AN: Short Chapter. My work schedule changed recently so I have less time to type. Been three weeks since the last Chapter and I feel bad about squeaking out this pitiful thing.

But, what can do?

Disclaimer: I don't own Minecraft. If I did, I'd add Tumbleweeds.

Chapter 186

What's a Life

[Noman]

"Cobb, come in!" Soul shouted for the map messenger, Albert, to relay. It was silent on the other end, Cobb having ended the conversation. "Cobb!? Did he—" Soul threw his head back and screamed. "He fucking hung up on me!"

"Raaawk, fucking hung up on me!"

"Not now, Chris. I'm too mad!"

"Language, Soul." I chastised half-heartedly. I was in too poor a mood to offer much energy, but I pointed out the blips on the map. "Look."

Under our gaze, the white blips started to disappear one after the other.

"They've gone to that End dimension." I stated. "We won't be able to communicate with them until they return."

"Assuming Carys' Paragons don't use the opportunity to kill them." Soul growled.

"Would be a little pointless at this stage, don't you think?" Albert commented dryly while stowing away his map. "The Angel of Death has a vested interest in SutsCo's merchandise, and will show gratitude to Cobb for sharing such intel. Baltic will keep him around so long as he continues to provide valuable information."

Soul glared at him. "Your assurances don't mean much."

"Then hear it from me." The husky voice of Carys called out. She walked over with a scowl directed at me, despite not having said anything. "I'm not killing them this early."

"This early!?" Soul shouted. "That's even worse of an assurance!"

"Take it or leave it." She shrugged indifferently before turning to face me fully. "Noman. Follow me."

"W-What for?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Carys regarded me for a second, making me sweat, before she answered. "Cobb says you're good at talking. Let's talk and walk." She gestured to the empty evening desert, bidding me to follow.

"Hang on, where are you taking him?" Soul extended a hand to protect me. "You want to talk, you can talk right here."

A more reserved person would have taken steps to diffuse the situation, compromise, and avoid hostility. Not Carys, though.

"I wasn't aware that Noman was one of your many pets." Carys countered smoothly, the corners of her lips quirking up. "He can happily be an invalid under your care. You can feed him and pet him behind the ears while the rest of us bloody our hands."

"Don't call him an invalid!"

"Soul, it's fine." I pushed his protective arm aside. "She's… she's not wrong calling me that."

"That's right. Just shed your spine. Abandon all backbone." She continued to fire insults idly, each one squashing my low spirits lower. "Devolve into stairs so people can continue to walk all over you."

"I'm warning you, Carys—!"

"Let him talk for himself!" She snapped at the axe-wielder, drawing her scythe and slamming it into the sand an inch away from Soul's foot. She got up into his face, daring him to argue. He bit his lip and kept silent. "You have anything to say, worthless?" She added to me.

I shook my head, my gaze downcast.

"Then follow me. We're going." She turned on her heel and walked off into the desert. I followed obediently, my eyes glued to her heels and the desert sand. We left the Paragons and the camp behind, the moon and stars lighting the way.

The silence stretching between us was anything but pleasant. Carys had her scythe drawn and her gaze firmly forward, refusing to even glance back to ensure I was keeping up with her brisk pace. At the crest of a sand dune, the camp sunk out of sight and we were firmly set in the desert's darkness.

Mobs weren't far from it.

The smell hit first, smelling of meat left in the sun too long. My eyes watered and I covered my mouth as my lunch threatened to make a reappearance. Carys merely wrinkled her nose in disgust before leveling her scythe towards the approaching Zom—

A groan like grinding stone, dry and raspy. Tan, flaking skin, dried like leather. Bleached hair and dry strips of cloth that hung like a second skin. Like the outer husk of a cob of corn.

"Those… aren't Zombies…" I took a cautious stance as the dried Mobs marched closer. They behaved like Zombies—groaning with arms outstretched—but they looked leathery and sun-baked. How could that be when it was night?

"Husks." Carys put a name to them as she spun her scythe with a flourish before slicing the nearest Mob apart. She killed two more in quick succession before sparing me a glance. "I was told that you can handle Mobs. Or are you going to find homes for them?"

