“Hello. Is anyone there?”
More silence.
Moving out of the house, Gameknight walked past three completely devastated structures, their walls and roofs burned away, with only the remnants of their foundations hinting at their past existence. He wished he had Shawny, his only friend, here . . . well, his only friend except for Crafter. In the past, Gameknight had been a griefer, a cyber bully who would go onto other people’s servers and do as much damage as possible before getting kicked off. He used to think it was fun, destroying other people’s creations for his own enjoyment, but that only lasted until he had been pulled into Minecraft for real. Now, he saw firsthand the consequences of that sort of destructive and anti-social behavior. Because of his griefing, he basically had no friends in Minecraft except for Shawny—a fact that had nearly caused his destruction on the last server. If Shawny hadn’t brought all those users to help him fight against the monsters of the Overworld, then that server would have been destroyed, extinguishing the lives of all the NPCs who called it home. And in those last moments on that server, when their defeat had seemed imminent, Gameknight had finally come to understand the meaning of sacrifice, and what it meant to help other people just for the sake of helping them. It had felt good knowing that he was probably helping to save lives he didn’t even know, Minecraft NPCs he’d never met; it had filled him with an overwhelming sense of courage and purpose.
He wished he had that courage now.
Moving to the next house, Gameknight shook with fear as he peered into the blasted remains. The scarred exterior of this structure, with its signs of fire and explosions painted on the walls, showed the effects of Malacoda’s angry brush. Sticking his head slowly over a broken wall, he peered into the room. There was a chest in the corner sitting in a pile of rubble, the wall behind it completely collapsed. The street was visible through the missing wall. The brown dirt road was starting to fade to a rosy red as the sun neared the horizon.
He had to hurry.
Jumping over the shattered wall, he moved into the broken home. On one wall was a sign with the words ‘BLACKBLADE48429 WAS HERE’ written in tall letters; it was obviously something left there by some user. Next to it was another sign, the edges slightly charred. It said ‘PHASER_98’ and ‘KING_CREEPKILLER.’ Below that was another sign with the names ‘WORMICAN’ and ‘MONKEYPA . . .’ the bottom edge of the sign too badly burned to read. There had been users on this server at one time . . . but where had they all gone?
Gameknight sighed. He wished he had some of these users with him right now.
I wonder how old that sign is? he thought to himself.
Shuffle . . . shuffle . . . shuffle.
What was that?
A tickle of fear slithered down his spine.
Was that something moving outside?
Casting his gaze back to the exploded doorway, Gameknight peered into the shadows. Nothing . . . probably just his imagination again. Focusing back on the interior of the battered home, he moved to the chest and opened it. A bow . . . there was a bow . . . and arrows, two stacks of arrows. This was something he could definitely use. Taking the bow and arrows, he put them into his inventory, removing stacks of cobblestone to make room. As he turned and closed the chest, he heard the shuffling sound again, like many feet moving all at once.
“Who’s there?” he yelled, his voice cracking with fear. “Crafter, is that you?”
Thunderous silence.
Moving slowly to the shattered wall, Gameknight peered into the street outside. The shadows from the surviving buildings stretched across the ground, trying to reach the other side of the street before darkness overtook them. He had to hurry. Moving out into the street, he glanced around, looking for threats.
“Is anyone here?” he said, this time not so loudly.
More silence—not even a pig oinking or a cow mooing. There was not a single sound anywhere. It was as if every living thing had been removed from this village. He shivered and started to head back to Crafter when he heard the shuffling noise again; it was definitely the scuffling of many feet across a hard ground. Spinning around, he looked behind him . . . nothing, only the empty street staring back at him. Turning to head back, Gameknight was suddenly face to face with a creeper, its mottled black and green face starting to glow white as the monster readied itself to detonate. This close, the creeper would certainly kill him. All he had to do was strike out at the beast to stop the detonation process, but fear paralyzed him, fear and panic. He couldn’t move. The hissing of the creeper became louder as it got closer to detonating.
