Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

I will deliver justice.

I will breathe power.

 

Nine days before Crucible and Infernos rematch.

 

Hours after Elpis' death.

 Abilities are different for each person. Some felt them as warmth in their chests, others as a comforting weight, and some even as though it were another limb. For Justice, his ability had always been a tingling sensation at the tips of his fingers. His golden arrows could pursue any target he marked, weaving around obstacles like guided missiles, and they were durable enough to pierce netherite plates if he charged them with enough magic. His arrows, however, could never compare to a mace, and though he was fast, he was hardly a match for the villain whom not even The Guardian had been able to contain before his exile to the End. Reality struck him head-on. The heavy blow from the mace forged of diamond and netherite crashed into his torso with overwhelming force. He squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of a totem of undying popping. A second later, he opened them again and gasped as air burned through his restored lungs, which had been pierced by his own shattered ribs. His wings behind him twitched, and he spun through the air, diving into a steep descent, folding them close to his body while Reality didn't immediately pursue him. Parrot fled like a coward, thanking the heavens that he had still been close to Diamond Crossroad and the Tower. He stumbled through the open window of his office, the one he'd left ajar. His breathing came in ragged bursts, his heart pounded violently, and his wings collapsed behind him in a cascade of feathers, ruffled by his escape and instinctively fluffing themselves in an attempt to comfort him.

"That was... way too close."

 He took a deep breath, trying in vain to organize his thoughts. The attack had been unexpected, especially because Reality had rarely attacked anyone lately. The top sometimes can became boring—or so Parrot assumed. After all, many believed the number one villain had retired. Apparently, he'd simply been staying with the Mafia, and now he had attacked him. Revenge? No, unlikely. Revenge was something that burned and spread like wildfire or fell cold like a blizzard—relentless and unstoppable. Parrot knew what the attack really was.

A warning.

Or perhaps a message he still hadn't fully deciphered.

 He blinked beneath his parrot-beak-shaped visor when a notification appeared in the corner of his internal display, its soft green lines glowing faintly. Selecting it with nothing more than a thought, he was greeted by Alatus' voice.

 

"Hey, Justice! Just wanted to let you know that mission number 2107-AS was completed with moderate success. I know you like to know everything, so I wrote a report and sent it to you. If I forgot anything, I'll let you know when I get back to the Tower!"

 Alatus' voice sounded as cheerful as ever, perhaps a little strained with exhaustion, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Justice felt relieved to finally have some confirmation that the other man was alive. Of course, the words "moderate success" made him uneasy. He opened the report, expecting everything except what he found. His eyes raced across the words before he closed the report. Then he opened it again and stared at the glowing green text for a long moment. Alatus and Glacies hadn't exactly failed, but neither had they seen much action in the pirates' extermination. Crucible apparently had some sort of grudge against Nimbifer, and somehow the two villains and Glacies had entered a restricted Abyssal-level area. Glacies returned less than a day later. Apparently, Crucible had decided to imprison the number seven villain in that abandoned underground Tower facility with nothing but the clothes on his back, allowing the heroine to leave only after warning her not to follow Seraph or the winged hybrid. Glacies had then found Alatus and recounted everything that had happened while she'd been trapped underground with the two —three?—villains.

It wasn't exactly bad.

It could have been worse.

 Apparently they'd lost some gear, and the lawman accompanying them had disappeared, which was certainly unfortunate, but not catastrophic. Disappearances on missions like these were expected, and equipment could always be replaced. Parrot sighed as he closed the message, giving his eyes relief from the artificial lights before looking toward his desk. He slowly reached for the framed photograph he'd kept for years. It was a picture of himself and Wifies in their uniforms, standing before the Tower only minutes after being announced as the joint number two heroes—as one. The Guardian himself had taken the picture.

Parrot still didn't know how to feel about that.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps nearly made him drop the frame before he instinctively stored it in his inventory. At the same time, the door opened, revealing none other than Mimic, the number three hero. Two years ago, he'd been the number two hero, and for nearly six months he'd held fourth place. Clearly, the shapeshifter never allowed himself to drift too far from the podium. In truth, he'd only fallen from the top three because Alatus had surpassed him. Despite having been a hero for only five months, the other avian had proven vastly more skilled—though reckless and laid-back whenever it suited him—breaking Justice's record as the youngest hero to reach the top three by several weeks. Mimic was a serious, reserved man, a hero nearly as old as The Guardian himself. He had even saved him not too long ago from the fearsome Scorched King. Justice trusted him.

But he also knew the leader of B.A.T wanted nothing more than to stand where he stood.

To be number one.

"Justice, I noticed a spike in your vital signs. Is everything alright?"

Mimic was alone, which wasn't unusual, though Triton usually accompanied him during meetings and sometimes on patrols as B.A.T's second-in-command. Justice straightened his back, pretending his wings and hair weren't a complete mess, every strand thrown out of place by the wind. Unlike him, Mimic looked immaculate. His white hair streaked with black was styled as always, trimmed close to his jawline with softly curled ends. A white ceramic mask covered in indecipherable black markings concealed the face of the number three hero.

Though he possessed a human body, he was far from an ordinary player. He was a shapeshifter. What the public didn't know was a crucial detail. He possessed a second ability. Exceptionally heightened senses. He used them to monitor the other heroes. A single touch allowed Mimic to link himself to said person and know everything happening inside their body—tracking hunger, thirst, heartbeat, mood shifts, even electrical activity in the brain.

"I was attacked by Reality."

 Justice saw no point in lying. It would've been impractical, especially considering Mimic and his spies might help uncover useful information. Besides, B.A.T functioned as the number one hero's covert operations team. The Guardian never used the organization's full capabilities, allowing Mimic to operate however he wished.

Justice had no reason to change that.

"Reality? Hm. Strange for him to act so suddenly... Did you fight?"

Mimic seemed calmer that night.

Justice was grateful there was no tension hanging in the air, nor the usual mockery hidden in the other's words.

Something must have happened to make him so willing to listen.

"I would've, but the villain had a mace. I assume he got it from the Mafia."

 The tricolored avian explained, forwarding several images his visor had captured of the weapon. A second later, Mimic tilted his head while examining the blurry glimpses recovered by Justice's mask and transmitted to his own.

"That is troubling indeed. I suppose you'd like to open an investigation?"

The shapeshifter stepped closer to the desk as Justice considered it.

An investigation might lead nowhere.

He doubted they had anything useful besides a few missing feathers from his right wing and the blurred images of Reality.

"Not yet. But I'll have a plan by tomorrow morning. Thank you for checking on me."

 If Mimic felt offended by the dismissal, he didn't show it. He simply nodded once before turning and leaving. The sound of the closing door allowed Justice's shoulders to relax.

This can't get any worse...

Can it?

Regardless, he decided it was best to retire to his quarters, especially since there was no paperwork waiting and several cases could survive until after he had some rest. Before leaving, however, he picked up the dark oak frame decorated with intricate golden lines resembling the Yin Yang symbol. His fingers brushed over the image of that sunny day when their destinies had seemed to align. His chest ached with memories of his adventures alongside Judgement.

He set the photograph back on his desk.

 Then he closed the window and adjusted the curtains. The view from the top of the district disturbed him more than it inspired him.

He didn't like that feeling.

Leaving his office, he noticed the Tower agents who usually stood guard outside his door had left, maybe hours ago, meaning he'd spent far longer flying than he'd realized. Shaking his head, he walked through the winding corridor toward the double iron doors at the far end, pressing his palm against the scanner. The automatic doors slid open, and he stepped into the chamber, keeping his wings tucked close as the elevator descended only two floors to his apartment. The place was immaculate and minimalist, with only a few signs that someone actually lived there—plants decorating the corners, framed photos on the walls, and photographs resting atop decorative tables.

Most were pictures with other heroes.

A few with friends he'd met during his travels across the continent.

 He headed straight to the bathroom, washing himself efficiently but taking special care with his wings. Afterward, he dried off, changed into comfortable sweatpants and a hoodie, ate a simple sandwich, and went to bed.

Sleep, however, came slowly.

He dreamed of the past.

 

 

Of Wifies' laughter—rare, but capable of brightening an entire room with its shy warmth that somehow commanded everyone's attention.

 

Of Wifies telling him what he wanted to do after the countless overtime shifts they'd accepted just to earn a single day off together.

 

 

The following morning he still felt exhausted, though better than before.

The melancholy and nostalgia still clung to his mind.

But he couldn't afford weakness.

After getting ready, he scheduled a meeting with B.A.T at their headquarters for that afternoon. While his mind worked through a thousand different strategies that might finally allow them to capture Reality, he occupied himself with lesser villain cases, reports requiring his signature, and even sent a message to Law Headquarters informing them of the missing lawman. It wasn't the Tower's responsibility to handle cases involving agents outside its jurisdiction. Though Law cooperated with the heroes and remained under their influence, it operated independently. His flight to B.A.T's so-called Infinite Base didn't take long. It was hidden deep within a forest near the strait connecting to the Great Sea, southwest in the opposite direction from Spawn, beyond Capital City. Concealed by the jungle, far from any sign of life for hundreds of blocks, its polished quartz structure was protected by motion sensors surrounding the entire perimeter. Two open courtyards of neatly trimmed grass lay at its center. He landed before the entrance, where Amber greeted him with a polite smile. The rabbit hybrid wore his usual sapphire-blue hero suit accented with black and sun-yellow under enchanted netherite armor. His long ears twitched nervously.

"Welcome to B.A.T Headquarters, Justice."

The terrestrial hybrid greeted him with a respectful nod.

Parrot wanted to sigh at the formality, but he refrained from correcting him.

He knew Mimic would reprimand Amber if he saw him acting too friendly toward Justice.

"It's good to see you again, Amber."

Amber was currently the number eleven hero.

His ability allowed him to generate electrical charges capable of temporarily paralyzing or incapacitating opponents with nearly imperceptible shocks.

The rabbit hybrid led him through corridors Justice had never seen before.

The place wasn't much different from the Tower—spotless walls, immaculate floors, minimal decoration, and microscopic cameras covering every possible angle.

The meeting room was no different.

Everyone was already waiting.

Mimic sat opposite the entrance.

Triton to his right.

Double to his left.

Others were present as well. Spies dressed in indistinguishable black uniforms and masks. Squad leaders, if Justice wasn't mistaken. Men and women whose names and faces remained secret, obviously not from Mimic.

"Let's begin the meeting."

Mimic spoke as soon as Justice sat opposite him. Justice only hoped this wouldn't leave him too drained.

He still had plenty of work afterward.

He returned to his office at the Tower by sunset.

Hours of relentless briefings and planning had stimulated his mind while simultaneously exhausting it. He wanted something to eat. Perhaps some seeds and porridge would be enough. He asked an assistant to bring him a bowl along with a smoothie. The assistant was a new B.A.T member.

Triton had told him the recruit had joined only a few months ago.

