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“As the Great War came to an end, my brother, father, and I all returned to a tattered nether. While the war never reached our dimension, the effects of it could still be felt. The Netharans, the Withers, the Piglin slaves, and even the fires and lava itself felt the drain of war and loss. With no victory at all, my family and dimension were in shame.
However, we Netharans spend little time mourning. While Chronos prepared for a peace-time society, others had different plans. Almost immediately after the evacuation was completed, Chronos was stabbed in the back by my brother, Pythus.
It wasn’t that much of a surprise Chronos met his demise, but how it happened, it gives me nightmares.
There was no ceremony for my brother or mourning for my father. It was modern Netharan politics at its finest. The chivalry era died with my father, and Pythus wanted to make sure Netharan politics would be his politics. I just hope that transformation is not permanent.”
“It would be a lie to say that my father was a liberal of any sort. He was a warmonger and monarch, but he wasn’t foolish enough to rule just through fear. My brother, however, did not think you needed anything but fear to rule. Politics was no longer caution and criticism, but orders and beheadings. Just like how he has tried in the overworld, Pythus eliminated all opposition and suppressed the very miniscule amount of liberties we had before. First came the ‘reforms,’ but then came the arrests, including those of his family. I lied to you, Queen Abbigail. I had an opportunity to strike down my brother, but I couldn’t bear doing so while my mother still lived. She was heartbroken enough.
That was the worst calculation in my life to think I could weather the storm and wait for the opportune moment, because when “that moment” came to me, all those years back, Pythus had struck first and put me in chains.
Not everyone was like me, however. Your chronicles will mention this man as the governor of Northwind during the Great War, Xolas. He resisted arrest, and my brother retaliated by sending assassins. Unfortunately for Pythus, the plot failed. So rather than getting rid of a potential enemy, Pythus had a rebellion.”
Paddle dug deeper into the mines, as a wither skeleton watched him and the other piglins do their work. Mining was the worst work. Cave-ins were a common occurrence, and the Netharans truly didn’t care about their lives, so they would work the slaves to death. As Paddle brought an netherite piece to a wagon, the wither skeleton smirked, and passed him a slice of rotten flesh.
Paddle briefly looked at it, closed his eyes, and swallowed it almost immediately. To Paddle’s relief, he heard the sound of a horn blow. He put the sweat off his head, and lowered his pick.
With swords pointed at their backs, Paddle and other piglins were swiftly forced out of the mines and towards their prison, a ruined piglin bastion.
Before the piglins reached the bastion they heard the sounds of approaching withers from the distance. Paddle looked up. The horn was blown again, this time with more force and urgency. Multiple skeletons had rushed to their defensive positions, bows loaded and ready.
Ever curious, Paddle spoke to his captor; “Did the over world invade-” Paddle was kicked hard by the wither skeleton. It hissed. Shut up, get moving.
Paddle had no choice but to obey, and the other piglins were rushed to their pins. However, they were interrupted as three ghasts and twelve withers appeared in the distance.
The ghasts then shot fire charges at the bastion, and the skeletons returned fire, trying to shoot the fire charges back to its’ sender. At the same time, the Bastion’s two withers were deployed. The formation of piglins and warden skeletons broke rank as two fire charges hit their line, hitting multiple piglins and wither skeletons.
Paddle was not one of them, but he took his moment of opportunity. He turned on his warden, and punched the skeleton’s face. Already shocked, it was too dazed as Paddle took the guard’s sword and beheaded his former captor. Paddle was shocked by what he had done, but he had little time to think as the fire charges continued to explode around him.
“Let’s get out of here!” Over the explosions of fire charges, one piglin yelled. As Paddle ran towards a nearby warped forest, he saw other piglins had taken inspiration from his act, and had revolted as well. Once Paddle reached the warped forest, he looked back to see a flood of other piglins heading his way, towards freedom.
Hanging on a wither, Xolas and multiple wither skeletons watched their withers engage the bastion’s defenses. The rebel ghasts fired at the bastion without discrimination, hitting both Piglin pins and the bastion’s more fortified areas. “Officer, do you see any more archers?” Xolas looked down at his other forces.
An wither skeleton, with a blade replacing his left arm, whisted at Xolas. “Good. Lead the frontal charge, I will attack from the top, and protect your troops from any counter attacks.”
The Officer hissed again in acknowledgement, and then Xolas lightly nudged his wither. With three others, the withers flew towards the now crumbling bastion.
