Archive of Our Own

“Oleander?” They pronounced it wrong, everyone does. “That’s not an End name so I’m not familiar with its meaning. Is it the name of someone important or—”

“I’ll stop you there,” he snapped at his mentor. The stone he was using to sharpen his sword came to a grinding stop. “Nerium oleander is a plant, a poisonous one. My parents say it’s beautiful, but I’ve never seen one.”

Some other student laughed from close by, steps getting closer. “So you’re saying you, a scrawny little mess of a guy, is named after a beautiful and poisonous plant? Dragons, your parents named you wrong!” They laughed again, giving Oleander a slap on the back.

He himself couldn’t even say he was very good-looking. Tangled and uneven black hair constantly falling out of its ponytail. Red eyes that were bright enough to hurt if you made eye contact for too long. Skin dark like the void but with ugly pale scars running everywhere.

They all seemed to burn through his long-sleeved clothes. “I’ll make you eat those words,” he promised.

“Yeah, yeah. Stay mad, leaf .” The other student walked away, still chuckling.

His mentor sighed and excused themself, walking after the kid. Oleander went back to sharpening the sword, frown deeper than before. Then Xisuma appeared. Hands in his pockets like he was calm but his eyes were shooting left and right. He was meant to be on the other side of the town, practicing music or some other stupid thing.

“I don’t want you here,” he said as Xisuma plopped down beside him. For both of them having darker skin and black hair, Xisuma still managed to look much different. He kept his hair neatly combed and short, with no scars at all. And his purple eyes were comforting, for others. You know how Endermen are with their eye contact.

“Yeah, I don’t really want to be here either. But I can’t ‘prepare an instrument’ for another hour. As long as it’s in key, it’s okay.” Xisuma gave an exasperated sigh and flicked at loose pebbles. “Why would you ever choose fighting?”

“It’s tradition, X. Chemistry is for fucking nerds so fighting was the only route that contains ‘poisonous’ as an adjective. Your name is literally ‘music’ backwards with letters changed about.” Oleander stopped sharpening his sword and glared at Xisuma.

“Okay, sure. But I like music. It’s so fun and creative and calm . Look at you,” he motioned to the scars, “all of that is because of fighting. There’s time to change to the nerdy option where—”

“I am here and I’m going to fight. I’m going to fight like the Nether and win. Tell me it’s a bad decision when I’m not holding a lethal weapon in my hands.”

Xisuma looked over and made brief eye contact. “Fine. If you get hurt, don't say I didn’t warn you.” He stood up and walked away.

Three years went by. They turned sixteen and tested for proficiency in their chosen trades. They graduated. Xisuma was given a special guitar and Oleander was given a special sword. They continued to only talk if necessary. A new type of long lasting sibling disagreement. Obviously, their parents tried to reason, but you can’t reason with crazy.

Edge of the town was also the edge of the island. Actual buildings ended a while back but the chorus fruit lands beyond that were free to roam. Oleander leaned against the wooden fence they put in for safety. It was old and broken in places. His sword with a golden hilt and red gemstones sat sheathed on his back. Maybe another year and he’d have enough money to leave.

Xisuma’s loud footsteps approached. “I don’t know if I like people anymore.” Praise followed him like a dog.

“It was bound to happen. What did it for you? The pats on the back? Shaking your hand?”

“I don’t know, all of it? There’s just so many people to watch me perform. Trials were in front of highly skilled judges and somehow that was easier.”

“Oh, boo-ho. Little Xisuma has stage fright and can’t handle the love.” Oleander mocked with a sneer. “He’s so sad and scared, awe.”

Xisuma tightly gripped the fence, “I’m more mad then anything. A few seconds of eye contact and someone’s dying, I swear.” Oleander didn’t have to move his head to know Xisuma was staring right at him. “Have you tried out that fancy sword yet?”

“No one’s worthy. I’m better than the people in this town so I’d rather get a better persons blood on it.”