The organization intentionally remained small enough to monitor easily, though it still numbered in the hundreds.

Justice didn't know the exact number.

Mimic controlled the organization completely, keeping most information under absolute secrecy.

Only the top three heroes even knew B.A.T existed.

The public wouldn't know how to handle the existence of the Bounty Assassin Team. Heroes with blood on their hands were difficult to accept. Many details remained hidden even from the heroes themselves.

For the city's safety.

And the Tower's.

If one of them were ever captured...

Parrot shivered as he remembered Alatus after finding him when the Mafia collapsed due to Tenebrae and Vermillion's actions. To the public, Commander was imprisoned alongside many of his diamond players.

But the truth was—

"Mr. Justice? I brought your meal as requested."

The B.A.T spy disguised as an assistant entered the office.

Justice wasn't even sure whether he'd knocked.

He'd been so lost in thought.

It didn't matter.

He gestured for the man to leave the silver tray on his desk while remaining seated with his hands clasped before his face, visor hiding his eyes as he carefully watched the assistant.

Something about his clothes seemed...Off.

"Agent, state your serial number."

Justice requested after a moment, not dismissing him.

The perfect posture.

Hands clasped behind his back.

He looked nothing like the respectful, nervous new recruit eager to impress his superiors.

He looked like a veteran warrior.

The B.A.T spy tilted his head.

Justice felt the air change.

His feathered ears flattened as static hissed through the room and the man's voice became muffled.

"Repeat that, please."

Justice slowly stood.

Something was wrong.

Before he could react, the man's body transformed.

Muscles expanded.

His height increased.

Black armor with diamond details emerged.

Reality stood before him.

Sword in hand.

Parrot barely managed to press the emergency button at his waist before the man lunged like a black lightning bolt.

The black blade sliced through the air where Justice had stood moments before.

The hero shot upward.

His office's vaulted ceiling gave him enough space to avoid the strike.

Reality caught him almost instantly.

Using his ability, he warped gravity around them.

Justice suddenly weighed tons.

He crashed onto the quartz floor, choking beneath the crushing force as his wings folded painfully under the invisible pressure.

The villain approached.

Sirens screamed.

Rushing footsteps echoed through the corridor.

Reality muttered something.

Justice gritted his teeth.

Even moving his tongue felt difficult.

Still, he forced out the question.

"Who sent you?"

The question was only meant to buy time.

Reality scoffed.

With a strike of his sword's sheath, he shattered the reinforced window. The strengthened glass exploded beneath the tremendous impact. He turned toward Justice. His blue diamond mask adorned with netherite and quartz met Justice's dark visor. The hero knelt on the quartz floor, supporting himself with trembling hands.

"If you really want to know... It was

The Director."

The office door burst open.

Reality threw himself through the shattered opening and vanished into the night. Mimic, black wings spread wide behind him as he shot past Justice in pursuit. Triton entered moments later with Double and Amber close behind.

"Help Justice. I'll go after Mimic. Sweep the Tower's internal security."

The number four hero ordered before fastening a grappling hook to the broken window ledge and leaping into the night with a climbing rope attached to the harness across his chest.

Outside, Mimic and Reality circled the Tower, exchanging blows around the windows.

Justice slowly felt the crushing gravity lift while Amber and Double helped him stand.

"Justice, I think it would be wise to move you to B.A.T Headquarters until this situation is resolved."

Double advised him. Her pink-and-brown hare mask met Justice's dark visor. Still shaken, he looked through the broken window. Triton and Mimic fought together flawlessly. The shapeshifter hurled the warden hybrid skyward. Bravely, Triton unleashed his anesthetic, sleep-inducing mist in a futile attempt to catch Reality by surprise. The number one villain evaded him effortlessly, walking across invisible platforms. As Triton fell, Mimic caught him once more, and together they made another attempt.

Reality retreated.

He camouflaged himself within the darkness by bending the light around his body. The pair abandoned the chase and returned to the Tower—not through the shattered office window, but by ascending to the rooftop. Justice let his shoulders sag as the adrenaline drained from his veins. The tingling in his fingers had become painfully uncomfortable. He scratched at his hands in an attempt to make it stop. Amber noticed.

"Justice? Your safety is the safety of the entire continent. If you—"

The rabbit hybrid raised a hand to touch his shoulder.

Justice jerked away. His face turned away from them. His lips formed a thin line.

"Please, Double... Amber... allow me a moment alone.”

The pair of hybrids exchange glances through their rodent masks, but after a second they do as they're asked. Parrot turns his back on the door as it closes, his eyes taking in his room: the shattered window, the overturned table, the wasted food scattered across the floor, and his breath catches when he sees the picture frame lying face down on the ground, crushed beneath Reality's boot when he charged at him. The avian slowly crouches down, avoiding the shards of glass on the floor and the overturned chair. His gloved hands, which leave his fingertips exposed along with his short claws filed close to the flesh, pick up the cracked wood, which falls apart beneath his trembling touch. The photograph underneath was almost untouched, save for a subtle tear in the upper corner on Judgement's side. The number one hero exhales in relief and safely stores the photo in his inventory, rising from the floor with trembling knees. A second attack so soon could not have been carelessness—it meant his time was running out. In decades, no villain had ever managed to infiltrate their ranks, and now Reality had shown just how dangerous that could be. But who was this The Director, and why did he want him dead? How had he managed to hire the number one villain to assassinate him?

So many questions, but the answers all seemed to revolve around one troubling factor.

The Invis Mafia.

The greatest and most feared villains and players had belonged to the upper ranks of that terrible organization. The diamond players carried maces with them—twenty maces, of which they only knew the whereabouts of three— now four with Reality—: two with Pierro and Draken, and one with Crucible, which he had taken after killing a diamond player himself. But there was someone who had never wielded the twentieth mace, whose location remained a mystery.

Infernos.

Justice narrows his eyes at the sight of Diamond Crossroad revealed through the hole in his wall. In the distance he can see the lilac lights of Amethyst Shards—the Vitam Rapere cemetery lies there, Wifies' gravestone, Judgement resting among that of many other heroes. His right wing suddenly burns with an old, piercing pain, flames consuming feathers and skin, muscles and tendons burning away. His ears ring with the sound of a vortex of fire surrounding him, and his head throbs hard enough to force him to close his eyes and struggle to control his breathing.

Infernos... he owes him answers.

 

It had been eight months since Judgement's death.

 B.A.T has a long list of villains considered threats who must be contained through extreme measures. Justice disagrees with the idea of killing villains, but some truly are unforgivable. Infernos killed Judgement with his flames under Monarch's orders. Parrot wanted nothing more than to make him pay for it, but he knew the other had merely been following PrinceZam Goldfin's commands. Goldfin was still imprisoned; his 500-year sentence would likely end before he died, after all, mermen and sirens could live three to five times longer than humans, though that depended on their magical core. Monarch's core was restrained by shackles that cut off the circulation of magic and prevented him from using his mind-control ability, which had previously been thought to manipulate situations. It had eventually been discovered that the villain used mind control to stop heroes from pursuing him, causing them to forget the pursuit itself as a side effect of Monarch's influence. Fortunately, those memory gaps were corrected when everyone discovered the true nature of Goldfin's ability, seemingly restoring the memories of everyone who had fallen under his control. It was an incredibly powerful ability and earned Monarch a place in Paragon where he could have no contact with anyone, an intense isolation capable of breaking villains' psyches in only a few weeks. Parrot had seen recordings from cameras inside Monarch's cell showing the villain talking to himself...

But Infernos was far from innocent, and B.A.T agreed to help track him down and force whatever valuable information they could from him.

Unfortunately, Infernos was a formidable fighter, and despite its simplicity, his base was clearly beloved territory. He defended it tooth and nail. His flaming sword sliced through B.A.T members' limbs like butter. He denied any involvement with Reality and claimed not to know who The Director was, warning that if he saw heroes near Spawn again, he would march to the Tower and burn Diamond Crossroad to the ground if necessary to be left alone. B.A.T retreated after losing five agents. Mimic seemed furious that they had accomplished nothing, and Amber ended up gravely injured, leaving Justice disappointed in himself for putting his comrades in danger. They returned to B.A.T Headquarters, where Parrot insisted on helping Double treat Amber's wounds. The worst was a slash across the lower abdomen that Infernos had deliberately refused to cauterize with his infernal flames. The rabbit hybrid thanked the number one hero for his concern and care but warned him that Mimic was disappointed with both the failed operation and Amber's weakness. It would be better to leave Amber alone so he wouldn't seem like even more of a failure to B.A.T's leader. Justice reluctantly agreed, promising to return in a few minutes with food before stepping outside the organization's base to walk. The sounds of the surrounding forest helped calm him, but his thoughts still ran wild, revolving mainly around the mysterious figure known as The Director and why he had sent Reality to kill him.

As he walked, he noticed nothing unusual around him, so he relaxed. His footsteps were muffled by the soft grass beneath his boots, his wings flexing behind him while his ears twitched subtly, catching the distant song of canaries.

Then suddenly the world seemed to shift.

He realized he was falling.

He immediately tried to fly to stop himself, but when he looked up he saw obsidian had sealed the exit, preventing his escape. Looking down, he saw a horrifying darkness. Zooming in through his visor, he realized there was a hole in the bedrock.

He was flying over the void.

His feathers stood on end at the sight. The pit was unimaginably deep. He realized he was surrounded by obsidian, and the opening through which he had entered had been sealed with incredible speed. His wings could barely flap within the cramped two-by-four space. Every movement was hindered by the claustrophobic sensation squeezing his chest, reminding him of the vortex of flames that had nearly consumed his wings almost seven months ago. His breathing became forced, and his wings—which could normally fly for hours without tiring—betrayed him, faltering and nearly sending him into the abyss.

He caught himself on the obsidian, pulled a pickaxe from his inventory, and tried to mine his way out of the trap. But he couldn't support his own weight long enough to break the obsidian while simultaneously flapping his wings and clinging on with one hand.

Minutes dragged on.

The chips of obsidian he managed to break off made no difference.

Then suddenly he heard a voice above him.

It was Amber.

He was calling for him, sounding worried because he hadn't returned after disappearing for twenty minutes. Parrot hadn't even realized how much time had passed. He called Amber's name, and knowing the rabbit hybrid's hearing was excellent, it didn't take long for the other to realize the number one hero was trapped underground.

Working together, they opened a hole in the obsidian large enough for Justice to pass through without injuring either wing.

The B.A.T member said they needed to find the others and warn them that the base's security had been compromised.

Justice agreed.

They ran to the meeting room, where the other members usually gathered at least once or twice a day to discuss plans.

Nobody was there.

Amber walked around the room, and the sharp click of something snapping made them both freeze.

The other had stepped on a pressure plate.

Out of the corner of his eye, Justice saw invisible particles.

"Reveal yourself, whoever you are."

He ordered without blinking.

