Battle for the Nether

by Mark Cheverton

  This thing looked like . . . like . . . oh no!

  Just then, something emerged from the purple circle. Two long, straight things extended out from the purple surface, each tipped with five sharp black claws. The things were a mottled green, as if they were made of decayed matter. A rotten, stinking aroma wafted into the air and filled the basement, making Gameknight gag. He knew that terrible smell.

  Oh no . . . not again!

  The two long, straight green things emerged farther, revealing that they were both joined to a blocky shape that was shaded light blue on the top half, dark blue on the bottom. The colors looked tattered and faded, like clothes worn for a century too long. The thing moved forward until a face appeared from the violet circle of light; it was a face with black, cold, and dead eyes that expressed an overwhelming hatred for all living things.

  No . . . no. Gameknight started to whimper as he crawled into the corner of the basement. He drew himself between the wobbly legs of an old table that was covered with twenty years of discarded and forgotten junk, trying to get as far from the monster as he could.

  And then the sound hit his ears, a sorrowful moaning from a creature that was grieving for something it could never have yet could almost taste. This was the sound of a monster that thirsted to be alive, but could sense that the promise of life was held just barely out of its reach. This was the voice of a creature that had turned bitter and hateful toward all living things and wanted to inflict its suffering on anyone it came across. This was a zombie . . . a Minecraft zombie.

  The Gateway of Light . . . they’d found the Gateway of Light!

  That meant that the Source must have been destroyed. Crafter . . . his friend, Crafter . . .

  The zombie slowly stepped out of the circle of purple light, which Gameknight now recognized as a portal from Minecraft. Moving forward, it stretched its arms out, bumping into the licorice 3D-printer and knocking it to the ground, the plywood structure making a sickening crack when it hit. As it moved away from the portal, another zombie emerged, followed by a gigantic spider. The creatures lacked their familiar low resolution blocky appearance as seen on the monitor while playing the game; rather, they had the terribly real, high-resolution appearance Gameknight had come to know while trapped within Minecraft; their blocky shapes covered with realistic and terrifying features. The light from the desk lamp gleamed off the deadly, razor-sharp fingernails that decorated the zombie’s rotting hands, and made him shudder with fear. The shadowy, hooked claws at the end of each spider leg seemed to be glowing with an inner light, their black needle-like tips clicked on the concrete floor as the spider scurried across the room. The arachnid’s curved mandibles also reflected the light from the desk lamp, making them gleam with dark intent as they clicked hungrily. Gameknight could see the tiny dark hairs along its legs moving in every direction at once, anger boiling from its numerous red eyes.

  They were here.

  The stench of rotten flesh grew stronger as more zombies and spiders flowed from the portal. The clicking of the spiders added a percussive melody to the moaning symphony that was already filling the air, the volume growing louder and louder as more creatures crowded together in the basement. The monsters pressed their bodies up against each other, but seemed afraid of these unfamiliar surrounds, trying to avoid brushing against the many devices that sprouted up out of the clutter. But as their numbers grew, they started to push against the basement chaos, knocking over an old sewing machine that had been gutted for parts, crushing a vacuum cleaner converted into a high-powered bubble maker, upending an old cotton candy machine retooled to shoot Frisbees at high speed . . . Invention after invention was destroyed by the monsters as they emerged from the portal and moved into the room. And then, as if they were all listening to some silent command, they turned as one and slowly shuffled toward the stairs.

  Gameknight wanted to stop them, but he was overwhelmed with fear. He had nothing . . . no armor . . . no sword . . . nothing. What could he do? He was only one person, just a kid.

  The stairs creaked as the zombies started to ascend. He could still hear his sister’s cartoon playing upstairs—some musical number likely being performed by a bunch of brightly colored puppets or some other annoying thing.

  My sister . . . MY SISTER!!!

  He wanted to yell out and warn her, but he couldn’t move. Run, he thought to himself, run . . . but he was frozen in place. He could only lie there under the collection of useless, discarded things in the basement, being now an appropriate addition himself.

