Chapter 4: Glitch in the Guild Hall
Livia woke with a gasp, her heart hammering against her digital ribs, a frantic, irregular beat. This time, the dream wasn't a fleeting whisper; it was a brutal assault on her senses, vivid and horrifyingly real. She heard the frantic, muffled shouts of doctors, their voices tight with panic, distant yet chillingly clear: "We're losing her! Her heart rate is dropping!" A chilling, pervasive cold didn't just seep; it clawed at her. Her virtual skin felt not just cold, but numb, like a layer of static-infused ice spreading beneath her digital flesh. The very air around her seemed to thicken into an invisible, heavy syrup, making each breath a laborious effort. Her vision blurred, pixels shimmering wildly as if the game itself was struggling to render the intrusion. The scent of antiseptic was overwhelming, acrid and metallic, burning her nostrils even here in the virtual world. She opened her eyes, gasping for breath, the image of a sterile hospital room, a network of tubes, and blurred, tear-streaked faces seared into her mind. The real world wasn't just bleeding into her virtual one; it was gushing, demanding attention, threatening to drown her.
The guild hall, usually a bustling hub of player activity, was now eerily quiet, the silence punctuated only by the disjointed, repetitive actions of glitching NPCs. A guard NPC, instead of patrolling, was walking directly into a wall, repeatedly, its character model shimmering at the edges like a corrupted file. Thump. Thump. Thump. Its movements were jerky, its programmed path completely broken, a broken record of code. A delivery NPC stood frozen mid-step, its eyes wide and vacant, occasionally uttering fragmented lines of code, like whispers from a dying program. It was as if the very fabric of their programming was unraveling, pulled apart by an unseen, invasive force. The 'code-breaker' whisper from the previous night resonated in Livia's mind, no longer a vague threat but a chilling possibility. Was this my doing? Is my presence here causing this collapse?
Dimas, IronVanguard, sat slumped on a data-crate, his shield resting heavily beside him. His usual determined aura was gone, replaced by a quiet slump, his digital shoulders hunched as if bearing an invisible weight. Livia, drawn by her Mental Supporter instincts, a deep-seated empathy that transcended game mechanics, approached him. "Dimas, you seem troubled."
He sighed, a heavy, digital sound, polishing a spot on his shield with a slow, aimless motion. "It's… it's about my job back home, Livia. As an ojek driver, you know? Sometimes I pick up passengers, and they just… treat me like I'm invisible. Like I'm just a tool. Here, I'm a tank, I protect everyone. But then I remember, and it's hard to shake off. I get distracted, I hesitate to use my defense skills, like my Iron Bastion. I'm afraid I'll be undervalued again, even here." His voice was low, filled with quiet resignation, a vulnerability that was rare in the rough-and-tumble world of Ethereal Nexus.
Livia's heart ached for him. This wasn't just a game. This was the raw, unedited trauma of a real person, manifesting in his gameplay. She focused, channeling Empathy Spark. A gentle, invigorating wave of warmth flowed from her, surrounding Dimas. She poured confidence, a sense of worth, a fundamental belief in his own value, into him. "Dimas, listen to me. Your worth isn't determined by how others treat you. Here, in this guild, you are irreplaceable. Your defense isn't just a skill; it's our backbone. You are our shield, our unyielding wall. We trust you. You are seen, you are valued." As she spoke, she tried to project not just words, but the feeling of unwavering support, the kind that anchors a crumbling mind.
As the energy of her skill settled within him, IronVanguard visibly straightened, a light entering his eyes, like a flickering circuit gaining full power. He slowly stood, lifting his shield with renewed vigor, the metallic sheen reflecting the guild hall's dim light. His posture became firmer, more resolute, a silent declaration of purpose. "Thank you, Livia. I... I feel it. Like a heavy weight has been lifted." He activated Iron Bastion, and the shield glowed with a newfound, almost defiant strength, solidifying under his hand. "I won't hesitate again."
Livia beamed, a genuine smile. "See? I told you, I'm a Mental Supporter, not some free buff provider! What do you think I am, a soul charger?" She playfully rolled her eyes, but the satisfaction of seeing Dimas transform was immense. It was more than just a stat boost; it was a soul finding its anchor.
Alex, StarSlinger, who had been observing from a distance, laughed, a slightly manic edge to his voice. "NPCs are bugging out like a beta patch that forgot to test! Makes the game feel more immersive, though! Like, are the devs just messing with us? Is this some kind of new meta-narrative event where the NPCs gain sentience for drama?" He was trying to rationalize the inexplicable, a common gamer coping mechanism.
Mei, SakuraSorceress, braided a new section of her pink hair, looking thoughtful, her usual cheeriness muted. "Livia, you're like a heroine in an anime who forgot her plot, too pure for this messed-up world sometimes." She paused, then added, her voice dropping, "These NPC glitches... they feel different than regular bugs. Like they're waking up. And it feels... connected to you."