And then suddenly an arrow streaked out of the darkness and hit the creeper in the head. This wound stopped the creeper, making it turn to look for the source of the arrow. Another arrow shot out of the shadows and struck the creeper, this time in its chest.
“MOVE!” a voice yelled from the darkness.
The command was enough to shock Gameknight into motion. Drawing his enchanted sword, he hacked at the creeper before it could respond. He could feel his sword collide with the creature’s flesh, biting into its mottled skin. The creeper started to hiss and glow again as it tried to explode, but Gameknight was giving it no quarter. He swung his golden sword, smashing its side. More arrows shot out of the darkness, piercing it again, and the detonation process was interrupted. The creeper flashed red again and again as Gameknight999’s blows landed home. And then the creature disappeared, its HP completely consumed by the joint attack, a small pile of gunpowder on the ground where it had stood.
That was close.
Gameknight started to shake at the thought of how close he’d come to death.
Why did I freeze? he thought. Why didn’t I attack the creeper as soon as I’d seen it? Why didn’t I . . .
“Are you crazy or something?” a woman’s voice said from the darkness. “That was a creeper. You don’t just stand there . . . you move . . . you kill . . . or you get killed.”
She emerged from the long shadows that were starting to kiss the other side of the street, the rosy glow of sunset slowly fading to black. She was young—not quite an adult, but not a child either. Something in between. Bright red hair flowed down across her shoulders, the tangle of curls glowing in the light of sunset, framing her face with a scarlet halo. In her hand was a bow, an arrow notched and ready to fire, the barbed end pointed at him.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Are you a user . . . maybe a griefer?” She drew back the arrow and aimed it at his chest.
“Aaaaah . . . I’m Gameknight999, and we’re just here to help,” he stammered.
“As you can see, you’re a little late, and not very much help either.”
“You mind aiming that thing somewhere else?” he said, pointing at the arrow with his sword.
“How about you put that sword away first?” she snapped. “I don’t trust anything that carries a gold sword. That’s the sword of a Nether monster, probably a zombie-pigman. How is it you have it? Are you some kind of new Nether creature?” She took a step forward, moving farther out of the shadows and drawing the arrow back a little farther.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said a young voice from down the street.
It was Crafter.
“This is Gameknight999, the User-that-is-not-a-user, and we’re here to look for survivors.”
“Well, you found one, though I don’t need your help,” she said, turning to look at Crafter as he approached. Her face showed surprise when she saw the young boy in the traditional garb of a village crafter. “Who are you?”
“I’m Crafter, as you can see,” he said, holding his arms out wide to show his black and gray smock, the sigil of his station. “But right now, we need to get somewhere safe. It’s getting dark. Come, I found a secure place to hide through the night.”
Feeling safer in the presence of Crafter, Gameknight put away his sword.
“Hide? Who wants to hide?” the woman asked as she slowly lowered her bow, her menacing glare s
till on the User-that-is-not-a-user.
“What?” Gameknight asked.
The woman glared at him in silence; her trust had not been completely won.
Suddenly, a terrible moaning filled the air. Shivers trickled down Gameknight’s spine as a group of zombies stepped out into the street, the burning sun completely set. Their cold black eyes spotted him instantly and shuffled toward him, arms extended. The light from the torches reflected off their razor-sharp nails, making them appear to glow for just an instant. Crafter moved to his friend’s side.
“Gameknight, I count eight of them . . . too many. What do you want to do?”
Glancing around, he saw a narrow alleyway that ran between the backs of some homes, the walls along the alley still intact. Remembering the spiders he’d led along the valley, he spoke quickly.
“We’ll lead them down that alleyway,” the User-that-is-not-a-user said, pointing with his golden sword. “You, Hunter, find a good vantage point to fire from down in the alley and get ready, we’ll bring them to you.”
