#cyrustheslayer

[ambiguouslyliterate-blog]

Respawn Point Ch. 7: A Guide to Totally Legitimate Advertising Practices

“I swear to Notch…” Slenda groaned. She tried to push off the ground, her arms wobbling under her weight. San falling on top of her didn’t make it any easier. My mind hazy from the fall I tried to move, only for a stabbing pain to shoot from my leg. The limb was twisted by the fall, my right ankle bent at an odd angle and a crooked angle broken into my left. Fall damage… I thought to myself.

As my body fell into a helpless, sore lull, my eyes began to roam around the walls of our prison. It was a tall chamber with walls carved from ancient sandstone and the ceiling pouring dust around us in a veil. The walls were lit sparsely with torches and lined with texts in a strange language, likely stolen from a desert temple somewhere just to fit the aesthetic, or maybe it was just conveniently in the ground.

 We’d landed in a small sandy pit in the center, the light from the surface contained in a small square high above our heads. Our captor stood under two torches in front of us, a golden eye glinting softly from under the tip of his hat. He was thin, his body draped in a blue coat that extended his silhouette, his lengthy blonde hair spilling out from under his feathered hat. The thief looked more at place in an opera house than in an underground lair, especially with the black mask that covered his mouth and nose.

“Please..?” VillainFan42’s quivered. Slenda and I sighed. His voice always broke the façade, “I’d appreciate if you could play my game, I could really use the feedback…”

San rose groggily from Slenda’s midsection, her eyes half-lidded as her hands skidded on the piles of sand, her body rolling over Slenda’s like a drunk slime, “Oh, I have some feedback for you… VF, was it?” San grumbled. Waking up just when you can get your two cents in? I thought, scoffing, Where have I seen that before? She clawed at the sand to pull herself forward, “Let’s start with the visual representation.”

The thief stepped back for a moment, his eye moving amongst the features of the room. Begrudgingly, let her continue.

“Great use of pistons for the drop, visually stunning… But the presentation!” She grunted, pulling her jaggedly misshapen legs out from under her so-called friend, “There was no buildup! No foreshadowing or bait, I felt more surprised than anything.”

Well, you were supposedly unconscious at the time. But go on.

“Two out of five.”

The phantom thief gasped, his eye wide. He looked shattered. The thief pulled his cape closer, his strained expression clear even with his mouth covered.

“B- But, it’s a trap! Isn’t it supposed to be unexpected?”

San waggled a finger at VF. I wondered if she remembered we were his captives. Notch, he didn’t seem like he remembered either, “No no no, there’s got to be some theatricality to it. You can’t just pull the rug out from under a group like that. You need to make them afraid, let them doubt their senses, get them really looking over their shoulders! Then, when they’re at they’re most vulnerable, you wait someone to say something like “It was probably nothing” or “What’s the worst that could happen?” and WHAM!! That’s when you do it.” The thief shifted himself, turning his body just enough to face away from us. He placed a hand on his chin, tapping as he thought to himself. His hand drifted, pulling nervously at his mask. A single eye darted to us and his whole body flinched in response, almost as if he’d forgotten the three of us were laying broken in a heap on his floor.

“O- Okay, that makes sense… But wasn’t it cool when I stole all your equipment and items…?” He muttered in a quiet voice. My arm flinched, my palm patting an empty pocket. Slenda’s eyes grew wide as she reached into the collar of her sweater, her hands grabbing at air as she grew frantic. San nodded, her lower lip out. She stroked her chin, admiring the new facet of our situation.

I slammed my fist in the sand, glaring at VF, “What the Nether did you do to all our potions?! And my pickaxe!”

VF pulled at his cape in an attempt to throw his silhouette, but it just flapped feebly, the thief sighing as it fell at his side. Grumbling, he put out an arm, a ghostly mist curling up from his sleeve. The mist stretched, wisps sharpening into the form of fingers. It was more like a claw then a hand, but it moved fluidly and naturally through the air as if it was a part of him. Like an animal’s tail. He let a miniaturized pickaxe fall from his sleeve, the phantom hand catching it.

“This is my mod.” He said simply, “It’s like a… A ghost hand. It’s kinda useful.” His voice was still low. The situation began to set in, He’s definitely a threat… Not just an RPer or nerd, he’s a real modder, I thought, muscles in my stomach tightening, Though, he really does need to work on his presentation.

Slenda snapped at him, demanding our items back, but he only continued to mutter quietly about his trap, ignoring her. Honestly it was hard to tell whether he was talking to us or the floor, “I’ll try to do better next time. This went way better than my last trap though. I sealed these two adventurers in a tank of rising water where they couldn’t use their weapons--only one of them could swim—I thought it was pretty daring, but afterwards they said it was just so-so… I’m optimistic about my next one at least.”

I sighed loudly, realizing we’d returned to the trap workshop. I looked at Slenda. She was fuming, protesting sternly to a deaf audience. San and VF were too busy discussing traps.