  To his left was an old, forgotten wall mirror with a crack running down its middle. The metal frame was bent and faded, with scratches carved into it here and there. Turning, he could see his own reflection in the silvery surface, his terrified form hiding amidst piles of junk and worthless items. He couldn’t bear to look at his image. The appearance of cowardly terror made him feel sick.

  I’m pathetic.

  Just then, shouting could be heard from upstairs, followed by the crash of bodies against the wall. But the strange thing was that it didn’t sound like his sister. The voice had a different sort of sound, not childlike—and not the voice of a startled parent. No, this was the voice of a warrior with a tint of angry violence to its tone. This was not like his parents yelling at him for some transgression; this was someone in a violent rage . . . a woman’s voice, unafraid and with the sound of command and action resonating deeply within it.

  Someone was upstairs fighting for her life—no, for all of their lives. He had to do something. He had to help, but his limbs felt as if they were part of the dusty concrete floor, heavy and useless.

  More zombies and spiders came out of the portal, followed by creatures of the Nether: blazes, with their flaming bodies lighting the basement with an angry yellow glow, and zombie-pigmen, their golden swords shining bright. Following these creatures were creepers, their multiple green-spotted legs moving in a flurry as they went up the steps. Maybe he could grab one of the creepers and blow up the portal, but that explosion would kill him in a most violent and painful way. Panic flooded through his mind at the thought, images of his body being crushed in the blast, memories of all that terrible pain on the last server pounding away at his courage. No, he wouldn’t be able to do that.

  Crash . . . smash . . . another body slamming into a wall upstairs followed by a faint humming sound, like a single guitar string.

  The mobs coming out of the portal didn’t seem to care about the noise on the floor above; they just continued their parade out of the Gateway, across the basement, and up the stairs. And then Gameknight’s worst fear appeared—endermen. The tall, lanky creatures, with their jet-black skin and long arms and legs, stepped out of the portal, their eyes glowing an angry white. A bitter chill seemed to fill the basement as the black nightmares moved into the room, the walls and floor growing cold. Faceted ice crystals started to spread across the nearby mirror, their frosty fingers mercifully blotting out his reflection.

  Turning from the frozen mirror, Gameknight looked back to the portal. More endermen were coming from the purple gateway, the tall creatures having to stoop so as to not hit their heads on the ceiling. This brought the faintest smile to his face, but it was quickly extinguished as one of the monsters moved nearer. Icicles of fear pricked him as the creature turned and surveyed the basement.

  Is he looking for me?

  The terrifying creature scanned the room, then started to glow as purple particles danced about him. The dark monster then disappeared, teleporting to some unknown location, likely intent on destruction. Just when he thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, a maniacal chuckle came from the portal. It was a vile laugh that brought back memories of past nightmares and turned his blood to ice. A quick glance at the portal caused his stomach to drop so suddenly that he almost gagged. Erebus stepped out of the portal, his dark red skin looking almost black in the dim light of the basement. He still had that translucent look to him, not completely substantial, yet not co
mpletely transparent either. The King of the Endermen seemed to be only partially present, but his rage was definitely complete. His eyes were blazing bright red with malice and hatred. He looked about the basement at the collection of stuff and scowled. Swinging his arms with lightning speed, he smashed whatever was nearby, stomping on boxes, and sending books flying. The creature destroyed whatever he could reach, his screechy voice cackling loudly with destructive glee.

  Chills ran down Gameknight’s spine. He felt ice cold as waves of fear and panic flowed across his body.

  Erebus was here, in his house . . . oh no.

  He wanted to run out and attack the monster, but simultaneously, he felt the overwhelming urge to retreat and run away. This creature had to be stopped, but terror ruled his mind and body, courage just the faintest of memories. Cringing, he scooted farther back into the shadows, getting as far from the demon as possible.

  Clank . . . the cracked mirror fell over.

  The King of the Endermen stopped and turned his evil head, his burning red eyes peering into the shadows. Moving slowly forward, he picked up a small toolbox and threw it aside. It smashed against the wall, screwdrivers and wrenches raining down across the room.

