I lovingly carve out patterns in the smooth stone. Lines make their way across the block in waves and swirls, which will eventually create a picture of great beauty.

I turn over the block, and study the marks. I give a sharp nod filled with satisfaction, and place it off to the side so I can start on a new project. I take another block -wood, this time- and a torch. I hold the wooden block above the torch, and begin to burn it carefully. I move the block and torch accordingly, not too fast or there will be no mark at all, and not too slow as to refrain from setting the block alight.

Time has no meaning to me, I need no sleep, and I could care less about the blocks which my work creates, but the one thing that keeps me going is the work itself, smoothing out nicks in the material, filing in cracks, styling the surface of the block, that is what I so adore.

I lay down this block, I do not know- nor care how long it has taken me to perfect this one. I recall having to pause for a new torch every so often, as the one I was holding had burnt out. I look over this new creation for any faults that I need to correct, seeing none I toss it to the side with the rest.

My stomach rumbles its displeasure at being empty. I frown and stand, my legs cramping from being in the same position for so long. I stretch, listening as my body cracks from the kinks removing themselves. I walk purposefully over to the cupboard, not wishing to spend a moment longer away from my work. I throw it open, and frown at the bare space. I need to restock my food storage. I glance at the small pile of blocks I have left, at least I won't have to waste my time on only retrieving food, that pile won't last much longer.

I walk over to a table and lay down my chisel. One of my ancestors made it, I'm not sure how long ago though, I just know that my family has been carving ever since, judging by the city made of our blocks. I walk away from it hesitatingly, it is the only thing that allows me to work, if I lost it... I shake that thought from my mind. I wish for the thousandth time that the chisel could leave the house with me; but alas, whoever made the wondrous tool also enchanted it to never leave my home.

I walk out the door, and lock it. There are no windows to my house, so the door is the only way in or out. I hate going out, not only because it takes me away from the blocks and detailing patterns of great splendor on them, but it opens a window of opportunity for anyone who would wish to destroy the chisel. I've heard of Griefers and Trolls who would do anything to get their hands on my tool, as it is the only one.

The forest is now in view, just past it is the city my family and I have sold our blocks to. I see the tops of some of the tallest towers peaking above the leafy canopy. I study the area around me, filled with flowers and wildlife, ideas for new designs popping into my head with every step. I grin, if I buy enough materials, I may not have to leave the house for another month or so.

I am stopped at the gate by guards, but they quickly let me through when they realize who I am, and how I could destroy a building with one improperly made block. I scoff at the thought of leaving one un-perfected. If I wanted to bring a building down, I would give some TNT a stone covering and give it a timer so it blows at the most opportune moment. People step out of my way when I pass them on the way to the market. I try to walk speedily, I don't want to spend any more time than I have to here. Merchants advertise their wares loudly, shouting about enchanted pickaxes, and 'If you want to buy a diamond for five dollars, say 123!' which is followed by multiple people shouting the numbers.

"Haven't seen you in a while," Alex smiles at me as I walk up to her booth. "Same as always?" Alex is a block merchant, she has almost every kind, which is one of the reasons I always buy from her.

"N-no." My throat is scratchy from disuse, I clear it, "ahem. No, Alex. Double the amount, please." I reach into my inventory, and pull out three items. Two are bags, filled with separate things, and the other item is a miniature block of stone, cut into a diamond shape and styled so that it looks exactly like one too. I keep my hand under the booth so she can't see what I hold.

"Double? Sounds like you're going to be busy for a while." She turns and begins to rummage through her stock. I place the bags and stone on the counter. She turns back around and gasps at the sight of the rock. I don't see why, it is only an item, a lump of stone. I am giving it to her as she seems to like my creations, and I consider her my only friend. Friends are something I do not need, yet sometimes wish for when I have run out of thoughts to think and ideas to design. I see Alex the most, and we always have some sort of conversation when I'm here, for food or materials matters not, we always talk.

I tilt my head, I don't understand the expression on her face. It seems to be a mixture of happiness and wonder, but why are there tears leaking from her green eyes? I look down to the stone, it's nothing special. I look back up at her. "Are you okay?"

She nods wordlessly.

"Are you sure? I apologize if I somehow offended you."

"N-no!" she quickly wipes away the tears. "It's just I've never seen anything more beautiful."

I look at the stone in confusion. She reaches under the counter and brings out four stacks of oak logs and stone respectably, she places them next to the items, and delicately grabs the rock and sets it on a shelf behind her. I watch as she does so while placing the stone and wood into my inventory.

