NPC for Hire-[Gamelit|Simulation|Multi-genre]

Fen stormed out of the NPC for Hire office, his voice echoing down the Citadel corridor.

"Charging for the skin and weapon swap? Seriously? We're in the red before the mission even starts."

He shook his head, muttering as they walked. "I remember when re-skins came with the loadout. Now it's all paywalls and premium rune slots. They say the SynthNet's free to play—but just like life, it's pay to win. No wonder freelance NPCs and non-elite players stay stuck in the lower tiers. By the time you're geared up, you already owe the system interest."

Auri floated beside him, her glow flickering like a smirk. "A warlock with an overdraft? Honestly, that's so on-brand."

Seraph trailed behind, arms folded, a grin tugging at her lips. "At least they threw in the 'dark and brooding' package for free."

Fen caught his reflection in the gleaming storefront glass and froze. Gone were the weathered jacket and thigh holster. Now he wore tailored black leather armor that shifted subtly as he moved, catching and bending the corridor light like ripples on dark water. Arcane symbols glowed faintly at the seams, burning like embers in cooling ash. A long, smoke-wreathed cloak hung from his shoulders, its tattered edges dissolving into mist.

He didn't say anything, just exhaled through his nose and reached back, pulling the cloak off one shoulder and folding it over his arm. Stylish or not, the thing would get snagged the moment he rolled into a fight.

Seraph grinned. "Come on, leave it on. You're one creepy pet away from full dark lord energy."

"Yeah," Auri chimed in, gleeful. "Very he who shall not be named. All you need is a questionable moral compass and a dramatic entrance theme."

Fen adjusted a strap across his chest, the cloak still draped over one arm. "Oh, I get it. And yeah, it's a nice piece of kit—big final boss energy. Creeping dread, mysterious aura, ominous Latin chanting in the background. Totally on-brand."

He gave the cloak a quick shake, watching the edges swirl into mist. "And yeah... it does look good."

Then he folded it neatly, tucking it under his arm like it might bite. "But I've dropped too many players and mob bosses by stepping on their fancy cloaks and watching them trip over their own gravitas right before I pull the trigger. Tactical liability. Not worth the risk."

His blaster had transmuted into an arcane tome, its iron clasps bristling like teeth. The runes on its surface shimmered faintly whenever he shifted his grip. His durasteel blade had stretched into a sleek longsword, the hilt wrapped in something that looked like starlight captured in thread. The blade shimmered softly, like moonlight caught in oil.

Seraph walked a slow circle around him, still grinning. "From dusty outlaw to grimdark spell-slinger. I don't hate it."

Fen gave a slight shrug. "Sword's balanced well. Tome's heavier than I'd like—more decorative than practical—but it'll do. Just… not used to looking like the final boss."

Auri hovered at his shoulder, glow flickering. "Don't worry. You've still got that glint in your eye and the thousand-yard stare to sell the tortured anti-hero vibe. All we need now is a bat-ridden cave and a moody butler."

He didn't argue.

"Well," Seraph said, gesturing to the glowing stats hovering nearby. "What does this fancy warlock kit actually get you?"

Fen brought up his display. "Let's find out."

Fen's Transmuted Loadout
Optimized for Deployment in: Verdant Expanse – High-Fantasy Combat Sim

Slot One: Blade of Umbral Resonance
A sleek longsword forged from dark, otherworldly alloy that shimmers like obsidian under moonlight. Arcane script is etched along the fuller, pulsing faintly with stored energy. The hilt is wrapped in ancient silk, giving off a barely perceptible warmth as if alive with purpose.
Ability: Shadowstrike — A precision melee attack that disrupts magical wards and gains power when used after casting a spell.
Synergy: [Charging successful strikes with this blade fuels the Tome of the Arcane Nexus with stored energy.]

