“I understand that you’re afraid. We all are.”
“Not Hunter,” Gameknight snapped with a tone of self-recrimination.
“Hunter is on a dangerous path that will only lead to violence and death. She needs to kill monsters to cover the anguish that resides in her heart. She is not courageous; she seeks death. But you, User-that-is-not-a-user, you are something more.”
“But I’m too scared to do heroic things.”
“Do you remember Digger, at my old village?” Crafter asked.
“Of course I do,” Gameknight answered solemnly. Gameknight had caused the death of Digger’s wife when he’d been a griefer, a person that played Minecraft just to destroy things. His reckless behavior had broken a family, just for the pleasure of watching monsters kill NPCs. How he regretted his past. It was a guilt that he’d carried with him since he’d met Crafter and come to learn about the lives within Minecraft and the war that was brewing here. “I remember all too well.”
“Well, his son was terrified of the water. He couldn’t swim, but loved fishing. All of his friends would go out in boats onto the lake near the village, to catch fish to help feed the village. But Digger’s son couldn’t go with the other kids . . . because he couldn’t swim. He used to come to me, crying, when some of the other children teased him, but still he was deathly afraid of the water.”
“What does this have to do—” Gameknight interrupted. He was silenced by Crafter’s raised hand.
“Then one day, one of the other kids brought home a really big fish, and the village was so excited. It was the biggest fish anyone could remember. Digger was so impressed that he complimented the other child in front of everyone, which brought his son to tears. There Digger’s son stood, listening to his father talk so proudly of another boy’s accomplishments. It made him feel worthless. He felt ashamed for being afraid of the water, for being too afraid to learn how to swim. And so he ran off without telling anyone.”
Crafter paused and looked at Gameknight, his bright blue eyes holding his gaze unflinchingly.
“Well?” Gameknight999 asked. “What happened? You can’t just go running off all by yourself without any weapons. That’s dangerous in Minecraft, especially for a child. Did anyone follow him?”
“Yes . . . I did, but I didn’t let him know I was there. I followed him through the woods, and then through the rocky pass until he led me to the lake. And do you know what I found there at the lake?”
Gameknight looked at him with a questioning look, getting slightly irritated. Was he ever going to finish this story?
“What did you find?” he snapped.
“A hero,” Crafter answered with a smile.
“Ahh . . . what?”
“I found a hero at the lake, and it was Digger’s son. You see, he saw the respect in his father’s eyes at the sight of that fish, and he knew he had to do something or forever feel the shame of not trying. So I found Digger’s son, later named Fisher, diving head-first into the lake.”
“What happened? I thought he was afraid of the water. How does that make him a hero?”
Crafter leaned in closer so that the User-that-is-not-a-user could hear him over the clatter of the minecart wheels. “You see, Fisher’s fear of the water was overwhelming. It had paralyzed him beyond the ability to think, made him shake with fear and weep at just the thought of wading into the water. He had to fish from far up on the banks of the lake, using an extra-long fishing pole so that he could cast his line out to catch anything. The other kids used to tease him about the pole, asking if he were trying catch a squid or some other deep sea creature. But Fisher would just return the insults with silence, feeling that the abuse was warranted.
“Well, the day of the huge fish was the last straw. He couldn’t bear it anymore, so he went down to the lake and confronted his demon . . . and it was the bravest thing I’d ever witnessed in all my years in Minecraft. I saw a scared little boy square off against the thing that terrified him the most, the thing that turned his spine to jelly and his feet to stone. I saw him grapple with his demon, using a strength he didn’t know he had. For you see, something had changed within Fisher, something very important.”
Crafter stopped talking to look at the track ahead. They could still see Hunter in front of them, just at the edge of the darkness that enveloped them, her brilliant hair flowing like a flag of freedom . . . or a banner of war.
“What . . . come on Crafter, what changed?” Gameknight asked.
“He began to accept the possibility that he might be able to do this great thing, conquer his fear of water and learn to swim. He began to imagine himself overcoming this obstacle . . . he started to believe.”
Gameknight threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. “How does that make him a hero . . . because he started to believe? How does learning to swim—something as insignificant as that—make him a hero?”
Crafter leaned even closer so that Gameknight could feel the importance of his words. “Fisher finally stopped being a victim and faced his fear, and that’s what made him a hero. You see, it isn’t the task that makes a hero, it’s the obstacle that must be overcome. Sure, a person that slays an enderman could be called a hero, but would you call Hunter up there a hero because of all the monsters she’s killed?”
Gameknight pondered this . . . Hunter. Her courage was remarkable, her skill with a bow probably legendary, but no, he didn’t think of her as a hero. He thought of her as someone who was reckless, killing things out of an insane desire to seek revenge, as if that would somehow make her feel better. No, Hunter wasn’t a hero. She was reckless and violent, doing for herself and not others, and ultimately, she was just a crazed killing machine.