She opens the bags one at a time. In one is shavings from my work, she can use them to make new blocks. In the other is more styled blocks. She doesn't cry at these, I note. But then again, she must be used to them, after all, the whole city is made of these blocks. I start to walk away, but she jumps over the counter and gives me a hug. I stiffen at her touch, unused to physical contact of any kind. "Thank you," she mutters when she pulls away, embarrassed.

"Er- you're welcome?" It comes out sounding like a question. I leave quickly to avoid any more hugs.


"No." I stand still, wishing that my eyes are deceiving me. "No, no, no, no, no, no!" I run towards the burning building. This can't be happening. It's not happening. I drop all items to lighten myself so I can go faster. I slam my hand on the hot wood frantically, trying to break it down. I succeed and rush into the room, waving smoke away from my face and coughing it out of my lungs. I stumble around fires, trying to see whether or not my-

"No!" I stand with the flames crackling gleefully around me as they eat my belongings, watching as my life burns away. My chisel is already too destroyed to even attempt to save it. I fall to my knees, my mind becoming blank. The only thing that held any meaning to me, gone. I don't care about the heat. I don't care it will kill me if I don't move. I just don't care. Not only was my chisel my life, the only thing I have ever known, it was the last thing my father gave to me before he died. I miss him. He taught me everything he knew, about carving, Mobs, bartering, everything. His death is one of the reasons I'm so detached from everything.

Flames come closer to me, and I watch them, welcome them even. My purpose of living is gone, I don't know what to do anymore. I won't be able to buy food without my source of income. I would last for three months tops with my savings, which no doubt are being burnt to a crisp. I am so warm, not burning, just warm. I lay down and stare at what used to be the ceiling, but is now wooden planks desperately trying to hold the position they were placed into.

I see a flash of white before one of those planks falls and lands on my head, bringing comforting darkness where nothing exists.


I awake to sunlight. It's hurting my eyes, which I open moments later. I am laying face up in the ruins of my home, watching as the sun seems to laugh at me, at my misfortune.

Someone clears their throat off to the side. I ignore them, unless they can give me my chisel back they are nothing to me. A shadow blocks my view of the sun. My eyes adjust to see a man whom appears to be middle aged with dark eyes, pale skin, and a top hat. I blink up at him, but let my eyes glaze over, he is nothing interesting.

"What are you doing down there?" he asks, his voice rough, but kind. I don't want his kindness, I want my life back.

We stare at each other for a moment until I reach the conclusion that he won't leave until I answer him. "Wallowing in despair," I say finally. I figure that being truthful should make him go away faster.

"And why are you doing that?" What's with these questions? Doesn't he have something better to do than interrogate me on things that don't involve him. He smiles, as if he knows something at that thought. It's almost as if he read my mind like a book, but that's impossible. No one can do that. I look at him suspiciously, wondering what secret it is that he finds so amusing. He gives a small chuckle.

"My life is ruined." I eventually say, fed up with this guy. How can he be so cheerful when everything means nothing? When everything has no purpose? I used to have one, possibly the only one in the whole universe with something to do that I didn't pull out of my bottom, and now that purpose is dead, burnt to the ashes that I am covered in.

"How so?"

I glare at this insistent man, how come he won't take a hint and leave me be? "My purpose, my whole meaning to live is blowing away in the wind." I raise my arm to gesture at the ashes flowing through the air in an elegant dance. I suppose it's beautiful, but not at much as the smooth marks left behind by my chisel, the noise of the swirling air is not as pleasant as the scraping sound of stone chipping away from the block, leaving behind facial features that only Gods could posses, the smell though is the same; burnt oak from torches. I used those scorched blocks as finishing touches for my projects, I highly doubt that burning lines into dead trees would be the same as carving my mind into stone.

"What if I could give you a new purpose?" He says. My eyes dart to meet his own. He's calm and relaxed. My father taught me that a lying man will have a Tell. I glance over him to see if his fingers or feet are restless. I look back to his eyes, he looks back, untroubled by my intense scrutiny of him. Nothing, either he is a really good liar, or he's being truthful.

Hope blooms in my chest, maybe my life isn't over. "And how would you do that?" I ask, hope clear in my voice.

He gives another small chuckle, then reaches down his hand to help me up. "Let's go for a walk, shall we?"


Rage fills me, making me punch the tree I am standing beside. It shatters into splinters. The cleaner of two men looks in my direction, the other is covered in ash and soot. I duck behind another tree, but he knows I'm here now.

Why wasn't I watching the house like I have been since that family were given their precious tool? I believe I had been bored, so as soon as someone summoned me, I went to them. Greifers weren't common in this area, so I felt that I was wasting my time, that I could leave before the descendant returned to his home. That was extremely foolish of me, and now I am paying the price.