I flushed in embarrassment before drawing my sword and shield and stepping up. No matter how many Mobs Carys dispatched, more seemed to spring up from the darkness. The flat desert was devoid of any light source to interfere with the spawning process, so spawn they did. I blocked arrows with my shield and kept my distance from the Creepers. However, the Husks spawned in place of the Zombies.

I observed them warily. Were they a new Mob from the latest Bounty Day? Couldn't be, otherwise Carys wouldn't have named them so surely. So then… they were from a past Bounty Day? Cobb would want to hear about them; He was always interested in new Mobs, and they wouldn't have been covered in Herobrine's Mob books. As long as I was fighting them, I could pass along what they were like.

I took a chance and got in close to a Husk all by itself. I readied my shield as it swung its arms. The wooden thunks rang out, but there wasn't much strength beyond a regular Zombie. It let out another raspy moan before I took a chance and lowered my shield, inviting an attack.

The clawed swipe caught my forearm, glancing off my armor and dealing a Heart-and-a-half of damage. At first, I thought it wasn't much better than a Zombie aside from aesthetics.

That was until my stomach started groaning.

"Uff." I doubled over just before shoving the Husk away. My hand came to my stomach as there was an internal twitch. Gurgling sounds hit my ears as my innards rebelled, and I became aware of a deep hunger I was desperate to satisfy.

The Husk came back only to be slain in a powerful slash. It didn't alleviate my hunger, though. I was starving. Like I hadn't eaten all day, despite having had a meal before setting out. I glanced at my Hunger Meter for verification only for my eyes to go as wide as pressure plates when I saw a Hunger tattoo counting down. My Hunger Meter was also deteriorating steadily while dull green particles swirled around me.

Was that how Husks differed? They weakened Crafters by inflicting them with Hunger, giving other Mobs an opportunity to attack. In that way, combat would become a battle of attrition.

But now that I knew, I made sure to keep my shield between them and me (the shields seemed to block the Hunger effect). My Mob combat was a bit rusty; most of the time, we fought Crafters, with my priorities firmly set on little to no casualties. Now, I was free to attack without restraint, my sword and shield working in tandem to dispatch Mobs without taking damage. And after the Hunger effect faded way and a couple of steaks, I was back to normal.

More Mobs came.

And then more.

And then some more. And more. And more.

The desert at night may have been colder, but I found myself wiping off a sheen of sweat from my forehead as I kept fighting. The dress clothes that warmed me were heating up uncomfortably under the continued duress of combat. After maybe an hour of slaying Mobs without a word I spared a glance to Carys to see how she was holding up.

With a flourish, she slammed her scythe into the sand and dealt a shockwave of damage to the approaching Creepers, killing four of them at once and sucking up their EXP. I gaped at her lack of expression as she darted after the next closest Mobs. Her sleeveless green turtleneck seemed a poor choice for the cool nights, but she made no sign of feeling the cold. No shiver, no rubbing her shoulders, no breathing into her hands. She just… dealt with it. Moving her body so much to get her blood heated up and pumping.

One thing was clear: She wasn't ready to stop.

I shook out the fatigue in my arms and went back to fighting Mobs. This felt like some test to gauge my strength, and since I messed up in the raid, I felt I had to make it up now.

So I threw myself into combat. Husks, Spiders, Skeletons, Creepers, Witches, even Endermen when I was feeling brave. Those tall menaces were even deadlier without low trees to hide under. But I fought and fought and fought, not wanting to be the first to admit it was too much. I'd go on until Carys said otherwise.

Thirty Mobs became forty. Then sixty. Then ninety. Then two-hundred. Still, Carys refused to call it quits. She may have even killed twice as many as I have, but I couldn't be sure.

She must have had enough by now.

…

Surely, she had to have had enough by now! The Mobs won't stop!

Carys viciously clotheslined a Husk with her scythe before grabbing a Splash Potion of Poison from her pack. She threw it at a Creeper, hitting it full in the face and causing it to hiss in pain. As the green particles swirled around, she swapped insanely fast to a flint and steel and sparked it against the Creeper. At once, it started to flash white. A forced explosion!?

Carys then gave the poisoned Creeper a contemptuous kick into an oncoming horde of Spiders and watched it explode. Many spiders died on impact, but I was astounded to find a green cloud lingering around the crater. The Spiders within started hissing as if the cloud was caustic. It was the telltale sign of poisoning.

