My Craft

by OnTheCobb

Devoid of memory or purpose, a new Crafter is pushed forth into the unforgiving land of Minecraftia. Armed with nothing but his wits, he must…well…actually he's pretty witless. Hopefully he won't get killed in the first week. Hopefully.

74. One

AN: Hey. Sorry this is... actually, you know what, I'm NOT sorry. This Chapter was a bitch to write! I'm not sorry one bit!

As if it wasn't bad enough I have finals and tests to worry about this week, not to mention reports I have to resubmit, I had to type up this Chapter. But wait, it gets better! After typing up half of what was supposed to be Chapter 74, my computer crashed! And like an idiot, I forgot to periodically save so there went all that content. And after raging for one full hour, I was too tired to even retype what I had just lost, so I said 'fuck it' I'll type it another day.

THEN, I got sick! And I don't know if any of you have ever tried typing while having a runny nose and coughing your lungs out all over your keyboard, but it isn't fun. In fact, it's a living hell! So I had to take off an additional week just so I'd feel well enough to make this.

THEN, because I realized I'd been gone for three weeks without an update, I was forced to type an extra long Chapter just to appease the viewers who feel cheated out of content!

So I'm not sorry one bit for this being late! In fact, I think it's better because it was late! So bring on the pitchforks and torches, viewers! Because I am in a RAGE!

*huff* *huff*

...I'm sorry you all had to see that. It's been a very stressful couple of days.

Just... let's just get on with the Chapter.

IMPORTANT: I set up a new poll. It's on my profile near the top and it's a Character popularity contest. I figured to set it up just for the heck of it. Vote on your favorite My Craft characters. There's not a lot of memorable ones, but it's up to you, the viewer, to decide which one you like the best. Everyone gets one vote, so check out my profile to cast them.

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

Beta: Void of Shining Darkness

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Chapter 74

One

[Cobb]

I was really doing well in my fight against Wynn.

"Ow!"

And why wouldn't I? I mean, I took out a Hacker—something that had never been done before—and saved Halstatt from an army. Even Wynn couldn't do that. So it stood to reason I'd be able to defeat her in combat.

"Ugh, my face!"

Then again, my victory over Alec and Alec's victory over Wynn could have followed more of a… rock-paper-scissors scenario. Rock beats paper, paper beats—no wait, other way around. Rock beats scissors. Then scissors beats paper and paper beats rock. So Alec would always beat Wynn, I would always beat Alec, and Wynn…

"Okay… okay slow down—Whoa! Did you just try and spin-kick me!? What the frig!?"

Come to think of it, how the hell could paper beat rock anyway? I mean, it covers rock, sure, but that doesn't really hinder the rock, does it? It's not like the rock needs to breathe and the paper is smothering it. It's just a rock covered with paper now. And while we're at it, scissors are pretty damn durable. Unless the rock weighs a ton, I don't see it smashing scissors anytime soon. Scissors cutting paper? No argument there. That just made sense.

"Okay, Wynn! I give up! Seriously, put down the rapier!"

"Not until you use your fishing rod." Wynn shot back, her rapier held before her in her usual stance. "I'm determined to thwart your skill with it, and I won't settle for anything less." The focus in her amber eyes showed just how serious she was. But I was just as serious and twice as focused as—

Why even call it rock-paper-scissors? In Minecraftia it may as well be called cobble-paper-shears. It sounded more fitting—

I winced as the end of Wynn's rapier caught my shoulder. The ivory-haired Captain pulled back to strike the same spot, but I quickly knocked iher attack aside with the edge of my diamond sword.

Okay, so my focus needs work…

"Go Cobb!" Erin cheered from the sidelines, waving some saplings like pom-poms. When she heard Wynn and I would be fighting and I asked her if she wanted to watch, she initially declined, saying she didn't want to see me get brutally defeated.

Harsh, but probably true.

But I had laughed it off, walking away with a passing rhetorical comment asking who in their right mind would want to watch me work up a sweat.

Suddenly, Erin was very interested in watching our fight.

"Go, Cobbert." Lenz was there too, cheering in his own way: By not watching and burying his nose in that notebook of his. "Fight. Hit her with a Creeper." Came his monotone support.

"Lenz, there aren't even any Creepers here!" I shouted back, ignoring my opponent. Another mistake Wynn was quick to capitalize on when a boot caught the side of my face.

So yeah, she was actually winning—or as I like to call it Wynn-ing—the fight. So then why did she look so frustrated?

"Fishing rod! Now!" She shouted as she lashed out with her rapier. I deflected as best I could, but it was like blocking water with a strainer. I was full of holes for her to exploit and it wasn't like I had a shield or something.

Although…

"Hey," I asked as I brought up my sword to scrape against her rapier. She tilted it upward, but I pushed forward, locking the weapon against her chest. Her eyes narrowed as our weapons trembled against each other in a contest of strength. "Are there shields in Minecraftia?" I asked through my teeth. The Captain strained against my weapon even as her feet edged backward.

"No. Shields don't exist." She replied, moving her arm up to support her blade. "But perhaps the next Bounty Day will change that. Now quit stalling and draw your fishing rod."

"I don't have it on me." I answered back honestly.

"Then make a new one."

"I figured I'd train my sword skills today." I shot back, tilting my head to indicate the blade in my grasp. "Is that a problem?"

"Maybe if you'd take this seriously." One of her legs shot forth between mine and hooked my ankle before pulling back. At the same time, she quit our contest of strength and grabbed a handful of my hoodie to pull. My balance was all over the place and she was pulling me off my feet, over her shoulder and aimed towards the ground.

"Hoodie-be-gone!" I focused my mind on the article of clothing, willing it to disappear. At my command, the white and black fabric fractured into glimmers of light, leaving me in my blue undershirt. With her handhold on me gone, Wynn cursed as I clamped onto her shoulder like a bloodthirsty baby koala.

"What the… get off!" Wynn shouted as she flailed around, trying to reach her hand up to pull me off. I was valiantly able to hold her hand off by swatting my own hand before me with the persistence of an ill-tempered toddler.

"Um… V-very interesting fighting style, Cobb!" Erin cheered with the hesitance of a woman not quite sure what she was watching.

"Go, Cobbert." Lenz droned, still not looking up from his notebook. "Watch your footing."

Remind me why I saved that guy?

Realizing she wasn't going to get the monkey off her back that way, Wynn's hand shot to her belt and pulled out a light green potion. One of Leaping. As she lifted the bottle to take a drink, my foot swung up and got caught in the crook of her elbow, preventing the bottle from touching her lips.

"This is just ridiculous!"

"Ridiculous like a genius!" I muffled into her flowing ivory hair, more as a result of position than on purpose. "Pah! Peh!" I spat out as strands of her hair tickled my nose.

"Are you—don't spit in my hair!" She twisted around, trying to dislodge me with the force, but I clung firm, weighing her rapier arm down with my body and keeping her other arm from bringing her potion to her mouth. With my one remaining leg dangling against her back, I tried to kick her. Some way to inflict damage and force her to surrender. But I was at such an awkward angle, that what I delivered instead was a series of feeble bops that barely registered.

This went on for several minutes. Wynn twisting wildly as she made her way from one end of the backyard to the other, all the while having me ride atop her in the most embarrassing submission hold of all time. Erin watched the spectacle, bemused and speechless, as her eyes followed us.

"Amazing. What a move." Lenz spoke dully as he turned a page of his notebook. "Quite the turn of events."

Flailing turned to thrashing and I had to keep my eyes closed just to stave off the dizziness. "How is grappling part of your sword skills!?" Wynn screamed. I was about to answer, only for her thrashing to suddenly still.

One eye peeked open and I saw what Wynn had seen: The mansion. Or more precisely, the solid wall of her mansion.

Wynn tilted her head up, flashing an arrogant smirk, before she began running towards the wall.

"…Don't you do it." I tried.

Wynn began to pick up speed, my words only fueling her.

"Seriously, stop!"

Wynn ignored me as she neared the wall. And just as it looked like she was going to run into it, she bent down and turned so that the only thing slamming into the wall was the monkey on her back.

"AUGH!" I shouted as I was sandwiched between a wall and Wynn's shoulder. My grip on the Captain slackened with the impact and that gave her the chance to pull away. She watched as I slid down the wall into a heap on the ground, moaning from the pain.

"Well," Wynn began breathlessly, looking a little apologetic over taking things too far. "We'll… er… call it there."

"Friendly spar my ass…" I coughed out before rolling over onto my back. "Oough… ouchie…"

"Well… next time fight naturally." She argued unconvincingly. Yeah, she was guilty about smearing me against a wall. Erin had already hurried over with a Potion of Healing in hand.

"I'm not sure if you've noticed…" I coughed in between potion sips. "But I don't exactly fight naturally. Maybe instead, you could fight a little less angrily."

"I am in complete control of my temper, thank you." She straightened the damage I did to her hair before giving it an elegant flip. "I only ever lose myself when fighting irritating individuals."

"Like me?"

"Like you."

"But not like Alec."

Judging by Wynn's fuming face, it looked like I struck a nerve. Alec's Hacker powers did make him an irritating opponent. And he had mopped the floor with Wynn. Was that why she wanted to thwart the fishing rod? Because Alec couldn't?

"My bad." I apologized before Wynn could open her mouth. "I shouldn't have brought that up. Nobody wants to hear about their losses. But you know," I gave the Captain a small smile. "You think I'm impressive with the fishing rod, but nobody can skewer privates like you."

Wynn groaned into her hand. "That's not something to be proud of."

"Personally I prefer getting slammed against a wall over having a sword at my privates… Don't quote me on that."

"I'll keep that in mind next time we spar." Wynn sheathed her rapier and stared at me challengingly. "Just be sure to bring a fishing rod next time. Otherwise my victory won't be as satisfying."

"Yeah, yeah. As if you needed another victory under your belt. Aren't you already some kind of badass?"

"I wouldn't go that far." Wynn answered modestly, though she couldn't keep the proud smile off her face. Looks like I said something right. "Certainly not as 'badass' as the Crafter that killed a Hacker."

