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In the aftermath of the battle, Flame paces. He steps around dead bodies, across crimson pools, above discarded armor. LAW is gone. LAW is defeated. Lomedy is free. Lomedy, huddled into himself in a corner of the prison. Lomedy, hiding away from the fighting. Lomedy, a peaceful innocent farmer. Lomedy, dressed in a tight-fitting orange uniform. Lomedy, saying I don’t want to be friends with someone who won’t change.
He destroyed LAW for Lomedy. He’d do anything for Lomedy. Surely Lomedy’ll forgive him. Right?
Right?
And so he paces, with a question eating away at his mind as he walks around the dead to meet up with his maybe-allies. They’re talking about where Lettuce is or something and how that blasted cat got away again. Maybe he’ll find Lettuce and kill him. Maybe that would make Lomedy forgive him. Jaden says he’d chase after Lettuce if he could but he doesn’t have an elytra and his mace is useless without water.
Jaden’s mace?
He stole that mace from Lomedy, and suddenly all of the pent-up energy in him is channeled into the metal clang of a rail and the whistle of an arrow and the boom of a minecart. Maybe if he gets the mace back, Lomedy will forgive him. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
“Give back Lomedy’s mace, bro,” he yells. Green-and-yellow particles falling around him like miscolored snow.
He splashes strength on himself and it’s a familiar feeling, fighting against an enemy, just-another-battle. Safer than wandering around in a wrecked, broken castle and wondering about Lomedy, endless questions circling in his head.
“Yo, yo, yo,” Wemmbu yells, and the dragon hybrid is on him, mace crashing into his netherite helmet. He chews on a golden apple, ducks aside, back on Jaden. Maybe if he gets Lomedy’s mace back, he’ll forgive Flame.