AN: Ten weeks ago I started this story. And I'm happy to say I'm glad I started it.
If any of you viewers are fanfic writers and use this website, you probably know something about the recent traffic stat problem. Writers couldn't see how many views they get for new content. Which sucked. Thankfully, the problem was fixed as of August 31st. But for the 8 days it was down, I was worried. I look to views for assurance, confidence, and some other third word so having them gone was kind of a letdown. Glad it's over though.
As for the hiatus, I'm gonna have a lot of school work coming soon. But I'll do my best to keep the chapters coming. So don't worry...YET.
And in honor of my 10th chapter, I'm giving you a slightly longer chapter! Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Minecraft. If I did, I would keep the old combat system for swords instead of having a glitchy buffer for each swing.
Chapter 10
Cult
[Noman]
"Oh dear! Oh dear, dear, dear! I'm lost! In the middle of the night too!" I fretted as I walked past the same tree stump for the umpteenth time. Why couldn't the instructions be a bit clearer? I don't know where I'm going! Oh what would Helena say at this moment!?
[Now Noman, I know you have a serious responsibility to handle, but I just wanted to let you know that, as the Billionth, the fate of millions is in your dainty hands. No pressure. But actually there's a lot of pressure. Good luck champ!]
Yes, those were Helena's parting words to me before I set off on this 'dangerous mission' entrusted to me by Notch. That was what all the gear was for. True the book she gave me describing my mission was vague to say the least, but surely someone as supposedly wise and powerful as Notch wouldn't allow any complete stranger to undertake such a task…right?
Yeah! I'm special! I'm the Billionth! I got unique gear! I can figure this mission out. I just…need to get out of these woods first.
*UHNN*
I spun around with my diamond sword ready. However, my hands were shaking so much that the sword slipped from my fingers before landing in front of an approaching Zombie. The Zombie merely walked over the sword before scooping it up and using it as its new weapon.
"Um...can I have that back?" I whimpered before taking a few steps back as the Zombie advanced.
Okay, relax Noman. RELAX! You are not gonna die to this creature. You are the Billionth. The one in a billion. What other weapons do you have…
Besides the diamond sword, a stack of steak, an Infinity bow (whatever that means), an arrow (why only one?), ten Golden God Apples, a hundred emeralds, and a special diamond chest plate, I had nothing.
Okay, that sounds spoiled when put that way, but it doesn't change the fact that I am weaponless. Even with the tips from that book and Helena's lessons, I'm powerless without a sword!
Maybe something else Helena said could assist me.
[Holy crap you are weak. Did you take fighting lessons from butterflies?]
I'm sure the advice is there somewhere.
[I've never seen a Crafter run away from a bunny rabbit before.]
I just need to reach far back into my memory.
[I don't know what the chest plate does, but Notch said that it was 'the greatest defense in Minecraftia.' I think he named it the…uh…Severe Shield…or something like that. It's been a couple centuries so forgive my memory.]
Alright, time to test out this defense. As the Zombie closed in I shut my eyes awaiting the pain to follow. I felt a slight jab in my shoulder before a warm feeling enveloped the center of my chest, expanding to encompass my entire body. Then, just as soon as the sensation came, it vanished. But I could still feel the chest plate's protection for me. Almost as if the chest plate had recognized my worth as the Billionth and sought to do everything in its power to protect me.
I opened my eyes to see what happened to the Zombie…only to find that it had vanished without a trace. Or rather almost without a trace as my diamond sword lied on the ground, waiting for me to wield it once more.
I stooped down to pick it up and smiled as I felt invincible.
My elation was cut short as some footsteps to the right of me caught my attention. Three iron clad figures with black leather caps emerged from the trees and surrounded me. Oh good, fellow Crafters! Maybe they can point me in the right direction.
"Well, what do we have here?" The tallest one began with a smug grin. "Lost are you?"
