Cutting to Life: an NPC LitRPG (Battle Royale)

"If you need nothing from me but unflinching loyalty, strike me down here, for I am already dead." The Rogue's knees felt like jello beneath her from blood loss, but she put imaginary splints in them and stood strong.

"I will do what we both deem reasonable and in the best interests of our mutual survival - is this acceptable?"

The woman shifted her weight between her legs and fiddled with the end of her cotton candy strands. "With an amendment, sure. We're not going to let anyone slow us down. If they do..." She traced the edge of a gradiented black-to-pink fingernail across her long, graceful neck. In all the scorching smoke from the flames, she managed to exude a scent of sweetness.

"Is this a worry of yours; that I will slow you down?"

She gave a slow, careful nod, some of the joy draining from her face. "It is. There have been some rumours that you've gone soft since gaining a consciousness, that your conscience is weighing you down. Are those rumours true? You could turn out to be a powerful ally, Nikola, but I need you hard." Her tongue flitted out to wet her upper lip, plump and sharp at the same time.

Just who was this person? Nikola knew that she had been leaning into her newfound humanity, but that others had noticed and were even spreading the information around made her inwardly seethe. "Part of why I came here alone was so I would not be influenced by the opinions of my party members, so I could reconnect with the joy of killing. I will not slow you down, nor will I allow others to. On that note, we should proceed."

Several other parties had skirted around them in the passageway as they had been talking, avoiding eye contact with the bloodied, battered Nikola and the pristine, sharp mystery woman holding a fencing foil.

Nikola had several arrows sticking out of her still, so she grasped the ends of them and yanked them out from where they had begun to fuse with her body. Normally, this would be ill-advised, but with the miraculous power of the Health Potion, she would be able to seal her wounds before she died from blood loss.

Her pink-haired maybe-ally kept her gaze trained on her. She watched with giddy, dark excitement in her crimson eyes as Nikola struggled to not whimper and whine as the tiny poles were removed and a hollow, sickly feeling remained in their place-- and a truckload of searing, wet pain.

She could hear her own blood hitting the stone below as she downed a potion. The medicinal red liquid trickled down her throat and instantly brought relief, allowing her to stand taller, breathe deeper.

The woman's slightly unhinged glee became even more slight as Nikola's health bar rose, and the gashes on her body closed. Nikola recognized the sadism in her, the pleasure she got from seeing another in pain - but she had rescued her despite it. Much like Nikola herself would.

In this foil-wielding woman who licked her lips at her pain, she saw a kindred spirit.

"You ready there, pincushion? I thought you said you wouldn't slow me down."
"Toddlers in my village were more patient than you," Nikola replied as she pushed off a heel, initiating a jog.

After the buttload of damage she had sustained, her health bar wasn't full after a single potion, but she was back up at 71 percent.

She had one potion left. The knowledge itched at the edges of her brain.

Her new ally's thick pink tresses bounced behind her as she ran past, and Nikola's feet quickened beneath her to catch up. Her hair wafted more of the sweet smell from earlier off of it, like a freshly bloomed flower. She sped up. Nikola matched her.

She would not, at least, literally slow her down. They started a wordless game of speeding up and matching one another until Nikola burst forward and left her in the dust, flirting with the maximum run speed her DEX would allow her. Her feet didn't even feel like they were hitting the ground anymore as she zipped down the hall.

"Oh, big whoop," the cotton candy-haired woman growled breathlessly, her voice getting further away and turning into a mere echo behind her, "so a DEX-based class can beat a Strength-based class in a race."

The Rogue allowed herself to lag, joining the other woman in step. "So that was a race? I was simply enjoying an evening stroll."

"Oh, shut your fucking mouth. Don't think I won't run you through, pincushion."

Nikola tested a wry grin in her direction. "I would just dance away, now that I am aware of how slow you are."

"The thing about running

, Nikola, is that there is only so much earth to hide on. I will always find you." She twirled her fencing foil stylishly in her hand, turning it over her fingers. She seemed only half-amused, the corners of her mouth twitching away a smile in favour of a scowl.

Paradoxically, Nikola was having a hard time seeing her words as a threat.

The stretch of stone abruptly came to an end, opening up into a castle tower. Its stairs were of the spiral kind, but they were actively crumbling even as they arrived, tiny bits of stone falling into the dark pit below where she couldn't even hear them hit the bottom.

Other players that had passed them were helping one another up with ropes, as adventurers did. They had knots tied around their waist just in case one of their comrades fell. A sprinkling of others were booking it to beat the stairs' decay.

This was a test of speed and endurance. Climbing sets of stairs was not an easy task - so what if she didn't?

The two of them entered the circular tower. The stairs were stuck to the wall, breaking off in dust and chunks when met with any force.

"How's your Grip Strength skill?"

"How do I check my Grip Strength skill?" Nikola asked, dumbfounded.

"... what. Don't tell me you've made it this far and you haven't even checked your skills yet."

"I have not," the former NPC replied, wondering if there were any other areas of the menu she had been neglecting. Even Ven had learned more from the tutorial than she had, because she had never truly visited it. But when was there time, when the rest of the world was crawling with enemies?

"I hate you," she grumbled. "Grip Strength controls how easy it is for you to be disarmed. People train it by doing things like tug of war or just kicking the weapons out of each other's hands. If you've ever held anything you have at least a point in it. Anyway, just making it up there would be too easy. So, whoever kills more people before getting to the top wins." Her crimson eyes scanned the room.

"There are at least 60 people in here. By the way, the name's Nyla, just so you know who to credit when I win."

Nikola's grip on the cleaver she'd scooped back up tightened. Having it removed from her had been like losing a part of her body, like a hand or a foot. If Grip Strength would allow for the situation to never be repeated, she would gladly train it up.

"We will see if you can get to them before I have slain them," the Rogue replied in a chipper tone, to hide the pit forming in her chest. Truly, she had grown soft since awakening - and what better to fill the pit with than blood?