"Do go on. Shower me with praise." I joked while posing dramatically, only to receive a light swat to the back of the head.

"How about you shower yourself in water. You're all sweaty and gross."

"M-Maybe he should take off his shirt." Erin supplied helpfully. "Y-you know… to beat the heat. N-not to reveal those chiseled abs or anything l-like that! Nope! J-just trying to offer suggestions! Innocuous suggestions that have no hidden agenda! Hehe… he."

"Oh, that reminds me…" I quickly focused my mind on my vanished hoodie, and just like that, it rematerialized over my shirt in shards of light. "Thanks, Erin."

"Sure… that's what I wanted… n-neat." Erin mumbled, downcast. For some reason, Wynn was just shaking her head at the housekeeper.

As a dejected Erin was helped back to the mansion by Wynn, who proceeded to whisper something about 'feelings' and 'dense as a brick wall', I noticed Lenz approaching out of the corner of my eye.

"Enjoy the fight?" I asked, only to yelp as the engineer pulled me aside.

"Cobbert. We have a problem." He lifted his tinted glasses, displaying a serious expression.

"What's up?"

Lenz glanced left and right, as if he was worried about being watched. His eyesight was good enough to see possible eavesdroppers, so when he felt confident enough to talk I felt just as secure.

"Somebody has stolen my TNT."

Yeah. Me. I thought internally while at the same time trying to feign surprise. "No! For our TNT cannon?" He nodded along. "But… are you sure you didn't misplace it?"

"Positive." He spoke without an ounce of hesitation, causing me to curse internally. So much for making him think he lost it. "I remember leaving the auction house with it safely nestled in my backpack. But come morning, it was all gone. And I wish that was all that was taken. But I am also missing my redstone!"

"Your redstone?" I asked innocently. "That's odd. But are you quite sure you didn't set it down somewh—"

"I do not misplace things, Cobbert." Lenz interrupted sharply. "Especially when it comes to redstone. You think I would just leave my lifeblood lying around on the floor or in some unguarded chest?"

"As opposed to your unguarded, can't-use-a-sword Inventory?"

"You are missing the point! Somebody has stolen my redstone and TNT! I dread to imagine what they intend to do with it, but I have a pretty good idea who stole it."

I paled slightly. "…You do?"

He nodded and lifted a single finger in preparation of the reveal. "It has to be the auction house."

I relaxed a bit as Lenz went into a rant about his reasoning.

"Think about it. First, we sell grass blocks at that auction house—making it incredibly obvious that we own a Silk Touch shovel—and then we get a visit from burglars who, as Wynn proved, worked for the same auction house." Lenz picked up speed in his accusations as he made more sense of it. "We sell more grass blocks and I buy TNT, and then the next day, that gets stolen from right under my nose! The very thing the auction house knew I had. The fact I was sleeping in that outhouse probably made it easier for the thieves. Why risk entering the mansion of a reputable Captain?" He nodded to himself before turning to me. "Why, if you had been sleeping out here, I bet you would have lost that golden shovel in a snap!"

"You may be right." I nodded along, happy that Lenz was pinning the blame on someone else. "So you think the auction house is scamming people—selling off merchandise and then stealing it back?"

"I think it is the only logical answer." He agreed. "They have probably stolen from others as well. We should alert Wynn of their duplicity at once."

Or we could keep quiet and not worry about a few tons of TNT. I wanted to say, even as I felt the damning explosives in my backpack. He couldn't have known they were right there. But if he told Wynn and she wrongly busted the auction house, it'd probably lead to problems in the future.

I needed some way to divert him. "We can't be absolutely sure. There's no proof that they're the one behind it… but it's also suspicious how items dealt there suddenly disappear." Lenz nodded along, wholeheartedly trusting my judgment. It sent another stab of guilt into my chest. "We need more proof before we can accuse them."

"Good point." He rubbed his chin in thought before snapping his fingers in realization. "I got it! If they truly are scamming people, I will happily play into their hands. I will purchase more TNT—twice as much—from the same auction house, and make them think stealing from me again will yield the same result." He smirked triumphantly. "Then, when they come to reclaim it, I will be waiting, fully awake, and ready to expose them for the thieves that they are!"

That's a terrible plan.

"That… is a brilliant plan."

"Thank you. My mind surprises me sometimes with how practical it is." The engineer nodded proudly. "So I need two stacks of TNT this time. That will make the cannon fire even better! Though we will probably have to resolve this thievery problem before building the machination. It might also interfere with my outhouse improvements."

I didn't really get why that would be an issue—it wasn't like burglars would care about a dinky outhouse—but I agreed all the same. Anything to throw Lenz off and keep him from doing anything drastic. It would cost him emeralds, but I could easily make it all back for him by selling grass blocks.

"We should probably do it tonight—the sooner the better." Lenz suggested, finally lowering his tinted glasses. "Can I expect your collaboration in the stakeout?"

"The huh?"

"Stakeout. As in, keeping watch throughout the night… like in those private detective novels."

"Oh, right, well… I might be busy tonight." My thoughts strayed to the Creeper mask in my backpack.

Lenz looked incredulous. "Busy? Busy? Cobbert, this is a serious issue! If the auction house is resorting to thievery to inconvenience their customers, we need to put a stop to it. I thought you of all people would be eager to help."

I was confused on what he meant until I realized he was talking about Halstatt. From his point of view, I must have looked like some kind of champion of justice or something. It made sense for him to think I'd want to stop thievery. He had no idea I had bigger matters planned.

And that was how it was going to stay.

"You're right, Lenz. I'll be there tonight." I told him to allay his suspicions. I'd pay for it later by skipping out, but for the moment it brought an appreciative hum from the engineer.

"Now we should probably think about how to position ourselves. Once I purchase the TNT, those burglars will likely raid the outhouse again, thinking one of us to be sleeping in there." He looked up to the second floor of the mansion. "I can probably get a decent view from that second-floor window… I would need a Potion of Night Vision to see in the dark, though. I should pick that up with the TNT…"

As he shared plans I knew I wouldn't be a part of, I couldn't help but feel guilty about all the lying. Lenz was a good person. Loyal and trustworthy too. But that was why I didn't want him to die. I didn't want him to risk his life either. The only life worth risking was my own, and I wouldn't allow any more of my friends to jeopardize their safety if I could help it.

I was lying to protect them. That made it right. Selfless, even.

…

The guilt still hurt though.

---

[Cara]

The guilt still hurt.

That only meant I wasn't drinking enough.

"Another round." I slurred, slamming a handful of emeralds onto the counter. The bartender was quick to arrive, though one look at my undoubtedly bloodshot eyes and he wasn't so eager to serve me. "C'mon. Chop-chop!"

A few nearby Crafters shot me annoyed looks. People visited bars to drink and relax, and I vaguely registered through my drunken stupor that I was ruining the mood. If I was more self-conscious, I might have been embarrassed.

Awkward Potions had a way with numbing that feeling.

"No offense, ma'am," the bartender began with the tone of an experienced diplomat, "but perhaps you should slow your roll. Twenty drinks is ten drinks too many—"

"I'll decide wha's too much!" I argued, pushing the emeralds across the table without even bothering to count them. "Drink! Now!"

"…Yes, ma'am." The bartender nodded before disappearing to retrieve my drinks.

The sounds of the bar became oddly quiet and I swiveled on my chair, nearly throwing myself off from the lack of balance. Everyone was shooting me wary looks. "Why everyone sooo shushy? Drink! …Be happy! Tha's wha bars are for, yeah?"

At my urging, everyone turned their attention away from me. The traveling minstrel in the far corner began to continue his epic song about the 'Hero of Halstatt', but I tuned out most of the lyrics.

I tuned out most of everything. Awkward Potions were like liquid earplugs. Perfect for abandoning all grasp on the world and to simply forget. The sober me that relied on reason and planning would have been appalled to see my current state. But I didn't care. I didn't want to feel anything.

It hurt less.

"Your drink." The bartender returned, passing a glass bottle filled with blue liquid over to me. I brought it to my lips immediately, waiting for its numbing effects to take me away. "Forgive me for saying this, ma'am, but you look like shit."

"Quite the charmer… aren't you." I called back sarcastically. "Buh I don' blame you. I probably do look like shit." I wiped the corner of my mouth with my arm and shook my head. "Things have been pretty bad."

"Well, as a bartender, I'm contractually obligated to offer a sympathetic ear to the troubles of my patrons. So," he cleared his throat before leaning on the counter and shooting me a sideways glance, "what ails ya?"

I giggled tipsily, a slight lift in my spirits that had nothing to do with the alcohol. "I apprecimatate your offer… buh I don' wanna bum you." I drained the last of my drink and slammed it back on the table.

"Try me." The bartender had a new drink on the table before I could blink. He must have brought several with him. "I've heard quite a bit of troubles working here. There's nothing that'd surprise me."

"My actions led to the deaths of two Crafters, one of which who's friend rightfully blames me, and all because I was too stupid to quit while I was ahead."

The bartender's eyebrows lifted in shock. "Oh… shit." He rubbed his head awkwardly, at a loss for words. "Ah… uh… shit."

I chuckled sadly before downing the latest drink. "That pretty much sums it up. Can I get another—oh thanks."

The bartender swapped my empty bottle for a fresh one, his eyes never leaving mine. "Well, shit, I didn't think I'd have no advice to give. Can't say that I've been in a similar state." He rubbed his chin in thought. "Is that why you're drinking tonight?"

I nodded along, swirling the contents of my drink as if they'd hold the answers to absolving me of guilt. The tuned out voices of the fellow patrons were making their way back to me. That wouldn't do.

"So I have one guy who hates me… another guy who should hate me, buh for whatever reason doesn't… a third guy who's proud of me—the bastard—and it sickens me just thinking about it… and then me, who hates myself even more." The drink went down, but it wasn't doing its job of numbing the pain or surrounding sounds. "I think your drinks may be broken…"

"You heard the saying 'it needs to get worse before it gets better?' This is the same." He pushed another bottle of liquid into my hand. "You have to get sober before you get drunk."

I blinked at his words, but ultimately accepted them along with the drink. Even if they made no sense.