“Yeah, that’d be an automatic zero out of five for me.” San said, laying her head on her shoulder, a confident smirk trying to mask the pain in her legs, “Too much water.”

The thief nodded thoughtfully and thanked San, the creeper girl making a short bow. Slenda coughed, calling VF’s attention. He looked at her in started confusion for a few moments before his eye lit up, his body swinging around.

“Oh! Crapbaskets, I almost forgot!”

VillainFan pressed a button on the wall behind him, the sand around us spilling and shaking as machines moved out of sight. Slenda glanced around nervously, trying to right herself on broken legs so she could run. San beamed, scanning the room, absolutely delighted at the new addition. Before we could run or even know what we were running from, a ring of iron bars rose up from the ground around us, three blocks high on all sides, sealing us in.

Our captor stood before us with a sinister pride, knowing we could do little to escape. I thought of mining my way out, but the emptiness of my pocket struck me suddenly, my heart sinking. Before we could have just broken through and limped away, mined our way out of the underground, but now…

“This isn’t half bad!” San cheered, knocking on the bars. I swear I could see VF blush.

The thief hit another button in the wall that was next to the other one, this one causing the wall behind him to open up, a door-sized chunk of the wall recessing into the sandstone around it. How long was he putting this together?? I questioned, This place is a fully functioning secret base!

The thief turned, his ghostly hand extending from his body, twisting off his shoulder, tossing the pickaxe he’d stolen at the floor so that it planted firmly in the ground. His body began to disappear in the darkness of the doorway, the light of the connected room blotted out. He cast a golden eye over his shoulder.

“No mercy, eh?” San asked, smirking.

VF chuckled, taking a long stride through the door and throwing up the end of his coat so that it flapped dramatically behind him. Crap. It actually worked this time.

“Mercy is for wimps.”

The door slammed, leaving us in the amber darkness of dim torches, the walls flickering, claustrophobic. There was an authentic pressure as he left. I started to feel unsure as I stared around at the walls, my mind pushing escape scenarios that I knew wouldn’t work. I began to doubt that we would ever leave.

“Well, at least he left us alone, maybe he’s not that smart after all…” Slenda said weakly, pulling herself across the mound she laid on, sand spilling around her in small clouds. San shrugged, “I dunno, I thought he was pretty cool at the end there.”

The blocks in the wall moved suddenly, the shape of a hat and a single eye poking around the corner.

“R- Really?” Our captor asked nervously.

Slenda stared, bemused. Her cuddle buddy flashed VF a thumbs-up and he disappeared back around the corner. Slenda’s head fell into her open hands, “We’re being held captive by a loser…”

We surveyed the cage, finding it without cracks or openings, the iron bars freshly made. It would take a while to punch through them… But it should still be possible. I propped myself up against the wall and delivered and swung my first hard at the bars, only for it to softly bounce off, almost like there was a thick padding around the bar. I tried to grip the steel only for my fingers to freeze a pixel away from it, unable to make true contact.

“What the…?”

“Aaand he has a command block active,” Slenda groaned, “Fantastic.”

I stared at the bars, imagining the protective field around them. Command blocks were a thing I’d only heard of, before now. They worked like admin commands, but were on all the time and anchored to a block. Like tiny robotic gods you could keep hidden in the floor. They could teleport large groups of people, give anyone within their field of influence items, and, unfortunately for us, make blocks in their vicinity unbreakable.

San reclined against the bars, “Dang, that ghost boy really turned this whole thing around, didn’t he? I can dig it.”

“Ugh, we could always kill each other. Whoever gets hit will go back to the Sandy Speakeasy and can come rescue the rest of us.” Slenda posited. I shivered.

"Not... A great option?" I squeaked, Slenda rolling her eyes.

I sighed, my mind beginning to skim through scenarios, flipping swiftly through plans and discarding them just as quick, my body sinking into the corner made by two bars. Can’t dig under, can’t climb over, can’t go through… Would rather not die. It was hard to find a truly practical option. I went back to the desert, retracing our encounters, trying to think of what mod I had. Nope… I thought, blowing out a disheartened puff of air, Dusty’s drinks. Not exactly useful here.

Pulling myself vertically along the bars, I got myself back to a sitting position, holding out my hand. I focused, a shiver running through my arm. “That’s right, you still have Dustin’s mod. At least we’ll be able to heal this stupid fall damage.” Slenda smiled weakly. Her eyes were unmoving. “Drinks!!” San cheered, throwing her arms up.

Smoke poured down my sleeve and into my hand. Is it for the glass? I thought, my head tilting. It spun into a round shape, sticking to the inside of my hand but never fully taking shape. The smoke stayed wispy, ghostly.  Slenda’s face lit up.

“Cyrus..!”

I turned over my hand, the mist flowing around, following it like a shadow. It began to peel away, taking its own shape. The shape of a hand.

“You don’t have Dusty’s mod anymore. You have VF’s.”