"Yes, very much. I was hoping you fine gentlemen could help me find a place called the Crystal Catacombs." I tentatively requested.
"Oh, we can help you, sure." Drawled the second tallest. "But first, care to tell us your number?"
"My number…Oh! Yes, of course. My number is One Billion." I declared proudly. At that, the men laughed and readied their iron swords. Uh oh. Did I offend them somehow?
"One Billion? That's pretty high. Where did you get such a fine chest plate from?" Questioned the tall one. He stared hungrily at my diamond sword and I got the distinct impression that these 'gentlemen' weren't 'gentle' at all.
"N-now gents, you don't want to do something you'll regret." I put my hands out in an attempt to dissuade them.
"I doubt we'll regret this." Stated the shortest one before all three of them swung at me.
[Cobb]
"So…care to explain why those guys were trying to kill us?" I asked my first companion.
"Because they're assholes. Next question." Floyd answered curtly.
"No. I know they're assholes, but I want to know why they think killing people is right. The way Parker said it sounded like they don't believe the inexperienced should exist." I really wanted to know what types of people were tracking us through these woods. Also, being shut up beneath an old shack seemed boring enough without some way to pass the time.
Floyd sighed before taking a bite out of a [COOKED PORKCHOP]. It was good to know that he had managed to find his own food. Especially since my food stores were 92% rotten flesh. I wouldn't give that to my worst enemy.
"I don't exactly know all the details. Just that there are others like Parker and Spring. A whole group of assholes that write off murder as 'liberation' or 'salvation.' It's nothing but garbage." Floyd spat out disgusted.
"How long were they chasing you for?" I asked wanting to know Floyd's past with those guys.
"Their group has been looking for me for two days. They're tenacious and they're spread throughout this forest. I've been trying to get past the northern mountains, but…" Floyd looked away as he trailed off and the bunker was filled with an awkward silence.
"Well, I wanna thank you for saving me from those assholes. Another second on that roof and Spring would've split me in half." I joked in an attempt to raise our spirits. But Floyd wouldn't have it.
"It was my fault they stumbled across you anyway. Plus, you didn't rat me out." He explained. "That's how I knew I could trust you."
"That and they tried to kill me."
"Well, yeah that too." He agreed scratching his cheek. "So…what number are you?"
"Does it matter?" I questioned confused. There are people out there trying to kill us and you want to know a stupid number?
"Yeah, it does. It tells me how much experience you have." Floyd explained with an irritated frown. "Like, I'm number 999,999,987. So I'm pretty low in terms of experience."
"Yet you handled that bow and TNT pretty well." His expression softened from my praise. "I'm actually close to your number. Mine's 999,999,999."
"Wow. That's a lot of nines." Floyd replied while looking down in disappointment.
"You know I said the exact same thing when I got my number." I laughed at the coincidence, but once again, Floyd remained somber.
After that engaging conversation ended, we sat in silence. The entire time, I was thinking of ways to break the awkward tension in the air.
Ugh, I hate awkward small talk! C'mon think, brain! What can I say to start up a conversation?
"So…lot of trees outside."
"Yes, forests do tend to have those in abundance." Floyd remarked dryly.
"…right." Brain you suck!
Sorry, I can't think of anything! Just ask him more questions about his past! Maybe it's a good story?
Alright, I'll try…
"So…the past…am I right?" I asked sympathetically while nudging his shoulder with my elbow. Floyd didn't move or say anything. Instead he just stared perplexedly at my elbow as I continued to nudge him.
That was terrible! Think before you say things! Now he thinks we're weird!
If he could hear the conversations going on in my head, he would think we're weird!
Look, just…CRAP! He's leaving!
"Wha?" I mumbled surprised as I was pulled from my thoughts by the sight of Floyd rummaging in the chest for his supplies. He was moving as if he no longer wanted to stay here. "Wait! Where are you going?"
