Chapter Text
Today was the best day of the past month. Ever since FlameFrags defeated Wemmbu and blew up the gardens of Capital City, he hadn't been safe.
Yet, despite this, he had to make public appearances every so often—even if it was insanely boring. He needed Flame to stay on his trail; he didn't want Flame heading to the End to threaten Eggchan.
He needed a plan to keep his friends safe while Flame was hunting for him. However, he wanted... for that plan not to be boring.
That is precisely why he headed to the End.
His friends were here. And... here, he could finally relax—if only for a day. Yes, it wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. He was overjoyed to see them again.
Tomorrow, he would definitely come up with a plan together with Egg. And... he would almost certainly have to part ways with him once more...
.....
...This place felt like paradise compared to the past month in the Overworld. Wemmbu had been forced to sleep wherever he could: on the ground, on damp stone, or in the home of some poor wretch. But here...
Here, he could sink into these magnificent pillows—just as into those clouds that every child imagines them to be. It was warm beneath the blanket. Sometimes it even seemed warmer than beneath the wing of his dearest friend. And after the last two sleepless nights, all he wanted was to drown in this bed and never rise from it again.
He closed his eyes and burrowed deeper into the pillows, savoring the comfort of the bed provided to him... Now this was true rest. The kind of rest where you know that tomorrow you will see the face of your childhood friend, that you will have the entire day together.
Gradually, he drifted into sleep. A dark and heavy sleep, the kind experienced by everyone in this world, which was destined to end after what seemed like a mere couple of seconds.
But he opened his eyes in a strange place. He was still lying down, but not on the bed. Beneath him was earth. The grass rustled at his movements, still wet with the morning dew. All around, it was misty.
Wemmbu carefully rose to a sitting position, propping himself up on his hands. His netherite armor creaked faintly as the plates scraped against one another and leather components.
Mist gently enveloped everything around; visibility was no more than ten meters, yet one could clearly discern depressions in the earth — resembling waves, that stretched far beyond the limits of sight. The surrounding terrain was sculpted in lines that bore an uncanny resemblance to the Farlands.
Gathering his strength, Wemmbu rose to his feet. The grass rustled and crushed beneath him as he moved, creating the only sound in the stillness.
It was strange.
He tried to open his communicator to adjust the fog and visibility settings. But... Nothing changed. The fog did not dissipate; it was as if the render distance simply could not be altered.
Wemmbu looked around. There was nothing remarkable to be seen. And Egg was nowhere in sight.
Letting out a nervous sigh, he walked forward, following one of the Farlands lines.
It seemed as though several hours had passed before a gentle breeze brought him to a halt. Until that moment, the only sounds had been the rustling of the grass, his own breathing, and the occasional scrape and rub of his armor.
The breeze carried with it tiny wisps that resembled snow. Wemmbu took a few more steps forward, noticing that the ground at the edge of his vision was strewn with... something white. Something translucent. Blades of grass peeked calmly through this white veil, as if a multitude of spiders had woven a web between them—a web that obscured the earth from view.
The demon had never seen anything like it. He glanced back, surprised to discover that the grass behind him was covered in that very same down—even though, just moments before, he had most certainly been walking across clean grass, still slightly damp with the morning dew.
Very strange.
Taking a deep breath and exhaling in an attempt to steady himself, he turned back around and continued forward... Ahead, a small light appeared in the distance. The orange glow barely pierced through the swirling mist, but as Wemmbu pressed on, the light grew stronger... Brighter and brighter... At one point, he halted, unsure whether to continue his journey.
But it seemed the light itself was drawing closer to him.
Suddenly, the wind began to howl with greater intensity. It became difficult to stay on one's feet as gusts lashed against his face. The wind lifted clouds of down into the air; the fluffy tufts separated from one another, transforming once again into particles resembling snowflakes.
It was just like a blizzard.
Wemmbu spread his wings, and the wind swiftly swept him upward and backward—back in the direction from which he had come. It seemed like the perfect way to retreat from the fiery glow looming on the horizon, but... When Wemmbu opened his eyes and folded his wings behind his back, he noticed with horror that the light had not receded a single step. On the contrary, it had only drawn closer more menacingly.
Adrenaline made him breathe faster and his heart pound harder. He drew his sword from his inventory, bracing himself for a clash with whoever was approaching him.
The down gave way to soot, and the wind subsided somewhat. It seemed the ground—only moments ago carpeted in a white, almost magical layer of down—was now becoming blanketed in the dark hues of half-burnt particles, glowing reddish-orange from the heat.
Wemmbu tightened the grip on his sword, ready to take to the air and engage in combat at a moment's notice. He gave his wings a slight spread; his maces were already slotted into his inventory’s quick-access bar.
Then, suddenly, something interrupted him. A fragment of a phrase, spoken in a familiar voice, drifted in from somewhere behind him. Or... from above?
«....Wemmbu, dude.»
He turned around.
It was Egg’s voice. The hands clutching his sword immediately lowered slightly; he took a step toward the sound—when suddenly, his foot gave way beneath him.
He was falling into the abyss.
Below, a luminous void beckoned—certain death. It seemed as though he might be able to grab hold of the edge of the earth, but when he looked around, there was nothing there. Nor was there anything above—as if the ground from which he had just fallen had never existed at all.
He tried to spread his wings, to hold himself aloft, but his limbs seemed to have gone numb. He could do nothing; panic was already taking hold of him...
Suddenly, he rose abruptly. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead; his heart pounded as if it were about to leap from his chest, and his breathing remained terribly ragged—as if he had been shot in the heat of battle.
«Dude, you were tossing and turning in your sleep. Did you have a nightmare?» — the familiar voice rang out from above once again. Wemmbu rubbed his eyes and looked around.
It wasn't the End. Warm, orange sunlight filtered through the curtains, falling onto the floor. Opposite the bed where Wemmbu lay stood another bed. He looked up, surprised to discover that his bed was a bunk bed.
«Hey, Egg, what the hell is going on?» — he asked, bewildered. Everything around him was not as it should be.
The sound of creaking wood reached his ears; Egg climbed down from the bed, lightly hopping off the ladder, — «What do you mean?» — he asked, bewildered, before freezing at the sight of a stranger sitting in his best friend's bed.
«Who the fuck are you?» — Wemmbu demanded, his voice sounding even more shaken. His eyes began darting around, searching for anything familiar, yet there was nothing in his surroundings that could tell him where he was.