Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lifesteal was an anarchy server, but it was never meant to turn out like this. The world was cracking at its seams, ravines ripping through the landscape that reached down to the void. A misstep was all it took for one person to lose their life forever. Server code failed to keep up with the sheer number of players who’d invaded the server. Dimensions blended into each other; The Nether crept into the Overworld, netherrack corrupting the once-green grass, lava spilling over the lively daisies and painting them black.

Spoke cackled with the howling wind, his manic grin stretching wider when he heard an unmistakable heavy thud. The thud of a body, limp and cold while the world burned around him. Planet’s teammates dispersed from the sight of their corpse, but it was no use. Spoke was watching them everywhere, and his loyal hound, Mapicc, was hot on their heels.

It was beautiful seeing the ruby blood stain the grass and leave glitching holes in its wake. There was something fascinating in watching the world crumble around him, knowing he put on this majestic of a show for the gods.

He clutched his head, blinking through fuzzy vision. Colourful glitches bled into his vision, and Spoke’s control faltered.

Ro looked up into his eyes, frozen tears clinging to his lashes as he swings his legs over the void. It’s cold in the End, and there’s no one to hug for warmth.

Spoke dropped from the sky, body burning like a meteorite descending into Earth’s atmosphere, gasping for air that rushed past him. Spoke’s hands fumbled for the command block, pressing its buttons in a panicked rush until all of them glowed. Suddenly, his body stopped moving, suspended in still air. The rain slammed into his chest, shoving all the air out of him at once. Spoke righted himself, spluttering so hard his organs might’ve spilled out.

It was not like the server to suddenly falter like that. Spoke scrutinised the block in his hands, trying to ignore the burning in his head and the dots that danced in his vision. He expected this physical toll on his body since he started studying the Wormhole exploit – after all, he was in two places at once. To optimise the chaos he’d wreak, Spoke needed to know how to preserve his already-fragile body. Spoke felt lightheaded weightlessness, bordering on dizziness as the creative server tried to pull him through the fabric of code, though the hundreds of stacks of bedrock in his inventory anchored him to the ground. It was why he suspended himself in the air. It was enough of an equilibrium for both forces, so he didn’t feel the ripping in his tendons and internal combustion in his head.

The server was breaking under the stress of the Wormhole. Spoke glanced up to the eye of the storm in the sky, losing himself partially in the beauty of the rippling clouds and server dust that floated in the sky, but mostly in the vastness of its size. It was a rip in the system; a gateway for chaos, and it was fracturing Lifesteal.

“Mapicc, Clown, you’re not doing shit. Kill Planet the next time you see him,” Spoke sharply commanded into the comm. Mapicc’s voice filtered through with a ‘yes’ while Clown was silent on the other end. “Don’t fuck around with Minute and Wemmbu, just go straight for the targets.”

He opened the player list, teleporting to ParrotX2. Spoke appeared before the avian, a coy smile on his lips when the brunette jumped back.

“Taking a nap, are we, Parrot?” Spoke forced himself into the avian’s personal space. Parrot swung a sword for Spoke’s neck, before a force knocked him off his feet. “You didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you?”

“Everything about this is easy,” Parrot snarled, but the shake in his legs and the torn-up state of his wings begged to differ.

“Your teammates wouldn’t be saying the same, would they?” Spoke tossed the command block in the air. “Planet’s not holding up very well. You’d know that if you were paying attention to the chat.”

Parrot’s eyes widened with fear. He pulled out his comm and Spoke saw the hope in his eyes wither significantly.

“They’re on two hearts now, right? And considering Minute or Wemmbu aren’t with you right now, they must be protecting them,” Spoke giggled.

Parrot pushed himself off the rock, moving to flee into the forest until Spoke grabbed the avian’s arm. He winced and flinched away from the touch. Spoke could only guess someone had injured his arm. With a sinister laugh, he gripped Parrot’s arm tighter and twisted it till he heard a delicious crack in the bone. Parrot screeched and tried to pull away, tears streaming down his face.

Oh, this is fun. Spoke kicked Parrot down to his knees, brushing away those tears before grabbing his hair hard enough to hurt. He didn’t want to kill him yet; he wanted Parrot to get so close to his victory before stripping it away in the last twenty seconds. Parrot choked out a sob then his wings shook, an animalistic sound ripping itself from his throat as he thrashed away and curled into himself. His breathing escalated till it was rasps of nothing. Spoke couldn’t lie – seeing Parrot in this much pain stabbed him somewhere.

“Parrot?” The coldness was unforgiving in his voice.

The server code cracked, then fizzled. With each concerning noise falling from Parrot’s mouth and the spasming in his body, Spoke felt the server’s ground split under him. The sounds played in reverse and the colours were inversed. People were shouting and the rain didn’t stop, and ground wouldn’t stop shaking under him. The one thing that did stop was Parrot’s movement – he fell limp in the ground, his stretched wings sprawling over the ground in a jumble.

