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Wemmbu didn’t even have time to scream.

Ash’s diamond sword slid through him while he was still half-sitting on the broken bed, ribs twisting awkwardly as he tried to stand. The impact was blunt and sharp all at once, like he was split him open from the inside. For a fraction of a second, he didn’t feel pain, only pressure, only the weird feeling of metal where there should never be metal.

Then Ash ripped the blade free.

Blood followed in a bright, beautiful? arc, splattering across the stone floor and the bedframe. Wemmbu’s knees gave out, his body folding in on itself as gravity did its job. He hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from his chest in a strangled, silent gasp.

When did he end up on the floor?

And why was Ash so tall from this angle?

Ash loomed above him, armor catching the harsh light, expression unreadable in the way that only made it worse. Wemmbu tried to lift a hand, to crawl, to do anything, but his limbs didn’t listen. They felt distant, like they belonged to someone else entirely.

So he stared.

Above Ash, above the ruined room, above the wreckage and blood and shouting, the thing he had spent hours on stood there, in all of its beautifully broken glory.

The orbital strike cannon.

Even now, half-destroyed, its structure half destroyed and completely useless, it was still beautiful. The frame was somewhat intact. Wires dangled around the entire contraption. Redstone dust coated everything. 

It would never fire.

They would never fix it.

They would never all be together in the same place again.

No more late nights hunched over calculations while 4CVIT muttered to himself and erased the same equation five times in a row. No more Squiddo sprawled on the floor, shoes kicked up on the table, insisting they definitely needed another break. No more laughter echoing through half-finished rooms, teasing and arguing and pretending this was all just a game.

It was fine.

It was okay if they didn’t have another movie night.

It was okay if Wemmbu got banned and Squiddo and 4CVIT went on with their lives like they hadn’t been building a nuke moments ago.

It was okay if none of this mattered.

It was okay if–

He cut himself off, chest hitching weakly.

He was spiraling. He knew that much, distantly. Probably the blood loss getting to him, fogging his thoughts, making everything feel heavier and slower.

How many lives did he have left?

The edges of his vision darkened, curling inward like smoke. The world felt warm, strangely comforting, like sinking into a bath. A warm bath. His muscles finally stopped trying to fight.

He just wanted to close his eyes.

Was this the fifth time Ash had killed him?

Or the tenth?

He stopped counting after the fourth.

Maybe he should give in to the warmth. It felt nice. It felt easy.

How many hearts did he have left?

Was this his last life?

Was he going to be banned?

The thought barely hurt anymore.

Wemmbu closed his eyes.

weembu was slain by ashswagg using [fart].

…

He stared at the respawn screen longer than he meant to.

He had broken his bed before he died. He was supposed to respawn at spawn.

A chance.

An impossibly small chance.

He clicked respawn and he spawned back into existence. Grass beneath his feet. Sky overhead. Too bright, too open, too visible. Any longer and they would spot him.

Run.

Wemmbu bolted, lungs burning as he sprinted wildly away from spawn, heart hammering so hard it felt like it might burst from the exertion. He didn’t look back. 

Looking back meant dying.

But what was he going to do when he stopped running?

Build another cannon?

The thought was impossible. Without Squiddo and 4CVIT, it would take forever. With the entire server hunting him, it would be impossible.

And this time, there were no extra hearts.

This was it.

This was the last heart.

He clutched his communicator as he ran, fingers shaking. Ash had joined the call already. That meant everyone knew. Everyone would know exactly where he’d been seconds ago.

They’d hunt him.

Corner him.

Kill him.

Ban him.

And then that would be it. No more laughing. No more stupid jokes. No more sun filtering through pixelated leaves while he pretended the world wasn’t going to be destroyed by him.

By them.

Wemmbu veered toward the river and threw himself in, water swallowing him whole. The cold shocked him into focus as he swam hard, kicking and pulling until his arms screamed.

The others were last at the void hole, right?

Was the void hole far from this river?

Would he ever see them again?

His lungs burned as he reached the riverbed, hands scrabbling desperately at gravel. He dug with bare fingers, ignoring the pain as stones cut into his skin. Water rushed in until he carved out a small pocket, sealing it off just enough to breathe.

He pressed himself against the stone wall, chest heaving.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence and the distant rush of water.

He laughed weakly, breathless.

...

Remember the time they tried to see who could hold their breath the longest?

They’d been standing at the edge of a lake, Squiddo bouncing on her heels like she’d already won, 4CVIT stretching dramatically as if this were an Olympic event.

“I’m telling you,” Squiddo had said, pointing at Wemmbu, “he’s cheating. He always cheats.”

“I don’t cheat,” Wemmbu protested. “I never ever cheated.”

4CVIT had gone under without another word. Thirty seconds passed. Then a minute. Then two.

Squiddo surfaced first, sputtering and laughing. “Okay, nope, I’m out. That was a bad idea.”

Wemmbu had lasted longer than he thought he would. Long enough to feel smug.

Then 4CVIT emerged, barely winded.

Squiddo stared at him. “You absolutely have an enchantment.”

4CVIT grinned. “Skill issue.”

Wemmbu had made a face so exaggerated Squiddo nearly fell back into the water laughing. “Cheater.”

4CVIT called him a sore loser and flicked water at him until Squiddo joined in, the three of them dissolving into chaos.

Life had been easier back then.

Now it was just running. Hiding. Surviving.

They wouldn’t kill him though.

They wouldn’t… right?

