Invasion of the Overworld

by Mark Cheverton

  Suddenly, he realized that he’d won . . . victory.

  Now it was time to hide. Gameknight moved to one of the buildings at the edge of the village and started to open the door when he heard voices, not from the monsters still lurking nearby, but from the villagers within . . . the villagers were talking?

  “GRIEFERS!!!” they shouted.

  Turning around, Gameknight saw four players materialize with a pop, their player names floating above them, a long silvery thread stretching up from their heads and into the sky, the strand glowing bright in the darkness. One of the players was unfortunate enough to spawn within one of the clusters of spiders. The eight-legged monsters fell on him quickly, destroying him in seconds, then gobbling up his belongings and a massive amount of XP. The other three players started attacking the village, griefing it just for fun. One of them broke down a door to let the spiders in. Another was going into a home, attacking the villagers directly.

  What were they doing? Didn’t they realize that they were hurting the NPCs?

  “Hey, come over here,” one of them said to their companions. “I found an NPC child. Let’s take turns punching it.”

  The other players moved toward the voice, but Gameknight was already sprinting. He reached the home before his companions.

  “What are you doing?” Gameknight shouted. “Leave these people alone!”

  “What? They’re just NPCs, who cares?” the griefer replied as he reached out and punched the child.

  Punch . . . Gameknight felt the blow and heard the cries of anguish from the child, the parents huddled in the corner, clearly terrified.

  “Stop!” Gameknight yelled.

  Punch.

  “I SAID STOP!”

  Gameknight slashed at the griefer with his sword, striking him once, then again and again. He turned and tried to defend himself, but it was useless. Gameknight was an expert at PvP and landed headshot after headshot until the player dissolved into nothingness, his possessions and XP floating above the ground.

  “Hey,” said a voice from behind.

  Gameknight spun around and attacked the voice, another of the griefers. This one was not ready for the ferocity of his attack and fell quickly, followed by the remaining user; all of their belongings and XP floating on the ground at Gameknight’s feet. Collecting the spoils, Gameknight quickly closed the door and looked out the window. He could see the skeletons in the distance, their protective ring of spiders milling about, eight fuzzy legs moving in a blur as they scuttled this way and that looking for targets that didn’t exist. He could feel the endermen glaring at him from the distance, their glowing white eyes filled with rage, but they kept their distance for some reason, thankfully.

  And then Gameknight could see flames dancing outside. Skeletons were burning like bony candles as the light of dawn slowly ignited their flesh, their white bodies jumping about as they flashed red with damage. In thirty seconds, all of the skeletons were dead. With nothing to protect, and no targets upon which they could focus their rage, the spiders dispersed into the distance, looking for something to satisfy their desire to destroy, leaving the ring of endermen behind.

  Cautiously opening the door, Gameknight stepped outside. The endermen still surrounded the village, their dark shapes standing out against the now brightening landscape. One of the tall creatures moved forward a few steps and glared at Gameknight, its very being filled with such rage that the purple particles floating around it seemed to glow blood-red. The other endermen teleported away as their leader confronted Gameknight, their shadowy forms disappearing in a cloud of purple smoke. The endermen’s leader took another step forward, then raised one of its long black arms and pointed it threateningly toward Gameknight999, and a thin, menacing voice filled the air.

  “This is not over, User-that-is-not-a-user,” the enderman said, its voice dripping with rage and malice. “You have interfered with something you do not understand. We will reach the Source, and there will be a reckoning. All will despair, especially your kind. Be warned, and beware; stay out of our way.”

  Then the enderman disappeared and just as suddenly reappeared right next to him, his tall body not black like the others, but shaded dark red, like the color of dried blood. This made the creature seem even more terrifying. Gameknight started to draw his sword, but the enderman struck out with such speed and ferocity he had no time to react. Its long dark arm hammered him in the head with a single strike, the blow resonating throughout his body and filling him with tremendous pain. Was he dying? What is happening? he thought as darkness closed around him.

  CHAPTER 6

  THE MAYOR

  G

  ameknight999 sluggishly woke, the confusing fog of his dreams still wrapped around his mind, patches of clarity just beginning to emerge. He was lying in a comfortable bed, a soft red mattress beneath him. His head hurt. It was still ringing for some reason, and the remnants of a headache echoed with each heartbeat. Had all that battle just been a dream, or a nightmare? Opening his eyes slowly, he found himself staring straight up at a wooden ceiling. Turning his head, he saw cobblestone walls around him and a wooden chest in the corner, the shapes surrounding him all blocky and square.

  It wasn’t a dream . . . it was still real . . . oh no.

  Standing up, Gameknight climbed out of the bed and looked around the room, his head spinning a little as he turned too quickly. It was empty. There was a doorway leading to a larger room and the walls were built out of cobblestone with glass window panes sprinkled throughout. What is this place? Drawing his sword, he moved to the doorway and peered into the next room. It too was empty. Where was he? He saw a wooden door that led to the outside, sunlight streaming through the small window at its top, casting golden shafts of light across the dusty room. Moving to the door, Gameknight could see that there was something outside; in fact, there were many somethings. It looked like people—no, not just people, villagers; he was still in the village. Well, at least he knew where he was.