Light cracked through the sky, bright and unforgiving to everyone’s eyes. A rift opened between the clouds, spreading across the expanse of the sky. A chasm divided the ground into two cliffs and many players fell through, clinging to the rocky edges. But netherrack was weak to the touch, and those desperate to survive ended up falling into the void.

“Holy shit,” Spoke tried to pull the server back together by messing around with the commands until the lights flashed and the command block exploded in his hands. Well, now he couldn’t do anything but watch as players fell like food to the void.

Everything material in the world was falling apart. Players were whipped by fierce winds and rain, losing their footing and disappearing into the void below. Glitches crossed Spoke’s vision, and his body tingled, unable to do anything but stare when Planet pulled themselves up on a tree. They froze at the sight of Spoke, choking on their breath before they grabbed Parrot and pulled him into their arms.

Spoke looked up at the sky, gasping as he saw nothing but glitching code and crumbling blocks. Planet managed to get to their feet, holding Parrot in their arms. The chasm was eroding the ground and crawling ever so slowly towards them.

“This is all your fault.” Wind knocked Planet off their feet into the void, and Spoke couldn’t suppress a laugh.

Fucking hell. There he was, standing at the edge of the cliff like Scar standing above Mufasa. Except, Spoke didn’t have anyone to betray anymore. He’d lost everyone, and it felt fucking exhilarating to be this unbridled.

He caused this masterpiece of a finale, an unmatched game of wit and determination. The Watchers must be enjoying this kind of performance; a product of Spoke’s never-ending hunt to prove himself. A final lightning strike, and Spoke took a conceited bow like the chaos was all planned.

Chapter Text

It’s a funny thing, really – spending two hours underground for andesite of all blocks. Scar pushed at the layer of grass, finding its yield easy under his fingers as he hoists himself up out of the hole. He scrambled to his feet and checked over his shoulder once, then twice, then three times. No creepers… check! No skeletons… check!

He emerged from the mines with grime and dust smothering his forehead. Scar grinned and wiped the sweat off his brow, tilting his head back to feel the early morning sun wash over his face.

“Fresh air, finally!” he waltzed through the oak trees before crouching down to pluck a ruby red poppy from the ground. Scar twirled it in between his fingers with a soft smile, relaxing in the fresh breeze.

The sound of hissing caught him off guard, and before he knew it, Scar was blown into the tree face-first.

“Ow! What the hell, man?” Scar turned around, half-expecting Grian to be standing there with a mischievous grin like always. Except, it was no one’s fault but his. “The poor flower!”

The poppy’s petals littered the ground, the same red dripping down Scar’s forehead. He was always easy to bruise and even easier to cut. Scar brushed the debris off his khakis and winced with the prickling of ten thousand splinters in his arms. There probably wasn’t that many, but it sure felt like it. Stupid creeper.

By the time the sun was halfway in the sky, Scar had arrived back at his base – a rolling steam train with rooves of glimmering weathered copper. He didn’t have to walk thousands of blocks back home, but Scar was an optimistic guy who could help but talk to himself while running his hands over the sequoia bark of his redwood trees. It was a liberating experience soaring through the sky with wind filling the back of your throat couldn’t offer.

“Man, the thunderstorm last night was not fun. The caves were threatening to come down on me,” Scar sighed, swinging his legs while sitting on the burnt stump of one of his trees. Pearl had flown over his base once the storm had ended, reaching out to him over the communicator to inform him of the burning tree. She wanted to use it for her weekly weather update – which Scar was reading through right now.

“It’s a shame but I’m glad that’ll be the last storm or a while.” Hermitcraft’s weather was balanced, unlike some servers out there. Its code was perfectly functional thanks to Xisuma’s pedantic upkeep of it and the lack of hostility among its members.

The popular titles some of the Hermits upheld among their communities outside of Hermitcraft made others question how the server had not fallen to the hands of the greedy. The answer to that was Grian – a rogue Watcher who dedicated himself to the protection of the server from those trying to destroy it. Thus, birthed Hermitcraft’s name – the longest standing server of all time, the most peaceful; the list carries on.

A thunderous roar echoed in the distance. Scar swiftly equipped his elytra, rocketing into the sky. The sound came from the Shopping District but Scar couldn’t see any billowing smoke in his spyglass. No fire, nothing. Perhaps he was hearing things.

A second clap of thunder – this time closer. Scar started to fly towards The Neighbourhood, planning to scope out the situation. These thunder-like sounds came with no lightning, no fire, and no smoke. Pearl would have a field day with reporting this strange occurrence.