After everything they’d been through–

The scrape of gravel snapped him back to reality.

Someone was digging nearby.

Wemmbu froze, pressing himself tighter against the stone, heart pounding so loudly he was sure it would give him away. The space felt too small, the air too thin.

This was it.

Someone would find him and with one swing he’d be gone. Gone for good. Never to see the sky again. Never to see the clouds–

Magenta and yellow glasses peeked through the gravel.

His breath hitched.

Squiddo?

She broke the last block and slipped into the pocket, lantern light flooding the space. The water trickled in but didn’t overwhelm them.

“Wemmbu?” she asked softly. “Is that really you?”

His voice cracked. “Yeah.”

He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or betrayed.

“You know the whole server’s looking for you.”

“Yeah.”

“And you know they’re all trying to kill you.”

“Yeah.”

“And you know I’m supposed to kill you.”

His chest tightened. “Will you?”

She hesitated, then snapped. “I have to, Wemmbu! I can’t choose anymore! The only reason I escaped Ash is because he thought you forced me to help you build the cannon. And look where that got us. You’re being banned, the cannon is gone, and they’re never going to trust me and 4C!”

Her voice broke as she inhaled.

“How would you like to die, Wemmbu?”

He slid down the wall.

Trapped.

Cornered.

About to be banned.

Squiddo stepped closer, drawing a diamond sword that shimmered in the lantern light.

It was his sword.

He’d given it to her months ago, laughing as he’d insisted it matched her vibe.

He stared where her eyes should be.

How many times had he fixed her glasses? Countless. She broke them constantly, never careful, always moving too fast.

The blade rose.

The blade fell.

Blood splattered across the glasses he had once gently repaired.

Then she pulled the blade away.

“…you should have paid me, Wemmbu,” she muttered, swimming out and leaving the lantern behind.

He stared at the gravel.

The gravel stared back.

He laughed.

It didn’t laugh back.

He didn’t know why he expected it to.

There was a saying that Squiddo had once asked him if he believed it.  

“Wemmbu,” She said, voice soft to not wake the sleeping 4C near them. He had been working on the cannon calculations for multiple nights by now and Squiddo and him had to force the poor guy to sleep.

“Do you think it’s true that your life flashes before your eyes?”

He hadn’t answered then.

Now, as darkness closed in, the memories came anyway.

…

Movie night. Squiddo insisted on a terrible low-budget comedy. 4CVIT complained the whole time until he laughed so hard he cried.

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen,” 4CVIT wheezed, clutching his sides.

Squiddo grinned. “You love it.”

Wemmbu snorted. “I think my braincells are dying.”

They rewound the same stupid scene three times just to hear 4CVIT lose it again.

…

The scene changed.

He was standing on a half-built platform high above the ground, blocks missing in places where they hadn’t decided what went where yet. The cannon was still a blueprint then, idea more than structure. The sky was orange with sunset, the kind that made everything feel temporary in a good way.

Squiddo was balancing on the edge, arms outstretched dramatically.

“If I fall, I’m haunting both of you,” she announced.

4CVIT didn’t even look up from the redstone mess at his feet. “You already haunt me. You ate all my cookies”

“It was one time,” Squiddo protested. “And it was OUR cookies. That doesn’t count.”

Wemmbu snorted, stepping closer to Squiddo and nudging her shoulder. “Get down before you lag and die.”

She gasped theatrically. “Wow. So you do care.”

She jumped anyway.

Wemmbu had nearly had a heart attack, lunging forward and grabbing her just in time. They both went down in a heap, laughing so hard Wemmbu’s sides hurt.

4CVIT finally looked over. “I leave you two alone for five seconds.”

“Admit it,” Squiddo said, pointing at him. “You’d miss us.”

4CVIT rolled his eyes. “Maybe.”

Wemmbu smiled at the memory, or tried to. His face didn’t feel like it was obeying him anymore.

The warmth deepened.

…

Another memory slid into place.

Late night. Too late. The kind of hour where the world felt quiet and alone but entirely theirs. 4CVIT had been pacing in a small circle, muttering numbers under his breath, hair a mess.

“This doesn’t make sense,” he said for the fifth time. “It should work. It should work.”

Squiddo was sprawled on the floor, back against a chest, staring at the ceiling. “You said that about the last five versions.”

“And four of them exploded,” Wemmbu added helpfully.

4CVIT stopped pacing and pointed at him. “That was one time.”

“It was four times,” Squiddo corrected.

“It was one design, tested four times,” 4CVIT shot back.

Wemmbu leaned back in his chair, spinning slightly. “Maybe it’s not the numbers. Maybe it’s the timing.”

4CVIT froze.

Squiddo sat up. “Oh no. He’s doing the thing.”

“What thing?” Wemmbu asked.

“The thing where he says something annoying and vague and it’s right,” she said, already grinning.

4CVIT stared at the calculations again, then slowly rewrote part of them. His shoulders dropped.

“…oh.”

Wemmbu raised his hands in mock surrender. “I accept praise in the form of worship.”

“You accept praise in the form of shutting up,” Squiddo said, tossing a cookie at his head.

He caught it anyway.

The memory blurred at the edges, dissolving like mist.

Wemmbu’s chest tightened.

The pain pulsed faintly, distant now. Like it belonged to someone else.

…

Another memory surfaced, sharper this time.

Argument.

Squiddo pacing, voice raised. “You can’t just decide this on your own!”

“I’m not deciding it on my own,” Wemmbu snapped back. “I’m doing what needs to be done.”