“Look me in the eyes.”

“No, for both our safeties.”

“Void dammit, Oleander!” Xisuma gripped him by the shoulders and sung him around. He instinctively closed his eyes. “Look at me.”

There was a switchblade in his pocket. He wasn’t going to stab his brother with the sword, for many reasons. The main being he’d die. “What the hell is going on with you?”

“I’m angry and I have one was to solve it that isn’t what made me angry in the first place.” The grip tightened.

“You’re going to bleed and it’s your fault,” he hissed before opening his eyes. This didn’t hurt Oleander, of course not. But you could see the shifting emotions in Xisuma eyes. The pain of eye contact in general, and having to look into burning red eyes.

In moments, he lashed out and tried to grab the sword. But Oleander was trained for fighting. He dodged whatever his brother tried to do, still keeping eye contact. He let Xisuma draw close at one point as he grabbed the switchblade and did as learned. Two cuts to blind the enemy. Cross-crossing across the face. A perfect x.

Blood boiled in his ears, not caring who he was fighting. Xisuma stopped in his tracks and screamed, hand starting to become the purple that was his blood. Even as it leaked to his eyes, he went on. An unexpected lunge forward had them battle for control of the blade. Oleander was stronger, yes, but Xisuma had more rage. The knife was taken and Oleander was stabbed in the shoulder. He backed away and gripped his shoulder.

The fence met him halfway. Xisuma tried to hit somewhere else but he kept him back at kicked to get him away.

Maybe a little too much force for the rickety old fence. Or it was possibly too short. The action sent Oleander plummeting over the edge.

But some gods of this world are less indifferent than people would think.

Death by void is immediate, no time for pain and no time to save someone. It wraps it’s dark tentacles around you an usheres you to the land of the dead. Slowly. With enough time for any diety to intercept.

One is more aware of their blood upon meeting the Blood God. Not a traditional god, but something more of a manifestation. Not of blood, but war and violence. And not one that sticks to the heavens or hells, but on land.

Oleander wakes up in a bed of moss. He thinks it’s moss, it looks like the pictures of moss. There are tall trees with branches only near the tops surrounding him. Animals make their various sounds and a gentle breeze rolls through. It’s overwhelming.

He’s known loud. Being in the stands at a school sports game, training with the sword, a school just in general. But there are somehow different. Is it the variety of sounds? Or that he thought he died in the silence of the void only to awake in a very alive forest?

He pushed past it and made sure he was not bleeding. He wasn’t. But he did look out of blood. Blindingly white skin with void-colored scars replaced what was meant to be there. His hair was white as well, even if some had dirt on it. And when he held up a hand to see if there was a red glow from his eyes, he was met with nothing.

“What happened to me?” He whispered on a voice rougher than normal. He brushed it off as just a morning voice and stood.

Where to go from here? Oleander scanned the trees for maybe a person or structure but didn’t find anything. A sound he previously could identify clicked, rushing water. People in the Overworld needed that, right? Someone would be along the water. So he walked to it then walked downstream. With one peek at his reflection in the water showed something odd. Black eyes. He couldn’t tell where the pupil started and ended.

Oleander breathed a shaking breath and continued. He was sure he had died. That’s how the void worked. So what kind of afterlife is this? He had his clothes but not his sword, which was also stange. And he didn’t feel dead. A hand to the chest showed he was breathing and there was a steady beat to his heart. Why would his afterlife be somewhere in the Overworld—

Some bit downstream and on the other bank stood a person. Tall, definitely. Long pink hair sat in a braid while the face was obscured by the skull of a large and probably heavy animal. Ears were at a point with an emerald earring hanging off one. Scars littered tan skin and for some reason, the person was wearing a dress shirt with tight-fitting black pants and boots.

“Hello!” It was a warm greeting, if a little monotone. “Do you actually speak English? Haven’t brushed up on my End school curriculum knowledge in a while.”

