The first corrupted wolf through the mist had too many eyes.
They weren't just extra eyes—they were wrong eyes, clusters of purple-tinged orbs that shifted and multiplied as I watched, each one reflecting the terror on our defenders' faces. Its body rippled like liquid shadow, muscles and bones rearranging themselves with each step. The beast's level indicator flickered so rapidly it became a blur of numbers, jumping from 5 to 50 to values that made my developer instincts scream.
"Hold the line!" I shouted, forcing strength into my voice despite the exhaustion weighing down every line of my code. The cobblestones beneath my feet hummed with residual power from my earlier modifications, but trying to tap into that energy felt like trying to squeeze water from a stone. "Ranged attackers, target the eyes! Melee, watch for—"
The wolf divided.
One moment there was a single horrifying beast, the next there were two slightly smaller versions, both just as wrong. The process looked like a video playing in reverse, the creature's mass splitting and regenerating in defiance of every rule we'd written into the game's physics engine.
"What the actual hell?" Marcus lowered his bow, his hands shaking despite his high-level gear and "Veteran" title badge. "That's not in any of the patch notes. That's not even possible with the current combat engine—"
"Shoot it!" I commanded, pushing against the system's dialogue constraints. "Shoot them both!"
"He's right!" Sarah, a newer player still wearing starter leather armor, nocked an arrow with trembling fingers. "We can't just stand here analyzing it!"
Arrows flew. Most passed harmlessly through the creatures' shifting forms, but a few found their marks. Purple ichor sprayed from the wounds, each drop sizzling where it hit the cobblestones. The wolves howled—a sound that made several nearby NPCs freeze, their scripts struggling to process audio that shouldn't exist.
"Fascinating," muttered Dev, his data-mining overlay visible in his character's gesture animations. "The corruption isn't just changing their models—it's rewriting their fundamental properties. Look at these value fluctuations!"
Warning: Multiple critical anomalies detected
Warning: Zone stability approaching critical threshold
Recommendation: Immediate zone reset
More shadows moved in the purple mist. Dozens of them. Hundreds. Each one twisted and wrong in its own unique way. Bears with too many limbs. Wolves with crystalline growths erupting from their fur. Things that might have once been deer, their elegant forms now corrupted into geometric impossibilities.
The village's hastily-constructed defenses suddenly felt paper-thin.
"Fall back to secondary positions!" I ordered, watching our first line of defenders retreat from the advancing horror show. The corrupted beasts moved with impossible coordination, testing our defenses like a single organism probing for weaknesses. "Maintain formation! Don't let them—"
A six-legged wolf leaped clean over our barricade, its form stretching like taffy mid-jump. It landed among a group of archers, its many eyes fixing on Sarah. Before anyone could react, it changed—its body condensing into a spring-loaded mass of muscle and bone.
Sarah screamed as corrupted teeth found her armor, but she didn't panic. Instead, she dropped a smoke bomb—a starter item most new players sold for quick gold. The wolf's attack patterns glitched in the smoke, giving Marcus and Dev time to pull her to safety.
I reached for my environmental controls, desperate to do something. The cobblestones responded sluggishly, barely rippling under my command. Not enough. Nowhere near enough. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if Miriam had faced similar limitations before she learned to scatter herself through the system's hidden paths.
"Kael!" A voice cut through the chaos—the baker, of all people. She stood at her designated position, corruption-resistance potions clutched in her arms. "The recipes! They're changing!"
I forced my attention her way, expanding my awareness through our quest-giver connection. She was right. The potions in her hands were evolving, their code rewriting itself in response to the corruption's presence. The liquid inside shifted colors, purple sparks dancing across their surfaces.
Standard healing potions transformed into corruption resistance. Mana potions became reality anchors. Even the basic health potions were changing, their effects mutating in ways that might help us survive—or might kill anyone who drank them.
"This is incredible," Dev exclaimed, his scanner working overtime. "The item properties are spontaneously evolving. The whole loot table is being rewritten in real-time!"
Warning: Item properties exceeding parameters
Warning: Quest rewards corrupted
Recommendation: Purge all modified items
The system really needed to work on its messaging. Instead of warnings, all I heard was: Here's another way to break the rules.
"Distribution pattern alpha!" I called to the baker, letting my quest-giver powers flow into the command. She moved with renewed purpose, her NPC routines adapting to my influence. Other NPCs fell into formation around her, creating a supply chain that began delivering the modified potions to our defenders.
Marcus was the first to drink one of the corrupted healing potions. "Well, if these things aren't playing by the rules," he grinned, purple light coursing through his avatar, "why should we?"
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The effects were immediate and spectacular. Players who drank the corrupted potions didn't just regain health—their avatars briefly flickered with the same reality-bending properties as our attackers. They could match the beasts' impossible movements, their weapons passing through shifting forms to strike at the corruption's core.
"The modification values are off the charts," Dev reported, his data overlay streaming with numbers. "These effects shouldn't be possible within the game's framework!"
Sarah, emboldened by her earlier survival, organized a group of newer players into an effective support team, distributing potions where they were needed most. "Sometimes the best strategies aren't in any guide," she called out, proving that new blood could adapt faster than veteran experience.
For a moment, I dared to hope.
Then I saw it. Rising from the purple mist like a mountain of twisted code, a creature that dwarfed everything else. It had been a bear once, probably one of the mini-bosses we'd placed in the eastern woods. Now it was something else entirely—a titan of corrupted flesh and crystalline growths, each step leaving reality-fractures in its wake.
Its level indicator was pure static.
"Oh, that's just not fair," I muttered, watching it approach our walls. The thing was at least twenty feet tall, its form a constantly shifting mass of geometrical impossibilities. Where the smaller creatures were wrong in specific ways, this one was wrong in all ways, as if the corruption had stopped trying to maintain even a pretense of proper form.
