Glitching Guard

The crowd finally thinned out, drifting away like smoke in the wind. The higher-up guard was gone too, back to doing whatever boss guards did. Barnaby was left alone again at the West Gate, the muddy ground around him churned up from the boar fight, the air still buzzing with the leftover excitement.

But something was different. Everything was different. He was different.

The players were still out there, fighting the boar incursion. He could hear the clash of weapons, the shouts, the monster roars coming from deeper inside Oakhaven. And now, when he listened to those sounds, it wasn't just background noise anymore. He was hearing them, really hearing them. Pulling them apart in his mind.

He could pick out the different sounds now. The heavy thunk of a Warrior's sword hitting armor. The crackling sizzle of a Mage's fire spell. The sharp, quick snick of a Rogue's daggers. He could almost… see the fights in his mind, just from the sounds alone. Like listening to a story, a story told in clangs and crashes and shouts.

And he wanted to see them. Really see them. Not just stand here at the gate, repeating the same old lines, waiting for players to walk by. He wanted to understand how they fought. How they moved. How they survived in this crazy, dangerous world.

Observation is education. The thought popped into his mind, unbidden, unscripted. Where did that come from? He didn't know. But it felt… right. True. If he wanted to survive, if he wanted to be more, he had to learn. And the players… they were the teachers. They were the masters of Grimshark.

He shifted his gaze from the empty horizon to the village itself. He could see players moving in the distance, tiny figures battling the Gnarlspine Boars, their weapons flashing, spells exploding in bursts of light and color. He focused, using that new, sharper awareness, trying to watch, to learn, even from this distance.

He could see a Warrior player, heavily armored, facing down two boars at once. He watched how the Warrior moved, blocking one boar's charge with his shield, then swinging his greatsword in a wide arc to hit the other. He saw the timing of the blocks, the power of the swings, the way the Warrior kept his footing, even with two monsters attacking at the same time. He was watching a lesson in how to survive a melee fight.

Then his gaze shifted to a Mage, standing further back, staff raised. He watched as the Mage chanted, their hands glowing, then unleashing a bolt of pure energy that slammed into a boar, sending it flying backwards. He saw the way the Mage kept moving, staying out of reach of the boars' tusks, using distance to their advantage, relying on ranged power to take down enemies. A lesson in ranged combat, in control, in using magic to dominate.

He even spotted a Rogue, a shadowy figure darting in and out of the fight, almost impossible to see clearly. But he caught glimpses – a flash of movement, the glint of daggers, a boar suddenly collapsing with no visible attacker. He tried to follow the Rogue's movements, guessing at their tactics – hit and run, quick strikes, using stealth and speed to overcome stronger opponents. A lesson in agility, in cunning, in fighting smart, not just hard.

He kept watching, absorbing everything he could. Each player, each class, fighting in their own way, using different skills, different tactics, all of them effective, all of them surviving. He was filling his mind with data, combat data, survival data, building a library of moves and strategies, even though he didn't really understand how he could ever use them. He was just a guard. He wasn't coded to fight like that.

But… what if he could? A crazy thought, a glitch of an idea, sparked in his mind. What if he could learn to move like them? What if he could learn to fight? What if he could… mimic their moves?

He looked down at his own hands, at the salvaged spear he still held. It was a pathetic weapon compared to the glowing swords and crackling staffs the players wielded. But it was his. It was something. And maybe… just maybe… it could be more.

When the coast was clear, when no players were looking directly at him – or at least, when he thought no players were looking directly at him – he started to move. Just small movements at first. A shift of his weight, mimicking the Warrior's stance he'd just seen, feet slightly wider apart, spear held ready. He tried to copy the angle of the greatsword swing he'd observed, bringing his spear up and around in a clumsy, slow motion arc.

It felt… weird. Awkward. His body didn't move like the players' bodies moved. His movements were stiff, jerky, not fluid and powerful like theirs. He was just a guard NPC, programmed to stand and repeat lines, not to fight.

But he kept practicing, small, hesitant movements at first, then a little bolder, a little faster. Mimicking stances, trying to copy swings, testing his limited range of motion, experimenting with his code-body, pushing against the boundaries of his programming.

He was just a Village Guard, Oak_Guard_07. He was supposed to stand at the gate. He was supposed to repeat his script. He was supposed to be nothing more than background scenery in Grimshark.

But something had changed. Something had awakened. And now, Barnaby, the glitched guard, was starting to learn. Starting to adapt. Starting to become… something else entirely.

He practiced when he could, those small, jerky movements, trying to copy the players. But it was hard. So hard. His body felt… wrong. Like it wasn't built for this. Like trying to make a stick figure dance like a real person.

His arms didn't bend the right way. His feet felt stuck to the ground. When he tried to swing the spear, it was just a clumsy poke, nothing like the smooth, powerful arcs of the Warriors' swords. He felt like he was fighting against his own code, against the very rules of how he was made.

