Chapter Text
Avery watched as D3rlord climbed up the ranks, far better than he had imagined.
“Alright, those who fought, take a break, and the rest of you, get back to work!” Mrs, T bellowed, sending an amused glare to the crowd that formed around the makeshift arena.
Displeased groans rang throughout the student body, but they all shuffled back to their respective patches of grass. All except for Avery.
Instead, he jogged up to D3rlord as he strolled to the water bottles.
“Hey, D3rlord, that was awesome! I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone fight like that!” Avery gushed, and he meant what he said. The way D3rlord used the opponent’s species against them, he’d seen before, but the sense that he knew exactly what they were going to do a second before it happened captivated him.
The knight stopped walking and turned to Avery,
“what?” he breathed.
“Yeah, it’s like you- like with your first fight! You took Rory down in seconds! That’s crazy man!” Avery continued, unaware of D3rlord’s dread. He perked up, looking back to the other, only just realizing D3rlord had paused.
“Are you a combat major? You gotta be, with skills like that.”
“Beginners luck,” he dismissed, “and I’m a double-major. Combat is one.”
Avery grew more confident as the knight spoke beyond simple answers. Well, it was far from friendly talk, more like Avery was talking at him than with him, but it was improvement from just nods. Bouncing excitedly to the water station, he tosses one over to D3rlord.
“And the other? You can’t just mention you double-major and not say the other,” he spoke around his own bottle.
A noticeable pause.
Avery could’ve sworn he saw the knight recede from the small talk, like the shadowy seams in his armor coiled in, defensive. His heart dropped at the sudden change.
After the lapse in conversation shifted to awkward silence, he scrambled to try and save it.
“Well, I’m only shooting for a combat major, with a specific focus in server tactic. I swear, put me in a Bedwars arena with twenty of the best fighters you know, and I’ll be the last one standing,” he puffed. Deflating from his pedestal a second later, “well, that’s what I’m working towards, anyways. I’d still be in the last three, though.”
D3rlord lowered his water, having emptied the bottle into the inky abyss beyond the helmet. The light, resonating thunk of the cool grey metal being set down seemed like a good enough replacement for crickets.
Then, the knight angled away from Avery, lingering his hidden gaze on him for a second, burning through his attempts at connecting, and stalked off. Avery watched him go, his heart and smile dropping at the fading sound of disturbed grass and gravel.
Honestly, he couldn’t tell if the knight was stubbornly shy or was growing annoyed with him.
Trailing behind him like a kicked puppy, he forcefully eased his gait and stood taller. Needing a distraction, he stopped at every sparring pair in between fights. Mrs. T was lenient when it came to Avery, partly because there was only a handful of students who he could spar with without it being too easy, and that he put in extra hours training outside of college. In return, he became a helping hand; surveying training, dishing out advice where he could, and making the old, cracked tennis court feel a little more like a training ground.
After a few conversations, the normalcy raised his spirits, until he was just short of buzzing as the class came to a close. In the most unfair system in the world, combat was the same length as any other class. However, compared to dragging classes like math, his favorites flew by.
Avery and a few others hurried to shove the training equipment as neatly as possible in a clustered storage room. Rough fabric pressed against his cheek as he heaved up a hay dummy, said hay pricking his gooey skin. Right as he finished lugging the target into a nook in storage, double-checking that it wouldn’t cause any half hazard towers to fall, the sweet, ear-splitting ring echoed freedom across campus.
Sneakers squeaked on linoleum tiles, rushing to escape. A familiar cacophony of voices joined the flood of mobs in the hallways. The handful of mobs who volunteered to pack up hurried to snatch up their backpacks and rush home.
Just like every other day, Avery waited, lingering against a wall to not get trampled, for the voices to subside. Once a quiet blanketed the freshly clear space, he let out a long breath. He always relished the moments after school ended; the odd comfort of watching the mad dash to leave trickle down to a few strays, the following piercing silence, the knowledge that, in a few hours, these halls will fill with students once more.
