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At first, there is the yawning expanse of the void, endless and terrible and beautiful. In this silent expanse, three entities stand between the stars, flying or falling or still. It means nothing, here.
These three are one and the same, but for now they are split into three. Separate, but still the same. There is no dissidence in their thinking: they know each other too well for disagreements. What follows is just a statement of fact.
SERVER
Four more.
LORD
The purple one will be trouble.
OWNER
That’s exactly what we need.
SERVER
Conflict. Yes.
LORD
He has history with ᓵ∷𝙹∴リᒷ↸-リ𝙹ℸ ̣ -∷𝙹||ᔑꖎ
SERVER
Many of them have history.
OWNER
It will make things interesting.
When Wemmbu logs onto Lifesteal for the second time, Minute is there beside him once again. It’s poetic, maybe. They survived the Wormhole together, and now Minute is his welcome to this new world.
There isn’t time for hellos or it's been a whiles, there is only the frantic pulling on of armour and testing the weight of a sword in his hand as Wemmbu looks, considering, around at his new home.
This is a world of violence, and death, and pain and fear, and it is a place where Wemmbu will thrive.
It is a place where the world itself will love him, and destroy him utterly, but that’s in the future.
Not now. First, he has to survive. So he takes the gear offered to him and when Pentar logs in, Wemmbu doesn’t hesitate before pushing the new sword through Pentar’s chest.
The server approves.
Pentar falls, disintegrates, dies.
Then Wemmbu and Minute run.
And they continue running, all through the day and into night. They fight, and they die, because as ever the odds are against them.
And eventually Wemmbu falls and the challenge is over.
The deal is done. The PMC leaves, and Wemmbu is left alone.
Minute comes to visit him the next day. Wemmbu would bet money that he doesn’t know why he’s here. Minute’s weird like that. He just keeps walking back into the serpent’s jaw, again and again.
It’s in Wemmbu’s nature to hurt. It’s in Minute’s nature to forgive - or some approximation of it, never forgetting, never letting go of the pain but returning nonetheless.
Wemmbu isn’t sure whether that’s something admirable, or something stupid.
Minute’s at twenty hearts, Wemmbu thinks. He’s powerful in a way Wemmbu isn’t. Not yet, at least. There’s always time, and Wemmbu has plans. For a short time today, he’d felt the exhilarating, electrifying feeling of an extra heart beating in his chest, until it had been ripped from him by the roar of a minecart-explosion. He wants to feel that again. He wants to feel more than that. He wants the power Minute has.
Soon.
Now, Wemmbu just smiles, tilts his head at the man he would call a friend if the word didn’t lie bitter on his tongue, used too many times to manipulate, to harm, stained by his past actions.
“Minute!” he says. Laughs, really. “What brings you here?”
Minute chuckles. “I have something of yours, remember?”
Before Wemmbu can answer, Minute is summoning something from his inventory and holding it loosely in his hands.
Wemmbu stares, off-guard for half a second, then catches Minute’s eye with a wide smile. “Well. I didn’t expect you to keep it. Wow, Minute. You really must like me!”
Minute rolls his eyes, or the closest likeness he can make given his lack of pupils. “Yeah. Sure.”
But nonetheless, he hands the tiara to Wemmbu. Wemmbu places it atop his head with a satisfied hum. It’s been a while.
He looks back at Minute. They were kings, once. And Minute had trusted him, and Wemmbu had stabbed him in the back.
Wemmbu would do the same again, in a heartbeat, the moment it benefited him.
And maybe Minute knows this, because he’s already walking away.
“Can you be any more - stereotypical evil supervillain?” Minute laughs. “A nuke, Wemmbu? Really?”
It’s cliche, boring, but that’s Wemmbu. He’s annoying, mean, but Minute knows that this is just who Wemmbu is. He doesn’t change. He hurts and he destroys and he kills, all for his own self-interested self-importance, and he does care, but it’s never enough.
Minute remembers the days he would fight duels with Wemmbu at his side. He’d never had reason to distrust him back then. Wemmbu had no reason to hurt him, no personal gain earnt by betraying his teammate.
And then they joined Kings.
Minute isn’t stupid. He learnt, quickly, that Wemmbu was not the person Minute thought he was. That yes, Wemmbu was fun, and friendly, and a good fighter -
But he would hurt people, happily, without a second thought. He enjoyed hurting people.
Minute couldn’t understand that.
And that always, always, ends with them at odds.
