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"What are you trying to do, Spoke?"
Spoke blinked back the billowing dust smearing the air around him like a yellowish rash as he dragged himself up the staircase. Shards of glass splintered and fell, shuddering under the weight of constant, ceaseless vibrations of forceful intensity.
Destruction conquered. The dragon continued to ravage. The wither skulls just kept coming. They rained down from the End sky, screaming and wailing as they struck and sounding like the damning souls of the tortured.
Blood streamed from countless small wounds marring Spoke's body, but he didn't bother to care about that now. He couldn't. He didn't have the time. He had to. He had to break free. He had to kill the dragon. He-
Focus.
MinuteTech was right at his heels, and he wasn't going to leave any time soon.
"You don't understand, Minute!" Spoke yelled over his shoulder. He wasn't sure if Minute could hear. He barely even heard himself. He grabbed onto the railing then staggered as it crumbled away under his fingers, already made brittle by the wither effect. "You cannot begin to understand what's happening right now."
"Spoke, I don't know what happened to you at the Nether, but I'm sorry you went through it." Minute said, voice unnervingly close to him. "Just- stop. Please."
Spoke cast a quick glance backwards. He'd always known MinuteTech to be calm and composed in every situation, but now the latter's ivory eyes were wide, and there was a strained intonation when he talked. He was scared.
But it does seem justifiable considering the current circumstances, Spoke concluded, pausing to marvel at the flashing blue-and-white wither skulls dotting the black sky. Jamato was really able to make something this destructive and then had the nerves to call me a danger to the server?
"Spoke!" Minute's voice cut his musing.
"Can't you see, MinuteTech?" Spoke scoffed, downing a golden apple quickly before his strength dropped too far. "The Null is the only way forward from here on out! You can't stop this anymore - you can't stop me anymore. I keep on telling you, leave! You have an elytra. Leave the End. Go back to the Overworld."
"I can't do that." Minute retorted.
"Can't or won't?" Spoke whipped around and placed the last few blocks of endstone from his inventory before bolting again. His armour was already halved in durability, and his helmet only mere hits away from fully breaking.
"The details don't matter." Minute broke through the endstone without much issue. He sounded imploring. "Stop this, Spoke. Come with me, please. We can end Null together."
Spoke skidded to a stop when he reached the top of the tower, panting. The centre island was near to complete eradication, and still the wither skulls descended.
Netherite scraped stone as Minute lunged at him, sword jabbing forward.
Spoke kicked back. His vision tilted violently and he dropped down onto the only thing remotely close to solid ground - a single chunk of rubble and endstone, hovering over the abyss of the void.
"Shit," Spoke mumbled under his breath, wincing as Minute jumped as well, landing just a couple feet away. He was cooked. The Null was gone. Everything had gone wrong because of him, and Jamato was always right, right, ri-
But Minute didn't make a move to end it. "I don't want to kill you," he said simply.
"And neither do I!" Spoke picked himself gingerly off the dust and gravel. "But you keep getting in Null's way. And I can't have that."
How long did the Commander need to pull his fucking stasis?
Couldn't he guess something was wrong?
"What happened to you, Spoke?" Minute asked lowly. His expression was anguished.
"Purgatory has changed me, Minute." Spoke ground out, edging cautiously away from the sliver of purplish light slicing along the rim of Minute's sword, though there wasn't much space to begin with either way.
"You do not know the things that went on there. I-I don't know what Jamato told you, but I didn't plan to meet you here at all. You can't trust Jamato. He's done horrible things to me and to so many other people. He trapped me in a cell with no items, no food for weeks. We played his own twisted version of Hunger Games and I had friends turn against me because the only thing they cared about in the end was survival. Whatever he told you- I'm- I'm doing this for the betterment of the server. Null has been on Unstable for so long. They know everything that happens, they know what should be done. They know-"
He stopped. He knew he was rambling.
Spoke was the only thing making anything close to a loud noise now. The cannon had stopped firing. It was disconcertingly quiet, save for the muted flapping of the Ender Dragon's leathery wings high above them.
