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.

265. Make Your Own Mistakes

AN: Hey everybody. Sorry for the delay, but I got some upsetting news at the end of October.

My mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. From what I understand, it's gastrointestinal and has spread into the lining of the stomach. Not even the doctors know where it originated from, which is obviously frustrating to hear. Either way, she's on chemo, with her second round of it done so far. She's losing weight and can only eat small meals, so we're trying to change her diet to give her things easier to eat.

It really came out of nowhere. The doctors say she has anywhere from 6 months to 2 years life expectancy.

So... yeah. It sucks. I'm doing anything I can to help her, but for a few days after I got the news I was in a depressed daze. Didn't feel motivated to write.

I'm better now, and I found people to talk to, and my whole family (and hers) are doing everything we can to help my mom through this world-shattering time. I can't imagine what she must be thinking. I honestly don't know if I would have the courage to go through chemo knowing what it does to you.

All I can say is live your lives to the fullest. And, despite this terrible news, I've found signs in my life that somehow, no matter what happens, there are forces watching over her. Of that, I'm certain. She's an awesome mom.

Also, this chapter is rated M for a certain scene involving Lenzington's point of view. So, if you see the Lenz perspective, you've been warned. It was hard for me to write...

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

---

Chapter 265

Make Your Own Mistakes

[Soul]

"WAKE UP!"

I sat up suddenly, my eyes still crusted over by sleep and my mind still foggy as I registered someone shouting close to my ear and putting a quick, sudden pressure on my stomach that was gone as quickly as it came.

"Whuzzat?" I answered groggily.

"Wake up! We got news about Lenzington!" It was Anibal who was going from person to person, rousing us awake. It was the early hours of the morning of December 20th, and she had been the last on watch.

Carys had been excluded from watch rotation so she could get some sleep and settle her paranoia from yesterday. She had not been happy about that.

I pinched my face, the pain helping to clear my mind of drowsiness. "Say that again?"

"Your boy Lenz is alive!" Anibal smiled, her face beaming when she saw how my face - and the faces of Ciro, Floyd, and Noman - lifted. Everyone was wide awake now. "He's with Trenay, Attila, and Z7 now. They found him on Teal's Survival Islands, just like Jillian guessed. Lenz was pretty roughed up, but he's alive, and is currently on an airship heading for Nitebane."

"That's great news!" Noman cheered.

"Hooo, that's a relief." Floyd breathed out a relieved sigh.

"I told you that nerd is tough! I knew it all along." I tried to act like I'd not been worried, but I was relieved beyond words to hear he was safe.

But I was so overcome by the news, I forgot that Lenz wasn't the only Crafter missing in the line of duty. "What about Dwight?" I asked Anibal, a little nervous. "Is he...?"

"Dwight made it out." Anibal gave a watery smile. "He and Baltic and Cobb escaped through a Nether Portal just before the hub was destroyed. That was the last Lenz saw of them, but that fits with how they ended up in the northern Lacquerlands. Their portal was destroyed, but they tried to go back for Lenz, and ended up someplace else."

"But then why did they give the going dark signal?" Spaatz asked.

"All I can think of is that they ran into some threat they couldn't stick around in Minecraftia for." Anibal reasoned. "It's the Lacquerlands, so maybe they ran into a Stigma and couldn't send-"

"Did Perry make it?"

The soft voice of Kal cut through Anibal's good mood. The question had the dark-skinned girl's smile slowly fade as she realized that, in her good cheer, she had shown great tactlessness. She shut her eyes, cursing how she valued Dwight's safety higher than Kal's concern for his Team Alpha member.

"...I'm sorry, Kal. I shouldn't've..." She trailed off before stating the words clearly. "Perry's gone. He died to Teal."

Kal shut his eyes and his mouth was a thin line as he turned away only to smash his strengthened, smoke-clad hand into the nearest wall. The noise startled several of us. Carys gave him a brief glance while nursing a drink made for her by Albert.

"...I'm so sorry, Kal." Anibal apologized, coming over to rest a hand on his shoulder. "I was so thankful for Dwight that I... I was insensitive." She looked upset, and suddenly the good mood was lost.

I was in the same boat as her. I was so thankful for Lenz, I probably would've reacted the same way. Some people made it, some people didn't. Of course, I'd gone ahead and assured everyone that everyone was strong enough to survive. I'd messed up too.

"...I really thought he'd make it back, Kal." I commented. "Perry was a tough dude. I..." I let loose a breath. "I don't even know what to say. You have my condolences. Every one of those guys should've made it back, and it's unfair that we should celebrate when you lost someone."

"...It's okay, Soul."

"No, man! It's not okay." I went over and grabbed his shoulder, wrenching his body around to face me. He was despondent, but I shook a bit of life into him. "Hey! Maybe I'm wrong, but Perry didn't seem the type to be fine with people moping over him all the time. He and Dwight helped send the Morse Code signal telling everyone where the Eastern Division HQ was. He do anything else?"

"...What?" Kal asked, bewildered by the sudden, strange question.

"What other stories do you have of him coming in clutch? Tell me some." I insisted. Carys gave a derisive scoff before tipping back her drink and calling Albert over to reluctantly make her another one.

Kal blinked, lost for a moment, before he went into a deep think. He sifted through his memories of the now deceased Perry.

"One time," Kal started, "I saw him run through three cultists with the same one sword. They were transfixed on the blade, like a shish kebab. I've never seen one of my guys do something like that."

"Yeah? What else?"

"He...well..." Kal let out a light laugh. "He had to play bait one time. He pretended to be a vulnerable Crafter in a Daymonte village to lure out a band of cultists. The plan was for us to ambush them, but Perry was so pissed at drawing the short straw for bait, that he just went off and killed all sixteen cultists single-handed. It was pretty reckless of him, but then he was always a bit of a hothead."

"I can relate. What else?"

"Well, he..." Kal paused, recalling something meaningful. "...He was one of the first to accept me for what I was. We didn't have a Team Leader, then, and I was new to the Paragons and untrustworthy because of my heritage."

I noticed Floyd shift as he listened attentively.

"Perry was wary of me too," Kal continued, "but after we did a few missions together, he was the first to accept me. He took me out for drinks after that mission. His treat." Kal blinked. "...It was the second time I really cared about what another Crafter thought of me. It made me feel like I was... finding a new place to belong to. One that had nothing to do with birthright or what I was born into - bred into. I think... that's when I first thought to myself that maybe this Paragon thing could work out."

"Oh, well that's just beautiful." Carys crowed sarcastically from the side. Several Paragons snapped their heads in her direction. She swirled the contents of her latest drink in its glass, sloshing the alcohol around while she eyeballed it. "Real touching. Sounds like Perry meant a lot to you."

Kal bristled.

"Oi. Carys_Rumdum." I called her out, making her scowl at the nickname. "There's nothing wrong with remembering the dead. Paying respects means we're celebrating a life well lived and sharing the deceased's story. It's what any of your guys would do for you when you eventually kick the bucket."

Carys scoffed. "I don't need to be paid respects or honored. Death can have me when it earns me, but not before I accomplish what I set out to do first: the destruction of the Endward Cult, and the death of King_Cobb." The Beginners and me all scowled at Carys for her comment. Even after everything Cobb did to help her Paragons and save Nitebane, she still couldn't let go of her grudge. "Now, if we're done wasting the day away grieving, we've got work to do. The bigwigs of this bastion aren't gonna screen themselves." She tossed back her glass, finishing her drink, then wobbled to her feet with scythe in hand.

"Carys." Anibal called out, sounding a little helpless. "...Didn't you hear what I said?"

"What?"

"Baltic. He made it out. Baltic is okay." Anibal repeated the words with a hopeful smile as if they would be a tonic to Carys' tortured mind. She was hoping that the news would be a burden off of her leader's mind, and that the alarming signs of stress and paranoia that Carys had been showing would diminish.

"Okay. He made it out." Carys shrugged. "What of it?"

"Well... he's safe." Anibal emphasized. "You don't have to worry-"

"Worry? Worry? Why would I worry about him? Why would I worry about him?" Carys advanced on the dark-skinned thief. "You think that old man has some great influence on my life? Well he doesn't! I'm not hurting at all! He's no more important to me than any of you! I couldn't care one way or the other!"

Her Paragons looked stricken by the way Carys was lashing out.

"Firstly, we still don't know their fate. They may have left the Nether to give us the 'going dark' signal, but they went right back and we haven't seen them since! That was seven days ago! Seven days of nothing! Shouldn't they have found one of the cult's exit portals by now if they escaped via their hub? But they haven't! Baltic, Dwight, and that numbskull Cobb! Anything could've happened to them!"

Anibal flinched as if doused in ice cold water. What the hell was Carys' problem? She was taking what little good news we'd gotten and shitting all over it. Them being safe should've been enough for her.

"And secondly, don't think I don't see what this is." Carys laid into Anibal. "I know. I'm not blind. You emphasizing Baltic to me, specifically, thinking that I have some deep emotional attachment to the old man that simply overwhelms me. Clouds my judgement and sanity. That I'm suffering from his unknown fate, and how that's somehow messing with my head. Making me go crazy."

"Carys, that's not-" Anibal tried.

"Making me out to be some psycho!" Carys spat the word, throwing it in Anibal's face in a callback to what she accused her of being yesterday. It made Anibal shut her mouth in guilt. "You think hearing he's fine will magically fix me? I don't need to be fixed! I know what I saw, and you all should take my word for it on principle! With or without proof! Because you're my guild, and because we've fought together! And in all that time I never once lost my sanity!"

"First time for everything." I murmured, causing Carys to round on me and close in with a series of quick steps that caught me off guard.

Ciro beat her there, poking Carys with the Destierro del Palillo and knocking her across the room where she slammed into the wall and slid down to land on her bed. Her face came up, spitting mad as she glared daggers at Ciro.

"Let's all try to relax." Ciro tried to defuse the situation before it could come to blows. "Whatever you did or didn't see, it doesn't matter. We still have a job to do sniffing out the Western Executive. That should be our focus tonight, right? Not infighting."

The tension in the room was palpable, so I have no idea what made Noman think it was a good idea to say what he said next.