  Reaching for the door, he opened it and stepped outside, sword held at the ready. Moving a few steps from the house, Gameknight stood and looked at the villagers, their bright eyes and unibrows all trained on him. The entire village was here, the NPCs milling about in a large group, the different colors of their long coats looking like a multihued quilt, a wide dark line down the center of each garment. They all looked a little cross-eyed with their pupils slanting toward the long, overhanging nose that dominated the center of their faces. In normal Minecraft, they had all looked the same to Gameknight, but now, in this higher-resolution world, he could see subtle differences. Some had scars on their faces, likely from a zombie claw or spider fang, but there were also slight differences in their facial structure: the tilt of a nose, the width and color of a unibrow, all slightly varied to create a look of individuality for each. Most notable to their appearance was the look of fear as their eyes all focused on Gameknight.

  “I’m not sure what happened after the enderman knocked me out, but thank you for putting me to bed,” Gameknight said to the crowd, his head still aching a bit, the terrible memory of the dark beast still vivid in his mind. “I think I needed the rest.”

  Silence.

  “My name is Gameknight999, and I’m new to this world. I don’t understand why I’m here but I was hoping to get some information.”

  Silence.

  “I know you can speak,” he said. “I heard the screams last night when the mobs were attacking.”

  Silence, but at the mention of the previous night, the villagers rustled about, clearly agitated.

  “I’m not a griefer, I’m a friend. I stopped those griefers that attacked at the end of the battle and will stop anymore that come to trouble you. Please, can someone talk to me?”

  Silence filled the square, but it was not a peaceful silence; it was coupled with nervous glances being exchanged between NPCs. A feeling of tension and fear seemed to emanate from them, fear of monsters, but also fear of him. But then a small girl stepped
forward and walked up to Gameknight999. The child, with arms linked across her chest, long nose hanging slightly to the right between bright green eyes, walked up to him and stood at his feet, her young blocky face looking up into his. She had a couple of bruises on her cheek, her jaw an ugly blackish-bluish color, slightly swollen.

  “Thank you for protecting me last night,” the young girl said.

  The child then moved closer and leaned her head against Gameknight’s chest. Putting away his sword, Gameknight reached out and gently patted the girl’s head, feeling her lean in deeper. Her hair felt soft to his hands, velvety soft, as he stroked the long strands. The fabric of her coat was rough in contrast. Gameknight smiled, triggering an avalanche of smiling villagers as they all rushed forward, leaning in toward him in a flood of emotion and gratitude. It was like a great celebration, the only one the village had likely ever experienced after an evening of monsters and mobs. The NPCs all spoke at once, recounting Gameknight’s great feats of bravery the night before, their collective appreciation overwhelming, except for one person.

  A single villager stood apart from the celebration and glared at Gameknight999.

  “What are all of you celebrating?” the lone villager shouted. “He’s a griefer. He killed my wife.”

  His dissonant voice instantly quelled the celebration and caused the villagers to take a few steps back, their faces turned toward the source of the malcontent.

  “He can’t be trusted. He’ll destroy us all.”

  “Now hold on, Digger,” said another voice from the crowd. “He saved us last night, didn’t he? Why would he do that if he was a griefer?”

  “What are you saying, Mayor? He’s a griefer,” Digger continued. “Don’t you remember him coming to our village and breaking open doors to let the zombies in? They took Planter and his wife, turned them into villager zombies. Don’t you remember him breaking a block to allow the skeletons to shoot my wife full of arrows?” He paused as he became overwhelmed with emotion. “. . . my wife!”

  Digger glared at Gameknight as the memory of that evening started to replay in his mind, the whites of his eyes turning red with rage.

  “I held her in my arms as her HP slowly decayed, her life ebbing away. She was in terrible pain, pierced by at least five or six arrows, but worse than the pain, I think, was the fear of dying, of leaving her family and her village. ‘Take care of our children,’ she whispered to me as I held her in my arms and stroked her hair.” Two young NPCs moved to stand next to Digger, a boy and a girl, both leaning against their father, tears now trickling down their faces. “I told her I’d take care of them and love them enough for the both of us, and you know what she did? She smiled as if my words made the fear of dying go away. And then slowly she disappeared from my arms and from my life, forever.

  “This user, or whatever he is, cannot be trusted; he’s worse than the mobs. At least with the mobs we know what they’ll do and why, but with griefers, you never know what they’ll do. They kill for fun. They destroy out of boredom. They are a menace to all Minecraft worlds, not just on this server plane, but on all planes, all the way to the Source.”

  “Now, Digger, this one is different, see,” the Mayor said sternly. “He proved himself to be our friend last night and we won’t turn him away.” Turning to face Gameknight, he continued, “You are welcome here, friend, and we will offer you any assistance you require. We owe you that for last night.”

  “We’ve never seen the mobs pushed back like last night,” another villager said from somewhere in the crowd.

  “That’s right,” said another. “With that many zombies and skeletons, they would have surely destroyed all of us, like the prophecy predicts.”

  Then one of the villagers gasped as they pointed above Gameknight’s head. Others noticed it as well and gaped, a look of awe and shock painted on their square faces.