"Enough of doing all this, Spoke." Minute interrupted carefully. "Please. Just- just come with me. We'll figure out a way to defeat Null."
The desperate insistence returned. "That doesn't matter! I am the leader of Null now." Spoke pulled out the enchanted totem from his inventory and clutched it like a lifeline. "And even if you do defeat me, the significance holds less importance than you believe. They'll just find another leader to replace me. It's never going to end, Minute."
"What happened to the person I used to know?" Minute asked quietly.
His throat closed up over the plea that tried to spring to his lips.
Instead, he responded in a cold, insipid tone. "He died back in Purgatory. I am what he has shaped me to be. I am his greatest creation."
"Who?" Minute whispered. His sword arm lowered, just the tiniest bit.
"Jamato."
"What did he do to you?"
"I-"
Then Spoke caught it. The subtlest sliding of muscles. Minute was shifting closer. So minuscule were his movements, it would have been easy to look past. But Spoke was already highly strung as it was, and it just so happened that he had been subconsciously studying Minute's profile.
"Stay away!" He scrambled backwards, a primal terror seizing his limbs and driving him to move without subliminal warning.
"No- wait, Spoke don't-" Minute froze as the tiny island they were on trembled disagreeably at the sudden, harsh motion.
A low whine rose up Spoke's throat.
Pathetic. He was pathetic.
"Spoke," Minute tucked his sword away into his inventory and instead equipped his elytra. The feathery wings glimmered with a nacreous lustre. He held out his hands, fingers spread. "Please stop moving. This island can't handle any more. I-I can fly us both out of here, if you'd let me."
"Stay back." Spoke choked around the words. They tasted like vile ash on his tongue. "Stay back. YOU CAN'T DO THIS. I'm so close to freeing the Null. So. Close. I WON'T LET YOU TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME."
Minute frowned. He scanned the ground beneath his feet before he responded sharply. "Don't be absurd. You have to listen to yourself right now. You're acting mad!"
"This whole time," Spoke breathed, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet. Minute shifted back slightly, shoulders tensing. "Why do you constantly get in the way? Why do you think you can stop me?"
"Who do you think you sound like right now?" Minute asked lowly.
Spoke stopped. Stared at Minute blankly for a long moment. Overhead, the dragon roared as it wheeled in the ink black sky. "I-I don't-"
Minute exhaled. "I'm sorry." He murmured. "I shouldn't have said that."
"Why-"
Crack.
The small island finally couldn't handle the strain.
A good chunk of it broke off, taking Spoke along with it. He saw Minute's eyes widen in horror, saw his fingers barely sweep the air in front of his shirt.
He didn't even struggle.
What was the point?
It can't be that bad. He thought quietly to himself, shutting his eyes. Death.
And then : At least the Null will survive. At least… I won't have to do this anymore…
One moment he was falling into the hungry yawn of the void, and the next his breath almost left his body as something warm clutched him, and he felt himself being lifted up.
Spoke gasped, his eyes flying open.
Minute had caught him before the suction drew him in fully and was slowly but surely carrying both of them to the ruined centre island.
Spoke felt a flash of profound relief as Minute landed on one of the remaining slabs of endstone. Solid ground.
Thank god.
He stared at the small island below him, and the jagged off-section. It was as if a creature of formidable size had lunged up from the depths of the void and taken a bite out of the corner.
Minute followed his gaze. "You almost died."
"…I-… you should have let me die."
"Why would I do that?" Minute objected. "I do not wish death upon you, Spoke."
"…I don't care. You can't stop me." Spoke whispered again, repeating it like a mantra. He felt his limbs twitch and he curled tighter into himself. Why did he feel the shame burning under his skin?
And then the air suddenly shifted. Spoke saw the colours blur, then merge together before his eyes as the feeling of being in two places at once slammed into him.
"Spoke."
Spoke blinked.
He was back in his castle.
The Commander stood there. They were surrounded by Null soldiers. Potion particles flickered in and out of view.
The stasis.
Minute tensed, his eyes narrowing. An abrupt change had taken over the man. The former subdued concern was replaced with underlying menace.