The invisible person drank a bucket of milk, revealing himself as System, a top twenty villain known for an ability that allowed him to perceive patterns and break, manipulate, or repeat them. He was also an exceptional trapmaker responsible for countless heroes' deaths.

Parrot had never known he was a hitman.

Perhaps The Director had sent him too.

Fortunately, Double and Triton arrived in the room a few minutes later. System advised them to determine which redstone line was connected to the pressure plate before time ran out or everyone would die.

They managed to disable the trap only seconds before the timer reached zero.

The villain escaped.

They couldn't catch him.

Justice ordered Triton to find Mimic while he figured out a way to trap System himself.

After successfully outsmarting and capturing the villain, they imprisoned him in a cell beneath B.A.T Headquarters, intending to interrogate him after inspecting every compromised system in the base.

But System escaped right under their noses.

He also stole all of their gear stored inside shulker boxes.

Justice decided that he and Amber would track down the stolen items while the others continued searching for System and trying to find a permanent way to imprison him. Eventually they discovered that System had sold all the gear to Four Cvit, the president of the small town of Redstone. Once the blue slime learned the truth, he returned everything without a single complaint, looking deeply guilty for unknowingly doing business with a villain.

On their way back to B.A.T Headquarters, however, a group of thieves attempted to rob them.

Naturally, they failed.

The moment they realized he was Justice, they fled like cowards.

Upon finally returning, Double informed them she had captured System once again.

She and Justice interrogated the villain about why he had targeted Justice and who had sent him. They already suspected it was The Director.

The hare hybrid even handed System a flowerpot containing a dandelion—a tactic meant to lower his guard.

Instead, the villain simply handed Justice a book before using a stasis chamber to escape.

The book was almost completely blank except for the first page, which read:

 

 

"I don't think he's a fan of dandelions."

That meant The Director had known they would give System the flower.

It was a common tactic used only by the top heroes and B.A.T when dealing with particularly silent villains. Justice was exhausted after two nonstop days chasing System and recovering their stolen gear. This new revelation made him suspect that even someone inside the Tower had turned against them.

He couldn't even rest in the room Mimic had provided so he wouldn't have to return to the Tower that night.

He found a chest with a sign reading:

"run"

Inside were two stacks of ender pearls and an invisibility potion.

Using them, he slipped through B.A.T Headquarters when lockdown activated.

Red emergency lights flashed.

Sirens blared through the loudspeakers.

Mimic's voice echoed through the base, ordering every member to locate and detain Justice. Lethal force was authorized.

The announcement nearly made Parrot vomit.

But he escaped.

He had nowhere to go.

The Tower was out of the question—it would be the first place they searched.

So he flew southeast toward Spawn.

The area would be harder for B.A.T members to navigate.

There, he hastily built a small base.

It had been almost four days since Alatus informed him he was returning, and traveling by boat would take at least a week, since Alatus likely wouldn't fly with Glacies.

He had no one he truly trusted enough to ask for help.

Unfortunately, only hours later, Mimic, Triton, Double, and Amber found him.

All of them possessed abilities far too dangerous for someone on the run to confront directly.

On top of that, Mimic accused him of being The Director.

As absurd as the accusation was, no one seemed to question the number three hero's actions.

Justice escaped through a Nether portal.

The chase led them onto the Nether roof.

The endless red sky and the bedrock stretching beneath his feet seemed to go on forever.

Parrot refused to panic.

Using obsidian from his ender chest, he built another portal.

The moment he stepped through the purple shimmer, he destroyed it from his side, temporarily trapping B.A.T's most dangerous members.

That bought him a few hours to rest and think.

He found an abandoned town on Spawn's outskirts and settled there.

At the end of the fourth day, Double found him.

Instead of attacking, she quickly explained what was happening.

Apparently she had been the one who left him the ender pearls and invisibility potion that allowed him to escape B.A.T Headquarters.

Justice asked the hare hybrid to let him become a spy within her squad to discover how he had been framed as The Director.

She handed him the evidence collected against him.

It clearly had all been fabricated.

Before they could begin figuring out how to clear his name, Mimic ordered every agent back to B.A.T Headquarters for a mole check among the spies.

Once there, every lower-ranking member assembled.

Mimic ordered everyone to hold up their green shields.

Justice quickly grabbed a green banner from the wall and combined it with his shield while no one was looking.

Too late.

He realized he was the only one with a different shield.

It immediately exposed him as the mole.

Once again, he escaped death through sheer luck, slipping away through gaps that had clearly been left for him by Double.

Even so, he remained close to the base and secretly observed a meeting between the squad leaders, Triton, and Mimic.

Double noticed him.

Instead of pretending not to, she revealed his location.

He fled once again.

She caught up to him shortly afterward, explaining she hadn't truly betrayed him—she had only been pretending because Mimic suspected her.

Justice forgave her immediately once he realized she was sincere.

Then he noticed a spy listening to them.

Double coldly killed him.

Justice reluctantly thanked her for sparing him from having to kill a fellow B.A.T agent himself.

Later that night he found a book inside his abandoned-town base.

It contained coordinates and a request to meet up.

Parrot quickly concluded it had to be from The Director.

He went the following morning, on the fifth day.

The Director wore enchanted netherite armor trimmed with quartz.

He offered no explanations, no motives.

He simply told Justice the hunt would continue before teleporting away.

At that exact moment, B.A.T revealed themselves.

Mimic apologized for doubting him.

Then the number three hero realized one of the spies was missing.

Double admitted she had killed him.

Mimic expelled her from B.A.T, threatened to revoke her hero license, and throw her into Proton if he ever saw her again.

Justice tried to negotiate with the leader of the spies.

There was no changing his mind.

At least she wasn't sentenced to death or exile.

Still, Double was branded a possible traitor and placed under confinement until further notice. When they returned to B.A.T Headquarters, however, they were attacked by Truth, a villain who had climbed the rankings at astonishing speed, reaching thirteenth place, one position above System. Truth could distort people's reality, minds, appearances, and even himself. He could alter his physique, imitate voices, teleport both himself and others, and countless other unimaginable feats. Because he was relatively new, however, he had not yet been listed among the greatest villains. Regardless, Mimic decided to stay behind to hold Truth off while Triton and Justice fled.

The base was destroyed by the villain.

Several hours later, Mimic reunited with them at the Tower.

But the hunt was nowhere near over.

 

Twenty-three days after the rematch between Infernos and Crucible.

 

Three months after the Mafia's end.

Crucible was simply looting some random base southwest of Capital City when he was suddenly attacked by a pathetic pair of thieves.

That wasn't unusual.

What was strange was that both idiots tried to flee the fight they themselves had started.

Even stranger, an invisible player joined the battle, wearing full netherite armor—something incredibly rare after the Mafia—with emerald eye trims.

He dealt considerable damage against the mysterious player, though his armor was on the verge of breaking. Wemmbu retreated to the top of a tall tree, avoiding his attackers while considering the situation he found himself in with an Invis Mafia wannabe apparently hired by the pair. They screamed some stupid lines and revealed some information, not that it really mattered.

A single stack of diamonds?

Was that really all he was worth?

He tried questioning the assassin about who he was, but the man refused to answer, remaining silent while the two idiots continued talking nonstop. Then Wemmbu noticed the invisible face staring intently at something behind him. He pulled out a Totem of Undying at the exact right moment. A redstone railgun fired dozens of arrows that pierced his body in the blink of an eye. Some ricocheted off his netherite plates. Others buried themselves in his wings.

His totem popped.

 Despite the searing pain in his back, he immediately took flight, escaping the jungle forest toward the neighboring savanna biome. He landed roughly against the yellowed grass. The darkness of the night concealed him as he tried to process what had happened, pulling arrows from his wings and eating golden apples to recover. Apparently those players didn't have elytras. Otherwise, they would have followed him. And to think those people hired an assassin to kill him, one who had enchanted netherite while his employers barely had diamond armor without enchantments. By now, most players, low-level villains, and criminals barely had access to netherite, mainly because the Mafia had mined almost all of it to supply its army of thousands of members, making netherite gear and equipment incredibly rare. The Invis Mafia also had rules, such as its members always remaining invisible and never speaking, with the higher ranks wearing eye trims, just like that invisible player with emerald trims. To find out who that person was, he would have to investigate and, unfortunately, try to stay discreet, so he drank an invisibility potion and returned to the destroyed base, where three chungies and the netherite player were gathered. The conversation was almost entirely one-sided, and after less than a minute, the Invis with emerald trims used a fishing rod and vanished into thin air. The three chungies split up, and Wemmbu decided to follow the one heading south, across a river, endlessly singing about how much he loved mining. Honestly, the trip was awful, and he almost regretted trying this. Eventually, they reached the player's house/base, which had a tall tower with pumpkin heads containing candles inside them like a lighthouse—it was terribly visible from afar and could reveal the location of the place to anyone actually paying attention to their surroundings. The base itself was underground, with circular glass ceilings at the surface level, five chambers consisting of one central room surrounded by four others. He was going to interrogate the chungie about who the assassin was and where the rest of his teammates were, so that he could… take care of them. Unfortunately, his armor was badly damaged, and he had to switch to his diamond armor with trims, which was in slightly better condition but considerably less intimidating. So he would need some sort of leverage. On a lower level of the base, he found two brown dogs and a gray parrot with a yellow crest—which reminded him of someone—. Pets.

Hm.

 He quickly built a lava pit and trapped the animals over the molten magma, each balanced on a single block. After twenty minutes of waiting and snooping through the chungie's belongings, who had foolishly left behind a diary signed with his name, Caleb M. Twenty Two, there wasn't much worth reading in its pages. Pictures of the animals, Caleb talking about how much he loved mining and what he'd found on his trips to the mines, even details about his daily life, which was pretty boring, and Wemmbu didn't bother reading to the end. Finally, the thief returned, and Wemmbu threatened to kill his animals, managing to force out the locations of his teammates. One was living ten thousand blocks west of the Infinity Base, and the other among the ruins of the old Zam Empire. However, he knew nothing about the assassin, and Crucible killed him, freeing the animals. He would have killed them too, but he didn't see the point in wasting Gambit's durability on that. Then he returned to the Infinity Base, nuked for reasons unknown to him. He managed to gather some gear and restock his ender chest, repairing his netherite armor with some XP pots. He grabbed a few more shulker boxes, found a hole leading into the void—which he hadn't even noticed before—and then harvested the redstone rail gun that had popped his totem, which wasn't exactly subtle, and he had no idea how he'd failed to notice it earlier. Finally, he decided to head to the base in the west, flying over a dark oak forest, plains, empty villages, and eventually, at the foot of a small mountain, he found the entrance to a cave lit by countless torches. He stepped inside, walking across the stone without even bothering to sneak. Eventually, he found an opening in the cave floor leading into a large hall, where the place seemed to have been built around the cave's natural formation, with dirt paths and plenty of plants. He searched through a few chests, finding nothing valuable, and when he returned to the platform at the bottom of the oak staircase, he noticed a few particles floating in the air.