The realization was immediate and electric, as was the smile sparking across my face. My eyes tagged the space on the wall where the phantom thief had vanished, the buttons sat less than a block away. I looked at the ghostly claw shifting gently in my sleeve, tugged at by the air.

With as much dramatic flair as I could muster I threw my arm between two bars, towards the cage button, casting the ghost hand towards it like a hook. The hand flew over to the button, pausing in the air just in front of it and pressing it with an extended index finger, the bars around us beginning to sink into the sand as pistons chugged along in the walls. Adrenaline was flowing through me, my hand clenched in a confident ball, but our escape wasn’t over yet. And our legs were still broken. My eyes flashed to the pickaxe on the floor, then to San. Without words, we set a plan into motion.

Slenda pulled the pickaxe from the floor and San pushed herself up against the wall, crouching just under the buttons. I crawled up next to her, joining my crippled crew. Quick taps of boots on sandstone echoed from the other side of the wall as the thief came to investigate the source of the mechanical noises, mumbling nervously to himself as he went. Inside of a second, the blocks retracted into the wall, VF stepped out, and Slenda swung her pickaxe at his legs, the blade hooking his leg below the knee and sending him to the sandstone where San pinned him, throwing her body on top of his like a playful dogpile.

Like a reflex, his phantom hand leapt from the collar of his coat, sailing for Slenda’s throat. I cast mine out at the same time, my phantom limb snaring his, sending the two tumbling to the ground where they intertwined, both of their forms becoming confused and inert as their masses dissipated into each other. Neither of them were completely physical, but they seemed to be able to subdue each other. I wasn’t quite sure how it worked, but it was good enough for me. Slenda rifled through the thief’s pockets, tossing us morsels of food as she restored her own inventory. The food tasted like sand, but my bones didn’t care. They snapped back into place, healing as good as new, my stomach and health both topped off. VF huffed impatiently.

“How was I supposed to know you could copy mods…?” He griped, “Doesn’t this break the whole foreshadowing rule, San?”

The creeper girl put a finger to her chin, considering it, but Slenda delivered a swift kick to the thief’s side and reminded San not to listen to our captive. The creeper girl shrugged it off, her body falling limp and heavy on the thief once more. As feeling returned to my legs, I stood and stretched, craning my neck into the sandstone doorway. There was light on the other side, and I could see the edge of a chest. VF uttered muffled protests, but with our phantom arms wrestling in the sand, he couldn’t stop me from entering his sanctum.

I stepped out of a raucous hostage situation and into a quiet study. The room was made of sandstone blocks as well, but had walls checkered with orange wool and decorated with frames. Each frame held a small item or tool, most of which were completely alien to our world. A collection of stolen mods. At the end of the room was a command block with a lever atop it, and behind it a ladder that was enveloped in the orange light of the afternoon above. But something else caught my eye.

On a nearby table was another strange, likely modded, device; a box-shaped contraption with a glass lens on the front and a lamp on top. Near it was a frame, likely where VF was about to store it, and a pile of pictures printed on clean white paper. They were clear as if you had seen them with your own eyes, but didn’t seem painted or made by hand in any way. The picture on the top of the pile interested me the most… Because Slenda and Roxxie were both in it. With two others.

"Aren't these weird?" Slenda asked, pulling one off the wall. A few were pinned to the wall with swords and daggers, most depicting interesting locations like ruins or other players’ creations. I tapped my finger against the one with Slenda and Roxxie and her eyes drifted to it, resting on it for a few moments before exploding open. She clawed the photo from the desk, holding it close to her face.

“How did… He get this picture?” She searched the desk for more pictures she recognized, seemingly finding several, her heart practically jumping through her sweater. She lifted up the boxy device likely responsible for the images, turning it over in her hands, “And Penelope’s camera!”

The sound of dragging cloth came from the hall as San stepped in, holding VF by his collar. Apparently San had gotten bored of holding him while we advanced the plot. She didn’t have to do much work to hold him though. No wispy hand extended from his cloak and the shine in his golden eyes was replaced by a half-lidded malaise as he waited for his bad day to end. He looked completely defeated.

“Please don’t be so rough… I’m not wearing any armor, so my health is pretty--”

He looked up at Slenda, then the camera in her hands. His golden eye shined as his face contorted under his mask. I was expecting a yell, a scream, but he only spoke in his same frail voice. “H- Hey! P- Please put that back where you found it..! It’s mine.”

Slenda scowled at him, wrapping the device tightly in her arms. He tried to get to his feet and jump towards her but San knocked him onto the sandstone floor and promptly sat on him. A dry gust of air was shoved from his lungs, his arms falling flat on the floor. I knew how much she weighed… He wasn’t getting up anytime soon.

“You stole this from my friend, I’m taking it back.” Slenda growled, cramming the camera into her inventory.

“That’s fair…” The thief sighed into the stone. Honestly, I felt kinda bad for him. I stepped forward, hands on my hips. “Come on, dude,” I urged, “You’re a desert thief! You say something cooler than that!”

