Chapter 1: A King's Lament
The light shone off of the crown the the king wore upon his head as he sat, hunched on his throne. Inlaid patterns of glowstone and sea lanterns cast bright light across the throne hall, revealing the vast amount of gold, emerald, and diamond patterned against the stone brick. A glass ceiling let the blocky sun shine down with all of its might and glory.
Yet, with all the light and simple beauty that surrounded him, nothing but darkness plagued the mind of King Steve.
He reflected on his past. Yes, his title was "King" Steve. Some had even taken to calling him "Emperor" Steve, which technically wasn't incorrect.
But to himself, he would always be Steve. That's who he was. That was him in the past, back when he crouched in hidey-holes, listening to the zombies moan and the skeletons rattle.
At first, he had just done that. He punched trees for wood, killed animals with a wooden sword for food, and carefully walked through caves in search of coal.
But the time came when he grew strong enough to emerge from his tiny base. He upgraded his equipment from stone, then to iron, then to diamond. He conversed with villagers, taught them how to better build and defend themselves. The tiny little hovel that was nearby Steve's original base, which was originally barely large enough to even be called a village, rapidly grew and industrialized. Minecart railways were constructed, huge automatic farms built, torches placed everywhere to keep back the monsters. The city eventually named itself "Hope". Simply hope, because that was what it stood for.
He set teams armored in iron out to gain more territory. More villages that were found quickly exploded into cities, as the territory that Steve possessed grew and grew.
Eventually, he reached a point where he met other cities as advanced as his own. They claimed to be under the jurisdiction of a single leader, just like him.
Steve often met with these leaders. They were more like him than anyone else in the whole world: the villagers, the zombies, the pigmen, and all the others were quite a bit different, in some way, shape, or form.
Sometimes, Steve and the fellow leader would come to an agreement. Oftentimes, if they were smaller, they'd even unite, the former leader now working under Steve in a newly-formed Board of Directors.
Other times, things wouldn't go to plan. Giant empire's scoffed at the fledgling nation Steve had created, and resolved to stomp it with their boot.
Surprisingly, it never worked. The kingdom suffered terrible setbacks, sometimes even teetering on the brink of extinction, but they stood strong. They banded against their foes, and through a combination of skillful leadership, dumb luck, and unbendable wills, Steve's kingdom won every time.
The world was wide. Incredibly wide. Vast oceans, damp jungles, dry desserts, wet swamps. All over were different nations, kingdoms, empires, areas owned by different people who, deep down, didn't seem all that different from each other. Just people. Lives. Souls. That's all they were.
But eventually, all of it came to belong to Steve. The kingdom reached the mythical edge of the world, right up to where the Farlands were: a place more illusion than reality. The entire world - no, the entire universe - was now under Steve's control.
They called it "The First Minecraft Empire". Why Minecraft? No one quite knows. That was what the world had been collectively referred to since the beginning of time, and that was how it was going to remain.
Life in the Empire was terrific. A true utopia. All people and opinions were considered equal, judged by the content of their character rather than appearance or any other quality. Standard of living and general happiness were higher than they were at any other time in history, while crime and violent death had dropped to nearly nothing. Life under Steve was a paradise.
And the monsters? Well, there was no place for them under the sky anymore. In the Treaty of Tannin, humanity and monsterkind peacefully settled their differences. The other races would leave the Overworld, and permanently reside in the hellish dimension of the Nether, out of sight and out of mind.
It would seem that the world had been cleared of threats. Yet Steve continued to allow funding to go to the military. In fact, he increased it.
Steve was not insane. Him and a group of priests had heard a prophecy spoken directly from the Admins - one of the few times that the gods had ever spoken directly. Within it, they foretold a terrible time, when threats outside of the universe itself would conspire. At that point, the Minecraft Empire would need to stand strong. So advance the military they did.
And one day, the prophecy came true.
A great, cataclysmic event suddenly occurred. It was an event that was unlike any other, an event that had never occurred previously and never would occur again.