4CVIT stood between them, hands raised. “Okay. Pause. Everyone breathe.”

Squiddo whirled on him. “You’re on his side.”

“I’m on the side of not dying,” 4CVIT said flatly.

Wemmbu remembered the anger then. How certain he was that he was right.

“We don’t get another chance like this,” he said. “If we don’t finish it now, someone else will. And they won’t hesitate.”

“And what happens when they notice?” Squiddo demanded. “What happens when they realize what we’re building?”

Wemmbu opened his mouth.

Closed it.

He hadn’t had an answer.

The memory didn’t resolve. It just sat there, heavy and unfinished, before slipping away.

He felt something twist inside him. Regret, maybe. Or understanding, arriving far too late.

The darkness pressed closer.

…

Another flash.

They were all wet, soaked through, standing in the rain after a creeper blew up part of the base. Squiddo was furious, kicking at the dirt.

“I just fixed that wall!”

4CVIT was laughing, hair plastered to his face. “You didn’t fix it. You put a sign over it that said ‘ignore this.’”

“It was a temporary solution.”

Wemmbu wiped rain from his eyes, grinning. “It’s kind of impressive, actually. We’re cursed.”

Squiddo glared at him. “Don’t you dare say that.”

Thunder rolled overhead.

They all froze.

Then another explosion went off somewhere in the distance.

Squiddo stared at the sky. “…I’m logging off.”

4CVIT nodded solemnly. “Wise.”

Wemmbu laughed until his stomach hurt.

…

The memories kept coming.

Small ones.

Stupid ones.

Squiddo stealing his armor and pretending she didn’t have it while standing directly in front of him wearing it.

4CVIT building an entire machine wrong because he read the wiki upside down.

Wemmbu staying up alone after they logged off, staring at the cannon, wondering if this was the thing that would finally ruin everything.

The warmth began to feel heavier.

Like sinking.

He realized, distantly, that he couldn’t feel his hands anymore.

Or his legs.

The cave was gone. The gravel. The water. The pain.

There was only memory now.

…

It was supposed to be a calm night.

That was the lie they always told themselves.

The base was quiet in the way that only happened when all three of them were online but no one was actively causing problems yet. 

Yet.

The cannon construction had been paused for once. Not abandoned, just… gently ignored. Tools lay scattered where they’d been dropped, redstone dust still tracked across the floor from where 4CVIT had been pacing earlier.

Wemmbu had food. Real food. Not bread, not golden carrots, not something eaten purely to keep the hunger bar from dipping. Cake.

He’d gone out of his way to make it. Milk buckets. Sugar. Eggs. Wheat. The whole annoying process. He placed it carefully on the table like it deserved respect.

Squiddo noticed immediately.

She always did.

Her head snapped toward it mid-sentence. “Is that cake?”

Wemmbu didn’t look up. “No.”

She squinted. “You’re lying.”

“I would never,” he said, still not looking at her, already cutting himself a slice.

4CVIT glanced over from the corner, where he was reorganizing a chest that did not need reorganizing. “You absolutely would.”

Wemmbu finally looked up, fork poised. “I absolutely would not lie about cake.”

Squiddo leaned closer, peering at the slice. “What kind?”

“None of your business.”

“That sounds really defensive.”

Wemmbu took a bite and closed his eyes exaggeratedly. “Wow. Incredible. Truly a shame you can’t relate.”

That was when Squiddo stole it.

She moved fast, hand darting out and swiping the slice clean off his plate before he could react. She popped it into her mouth in one go, cheeks puffing slightly as she chewed.

There was a moment of perfect, stunned silence.

Wemmbu stared at his empty plate.

Slowly, he looked up at her.

“I wasn’t done with that.”

Squiddo swallowed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You were done in my eyes.”

4CVIT froze.

Then, very deliberately, he sat down.

“Oh,” he said calmly. “This is going to get messy.”

Wemmbu stood.

Not abruptly. Not angrily. Slowly. The kind of slow that made Squiddo’s grin falter just a little.

“You know,” he said, voice even, “I went through effort for that.”

She tilted her head. “Skill issue.”

4CVIT nodded thoughtfully, staying at the sidelines.

Wemmbu sighed like a man accepting fate.

Then he picked up the rest of the cake and slammed it directly into Squiddo’s face.

Frosting exploded everywhere.

There was a split second where Squiddo stood completely still, cake dripping down her glasses, her hair, her shoulders.

The base was silent.

4CVIT covered his mouth. “Oh no.”

Squiddo inhaled.

Then she screamed.

“You are dead.”

She lunged at him, hands sticky and dangerous. Wemmbu yelped and bolted, laughter bursting out of him before he could stop it. He didn’t get far. She tackled him into a table, sending items flying everywhere.

Cake crumbs. Plates. Someone’s boots.

4CVIT tried to stand and immediately slipped on frosting, falling backward into his workbench with a loud thud.

“I regret everything,” he announced from inside it.

Squiddo smeared frosting across Wemmbu’s face while he tried to block her, both of them laughing so hard it hurt. He managed to shove her off and scramble away, grabbing another piece of cake purely out of spite.

She chased him.

They ran through the base, slipping, crashing, knocking over half-built contraptions. At one point, Squiddo attempted to throw a plate and missed entirely, shattering it against the wall.

“THAT WAS MY FAVORITE PLATE,” 4CVIT shouted.

“No it wasn’t,” Wemmbu yelled back.