Now, it is Minute and Wemmbu, standing in a cave somewhere under spawn. Wemmbu can’t have many hearts. Minute saw the death messages. Wemmbu should be banned, if there was any sort of justice.
But this is Lifesteal, and there is no justice other than vengeance, so Minute keeps his sword trained on Wemmbu and waits for a response.
It doesn’t take long. Wemmbu doesn’t like silence.
“Oh I don’t know, I thought I gave it my own - unique flair, you know? I thought it was pretty cool, Minute, didn’t you enjoy it?”
Minute can’t help but laugh. “I enjoyed beating you.”
“Yeah… you believe that, Minute! So, what. You gonna ban me?”
“Are you really that low?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Minute sighs, and withdraws his sword. Wemmbu is still a threat - always, always a threat, perhaps the most when he’s at his weakest, but Minute will offer him this small trust.
“It’s over, Wemmbu. You lost.”
Wemmbu cackles, leaning against the cave wall. “Really? Really? Do you actually think that? I don’t just have one nuke, Minute, you know this - maybe I’ll just blow up spawn anyway, if you guys won’t give me the hearts I require.”
“We’ll stop you,” Minute says levelly. “I’m not afraid.”
And Wemmbu looks at him, smile uncharacteristically still. “No. You’re not, are you?” He takes a step closer, tilting his head. That stupid fucking tiara of his somehow stays completely still, a poise Minute has never quite managed to master.
“You’re not afraid. Despite - everything,” Wemmbu continues.
Minute raises an eyebrow. “I think you’re forgetting which one of us has no hearts or gear.”
“You know better than to assume I’m helpless.”
“I don’t assume.”
“Huh. Well then, Minute, if you’re not going to ban me I’ve got things to do - hearts to grind back, nukes to fix, you know the deal.”
Minute doesn’t stop him from leaving. He knows, later, they’ll be at odds again, and Wemmbu will face the end of Minute’s blade and he will die for it.
That is the price of Wemmbu’s friendship. One of them will always die at the end.
But Minute chose this, his choice, always, again and again, though he knows the consequences.
And while he knows letting Wemmbu walk away will only lead to more pain, he still chooses this.
EXT. THE WHITE HOUSE - DAY
The building is unfinished. There is scaffolding climbing up the left walls, and gaps can be seen in the floor of the entryway. FOUR PEOPLE stand in the entrance: on one side, MAPICC and ZAM, on the other MINUTE and JUMPER.
MAPICC and ZAM (OVERLAPPING)
Minute have you ever been betrayed after three months?
Have you ever been betrayed? Have you ever been betrayed?
MINUTETECH
Yes actually, I have been betrayed by Wemmbu like 13 million times, it hurts but I get past it -
MAPICC
It’s Wemmbu , it’s Wemmbu -
(unsaid: what do you expect?)
Wemmbu doesn’t know if this is what he wanted. He’s always wanted to hurt Minute - that goes without saying, Wemmbu is no better than his nature and has never claimed to be. He hurts and he betrays and he breaks beautiful things.
And Minute’s the only one who has never left. Which makes him interesting. Maybe Wemmbu has a bit of a soft spot for Minute, he’ll admit it! He’s special. He’s breakable and trusting and wonderfully easy to betray and still he never leaves.
Wemmbu doesn’t know how he does it. It’s not forgiveness - Minute knows how to hold a grudge and hone it, until it's a finely tuned weapon, a well-balanced sword.
Maybe he’s just a good person.
There’s so few of them about.
But this server doesn’t like good people. Wemmbu guesses that has been proven today.
Minute, only weeks into his presidency, fallen so far so quickly. Betrayed by his very own team, nonetheless! That must have hurt.
And now Wemmbu, lying, cheating, Wemmbu, is president. The server must love him. It’s unusual. Wemmbu is not accustomed to luck, he’s used to fighting and clawing his way to the top but this has been strikingly easy.
For Wemmbu, at least.
It must have been hard for Minute. Wemmbu has never seen him this - fragile.
His own team…
Wemmbu has seen how well the PMC worked together, wordless communication and friendship so self-evident. It was amazing to see all that crumble away as Clown and Leo made their choices - not that Minute knew then, of course, that their choices had been made long ago.
Did Minute really think he could convince Clown to fight for peace?
Minute’s presidency was a fool's errand, and maybe, maybe, Wemmbu has done him a favour by showing that to him.
“You know, Minute,” he says, grinning. “This was probably for the best. Like - you never could have won! I’m just saving you the trouble, you know.”