"yo, so you not slick."

 He swung his sword through the air toward the white particles but missed by inches, and the Invis player equipped his netherite armor, revealing himself while his body remained under the invisibility effect. His armor had no trims. He wasn't the assassin, but he was probably an associate.

"I'm going to interrogate you now."

 Crucible declared confidently as he watched the other player writing on a sign. When the player stepped away, he quickly read the hastily scribbled message aloud.

"Your time in this world is over, goodbye."

 The Invis person then placed a button on a marked spot on the floor and pressed it, teleporting away the instant the crackling sound of TNT being ignited echoed through the room. Crucible sprinted toward the exit, only to find it blocked by obsidian. Suddenly, the entire base was obliterated. He raised his shield to protect himself from the projectiles and the shockwaves caused by the absurd amount of explosives. When the TNT finally stopped, it revealed an obsidian cube surrounding him on every side. He immediately rushed to one corner, shielding himself with a few stone blocks before beginning to mine through the obsidian. Suddenly, he was grabbed and dragged out of his anything-but-subtle hiding spot by a pair of invisible players clad in netherite. The fight dragged on because both sides had gob apples, but eventually he managed to kill the pair. From the second one he killed, he obtained a Lodestone Compass. He decided to loot the gear left behind by the invisible players before following the location indicated by the compass's red needle. He traveled north, far beyond anywhere he'd ever been before, passing the savanna northwest of Capital City. The coordinates pointed to a location thousands—almost millions—of blocks away from Spawn, and he was certain his wings were on the verge of falling off from flying so long at such a fast, constant speed. Eventually, he reached a place he'd only ever heard about through rumors and thieves' gossip: the Mafia city.

The place was enormous, surrounded by destruction. Hundreds of craters stretched all the way to towering polished blackstone walls. Flying over the defenses, he realized the city's size probably exceeded that of an entire biome, with huge platforms rising dozens of blocks above the ground. The higher he climbed, the closer he came to the exact point the compass indicated, until he was so high that even the snow was still rain above the lower clouds. At last, he reached the highest platform, where a palace that he could only assume had once belonged to Commander stood, surrounded by beautiful gardens, crimson roofs, and walls and towers built from stone as dark as coal. Even from afar, he could see five players standing before the arched entrance, the Invis with emerald trims in the center, and less than ten blocks in front of them, a lodestone. Crucible landed five blocks away from the lodestone, tossing the compass toward the invisible players. He stared at the group for a long moment before bursting into loud, crackling laughter like thunder. The leader stepped forward, his bright green trims shining despite the relentless rain. His laugh was hoarse and unsettling to hear, and Crucible fell silent immediately.

"Hey man, if been expecting you."

The voice was familiar. Without a voice modifier or distortion, it sounded far too natural, too real, and he felt like he'd heard it somewhere before.

"this is not aura, bro."

He muttered. The smell of ozone was strong because of the rain, but mainly because he was in his element. His thunder and lightning were amplified by the natural conditions. The storm clouds hanging above gave him confidence.

"I don't know man, the coordinates turn around? I think that was pretty aura, now listen."

The man spoke casually, almost too familiarly for someone who had tried to kill him, and Crucible decided he'd hear him out, mostly because he was bored and the last few hours had been the most exciting he'd had in weeks.

"I know why you're here, but I just wanted to put out there that you and I aren't enemies anymore."

The Invis with green trims gestured through the air, and Wemmbu tilted his head, barely listening to the nonsense coming from the other's mouth, his tail swaying behind him while his feathered ears twitched erratically.

"I know we had a rocky past—"

Those words made Crucible straighten immediately, his wings flaring open behind him at the sheer audacity.

"You tried to kill me twice just hours ago."

His voice was low, his eyes beneath his black amethyst mask narrowing. The Invis with emerald trims let out another eerie chuckle.

"Yes, yes, yes, but you have to understand, anything for the cash, right?"

That reminded him of his two former mentors. The Shard. Liones. Both cared only about money—Conexion because he was a feared thief and hired assassin, and Liones because he was especially greedy and too lazy to earn his gear himself.

"But the people who hired me are mostly dead, and dead people can't want anything, so I'm not going to kill you anymore."

His dark thoughts were interrupted as the Invis revealed himself with a drink of milk.

It was... Wyll.

He knew who he was: the specialist in villain behavior and an affiliate of the Tower. He'd heard him on television a few times.

What was this guy doing here?

The hybrid—whether he was a slime, some kind of lizard, or simply an unusual green demon, Crucible couldn't tell—wore no mask, confident enough to reveal his face. Wemmbu almost envied him.

"So you giving up on killing me?"

He was certain Wyll had already commented on every notorious villain, psychoanalyzing them, theorizing about them, and influencing people into believing whatever he wanted, shaping the public's perception of villains however he pleased. He himself had increased Crucible's hype by giving him the title, "The Unruly Offspring of Thunder and Lighting itself," which had been enough for him to forget the comment calling him Monarch's inferior subordinate a month after the Golden Empire's fall.

"well, not entirely, there's one last guy and if you where to kill him, I couldn't have to hunt you down anymore."

Wyll chuckled, and Wemmbu tilted his head. He remembered the player. He'd killed one, and he was sure the explosion had killed the other, so only one remained—the one living in the ruins of the Golden Empire.

"Oh, yeah, but this seems pretty suspicious."

He couldn't believe Wyll because, well, he had no reason to, and even if he did, he still wouldn't for obvious reasons.

"I mean, how could I trust you couldn't immediately try to kill me like you have being doing for the past hours?"

He voiced his thoughts freely. He had no qualms about being honest, and Wyll giggled at his words, especially the "try to kill" part.

"Uhu, I mean, I could if I wanted."

He shrugged, his armor clinking with the motion. The green details of his armor highlighted his lime hair and dull green skin, and his confidence made Crucible let out a mocking hiss.

"No, you couldn't."

"Do me a favour? Take some steps that way."

The sudden request made Crucible hesitate. He raised his shield and walked five blocks to the right.

Wyll slowly approached the lodestone, pulling out a pickaxe from his inventory and glancing at the winged hybrid.

"Are you ready?"

Wemmbu didn't even have time to answer before the other mined the gray block in front of him.

TNT came to life.

Chunks of stone flew toward him, and he blocked them with his shield, his wings twitching as he stared at the crater that had opened.

"you have been standing on top of that the entire time and I didn't do anything, save to say you probably can trust me."

The realization struck him.

Wyll could have casually walked over to the lodestone while Wemmbu was standing there without blast protection on his armor, mined it, and killed him in the explosion with such ease that it bordered on boring.

"Specially considering you don't know how many more of these are out here."

The veiled threat disguised as an offer of trust made Crucible clench his jaw. His tail lashed through the air behind him while Wyll amused himself with a confident tone as he approached, holding an ender pearl.

"If I wanted you dead, you could be dead."

The admission wasn't exactly reassuring, and Wemmbu wondered if the other had forgotten he was trying to manipulate him into trusting him.

"You're standing on top of that thing the entire conversation."

The unusual hybrid continued, and Crucible sighed, choking back a laugh. If Wyll thought a few TNT blocks could kill him, he was sorely mistaken. He was certain his instincts would've saved him. His hearing would've picked up the TNT igniting before the explosion ever happened.

"That still doesn't mean I automatically trust you."

He managed to say, his voice dripping with irony.

Wyll sighed heavily, clasping his hands in front of himself. After a brief silence, he spoke calmly, almost... diplomatically.

"Okay. You're already here, might as well give you a little tour of the facilities, come on."

The green-skinned hybrid gestured for him to follow, and after a moment, Crucible did.

"Uh, okay?"

They passed through the hole, and Wyll's four guards surrounded them, maintaining perfect formation around the pair. Their invisible figures strangely reminded him of the Mafia, and he hated remembering those days.

He tried distracting himself with the scenery instead. The inner gardens were even more spectacular than the outer ones. There was even a stone statue of a winged goddess to the left of the black palace entrance.

"Isn't this not Commander's old castle from the Mafia times?"

He asked, watching twisted oak trees rise overhead, neatly trimmed bushes and pink rosebushes lining the immaculate stone path. Not a single crack marred it, and lanterns hanging from posts glowed with warm flames that lit up the rainy night.

"In fact I think now is my castle."

Wyll chuckled, glancing over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs into the castle. The floors and walls were made of the same glossy, pitch-black stone. Cyan banners decorated the sides alongside green foliage and tables holding single chests.

When Wemmbu looked toward the end of the hall, he saw... a rather curious portrait.

"You see, when the Mafia disbanded, they kind just left all their stuff and since there was no one around I decide to put it to use for them."

They approached the painting, walking beneath a beautiful crystal chandelier with white candles and rows of furnaces that seemed oddly out of place. Crucible noticed the portrait even had its own shrine.

"What is this?"

He asked, studying the brushstrokes depicting a dark-haired man surrounded by purple lightning, wearing a red cape fastened over one shoulder with a golden clasp. The man's eyes glowed electric purple.

"Oh, this portrait was already here when I came, I don't know who's this however."

Wemmbu looked at the golden frame. There was no inscription revealing whom it depicted, and he wasn't all that curious to find out.

"I think it looks cool, to be admire but not touched."

Wyll kept talking. Everyone seemed to pause for a moment to admire the artwork, and for some reason Crucible felt tempted to damage it. The lightning resembled his own a little, and he felt oddly offended that some unknown man possessed lightning in a painting that wasn't about Crucible.

"Anyway."

Wyll then showed him around the base. He seemed to have turned the castle into something practical, and they were unbelievably wealthy. The green hybrid even claimed this was only a small fraction of their riches, and the rest was hidden inside shulker boxes stored in other players' ender chests.

He was tempted to steal some gear for himself, but Wyll kept a close eye on him, and ending up on his bad side again sounded like a terrible idea.

"so if I kill the last guy who hired you, you I'll stop hunting me?"

It sounded too easy, but Wemmbu honestly didn't care. His journey in search of power would eventually stretch on too long, and sooner or later he had to return to his base with Egg.

"Yeah, if I'm already paid and they're dead, then there's no reason to hunt you down."

Wyll shrugged. His voice gave no indication he was lying, so Wemmbu nodded in understanding.

"well, alright, I'm going to kill the last one then."

He scratched the back of his neck. It wouldn't be difficult. It was obvious those chungies were no match for him.

"Good luck man."

The green hybrid let out another bizarre little laugh that made the feathers on Crucible's tail bristle.

Determined not to spend another second there, Crucible took flight and quickly left the castle. Before hunting down the final employer, however, he decided to build the redstone rail gun hidden inside one of the pillars in the wall surrounding the abandoned Mafia city.

Then he began the long journey to the southeastern edge of the GoldApple Tree district, where the ruins of the Golden Empire still stood.