"Spoke." The Commander said again, glancing between them. He was obviously expecting an order. From him.
Spoke drew in a breath. Let it out slowly. He stepped away from Minute. "Take him." He said.
Minute glanced at him sharply, but didn't comment. Spoke didn't need to look at him to guess what the other was thinking.
"As you wish." The Commander responded in a smooth voice. "Spoke."
The End sky was fractured, but not in a way that would seem harmful or volatile.
Instead, luminous spears of lavender broke through the cracks and lit up the bleak landscape and pallid endstone towers in a radiant blush.
His empire was beautiful, that much was certain. And at that moment, standing on his balcony overlooking the concentric rings that surrounded the main castle, Spoke felt a flicker of pride catch in his chest. This was his doing. The Null was under his command, and now they were his people to protect, to nurture.
"I'll prove you wrong, Jamato." Spoke murmured, half to himself. To the outside eye, it would probably seem odd to see him conversing with nobody, but speaking his words aloud gave him a sense of ardent purpose. Of comfort perhaps. "You'll see that I'll be a better leader than you ever were."
Spoke wasn't entirely sure what happened to Jamato after the latter had left him the book and later on the last End crystal. Was the old leader of Null dead? Somehow Spoke didn't think that he was; Jamato always did manage to find a way to worm under his skin, with an incentive or without.
"It doesn't matter." Spoke traced the spiral pattern on the balcony railing, letting his finger bump over the chiselled grooves. "You can't defeat me now. I have everything and you have nothing."
But somehow, however hard he tried to make it believable, the words only came back to torment his mind, indomitable as ever.
"Spoke." The steadying, familiar anonymous voice of the Commander came suddenly from behind him. A glint of darkish metal from his peripheral told Spoke he'd stepped up to the railing as well.
Spoke stayed silent. He watched the Null move below him, continuing on with their tasks on building, patrolling, and the like. His hand gripped the sculpted balustrade as he closed his eyes and filled his lungs with air.
The air in the End by far held the vastest of differences compared to the Overworld or the Nether. Instead of any particular scent, what it carried merely felt empty, like you were breathing in something that shouldn't, and normally, couldn't be brought into existence.
Spoke had gotten used to it by now. Hell, he even began to enjoy the queer feeling, but today, it just felt disparate.
"Are your injuries bothering you?" The Commander tried after a few patient minutes. Spoke's wounds from the fight before had been treated meticulously with sterile bandages and potions of healing to counter the worst of the pain. "Would you like me to get you more healing potions?"
"Do you think I made a mistake?" Spoke didn't know how much he could trust his second-in-command, but he felt he just had to get it off his chest.
"A mistake?"
"How is…" Spoke hesitated, worked his jaw. "How is MinuteTech?"
"In terms of the physical, he is doing fine." The Commander responded, his tone clearly goading on the fact that Spoke had just changed the subject. "We placed him in the room with two guards constantly on watch, as you requested. We are also preparing to head to the End centre. Everything should be ready in a few days."
"Good." Spoke still couldn't look at his commander. Or anyone for that matter. If he'd had to face his own reflection, he knew he'd turn away all the same.
"Would you like me to leave you alone?"
"No. Don't." Spoke sighed, steeled himself and turned. "Answer me this, Commander. How much of your trust do I hold?"
"There were so many players in that arena, Spoke." The Commander said calmly. "Why did I choose you out of them all?"
Spoke laughed with little humour. It faded then as he looked back out at the void.
"…there's something going on, isn't there?" The Commander stated, tilting his head faintly. "Do you wish to speak about it?"
"Do you think I made a mistake, Commander?" Spoke asked again, quieter this time.
"Mistakes are merely the stepping stones for higher growth." Came the soft response. "But okay, we can look through this since it appears to be bothering you quite significantly. What makes you think it's a mistake?"
"Before you pulled my stasis-" Spoke swallowed. "I was fighting Minute."
"Okay. I figured as much. And then?"
"And- and the fight came to a point where we both were on one of the last remaining debris still standing. But it wasn't steady anyway, and he-" Spoke shrugged, dropped his hand from the railing. "Minute saved me before I was taken victim by the void."