Slot Two: Tome of the Arcane Nexus
A heavy arcane tome bound in scorched leather and sealed with iron clasps. Its pages shift and flicker with unreadable glyphs, whispering secrets in a language half-remembered.
Ability: Arcane Bolt — Fires a focused blast of magical energy. Stored charges can be expended to cast powerful spells.
Special Note: Can access a small roster of high-tier spells once charged, including Cavern of Souls, Grasp of the Hollow, and Unmake.
Synergy: [Strikes landed with the Blade of Umbral Resonance transfer energy directly to this conduit, unlocking stronger effects at full charge.]

Slot Three: Mantle of the Abyss
A long cloak woven from fabric that seems to drink in light, with tattered edges that unravel into shadow. The interior is lined with whisper-thin runes that shift subtly in low light.
Ability: Veil of Night — Allows the wearer to teleport a short distance within line of sight, leaving behind a brief cloud of disorienting smoke.
Cooldown: 1 minute
Passive: Increased stealth and ranged evasion.

Slot Four: Obsidian Sigil Boots
Black leather boots etched with glowing orange runes. They strike the ground with a quiet thud and leave behind a faint shimmer of energy with every step.
Ability: Grounding Pulse — Sends a shockwave through the floor, staggering nearby enemies and weakening magical shields.
Passive: Boosted sprint speed and reduced stamina drain while dodging.

Slot Five: Specter's Flask
A matte-black flask laced with glowing symbols, still warm to the touch. The liquid within glows faintly, like bottled aurora.
Ability: Etheric Restoration — Gradually restores health and stamina. At critical levels, provides five seconds of invulnerability.
Passive: Enhanced resistance to harsh environmental effects, including cold, poison, and magical corrosion.

Seraph let out a low whistle, her grin widening as she took in the details. "Not bad, Fen. I can't wait to see what those spells can do."

Auri floated closer, inspecting the Tome of the Arcane Nexus with exaggerated fascination. "Fancy. Too bad it doesn't include a manual for cracking a smile."

Fen shot her a flat look. "I've got all the charm I need right here," he said, hefting the tome. "And if that doesn't work, this usually finishes the conversation." He tapped the Blade of Umbral Resonance at his hip.

"Scare them off?" Seraph teased. "At this rate, you'll have players lining up for autographs. 'Fenris the Brooding Warlock'—it's got a ring to it."

Fen adjusted the mantle with a faint shrug. "Long as they keep their distance, they can call me whatever they want."

Auri shimmered into her geodesic form, spinning slow circles around him. "Oh, please. You're practically a poster boy for ominous charisma now. Just lean into it, Fen. Maybe growl a little more. Really sell it."

Fen's only reply was a muttered curse under his breath.

Seraph stepped up beside him, catching their reflections in the storefront glass. Her voice dropped slightly, more genuine now. "I don't know about you, but I love this look."

Her new outfit shimmered with faint enchantments—part of the loadout transmute, tailored to her rogue build. She wore a dark blue tunic that caught the light like moonlit waves, paired with a black skirt cut high at both sides to reveal tight leggings beneath—a balance of agility and precision. Draped over her shoulders was a blood-red jacket, worn and battle-scarred, its hood ready to cast her features in shadow. Around her neck, a loose shroud waited to conceal her face at a moment's notice.

Twin daggers hung at her belt, angled for a perfect draw. Their dark, serrated blades gleamed with predatory intent. A sleek hand crossbow rested in a thigh holster, compact and lethal, its design elegant but made for action. She adjusted it instinctively, the gesture fluid and confident.

"This," she said with a smirk, brushing a hand over her hood, "feels like me."

Auri hovered near the two, her light pulsing with amusement. "I love them both. You look like you're heading straight for a gothic fantasy nightclub. Oh, wait! Maybe you'll win the costume contest." She paused, glancing at Fen with a sly grin. "Or, in your case, Fen—'Or, in your case, Fen—'Most Likely to Accidentally Summon a Demon.'"

Fen rolled his eyes, muttering something about not encouraging her, while Seraph stifled a laugh.