“G- Give that back… Darn it!” He cursed quietly. San looked at me, an uneasy smile on her face. She moved off of him slightly, now just holding him down with her arm. “I’ll settle for split custody… I follow you guys to Giant’s Way, we trade it back and forth. I just like it ‘cause it looks cool…”

Slenda stepped forward, a suspicious twitch in her eye, "How did you know we were going to Giant's Way?" She questioned.

"I was there in the bar." Phantom leered back at her, "How do you think I was able to set up this trap? I mean, if you guys wandered a different direction I'd be--"

San’s eyes lit up, her hand leaving his back entirely. It was strange but, rather than terrified or bemused of the masked dork, I was honestly impressed. I mean, of his trap making abilities of course, not of his combat skills, theatrics, or social skills or… Well you get the idea.

I let out a “Wow” without even thinking. Slenda leered at me.

“You built this all overnight?!” San gleamed. Slenda’s face remained stone, “That’s incredible!! You should join our crew! We’re gonna have to fight this really powerful modder who beat up my girlfriend and got her kicked out of our server. You even know the area so you’d be great for the job!!”

“Really?” VF asked, his voice breathless but filled with enthusiasm.

“No.” Slenda countered, squinting at the pair, "I know Roxxane probably just seems like a monster to you... Or maybe even less... But she's my friend," Slenda gazed into the photo, scanning the image, “And we’re going to try diplomacy first. I don’t intend on dropping her down some sandy death pit… Or blowing her up. And I doubly don’t intend on taking someone who just tried to leave us for dead along for the ride.”

San looked up at her cuddle buddy with puppy dog eyes. The soft eyes behind Slenda’s cracked lenses faltered for a moment, but as her fingers traced the photo her eyes once again became cold, hard pearls. She put the picture in the neck of her sweater, depositing it in her inventory. I put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched at first, glaring at me, but her eyes quickly softened. Crouching next to VF, I took a deep breath.

“Do you guys actually want to take me along?” VF asked, his voice pricked with genuine excitement, but dripping with anxiety. I looked at Slenda, who squinted at me. I knew it looked bad, but San was right… At least partially.

“It’d be kinda hard to take you on considering only one of our members actually trusts you...” I sighed, scratching my head, “But I’d be lying if I said you wouldn’t be useful.”

Even if he couldn’t be an ally, he could be our guide. Slenda scoffed, her feet scratching the sandstone. I didn’t look at her. “She won’t let us bring you along, but do you have any information that could help us? Or anything we can use to our advantage? I’d appreciate it at the very least.”

The thief brought himself to his knees, dusting the sand off his pants and coat.

“I have friends in the next server, I could let them know you’re coming and they could help you out. Give you supplies or help you if things get ugly.”

I nodded, clapping a hand against the thief’s back. A cloud of sand sprayed from his mask. He groaned, but continued. His tone was bright, he sounded excited to help out even if he was more of a hostage than anything.

“There’s also a pool of lava beneath Giant’s Way. A huge one. So try to avoid that… And um, there’s a shrine to Herobrine in the center. I know some modders believe in that stuff, so she might be there. It’s in the middle of the big temple part. Can’t miss it.” A breath left the thief as his chest came against the tops of his legs, his body curling up. At least we don’t have to restrain him. It looked like we’d be able to walk out of here without much problem.

I looked at Slenda, thinking about the pictures she so quickly sealed away. The people she was hiding. There was a man and a woman, both around her age, though the man stood behind them all. He had a powerful air about them. Slenda and the others were all smiling, holding each other. It looks like one of the few happy memories Slenda has. How come she’s hiding it from us? I didn’t want our group to have any more secrets, not after the whole San incident, but now didn’t seem like the time to ask. I rose to my feet, a hand on my hip. “Sorry for making this brief VF, but it looks like we’re gonna have to go. Can’t keep Roxxie waiting.”

“O- Okay...” He sighed, “I’m gonna take a nap.” Too bad he wasn’t coming with us. Honestly, looking at his beat-up form curled up on the sandstone floor, hearing his tired voice croak in his chest, I couldn’t relate to anyone more. Just another dork wearing a coat too big in the heat, beat up and given up on looking cool. Oh well… I thought, Maybe next time, when we meet outside of a trap. Maybe we’ll even get along.

“Well enjoy your nap my dude!” San grinned, “We’ll be seeing you!” She delivered a hearty pat to the thief’s back, which apparently took the last of his health.

With a guttural oof, VillainFan42 vanished, leaving only a cloud of smoke and some scattered belongings. The three of us looked at each other for a moment, each face as baffled as the last. San pulled her lips between her teeth. I couldn’t tell if she was cringing in guilt or trying to hold back a laugh. After a few seconds, her hands clapped together. She pointed them towards the ladder

“So uh, Giant’s Way then?” she asked the two of us. We nodded. “Giant’s Way.”