“Yeah, I speak English. It became the first language of my archipelago like two generations ago.” Oleander walked until they were across from each other.

“How do you feel? You’ve been asleep for some time, I thought I’d have to call Phil just to make sure you didn’t weasel you way to him.”

“I—What?” None of this made sense. “I feel fine? A little confused? How…How long have I been out?”

“Uhhhh…seven years?”

Oleander sputtered, “What? How am I alive, who are you, where am I? Seven years, how can someone be asleep for seven years?”

The person simply stared. “Are you hungry? I have a lot of potatoes at home and you’re going to need to sit for the amount I’m explaining.”

“What’s a potato?”

“Oh, I forgot you’re from the End,” there was a laugh. “Think of a dry chorus fruit.”

“Ewww. Chorus fruit already suck, their only redeeming quality is that they have water in them.”

“Then I will attempt to season them.” The person nodded then reached over the river and grabbed Oleander before plopping him down on the other side. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Oleander. Oleander Void,” he held his hand out.

“I’m Technoblade, but just call me Techno. I am the Blood God,” Techno shook it.

“What’s that?”

“I’ll tell you that too.”

The cabin was along the river, just outside the forest. Fields of crops and grass filled the surrounding area and mountains sat on the horizon. It was sunny outside, barely any clouds in the sky. Wood and stone made up the small cabin.

Techno set down the plants he was collecting earlier and motioned for Oleander to sit on the couch. The boy did just that as the other grabbed a chair and sat across from him. After a moment of silence, he explained.

Oleander had died, yes. His heart stopped and his brain went dead but he was on his way to the Goddess of Death when one of Techno’s ‘voices’ notified him. So he went to death’s domain and talked to the high rulers of the domain. Goddess of Death Kristin and her husband, the Angel of Death Phil. As they were friends and Oleander was young, there was no resistance when Techno asked to take the young boy.

He was laid out in a clearing for seven years as he slowly became more alive. Crows would do daily checks and slowly, life came back to Oleander. Techno was confused when he was losing color, but Phil said that the void takes everything.

And then the whole ‘Blood God’ thing. A Blood God was there so creatures of the three dimensions didn’t destroy each other. ‘Shedding blood for others’ or something. They’re chosen, not born. And any point in history’s timeline where massive violence occurred is when there wasn’t a Blood God. Or when they lost control. See, Techno says he’s been alive for at least two hundred years, most of them as a god. And if history is even to be glanced at, it’s easy to tell he lost control many times.

(And also Tencho can’t die from old age or anything violence-relactied but everything else. The flu, hypothermia, a bad fall out of a tree, food poisoning, any of it.)

(Oh, and a potato’s some kind of ground food. A starchy vegetable. Techno likes them a lot…for some reason.)

“So why’d you bring me back to life?” Oleander was already trying to cram all the other information into his brain but had some more things to add.

“You died fighting, the voices find that admirable. I’m told year after year about all who die in combat, but none I found a reason to bring them back. You’re young, with a strong spirit so I’m told. And the sword you died with is quite interesting. Overworld craft, yet you know nothing about this realm?”

“Do you know End customs?”

Techno thought. “Uhhhh. Have they changed since 1900?”

Oleander sighed, “Even though English is a first language, we learn nothing about the Overworld because of trade and politics or whatever. We learn about the Nether and other End archipelagoes. And, when someone turns thirteen, they go out and choose a trade. As you probably know, the meanings of names are very important to us. It’s expected to choose trades with meanings tied to our names. I did sword fighting because chemistry is for nerds. We were meant to train in the Overworld during our last year but something about the weather or politics stopped us. Everything I know is from people who live in this dimension who traveled to my town.”

“And they gave you an Overworld sword because…?”

“I graduated from learning my trade and that was the reward. If I continued my studies I would’ve gotten a different sword. Probably End-made.”