“Actually, if I want to help anyone, I should get some materials that aren’t four stacks of andesite,” Scar laughed to himself, launching a rocket just as the third lightning strike rumbled through Tango’s steampunk city.

He landed in a train cart close to the base of Magic Mountain, halfway through opening the door when lightning struck. Tremors knocked Scar off his feet and he landed on the ground with an oof!

“What is happening today?” he looked up the cliff face. “That must’ve struck the cherry blossom field…”

Scar, completely disregarding his original plan, rocketed up the mountain to survey the impact.

“Nothing! How can there be nothing?” he exclaimed and landed in the soft grass. Cherry blossoms landed in his hair as he walked through the meadow. Scar wasn’t seeing and hearing the lightning because the ground was still trembling in an aftershock, and petal were falling from the trees.

Scar huffed, deciding this strange occurrence would not ruin a nice day. Surely the other Hermits would handle it. As he was preparing to take off, something caught his eye. A shadow darted behind a tree and Scar promptly investigated.

“Hello?” No response, only the ruffling of the cherry blossoms. Scar was definitely seeing things. Did he sleep enough last night? Was the cave dweller added to Hermitcraft recently? Hopefully not, otherwise he’ll relocate to a hot air balloon in the sky.

Perhaps it was another member playing pranks on him.

Another movement from behind him. Scar was out of his head to check behind the tree, expecting to find anything. This thing was stealthy – it made almost no noise and moved expertly fast. It could easily evade Scar’s eyes without trying, so why was it letting him see it?

It darted behind another tree, then another, then another.

“Are we playing a game?” Scar called out into silence. “Whoops! You’re not going to answer me, are you? Let me try to get you one last time.”

A laugh was enough for him to locate the figure, pulling apart the branches to claim his victory.

“Oh!” He gawked at what he saw. Scar fumbled for words and released his hands in surprise. The branches flung in his face, whacking the living daylights out of him and he stumbled backwards.

“That looked like it hurt.” Once Scar had ducked under the branches and had a clear view of the peculiarity, he tilted his head in curiosity.

“Yeah, it hurt, like all things do,” he shrugged. “I don’t recognise you two, but new friends are fun!” Scar stopped beaming once he saw the state of one of them. Two strange people were sitting on the ground in front of him. He couldn’t see the face of the first one, but the other held them to their chest.

“You’re weird,” the awake one claimed, pulling the body closer into their chest like they were protecting it. Protecting it from what? “You’re overly nice and optimistic. You’re going to get killed that way.”

“Dying isn’t that big of a problem,” Scar shrugged. They widened their beady eyes at him, an antenna swishing in scepticism. He watched their platinum hair glimmer like stardust with unmatched fascination, laughing when their pointed ears twitched.

“Stop staring at me, creep.”

“Woah woah, I apologise for being interested in your species.” Scar held out two hands in defence. “Is your skin made of stardust? It’s very shimmery.”

Their body shifted in the slightest way, relaxing and shimmering with the sun. The alien cocked their head to examine him in a slightly unnerving way, but Scar could live with it. He wanted the newcomer to feel comfortable before he handled the situation. They looked considerably younger than the other Hermits with a chubbiness to their cheeks unmistakable with youth, and beady eyes that couldn’t stop inquisitively examining his every move.

Their antennas swooped, as if they were interested in his interest. “Yes. It’s translucent but the white doesn’t help me hide. I have scales too, if you’re interested.”

“I’m more interested in if your buddy is okay,” he inched closer, pointedly glancing at the bundle of wings in their hands. Immediately, they withdrew and snarled, light spilling from their antennas and blinding him.

Scar flinched and covered his eyes, blinking afterwards as the light behind his eyelids slowly dulled. He opened them to find a black soldier with a netherite sword pointed at his chest.

Before Scar could utter a word, they interrupted with a low, warning voice. “Don’t even try.”

“I wasn’t going to try anything!” Scar tried to push the sword away, but the boy did not yield. Okay, this person was being serious. What did he do? “Seriously, I’m just concerned. Those wings look broken!”

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” the alien chirped from behind the soldier.

They were at a standstill. Scar didn’t want to fight and the other side had two kids that would end up being casualties to their injuries if he didn’t get them help. They were obviously disoriented and exhausted – judging from the jump of the alien’s shoulders when he moved.

“I just want to help you,” Scar tried to placate them until the alien snapped at him again. “Alright, so you show up with life-threatening injuries with your friend on life support, and when I try to provide some help, your other friend threatens to take my life.”

“We need the heart,” the boy in front of him shrugged, pressing the point of the blade deeper into his chestplate. The diamond slightly cracked under the pressure.

“What heart?” Scar recognised the flicker of doubt in the boy’s glowing eyes.