The sun had set and risen again before he finally found, along the coast, a hut atop a hill overlooking the great lake.

He entered through the roof, stepping into the empty attic before breaking through the ceiling again to reveal the home's owner sitting in the bathroom.

The man was just sitting there on the closed toilet lid like a weirdo, and immediately bolted upon seeing Crucible looming over him like a crow of death.

The winged hybrid pursued him closely, landing several sword strikes as they rushed down the stairs into a hallway leading to an underground farm.

The player foolishly dove into a narrow hole, and Wemmbu followed, equipping Gambit and delivering a direct blow to the chungie's skull.

He died instantly, his remains dissolving and revealing his items.

After finally killing the last of Wyll's employers, Crucible found himself standing on a few slime blocks covered by a thin green carpet.

Looking around the room, he realized it resembled a laboratory.

To his left stood a glass tank filled with water, only one block wide and five blocks tall. The floor was gray granite, the walls white streaked with pale gray, supported by dark gray concrete pillars. Strange paintings covered almost every wall.

To his right were three observation cages.

The first housed a polar bear.

The second contained a blue and white bird perched on a stand.

The third was empty.

Turning completely around, he saw Wyll and his four subordinates standing in an observation room, watching him as though he were the missing third specimen.

"oh, hi."

He said awkwardly. He genuinely hadn't expected to see the other man there, though it didn't really matter.

"Hey man, long time no see."

Wyll greeted him through the reinforced smoked glass.

For a moment, Crucible forgot the man was a contract killer.

"It's being like– why you here?”

He was going to point out the fact that it hadn't even been six hours since they had seen each other, but decided to keep quiet about it and ask what the other's reason for being there was, because Wyll would know where he would be, but waiting exactly there, the player had run in that direction for a reason. He had grabbed him all the way to Wyll, because?

“Basically, I changed my mind, I think I'm still going to hunt you after all.”

Well, he should have guessed that, but it wasn't unexpected, just unusual that the other would do this now of all times.

“Uh, okay.”

He pots three potions, strength, swiftness, and fire resistance, advancing toward the little observation room where Wyll and his goons were hiding behind glass like cowards. Wyll smiles at him macabrely.

“Have fun.”

The ground suddenly opens beneath him, sending him straight into the void. His wings snap open, keeping him away from the nothingness that would suffocate him to death. He pulls out a pickaxe and tries to mine the obsidian, but the constant movement of two wings beating to keep him airborne made mining much harder.

“yeah, that's not gonna work, Crucible.”

Wyll mocks him from somewhere above, sounding particularly pleased with himself for tricking him with such a stupid and obvious trap, and Wemmbu boils inside for not realizing it immediately.

“You're trying to mine trough the obsidian? I don't think that's gonna work.”

The unusual hybrid continues, humming when he gets no answer, seemingly amused by the winged hybrid's furious silence.

“Anyway, the people who are paying where never really a concern…”

Wemmbu bites his own tongue when his pickaxe only scrapes the surface of the obsidian, barely chipping it.

“I'm really surprised you believed when I said I was doing this because I was being paid.”

Okay, maybe Wemmbu is a little naïve, but still, can anyone blame him for assuming Wyll would want to take the easy route instead of trying to kill him?

“You saw the castle, you saw my riches, I wear a new netherite set every day, I eat gold apple for breakfast and I shower I'm experience bottles.”

Now the other was bragging while Crucible was on the verge of death? This was getting ridiculous in Wemmbu's opinion.

“Do you really think I needed any payment they're giving me?”

The winged hybrid growls, circling beneath the obsidian while trying in vain to find some kind of support to grab onto and stabilize himself long enough to carve out an escape route.

“The only reason I'm doing this is for the love of the game.”

Wyll chuckles, his sickly sweet voice seemed to rub the wrong way against his brain, and Wemmbu holds back the creative insults on the tip of his tongue. If Egg knew he was thinking these things, he'd be scandalized and scold him.

“Imagine this, the biggest specialist in villains being the one to kill Crucible, the shining thunder? That reputation gonna get me far.”

Oh, no. There was no way he was giving Wyll that satisfaction.

“You can try to mine though that obsidian, you going to need to rest your wings eventually, hopefully I won't see you around.”

The sound of the other's footsteps fading away makes Wemmbu's ears droop and his feathers puff up completely.

“you a loser bro!”

His voice echoes into the nothingness, and the black vastness seems eager to swallow him whole.

Fortunately, he had cheated death countless times before. One more time wouldn't be impossible.

He emerges through the opening into Infinity Base with wings that look ready to fall off and lungs on fire. He clings to the ground, his claws sinking into the grass. He rises to his feet while his heart pounds like a booming drum inside his ribcage and his breathing is nothing but a wheeze. The phantom weight of the void trying to devour him in its suffocating embrace still haunts him. If Wyll wanted to play, then Crucible would play too—but on his own terms. The biggest problem with the Mafia was that it was impossible to tell anyone apart when they all wore the same armor and were invisible, which meant it would be easy for him to sneak in and steal the items he'd need to defeat the assassin and his league of minions. He wouldn't even have to spend his own gear doing it. He rests for a few hours, repairs his armor with XP, and eats enough for three meals to improve his saturation and force his body to heal faster. Then he flies back to Mafia City once again, pots invisibility, and removes his armor so he can fly to the castle unnoticed. Once there, he hides behind some bushes and puts on the plain netherite armor set without trims that he picked up at Infinity Base. His invisible wings fold tightly behind him, and his tail curls around his right ankle. He steps out from behind the foliage, his boots crushing loose pebbles along the path as he casually walks toward the entrance arch, even waving at an unsuspecting invisible player, who waves back enthusiastically before returning to his gardening. Entering the castle, he notices plenty of activity and Wyll's lively voice as he coordinates his goons.

“Why do we have four chest sections dedicated do protection four iron armor?”

The strange hybrid huffs as he watches two invisible players carrying a large chest out of the armory built to the left of the castle's entrance hall. Wemmbu blends in with the others, checking the chests for anything valuable, finding on the second one he checks some golden apples that he wastes no time taking.

“Genuinely, I mean, packed up I guess…”

Wyll kept talking in the background, unaware that Crucible had infiltrated right under his nose, stealing from him and planning to use his spoils to wipe the floor with the pompous assassin.

“we running low on white shulker uh–”

Wemmbu notices an invisible player organizing several shulker boxes. He peeks inside each one, realizing that all four are dedicated to one armor piece each: helmet, chestplate, leggings, and boots, all with Protection IV, Unbreaking III, and Mending. The helmet also had Respiration III and Aqua Affinity.

“There's so much TNT…”

The wannabe mafia leader's muttering continues while Wemmbu doesn't hesitate for another second, grabbing all four shulker boxes and storing them in his ender chest in a matter of seconds. Then, after that, he peeks into the hall and, seeing that horrible painting, is suddenly overcome by the urge to destroy it. He quickly uses his claws to tear a massive gash through the image, then returns to the armory, where Wyll is looking suspiciously at one of the invisible players.

“Uh, wait, who's this?”

Then he notices Crucible, still disguised and indistinguishable from the others. The lime-colored hybrid scratches his chin, and after looking over everyone present, shakes his head.

“what a sec, nah, everybody here, right now.”

He gestures for everyone to go into the hall, pointing toward the wall where the destroyed painting hangs, but Wyll doesn't even notice, too focused on the fact that something is definitely wrong.

“Line up against that wall, immediately.”

He orders, his voice revealing nothing of what he's truly feeling, and Wemmbu feels his tail twitch nervously.

“one, two three, four… five, yeah. I'm not gonna lie, something's not right.”

Wyll pointed at each of them, the last invisible player being Crucible, who, despite his disguise not being completely ruined yet, tenses his shoulders, his armor plates clinking.

“So here's what we're gonna do, I have this shulker in me just for special occasions…”

Wyll takes a shulker into his hands, smaller and looking more like a little cooler. When he opens it, it reveals several sealed bottles of milk.

Crucible gulps.

“There we go, each of you take one of these.”

One by one, each invisible player took a bottle of milk. Wyll started with the first in line, ordering him to drink immediately, then the second, third, the fourth…

Wemmbu mace's Wyll, his strike so fast and powerful that the totem popping was only noticed a second later, after the attack had already landed. Wyll touches his head, hearing a ringing sound in his skull. Then he looks at the invisible player—not one of his own—who attacked him. That mace looked awfully familiar.

“oh my god, there's just one person with such a mace, Crucible?”

Wyll points an accusing finger, and Crucible sips a bit of milk, revealing his winged form.

“Uh, hi?”

He says in an almost shy tone, and Wyll narrows his eyes at him, signaling with his fingers for his goons to surround the mace wielder.

“I'm not sure how you're alive, but I have to say I'm impressed.”

The lime-colored hybrid claps mockingly while Crucible glances from side to side, realizing he was surrounded from every direction.

Well, almost every direction.

He rises into the air and dives through the open doorway, glancing over his shoulder at Wyll aiming a bow at him.

“Thas a fancy mace you have there, what if you can't use it?”

Slow falling narrows. Wemmbu grumbles mentally.

He spins through the air, dodging the projectiles, his wings tucking against his back as he passes beneath the entrance arch into the inner gardens.

“What if you can hit a shot?”

The moment he says that, an arrow buries itself in his shoulder just as his wings beat to keep him aloft, and he shuts his eyes as he feels the muscles shifting around the blunt intrusion embedded in them.

“Okay, okay.”

He dives downward, one hand reaching up to grab the arrow's shaft and yank it free. He feels blood spurt a little but bites into a golden apple, and the wound closes. Then he turns to face Wyll flying with an elytra, diving at high speed toward him while using fireworks to propel himself through the air.

Why did he have an elytra?

Mafia gear. Right, he'd forgotten that.

He straightens himself midair, weaving around columns and through stone arches, flying over a greenish river and beneath the canopy of blackened leaves. Then he notices Wyll had come to face him alone, so he lands, grabbing Sunbringer—his diamond sword upgraded with a layer of netherite, named in honor of Rejoice, the connection between hilt and blade decorated with a sun and golden flowers. He twists his torso, planting his heels into the ground, parrying Wyll's sword, which was decorated with emeralds—this guy is already green and snobbish and still obsessed with an overpriced green rock, seriously…—the hired assassin frowns as he realizes Crucible's brute strength far surpassed his own, and no matter how hard he tried to force the winged hybrid's blade aside, he couldn't even budge Villain Number 8's arm.

“The hunter becomes the hunted.”

Crucible quips, and Wyll jumps back. The avian-Ender dragon hybrid chases his prey, managing to strike the other's armor plates, leaving deep scratches but no injuries.

Not yet.

“You know, for a assassin you doing a lot of running.”

He huffs, preparing Gambit in one hand while his axe, ready to disable shields, waits in the other.

“You know, for a- for a- shut up.”