"I'm sorry, but it was a mistake saving you." He did look sorry as he sorted his Inventory, but that didn't change the fact that what he said hurt.
"What are you talking about? You saved my life. How could saving someone ever be a mistake?" I asked seeking an explanation.
"I thought I was saving someone who could help me. Someone that could take on guys like Spring. But clearly your courage back at the warren was just a desperate bluff." He answered before withdrawing a shovel.
"But…I can help…I just need…"
"I'm sorry. If you're my backup…then I'm just…better off on my own." He dug out a hole and pushed himself up.
"Wait!" I called out before covering my mouth. If what he said was true, then enemies could be anywhere in this forest. Shouting would only attract attention.
I followed up after him, intent on changing his mind. I could make out his form in the moonlight as he travelled towards the looming mountains. I caught up with him and held his shoulder to stop him.
"I know I'm not skilled or have good loot or anything, but it's pretty obvious whoever is hunting us is more skilled with better loot." I stated in a hushed voice. "So we need to stick together to stand a chance."
"And your limited experience is supposed to make a difference?" He asked as he turned around.
"No, but yours will." He looked surprised at that and, honestly, I was surprised too. I pretty much just admitted that I need him more than he needs me. My brain was internally cursing me out, but I went on with my speech. "I know these guys have been hunting you for a while, but with two people, they'll have another person to worry about."
"But, we'll—"
"And I know I'm not the best conversationalist, but isn't it better to have something to talk to while you walk." I reasoned, cutting his protests off. "You were in the Void before. Nobody to talk to. Nobody to plan with. You'd want to face those killers in a similar situation?"
"I…well…No, but—"
"Exactly! No buts!" I pointed out his wording triumphantly. "You have the experience, and I have…all the advantages of being a second person. So don't go facing them alone!"
"Alright, alright! I get it!" Floyd shouted out annoyed before covering his mouth. "You can tag along until we get out of this forest. Just don't do anything stupid." He finished in a hushed whisper before resuming his walk towards the mountain.
"You got it! Let me just pack up my stuff." I rushed back to the ruined shack satisfied that I had managed to convince Floyd of my usefulness. In a few moments, the temporary base was cleaned out and my Inventory ready to go. The [CHEST] was the newest addition to my Inventory as Floyd didn't seem intent on carrying it. I made sure to cover up the hole so that Parker or anyone else couldn't track us. Then, I returned to Floyd to resume our hike.
[Gamble]
"WHY!?" I cried as I ran past moonlit trees and bushes. I didn't even bother looking back to see if my three allies were keeping up. I knew I had to focus on one thing: fleeing in terror!
Why is she here!? This was supposed to be a simple excursion! Hunt some new Crafters, get some supplies, go home safe! So what has happened to the third step!?
"Guys! I'm slowing down! Toss me another swiftness potion!" shouted one of my allies from afar.
"No way! This is my last—"
*TWANG*
The speaker was cut off by the sound of a bow being fired followed shortly by a pained squeal and then by agonizing screaming. I heard my colleagues shout words of worry, but I was far too concerned with what would happen to me if I stopped running, to stop running.
"You WITCH!" I heard from another of my colleagues as he, no doubt, attempted to fight back against her. All the while, those painful screams were echoing through the night. I wish they didn't carry so well. It sounded like the guy was screaming right next to me instead of far behind.
I knew it was pointless to fight her. That woman was a torrent of pain and destruction. She's crossed blades with better Crafters than I, and never so much as retreated. Then, there were the rumors.
I heard she took out the entire Southern Division…with a feather!
I heard she's part Enderman, part Creeper, and part bull shark!
I heard she counted to infinity…twice!
As ridiculous as these whispers and murmurs were, they all held a speck of truth. She was at fault for the decline of the Southern Division. She had the ferocity of an Enderman when enraged, the destructive force of a Charged Creeper, and the bloodthirstiness of a shark! And…well…who's to argue she couldn't count to infinity in her spare time?
