Cutting to Life: an NPC LitRPG (Battle Royale)

A pillar of light clicked on and extended downward from the ceiling, beckoning them. Was that the exit? But just as Nikola took a step forward to investigate, someone stepped toward her instead; the man she knew only as The Host. His pale, masked face was illuminated by the spotlight above as he appeared from seemingly nowhere.

"Hellooooo Season 3's very first dungeon crawlers," he lilted out, clapping excitedly with gloved hands, "you won out over the 334 others who entered. 334 in, only 3 out. How does it feel?"

Luke, Nikola and Phoenix all tightened their grip on their weapons, dripping with sweat and blood, but when the man just stood there awaiting their answer Phoenix straightened. He really wasn't in the mood to work his charisma, but he knew that if The Host was here, millions of ears were going to be waiting for his response - ears that could potentially sponsor him - so he composed himself.

"I feel regretful about the lives lost, but honoured to have been trusted enough to join the winning team. And I am missing Gold, but we will find a strong, noble individual to fill his place in our party-- fill his place, yes, but he will never truly be replaced." He didn't know where the camera was, so he couldn't look into it, but he gave a strong, single nod.

"You hear that, folks? If you have any suggestions for new party members, I'm sure PhoenixRising's inbox is open." The masked man moved on quickly, holding out his microphone in Luke's direction. "And how about you, Lukeknight64? How are you doing, being one of the last three standing?"

"Still alive," Luke answered tensely, but his stomach betrayed him and loosed a loud growl, "and hungry for something that isn't dried or preserved. Also for the suit of armour we came here for."

"Oh, the suit of armour - you're eager to find out if it was worth it, aren't you?" The Host made direct eye contact with Luke. "Don't worry, most of them were degenerates. Terribly awful filth not worth a lick of your guilt: rapists, adulterers, dreamless wanderers, or worse... one of The Lost."

Luke's eyes narrowed.

The Host reached out and a dark, glimmering set of armour with long, dark fur jutting out from the shoulders like peacock feathers manifested in the space in front of his hand. Quills of metal stuck out as well, too long to strike the wearer and certainly long enough to distinguish themselves among the black fur with flecks of red.

"This is the Dark Lion's set; it's an Ultra Rare set of armour that gives the wearer resistance to [Bleed] and [Cripple] effects, and allows them access to the boss lion's [Spray of Thorns] spell. It levels and becomes more effective along with the armour, so when the armour is strengthened in the forge, the spell will improve as well. You need not wear the whole set to receive the bonuses, but," the Host brandished a card, "as the survivors of the first dungeon, you've garnered the attention of quite a few of our watchers, and they have the capacity to be quite generous to those who keep their interest. You've all been blessed with a [Card of Duplication]; our viewers agreed that it would be a terrible tragedy for only one

 of you to walk away with this set."

He tapped the card on the set of armour and it duplicated into three right before their eyes, the card instantly catching fire and burning away to smoke and ash.

Nikola's icy blues brightened. She had been expecting nothing but EXP from this outing, since she had intended to honour her offer to relinquish the armour to Luke, but now... now she could get a reward as well, a return on her investment besides deepened trust from Luke. Trust was such a fickle resource compared to a set of armour she could don whenever she felt like it.

And the spell it carried with it, the lion's breath attack that shot out quills of silver. Would she really be able to do the same thing just by slipping it on? Would she be able to feel the spikes sliding through her throat before she spat them out at her enemies? Would they be as powerful as the boss's? She had so many questions.

Luke and Phoenix shared a look of shock and appreciation, and Phoenix bent forward into a bow. "Thank you to whomever gave up some of their resources to afford me this. I am in your debt."

Luke stared at the onyx armour, an upgrade over his current one in every way, in disbelief. He had ever expected to get anything at all from the outside world. "Yeah, thank you. I'll think of you next time I don't get stabbed because of you, heh."

Nikola flicked her gaze between the three men in the room. There were people watching the game they were playing, able to see their every move. That much she knew, but exactly how many eyes from the outside world were upon her? How many had seen her fail to grab the lion's tail, how many had watched as she cracked someone's skull like an egg? Everything she did, every move she made-- just how much of her life was being surveyed? Could they read her thoughts, too? How much of her life was her own?

She felt a great need to harness some kind of control then, and reached out to grab one of the sets of Dark Lion armour, her fingers gripping the metal. It was lighter than it appeared, but it also didn't crumple when she tested it.

"Do you have the name of the one who gifted us this [Card of Duplication]?" The Butcher held on to her winnings, the item they had set out to obtain, like a lifeline.

"They wish to remain anonymous, but I do have a message for you, Nikola Brightdark-- you are being very much encouraged to flip through all of your menus once you get out of here and feel you are somewhere safe."

"Understood. I have had little time for browsing, but I will ensure that I make it a priority once we return to the inn." Nikola wondered if she would have to specify which inn she meant, or if the many (or few?) watchers would know which one she was talking about. But she was intrigued; was something waiting for her in an unexplored section of her Red Box?

"Before I go, I have one last burning question for you all. The people are wondering, will you continue partying together once you leave this place?"

The golden-haired elf quirked a brow. "I have every intention of returning to my former party, as I communicated from the start. Especially as I now have rather grim news to deliver to my Party Leader, but should you ever wish to join us, I would initiate that discussion with him."

From somewhere in the distance, the robed wolf-person piped up. "I'm uh-- I'm still here."

"Ohhhh no," sighed The Host, deflating dramatically, "now my math was wrong. I'm never going to live this down. Do you have anything you want to say?"

"Not really," he stated with a shrug, "just happy to be alive, like the Warrior said. And eager to get out of here and away from my dead friends' bloodstains."

"I would echo that," Phoenix agreed.

"Okay, I can tell when I'm no longer welcome. Sometimes I just choose to stick around anyway, but this time I'll let you kids out. Remember, check your menus and tie your shoes. Try not to die and maybe we'll meet again." He winked beneath his mask, a gesture which could barely be seen, and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"I'm not getting a suit of armour, am I?"

"If you wish to fight one of us for it, my good man--"

"No, no, I'm good. Didn't think so."