[ambiguouslyliterate-blog]

Respawn Point Ch. 2: The Power of Anime

We came to a wide stone wall. It was both the first monument to civilization I'd seen in a month, and one of the biggest stone structures I’d ever seen. Where the forest parted, I could see the wall's length extending infinitely either way into the forest. Pink wool fell in fluffy tapestries from the top of the wall, shreds of its bright color falling loose and trailing across the gravel road like leaves. Just beyond the wall you could see the tops of castles, not like the stone and brick castles in parts of my old server, but ornate buildings with rooftops curved and plated like the backs of dragons, peaking in triangular green and mahogany arches. My feet moved on their own, pulling us towards the structures. San snored on my back, still conveniently unconscious. I wondered when--or if--she’d wake up; whether I’d have to carry her to her home in the server or whether I’d be able to put her down and walk. But it wouldn’t matter.

We had encountered mobs on the journey there, but for some reason I couldn't spawn my drills. I chalked it up to exhaustion, or at least something like that. Maybe I copied San's hunger, I thought. Though, I had to wonder if San was a mod user herself... If I'd maybe copied something I couldn't use.

Copying mods happened by touch, and happened automatically. I... Didn't actually have any control over it. Call it my weakness. Take the drills for example. I copied them from a griefer who had been attacking my server--or, my ex-server I guess--but I had to touch them or at least make some kind of contact, so... Basically for my power to work, I need to be punched in the face. Not a great mod in my opinion, but it's what I had to work with. At the very least, I wouldn’t have to worry about it here. I just had to get through those gates and--

"STOP!"

"YAMERO!"

Two voices split the cool serenity of the woods, the rustle of leaves falling silent, hushed by their commanding tones. The guards strode forward, stepping in sync as their feet crunched the gravel beneath them, their faces coming into view.

One wore a black jacket that flowed around him almost like a cape, his long black hair falling back from his face in jagged shards. As he neared however, my intimidation began to melt into bemusement. He had belts EVERYWHERE. Two crammed into the loops of his pants, several wrapped around his arm, and two in an X across his chest, almost like the straps for a sword sheathe. But they weren’t holding anything. In fact, they all appeared to be completely pointless. As were the two belts on his left leg and the leather wristbands that poked out from his sleeves. He was the peak of superfluous; the fashion polices’ most wanted.

"State your username and your business here, normie." Belts glared, his foot planted dramatically in the gravel.

"Cyrustheslayer." I spoke quietly, trying to keep my voice calm. What in the Nether is a normie? I asked to myself, somehow split equally between fear of authority and baffled glee. I realized quickly that I was over my head.

"I have this girl, I think she's one of you guys?"

"HOSUTESU!" The other guard cried, reaching for a sword from her side. I flinched back, clutching San tightly. The guard drew closer, barking at me in a language I’d never heard before. My lips searched for a response, but there was nothing I could really say. I squeezed San’s legs, hoping this didn’t go the way I figured it would go. The way it always goes with modders.

The girl had long pale-green hair tied in a frayed ponytail, her bangs splayed in front of her eyes. A necklace of large purple beads hung around her neck, dangling about the sandy tunic she wore. She carried a bundle of blades at her side; 3, 5, no, 7-- Swords spilled out of the sash she wore around her midsection, at least ten of them sitting in their sheathes, hanging in the tight fabric. Two more swords were mounted on her back, my mind spinning as I tried to count them all. She pulled the two blades from their sheathes, one in each hand. Her eyes were piercing, merciless.

"You're right, Zolo," The guard with the ridiculous belts bellowed, "This looks like a hostage situation."

Excuse me?! I looked to the unconscious girl on my back, then to Zolo and the belt man standing on the path in front of me, each taking up their own battle stance. I hiked San upwards on my back, my feet moving almost automatically backwards. I glared at San as I tried to shake her awake.

"I- I think there's been some kind of mistake, I found this girl in the woods, I'm trying to take her back to her server."

Belts glared at me, his hands glowing with an ominous light. "Why don't we hear that from her, then?" He questioned, stabbing a finger at the air between us. From where I was standing, I was just a skinny loser in an oversized coat who wore scarves in overly-warm weather-- probably the least intimidating, least threatening person you could encounter. What harm could I do? Well, I did impale a stranger with a magic drill… but that’s beside the point! I began to sweat, nudging San as I stepped lightly away from them. She still didn’t seem to want to wake up. I swallowed, speaking quietly.

"Well, she’s unconscious because she uh... Lost a lot of blood when I stabbed her."

The two stepped forward. I looked anxiously at the swordswoman's abundance of swords. The ornateness of their sheathes, the sheer amount she was carrying, I knew they had to be a mod. A strange confidence burned in the back of my mind. Maybe I could copy them. Use them against her. As I struggled to strategize however, doubts began to consume my mind. Would I even be able to touch her swords without getting impaled on them? While carrying a girl on my back? And that’s only if my mod worked the way I thought it did. It didn’t exactly come with an instruction booklet. But just then, the swordswoman stepped forward, bringing her sword level with my nose. I pushed forward slightly, hoping to nudge it, but missed. The swordswoman looked confused, but dove forward, swinging her swords at me with swift, deadly accuracy.

