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Two voildings stood on the land they once called home, but one of them had changed, changed so much that the land of his birth had trouble recognizing him, had difficulty recognizing him as the same person as before.
Spoke had changed. It was an obvious fact, one that had been said so many times. And not just in terms of mind. His whole visage had sharpened; despite his featureless face, the change was evident, a sort of gauntness from time spent starving, a weariness in his pupilless eyes.
Minute could go on and on about these little things, only to miss the obvious—how empty Spoke's eyes were, no longer even straining for the emotions that would make him remotely human. There was only a madness in them that Minute refused to see.
Because when he looked in them, he didn't see the murderer, the genocide, and the leader of an ancient faction who was willing to sacrifice everyone and everything to do what he wants.
He saw a young boy stumbling over his own feet on the uneven ground of the End. He saw him smile, revealing two broken teeth. He saw fear and abandonment, he saw loneliness.
He saw someone he'd raised thinking he was doing a good job. Something he believed he did right even if every single thing was saying he failed at it.
Minute saw the way Spoke was trembling in his stand, the exhaustion after a long chase after crystals, how his arms were behind his back, trying so much to look like someone bigger, more serious, dangerous.
Like a boy in shoes too big desperately trying to prove they fit.
"Spoke, it doesn't have to end this way," the man began, hiding the tremor in his voice. The Mace in his gear weighed heavy on his shoulders. He had more than enough power to kill him right then and there, but power doesn't always equal the ability to use it. Minute didn't possess the ability to harm Spoke. All those attempts. The destruction of the portal, the failed negotiations for the crystals. All of it was nothing more than a desperate attempt to ward off a vile reality. A reality where Spoke was someone he didn't recognize. Someone who had wiped out the entire world just to get four items.
"Of course it doesn't have to! Just... go away. Don't come back! I've given you so many chances, Minute! But you can't take a hint. Nobody wants you, you're ruining the fun! Party-pooper! No cake for you—" The hysteria in his voice was bordering on pleading. Maybe he'd already decided how this was going to end. Maybe he was just pretending to be that small part of him that wanted to party, to play silly games like princesses and dragons. Minute remembered how he'd told Wemmbu to be a princess because his hair was so long, and halfway through the party, he'd told him to be a dragon…because, you know, he was a dragon. Even as a child he wasn't known to be most consistent, so there was question why all these soldiers even listen to him? What do they gain? It was not hard to believe if Spoke manipulated them, but in this state? Who would go with him seeing clearly as day the madman who is asking them to join? Minute's eyes landed on an enchanted totem in young voilding hands.
“Spoke, I'm serious. We can change this, I don't know what happened to you in the nethe—”
“I'll tell you what happened. You know what happened? I was sitting in a cell. A hot, small cell with barely enough food to feed a rat! A rat! Alone! I waited, waited for someone to notice. You know, a person has a lot of time sitting alone in a cell. Not much to do but stare at the walls and think. I thought. I thought. About how to get out. About someone coming, about someone coming through that stupid door.” His hand stretched out in front of him, as if he were imagining what had happened. He looked so… naive, open then. As if he really wanted Minute to understand, to see that he was trying. He was trying to be good. In his own way. He was patient, persistent, even tough! All the things he'd taught him. “And you know what? No one came in. No one came. Because in life, because on this server, no one will open the door for you when you need it. You'll have to dig your way out, sacrificing everything, EVERYTHING you've ever had, just to have someone tell you that the door opens so easily from the outside! Because it does! It's so easy, so simple to open that fucking door—”
“Spoke, I'm sorry you had to go through this—”
“You're saying that because you don't want me to take over. You want me to fall apart, to believe you're truly sorry, that it's all alright, that I'm not… something, you want to manipulate me, make me weak! Again. That's what this is all about. But I'm not weak—no…no not anymore. I don't believe it.” A sword appeared in the leader's hand, and an enchanted totem next to it.
“If you really think that…I don't think I can help you.”
Because you can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved, Minute thought darkly as he drew his own sword and mace. It was a lesson he learnt long time ago but wanted to prove false once again.
In a split second, they lunged at each other, the sound of swords blending with the explosions. Spoke's desperation quickly turned defensive when struck by his guardian's years of experience.
As his mace appeared above the void creature, he could swear he saw fear.
He missed.
