Chapter Text
WEMMBU POV
“Y’know, Wemmbu, it's been a while since we’ve been face to face like this,” Flame commented, gesturing toward the demon on the other side of the arena. “Lowkey got me feeling nostalgic.”
“Yeah, it has,” Wemmbu responded, keeping his words short. He didn’t meet the netherborn's eyes, seemingly looking past him rather than at him.
Flame lunged forward, initiating the fight. Sword in his hands, he crouched then swung upward, targeting Wemmbu's face. Fortunately, after having fought Flame for so many years, the purple man leaned back and threw a wind charge to launch himself high, drawing out his mace. However, noticing Flamefrags putting up his shield, the demon quickly switched to an axe and whipped it down hard.
“Agh!” Flame groaned, feeling the shield fall. He narrowed his eyes at Wemmbu, pulling out a rail.
“You really gonna kart me?” the demon asked, his voice dead, wanting this battle to end quickly.
“Watch me.” The netherborn placed a minecart and lit it with a fire arrow, almost popping Wemmbu.
The two of them continued like this a little longer, exchanging hits. Wemmbu would mace Flame, then Flame would get a combo on him right after. It was an even match, and clearly going to take longer than either expected.
I don’t want to do this.
A voice began to scream from the back of his mind, pleading with every hit.
Please.
Fatigue weighed on his body, overwhelming his mind. He was so tired, so incredibly tired. Battle after battle, mission after mission, with barely any breaks in between. The man had never wanted this fight, or any more for that matter. He had only agreed to Flame's request to prevent being nagged about it for the rest of the day, praying it would be fast.
The fight pressed on, Flame relentlessly parrying Wemmbu's attacks, now having learned to place webs around him to counter his mace.
Switching to his sword, it soon became apparent to his rival that something was off. Wemmbu's movements began to slow. Moving more sluggish with every strike, the man was practically dragging his feet behind him. Flamefrags gave him a puzzled look, questioning the changes.
“Bro, what the hell are you doing?!” Flame yelled, creating space between them. “Why’re you fighting like this?!”
“I got no idea what you're talking about, bro. I’m fighting just like you asked,” the demon huffed, closing the gap.
Flame continued to retreat, pulling out a golden apple. “You call what you're doing fighting?”
Wemmbu raised his head, finally locking eyes with the fireborn. His eyes were in a daze, glossy and unfocused. Yet, he still raised his sword, about to continue fighting.
“What the fuck?” An unapologetic voice boomed through the arena. “Nah, that is the FARTHEST thing from fighting, bro.”
Manepear.
The hybrid looked up, meeting the source of the voice in the stands. His old mentor stood there, hunched over the railing with an eyebrow raised.
“Like, ain’t no way I come over here to see my lil brother fight Arachnid's most favorite soldier only to see this mess,” he said, resting his head on a hand. “Like, I get that I may have been a shit teacher, but holy bro, there's no way I was that bad.”
Wemmbu felt a rage rise within him; the lion admitting to how bad of a mentor he was made his eyes widen. Truly, this man was incredibly audacious. Lowering his weapon, he turned his back to Manepear, using the fact his armor needed major repairs as a means to hide his feelings.
“Oh, so you finally look at me?” Manepear said, his tail wagging to the side. “Wemmbu.”
At the sound of his name, the demon felt a shiver run down his spine. His hand—about to reach inside a shulker—remained suspended in the air. Hearing his name called out by the lion brought back all the whirlwind of feelings he believed to have been buried from the surface—anger, sadness, betrayal—the mix of them made him sick to his stomach, fueling his already burning frustration.
“Wait—bro—you taught this guy??” Flamefrags yelled, looking at Manepear. “Since when???”
“Since wayy before you,” the bounty hunter laughed. “I told you I had a student before you, didn’t I?”
Flame stared in pure shock, lowering his sword. “Yeah, but I didn’t think that person was WEMMBU.”
The netherborn let out a heavy sigh. “Ain’t no WAY you taught this guy before ME, dude. I thought we were brothers.”
“We are. You just came to me later, so I taught you later,” Mane shrugged, averting his eyes. “But that was a while ago.”
Wemmbu's breathing grew labored, the voices of the brothers grating in his ears.
“Flame, let's run another one,” he said, cutting through their banter.
“What? With you fighting like that?”
Wemmbu turned, taking a stance. “I’ll actually fight this time, trust me gang.”
“Whatever you say, bro,” Flame sighed, drawing his blade.
The second Wemmbu saw Flame was ready, he lunged forward, swinging his sword down hard. The air around the demon had changed, becoming more hostile and aggressive in contrast to before. Flamefrags noticed this, puzzled as to what could’ve triggered the shift. However, that was a thought for later, as he was forced onto the defensive by a continuous barrage of attacks.
“What's wrong, Flame?” Wemmbu said, continuing the offense. “Didn’t you want this?”
“Nah, just surprised you remember how to fight,” Flamefrags chuckled, going after an opening.
Wemmbu quickly retreated, splashing strength and speed before meeting his sword with Flame's. The pair clashed, the sounds of netherite echoing throughout the arena. Being made aware of Manepear's presence, the purple demon felt desperate. The feelings of regret, sadness, and confusion from the day he was abandoned rose from the inner depths of his mind, amplified by the layers of emotions he’d been repressing since being made to fight numerous battles he never wanted to be a part of. All of it accumulated to the front of his mind, acting as his driving force to wanting to win this duel.
The netherborn flipped the tables on the demon, putting him heavily on the defensive. Wemmbu—realizing he couldn’t properly parry the hits—dropped to the ground and grabbed a handful of gravel as Flame swung at his side.
Doesn’t matter how you win, just that you win.
He recalled one of the first lessons Mane had ever taught him, back when he had first arrived at the treehouse and had no power. In battle, honor didn’t matter; only winning did.
