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Clownpierce had this weird — almost gnawing feeling in his gut.
Look — despite how much he loved and absolutely adored his beloved Branzy, this feeling of uncertainty, and uneasiness in general, made the netherborn doubt him. After constructing the casino together, he stopped talking to Clownpierce as much — spending his time building a heart factory. The jester knew that the heart factory was a huge project, almost as big as the carnival he had built, but he wished the white-haired man could spare a few minutes to hold just one conversation instead of overworking himself with redstone.
Therefore, he decided it would be fun to experiment with the mechanic, by putting him up to a test of loyalty. After all, Branzy was notorious for his consistent betrayal. Honestly, he knew that theoretically the white-haired man would not hesitate to help, especially if it was someone like Clownpierce of all people — but he did want to toy with Branzy as well, perhaps get him to stop working for a while and train his PvP skills.
With a small, itty bitty, tiny, little threat, and a mutual NDA — Minutetech was on board with his plan.
Time to set it in motion.
彡 —~☆~— 彡
Holy fucking shit.
That was all Branzy could think of when he got the message from Minutetech.
See, all the white-haired man had been doing was gathering resources and materials for his heart factory, hoping to make a bunch of hearts for himself due to the fact he kept losing them over and over again. Sure, he did not exactly make himself time to socialise, but was that really needed when he was constructing such a complex and powerful building?
The mechanic was just working on the walls of the factory, laying blackstone after blackstone onto each block, and repeating the process in a trance. However, a ping from his communicator had stopped him from his tracks. Taking out the small device to peek at the message, it had been from Minutetech, someone that never messaged him outside of plans together with Clown.
<Minutetech> I have Clownpierce
<BranzyCraft> What do you mean?
<Minutetech> I mean, I have managed to kidnap the Clownpierce
<BranzyCraft> Huh???
<BranzyCraft> How? And Clown of all people too? I thought he was working w/ you!
<Minutetech> Meet me at spawn for a 1v1 in 20 minutes if you want him back
<BranzyCraft> Minutetech!
<BranzyCraft> Hello?!
Branzy’s heart pummeled down below the depths of his chest, sinking to the very bottom of his body, and even to his toes. Clown? Clown? Of all people Branzy would have thought to get targeted from Minutetech, Clown was the least of his worries, in fact, all the way down the list!
Haphazardly scrambling away from his embarrassingly small of halfway-built blackstone, he fell to the floor in a heap — the mechanic’s body just freezing in shock. He needed to win the netherborn back, that was obvious and in plain sight. However, Branzy was terrible at 1v1s, especially against someone like Minutetech.
In all honesty, Branzy would even admit that someone like the voidling had a similar level of proficiency in combat as the jester, seeing as they had worked together multiple times, along with Leowook. Combining this reason together, the white-haired man could not fathom as to why Minutetech would try to betray Clown, let alone ask the mechanic to a fight knowing very well that the endling had an advantage?
This question puzzled, and bugged Branzy to no end, pestering him with the thought. Nevertheless, he had to win the fight, even if it would cost him multiple hearts. He had to. The netherborn saved his life more often than not, and he constantly offered to protect the mechanic even if he did not have to. It was only fair if he returned the gesture, no?
Inhaling a gust of air, he shakily stood up to his feet, dusting off the debris on his slacks from the fall and ruffling the feathers on his head wings a little. Walking over to his collection of chests, he grabbed his diamond sword and geared up with the armour Clown had specifically trimmed and designed for him — courtesy of the ‘business’ (it was anything other than business) partnership with him.
Stocking up on golden apples because even god knows he needs them to heal the guaranteed wounds he was going to get, and a few totems to ensure his slim chance of survival, he could not help but feel a sense of protectiveness over the thought of fighting for the netherborn. Sure, he definitely would not be able to win — but the nagging, almost tight grip of yearning for Clown to be safe was choking him metaphorically. It was probably nothing though, right?
With a quick pat down and some more dusting off, he grabbed his fireworks and propelled himself into the air with the help of an elytra, gliding over to spawn as the enchanted metal sliced through the wind.
彡 —~☆~— 彡
As Branzy touched down onto ground, his feet landed on the concrete floor of the spawn — albeit clumsily as he stumbled. Looking around, many other players gathered around, interested enough to watch the fight. It was clear that someone had leaked the news, presumably Minutetech himself. At the sight of familiar faces and friends, he felt slightly embarrassed knowing he was likely going to humiliate himself into smithereens.
