Destruction of the Overworld

by Mark Cheverton

  “Herder! Where’s Herder?” Gameknight shouted.

  “Right here,” said a voice from directly behind him.

  The lanky boy was standing almost on top of him. Gently pushing him back a step, Gameknight smiled. At Herder’s side was a wolf, its white fur bright and clean in the sunlight.

  “Herder, I want you to bring some wolves with us,” Gameknight said. “I’m not sure what we will run into, so I’d rather be prepared.”

  The skinny boy stood tall with pride.

  “I’ll bring my best,” he said as he spun around and headed for the pack that stood guard around the animal pens.

  “Hurry,” Gameknight shouted, and the boy ran away, his long black hair bobbing up and down with each step.

  The User-that-is-not-a-user moved to the village gates and stepped outside. He found his father standing on the wooden bridge extending over the moat and took a spot by his side. Before them stretched a grassy plain, and a forest lay just beyond.

  “Are you up for another adventure?” Gameknight asked. “I think the villagers could use our help.”

  Monkeypants turned and looked at his son. “I don’t know, son. This could be dangerous work.”

  “But they are my friends, and it’s my responsibility to help them,” Gameknight replied. “You just told me that I shouldn’t ignore my responsibilities just because they’re inconvenient. These people rely on the User-that-is-not-a-user not only to help them, but also to give them hope. What kind of signal would it send if I snuck away right when they needed me?”

  His father considered his words and smiled.

  “You’ll have to put up with me some more if you intend to go on this odyssey,” Monkeypants said. “Your responsibility may be to protect these villagers, but my responsibility is to make sure you are safe, and it turns out that’s a full-time job when you’re running around in Minecraft. So if you want to go on this adventure . . . then I’ll be right at your side the whole time.”

  Gameknight smiled and nodded his head.

  “Let’s go help our friends,” the User-that-is-not-a-user said in a strong, confident voice.

  “True dat!” replied his father.

  CHAPTER 6

  THE SCENE OF THE CRIME

  They rode out at dawn, not wanting to get caught out in the open after nightfall. The party consisted of Gameknight, his friends, and warriors handpicked by Digger. Farmer led the way, retracing her steps back along her terrified flight from her village. She took the party through the forest that sat before Crafter’s village, and then a mega taiga biome on the other side, reaching the savannah that lay beyond.

  As they entered the unusual gray-green landscape, Gameknight always marveled at the strange distorted trees. Each one was bent and twisted at a different angle, as if bowing in some kind of invisible howling hurricane.

  “I love this biome,” Gameknight said to Hunter, who galloped at his side. “All the trees look fantastic.”

  “I like it too,” she replied. “With the trees spread out, I can see an enemy coming from far away.” She pointed to the left with her shimmering bow. “Those spiders trying to hide in the treetops? They’re easy to see out here.”

  Gameknight peered into the distance. Two large black shapes sat atop one of the deformed acacia trees, trying to hide in the foliage, but their dark furry bodies stood out against the grayish leaves, making them easy to spot—and avoid.

  “It’s just over this next hill,” Farmer called out over her shoulder.

  She was riding at the front of the group next to Crafter. Gameknight kicked his mount to a sprint and moved up next to his friend, the horse’s iron armor jangling and clanking. Holding the reins with one hand, he drew his own enchanted bow and readied himself for battle.

  “You think the endermen are still there?” Gameknight asked nervously.

  “I doubt it,” Crafter replied. “What use would they have for a village? They don’t need the shelter or the crops, and they certainly don’t need the livestock. No, this was not an attack based on any kind of need—it was one of malice and spite.”

  “You’re making us all feel much better,” Hunter added sarcastically.

  “There it is,” Farmer said as they crested the hill.

  In the distance, Gameknight could see a village nestled amidst the crooked acacia trees. A tall cobblestone wall surrounded a cluster of wooden buildings and a watchtower loomed high at the center. It all looked normal and as Gameknight would have expected . . . except for the massive gash in the protective barricade. A gigantic section of the wall was completely missing, as though some giant had swiped at the fortification with a steel fist. Hundreds of blocks of cobblestone lay bobbing up and down on the ground, floating just above the pale grass—the remnants of the destruction.