"And you repaid him by taking him prisoner." The Commander finished without preamble.
Spoke flinched.
"He was hunting you." The Commander reminded.
"He was hunting the End crystals."
"He still tried to stop you on multiple occasions."
Spoke shrugged again, unwilling to look up.
"And now you're feeling bad for capturing him." The Commander concluded. "Alright then. So it seems you don't know how to feel about it now, is that right?"
Spoke nodded his head slowly. "I don't want to hate Minute, but- just now, I just felt a great wave of anger, crushing me on all sides. I just wanted him gone. Is- is that selfish of me?"
"From what you've faced in Purgatory," the Commander said, gentling his tone. "I think you're not selfish enough."
"I hate this," Spoke seethed, slamming his fist against the railing. "I fucking hate myself. Why can't anyone just leave me alone? Why can't anything go right? I don't even have my friends with me anymore! I just have you!"
"You have the entirety of Null behind you." The Commander corrected. "What you say, we will follow."
Spoke let the words wash over his ears for a moment, pulling them around himself like a protective, warm blanket.
Seeing that Spoke had relaxed somewhat, the Commander went on. "We have faith in you, Spoke. I know you will lead us to great things."
"But it doesn't seem like that now," whispered Spoke.
"No?" The Commander took one step closer to him. "What are we planning to do in a few days time? Remind me again, Spoke."
"I- we're going back to Spawn."
"Exactly. And how did you accomplish that with the End portal having been destroyed by MinuteTech?"
"We found the End crystals necessary to create a new one…" Spoke trailed off.
"There you go."
"But that was hardly glorious," he argued. "I had to trade off my mace for one, Null's former leader taunted me by giving me another, and I had to go through a parkour course over the fucking void- I don't see anything great about any of this!"
"Okay. I admit the parkour course was a long stretch," the Commander huffed softly. "Don't ever do that again."
"Noted, but that's not the point." Spoke scowled, blowing a lock of dark hair from his eyes. "Which leader goes around following some random player's orders because they so desperately need something that they have? I shouldn't even be showing desperation in the first place! I'm not cut out to be part of Null."
He then stiffened, breathing in sharply as the Commander reached out swiftly and gripped his arm with gloved fingers. "You do realise the absurdity of your words, right?" He said. "Who told you Rome was built in one day? To create a civilisation, it takes many, many hours. Days, months, years. To create an army is much the same. You can't give up and get depressed over it when things don't work out once."
"I-" Spoke blinked, surprised. Sure, he knew the extent of the Commander's loyalty to him and the Null, but he wasn't expecting him to start spouting shrewd words of wisdom. "When did you get this sagacious?"
The Commander gave a small half-smile. "A long time ago. Jamato was more or less the same as you. Both of you always doubting. Always hating yourselves."
Spoke's muscles tightened involuntarily. "Don't push me into the same group with him."
"My apologies," the Commander dropped his hand and stepped back to a respectful distance. "But I trust my words have reached and settled their desired conclusion?"
"I guess," Spoke muttered, not quite happy.
"Wonderful." The Commander said. "Now, do you require some more healing potions?"
"No, I'm fine. Actually… Commander, I have a… query I'd like to make, and I want some insight."
"Ask, and I will answer."
"If I-… what if I go see Minute? Talk with him a bit. Maybe it'll help ease the disquiet I'm feeling right now. Do you think that's a good idea?"
The Commander considered. "What do you think?" He asked at last. "I could give you my opinion, but at the moment, your morale is so low, whatever I speak of may sway your own ideas and outlook on the situation, and then it would be my decision in the end and not yours."
"So you won't say anything?" Spoke rolled his eyes. Sometimes his second-in-command could be so dramatic.
"Be sure with yourself, Spoke."
Yeah, okay bro.
Spoke stood at his balcony for almost two hours after the Commander had left, turning over everything that had happened in a gruelling, twisted spiral.
Each minute ticked by, and he dropped further and further into that thinking space kept deep inside his head. He hadn't even realised how much time had passed until the Commander had come back to him with a fresh potion of healing.