"As for your troubles… I'm at a loss over how to fix them." He began to wipe down the counter with a piece of paper acting as a rag. "But I know how you can start. It's the age-old solution of solving problems."

"Wha's that?"

He smirked. "Push them on to someone else."

I grimaced at his joke, looking down into my drink. "Yeah, sure, very funny. Somebody's not getting a tip…"

"I don't work for tips from troubled people. It's like taking advantage of them. And I'm not joking." The bartender leaned forward, propped up by his elbows. "True, I don't know what the hell you should do. But that's because I've never been in a similar situation. So my advice is for you to find someone else—someone who's been in the same situation—and have them hear your troubles. If they've gone through the same, then they'd have the best advice."

His words resounded in my hazy mind, almost clearing it in a way. I couldn't have been the only one to lose people for stupid mistakes. Minecraftia was too huge for that to be possible. Someone had to have the answers to my guilt. And I had a small idea where to start.

"That's… actually good advice." I smiled, downing the latest drink, but then pausing mid-sip. Wait a second. I thought as my tongue tasted the liquid. "This is… this is just water!"

"About time you figured it out." The bartender smiled, raising the other bottles he brought with him. All water. So that was why my mind was slowly clearing up and the numbing effects of the alcohol ending. He swapped them while I was too drunk to notice. "Twenty drinks is usually the limit before I sober people up with water. On the house, of course."

"As if water costs anything." I pouted as he slid my emeralds back to me. "You tricked me."

"No. I gave you good advice and made sure you didn't stumble off in a drunken stupor." He winked before gathering the empty bottles to be washed.

"No tip for you!" I called back in irritation, unable to keep the damning smile off my face. He was right. And he had given me good advice. But he didn't have to be so smug about it!

Now I just had to tip him, if only to keep what little pride I had left. I slid five emeralds across the counter before getting out of my seat and walking onto Ringwood's main streets.

I was still a bit tipsy and smelled of Awkward Potion, but I wasn't nearly as bad as I could have been had that bartender not switched me to water.

I went into that bar hoping I'd feel less than when I arrived. Instead I felt more. And I had a better plan than just drowning myself in alcohol.

I needed someone who knew the guilt I was now forced to bear.

And I knew just where to look.

---

[Wynn]

I let out an exasperated huff after writing the latest closure announcement. Preparing for the Bounty Day truly was taxing, but it was probably best to set a precedent for it now so that Ringwood would be prepared for more in the future.

If any more even occur. I thought while leaning back in my seat to stretch. It was a good I had sparred with Cobb earlier today. The exercise was welcome when I had to sit in my study filling out paper work. The prospect of new items was fine, but arranging for everything in Ringwood to be shut down for the day was torture.

I need a break. I thought to myself before exiting my study. Dinner wouldn't be ready for a while, but that didn't mean I couldn't enjoy a light snack. An apple and a bucket of milk would certainly hit the spot.

However, as I walked down the stairs, I spotted Cobb with his hand on the front door. His hair was still dripping wet, showing he had just used the shower.

"Cobb?" He froze in opening the door and turned to look at me. "You heading out?"

"Mhm." He hummed. He didn't mention where he was going or why, but it looked like he was waiting for me to ask.

I didn't need to be a genius to know he intended to see if Floyd had come in yet.

But, at the same time, he already told me how worried he was. It wouldn't be right to doggedly question him every time he left the mansion. He was probably worried sick about Floyd's well-being.

"You know, I'm busy right now," I began kindly, hoping he'd accept the offer, "but tomorrow, if you want, you and I could patrol outside east of the wall." He perked up at the suggestion. "We can look for incoming Crafters and help guide them to Ringwood. It's not uncommon." I hoped he understood the underlying message. Maybe looking for Floyd would help calm his worries. Give him something to do.

He considered the offer before ultimately nodding. "That sounds nice. I'd appreciate it."

"Then it's settled." I clapped my hands together before heading off to the kitchen. "Don't be back too late." I called over my shoulder. "Unless Floyd shows up, in which case, take as much time as you need."

"Yeah…" Cobb nodded, a small smile plastered on his face. "I will."

And with that, he shut the door behind him, the sound echoing through the empty mansion.

---

[Cobb]

My hand hung on the doorknob, refusing to let go after I closed it. I lowered my head so that it rested on the wooden frame and closed my eyes.

Lenz is off getting TNT, Erin is buying dinner ingredients, and Wynn is busy in her study.

Now's the time…

My eyes snapped open and I finally released the doorknob, backing away from the ivory-haired Captain's mansion. I turned on my heel and sprint-walked to the northern exit out of Ringwood. The security there was fairly tight, given that it was the only thing separating the Northern District from outside the Kingdom's walls. There were guards at toll gates fitted with iron doors and bars. Archers were positioned atop the wall, ready to shoot any aggressive Crafters on sight.

I gulped as I approached and deposited my entire Inventory in a double chest to be checked. Hopefully they wouldn't stop me for any—

"Sir?" One of the guards questioned with a raised brow. "You have an awful lot of TNT in your Inventory. May I ask what it's for?"

Of course. They would ask why I have tons of explosives in my backpack. I cursed as I tried to come up with a reasonable excuse. "…Mining. I need resources and I heard there's a nice chasm a day's walk away."

One of the guards inspecting my items nodded at my reasoning, only for a second, sterner looking one to step in. "Doesn't seem like you'd need resources." He drawled, carelessly knocking aside my many books to scoop out a handful of emeralds. "You have enough emeralds here to afford a golem's worth of iron."

Damn them for being so thorough.

"I didn't—"

"Wait…" One of them held up a hand breathlessly. "Is that a… a Silk Touch shovel!?" He gasped in awe as he tore it free from the rest of my Inventory. The books and dyed leather armor tumbled free. "I've never seen one so close… never even had the chance to hold it…"

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't manhandle my prized possessions." I called back sharply. I couldn't help it. They were being rude digging through all my stuff as if they owned it. They had no idea what I had to do to get half that stuff.

"He's right, Clancy." The stern guard swiped the shovel from the awestruck guard and placed it deliberately back in the chest. Only then did he gather up the books and, with far less concern, dumped them back. "But back to the TNT resource dilemma…"

"I… ugh… I don't want to just buy things for the rest of my life." I made up on the spot, hoping they'd buy it. "It wouldn't make sense to rely on a shovel when it has a finite durability. I don't need everything handed to me through a purchase. Is it so wrong to want to earn resources through hard work and the end of a pickaxe?"

The stern guard narrowed his eyes, causing me to break into a cold sweat. Had I been too flippant? Were they going to confiscate the TNT or—

"Well said." The guard nodded in approval, skimming over the rest of my Inventory and finding nothing of concern. "You check out. If you still have TNT after your mining, come back here. We'll save you the hassle of having to explain yourself to the other toll gates."

I relaxed my shoulders at his words. "You got it." I assured before gathering up my Inventory and passing through the opened iron doors out of Ringwood.

I kept walking north, creeping around trees and rocks, until I couldn't see Ringwood's wall anymore. Then I quickly took out Brett's map of the region and turned east. A small white blip showed up on the map, designating myself. There was another small blip near Ringwood's Eastern District and I could only assume that was the Silver Intent headquarters where I got the map.

My blip was to the north of Ringwood. The Endward Cult outpost Brett had described was to the southeast. I was taking an incredibly circuitous route to the outpost, but it would throw off the chances of Wynn following me. If she asked those northern guards about me, they'd just say I went mining… with a shit-ton of TNT.

I could just imagine the horrified look on her face. Followed by anger at how incompetent the guards were to believe such a lie. Then came the ball-stabbings.

But anyway, Wynn or Lenz would never expect me to head southeast after going through Ringwood's northern toll. It guaranteed their safety. And Brett had promised not to tell anyone.

It was just me and the outpost.

As I continued to make my way to the southeast, I passed some Crafters chopping down trees. There were quite a few of them, and they seemed to be clearing the trees to form a path of sorts. There were a couple of guards in green leather caps as well. One of them I recognized.

"Oh, it's you." Bitters, the assholiest of guards, sneered as I approached him. I remembered how the bastard had tried to get Wynn in trouble for defending her guards and Halstatt while he ran away. The Captain almost lost her job because of him. Thankfully, his pissy-poor attitude was no match for my out-of-ass lying, and Wynn's job was saved. The other guards also hated him for his cowardice.

Judging by his less-than-polite greeting, he probably blamed me for all the hate he got.

"Come to rub in your victory?" Bitters questioned sharply. "I'm stuck guarding this project because of you and your lies."

"How is that my fault?" I asked with genuine confusion, eliciting an eye-roll from Bitters.

"His Eminence somehow got the idea that I defied direct orders from Captain Wynn."

"…But you did."

He snarled. "Orders that conflicted with our mission, you twit! But our mission was already over. The railway was agreed upon between Daymonte and Ringwood. So I was in the right! And don't think I don't know you weaseled the Captain out of taking responsibility for her actions!"

"Wynn acted to protect her guards. Her brothers in arms." I argued, not liking how the green-haired guard was insulting her. "You can't deny you chose to save your own life over your fellow guards."

"I chose to follow the rules." Bitters gritted out. "But apparently, following the rules doesn't mean anything. So now, His Eminence has me outside the walls, guarding this railway project from Mobs and threats of a similar ilk."

"This is for the railway?" I asked, glad he was changing the subject, and to something I'd find interesting.

"Don't you have eyes?" Bitters frowned before inclining his head to the Crafters toppling trees. "A railway needs a clear, even path from Point A to Point B. And lumber is needed for the rails, even if it's only a small percentage of the final product. The Kingdom is killing two chickens with one sword this way."

"And you're here to keep them safe." I filled in. "Don't see why you're upset over that. Sounds like an easy job."

"It isn't." Bitters sneered. "But I can see why you'd think that. With all the guards present, you'd just—ah… never mind." He gave an exaggerated shrug as if to dismiss his own words. But judging by his accompanying grin of a condescending nature, he meant something else.

And it was hard to miss how he emphasized certain parts of his sentence. Parts directed specifically at me. I could detect them as if they were italicized text.

"Are you trying to say something?" I asked bluntly. "Because it sounds like you really want to say something."