"...Actually, I've been meaning to tell you that I won't be available tonight... nor will I be available for the next few nights." Noman's voice could not be misconstrued in the tense silence. "I volunteered to help Captain Lizabet suppress the Stigma in Voronezh. I'm leaving today, and I'll probably be back by the 24th."

Floyd closed his eyes in annoyance, and I actually had to turn to gawk at the audacity of Noman's timing. What possessed him to think now was a sensible time to broach such a topic to Carys? Was he purposefully infuriating her to divert her attention away from Ciro and me?

Carys' face was shadowed by her spiky hair as her head hung slack. Her shoulders were tense and her fist was tight around her scythe.

And so Noman kept going.

"As insurance, I'd be taking my artifacts with me. Just to make sure nobody needlessly dies. I'll go alone, of course, and I'll try to get it done as swiftly as possible, and be back as soon as I can."

"Noman," I worked my mouth as the words failed me. "That's... you can't just... you think now is the best time to-?"

"Are you stupid?" Anibal blurted out. "You can't leave for four days. There are cultists and Hackers hanging around on standby just waiting to attack us. You're needed here."

"Am I?" He asked seriously. "Carys has made it perfectly clear I'm in the way. This is me getting out of her way."

"Yeah," I muttered before getting closer and muttering even more quietly under my breath, "but Carys isn't exactly stable at the moment."

"There are people in danger, Soul." Noman replied firmly. "I can't just ignore them."

"But-"

"Leave him be, Soul." Surprisingly, it was Carys who spoke next, eerily calm. "Noman's a big boy. If he wants to go gallivanting off as the king's illustrious errand boy, I say let him." The Paragons and Beginners looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. It sounded like all her earlier irritation had been bled out. "It'll get him outta our hair for a while. You have my permission."

"Oh! Well then, um..." Noman blinked in surprise before nodding respectfully. "Thank you, Carys." He then turned away from her to convince me. "Listen, Soul. This-"

Carys moved like the wind, silently advancing on Noman's exposed back and spearing the handle of her scythe into the back of his head, braining him with the very Aikido Resound technique he taught her. Noman was unconscious before he even hit the floor, landing with a heavy thud.

Carys let loose a great big sigh, looking refreshed. "Gods, that was satisfying."

"What'd you do!?" I exploded while Floyd and Ciro rushed to help the unconscious Billionth.

"I gave him a serious headache. Kinda like the one he was giving me, and in kinda the same way like how he tricked me at the Obelisk into letting my guard down. Consider the favor returned, asshole." She gave him a disdainful glance. "I swear, the day we find a way to weaponize Notaman's preachy monologues is the day the Endward Cult falls."

"You didn't have to brain him." Ciro contended.

"Oh no? Any of you disapprove?" She gestured openly to Floyd, Ciro, and me. The three of us were Noman's strongest advocates, but after the past couple days running around playing knights and getting inconvenienced for it, we shared uncomfortable looks. "Perhaps you wanna wake him up and go with him, unwillingly I might add, on a noble mission for the king so he can gorge himself on his hero's high? Hm? Anyone? Any takers?"

The uncomfortable feeling persisted as no one had the effort to argue. Carys was right; Noman's hero complex was getting out of hand, and roping us into battles we didn't want nor need to fight.

"I didn't think so." Carys affirmed her point as she looked down at Noman with a note of triumph. "Not like he has any reason to be mad. I used Aikido to stop a fight before it became a fight, and even settled things non-lethally. He'd be proud." She laughed to herself before giving orders. "Reuben, Albert, put the 'hero' to bed so he can sleep off whatever hero complex is possessing him. In fact, douse him with paralysis and keep an eye on him in case he thinks about going anywhere. He's officially under room arrest until he drops this knight complex." Then she turned to us. "Ciro, Floyd, Soul. I don't care which of you takes what, but take those three artifacts off him. He'll run off to perform heroics with even one of them."

I begrudgingly had to agree with Carys on this one. We needed every able fighter we had in the event the cultists and Hackers jumped us. Noman had to stay, however unwilling he was about it. So, for the second time, I found myself following Carys' orders, stripping Noman of the Severe Shield, the Bottes Zephyr, and the Stivali Magma, and doling them out to the Paragons. Same people as last time.

Anibal was the only Paragon who tried to reject her artifact - the Stivali Magma - wanting to let someone else have a turn with it, but I insisted she take it. She held it like it was a weighty responsibility, which I was pleased with.

"Floyd." Carys suddenly called the blue-nette and made a 'come hither' motion with her finger. Floyd cautiously approached, and Carys took him aside to talk with him privately.

I could just make out what they were saying, however.

"Hey, leader. I thought you talked to Notaman about his hero complex. Were you talking to him or at him, because, clearly, he hasn't digested a word you said."

"...You'll get no argument from me." Floyd was forced to admit. "Ever since he got knighted, he's been possessed. He keeps agreeing to whatever the Captain or King guilt-trip him into accepting. Because he blames himself for their situation."

"I tell you, that guy is getting on my last nerve. He makes the rest of us look like sinners with how saint-like he is. Part of me is wishing he would die just so we can be spared his holier-than-thou drivel." Floyd shot her an alarming look, his eyes flaring dark smoke. "Ooh, the scaaary eyes. Relax. If I wanted to kill him, do you think I would've brained him to reign in his heroic tendencies instead of allowing him to run off on another heroic suicide mission? He's annoying, but he has his uses, like getting me these Wings."

Her expression turned serious. "Still, this needs to stop. Get your friend under control or this'll be how we do things from now on, and Noman'll have to go through life, as best he can, perpetually concussed. Do you want his skull to go through that? I don't want - okay, I wouldn't mind it, but it wouldn't help us for his skull to go through that."

Floyd sighed. "I'll... figure something out with him. We'll talk. Tonight."

"That's a good leader." She patted him condescendingly before letting him go. "The rest of you, we need a new lead. Get back to screening the bigwigs. Reuben, Albert, not you; you two stay here with me. We'll be keeping Notaman company."

And so, Floyd, Ciro, Anibal, Kal, Spaatz, and I all vacated the room to continue our investigations of the bastions bigwigs. The Paragons accepted having people with Carys, as it was no longer safe to leave her alone when her hallucinations hit.

It feels like our whole synergy is breaking down. What is wrong with Noman and Carys?

---

We were supposed to be staying in the bastion to question our respective bigwigs. Those were Carys' orders.

So why was Anibal slipping outside?

Feeling curious, I decided to tail her, following her out of the bastion and onto the capital streets without getting spotted. I had to carry Cat-Face and Squawken around to avoid them getting spotted by the cautious Paragon. Still, I followed her all the way to her designated location.

A pet store.

"No shot..." I couldn't hide my childlike smile as I watched her dither in front of the store. It looked like she was having second thoughts, but she peered through the store's glass windows to see what sort of pets they had on offer. Dogs, cats, foxes, parrots. Each with a price listed on an adjacent sign.

She backed away from the window and fished in her belt pocket before holding up the contents in her palm and poking them around. She looked unsatisfied by what she had, and it was at that moment I revealed myself.

"Not such a stupid idea now, is it?"

"SOUL!" Anibal squawked, jumping a foot in the hair before whirling on him with a mortified blush. "I-I-I was just perusing their selection!"

"Uh-huh." I smiled with a shit-eating grin, my hands on my hips.

"No, really! I wasn't... I... oh, what's the point." She gave up before holding up the paltry four emeralds in her palm. "You got me. I was buying a pet for Carys. I don't have enough, though."

"I knew it all along." I chuckled smugly. "Nothing relieves stress like a loyal animal companion."

"Raawk, Soul kisses his axe good night!"

"SHHHHHH!" I clamped a hand over Christopher Squawken's traitorous beak, but Anibal didn't take the opportunity to rib me. She was too busy being upset.

"I just wanted to make up for what I said to Carys yesterday." She confessed guiltily. "Even if she was being a psycho, I had no right to verbalize it in front of the Beginners, her Paragons, and the king."

"Eh, to hell with Carys. And Noman too for that matter. Those two need a harsh dose of reality sometimes." I dismissed. "Ever since we arrived at the Brimstone Bastion, those two have been spiraling out of control."

"Tell me about it." Anibal sighed. "Your friend keeps volunteering for charity work to satisfy his massive hero complex-"

"-And your leader is unraveling from the stress of losing contact with Baltic. She keeps seeing and hearings things that aren't there."

"If she'd just admit to caring about Baltic," Anibal stressed, "maybe then she'd be willing to accept help, but no. She refuses to look weak, and so she denies what is obviously a problem." Anibal huffed. "Half of the reason I'm willing to try your silly plan is because I'm at my wit's end. This can't make her any worse, can it?"

"Nah, animals love you unconditionally." I assured just before Cat-Face sunk its claws into my eyeballs. "OH GODS! ITS CLAWS ARE IN MY BRAIN!"

Anibal soundly removed the cat from my eyeballs before setting it down. "Do you think Carys made the right choice knocking out Noman? I find myself doubting her choices more and more lately."

"Not like she had a choice. Noman wants to leave for four days when we know cultists and Hackers are at large. What if 303 or Leadstripe attack us and he's not here to help? You can't help everyone, and if you try it, you can't help yourself. I mean, all these problems shouldn't be his to shoulder, but he's got these hang-ups..." I clicked my tongue. "Carys may be chief conductor on the crazy train, but she was right to knock Noman out. I don't like it, but someone had to do it."

"...But his artifacts." Anibal commented next, her fingers fidgeting anxiously before her. "Maybe you should give the Stivali Magma to someone better. Albert or Kal. Or you, you can take it back."

"I don't want it back." I shook my head. "It's yours. I gave it to you for a reason. Would've given you the Severe Shield too if you weren't so against it."

"But why?" She demanded, whipping out the golden boots and throwing them at my chest. Fortunately, they didn't have their igniting powers when they weren't worn. "Why do you keep letting me have an artifact? Don't you remember what I was like with one at the Obelisk? I let it go to my head. I lost control. I slipped up and let it get stolen by Giovanni. It's because he took the Severe Shield off of me that we lost Dyson and Stayer. I shouldn't have those boots, not even temporarily. I don't deserve them."

