Chapter 8: Therapy for Heroes
The surprisingly rich and comforting aroma of brewing coffee mingled with the savory, almost nostalgic scent of instant noodles in the digital air of the guild hall. Dimas, IronVanguard, had managed to procure an authentic-looking "his local noodle" packet from a glitching NPC vendor in the city; now, it steamed invitingly in a virtual bowl. Livia sat perched on a data-crate, a half-eaten Crackers in her hand, eyeing the scene. This was their new normal: a makeshift therapy session amidst the lingering hum of system alerts and the distant, unsettling cries of newly awakened NPCs outside their fortified guild hall.
ThunderStrategist, Bima, usually the calm and calculating strategist of the guild, looked anything but. He sat hunched, picking nervously at a loose thread on his digital armor, his normally sharp eyes unfocused and distant. His shoulders seemed to slump under an invisible weight. "It's… it's the pressure, Buffer," he confessed, his voice low, heavy with a weariness Livia hadn't heard from him before. "Being a civil engineering student in real life... the deadlines, the complex calculations, the fear of making a mistake that could cost lives. I play this game to escape all that. But then, in battle, that same stress, that fear of overthinking, it creeps back in. My focus breaks. I hesitate to use my Tactical Pulse perfectly, even though I know it. I'm scared of screwing up, even here. It's like the trauma follows me." He sighed, a deep, digital exhalation, running a hand over his face. "I just want to forget it all for a bit."
Livia sighed, a theatrical groan that earned a soft chuckle from Alex, StarSlinger, who was busy polishing his crossbow nearby. "See? This is why I hate being called 'Buffer'! I'm a Mental Supporter, not some soul charger available 24/7! I need a break too, you know!" She playfully swatted at Bima's arm, but her eyes held genuine concern. Her own head had started to throb faintly, a dull ache behind her temples, mirroring the phantom pains of her recurring hospital dreams. A shiver traced down her spine.
As Livia concentrated, focusing her intent on Bima, her palms warmed and a gentle light seemed to emanate from her, bathing him. A system notification shimmered into existence: [THERAPY SUCCESSFUL! +100 EXP.]
A gentle, invigorating wave of warmth flowed from Livia, surrounding Bima. She channeled EmpathySpark, pouring into him a sense of clarity, a quiet confidence in his own analytical abilities, a reminder of his triumphs. She felt the heavy burden of his mental stress, the intricate web of his academic anxieties, begin to unravel, replaced by a clear, unburdened focus. It was as if she were lifting a massive, invisible weight from his shoulders, feeling the echo of relief reverberate within her own digital body. The tension in Bima's posture visibly eased.
Bima slowly straightened, a new light entering his eyes, like a circuit finally connecting. He activated his Tactical Pulse skill, and the glowing blue energy around his hands seemed to hum with newfound precision, radiating calm authority. A genuine smile returned to his face, erasing the lines of worry. "Wow... that's like a permanent buff, Livia! Not just an event buff with a short duration!" he joked, flexing his fingers. "I think I need a permanent patch for my brain!"
Mei, SakuraSorceress, braided a new section of her pink hair, her eyes thoughtful. "This is like a filler episode in an anime, but I actually like it! I need some therapy for my deadline anxiety too, Bima!" she teased, and the guild hall filled with light laughter, the tension from the battle slowly dissipating.
StormReaver, Ethan, had been watching Livia, a quiet intensity in his gaze. He walked over, his usual boisterous energy subdued, replaced by something softer, more profound. He stood beside Livia, his large hand gently resting on her shoulder. His voice was a low murmur, filled with sincere admiration. "You make us stronger, Livia. Not just in stats, but... here." He tapped his chest, over his virtual heart. "You're the most important person in this guild. You connect us. You hold us together." His gaze held hers, a silent, knowing appreciation that warmed her to her core, momentarily easing the phantom headache. She felt a profound sense of being seen, truly seen, by him.
PsychoBlaze, Rian, who had been listening intently, leaned closer, his expression unusually serious. "Speaking of connections, guys," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I dug a bit deeper into that coma rumor. Found an article about a single motorcycle accident in Jakarta. The victim… it's uncanny, Livia. The description of the injuries, the timeline... it fits. It's almost too perfect." He paused, a visible shiver running down his spine. "The article even mentioned she was a psychology student at UI. Just like you said, Livia." His eyes darted nervously between Livia and the silent, listening guild members, gauging their reactions.
Livia's heart began to hammer, a frantic, irregular drum against her digital ribs. Her digital skin felt cold, a layer of static beneath the surface. Her breathing became shallow and ragged, each inhale a desperate gasp. Her avatar seemed to shimmer at the edges, a subtle distortion that only she could perceive, a reflection of the internal turmoil. Psychology student... UI... motorcycle accident... Jakarta. The words resonated with a horrifying familiarity, echoing the very scents and sounds of her nightmares—the metallic tang of blood, the sharp antiseptic, the desperate pleas of unfamiliar voices. This isn't just a rumor. This is me. This is real. A cold dread wrapped around her, suffocating her. If I'm really in a coma, is this all just a beautiful dream before... before everything ends? Before I... vanish? Her mind raced, grappling with the Impossible. What happens to them if I go? To Ethan, to the guild? To Anton, to all the NPCs I've awakened? Will they just... revert? Or will they be stuck, half-aware, in a broken world? She felt a phantom ache in her head, exactly like in her hospital dreams, a constant, chilling reminder of the unstable thread connecting her to a reality she couldn't fully grasp. The thought of losing this vibrant, chaotic AethelgardNexus, and the people in it—real or not—was unbearable, a physical pain in her digital chest.
Suddenly, a disturbance at the guild hall's main entrance. The heavy, reinforced door glitched open, not with a smooth animation, but with a jarring tear in its texture. The NPC Potion Vendor from the city, the one Livia had sparked sentience in during the last battle, stumbled through the threshold. He looked different now; his vendor uniform was slightly askew, a faint static shimmered around his form, and his face, while still retaining the NPC's generic features, was contorted with a raw, desperate human emotion. His eyes, no longer blank, flickered wildly, filled with a deep confusion and desperate hope. He scanned the room, his gaze landing on Livia, fixed and desperate, his chest heaving with virtual breaths.
The guild hall fell into an immediate, stunned silence. The laughter died. The clinking of Dimas's his local noodles bowl stopped. Every eye, both player and NPC, was fixed on the trembling vendor. The air crackled with unspoken questions, the gravity of the moment thick and suffocating.
"Buffer," he croaked, his voice a broken static, laced with a mix of fear and desperate hope, utterly devoid of his programmed sales pitch. His hands trembled, reaching out instinctively towards Livia. "I… I remember my family. My real family. They called me 'Anton' outside of this game. Is that… is that true? Am I… am I Anton?"
Livia froze, her blood turning to ice. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Anton. A real name. A real life. The line between the virtual and the real, already blurred, just shattered into a million pieces, its fragments spiraling into her mind. The system's voice, a chilling whisper, echoed only in her mind: [ANOMALY INCREASING. FRAGMENTED CONSCIOUSNESS DETECTED.] It was no longer just her. It was them. And she was the cause.