The Creeper afflicted by the poison effect… It left a cloud of that same effect after exploding. Was that true of all effects? That information wasn't in Herobrine's book, and Cobb had said he'd been so thorough in his research. Was this another past Bounty Day addition that Carys and the Paragons were aware of? First Husks, then forced explosions, now potion clouds?

Just as we knew things about the End and Hackers, they seemed to have picked up a few tricks from their vast, self-touted information network.

After kneeing a Skeleton in the chin followed by a diagonal slice across its ribcage, Carys finally took a step back to examine all the rotten flesh, bones, string, and other Mob drops left from our efforts. Nodding once, she set down a few torches to dispel the darkness surrounding us.

"That'll do for now. Clean up the stragglers." She lowered herself to the sand and crossed her legs. "Then we can talk."

Panting heavily, I could only nod as I moved to finish the leftover Mobs. After the raid, fighting Mona, and now fighting Mobs, I was thoroughly exhausted and craving the comfort of my soft bed. With the torches placed, we established our own little safe zone where Mobs couldn't spawn. They would still appear in the darkness left unlit, but that was too far away for them to notice us.

I joined Carys in sitting by the torchlight, putting a comfortable distance between us. Even then, Carys scooted a bit further away from me before she started talking.

"You can kill Mobs."

I blinked at the statement of fact. Wasn't that obvious? Had she been paying attention to how many I killed just now?

"…Yes?"

"But you can't kill Crafters." She added. "Even when they deserve it."

"Nobody deserves death."

"Oh, I think you'll find there are plenty of people who deserve death." She smiled darkly. "Especially if you live as long as I have. But that's besides the point." She shook her head. "What do you call life?"

"…What?"

"What. Do. You. Call. Life?" She punctuated the words. "What do you consider living? What can you kill and what's off limits?"

"Oh." I chewed on some steak to give me some time to answer. "Life is… well, I guess there are several caveats." I thought about it carefully. "To be alive, what do you need? Food. You need to be able to take in energy and then expel it through actions. To be able to sustain yourself and, well, 'live'."

"Mobs don't eat Crafters, but they follow an instinct to hunt us." Carys pointed out. "They expel energy and follow an instinct. We all have our instincts. Some people say Normal Sense is like an instinct."

"Mobs aren't alive." I spoke firmly, taking another bite of steak. "I think… to live you have to think. Mobs are mindless."

"They can walk around holes in the ground to get at you."

"But these Mobs aren't getting close to us." I gestured to the surrounding darkness. Despite being in clear view, the Mobs wouldn't approach unless we were within a certain range of them. "I think, to be alive, you need to be capable of higher thought too. Crafters can build things and learn recipes, or otherwise work them out. Mobs might be able to use tools like bows or swords, but I think it's more meaningful to be able to create rather than destroy."

"So the cow you're eating was never alive?"

I paused mid-bite into my steak, gauging her question. "…No, cows aren't capable of higher thought. If they were, I think they'd have pieced together what they were being raised for and would have tried desperately to escape. Even though they eat wheat and expend energy, I don't classify them as alive. Even Soul's pets, while intelligent, aren't—" I paused suddenly, realizing how insensitive I was being. "B-But that doesn't mean pets can't be loved, o-or that the loss of them won't stir some emotional—"

"We're not going into that." Carys declared with finality. Her scowling crimson eyes shut me up, allowing her to continue with her line of questions.

"To sustain yourself and live… and to be capable of higher thought. What else?"

"What else…" I hummed to myself, taping at my chin. It couldn't just be those two things. Life was so much more than that. It had to be.

"I think it's also about… growth." I nodded, finding the classification satisfying. "Conscious development and evolution through growth. Living things can grow stronger and smarter. We can adapt and change to increase our likelihood of survival."

If living beings remained stagnant and unchanging, they never would have been able to evolve through sudden shifts in their environment. As more Bounty Days came about, Crafters had endeavored to learn about them. They tried to understand the changes and harness them. Improve upon them, or use them to improve themselves.

I learned Aikido so I wouldn't have to kill anymore. While I hadn't succeeded entirely, it did help with the guilt. Even Cobb had evolved somewhat rapidly as he was thrust into the reality of who Jade really was. I just wish his evolution hadn't had to hurt him so deeply.