“I don’t run from monsters,” she said as she notched an arrow.
“Just do as the User-that-is-not-a-user says,” Crafter snapped. “And stop being a fool.”
“Come on,” Gameknight said, his mind in a blur.
He and Crafter ran into the narrow alleyway and waited while Hunter sprinted down to the end, looking for a good vantage point. The sounds of the zombies grew louder as they approached, their sorrowful wails chiseling away at Gameknight’s courage.
Hold your ground, he said to himself. I won’t abandon Crafter again.
Soon, the putrid smell of the decaying creatures began to fill the air; they were getting close. He wanted to hold his breath, hoping to keep the rotten smell out of his mouth, but knew he had to keep breathing.
And then their sad moans echoed down the alleyway as the group of monsters rounded the corner. They stood there for a moment, eyeing the surroundings. Gameknight could see their cold, dead eyes scanning the confining cobblestone walls with concern. On the last server, these beasts would have instantly charged, but these creatures were the best of the best, the smartest and strongest, and had made their way up through the server planes to this server. These zombies were not fools; they’d need some prodding.
“Hey filthy zombies, why don’t you come down here and say hello,” Gameknight taunted. “What’s wrong, are you afraid of two helpless NPCs?”
The zombies stirred a little.
“You see, Crafter,” he said in a loud voice, “I always told you zombies were not just stupid, but cowards as well.”
The zombies now looked visibly agitated, but the one at the front did not budge. Its black eyes were fixed on Gameknight, a look of vile hatred on its face, but it stood fast. He had to get them into this narrow alleyway to neutralize their numerical advantage. That way, they’d only have to fight two at a time, while at the same time leading them down to alley to Hunter. Trying to release this flood of anger, he took a few steps forward and glared into the cold, dead eyes. Pulling a block of cobblestone from his inventory, he threw it at the beast.
“Come on, let’s dance.”
The block struck the decaying creature on the side of the head with a thump. This made the monster wail a blood-curdling scream that brought a chill to Gameknight.
The monsters surged forward. Gameknight jumped backward as the lead zombie swiped at him, its razor-sharp nails whistling through the air, just missing his head. Memories of Erebus and his monster horde flashed through his mind. He could almost see all of those terrible creatures slashing and tearing at him on the last server. Panic and fear flooded through him, overwhelming his brain. In his mental haze, everything began to feel like a dream, as if he were watching it from somewhere else.
And then something flashed across his vision, something sharp and vicious. His body jumped back without thought, then moved forward and struck at the zombie, his sword slashing with practiced precision. The monster screamed and charged forward, the others following its lead. He and Crafter stepped back as the monsters crowded into the alleyway, the narrow confines only allowing two to stand abreast. Gameknight moved without thought, his mind filled with panic but his sword arm filled with rage. Stepping further back, he and Crafter drew the monsters forward, slashing at the two zombies at the front. Crafter said something, but Gameknight could not understand. All that reached his ears were the wails of the zombies, their sad, angry moans filling the air.
Suddenly, something streaked through the air and passed right between Gameknight and Crafter; it was an arrow. It struck the lead zombie, and was followed by another and another until the zombie disappeared. More arrows shot into the monsters as they advanced. Between shots, Crafter lunged at the beasts, attacking then retreating. Gameknight tried to help, but all he could do was just slowly back down the alley, letting the dream play itself out.
Crafter screamed next to him as zombie claws found his shoulder. This snapped Gameknight out of the dream. Jumping forward, he slashed his golden sword toward the zombie while Crafter retreated, his body moving on autopilot even though his mind was still consumed by fear. He now became a whirlwind of death. Moving like the Gameknight of old, he spun from one target as he lunged at the other. Chopping at an outstretched green arm, then slashing under a clawed attack, he focused his rage on these creatures.
I HATE BEING SO AFRAID, he screamed within his mind as he killed another zombie.