“You see, Fisher’s fear of the water, fear of drowning, was overwhelming,” Crafter continued. “He had become ruled by his fear to the point that he had become only a shadow of his true self. He always tried to hide his insecurity and fear from others, making excuses, concealing his real self. But when that huge fish was brought into the village, when his own father admired the other boy for what he’d done, something inside Fisher snapped. The walls of fear that had barricaded his courage started to crumble, chipped away by the hope that he felt, the realization that he could learn to swim. And the belief that he could overcome his fear is what allowed him to try. When he faced his demon—his fear—and stood up to it unblinking, unwavering, and confident . . . that’s the moment he became a hero.”
“Did he learn how to swim?” Gameknight asked, now on the edge of his seat.
“He became the best swimmer in the village, and the best fisherman, too, much better than full-grown men . . . the envy of the other fishermen.” He paused and let the story sink in for a moment. “Deeds do not make the hero, Gameknight999,” he said in a loud voice, as if trying to tell the entire world. “How they overcome their fear does.” Then he fell silent.
Gameknight closed his eyes and considered these words as they echoed off the tunnel wall, penetrating him from all sides. And as they reverberated within his mind, he felt the smallest morsel of understanding. He didn’t notice the end of the tunnel filling with light as the minecart approached another crafting chamber; another village, this one peacefully calm. Focusing on Crafter’s words with his entire being, he felt that there was something important there for him—for all of them.
Opening his eyes, his stream of thought was broken by the feel of the village they’d just entered. He could tell that this was the place they all needed, the focus of the conflict that was about to crash down upon this digital realm. He could somehow sense all of the anger and hatred from the monsters of the Overworld and the creatures in the burning Nether. All of their rage would soon be focused on this point . . . on him. He was confident that this was where the Last Battle for this server would start.
“Crafter,” the User-that-is-not-a-user said softly, “this village . . . I can tell that this is where we will make our stand. This is where the Last Battle will be fought on this serve
r. This is the place.”
The young NPC with old wise eyes stared at Gameknight and nodded, then turned and looked at the crafting chamber they had just entered.
“Somehow,” Gameknight continued, “we have to bring all of our forces here—all the NPCs of this land. But how?”
“Leave that to me.”
Crafter jumped out of the minecart and drew his sword. Holding it with both hands, he held it up high, then plunged it straight down into the stone floor. When it hit, a loud crack sounded that stopped all activity in the chamber and brought all eyes toward the duo. Sinking to one knee, he kept his grip firm on the sword’s handle, then closed his eyes and concentrated. Gathering all of his crafting power, the NPC reached out across the server, along all the digital lines of code that held this plane of existence together, and called his villagers. Driving his powers even harder, he reached out even farther, calling all NPCs, all of the Lost to this location . . . to the Last Battle. And as he gave out his silent call, he started to glow an iridescent, shimmering blue that lit the crafting chamber a subtle indigo hue.
A hushed silence filled the chamber as every NPC watched the spectacle, all of them knowing that something big was happening, though they didn’t know that the battle for this server had just begun.
CHAPTER 12
NIGHTMARE TURNED REAL
A
crackling of light, like a highly focused lightning storm or the sparks from a million static shocks, started to form over a beautiful grassy plain. The glowing, whirling ball of light pulsated like some kind of electric heart. Its form contracted and expanded ever so slightly, then became more pronounced and amplified. The pulsations made the sparkling, snapping ball of light appear to writhe as if in terrible pain, balls of crackling fire shooting from its depths. The sparks and flame scorched the earth, killing all life that they touched and charring a black, diseased stain onto the surface of Minecraft. A rotten, decaying odor came from the ball of light, a smell that assaulted the senses and offended nature itself. It was such a vile and disgusting aroma that it drove away any animals nearby, and made the very blades of grass want to lean outward.
Then something started to emerge. First a pair of long, dark legs came forth, then a small torso with equally long and lanky arms, and finally a dark head, its eyes burning bright red with a hatred for all living things.
Erebus had come to Minecraft again.
The King of the Endermen gazed around this new land with a look of disdain about all of its beauty. His tall frame towered over the animals nearby, his thin arms and legs making him seem even taller. Cows mooed in the distance. A group of pigs oinked nearby. Sheep walked by the enderman, unconcerned, their bleating driving Erebus into a rage. With lighting speed, he struck out at the nearest sheep, driving a hard fist into the fluffy creature and killing it instantly. The sheep just popped out of existence, leaving behind a square block of wool.
Smiling, Erebus turned toward the distant, rocky mountains. He knew he’d find passageways there into the bowels of Minecraft. That would be where his monsters resided. They didn’t know that they were his—not yet—but they would soon come to understand that he was their king . . . or they would perish. Purple particles started to form around him as he focused his teleportation power, and then, at the speed of thought, he was at the foot of the mountain.
Gazing across its slopes, he quickly spotted an opening that would lead him underground. Teleporting to that position, he materialized at the opening. Walking casually into the tunnel, he chuckled his eerie, maniacal laugh. He knew that it would draw the other monsters to him; it always did. As he plunged deeper into the underground warren, he found zombies and spiders hiding in the corners, the ever-present creepers always lurking about. Drawing them to him with his very will, he continued deeper underground, his mob growing with every step. Many of his brother endermen materialized in the tunnels, teleporting from some unknown place, appearing to join his cause. Going deeper and deeper, Erebus traveled through the maze of tunnels that led steadily downward. At times, he had to open a sealed tunnel that blocked his progress. Ordering a creeper to stand near the rocky wall, he commanded the green-spotted beasts to detonate; they always did as he willed. The explosive end of their lives easily opened the blocked passages, and allowed his growing army to continue on their path.