He watched as the way cleared up for him to head onto the PvP arena, with some looking at him with a sense of pity, whilst some with vengeance from his betrayals. Sweat dripped down his forehead, flowing down his chin from nervousness. Even Rek, his closest companion aside from Clown, seemed to pray for Branzy as well, very aware that he’d lose.
With a heavy gulp and a slight frown, he stepped on the stone bricks as his footsteps echoed on the pavement. His head wings flapped once again, hoping it would help to shake off some of the anxiety — and perhaps fear. Hearing the whispers from other players in such a solemn tone for him, made Branzy tremble when he was face to face with Minutetech.
“Let’s make this simple enough. Beat me, and you’ll get Clownpierce back. Fail to do so, and I’ll take 2 hearts off of him. Sounds good?” The enderling asked as he unsheathed his enchanted netherite sword, holding it casually in his hands.
“To make things a tad bit easier for you, I’ll only be using my sword and golden apples. You’ll be allowed to use those, and totems as well.” He said with utmost clarity, positioning himself into a proper stance whilst he spoke.
“S-Sure… I guess,” The white-haired man replied, stuttering a little from anxiety. He was most definitely dead by the end of this. He was sure of it.
Branzy heard Parrot countdown, acting a makeshift facilitator of the fight to make it official. Just like that, Minutetech lunged at him in a flash, forcing the mechanic to just narrowly dodge the blade — a squeak escaping his throat from the shock.
The next few slashes were just barely parried by the white-haired man, his reaction time slightly decreasing with every blade swing. Feeling himself tire a little from attempting to deflect the attacks, Branzy made a quick decision to let the voidling lose some stamina by chasing him around. Shoving a few bites of the golden apple into his mouth, the mechanic sprinted away, forcing the endling to go after him in hot pursuit.
While this method hadn’t worked as well as the white-haired man would have hoped, it did result in the both of them panting in slight exhaustion, fighting to catch their breath. Despite how breathless Minutetech felt though, he quickly recovered by eating a golden apple and attacked Branzy again, making the latter hiss in pain as the blade drove into his bicep. Jumping away, the mechanic tried to fight back by attempting to slash at the other’s waist, only for it to be countered almost instantly.
Even though Branzy was lasting a little longer than he himself expected, it was inevitable when the voidling landed another hit at his side that he left open on accident, causing the armour to crack and directly cut through his skin, the maroon seeping through his vest. Staggering back up, Minutetech immediately tried to punch his shoulder to shove him back down, which almost worked if it weren’t for Branzy’s slightly faster reflexes, pushing the voidling away and was enough for the white-haired man to run.
He ate a few more bites of the golden apples he brought, healing his wounds just a tad bit, at least enough to reduce the bleeding and pain. Just as he was about to force Minutetech to chase him again, he watched as the endling walked over to a certain direction behind a wall. Puzzled, Branzy was about to question him as to why he left the arena all of the sudden, until he came back with Clown, holding him by the neck.
The mechanic’s heart dropped to the floor. Why was he holding his Clown, especially in such a humiliating manner?
Minutetech threw the netherborn onto the stone bricks, kicking his body aside with ease as he seemed to let out a wince.
“Are you even trying hard enough, Branzy? Isn’t he your partner?” He enquired, tilting his head to the side with a chuckle — a small, teasing smirk on his face.
The white-haired man could not help but see red — dripping down the walls of the arena, dripping down onto the floor, dripping down Minutetech’s head.
His ears rang, tuning out the taunts coming from the voidling, a high-pitched shrill echoed and never seemed to stop.
Curling his lips into a maniacal grin, Branzy inhaled in a gulp of air, before bursting into a quiet fit of laughter, silent enough that he looked like he was going insane with how still he was standing. He felt a tug pull at his heart, almost as if a string was dragging him over towards the netherborn. A sense of protectiveness washed over him, encasing his whole body in a suffocating grip of possessiveness and love — a strong wave of passion never felt before.
Why was Clown being thrown like that?
Why was he submitting to Minutetech like an actual, foolish jester?
Why was he losing?
Why was he losing?