They chased each other like cat and mouse. Mother and cub. Father and son. Guardian and ward, whom he clearly couldn't care for. Every step is more desperate than before. Contrasting with the calm manner of Minutes walk, even when chasing he looked somehow patient. Like he was waiting for Spoke to turn around and face him. They had all the time in the world. He could chase after him and he would run, tipping over his own toes and screaming at him from top of his lungs like he would do so many times before. But it was different, because Spoke was quiet in this weird unusual way.
The sword flew in front of his face in an unaimed blow, making him want to scold him, correct his posture, and tell him what he was doing was wrong, that if he had actually struck him, he would have hurt himself.
He bit his tongue.
The ground beneath their feet vanished in explosions until one of the flying skulls struck the fleeing boy. Running was all he did during the fight; he quickly realized he stood no chance. Not against the brute force of the end's guardian, the very dimension he just destroyed.
The sound he made tore through Minutetech's heart more than any sword could.
A heartfelt cry of pain as his armor dented and crumbled, revealing his black, now burnt tunic. The agony of a man who had just seen his life slip away before his eyes. Of a scared boy who was playing the game he didn't know the rules to.
Even though his every instinct told Minute it was a trap, that he shouldn't lower his guard down.
But the heart always beats louder than the brain and the End Guardian ran toward the wounded boy, grabbing him in his arms. Foolishly hoping he wouldn't be stabbed.
Fools are always lucky.
But Minute wished it were a trap. That spoke would sit and hit him screaming “gotcha!” but it didn't happen. Nothing happened. Manipulator just…relaxed in his arms, face twitching in pain.
"Oh...how ironic, to die by your own weapon. They should have pulled my Stasis by now..."
The wounded man muttered, doubled over in pain, seeking comfort in his own embrace. Minute pressed apples at him, but he had no idea what to do. He had never dealt with...something like this. Dying skin. Like a cancer whose effects he could see with his own eyes as it devoured healthy cells. Such a terrifying view but he could do nothing but look at it and see the pain.
"They should...now...any minute now. Why, why am I still here? Why aren't they touching my pearl? They'll die, they'll die with me...I don't understand, I don't—"
"Maybe they understood."
"What?"
“That this is better than whatever awaits them,” Minute said slowly, the way you would talk to a scared child. Because maybe he did. Maybe the kid before him was just a scared child. And maybe this is the hill he'll die on.
“I don't need you lecturing me about how I'm your biggest disappointment and…”
“No matter what you've done or what happened, you'll always be my greatest pride, Spoke.” The words came before anything else. Somewhat comforting. White eyes fighting not to close as his hand was holding onto the totem like it could save him. “Children…Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right path, but the final form of a person's character lies in their own hands. I won't say I approve of things you did. I do not stand for unnecessary violence. I'm not happy about the person you became.”
He stopped now, looking and Spoke. Letting him listen for once what he had to say. He would rather teach him when he wasn't dying, but sometimes a man gotta do what a man gotta do and step up, so at least he can die knowing things he didn't know before. Things he couldn't teach him because he wouldn't listen. Now he has nothing else to do than pay attention. Somewhat it made him feel worse, seeing Spoke in a state so out of everything he used to be. Open, concentrated, still. Spoke never could stay still for the love of his life, every second had to keep him in motion or he’d get bored quickly.
“But I don't want your last memory of me to be disappointment. Because you never were a disappointment or a waste. Even if the way things turned out like they did, I don't blame you. You'll always be the kid I found and took in, because I saw good in you. Because I believe there's good in everyone. And even if that's the last thing you'll learn on this server, I want to know, even if it's a small part, you still have good in you” His hand took his hand, slowly taking it out of it.
“It hurts”
He said, looking at the end sky.
“I know”
“I don't want it to hurt. I hate it hurting”
“It will end soon”
“You promise?”
“Yes”
“Can we go for ice cream together”
“Another time Spoke…”
And there was silence.
Silence of a man and his child.
The warm tears streamed down his cheeks as MinuteTech closed eyes and Spoke forever.
Without a second thought he threw the totem into the void next to them. But he couldn't care less about it not.
Maybe this is his lesson now.
Maybe the thing about being a parent he has to know was- It's one of the hardest things you'll ever do but in exchange it teaches you the meaning of unconditional love.
The world will forget the civilizations of end.
In few years there will be a vague memory of a player named Spoke and thing's he's done.
Some may remember him as a prankster, glitcher, maybe trapper.
Other will say they never knew him at all.
There will be a few voices calling him a friend.
But one of them will call him his lost child. The son who never got to grow up to his shoes.