Revenant exhaled softly, a quiet hum vibrating through the telepathic space.

"My, my. That is quite the presence."

A pause.

"And here I thought you were showing me another one of your adorable creations, like that lovely Carlotta you keep mentioning to me."

Ah. Right. She had taken a particular interest in Carlotta.

I smirked. "Would you like to meet her?"

"In due time," she mused, the playful undercurrent in her voice barely masking the genuine intrigue. "But for now, you seek my power, do you not?"

No need for pleasantries.

"You can see its nature," I said, cutting straight to the point. "It is a judge. Any action, any offense, might invoke its judgment before we can even execute it. But you, my dear Revenant—you are not within Carcosa."

A sharp, knowing chuckle.

"Ahhh, I see where this is going."

There was a shift in the connection, a stirring of abyssal energies, the quiet sound of dripping water filling the telepathic link.

"You want me to banish it, don’t you?"

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"Of course I can."

Her voice was thick with amusement.

"It is a simple matter, really. My nature as a Qliphoth Object allows me to touch upon the seams of existence beyond Carcosa. If this ’judge’ truly enforces morality within Carcosa’s bounds, then all I must do is... move it beyond them."

An elegant solution.

No combat. No risk of judgment.

Just banishment.

I exhaled, the motion slow and deliberate, my ever-present smirk curling at the edges of my lips. My fingers drummed once against the railing of the observation dome, the sharp tap cutting through the low hum of the Landship’s systems.

"Do it," I commanded.

And the world answered.

The sky split.

It did not crack. It did not tear in the way fabric might. It ruptured, as if the very concept of space had been peeled apart by unseen hands. The wound in reality gaped open, a massive fissure bleeding an unnatural radiance that defied color, its edges rippling with an eerie, pulsating rhythm.

A sound followed—not a scream, not a roar, but a lament.

A thousand voices, layered and overlapping, rising from the abyss like a dirge sung by the forgotten. Wailing. Begging. Cursing. A chorus of the lost, of those swallowed by the depths, their cries carrying the weight of something ancient, something that had long abandoned the notion of hope.

And then—it emerged.

A hand.

No, not a hand—a grasping, writhing amalgamation of suffering given form.

Colossal. Grotesque. A limb constructed not of flesh, but of skulls fused together, their hollow sockets still screaming in silence. Bones and wailing faces, half-formed and shifting, entangled in a mass of undulating, oil-slicked waste. The thick, viscous substance spilled from the monstrous appendage in slow, tar-like rivulets, drenching the air itself in its suffocating presence.

It reached forward. Not through Carcosa, but beyond it.

One Thousand Sins did not move.

It did not retaliate.

It did not resist.

For what sin had the Drowned Revenant committed?

She had done nothing. No act of aggression, no transgression within the laws of this realm. She had never stepped foot upon Carcosa’s lands.

She had simply… acted from beyond.

And so, One Thousand Sins had no judgment to pass.

The massive, abyssal hand closed around the tower of judgment, its endless tentacles writhing in slow, involuntary spasms. The singular rift-eye pulsed, its cosmic aperture flickering as though attempting to grasp some unseen truth—

But before it could fully process what had occurred—

It was pulled.

Not with force. Not with struggle.

Just dragged.

Like something that had never belonged.

Like something that had always been destined to leave.

The rift swallowed it whole.

And then, with the same slow inevitability with which it had opened—

The sky closed.

The weight that had once pressed upon the world vanished.

One Thousand Sins was gone.

Silence reigned.

The Landship stood still, its systems idling, as if even the machines themselves hesitated to acknowledge what had just transpired. The only movement was the slow dispersal of residual energy, the last remnants of the Revenant’s influence dissipating into nothing.

Then—a chuckle.

Low, satisfied, dripping with amusement.

"A flawless execution," the Revenant mused through our telepathic link, her voice dripping with satisfaction. I could practically hear the smirk stretching across her lips, as if she were reveling in her own effortless display of power. "Seems like my first ever mission is a successful one, Master. Should I expect a reward?"

I exhaled slowly, allowing the lingering tension to drain from my posture. The weight of One Thousand Sins’ presence was gone—eradicated without conflict, without consequence. Even now, the air felt lighter, as if the land itself had been released from an unseen grip.

"I owe you one," I admitted, rolling my shoulders slightly as I leaned against the railing of the observation dome.

A chuckle echoed through the telepathic channel, low and indulgent. "Oh? You are offering me a favor?"

There was an unmistakable amusement in her tone, something playful yet undeniably predatory. The Drowned Revenant had changed much since our first meeting, but there was still that undercurrent of abyssal sharpness in her words—the same edge that made it clear that, despite the pact, despite the civility, she was still something beyond human comprehension.

I knew exactly what she was going to say before she even said it.

"Make me something to eat."

Ah. Of course.

I smirked, tilting my head slightly. "Let me guess. Kuzunoha teased you about my cooking again."

A sharp click of her tongue followed, a rare display of irritation. "She did. And I will not allow that insufferable woman to flaunt her knowledge of your culinary prowess while I remain ignorant."

I could picture it perfectly—Kuzunoha lounging in her usual over-the-top manner, swirling a cup of tea as she purposefully described my cooking in unnecessary, mouthwatering detail. The Revenant, despite her detached nature, was still a creature of impulse and indulgence. The idea of being left out, of missing something others had experienced, clearly needled at her.

I chuckled. "So, what, you want an entire meal tailored just for you?"

"More than that," she corrected smoothly. "I expect nothing less than a full banquet. A feast worthy of the abyss itself."

Oh, she was serious.

I sighed in mock defeat, shaking my head. "Fine. I’ll prepare a full spread for you. Just don’t go complaining if I accidentally put in too much effort and you find yourself becoming addicted."

Not to mention, cooking is always fun.

Her satisfaction practically radiated through the link, a pulse of quiet delight wrapped in her usual eerie grace. "I will hold you to that, master."

There was something oddly genuine in her tone—a rare moment of sincerity hidden beneath her usual theatrics.

The telepathic connection faded, the abyssal presence of the Revenant retreating back into the depths of the Moment Unfold.

I allowed myself a final glance at the sky—once tainted by judgment, now clear.

And then it was filled with the voices of my confidantes.

No ominous presence loomed over the Landship. No unseen force dictated our movements. The path forward was unburdened by scrutiny, unshackled from consequence.

And as the engines hummed with renewed momentum, propelling us ever closer to our destination, the thought settled in my mind—

The Ordeal of the Midnight loomed ever closer.

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