“Hm.” Techno nodded to himself before reaching into a nearby drawer and pulling out Oleander’s sword. Half of it was gone, taken by the void. “This is all that’s left. But I’ll make you a new sword, Nether, End, Overworld, or a mix. You just have to train with me until it takes me half an hour to beat you.”

Fighting the Blood God? Oleander thought he was good but not that good. The guy sounded like he’d be a killing machine. “Why?”

“I saved you, right? Might as well do something with you. Maybe I can train you enough that the others will allow a second Blood God.” Techno chuckled at that. He sat there for a bit before grabbing a small bell off the windowsill and giving it a light ring. “How do you feel about that?”

“I’d rather not, sorry. Something about the whole ‘voices’ thing doesn’t sit right…And I have other plans. If at all possible, I have to have my color back.”

“Okay. I’ll have to write to Phil about the color thing but, alright.”

“Thanks.” He smiled.

Another year went by. Techno and Oleander started off with normal sparring, with the God going especially easy. Once he was able to point out the flaws, a dummy was wheeled out and Techno slowly fixed stances and techniques.

In the End, they only taught traditional techniques. But the islands are flat, sparring made dependable on your own natural height. They were taught to get even ground if they were not in the End.

But in who-knows-where Overworld, Techno taught how to fight if your enemy is above or below. The strikes to lower them to your advantage. Even how to wield a spear, bow, crossbow, ax, or anything with a sharp edge. Basic hand-to-hand, more than Oleander knew existed.

A year to learn it, practice it, and use it all against Techno. They had passed New Years by a month when he finally did it. Techno was bundled up in his furs, but still agile. Oleander only had a light jacket. There was blood in the snow and a murder of crows watching. From inside the cabin, sat Phil (who sadly explained how Oleander’s colors couldn’t return) with a cup of tea.

Techno had cuts in his coats and a section of braid missing. Oleander had small cuts on his arms and face. Left foot, right foot, swing, parry, back away, repeat. They circled like tigers until one lunged, maybe landing a hit.

Oleander lunged and swung low, right at the God’s knees. It cut through it all, drawing a little blood. Techno hit the boy with the back of his sword and plummeted.

“That’s it,” he said in his usual monotone voice. Then he turned back to the cabin, “PHILLLLL. HOW LONG WAS THAT?”

“Thirty-one minutes, mate!” Phill called back.

“Well then, you did it.” Techno held a hand out for a very tired Oleander.

“Can I lay in the snow for a moment?” He asked, waving off the crow that landed on his chest.

“No.” With that, Techno picked the boy up and carried him to the cabin.

It was mid-spring. Flowers would be blooming at the cabin, birds migrating back. 

Oleander was wandering around the city while Phil and Techno ran errands in one of the Overworld’s many Server hubs. They’d been in existence for a while but this was the first time he heard of them.

A heavy sword sat on his back, in the sheath. A sword made of netherite and obsidian, golden details of flowers, skulls, and crows decorating the sheath painted to be like blackstone. He had earned it, Techno had smithed it. Oleander had to get a license to carry it around, promising not to use it unless he wanted jail time and a heavy fine. (Techno had to call on a favor with a friend to get Oleander the documents needed for the license. As his actual documents were tied to a death certificate.)

About to cross the street, he paused and looked over at another person. Outside a shop front, a man was figuring out how to carry two large boxes at once. He looked relatively average. Brown hair, tan skin. But he also wore a gray respirator with a purple visor. It could barely be called a visor, the color was so opaque that it looked to be a barrier.

Oleander broke away from the crowd. “Do you need help with those?”

“What?” He looked over then nodded, “Oh, yeah, I do. This is normally a two-person job but no one volunteered.” He picked up one of the boxes, its contents rattled inside.

“That sucks.” The box Oleander picked up was a hit heavy, but nothing he couldn’t manage.