Xolas noticed a stubborn royalist Wither fighting ferociously, using multiple mountains as protection. “Stop staying so far away. One hit won’t kill you!” Xolas yelled, and he and his withers launched a frontal charge. With a crossbow in hand, Xolas approached the final wither. After giving a fierce fight, the final royalist wither attempted a retreat towards the warped forest, but it didn’t go far. Aiming in a high arc, Xolas fired his crossbow, hitting the wither’s last remaining head, and therefore killing it.
Xolas had little time to celebrate, as he now confronted his next opponent, a group of skeleton archers on the ceiling of the bastion. The skeletons fired at Xolas’ withers, but with little luck.
Xolas approached the ceiling of the bastion and then leaped onto the platform. He was immediately upon the skeletons and drew a two-handed long sword. He swatted arrows away, and then leaped at the archers, easily slaughtering them with a few swipes of his head.
Pythus expected reinforcements to come up to stop him, but no one did. Instead, he heard the sounds of chaos and swords hitting swords. While almost up to his pace, his army had yet to reach the bastion, meaning they were not the source of combat.
Xolas then looked down and saw a pour of wither skeletons fleeing out of the bastion. Xolas’ amusement quickly turned into a frown. Chasing the wither skeletons were not his forces, but piglins; some ared, while others beat the royalist forces with their bare hand. “Go back, this is Pythus’ trouble, not ours.” He spoke to his troops. He got back on his wither, and his forces left the area.
The Officer from below was confused as it saw Xolas retreating. However, it quickly connected the dots as it too saw the battle in front of him; piglins killing their captors and going into the warped forest.
“How could Xolas do this?! How could he dare betray the crown and even have the audacity to call himself leader of the Nether?! I have done far more for the Nether than he could ever do!” Pythus scowled. Pacing in front of his throne and his wisest advisors, Pythus spat the words in complete rage. After a few more stomps, he stopped pacing and slightly calmed himself.
He changed his tone and turned to his advisors. “Drastic measures must be taken. Skorch, rally the largest army you can summon. We will make all traitors suffer a horrific fate for disobeying me.”
“Yes, King Pythus.” Skorch spoke.
“Brother, I should warn you of another obstacle that has arisen.” Vulcanus, notably unarmed, spoke to Pythus.
“What now, Vulcannus?”
“I have gotten word that a Piglin revolt has captured a bastion in the southern part of the Nether. They already claim to have a new King by the name of Paddle.”
“Piglins?!” Pythus scoffed. “I never took you as a comedian, brother.”
“I am quite serious, Pythus. I trust my sources very well. They have yet to fail me.”
“Then find some new ones. Lies like these cannot be tolerated.” However, Pythus spoke with some concern, aware that the possibility wasn’t out of the question.
Skorch and Vulcannus exchanged looks, and then Vulcannus looked down, knowing Skorch would not back him.
“Well? Get moving!” Pythus scowled.
In another bastion, Paddle and many other armed piglins freed their brothers in blood from their pins. Paddle didn’t stop the former slaves as they pushed the disarmed wither skeletons into the lava pit below. While many piglins got vengeance for their years of captivity, most piglins were simply happy to be free, and danced for the first time in years, or for the first time in their life, waving their hands and hopping.
“Down with the Nether!” The Piglins chanted. “Freedom for all!” “Piglins shall rule again!” The chanting eventually escalated into yelling political ideas. One call was louder than the others; a restoration of the long extinct Piglin Kindom. And their choice for their king was the Piglin who started it all, Paddle.
Skorch looked at the other Netherans. Vulcannus examined from the background. Arranged neatly in the throne room of Netharia, a mass of netherans, Withers, Ghasts, Skeletons, and Wither Skeletons, it truly was a massive army.
“Vulcannus.” Skorch approached the brother. “Pythus has approved of our operation. He will lead one half of these forces to engage Xolas in pitched battle at Blanka Fortress, as it is the gateway to the north and east. You will get the luxury of taking Pultur Bastion, an easy goal to kill those piglin weaklings and the man they call ‘king.’ I will blitz to Zillid Fortress while Xolas’ army is occupied, taking out any of Xolas’ remaining support.”
“I am glad to hear Pythus and I can finally agree on something.” Vulcannus responded, but Skorch was not amused. “I will head towards Pultur Bastion, and I wish you the best of luck on penetrating so deep into Xolas’ territory.”