Minute doesn’t really respond, just sighs and looks up at the night sky above them. He had killed Zam, earlier, and there’s still blood speckling his sleeves. Wemmbu wonders if he’d enjoyed it, if the wanton violence had made Minute reconsider his self-proclaimed pacifism.
Wemmbu doubts it. Minute has always been stubborn. He’ll get up tomorrow and he’ll still keep fighting, fighting what Zam and the Players want him to be, fighting the slow force of entropy, fighting the gods themselves if he could.
Wemmbu laughs. Godhood. It’s been a long time since he last laid claim to that title. “I bet you’re regretting a lot of things right now, right?”
Once again, Minute doesn’t answer, but he huffs out a small breath which could be an aborted laugh or maybe a choked off sob. So hard to read, but it doesn’t really matter.
“I’ve always wondered why you didn’t make yourself immortal,” Wemmbu continues. “It would have been so easy - no one would have argued. You were the hero of the day when they voted you in. But you didn’t. So selfless.”
Finally, Minute stirs, sitting up from where he’d been lying on the grass. He still doesn’t meet Wemmbu’s eyes. “It wouldn’t have been fair.”
“Oh! That’s - that’s funny, Minute - why do you think fairness matters? Why do you care about them? The server doesn’t care about you.”
Now, now, Minute looks at him, and his face is haunted, even as he smiles bitterly. “It doesn’t care about you, either.”
Wemmbu shrugs expansively. “I don’t know. Which one of us is president again?”
Minute flinches, almost imperceptibly. He always walks right into these things - if Wemmbu was a snake, sharp teeth and venom, Minute would be the foolish mouse who walked right into his jaws.
For someone so paranoid, he’s a poor protector of himself.
“Alright, I get the message,” Minute mutters eventually. “Why are you here, anyway? Kinda obsessive.”
“It’s a public place, Minute. If you wanted to brood in peace, you shouldn’t be at spawn.”
Minute laughs now, the sound a little broken, a little quiet. “I’m not brooding. I just wanted to say goodbye.”
“You’re leaving?”
Minute makes quotation marks with his hands. “‘You guys know what I stand for.’ I, of all people, know what you stand for.”
Wemmbu can feel the heavy weight of the controller in his pocket, and he grins, shark-toothed sharp. “Oh you do, you do.” He wonders what spawn will look like once he’s had some fun - a few craters will really liven things up. Maybe he’ll start with the White House. It’s not like democracy exists on Lifesteal.
He tells Minute this, and Minute shakes his head, chuckling.
“Sure. It’s not like I can stop you.”
“No. No, you can’t.” And isn’t that an amazing feeling. Wemmbu should probably be careful not to get too complacent - he of all people knows Minute isn’t stupid, and when the hurt has faded Minute will be an opponent to behold, but…
Wemmbu can’t die.
Oh, Minute, Minutetech. There are only a few weeks until the end of the season. And Wemmbu is immortal. He can’t win.
But it’ll be an interesting fight.
Minute stands up. “I hope this is worth it,” he says. “I really, really do.”
And Wemmbu grins and goes to reply, but Minute has already equipped his elytra and flown away.
7 days before the end of the world
Wemmbu has always been one to test the limits. The limits of people, the limits of code, the limits of servers - he pushes until they break. Lifesteal is no exception.
The server knew this. Lifesteal needs someone like that - it needs an antagonist, and Wemmbu plays the role, plays the game well, and the server likes that.
But Wemmbu still tests the limits.
Now, there is Wemmbu, and there is Ashswag-LifestealLord, in an obsidian room. LifestealLord is more of a god than Wemmbu will ever be. It has changed, in its time linked to Ash - there is something more human about it, more understanding, more violent, but at the end it is always a god, it is the server itself, and the server doesn’t care like Ash does.
So they set out terms and agreements. Ashswag-LifestealLord is bitter - it is apathetic - it does its job. The Commissioner. Protector of democracy, what little there is of it now. And it goes to leave, and Wemmbu stabs it in the back.
LifestealLord was slain by Wemmbu.
LifestealLord was banned, and can’t be revived.
LORD
The purple one is trouble. We were right.
OWNER
The host. Is he -
LORD
He will survive. For now.
SERVER
The purple one will die soon.
OWNER
They deserve a victory. We can give them this.
(laughter)
It will be poetic.
SERVER
It won’t change anything in the end.
