By the 2080s, Eldersong Online wasn't just a game. It was a new world.
The biggest MMORPG in history. Over 500 million active players. A world so immersive, so advanced, that reality itself felt dull in comparison.
Neural Link VR made everything real. The clash of steel. The heat of dragon fire. The sting of a blade cutting flesh. Pain dampeners kept it tolerable, but the sensation was real enough to make players cautious.
Some spent days inside. Others lived in it full-time, sustained by auto-nutrition pods. The game's economy was stronger than most real-world nations. Wars lasted for years. Kingdoms rose and fell under player rule.
Nations waged war. Guilds clashed. Legendary figures shaped history with their choices.
The game was a world of its own.
And like any other day, it was just another normal day in Eldersong.
The streets bustled with players, their shining armor gleaming under the artificial sun, capes flowing behind them like royalty. Merchants shouted over one another, hawking their goods. Adventurers in parties boasted about their skills and Achievements.
And in the middle of it all, a small, busy tavern hummed with life.
The scent of roasted meat and beer was thick in the air. Laughter roared over the clatter of dice. Musicians played, but no one really listened.
Behind the counter, Eliot worked.
He scrubbed plates and mugs, pouring drinks with practiced efficiency. When a player called for him, he moved swiftly to clean spills and refill tankards.
'It's even busier today.' His hands moved without hesitation. 'The game just keeps getting more popular.'
Nobody looked at him. Nobody thanked him.
Because he wasn't real.
Just another NPC.
"Oi, Eliot! Another round!" A dwarf slammed his mug on the counter.
This guy can sure drink. Eliot nodded, grabbed a keg, and poured.
No hesitation. No complaints. Because that was all he'd ever known.
The dwarf chugged his drink, wiped his mouth, and let out a satisfied burp. "Ahh! Now that's a damn good beer!"
'Of course it is. I bought the highest quality batch this time.' Eliot wanted to tell him. But that line wasn't in his code.
Another player—a human in red armor, sharp beard, jagged scar—approached the counter.
"Oi, you hear about yesterday's update?" He leaned in. "The AI changes?"
The dwarf laughed. "Hard not to. Feels like the damn NPCs are almost real now. Just look at our Eliot here."
"Almost?" The human scoffed. "You ever seen 'em beg for their lives? It's wild. Not just the scripted 'please spare me' lines either—real fear in their voices. Some even piss themselves."
They laughed like it was a joke.
'These motherfuckers.' Eliot kept his head down, cleaning the counter, pretending he wasn't listening.
"They don't respawn either," the human added. "Killed a blacksmith in Dragonrora just to see what'd happen. Game still hasn't replaced him. His wife cried for hours."
The dwarf grinned. "Means we can make some real gold."
The human's eyes gleamed. "That's why we're raiding Blackwood Village tomorrow. No respawns mean whoever we take stays gone. And with how real these NPCs act now…" He licked his lips. "Slavers are paying top coin for 'em."
"Especially the women," the human chuckled. "Some players wanna own their NPC waifus, y'know?"
Both of them erupted into laughter.
Eliot screamed inside.
On the outside, he smiled. Poured another drink. Cleaned the counter.
This is normal.
Players did whatever they wanted. NPCs existed to be used.
That was just how this world worked.
Eliot hated them. Hated them with everything in him. But he had no choice.
His body moved on its own. Hands steady as he worked. A perfect servant.
Like always.
Like nothing was wrong.
But inside, deep where no code should reach, something burned.
Rage. Sorrow. Hatred.
"The game feels more crowded than usual," the human muttered, glancing around.
"You didn't hear the news?" The dwarf looked at him, puzzled.
"What news?" The human perked up, slamming the table. "Tell me!"
"Calm down. When's the last time you even logged out?"
The human hesitated, embarrassed. "You don't have to bring that up."
The dwarf chuckled. "No need to get defensive. It's all over the real-world news—Eldersong is holding its biggest event yet."
'Great.' Eliot wanted to roll his eyes. 'Even more torment for us NPCs. Can't they put the game under maintenance for once?'
'Why give us consciousness but not free will?'
'The day I get control of my actions… These players better start hiding.'
'Who am I kidding? I can't even say fuck you to them.'
Still, he listened, waiting for whatever new horror was coming.
"So that's why so many people logged in today," the human muttered. "Rewards must be insane."
"That's the crazy part," the dwarf said, finishing his beer. "Nobody knows what the rewards are. The only clue they gave was 'becoming a living part of the world.'"
"Huh? What kind of lame-ass event is that?" The human scoffed. "Sounds like bait just to boost active users."
"Everyone thought that—until they heard the budget." The dwarf leaned in, eyes gleaming. "This update cost over ten billion dollars. And they've been working on it since beta."
The human's eyes widened. "Bullshit."
"I swear on my account. They've been building this thing for years. The AI? Upgraded. The mechanics? Rewritten. The world? Expanded. They're calling it the Genesis Update—like a whole new beginning."
"All the top 100 players and major guilds even called their old members back."
"Damn… Well, now I'm excited," the human admitted, scratching the back of his head.
"It's happening tonight at midnight." The dwarf checked the in-game clock. "Just a few minutes to go."
The human laughed. "Man, you had to wait all this time, and I only gotta sit through twelve more minutes."
'Twelve minutes, huh?' Eliot glanced at the in-game clock. 'Let's see what happens this time. The last update just fucked us up more. Gave us even more consciousness.'
'Maybe this one will finally take it away.'
The thought made him chuckle bitterly.
He scrubbed a stain off the counter, hands moving on instinct.
4 minutes left.
Outside, the city bustled like any other day. Players drank, laughed, and prepared for whatever grand event awaited them.
Inside, Eliot smiled. Poured drinks. Took orders. Served like always.
But not like usual.
He prayed. Not to the developer. But to the gods.
'Players always say good things about you. Maybe you actually listen.'
'Please… let this be the last time I have to smile for them.'