Finally, after traveling to the deepest parts of the Overworld, he reached the lava level and finally felt at home. He had led the horde of monsters into a gigantic cavern that had a waterfall at one end, a large lava lake at the other. Where the two met were bands of cobblestone and obsidian—the result of mixing lava with water. Reaching out with his Enderman powers, he called on all of the monsters in the area to come to this chamber and bow to him. The monsters, being poor of wit and rich with a hatred of living things, flocked to him and his promise of destruction. In twenty minutes—an hour at most—hundreds of monsters had come to join the existing rabble.
Teleporting to a rocky outcropping that would allow him to stand above his subjects, the King of the Endermen gazed down at his army, then raised his long black arms, commanding silence.
“Brothers,” he screeched with his high-pitched voice. “The time has come for the end of Minecraft. The Last Battle is coming, and the Prophecy draws to its conclusion, with you, my brothers, taking over everything.”
The mobs cheered at this, the moaning of the zombies mixed with the clicking of the spiders, the bouncing boing-boings of the slimes and the cackles of the endermen. Creepers hissed and started to glow as they initiated their detonation process only to turn it off again—their only way of making any sound.
A few withers floated over the crowd, their dark eyes glaring down at the lesser monsters with disdain before looking to Erebus. A rattling, echoing sound came from the three-headed monsters as they drifted through the air; it sounded like a bag of bones was being shaken inside an empty stone room. The echoes lingered as they moved, making the other monsters move back a step. With three skeletal heads and a body that was only the torso of a skeleton; they were fearsome creatures. The three skulls looked about in all directions at once, their cold, dead eyes scanning the room for threats. They sat on a collection of skeleton bones that were blackened as if they’d been rolled in the ashes of some ancient fire. The spine and ribs of the skeletal torso were completely exposed, as with their Overworld cousins, the skeletons, but these creatures had no legs, just a stubby spine sticking out at the bottom of their bodies. To move, the withers floated through the air on unseen legs, able to soar high up into the air, the bony protrusion of their spine never touching the ground.
They were horrible to look at, but even more terrible to face in battle. They could throw flaming poison skulls—called wither skulls—a great distance while hovering far off the ground, making them extremely difficult to kill. With each of their boney heads focused on different targets, or perhaps on a lone user or NPC, they proved to be fearsome opponents on the battlefield. Erebus knew all of this and nodded his dark, blocky head as he saw them float through the air; they were a powerful addition to his army.
These withers will make excellent generals for my army, Erebus thought to himself as he watched the other monsters move away from the floating creatures. A thin, eerie smile spread across his face.
“It is the hour of the monster on this server, and soon, on all servers. We are one step from the Source, and that too will be ours, soon.”
The creatures cheered again, this time louder.
“I have seen the Gateway of Light. I know its existence is real, and also that it is almost within our grasp. Before long, we will leave the confines of these digital planes and flow into the physical world, where we will conquer all living things and extend my rule to encompass everything.”
“But why should we follow you?” yelled a witch that was standing near the sea of lava.
She looked like any number of NPC villagers, with her arms linked across her chest and a bulbous nose dominating her face.
She had long, midnight black hair that reflected the light of the nearby lava lake, so that it had a wavy sheen and sparkle. Her cone-shaped hat, the symbol of her station, leaned slightly to one side on her head, the brown cap formed by tiny little cubes.
Erebus snapped his head toward the voice, then teleported instantly to the witch. With a quickness that made the attack on the sheep seem lethargic, he struck out at her with three fast, devastating punches. Each strike pushed her back a few steps, the King of the Endermen teleporting forward a step with each punch to continue his attack. The last punch drove the witch over the rocky ledge and into the sea of lava. She perished quickly. He turned and gazed at those closest to him, then teleported back to the outcropping.
“Make no mistake. I was the King of the Endermen on that last server, where I ruled all. And now, I am the King of the Overworld here, on this server. I claim this land by my right and might. I AM YOUR KING!!!” His voice echoed throughout the chamber, almost making the wall shake. “Are there any objections?”
Erebus waited for the next doomed soul to speak up, but none dared to defy him. “As I thought,” he said, satisfaction in his voice.
Gazing across the army of monsters that stood at his feet, he glared into the eyes of every one of them. These creatures wanted to destroy those that lived up on the surface: the NPCs and users that infested Minecraft. They could almost taste the fear up there; the pathetic villagers going about their pathetic lives, always afraid.
Erebus grinned a wry, evil grin.
Well, I’ll give those NPCs and users something to really be afraid of, he thought, as his smile grew wider. They will learn why they fear the night.
Using his teleportation powers, he silently issued commands to his mob, whispering into every monster ear nearly simultaneously, telling them to disperse. They would follow the tunnels that would take them to the nearest village—the first target in their campaign of terror and destruction.
Battle for the Nether Page 14