Just as the fireborn drew the sword above his head, Wemmbu threw the handful at his face. Although it did disrupt Flame's vision, Wemmbu hoped he would accidentally inhale some of the smaller stones—which he did.
The strongest player retreated backward, away from Wemmbu. “What—cough—what the hell, man?”
Seizing the opportunity, Wemmbu lunged at Flame, turning the blade of his sword so its hilt would come in contact with Flamefrags' stomach.
“Augh!” Flame choked, dropping his sword.
Wemmbu watched as his opponent's body hit the ground, the netherborn's hands clutching his stomach. He approached the writhing Flamefrags, pointing his blade at his neck.
“Does this make me the strongest?” Wemmbu asked, standing over the angered Flamefrags.
“NO. Absolutely NOT,” his rival protested. “You CHEATED.”
The accusations were met with a cheeky grin, Wemmbu openly mocking Flamefrags with his smile. During the duel, his entire vision narrowed solely on Flamefrags, completely ignoring Manepear. The man felt lighter, more relaxed—the best he’d felt in his entire stay at Arachnid's kingdom. He’d forgotten about all the strings, the issues, and even Manepear.
The purple man raised his hands near his face, looking at them as if they were a part of him rather than an extension of him. His face relaxed at the realization.
“C’mon, I wanna go again!” Flamefrags yelled, pulling Wemmbu from his trance. “I am NOT ending this day of losing to a fucking CHEATER.”
The man got up from the ground, drawing his sword once again. Wemmbu only responded with a joyous smile, as if saying he was happy to oblige.
“That's enough!” A booming voice came from the entrance of the arena, Arachnid revealing himself from the shadows. “No more dueling, you two.”
The leader's presence brought Wemmbu down from his high, a reminder of the current situation. Immediately, he returned to a blank, dazed expression—a far cry from the cheeky, sly person from earlier.
_____________________________________
MANEPEAR POV
The lion remained in the stands, looking upon the imperial pair being scolded by Arachnid. His gaze fell onto Wemmbu, whose eyes were angled slightly down, as if lost in his thoughts.
Manepear was a person who never liked to stay in one place for too long, being difficult to find due to his lifestyle bouncing from place to place with nowhere to call home. Due to this, he refers to himself as a traveler of sorts, rather than the robber or loitering lion many deem him to be. In between these “journeys” of his, silence was his main companion. In between the bounties and hunts, the lion would find himself sitting alone with his thoughts.
At first, he didn’t like it, finding the moments uncomfortable as his mind would race and begin piecing apart his past actions, especially toward a certain demon. Those thoughts made him feel terrible and insecure, leading to questions and himself doubting whether he did the right thing in past interactions or not. He became a battle junkie at one point, simply to prevent himself from having to face those thoughts head-on.
Then, slowly, he began to indulge them. The first time was when leaning against a tree. Manepear was tired from a hunt and wanted to rest. The leaves reminded him of his old treehouse, waves of nostalgia flowing through his body. He missed that place, and the memories made there. Soon, his mind drifted back to the purple hybrid—Wemmbu. Occasionally, his name would pass through Mane's head, and each time, the lion would block them out using the memory of anger he felt before parting.
However, this time, he decided to face himself. There had always been a part of him that regretted leaving Wemmbu. Although he did make mistakes and meddled with Mane's plans, the fact the demon was his student remained unchanged. As a mentor, it was his job to correct and teach him, and as a friend it was to understand him. Yet the lion, realizing this, failed at both of those things.
“Do you two think we have infinite resources at our disposal?” Arachnid yelled, looking at the pair. “We need to save all we can for the upcoming battle.”
“Yeah, well, Flame and I were using our personal resources, so it wouldn’t impact the kingdom that much,” Wemmbu responded.
Manepear watched, head still resting on his hand. He noted that Wemmbu didn’t raise his head a single time when talking to Arachnid, appearing more like a weapon than a person. Similarly to Flame, the lion felt something off. This was not the person he took on as his pupil; that person was impulsive and had a loose tongue. The one down there, being scolded alongside his brother, was quiet and small.
“Look at you.” The spider said, analyzing the demon from head to toe. “Your armor is destroyed, your mace durability is lower, and you can’t even meet my eyes.”
This was going too far.
“Your highness,” Mane said, jumping down into the arena. “Don’t you think you're being a little harsh on them?”
“You have no right to speak here,” the king answered, not looking at him.
Manepear pressed on, wrapping an arm around his brother's shoulder. “Flamefrags here is a good friend of Wemmbu, and the two haven’t seen each other in a very long time. How did you expect them to react after being apart for so long?”
That caught his attention.
“Like, their rivalry is something the entire server knows about. Even me, a mere bounty hunter.”
Arachnid stared at Manepear, attempting to read his intent. He certainly was a cautious king, one who liked to keep his subjects under his rule.
“You're excused this time,” he stated, turning back to Wemmbu. “Remember what I can do, Wemmbu.”
There was a change in his voice at the end of his sentence, one Manepear registered as a threat toward Wemmbu. He looked at the demon, eyes filled with confusion. It didn’t make sense to him, or add up at all. His former student was not the kind of person to easily concede to any kind of power, at least not like what he saw.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Wemmbu finally spoke once Arachnid had left, the three of them standing in a triangle in the middle of the colosseum.
“Yeah, but you sure looked like you needed it, man,” Manepear responded, crossing his arms. “Just trying to help you, feel me?”
“If I wanted help, it wouldn’t be from you,” the demon responded through gritted teeth, murmuring shortly after, “You could’ve just ruined everything.”
“What?”
Wemmbu gave Manepear a sharp look, eyes filled with anger. “Stay out of my life like you’ve been all this time, Manepear.”