Work Text:
“Wait Mistral look, combat master dropped his sword. Hahahaha.” Flowtives cackled, showing Mistrul Flame’s sword. “Combat master dropped his sword. Look at it… Take it, I don’t even want it.” He threw the sword across the ice. Flame stared at it in shock and disbelief. “What? You scared?”
“He broken.” Mistrul grunted. He was right. Flame scurried away and dug himself a hole in the ice to hide.
Skrilley had ran for his life. Flame was alone, panting heavily from both the exertion of the fight and the shear panic and sadness that overwhelmed him. Lomedy was dead. He fucking dropped his sword. He was outmatched in skill for the first time in his life. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t have anything. He didn’t have anyone. No one to go to. Mane was nowhere to be found. Wemmbu wasn’t reliable. Parrot wouldn’t have the time to deal with him. He was utterly alone.
Flame felt hot pricks of tears in his eyes. He ripped off his blindfold to prevent it from bursting into flames from his lava-like tears. They ran down his cheeks and splattered onto the ice, making a sizzling sound before turning to little droplets of stone. He squeezed the cloth with rage that soon turned to insurmountable sadness for his best friend. The only true friend he thought he had ever since his breakup with Mane. He didn’t regret many things in his life but his brother leaving him was one of his biggest. He didn’t think that he’d have to deal with that heartache ever again… He felt like he would burst but nothing happened.
He needed revenge. He needed to become stronger. He would kill every last player on this server if it meant he could bring Lomedy back. He would get his friend back. He would use every trick in the book, every cheat in the game, and kill anyone that stood in his way if it meant there was a chance he could be brought back.
Flame wiped his face with his hand, determined to find a way. But first, it was time to kill these chungies.