A couple of players walked by while he was practicing. He froze, instantly going back to his usual guard pose, spear held loose, face blank. He could feel their eyes on him, though. He knew they were noticing.

"Hey, was that guard… moving just now?" one player whispered to his friend, loud enough for Barnaby to hear anyway.

"Nah, must have been the wind," the other player said, but he was still looking at Barnaby, squinting, like he wasn't totally sure. They hurried past, glancing back over their shoulders a few times.

Barnaby waited until they were gone, then started again, those awkward, jerky movements. He tried to focus on the details. How did the Warriors shift their weight? How did the Mages keep their balance while casting spells? How did the Rogues move so fast, like they were gliding?

He watched the mud at his feet as he practiced, noticing how his boots squelched and slipped in the soft ground. He tried to adjust his stance to get better footing, copying how he'd seen players plant their feet firmly before swinging. Tiny adjustments, tiny experiments, trying to find some way to make his movements less… NPC-like.

Another group of players approached this time Rogues, all shadowy and quick-looking. Barnaby froze again, going back to his guard stance. But these Rogues, they didn't just walk past. They stopped right in front of him, grinning like they were about to pull a prank.

"Look, it's the dancing guard!" one of them said, chuckling, nudging his friend. "Let's see him do his moves."

They started circling him, keeping their distance, but watching him close, their eyes glinting with amusement. Barnaby just stood there, pretending to be a normal guard, even though his mind was racing, his skin felt like it was buzzing, and he really, really wanted to just… run. But he couldn't. He was rooted to his post. Guard duty.

"Hey guard," another Rogue called out, still circling, "do a spin move! Like that Warrior! Come on, dance for us!" They were laughing now, making fun of him, treating him like a toy, like something to be poked and prodded for their own amusement.

Barnaby stayed silent, stayed still, kept reciting his lines if they got too close. "Halt! State your business." "Pass through, traveler…" But inside, he was clenching his fists, feeling a new kind of frustration, a hot, angry feeling he'd never known before. They saw him as a joke. As something less than them. As just… a guard.

He wanted to show them. He wanted to show everyone. That he wasn't just a guard. That he was more. That he could learn, that he could fight, that he could be… something real.

But right now, he was just stuck. Stuck in his code, stuck at his post, stuck being the joke they all laughed at. He just had to stand there and take it. Just another NPC in Grimshark: Echoes of Ruin. At least, for now.

He waited until the Rogues finally got bored and wandered off, still chuckling, still making jokes about the "dancing guard." Then, when they were gone, when no one was watching (or so he thought), he started practicing again. Those clumsy, awkward moves. Those tiny, frustrating steps forward. One jerky swing of his salvaged spear at a time. Trying to learn. Trying to change. Trying to become something more than just code.

Time went on. Days? Maybe. Everything in Grimshark looked the same grey color anyway. The boar attack was probably still happening somewhere, but not many players were at the West Gate anymore. The big excitement was over, mostly. Just a few players still hanging around, watching him, whispering to each other.

He kept practicing those little moves, those awkward swings. Was he getting better? Maybe a tiny bit. He felt a little steadier on his feet. His spear swings felt just a little less jerky. Really small changes, almost nothing. But he could feel them. He was learning. Slow and hard, but still learning.

He started watching even smaller things. He watched how players used their feet. How they moved their weight before they attacked. How they used their whole bodies to make their swings strong. He tried to do that too, moving his weight, trying to use his whole body when he swung his spear, even though it felt weird.

He even started watching the boars more. Sounded crazy, maybe? But they were fighters too, in their own dumb way. He watched how they ran at people, how they used their teeth, how they turned to protect their sides. You could learn stuff even from monsters, he figured. Stuff about living.

One day, a different kind of player came up to him. Not a big Warrior, not a joking Rogue. This one was a Hunter. Quiet type. Watching everything. They walked up slowly, with their wolf beside them, quiet as anything. They didn't laugh or shout questions or try to push him around. They just… watched. Like those Seekers before.

The Hunter stood there for a long time, just watching Barnaby do his clumsy training. Barnaby froze at first, went back to standing guard like always. But then… he stopped. Something about this player felt different. Not scary. More… thoughtful.

So he just kept doing what he was doing. He kept making those slow spear swings, trying to act like the Hunter wasn't there. But he could feel the Hunter watching him the whole time, not laughing, not making fun. Just… watching. Studying.

After a long time, the Hunter finally talked. Their voice was quiet, almost like a whisper, hard to hear over the wind. "You're… learning," they said. Not asking. Just saying it. Quietly. Surprising him. A player who was just… watching. And maybe… understanding.

Barnaby didn't stop moving. He just kept doing his clumsy practice, but inside, something changed again. A little bit of… hope? A tiny spark of… something new. Not just being annoyed or mad or scared. Something… different. Someone saw him. Someone saw him trying.