Without a better comeback, Wyll suddenly stops running, trying to fit an arrow between his fingers, and Wemmbu takes advantage of the distraction to land another mace strike, popping another of the green hybrid's totems.

“Oh?”

Then the mafia-commander-wannabe pulls out a god apple from his inventory, and Wemmbu grits his teeth, throwing two potions at his feet, one cyan-blue and the other bright orange.

“You know this is not a fight of resources you gonna win.”

Wyll boasts, aiming his slow falling arrow at the mace wielder.

Wemmbu sighs.

This was going to be a long fight.

 Unfortunately, Wyll had been right. The resources he had stolen from the armory were no match for the dozen totems the green-colored hybrid seemed to be carrying, and Wemmbu found himself retreating—a tactical maneuver, of course. It would be simple: steal more gear, then deal with Wyll and the rest of his minions. But the moment he managed to get his hands on more golden apples, the wannabe mafia leader's voice rang out from the castle entrance.

“Guys, Wemmbu is on the castle, he was running out of stuff, he's somewhere–”

Wyll runs in, frantically trying to warn his guards. Then he notices a figure with a purple shield trying to sneak around the corner, and his eyes widen as he realizes something essential.

“YO! He's the one with a purple shield can we lock in please?”

Suddenly, it was Crucible who was running away, because let's face the facts, a few golden apples weren't going to help him here. He needed potions, and he hadn't managed to get his hands on any. Besides, those guys had countless totems and god apples! It was infuriating having to pop five totems before finally getting a kill.

“Stop running like this, it makes me angry.”

Wyll grumbles. They weren't running but flying, though Wemmbu certainly wasn't going to point that out. Crucible suddenly arcs upward and flies over one of the strange hybrid's goons, folding his wings and smashing the invisible player in the back with his mace, killing him instantly.

“Just land and we can be friends.”

Wemmbu manages to kill another of Wyll's assassins, noticing he was approaching the redstone railgun he had rebuilt—not his best work, but it would do.

“Oh, what happened to that guy? It's okay, he was my last favorite anyway.”

Wyll shrugs at the sight of another dead minion. Seriously, he needed to hire more competent people. He lands in front of a cobblestone wall, watching Crucible dive into a small passage. Several redstone components are visible from where he stands, and a figurative lightbulb appears above his head as his two remaining goons stop directly in front of what he assumes is that redstone device he forgot to dismantle earlier.

“This is the most obvious trap if ever seen, you guys are standing right in front of it.”

He mocks the two clueless chungies waiting for orders. He rolls his eyes at the pathetic sight.

“You know what? Stay right there.”

And the moment those words leave his mouth, dozens of arrows pierce both invisible players' armor. They dissolve into nothing, leaving their items behind. Wyll blinks in disbelief.

“Oh my god I was kidding. How dumb can you people be?”

Crucible steps out from the hiding place of his little redstone trick just in time to see Wyll slap his own forehead while muttering, “I hate me team.” He smiles sharply beneath his mask. Over the next five minutes, he pops seven Totems of Undying in a row before Wyll turns toward him, disheveled and looking completely fed up with the situation. The hybrid raises one arm and slices it through the air as if to say, enough.

“You're more trouble than you worth.”

The assassin spits out the words, completely unlike the smug, composed guy from a few hours ago.

“You know what? You're free!”

Wyll exclaims, resting a hand on his hip and shooting Crucible a sidelong glance. Crucible scoffs.

“Oh, I'm free–?”

The sarcastic reply sitting on the tip of his tongue has to be swallowed because Wyll disappears after throwing a fishing rod into the air.

A stasis.

“GG's bro.”

Crucible lets out a nasal laugh.

That was fun.

It would've been a ten-star experience if he hadn't almost died to the void.

Meh.

Nine months since Wemmbu became a villain.

 

Thirty-nine days since Rejoice's death.

 

Four days since Wyll tried to assassinate him.

 

 

Wemmbu was peacefully grinding in a Trial Chamber a few million blocks away from Spawn, so far away that while flying he hadn't seen a single sign of life across the plains and forests. He possessed a massive amount of gear, both what he had taken from Monarch after the other villain's empire fell and Liones' stash, which the latter had left behind—as though he knew Wemmbu would need it more than he would, or perhaps he simply didn't want to carry baggage. There were also a few things from Wyll that he had stolen, because he could and because Wyll was an asshole with all the Mafia's wealth to enjoy, so he could spare a little for Wemmbu. That meant he had countless shulker boxes filled with anything he could possibly need: breeze rods, gold and god apples, potions of strength, swiftness, fire resistance, invisibility, and even a few poisons Egg had advised him to keep for emergencies. He also had extra armor sets, to which he had slowly been adding amethyst, crystals, and obsidian. He had to learn a little about properly using a forge and an anvil, but that was fine—it had been genuinely fun following Egg's instructions while the white-feathered one read aloud from a battered old book he had found somewhere. He was definitely building some muscles because of it. There were also several Totems of Undying, tipped arrows for Egg, axes—which were certainly the weapon he used second most after the mace—and then his two swords, Nightrider and Sunbringer, one named after the night he took Gambit from his former mentor and the other after Rejoice.

He wore his everyday armor, simpler than the one tied to his villain persona Crucible, made entirely of netherite with purple enamel details on the pauldrons, bracers, and kneepads. His chestplate was lighter and lacked enchanted netherite mesh around its joints or back. He also no longer wore a belt, having gotten rid of his sword guard after realizing it only got in the way and had become purely decorative now that his sword no longer needed to be drawn, simply appearing in his hand with a thought.

He was killing a few breezes, his sword strikes destabilizing the creatures' condensed-air forms, when suddenly—

“Wemmbu.”

A voice sounded behind him, and without thinking he leapt, spinning in midair and macing the threat, realizing one second too late that it wasn't an enemy, just Glacies.

Wait a second.

“Glacies?”

What was the heroine doing here? Wait… she wasn't even wearing her fancy uniform, just civilian clothes and a cloth over her face, the same one she had used when infiltrating the pirates.

“Wait, what are you doing here?”

He asks as he circles the fox woman's form, his wings flapping and his tail lashing through the air curiously. He stops in front of Glacies once more. She lets out a heavy sigh, straightening her shoulders.

“Unfortunately, I've come here to ask for your help.”

Her voice was serious, and Wemmbu snorts.

Help?

Who did she think he was? A saint? A vigilante?

“What? Did your hero friends abandon you?”

 He taunts the woman, remembering well that they had parted on less-than-friendly terms after the whole disagreement in the abandoned city—Glacies had stood before him, her face wrapped in purple silk over her muzzle almost touching his mask, her pale lilac eyes set against crimson glowing with fury and grief when she realized the flowers Rejoice had given them before the battle had withered and Nimbifer had long since fled somewhere, meaning only one thing… Glacies closes her eyes for a moment, sighing before opening them again, looking as though speaking caused her physical pain.

“Snow City was invaded by villains who said they would blow up the entire mountain if I called for reinforcements from the Tower.”

An interesting threat. Everyone knows that Glacies is the star heroine of Snow City, the sworn protector of the mountain for over a year, maybe two? He's not sure, but he remembers Egg saying something about Glacies being the only heroine assigned to Snow City, for some reason he can't remember either.

Probably not important.

"What a huge problem."

He says, not really understanding why the Enderian woman was telling him this. He's not a therapist or a confidant. He's pretty sure Glacies should be announcing his arrest, not asking for help.

"But you're not a hero."

Glacies continues, gracefully ignoring the villain's sarcastic comment. Wemmbu smiles to himself beneath his mask, which, by the way, isn't even his villain mask, but one that covered the upper part of his face, leaving his lips and chin exposed. A scar on the left side near his jawline had already healed, but it was obvious against his skin, which had regained some of its paleness after the week-long journey across the Great Sea. The mark had been given to him by Infernos during their rematch. He hadn't even noticed his mask had cracked at the corner and only realized he was wounded when Egg pointed out that he was bleeding, the thick liquid dripping onto the bowl of stew the earwinged avian had prepared for dinner.

"Good thing your eyes still work—"

"Which means you can help me. After all, you owe me."

Wemmbu blinks, trying to stop getting distracted by memories, but it had been almost three days since he last checked on Egg, who was still at their farm—the one they... took from the thieves, or was it saved? Doesn't matter.

"So what you saying is that you're going to lead me to a bunch of people I can kill?"

He scratches his chin. The idea wasn't bad. It had been a while since he'd gotten into a fight—ever since Wyll and his attempt to kill him, he'd kept a low profile, not wanting someone to end up finding him, or worse, Egg, while he was unprepared. He never lets his guard down, but sometimes he gets distracted.

"Sure."

Glacies deadpanned.

"Yay!"

The winged hybrid exclaims, punching the air while Glacies watches him with visible bewilderment. Crucible was... strange.

"Okay, let's go."

He flies out through the hole in the roof he used to enter the trial chamber—some locations like this are listed in a public database, usually because they're outside the Tower's surveillance. Only villains and sometimes vigilantes came to places like these, just like the strongholds and the desert and jungle temples, as well as some ocean monuments.—which he had to widen a bit so his wings could move, three blocks wide on each side. Unfortunately, since Glacies didn't have an elytra—because apparently even the Tower, an extremely powerful and wealthy organization, couldn't provide such equipment to its heroes—they'd have to hitch a ride... with Glacies's mount.

"Why do you have a polar bear with a collar that says Norris?"

The huge beast with translucent white fur stood a head taller than him, its teeth longer and thicker than his fingers, and its furry head with round fluffy ears almost twice as thick as his mace. The animal was also stocky, which meant Glacies fed her... unconventional pet very well.

"Seriously, why didn't you give him a pet name, like Snowball?"

Truth be told, he couldn't care less what the bear was called, but it would be fun to tease Glacies a little.

"Norris is a much better name than Snowball."

The fox woman huffs, adjusting a few buckles on the saddle over the polar bear's back and the lilac blanket beneath the thick black leather saddle, which remained completely still as it was handled, almost like a horse. A huge, furry horse with teeth three times bigger than Wemmbu's own fangs, which are the size of pinky fingers. Glacies gestures for him to come closer, and he does. Since he's half Ender dragon, very few creatures could intimidate him, and his presence usually unsettled animals, who seemed to sense there was something wrong with him. Norris, the polar bear, shook his massive head as Crucible approached, and Glacies gave the arctic creature a few pats on the shoulder until it reluctantly relaxed.

"Honestly, I don't even know why I agreed to help you."

He sighs, climbing into the saddle with a push of his feet, swinging one leg over the bear's broad back, which huffed as its owner climbed up right after him, stroking between Norris's round ears while humming softly to him.

"I saw the invaders eating god apples."

Glacies takes the reins, attached to a steel bridle. She glances subtly over her shoulder, noticing the faint visual twitch in Crucible's feathered ears.

"Op loot?"

He murmurs, his tail curling in the air beside him. When he notices Glacies's look, he huffs.