“Pythus is certain Xolas will engage him when he strikes Blanka Fortress. My strike will not be noticed until it’s too late.” Skorch responded nonchalantly. “Do not fail us, Vulcannus.”
Skorch then walked to Pythus, who was still sitting on his throne. Vulcannus glared at the two with spite; A prince should not be treated this way. Not only had Pythus stolen the crown, he refused to trust the strongest Netharan in his arsenal.
“Molly.” Paddle said. “This is Soul Fortress.” On top of multiple striders, the piglin army, now armed mostly by golden swords and crossbows, looked at the massive fortress. The fortress was dug into the ground, with the bridges being the only entryway with exception to a small dock at the bottom of the fortress.
“This is our true test, and we shall determine if the Piglins can bring the fight to the Netharan. Are you ready?” Paddle asked his companion to his left.
“I am, my king.” A small but very brave piglin responded to Paddle. Filled with energy and loyalty, she saluted her king.
“General. Do your men have enough potions?” Paddle looked to his right, where his armed brute looked forwards at the fortress with determination.
The General oinked in a serious manner. He put a tighter grip on the reins of his strider, gesturing he was ready to fight.
“Good, go now. Your role is essential to our fight. Molly, I want you to go with the General and scout out the Fortress. Locate the leading Netharan, and inform the General of his location. Killing him will be very helpful for holding the bridges.”
The General then drank a potion of fire invulnerability. Multiple other piglins also drank their potions and then hopped into the lava.
“Do you truly think we are ready?” Molly asked.
“Have we ever been ready?” Paddle asked. Molly drank her potion, and then hopped into the lava.
“Onwards!” Paddle took a horn from his inventory, and blew it. The remaining piglin army who were still on their striders ordered their mounts to charge forwards at Soul Fortress. Right under the lava, Paddle could see small ripples as his elite soldiers swam towards the dock. Meanwhile, his larger army continued to move. Some of them gave out warcries, or oinked loudly.
Four withers were deployed at the sight of the large piglin army, howling at them. The piglins had never fought so many withers at once
“Split up!” Paddle yelled. He loaded his crossbow, and multiple other piglins shot at the withers. Their first volley missed entirely. They split up into many groups, where the withers could not target them all at once. Paddle reloaded, and fired, this time he hit a wither, but unfatally. The withers then split up, trying to target each strider individually. One by one, the piglins were obliterated, but slowly, multiple Withers began to die off, as the crossbow fire became unbearable; despite having horrible aim.
Paddle eventually reached the fortress, and skeletons shot arrows down at him. He reloaded his crossbow, and fired; a miss. He then loaded his crossbow with a hook, and fired it upwards. It reached the top of the bastion, and then he began to climb up.
Meanwhile, Molly and the fire resistance piglins swam out of the lava onto the fortress’ dock, where a Netheran ship was being evacuated. However, the ship was quickly hijacked by the piglin General. The dock’s guards tried to blow a horn, but they were all killed by piglin crossbowmen; as they too swam to the surface of the lava and onto the dock, right as their fire resistance potions were running out.
The General fired a grappling hook at a high up bastion peep hole; the hook got it’s target. He passed the wire to Molly. The General had little time to check if his grappling hook had hit his target, as he heard the rattling of bones headed his direction.
While the General and the Piglins confronted the Netharan’s counterattack, Molly used the wire and grappling hook to lift herself up the wall, and onto the top floor of the nether fortress. As she neared the top, she heard the rattling of bones as multiple wither skeletons ran past her. She put her ear to the wall. She heard nothing. Next she peaked over very quickly: the hallway she had entered was now empty, as the wither skeletons were being deployed to the battlefield. After one last push from the wall into the hallway, she sprinted down the hall, examining the fortress.
Once passing a few hallways she nearly ran into a bastion tower stationed with skeleton archers, but they were too busy firing to notice as she silently snuck by. She continued to search for what she was looking for and eventually she found it; the tallest bastion, where a Netharan looked over the fortress from atop.
There were no guards to stop her as she entered the first floor of the bastion tower, but quickly dove into the wart bushes as she saw the Netharan was not alone, and had multiple guards at the second floor of the bastion.
“These reinforcements are taking far too long to arrive. Inform Vulcannus I am denying the base to the enemy. Prepare an evacuation of all remaining netharans, we will deny this base to our enemy, and hopefully end this rebellion at the same time. I will buy us time for a proper evacuation.”