"Please, I don't want any trouble--" I shook, lowering San for a moment. The swordswoman must have thought I was going to drop her and run because she dashed forward, swords slicing through the air. I fell back trying to dodge it, a stinging pain lashing my chest as the steel tore my flesh. I grit my teeth, San falling to the gravel behind me as I spilled onto the ground, the gravel scratching my hands. 

The woman spun a sword around her palm as if testing her own dexterity, squinting at me. She replaced her other sword, removing a new one that was untainted by my blood. Pain gripping my chest as my shoulders pivoted, I tried to rise lifting San over my shoulders in a fireman’s carry, holding my hand out in front of me. It took getting sliced by her katana... But I had it. Air swirled around my hand and energy flowed through my body and into my wrist, warming it. I felt solid matter push against the inside of my palm as the sword manifested. The swordswoman saw what was happening and rushed forward, only for a perfect copy of her katana to appear between us, blocking her blow.. The steely blade bit rang like a bell as it collided with her sword, my blade knocked from my hand, both of us thrown off our balance.

"K- kushō--!"

She swung another blade at me, trying to straighten herself, her body moving just as fast as before, if not faster. I moved my arm just in time, blocking the blow with another new blade, the edge cracking and its tip flying off behind her. Her eyes flashed, her hands grabbing for the next pair of swords. Teeth gritted and her face strained, she seemed more frustrated than defensive, angrier with herself than she was with me. Instinctively, I pushed my sword arm forward, the arc catching the side of her head just as her blade came against my cheek. Energy seemed to swell around the sword, bursting as I thrust it forward and sending a shock through the air. The blow threw her body into the dirt beside the gravel path, the swordswoman grunting as she collided with the ground. I spun the sword in my hand, (nearly dropping it) trying my best to look suave and powerful as I hoist San farther up on my back.

“Seriously, I’m not here to hurt anyone!” I cried, trying to argue my innocence while standing over someone I’d bludgeoned, “Can’t we just act like civilized players and talk this out?”

The belt boy stepped forward, putting a hand in front of his face, fingers spread, his other limbs thrown out in a bizarre stance. "I am Jortaro..." He shouted, his outstretched hands forming fists that glowed with a red fire. Jortaro pinned me with a dark glare. His hands flashed, becoming a pair of glowing red boxing gloves with golden spiked knuckles, "And in the name of anime,” He said, thrusting a fist forward in a menacing pose, “I will punish you!"

Jortaro shot towards me, his fist sailing past my head like an assassin’s arrow, air rushing past me as atmosphere rushing past me to fill the vacuum left by the attack. There was more power in his arm than anything I’d ever experienced, mod or otherwise, but he seemed to be flailing around wildly, his fists exploding in every direction as he shouted “ORA ORA  ORA ORA!!” into my face. I spawned two swords from my hands, Zolo’s swords, formed like an X to block the impact. Before he threw out his next punch, I swung one of the katanas, the blade gliding through the weeb’s arm the same way it sailed through the air. Almost no resistance. They were more than just normal iron swords. A stream of red shot across my vision as I severed the weeb’s right hand at the wrist, his red-spraying boxing glove flying into the dirt beside us. Jortaro staggered back, grabbing his reduced appendage.

“N- No! I’ve been-- Non-fatally wounded! Wh- What if I bleed out!”

And yet, the guard was smiling, his staggering labored and dramatic. Was he really joking around while he had a hand missing? DO WEEBS EVEN FEEL PAIN?! With his boxing glove still on, he tightened the notches in the belts on his right arm, stopping the blood flow and preventing any further blood loss.. “HA! As if an honorable weeb would die in such a manner.”

“DOES ANYONE BUT ME FEEL PAIN?!” I wailed. Belts scoffed at me.

The weeb grimmaced at me, his eyes burning with homicidal intent, “You’ll never understand anime. No outsiders will”

He threw out his left fist, the X-shaped swords two narrow to block the impact, the punch colliding with my stomach with tremendous power. My feet skidded across the gravel as I struggled to keep my balance, the reverberating force of his attack sending dull aches through my body. In addition, my counter-balance was slumping. San was falling down my back.

As Jortaro prepared for his next assault, metallic clicks sounded from behind me as the swordswoman staggered to her feet, pulling four swords out of their sheathes. Her head was still bleeding from my drill’s impact, but her eyes were straight, sharper than ever. She held two swords in her mouth and two in her hands, dropping two swords so that they fell on her sandals between her toes. In a way she was the most ridiculous and most terrifying thing I’d ever seen. A weeb’s maximum potential. I thought I saw something behind her, a shadow of something. In that moment, I thought it was part of her. A dark entity, like Herobrine but cast in a smoky form of purple and black. It was only then, as terror crawled under the surface of my skin like insects and the cold miasma behind her stared into me that I realized…

There was no way I could fight my way out of this…

“Omae wa mou shindeiru…”

I was already dead.