Feeling emotion on his behalf… it gave me another thought.

"Compassion." I finished. "The ability to care for another… and to feel kindness for another. That's the last bit to life. Living things need to be capable of empathy."

At that, Carys threw her head back and let out a mirthless laugh.

"Ahaha! Compassion? What, are you naïve enough to think the Endward Cult feels compassion?" She loosely covered her mouth with her hand as her crimson eyes regarded me coldly. "Even with all your caveats, you still consider cultists as living beings worth protecting? You must be joking."

"Why not? Isn't the purpose of the Endward Cult to 'liberate' Crafters. They believe in Next Life, so don't they just want to unbind Crafters from this world so that they can pass on to another?" I reasoned. "They might be misguided, but in their own way, they care enough in their beliefs to—"

"The fanatics believe." Carys cut me off with a scowl. "People like Ember or Garden or your pal Jade." I felt a twinge of pain at the mention of her name. "But let me tell you something. Not everyone in the cult is a fanatic. Some are using it for power and self-interest, some are using it to control overpopulation, some are criminals using it to hide away from the kingdoms, and some are just damn crazy!"

"Language."

"Fucking, batshit-ass crazy!" She made a point to curse more, violating my ears with her slurs as she slammed her palms in the sand. "I wonder what you'd think of those types. The ones devoid of compassion who kill because they like it. Are they worthy of life?"

"Maybe not worthy." I spoke carefully, knowing my words would be used against me. "But they still have a hold on life. They're capable of growth and change. They could be redeemed."

"Too late for that."

"It's never too late."

"Except it sort of is!" Carys lunged forward before I could react and grabbed my arm before yanking it towards her. I was dragged from my spot and onto my back as she pulled back my sleeve and showed off the EXP Meter tattoo on my arm. "See this? 34! You were Level 26 before I had you fight all those Mobs. How many would you say you killed? Close to two-hundred? I killed twice that amount and only cleared 59. That's five levels to your eight, because Mobs only offer 5 EXP apiece." She released my arm contemptuously. "But an experienced cultist? They can offer a maximum of 100 EXP apiece as long as they're Level 15 or higher. Know how they got all that EXP?"

I knew, but I didn't want to say it aloud. I didn't want to admit it.

"It's because they killed for it!" Carys voiced my thoughts. "They're way past redemption! They don't have your bleeding heart, Noman. They don't think twice about a Crafter brimming with EXP. They'll cut down any life they find and make themselves stronger. If you truly call yourself a protector of life, you should show them the same courtesy!"

"Like you?" I snapped back, getting to my feet. "Why do you feel the need to kill anything that stands in your way? You can't tell me that everyone who fell by your blade deserved it." Carys narrowed her eyes. "I know there are evil people in the world, but that doesn't mean we have to answer them with evil in turn."

"If you had AceOfJades, right here, right now," my breath hitched at the scenario she presented, "what would you say she deserved? A traitor like her?"

"…" I cast my gaze down and hesitated for a second before giving my answer. "…Lock her up."

"Oh for fu—"

"Lock her up and let her live with her choices!" I repeated more firmly. "She can pass the rest of her life behind bars, watching the world she turned against and knowing the people she hurt will have moved on without her. That's justice."

"Until someone springs her and she's free to kill again." Carys rolled her eyes. "You think Soul or Floyd or Cobb would let her go with just that? They'd shut that shit down."

"Cobb's not like you." I said, recalling his map message to Soul. "He wants us to forget about her."

"Then I gave him too much credit. Too much of a wuss to confront his ex-girlfriend." She criticized under her breath.

"It's because he feels compassion." I stated. "They loved each other. He couldn't just kill her. It's why he let her go."

"And how did that work out for him?" Carys posed before narrowing her eyes. "You know, he said you were good at talking, but the more we talk, the more I come to realize," she swung her scythe into the sand, "I really can't stand your naïveté!"

"I'm not asking you to stand it, but at least respect that I won't kill."

Carys looked like she wanted to scream. The fingers on her free hand were curling inward as if she wanted to reach out and choke me. I knew I was being unreasonable, but I had my beliefs and I'd choose to stick with them. Aikido was about developing the spirit, sense of well-being, awareness, and most of all compassion. My spirit wasn't so weak as to give up in the face of the terrifying Angel of Death.

