Chapter Text
Hypixel was no place for a child, no matter what their origins. The atmosphere was competitive to a fault in the arenas. This was one of the most well known servers where its players were free to slaughter each other and come out ok. It was a place for people to let out their aggressiveness out on each other and respawn without a scratch. It was the perfect place for people to settle scores without it being fatal.
It didn’t make it easier on the psyche, though.
Philza never liked staying in Hypixel for long. He was a man that loved to build and explore. Fighting was not something he considered his favorite pastime. Still, he never minded turning up to participate in a few matches of Bedwars every now and then.
He was on his way to a different lobby when there was a sudden ruckus in the center of the one he was currently in.
A child with shoulder-length pink hair and a frantically swaying tail was struggling against the grip of two larger men holding his arms. The kid fussed and screamed and grappled against them as a third man took out a pair of scissors.
“NO! NO! NO TOUCH! NO TOUCH FUR!”
“Hold still, brat!”
The third man grabbed the child’s hair in one handful and snipped the hair right off his head.
Like a puppet cut from its strings, the boy slumped into the men’s grip. He no longer attempted to get away.
“Now behave and go win!”
“Yes...”
Philza felt his heart shatter with how broken the kid’s voice became. Any fight left was gone the moment the hair was taken from him.
The men signed up the whole group for a Bedwars match, and Phil knew he had to get in that lobby he had to talk with that kid.
It took too many attempts to get into the same lobby as that kid. He has spent far longer than he would have liked on this server, but his patience had rewarded him at last. He wasn’t sure how he didn’t notice it earlier in the match, but when he destroyed the Green Team’s bed, he ended up killing one of the men from earlier. This was their spawn! And he was just about to quit the match so that he could get in another game!
That meant that the kid had to be here, too.
Once he got to a safe spot, he checked his communicator. People were dropping like flies all game, and now that beds are breaking, the rate just seemed to go faster.
Almost everyone was killed by the same player:
Blade
Whoever this Blade was, they were good at PVPing. Phil wondered if the kid was still in the game.
Well, if there was one thing Philza was good at, it would be surviving. So that’s what he did. Until there were only two players left.
Just him and Blade.
He was back at his own base, getting more materials (including some TnT), when he heard steps. Light steps.
Like he was about to face the day of reckoning, Phil turned to see the face of his opponent, only feeling a pang of sorrow when he saw the face of the child from the lobby.
“Just us, then, mate.”
The kid made no move to stop walking toward him. His movements were methodical and each step was planned. The kid had the walk of a pro.
Now that Phil had the chance to really look at the kid, a righteous flame in his chest long since extinguished was reignited once again.
This poor child’s eyes could have once been the most brilliant shade of crimson not unlike the forests of the Nether. But, it seems as though the light that would have made those eyes glisten like a ruby had long since dimmed, leaving them such a dull shade of dark gray. There were scars all along his adorable pig snout, and his little tusks have been filed down to a rounded tip.
The kid was a Piglin hybrid. And he was the textbook definition of a broken spirit.
There was no helping the child at the moment. Not here. Not now.
“Ah no need for a fight, kid. I’m sure we can talk this out.”
The second the last word left his mouth, the kid--Blade, Phil reminded himself--lunged at him sword-first. Philza used his height to his advantage and took a grand leap over his opponent. He came this far, so he may as well try to win.
The kid fought like a true pro, he’d give him that. But the kid was too into his own plans, he felt. It was trivially easy to lead the kid into a classic bridge trap. Phil set the TnT down and lit it once Blade was close enough to him. And while the kid was busy swinging at him despite the hiss of the fuse burning, Philza threw an Enderpearl away.
The explosive went off, sending the two of them careening toward the void. Philza gave his opponent a salute, and the last thing he saw before being teleported to safety was the fear that lightly lit up those crimson eyes.
On his return from the lobby, two things he didn’t expect happened.
One, people were giving him pats on the back for winning a fight against Blade. Apparently, no one had done it before him, making his own victory notable.