“Yep. I’m headed to the hub,” the man started walking off in another direction and Oleander followed right behind.

“The hub? What kinds of things are people bringing to the hub?”

“Servers only have so many things,” the man explained as if it were common knowledge (it probably was). “And as the server admin, I’ve taken it up as a responsibility to organize the buying of needed items. Toiletries, medications, and such.”

“Okay, no need to be so curt with me. What’s the mask for? Never seen someone from the Overworld with one. Let alone one with a visor attached.”

“I’m from the End, though no one can tell anymore.” The man grumbled, shifting his hold on the box. “I had an…encounter with the void years ago. Stayed at the edge of an island for just a little too long. Luckily, the damage to my lungs wasn't that bad so I only have to wear the respirator if I’m doing heavy physical activity.”

“And the visor? Light-sensitive or something?”

“You’re pushy. No. I'm from the End, take a guess.”

“Geez, calm down. I’ve been told I’m irritating but I didn’t know it was this bad.” Oleander gave a small laugh, “So, fine, you’ve got the purple-angry-eyes. But isn’t the medication easier? You’re not some future sci-fi dude.”

The man sighed, “I do take the medication, but I’m afraid it won’t work. Better safe than sorry.”

“Ooo, you say that like something’s happened before. Are you some secret criminal trying to help humanity after you had a change in moral compass?” Oleander laughed as he joked.

“We’re at the hub. Follow me.” He totally ignored the question but was clearly irritated by it. “Now it’s my turn for questions. Why do you keep asking about End stuff like you know everything?”

“I’m also from the End,” Oleander said proudly. “Had my own void accident. Now I’m paper-white, which sucks.”

“Really? Even the people who live on the edges of their islands don’t get as pale. And you seem to be breathing fine.”

“Accident is an understatement. I fell into the void. Then I died. But I got quickly revived and now I’m…a zombie…?”

“Wait, you, what?” The man stopped in the middle of the crowded hall to stare at Oleander. “I’m just not going to question that.”

“Good choice. I can’t explain it,” Oleander nodded as they continued down the hall. They made a few turns and entered one of the many portal rooms. The boxes were out down as the man typed in some codes.

He pressed his hand to the keypad and the portal lit up. “Gently toss the boxes in.” Oleander did as told. “Thanks. It was really nice for someone to help me with this.” Most likely, he was smiling under the respirator.

“You’re welcome. And while it would’ve been funnier to watch you struggle, I’m not that mean.”

The man laughed and took his hand off the keypad, the portal stayed open. He held his hand out, “I’m Xisuma Void, by the way.”

Oleander’s heart seemed to skip a beat. Xisuma? No other people but his parents would ever think of that name. But this man right in front of him…he was too light . But he did say he stayed at the edge of the void. And something about the smartass attitude was the same.

Techno and Phil never asked about his death. They both had lived for a long time and knew grief, both expecting Oleander to be incapable of talking about it. He didn’t really feel like that. He’d freely offered information on his life before but always lost his words upon talking about Xisuma. Never got a word out, but they knew he had a brother. Was this something similar? Stuck considering the man holding out his hand? And then he knew that he wasn’t ready . For what? Talking to Xisuma. It had been only a year-and-a-half for Oleander. Most of it being focused on everything but the past.

“Caught up by the odd name?” Xisuma laughed, hand still out. “Most people are.”

“Uh, yeah it’s that,” he took a step back. A moment later he turned on his heels and walked away. Xisuma called out something from the portal but Oleander didn’t listen as he pushed through the crowd of people.

A hand landed on his shoulder. Oleander’s head snapped up to see Phil and Techno. Phil stood closer, more concerned, “Are you okay, mate? You look frazzled. Is there something on your mind?”

“Yeah, there is,” Oleander swallowed and his eyes flickered to the portal room. “Can we get back to the cabin first?”

“Of course,” Phil smiled. Techno gave a nod.