Ẉ̴̱͉̳̤͇̞̱̆͝ͅH̸̦͙͛̄͛͊̽̑̑̀͝͝Y̸̛͙̳͙͛̂́̊͑͝͝ ̸̧͚̳͍͇͔̼̾͋̒́̌̈́͘W̷͍̙̼̗̄̑̆͑ͅA̴̗̯̞̍͋̚S̶͉͓̎̀̐ ̴̖̖̟̳̍͛̚̚H̴̡̨̯̟̜͂̆͋͂̌͌̌͠È̸͈̰̂̔̎̆̓̌̑͘͜ͅ ̶̢̟͊̿͆̉̈́͂͠F̸̡̗̳̙͓̜͍̜̿̎̀̓̏͋͜Ũ̸̞̞̗̝̈́̕ͅC̸͚̙̑̎̈́̂̅͛̓͗͝K̸̨̛̠̍͌̚ͅḮ̵̭̹̣̳̑̇N̷̦͙̺͍͎̗͓̠̫̈G̸̣̾͐̓͋͠ ̷͎̫̙̜͎̦͑̐͊̌̚L̵̢̻̗̜̔͒̃̈́͑͂͝ͅO̴͙̱͚̤͉͎̰̿̓̓̃̚͝ͅS̸̢̮̻͔̝̞͖͙̲͋̔͘͠I̷̡̫̟͇̬̱͓̜͕͗̆̇̌̌͊̉̑ͅṄ̶̨͙̮̝͍̭̪G̴̹̹̺̺͐̐̄̈́́́͝?̷͈̈̅̆̄̐?̴̨̧̨̛̞͚̯̹͌͌̽̓͊̑̂́͝?̸̨͙̘̦͍̫̹͝.̴̳̺̦̹̼̩̀̃͐͑̃̕͝
彡 —~☆~— 彡
In the first place, Minutetech hadn’t expected to fight Branzy, of all people. Clownpierce had made it extremely clear to him; touch even a single hair on the mechanic, and the jester would slice his head off with no hesitation, which was why the endling never planned to do anything to him.
So when Clownpierce had approached him, asking him to be an accomplice in a loyalty test for Branzy, he refused at first — until the netherborn threatened to steal 5 of his hearts, which was no joke, especially coming from someone like him. Thus, he agreed, even signing an NDA to ensure no word of this being a test and not an actual argument would be leaked to Branzy, and that Clownpierce would not hurt him if he killed the white-haired man.
Therefore, Minutetech had expected this to be an incredibly easy win since the mechanic was rather hopeless with PvP. Fighting the latter was admittedly, pretty mediocre as well. The voidling had not even been swinging like his life depended on it, and he was already winning. At that point, he decided to bring in the twist that Clownpierce wanted him to do — which was to kick the jester around a little to really see how dedicated Branzy was.
As much as he liked being humble and respectful to others, even he himself could own up to the fact that the mechanic’s reaction was sort of funny, especially with the way he stood still and seemed to be mouthing something to himself like a mantra.
At least, at first it was.
Minutetech was about to go up to the white-haired man standing a few meters away from him, maybe let him land a hit before ending his life in the fastest way possible. However, that plan was immediately cancelled off when Branzy glared at him with his purple eyes, a purple void empty of emotion. A slight tug nagged at his head, feeling something yank at him within. A few moments passed, and the mechanic’s eyes were glowing — not from the sun, or any light at all, no. It was as if his eyes were a whole ravine of amethysts, shimmering and echoing with whispers.
The voidling winced when a sharp beam of light cut through the atmosphere, temporarily blinding every player nearby the white-haired man as a huge, powerful, gust of wind swept him off his feet, making Minutetech brace himself as he rolled across the stone bricks, landing further away from the mechanic and colliding into the wall. Even Clownpierce let out a small yelp as he flew somewhere in a different direction, no doubt getting caught in whatever that was as well.
What the hell was going on—
A booming shriek resonated through the air before the light finally cleared up, allowing the endling to finally move his hands from his eyes to see what was actually happening.
Needless to say, the voidling’s jaw dropped in sheer shock.
Lo and behold, stood Branzy in the slightly short distance, floating as a gigantic set of feathery white wings kept him mid air. A bright, illuminating ring of yellow was atop his head, casting a shadow onto the stone bricks. The white-haired man’s eyes could no longer be seen, replaced by his head wings blocking his vision. In all honesty, he had a unique, almost delicate, surreal energy around him — coiling around his whole being.
Branzy was a dove though, wasn’t he?
The whole of Lifesteal — including Minutetech — believed that Branzy was a dove and human hybrid, with some enderdragon ancestry. Although the latter did not bother to confirm the suspicions, he also did not deny it which was why many thought that he was a dove, especially with his subpar PvP skills.
With the way that the voidling could vaguely make out the other players chattering, everyone else was shocked with the strange discovery as well. However, if Branzy was clearly not a dove, what hybrid would he be?
Then, it clicked.
