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Three.
It was meant to be a prank.
Grian was snickering to himself as he lured the creeper closer and closer to Scar. Tango, next to Grian, backed away automatically. The sizzling sound of a creeper would no doubt scare everybody, then Grian would kill the creeper, and no real harm would be done.
But—
BOOM!
Grian watched in horror as the creeper flashed and blew up. Scar, who had been cheerfully chatting a few seconds ago, was abruptly silenced. Why? Oh, because Scar was dead.
“NO!” Grian gasped, hands covering his mouth. “SCAR!”
His hands were shaking, his legs were shaking, as all his other friends erupted. Splutters and noises left Grian’s mouth as he struggled to find words. His green eyes flashed with guilt and pain.
“I’m sorry,” he rambled again and again. “I’m sorry. It-it was meant to be a prank.”
Grian sincerely meant it. He didn’t expect to cause Scar to die, especially when everyone had three lives and three lives only. And Scar- why did Scar die so easily? Grian should’ve expected it, but he— he didn’t realize just how bad Scar was at avoiding death. God.
“I’m sorry,” Grian repeatedly told Scar after he came back to collect his items. “I’ll do whatever you want until I lose my next life.”
Scar glanced at him, and Grian blinked, unused to Scar’s new yellow eyes. “Let’s control all the sand in the desert,” Scar said mischievously.
And so Scar and Grian went, Grian perched on top of a llama (named Pizza, don’t ask why), loyally following the local arsonist who burnt down half the village just because it was fun.
“I’ll protect you, Scar,” Grian vowed.
He meant it.
Two.
Grian made it his mission to keep Scar alive as long as possible. One more death and Scar would turn hostile and be everyone’s enemy.
The sand bandits gleefully chopped down all of the dark oak trees on their little island and proceeded to monopolise all the dark oak. They also attempted to control the desert, but that didn’t work as well. Still, they had a great time.
(“Everything the light touches is our kingdom!” Scar declared dramatically as he and Grian stared at the desert, their desert that was peppered with torches.They had built a tower together on top of the highest sand mound which overlooked the area. It was glorious.)
“Scar, wear your clothes!” Grian complained yet again as they stared at the setting sun from their sand tower.
“It’s hot and sweaty out here!” Scar protested. “And besides, it’ll cover up my muscles!” Scar flexed his disproportionately large arm muscles (which were no doubt fake or an illusion created by the Vex.)
“You need that iron chestplate. It’ll protect you.” Grian was adamant. (And he didn’t want to see the explosion scar on Scar’s bare chest.) Grian shoved the chestplate at Scar. “Wear it.”
Scar stared at it, then reluctantly put it on. “Sooo… are we moving in the night?”
“Yeah? We’re trying to make a deal with Etho and the village gang, right? And we know it’s too hot in the day.”
Scar swallowed. “Alright, Grian. But isn’t the night scary?”
Grian batted an arm. “Relax, Scar!” He said easily. “We marked out the road to the village with torches. It’s spawn proof. And,” he spun towards Scar with a bright and cheesy smile, “I’ll protect you!”
So Scar followed Grian down the sand mound and towards the village. The last rays of the sun left the earth and darkness started to set in.
Then—
Screeches of phantoms, descending from the skies. They both screamed. Grian batted his diamond sword (enchanted via Renchanting, of course), Scar took out his flint and steel. After the arsonist realised he couldn’t set the phantoms on fire, he turned to his sword.
They furiously stabbed the phantoms, but it was no use. More and more of them continued to attack, and soon the sand bandit duo were overwhelmed.
“GO GO GO!” Grian screamed, his face white with terror. “Scar, run for the village! I’ll hold them back!”
A phantom barrelled into Scar’s side, and he winced. Blood dribbled from his mouth, pain sprouted from his chest, but Scar remained determined. “I’m not leaving you, G!”
“Scar, I’m serious-“
Then it happened.
One final blow.
Scar, his yellow eyes wide, blood splattered on his cheeks, fell to the ground.
Grian leapt for his dear friend, but Scar’s body disappeared before it could even touch the dirt.
“NOOOOO!”
Grian futilely grasped the air. Scar was dead. Again. All because Grian was stupid and said they would go in the night, and he couldn’t protect him at all , and while Grian was still safe and sound at three lives, Scar had lost two because of him. Oh, what would he give to transfer one of his lives to Scar—
Grian’s communicator beeped.
