webnovel
#R18
#COMEDY
#HAREM
#SURVIVAL
#ANTIHERO
#KINGDOMBUILDING
#VIDEOGAME
#YURI
#NPC
#YANDERE

Mythos Of Narcissus: Reborn As An NPC In A Horror VRMMO

Lothair is a serial killer who detest imperfection on human’s facial features, which resulted in him having a compulsory behavior of wanting to strip people’s faces. After he dies, he finds himself as Narcissus, a beautiful and adorable female NPC inside a state-of-the-art VRMMO world of the latest craze called Fallen Carcosa Online. But despite being a fantasy-filled game, the world feels strangely realistic. Too realistic, even. Game-like systems and magic exist but so do plagues, politics, economy, and the horror hidden in plain sight. When pried open, an actual human-like anatomy can be seen beyond the skin of the NPC’s face—with little to no censor. Everything feels too immersive. Except Narcissus, Lothair’s new identity. When Narcissus tried to scrape off the face of her new adorable body, she found an abyssal void with little to no end. This story marks the birth for the King in Yellow. - Warning, this story contain: Male-to-Female Genderbend, GL/Yuri, Occasional Futa MC, Yanderes, Harem, Self-Cest. - Follow the creative and attentive Narcissus, a nuanced former serial-killer who will gradually becomes stronger, experienced, maddening, horrifying, but also mature, wise, conflicted, and complex—in this near-endless journey. Where souls unsung and tears unshed. In the land of Lost Carcosa.

Shin_Ou · Horror
Not enough ratings
298 Chs
#R18
#COMEDY
#HAREM
#SURVIVAL
#ANTIHERO
#KINGDOMBUILDING
#VIDEOGAME
#YURI
#NPC
#YANDERE
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One Of Daffodil's Daily Lives

I sank onto the bed, and for once, I allowed myself to feel the weight of exhaustion settle over me fully. 

The clothing that I Kuzunoha gave me was quite comfortable, and I didn't need to take them off like when I was still in my Soulthread garb.

It didn't take long for drowsiness to settle in, pressing down like a warm, heavy blanket, and before I knew it, I was drifting off, slipping into the strange world of sleep.

"Another of that lucid-like dream, huh…"

I found myself in a dim, cold room with cracked concrete floors and rusted steel beams. The air smelled of machinery oil and dust, and the room was lit by the dull hum of fluorescent lights flickering overhead. I was in a factory—vast, impersonal, and filled with the clanking and whirring of archaic machines.

And for some reason, memories surged into me like they were my own.