I survey the area one last time, knowing already which Greifer did this, having seen him run in the opposite direction once the descendant returned. I teleport away before the man thinks to remove me. Of course, I know he isn't just a man. And I would prefer to decide the place I end up. Appearing on the other side of the world would make the teleport back last longer, wasting more of the time I need to prepare.

I appear in a wooden home, a nice one. I look around, still enraged. But it is my ears that tell me the whereabouts of my prey. The sound of chests opening echos throughout the house. I speed behind the looting minecrafter, making his hair wave in the breeze caused by my quick movements. He turns, startled. I stay in view just long enough for him to see me, then rush away. He blinks, startled. He scans the room, and seeing no one, assumes his eyes are playing a trick on him, and goes back to stealing what he has no right to even hold.

I chuckle softly in amusement, just loud enough for my voice to reach the edge of his hearing. He turns again, his fear filling the air. He knows someone is watching him, and I would love to know the thoughts running through his mind. I do not hunt often, but when I do, I enjoy it immensely.

The Greifer grabs what's left in the chest, and sprints for the door. I follow him silently so he does not know what I'm doing. Outside, he steals the fastest looking horse from a stable that I had not noticed before, and kicks it, making it run. He rides for a while, with me right next to him, always on the opposite side of the horse from where his eyes look. I do not bother being quiet, and let my footsteps ring through the air, agitating him even more.

My rage is entirely gone by the time we reach his home, I am still annoyed, yes, but not seething with anger.

I grin when I look inside the Greifer's base. It seems he has friends.

"Help!" he yells when he enters the hidden home. "I think someone followed me!"

"What?!" a blond Greifer stands abruptly from where he had been lounging, playing with his no doubt over powered sword. "And you came back here! Idiot!"

"Well what was I supposed to do? Die!?" the one I followed asks angrily.

"Yes!" the other yells back, making for the door quickly. "You have doomed us all!"

I pull bedrock from deep beneath the ground up to block the exit. I laugh manically. There are three of them in total, all wearing enchanted diamond. Pity this won't last long as I had hoped. I silently kill the one who hadn't yet spoken, he slumps against the wall, unnoticed by the other two in their panic.

"Get out your weapon!" the blond one barks at his living and deceased companions. "We may be able to survive this!"

No you won't, I think.

"Laurence, what did I just say?" he yells at the dead minecrafter. "Take out your sword!"

The one I had followed quickly walks over and slaps Laurence's body, yelping when it topples to the ground. "He's dead!" he yelps, fear heavy in his voice. "Phil, he's dead!"

Phil looks startled, but puts on a confident front that I can easily see past. On the inside he's ready to get on his knees and beg for his life while filth fills his pants.

"He is dead," I say, my voice a mere whisper. "And you are next." Water begins to flow into the room from cracks in the floor. It trickles across the floor towards the Greifers.

They both scream in terror, knowing they will die. The sound makes me laugh with joy, I can taste their fear in the air. The water comes faster and faster until it is bursting from the floor in a backwards waterfall. The minecrafters are shot into the air by the force, still screeching in fear, only pausing to cough out water that entered their lungs. In seconds the room is filled, no air left remaining. Laurence's body is floating peacefully through the water as the others thrash and weakly hit against the wall in a futile attempt at escape.

Phil goes first, his efforts slowing, eyes closing and a single air bubble leaving his mouth and heading upwards. He limply floats down to the floor, his hair flowing behind him softly.

When the one I have no name for other than "Fool" begins to give out, I show myself, precious air that he wishes for so desperately forming around me. I laugh as Fool's eyes widen in fear and then hope when he spots the air. It's as though a new strength fills him as he desperately swims towards me. He cares not that I can kill him in a second, I can see it in his eyes. The only thing that matters to him now is the air surrounding me.

When he's almost breached the bubble I reach out my hand and hold a finger to his nose, forcing him back. He's weak enough that he can't go farther with that in the way. He grabs at me, trying to pull closer but he can't, his strength is gone. He can only watch as I laugh at him, so close to life, yet so far. He closes his eyes, his arms dropping. He begins to sink down to the ground. I wait a moment longer to make sure he is properly dead, then drain the room. The Greifers' bodies drop to the floor, making a loud smack sound as they hit.


No, this is not a one shot. Yes, it will take a while for me to get back to it since I have many other stories that need to be attended to, but I couldn't wait to post this because the idea and plot just keep floating round and round in my head.

Review please! I want to know how soon I should make another chapter compared to my other fics, and reviewing will let me judge that.