"Oh, no." He held his hands up in a sign of mock surrender. A smile stretching across his face as if he knew some private joke. "Nothing at all."

I narrowed my eyes at the guard before relenting with a sigh. "Look, what's done is done. Despising me isn't going to undo anything. It's not going to change how people feel about me or you, so whatever animosity you've got going on… I'm sorry. Okay?"

I hoped that would be the end of it. But no. Bitters still looked like he wanted nothing more than to shove a pickaxe up my nose. "Sorry? That's the best you can do?"

"…Really sorry?"

Bitters frown deepened. "That's not—"

"Super duper sorry."

"That's just it!" Bitters exclaimed, stamping down one foot. "You just don't care, do you? This apology, Halstatt… You just couldn't care less."

"What are you talking about? I stayed behind against an army! What's more caring than that?"

"No, no, NO! That's not it!" He shook his head with increasing volume. "You didn't know how that would happen. You didn't have any forethought about saving that village! You acted impulsively and on a whim… and yet it still worked out for you!" He looked me up and down with disgust. "No training. No experience. No chance. But that doesn't affect you, does it? You think yourself impervious to the world!?"

"Wha—No… I—" I was taken aback by how furious he sounded. Had he been thinking that this whole time? Keeping it bottled up until he could release it in a fit of anger. "I know I'm not invincible! I was terrified before those Griefers showed up!"

"But then Wynn arrived and made everything better."

My eyes widened. "What are you—"

"I may not be privy to all the 'glorious' details of that battle," Bitters argued with accusing eyes, "but I can bet you wouldn't have won if Wynn and the guards hadn't been there."

"That's…" I thought back to how Wynn arrived and asked what I needed in my preparations against the Griefers. She had been unwavering in her offer to help. Her guards had helped set up Lenz's trap. They fought against those Griefers and impossible odds. And Wynn had done all that and more by just being there. How quickly had my fear diminished when I realized Wynn was still my comrade—my friend? How great had I felt when she returned the green-dyed tunic?

How belligerent had my fighting been against Alec when I saw what he did to her.

Bitters was right. If they hadn't been there… If it had been just me…

"You didn't know they'd come back." Bitters continued when I didn't argue. "You didn't know staying behind would guilt them into joining you, just like you didn't know everything would turn out fine." He scoffed. "Or maybe you just didn't care."

I gnashed my teeth and glared at the guard. "Don't tell me that I don't care about my friends." I threatened lowly.

"Funny way of showing it." He mocked. "Going off to fight an army on your own, and too stubborn to let anyone talk you out of it." I let out an involuntary gasp at how close to the truth he was. "You're only as invincible as the amount of people willing to risk their neck for you. On your own… you're no legend. You're just a one-billionth nothing." He spat at my feet, and stalked away, having said his piece.

I watched him leave and couldn't help the anger rising within me. What does he know!? I thought to myself as I turned on my heel and stormed through some chatting guards. It's not my fault they came back. I never asked them for help. I would've been fine if they hadn't wanted to figh—I mean… I wouldn't have hated them if they didn't want to fight!

Sure, Wynn's assistance had been pivotal in the Battle of Halstatt. And sure, without her and her guards, the Griefers might have won… probably. But I would've figured something out. It all just boiled down to taking down Alec, anyway. The Griefers' fear would do the rest.

But if there had been no trap… no archers on the wall… no experienced guards fighting alongside me… no Captain distracting Alec…

If it had just been me…

Would it have been harder? Or just impossible?

'On your own… you're no legend. You're just a one-billionth nothing.'

I shook my head to dispel those thoughts. Fucking Bitters… man, I hate that guy.

The worst part was how accurate he described what I was literally on my way to do. Going off on my own to fight an army (outpost), and too stubborn to let anyone talk me out of it. It was like Minecraftia had sent Bitters as one final reminder of 'Don't do it, stupid!'

But this wasn't like Halstatt. Again, it was just me and the outpost, but it was also to avenge Floyd. To fucking do something other than mope around about what could have been had things been different. You only got out what you put in. So if I wanted the grief out, it meant putting in effort of a similar magnitude.

Floyd had joined the Silver Intent to rid the world of the Endward Cult, and it had been that very cult that murdered him. So if single-handedly assaulting an Endward Cult outpost couldn't get rid of the grief gnawing away at my intestines like a starved rat… well…

Then there was really nothing that could.

---

[Brett]

It was getting late. All of the other Silver Intent members had retired for the night.

But not me. No, I had to see this.

Not in the actual sense of being present when it happened. I was fairly content with sitting at a desk in a rundown Inn, enjoying a light Mundane Potion, while observing the map that lay before me.

Of course someone as meticulous as I would make copies of maps. And map copies doubled as tracking devices between each other. Which meant the Billionth could see a white blip on his map that matched my location in a seedy Inn…

And I could watch as his white blip left Ringwood's northern toll, meandered for a bit to the east of Ringwood's wall, and worked its way lazily towards the Endward Cult outpost I had so generously pointed out.

He was doing it tonight. Clever. Assaulting the base at night when he could easily avoid detection. Wary cultists would mistake rustling branches or faint footsteps as a Mob's doing.

And the best part was, whether he succeeded or failed, I would lose absolutely nothing. I was staying at a seedy Inn instead of the Silver Intent base specifically in the event Cobb was captured or killed. The cultists would find the map, and simply look to where the white blips were to track down its counterpart, mine, in Ringwood. Only they'd stumble upon an Inn instead of something greater.

Though, if I had to be honest, considering last night's visitor, I was hoping the Billionth would pull it off unscathed. It certainly would yield a greater gain having the outpost taken care of. And perhaps he could be coerced into assaulting more outposts in the future.

On the map, it was when the white blip that was Cobb made it to the base of Mt. Mur that I noticed the marker disappear and reappear further in the direction of the outpost. He was most likely using ender pearls to scale the mountain faster.

"Best of luck, Cobb." I chuckled before taking a great sip of my brew.

My eyes continued to track his movements, as one would a pawn on a chess board.

---

[Lenz]

"Comparators!" I hissed. "Where is Cobbert? That thief could show up any second."

Here I was, sat near the second floor window overlooking Wynn's backyard, bow at the ready and directed towards the outhouse, and Cobbert could not even be bothered to show up. He even promised. Did his word mean nothing!?

Still, I watched that outhouse like a hawk. Day or night mattered not due to the Potions of Night Vision I had accrued. One for me and one for Cobbert.

But since it did not look like he would join me in my stakeout, the potion was wasted. Or it would have been had I not already decided to drink it once mine wore off.

Where is he though? When he did not show up to dinner, Captain Wynn assured Erin and me that he was off with a friend, and to eat without him. She also mentioned that he might not show up tonight and that I should go sleep in the guest bedroom in his stead.

The mysterious friend of his… Cobbert mentioned the name once or twice… Floyd, I believe. He must mean a lot for Cobbert to keep visiting him.

Still, he gave his word that he would show up. I munched into some steak—the traditional cuisine of a stakeout—with a hint of irritation towards the fisherman.

Did he not realize how dangerous this thief could be? Stealing merchandise back from the very Crafters that purchased it was a brilliant scam. Items did not have fingerprints, after all. So one could steal and resell as much as they liked without fear of retribution.

And why stop there? Any item on a Crafter's person could be stolen and resold. Why limit it to items purchased in the auction house? Anything was fair game, even if it was not considered valuable, so long as it had an emerald cost to it, it—

…

Hmmm…

Tentatively, I reached deep into my backpack and exchanged my bow for my Redstone Repeaters. I held the devices in my hand and frowned down at them.

Repeaters were incredibly cumbersome to craft. They required one redstone, two redstone torches, and three stone. Not cobblestone. Stone. That meant one had to first melt the cobblestone in a furnace before using it in the recipe. Cobblestone is more readily available, so having to melt it first is deemed a waste of time.

The device was tricky to make. Tricky, but not impossible.

Surely… it would have been of some value.

I crammed the repeaters back into my backpack before withdrawing the next device. Redstone Comparators. Not the expletive, the device. Their recipe was similar to the Repeater, but had an additional element in the form of Nether Quartz, a mineral found only in the fiery Nether.

Those would definitely fetch a price in any auction house.

And yet… after having the Redstone and TNT stolen… both the Repeaters and the Comparators remained untouched. As if the thief never cared for them.

More than that. I had not realized it before when I was buying the two stacks of TNT, but all of my emeralds were accounted for. The thief had not touched those either.

Was it because the thief wanted me to spend the emeralds at the auction house, knowing there was no point in stealing something that would return to them anyway? Or was it because a stack of emeralds would be more noticeably missed than some redstone materials.

Or perhaps… it was because the auction house had nothing to do with the theft.

If it had been them, they would have stolen everything in my backpack. They would have made more and would not have risked much. In fact, repeatedly stealing from someone would only increase their chances of getting caught. It would be easier to steal everything at once, and then move on to a new target.

But to leave the emeralds behind… as if they were worthless… as if the thief only desired the TNT and redstone to set it off…

That meant the auction house was not behind the theft.

But that was a ridiculous notion! It had to be them! They had seen me purchase the TNT! They knew I had it! That TNT was going to be used to make a TNT cannon to impress Cobbert! And nobody else could have known I—

…

Who else…?

…!

'Hey, Lenz. Remember that TNT cannon you used on the Valley Beast.'

My Potion of Night Vision ran out. My vision was flickering between dark and bright, but I was no longer watching the outhouse below.

'It was the coolest thing I'd ever seen… Could you build one of them? I… I really want to see the level of firepower you can make.'

"Why, Cobbert…?" I frowned as I lifted my tinted goggles and moved to rest my head against the cool window. "Why did you do it?"

'That's what I like to hear, Lenz.'

"Why did you steal from me?"

---

[Cobb]

"Ow! Die, you little purple shit." My golden sword plunged down, impaling the Endermite and killing it in one go. "Herobrine was right. Those things are just annoying."