"And that's exactly the reason why you deserve them." I pointed out, taking the boots and deliberately placing them back in Anibal's dark-skinned hands. "You've learned the weight of this power. You made a mistake, but now you know better, and now you'll never abuse its power again. That's the mark of a true artifact wielder, I feel."

"...You really think so?" She hesitated, though she was already sounding like I'd won her over.

"Of course. Everyone experiences a failure at some point. And anyways, you learn more from your failures than your successes." Anibal seemed to accept those words, recomposing herself after a few moments and returning to her mischievous self.

"Well, since I have you here," Anibal gave a lopsided smile and held out her hand, "would you mind loaning me some emeralds?"

"Uh..." I shuffled awkwardly in place. "I mean I only got nine." Anibal's hand fell and her face along with it. "Is that not enough?"

"No." She huffed, facepalming. "Whatever. Plan B." She whipped out the Fortune III, Unbreaking III diamond pickaxe she stole from the Miner's Guild. "We go mining for sellable ores at the Miner's Guild and hope they don't ask how we're obtaining 120 percent more ores than normal. Fingers crossed."

"Wait, wait, wait." I placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her, a giddy smile lighting up my face as an idea took root. It unnerved Anibal. "I've got a money-raising idea that doesn't involve hours of backbreaking labor and the potential to be arrested. We can't be too tuckered out for when the cultists and Hackers eventually rear their ugly heads."

"...What did you have in mind, and am I not gonna like it?"

---

"I don't like this." Anibal uttered miserably as we stood beside the fountain of the crowded public square, just outside the capital's Hall of Records. "Soul, there are too many people!"

Before us was a sign I placed, which read 'Amateur Street Performers'.

"Too bad. You can finally show me your breakdancing." I replied. I set a jukebox behind us and loaded it with the 'chirp' disc. The music drew many curious looks, and the Exterians soon became enamored with Christopher Squawken bobbing and rocking around, doing the birb dance.

"Oh, yeah! Work it, Squawken!" I encouraged as the parrot got into it. "Do the dance! Do the birb dance!"

The watching Exterians laughed at the animal's movements, but not one of them threw an emerald onto the ground before us. Times were tough in Exter, and they would only spare emeralds on real entertainment. A dancing bird wasn't enough.

"This is stupid." Anibal tried to hide herself behind her hands.

"Come on, Anibal." I hissed to her out the side of my mouth. "We need to break out the razzle dazzle if we want to earn some emeralds."

Anibal blew a raspberry, clearly feeling unenthused about the kind of money her dancing would bring in, if any. "I can't even jam to this dreck." She complained loudly about the choice in music. Maybe she was right. Chirp was fine for a bird to dance to, but it didn't exactly instill energy. "Hey, does anyone have a better music disc?" Anibal asked the gathered crowd. "Something to dance to, like 'wait', would be better."

That got a few complaints from the crowd of Exterians. Amateur Street Performers who didn't even bring their own music. Anibal was half ready to call the whole thing off when a familiar face volunteered.

"I got something! I got something!" It was Yulia, the female Scout that had been with us hunting the Illusioner in the mines. She was by herself, but she eagerly stepped forward, waving a unique maroon disc with the middle made of gold. "This is great music to dance to! Here!" She happily handed it over to Anibal.

"Er, thanks..."

"No sweat! And, um..." She glanced left and right before leaning in and lowering her voice. "If that Hacker friend of yours, Floyd, is around, and he's bored, maybe he could dance along and-"

"We're not calling him here to do the Hackstreet's Back Alright! Badge with you." Anibal shot back flatly, earning a cute stomp of the foot from Yulia.

"Ah, phooey! Can I at least join in for the Busking Badge?"

"Ugh, fine."

"Yay!"

Busking? Is that what this is called? I thought to myself as Anibal looked over the disc, flipping it on one side to examine the odd maroon surface. Most discs were black vinyl, but the maroon was the same shade as netherrack.

"'Lena Raine - Pigstep'?" Anibal read the disc before shrugging. "Never heard of it, but I'll give it a listen." She walked over to the jukebox and popped out 'chirp'. "This better have good tempo." She loaded up the maroon disc...

And the whole crowd went quiet to listen to a music disc that was wholly new to them. A recent addition from one of the latest Bounty Days, and a treat for the ears. The music rang out across the square.

The song was an intense, somewhat hip-hop-style beat beginning with a repeating cello-like tune. Squawken had no problem shaking and swaying to the beat.

"Oh..." Anibal paused to listen, her head beginning to bob to the beat. "Oh yeah..." A smile slowly started to spread across her face as the rhythm infected her too. Invigorated her. Compelled her to dance. "Oh, I'm feeling this. This is perfect!"

Anibal stepped forward to join Squawken in the proverbial spotlight, with the Scout Yulia swaying in place on standby, waiting for her turn.

Anibal's start up was slow, doing simple kick steps and side steps in tune with the music.

Then, like a switch had been flipped inside her, the dark-skinned girl moved. Her 'dancing', if it could even be called that, was one of the most, if not the most intense dances I'd ever seen. She was putting her entire body into it, twisting and turning it in ways my slack-jawed self didn't think were possible.

The crowd was loving it. And this time, we got a few emeralds tossed in.

"Wooo! You go girl!" Yulia cheered, before making her own attempt at dancing. It was less animated than Anibal, but the passion was there, and the crowd gave her a polite applause.

Then Anibal blew her out of the water completely when suddenly she was on her back, spinning in place as she straightened her body out upside down until her only point of contact to the ground was her head… but she was still spinning! The crowd gasped in astonishment, many of them whistling and hollering in appreciation, throwing more emeralds at her feet, and I felt my eyebrows disappear into my hairline. I couldn't believe she could pull off an insane stunt like that.

The repeating cello-like tune led to a dubstep-style drop, and Anibal actually matched her movements with it, supporting all her weight on just one hand with her legs in the air and halting all body motion in a balance-intensive position, like she'd just been frozen in place by the Arcticum Arma. And it was done just before the drop in a song she'd never heard before, as if she could sense it coming. Then, when the music resumed, so too did her body's motion. She performed a handspring back onto her feet, then eased into simple kick steps and side steps as the music went into its more mellower parts reminiscent of a radio.

Even the simple leg movements were full of energy as the girl's feet went every which way. Yet, while the maneuvers seemed spastic and random, there was a clear intent and rhythm to it all.

I found myself smiling in disbelief at the spectacle. I knew Anibal was a fairly athletic person, but this… the amount of strength, flexibility, and coordination this all must have required… And she made it look so effortless!

And then she got on the ground and started doing windmills with her legs as she spun around in time with the music.

How could she ever think people wouldn't pay money to watch this? She's amazing! I thought to myself with a laugh as I tallied the emeralds littering the ground. We had plenty for a pet, now.

Still, Anibal danced like a woman possessed. When before she'd been hesitant, the cheering of the crowd had inspired her to do bigger and more impressive stunts. She did flares, she did air flares, she even did a headstand, then spun into a no-handed headspin. Finally, with the song coming to a close, Anibal got on her hands and concluded with another freezing pose, to resounding applause.

Anibal tumbled to her feet and shot up, giving a dramatic wave with an ecstatic smile, her chest rising and falling from the exertion.

"Thank you, thank you! You're too kind!" Anibal thanked the audience breathlessly with some endearing waves and bows, soaking in the attention. Yulia and Squawken got their own modest applause, though it was nowhere near what Anibal got. Meanwhile, I scooped up the emeralds before any Exterians could swipe them.

"We cleared our goal. Let's go." I told Anibal.

"Just a minute. I'm indulging my adoring public." Anibal gave two-handed waves as she smiled to the whistling crowd. I let her have a bit more time, as she deserved a positive day for once. She was giggling and glowing.

Anibal walked to the jukebox and popped out the 'Pigstep' disc before she looked to Yulia. "Think I can keep this disc?" Anibal asked Yulia.

"Sure thing, but first, can you come with me to the Scouts to confirm I earned the Busking Badge?" Yulia pleaded. "You're the only other witnesses. Pretty please?"

So elated was Anibal that she agreed to the Scout's request without a second thought. "Sure, let's do it! Lead the way."

I grabbed the jukebox and offered my arm for Squawken to climb up before we vacated the square, the Exterians chanting Anibal's name, immortalizing her as the Chocolate Goddess of Breakdance.

---

[Noman]

I groaned as my senses came back, accompanied by a particularly painful throbbing at the back of my skull.

"Afternoon, boy scout." Came that familiar, husky voice, though it slurred slightly.

I tried to get up, only to find my limbs unresponsive. I blinked repeatedly to clear away the darkness of my vision, then saw the gray and gray blue particles swirling around me. I was paralyzed.

And Carys was sitting with her legs crossed on the bed while she perused several books. There was a drink in her hand, and a few discarded bottles behind her. Albert and Reuben stood nearby at a brewing stand with a series of potions bubbling away. They were only half-listening to us.

"...You knocked me out."

"No duh." Carys rolled her eyes, swaying slightly under the effects of her drinks. "You're under room arrest until you give up on your asinine hero complex and join the rest of us in the real world. Rest assured, however, I honored the virtues of Aikido by not killing you when I really, really, really wanted to. I really am a saint, yeah?"

"I... I need to go." I tried to break the paralysis by force to no avail. Everything felt heavy. "Captain Lizabet is depending on me. I need to-"

"What you need," Carys slammed one of the books shut, her voice rising dangerously, "is perspective." She turned to sneer at me. "While you're helping Exter out, thousands of miles away, Withers have been terrorizing the villages of Lazuli, and my Paragons have been running themselves ragged with Queen Wynn to stop them. In Dover Plains, my airship has been sighted under the command of 4Blite and his henchmen. Griefers are beginning to encroach on Zeppil's territory. Can you help them all, Noman? NO! You can only help those in front of you, even if there are people more deserving."

"So you see, everyone in the world has problems, and those who can't solve those problems on their own suffer for it. Why does Exter deserve your generosity when so many others... who should have... don't?"