<Smallishbeans> saw Scar at spawn
<Smallishbeans> red eyes
<Smallishbeans> run
One.
Grian’s life felt… hollow without Scar. Without his fellow sand bandit. No one to crack jokes with, no one to protect. He was so devastated he barely noticed the creeper sneaking up on him.
So Grian became a Yellow. Exactly how Scar did. Except there was no one to blame for his death but himself.
Scar was the first Red, so naturally people were wary of him. Most other people were Yellows and on their second life. They were now entering the endgame. Grian’s heart was heavy.
Then people started to die. Ren. Skizz. Timmy. Scott. More Reds were popping up. They were surely forming an alliance to kill off the rest of them.
Grian left the sand tower and returned to the village, which was now heavily fortified by the “tech people” (Impulse, Tango, Etho). Thanks to the power of villager trading, the village gang was basically self-sufficient. Due to Grian being the original provider of the first two villagers, he was welcomed there.
“Martyn’s lost his partner Ren,” Bdubs whispered. “I dunno where he is. I hope he’s safe.”
“What if one of us dies?” Cleo said grimly. “Only Etho’s a Green. We’ll turn on each other.”
“Then we’ll have to kill the Red,” Impulse said lightly, cooking fish by the campfire.
One night, Pizza the llama disappeared. It was Grian’s last connection to Scar. Grian was indebted to Scar, but he never managed to pay him back, so at the very least he could keep their llama safe. So Grian ventured out of the village, softly calling for the llama. He eventually found Pizza, and threw a leash around it before it could run away again. Grian sighed in relief. Now he just needed to return.
Then a pair of red eyes.
“Grian.”
Grian froze at the familiar voice. He turned to see Scar, shirtless as always. He winced at the scars from the previous deaths. Scar looked solemn, but Grian was wary of those damned red eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Grian whispered, repeating those words from a lifetime ago. “I’m sorry I let you die again. Are you here to kill me? I’m fine with that.”
Scar exhaled. “I’ll never hurt you, Grian. You’re my friend and partner.” But his voice started to wobble, his eyes flashing between red and his usual forest green. Scar froze up and winced. Grian’s heart clenched. Scar wasn’t supposed to fight against his hostile nature. It would just hurt Scar.
Scar smiled faintly at Grian. “I may be a Red, but I’m still Scar. Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”
When Grian returned to the village with Pizza, he knew one thing. He had to leave.
Just because Scar wouldn’t hurt him didn’t mean the other Reds wouldn’t. The other Reds could hurt his village friends too, and Grian wouldn’t allow that.
So he packed up his items in a small chest, put it on top of Pizza, and said goodbye to the village gang.
Grian trekked back to the desert, no, his and Scar’s desert, even though that was literally a lifetime ago. Grian sighed, his yellow eyes downcast. Returning to this sentimental place just made his guilt wash over him like a tsunami. If only Grian hadn’t killed Scar during the first creeper incident… but then, he would’ve never agreed to Scar’s ludicrous sand monopoly. And they wouldn’t have such good times together. Grian dejectedly walked on and on, not even minding when the sand filled his shoes up.
“Grian!”
Grian turned, confused. Scar was running towards him, panic in his red eyes. “Don’t go-“
Too late. Grian had already taken the step.
Tripwires. Dispensers. Arrows. Oh no.
Something slammed into Grian’s chest, and he closed his eyes, expecting to feel the sting of death and hostility consuming him.
Except that something was warm.
Grian’s eyes bulged open. He stared at Scar, red-eyed Scar, sprawled on his lap, blood staining his chest, arrows protruding from his back.
“Scar.” Grian choked out a sob. His hands shook as he held Scar, despair pouring into his heart as he knew Scar couldn’t be saved. “Scar, that was your last life. You took the bullet for me. Wh-why?”
Despite the pain and hostility clouding him, Scar managed to smile.
“I-I couldn’t let the other Reds get you. You’re my-my friend,” Scar got out, sounding so sure of himself.
“Three lives,” Grian spat out, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “Three lives of yours gone because of me. If anything, you should be trying to kill me, not save me.”
Scar weakly parted his lips. “That’s because-“
Grian never got to learn Scar’s reasoning.
Scar’s body dissipated, leaving behind nothing but warm blood on Grian’s clothes. The last thing Grian saw of Scar was a content smile.
No respawning. No more chances. No more lives left. The world finally had its first ghost.
Grian rolled over and shut his yellow eyes. He was still on second life, but it felt like he had none.
Zero.