  Slowing to a walk, the party approached the silent village cautiously.

  Monkeypants rode alongside his son. “What are those things floating on the ground just inside the wall?” Monkeypants asked.

  Gameknight looked to where his father was pointing and saw swords, picks, shovels, food, armor, potions . . . items of every type floated on the ground, just like the blocks of cobblestone.

  “Those are the belongings of the villagers who once lived here,” Gameknight replied.

  “What do you mean? They just left them there when they ran away?” Monkeypants271 asked.

  “No . . . that’s where they dropped them when they died,” Farmer replied as she glanced toward the monkey. “Those were my family and friends’ belongings. Now they are the only things that prove they ever existed.”

  Gameknight looked toward the woman and could see burning rage in her old, wrinkled eyes. It was the kind of hatred that had almost consumed Hunter when her family was destroyed by Malacoda and his monsters from the Nether long ago. Now the pattern was repeating.

  “Herder, it may be best if you sent in your wolves to investigate for us,” Crafter suggested.

  The lanky boy nodded his head, then bent down and whispered something to the alpha male. The wolf barked once, then sprinted off with the rest of the wolves following. As the animals moved forward, they reminded Gameknight of the time they had rescued Hunter from Malacoda’s clutches. Herder’s wolves had saved the day during that battle, as they had many times after.

  The wolves ran toward the silent village and shot through the opening in the tall cobblestone wall, quickly disappearing behind what remained of the wall. In less than a minute, the pack leader appeared at the opening and barked once, signaling it was safe.

  “Wait here,” Digger said to the others.

  Kicking his dark horse forward, the big NPC motioned to a couple of the warriors. The small group sprinted forward, moving quickly into the village, swords drawn. As they took up guarding positions around the entrance, they scanned the surroundings, then confirmed the wolf’s assertion: it was indeed safe.

  The rest of the party galloped into the village. Hunter and Stitcher instantly rode for the watchtower. Gameknight watched as the siblings dismounted and shot up into the cobblestone structure. In seconds, they appeared at the top of the tower and surveyed their surroundings.

  “No endermen nearby,” shouted Hunter. “It’s all clear.”

  “Search all the houses—quick,” Crafter shouted.

  The NPCs spread out through the village, peering in every dwelling. Most were empty, but some had items floating on the ground within the wooden structures; the villagers had been destroyed within their own homes.

  “Should we collect the items we find?” a warrior named Builder asked.

  “Nothing goes to waste in Minecraft,” Digger replied. “Collect everything and—”

  “No!” snapped the User-that-is-not-a-user. He could see the pain on Farmer’s face as she looked at the floating items. “They serve a greater purpose as markers for the terrible thing that happened here. Let all who come to this village witness what occurred and remember those who were lost.”

  Raising his hand, fin
gers spread wide, Gameknight looked at the other NPCs, then clenched his hand into a fist. Squeezing it tight, he closed his eyes and imagined the terror the villagers must have experienced. The senseless violence that had crashed down upon these souls filled Gameknight999 with a burning rage.

  These people did not deserve this, he thought. When will the violence end?!

  A growl escaped his mouth, a sound that held all of his anger and frustration at this horror. Another growl sounded next to him, then another and another. Opening his eyes, Gameknight found that the wolves had surrounded him. The creatures were staring at the items on the ground with teeth bared, snarls echoing in their throats, fur bristling with anger.

  “They feel your rage,” Herder said from behind.

  Gameknight turned and slowly lowered his fist. The User-that-is-not-a-user knelt and patted the largest wolf on the back, stroking his white fur, then stood and looked at his friends.

  “We will bring those responsible for this to justice,” Gameknight whispered to the wolf. “I promise you that.”