“Yes it was!”

By the time it ended, the kitchen was unrecognizable. Frosting coated the floor. Cake chunks dotted every surface. All three of them were covered in it, hair matted, armor sticky.

They collapsed in a heap, breathless.

Squiddo pushed her glasses up, squinting through the mess. “I hope you’re proud.”

Wemmbu grinned at her, face smeared white. “Incredibly.”

4CVIT finally crawled out of the barrel, frosting in his hair. He looked at the devastation, then at them.

“…how was I even caught in the crossfire?”

Squiddo snorted.

Wemmbu laughed again, chest aching, stomach warm.

For a while, none of them moved.

It was perfect.

…

The cannon existed for three days before anyone realized it didn’t have a name.

This was, apparently, unacceptable.

Squiddo was the one who noticed first, sprawled across the floor with her shoes hooked over a chair, staring up at the half-built cannon. “You know,” she said casually, “we’re putting way too much effort into something unnamed.”

4CVIT didn’t look up from the schematic he was scribbling on. “It’s a prototype.”

“That’s worse,” Squiddo replied. “You’re supposed to name each and every prototype.”

Wemmbu, perched on the edge of the control platform, paused mid-building. “She’s not wrong.”

4CVIT sighed, long and tired. “We are not naming it.”

Squiddo sat up immediately. “Coward.”

“It’s an orbital strike cannon,” he snapped. “It doesn’t need a personality.”

Wemmbu raised a finger. “Counterpoint. Everything needs a personality.”

Squiddo grinned like she’d been waiting for that. “Exactly.”

She scrambled to her feet and clapped her hands together. “Alright. Brainstorming session. No bad ideas.”

4CVIT stared at her. “That’s a terrible rule.”

Wemmbu shrugged. “We’ll ignore you when necessary.”

Squiddo paced dramatically in front of the half-built cannon, gesturing like she was presenting to an audience. “It should sound powerful. Majestic. Something that strikes fear into the hearts of our enemies.”

4CVIT muttered, “We don’t have enemies.”

“Yet,” Squiddo said ominously.

Wemmbu leaned back, considering. “What about something simple? The Big Laser.”

Squiddo stared at him.

4CVIT stared at him.

Then Squiddo burst out laughing. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am completely serious,” Wemmbu said. “It’s accurate.”

“It’s boring,” Squiddo protested. “That sounds like something you’d name a flashlight.”

4CVIT pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate that it is technically exactly what the cannon is.”

Squiddo gasped. “Do not encourage him.”

Wemmbu smirked. “Thank you for your support.”

They argued for a while after that. Suggestions were thrown out and immediately shot down.

Squiddo wanted something dramatic. Something long and impossible to remember. “Like, ‘The Divine Annihilator’.”

4CVIT scoffed. “That’s not even specific.”

“It annihilates things from the sky,” she said. “With style.”

Wemmbu tried not to laugh. “That sounds like a spell from a bad fantasy novel.”

Squiddo crossed her arms. “You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it.”

4CVIT cleared his throat. “If we are naming it, it should be descriptive. Orbital Strike Cannon. OSC.”

Squiddo made a face. “That’s an acronym.”

“It’s efficient.”

“It’s ugly.”

Wemmbu tilted his head. “What about the Orbital Friendship Beam.”

4CVIT looked at him. “No.”

Squiddo grinned. “Yes.”

4CVIT gestured wildly at the cannon. “This thing could level a mountain!”

“Friends help friends level mountains,” Squiddo said solemnly.

Wemmbu nodded. “It’s true.”

4CVIT looked like he was reconsidering his life choices.

At some point, they started writing the names down on signs and sticking them to the cannon, just to see how they looked. Most of them lasted less than a minute before being ripped down.

“Solar Punisher,” lasted thirty seconds.

“Sky Breaker,” lasted ten.

“Do Not Fire,” was Squiddo’s favorite.

4CVIT stared at it. “That is not a name.”

“It’s a warning,” she said.

Wemmbu wandered over to the control panel while they were arguing and placed a sign on it that read: DO NOT TOUCH (SERIOUSLY).

4CVIT groaned. “I hate both of you.”

Squiddo immediately pressed a button.

Nothing happened.

Wemmbu and 4CVIT both yelled at them anyway.

They eventually collapsed into chairs, exhausted. The cannon loomed above them, silent and unfinished, circuits glowing slightly.

Squiddo tilted her head back, staring up at it. “You know,” she said, quieter now, “I don’t think the name matters that much.”

Wemmbu glanced at her. “No?”

She shrugged. “We built it anyway. It’ll just be remembered as OUR cannon.”

4CVIT hesitated, then nodded. “… yeah.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

Then Squiddo smirked. “Still not calling it OSP.”

Wemmbu laughed.

…

Squiddo announced she was enchanting armor on a random Tuesday.

They were gathered in the armory, a cramped stone room lit by torches and the faint glow of an enchanting table. Bookshelves lined the walls in uneven rows, some half-full, some crooked because Wemmbu had miscounted the space and refused to redo them out of spite.

Squiddo stood in the center, hands on her hips, chin raised. “I’ve got this.”

4CVIT looked up slowly from the chest he was reorganizing. “You have never ‘had this.’”

“That’s rude,” they said. “Also false. I watched a tutorial.”

Wemmbu leaned against the doorway, already smiling. “How old was the tutorial?”

Squiddo waved him off. “Time doesn’t matter when it comes to greatness.”