Combined with the wings, halo, and most importantly — the holy light, the Branzy that everyone had underestimated all along, was an angel. A guardian angel specifically since he had only awakened another pair of wings and a halo after being teased by the endling.
God, Minutetech was fucked, wasn’t he? Messing with an angel, of all beings, was never a good sign for any person with common sense.
Needless to say, he immediately scrambled off running, adrenaline coursing through his veins in a rush as an almost uncanny screech escaped Branzy’s mouth. Minutetech could barely even avoid the sheer blast of pure angelic power himself when a medium-sized glowing circle, almost akin to a ritual one, lit up under his body as he managed to jump to the side before it burst into a bright, heavenly flame.
Shit.
He really had to focus now — hopefully the other players could see the fury coming from the angel and sprint for dear life.
Unwilling to die, the voidling forced himself to run, attempting not to look behind at the harsh circles of angelic light threatening to burn him and the ground to smithereens. With every footstep he took, the light would replace soon after, setting the stone bricks ablaze into a dark charcoal.
The angel seemed to realise that his method was not working the way he had expected so the endling knew he was not going to get away so easily when the circles of death stopped summoning behind him. Minutetech flinched from the sheer volume of the screech Branzy let out, watching as he raised his hand and manifested a sword into his hand.
Despite it appearing as a normal sword, the endling felt it was everything but that.
The whole sword itself was neither iron, diamond, or netherite. Rather, it had a deep, potent violet that faded into a light, crystalised lavender at the end, seemingly being made from amethyst. Typically, swords were not made of amethyst due to it being fragile, similar to glass — which confused the voidling when the sword was conjured up.
Not only that, but it had an unusual element to it — almost as if the air around the blade had its own behaviour and submitted to the sword. Yet, it shone with an intensity so overwhelming to the point that Minutetech’s head repulsed when he stared at it for too long.
However, the voiding barely had time to move a muscle when the angel dashed towards him at surprising speed, parrying the swing out of instinct.
This was not Branzy. It couldn’t be, right?
The endling braced himself when the mechanic swung at him continuously, aiming for the spots where it was more difficult to deflect. Within just a few minutes, Minutetech was already panting while the white-haired man seemed to be in a trance, his body flowing with such grace it could be similar to water flowing in a lake. Not only that, but his sword never seemed to falter and did not shatter at all. In fact, the amethyst appeared to make the blade sharper judging from the way there were scratches on Minutetech’s own sword. Jumping back a few steps to put some distance between him and the angel, he knew that he was not going to last for long if this kept up.
With not much choice, the voidling chose to flee, sprinting away while the angel let out another screech that drowned out any other noise in the vicinity. Branzy immediately charged after him, flying over to the endling with a vicious intent. One moment, Minutetech had his feet padding quickly against the ground – and the next, he felt a sharp pain pierce through his armour, right into his stomach as he tumbled down to the floor in a heap.
He was going to lose, wasn’t he?
As the blood seeped through his shirt, into his armour, into his very being, he saw the angel a couple meters away, his amethyst sword pointing straight at the voidling. With no blade stuck into him, he soon realised Branzy shot a beam of holy light into his back, a torturous pain stabbing through his stomach that stung with the angelic powers the mechanic had.
An unusual sense of panic overtook the endling, settling deep in his soul. Feeling the blood gurgle and pop out of his mouth, a disgusting, morbid, sight dripping out of his mouth. He felt an overwhelming amount of pain gush through his forehead, receding into the depths of his body as he winced before an ancient tongue echoed through his head, sounding vaguely like English.
