3 Chapters Every 18.7 Day(s) 91 Readers 0 Reviews 04-25-2024
"This story is fiction, characters are in no way affiliated to real people or events."
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Some games require agreeing to this statement in order to play.
Even if it’s not necessary for the game, the game typically begins with a similar disclaimer guiding the player through the precautions.
Although the advantage of a game is the ‘immersion’ that no other medium can match, starting with such a statement disrupts the immersion from the beginning despite everyone knowing the work is fiction.
There is no mandatory need to include such a disclaimer, so why do it?
It is likely to emphasize a fact that everyone should always remember.
[The purpose of fiction is not to dictate beliefs existing in reality.]
This message is for the developer themselves.
[Nothing in fiction can replace reality.]
This message is for the players who will share the journey of the work’s story.
So.
Do you agree?
**
The man with tattered clothes and an old sword said, “So, I *can* kill.”
He did not have any particularly memorable appearance.
He was likely not a well-known person, at least, not to the mercenary he was killing.
The important fact was that the man who had been stabbed by the worn-out sword was now dying in front of him.
“Ugh…”
When the man pulled the sword out of the mercenary, the mercenary’s legs gave way, and he fell to his knees. He no longer had the strength to resist.
He wanted to raise his arm to swing his sword, but he didn’t have the strength to do so. He gritted his teeth and wanted to cast a spell, but he lacked the focus to do so.
“Why… you… how?”
Thus, the mercenary chose to give up on resisting and opened his mouth to speak.
Why had the man suddenly attacked him? He had only seen him collapse and moved him to a nearby cave.
What kind of person, what kind of thoughts had led him to do this as soon as he woke up?
The mercenary was so curious that he asked the question.
“How fascinating.”
The man stroked his chin as he stared at the dying mercenary.
The sight of the man in his worn-out clothes pondering was somewhat terrifying.
Soon, as if he had reached a conclusion, the man broke his silence.
“I never knew I could attack an NPC. Is that how the game is made?”
“…What?”
The mercenary couldn’t understand the man’s words.
NPC, not knowing an attack would work, game. He couldn’t make sense of any of the words the man said.
Having spent his whole life living as a mercenary according to his “setting,” he could never understand what the man was saying.
‘No, you must respond properly. Properly—’
But he couldn’t continue his next words or even think about the meaning of his response, and the mercenary’s consciousness began to fade.
A killing driven by nothing but curiosity, with no reason.
That was the first death experienced by NPC Aiden Oliver.
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