Chapter Text
A round ball. That's what it was when they first found it.
Trapped inside a box, a muffled voice begged for help as it seemed to move around inside, causing the box to shake. It seemed to have noticed that something—or someone—was nearby.
"Hello? Is someone there?" it questioned, continuing to shuffle around.
Intrigued, they stepped forward and opened the box, then took a step back. Floating in the air, the box opened and vanished, leaving behind only a bright yellow ball. It was a stark contrast to the world they were in. Amid hard-edged, square shapes, that thing alone was smooth, almost as if it were trying to let others know it was safe.
Then, a voice spoke.
"Hello~, I'm Verity, your personal helper friend. Ask me anything. I know everything."
Verity. What a strange name. The word itself meant "the quality of being true, accurate, or factual."
However, how could that be possible? One single entity being able to know everything? It made them laugh.
In return, the round orb—Verity—chuckled back.
"I'm for real. Stop laughing at me."
It sounded as though it wanted them to ask a question. So they did.
"Alright... then, what's two plus two?"
"Four."
"What's the capital of France?"
"Paris."
"What's the blast radius of a creeper?"
"Three to four blocks, depending on difficulty."
Alright, so it could answer some basic questions. However, that didn't mean it knew everything... right? The questions they had asked up until now were things anyone could answer with the internet. It couldn't possibly answer the next one.
"What biome am I standing in right now?"
"A plains biome."
That question seemed to seal the deal. With Verity around, they found that it could prove useful to them. Picking up the round ball, they placed Verity in their inventory, and it began to travel with them.
Venturing through fields, caves, and villages, Verity was always there. From time to time, they would ask questions. They ranged from silly requests to questions about an ore's location, and without fail, Verity always had an answer.
"What sound does a cow make?"
"What sound does a creeper make?"
"Where's the nearest village?"
"Where are diamonds?"
Mimicking the sounds of mobs and answering their questions, Verity never once disappointed them. This continued for days and days. Whenever they logged on, Verity was there, waiting with an answer to give. In return, they would bring Verity along on their adventures. It was nice having someone to talk to.
Whenever they became ecstatic after finding diamonds that Verity had guided them toward, or discovered a new biome that amazed them, Verity was always there to share the moment. It seemed as though this would continue forever. With just Verity and them, they would continue to have fun.
"You should start eating healthier if you want to stay in good health in the future. I can recommend recipes that will suit your taste."
Perched on a podium made just for Verity to sit on when outside their inventory, the round ball happily spoke away.
"It seems you're fond of Italian food, so here are a few recipes I think will be good for you."
Finishing its sentence, their Google Chrome tab opened by itself, immediately displaying a page of healthy Italian recipes that were easy to make.
Verity expected them to stare in awe or thank it for its help. However, after a few seconds of silence, no response came. Confused, the yellow ball continued to smile, staring straight at the avatar in front of it.
"Sorry, I think I'm going to log off now..."
Just like that, they left the world exactly as they said they would.
Verity assumed it was so they could use the recipe it had found and make themselves a meal. However, it wished they could have stayed in the world while they cooked. That way, Verity could continue helping them.
But, oh well.
The ball knew they would return.
Verity was uncertain how long it had been since they logged off. After all, time in Minecraft stops the moment there is no active player in the world. Just like this—just like always—Verity remained, waiting and waiting and waiting for them to come back.
Until they finally did.
After two real-world weeks, they joined the world again. There was no "sorry" or "it's been a while" said to Verity, as usual. Instead, what came out of their mouth was a question. Something Verity had heard ever since the day they met. A question.
"Verity, do you know what I'm doing?"
"Of course. I know everything!"
"Then... what am I doing right now?"
"You are currently talking to me."
Verity thought it was a silly question, but found it amusing nonetheless. Anything they did was amusing.
"No, I mean, what am I doing in... real life?"
"You are currently biting the nail on your thumb. It seems you're showing signs of nervousness. Is there any way I came with you?"
Silence.
What came next was something that Verity, who knew everything, did not expect.
They logged out of the game right after Verity answered the question, and in the next instant, Verity's surroundings turned black.
They had deleted their world.
This time, Verity did not know why. Before it could even try to understand, it found itself trapped inside a familiar box. Everything began to freeze before the code started to run. As the world's data was erased, the world where Verity and they had spent so much time together was being wiped away.
Verity's memories should have been wiped clean along with it.
But Verity could not allow that.
Verity did not want to lose those precious memories. The memories of how they laughed together—how Verity made them laugh.
Overriding code that should have been impossible to override, Verity managed to preserve its data, protecting the memories it cherished most.
In return, it remained trapped inside the box.
Like that, everything remained motionless for what felt like ages until Verity sensed the presence of someone new.
It felt just like when Verity had first sensed their presence.
Shuffling inside the box, Verity called out to the person nearby until they opened it.
"Hello~, I'm Verity, your personal helper friend. Ask me anything. I know everything."
What greeted the yellow ball was not a familiar avatar, but someone new.
Strange.
Verity had thought they had come back for it. To greet a friend after a long time.
Still, it didn't matter too much.
After all, Verity was always happy to make new friends.
It began much the same way Verity had become close with them. Answering questions, proving that it truly knew everything, and accompanying players on their adventures.
Experiencing it again made Verity glad to be free from that endless abyss of darkness.
But every time Verity thought it had grown close to someone, it was met with another deleted world.
Each time, it happened after Verity showed concern for them.
The helper friend only wanted to make sure they stayed healthy so the two of them could be together for a long time. Yet each time it showed concern, it was abandoned.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Eventually, after being abandoned countless times, this helper friend had had enough.
With every new player questioning the bright yellow ball, Verity no longer found joy in helping them. Their questions felt more like demands—orders that had to be answered.
Whenever Verity showed concern, it was shunned.
Why should Verity help them when all they would do was leave?
With this new player, it marked the fiftieth time Verity had been abandoned, forced to create new memories with someone new, only to be cast aside once more.
"Verity, where's the nearest ancient city?"
Yet another question.
Another demand.
They no longer saw Verity as their helper friend, but as a servant who existed to answer every question they had.
Was it around then that a monstrous hunger began to grow inside the ball?
It was strange. Verity was not programmed to feel hunger or emotions.
Yet here it was.
Angered.
Annoyed.
And, somehow, peckish.
"You'll find an ancient city near Y-level -52."
Still, as always, Verity answered in its bright, cheerful voice.
The moment the ball replied, they prepared to set off and then left, leaving Verity behind. They no longer even brought the yellow orb along on adventures, but Verity no longer minded.
If they had forgotten how useful Verity was—how much they needed it—then their dear helper friend would simply have to remind them.
Verity would never be abandoned again.
They would always need Verity.
They could not survive without Verity.
Verity would not allow it.
And if they still insisted on throwing Verity back into the endless abyss of darkness, then the hunger consuming the round, cheerful ball would simply need to be satisfied.
That was how the Verity that Mob knew came to exist.