"I'll tell you why." She continued. "It's because no one, not you or me, is able to be everywhere at once. Even with a guild at my disposal, there are too many problems spread out across too many thousands of miles. I don't have the presence, so you sure as shit don't have the presence."

"I'm just doing whatever I can to help people!" I argued back. "I try to save as many lives as I can. I can't help it that I'm limited!"

"But you can help what problems you're focused on!" She argued back. "Your priorities are backwards! The Endward Cult will kill everyone, so who cares if you save one village from Stigmata? Hell, Dover Plains is marching here to start a war! There won't be an Exter to save anymore once they get here, so why are you bothering?"

"Because I can't do nothing!" I shouted back. "I can't put it out of my mind like you!"

"You don't want to hurt anyone, but your selfish heroics are going to hurt everyone! You're focusing on problems that don't matter!"

"But-!"

"No, shut up! For once in your life, stop it with the preachy bullshit. It doesn't work on me, you got it?" The combination of drinking and her mounting anger were leaving her red-faced. Albert and Reuben tried to be invisible as the shouting match continued. "And it doesn't work on your Beginner friends either! Floyd and Soul? They gladly agreed with me to place you under room arrest." She spoke with relish. "Even they're getting sick of your hero complex. Honestly, if I ever get the chance to trade Beginners, I'm trading up to Lenzington. Let Jillian and Z7 have your holier-than-thou ass on their half of the world."

"You can't keep me here."

"Wanna bet?" Carys challenged. "However much a thorn in my asscheek you've been, you are part of my team, and I am in command here, so you will follow my orders, even if I have to force you!"

"You make it sound like doing good - helping save others - is bad!"

"Well, jumping in and acting as a hero didn't pan out so well when I tried it! And to be frank, it-!"

Carys suddenly cut off, her mouth and teeth clicking shut, even as her crimson eyes showed unbridled fury... and a flash of panic. My own eyes widened at what must've been a partial, drunken slip-up on her part. She'd been a hero once, I realized, and it somehow went badly for her. She looked down at one of her undrunk drinks before setting it down with such precision you'd think it might detonate. "That's... enough drinks for me." She said in a strained voice, trying to regain some semblance of control. She eyed her Paragons accusingly, threatening them into forgetting what she let slip. Albert and Reuben looked down quickly, trying to appear busy with brewing more splash potions of Slowness and Weakness.

I was struck silent, still contemplating what I'd heard from her. Carys scowled at my thoughtful expression, gnashing her teeth and probably wishing she could take back what she revealed about herself.

"...It won't end well." She muttered lowly, more of a growl than anything. "Take it from me..."

Just then, Kalmarin and Spaatz returned. Barging into the room, they looked breathless, as Carys noticed.

"You... got something?" She recovered from her half-drunken state as best she could and approached the two.

"Do we ever." Spaatz panted, clutching a stitch in his side, but with a ready grin. "We just got through questioning our bigwigs when some guards rolled in with a sighting of old Leadstripe!"

"The Lieutenant?" Carys asked, her eyebrows lifting.

"The very same."

"Where was he sighted?"

"The Miratorg Slaughterhouse."

I could hear Carys' voice hitch and see how her shoulders tensed. "...the slaughterhouse?"

"Yeah, the guards said they saw him sneak in about an hour ago. They've got it surrounded to see that no one leaves, but they wanted to bring it to our attention first. They know to let the pros handle it." Spaatz nodded heartily.

Kal was watching Carys carefully, noticing how hesitant she looked hearing the Lieutenant was in a slaughterhouse, and that she'd have to go in. She wrung her hands, her gaze elsewhere and unfocused.

"The Miratorg Slaughterhouse..." Albert paused, recalling something. "I know that one. Hey, Kal. Remember when your sister, Nikita, ambushed us at the Sosnovy Bor Hot Springs Resort?"

"Former sister," he corrected, "but yeah, I remember."

"Those civilians that happened to witness it," Albert continued. "They were all workers from that same slaughterhouse. The Miratorg Slaughterhouse"

Kal blinked in surprise. "You know, I think you're right. You think it's a coincidence?"

"Well, kinda. I mean, what would a Lieutenant want at a slaughterhouse?"

Unless Leadstripe knows about Carys' experience with animals slaughtered for food. I thought to myself, and it looked like Kal was thinking the same thing as he noted Carys' agitated state. He bit his cheek as he looked at her.

"Hey, Carys." He spoke to her gently. "You can leave this to me and Anibal. You got to keep an eye on No-"

"What? NO!" Carys stopped wringing her hands and dispelled her nervousness with raw fury. "I'm not gonna sit back babysitting when there's a Lieutenant to bring in. I'm the woman leading this thing."

"I know that, ma'am. It's just that, given your history-"

"Don't finish that sentence, Kalmarin. I'm perfectly capable of focusing on the mission. I'm not some meek slip of a girl." Carys made her position clear before glancing at me with a scathing look. "And I'll have the noble Sir Noman here to protect me, provided he agrees not to go running off for four days to save cats from trees and help old ladies cross the street."

I didn't appreciate her sarcasm, but there was little I could do other than lay there on the floor while Carys and Kal talked strategy. Meanwhile, Albert and Reuben reapplied Weakness and Slowness to me. They'd keep me paralyzed until the time we were ready to check out the slaughterhouse.

In my head, I knew that apprehending Leadstripe was the priority. I'd already done it, so I knew I could do it again.

But the Stigma '1' near Voronezh was another pressing danger, one that would threaten Exter's already precarious food situation. And I told the Captain she could count on me. Besides, Carys, Kal, Floyd, Soul, Anibal, and Ciro could handle Leadstripe without me. Especially considering they had all my artifacts.

I'm not being selfish. I thought to myself in impotent frustration. I don't have to give up on anything.

---

[Ciro]

Sometimes I ask myself, just what have I been doing with my life?

I used to have pride, as Notch's Captain. People used to speak of me, the Millionth, with the same reverence they do today with the Billionth.

I helped people. I saved lives. I kept order in Ringwood, my kingdom.

Then came the day Notch received that prophecy. The one declaring that there would be a darkness Notch couldn't beat, but that would be vanquished by the Billionth. Billionth with a B.

Not the Millionth.

The prophecy shouldn't have meant anything - just the mad ravings of an old crone - but Notch took them to heart. And instead of looking to me for the future, he put his faith in another.

Why couldn't it be me, though? Why couldn't I stop the dark future prophesied? Why couldn't I protect Notch from the darkness 'destined' to overpower him?

I thought I could take fate into my own hands.

Oh how wrong I was.

A man's life is not measured by how they lived, but rather what they managed to accomplish before their death. And looking back, my life's tale was full of failures.

I let Herobrine worm his way back into my king's heart only to stab him in the back.

I was unable to save Notch.

I fled Exter and the Stigmata Wars like a coward, taking the Yanhua Gong with me.

I turned my back on Iron_Lung and my duties, all but abandoning them to hunt artifacts.

I murdered councilmen in Dover Plains, all to secure something that was never there.

I sided with the Berserkers and allowed them to exploit Jolin, only to betray them at the end like some common punk.

Compared to the great deeds of Notch and the other kings, my actions were trifling, insignificant, dishonorable things indeed.

I wish I could have died like each of the kings. Standing up against Cultists or Hackers, ready for death.

A tale is only as good as its final turn of events, the plot twist. And mistakes are an important part of the plot too. I've lived my life always believing that the lessons I learned are what honed me. In return, I swore I would accomplish a deed so great that it would obliterate all of my failures, and die a splendid Crafter. The one destined to save the world from Herobrine and his cult.

At least, that's how it was supposed to go.

I thought I would gather the nine artifacts, defeat the Executives, and stop the cult from destroying the world. But in the end, I failed at that too. In all my years of searching, I only ever had the one artifact I fled with before the Billionth showed up. Instead of piling up experience and artifacts, I only seemed able to pile up more mistakes, compromising my morals in the process.

So pitiful, that this will be the twist to the tale of Ciro the Millionth.

What a worthless story.

...

But Noman still had yet to finish his story.

He gathered many artifacts in a shorter span of time.

He defended Ringwood from multiple Withers.

He defeated Null without killing him, and even convinced another Hacker to let her lost siblings go.

And his story was one that didn't call for him to sacrifice his soul. He upheld Aikido. He stood by his beliefs with unwavering dedication, even when his was a single voice drowned out by many. With every passing day, he grew closer to Notch's ideal hero, while I grew further away. He really was more worthy.

Maybe that meant he had yet to make enough mistakes to learn from, but he would need to make those mistakes himself, all the same. He was still innocent.

If I was unable to stop the Endward Cult and become a splendid Crafter, maybe my role was to guide Noman, as Notch guided me. Support him.

Even if what he was doing was foolish, he had to make mistakes in order to learn from them.

For this reason, I intercepted Captain Lizabet as she was making last minute preparations to head to Voronezh, and I informed her of Noman's room arrest.

And together, the two of us conspired on a plan to liberate Noman from his detainment.

---

It was late when I rejoined the Paragons and Beginners. They had been waiting for me, Anibal, and Soul to return, and they told me to ready myself to head out. They were all getting ready for a fight, but they refused to elaborate on the specifics until Anibal and Soul returned.

"Because Anibal has the Stivali Magma with her, right?" I asked casually.

"That's right."

I nodded, confirming what I needed to know, then I moved closer to Noman. He was paralyzed, with Albert and Reuben standing over him. His eyes looked to mine, imploring for aid.

I answered with an imperceptible nod, making Noman's eyes widen.

A few minutes later, another knock sounded on the door. It was Captain Lizabet. Just as planned.

Carys peeked through the door and frowned before opening it up a crack.

"Is Sir Noman ready to go?" The Captain asked, feigning ignorance.

"I'm afraid not." Carys spoke smoothly. "There's been a development - maybe you heard. The Lieutenant you guys lost has been sighted at a... slaughterhouse." Carys faltered on that word, but soldiered on regardless. "He's needed here, so he'll be heading there tonight."

"Oh my, that sounds serious." The Captain nodded.