4CVIT’s mouth twitched. “That’s not reassuring.”

She ignored them both and marched up to the enchanting table, plopping a diamond chestplate onto it with a flourish. “Okay. Step one: confidence.”

Wemmbu crossed his arms. “That’s not a step.”

“It is. The enchanting table smells your fear.”

She slid lapis into the table, squinting at the options. “Protection I, Protection II… ooh, Fire Protection.”

4CVIT leaned over her shoulder. “Statistically, general Protection is better.”

Squiddo shot him a look. “Statistics have never helped me.”

She selected an enchantment.

The table flashed.

Wemmbu leaned closer. “What did you get?”

Squiddo read it aloud, proudly. “Protection I.”

4CVIT stared. “You used thirty levels.”

“It’s a start.”

They moved on.

By the time Squiddo was done, there was a neat row of armor on the table. She stepped back, wiping imaginary sweat from her brow. “Behold.”

Wemmbu picked up his chestplate and immediately frowned. “Why is it glowing… weirdly.”

Squiddo shrugged. “That’s normal. I think”

4CVIT glanced at it and froze. “Squiddo.”

“What.”

“That’s Curse of Binding.”

There was silence.

Squiddo blinked. “That’s… fine?”

Wemmbu stared at the armor. “I can never take this off.”

Squiddo slowly backed away. “You look great.”

4CVIT lost it.

He laughed so hard he had to sit down, clutching his stomach. “You permanently attached his armor.”

“It was an accident!”

“You cursed me,” Wemmbu said dramatically. “I will be buried in this.”

Squiddo grabbed his shoulders. “Okay, okay, we’ll just not let you die.”

“That’s comforting,” he said flatly.

They moved on to 4CVIT’s boots.

Squiddo placed them carefully on the table. “These are important.”

4CVIT nodded. “Very.”

She enchanted them.

The glow faded.

4CVIT picked them up, reading. “…Feather Falling V.”

Squiddo gasped. “See? Skill.”

He flipped them over. “…No Protection enchantments.”

Squiddo’s smile dimmed. “You don’t need protection if you never get hit.”

Wemmbu snorted. “He gets hit all the time.”

4CVIT sighed. “I am going to die from someone accidentally throwing a knife at me.”

Finally, Squiddo enchanted her own helmet.

It came out perfect. Protection IV. Unbreaking III. Everything she wanted.

She grinned. “See? I told you.”

Wemmbu stared at his cursed chestplate. “Trade?”

“No.”

They ended up testing the armor outside.

Wemmbu jumped off a small cliff and landed with a grunt. “Still hurts.”

4CVIT followed, landing gracefully. “Feather Falling works.”

Squiddo tripped on the way down and took no damage at all.

They stared at each other.

Squiddo dusted themself off. “I’m magical.”

Wemmbu laughed.

Later, when the chaos died down, they sat on the floor of the armory, gear scattered around them. Squiddo fiddled with the edge of her helmet.

“I really did try,” she said quietly.

Wemmbu nudged her shoulder. “We know.”

4CVIT nodded. “Next time, I enchant.”

Squiddo smirked. “No.”

They stayed there longer than they needed to, surrounded by glowing armor and laughter.

…

The race started because Squiddo was bored.

This was already a bad sign.

They were standing on the upper level of the base, the part that had no real purpose yet beyond existing above everything else. The cannon loomed nearby, unfinished and quiet, its shadow stretching long across the stone as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

Squiddo paced along the edge of the roof, peering down at the ground far below. “I could beat you across this.”

Wemmbu glanced at her. “Across what.”

She gestured vaguely. “The roofs. All of them.”

4CVIT, sitting cross-legged nearby and fiddling with redstone, didn’t look up. “This sounds like a terrible idea.”

Squiddo grinned. “You’re just jealous you weren’t invited.”

Wemmbu leaned over the edge and immediately felt his stomach drop. “No elytra,” he said. “No potions.”

“Obviously,” Squiddo replied. “Coward rules.”

4CVIT sighed. “If either of you die, I’m taking your stuff.”

“That’s fair,” Wemmbu said.

They lined up at the edge of the roof, the wind rushing softly past. The sky was streaked with orange and pink, clouds stretched thin like brushstrokes.

Squiddo bounced on her heels. “On three.”

“One,” Wemmbu said.

“Two,” she said.

“Three,” they said together.

They ran.

Wemmbu jumped first, landing on the next roof with a grunt, momentum carrying him forward. Squiddo followed effortlessly, laughing as she sprinted past him.

“Hey!” he protested. “You cheated.”

“I was simply faster,” she called back.

They leapt from roof to roof, timing jumps just right, occasionally clipping edges and scrambling to recover. Wemmbu nearly missed one landing and windmilled his arms wildly, heart hammering.

Squiddo glanced back. “You good?”

“Define good!”

She slowed just enough to let him catch up. “Don’t die. It’d ruin the mood. And the competition.”

They raced past half-built structures and scaffolding, stone blurring beneath their feet. Below them, 4CVIT watched, arms crossed, muttering something about their stupidity.

Wemmbu misjudged a jump and stumbled, sliding toward the edge. For a terrifying second, there was nothing beneath him.

Squiddo grabbed his wrist.

Her grip was solid, unwavering. She hauled him back with a sharp tug.

They froze, faces inches apart, breathing hard.

“Careful,” she said, voice lighter than her eyes.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Thanks.”

She released him immediately and took off again. “Still winning!”