  “The thread . . . the thread . . .” they muttered to each other in hushed voices. “The prophecy . . . prophecy . . . prophecy. . .”

  Gameknight looked up to see what they were pointing at but only saw blue sky and blocky white clouds drifting lazily overhead. Looking back at the crowd, he saw looks of awe and fear on some of the NPCs’ faces.

  “What is this prophecy?” Gameknight asked, confused.

  The villagers instantly grew silent, all eyes turned toward Gameknight, then back to the Mayor.

  “What?” Gameknight asked.

  “The prophecy tells us of an impending battle, great enough to wipe out our village,” the Mayor explained, his eyes glancing above Gameknight’s head, then back down to his face.

  “Not just our village,” said a voice from the crowd.

  “The thread . . . the thread . . .” quiet voices muttered.

  “True,” the Mayor continued, his voice loud compared to hush of all the others, “not just our village, but all villages.”

  “All villages . . . why? How is this possible?”

  Gameknight asked.

  “The mobs are multiplying on this server plane, growing their number and their strength,” the Mayor explained. “Soon, they will overwhelm our world and destroy every living thing.”

  “But why?” Gameknight asked, glancing up again. He still didn’t see anything.

  The villagers looked nervously at each other and then back at the Mayor, all of them muttering something under their breaths, their words unrecognizable to Gameknight.

  “What are you saying? What’s really going on here?” he asked the crowd of NPCs.

  Finally, one of the villagers spoke up in a clear voice, his words rising above the rest.

  “The Crafter,” the voice shouted. “He must see the Crafter.”

  “What?” Gameknight said.

  “The Crafter . . . the Crafter . . . the Crafter,” whispered the villagers all at once.

  “Yes, Tracker, I think you are right,” the Mayor said as he stepped closer to Gameknight. “You must see the Crafter.” Looking up, he checked the position of the sun. “Everyone tend to your duties. We still have a lot of sunlight left and much to do before the next attack comes. Now go. I will take this user that doesn’t look like a normal user to see the Crafter.”

  The villagers started to disperse, murmuring to each other as they went.

  “That’s strange,” Gameknight said. “The terrible enderman last night called me something similar. It called me User-that-is-not-a-user, kinda like what you just said. What does it mean?”

  Suddenly, all of the NPCs stopped in their tracks and turned to face Gameknight, complete silence filling the village. A distant mooing and the occasional oink floated on the breeze as the blocky faces stared at him, a look of wonder and fear painted across their boxy faces.

  “The prophecy . . . the prophecy . . . the prophecy . . .” the villagers murmured with voices full of awe yet also filled with terror at the same time, all eyes locked on him.

  “Yes, we must definitely get you to the Crafter,” the Mayor said, a deadly serious tone to his voice. “Come, follow.”

  The Mayor walked off, heading toward the castle-like building with the tall tower that every village seemed to have. Gameknight999 followed, the sound of the villager’s voices echoing in his mind, waves of confusion and fear flowing through his soul.

  CHAPTER 7

  THE CRAFTER

  T

  he Mayor led Gameknight999 to the blocky tower that sat in the middle of the village. It was made of cobblestone, with glass windows spotting every side and a battlement at the top that had rocky crenellations around its perimeter; this was the typical castle-like look to a Minecraft building. On the side of the tower, at ground level, a smaller building was attached. They were the living quarters for those who manned the tower, giving the domicile the look of an L from the side. The Mayor walked up to the tower door and opened it, his purple coat swishing back and forth as he stepped into the room, then waited for Gameknight to follow. Waves of uncertainty and fear crashed against his soul as he took the steps up
into the building.

  “Where are we going?” Gameknight asked.

  “To see the Crafter,” the Mayor answered.

  “He’s in the tower?”

  The Mayor looked at Gameknight and shook his head, answering his question with silence. Once inside, the Mayor closed the door and turned to face him.

  “Take out your pick,” the Mayor commanded.

  “What?

  “Your pick,” the Mayor said, pointing to Gameknight’s empty hands.

  Confused, he reached into his inventory (he still wasn’t sure how he was doing that) and pulled out his iron pickaxe.

  “Now dig, right here,” the Mayor said, gesturing to a specific block on the floor of the building.

  “Dig?”

  “Yes, dig, right here,” the NPC leader reiterated.

  “OK . . .” Gameknight answered, sounding confused.

  He started to dig. Striking at the block, he chipped away at the cobblestone, watching as cracks formed on its face. After four or five blows from his pick, the stone block shattered, but instead of leaving behind a small floating cube of stone, the block disappeared, falling downward, revealing a long vertical tunnel that extended deep underground. There was a ladder on one side with torches dotting the walls, stretching down until out of sight. Gameknight peered into the darkness, then looked back at his companion.

  “Well?” the Mayor asked.

  “Well what?”

  “Are you going down?”

  “To where?” Gameknight answered, now completely confused. “How is this tunnel here? I’ve been through many villages and griefed a lot . . . ahh . . . I mean I’ve dug up . . . ahh . . . I mean I’ve seen lots of villages, but never a passageway underneath any of the buildings.”