The Nyman who materialized before Ryan's eyes erupted into motion, transforming the empty clearing into the beginnings of a camp. Within minutes, tents sprang up, fires were lit, and the once-barren space became a hive of activity. At the heart of it all, inside a freshly raised pavilion, sat Agu, the Nyman Shaman.
Ryan stepped forward just as a new quest notification flashed before his eyes, announcing the start of a worldwide event.
"Welcome, friend, to the Nyman Revivalists' camp," Agu said, his voice dry and weathered, like old parchment. "We are in desperate need of supplies. Your generous donations will earn our deepest gratitude."
The moment the words left his mouth, the shaman's eyes turned distant. His posture slackened, his attention already gone, as though Ryan had never been there at all. Such was the way of NPCs: interactions abrupt, limited, always transactional. No soul, no spark of life—only scripts stitched together with code.