Pushing off the wall, he pivoted, heading back to finish cleaning up. Outside was still dark, crickets chirping, fireflies blinking, and a cool breeze rusting through nearby trees. Looking up, the sky was now a more vibrant dark blue compared to midnight. Unlike most hostile mobs, slimes didn’t burn in the sunlight. This meant Avery didn’t have to scramble to get back to his apartment for safety reasons. Besides, he enjoyed getting as much training in as he could. Being away from his rowdy roommates was an added bonus.
Finally, all but one set of training equipment was returned. The wooden sword slid off the rack and balanced nicely in Avery’s hands. His fingers traced the multitude of scratch marks and dents along its blade, smirking when his touch confirmed which weapon he held. Layered with battle scars, his favorite, almost lucky, sword seemed like it was meant just for him. Back in freshman year, it was only a year old, practically brand new, and was passed on to him specifically. By the previous top fighter.
He proceeded to take that title with their own sword.
With determination fueling him, he lunged his blade at the training dummy. They met with a subdued thwack and a little pushback into Avery’s squishy hands. The senior who had gifted him the weapon was a savior and a slime themselves. Near-white wood marbled with bright orange filled his vision as he shifted to extremely close-range moves. Normally, pale oak wood was reserved for an impossible task to teach the builder students patience and careful material selection. Its dry nature made it brittle, unstable, and useless for practical items alone. However, when soaked in resin, the porous wood retains most of its lightness while becoming stable.
Breathing hard, Avery seamlessly moved over to a spinning wood pillar, designed to force fighters to catalog every movement around them. The multicolor poles whirled away as he started their spin with a hit of the sword’s handle. Besides the looks factor—resin infused pale oak did look pretty badass—it was the weight of the sword that gave Avery the chance to fight properly. With so few pale oak swords available, they were all occupied before Avery could even hold one. He tried every other kind of sword, but they all clashed with his body’s consistency. Dark oak sunk halfway through his palms when he heaved it up, which was a shockingly unpleasant experience. Acacia always slipped a little through his grip, making precision impossible. Birch, while light, was a little too much. That cream-colored sword still puzzled Avery with how it seemed to reject his grasp, actually rising through his fingers once.
A pillar crashed into his side, a tiny circle target digging into the sensitive goo. A shocked yelp escaped him before he ducked to avoid another incoming blow. His thoughts thoroughly interrupted, he put all of his focus into not getting hit again. Twirling wood, crashing blades, and the soft puffs of dirt getting kicked up from his movement cheered him on. His body moved seconds ahead of his thought, a well-trained mind guiding his success.
Truly in his element—twisting and predicting and reacting and fighting—he jumped when his name was bellowed from across the field.
“Avery! Pack it up, the sun’s rising!” the broadcasting, solid voice of Mrs. T called.
He proceeded to get nailed by three poles.
Scurrying away from the contraption, he paused for a moment to catch his breath.
“On it, Mrs. T!” He waved, his arms feeling a satisfying weakness. With the dents in his form almost filled back to normal, he tackled the hay dummy up onto his shoulder. Time passed in a blur when he was training, the sky having turned a brilliant pre-dawn blue, softening at the horizon. Dew clung to his sandals as he trotted back to the school, legs burning. Shoving the door open with his shoulder, he froze at a flicker of wispy crimson disappearing around a corner.
Set into motion, his damp shoes squealed as he dashed to catch up. Rounding the corner, stumbling to stay upright with the weight of the dummy, Avery was met only by the sight of a confused janitor.
“Need somethin’?” They asked, pulling out an earbud.
He scanned the nearby area before shrugging, “nah, just thought I saw someone.” Not wanting to seem any weirder, he turned and fled back to stuff the dummy in storage, heart thundering. It was just leftover adrenaline from training, he reasoned, nothing else. The hallways were littered with hanging reg flags and tinsel, a nice ‘welcome back to hell’ for the daytime students. Avery was surprised the high schoolers hadn’t ripped them down yet.