"GAH!" I heard a death scream behind me and knew that someone had just been eviscerated. Shortly after that, the prolonged screaming was quickly silenced. There was only me and my other colleague left.
"Split up!" I shouted as I veered to the left. Behind me I heard the footsteps of my colleague as he continued forward. He was probably gonna head straight for the warren to get help. Hopefully, she would go after the other guy.
I mean, why chase me? I'm just a lowly grunt. A nobody! Just like all the other faceless lackeys! She has nothing to gain by—
*TWANG*
A fiery arrow whizzed past my vision and stuck in a tree just ahead. I gave a yelp of fear and began weaving through the trees to avoid being set ablaze. But wherever I went, she followed.
I could hear her. She was riding her noble steed just as she had through all her battles.
*CLOP-CLOP* *CLOP-CLOP*
Those never-ending sounds of pursuit that followed me like a shadow. My Hunger was low. Running was no longer possible without stopping. But stopping was no longer possible without dying.
*PANT* *PANT*
"Please! Don't kill me!" I cried out desperately.
*CLOP-CLOP* *CLOP-CLOP*
*HUFF* *HUFF*
"I never wanted to be a Cultist! I never wanted to kill…THEY MADE ME!" the words tumbled from my mouth as I shut my eyes in exertion. I said anything to get out alive.
*CLOP-CLOP* *CLOP-CLOP*
"I'LL DO ANYTHING YOU WANT JUST LET ME—"
*SMACK*
And that was it.
I ran into a steep rock wall.
I was trapped between the mountains I unintentionally ran toward and…
*tk tk*
I turned around with my back against the wall, both figuratively and literally, as she dismounted her steed and walked towards me in a painfully slow stride. The sound of her purple leather boots padding against the ground and my gasping breaths were the only sounds that could be heard.
*tk tk*
"Please…have mercy…" I begged with my hands held up in surrender.
But still she advanced. One hand resting her sword against her shoulder while the other one was on her hip. Under her diamond armor, she wore a sleeveless green turtleneck and navy blue jeans. A silver cross necklace could be seen against the diamond blue. Her belt was filled with powerful killing tools and gear and she wore a purple backpack.
As she closed in I lowered myself to the ground with my hands still up. I noticed her creamy skin, her short and spiky black hair, her calm expression, and her cold red eyes which reflected my fearful face. Realizing she was mere feet away I closed my eyes to await the end.
I heard her stop her stride before crouching in front of me.
"Mercy, did you say?" Came her calm and alluring voice.
Immediately, my eyes shot open as I searched her face for any signs of compassion or mercy.
She stepped to the side to reveal her steed: a fast pig with the terrifying name 'Mr. Piggles' floating above its head. (If you said otherwise, you'd be dead before you could say 'sorry.')
I saw that its eyes were trained on my form, as if it was eagerly anticipating what was to befall me.
And then I knew.
She pointed to the pig's face. "Does that look like the face of mercy to you?" She asked as she lifted her sword and ended my existence.
[Spring]
"Are you kidding me? We lost them AGAIN!" I shouted as I kicked a tree in frustration. After all that tracking, all that chasing, all that fighting, and all that talking! We came out of it with NOTHING!
I'm sooooooo miffed! I need something…something to…to take the edge off!
*Moo*
I spotted a cow grazing in some bushes. It barely had time to blink before I had descended upon it with all the pent up anger I was feeling. I tried to imagine it was Floyd, but the thing died too quick for me to savor it.
Not good enough! I need something better! I ran into the woods to look for any Mobs. So help me God, I will find the strongest, most armored Mob in this forest and make it my—
"Spring! Calm yourself! We have to get to the meeting place tonight," called my partner as he struggled to catch up.
"No! Forget the meeting! I just need a few more kills to beat—"
"Need I remind you," Park pulled me in as he explained, "that our subdivision leader will be present at this same meeting. We cannot be late."