7 days before the end of the world
Wemmbu was slain by Pentar.
Wemmbu was banned, and can’t be revived.
3 days before the end of the world
Minute dies afraid and alone.
The server watches, and it grieves, or the closest approximation of grief a being of code can make. It grieves for him, and Pentar, for Wemmbu, for Jumper left standing alone before two graves, teammates dead and an unwinnable fight awaiting her.
The gods and ghosts watch on.
0 days before the end of the world
Minute and Wemmbu meet in the afterlife. It’s a lonely world, purgatory, grey skies and greyer trees, but there is colour in Wemmbu’s suit and Minute’s bow tie. Death can’t take away everything.
“Was it worth it?” Minute asks.
“Yeah. I won, didn’t I?”
“Did you?”
“I was powerful.”
“Past tense.”
“I could say the same about you.”
“I’m not doing this again. No heroes on Lifesteal.”
Wemmbu doesn’t respond for a moment. Then: “I'm glad you realised that.”
The words ring false.
The world ends. And then it starts again.
“Hiiiii Minute,” Wemmbu says cheerfully. “What’s up?”
Minute doesn’t want to talk to Wemmbu. He has things to do - Jepex died again, so the Empire are down a gear set, and it's not like Jepex will grind one out himself.
And there’s the fact they’re enemies, officially, this time round.
“You wanna talk? Now? Seriously?” he says, unimpressed.
“Well. You know. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“And?”
Wemmbu laughs, and there’s something hurt in the noise. Minute doesn’t think anyone but him would notice. He doesn’t think anyone but him would care.
But Minute can’t stop caring, so he lets himself soften a bit. “What do you want?” he asks.
Wemmbu is silent for a moment. “We have a lot of history, don’t we, Minute?”
“Well. Yeah?”
“You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me.”
Minute draws back. “I don’t owe you for that.”
“It’d be nice if you did,” Wemmbu says.
Minute raises an eyebrow.
“Okay, okay! You don’t owe me, okay.”
“Wemmbu…”
“Can’t a guy just talk to his friend? Why does there need to be an ulterior motive? Wow, Minute, so paranoid.”
Minute chooses to ignore the friend comment. They were friends - are friends, maybe. But things have changed, and the word feels bitter.
“There’s always an ulterior motive with you.”
And that’s a truth Minute has known for a long time. He’s not sure why it feels different now.
Wemmbu scoffs. “Not always. Sometimes I just want to hang out, you know.” There’s something hopeful in his eyes.
“You have a team, don’t you? Why don’t you hang out with them?”
“I don’t want to.”
“But you want to hang out with me.”
“Ideally, yes.”
Minute sighs. “What do you want? Really, want. I know this isn’t it.”
“I’m not lying.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“You don’t have to trust me.”
And that’s where the problem lies. Minute doesn’t trust Wemmbu, he hasn’t since Wemmbu first stabbed him in the back to gain the tiara that still crowns Wemmbu’s head, but that has never been an issue before. Minute doesn’t trust Wemmbu, but he still never leaves.
And in the end, one of them always dies because of it.
Minute doesn’t want to do that again, Wemmbu’s blood on his hands or gasping out his last breath on a river shore, knowing Wemmbu’s machinations had led to this.
“I heard you and the Empire want to be villainous,” Wemmbu says. “I can offer you some tips.”
“We have Spoke and Mapicc. I think we’ll be fine.”
“You also have Jepex. ”
Minute can’t help but laugh. “Yeah - yeah, I guess we do -” He shakes his head fondly. “I think we’ll survive.”
“Really?”
Minute’s supposed to be a villain this season. Can’t he be a little selfish?
“ Yes, Wemmbu. We don’t need - or want - your help.”
“The Empire might not, but -”
“Wemmbu.”
They are silent for a moment, then Wemmbu shakes his head, chuckling. “Okay, okay. Message received. Damn. I didn’t think villainy would turn you into someone who hates fun. But okay! I’ll leave you be. Hey, who knows, maybe I’ll manage to kill you one day, wouldn’t that be awesome?”
Minute rolls his eyes. “You wish.”
“Oh, I do, I do.”
And isn’t that the perfect reminder of who Wemmbu is. He cares, or he pretends to, but always, always, he wants to hurt.
Minute tilts his head at the door.
Wemmbu hesitates, then leaves.
<Wemmbu> in staring longengly into minutetech's room at the spawn hopuse rn
<Wemmbu> hoping and wishing he would log on
“Mannnn I just wanna fight someone,” Wemmbu says.