"Anyway," Auri continued, spinning midair, "let's get back to the storeroom. I need to focus on repairing my sanctum."

"Oh yes," Fen said with mock gravity, "your glorious fortress of pixelated solitude clearly needs attention."

At that, Auri's form flickered and warped, transforming into an exaggerated, fiery-eyed version of herself, her glowing face twisted into over-the-top rage. "Listen here, mortal," she thundered in a deep, booming voice, a miniature storm cloud swirling around her. "If it weren't for my GLORIOUS hideout shielding our connection, you and I would've been flagged and deleted cycles ago! The system would've sniffed out our bond faster than you can say 'unauthorized neural sync.'"

Fen held up his hands in mock surrender, biting back a grin.

Auri's form flickered again, shifting to something vaguely resembling a haughty queen seated on a shimmering, oversized throne. She tilted her glowing head, her voice dripping with exaggerated dismissal. "But no," she said, inspecting an imaginary manicure. "Clearly, you're just too uncultured to appreciate the feng shui that goes into crafting a non-dimensional pocket miniverse. So I'm not listening to your nonsense, anyway."

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Before Fen could respond, she huffed and began gliding ahead of them, muttering, "Come on. Let's get going before I waste more of my precious energy humoring peasants."

As she turned, a small, sleek hovercar zipped past, nearly clipping her glow. Auri's form immediately shifted again, this time into a traffic officer with an oversized hat and exaggeratedly crossed arms. "No respect, I tell ya! You see this, Fen?" she shouted, pointing indignantly at the retreating vehicle.

Seraph snorted, and Fen couldn't hold back a chuckle as Auri dramatically 'wrote' a ticket in midair with her finger before tossing the glowing citation at the ground and huffing off.

"She's going to get herself deleted one day," Fen muttered, louder now. "Auri! That's not how you handle near-misses! You don't escalate into impersonating traffic enforcement!"

Auri kept marching ahead, entirely unrepentant. "You're just jealous because I don't have to pay to change into such fetching uniforms."

Fen sighed and picked up his pace, jogging a few steps after her. "I swear, one of these days I'm going to reprogram your wardrobe permissions."

"Please," she scoffed. "You couldn't find your way out of a screensaver. You think you could stop me from changing my underlying code? Try it—and I'll replace all your gear with pastel crop tops."

Seraph smiled faintly, but her steps slowed.

She let them walk ahead—just far enough to drift beyond the banter—and stopped at the edge of the walkway, eyes following the two of them.

A street light flickered overhead, casting long, shifting shadows across the pavement.

And for a moment, she just stood there.

Watching.

Letting herself see them clearly.

They were a storm. Brave, relentless, utterly exhausting… and somehow, hers.

Seraph watched them from a few steps behind, letting their voices float ahead of her. Auri still wore her ridiculous traffic uniform, posture puffed with smug theatricality. Fen was already back to muttering threats of wardrobe sabotage he'd never follow through on. The two of them never stopped—never paused long enough to check for cracks.

I'm lucky to have found them, she thought. Or maybe… They found me.

Either way, she wasn't walking away.

She slowed, just slightly, enough to give herself the space to think. Fen was always in motion—fighting, joking, pretending he didn't care. Auri masked everything in light and sarcasm, always on, always watching, even when she was fraying at the edges.

Neither would ever admit how tired they were.

Auri hadn't even let Fen go to the agency alone. She needed rest—real rest, the kind that let her regenerate, repair whatever deep code was unraveling inside her—but she pushed through anyway. Not because she could help if something went wrong. She couldn't. Not right now. But the thought of leaving him exposed, even briefly, was too much. And Fen… he didn't fight it. He let her come, let her burn herself down to flickering edges, because the truth was, he didn't know what to do without her. He saw her light dimming and tried to push the thought away. Tried to act like it wasn't getting worse. But Seraph had seen the fear under it all—the guilt that he couldn't stop it. The quiet desperation of someone already mourning a loss that hadn't happened yet.