They reached the final roof almost at the same time, collapsing onto the stone, chests heaving.

Squiddo stared up at the sky. “Tie.”

Wemmbu laughed. “Absolutely not.”

4CVIT appeared below them, looking up. “You’re both idiots.”

Squiddo waved. “You love us.”

He paused. “…sadly.”

They lay there until the sky darkened, trading insults and pointing out clouds.

“That one looks like you,” Squiddo said, pointing.

Wemmbu squinted. “Rude.”

She smiled anyway.

…

The argument started over something stupid.

It always did.

Wemmbu didn’t even remember what the original disagreement was about. Something with redstone timing. A lever that didn’t activate fast enough. A miscalculation that shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

4CVIT was standing over the workbench, arms crossed tight, jaw set. “You can’t just eyeball it,” he said. “That’s not how this works.”

Wemmbu scoffed, spinning in his chair. “It’s worked every other time.”

“That doesn’t mean it’ll work this time.”

Squiddo sat between them on the floor, fiddling with a piece of string. “Okay, okay. We’re all tired. Let’s just—”

“No,” 4CVIT cut in, sharper than usual. “If this fires wrong, the whole thing collapses.”

Wemmbu stood. “You think I don’t know that?”

The room felt smaller suddenly.

4CVIT met his gaze. “I think you rush.”

The words landed heavier than they should have.

Wemmbu laughed, but it was brittle. “Right. Because I’m the reckless one.”

Silence stretched.

Squiddo looked up, uneasy. “Hey… that’s not fair.”

But the damage was already done.

Wemmbu grabbed his tools, shoving them into his inventory with unnecessary force. “Fine. Do it yourself.”

He turned to leave.

4CVIT didn’t stop him.

That was the part that stuck.

Later, much later, they would fix the issue together. They always did. The cannon would stand. The base would survive.

But something invisible cracked that night.

Not broken.

Just… fractured.

And once something cracked, it was easier to break.

…

4CVIT insisted he could swim.

This was, objectively, untrue.

They discovered this on a day that had started far too peacefully. The lake near the base was glassy and still, sunlight breaking across the surface in bright, flickering shards. Squiddo had kicked off her shoes and was already ankle-deep in the water, toes curling happily in the sand.

“This is nice,” she said. “We should do this more often.”

Wemmbu hummed in agreement, rolling up his sleeves. “A day without explosions. Revolutionary.”

4CVIT stood at the edge of the shore, arms crossed, watching them. “You know, swimming is a basic survival skill.”

Squiddo glanced back at him. “Are you saying you want to swim?”

“I’m saying,” he replied carefully, “that I can swim.”

Wemmbu turned slowly. “Since when.”

4CVIT shrugged. “I’ve seen it done.”

Squiddo gasped. “That’s not the same thing.”

He frowned. “It’s mostly intuitive.”

Wemmbu laughed. “You’re about to die.”

“I am not,” 4CVIT said flatly. “I’ll prove it.”

Before either of them could stop him, he stepped back, took a running start, and jumped straight into the deep part of the lake.

There was a splash.

Then thrashing.

Then very obvious panic.

Squiddo’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my god.”

Wemmbu was already moving, sprinting into the water. “Why would you do that?”

“I thought—” 4CVIT sputtered as he flailed, “—I thought you just moved your arms—”

Squiddo dove in after them, grabbing onto 4CVIT’s shoulder. “Stop fighting it!”

“I am fighting death! I don’t want to die!”

Wemmbu hooked an arm around his chest and kicked hard, dragging all three of them toward the shallows. Water sloshed everywhere, and Squiddo nearly lost her grip laughing.

They collapsed onto the shore in a heap, coughing and soaked through.

For a long moment, none of them spoke.

Then Squiddo started laughing.

Like, really laughing. Full-body, tears-in-her-eyes laughing.

Wemmbu joined in immediately, rolling onto his back and staring at the sky. “You jumped.”

4CVIT lay there, staring straight up, chest heaving. “…I miscalculated.”

“That’s not a calculation error,” Squiddo wheezed. “That’s arrogance.”

He pushed himself up onto his elbows. “I genuinely thought I’d figure it out on the way down.”

Wemmbu wiped water from his face. “You cannot learn to swim mid-air.”

They sat there until their laughter faded into something softer.

Eventually, Squiddo nudged him with her foot. “Okay. Lesson one.”

“I refuse,” he said.

“You don’t get a choice,” she replied cheerfully. “We’re not letting you drown again.”

They started small. Very small.

4CVIT stood knee-deep in the water, arms stiff at his sides like he expected the lake to attack him.

“Relax,” Wemmbu said. “It’s just water.”

“It’s deceptively deep water,” 4CVIT muttered.

Squiddo demonstrated exaggerated, flailing arm movements. “You just do this.”

“That looks inefficient.”

“It works,” she said.

He tried to copy her and nearly faceplanted.

Wemmbu caught him, laughing. “Okay, okay. Maybe float first.”

Floating was worse.

“I am sinking,” 4CVIT said calmly, as if everything was fine.

“You’re panicking,” Squiddo replied. “You have to trust the water.”

“I do not trust things I cannot reason with.”

Despite everything, he tried. Awkwardly. Slowly. Every time he lost balance, one of them grabbed him before he could fully submerge.

By the end, he wasn’t swimming so much as not drowning.

Squiddo clapped. “Progress!”

4CVIT glared at her, water dripping from his hair. “I hate this.”

Wemmbu smiled. “You’re doing great.”