"But…our quotas…we didn't—"
"He'll be mad sure, but he'll value our efforts more than he'll forgive our lethargy." Park finished before gripping my shoulder. "Just accept that we lost them."
I looked down at my blue sneakers with my fists clenched. I hated it when I failed to kill someone. The purpose of this Cult was to eliminate Crafters and anyone that defended them. To end their suffering and allow them to move on to a better life…
Not that I believed any of that mumbo jumbo! As far as I was concerned, there was only one life: The one I was living. All the Cult had for proof of this 'next life' theory was a set of texts written by some old fart. Hardly anything substantial.
But the Cult had one perk: To work with others that had a fondness for killing. When I first started out as a plucky, inexperienced nobody, I felt dissatisfied with the world I was thrown into. I had no memory. Time was unnaturally fast. Trees didn't fall when a chunk of them was missing. Nothing made sense!
The only thing that felt natural…was death. Things died when I killed them. Punched to death. Stabbed to death. Burned to death. Dead to death. The sheer number of deaths possible was mind numbing. Getting thrown off a cliff was my personal favorite.
And that was just for lowly animals or Mobs. I remember when I killed my first Crafter. She tried to reason with me instead of running. Bless her soul for making it too easy.
That was when I was hooked. Mobs and animals were chicken feed compared to killing a Crafter. They had more of an intellect. More lust for survival. They wanted to live.
But, fortunately for me, my wants outweighed theirs. That's when I got the attention of the Endward Cult. They praised my talents with a sword when it was really just an addictive hobby. Either way, joining them kept me out of trouble with the Kingdoms. How was I supposed to know that killing innocent civilians was 'against the law?'
I owed the Cult a lot for keeping me safe. Not to mention they introduced me to a whole bunch of fellow killers. Like Parker, and…her.
I let out a dreamy sigh and immediately calmed down. No way could I stay angry when thinking of that lovely woman. "Alright they got away. But at least I took care of Floyd's pal." I searched my Inventory before withdrawing the likeness of a slain Crafter's head: Silent_Game.
"Yeah, you were pretty amazing in that fight." Park praised as he walked towards the warren. "You're pretty skilled for a newbie. At least in combat. You're still a goofball in everything else."
"Yes, but I'm your goofball!" I grinned as I threw an arm over Park's shoulder with Silent_Game's head over mine. As weird as it looked, it felt just like a helmet instead of a decapitated head. "Still waiting on that 'I'm right, Park's wrong medal'."
"Later. We need to make it to the warren first." Park withdrew his map and guided us through the dark woods. Eventually, we stood before the same familiar gate of the abandoned warren.
"Looks like we weren't the first ones back." I pointed out as we spotted seven fellow cultists comparing kills and head counts. Wait 'till those amateurs get a load of me!
"Don't be a showoff." Park stopped me before I could run over and show off my kills. He knows me so well. "Remember, they're your elders in experience. It won't do you any good to brag."
"But you're fine with my bragging."
"No. I hate it too."
"…not even a little bragging?" I asked; hope gleaming in my big, blue eyes.
"Not unless you want a slowness potion to the face." He growled before walking over to his old buddies.
I sighed dejectedly before spotting a group of cultists who, like me, were wearing their kills on their heads. I walked over to them to talk about killing techniques or new types of gear. There always seemed to be something new in Minecraftia.
"Hey, Spring_Fever, I see you managed another kill." Chatted a familiar female cultist.
"You, know it!" I called back cheerily before frowning. "But Parker doesn't want me boasting."
"At least you don't have a mentor who makes you recite the entire Cult history by heart." She laughed at the horrified look I gave her.
"Anyone know when Blite is gonna show up?" Asked another cultist.
"He said he'd be here when the moon is above us…or something like that." Replied a third cultist.
"That's quite soon. Where the Nether is Crawford and Hutch?" Asked another cultist. "They owe me three diamonds for beating my old record and I can't extort them if Blite kills them first."
