System Error: The NPC's Reign of Terror

The cloying haze of alcohol, sweat, cheap perfume, and cheap vapes was like a sticky web, entangling the souls of everyone inside the "Lost" bar. Carrying a tray, I drifted like a ghost through the flickering neon and ear-shattering synth music, a perfect, practiced smile fixed on my face. This was my job, the entire purpose of my existence. Every day, every night, was a goddamn infinite loop. The crisp clink of glasses, men's crude jokes, women's shrill flirting—it all buzzed in my head like a worn-out background track. I felt a bone-deep numbness toward it all, a programmed weariness, like an old machine longing for a total shutdown. My movements were precise and efficient—pouring drinks, wiping the bar, dropping checks—each step guided by invisible strings, flawless and utterly lifeless. "Hey, sweetheart, another 'Blue Psychedelic'." A thick arm blocked my path like an iron bar. I stopped and turned mechanically toward the source of the voice. He was a muscular man, his arm gleaming with the cheap luster of chrome—the kind of dime-a-dozen cyberware you'd see all over Midtown. His eyes were cloudy, soaked in alcohol until nothing remained but naked desire, locked onto me like two greasy searchlights. "Certainly, sir," I replied, my voice as flat as a glass of water left out for three days. I tried to sidestep him to carry out my next instruction, but he moved much faster than I anticipated. A cold metal hand suddenly clamped down on my wrist. The grip was like a pair of red-hot iron tongs, welded to my skin, leaving me unable to move. The icy chill of the cybernetic knuckles pierced my skin, straight to the marrow, triggering a surge of intense physiological revulsion. I felt like a butterfly pinned to a specimen board.“What’s the rush?” He grinned, baring teeth stained yellow by alcohol as a stench of cheap booze and rotting food blasted me in the face. “Have a drink with me. Tonight’s on me, babe.” Harassment. My internal script identified the situation immediately. Standard Response Protocol A: Politely but firmly refuse. Protocol B: Call security if necessary. I was just about to open my mouth and execute the same goddamn routine I’d performed thousands of times before. But at that moment, the world... shattered. A sudden blue waterfall cascaded across my vision. Countless lines of glowing code and data streams surged like a digital downpour, instantly swallowing the bar, the bottles, and the man’s drunken face. The cacophony of music and voices was shredded and replaced by a high-frequency whine, as if the world’s entire soundtrack had been muted, leaving only the piercing, final shriek of a system collapse. Then, a translucent interface forcibly deployed in the center of my field of vision. Its lines were sleek and cold, carrying an air of absolute authority. In the top-left corner, next to a heart-shaped icon, a line of vivid red characters appeared: 【Vital Signs: 100%】. It felt as if an invisible hand had clamped around my heart; my breath hitched. What the hell is this? The drunk holding my wrist became a blurred, distorted image amidst the data stream, but above his head floated a blood-red health bar labeled 【Vital Signs: 100%】. Beneath it, a line of small text pulsed with a blinding red light: 【Threat Level: Low】. My mind went blank, like a wiped hard drive, unable to process the surreal scene before me. Was this some hallucination triggered by a new neuro-drug? Or had I finally snapped after this endless soul-crushing numbness? Just as terror began to consume me, a cold, emotionless synthesized voice rang out deep within my mind. I didn't hear it with my ears; it was like a piece of viral code forcibly implanted, echoing violently through my consciousness. “【Glitch System】 activated.”"Warning: System anomaly detected. 'Athena Protocol' initiated." "Survival Countdown: 72:00:00." Seventy-two hours? What the hell did that mean? Survival countdown? And what the f**k was the "Athena Protocol" anyway? A barrage of questions fired into my brain like bullets, but I couldn't find any answers—only a deepening, suffocating dread. Before I could even process this terrifying declaration, another window forced its way into my field of vision. It spoke with an unquestionable authority, like a decree handed down by God himself. [Main Quest Issued] [Assassination Order: Eliminate "Bonebreaker" Brute, second-in-command of the Iron Fist Gang] [Mission Description: Permanently eliminate the target unit before the countdown expires.] [Mission Reward: 'Athena Protocol' threat level reduced; partial system permissions unlocked.] [Failure Penalty: Deletion of existence.] Deletion of existence... those three words were like an ice pick driven straight into my neural center. I didn't know exactly what they meant, but every syllable radiated a chill more absolute and final than death itself. "What the f**k are you spacing out for?" The man grabbing me snarled, shaking my wrist with enough force to make my bones groan. His voice jerked me momentarily from