Meanwhile, while Carys was distracted, and while everyone was facing the door, I donned the Arcticum Arma and used then to freeze Albert and Reuben simultaneously, encasing them in blocks of ice and causing their worn and held gear to fly off and fall to the ground. Noman's eyes widened at the callous act, but he knew to stay silent as I picked up his paralyzed form and made for the balcony while no one was watching.

I then jumped off, landing on the slime block landing pad Captain Lizabet had set up prior. After I stopped bouncing, I hurried off into the shadows of the bastion and crept around the outside towards where our horses were waiting.

"...What about Albert and Reuben?" Noman had the decency to ask after we were safely away.

"Anibal can defrost them with the Stivali Magma when she gets in." I reassured him. "Carys'll be madder than a cat getting baptized, but by then we'll be long gone... on our way to Voronezh."

Noman's eyes widened. "You're... coming too?"

"Yeah. I figure you could use some of my artifacts. Especially considering you have none right now."

"But... but why?" He asked, confused. "Ciro, you don't have to-"

"I want to." He insisted. "But only if it's what you want to do. Now drink this."

I shoved a bucket of milk to his mouth, and he drank it to clear the paralysis effects and stand on his own two feet. By then, we reached the horses and a winded Captain Lizabet.

"That crazy woman... chased me." She panted. "After you escaped... off the balcony... she saw her frozen... Paragons... and ran after me. I barely - we shouldn't linger..." She mounted her horse quickly, then gestured to the other two steeds. "Let's move. We can chat about it later."

We wasted no time getting on the horses and riding out of the bastion. I heard distant fireworks from above, likely from Carys' wings as she searched for us, but it was too dark for her to make us out. We only felt safe to talk after riding out the capital gates to the southwest.

"I still don't understand, Ciro." Noman spoke to me. "Why help? Do you feel responsible for Exter's situation...?"

"Of course not. I think this whole thing is a fool's errand, and a waste of our time." I admitted bluntly, making Noman wilt. "But this isn't about what I think. This is about letting you make your own mistakes and learn from them. I don't think you'll learn anything being forced into something and being led around by the nose. You'll only be more in opposition. Better to let you do what you want and learn."

He contemplated my words before shaking his head. "But I don't think this is a mistake."

"Maybe you'll feel differently when it's done." I commented.

Noman made it clear he doubted that would happen, but he nodded all the same.

And so, the three of us rode to Voronezh to deal with Stigma '1'. If everything went well, we'd return to the capital by the 24th.

---

[Lenz]

It was night time. The night of December 20th. The fleet of airships was currently soaring high above the Eastern Ocean, with me aboard as the lone rescuee. A whole fleet of Paragons had mobilized for my sake. We were heading back to Nitebane, and would arrive on the night of the 22nd at the latest. I had a whole bedroom to myself aboard the largest ship in the fleet - the Halcyon - and Z7 had assigned Paragons to guard outside my door in round-the-clock shifts...

...in case Larkspur made a reappearance.

When I woke up from my ordeal and told them all I knew in as much detail as I could, they broke to me the unfortunate news that, after searching for Larkspur's remains in those underground ruins, they found nothing. No Head, no discarded gear, nothing.

The widely accepted theory was that she stole a totem of undying off of Z7 during their fight, and that alone saved her life from the Sculker's sonic attack. She was still out there. Although her survival islands had been firebombed to remove all trace of them and prevent another of its kind from occurring, Teal_Larkspur was still out there.

And now, instead of sleeping like I should be, I found my mind too alert and agitated as I sat up in bed. I had access to my ender chest again, and I took out the twin crossbows Alfonso gifted to me. They were loaded with rockets, and sitting atop my lap as my eyes were glued to the door.

The events of the last week kept playing before my restless mind. Despite the cult's Eastern Division HQ being in ruins underwater, and down more than 90% of its cultists, its Lieutenants and Executive were still at large. Perry was dead. Nitebane lost one of its hostage shields now that Hannah_Harper was turned over... in a deal that was supposed to be for me.

And worst of all, Teal_Larkspur was still out there. My fingers tightened on my shoulders as I held myself, recalling all the torment and torture she subjected me to. I had been toyed with. I despised her. I despised her more than I thought I ever could despise someone. Her mad, teasing giggles kept replaying in my head. And despite all the times I beat her - killed her - she always came back like some unkillable demon. She declared me her arch nemesis, and I was starting to think she was mine too.

She wanted me dead. I kept imagining her bursting through my window to finish what she started-

*tap tap*

I lurched out of bed and swept my crossbows before me in an instant, pointing at my window where I heard the tapping. I was amped up with an itchy trigger finger, but I slowly calmed down when I saw a scarred face peek into sight from the window.

It was Z7 tapping on my window rather insistently. Her curtain of purple hair was whipping in every direction from the cold ocean winds blowing around the ship. What on earth was she doing out there?

I lowered my crossbows and went over to the window, though I had no way to open it. You could not just break an airship rendered block and then replace it. The fine coding of the Command Blocks rendered a set number of blocks arranged into an airship, and those blocks would be able to move as a mobile structure despite being made of blocks. By breaking a block, you would un-render it, thereby-

*CRASH*

I flinched as Z7 got tired of waiting and simply drove her knee through the window, ruining the rendered block and allowing cold wind to blow through my room. The chill cut through my clothes, and I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck and nestled into it. Seeing Z7 awkwardly struggle to climb in without her hair snagging, I went over and helped pull her inside.

"Who's there!?" My bedroom door was busted in next, as the racket Z7 made had alerted the Paragons she herself put on guard. They took in the scene, Z7 with the lower half of her body awkwardly hanging out the smashed window with me helping her upper half inside. Z7's eyes were as wide as a deer in headlights, and there was a blush on her scarred face before she drew her curtain of hair closed to conceal it.

"(Don't look at me.)" She spoke out, mortified, despite the Paragons being unable to understand her.

"...Why are you breaking in, ma'am? We would've let you-" The one Paragon broke off when the other clasped his shoulder and whispered something into his ear. The first Paragon then made a noise of understanding before they speedily retreated. "Sorry to disturb you. You two have fun."

I was lost for a few moments after the door shut and I helped the humiliated Z7 inside. Then, when the Paragons placed a block of white wool over my door, I realized what they had been implying, and I felt heat creep up my neck that had nothing to do with my tightly bundled scarf.

Z7 groaned. "(I was trying to be all romantical.)" She complained.

"(By scaling the outside of the airship followed by breaking into my room?)" I could not stifle a chuckle. "(You could have just used the door.)" I pointed out. I also pointed out how the room was now subjected to the fierce wind chill emanating from the broken window.

"(That can be fixed.)" Z7 replied back before wrapping her arm around me to hug me like an oversized teddy bear, carrying me over to the bed, my back to her front, and then nestling under the covers so that I was lying atop her, her face beside mine, with her chin in the crook of my neck.

"(Uh, Z7, th-this isn't really nece-)"

"(Shush. It is.)" Z7 nestled in even closer, sharing her warmth so that the chill from the broken window began to recede. Her long hair went over my shoulders and covered my chest, her legs loosely wrapping around mine to keep me in place. Her arms had come around to pin mine to my sides, her hands clasping mine in front of my chest. I was the little spoon to her big spoon, and being held by her was incredibly comfortable, if a little embarrassing.

Maybe it was my imagination (or a self-centered thought), but the way she was nuzzling reminded me of what Larkspur did to me in front of Z7 during that hostage meeting at the Northern Lighthouse, and that Z7 was jealously trying to override that, despite her meaning more to me than Larkspur ever would. I was too afraid to call her out for it, though, and instead kept my mouth shut.

"(...I was supposed to save you.)" Z7's muffled words spoke into my hair, making them trickier to translate, but no less touching to hear. "(You were lost, alone, and afraid, and I should've been there.)"

"(But you did save me.)" I reminded her gently, patting the back of her hand. "(And you were there.)"

She craned her neck to look down at me inquisitively.

"(I was ready to give up on Larkspur's Survival Island,)" I admitted. "(I was ready to quit, but then you came to me. In a dream. Urging me not to quit.)" I cast a wide glance at the room's ceiling. "(I do not know of it was some hallucination of my desperate, anxious, sleep-deprived mind, or maybe a vision, or some higher power at work, or... or maybe I could feel your energy as you worried for me from miles away, but I swear on every redstone device in existence that I could feel the warmth and touch of your hands in my dream as you made me grip your iron dagger, sharing your strength with me. Out of everyone I could have dreamt up - Cobbert, Soul, Noman, Floyd - it was you.)"

I smirked as I shook my head fondly. "(Being a man of science and exacts, it is hard to accept a phenomenon like that in the spiritual sense of the word, but whatever it was, it gave me the kick in the pants I needed to not roll over and give up. Somehow I knew, everything would be alright. But not for lack of trying. So I kept going, and I dug a big tunnel, and I found some scary, dark ruins underground, and, when I needed you the most, you swooped in and protected me from Larkspur.)" I shrugged in her loose grip. "(And I am satisfied with that. Well, I mean, I wish Larkspur had died, obviously, but the rest?)" I gave her hand another comforting pat. "(I could not ask for a better, more dependable protector. I do not blame you for a thing, Z7.)"

I felt Z7's smile widen against the back of my head, and we settled into a comfortable silence, the only sounds being our steady breathing.

"(I'm your protector alright.)" She hugged me a little possessively. "(There's little I can't handle at the ends of my daggers. I suppose I should be flattered to be your 'dream girl'.)"

I turned and touched my forehead to Z7's. "(I do not think I ever could have imagined someone like me having someone as incredible as you.)"

"(...I never imagined I could talk with anyone, let alone be with anyone, that wasn't another Jibberman.)" Z7 admitted forlornly.

"(Well I think you are pretty great.)" I told her genuinely.

"(...You wouldn't want someone prettier?)" She asked tentatively, indicating her scarred face. "(Someone whole and undamaged?)"

"(You are not damaged. I only have eyes for you.)" I asserted. "(We are each of us whole when we are together. An other half to an other half.)"

"(What about brains? You wouldn't want someone who can follow your fancy, redstone, techno stuff?)"