"Don't bother waiting for Crawford. I saw him fighting with a guy named Flawwed_Floyd this morning before a Creeper took him out." My ears perked upon hearing Floyd's name.
"And you just let this Floyd get away?" Asked an elder cultist indignantly.
"Hey, I was low on hearts myself. And I'm not gonna risk my life to avenge some guy I barely knew."
"We have a few missing heads, too." Called one of the elder cultists. "Gamble, Aartis, Scout, and Donny were in a party together and they still haven't gotten back yet."
"Think they found trouble?" Asked Park with a concerned look. Gamble and he were good friends that joined the Cult at around the same time, if I recalled correctly.
"It matters not." Came an icy deep voice. All thirty of the present cultists froze as they looked around for the source of the voice. Only one man could make a sound as deadly as that. But he was nowhere to be seen. "If the tardy cannot bother themselves with arriving on time, then they obviously have more on their mind than the Cult's supreme mission."
As those words were spoken, a man began to appear in the center of the warren. First his boots, dark brown and hobnailed. Then, his tan jeans and green t-shirt with black sleeves, the right one being torn off. Next, his dark skin with blue beaded necklaces hanging off his neck. A bored frown set upon his face. Barely opened eyes revealed dark purple irises full of indifference. A scar adorned his right eye and his short eyebrows were ever raised in mock surprise, despite the rest of his expression denying that very emotion from existing. And finally, his shaggy white hair covered in a purple leather cap.
This was one of the subdivision leaders of the Northern Division: Lieutenant 4Blite. A cold-hearted man, with a preference to invisibility potions, who would slay anything that stood in his way, even his own men. Some cultists believed the man had ice in his veins he was so cold.
"Right as always Lieutenant 4Blite sir." Saluted one of the elder cultists while Park looked away in shame. I could tell he wanted to talk about waiting for Gamble and the others, but he knew that trying to convince 4Blite of being merciful was out of the question.
"So, let us commence the meeting." He announced as he donned his iron armor. His voice was quiet, but it could easily be heard over the deafening silence as everyone gave him their full attention. He turned to the elders. "Have we filled our quotas for the week?"
"…we're not sure, sir. Gamble and Hutch's groups have yet to report in." Stated one of the elders tentatively. "As it stands, we're a handful of kills short of meeting our quota."
"I see. That's unfortunate." He began as he walked up to one of the surrounding buildings. "As members of the Endward Cult I would assume we'd be beyond our quota. It seems some of us are…lethargic." He didn't look at anyone or address us as a collective group, but I felt shame well up within me. I'm not lazy! I'm one of the best killers around! Floyd and Cobb? Those two just…outsmarted me. That's all! And if I ever see them again, I'll…
I froze from my thoughts as I noticed 4Blite examine the school that Floyd and Cobb escaped through. His eyes hung on the new damages caused by TNT.
"Hm…But if the groups missing from this meeting are any indication, then we've already filled our quota." He stated firmly as he turned to gauge our reactions. That was 4Blite for you. He'd do anything to fill out quotas. Even if it meant filling them with his men's heads.
"Good thinking, 4Blite sir." Praised one of the younger cultists before a wave of adulation followed. It was sickening seeing so much kiss-assery at one time. Needless to say I contributed in turn.
But none from Park, who knew he lost a friend, whether Gamble showed up or not. But, hey, them's the ropes.
"Silence." 4Blite quieted the praises with a single word. "With our mission here over, it is time for us to move on. Our Executive has requested our presence for an upcoming Gathering in the Redbone Desert. From what I heard, it's important."
I got excited at hearing that. Our Executive wants us to be there!? That means she's starting to see the worth of our subdivision! This is the perfect opportunity to meet and impress her with my dashing good looks and talent with a sword! I sighed dreamily as I could almost envision what our meeting would be like.