“They can’t?” he tilted his head, and the sword faltered. Scar nodded, relaxing his muscles with relief until one swift slash cut through the gap between his helmet and chestplate. His body fell back on the grass with a soft thud and a heart spilled with his last breath.

With the hint of respawn on his tongue, Scar shot up in the air on his spare elytra, rushing back to his loot. That kid just killed him for no reason! He dropped to the ground in front of the trio, patience thinning ever so slightly.

“Why do you legit have nothing in your inventory,” the boy frowned and rummaged through his dropped items. He handed a red glowing shape to the pair behind him.

Scar’s communicator dinged in his pocket, but he placed his hands on his hips and examined them.

“Uh… Minute? The heart didn’t do anything,” the alien frowned, now wearing Scar’s armour.

“I’d normally be fine with being killed, but that was unnecessary,” Scar huffed and went through his remaining items, retrieving his four stacks of andesite.

“The hearts don’t work because it’s a different server.” An unfamiliar voice came straight from the wings the alien held close.

“What? There are more servers?” the alien propped the wings upright despite the avian groaning in protest.

“Obviously, you dumbass. There are millions of them in the database. Lifesteal’s one of them,” the avian shook out his wings. Scar leaned forward in interest, pointedly ignoring the full-body tremble and the pained hitch in his voice. “Um… do you have any gapples?”

“I don’t, but I might have a few regeneration potions in here,” Scar complied under the three pairs of scrutinising eyes. Sure enough, he found some from the batch he made for Mission Possible. ‘Minute’ took the bottle and handed it to the avian.

“You’re from Hermitcraft,” the avian discerned before downing the entire drink. He gulped, processing something. “We’re in Hermitcraft.”

“Bingo!” Scar answered brightly. “I’m Scar.”

The three kids stared at his offer of a handshake.

“I’m Planet,” the alien pouted. “Parrot, Minute and I have been awake for forty-eight hours and would like some gear.”

Scar connected each name to each person; Minute, the kid who killed him; Planet, the alien who blinded him; and Parrot, the only sane one who doesn’t look any bit okay. He took note of the golden star freckles dotting Minute’s dark skin peeking out from the rips in his dress shirt, the iridescent scales climbing up Planet’s cheekbones, and the green, cyan and saffron feathers making up Parrot’s wings.

“It’s not healthy to be up for forty-eight hours straight,” Scar allowed himself to examine the dishevelled state of all of them. It was worse than the natural teenager. Bruises, gaping wounds, dried blood clinging to their hair and dark eyebags that must’ve developed from months of sleep deprivation. Were these kids okay?

“You don’t really have a choice when you’re on the run from an exploiter,” Minute shrugged, the gold flecked in his skin shining.

“What’s exploiting?” Scar passed over another regeneration potion at Minute’s request. He handed it to Planet and the alien downed it in one go.

“It’s when someone uses a glitch in the system to gain an unfair advantage over others. It isn’t all that bad until you decide to end a server by ripping its code apart at the seams,” Parrot curled his wings around him, clutching his knees. Parrot was in the worst state out of all of them, with rocks jammed in his wings and most of his feathers bent in unnatural ways. By the way he winced when Planet rocked against him or the wind ruffled his wings, Scar was sure he needed help.

The distinct lack of primary feathers worried him the most. Grian had told him about wing clipping and it’s long term impact on an avian, and how the Watchers would… His heart panged.

“That doesn’t sound like fun...”

“It is not fun at all,” Planet scowled, pouring the potion onto one of Parrot’s gaping wounds.

Minute watched every shift of Scar’s body, hand at the hilt of his sword. “We need to figure out how to get back.”

“Um, I don’t know about you Minute, but I kinda wanna stay,” Planet leaned back on their hands, lazily glancing up at him through their lashes. Their antennas swirled around each other. “There’s no tyrannical voidling screwing around with the code and sending his battle-hungry hound after us.”

“Still. It’s not right to bomb this peaceful server and cause a bunch of commotion. What if Spoke is here? We can’t let him destroy this server as well,” Minute reasoned before his body gave out under him and he slumped against a cherry tree.

“I really damn hope he’s not here,” Parrot wiped at his brow. “I’m not in good shape right now to hold up any longer of a fight. Heck, I might die right about now.”

Scar glanced between the three of them, observing and noting anything that struck out as odd. He often chimed in to ask about their server – what happened before the duping, what happened before the Wormhole, and more. Then, his communicator dinged, then dinged again, and again, and again.

PearlescentMoon whispers to you: i saw there was lightning at magic mountain. is everything alright?

Grian whispers to you: help there’s this purple man in the shopping district

Grian whispers to you: there’s also this glitching black blob. i don’t know what to do with it.

You whisper to PearlescentMoon: No damage. we’re okay over here.

PearlescentMoon whispers to you: tango’s base is alright.