They stayed by the lake until the sun dipped low, clothes drying in the warm air. 4CVIT never did learn to swim properly that day, but he didn’t jump into deep water again either.

As they packed up, Squiddo glanced back at the lake. “You’ll get it eventually.”

4CVIT paused. “Next time, I’m wearing enchanted armor.”

Wemmbu laughed. “That’s cheating.”

…

The meeting was Squiddo’s idea.

This alone should have been enough warning.

She stood at the head of the long table they normally used for storage, having forcibly cleared it of random blocks, tools, and at least one suspiciously sticky object that no one claimed ownership of. Three chairs were placed neatly in a row, facing her.

Wemmbu eyed the setup with suspicion. “Why are there chairs?”

Squiddo clasped her hands behind her back. “Because this is a professional environment.”

4CVIT sat down slowly, posture stiff. “I don’t like this.”

“Good,” she said. “That means it’s working.”

Wemmbu dragged a chair back with a screech and flopped into it, spinning slightly. “What’s the agenda?”

Squiddo pulled out a piece of paper. An actual piece of paper. Handwritten.

4CVIT leaned forward. “Is that… a list.”

“Yes,” Squiddo said proudly. “I prepared.”

Wemmbu squinted. “That says ‘Very Important Topics.’”

“It’s a title,” she replied. “Show some respect.”

4CVIT crossed his arms. “I object to this.”

“Objection noted and ignored,” Squiddo said immediately. “Agenda item one.”

She cleared her throat loudly.

“Wemmbu keeps eating my food.”

Wemmbu blinked. “That’s not–”

“I have evidence,” Squiddo interrupted.

She slapped another piece of paper onto the table. It was a poorly drawn diagram of a chest with arrows pointing to it and the words MY FOOD written aggressively across the top.

4CVIT stared. “Is this a crime scene sketch?”

“Yes.”

Wemmbu leaned back in his chair. “Actually, it was OUR food.”

Squiddo gasped. “You ate my cookies.”

“You labeled them ‘cookies,’” he shot back. “That’s a public invitation.”

4CVIT raised a hand. “I would like to request that we define ownership before this escalates.”

Squiddo glared at him. “Denied.”

4CVIT sighed. “Of course it is.”

Squiddo tapped her paper. “Agenda item two. 4CVIT needs to stop reorganizing the chests at three in the morning.”

4CVIT straightened. “That is when I am most efficient.”

“You woke me up,” Squiddo said. “Twice.”

“I was labeling.”

“LOUDLY.”

Wemmbu laughed. “You did label my stuff wrong.”

4CVIT turned to him. “Your system is chaos.”

“It’s chaos that I understand.”

Squiddo slammed her hand on the table. “Order!”

They all froze.

They blinked, surprised it worked. Then smiled smugly. “See.”

4CVIT rubbed his temples. “Why are we doing this?”

“Team bonding,” Squiddo said.

Wemmbu nodded. “This is bonding.”

“Agenda item three,” Squiddo continued. “The cannon.”

4CVIT stiffened. “What about it?”

Squiddo leaned forward, suddenly serious. “You’ve been working too much.”

Wemmbu tilted his head. “They’re right.”

4CVIT scoffed. “I’m fine.”

“You haven’t slept,” Squiddo said. “You fell asleep standing up yesterday.”

“That was normal.”

“That was alarming.”

Wemmbu added gently, “You don’t have to carry it alone.”

There was a pause.

4CVIT looked at both of them, then away. “…Noted.”

Squiddo exhaled and shuffled her papers. “Agenda item four.”

She hesitated.

“…Do we think the base needs more plants?”

Wemmbu brightened instantly. “Yes.”

4CVIT stared. “That’s not a serious question.”

“It absolutely is,” Squiddo said. “The vibes are off.”

Wemmbu nodded emphatically. “More green. Less doom.”

4CVIT gestured around them. “We are building a weapon.”

“And?” Squiddo said. “Weapons can have aesthetics. If I were a weapon, I would want shrubbery.”

They argued about plants for longer than they argued about the cannon. Flowers versus vines. Trees inside versus outside. At some point, Squiddo suggested glow berries and Wemmbu acted like they’d insulted him personally.

By the time Squiddo declared the meeting adjourned, nothing had been resolved.

They sat there anyway.

Wemmbu spun his chair again. “That was productive.”

“It absolutely was not,” 4CVIT said.

Squiddo smiled, leaning back. “But we talked.”

Wemmbu shrugged. “That counts.”

4CVIT hesitated, then nodded. “…It does.”

They stayed there until the torches burned low, arguing about nothing, everything, and laughing far too much for a “serious meeting.”

It was perfect.

…

They were supposed to be joking.

That was the plan.

Wemmbu was telling one of his stories, exaggerated and ridiculous, hands moving wildly as he spoke. Normally, Squiddo would be laughing by now. 4CVIT would’ve already rolled his eyes.

But Squiddo wasn’t laughing.

She sat on the edge of the table, glasses pushed up higher than usual, staring at the floor.

Wemmbu trailed off. “…Okay. Tough crowd.”

4CVIT noticed it too. “You good?”

Squiddo didn’t answer immediately.

Then, quietly, “Do you think they’ll forgive us?”

The room stilled.

Wemmbu blinked. “For what?”

She looked up. Her expression was tired in a way that had nothing to do with lack of sleep. “For all of it. For blowing up spawn.”

4CVIT frowned. “They don’t know everything.”

