The first thing Kikidori became aware of was cold silence. The darkness around him felt oppressive, almost alive, until it shattered with a burst of searing white light. His body, or whatever the hell this thing was, moved on its own. His mouth opened, and words spilled out like a glitchy recording.
"Wait… an NPC… I'm… an NPC…?"
The words echoed in the empty room. It was cold, clinical—white walls, metallic floors, a single desk with nothing on it but an ominous red button. Kikidori tried to step forward but froze mid-motion. His body refused to move the way he wanted. Panic crept up his spine.
"What the fuck is this?" he growled, trying again to move.
As if on cue, a flat, robotic voice sounded in his head.
**"Designation: Kikidori. Class: KMFE. Function: Kill Me For Experience."**
"Kill me for what?" he snapped, spinning in place as the words replayed in his head. The voice was gone now, leaving him alone with its haunting message. "You've gotta be shitting me."
Before Kikidori could even process his situation, the world around him glitched, pixelating and morphing like someone was stitching together reality. Suddenly, he was no longer in the white room but standing in the middle of a bustling, neon-lit street.
Cyber-City.
Towering skyscrapers stretched into a glowing purple sky, their surfaces plastered with holographic advertisements. Hovercars zoomed overhead, casting fleeting shadows over the throngs of people below. The streets were alive with chaos—fights breaking out, explosions in the distance, players shouting at one another as they sprinted into a nearby club.
It was a playground of lawlessness, and Kikidori was smack dab in the middle of it.
"Hey, NPC! Get moving!" a voice barked.
Kikidori turned to see a scrawny guy dressed in ragged clothes—clearly a player. The guy shoved him, but Kikidori's body barely reacted. He hated that. Hated how he couldn't lash out the way he wanted to.
"I'm not your damn punching bag," Kikidori growled, glaring at the player.
The guy sneered. "What're you gonna do about it? Stand there like a dumbass?"
Before Kikidori could retort, a notification popped up in the air beside him:
**"KMFE Initiated. Preparing for Death Sequence…"**
"Wait, what the fuck?" Kikidori yelled, but it was too late.
The player pulled out a futuristic pistol, aimed it square at Kikidori's chest, and pulled the trigger. The sound was deafening, and Kikidori's body jerked backward as the bullet tore through him.
Pain. He wasn't supposed to feel pain, was he? But he did. It was sharp, burning, and all too real.
The world dimmed as his body crumpled to the ground. The last thing he saw before everything went black was the player grinning as a notification popped up above his head:
**"+50 XP. Level Up!"**
---
When Kikidori came to, he was lying in the same spot. No blood. No wound. Just a lingering ache in his chest and the same goddamn notification in his head.
**"KMFE Protocol Complete. Respawning…"**
"This is some serious bullshit," he muttered, staggering to his feet.
Kikidori glanced around, noticing that the player was gone—probably off to kill some other poor NPC. The streets were as lively as ever, players darting about with weapons, gadgets, and vehicles.
A loud *clang* brought his attention to a nearby alley where a group of NPCs huddled together, clearly trying to avoid the chaos of the main streets. Kikidori approached them, his frustration boiling over.
"Hey!" he barked. "What's the deal with this KMFE crap?"
The NPCs looked at him like he'd grown a second head. One of them, an older man with a hunched back and a cybernetic arm, stepped forward.
"You're new, aren't you?" the man said, his voice weary.
"New? I don't know. I just woke up like this," Kikidori snapped, gesturing to himself. "And then some asshole shot me for fucking experience points!"
The old man sighed. "That's your job, kid. You're a KMFE. It's what we're programmed to do. Die so they can level up. Rinse and repeat."
"Yeah, I got that part. What I don't get is why the hell I feel like this," Kikidori said, clenching his fists. "I wasn't supposed to be here. I wasn't supposed to be… this."
The old man shook his head. "None of us were. But it doesn't matter. The players don't care about NPCs. We're just tools to them."
Kikidori's jaw tightened. He hated this—hated the helplessness, the pain, the endless cycle of death and respawning. He didn't want to be a goddamn tool.
"There's gotta be a way out of this," he said, more to himself than to anyone else.
The old man gave him a sad smile. "If you figure it out, let me know. Until then, try not to piss off too many players. They'll make your life even worse if you do."
Kikidori didn't respond. Instead, he turned and walked back into the chaos of Cyber-City, his mind racing. He didn't know how or why he'd ended up here, but one thing was clear—he wasn't going to stay a fucking NPC forever.
This was *his* life, and he was going to take it back, no matter what it took.
The End of Chapter 1