I sat down atop a rock perfectly sized to be a chair and consumed some steak as I waited for my Health to regenerate. It wasn't like the Endermite had done any real damage. It was more due to the effects of the ender pearls—also the source of the Endermite spawning—which shaved off a quarter of my Health every time I used it. Armor didn't seem to make a difference, though maybe there was an Enchantment or Potion that could counter the damaging effect.

Still, for being able to teleport, a few Hearts were a small price to pay. If Floyd or I had had a stack of them back when Carys chased us, we would have cleared Mt. Mur easily.

I sighed as I involuntarily brought up Floyd. Again. Even when I was trying not to, it just happened.

I slapped my cheeks twice, willing myself to stay focused. Grieving could come later, when I wasn't about to invade an outpost.

I glanced at my last remaining ender pearl. This was the third time I had to stop and regenerate Health. I hadn't thought about bringing more pearls, thinking the darkness would spawn Endermen to replace them. But Endermen, as it turns out, spawn rarely. Nothing but Zombies, Spiders, Skeletons, and Creepers on this hike. The Unholy Quadrinity.

I then brought out Brett's map. Remembering where he pointed, the outpost was close. At least another good throw away. I looked up in an effort to see some sort of structure or ruin, only for my vision to be blocked by a passing cloud.

I was so high up that I was at cloud level. And Mt. Mur stretched even higher. Behind me, Ringwood was a mass of lights surrounded by a thick wall, with a large bulging plateau in the middle. Down there was a Kingdom filled with tens of thousands of Crafters. Most of them were probably sleeping, unaware of what was about to unfold tonight.

The Endward Cult, from their outpost, had a similar view of Ringwood. But their thoughts probably had a sicker edge concerning the Kingdom.

A few Zombies spotted me, grumbling as they tried to navigate the rocky slope to attack. Skeletons and Spiders had more luck with their ranged attacks and climbing, respectively. But any Mob climbing down towards me had a chance at causing damage. These Zombies, however, were stuck with the low ground.

As their clawed hands reached up to swipe at me, I knelt down with my golden sword and steadily jabbed them in the head. At this point, they were just minor annoyances.

I was even confident enough to look through my Inventory as I 'fought' them. I needed a Crafting Table in case I needed to quickly make something while in the outpost.

Brain: Like a fishing rod?

Among others things. Who knows? Maybe the cultists will have something I can use.

Heart: Then make a fishing rod. It's your best weapon.

I have a diamond sword. I think I'm prepared on weapons.

Brain: Don't say we didn't warn you.

Fine. I won't say the words 'we didn't warn you'.

Lungs: *Sigh*

Brain: You're right, Lungs. He is a smartass.

I rolled my eyes and, four planks of wood later, I had a Crafting Table.

The two Zombies below me died in a puff of smoke and rotten flesh, which I climbed down to scoop up. Force of habit.

With that done, I swapped out my armor—taking a moment longer with the green-dyed tunic—before putting on my black-dyed stealth armor, and finally the Creeper mask.

Brain: You know… call me crazy—

Crazy.

Brain: —But maybe masking yourself as the most explosive, day-ruining Mob in Minecraftia… for a stealth mission wasn't such a smart idea. You're gonna scare those cultists showing up in their base like that.

That's what I'm hoping for. I thought with a grim smirk. Besides, I am gonna ruin their day with explosions. I withdrew Lenz's TNT and hooked it to my belt along with the redstone. The mask is just fitting.

With everything set, I readied my last ender pearl and raised my arm to aim high. Right through the clouds. But before I could throw it, one of my organs had something to say.

Heart: Wait! Before we start… Cobb, tell yourself that you're going to make it back safe.

I raised an eyebrow at that. What? What's that gonna do?

Heart: It'll give you something to hang on to. Something to keep you going.

Brain: You know, so that we don't get brutally murdered.

I'm not gonna get murdered. I assured. Look at me? I've never been this prepared for something. I've never put in this much thought before a battle.

Heart: …That's what I'm worried about. You're not… you're not acting like yourself.

The arm holding the ender pearl fell to my side. Are we really going to have an internal council meeting now!?

Heart: Just… ugh… promise yourself that you won't die. If not for your organs, then do it for Wynn, Lenz, Erin, and all the others you wouldn't let in on this.

Hanging the guilt over not telling my friends about any of this was a low blow. But I relented, if just to get everything over with sooner.

"I promise not to die." There. Monotone and convincing. Quota filled. I winded up my arm for the throw, but Heart stopped me again.

Heart: Promise to live.

What?

Heart: Don't promise not to die. Promise me you'll live.

I groaned in exasperation. Was my heart always so tiring? Is there a difference?

Heart: Dying is easy. Living is the real struggle. I'd rather you promise to do something difficult than to not do something easy.

I blinked at those words, thinking they sounded surprisingly profound for my own internal organs.

Stomach: Lungs told you to say that, didn't he?

Heart: …Yes.

Aaaaaand there went my respect for Heart. Still…

"…I promise to live." I spoke clearly, meaning every word of it.

I was going to live. Live to see everyone again. To apologize to Lenz for stealing his TNT. To apologize to Wynn for putting myself in danger. To apologize to Erin for that cookie I borrowed from her without her noticing. God I felt guilty over that.

My organs seemed satisfied with my promise, and with no more delay, I chucked the ender pearl as high as I could and waited for its eventual descent.

The instantaneous rushing soon followed. Everything was a blur as I raced forward with an unrivaled speed before standing atop a rocky slope.

And there, a few hundred feet away and built into the side of the mountain, was a stone fortress.

It wasn't big—About as large as Ringwood's Palace—but it looked heavily fortified. I ducked behind some stone cover and narrowed my eyes to try and get a better view. It was dark, but I could make out torches near some archway guarded by five Crafters. All of them wearing black leather caps.

Cultists. I thought angrily as my fist gripped the stone cover tightly. Those bastards were the reason that Floyd was dead.

They were too far away for me to tell what weapons they had, but I assumed swords and bows. If Lenz were with me, he could have used his incredible eyesight to give me a detailed explanation of what the cultists were wielding and judge whether or not we could take them in a fight.

Instead, I was on my own.

Looking more closely at the stone fortress, it seemed like only the front entrance and a few towers were exposed. The rest being built into the mountain. But when I glanced up Mt. Mur, I noticed something else entirely.

The fortress was actually built into a natural made swirl in the mountain. Stone and rock curled forward, making an outer wall that protected the insides from view. I didn't know whether it was hollowed out or just naturally formed that way, but it meant that the outpost was a lot bigger than I realized.

If I was going to set off TNT… the best place would be at the heart of the outpost, where things would be messed up the most. Kill the heart and the rest dies.

Heart: Pardon you.

So within the curled wall. I had to get in to do that though. And something told me attacking those cultists at the front would be a horrible idea. There were archers positioned on the towers and windows. I would have been shot the second they spotted me.

So they won't spot me.

From through my Creeper mask, I glanced down to the iron pickaxe at my belt and swung it into the stone beneath me. Once I made a deep enough hole, I covered my entrance with dirt, hoping the cultists wouldn't find a patch of dirt on a stone slope ridiculous, and tunneled forward, placing the occasional torch to keep things bright.

I also kept checking Brett's map, making sure I went the right way so that I was past the rocky swirl. If I misjudged my direction and popped up near the front gates, right beneath the cultists…

I'd die of embarrassment before then dying of swords to the face.

On and on I dug, wearing away at my pickaxe while also listening above. There were voices, muffled by the rock, which alerted me to the amount of cultists above.

"…how many Heads did you gather?" A feminine voice inquired.

"Dunno… Stopped counting after I hit my quota." Another voice replied, sounding bored. "Found a big group of Crafters east of the Origin. They didn't know a sword from a stick. Me and some others cornered them, split the Heads six ways."

"Lucky. Wish I could have been there." A third voice grumbled jealously while I clenched my pickaxe tight enough to hurt my knuckles. "I'm still a few Heads short. And 4Blite is due to be back tomorrow."

"Oh, joy." The first voice droned, though it grew fainter as I dug further forward. "Wonder if we can switch divisions…"

No sooner did their voices peter out than I stumbled forward from a lack of resistance, busting through some stone bricks and into a dimly lit room. I landed on my stomach and quickly withdrew my diamond blade before scrambling to a kneeling position, ready for any attackers.

There were none. Instead, I found myself in some sort of supply cupboard. There were double chests lined against the walls on wooden shelves with accompanying signs to label their contents. Food. Wooden Planks. String. Armor. All fairly basic stuff.

I walked over to the only door in the room and opened it just enough to get a glimpse of the outside.

There was a hallway that led to a staircase where some loud voices were filtering in from. That probably led to some sort of meeting area where I had heard those cultists talking. The other direction down the hallway there was nobody.

I made sure the coast was clear before triple checking Brett's map and memorizing the placement of my blip. It would be my best method of escape to return to my pre-dug tunnel. I fixed my Creeper mask, making sure it was on right, before exiting the cupboard and creeping down the hallway, away from the loud voices.

The hallway was made of stone brick and lit with torches, meaning that it wasn't just hastily dug into the side of a mountain. It took time. And the cultists must have been pretty confident in their defense to make an outpost near enough to warrant attacks from Ringwood.

Soon, I came across a crossroad of hallways. Would it have killed them to have a directory? I mentally groaned before shrugging and going left.

That proved to be a mistake when I turned a corner and ran into two cultists.

I silently cursed and moved back into cover around the corner, but not before one of them had glimpsed my face.

"Creeper!" The cultist shouted, startling his companion. "There's a fucking Creeper around that corner!"

"What?" His companion sounded skeptical, but I was already frantically digging into the wall to hide myself. "I didn't see anything."

"I'd know that hideous green face anywhere!" The first cultist shouted, trying to convince him. "Watch it… go around the corner slowly!" He warned.

I stowed myself in my newly dug hiding spot and sealed up any evidence with the same stone bricks I mined. I kept quiet and listened in to the two cultists round the corner.

"See? Nothing." The second cultist stated calmly, no doubt showing his companion the empty hallway.

"But… but I saw…" The first companion's tone shifted from bewilderment to worry.