“That’s the problem,” she said. “What happens when they do?”

Silence pressed in.

Wemmbu forced a grin. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

She shook her head. “That’s what scares me.”

He didn’t know what to say to that.

4CVIT spoke instead. “We’re not bad people.”

Squiddo’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Good people still get punished.”

That night, she left early.

Wemmbu watched her go, unease crawling up his spine. He told himself she was just tired. Just stressed.

But later, lying awake, he realized something chilling.

That was the first time Squiddo sounded like she was preparing to lose them.

…

They didn’t plan to stay up all night.

It just… happened.

The server was quiet in that fragile way that only existed right before dawn, when even the usual natural sounds felt like they were holding their breath. The torches along the walls burned low, shadows stretching long and lazy across stone floors.

Wemmbu was the first to notice the light.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice barely above the crackle of a dying flame. “It’s almost morning.”

Squiddo looked up from where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through absolutely nothing of importance. “Already?”

4CVIT, leaning against the wall with his arms folded, glanced toward the narrow opening they’d carved into the cliffside weeks ago. A thin line of pale gold was beginning to creep through.

“…Huh,” he said.

None of them moved at first.

Then Squiddo stood. “Come on. Outside.”

They climbed up onto the ledge overlooking the valley, the air cold enough to sting but clean enough to feel like a reset. The server below them was still half-asleep, washed in muted blues and grays.

Wemmbu sat down immediately, legs dangling over the edge. “This is peaceful. That’s not fun.”

Squiddo sat beside him, hugging her knees. “You’re just mad because it’s quiet.”

“I thrive in chaos,” he replied. “But this is…okay.”

4CVIT stayed standing for a moment longer before finally sitting on the stone behind them, close enough that Squiddo could feel the warmth from his shoulder.

The sun rose slowly, like it wasn’t in any rush to be noticed.

Light spilled across the tops of trees first, igniting leaves in gold and copper. Shadows retreated inch by inch, revealing the valley in layers.

Squiddo exhaled. “We did all that,” she said softly, gesturing vaguely toward the land they’d altered, built on, fought on.

Wemmbu followed her gaze. “Yeah. Kinda wild.”

4CVIT watched the horizon. “It’s still standing.”

“That’s a low bar,” Squiddo said, smiling.

“But an important one.”

They fell quiet again.

Not the awkward kind. The good kind. The kind where no one felt the need to fill the space.

Wemmbu broke it eventually, as he always did. “Do you ever think about how weird it is that we found each other.”

Squiddo hummed. “All the time.”

4CVIT hesitated, then nodded. “…Yes.”

Wemmbu tilted his head back to look at the sky. “Out of everyone. Everywhere. We ended up here.”

“With you two,” Squiddo added.

“With you. You’re the chaotic one here.” 4CVIT corrected quietly.

The sun finally cleared the horizon, warmth brushing over their faces. Squiddo squinted, smiling despite herself.

“This is nice,” she said. “We should do this more.”

Wemmbu snorted. “We say that every time.”

“And then everything explodes,” Squiddo added.

4CVIT let out a small, almost amused breath. “Very likely. We’re building a nuke for a reason.”

They laughed. Softly. Like they didn’t want to scare the moment away.

For a while, they talked about nothing important. What they’d build next. Where they’d explore if things ever slowed down. Whether the base needed more windows.

Wemmbu leaned back on his hands. “If things calm down,” he said, tone light, “we should go somewhere far. No plans. Just… go.”

Squiddo’s smile softened. “I’d like that.”

4CVIT watched the sunlight creep higher. “…Me too.”

None of them said when.

They didn’t need to.

Eventually, the world fully woke up. Birds scattered. The valley brightened. The moment passed, gently, without ceremony.

But they stayed a little longer anyway.

Three figures on a cliff, sharing warmth, light, and a future that still felt possible.

Later, they would remember this morning.

Not because something dramatic happened.

But because nothing did.

And for once, that was everything

…

Another moment rose, clearer than the rest.

The last movie night.

They hadn’t known it would be the last.

Squiddo had insisted on choosing again, despite protests.

“I swear it’s good this time.”

4CVIT squinted at the title. “Why does it have a budget of twelve dollars.”

“Because the economy sucks right now.” Squiddo said.

Wemmbu was already laughing. “I’m ready to suffer.”

They made it twenty minutes before 4CVIT had to pause it because he was laughing too hard to breathe.

“I hate this,” he said between gasps. “I hate that I like this.”

Squiddo beamed. “Victory.”

Wemmbu leaned back, watching them more than the screen. Watching the way Squiddo talked with her hands. The way 4CVIT forgot to be guarded when he laughed.

He remembered thinking, I don’t want this to end.

The memory flickered.

Wemmbu felt something tug at him, like a hook beneath his ribs.

A quieter memory followed.

Just him and Squiddo, sitting on a roof, legs dangling over the edge.

She kicked her shoes lightly against the stone. “Do you ever think we’re in too deep?”

He’d shrugged. “All the time.”

She smiled faintly. “Yeah. Me too.”

Neither of them said anything after that.

…

The darkness closed in.

Wemmbu felt tired.

Not hurt. Not scared. Just empty, like everything he was had already been spent.

Maybe this was death. Not pain, but memory. A mind turning back on itself, replaying what mattered because it had nothing else left to hold.

If so, it was enough.

The memories slowed.

Stretched thin.

The last thing he remembered was laughter.

And then there was nothing left to remember.