So they went home and he spilled. His death, unknowingly talking to Xisuma, how he fled. When he was done with a loose jumble of spilled emotions, the other two gave their pieces. They agreed that his reaction was justified and he should talk to Xisuma when ready. They’d be nearby if needed. That would have to do.

June 26, 2021. The day of MCC. Oleander was given a pass to attend the event, mainly because Phil convinced the event coordinator (who was also playing). He had cheered with the rest of the attendees and listened to the whispers Phil gave about the other players.

Techno was the one playing this month. Along with a friend, called Wilbur, and two other guys. Some guy named Jimmy and another called Grian. They worked well together as the Pink Parrots and Techno showed off his skills in these games. Phil and Oleander kept flower crowns made of Nerium oleander on their heads so the team could identify them.

All the chaos that unfolded was said to be normal. The teasing, something breaking, really intense competition, there were many things. Except for when Wilbur had to leave the competition for a game when he kept getting calls from someone. As he left, he told the coordinator to put Phil in. And he did.

Sadly, Pink Parrots didn’t make it to the end. But Oleander cheered for one of the two remaining teams and clapped when the winners were crowned.

Once it was all done, ‘normal’ attendees left the server while people like Oleander and Phil stayed behind to talk to the participants. Oleander managed to lose Phil in the rush of people and ended up wandering around, trying to find an easily accessible high place to search. He ended up waiting until most of the rush was gone to go back to the Decision Dome and scour the lands. Just outside the building with placings was the people he was looking for and…

Oh. A woman in the Orange Ocelots clothing stood close by along with Xisuma. The respirator rested on his belt so the void-black x scar on his face was visible. He was holding Grian back as he tried to reach for the flowers on Phil’s head. The Orange woman, Jimmy, and Wilbur were dying of laughter while the older two stood by, amused but not moving. A crow tilted their head at Oleander.

He sucked in a breath and dipped behind the nearest wall to think. Then he decided not to think and just hide until it was over.

Techno came around the corner, “You’re not ready?” Phil had clearly sent him over as squabbling could still be heard.

“No,” Oleander said in a small voice.

“I understand but the other teammates want to meet you so…Uh, Phil and I will be beside you. Jimmy doesn’t seem like a situationally observant guy so he may change the conversation anyway. Okay?”

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” He laughed as Techno chuckled and motioned for him to follow. Oleander followed behind, slightly hiding himself as they walked over.

“Just a taste!” Grian said. “I’ve danced with death before pleaseeee.” He did puppy dog eyes, batting his eyelashes.

Phil shook his head. “As the Angel of Death I can confirm your close encounters with me and my wife so no. These are literally poison.”

“It would be funny,” Oleander added. “Just a petal.” He plucked a petal off his own crown and handed it to Grian.

About to eat it, Xisuma snatched it away. “No!” He scolded like you would a dog. He turned to Oleander and his face shifted to surprise, “You.”

That was a reaction. “Me?”

“You didn’t tell me your name before and I’d very much like to know.” Xisuma held out his hand with a very stern look. The same one his parents gave them on multiple occasions.

Jimmy let out a snort, “What are you, a fae?” Orange woman and Wilbur nodded along, Grian pouted from his space on the floor.

“No, I’m a man of tradition,” Xisuma looked away from Jimmy and back at Oleander. Right into his eyes. It was very threatening. He held out his hand a little closer to Oleander.

He held out one of his own hands, “Oleander Void.” He shook Xisuma’s hand as realization dawned. (Jimmy opened his mouth to speak but Orange woman put her hand over his mouth and angrily whispered something.) “Caught up by the odd name? Most people are.” Oleander echoed Xisuma’s old words (which are also his own from longer algo) with a hesitant smile.

“You died. Void deaths are irreversible because they’re no body. Through my actions you fell, I watched you go down. Disappear into the void. But you said earlier that—I don’t understand.” Xisuma kept muttering to himself, slowly walking away.