Molly nearly gasped as she heard this command; she had to tell the piglins immediately.
However, this Netheran was about to be surprised. The Netharan leader drew her sword as commotion was heard not far off. Multiple piglins had breached their way into the inner fortress, and were headed right towards Molly’s position. “Forget the evacuation. Deploy the withers, now!”
A skeleton made a salute and rattle, while the Netheran and the other skeletons prepared to make a final stand at the bastion tower. The skeleton messenger walked right past Paddle with a message in hand, headed towards an unknown location, but clearly with the intent to blow up the entire fortress.
The General and multiple other piglins reached the Netharan’s bastion, and the skeletons loaded their bows. Molly made her move as she leaped out of the wart towards. The netheran glared, wanting to finish her off, but she quickly realized there were much more pressing matters. With the piglin general at the lead, the piglin army was headed her way.
Meanwhile, Molly chased after the messenger down a hall. Two patrolling skeletons shot arrows, and one even tripped her, but she quickly got back up kept running. The skeleton tried yelling up, but it seemed no one heard it. As the skeleton turned a corner, it saw a wither skeleton removing arrows from a wither, and the messenger was about to yell, but Molly leaped at it, and pushed both of them over the railing and into the lava below.
Gradually, Paddle and the piglins fought their way through the bridges, and reached the inside of the fortress. The Withers could no longer reach them, and were stuck outside.
Paddle and the piglins eventually turned the fight into a rout, as the wither skeletons fell back to a more defensive position. However, to Paddle’s horror, he heard the screeching of multiple ghasts and withers.
“Reinforcements are coming!” Paddle said. “Fall back! I repeat, Fall Back!”
The Piglins were outraged, but they trusted their King.
Now numbering almost a dozen, the wither’s barrage was horrific, as the withers fired down at the bridges, making them shatter and near collapse. Unfortunately, Paddle realized this was only the beginning of the trouble, as wither skeletons, on their boats, were on their way, using grappling hooks again, the piglins lowered themselves down to their striders, or atleast those that remained. Tragically, some of the striders had died from arrow fire or wither fire, so some piglins had no choice but to climb back up and be butchered on top.
“I’m sorry, General.” Paddle said, as he whipped the lasso to make his strider go faster. “And, Molly…” He said it almost in tears. He ignored the Wither explosions around him, and was silent as the retreating Piglin army, only a fraction of its original size, went back across the lava lake and into the warted forest.
Vulcannus landed off of a wither, and found that the Piglins were still there, fighting off the reinforcements. “Help him, slay the piglins!” He yelled orders at the skeletons.
However, at the forefront of the battle, he saw the piglin General slay the fortress’ warden, giving a killing blow with an axe to the Netharan’s shoulder.
The remaining skeletons fell back, and for a brief moment, the two armies looked at each other. From behind them, more nether reinforcements trapped the small piglin army.
“You have fought well. Surrender, and you can go back to a bastion alive.” Vulcannus spoke. Some of the piglins lowered their crossbows, but the General withdrew his ax from the Netharan’s body, and held it in a battle stance, clearly not ready to give up without a fight. He took a step forward, but no piglins joined him.
“I accept your challenge.” Vulcannus said with a tone of respect. Vulcannus drew his sword, and held it just as the Piglin held his ax.
Then, the two charged at each other. Vulcannus was quick to step down on the blade of the ax, and moved for a kick, only for the piglin to use his leg to body slam him into a wall. Vulcannus avoided a punch and kicked himself off. Vulcannus drew his bow, only for the General to toss his ax, snapping the bow in half. The Piglin picked up a fallen skeleton’s sword, while Vulcannus redrew his sword.
The two charged again, and the two’s blades collided, but upon putting pressure, the piglin’s blade was broken, and the piglin stuttered back. The piglin then tried attacking with just his fists. However, Vulcannus sliced the General’s arm off. The piglin slammed his body in Vulcannus, and then caught Vulcannus’ shoulder with his hand, but without a second hand which could’ve been used to stab him the Piglin was doomed. Vulcannus used his legs to toss the piglin to the ground and put his foot against his chest.
“Spare the prisoners. There’s no need to slaughter subjects of the Nether.” Vulcannus spoke, proud of his victory. The piglins held their hands above their heads as the wither skeletons tied their hands to their back.