Rian, PsychoBlaze, nudged Mei, then turned to Livia, his expression surprisingly serious. "You know, this reminds me of a rumor going around my university. About a psychology student, Livia, in a coma after an accident. They said she looked... just like you, Buffer. Long hair, a small mole on her neck, right here." He gestured vaguely to his own neck, eyes wide, as if just connecting the dots.
Livia's breath caught in her throat. Her heart hammered, not from the glitch but from sheer shock, a visceral terror that bypassed her digital avatar. A mole? How could he know? The warmth she'd felt from helping Dimas vanished, replaced by a cold dread that seeped into her bones. The connection to her real body, to her real life, felt terrifyingly close, a thread stretched taut, threatening to snap.
StormReaver, Ethan, had been watching Livia closely during her session with Dimas, a quiet intensity in his gaze. He walked over, his expression serious, his usual boisterous Guild Master persona replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. "Livia," he began, his voice surprisingly gentle, barely above a whisper. "There's something... I haven't really talked about. Not with anyone." He looked away for a moment, his gaze distant, clouded by old pain, a raw edge of grief bleeding into his voice. "My younger sister... she died in a car accident. Just a few years ago. Since then, I've often felt... empty. Like a piece of me is missing, like a corrupted data file I can't repair." His voice was heavy, strained with unspoken sorrow. "You... you make us feel whole again, Livia. All of us." He reached out, his large, digitally rendered hand gently resting on her shoulder, then moving to cup her cheek for a brief, tender moment. His thumb brushed softly against her skin, a feather-light touch that sent shivers through her. Their eyes met, and in that shared glance, a profound connection formed, a silent understanding passing between them, a bridge built between two fragmented souls. Livia felt a strange warmth spread through her, a comfort that transcended the digital realm, a balm to the cold ache of her comatose reality. This was no longer just in-game camaraderie; this was empathy, a real, tangible bond forming.
Her own hand instinctively reached up, hovering near his, and she felt a fleeting pulse of his grief, a wave of his quiet sorrow that threatened to overwhelm her. It was overwhelming, a raw emotional data-stream, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she offered a small, sad smile, a silent promise to help him, too, to mend the broken piece of his heart. The romantic tension, a gentle current between them, solidified into something deeper, more meaningful.
Suddenly, the warm, intimate moment was shattered. A low, distorted static filled the air, louder, more pervasive than before. Not from a speaker, but from the very essence of the digital space, a grating, unpleasant sound that vibrated through Livia's core. A group of Cleaners materialized, not bursting from obvious portals as before, but glitching into existence directly within the guild hall's walls, their forms resolving from swirling pixels as if summoned by a malevolent will. They moved with an unsettling new agility and coordination, their red eyes glowing brighter than before, fixed directly on Livia. They bypassed the other guild members, moving with predatory efficiency, like hounds on a direct hunt. Their voices, usually mere static, now formed a chilling, synthesized chorus, layered and menacing: "ANOMALY DETECTED. CRITICAL INSTABILITY. DO NOT INTERFERE. THIS ENTITY POSES A THREAT TO SYSTEM INTEGRITY." They were not just here for random destruction; they were an automated defense mechanism, a digital immune system purging a perceived virus, and Livia was that virus. They targeted the newly awakened NPC merchant from before, its newly conscious eyes wide with terror.
Without hesitation, Livia screamed, "Stay away from them!" Her voice, though digital, was filled with a fierce, protective fury. She instinctively activated Empathy Burst. A powerful wave of calming energy exploded from her, radiating outwards like a shockwave. The Cleaners faltered, their movements momentarily disrupted, a flicker of hesitation in their relentless advance, as if her emotional data was causing their logic circuits to misfire. The NPC Merchant and the other glitching NPCs in the hall, caught in the wave, stopped their erratic movements, a brief moment of profound calm washing over their terrified, newly conscious faces. It was a digital tranquilizer dart.
But the system, now seemingly overriding Livia's own abilities, roared back, a far more powerful and menacing voice than the Cleaners' chorus: "CRITICAL ANOMALY DETECTED. CONSCIOUSNESS LEVEL UNSTABLE. PROTOCOL: CONTAINMENT BREACH. PRIMARY TARGET: LIVIA." The warning wasn't just about the Cleaners and their immediate threat; it was about her. Livia felt a sharp pain, a searing heat that spread through her virtual body, mirroring the physical pain from her dream, a phantom burn on her real skin. She stumbled backward, clutching her head, the world around her dissolving into a swirling vortex of corrupted pixels and distorted sound, the system's voice now a deafening roar of condemnation.