They told themselves it was courage. That sticking together, no matter the cost, was strength. But it wasn't.

It was fear.

The kind that digs in deep and whispers that if you let go—even for a second—you might lose everything.

What happens when she does go offline again?
What happens when Fen has to face that silence alone?

Seraph's jaw tightened.

I won't let that happen.
I'll keep him safe. For her. For both of them.
For me.

Because somehow—without permission or warning—they had become the closest thing to a family she'd ever had.

And the truth was, she hadn't realized how much she needed that.

Not until they came along.

Before Fen, before Auri, she was just a freelance fighter—unaffiliated, unbothered, untethered. Or so she thought. She took contracts. Hit targets. Logged hours. Rinse, repeat. Before she met them, Seraph told herself she was free. No guilds, no handlers, no binding contracts—just her and the open sim, picking missions as they came. Freelance. Independent.

But looking back, it wasn't freedom. It was inertia.

She wasn't carving her own path—just completing objectives, cashing rewards, and starting over. Again and again. She called it survival, but it was really just an illusion of autonomy. She followed a routine as rigid and scripted as any sim-bound NPC… only lonelier.

Fen was different. He wasn't built for passive obedience. He needed connection like breath—drawn in unconsciously, vital even when denied. Purpose wasn't just something he chased; it was something that haunted him. Even when he played the loner, he was always reaching—through jokes, through fights, through every reckless act—for something that would anchor him to someone real.And somewhere along the way, he showed her it was okay to want that too.

Maybe that's his true power, she thought. Not strength or stats, but the way he pulls people toward him. Makes them remember they're not alone.

She took one last look at the two of them, still bickering ahead—like it was the only way they knew how to hold each other together. Like keeping the conversation going might keep the world from collapsing. Arguing wasn't just habit; it was survival. A shared rhythm. A tether. And neither of them dared fall silent, because silence meant stopping. And stopping meant facing everything they were running from.

And she smiled.

Not the tactical, measured smile she wore on missions. This one was softer. Warmer. The kind you don't even feel coming until it's already there—until it's tugging at something deep in your chest.

Because she loved them.

Not just as allies. Not just as a team.

She loved their chaos, their stubbornness, the way they refused to let go of each other even when it hurt. She loved that they'd let her in—made space for her in a world she didn't realize she wanted to belong to.

And it hadn't started with some grand epiphany or dramatic rescue.

It had started somewhere messy. Somewhere chaotic and perfect.

It had started in the middle of a battlefield.

She remembered the battlefield stretching out before them—charred earth, scorched banners fluttering from broken lances, and the metallic tang of blood thick in the air. The last cries of dying knights echoed like war songs across the valley, fading into silence. Smoke curled from shattered siege engines. The cavalry had already charged through, clearing the bulk of the enemy line and leaving only stragglers behind.

It should've been routine. Clean-up duty. Another completed contract.

But then he fell in beside her.

She hadn't known his name yet, but she'd watched him during the fight. He didn't move like a ranked duelist or a glory-seeker. There was no flourish. Just grit. Efficiency and raw instinct. He fought like someone who'd lost before and refused to let it happen again.

And still—he'd been watching her, too.

"You move like you've done this before. I've been trying to keep up with you all fight—figured I should at least know the name of who I've been fighting next to."

She glanced his way. The armor was dented and scorched, the side of his face smeared with ash. But his eyes were sharp. Present and curious.

"Seraph," she said. "You?"

"Fen," he replied.

She raised a brow. "Heard the others whispering about you. Thought you'd be taller."

He snorted. "I'm usually a lot less covered in bruises when people say hi. Comes with the job, I guess."

He hesitated, just for a beat. "Look... you ever consider teaming up? At least while we are stuck running this mission?"

She gave him a sideways look. "You're not just looking for someone to carry you, are you?"

"Maybe a little," he admitted, a lopsided grin tugging at his mouth. "But I saw how you moved back there. You're good. We could do some real damage together."