They called it "The Combining". Years began to be number in relation to the event, either Before the Combining or After the Combining.
When the combining happened, the ground shook. The bedrock foundations trembled for a whole day as terrified people hid in their homes, too afraid to see what was happening.
Once a day had passed, and the people who lived close to the Edge looked out at the Farlands, they were met with an incredible sight.
The Farlands were gone.
Not just that, but they had been replaced, too. Replaced by whole new worlds.
There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to these worlds. They all jutted up against one another, filling in whatever holes existed naturally. Some were simplistic, like the world of Minecraft itself, others were incredibly vivid and sharp and filled with the incredibly strange shape called the curve.
These lands were not empty. They were also filled with inhabitants, great and small, relatively normal and completely bizarre, friendly and warlike.
Emphasis on the last part.
The denizens of a neighboring world, who called their place of origin "Fortnite" were a strange, grotesque people. Incorrectly proportioned, oddly dressed, and incredibly barbaric, they toted giant metal contraptions that spit out powerful ammunition of an unknown type at an absurd rate.
In two years, before anyone was even aware of anything that was going on, the army of Fortnite had marched across the First Minecraft Empire, massacring innocent people and seeming to laugh and dance while they did so. The Empire scrambled to assemble a defense, but day by day, Fortnite pushed farther across the blocky land.
And so, Steve lamented his situation.
"My king! My king!" a voice shouted from across the end of the hallway.
Steve cringed a little. The entire empire, trillions of lives were at stake here. This was no time for obfuscating deference.
A leather-clad messenger scrambled across the carpeted floor, nearly tripping as he did so. The white scroll in his hand clearly showed what his job was.
"Yes?"
The messenger stopped at the foot of the throne. The chair was a small, simple thing, made out of simple plush cushion rather than hard diamonds.
"I have news of the Empire's current affairs."
Steve looked at him, indicating that he should continue.
"The worlds of PubG and Overwatch have officially declared their intentions to ally with Fortnite."
Steve wanted to smash something, but he forced himself to remain calm. "To the Nether with it. Of course. That's hardly a surprise, but it's still terrible news. Anything else?"
The messenger gulped a little. "Terraria has stated its intention to remain neutral in the war. Roblox, as always, is devoutly loyal to us."
"Roblox. We have Roblox. Isn't that lovely?" Steve replied, sighing. He got up off his throne and began to pace back and forth, deep in thought.
"Call of Duty has also declared their intention to help us."
Steve stopped pacing and jumped straight up in the air. "This is absolutely terrific news! They'll be of great help. Anything else?"
"Our convoy to King Asgore has not returned. The Devil just sits in his casino and refuses to talk to anybody at all. Alliance and Horde still continue to bludgeon each other, although a certain group of night elves and dwarves have indicated that they are sympathetic to us."
"Sympathy. We don't need sympathy. We need allies." Steve muttered to himself.
The messenger stood there, looking at his king with concern, mouth slightly agape.
Steve looked on and realized the effect he was having.
"You're all right, man," he said, switching into that paternal-ruler tone that he'd learned to master. He walked up to the messenger and placed a hand on his shoulder, suddenly noticing how short he was. He was barely an adult. "You're a good man. We're all benefiting from what you do. You've done your job well."
The messenger nodded, then slowly backed away and left the king alone.
Immediately, Steve nearly collapsed on his chair and rubbed his forehead. Dark times, indeed.
Heyo. It's me, HTP, your favorite massive multiplayer crossover fanfiction author.
Oddly enough, I've never really seen anything like this, and since Rule 50 of the Internet dictates that everything must eventually cross over with everything else, I've taken upon it upon myself to further that goal.
This is me just trying my hand at something with a longer length. All my previous stories thus far have rather short, and I want to give something that's more of a feature film rather than a short Youtube video.
Expect sporadic updates. I'm currently engaged in writing another story as well, but I won't forget this. It'll get updated. Eventually.
Thanks for reading, and until next time, readers!