Or I’m dehydrated. Pressing a shaky finger to the slime on his forearm, it did seem a little firmer than usual. He hadn’t drank since—
Oh- that’s it! The pieces finally slotted together in his mind. The lick of rich red reminded him of D3rlord’s plume. Maybe his species was a ghost, and he was haunting Avery, invading his thoughts. His mind buzzed, breath coming too short and too fast and too shallow. Or he was staying late for another thing, and just left! Whatever the reason, he shouldn’t be so worked up about this. D3rlord was just a new kid; a regular, average college student who hasn’t done anything to make Avery suspicious.
So why was he so scared right now?
Taking a deep breath, he pushed the bar to outside with shaky hands. Speed-walking to the remaining equipment, he couldn’t help but stay alert. The darkness no longer seemed comforting in solitude, but lurking. Cursing his poor night vision, he dragged the turnstile pole away, head whipping around at any sound.
“Need some help with that?” A stone-cold voice offered behind him, making Avery jump embarrassingly high. His shoulders relaxed once he recognized Mrs. T’s friendly tone.
“That would be amazing, thank you. I swear this thing weighs more than me,” he sighed, giving the equipment a glare. Pure iron arms lifted the device over a mossy shoulder like it was nothing. Avery forgot how powerful she was, build ready to pack a punch should her loved ones be threatened.
“Go ahead and put your sword away, then scram,” she chided lightheartedly, “and get some water on your way out. You look a light wind away from toppling over.”
Without the dead weight of the turnstile, Avery pranced back to his sword. Once he had it in his grasp, the ebbing shadows lost their ferocity. Trailing behind Mrs. T, he cast his gaze out to the lightening sky once more, and froze.
Just over the near-black trees behind him was the sunrise. Usually, Avery was gone by now, fast asleep in his dorm, but he wanted to make up for the lack of practice today. Now, he was overjoyed he did.
Soft, promising rays of light cut over the field, making the fog swirl and glisten. Every blade of grass sparkled with sun-caught dew. The chilly, clean morning air danced around Avery in an almost imperceptible breeze. His whole body relaxed, taking in the sheer serenity. Fluttering wings bounced tree to tree, filling the air with cheery songs. A few cars crawled past on the nearby roads, tires methodically crunching gravel.
A band of light peeked above the trees, showering Avery and his surroundings in a welcoming golden light. His eyes slowly followed the arching flight of a cardinal, his carmine plumage both standing out against the dim forest and fitting right in with the sunlight. Taking a final deep breath, peaceful smile tugging at his cheeks, Avery turned away from the scene and walked back to campus.
After resting his sword into the rack inside, he slung his backpack over his shoulders, filled up his water bottle, and headed towards home. More specifically, to the parking lot. A handful of cars littered the concrete square, including Avery’s chariot. A well-loved, dull green two-seater lay patiently, weakly beeping as he unlocked it. Tossing his backpack into the passenger seat, toppling a few packs of gum and energy drink cans in the process, he plopped down in the driver’s side and slammed the door.
A few tries at starting the engine, and Avery eased out of the lot, starting the journey back home. One free back massage later—thanks to the gravel roads—and he was on the main road. Thankfully, it was almost a straight shot to his dorm building, which was more of an apartment building with a fancy named tacked on it. Florescent signs flashed past the road, broadcasting gas prices and cheap food. Avery’s stomach rumbled, but he steeled himself to not pull over. He had half a fish sandwich back home, thoroughly labeled with his name so it wasn’t stolen.
The speed limit steadily rose, but just as it hit 55, he took the first exit. His dorm wasn’t terribly far from school, as dorms should be, so the drive only took ten minutes. Rumbling into his assigned parking space, he clicked off the ignition and lunged for his bag. Gathering up a few pencils that fell out of it, Avery thumbed through his keyring. With everything in hand, he pushed out of the car, closing it with his foot and a reassuring click of the locks.
Keying into the main entrance, he waved at the desk attendant and slipped into the stairwell. Yawning, he braved the single flight to his floor, a lottery miracle, considering how the elevator barely worked for any of the four floors. Finally, his salvation was in sight, and, after fumbling with the lock, he stumbled into his dorm. Surprisingly, only one set of sunken eyes met his. His roommate lounged on his bed, homework spread around him in organized chaos.
“Hey, Stevie,” he mumbled, scanning the other bunks, “where’s everyone else?”