"…Aikido has no place in war." She uttered past grinding teeth. "They'll come a time when you're faced with a reckless berserker—and I'm not talking about that guild of bounty hunters! I'm talking about a foe that'll have no regard for his own life and will continue to pursue you until you're dead! In the face of that, your precious aikido will be less than worthless!"

"We'll see."

"No we won't." She stated firmly. "I brought you along to serve as bait for the Endward Cult. I was hoping you would be able to hold your own as a fighter, but clearly that's no longer viable. If you can't kill you can't fight. No more raids and you can forget about fighting on the front line." She stowed her scythe at her belt and glared at me coldly. "Starting tomorrow, you'll be joining Albert, Reuben, and Harbord as part of Team Beta, the potion and attrition unit."

"What!?"

"You heard me. You don't want to fight? Then you can make potions and meals for the ones who do want to fight. I won't waste any more time on an invalid."

There was that word again. The more she used it, the more I hated it.

"You can't do this! Who'll protect my friends if I'm not there?"

"You protect your friends just as much as your enemies, so I see no merit in keeping you on." She pointed out. "Learn support techniques from Team Beta. You can still be a help on the battlefield… just so long as you don't throw healing potions at our enemies. If you don't like it, reaffirm my faith in your abilities and fight like your life depends on it. Otherwise, I don't want to hear any arguments. End of discussion."

"But I can—!"

"End of discussion." Carys's tone left no room for argument, and, to drive the point home, she dusted the sand off her navy blue jeans and walked off back to camp. My protests were left on the tip of my tongue, unsaid as I watched her retreating back.

Alone with my thoughts, I was forced to replay the conversation in my head.

In every sense of the word, this could be called a compromise. She tried to understand what I characterized as life and made an effort to question why I refused to kill, cultists or otherwise. Acknowledging that I was unlikely to give up my beliefs, she instead opted to take the choice out of my hands entirely, relegating me to the support role… where I wouldn't get in the way.

I wouldn't have to kill and she could keep me on as bait. Everybody wins.

Except, I wouldn't be with Floyd and Soul anymore. If there was another raid, I'd be left behind; Carys said as much. Raids were for killing cultists, and I wouldn't kill cultists. Floyd and Soul could, but I just couldn't.

There was little use arguing about it. Carys was as unyielding to this as I was. We'd never see eye to eye. And even if I did convince her to keep me with the others, then what? I'd be sent into raids where I'd knock out cultists only for the Paragons to finish them off? That wouldn't save lives.

I hugged my knees as I sat down in the sand, wishing I was with Cobb instead. From his messages, his group hadn't been doing any raids. They were traveling under the cult's radar. I would have preferred going to other dimensions instead of plotting attacks with casualties.

Come to think of it, with Cobb, we hardly ever had to kill anyone. We had more freedom to decide what to do—maybe because we were always on the move or we could always outrun our foes with the Asmodeus. I desperately wanted to get back to that, but such a thing was impossible with the Paragons who actively attacked. And even Cobb would be actively attacking when he reached the Cult's Eastern Division.

All I could do was stick with what I knew, which was not to kill. As a follower of aikido, I had to defend myself without hurting my foes. That, I could do.

After all, it wasn't like the scenario Carys hypothesized would come to pass. When would I ever encounter a belligerent and deadly foe I couldn't handle?

[Elsewhere…]

In a seedy village pub, a man with messy red hair and steampunk goggles approached the barkeep. The other bar patrons shot sideways glances at the man but made sure not to make direct eye contact. They could smell he was trouble.

"What can I get you?" The barkeep asked.

"Looking for two someones." Lone_Gunnah answered before tilting his head to the dilapidated wanted posters. A few new ones had been hung in response to the escaped prisoners from Ringwood, but he only had eyes for the one with the stupid face. "King_Cobb. You seen him around here?"

"No, nobody like that." The barkeep shook his head. "Though not many folks come through here."

"What about a man named Nowhere_Man?"

"A man named Nowhere? That's quite the stupid name." The barkeep commented. "Is he also a criminal?"

"Have you seen him or not?" Gunnah asked shortly.

"No, I'd remember a name as stupid as that."