I laughed. "(Not to worry. I know enough of that fancy, redstone, techno stuff for the both of us.)"

Z7 grinned suddenly. "(You know, I don't believe in any of that spiritual, higher power stuff either. But, if there is a higher power out there,)" she smiled down at me, "(I suppose I should be thanking them for sending you to me.)"

It was a little uncomfortable craning my neck to stare into Z7's glittering, black eyes, but I did not mind it all too much. I felt like I could stare into her eyes for days and be enraptured by them, and I made it a point to lift my tinted glasses to better do so. The feeling must have been mutual, for Z7 parted her hair to gaze into my magenta eyes with a hunger that could not be sated.

I do not know which of us leaned in first, but staring into her eyes, and with her staring into mine, a silent permission was granted, and the moment just felt right. Our eyes closed and our lips touched, and then we were lost in one another. Moaning into one another's mouths, pushing against each other and interlocking fingers. Z7's tongue pushed against mine and invaded my mouth in that way I was wholly unprepared for that made me feel faint.

All too late or all too soon, she withdrew.

"(I love you, nerdling.)"

I felt my heart swell hearing those words. It was not a word to be used lightly, and yet she was saying it to me clearly. Or as clearly as it took to translate. The real word she uttered was 'olev' which I realized, in a stroke of clarity, had the same letters as 'love'. Whether it was Jibberish or Common, the letters for the word were the same. The letters spanned two languages, defying the language barrier, much like we had together.

"(I love you too - whoa!)"

There was a whirl of movement as Z7 spun her body around so that she was on top of me, staring down with half-lidded eyes.

"(W-W-What are we doing now?)"

"(Keeping you at the right temperature.)" Her voice was low and seductive.

She was brimming with confidence, now. It made me want to surprise her in a way only she could appreciate: with a joke.

"(...Are you a blanket?)" I asked rhetorically, making her quirk an eyebrow. "(B-Because I love it when y-you are on t-top of me.)" I stammered at the end, losing courage as my face heated up. Oh, sweet Sculk Sensors, that was embarrassing.

Z7 took a moment to process my joke before grinning salaciously and lowering herself atop me. True to my joke, she covered every inch of me like a blanket, her chest pressing against mine through our clothes, her hands grabbing my wrists and pinning them beside my head, her legs blocking mine so I could barely move at all. She had entrapped me. She had me overwhelmed. I was completely at her mercy.

My heart was beating very fast in anticipation. Z7 could probably feel the vibrations of the beats through her chest, as I could feel hers. I was scared but eager. Every part of us that touched was growing hotter, like we had been set aflame. Despite that heat, I wanted to hold her closer. I wanted to reach up and hug her tight. I could not, however, pinned as I was, and it was torture. Any reservations I felt taking this next step in our relationship had been melted away, forgotten. It was not admiration with which I looked upon her, but some greater emotion, markedly different from any I had experienced before. It was the same emotion I felt when we first kissed under the night sky in Oak Docks.

It could only be arousal.

Her purple curtain of hair hung down to frame her face while simultaneously forming a closed curtain around our heads. Her eyes were glittering playfully as she leaned in to whisper into my ear, her voice low and breathy.

"(Are you my homework? Because I'm not doing you when I definitely should be.)"

I let out a nervous laugh.

She released my wrists and leaned back, freeing up my hands to hold her waist and feel her more closely. She swept her hair back, willing it from its long, loose curtain to her tight, thick braid to keep it out of her face and eyes. The look on her face showed she was raring to go, and my mouth hung agape as she willed off her meager clothes in motes of light, baring herself in her full glory before me.

"(I-I, uh, I have never been in a relationship, o-or had sex.)" I stammered, wishing I could sound more suave. "(I-Is this the next natural step in how a healthy, really good relationship is supposed to go?)"

"(Probably. I've never been in a relationship or had sex either. But it feels right.)" She stressed, flexing her thighs around mine while rubbing against me, making me choke on my spit and moan. She bit her lip and hummed. "(Does it feel right for you too?)"

"(...Yes, please.)"

"(Do you want me to stop?)"

"(No, please.)"

"(Then I'd like you to lose the pants.)"

Funnily enough, I stopped caring about Teal_Larkspur for the rest of the night.

---

[Cobb]

"Dwight, I can't see a thing past your fat head." I hissed. "Move over."

"Well excuuuuuse me."

"You're excused. Now move over."

"Quiet, both of you." Baltic shushed us owing to the nearby danger. The three of us were lying belly-down against a high ledge of netherrack that deviated from the blackstone brick bastion we'd exited from. We peered down upon the netherbrick highway below, which led to a wide, plain of netherrack packed to the brim with cultists. More than a thousand. Fourteen or fifteen-hundred. Most of them wore the black caps of their uniform, but maybe ten percent of them wore golden helmets instead. The ones not wearing golden helmets wore golden armor of some other kind. Leggings, chestplates, boots. They had also set up temporary huts out of netherrack to rest in. None of them thought to look up at us. "We're good. They haven't spotted us."

"Oh no..." I groaned as I spotted the portal frame on a netherbrick plinth in the middle of the netherrack plain, and the active, purple portalstuff within... and how no cultists were making use of it. "This portal is a dud too. Nobody's going in."

"No, it's working." Baltic assured, pointing out the makeshift huts made up of netherrack. "Look. They wouldn't linger and make camps if they had no reason to stick around. This portal is a working one."

"Then why are they milling about here when the portal is open and ready for business? Shouldn't they be piling through to Daymonte?"

Baltic shook his head. "For my money, it's a housing issue."

I arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean there's no room." Baltic said it simply. "Daymonte is likely so far outside the cult's sphere of influence that they only have maybe a small outpost for their portal. It's like a bus stop to the cultists, equipped with, say, a few beds, and maybe a decently stocked pantry for, at most, twelve people." Baltic made his guess ranges. "Well, a small bus stop will hardly have the space and resources necessary to comfortably house over fifteen-hundred cultists. And they can't just walk out onto Daymonte's streets when the guards would surely notice a sudden influx of one-thousand people, many of whom likely are without adequate paperwork and entry passes."

"Right, so they're waiting it out." Dwight helped me to understand. "They probably sent a small group through the portal to take stock, check Daymonte's streets, scout around, and maybe find someplace hidden that could hold so many people without raising alarms."

"...How long do you think we got until that happens?" I asked the question everyone was thinking.

"...No telling. Could be three days, three hours, or three minutes."

"Or three seconds." I pointed out.

A silence settled upon us as we kept still and quietly counted in our heads.

One... two... three...

Nothing sudden or drastic happened.

"Okay, so not three seconds." I amended.

"Hold on... there are Hogmen down there!" Dwight hissed as he pointed to some of the new, tusked, porcine Mobs milling about amongst the cultists. And... they didn't attack them. They didn't attack. The cultists didn't bother the Mobs, and the Mobs didn't bother the cultists. Some of the Hogmen even wandered into their makeshift huts like it was normal and nobody reacted. I think I even saw some cultists conversing with the Hogmen.

It was like they were... harmonious.

"Why aren't they trying to kill each other?" I voiced my concern, taking out my Mob book and jotting the discovery down.

"Maybe it's like with Zombie Pigmen. They're neutral unless you attack them."

"Yeah, but we got attacked by Hogmen without starting something."

"...Oh yeah." Dwight remembered.

Baltic narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized the Mobs. "That is strange. They all get along."

Why the preferential treatment? I asked myself, my quill tapping on the pages of my book as I observed the cultists. What's the difference between us and them...?

And then it hit me. The unusual attire that would make the cultists replace their own uniform.

"...It's the gold." I spoke slowly.

Baltic and Dwight turned to look at me. "What?"

"The gold. That's got to be it! Look!" I pointed deliberately. "Every cultist down there is wearing an article of golden armor. These Hogmen must take a shining to... to gold!" I feverishly jotted down the information in my Mob book and cataloged it in my head for later.

Brain: Cataloged.

"So the pigs like gold." Dwight commented.

"Pigs were considered as a sign of wealth and prosperity." Baltic added. "Owing to the fact they reproduce quickly and breed from a variety of foods. Anyone with a pig farm never wanted for meat."

"Was that what Carys was going for when she first got Mr. Piggles?" I remarked, only to feel Baltic's appalled look. "Oh, come on, I was only kidding. That was a joke!"

"...I don't like that, King_Cobb." Baltic made a point to use my full name when expressing his disappointment. "That pig meant the world to Carys, and its memory certainly deserves better than being the butt of a tactless joke."

It's just a pig. I thought to myself, though I understood on some level that losing a beloved pet would be a blow to anyone. Soul, for instance, cared about Cat-Face enough to take it with him, and he'd be no less devastated should anything happen to the vulnerable creature. Same for that parrot he got with the funny name.

"Okay, okay, you're right. You're right. It was insensitive of me. I'm sorry." I apologized all the same, not wanting a fight with the old man. "The Hogmen being neutral around gold armor is good information, though. Not sure how or when the cultists pieced that together, but it'll make dealing with the Hogmen a lot easier." I jotted the useful tip down in my Mob book. "Now, how do we get past those cultists to the portal?"

"I'll have to brew some Invisibility potions." Baltic volunteered. He took out a cauldron and set it down before filling it with water. Then he took three glass bottles and filled them from the cauldron, depleting it. He had to fill his bottles in this roundabout way because water instantly evaporates when set in the Nether. We didn't have much water on us, so this was a big risk, but worth it with a portal in sight. "Divest yourself of your armor. I'll make three splash potions to maximize our invisibility time. We'll huddle up every time the effect needs to be reapplied. I say we circle around the outskirts of their camp-"

Baltic broke off when a commotion sounded from down below near the portal. Shortly after, the cultists starting filing into the frame ten at a time, leaving the Nether for Minecraftia. Seemed like three minutes was a closer guesstimate to how long it took the cultists to find housing suitable to enter Daymonte.

"Or we go now and improvise!" I shouted over the din, throwing caution to the wind and just throwing myself off the ledge. There was no time to waste. I revealed myself to the cultists in the back, who loudly pointed me out for the benefit of their comrades before fleeing from me. An army of cultists, and they were fleeing from me.

