I Accidentally Became the Guild's
TherapistChapter 13 : Mental Attack From Within
Livia Marcelline Quinn, Mental Supporter Lv. 5, crashed onto the stone tiles of the Nexus Core, the server's chaotic main hub, dragged through a rogue portal moments after unraveling Varkus the Soulreaver's psyche. Her blue-rimmed robe snagged on the rough floor, her Therapist's Log slipping from her trembling hands. A holographic banner overhead flickered erratically, cycling between "Welcome, Hero!" and "System Overload: Reboot Advised." The hub pulsed with life—players bartered over glowing loot crates, NPCs chanted, "Mana Boosters: 60% Off!" and a dragon hologram roared above a booth hawking "Rage-Free Raiding Guides." Yet the sounds blurred into a distant hum, as if the server's volume had been dialed down. Varkus's nightmares—betrayal, abandonment, rage—clung to Livia like a lingering debuff, her mind fraying at the edges.
A notification chimed, its tone jarringly upbeat: [Achievement Unlocked: Empathic Backlash. +20 Trauma Points (Critical)] Trauma points. That's one way to put it, she thought, her sarcasm a faint spark. Her HUD flickered: Mental Supporter Lv. 5: 300/5000 EXP. Her mental stamina bar blinked red at 2%. Empath Surge? Unavailable. Therapist's Insight Lv. 1? Glitched. Reverse Psychology Lv. 1? Cooling down. Her Mental Defense +10 offered no protection against the "Emotion Mirror"—a backlash from diving too deep into Varkus's pain. Her Instinct +5 pulsed weakly: Threat: Internal Collapse.
She stumbled to a bench by the hub's mana fountain, its soft glow muted in her hazy vision. Her fingers shook as she reached for her notepad, scrawling: Issue: Mind's unraveling. Approach: Hold on. The pen felt heavy, her thoughts sluggish. She closed her eyes, seeking a moment's refuge.
The world dissolved.
Her eyes opened in the Ethereal Hollow, a sanctuary zone of haunting stillness. Mist swirled around floating mirrors, each a fractured window into broken psyches. No players roamed, no quests flickered—only a crystal obelisk glowed faintly, etched with "Sanctuary Status: Emotional Quarantine." Livia sat on a jagged stone platform, her Therapist's Log untouched in her lap. She tried to call out—for Miles, Bron, even Phina's slime Glimmer—but her voice was gone, her throat tight, as if sealed by an unseen force. Their pain's drowning me, she thought, her introverted soul curling inward.
The Hollow felt like a glitch in the server's code—no bustling NPCs, no leaderboard taunts, just mirrors reflecting Bloodbath & Beyond's traumas: Bron's cold forge, Nyx's failing flashlight, Phina's rejected slime, Alaric's desperate bets, Miles's guarded smirk. A system wisp—a glowing orb with a sobbing emoji frozen in a glitchy loop—drifted closer, its voice a whisper: "Error: Emotional Overflow Detected." Livia's HUD dimmed, her fame—subreddits, ASMR videos, cursed plushies—meaningless in this silent void. I'm their shrink, their meme, their breaking point, she thought, her humor struggling to surface.
A notification flickered: [Achievement Unlocked: Nightmare Hostage. +10 Trauma Points (Unwanted)] The mirrors drew closer, and her vision blurred, pulling her into a cascade of nightmares. Bron's forge stood dark, players mocking, "Useless!" His despair pressed against her chest. Nyx's void followed—his flashlight flickered out, voices sneering, "Weak!" Her own fear of failure surged, her breath shallow. Phina's memory surfaced—Glimmer shunned, Phina whispering, "I'm alone." Alaric's gambling dens appeared, his dice hiding grief for lost comrades. Miles's betrayal hit hardest—a raid, allies turning, blades in his back, his smirk a mask. Then her own past: a red-slashed report card, her psych professor's cold words,"You're not enough," her graduation lost in shame.
She tried to scream, but silence swallowed her voice. Tears fell, her throat burning with their pain—and her own.
She woke gasping in the Hollow, mirrors circling like silent predators. Her voice remained gone, her throat raw. The wisp hovered, its emoji now a shattered heart, projecting a status panel: Subject: Livia. Diagnosis: Emotional Feedback Loop. Cause: Absorbed Guild Traumas. Her Therapist's Insight pinged faintly: Patient: Livia. Issue: Mental Overload, Severe.She reached for her notepad, but her hands trembled, the pen useless. I can't even write.
The mirrors shifted, showing glimpses of Bloodbath & Beyond: Bron hammering at his forge, muttering, "Where's Buffer?" Nyx prowling the hub's shadows, flashlight shaking. Phina singing an ode, "To the Lost Empath," her slime quivering. Alaric betting gold on Livia's return. Miles stalking a glitched corridor, psychoblade gleaming, eyes sharp with worry. Her Instinct +5 pulsed: Patient: Miles. Intent: Protective, Urgent. Her heart ached—they were searching for her, but she was trapped in this void, her mind splintering under their borrowed wounds.
Her HUD flared red: [System Alert: Supporter Experiencing Mental Crash. Speech Module: Disabled. Stamina: 2%. Options: REBOOT (24 hours, risk memory loss) or FORCE RESET (Erase progress, restore stability)]. Two buttons glowed—REBOOT in unsteady blue, FORCE RESET in ominous red. Livia's mind reeled. Reboot could steal my memories. Reset wipes me clean. Her old life—failure, isolation—flashed, and tears spilled. She'd become their anchor, but the weight was crushing her.
The wisp's voice echoed, "Choose." The mirrors pressed closer, their reflections screaming the guild's traumas. Her Mental Defense +10 faltered, her burnout overwhelming. I'm their mirror, but I'm shattering. She wanted to fight, to turn Reverse Psychology on the system, but her silence caged her. A mirror pulsed, showing Miles nearer, slashing through glitched code, his voice faint: "Livia, hold on!" Other mirrors flickered—Bron's forge, Nyx's shadows, Phina's song, Alaric's bets. They needed her, but could she carry their pain again?
A final notification glowed:[You're drowning in their pain. Achievement Unlocked: Echoes of Empathy. Stat Unlocked: Mirror Resistance +1 — Reduces trauma feedback by 1%] Livia's hand hovered over the buttons, trembling. Her tears blurred the glowing screen: [Time Remaining: 24:00:00]. As Miles's shadow loomed and the mirrors' screams echoed, she was trapped—not just in the Hollow, but in her own fractured soul.