The zombie glanced at the empty beds, “out partying at Lucian’s. Heard she brought some potent stuff from the Nether.”
Avery hummed in acknowledgment, cracking open the fridge. Blue light bathed his face, stark in the dark room. His takeout box remained untouched, but moved around. Picking it up, he pieced out why. Only the weight of styrofoam remained, and a few shakes confirmed that it was empty.
“Assholes,” he muttered, too quietly for his roommate’s poor hearing. Tossing the useless container into the trash, he tore his shirt off and climbed into bed, silently fuming. His stomach growled again, but Avery was too tired to buy dinner, much less make it. Honestly, it was less about the hunger and more about what it meant to him. Catfish and seaweed on rye, a swamp food staple. Whenever he gets homesick, he seeks out comfort foods that remind him of the humid, marshy landscape. Now he just had the memory of the first half, and one of his roommates had the second. It was really good, too.
Sighing, Avery turned towards the wall. He just had to make it through senior year. Some lost dinners would pale in comparison to a college degree.
—
Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.
Chirp. Chirp.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BE-
Avery slapped the end alarm button on his phone, shooting up and hitting his head against the ceiling. A muffled squelch came from the impact as his forehead dented from the popcorn bumps. Rubbing his eyes open, he swung his legs over the edge and jumped off.
Daylight persisted through the double curtains meant to block it, illuminating the dust Avery kicked up. Struggling through a simple t-shirt half-awake, he packed up everything he needed for the day. Pulling on his signature floral button-up, his backpack, and grabbing his phone, he slipped out the dorm door, careful not to wake any of its other inhabitants.
Twirling his keyring around a finger, Avery checked his phone. A few spam calls, an email about rent, and a large, cheery clock showing 3:41pm. Usually, most hostile mobs would still be asleep, having stayed up later than Avery. However, he wanted to get as much sunlight as possible. Late summer in his college town was definitely brighter than his shady, willow-tree spotted hometown. As a swamp slime, he relished the meager light, instead of being wary of it like cave slimes.
Exiting the dorm complex, he opted to walk, skirting into a small nature trail to his left. Having lived in the same building for all of his college years, he knew the shortcut like he knew how to swing a blade. Every rock, knotted root, and animal hole ingrained into his subconscious. After a few minutes, the short trees thinned back into city, right outside of a strip mall. Strolling onto cracked pavement, Avery grinned at what lay ahead. Nestled between a thrift store and a fast-food stop was the best— and most affordable— diner Avery knew.
A bell sounded his arrival into the cozy restaurant. Reds and whites ran along the wall, swirling around hand-painted murals and framed awards. Both the daytime high school’s mascot, a mooshroom, and the night college’s, an Ender dragon, were sprinkled around in little toothpick flags, menu borders, and table decorations. Spotting a flame-dappled figure behind the counter, likely in a heated discussion about Overworld and Nether cuisine over the phone, was the owner. Ruby stood tall, intimidating to strangers with her muscled, fiery build. Not to Avery, though. Only a little.
Once she caught sight of him, she beamed, “Avery! There you are! I was worried you were going to skip today!” then, to the phone, “I’ll call you back when your order is ready, sit tight.”
“Good afternoon, Ruby! You know I’d never do such a thing,” he replied, slouching down into a purple faux-leather stool, backpack finding its way onto the floor beside him.
“Ha-ha, morning to you, weirdo. How’s college? Oh- what d’ya think about the new kid? Rory’s been yammering on about him all day!” She exclaimed, orange and red arms waving about excitedly. “Speaking of- RORY! ONE BREAKFAST SPECIAL FOR AVERY!” She ordered over her shoulder.
A slim, bleach-boned skeleton skurried in sight for a moment, “got it, ma’,” Rory replied. The sizzle of butter on a skittle filled the air. Spices and frying meat wafted across the diner, always making Avery open up easier.
“Well, I haven’t gotten to know him well yet, only being his second day and all—and he’s real shy— but man his fighting skills!” he stood taller in his seat, looking nowhere in particular at the wall as he envisioned D3rlord in the arena. “He’s undefeated, and already nearing the top of the leaderboard. He wasn’t even at combat class yesterday! I’m taking notes, honestly. I have to defend my spot somehow.”