With his questions answered, Gunnah took out a list of pubs and bars from his backpack and crossed out another of them. Leadstripe hadn't given him much of a lead to track, but the pay was well worth the effort. All he had to do was survey the villages until he found someone who'd seen them. King_Cobb would stick out with his exorbitant bounty, but Nowhere_Man would be a bit trickier.

Either way, finding them was the hardest part of the job. The rest would—

"Hey, buddy, this is our bar." Some drunken pieces of filth got in Gunnah's way. Five guys. "We don't take kindly to strangers! So fork over whatever you got in your pocket, or else we'll knock your teeth—"

Gunnah did as bidden and took out what he had in his pockets: Splash Potions of Harming II.

He tossed out three of them so the overlapping damage would hit all the drunks in his way. They exploded in five showers of gear, their Heads tumbling to the ground before they could even feel it.

The other patrons screamed and left their seats, pressing themselves to the wall as Gunnah strode out unimpeded.

As he was saying, finding King_Cobb and Nowhere_Man was the hard part. The rest would be easy.

Inventory (Floyd): 1 Mob Head {Creeper}, 1 Iron Sword, 1 Diamond Helmet [Projectile Protection IV], 1 Diamond Chestplate [Projectile Protection IV], 1 Diamond Leggings [Projectile Protection IV], 1 Iron Pickaxe, 2 Iron Ingots, 64 Steak, 49 Steak, 2 Sticks, 31 Coal, 20 Torches, 1 Fishing Rod, 1 Furnace, 1 Crafting Table, 1 Minecart, 1 Bed, 1 Boat, 1 Diamond Boots [Projectile Protection IV], 16 Gunpowder, 16 Ender Pearls, 2 Ender Pearls, 1 Splash Potion of Invisibility {8:00}, 1 Bucket, 1 Map {Minecraftia}, 1 Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Paper {Ringwood Entry Pass}, 1 Paper {Zeppil Entry Pass}

[EXP: 44]

Stratus the Horse

Inventory (Soul): 1 Diamond Axe [Sharpness V], 1 Iron Pickaxe, 64 Iron Ingots, 28 Iron Ingots, 20 Flint, 12 Gold Ingots, 1 Milk Bucket, 1 Diamond Helmet [Protection IV, Unbreaking III], 1 Iron Chestplate, 1 Diamond Leggings [Protection IV, Unbreaking III], 1 Diamond Boots [Protection IV, Feather Falling IV, Unbreaking III], 1 Crafting Table, 1 Jukebox, 1 Music Disc {chirp}, 1 Bed, 1 Furnace, 24 Torches, 34 White Wool, 23 Dirt, 21 Pumpkin Seeds, 64 Cobblestone, 62 Cobblestone, 32 Jungle Wood Planks, 1 Armor Stand, 64 Steak, 1 Map {Minecraftia}, 1 Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Paper {Ringwood Entry Pass}, 1 Paper {Zeppil Entry Pass}

[EXP: 41]

Long-Face the Horse

Cat-Face the Cat

Christopher Squawken the Parrot

Inventory (Noman): 1 Diamond Sword [Sharpness I], 1 Diamond Chestplate {Severe Shield}, 1 Leather Boots {Bottes Zephyr} [Dyed White], 1 Green Shield [Beginners], 1 Flint and Steel, 1 Milk Bucket, 6 Buckets, 1 Bed, 1 Crafting Table, 1 Water Bottle, 1 Water Bottle, 1 Water Bottle, 1 Water Bottle, 5 Ender Chests, 16 Ender Pearls, 4 Ender Pearls, 1 Nether Star, 44 Steak, 3 Phantom Membranes, 1 Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Paper {Zeppil Entry Pass}, 1 Paper {Akasha Entry Pass}, 1 Map {Minecraftia}, 1 Enchanted Golden Apple, 1 Diamond Helmet, 1 Iron Chestplate, 1 Diamond Leggings

[EXP: 34]

Snow the Horse

Will Noman quit being a wuss? How will the Beginners and Paragons deal with the killer bounty hunter searching for them? And how will -

Audience: WE DON'T CARE! GO BACK TO COBB'S STORY!

Okay, Sorry, Geez! Next time, we revisit Cobb in the End.

...Other Characters need attention too you know.

FAV. FOLLOW. REVIEW. PM. FORUM. DISCORD. DONUTS.