Phil gave a small nudge.

Oleander took a deep breath before following where Xisuma went. He sat against one of the many fake camper vans around the server, still quietly muttering. This always happened. Xisuma got too confused or annoyed and would walk away, muttering. Oleander sat down with some distance and started to collect his own words.

“The few times I’ve thought about my death, I have never…blamed you for it. In my mind, the fence gave away and I fell. We had been in those…feudes before and I knew how to handle them, I just wasn’t aware of my surroundings.” Oleander paused. Xisuma was definitely listening, but not looking over at him. “Death by void is permanent, for normal people. But I was…revived by either ruler of death. It took me seven years to wake back up. I thought I was dead, I should’ve been dead. That’s—that’s logic, science. Xisuma, I don’t even understand myself.” He laughed and took the flowers off his head, stroking the fragile petals.

“I think everyone back home—in the town blames me. I saw the looks on their faces when they brought me away from the edge. But it’s not like I could stay there,” Xisuma laughed as his words picked up pace. “It’s a small town, everywhere I went I could think of a time we’ve been there. A time where we had fun, recklessly. So with that and how they most likely blamed me, I packed up and left. I never finished school so I ended up joining a server then becoming the admin of that server. For as long as I could each day, I’d distract myself from the past with the other server members or big projects. Which was easy, that’s the foundation we’re built off of. But I brought that stupid guitar. Then I’d think about when we’d both be practicing in the yard. You’d be at the tree, I’d be as far away as possible trying to play a song right. Even now, I can’t bring myself to play more than a few notes without being overcome with sorrow!” Xisuma put his head in his hands as his breath rattled and tears slipped out of his eyes. “And now you say it’s not my fault. That I could’ve stayed and lived a normal life—”

“I never said that . For how much we were teens and I hated you, I always knew you were a good guy. Listening to the little kids and their imagination, helping adults whenever you could. I know nothing about your server but I’d imagine the people care as much about you as you do them. If you weren’t there, who knows the person who’d be admin! Maybe there wouldn’t be one, so no server! I just wanted to tell you something that would bring some comfort, some peace to your troubled mind.” He gave a small shrug and placed the flower crown back.

Xisuma wiped his tears and looked back at Oleander. He smiled and whispered, “Okay.” Then he laughed. “We have never talked like that. Did you lose your poison?”

Oleander gasped, “Uh oh, I think Phil is rubbing off on me. But no, I still have it. Most of it is condensed in fighting now. I am much better at my trade, it would blow the socks off of anyone.”

“Oh? Why don’t you show me then?”

“I’d get banned.”

“Ah, shucks. I guess I’ll just have to tell my server mates who are the best at fighting to challenge you to a duel if they come across you. Some are really good!”

“But I was trained by the Blood God.”

“Show-off,” Xisuma whispered with a laugh. Oleander snorted and gently punched his shoulder. He laughed again then stood, “I’ve got to get back. Everyone’s waiting to talk to the MCC participants.”

“Alright,” Oleander stood. They walked back together, finding everyone else in the same place. Except Jimmy, he had left.

Xisuma said a few words to everyone then took Grian’s and Orange woman to the portals, joking with them along the way.

“I’m going to the cabin with you guys,” Wilbur said. “I’ve got to sit in some field for a while after that call.” He shuddered but did not elaborate.

“Did it go well?” Phil nudged Oleander's shoulder.

“Hm? Yeah, it did. He still needs time to process what I said but I’m sure the next time we run into each other, it’ll be a good time.”

Phil smiled at that then lead everyone to the portal so they all could finally go home. When they got out to the hub, Oleander just spotted Xisuma keeping a portal open for his two server mates. Before he went in, he looked back and waved at Oleander. He waved back, stopping to watch as Xisuma stepped through the portal and it shattered behind him.

It would definitely be a while until they saw each other again, but they’d definitely have some fun when that rolled around.