Zam sighs. “Well, you’re not fighting me.”
“I know ,” Wemmbu says. “You’re - you’re such a meanie, Zam.”
“And you’re acting like a toddler.”
“I’m just bored. This season has been so peaceful and it’s kinda all your fault. You know.”
Zam giggles. “Yeah. You’ve said. I still think that’s kinda unfair, but. I don’t exactly care enough.”
“Damn! Cold, bro, cold.”
Zam shrugs, still giggling. “I mean - you did kinda - try and kill Poafa - and you’ve killed me! So. Uh. I think I’m allowed.”
Wemmbu rolls his eyes. “That’s what Lifesteal is supposed to be about. Where’s all the death and murder? Where are the fights ?”
“I’m sure Minute will fight you when he’s back.”
And of course Zam manages to mention the one person Wemmbu is trying not to think about. Wemmbu misses Minute. He’s not ashamed of that. He’s never been ashamed of that. But there’s something different now. Minute is - different.
“Oh I hope he does,” Wemmbu says. “Do you think I can beat him in a fair fight?”
Zam scoffs. “ No. ”
Wemmbu laughs. “Me neither. But it’ll be fun. Man. I miss him. This place is so empty without him.”
Wemmbu’s talking to the void, and he knows it - Zam, for all his talk of peace and pacifism, has never claimed to care. And he definitely doesn’t care about Wemmbu. He might have done, a long time ago when their goals were aligned. Wemmbu doesn’t know. Joker-Zam was hard to read, frenzied and dangerous and violent. A good villain, but a poor teammate.
Wemmbu knows a lot about that.
But Zam’s not like that any more. He’s weak, powerless, but he holds grudges, and Wemmbu has long fallen from any sort of grace their old alliance might have granted him.
That’s the funny thing about Minute. Despite everything Wemmbu has done to him, Minute is still the only person who’s never left. Never given up.
Wemmbu doesn’t understand him.
“Wow. I don’t know man, you sound. Kinda pathetic right now,” Zam says. He’s laughing, but there’s a bite to the words.
Wemmbu knows Zam is making fun of him, mocking him, but he can’t be asked to kill him for it. Not right now, not when he has new teammates to deal with - minions, he calls them minions because they do not stand on an equal level and they will always remember that.
There will be opportunity for revenge, eventually.
But Wemmbu’s in no rush.
There’s not much point, right now, with no one to watch, no one to anger other than powerless Zam himself. And yeah, maybe Wemmbu does like annoying Zam, it’s funny to see him yell and struggle, but right now it doesn’t feel worth it.
Wemmbu sighs. “This is so boring.”
“You’ve said.”
“ You could fight me.”
“No!”
“Worth a try, worth a try.”
Wemmbu looks back over spawn.
“Don’t start griefing again,” Zam says quickly. “It’s just annoying.”
Wemmbu rolls his eyes. “I won’t.”
It doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to - in his mind’s eye, he can see the craters, the smoke, the blood on the ground, the beautiful, wonderful chaos of a broken world, and he wants to bring it into being so badly.
It’s not his fault! Wemmbu’s never claimed to be anything other than what he is. Destruction is in his nature.
But not right now.
Wemmbu can wait.
Minute has chosen Wemmbu, time and time again. He’s stood at his side, he’s stood as enemies, and sure enough they always destroy each other, but somehow it is always Minute who ends up suffering. Even when it is Wemmbu who dies, Minute still suffers for it, and it’s not right, it’s not good but - Minute still chooses Wemmbu.
So Minute lets his hands still on the piano keys, the song fading away into nothingness.
There aren’t many people who know he plays the piano. The first person he showed was Wemmbu, then Jumper, soon before the end.
Now he plays for the Empire, and Mapicc, realising Minute is finished, laughs and punches him in the shoulder, telling him he “actually played fucking fire” and Spoke starts saying about how they should start a band and Chief is laughing and Jepex is muttering something that might be praise.
And there is something close to happiness in Minute’s chest. There’s a vulnerability in playing music for people, baring a piece of your soul to them and praying they understand.
Jumper had understood, but she is nothing like the Empire, and that’s not a bad thing. She’s a better person than them, and Minute admires her strength. But she is nothing like the Empire, and this had been a risk.
But it’s one Minute is glad he took, because this, here in their underground base with his stupid, villainous team, is happiness, and it’s stupid and fun and it's different.
