Chapter Text
Three months.
It's been three months since the self proclaimed 'Hero of the Village' came into their lives. She was loud, curious, and always on the move. And yet, nobody seemed to mind her presence. Why would they? She kept the village safe from raids, protected it from sieges at night, and cleared out any remaining monsters in the morning. It would be foolish NOT to reward her… suicidal, even. Which made it all the more strange when the Hero took a liking to a single villager. A villager that had absolutely no interest in interacting with her. Ever.
Two months.
The raids have been getting more frequent. Nothing that the Hero couldn't handle, of course, but there was a noticeable increase. When she wasn't risking her life to protect her base and the village, Steve would continue the construction of their nearby base. When she wasn't doing that, she could be found trying to trade with a certain nitwit, trying to find what the elusive individual was interested in. Bread, gold, wheat, armor, tools… Nothing. She was more content to sit and watch from afar than to engage with any of her own kind. Which, I suppose, is the reason she fascinated the Hero so much. Steve couldn't understand the native language of the Villagers, but they seemed to understand her just fine. Whenever she would bring up the green-clad person, they seemed to huff and roll their eyes in a dismissive manner. Hm…
One month.
The raids have gotten worse. A few months ago, they would pillage once or twice a month. Now, they come multiple times a week. The Hero doesn't seem worried, her immortality hasn't been affected, and she gets to practice her fighting more often. The other villagers are worried. If they keep rewarding the Hero, she'll keep protecting them. But all of those riches are gaining unwanted attention. However, if they STOP rewarding her, she might get bored and leave, leaving them vulnerable to the raids once again. One was risky, the other, deadly. So the Village Chief made the executive decision to continue their praise. They would give Steve a medal every so often, or after a particularly big raid. The other village folk would shower her in gifts, and would continue as normal the next day.
Two weeks.
Steve made good progress on her base nearby. She spends her time researching the artifacts found at ruins, shipwrecks, and abandoned mines. There were people here before her, she just needed to find her connection to them. Why is she immortal? How can the villagers understand her, but not the other way around? What causes zombies to return to the land of the living? Where did she come from? So many questions, so little time. Steve bitterly thinks that she would be able to uncover so much information if she could just understand their language. The Librarian especially would be able to help her, but alas, she is alone in this world.
One week.
The base is almost complete, however, she has made little progress in her research. She frequents the village more often, taking breaks to socialize and trade, returning to her guard-like duties when the golems were no longer functioning. The green villager has shown no more progress in liking Steve, but seems to tolerate her just a bit more than before. The raids have become more annoying than ever, interrupting her travels and research on a daily basis now. Perhaps she could invent something to keep them safe while she's away… hm.
One day - The Beginning?
Nil looked to her right, out of the window of the barn. The Hero was being tossed into the air after another successful raid, a mix of hoots and hollers in the chaos. She was laughing, despite being covered from head to toe in bruises, cuts, scrapes, and blood. Not all of it was hers, of course. The villager huffed and tried to bury the pang of panic that struck through her again, fighting to appear calm and uninterested. Across from her was none other than an illager; one of the very same that was attempting to eradicate her village a few ticks prior, sitting on a hay bale and idly carving away at a pumpkin.
She wasn't there by choice, despite what it might seem. No, the only thing separating the illager and the villager was a single tool. A crossbow, locked and loaded with a gleaming arrow pointed directly at the gray miscreant. If someone were to walk into the duo, they would see both covered in sweat, locked in a tense stalemate. Neither willing to get up and fight, but unwilling to talk either. So they resolved to sit in silence, illager carving away, and villager relaxing with an arm crossed. Nearby sat a tin of partially-eaten pumpkin pie, and further back, a semi-assembled iron golem.
After what felt like hours, the illager looked up and gave a feeble smile in an attempt to ease the obvious tension. The villager responded with a glassy eyed stare, and said nothing. Her weak smile faded and she returned to her pumpkin carving, a new wave of sweat on her brow.
A few more ticks passed before the villager actually spoke up. "Hey. You." She looked up from her pumpkin. "Why raid this village now of all time?"
She paused her ruthless stabbing on the orange vegetable. "You might… not like the answer…"
"It's the Hero, isn't it." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.