  Gameknight crawled farther back into the shadows and bumped into a wall; he was trapped.

  Erebus moved closer, picking up an old chair and tossing it aside as if it weighed nothing, the dusty piece of furniture crashing into a bookcase. He could now only see the monster’s feet through the jungle of clutter, his long, dark legs backlit with purple light from the portal. The enderman stepped closer and kicked aside an old trashcan filled with rolls of wrapping paper meant for some party or holiday. A roll of red and green Santa Clauses fell to the ground and unrolled, the jolly old man smiling at him from across the floor. Erebus pushed aside a rusty metal desk on which some of Gameknight999’s father’s inventions sat. Equipment and experiments clattered to the ground, only to be crushed under the thin, dark legs of the monster.

  “Who is it that hides in the shadows?” screeched Erebus. “Is it a little mouse?”

  He shoved aside a box of books as if it were nothing, the cardboard box tearing and spilling its contents to the ground. One of the books fell, the cover facing Gameknight. The title on the book was The Crystal Tear—something he’d read a long time ago. The hero on the cover stared back at him with mismatched eyes, daring him to be courageous.

  “Maybe it’s a long-lost friend,” Erebus cackled. “Come out and say hello. No need to be afraid. I won’t hurt you . . . much.”

  The enderman picked up the table under which Gameknight was hiding and threw it across the room.

  “Ahh . . . it is my friend. We meet again, User-that-is-not-a-user.”

  Erebus reached down and picked Gameknight up by his shirt, pulling him to his feet. He then lifted him off his feet and held him in the air, Nikes dangling free. Gameknight shook uncontrollably, his every nerve ignited with burning terror.

  “You had a lot to say to me on the last server. You talked big when you had an army of users at your back,” Erebus said, his breath smelling like rotten meat. “You aren’t talking so big now, are you?”

  Gameknight said nothing, just looked past the blazing red eyes to the portal. More monsters flowed out. There was a constant stream of creatures all heading upstairs, but the commotion from above had gone silent. Sighing, he tore his eyes from the portal and looked back at Erebus.

  “What do you want?” Gameknight asked, his voice cracking with fear.

  “Why, your death, of course,” the monster laughed. “And then I will destroy this world. I had planned to make you watch my victory, witness my troops crushing every living soul in your puny world, but I think I just changed my mind.” He paused and glared at Gameknight, his blazing eyes glowing even brighter. “I think I will destroy you first . . . then destroy this world. How does that sound to you?”

  He cackled that spine-tingling laugh, guaranteeing that Gameknight’s fear would not abate.

  “Now, User-that-is-not-a-user, prepare to die.”

  Erebus then wrapped his clammy hands around his enemy’s throat and started to squeeze. Panic flared within Gameknight999’s mind. He was going to die. This was it. Erebus was finally going to kill him, and he was powerless to do anything about it. Despair drowned him as he struggled for breath, trying to hang on for as long as possible. And then the strangest thing happened . . . the entire basement shook. Erebus’ eyes grew wide as he stumbled slightly, loosening his grip and allowing Gameknight to gulp down some air. Thunder then hammered their ears as if a massive hurricane had pulled them into its mighty swirl, but the sound wasn’t coming from anywhere outside . . . it was coming from the portal.

  Erebus glanced over his shoulder at the portal as the ground shook again, this time more violently, the thunder getting louder and louder until the enderman had to release his prey and put his hands over his ears.

  Gameknight fell to the floor, gasping for breath, his ears aching.

  The ground quaked again as if struck by a giant’s hammer, throwing them both into the air. The thunderous reverberations made the basement walls crack, patches of concrete falling to the ground. It sounded like the thunder was shouting out his name . . . GAMEKNIGHT . . . GAMEKNIGHT . . .