With a dual scream of battle, two gatekeepers dove towards us, a shrill metallic sound filling the air behind me and a flurry of fists filling my sight. My arms stuck out in front of me, guarding my front out of instinct, failing to do anything to guard my back. I hoped that San would be safe since she was from this server, that maybe she’d even be a good shield, but I didn’t know that for sure. Maybe they were willing to kill her, given she’d just respawn there anyway. I clasped my eyes tightly shut, my arms tightened, followed every other muscle in my body. My entire being felt like a brittle stone lined with cracks. I waited for the attack, waited for a scream of pain or an instinct to dodge. Waiting to shatter. But suddenly--

"TP SLEEPINGSW0RDZ0L0 AND「JORTAROKUJORT」 TO ME"

A voice shattered the sky, silencing the swords, the wind, the leaves, my heart-- everything. It spoke with a roaring, furious authority, like the cry of a mother bear. It spoke above everything, the command seemingly stealing the breath from the air. Some time passed with my eyes clamped shut, too shaken by the words to understand them fully. It was only after I pried them open to see the empty ground on either side of me that I realized it was an admin command. Words, like a spell, given to only the most powerful figure in a server. Words that had wrested the two gatekeepers from the air. My legs felt shaky, unstable as I pivoted around, searching for the source of the voice.

I looked up the path, immediately stunned. The purple shadow I had seen behind Zolo, the dark miasma, was actually a person. She had glowing purple eyes and wearing a heavy purple sweater, eyes glinting behind a pair of round glasses, her face hidden in a cloud of dark brown hair. Both of the gatekeepers were slumped at her sides, fidgeting as she held them by their collars like disobedient children.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, my mind raced to prepare an apology, hundreds of escape routes and pleas clouding my mind, my legs wobbling. I tried to choke out an apology without my mind made up, garbled parts of words fruitlessly spilling out. The purple glow began to dissipate, but the admin’s eyes still burned with impatience. Words, Cyrus, words!

“S- so, I know what you may be thinking--”

I was knocked over by an unknown force, falling forward into the gravel.

"Slenda!!”

Chalky white dust engulfed my vision and I struggled to pull my head up, only to see San--incredibly conscious-- dashing towards the admin. I gritted my teeth, trying to reconcile that she was shaken awake by the battle, or maybe she just happened to wake from her slumber by some sort of coincidence. But nothing seemed to justify it. I coughed up dust, looking down the path, unamused. The admin recoiled, dropping the two gatekeepers as the creeper girl dove into her, wrapping her arms around her as the two crashed to the gravel path, San laughing gleefully as they did.

A shadow stretched over me as I rose to a sitting position. I turned, hands curled into unintimidating, bony fists, only to see a smiling girl bent over me, her hand extended. She wore a leather jacket over a pine green hoodie, her hair a burnt shade of brown, as dark as the leather, dangling from the sides of her face and tied in a dry ponytail behind her head. Her skin was darker than mine, an oak to my acacia, her lips full and pulled into a hospitable smile. Her eyes burned with smoke and embers.

“Sorry about that,” She sighed, lifting me to my feet, “I’m Roxxie, one of the operators here. I hope San didn’t cause you any trouble.”

“Well…”

“What in the Nether are you both doing?!” The admin boomed, knuckles white at her sides. Roxxie and I turned to watch her, “You two were so reckless, you could have hurt San, you know that she can’t--!”

The admin, Slenda, caught sight of me and immediately clasped her lips. She gave me a snide, secretive look before looking back to her subordinates and barking further condemnations at them. Her voice was jagged now, cracks of anger and exasperation evident. She was less the roaring bear I had heard calling out the admin command and more of a yelping dog. Though an admin didn’t have to be especially imposing to be scary to me. Just having the commands was enough.

“Like killing San would be a huge loss,” Jortaro scoffed, just loud enough for me to hear him, “We’d only be losing the griefer who tries to blow up the server every other week.”

Zolo nodded weakly in agreement, though she seemed to be hiding her expression from the admin. Slenda gave him a look of death, clutching the creeper girl close to her. San didn’t seem phased though. And, if I’m gonna be honest, I don’t think she can be.

“Come on, let’s go,” Slenda ordered, tugging San through the gates, “You’re gonna open up a fresh bottle of sake and mellow out with me.” San stuck her tongue out, saluting Slenda.

San looked over her shoulder, waving at me as she left down a fork in the gravel path. You’re welcome. I chuckled, waving back. Slenda gave her operator a signal, Roxxie nodding and motioning for me to follow her as San and Slenda vanished in the server’s buildings. Roxxie patted me on the back of the shoulder, nudging me away through the gates and past the glares of the two gatekeepers. Even though I was welcomed by their superiors, there still seemed to be something seething in them. More than just defeat.

“San and Slenda are… A pair.” The operator smiled, her dark brown eyes flickering with embarrassment, “Slenda’s been cleaning up after San’s messes ever since we found her. I can only hope she didn’t trouble you too much.”