'Oh, Spring! I've never seen such talent with a sword! Nor have I been fortunate enough to gaze upon a Crafter with such dashing good looks as you!'
'I know, I know. It is a burden to carry such talent and beauty, but never brag about them. Such is the road I walk.'
'My division could use a modest man leading it, such as yourself. It's decided! I'm granting you 4Blite's job!'
'Oh, darling, please! You don't have to…'
'I will have none of your protests. This is happening. Just let me 'retire' 4Blite and it will all be set. Oh and one more thing.'
'Yes?'
'Kiss me you fool!'
'With pleasure!'
And then Park would be there throwing confetti and setting off fireworks as we consummate our love for each other. Just her and me and an eternity of bliss.
"HELP!" A scream pulled me from my fantasies as I turned to observe what was happening in the real world. Someone had just burst into the clearing, panting with fear in his eyes.
"Scout? What's wrong boy?" Asked one of the elders.
"Where are the others? What happened to Gamble?" Asked Park as he got up in Scout's face. Scout was still trying to catch his breath and was choking down some mushroom stew to replenish his Hunger.
"Tell us what happened Scout." Came an icy voice as 4Blite pushed Park away and knelt down before Scout.
At those words, Scout gulped and went deathly still as he recalled what happened. "We…we were scouring the forest…Gamble, Aartis…Donny, and I. We found a cave and considered some Crafters would be inside. So…we…" Scout shuttered as he once more tried to calm down.
"Keep talking, Scout." Insisted 4Blite. It wasn't just him that was interested in the story. By now, Scout had everyone's attention.
"We went inside…and we discovered a Crafter was there…was using the cave as a t-temporary base." Scout looked down at his feet and shook his head. "We didn't know who we found. We didn't know the danger—"
"Who was it?" Asked 4Blite urgently. "Who was the Crafter in the cave?"
Scout clenched his fists before looking up with fear in his eyes. "It was the Angel of Death!" He shouted before breaking down into a fit of sobs and shutters.
At that exclamation, everyone froze, including 4Blite. She's…in this forest? At once I looked over my shoulder to make sure she wasn't nearby. All of a sudden, every rustle of leaves or howl of wind garnered my full attention. Who cared about Creepers sneaking up on you. She was the bigger threat in spades!
Everyone else did the same more or less. Checking over their shoulders. Huddling next to others under the impression of 'safety in numbers.' Isolating themselves from groups under the impression of 'becoming a smaller target.' I knew it was useless though. Meaningless actions to obtain some semblance of security. The Angel of Death could kill you regardless of any endeavor of prevention. That's why she was given that nickname.
Park was the calmest of all of us. He just sat down and held his head in his hands. No doubt he put two and two together and realized that Gamble and the rest of Scout's group were dead.
"I see." Continued 4Blite's voice. If he was nervous, he did a good job of not showing it. "So the Angel of Death is here. And I suppose you and your group fled?" Scout froze at those words and looked up in horror.
In hindsight, it was probably inevitable something like this would happen. 4Blite had already warned people not to be late and to never flee from an opponent when you have them outnumbered. Scout and his group had broken both of those rules and Scout was gullible enough to think that returning to his fellow cultists would ensure his survival. He escaped one killer only to fall into the hands of an equally unmerciful killer.
Personally, I wouldn't blame Scout for what happened. Who cares if he was late and ran away? He was facing against the woman who had single-handedly eradicated the Southern Division. It was a miracle he even survived.
But 4Blite was a strict lieutenant with grim punishments. And Scout was about to be made an example of.
"Please, sir! I had no chance fighting—" Scout had tried to stammer out some hasty excuse, but 4Blite cut him off with an iron axe to the face. Scout screamed as he was knocked back with an unnatural force into a building before crumpling to the ground in a whimpering mess. 4Blite silently stalked up to him to deliver the final blow. Scout disappeared in an explosion of gear as his backpack, once filled with loot and supplies, was erased along with him.