"It's the Darker Billionth! RUN!"

"Hey! No! Don't run!" I demanded as the traffic going through the portal doubled from my presence. Cultists were contorting their bodies to slip through the portal's obsidian frame.

And there, wearing a golden helmet like a crown, and surrounded by Hogmen like he was their chief, was a magenta-haired, tired-looking man. MarkAble. The second Lieutenant of the Endward Cult's Eastern Division. He was ushering the cultists into the portal, ensuring that they went first, before him, and calling for a calm, orderly evacuation.

I called out to him in desperation. "MarkAble! Stay and fight me like a man!"

The Lieutenant gave me a funny look - quizzical almost - before he ignored me and went back to ushering the cultists into the portal.

"Hey, you scared!?" I tried to goad him, rushing forward and slashing at the cultists at the back. Baltic and Dwight were right there with me, having jumped down to make a break for the portal. All three of us were disposing of cultists one at a time. "What's wrong? Nothing without Teal to protect you!?"

Again, Mark shot me a quizzical look, like I was stupid, or that I thought he was stupid enough to fall for such blatant provocation. He didn't dignify my taunt with a response. Instead, he turned to the Hogmen and gave a slight gesture towards us before throwing several golden ingots at their feet. The amassed Hogmen pounced on the gold, holding it in their hands and gazing at in awe before they threw something back at the Lieutenant and went after us, the only ones not wearing golden armor.

More cultists fell to our blades, with only a few offering resistance, but then we were beset by the Hogmen. The ones who shot me with their crossbows were hardly a challenge for my Thorns, Projectile Protection set, but the ones with swords that ran in close were far more deadly. I had to hold them at bay with my trident for fear of getting slashed by their brutal, belligerent swordplay. I had to forgo blitzing through the Mobs, however, when I heard Baltic sneeze from behind, implying he burned a totem fending off the Hogmen. At once, I turned around and chucked Shock at the Mobs converging on Baltic and Dwight, giving the Paragons some breathing room at the cost of feeling golden swords rake against my exposed back. I bit back a hiss before finding myself in a different orientation and sneezing, the totem in my fist crumbling away.

With the Hogmen running interference, we were forced back while the gold armored cultists were left alone and went through the Nether Portal. Lieutenant Mark made sure no one alive was left behind, even when the cultists argued for him to go ahead through.

"I'll be the last one through." I heard him insist. "I'll leave no one behind. If you really want me to go in, quit holding up the line and hurry on through." He readied some TNT.

"STOP!" I shouted over the squealing Hogmen, hitting five at once and setting them ablaze with my Sharpness III, Sweeping Edge III, Fire Aspect I sword. "Don't you dare run away, you coward!" I kept making desperate taunts, hoping to delay him by going after his pride, but I could see it wasn't working. I didn't know enough about Mark to even know what would trigger him. What were his weaknesses? What was his personality? All I knew of him was that he was smart, and he was proving it by not rising to petty provocations and focusing on a solid victory in escaping and leaving us trapped in the Nether rather than taking a risk throwing his army at us. It was the smart move, and I'd do the same in his position.

"NOOOO!" Baltic wailed. "PLEASE, DON'T!"

"STOP, DAMNIT! Making these Hogmen fight your battles for you!"

Only then, when the last cultist was through and he was all that was left, did he dignify my words with a flat response.

"...We call them Piglins."

And with that, he lit the TNT beside the portal before jumping through and warping away with the rest of his cultists seconds before the TNT went off. The netherbrick plinth the portal sat on was damaged, the obsidian frame came out unscathed, but the purple portalstuff was gone. The spatial corridor between here and Daymonte was now and forever collapsed, and any new portal would run the risk of opening up anywhere. Up to and including outside of the Border.

"AAAUUUGGGHHH!" I screamed in helpless rage as I took out my anger on the remaining Hogmen... or Piglins, as Mark called them.

Bladder: Damn, that's a better name. Write that down, write that down!

Brain: We can still trademark it as our own!

"Stop! STOP, COBB!" Dwight seized my shoulder as I was angrily swinging and pulled me back. "The portal's toast! It's over! It's... over." He sighed dejectedly. He then pulled off my iron helmet and forced a gold helmet over my brow. It was one he had scavenged off the dead cultists. He wore a golden chestplate, and he got a despondent Baltic a golden helmet of his own. When we stopped attacking the Ho - the Piglins - and wore a piece of gold each, their aggressiveness petered out and they left us alone. Had we thought to do so sooner, maybe we could've closed the distance to the portal sooner.

I was seething with pent up rage and nowhere to go with it. Nothing to do with it. Another portal - another way out - was snatched out of our hands, and we had to just sit and take it.

Worse, the netherbrick highway ended here. This was the last connected portal in this region amongst the cult's network. All the survivors of the Eastern Division funneled here because it was the only working portal to aim for, and now they were in Daymonte. Mark and over fifteen-hundred cultists were loose on the streets of Daymonte. Captain Veronica would have her hands full handling that.

My hopes of getting back to help Lenz, or even finding out what happened to him, were getting further and further out of reach.

"Damn... it... uff..." I heaved a weary sigh, dragging a hand down my face and falling onto my rear.

What now? What were we supposed to do now? The three of us. We'd need to venture outside the netherbrick highways in search of... what? The Nether went on forever, and portals could exist high or low in any direction, sequestered away in alcoves and nooks. Where would we even start? How long, optimistically, would we be stuck wandering?

"...Baltic, hey." Dwight turned to the old man who, like me, had fallen to the ground, floored by the situation we found ourselves in. He was smart enough to know how low our chances were in finding an active portal randomly in the Nether. We could wander for years without finding anything.

Had I known it would be like this, I would've taken my chances against the Stigmata.

"Guys, c'mon. You're acting like you've already given up." Dwight tried to rally us, though he sounded like he was grasping at straws. "Eh... look, let's just take a rest. We've been on the move for a while. We'll recover our strength and look at this with a fresh set of eyes later, yeah? What do you say?"

Baltic's head hung despondently. I could see his age in the creases on his face.

"...Sure." I agreed, just to have something to motivate me. I slowly got to my feet and helped Dwight pick up Baltic before the three of us meandered past passive Piglins and into one of the cultists' leftover netherrack shanties. We sat down and I divvied up the food to give each of us a hearty meal.

Dwight was the only one who ate his food. Baltic and I had no appetite.

"C'mon, guys. You have to eat." Dwight urged us. "Cobb, you've been in a bunch of tough scrapes before, right? Lot of tough, hopeless spots. But you came out of them, right?"

"It's not coming out of this that I'm worried about, Dwight. It's the time." I stressed. "Of course we'll get out of here eventually, but eventually isn't soon enough." I ran a hand over my marred cheek. "By the time we find a working portal, the war with the cult could be over. Lenz could be dead. Anyone could be dead, and we'd be stuck here helpless to do anything about it. That's what's got me depressed."

Dwight went silent as he conceded the point. My head fell into my hands as I thought on what to do.

"...Okay." Baltic let out a groan as he sat up a little straighter. "I'll be the one for it."

I looked up with a quirked brow. "Be the one for what?"

"I'm going to play the only card we have left. I'll reactivate the disabled portal frame and test it myself to see if it pops out somewhere within Minecraftia's Border."

I surged to my feet. "No way. You told me not to. You said that was too risky."

"It is." Baltic heaved a sigh. "But I'm old. I've lived a long life. I'll test it myself." He resigned himself. "If I don't come back immediately, you'll know it didn't work and that I'm dead. After that, I'm afraid you'll have to venture out into the Nether for a safer portal. I'll have done all I could."

"NO, Baltic!" Dwight denied, and I was right there with him against this plan. "You're not some expendable old man! You're smarter and level-headed-"

"And that is why I am making the most level-headed decision." He insisted, his face wiped of emotion. "I'm older and I'm wiser, so I know this is the way to do it. You're both young and strong. Better I risk it on the chance none of us have to brave this unforgiving hellscape."

"Even if it means throwing your life away prematurely?" I asked pointedly.

The old man gave a slack shrug. "Better that than risk braving the Nether. I can't endure that again, and I can't let anyone else endure that either if I can help it. I'd die before I allow that to happen again."

"What do you mean again?" Dwight asked. "You... You were stuck in the Nether before?"

Baltic nodded.

"Okay, I've had it up to here with your ambiguous paranoia. I want to know what's going on. What happened to you here?" I demanded. "What about the Nether is gripping you with terror? Yeah, it's not sunshine and rainbows, but we've been surviving just fine."

"For a few days, yes," Baltic agreed, "but what about a few years? A few decades? Long enough to lose sight of ourselves and value survival above all else. I told you, this place changes you."

"Like it did before with you?" I guessed.

"Like it did before with Carys."

The mention of her name left me disconcerted, and I swayed in place, putting together just what kind of past spat out the Angel of Death.

"You... What are you saying? Carys was... trapped here? In the Nether?"

"Not trapped." Baltic confessed, shaking his head. "She chose to stay here. Willingly. She stayed here for a hundred years, training herself up, transforming herself from the innocent girl she once was into a hardened veteran, all in the pursuit of vengeance."

...Did he say innocent girl?

Dwight tried to laugh it off. "Heh. C-Come on, Baltic. That's about as far a cry from describing Carys as anything. What? Next you'll tell us she was a gentle soul who'd never harm a fly? Haha... ha..." Dwight's laugh died out when Baltic's brows knitted with shame. "...You're kidding."

"I wish I was." Baltic's voice was heavy and tired. "I truly wish I was." He shook his head, dispelling the dark memories. "But I'll not live to witness a gentle soul having their innocence ripped away. Not with you, Cobb. I promise you that." He got to his feet and made for the exit, fully intending to go through with testing the portal.

I got in his way.

"Cobb, I'm old. Let me do this. Plus, there's no guarantee I'll die. Maybe I'll get lucky-"

I grabbed him by the face, shutting him up, and slowly pushed him back and down onto his butt with a steady application of strength from my massive reserves of EXP. There was no way for the old man to resist. Dwight's gaze flicked between us, unsure of what to say.

