(A/N: Based on tumblr Anon's prompt: Joel gets corrupted by Xornoth or Xornoth does something that makes it so Joel cannot ignore the fact he exists any longer.)
The world is full of mad rulers. The only difference is their degree of madness and how well their mask fits.
Xornoth did not take this into account when following Shrub up into the Overworld. The kings of Mythland and the Lost Kingdom were the easiest to crack, each one falling to lust; the lust of power, the lust of heart.
Others proved to be difficult. The Ocean Queen ignored him, busying herself with underwater experiments. Shrub sought forest spirits to aid her. The Grimlands Count dared to convert his tendrils into fertilizer.
Yet the most difficult of all was the King of Mezalea.
It wasn't for lack of trying.
With his fearsome powers restored, Xornoth unleashed many tendrils across the various lands. Erupting from the earth, they shot into the sky. Finally, at last, this seemed to catch the King's attention.
Yet not enough for the Mezalean ruler to acknowledge the existence of Xornoth. Was the man truly this dense? Did he not lend a hand in slaying the Ender Dragon? How could one be in such a position of authority if he could not see what was in front of him—demonic tendrils circling around his city? Could he not consider the source of such power?
Something had to be done. This was maddening.
Xornoth maneuvered his Eye away from the Ocean Empire and cast his gaze upon Mezalea. A few days passed and it finally dawned upon the powerful demon. All the residents looked the same! How did it take him this long to notice? He hadn't been around humans before, but judging from the other lands, humans didn't usually appear identical.
All this time… had Xornoth been seeding corruption into the heart of the wrong person? Persons?
(His brother needn't know of this folly.)
Upon closer inspection, Xornoth discovered the following:
The Mother Tree was a blend of magic and technology.
The Mother Tree, created long before Xornoth's arrival, did not believe in Xornoth, and so neither did the clones.
In birthing new clones to fill needed roles, the Mother Tree programmed each clone accordingly. Whether the clone is a worker, merchant, or the king himself.
This elicited a wicked grin. The others of this realm tapped into the innate magic of the land to respawn. But the king? The king was a clone.
And clones, it appeared, were programmable.