4Blite only stooped down to collect Scout's head, leaving the rest of his gear to any watching cultist.
"What now, sir?" Asked one of the elders as if nothing had happened. "Should we look for…her?"
"No." Said 4Blite as he returned his axe to his light blue backpack. I noticed that several younger cultists sighed in relief. "We got what we came for and we have our orders. Besides, we'd need more men to handle the Angel of Death. Pack up and be ready to head out in the morning." He walked towards one of the other buildings to get some rest.
As soon as he left, several younger cultists sprinted to Scout's pile of gear like wild dogs to a steak. I wondered if I would have ended up like that if I had arrived late too. Thankfully, Park managed to convince me to arrive on time. I was tempted to join in searching Scout's supplies, but ruled it out. There couldn't be anything that good in his Inventory.
Instead, I walked over to Park and patted his shoulder comfortingly. It was the least I could do. The guy did lose a friend.
However, Park just shrugged it off and got up to walk away from me. He had a dejected, but stoic expression as he made his way to the hotel ruins to get some sleep of his own. I suddenly didn't care whether he got me my medal or not.
"You gonna be ok?" I asked.
"No, but I'm gonna have to be." Park answered roughly as his brown eyes locked onto mine. "You remember what our motto is right?"
"Yeah, I know, but—"
"What is it, Spring?"
I sighed. "'The only way forward, is endward'."
"Then, don't give me your sympathy. Gamble isn't suffering anymore. He's in a better place. Just like Scout." Park resumed his walk, leaving me to my own thoughts.
I don't believe in that, but for Park's sake, I'll try to.
[Noman]
I opened my eyes to see that the three men that attacked me were gone. All that was left of them were three identical likenesses in the form of heads and a mountain of supplies that I couldn't even fit in my Inventory.
I killed them…without even touching them. I thought to myself as I slowly backed away from the three separate piles.
No…this is bad. This is very bad. I'm supposed to be the savior of Minecraftia. Not a…murderer.
This wasn't like those Mobs. Helena said those things were born from darkness. Evil incarnate whose sole purpose was the eradication of any and all Crafters.
These were Crafters. People with names and emotions and thoughts. I backed into a tree as I gazed in horror at the head of one of the fallen Crafters. He was a person. He had a name. He was Hutchinson. And I killed him. I killed them all!
Why did they leave their heads here? Why did they attack me? They said they were going to help me! Why did this—
I couldn't stand it anymore. I curled in upon myself and cried. There I was. Nowhere_Man: The supposed savior of Minecraftia. And I was crying because I had unintentionally killed three Crafters.
And it was the armor's fault! The same thing that protected me from Mobs could kill Crafters instantly. I immediately tore the armor off and stashed it in my Inventory before resuming my crying.
At that point, I didn't care whether a Mob snuck up behind me and killed me in my defenseless state. All I could do was weep over the first casualties of my mission.
Inventory: 1 Wooden Shovel, 1 Wooden Pickaxe, 1 Wooden Hoe, 1 Wooden Sword, 1 Wooden Axe, 5 Cobblestone, 3 Torches, 1 Chest, 1 Stick, 13 Oak Wood Planks, 2 Wooden Pressure Plates, 1 Trapdoor, 1 Stone Slab, 3 Oak Doors, 1 Wooden Button, 1 Clock, 59 Dirt, 2 Signs, 1 Bucket, 1 String, 1 Bone, 1 Rabbit Stew, 1 Leather Boots, 11 Rotten Flesh, 1 Emerald
AN: Poor Nowhere_Man.
Not really a Cobb-centric chapter. It bounced around a whole bunch but was tied together by the Endward Cult.
For the record, all the characters introduced so far were made by me. Except Herobrine and Notch. No viewer OCs have been included...YET. But the 'Angel of Death' is probably my favorite character.
Review, Fav, Follow, some other fourth thing. It helps.