Pythus yelled from atop the fortress. “Come out, Xolas! Face me at once!” There was an army of ghasts and withers in the distance. “I knew he was a coward…”
“Are you searching for me, pretender?” Xolas approached on a wither, and he landed on the way end of a bridge. “I’m glad we can finally meet each other as equals.”
“Equals?! We are far from equal. It was I, who gave the nether victories, who had a chance at conquering the overworld. If it weren't for you and Chronos, we would have won the Great War!”
Xolas gave an evil laugh. “So arrogant.” He drew his longsword. “But Pythus, I’m not here to kill you. Rather, I’m here for another reason.”
“What possible reason could you give, even in your irrational mind?”
“Maybe a diplomatic one. But, I know you are stubborn, and diplomacy is not on the table for you, atleast not yet.”
“Diplomacy was never an option, Xolas. And it never will be. Fight me here, and you can die with some form of honor.”
Xolas smiled. “Killing you would be a great pleasure, but I think my purpose here is over. Donet has been given his time to ambush Skorch’s army. Our friend will find that my forces here are just a shadow army, and that he is severely outnumbered, outmatched, and alone in enemy territory. His defeat is certain. And perhaps upon this crushing defeat, he and others will realize that an Emperor is far better than a King.”
“Skorch would never betray me!” Pythus yelled in fury, charged with his ax, swinging down hard. With his sword, Xolas blocked this blow. Pythus swung multiple other times. Xolas purposefully was on the defense, being slowly pushed back. Then as he reached the edge of the bridge, he swung around Pythus. Pythus blocked the sword swing, but Xolas turned again, and tried tossing Pythus off the bridge. Pythus nearly fell, but he hung onto the ledge. He swung himside sideways, quickly getting back up. The two looked at each other, but Xolas noticed the remaining nether army was ready to pounce on him. Xolas then did a back leap off the bridge, and he landed on his wither, and entered a retreat.
“Shoot him down!” Pythus bellowed. The archers opened fire, but Xolas swatted the arrows aside with his longsword. Xolas retreated, giving a dark laugh on his way. Next came an exchange of wither fire by both sides, but no one was hit.
In a prison cell, Skorch worked on thumping his hand down on a brick, to turn it into a chisel. However, Skorch was suddenly alerted by the sound of a knock, and then Xolas himself entered, holding a torch. Holding a plate of cooked pork in another hand, he sent it through the prison cell.
“I know why you are here, Xolas. And the answer remains no.”
“I don’t think you see the larger picture, Skorch. You are a great strategist and tactician. Your feats in The Great War proved yourself a highly valuable asset. But, you must understand politics is something beyond you.”
“Politics is not my strength, that’s why I left it to Chronos, and now Pythus.”
“And why not me?”
“Because Xolas, your fate has been sealed the moment you retreated from Netharia. Pythus controls six more Fortresses than you do, and even more outposts and bastions. I won’t fight for the losing side. My capture is just a minor setback.”
“I think my capability to gather an army capable of rivalring Pythus’ proves you wrong. Speaking of which, thanks to you, I think my army may be the largest in the nether.”
“Remind me, who halted the Piglin’s invasion?”
“I suppose I can credit your people for doing that, but that was not Pythus’ work.”
“I do not fight for Pythus, Xolas. I fight for the preservation of our Kingdom. I fight for the ideals of the Netharans.”
“This argument is going nowhere, maybe I should leave you to rot in this cell.”
“I don’t think I will rot. Pythus will end you, and probably very soon.”
“No, he won’t. But… if you serve me, then he will be the one who is gone ‘very soon.’”
“What do you not understand about ‘no.’”
“I understand it well enough. Enjoy your time.”
Xolas left the prison and walked on his floating bastion. He then went to a bridge, where multiple Wither Skeletons were waiting for him. One of them was his one-handed officer. “Is this the weapon we caught from the Piglins?” Xolas asked, examining it.
The wither officer with one arm cackled. “Impressive. Enchantment of Unbreaking, it is?” Pythus felt the glowing string of the ballista. The officer cackled again. He walked around it. “Does it have any ammunition?” The skeleton cackled and pointed at a group of massive arrows. Xolas inserted an arrow and aimed at a ghast in the distance. Next, he fired, killing the Ghast very easily despite a long range.
“This will work well. I want you to mass produce these and send them to as many forts and bastions you can. Pythus will lose air superiority very soon.”