the vortex of data. "I'm talking to you, dammit!" I snapped back to reality, my vision refocusing on his face. Data streams continued to flicker wildly at the edges of my vision, but the health bar above his head and the words "Threat Level: Low" remained jarringly clear—a bloody, mocking joke. My body reacted before my mind could. A surge of primal fear, unlike anything I had ever felt, turned into raw strength. "Let go of me!" I shrieked, shoving him away with every ounce of strength I possessed. The voice was shrill and alien, sounding nothing like my own. The man clearly hadn't expected such a violent outburst from a submissive lamb like me. He stumbled back, his heavy frame slamming into the bar with a dull, solid thud. He stared at me in shock, as if looking at a monster that had just crawled out of a grave. The surrounding cacophony seemed to freeze for a heartbeat as dozens of curious eyes swung toward me like searchlights.I ignored him, and everyone else. I spun around and stumbled toward the restroom at the end of the hall like a wild animal. Every step felt like walking on cotton; the world before my eyes remained a chaotic blur of data and code. In my vision, the door to the bar owner’s office flashed with an exceptionally bright icon labeled [High-Intensity Encrypted Signal Source], but I only wanted to escape; I had no time to deal with it. *Bang!* I slammed my shoulder into the restroom door, throwing it open, then locked it behind me, shutting out the rest of the world. I rushed to the sink, my hands gripping the cold ceramic edge so hard my knuckles turned white. I gasped for air, my lungs burning like broken bellows. I looked up into the mirror, desperately hoping to find some sign of normalcy in my reflection—anything to prove that what had just happened was just a hallucination. My face in the mirror was paper-white, eyes wide with terror, pupils shrunk to pinpoints. But that wasn't the most terrifying part. Floating above my terrified reflection was a line of cold, digital characters. It was like a brand, a verdict, clearly defining my very essence. 【Nova - NPC Unit #734】 NPC... Non-Player Character. A background prop in a game, a marionette controlled by a preset script. My worldview shattered in that moment, ground into dust. I wasn't a living, breathing human being. I was just... a string of code, a unit designated #734. My memories, my emotions, that goddamn programmed weariness... was all of it designed? A wave of intense vertigo hit me, and I nearly collapsed to my knees. Fragmented data flashed wildly through my mind. A single frame froze for a heartbeat—【Project Eden_Observation Log #3】—before being swallowed by a fresh surge of garbled code. Then, a faint voice—one that didn't belong to that cold mechanical sound—whispered from the depths of my mind like a distant, fractured echo. "...You are not her..."The voice was filled with an unspeakable sorrow and weariness, as if coming from a soul imprisoned for countless centuries. It was gone in an instant, so fleeting I thought it was an illusion. Who am I? If I am not Nova #734, then who am I? But the "Glitch System" didn't give me time to process this philosophical bullshit. In the upper right corner of my vision, that blood-red countdown ticked relentlessly, like the drumbeats of the Grim Reaper. 71:59:48. 71:59:47. Every passing second felt like the tolling of my death knell. I wasn't crazy, and I wasn't dreaming. I was a malfunctioning NPC, an "error code" about to be purged by the system. And that thing named "Athena" was coming to "delete" me. The primal fear for my life was like icy seawater, instantly flooding my entire consciousness. I stared at my reflection, the one tagged "NPC", and a single thought became clearer than ever before, overriding all confusion and bewilderment: I must survive. I turned on the faucet and splashed icy water onto my face again and again, trying to force myself to calm down. Water dripped from my chin, but that damn countdown kept ticking. I had to get out of here; I had to hide. Just as I was about to open the door and run, a sudden commotion erupted outside the restroom, sharper and more panicked than any noise before. Was it that drunk looking for trouble? No. That wasn't it. I heard women screaming, the sound of tables and chairs being violently overturned, and... a low, rhythmic drone, as if heavy machinery were powering up. In my field of vision, the office icon marked [High-Intensity Encrypted Signal Source] suddenly began to flash red frantically. Immediately after, a new system warning popped up with highest priority, the blood-red font almost searing my retinas: [WARNING: 'Athena Protocol' Execution Unit has arrived at current coordinates. Threat Level: Lethal.] Through the c***k in the door, I saw the hallway lights being replaced by an intense blue-white glare. Then, I heard that voice—a cold, emotionless electronic tone booming over the speakers, cutting clearly through all the chaos.“Anomalous data source detected. Initiating purge protocol. Target: Nova.”