Two, the three men had taken the kid to a back alley of sorts. Away from prying eyes. Which had made Philza even more curious.
Of course he followed after them. He thought to the fear in the Piglin’s eyes. If those men treated him that way when he was screaming before, what would they do when the kid lost? The question made him shudder.
Philza never really got himself involved with other people anymore. His days with the moniker of the Angel of Death were behind him. He was a different person now, especially after having his son Wilbur.
...The kid looked to be the same age as Wilbur...
“WHAT WAS THAT OUT THERE?!”
Phil was pulled from his thoughts at the shouts of three grown men that had crowded Blade.
“Don’t know.”
He had to give the kid credit: He didn’t even flinch when one of the men slapped him.
“YOU HAD ONE JOB! AND YOU COULDN’T EVEN DO THAT!”
The man that had cut the boy’s hair silenced his cohorts and looked down upon the hybrid.
“You will answer my questions truthfully,” he commanded with a tone that refused disobedience.
“Yes,” Blade had responded in a dead voice.
“Who are you?”
“Am Blade.”
“What are you?”
“Weapon.”
“What is your purpose?”
“Win for wielders.”
“And do you know what we consider weapons that don’t do as told?”
“Useless.”
“Then tell me what good you are, Blade. If you can’t do something as simple as win, then what good are you?”
“No good.”
Philza heard enough. He let out a loud whistle to make his presence known. All three men looked at him, but Blade just looked straight ahead at nothing.
If he played his cards right, then this could end favorably.
“Hey, mates. Don’t mean to intrude, but I’ve taken interest in this young man.”
“Buzz off, old man! You got lucky against The Blade. We’ll have him kill you right now!”
“Oh I don’t doubt he could kill me! In fact, that’s what I’m here to talk about! I want to train him!”
The men regarded him with intrigue and doubt. Their apparent leader took heavy strides toward him.
“He doesn’t need training.”
“Oh but he does! I see potential in him. He’s good, but he’s still learning. I could teach him so much! He’d be unstoppable! Why, I think he could even get a streak of over 1,000 wins, if I train him. He’s just a weapon, right? Well, if the right person wielded him, he’d be known and feared even outside of Hypixel.”
“And you think you’re the right person to wield him.”
“Yep!”
“And who do you think you are?”
“Philza.”
The man’s lackeys jolted at the mere mention of his name. It seems his reputation still has merit these days.
“...Prove it!” One of them dared to order.
In an instant, Philza unfurled the wings he kept hidden from the world. Big, beautiful black wings with white diamonds along it. He took a few powerful steps toward the man who dared to address him with such disrespect.
He wasn’t called the Angel of Death for nothing, after all.
Blade finally looked up from his apparent daze. He looked up at the winged man in awe. The man radiated power from an old deity whose true name was lost to time. He could smell death itself coming from those void-like feathers. The sound of crows cawed from above.
Philza looked at the leader with a look of disgust. “Such disrespect from this man. If you can’t control your own henchmen, then how are you to expect to wield such a crude weapon effectively? How would you be able to refine it in the forge of war? How would you christen it properly with the blood of your enemies? How would you be able to expect to give this weapon proper discipline if you can’t even control one of your own men? You bring nothing but disappointment. This boy could be so much more, and you choose to use him for something as petty as money. Pathetic! You are nothing but a shameful waste of air. You are less than the dirt beneath my feet. I shall take the boy and make him into a proper weapon instead of the wild, thoughtless beast you’ve made him.”
With more force than needed, he took hold of the boy’s arm and dragged him away, leaving feelings of vengeance and righteous fury in his wake.
“You will answer me truthfully.”
“Yes.”
“What are you?”
“Weapon.”
“Who are you?”
“Am Blade.”
“What is your purpose?”
“Win for wielder.”
“What do you want to be?”
“...No.”
“Who do you want to be?”
“No.”
“What do you want to do?”
“No.”
“Do you think you have control?”
“No.”
“Do you want control?”
“...Yes.”
“Then let me teach you how to gain control.”