"Uh- I- well, yeah… They've been helping you." She paused. "This village wasn't always this… rich, was it? Before the Hero came, this place was a dump. But now, they've made it perfect for pillaging, eh?" Another attempt at lightening the mood.
"... Uhuh, pillage this pumpkin, why don't you." She used the tip of the crossbow to gesture at the food in question.
The illager wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Ugh…"
The two fell back into an uncomfortable silence. The only sound that could be heard over the fading cheers outside was the rhythmic sounds of a knife against the pumpkin, and the shaky breathing of the illager. Nil soon slipped deep into thought, her worries getting the better of her. What the NETHER was she supposed to do now?? She had her mortal enemy less than two blocks away from her, weaponless and passive. She shook her head to clear the thought. An illager without a weapon is anything but passive, they were raised to be warriors. The only reason she was able to get her hands on the crossbow was because of the threat of a golem smashing her to bits just a few blocks behind them.
On one hand, she could just end it now. Pull the trigger, done deal, go home like nothing happened. But she wasn't a hostile mob, and she really didn't want the bloodshed on her hands. She could call over the Hero to finish the deed for her. They managed to wipe out an entire raid before, what's one more to the list? But that would mean that she relied on them, and the Hero would never let her hear the end of it. If her pestering was bad now, it would become unbearable after. She could finish the construction of the golem. But how could she explain that she used all those resources to build a golem AFTER the raid?? She sighed and shook her head again. That only left her with one option… to let the illager go. Technically, she hadn't done anything wrong… yet. The barn was her first target to clear out, and that's where she met the nitwit. Nil knew her logic that the illager was innocent was flimsy and wouldn't stand to any reasonable investigation, but it comforted her in the moment.
She kept cycling through her options before her gray counterpart cleared her throat again. Looking over, they made eye contact with one another, and Nil had to physically repress the pang of panic she felt, resisting the urge to run away like a free bed was waiting for her on the other side of the village. The illager, not noticing any of this, was smiling weakly again. But this time she was holding up the pumpkin, which looked like it had just been attacked by a swarm of silverfish instead of carved with a knife. Nil snorted and pulled the trigger of the crossbow. The illager flinched, but the head of the arrow buried itself deep in the forehead of the pumpkin instead.
"That looks horrible." Nil said flatly.
"It looked better before you shot it." The illager growled back.
"Mmm no, I think I made it better."
"Well pardon me, they don't exactly have pumpkin-carving classes in the camps we're raised in." She bared her razor sharp teeth, but faltered when the villager pointed the newly-reloaded crossbow at her.
"Watch it." She breathed deeply through her nose, before casually gesturing to the pumpkin. "You can just leave that here, go see if your camp offers any carving classes. Notch knows you need one."
She leaned down to set the pumpkin on a hay bale, before snapping back up. "Wait. My camp… You… you're letting me leave?"
Nil rolled her eyes in feigned disinterest. "Well duh. We don't exactly need a hobo living in our barn." She paused. "So get lost before I change my mind. Don't try to come back."
If the situation wasn't so tense, she might have laughed at the comical expression the illager made. Wide eyes, mouth hanging slightly open. Nil resisted the urge, and pointed towards the door with the crossbow.
"The crowd should be focused on the Hero right now, you should be good to go. If you tell anyone about this, I'll hunt you down."
The gray sharpshooter turned towards the door before pausing. They both knew villagers were passive, there was no way one of them would hunt an illager down…
"Was… was that a joke?" She dared to ask.
Nil kept her face blank and expressionless. "Go. Now."
The illager ducked her head and headed to the door, checking to see if the coast was clear before making a mad dash to the edge of the treeline. Nil didn't lower the crossbow until the gray figure was out of sight. Only then did she collapse onto a pile of hay, her legs fully giving out from under her. She took several deep, shaky breaths to calm herself, setting the crossbow down and clasping her hands over her arms to stop the shaking. She sat like that for several ticks, taking one deep breath after another, and eventually, she worked up the courage to look over at the weapon she had tossed aside.
It was crude, but effective. The mechanism that held the arrow back glinted in the light, taunting her with it's charged up power. Nil shuddered again, and grabbed a fistful of hay to cover it up. What had she gotten herself into...