"Okay, okay, you've got my attention."

It takes almost six hours before the snowy biome finally appears in the distance, and Norris seems greatly relieved when Crucible climbs off his back. Glacies rewards the polar bear with a large chunk of red meat, which the beast immediately devours. Crucible feels jealous. He wanted some juicy meat right now too, maybe with roasted or grilled potatoes—by the gods, he has to stop getting distracted.

"So you want me to go in and kill all the chungies in there and then we are all good?"

He scratches one of his ears, feeling an out-of-place feather making it itch. He smooths it down as best he can without the special oils Egg buys, made specifically for sensitive feathers like theirs.

"Okay, it's a little more complicated than that."

Glacies also fixes herself up after the trip, smoothing her thick striped tail, her claws carefully combing through the fur.

"Seems pretty simple to me, actually."

Wemmbu shakes out his wings, working the tension out of his back and testing the muscles, stretching them to their full span. He glances over his feathers to make sure there isn't any dirt on them.

"I just think it's not a good idea to go in guns blazing."

Glacies smooths down the fluffy ears atop her head, her curls a mix of purple and plum. Satisfied, she turns her full attention back to Crucible, who is still stretching, his bones popping.

"They said they had something prepared for me if I came back—"

She continues, getting a bad feeling as she watches the winged hybrid draw his mace.

"I don't care, play time!"

And suddenly Crucible is a purple-and-black blur rising in a vortex of feathers toward the top of the blue ice mountain.

"NO!"

Glacies's voice echoes loudly through the air, but Wemmbu is already halfway there, and he's tired of yapping when he could be ending some chungies' lives—and maybe avenging Rejoice's death, though he knows no matter how many he kills, Rejoice won't come back.

He lands atop a mound of snow, noticing that since the last time he'd been there, a layer of tinted glass had been added, sealing the top of the frozen volcano shut. Crucible lands softly on the refined, melted sand. The translucent surface gives him a view into the city built inside the mountain: houses along the slopes, hanging bridges, lamp posts with lanterns. At first he doesn't see anything, until a figure wearing copper and iron armor appears, slowly walking across one of the suspended bridges, almost perfectly in his sights. If he adjusted the angle... yeah, it'd be a clean, quick kill.

He grabs Gambit. His wings beat once, lifting him high into the sky. He takes a deep breath, hearing the shrill sound of lightning descending from the heavens. He dives. Electricity wraps around him, and he can't help but laugh at the sensation, his laughter mixing with the crackling of the lightning. The glass cracks and shatters around him, instantly melting under the bolt's immense heat, which dissipates moments after he lands a perfect strike on the invader's head. The chungie's items scatter through the air around him as he takes flight once again.

He spins through the air, leveling out to find his next target, who appears like a fool wearing a full set of enchanted gold armor. He lunges in the blink of an eye, but the player ducks into a cabin, narrowly avoiding him.

He pulls Nightrider from his inventory and storms into the house, his blade slicing through the air as the chungie barely dodges, slipping beneath his right wing and running back outside, calling for help. Crucible rolls his eyes. Maybe he was a little rusty after five days out of combat.

Well, time to get back into rhythm.

He leaves the cabin, his wings cracking like thunder as he spreads them. Electricity gleams between his horns, and lilac smoke escapes his lips as he rises into the air again. His eyes beneath the mask scan the city, which appears to have been emptied of civilians and turned into a base for these invaders.

He can hear someone shouting for him to stop, but he ignores it, killing two more chungies before a strike dangerously close to his wings makes him turn with a snap of his fangs, folding his wings as he stares at whoever dared try to stop him.

He's met by the sight of Phantasos.

The villain wore mostly pale pink clothing with red and black details, his face partially covered by a mask that hid only the lower half, leaving his dull black eyes exposed.

"Stop killing my men immediately, Crucible!"

Phantasos is a villain known for his ability. He can create illusions that mimic reality with such accuracy that they're almost impossible to distinguish from the truth. The illusions are based on the emotions of those affected, and Phantasos can activate them through touch.

"Who do you think you are to order me around, number 11?"

Crucible mocks, spinning Nightrider in his hand before charging at the other man, careful to avoid Phantasos's hands. He was terrible at PvP, and somehow the hybrid managed to corner him alongside one of his henchmen—the last one, as far as Wemmbu could tell.

Very strange. A group this small couldn't have come alone... hmm.

"I'll blow up this entire mountain and everyone in it if you don't retreat!"

Suddenly Phantasos pulls an explosive from his inventory, and in his other hand he holds a lighter, bringing its flame close to the fuse of the TNT block. Crucible raises an eyebrow beneath his mask at the threat.

"With just one TNT? Do you think I'm an idiot?"

He rests one hand on his hip, Gambit over his shoulder, while Phantasos trembles where he stands, sweat beading on his forehead despite barely fighting.

Pure nerves.

Crucible smiles to himself at the thought that he could inspire so much fear, even while only ranked eighth among the continent's most dangerous villains.

"It's not just one TNT, Crucible. There are explosives inside these walls. Every single inch."

Phantasos emphasizes every word, and before Wemmbu can formulate another mocking reply, Glacies appears seemingly out of nowhere behind him, grabbing his arm.

"Crucible, stop now!"

She demands, and he jerks his arm away from her touch, hissing through his teeth.

"What?"

"Let's leave. I can't let him blow up this city!"

The heroine is out of breath, and it's obvious she'd run all the way there in under ten minutes, an impressive feat considering he'd left her at the edge of the snowy biome, and the mountain is extremely tall, with them still close to the top of the frozen volcano.

"Whatever. I'll loot this gear and—"

He turns, ready to search for potions and golden apples, but Glacies steps in front of him, her stare unwavering.

"Now!"

Wemmbu stares at her for a full two seconds before sighing, rolling his eyes as he brushes past the fox woman, bumping her shoulder hard enough to nearly knock her over.

"Ugh, fine. I didn't even want this trash anyway."

"You actually have a serious problem."

They're outside the mountain again, and Glacies is pacing back and forth, every hair standing on end, her voice stretched tight like a rubber band about to snap.

"What do you mean I have a serious problem? I did what you wanted me to do!"

Crucible exclaims, throwing his hands into the air, his wings flaring open with a crack at his indignation before quickly folding them again as he realizes he's getting worked up.

"Why don't we just check these walls if they have TNT."

He says after taking a deep breath while Glacies still seems determined to wear a hole into the snow with her anxious pacing.

"It's not about that."

She sighs heavily, rubbing between her eyes as she feels a headache coming on, her tail stiff and her ears flattened against her curls. Wemmbu watches with crossed arms, frowning beneath his mask.

"Wha—"

"I don't wanna lose this place!"

Glacies lets out a sharp whine. Clearly the fox woman was taking this seriously. Snow City had been her little personal mission ever since the Tower allowed her a place among its recruits—a simple town, a village she transformed into something greater, something beautiful, something she'd hate to lose because of a petty villain like Phantasos.

Wemmbu considers the raw admission. Glacies's gaze meets his through his black mask, and he tilts his head in reluctant surrender—he remembers his first "empire," the one he built beneath the colony Monarch ordered him to establish, just on a whim. He remembers the guards spreading TNT throughout the place and blowing everything up while Zam left him with nothing, taking Egg, wounding both his pride and what little affection he still had for the mermaid.

Crucible clears his throat.

They'd have to reach an agreement soon.

"Anyway, I don't think they actually have a bomb in there, that seems really impractical to have that much of TNT in this big of a structure."

He insists again because if there really was TNT inside the foundations and walls of the mountain, then they could deal with that from there instead of walking in circles like Glacies seemed intent on doing.

"They could have traps set up."

The heroine straightens her back, her fur settling as she tries to regain her composure, though she fails. Wemmbu scratches the back of his neck. Phantasos didn't seem like a criminal mastermind, and his last henchman was... something.

"They look pretty stupid to me."

"That's just your ignorance."

Glacies hisses at him, and Crucible lifts his chin at the audacity.

"My ignorance?"

He gets no answer, and though he wants to shake Glacies and make her see reason, he knows Egg would probably find out about this one way or another.

"I feel like we could just kill them—I think they're bluffing and you're falling for it."

To him it was simple. Kill the threats. It was the logical thing to do, and he could do it... as long as Glacies stopped getting in his way.

"Crucible, even if they're bluffing, it's not a chance I want to take."

The fox woman adjusts the piece of silk wrapped around the lower half of her face. Up close, Crucible notices embroidered snowflakes in a slightly darker purple and nearly imperceptible silver threads.

"I actually have a plan."

Glacies says after a moment of deliberation, resuming her pacing. Wemmbu tilts his head, his tail lazily swaying behind him, scattering snow around his boots.

"Oh, op plan?"

He looks around and starts wandering aimlessly. He really couldn't stand still. Static electricity was awful. It vibrated beneath his cold skin and burned through his insides. He wanted action. He wanted to improve himself, not stand around.

"So, if there's a bomb, I wanna find it—why you walking away from me?"

Glacies notices he'd drifted several blocks away, and Wemmbu lowers his feathered ears as he turns back to look at her.

"I was dissociating."

He shrugs and starts organizing his inventory, which had become cluttered with the useless gear from the henchmen he'd killed. He throws some things away while Glacies approaches him with slow steps.

"You actually hate me."

She notices the discarded items, spotting several armor pieces among them. Wemmbu doesn't answer, taking out an end chest. He was going to restock. If an emergency happened, he'd be ready.

"So, no, actually—I'm gonna take these."

The fox woman digs the items out of the snow and equips them over her civilian clothes—a thermal shirt, a jacket, tapered pants, and high-heeled leather boots. Not exactly practical for the unstable terrain of that biome, but Wemmbu was wearing heels too, so he wasn't about to judge her for that.

He was, however, going to judge her actions.

"Puff, you're trenchenous!"

He bursts into loud, vibrant laughter, making Glacies stop equipping the iron and bronze gear to shoot him an offended look.

"Okay, how did you get so rich? Give me some of your stuff!"

She points at the end chest, and he chuckles.

"Yeah, no."

"Besides, shouldn't the Tower be funding its heroes? Where's your fancy gear?"

He's certain an organization like the Heroes' Tower would have plenty of weapons, supplies, and everything else needed to equip its army of fake heroes.

"Phantasos and his henchmen stole everything I had. I was lucky they didn't expose my identity."

Glacies lowers her ears and tail in embarrassment over the situation she'd ended up in. In her defense, she hadn't expected such a stealthy attack or the threat of having the mountain blown up. The civilians' safety had been negotiated, and she wasn't going to risk lives over a few enchanted netherite pieces.

"But before all of this happened, I built a hidden base beneath the mountain..."

Wemmbu raises an eyebrow at the information.

"And I don't believe they found it yet."