"I've seen world-first raid bosses," Marcus breathed, "but this... this is something else entirely."
Dev's scanner sparked and shut down completely when he tried to analyze the titan. "It's like looking at a black hole of code," he said, switching to basic combat stance. "Everything about it is just... null."
The titan reached our outer wall, its massive paw passing through the barricade like it was smoke. Reality rippled around the point of contact, the carefully-rendered textures dissolving into wireframes before reconstituting as something alien.
Warning: Boss entity detected
Warning: Reality anchors failing
Recommendation: Emergency shutdown initiated
I pushed through the warnings, forcing myself to think. We couldn't match it for power—not with my abilities almost depleted and our defenders barely holding against the smaller creatures. But maybe we didn't have to. I'd helped design this system. I knew its weaknesses.
The quest interface flickered to life, responding to my desperation. If I couldn't fight with strength, I'd fight with code.
Quest Created: Reality's Edge
- Exploit environmental glitches
- Trigger cascade failure in corruption patterns
Reward: [ERROR: REWARD CALCULATION FAILED]
Accept? Y/N
The quest spread through our defenders like wildfire, its parameters adapting to each player's abilities. Archers began targeting the crystalline growths that seemed to anchor the titan's form. Melee fighters struck at the reality-fractures it left behind, their weapons enhanced by the corrupted potions.
"Just like speed-running strats," Marcus called out, his veteran experience finding patterns in the chaos. "Find the weak points in the system!"
"The fractures are generating recursive error loops," Dev added, having switched to a backup analyzer. "If we can overload them—"
"Less analyzing, more hitting!" Sarah interrupted, leading her team to support the frontline fighters.
I forced myself to my feet, drawing on reserves I didn't know I had. The cobblestones responded to my call—not much, but enough to create a small platform. From there, I could see the entire battlefield, could track the flow of corruption through our defenses.
The titan roared—a sound that made reality itself shudder. Several NPCs crashed completely, their forms freezing in place as their scripts failed to process the impossible audio. Even the players stumbled, their animations glitching as the game engine struggled to maintain coherence.
But in that moment of system strain, I saw our opportunity.
"Focus fire on the fracture points!" I commanded, my voice carrying through both natural acoustics and quest-giver protocols. "Force the system to process too many changes at once!"
The titan's every movement left tears in reality—places where the proper game world broke down into base code. Our defenders struck at these points while dodging the creature's attacks, each hit sending cascading errors through its form. The corruption tried to adapt, tried to rewrite itself fast enough to maintain coherence, but it couldn't keep up with the targeted assault.
Warning: Critical cascade failure imminent
Warning: Reality coherence failing
The warnings flashed faster now, almost a solid wall of red text across my vision. But beneath the alerts, I could see it working. The titan's form began to break down, its impossible geometry unable to maintain stability under our assault. Chunks of corrupted code fell away like shattered glass, each piece dissolving into base particles before it hit the ground.
With a sound like a thousand error messages screaming at once, the titan collapsed. Its form dissolved into a shower of purple sparks, each one carrying fragments of corrupted code back into the mist. The smaller creatures followed, their bodies breaking down in sympathetic resonance as the corruption's hold on reality weakened.
For a moment, absolute silence fell over Eldermark. Players and NPCs alike stood frozen, watching the purple mist recede back into the forest. The reality-fractures left behind slowly began to heal, proper textures and physics reasserting themselves over the corrupted terrain.
"That," Marcus said slowly, "was definitely not in the patch notes."
"Nobody's going to believe this on the forums," Dev added, his backup scanner smoking slightly.
"Who cares if they believe it?" Sarah grinned, her starter armor dented but her spirit unbroken. "We were here. We fought it. We won."
Then the cheering started. Players celebrated their victory, comparing notes on the impossible battle. NPCs gradually resumed their routines, though some still showed signs of script damage from the titan's roar.
I sat heavily on my small platform, every line of my code aching from the effort of maintaining control through the fight. We'd won, but the corruption wasn't gone. Through my connection to the zone, I could feel it retreating, regrouping. Learning. Like Miriam had said in the tunnels, there were deeper patterns at work here, forces that the system itself feared to acknowledge.
Warning: Multiple anomalies persisting
Warning: Entity "Kael" exceeding parameters
Recommendation: Initiate total zone reset
I managed a tired smile at the warnings. "Yeah," I muttered. "Good luck with that reset. I don't think any of us are going back to normal after this."
A notification flashed in my vision—different from the usual warnings. This one was deep purple, its text shifting and changing as I read it:
Evolution detected: Entity "Kael" has unlocked [CORRUPTED] abilities
Warning: Further evolution may result in permanent system modifications
Continue? Y/N
I thought about Miriam's words in the tunnels, about the system's fear of NPCs with power. About the corruption that seemed almost alive, almost conscious in its attacks. About the way our potions had evolved mid-battle, adapting to fight corruption with corruption.
Maybe that was the key. Maybe the only way to fight a broken system was to become something just as broken.
My hand steady despite the exhaustion, I reached out and selected: Y
To be continued...
---
*Thanks for reading Chapter 4 of The Broken NPC!*
What do you think about the battle? And what about Kael's choice at the end—will embracing corruption help him save Eldermark, or is he playing right into the system's fears? Let me know your theories in the comments!
Next Chapter:
As Kael begins to explore his new corrupted abilities, he discovers that power comes with a price. The system's enforcers aren't the only ones hunting him now, and some of his new "evolution" might be harder to control than he expected...
If you're enjoying the story, don't forget to:
- *Follow* to stay updated
- Add to your *Favorites* to help more readers find this adventure!
---