  The wolf looked up at Gameknight999 and understanding seemed to flash through its dangerous red eyes before its bristling fur lay down, relaxed again. Gameknight patted the animal once more, then turned and faced Digger.

  “We need to get to the crafting chamber,” the User-that-is-not-a-user said. “There may be survivors there. Herder, have the wolves protect the watchtower. Come on everyone.”

  Turning from the sad items, he sprinted for the watchtower, the other NPCs trailing a few steps behind. As he entered, Gameknight found Hunter already descending down the long ladder, her crimson locks just disappearing into the darkness. He quickly followed, mounting the rungs and sliding down into the underground tunnels, Digger close behind. With his heart pounding, he sprinted through the tunnels and into the large subterranean chamber. Just like the village above, he found the crafting chamber was strewn with items: tools, food, chests . . . the belongings of the dead.

  Gameknight felt a tear seep from the corner of his eye. It was not a tear of sadness, though he was incredibly sad. No, this was a tear formed from an overwhelming rage that burned within Gameknight999 like an inferno. Wiping the tear away with his sleeve, he took the steps two at a time, running to the chamber floor. Hunter and Stitcher were already there, but the sisters were just standing, looking at the items strewn across the floor. Gameknight guessed they were imagining the horror that had occurred here, the terror the villagers must have felt in their final moments.

  Suddenly, a sound came from one of the tunnels. In a fluid motion, both sisters pulled out their bows, notched their arrows, and aimed at the source of the sound; a dark tunnel opening. Digger pulled out his iron pickaxe and approached the tunnel cautiously, two warriors at his side.

  Drawing his enchanted diamond sword, Gameknight walked closer. The blue iridescent light from his sword added to that from his enchanted armor, casting a sapphire circle of illumination. As he approached, some of the light spilled into the tunnel, showing the faint outline of a villager. Gameknight took a step closer and saw an NPC, a look of terror painted on his face.

  Gameknight put away his sword and held out a hand to the individual to show he meant no harm.

  “Come out; we’re here to help,” Gameknight said.

  The villager poked his head out of the shadowy passage and looked at the other NPCs, then cautiously stepped out of the tunnel. By his clothes, Gameknight could see that he was a cobbler; his smock was a rich sky-blue with a gray stripe running from neck to hem. The stripe matched the color of his aged hair. As he moved into the chamber, his old sullen eyes scanned the items floating on the floor. Tears of anguish flowed down his cheeks, but when he saw Farmer, he ran to her, smiling in recognition. The two villagers embraced; they were the lone survivors of the disaster. When they finally separated, Crafter stepped forward.

  “Cobbler, this is Crafter,” Farmer explained. “He has accepted me into his village. I am no longer one of the Lost.”

  “And we gladly accept you into our community,” Crafter added. “You need not be alone anymore.”

  Cobbler looked down at the young NPC and smiled, his tears changing to that of joy instead of pain.

  “Please tell us what happened here,” Gameknight asked.

  The NPC looked at the letters over Gameknight’s head, then glanced up into the air, looking for the server thread that was not there. Cobbler’s mouth hung open in shock as he realized who was standing before him.

  “Yeah, yeah, he’s the User-that-is-not-a-user. Get over it,” Hunter said. “We need to know what happened here.”

  Monkeypants271 moved forward and stood next to Hunter’s side. He put a calming hand on her shoulder.

  “Our friend here has had a difficult time,” Monkeypants said. “We need to have a little patience.”

  Cobbler looked at Monkeypants and noticed the letters above his head and the lack of a server thread.

  “Yeah, and there’s two of them, but we don’t have time to be patient,” Hunter said. “Cobbler, we need to know what happened here.”

  The NPC glanced around at all the armored villagers in the chamber, then leaned against the cavern wall and dropped his face into his hands. His body shook as he wept. Farmer put her arms around the NPC as she, too, cried. Slowly, the friends separated, wiping tears from their cheeks. Cobbler then brought his gaze to Crafter.