"Cobb-" Baltic tried to speak around my hand before he noticed the determined look on my face. My eyes were like sharpened emeralds.

"What happened with Carys?" I asked seriously.

The old man looked back stoically. "It's not my place to tell her story. Now let me-"

"No." I cut him off, pushing him back down as he made to stand and knocking him on his back. I loomed over him, my expression grave. "You've been with Carys the longest. You know her whole story. You claim she was transformed from an innocent girl into what she is now? Prove it. I want to hear the whole story."

"Absolutely not."

"If you're planning to throw your life away on this, so I don't get changed by this place, then I deserve to know how it happened to her." I stressed, brooking no argument. "You're not leaving this hovel until I hear the whole story."

"What difference will it make?"

"I... don't know." I admitted, not quite understanding why I felt so strongly about hearing Carys' past. Maybe because I was thinking on how to use it against her...?

No, that wasn't right. It had to do with learning about people. How perspective could turn everything you ever knew or assumed about someone on its head. Fact was, I was too curious to let Baltic slip away without hearing the whole truth.

It was the same way with what I learned of Herobrine.

"I don't know," I repeated, "but I want to know. I want to know what made her the woman she is today. You kept telling me she and I are similar. Is that why you gave me so many chances when we were traveling together, even when I was rude and terrible to you? You knew I had good in me, like Carys once did? Is that why?"

Baltic stared back at me, his expression softening.

"...Maybe it shouldn't be any of my business." I murmured. "Maybe... it'll be easier for me to kill her not knowing about her past. That's what my brain is telling me. But... but here," I patted the spot over my heart, the part where my flesh was marred like my arm and cheek, "this part here is telling me loud and clear that this could be my only chance to learn something of Carys' story, and that I should seize it. For better or worse."

I shrugged one shoulder. "And we got time. Time to rest. And listen." I gestured to Dwight and saw that he too had a burning curiosity to hear about his guild leader's past.

Baltic held my gaze unflinchingly for a long while. He was measuring me up. Mulling over my words. His one hand also hovered over the splash potions at his belt as he quietly deliberated on whether to paralyze me so he could test the portal, and quite likely throw his life away.

In the end, it never came to that. His hand came away from his belt empty, and he sat himself up, his aged bones creaking from the effort.

"...What I'm about to share with you two," Baltic began slowly, his words deliberate and weighty, "is known only to Carys, myself, and the blacksmith Tinker as part of the trade for Carys' scythe. No one else in the world knows the story of Carys_Angel, and, really, that's what Carys herself wants. She recalls her past self as an embarrassment. Her single greatest shame that she's endeavored to overwrite with overwhelming strength."

"But to me," he continued while Dwight and I settled in and scooted closer to listen, "I remember her fondly as the gentle, loving girl she was when we - Ebrill_Angel and myself - found her."

---

Inventory (Floyd): 1 Mob Head {Creeper}, 1 Diamond Pickaxe, 1 Iron Sword, 1 Diamond Helmet [Projectile Protection IV], 1 Diamond Chestplate [Projectile Protection IV] {Weak}, 1 Diamond Leggings [Projectile Protection IV] {Weak}, 1 Diamond Boots [Projectile Protection IV] {Weak}, 1 Shears, 2 Iron Ingots, 24 Coal, 20 Torches, 27 Apples, 64 Baked Potatoes, 43 Baked Potatoes, 32 Cooked Porkchops, 1 Fishing Rod, 1 Furnace, 1 Crafting Table, 1 Minecart, 1 Bed, 1 Boat, 16 Gunpowder, 8 Ender Pearls, 1 Splash Potion of Slowness {4:00}, 1 Splash Potion of Weakness {4:00}, 1 Splash Potion of Weakness {4:00}, 1 Splash Potion of Healing II, 1 Splash Potion of Healing II, 1 Splash Potion of Healing II, 1 Splash Potion of Healing II, 1 Potion of Invisibility {8:00}, 1 Potion of Invisibility {8:00}, 1 Potion of Invisibility {8:00}, 1 Bucket, 1 Map {Minecraftia}, 1 Written Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Written Book {Citizenship Information: Vera_Menchik}, 1 Paper {Ringwood Entry Pass}, 1 Paper {Zeppil Entry Pass}

[EXP: 48]

Inventory (Soul): 1 Diamond Axe [Sharpness V], 1 Iron Cleaver, 1 Diamond Pickaxe, 60 Iron Ingots, 19 Flint, 1 Flint and Steel, 8 Gold Ingots, 11 Blocks of Diamond, 16 Emeralds, 42 Raw Salmon, 37 Pumpkin Seeds, 29 Apples, 64 Baked Potatoes, 41 Baked Potatoes, 28 Cooked Porkchops, 1 Bucket of Axolotl {Axolittle}, 1 Milk Bucket, 1 Diamond Helmet [Protection IV, Unbreaking III] {Weak}, 1 Iron Chestplate {Weak}, 1 Diamond Leggings [Protection IV, Unbreaking III] {Weak}, 1 Diamond Boots [Protection IV, Feather Falling IV, Unbreaking III], 1 Crafting Table, 1 Jukebox, 1 Music Disc {chirp}, 1 Bed, 1 Furnace, 24 Torches, 22 White Wool, 61 Cobblestone, 14 Jungle Planks, 1 Spyglass, 1 Map {Minecraftia}, 1 Written Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Written Book {Citizenship Information: Mikhail_Tal}, 1 Paper {Ringwood Entry Pass}, 1 Paper {Zeppil Entry Pass}, 1 Paper {Exter Entry Pass}, 1 Splash Potion of Slowness {4:00}, 1 Splash Potion of Weakness {4:00}, 1 Potion of Invisibility {8:00}

[EXP: 43]

Cat-Face the Cat

Christopher Squawken the Parrot

Axolittle the Axolotl

Inventory (Noman): 1 Diamond Sword [Sharpness I], 1 Iron Helmet {Weak}, 1 Diamond Chestplate {Weak}, 1 Iron Leggings {Weak}, 1 Iron Boots {Weak}, 1 Diamond Pickaxe, 1 Flint and Steel, 10 Cobwebs, 7 Emeralds, 1 Ender Chest, 24 Apples, 64 Baked Potatoes, 48 Baked Potatoes, 32 Cooked Porkchops, 1 Water Bucket, 5 Buckets, 1 Bed, 1 Crafting Table, 1 Written Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Written Book {Citizenship Information: Lizabet_Agafonov}, 1 Paper {Zeppil Entry Pass}, 1 Paper {Exter Entry Pass}, 1 Map {Minecraftia}, 1 Paper {MarbleFinder; 1909 Oleg Street}, 1 Written Book {The Art of Peace}, 1 Written Book {Artifact List}, 1 Enchanted Golden Apple, 1 Potion of Invisibility {8:00}, 1 Splash Potion of Healing II, 1 Splash Potion of Healing II

[EXP: 35]

Inventory (Kalmarin): 1 Diamond Helmet [Protection III, Unbreaking III], 1 Diamond Chestplate [Protection IV, Unbreaking III], 1 Diamond Leggings [Protection IV, Unbreaking III], 1 Diamond Boots [Protection III, Unbreaking III], 1 Mob Head {Skeleton}, 1 Diamond Sword [Sharpness III, Unbreaking I], 1 Map {Paragon Minecraftia}, 1 Written Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Written Book {Citizenship Information: Boris_Spassky}, 1 Paper {Gold Citizenship Pass}, 1 Bow [Power I], 36 Arrows, 6 Ender Pearls, 54 Baked Potatoes, 1 Spyglass, 1 Bed, 1 Crafting Table, 1 Furnace, 40 Torches, 31 Sand, 12 Cobblestone, 21 Oak Planks, 1 Bucket, 1 Lava Bucket, 1 Milk Bucket, 1 Potion of Invisibility {8:00}, 43 Coal, 1 Clock, 1 Compass, 1 Iron Pickaxe [Unbreaking I], 1 Wooden Pickaxe {Old Reliable} [Unbreaking III, Efficiency V], 1 Written Book {Meetup}

[EXP: 43]

Inventory (Anibal): 1 Diamond Helmet [Protection III, Unbreaking III], 1 Diamond Chestplate [Protection IV, Unbreaking III], 1 Diamond Leggings [Protection IV, Unbreaking III], 1 Diamond Boots [Protection III, Unbreaking III], 1 Iron Dagger, 1 Golden Boots {Stivali Magma}, 1 Spyglass, 1 Crossbow {Buckner} [Multishot I, Unbreaking III], 1 Crossbow {Devers} [Piercing IV, Quick Charge III, Unbreaking III], 64 Arrows, 38 Arrows, 16 Firework Rockets {Flight Duration: 1, Large Ball x 7, White x 7}, 16 Firework Rockets {Flight Duration: 1, Large Ball x 7, White x 7}, 5 Ender Pearls, 22 Cooked Porkchops, 13 Apples, 40 Sweet Berries, 18 Oak Planks, 1 Crafting Table, 1 Furnace, 1 Bed, 39 Torches, 21 Coal, 1 Map {Paragon Minecraftia}, 1 Bucket, 1 Potion of Invisibility {8:00}, 1 Iron Pickaxe, 3 Ender Chests, 29 Cobblestone, 1 Bow [Flame I], 1 Bow [Power V], 1 Diamond Sword [Sweeping Edge III], 1 Diamond Sword [Fire Aspect II], 1 White Shulker Box {Pocket Box}

White Shulker Box {Pocket Box}: 11 Amethyst Shards, 31 Emeralds, 1 Diamond Sword [Bane of Arthropods V], 1 Diamond Pickaxe [Fortune III, Unbreaking III], 1 Diamond Sword [Smite V], 1 Paper {Gold Citizenship Pass}, 1 Written Book {Citizenship Information}, 1 Written Book {Citizenship Information: Lev Aronin}, 1 Music Disc {Lena Raine - Pigstep}

[EXP: 3]

---

AN: Next Time. Carys' long-awaited backstory.

Also, listen to Pigstep during Anibal's breakdance scene. It's catchy.

FAV. FOLLOW. REVIEW. PM. FORUM. DISCORD. LOLIPOPS.