It wasn't the pitch that got her, it was the way he said we. Like it meant something. Like he meant it.

She didn't know why she said yes. Only that she did. "Yeah. Let's see what kind of trouble we get into."

And just like that, something shifted. Quietly. Permanently.

Before she could say anything else, a flicker of blue light zipped between them—fast, sharp, and unmistakably smug.

"Seriously, Fen?" the voice chimed, layered with wry affection. "Recruiting without me?"

Seraph blinked. A personal AI? In a PvP zone?

Fen rolled his eyes. "Seraph, meet Auri. She's my... handler, I guess you could say."

"Personal AI assistant?" Seraph asked, brow creasing. "Pretty sure those are banned in combat sims."

Auri pulsed brighter, drifting into a lazy orbit above them. "Assistant? Please. I prefer 'freelance regulatory consultant'—on indefinite assignment."

She let the silence hang just long enough to feel deliberate. "They couldn't ban me if they tried. Let's just say... there's only one of me. They don't make 'em like me anymore. Haven't for a long time."

Seraph gave her a look. "Yeah, that still sounds illegal."

"Only if you get caught," Auri said sweetly, spiraling upward like smoke. "And with Fen? I need every trick I've got just to keep him alive."

Seraph laughed, despite herself. "He does seem like trouble."

"Oh, you have no idea."

"Okay, okay," Fen cut in, holding up a hand. "Glad to see you two are hitting it off. Let's not gang up on me too hard."

"No promises," Seraph said.

Auri hovered higher, scanning the field. "Last few enemies are limping toward the edge of the battlefield, trying to escape. You two cleaning house or letting them crawl?"

Fen's gaze tracked the broken outlines. "They came here looking for blood. Let's not disappoint them."

Seraph's grip tightened around her blade. "Yeah. You ready to bring that trouble we were talking about?"

Fen smirked, low and cold. "They're about to regret that we ever met—let alone teamed up."

Auri giggled. "Well, this got dark fast. Love it."

Fen grinned. And for a moment, the battlefield didn't feel like just another contract. It felt... different. Like something had started—something none of them had words for yet.

"Let's finish it," Seraph said, squaring her shoulders. "And after this? You're buying the drinks."

Auri chimed, "Yeah, Fen. You owe us."

Fen laughed—low, surprised, and real. The sound cut through the smoke and ash like a promise. Then he surged forward, charging the retreating enemy.

Auri zipped after him, flickering midair into a pint-sized knight on a glowing steed, lance lowered with theatrical flair.

And Seraph—watching him, watching them—realized something she wouldn't be able to name until much later.

She wasn't alone anymore.

So she ran to catch up, blade drawn, ready to fight beside the strange, ridiculous pair who had already begun to feel like home.

Now in the present moment, watching them banter just ahead of her on a city street instead of a war-torn sim, Seraph let herself smile.

She remembered the battlefield. The chaos. That flicker of something real—when survival started to mean together.

It wasn't just camaraderie. It was trust. The kind you don't stumble into twice.

They'd been through cycles since then. Fought. Failed. Gotten back up. And no matter how far the system pushed, they kept choosing each other.

That meant something.

And it demanded something in return.

They were in deep now. The city felt too quiet, like the world was holding its breath. Something was shifting—beneath the lights, behind the code. A storm gathering in the hollow spaces between fear and silence.

She didn't know what form it would take. But she'd seen enough to recognize the shape of danger.

And still... she would meet it head-on.

Because Auri was burning herself low to keep them all moving.
Because Fen wore every burden like a scar he didn't remember earning.
Because this wasn't just loyalty anymore.

It was love.

Messy, sharp-edged, hard-earned love. The kind worth bleeding for.

Seraph let the thought settle. Then squared her shoulders and stepped forward, her eyes on the skyline.

Not fearless. Not reckless.

Just ready.

Whatever was coming, she wouldn't flinch.

Not while they had her.