  “I’m sure Farmer told you what happened here,” Cobbler began. “Endermen and the Ender Dragon did this terrible thing. They destroyed everyone without hesitation, and for only one reason.”

  “A reason?” Farmer said, surprised. “What reason could there possibly be for all this destruction?”

  Cobbler looked at his friend and sighed.

  “They wanted to deliver a message to him,” Cobbler said, pointing an old gnarled finger at Gameknight999.

  “They destroyed all these lives just to deliver a message to me?” Gameknight asked.

  Cobbler nodded his gray head.

  “What message?” the User-that-is-not-a-user growled through clenched teeth. He was infuriated and ashamed.

  “One of the endermen was different than the rest,” Cobbler began. “He was colored a dark red instead of black.”

  “Feyd, the king of the endermen,” Digger said, an angry scowl on his face. “I hoped we’d seen the last of that monster.”

  “What did he do?” Crafter asked.

  Cobbler sighed again, then closed his eyes as the memories flooded through him.

  “They came into the crafting chamber like a purple fog. The endermen just teleported right up to us, their purple teleportation particles filling the air. Something up above must have enraged them because they didn’t wait to be provoked down here, they just attacked.” Cobbler stopped, opened his eyes, and looked at Farmer, new cube-shaped tears sliding down his cheeks. “They first destroyed all the minecarts, but only after they let a few escape, then they turned on the remaining NPCs. The monsters didn’t care if their targets were adults or children, they just attacked . . . and destroyed.”

  “But how did you survive?” Crafter asked.

  “The red one grabbed me with one of his clammy hands and pinned me against the wall,” Cobbler said. “He told me, ‘You will watch and report what happens here to my enemy.’ He then said, ‘I want the User-that-is-not-a-user to know that his ancient foe has returned and is coming for him. There is no place he can hide,’ and then he said something about punishing you for crimes committed against the monsters of Minecraft.” The NPC stopped for a moment as he was overcome with emotion, then continued. “I was so afraid, I couldn’t fight back. I wanted to do something, but I was petrified and couldn’t even move my arms.”

  “It’s OK, friend,” Crafter said. “This was not your fault.”

  “No, this is my fault,” Gameknight snapped. “I should have killed that monster when I had the chance, and now look what has happened.”

  “That enderman isn’t finished,”
Cobbler continued. “He said something about destroying the next closest village when they find it.”

  “What?!” Gameknight exclaimed. “We have to get there first and warn them. Crafter, do you know how to get there in the minecarts?”

  “Of course,” the young NPC said.

  “Then let’s go!” Gameknight commanded. “Farmer, Cobbler, take the horses and go back to our village. The wolves will protect you.” He glanced to Herder. The skinny boy nodded his head, then bolted up to the surface to give the commands to the pack leader. “The rest of you, we have to get to that village before it’s too late!”

  Crafter pulled out stacks of iron ingots and handed them out, then moved to the crafting benches. They crafted minecarts quickly. When they had finished, a dozen carts were ready, one for everyone. Gameknight took his and placed it on the track behind Crafter. He climbed in, drew his diamond sword with his right hand and his iron sword with his left.

  “Let’s do this!” Gameknight shouted to his comrades and followed Crafter into the darkness.

  CHAPTER 7

  ENEMY REVEALED

  Gameknight999 leapt out of the minecart and into the new crafting chamber when the minecart emerged from the tunnel. His heart sank as he saw the items strewn about on the rocky cavern floor.

  They were too late. The endermen had already wreaked terrible destruction on this village too. Not waiting for anyone else, Gameknight charged up the sandstone steps that led to the surface.

  “Gameknight, wait for the others!” Crafter shouted, but he was ignored.

  Gameknight pushed open the iron doors and bolted through the round chamber, sprinting through the tunnel that would take him to the vertical ladder that led to the surface above. As he ran, he could hear footsteps echoing behind him. Turning, he readied himself for battle. Instead, Stitcher emerged from the darkness with no intention of slowing down to talk.

  “Come on, let’s go,” she said, streaking past him.