I heard a loud slap on the back. "Eh, you're probably just seeing things. 4Blite's plans got you so worked up you start seeing Creepers everywhere." He laughed, and from the sound of his voice it sounded like he was guiding his companion past my hiding spot. "Just remember, we're not the ones who should be worried about the Creepers."

As their voices faded and the hallway returned to silence once more, I dug my way out of the wall, but not before placing a block of TNT in the spot and sealing it up.

From what I remember of redstone, I need to make a trail of it to connect all this TNT. I glanced down at the floor of the hallway. I could probably run the redstone and TNT under this floor all the way back to that cupboard… maybe even back through my tunnel and out of the outpost. Then I can set it off.

But first, I'd have to run it through a good portion of the outpost. That meant going further down the hall. With a determined nod, I continued to creep down the hallway.

As I worked my way into the outpost, I passed several rooms leading off from the hallway. Training room, library, sleeping quarters, mess hall (in which I narrowly avoided a group of cultists by hiding under the floor). The outpost was filled with important rooms.

I should have stolen more TNT and redstone. I thought to myself, realizing the amount of explosives I brought wouldn't be nearly enough to wipe out the whole outpost. But I couldn't just scrap the mission after getting this far. There had to be some way I could make it work.

I bet Lenz would know a way to turn this around. He'd probably make some redstone contraption that could launch anvils at them or something.

While I was pondering, I heard the sound of approaching cultists coming from around a corner ahead of me. It sounded like a bunch of them too.

I was about to turn around back the way I came, only to hear another group of cultists approaching from that way. I was trapped.

Trying not to panic, I dashed over to the wall and swung my pickaxe into it to make a hiding spot—

*SNAP*

"Craaaap…" I whispered in frustration as my pickaxe fell apart in my hands before vanishing in a puff of smoke. I had worn out the durability with all my digging. And it was my only pickaxe.

The voices were getting closer and a Creeper-masked Crafter wearing black leather and standing in the middle of a hallway was definitely suspicious. I was just about ready to withdraw my sword when I noticed a door besides some ornate stone pillars. I ducked inside, shutting the door behind me, and pressed myself against the inner wall, watching as the cultists passed. There really was a crowd going both ways. At least forty cultists that I narrowly avoided.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I took a closer look at the room that had saved me. It surprised me how large it was, extending the ceiling to a greater height than the hallway and containing ornate pillars surrounding a massive table that took up most of the floor space.

Glancing around to see if it was truly empty, I crept forward to get a better look at the table. My eyes widened at the sight of it.

It was a map.

A three-dimensional map made up of colored wool and other materials to make a map identical to… to…

"Ringwood?" I questioned, looking at the wooden planks that formed a circle on the table's landscape. That had to be Ringwood's wall… and in the center, a raised stone that had to be the plateau. There was also a Ringwood banner standing atop the plateau, verifying it to be the landmark on the map.

But it wasn't just Ringwood. There was white wool to the north that could have easily been seen as snow. There was a stone slab in the very center of the map that must have been the Origin. The east and west edges had blue wool—oceans. And… and there was a break in the map, from which a Daymonte banner was raised.

There were more banners as well. Scattered around. If those represent the Kingdoms…

It was a map of Minecraftia. Not one made on paper, but one made out of blocks. It was very creative, but I didn't see how it was necessary. Maybe if they wanted an idea of the landscape. They even included grey wool for the mountains, saplings planted on dirt to represent a jungle, and bits of sand for the desert.

But then my eyes spotted something between two mountains. I hopped up on the table to get a better view, and realized it was a Creeper Head. Several Creeper Heads that formed a trail from the jungle straight through a valley by Mt. Mur.

I pulled out Brett's map just to check. Yes. It was a valley formed between two mountains. The Creeper Heads on the table were being bottlenecked through that valley… but I had no idea what any of it meant.

What did the Creeper Heads even represent? Were they supposed to represent Crafters or Mobs or literally just Creepers? It had be Crafters since I couldn't think of a reason why they would want to gather so many Mobs in one place.

But if it were Crafters, it made sense that the Endward Cult would want to drive them towards an enclosed space, bottleneck them, and then trap them. With enough archers, they could pick them all off from the mountains and take their Heads that way. No better way to kill them than to keep them in a tight space. It was the same thing we did in Halstatt, guiding all those Griefers to one spot where the trap could hit them all at once.

…

Hmmm…

I think I know how to take out all these cultists.

---

The outpost was a heavily fortified fortress, guards posted at the gates, with cultists crawling all over the place. Once inside, it was nearly impossible to get out.

That was just another way of saying it had a good defense. But from what I saw of the outpost, it also meant it had only one exit.

An exit that all the cultists would swarm to in the event of an emergency. Like say… a fire.

Lenz would be proud. Cara too if she ever saw my fire. I thought to myself as I placed enough TNT to level a building under the stairs leading to the surface. It was the only way up from the inner structure of the outpost and it led to the meeting area above, which then lead to the front gates.

Then I made a new pickaxe out of the only available material, cobblestone, and dug a path connecting the TNT under the stairs to the cupboard where I tunneled in. Remembering that redstone functioned like a fuse, I laid a trail of it down connecting to the TNT, through the tunnel, and back outside the outpost where I had started. Luckily, I had just enough redstone to finish the fuse.

As for triggering the fuse, I used what little oak wood planks I had left to make a wooden pressure plate. I didn't set it down right away since I had to return to the outpost to make a disturbance worthy of an evacuation.

I crept back through the tunnel into the outpost, double-checked that the TNT under the stairs and the fuse were concealed enough, backtracked to the library I had seen, snuck past some reading cultists, and went to the furthest corner of the room where I proceeded to ignite a bookshelf with my flint and steel. The flammable material caught easily and began to spread to the floor and adjacent bookshelves like wildfire.

My plan was simple. The fire would cause alarm and force the cultists to evacuate. They'd all rush to the only exit out of the outpost, just like in a fire drill, and when they got into position, I would set off the TNT, killing a good chunk of them, and likely destroying the staircase, preventing any more from evacuating.

It wasn't a foolproof plan. But it had potential. All I had to do was race back through the cupboard, through the tunnel, and back outside where I could place the wooden pressure plate, trigger the redstone, and detonate the TNT from a safe distance away.

Nothing could go wrong.

"Who the hell are you?" A gruff voice inquired from behind me, shattering my sense of security.

I whirled around to see one of the reading cultists, his sword armed, and several of his companions joining him to see what the disturbance was.

"Uh…" I glanced aside awkwardly, hoping my Creeper mask would make me more intimidating than I actually was. "I'm… the ghost of Creeper's past. Ooooooh…" I offered an eerie wail as I waved my arms spookily, hoping it would work. "You will forget you ever saw me. Ooooooh… Or be cursed! Oooooooh…"

"Kill him."

"Oooooooh, SHIT!" I cried out as a series of arrows flew towards me. I dove behind a bookshelf, catching only one of them in the leg. I ignored the pain as I made a mad dash for the library door.

"Don't let him get away!" One of the cultists shouted, though I could hear his fellows' footsteps against the library floor. They were already trying to cut me off. "Oh—Fire! Fire in the library!"

And there went part one of my ingenious plan. Heaps of black smoke billowed upward, signifying the amount of fire that had spread amongst the bookshelves and wooden floor. At the rate it was going, it'd become a raging inferno in a matter of minutes.

Gotta get to that fuse…

I nearly ran into two cultists as I turned the corner of one of the bookshelves. They were clad in iron armor, wielding iron swords. I withdrew my diamond sword and blocked one of them well enough, only to get slashed across the side by the other one.

A follow-up kick sent me reeling into a bookshelf that was slowly catching fire. But the approaching flames were an afterthought compared to the sharp blades swinging towards me. With little time to think, I pushed off the bookshelf and spun with my diamond sword held tightly before me. My eyes screwed shut as one of the blades sheared across my neck, while another one bounced off my Protection Enchanted leather armor with a dull thud.

When I opened my eyes again, it was to see that I had slipped between the two cultists, and was again free to run to the library exit… which I did.

The cultists shouted angrily behind me, and I think one or two of their arrows found their way into my back, but I kept fighting through the pain until I barreled out those library doors.

…And right into more cultists.

These ones were carrying buckets of water instead of weapons, and I easily crashed into three of them while fleeing. We were all a jumble of tangled limbs and confusion as they didn't know whether I was a fellow cultist or not. But I knew that couldn't last with my other pursuers soon to follow.

I clawed to my feet, shouldering past a few bewildered cultists, before I freed myself from the crowd and full-on sprinted down the hallway.

"STOP THAT CREEPER-MAN!" A loud voice screamed from behind, urging me to double my speed. "HE'S AN INTRUDER! KILL HIM! LIBERATE HIS SOUL!"

That screaming was all I could understand before it devolved into a rabble of angry noise and violent weapons. All aimed at me.

Shit, shit, shit, shit! I internally screamed as arrows countless arrows pelted ahead of me. I zigzagged in an effort to confuse them and avoid damage, but I was also giving up my head-start since my pursuers were probably running towards me at full speed.

And even then I was still taking arrows. One of them nailed me in the elbow while two more joined the ones already in my back.

Wish I got Projectile Protection…

I rounded a corner, tracing my steps back to where that cupboard was, only for a blaring alarm to sound. It echoed through the halls from note blocks mounted high. Whether they were for the fire or for me I had no idea. All I knew was that the whole outpost was now on high alert.

I was close to the cupboard though. It was just around the next corner, and once I got in that tunnel, it would be a straight run to the fuse—

I abruptly stopped in my running as I saw about fifty cultists making their way up those stairs to the meeting area above. They were blocking me from getting to the cupboard.

Crap… maybe I can sneak through them.

"KILL THAT CREEPER-MAN!" The same loud voice as before shouted over the alarms, dooming me to catch the attention of every nearby cultist. "ANOTHER ANGEL OF DEATH WANNABE!"

I panicked as the fifty cultists withdrew bows, swords, potions, and other items I didn't know could be weaponized. I was trapped between them and the pursuing cultists behind me.

What do I do!? What do I do!?

Brain: We're fucked! They're gonna kill us!

Liver: I never got to write out my will!

Bladder: Cobb! Channel your inner Creeper!