  The User-that-is-not-a-user looked up at the King of the Endermen and tried to scoot away. Erebus looked down at his prey and started to reach down for him, when a massive blow hit the basement, shattering the walls and floor to dust, the collection of discarded inventions instantly turned to rubble. More thunder hammered at their ears, Gameknight’s name riding on the wave of sound. Erebus still glared at him, but now, he was floating in the air, as was Gameknight, the basement turned into a cloud of debris. The enderman’s black arms reached out to Gameknight999 through the wreckage, trying to wrap his evil hands around the boy one last time. Then everything started to fade away, the remains of the basement slowly becoming transparent and fuzzy. Erebus too started to fade, though his arms still sought out Gameknight999. Even as he faded, his eyes seemed to burn brighter and brighter until the red light from the enderman’s pupils filled Gameknight’s vision, lighting the darkest recesses of his mind with a blood-red glare.

  “You have interfered in my plans for the last time!” Erebus screeched as he faded away. “When we meet again, it will be your doom . . .”

  The enderman’s words echoed within Gameknight’s mind for an instant; then suddenly, everything went dark.

  He woke, his mind confused. Where am I? Where is Erebus? Where is . . .

  “Gameknight, are you alright?” a voice asked from above.

  He realized that he was lying face down on the ground. Rolling over, he looked up and found Crafter and Hunter standing over him, both wearing worried expressions.

  “Where am I . . . where is Er—”

  He stopped, not wanting to utter that terrible creature’s name.

  “You were yelling in your sleep, crying out for help,” Crafter said as he reached down and helped him up.

  Gameknight stood, feeling embarrassed, then sat on the edge of the bed, his body raked with fatigue as if he had never been asleep in the first place. Looking down at his hands, he could see that they had the familiar blocky shape that he’d come to expect in Minecraft. He hadn’t escaped . . . it had just been a dream. Disappointment washed over him like a crashing wave. Home seemed further away now than ever before.

  Well, at least Erebus had also been a dream, he thought silently.

  Just then he noticed the pain around his neck. Reaching up, he could feel that the skin around his throat was chaffed and sore, as if scraped by something rough . . . or as if he’d been choked. Crafter and Hunter hadn’t seen him rub his neck, and he swiftly brought his hands down.

  “What happened?” he asked as he stood.

  “You were screaming,” Crafter explained. “I couldn’t understand what you were saying, but it sounded like you were terrified, and like something was attacking yo
u.”

  Crafter moved next to Gameknight and put his small hand on his arm.

  “I tried to wake you. I shook you and shook you, but it didn’t do any good. I called your name over and over, finally yelling in your ear, but it didn’t do any good . . . so I woke Hunter and asked her to help.”

  He shifted his gaze from Crafter’s bright blue eyes to Hunter’s dark brown ones.

  “So I gave you a massive shove and knocked you off the bed,” she said proudly. “I told this one here,” gesturing to Crafter, “that when something needs doing, you do it big. I shoved you with all my might, and you went flying out of the bed. That’s when you woke up.”

  She gave him a self-satisfied smile, as if she’d enjoyed throwing him out of the bed and to the ground.

  “What were you dreaming about, Gameknight?” Crafter asked.

  He thought about the terrible dream, the monsters flowing out of the portal, the sounds of battle upstairs, and Erebus choking him . . . and shuddered. Was it a premonition of what would happen in the future or just a silly dream? Reaching up, he unconsciously rubbed his sore neck again, then snapped his hand back down when he realized what he’d just done.

  “Ahhh . . . I don’t really remember,” he lied.

  “Well, whatever,” Hunter snapped. “I don’t really care about your dreams; I just care about finding my sister. Besides, it’s morning. Time to go.”

  “I agree,” Crafter added. “It’s time we left this village and found the next one so that we can get some answers and form a plan. Gameknight, are you ready to go?”

  Nodding, Gameknight999 stood, his inner being still terrified by the dream . . . by Erebus. Sighing, he gathered his belongings and followed his two companions out of the house.

  “We’ll use the minecart network,” Crafter said over his shoulder as he headed for the secret tunnel that wasn’t very secret anymore.