D̷̹̠̘̯͇̲̘̱͉̑͝o̷̟͘n̷̛̛̥̖͉̓̾̐̚'̷̛̘̎́͐̽́̒̓͑̈ṯ̷̲̍̀̓̃̅̔̇̀̕ͅͅ ̶̟̈́̕y̵̟͓̦͈̪̜͈͇̾̋̏͂͐o̷̜̖̻͙̓̾̎̇͛͆̾̄͜u̴͖̙̣̗̣̍̃̒̒̋͋̾͂̊̑ ̵̢̜̦̫͕̾̇͜ͅe̵͇͚͙̲͈͔̫̫̔̄͝v̵͎̲̇ȩ̶̛͖̞̫̫͉̝̰̼̱̑̓̎̈́̐̆̓̚̚r̷̞̯̟̘͠ ̶̧̛͈̱̪̘̜̙͍̅́͠d̵͖̔͛͑͝a̴̼̪͔͖͇̥̭̎̿̄͑͆ř̸͎̖̪̤͓̠̫̤̀̑̈́̾̏͆̓ę̷̖̲̠̟̝̙̟͕͂ ̵̡͎͓̭͕̈́͌̏̊̀͊̕͝ͅͅť̴̢̺̯̖͉̖͔͕̫̊͋̽̒ŏ̴̧͕͇̜̩̥̺̞͂̋͆͛̇̓͑͘͝ ̸̡̩̭͎̈́̿̔͋͂͋̈͠͝ṫ̷͍̟̠̓́̽̒̽̽̊̒͠ͅô̵̜̩͇͍͂̍̾̄̆͜͠u̸̡̙̺̮̖͕̲̝͐̎̅̄ć̶̛̫̗̦̤̰̹̠ͅͅh̷͇͛̔͂ ̴̹̜̻̞͈͇̦͔͘m̷͉̖͑̑̇̿̓͒̈́̕͝͠ỳ̸̮̰ ̶̦͇̳͍̯̓͋̒̑̚Č̶̰̪̺̖͇͇̗̩͍̭́̆̌̑͒͋͌͆̿l̸̠̤͉͕̠̙̥̞͊͑̀̈́̾͝ǫ̸̙͇͇͔̜̬̂w̵̭̺͎̭͍̺̔̎̍ņ̵̟̤̺̪̳̘̝̐̂͠p̶̛̮̭͔͈͇̜͚̿̇̄̃́̃ī̴̡̬ė̶̠͙̽̃̋̈̊̑̚̕͝r̵̡̗̬̤͕̄͛̔̚͘͜͠c̷̢͉̳͈̺̲͖̊̔̊̋͊́e̴̠͈͒̂ ̵̨̛̫̬̟͖̩̅͑͐̎͊̅͒ͅͅä̴̮g̶̢̧̗̝͎̱̼̫̤͊͗̃ḁ̷̭̻͚̤̉͂͂̋͂͗̽̓͠ͅi̸̮͖͖̟͕̺̩̙̓̎̓̂͘ͅn̶̬͍̲̂͋̅̓̋̊͝,̶̢͓̖̽̐͗̅̏̚̚ͅ ̵̛̗̹̒́̈́͑̎̒͊M̶̹̘͇͇̘̞̖̙̄i̶̧̢̦͉̜̓͌̃n̷̬̒̈́̐͌̒̀̌͝u̶̧̩͎̦͇̰͂̆̽͝ͅt̶̯͚̥̉ͅḛ̵̣͕͕̤̮͇̻̤̘̂̿͒̆͛̇͐͝t̶̢̲̤͈́͌̈́͘e̴̪͙̯̠͔̮̦̫͊͆́̓̏͛̓c̷̠̘̫̆̉̔̓́̓͘ḥ̴̛͙͙̎̈́͒̓̈́͛́.̵͖̙̭͎̰̱͔́͘
The voidling could not feel his head from the numbing pain, but he felt himself nod out of instinct. Opening his eyes, the last thing he saw was a pair of amethyst-coloured eyes glaring at him before the world around him collapsed – fading to black.
<Minutetech> got shot by <BranzyCraft>’s angelic light.
彡 —~☆~— 彡
Feeling his body collapse onto the stone bricks, Branzy’s knees buckled in exhaustion – the angelic power draining from his body.
What happened?
The mechanic could recall fighting Minutetech, then feeling a tight rope or noose squeezing his throat dry after watching Clown getting kicked off somewhere. The next thing he knew, the angel woke up on the ground with the voidling’s body slowly dissipating into the air, the particles floating away with the wind.
As his head pounded in fury, his vision swam with every movement he tried to take so that he could move, or even stand up. Blinking some of the dizziness away, he realised that the arena was almost completely destroyed. Multiple parts of the stone bricks were blasted into oblivion, while the walls were cracked from the impact and crumbled to dust in some places.
Did he do all that?
Curling into a fetus position, he felt his lungs close up, finding it harder to breathe as tears threatened to spill from his eyes – until he heard footsteps gradually growing louder.
He felt a pair of arms wrap around him, gently caressing his hair and twirling the white strands around. Looking up, Branzy saw Clown looking at him with a stare he could only recognise as endearment even with the ceramic mask blocking his face.
His jester was safe, and that was all that mattered to the white-haired man in that moment.
“My angel, don’t fret — you may rest now,” the netherborn’s buttery voice echoed.
A sense of tranquility washed over him in waves, and the angel soon fell asleep in the embrace of his beloved’s arms.