I blanked on that suggestion until I realized… I still had some TNT! I tore it out of my backpack and frantically placed it down before me, all while arrows whizzed past, some hitting me in the gut.

After the first TNT, I jumped high, placing another one below me. A nerdpole of TNT that went all the way up to the ceiling. I lit the last one with my flint and steel, causing it to flash white. Quickly swapping to my stone pick, I dug a hole out of the ceiling and jumped to cling onto it.

*BOOM*

Below, the first explosion and subsequent explosions blasted me through the ceiling and into the air, taking out a good chunk of my Health, before I crashed back into the ground, smoking slightly. The explosions were louder than the alarms, louder than the panicking cultists who scattered from the initial blasts.

I coughed painfully before taking greedy gulps of air as I rolled onto my back. The night sky was what greeted me as I found myself in the meeting area above the stairs. I thought I could take a moment to catch my breath and eat, but no sooner had I taken out a steak than more alarms sounded and cultists began to surround me and the hole I made.

Give me a break! I internally screamed as I rolled to my knees just as an iron axe barely missed my face. I tried to spring back onto my feet, but instead I was launched awkwardly, my ankle twisting unnaturally, before I stumbled forward onto my side. It was a good thing since it allowed me to dodge a sickly green splash potion that sailed overhead. It landed a few feet away, causing a few cultists to clutch themselves in pain as if they were sick.

I surged back to my feet, despite my twisted ankle, and limped past the poisoned cultists towards the front gate of the outpost. I still had to activate that fuse. And if I couldn't use the tunnel, my only chance was through that stone archway.

A few cultists ran to get in my way, wielding swords of varying materials. I grit my teeth as I swung my diamond blade with all the strength I could muster, waving it wildly to keep them all back. One of the braver ones was undaunted by my attacks, thrusting deep with his sword to pierce me in the shoulder. I tore it free, losing my diamond sword in the process, before lashing at the cultist with a solid punch to the jaw, stunning him.

My Health was low, at two Hearts, and I couldn't even be allowed the time to swallow a mouthful of meat, but I somehow managed to limp through the archways and slow my pursuers down with some hastily placed cobblestone.

I was breathing heavily, limping with a twisted ankle, low on Health, diamond sword gone, hungry, and tired, but I had a triumphant grin on my face as I made my way to the fuse, hidden behind a rock. My hands fumbled at my belt for the wooden pressure plate that would set it all off. The cultists would still be evacuating through those stairs, so my TNT would take out a bunch of them.

Behind me, I heard the cultists breaking through my cobblestone barricade and chase after me, but I was too exhausted to care. I pulled myself around the rock, found where the redstone fuse began, placed my wooden pressure plate, and half stomped, half collapsed atop it.

"Say goodnight assholes." I mumbled proudly as I awaited the sounds of tumultuous explosions.

…

…As I awaited the sounds of tumultuous explosions!

…

But there was nothing.

No loud sound that rose over the alarms and angered shouts emanating from the outpost. No explosions. Even as I watched the redstone glow from being activated by my wooden pressure plate.

There was nothing!

"No… no, no, no…" I stepped off the pressure plate and back on, hoping that it was just a delayed fuse or a small malfunction or something. "No! Not now! Not after all this!" I practically pounded on the pressure plate in an effort to make it work.

Why wasn't it working!?

I was jarred from my attempts as a sword knocked me aside, sending me rolling towards the edge of the mountain. It wasn't like a climbable slope. It was a steep cliff face that dropped immediately.

I looked away from it to see the cultists gathered before me with anger burning in their eyes. "I'm gonna rip that mask off of you." One of them threatened as he raised his sword. "I wanna see the look in your eyes when I send you off!"

I was at loss for what to do. My whole plan had failed. The TNT wouldn't go off. The cultists wouldn't die. Floyd wouldn't be avenged. I was going to die. I… I had to jump! But I didn't know—

The choice to jump was taken from me as more cultists joined the first and pelted me with arrows. I raised my arms up to defend myself, forgetting to block with my remaining sword, and cried out as an arrow caught me in the knee, sending me teetering backward and forcing all of my weight on my twisted ankle.

"AGHHHH!" I screamed out as something in my ankle snapped completely and everything just gave out. The edge of the cliff slipped away from my good leg and my vision of the night sky angled upwards so that I glimpsed a bit of the cliff I had just stood upon.

The feeling of weightlessness soon followed as I plummeted off the cliff.

I panicked, wide-eyed and scared, as I reached into my backpack and pulled out my water bucket. I twisted myself to get a better look at the ground, but it was far too dark to see anything. I was blindly hoping the water would be placed as I repeatedly set it down below me.

The light slosh of water, followed by a cool flowing was like music to my ears as I found a surface to place it. I thought I had landed completely, only to cry out in further surprise when I was swept away by my water over another cliff edge. The water lessened my fall, but not enough to stop my head from cracking on a rocky outcropping.

That's when everything went dark.

---

Inventory (Cobb): 1 Stone Pickaxe, 1 Golden Sword [Sharpness I, Unbreaking I]{Weak}, 1 Golden Shovel [Silk Touch I, Unbreaking III], 1 Flint and Steel, 15 Cobblestone, 12 Flint, 12 Torches, 5 Coal, 2 Oak Wood Planks, 2 Sticks, 1 Crafting Table, 1 Oak Wood Door, 1 Clock, 43 Dirt, 1 Bucket, 4 String, 9 TNT, 4 Pumpkin Pies, 21 Steak, 40 Cooked Mutton, 1 Mob Head {Creeper}, 1 Pumpkin, 1 Iron Helmet, 1 Leather Tunic [Dyed Green, Unbreaking I], Iron Leggings {Weak}, Iron Boots, 1 Leather Tunic [Dyed Black, Protection I, Unbreaking I], 1 Leather Pants [Dyed Black, Unbreaking I], 1 Leather Boots [Dyed Black, Protection I], 9 Rotten Flesh, 63 Emeralds, 1 Map {Ringwood Region}, 1 Book {Advanced Mob-Slaying}, 1 Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Paper {Ringwood Entry Pass}

[EXP: 19]

Inventory (Lenz): 1 Bow {Weak}, 1 Shears, 3 Levers, 4 Wooden Buttons, 3 Stone Buttons, 5 Redstone Torches, 18 Redstone Repeaters, 3 Redstone Comparators, 36 Redstone, 64 TNT, 64 TNT, 1 Hopper, 1 Dispenser, 3 Blocks of Redstone, 5 Pistons, 10 Cobblestone, 10 Torches, 5 Sticks, 1 Minecart, 1 Compass, 12 String, 25 Gunpowder, 27 Steak, 8 Cooked Mutton, 64 Arrows, 1 Potion of Night Vision {8:00}, 1 Crafting Table, 1 Pumpkin, 64 Emeralds, 54 Emeralds, 1 Book {Notebook}, 1 Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Paper {Daymonte Entry Pass}, 1 Paper {Ringwood Entry Pass}

[EXP: 5]

---

AN: Plot Armor much?

The final scene of Cobb escaping the outpost was based off a scene from Disney's Robinhood (not sure whether any of you have seen it), where basically the main character has everything thrown at him as he tries to escape a deathtrap with enemies around every corner. Literally everything trying to kill him, without any time to take a break or say, 'phew, I'm safe'.

Any redstone experts could probably explain why Cobb's redstone fuse didn't work. I'll talk about it later (since I know you all just looooove to hear me gush about redstone), but for now, it's mainly because Cobb doesn't know redstone as much as someone like Lenz. Maybe if he brought Lenz with him, he could have pointed out the flaws in his fuse plan.

A lot of perspectives. Cara's wasn't originally in it, but I added it in after my computer first crashed, erasing all my content. I haven't had a Chapter this long in a while.

The Omake adds to it. Special thanks to Kalmarin for helping me write some of his character's dialogue. Every bit helps.

IMPORTANT: I set up a new poll. It's on my profile near the top and it's a Character popularity contest. I figured to set it up just for the heck of it. Vote on your favorite My Craft characters. There's not a lot of memorable ones, but it's up to you, the viewer, to decide which one you like the best. Everyone gets one vote, so check out my profile to cast them.

---

Omake: Overshadow (Part 1)

Carys_Angel walked onto the Asmodeus, the steady padding of her boots making a distinctive sound against the wooden floor.

*tk tk tk tk*

She walked the length of the airship, taking stock of the bomb bay and turrets, before she reached the bridge… and her awaiting Paragons.

But these weren't any ordinary Paragons. These were her most trusted warriors; each one in charge of a modest unit specializing in unique skills within her guild. All the Paragons she recruited were divided amongst these five, whom followed her orders to the letter. The result was a complex system of operatives that rivaled the Endward Cult.

She was pleased that they were all present (her being the last to arrive) and even more so when she saw how most of them straightened at her arrival.

Over by a control panel of levers stood Kalmarin_the_Prophet, or rather Kal the Hacker. Accepting him into the Paragons had been a great risk, given the chaotic nature of most Hackers. However, Kal had lived down all those rumors, proving himself loyal and dedicated to ridding Minecraftia of the Endward Cult. His formidable Hacks and experience had earned his place leading Team Alpha, the combat and offensive unit.

Sitting at the 'helm' of the airship was BalticSkies. Baltic was… not the best fighter. But what he lacked in strength, he made up for in wisdom. He was a valuable advisor when it came to making decisions and a valuable alchemist when it came to making potions. Out of all her trusted Paragons, he was the only one who understood how to fly an airship. More importantly, he had known Carys the longest, and therefore had an interest in staying by her side. After everything they went through and everything they lost, she doubted he would betray her now of all times. Even if he could be overly sentimental at times, his trust was one built over time, earning him the spot as head of Team Beta, the potion and attrition unit.

Lying atop one of the control panels with her legs splayed was—Carys suppressed a grimace—Anibal_Whiteclaw. The only one who didn't bother straightening her gait upon Carys' arrival, Anibal was a dark-skinned beauty with short, wavy, black hair, ruthless black eyes, a short black jacket with a popped collar, a dark red undershirt, blue jean shorts, long legs wrapped in white bandages, white fingerless gloves, and black boots with red straps. She had a black backpack and belt, at which her signature Sharpness V, Looting III Diamond sword hung.