 Entering the mountain wasn't a problem; in fact, it was so ridiculously easy that Crucible was impressed by how Phantasos was so close to the podium—then again, Tenebrae is among the ten most feared villains, so Wemmbu isn't sure of anything—while being terrible at managing his conquered territory. Anyway, he grabbed a few invisibility potions from his ender chest, and he and Glacies began digging beneath the mountain's ice to find her so-called hidden base, so deep that he was sure they were almost a few hundred blocks above the bedrock layer. Eventually, they emerged at the top of a cavern. The sight looked more like a sanctuary than a heroine's operations base, but Glacies grumbled a little about the alterations the criminals had made there, adding structures that clashed with the almost magical landscape. Wemmbu didn't pay much attention to it, since the place had obviously been invaded and looted just like the city. It was better if they followed his plan, and Glacies said that if there was a bomb, maybe she could use her ice to cover it and lessen the damage. Unfortunately, as they sneaked through the hollow walls of the mountain, they found not one or two bombs, but thousands of explosive charges piled up and clinging to the ice like ticks, all ready to be triggered by the very first explosion, which could come from anywhere. Looking more closely—quite literally—even the ground was covered in TNT, block after block. The sight was terrifying and proved that it wouldn't matter whether they used water or ice; that place would be obliterated if they gave Phantasos the chance to do it. Glacies grew desperate, saying they could still save Snow City, that she'd think of a better plan, that maybe she could call for reinforcements and ask them to keep a low profile, but Wemmbu knew exactly what this was: denial, and it wasn't going to get them anywhere. He was only there for the fun of it, but seeing Glacies so... helpless disturbed him. He had learned that heroes were machines of the system, without thoughts or emotions, and that they deserved no mercy; they were just decorations on screens and perfect little soldiers supplied with good gear and good food who had no idea what suffering was. What it meant to live on the streets surviving on scraps, fearing that today would be your last day on earth.

But Glacies wasn't like, for example, Justice or Alatus. She wasn't a military strategist or a skilled PVPer. She knew how to handle herself, but that wasn't enough—how is she even in the top ten? That must be a mistake—but putting those thoughts aside, it was painfully obvious that either they killed Phantasos and his last lackey before the rest of their group arrived, or they let Snow City become a city permanently under villains' control until the Tower came and decided blowing them all up was a better option than risking a smaller-scale operation, though still one as worrying as the Invis Mafia and its magnificent city. Sure, the comparison was ridiculous, but Crucible was used to ridiculous things becoming dangerous very quickly. He decided he was going to fight Phantasos and his mediocre lackey. Even though Glacies told him not to, he ignored her and headed for the mountain once more. This time he would put an end to it, and then he could turn his attention to things that actually mattered—he missed Egg's cooking. He'd stop by the farm and see how things were going. The end of the year was approaching; maybe they could spend the holidays together at last, finally with food and a roof over their heads.

He returned to Glacies's underground base, where he saw Phantasos and his lackey talking. Something about calling more recruits? No. He wasn't going to let that happen.

He grabbed Gambit from his inventory. Unable to use his ability since they were so deep underground, he splashed strength and swiftness potions at his feet. He was in the same opening they had made in the ceiling before. He descended stealthily along the vines, his wings rustling in anticipation as he landed in a blue-colored tree. He was almost certain this particular species came from the Nether, so how it was surviving the cold of that biome was a mystery to him. He shook his head upon realizing he'd gotten distracted, his eyes narrowing as he watched Phantasos's lackey walk away while the villain himself remained in the courtyard of packed snow, as though he were waiting for something.

Or rather, anticipating an attack.

He quietly mocked the other's foolishness. There was no chance that guy could predict his attack, especially because he had a few maneuvers he'd been wanting to test.

He summoned Sunbringer then; she'd be better suited for what he wanted to do. He crouched among the foliage, his great wings stretching upward behind him as he watched Phantasos wander around, apparently talking to himself. Planning, maybe? Wemmbu rolled his eyes. Better attack now.

He launched himself with a powerful push of his legs, leaving his hiding place with nothing but the rustle of a branch that could easily be mistaken for the wind—if there had even been wind down there. Phantasos turned just in time to see an amethyst-studded mask and a winged figure rushing toward him, instinctively thrusting out a hand. Wemmbu's eyes widened as he realized he'd gotten too close. Before he could react, the villain's eyes glowed beneath his mask with a soft pink light, and Wemmbu felt his body hurled away, very far away.

He felt a tug at his back, and suddenly he landed in a verdant field. His eyes blinked as he tried to orient himself. Looking up, he met the gaze of...

 

No.

 

It couldn't be.

 

Those green eyes framed by blond lashes, looking at him proudly despite being clouded over. The hair tied into a low ponytail, completely unlike his own neatly brushed one that kept the strands away from the nape of his neck. That armor decorated with ruby and redstone. The sword in his hand.

 

The Shard looked down at him.

 

Or was it Conexion? Sharpness...?

 

No, he had betrayed him. He had no right to call him by that name, yet Wemmbu still refused to admit that he had. His hands crushed the ground beneath his fingers with a crunch.—That isn't right. Grass and dirt don't make that sound...—The Shard, he noticed, was bleeding profusely. Thick, poisoned blood flowed down to his hands, staining his black glove. His lips parted slightly, and he silently thanked the mask covering his face because he didn't know if he could bear to face his former mentor right now.

 

Suddenly he was pulled into another scene.

 

The hill.

 

Monarch's colony that he had foolishly thought he could claim as his own. The ruins still had smoke rising from two towers, and the pain in his wrist from when the mermaid broke his bone made him curl inward, his wings folding around him. Tears blurred his vision. His lungs burned with ash.

 

But then the scenery changed.

 

The sun was warm against his back, and the grass, though still somehow strange, felt soft beneath him. He looked around, confused, realizing he was in the clearing near Liones's tree. The birdsong around him was a sweet melody, and the air felt light and fresh.

 

He breathed in lungfuls of forest-scented air. It was sweet.

 

He looked around and realized no one was there.

 

—Where's Liones? He abandoned me, didn't he? Why, why, why? Why wouldn't he? I was a lost cause after all, so stubborn, reckless, and stupid. I didn't deserve the Spear Master's training. I was...—

 

This isn't right.

 

This isn't true.

 

This isn't his reality.

 

This is all in the past.

 

He knows where he is.

 

He knows who he is.

 

Snow City.

 

The ice mountain.

 

Crucible, the "Unholy Offspring of Lightning and Thunder itself."

 

He wasn't the apprentice who had failed two mentors. He wasn't just another assassin following a monarch's orders. He was himself. Flawed, perhaps, but he knew Glacies had come after him asking for his help because no one else could help her. And even though it was a stupid thing to do, he had come here.

 

—Where is this? Snow City? Yes, that's right.—

 

And he was going to finish what he had started.

 

Around him, countless memories blurred together. His years in captivity. His years on the streets. His encounter with those he refused to name for fear of what it would bring.

 

Rejoice.

 

Elpis suddenly crouched before him, holding his hands. His face no longer wore the terror it had before death, but instead a gentle smile. His lips moved, but it took Wemmbu a moment to understand what he was saying.

 

His voice sounded strange, an odd mixture, but it came from Rejoice.

 

How could it be him if he was dead?

 

"Wake up. This is just one of Phantasos's illusions."

 

Phantasos...

Wemmbu clenched his jaw. Crackling lilac smoke escaped between his lips.

How dare Phantasos tamper with his memories?

How dare he play with his emotions and everything he refused to remember?

Suddenly, an intense pain stabbed through his head, so sharp it felt as though a dagger had been driven into his skull. He growled in agony, feeling electricity humming beneath his skin. His eyes snapped open, meeting the sight of Phantasos's eyes widened in terror as he realized Wemmbu had escaped his illusions.

The villain stepped back, but he was too slow.

Crucible lunged.

Sunbringer gleamed in his hand before burying itself in Phantasos's abdomen. The villain choked, coughing up drops of blood as his totem popped. Wemmbu stepped back, watching another of Phantasos's totems activate because the wound refused to heal.

"Crucible..."

The pale pink hybrid hissed in pain as he clutched his torso with one hand while pulling an explosive from his inventory with the other.

Wemmbu charged again, slamming him into the snow, knocking the explosive away and throwing it out of Phantasos's reach. The villain struggled against him, his claws scraping uselessly across his netherite plates.

Crucible grabbed him by the shoulders and smashed him against the ice.

A crack formed.

He slammed him again, harder.

Another crack.

Two more times and Phantasos finally went limp beneath him.

But Crucible had forgotten about the lackey.

The man came from somewhere and rushed in to rescue his leader, knocking Wemmbu away from the hybrid, who spat more blood at the ground as another stick of dynamite appeared in his hands.

Crucible hurled the lackey aside.

But Phantasos had already lit the fuse.

Before he could stop him, everything around them was consumed by explosions.

His ears rang.

He took flight to avoid the worst of the damage, dodging chunks of ice as best he could, but one struck the side of his head, dangerously close to the base of his left horn, throwing off his flight. He regained his balance before crashing into the ground—or worse, onto one of the conveniently placed ice spikes.

Unfortunately, nothing remained of the mountain or the city nestled within it.

But he could still make Phantasos pay.

Glacies stared silently at the crater.

Her body seemed frozen in place atop a snowy hill.

The mountain was gone, reduced to ice crystals and pulverized snow. The houses no longer existed, and only a gaping hole remained in the ground.

Wemmbu circled above the fox woman before landing unsteadily on the soft snow behind her. The sound didn't make Glacies move.

Wemmbu took a deep breath.

He hadn't killed Phantasos, but he had driven him away with wounds that not even a Totem of Undying could heal. The lackey had been killed, of course, but that wouldn't bring back that little shaved ice and milkshake place, would it?

"It was a lost cause from the very beginning, wasn't it?"

Glacies said suddenly, and Wemmbu couldn't help shrinking slightly at her words.

He didn't answer.

The fox woman continued.

"I thought I could always save this place. My little personal project of... what would you call it?"

Glacies was on the verge of collapsing to her knees. She could feel her legs trembling beneath her weight.

Wemmbu approached with heavy footsteps.

"Inflating your ego?"

He tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but judging by the way Glacies drew in a deep breath, it didn't work.

"Pointless heroic acts."

Glacies brought a hand to her chest, where a sunflower-shaped pendant rested.

Wemmbu swallowed back the urge to vomit at the sight.

He walked over to her and removed his armor.

One by one, he dropped the pieces at Glacies's feet.

She turned toward him in surprise.

Finally, he pulled out a copy of the photo they had taken in the abandoned city.

He handed the fox woman that small relic whose weight only she, Egg, and he truly understood.

The picture of the four of them— Elpis in the center — huddled together, wearing those matching diamond sets like idiots.

Glacies accepted the photo with trembling hands.

"I'm sorry... I—keep it. You deserve it."

He turned away.

Before the fox woman could say anything, he left.

This time, the sound of his wings wasn't accompanied by thunder.

Only silence.