“Found?” I asked, trying to avoid getting into me and San’s scuff.

Roxxie shook her head. “Funny enough, Slenda stumbled upon her in the forest one day. Wandering around, half naked. She was hissing at players, animals and, uh… Trees.” She giggled, looking nostalgically down the road. That sounds about right, I shook my head, At least she’s consistently insane.

"You have such a cool mod!” She cheered, looking down at my arms, her eyes blazing, "So you were probably a dungeon crawler in your old server right? Or some kinda PvP master? Girlfriend probably thought you were pretty cool…"

I hesitated, my face hot.

I looked down at my hand, a smile creeping onto my face. My mod was almost like an old friend now, even though I’d only had it for about a month. Sure it was an old friend that magically transformed into a drill and sometimes swords that I used to kill zombies, but then again those are the best kind, right? I remembered the first fight I used it, in the fight that got me kicked out of my server-- the fight with the griefer. I thought of the fights with mobs, endermen, spiders, zombies, all things which I had been terrified of all falling easily to my new weapon. And then there was San. The only conflict I didn’t I didn’t plan for, but the only one with a real positive result. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

"I wasn't good at much before the mod honestly," I said, shrugging, "Just hung around in the spawn town library. But now I guess it’s good at getting me friends."

"Or getting you into trouble,” Roxxie smiled, holding up a hand. She was more than right, though the line struck me as odd. She only knew about the fight I got in with the operators… Right? Not my old server? A stream of thin smoke, soon lit by a feathery wisp of flame drifted upwards from her sleeve, snaking around her wrist and sitting in her hand, “You’d think I’d be doing a lot more with this fire mod I have, but all I used it for in my old server was griefing and pranks. And uh, they weren’t very good pranks.”

Roxxie giggled as she spun on her heel and continued down the path in front of us, her feet clapping up the gravel beneath. Weebs stared out at us from the alleyways beside the path. There was something dutiful in their expressions. Something defensive. An occasional child would run out in front of us, yelling something like “KAWAII” or “DOKI DOKI” before sailing back into the crowds. Some weebs fought with swords in the clearings behind buildings. It seemed that conflict was a weeb’s natural state.

A smile crept onto my face as I watched two weebs run across a nearby rooftop, arms flapping dramatically behind them. Seeing insane sights and characters like this, I remembered what I liked about big servers like this, and I guess the world of Minecraft in general; everything around you is a part of someone’s imagination. Every ornate rooftop, every ridiculous weapon, all of the strange styles and languages, they were all something that started in someone’s imagination. Something that someone believed in. Even the mods, though no one was truly sure where they come from, seemed to come from our dreams, our wishes. I still remembered dreaming of mine, swimming in the darkness of my mind, a voice offering from the void. I looked down at my hand, remembering when I planned for this to be my saving grace, the power that would make me a hero. It was only just starting to do me good.

"Don't be afraid to use that here by the way," Roxxie said, an odd sweetness in her voice, "We could use someone to set some players straight here. Especially someone new."

Though we had mostly walked through grey, blocky buildings up until this point, the spawn area was filled with the ornate castles and towers I’d seen from the outside wall, the weeb citadel finally meeting my expectations. I could see the pink woolen clouds that surrounded the city more clearly now, that I had just barely seeing poking over the walls. They weren’t wool however. They were trees. Modded trees known as cherry blossoms. In the exact center of the server was a creeper statue, its head topped with long blue hair. I may never understand weebs, I thought, looking up at the blue-haired effigy, but if they can make something like this, they couldn’t be all bad.

A laugh sprung from my cheek, the image of me as some kind of cop or peacekeeper more ludicrous than anything, even the weebs. A Cyrus dawning huge shoulder pads and shades stood in my mind's eye, a picture frame in hand. DON'T MAKE ME USE THIS. He boomed, glaring at the masses.

"I can hardly regulate myself. Heck, I'm only here because I accidentally ran through one of your players. I'm going to spend most of my time here mod-free if that's alright with you."

Her face turned cold for a moment, eyes falling unamused and her mouth flat, "That's fine." She flashed a thumbs-up paired with a grin, "You don’t have to be a part of it if you don’t want to. I understand how people from Vanillakings are, I know a few.”

Her words fell like a slop of snow off a rooftop; slow, quiet, but landing with a cold, sharp thud. So she did know me. I never mentioned I was from Vanillakings. I’d avoided mentioning the name before now just for the sake of leaving anew. For a fresh start. But she knew where I came from. We walked forward in silence for a few moments, the sun peeking through the breaks in-between buildings as we walked into the square.

The operator showed me to an empty room where I could stay while in the server. I hadn’t thought about it in earnest before that point, but looking down at the soft linens on the bed and the warm glow of the room’s redstone lantern, I realized how much I just wanted a home. There was something I still couldn’t shake about the server, how Roxxie seemed to know me, and how the guards seemed to act towards their leader, but as the soft linen of my mattress filled my view, all seemed to drift away. I’ll get the answers I needed in the morning.