Cutting to Life: an NPC LitRPG (Battle Royale)

"Who are you, and where is this place?" Nikola raised the cleaver up so that it was at the ready just in case this male-voiced silhouette decided to try anything.

"I'm The Host, and I handle a great deal of our interactions with the public. As for where this place is, it really is of no consequence. It's just a quick space that was whipped up for this little talk of ours," his eyes flicked to the gleam of her cleaver's edge, "and I would suggest using our words for it, not our weapons."

Nikola was already not fond of how this man spoke. His voice had a lilt to it that made it sound like he was always on the edge of a cruel, giggling laughter.

"Do not give me a reason to use it, and I won't," she replied steadily, swishing her gaze left and then right. She was trying to find anything at all to ground her, give her some perspective, but there was nothing. The only beings present were herself and this Host, each one perched on an infinite blackness.

"Nikola, Nikola, we both know that you're the type to swing first and get answers second."

She hated how immediately filled with rage she was, his biting comment ringing undoubtedly true. She scruffed her anger before it had a chance to do anything, and breathed a silent puff of air through her nose.

"You said you were here to make a deal with me. Tell me the specifics of this deal, and I will try not to swing at you for them - but I make no promises."

The Host stepped forward, and a spotlight clicked on, illuminating his long black cape and business suit. His face was obscured by a mask, one side white and the other black.

"Nikola E. Brightdark, I'd like you to sign our onboarding contract so that you may participate in the World of Wills."

Nikola blinked slowly, her icey blues narrowing. "I am already participating in the World of Wills. Am I not an NPC within this 'game'?"

The male figure sighed from beneath his face covering. "I don't mean the MMORPG the World of Wills, I mean the Liberation Game 'the World of Wills'. One is the base we run our Liberation Game, sometimes called 'Killing Game', on. But I think that's rather harsh, considering what it is we do for people."

The raven-haired girl felt out of her depth. This was even worse than when she was talking to Luke, but if this game included killing, she was confident she could do well. But what for? What was this Host capable of offering her? "I believe the last time I participated in a game was when I was babysitting for Mrs. Tarie, and she was paying me 3 Coppers. What incentive do I have?"

A chuckle popped out of the male's mouth, and it cascaded into a burst of hearty, dark laughter that echoed through the nothingness. "Nikola, this isn't the first time you've participated in the Liberation Game, this is just the first time you've been conscious for it. At the end of every game, we reset the entire game world and begin anew. Normally, you live your inconsequential little life in the background and offer levels and experience to Adventurers who run through your Quest. Sometimes, you reluctantly become their friend, and sometimes you even marry them - if they decide to choose that option during their time in our game. But always, at the end of it all, we strip you of your memories and run you again from scratch the next time."

Nikola's hand touched her lips with a feather-light touch, as if she was worried she would break herself. Halfway through his sentence, the edges of her body began to erode away, colourful dots and dark blocks appearing all around her. They erased her memories? This wasn't the first time she had ever participated? She had been married?

"What we're prepared to offer you this time is the chance to win along with the Laboured we've offered the same onboarding contract to, Nikola E. Brightdark, and all you have to do is sign on the dotted line. You'll be given a body, perhaps even a body of your choice, and your new and very strange consciousness will be transferred from here to the dead body of one of the Laboured. They won't be needing it anymore, after all."

His words were streaming together, each one a trickle of water in a cacophonous, flowing stream. "You wish to offer me a life outside of this game?" She tried her very best not to sound desperate, but the relief that flooded over her tired muscles made her realize just how much she wanted to become 'real', move away from her blasted fictionness. As she was, she was at the mercy of her creators, who would apparently not hesitate to erase her existence and memories.

But she had to negotiate. If he was offering her this ticket to becoming a real girl so freely, so openly, what else was within his power to offer her? "I would not leave here without my Father," she decided firmly.

"I also wish for Luke's friends to be brought back, if I did indeed kill them-- and for the Red-Haired Girl to be Awakened as I have."

The man across from her held out his hand as if he expected something to be there, and just like that, a scroll and a pen popped into existence and seated themselves in his palm. "Yes, I was told to be prepared for you to ask about your Father. Herein lies the rub, Nikola; you broke him."

"... what?"

"You broke him, and frankly, it's been a massive pain in our collective asses. We wrote his death and each time a player went through your quest, you started doing this terrible thing where you would defy your part in the scene and kill the guards who were there to execute him. This isn't the first time you've 'Awakened'; you've woken up each time we try to put your Father in any real danger. I would almost say it was sweet, if it hadn't caused me so many headaches. We were forced to retire his part in your quest and program you to believe he was simply 'in jail'." The man tsk'd softly and unfurled the piece of paper now in his possession.

The Awakened NPC was feeling the buzzing feeling again, a collage of multi-coloured squares rising from her body. She... broke her father?

The Butcher reached out with her [Cleaver] held in front of her, her fingers clenching into a tight fist around her favoured weapon's handle. Teeming with confusion and singing aggression, her limb moved on its own and scraped a Symbol into the air in front of her. It felt like when she had heard the red-haired girl's speech about not having adequate dialogue responses; she was reaching deep inside herself, tugging on a note in the song she never knew she'd had in her.

She put one leather-clad foot in front of the other and drew a line, and then sliced the line in half, performing her [Crunch] Class Skill.

It felt like something outside of herself took control of her, her body lunging forward deftly with a calculated savagery as she brought the cleaver's edge down on the masked male's cushiony shoulder. A cascade of crunching noises followed, and he spat out a surprised yelp as he fell to one knee, momentarily [Crippled].

Nikola stepped behind him and yanked him upward, seating the edge of her blade under his throat. "Are you saying my Father no longer exists?"