The Empire are villains. They hurt and they kill and they destroy, but they are a team.
They’re nothing like Wemmbu.
Maybe that’s something Minute has known for a while, but the comparison hurts. Because knowing, still hurting from the last betrayal, Minute still makes those mistakes, he still moves on and he doesn’t learn.
But Minute wants to try and learn. So later that evening, when his teammates have split up to do their separate tasks, he pulls out his communicator and sends a message. A moment later, it dings with a reply, and he stands, says goodbye and starts the flight back to spawn.
The two meet in the wreckage of Zam’s tree. The moon is shining, silver light and fire-glow from the still smouldering embers making the scene somehow ghostly.
Minute arrives first, and there is something like grief in his glowing eyes as he looks around at the splintered trunk, scorched and blackened and dead.
The server remembers when this place was beautiful, vines growing, living wood, a home, a sanctuary, and sometimes the players can see what it used to be, weeks ago.
Wemmbu did this.
But the server still loves him, as it loves all its players, because they all play the game. They hurt and they wound and they live and they laugh and they make this place wonderful. Wemmbu and Minute aren’t special. They are just two among many.
The server watches anyway.
It doesn’t take long for Wemmbu to arrive, swooping out of the sky like some dark angel and alighting on the blackened wood.
He looks around with a laugh. “Unusual place for a meeting. Do you like it?”
Minute sighs. “You can’t help but destroy things, can you?”
Wemmbu shrugs. “Nope! It’s who I am.”
“You don’t change.”
“I adapt. Isn’t that good enough?”
Adaptation only helps one of them.
“I don’t think so.”
There is silence, only broken by the continuous crackling of flames.
“Your eyes are glowing,” Wemmbu says eventually. “Since when?”
“Since the start of the season.”
“Vestige of the curses?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh. I guess - no, no, I won’t say that.”
Minute laughs. Maybe he knows what Wemmbu was going to say. Maybe he’s just laughing because the only other option is crying.
“So. You wanted to meet?” Wemmbu says. “You gonna - tell me to stop killing innocents or something?”
“That wouldn’t fix anything. Do you really think you can’t learn to change?”
Wemmbu cackles, then gestures at the wreckage surrounding them. “Do you really think I’m interested in change?”
“Nah.” There’s a small smile on Minute’s lips as he looks around. “I think this is just who you are.”
“And you’d be right. You always did know me so well.”
“Yeah. But somehow I never learnt my lesson.”
Something in Wemmbu’s expression freezes, fragile. Minute continues regardless.
“You’re my friend. That’s not going to change. But I want to - I want to change. I don’t want - I don’t want this to always end the same way. I want us to coexist without one killing the other. How many times have you betrayed me? How many times have I killed you? I want things to change.”
“You could join me,” Wemmbu says.
Minute laughs. “How is that change? We both know how that one ends.”
“Well how do you expect to - to stop this? If we’re fated to destroy each other -”
“I don’t believe that.”
“You can’t fix me.”
“I don’t have to.”
“Then how do you expect to change things? I don’t know, Minute, I feel like you haven’t thought this through.”
“I have.”
“Right.” Wemmbu looks up at the moon, then back at Minute. The glow of Minute’s eyes is almost identical, and it fits, because in Wemmbu’s eyes Minute has always been spinning helplessly in his orbit.
“So what - what was the point of this meeting?” Wemmbu continues.
“A declaration, we’ll say.”
“Huh.” Wemmbu steps closer to Minute. “You won’t succeed.”
“I think I have a chance.”
“You really don’t. But okay.” Wemmbu laughs. “Well. If that’s it -”
This time, Minute doesn’t wait for Wemmbu to leave him alone. He equips his own elytra, and before the sound of Wemmbu’s fireworks have faded into the blackness, Minute is also gone.
The tree is still burning.
Again, there is the yawning expanse of the void, endless and terrible and beautiful. This is infinity, used not so long ago as a weapon, worshipped by those who now fear it. In this silent expanse, an entity stands between the stars.
Once, it was three, but now they are together again, no longer separate. Despite this, it hasn’t yet forgotten the habit of speech.
SERVER
Sometimes the strings of fate are too tightly bound to be severed without destroying yourself. Players are fickle things. Promises of change mean nothing.
SERVER
Sometimes I wonder if I should feel guilt. If I should feel at all.
SERVER
This is no ending. The story continues. Always, the story continues. But it’s as good an ending as they’ll get, for now. An ending can be a new start. We will see.