Anibal had lived in Akasha when Carys found her. And from the look of her, it had been obvious that she was living rough. She used her charms and quick fingers to steal food, water, weapons, materials, and anything else she needed for survival. And why? Because her village had been burned to the ground in a covert ploy enacted by the Endward Cult. The claim had been an unattended campfire had gotten out of control, but Anibal, the lone survivor of the fire, saw the black-capped cultists at work. Nobody believed her, and with most of her possessions and home burned in the fire, she was forced into the life of a thief in Akasha for the rest of her life.

Or at least until Carys invited her to the Paragons for a chance to make a living hell for the Endward Cult. Naturally, she accepted with an eager grin and unexpectedly rose through the ranks, stealing priceless enchanted tools and Tinker's weapons for the Paragons' exclusive use. She more than earned her spot in charge of Team Gamma, the theft and arms unit.

The fourth Paragon, leaning against the side window, was JillianLikeAVillian. True, her name was a tad off-putting, but with the naming conditions of Minecraftia as unorthodox as they were, there was little that could be done about it. Not to mention, nobody had the heart to tell her that she had misspelled 'villain', whether she intended to or not. Everyone just called her Jillian.

Jillian was a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair done up in a thick braid that trailed down her side. She had light blue eyes and a black and purple beret atop her head. She wore a yellow bandanna tied around her neck along with a small brown and yellow jacket and a dark grey undershirt. She wore black jeans with chocolate-colored straps, and brown sneakers tinged with a bit of black. Her belt and backpack were the same chocolate shade of brown as the straps on her jeans, and from her belt hung an Infinity Bow and a single arrow.

Like Baltic, Jillian was more diplomat than combatant. She had served as a Captain in Zeppil during the Kingdom's dark days, when the Endward Cult's Southern Division was still a very real threat. She preferred to fight at a distance with her bow or with her words, saving the up-close-and-personal fighting to her guards. Her level-headed advice to the King of Zeppil when dealing with the cult had saved many lives, but failed when it came to ridding the black-capped scourge from her Kingdom.

So when Carys_Angel showed up and purged Zeppil of the cult's entire Southern Division, she saw her as a godsend. For ousting the cult, Jillian owed the Paragons a great debt. Zeppil's King repaid them with an airship. Zeppil's people repaid them with adoration and praise. As for Jillian, she quit her position as Captain and formally requested to join Carys' ranks. The loyalty of a former Captain was something so good Carys couldn't possibly turn her down.

That decision proved to be a masterstroke. Ever since she joined, Jillian has demonstrated her diplomatic prowess by maintaining connections for the Paragons with high-ranking figures in Kingdoms as well as with information brokers scattered throughout Minecraftia. A meticulous network of spies and political figures at her fingertips, like a spider's web. And she made it her business that anything regarding the Endward Cult made it to her ears first. Then Carys'. It was no wonder she was heading Team Delta, the long range fighting and intel gathering unit.

Lastly, sitting cross-legged in the darkest corner of the bridge, was Z7KHD9H, or just Z7. As her garbled name suggests, she was a Jibberman—or more appropriately Jibberwoman—and the only one amongst Carys' top Paragons. She had long purple hair that stretched to her ankles, often sweeping against the floor when she walked. Her face was severely scarred up, though never deterring from her cool beauty. She had black, empty eyes and her wardrobe consisted of only a short black t-shirt that exposed her midriff, and black shorts. She didn't wear socks or shoes, opting to go barefoot. Her belt and backpack were purple, holding a series of daggers.

Z7 was a mystery. Even more mysterious than most Jibberman. She was nearly always quiet, only responding to Carys or others with short nods, shakes of the head, or hand gestures. On rare occasions when she did speak, it was as garbled as what a Jibberman usually spews forth.

And yet her status as a Jibberman never hindered her skills; that being an assassin. If anything, her silence made her more deadly, earning her the moniker 'Slumbering Death', since she could kill you in your sleep. It seemed a fitting nickname for one serving the Angel of Death.

Recruiting her had been… unique, to say the least. Carys had found her in an abandoned Exter prison while searching for supplies. She was just sitting in the corner of a dark cell, folded in upon herself, with coal-black eyes tracking Carys' every movement. The Angel of Death noticed the daggers hanging off her belt and recognized her as a Jibberman… and decided to break open her cell. Despite what her Paragons would say, she saw potential in the Jibberman, and asked for her to join, albeit slowly in case she had trouble comprehending it.

For whatever reason, Z7 agreed. Not with words, she simply walked out of the cell and followed Carys. And she kept following her. Guarding her. Protecting her. Fighting for her in ways that eliminated threats before Carys could even perceive them. Z7 was a natural assassin, and Carys appreciated the way she worked. Despite her quiet, brooding nature, Carys allowed herself to be at ease whenever Z7 was near. It was like she could sense danger and eliminate it accordingly. Her loyalty was a mystery or why she even decided to follow Carys, but the Angel of Death wasn't one to look a gift assassin in the mouth.

Against the protests of most of her trusted Paragons, Carys gave Z7 a spot as head of Team Epsilon, the covert ops, stealth, and assassination unit. The assassin took the promotion like she took everything else: silently.

Carys mulled over each of her trusted Paragon in turn before clearing her throat. "Welcome, fellow Paragons. Now that we're all here, I'll get right down to it. Operation: Overshadow is a go."

At her words, Anibal whooped enthusiastically while Jillian and Baltic stirred in interest. Kalmarin and Z7 remained silent, though both kept their attention glued to Carys.

"You and your respective teams all have your intricate roles in this operation." Carys continued, hefting her new scythe over one shoulder. "You have your objectives and you should never, under any circumstances, go off plan." She swung her scythe down so that it scored a deep cut into the wooden floor, intimidating the others to pay close attention. "Overshadow has been planned to make use of you and your teams' unique talents. Therefore, you have no reason to do anything other than what I am about to tell you. Understood?"

Her absolute tone left no room for anyone to argue. If she gave an order, they'd follow it to the letter.

"Good." Carys smiled, bringing her scythe to rest on her shoulder once more. "Now, for your roles. Team Alpha," she pointed to Kalmarin, "will be the distraction. They'll ride in on horseback right up to the gates of Lunar Castle. The Griefers won't like that, and they'll try to kill you. Keyword here being 'try'. Team Beta and half of Team Delta will be accompanying them, offering food and healing potions as well as long-ranged snipers to keep our people alive. However, Kal will be the only one leading them."

Kalmarin nodded solemnly. "We'll keep them focused on us. Don't you worry."

Carys then turned to the other male in the room. "Baltic, you're one of the few people that knows how to pilot the Asmodeus. You're also more diplomat than fighter. So I need you to take Jillian and the other half of Delta up to the skyscrapers to talk with the Crafter communities." Jillian pointed to herself, surprised to be accompanying Baltic of all people, and to the skyscrapers instead of the battlefield. "Jillian has the information on their whereabouts and it's crucial that she establishes ties with those communities and explains what's happening. If anything, you have the more important mission." She walked up to the blonde-haired woman and stared unflinchingly into her eyes. "Jillian, you must appear strong and determined to those communities, and, if your Team doesn't already do so, make sure they know to accept your decisions respectfully."

"I… okay." Jillian nodded with a bit of unease. "I'll make sure they do."

"Team Gamma and Team Epsilon are with me." Carys turned to resume her position in the center of the room without even looking at either Anibal or Z7. "While the Griefers are focused on Kal, we'll burrow our way into Lunar Castle from the cliffs, kill the Griefers inside, and do the same to their Hacker leader."

That came as a surprise to Jillian and Anibal. Baltic and Kalmarin nodded along, as if expecting it from the start. Z7 remained silent as she lightly scraped her nails between the planks in the floor. Kalmarin stepped forward to say something.

"Even though we're killing a Hacker, don't think of it as hopeless. Even though nobody's ever done it, it can be done. And I won't hold it against any of you taking part in this." Everyone's eyes shifted to stare at the dark lines over Kalmarin's eyes. They seemed to exude a presence of their own. "I'm more Paragon than Hacker—you all know that. My loyalty won't waver… not when Hacker scum like that possess powers they don't deserve."

"Easy, Kal. We know who you are." Baltic stepper forward, offering his support. "You've earned your place here. We'd all trust you with our lives." There were murmurs of assent all around. Even Z7 offered a small nod of acceptance.

"I know, I just… I just thought I should say it." Kalmarin looked up with determined eyes. "Those Hackers aren't like me. They don't deserve to live."

After saying his piece, Carys continued with her explanation. "After that - No Anibal, you can't raid their treasury during the break-in - After that, we deal with the remaining Griefers, reconvene at Lunar Castle, and move on to Phase Two."

Some of the Paragons turned to each other with bewildered looks, wondering what Phase Two had in store. But they had enough sense not to ask a question that Carys didn't feel like answering.

"Any Questions? No? Good." She didn't even wait for them to reply, gesturing for them all to leave the airship and tell their respective teams the details of Operation: Overshadow. The five Paragons quietly left, with Baltic hanging behind to glance at Carys as if expecting her to follow. When she didn't, Baltic sighed and stalked away.

Carys looked outside the window to the see the entirety of her guild gathered before her. An army awaiting her orders. It was moments like this before a major battle that really got her blood pumping.

"Operation: Overshadow." She smiled to herself, dawning her black Wither Skeleton mask. The trademark for the Angel of Death's persona that would disguise her name from view. It would be necessary for the operation.

"Hacker slayer." She tasted the words, glorifying in how they sounded. "Now doesn't that title have a nice ring to it." She laughed to herself as she gave her diamond scythe another swift swing.

---

AN: Cobb's plans are chicken feed compared to Carys'. Little does she know, a certain fisherman killed a Hacker before it was cool.

IMPORTANT: I set up a new poll. It's on my profile near the top and it's a Character popularity contest. I figured to set it up just for the heck of it. Vote on your favorite My Craft characters. There's not a lot of memorable ones, but it's up to you, the viewer, to decide which one you like the best. Everyone gets one vote, so check out my profile to cast them.