Ruby leaned backwards and grabbed a stack of mail, bringing it to her side of the counter. “He sounds real mysterious. That’s what Rory was on about, anyways, and how he’s all hidden behind some armor,” she commented, smoothly continuing the conversation while carding through bills and junk mail.
“I know! No one knows what species he is yet, and the teachers won’t tell anyone. Plus, he’s always wearing a full gold suit. The helmet even has a giant red plume on it and everything!” Avery gushed, finally having someone to spill all his thoughts on D3rlord with. His grin faltered a little, “I think I might’ve scared him off, though. He doesn’t seem to want to talk, and I’ve been a little pushy.”
Reading his emotions flawlessly, Ruby nudged his shoulder, “nonsense. You’re being yourself, friendly as ever. Being in a whole new place can be tough. Trust me, I’ve been through it,” she gestured at her blaze features.
A ceramic chink brought both their attention to the serving window.
“Hey Avery, you’re still getting up early this year?” Rory asked, adding the silverware to the plate before Ruby grabbed it.
“Yeah. I like being out in the sun when I can be. Plus, I’m always exhausted after training,” he groaned.
“Well then eat up! You need all the energy you can get to fend off that new kid. What’s his name again?” Ruby questioned, passing along Avery’s breakfast—thin sliced pork bacon, meaty yellow wedges of an unknown Nether fruit, and little orange nuts, all coated with a crumbly red spice—with a pair of arms while the other propped up her head, interested.
“D3rlord,” he answered before stuffing his mouth with a piece of seared pig. Burning flavor spread along his tongue where the mystery spice touched it, small bubbles erupting in the surrounding slime. Ruby just stared at him with a look, narrowed eyes and smug grin. “What?” He said, baffled.
“Nothing. Just glad to see you’re making a new friend,” she supplied, “how is it?”
“Uh, amazing as always! Seriously, this place serves the best food I’ve ever had. Well, second best, my mom gets first place,” he exclaimed. “It’s great for building up my spice tolerance too,—dang- what’s in this?” he wheezed, hearing the faint sound of sizzling goo inside his head.
Ruby glided over to the drink station, filling up a blue glass cup of water. “Mainly dried crimson root, indigo pepper, and a little ground glowstone,” she chuckled, handing Avery his liquid savior, “you’ve still got a long way to go, kid. That’s light stuff in the Nether, and practically salt to the Crimson Bastions I got it from.”
Avery’s eyes widened, a newfound respect—and fear— for Nether food. Once he finished struggling through his amazing breakfast, he picked up his pack and set up camp in a far corner. Ruby let him loiter to do homework as long as he left by the dinner rush, so he had a solid hour.
Actually getting started on the work was the problem. Every sentence-long math equation was torture to decode. Language questions managed to work themselves in the most confusing, vague manner possible. His brain seemed to burn out like it was marinating in Nether spices.
When customers started filing in, both mob and human, Avery packed up, his seat taken not a minute later. A solid two worksheets completed. Out of the ten or so due tonight. He groaned, trudging back along the scrubby forest trail to his apartment. College would be so much easier if his brain would comply with him. Any task, no matter how much he tried to hammer in how important it was, was met with an overwhelming resistance. A three page article analysis might’ve well been a raging beehive, the honey a necessity but costly. An unnecessary, stupidly strong feeling of don’t that left him frozen was the main cause of his current D student status.
It was frustrating. Borderline humiliating.
So he simply pretended not to care. To commit to the party life of college, even though he barely went to any, and glide through classes without a care in the world. But he did care. He cared and it hurt to care. The ache of disappointment, being the first person in his family to go to college and try and try and try his hardest, put every ounce of free time into studying and working, and still not be good enough.
Stomping away from the dirt path, he schooled his expression into something he thought was less venomous and headed straight for his car. He still had a few hours to claw through the rest of the work, and a case of energy drinks in the passenger seat to boost him along.
At the very least, he had the fight with D3rlord to look up to tonight.