Continuing their attacks, he and Crafter slowly back down the alleyway as Hunter’s missiles plunged into the monsters. Between the three of them, there was soon only one zombie remaining. With its health nearly depleted, it stopped its attacks and stepped back. Looking straight at Gameknight, it spoke in a guttural, animal-like voice.
“You can’t stop us. Malacoda will cleanse all the servers of the infestations that are NPCs when he destroys the Source.” The monster then trained its black eyes on Crafter. “All the King of the Nether needs is your kind to complete his task, then he will lead us to victory. Your days are numbered.”
“What do you mean he needs my kind?” Crafter asked. “Tell me, if you are so confident.”
The zombie smiled an eerie, rotting smile then opened his mouth to speak, but just then an arrow streaked over Crafter’s shoulder and struck the zombie in the chest. With its HP consumed, it disappeared, leaving behind a piece of its rotten zombie flesh and three balls of XP. Crafter looked at Gameknight as the glowing balls streaked to the duo.
“What do you think he meant?” Crafter asked. “All he needs is my kind . . . you think the zombie meant he needs NPCs?”
Gameknight shrugged his shoulders. Footsteps sounded behind them, making them spin and get ready for more fighting. But it was Hunter. She had a huge smile on her face, her wild red hair streaming behind her as she ran.
“That was fun,” she said.
“Fun?” Gameknight snapped. “That wasn’t fun, that was terrifying. You don’t know what it’s like to kill something face to face, with their claws and fangs tearing into your body. You have the luxury of killing from a distance like it’s some kind of a game. Next time, we’ll switch, and you stand here with a sword while I shoot the arrows from 30 blocks away.”
“As if you could,” she snapped.
“That’s enough,” Crafter said in a commanding voice. “Right now, we need someplace safe to rest and heal, and I’ve found just the place.”
He then turned and ran off down the street, Gameknight and this new stranger obediently in tow.
Is she friend or foe?
Something about this woman was very unsettling; an angry and violent shadow seemed to envelop her, even more than the darkness that was now claiming the village. Gameknight shuddered and tried to push back his anxiety, but wasn’t very successful, as the icy fingers of dread still clung onto him.
CHAPTER 8
HUNTER
C
rafter led the party back to the center of the village, where the tall
cobblestone tower had once stood. The homes near the tower were also heavily damaged, with the charred shadows of life burned into the walls nearby. Gameknight looked away as soon as he saw what they were, the shadowy remains filling him with a sense of sadness and unease. He’d be glad to get inside as soon as possible.
Turning down a side street, Crafter took them to a small wood and stone house that had a porch extending out from the side. Gameknight instantly recognized the structure; it was a blacksmith’s home. He could see the line of furnaces on the stone porch, with a crafting bench and chest standing nearby.
“Quickly, let’s get inside,” Crafter said as he mounted the steps, pushing open the door.
They filed through the doorway, Gameknight closing it once they were all inside. Torches lit the interior, filling it with a soft yellow glow. A table sat in one corner of the room, with two wooden seats up against the wall. Windows had been placed evenly on the walls of the home, but one of them was missing. He moved to the missing window and filled the space with a block of dirt, making it impossible for a skeleton’s arrow to find someone inside. At the other side of the room was a dark stairway that led up to the second level. The woman pulled out her bow and ran upstairs, an arrow notched and ready to fire. Crafter followed, his stone sword drawn.
“Come on, let’s make sure everything is safe,” Crafter said to his friend.
Gameknight sighed, then drew his golden sword, its shimmering razor-sharp edge staining the walls with an iridescent blue glow. Reluctantly, he followed the pair up the stairs to the second story. There was nothing there—just another torch-lit room. Two beds sat in the corner, each covered with the typical red blanket, the pillows a crisp, clean white. Glass windows adorned each wall, giving a spectacular view of the village; it had likely been an excellent and terrible vantage point from which to watch the horrors that had befallen this village.
Battle for the Nether Page 9