"Have you been here the whole time?" His second-in-command asked, handing over the bottle.
"No," lied Spoke. He uncorked it and downed half before he had time to grimace. He particularly hated the sweet, saccharine taste it provided, but at least it did its work.
"Either way, you should rest." The Commander said tactfully. "You can't do anything dead on your feet."
"Not right now, no." Spoke sighed, giving back the half-drunk potion. "I've made up my mind. I need to talk to Minute."
"Right now?" The Commander lifted a brow.
"Can you give me another time?"
"Fine. Shall I bring him to you, or…?"
"No, no. Take me to his room."
"Of course, Spoke."
"There will be guards waiting outside constantly without fail. If any a time you wish to leave, just say the word." Was the Commander's parting words before Spoke was given the key to the room MinuteTech was in.
He took a deep breath to steady himself. In transparent honesty, he had no idea how Minute was going to react, or how he was going to react. It could either be the blowing up of hell, or he was simply going to leave before five minutes had even passed.
Spoke nodded at the two Null players, who returned the gesture before he unlocked the door and stepped in.
By order, Spoke had gotten the Commander to place Minute not in the cells, but in one of the guest rooms, a floor below his own. Although it was decorated sparsely like most of the other rooms - a singular bed, table, and soft carpet of light blue - at least it was comfortable, and that was the point Spoke had been trying to make.
He didn't wish ill on Minute. He didn't want him to hurt.
Spoke had somehow managed to achieve both in the short span they'd met again.
Minute was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out the singular window at the expanse of black beyond. He had been inventory-checked as per protocol, and seeing him without his armour made something harsh coil around Spoke's heart.
Spoke shut the door behind him, locked it again. Stared at the straight-backed figure. He didn't say a word. Even if he had, everything would have fled the moment he stepped past the threshold.
After what felt like ages, Minute finally turned his head and levelled an unreadable look on him.
"Hello," Spoke said. He refused to twitch under the eyes drilling into his skin.
"Spoke." Something thawed on Minute's face, and just for a moment, Spoke thought he saw a hint of sympathy. "You look exhausted."
Spoke had planned all the answers to many different scenarios, but none of them included something like this. He blinked rapidly, willing whatever Minute saw on him to go away. "I'm fine."
"Hmm," Minute tilted his head ever so slightly, gesturing to the room around them. "Do you regret this, Spoke?"
Now this was a question he expected, practiced with, and still it felt so difficult to answer. "I- I regret that it had to be you against me and not someone else."
"Does it even matter to you? A foe is a foe."
"It matters." Spoke insisted. "But I just- I just can't let you destroy something I've spent so long trying to build, and even then I have yet to reach the summit."
"Yes," Minute said softly, his gaze drifting past Spoke. "I know that. Nothing will get in your way now."
It was meant to be triumphant, but all Spoke ever heard from that was regret.
And that hurt even worse.
"I don't want you in my situation," he snapped. "I wish we never crossed paths at all. It's always like this. Everyone I know will turn out to betray me or go against me. And I can't even keep one person for very long before some shit happens."
Minute stayed silent. Spoke still couldn't read what was going on in the man's head.
"I have to do this." He finished brokenly. What else could he say?
"I know you do." Minute responded in a quiet voice.
Spoke looked down, let his hair curtain his vision. He felt the press of tears threatening to fall and closed his eyes, determined not to give in to the turbulent emotions, the loathing disgust, raging inside his rib cage.
Why is everything so difficult? Why am I feeling this way? Why am I even doing anything??
…what is my purpose… in all of this?
A shadow fell over his boots, and Spoke didn't expect it at all when Minute appeared in front of him and cradled his cheek, sweeping away the damp hair over his face. He hadn't realised he was already crying.
"Hey, hey." Minute whispered. "Spoke. I'm right here, alright? Nobody's going anywhere, and nobody is getting hurt."
Spoke heaved sharply. He remembered those words. They were the same words Minute had soothed him with many times before, when the Mafia was still hunting him. When he'd curled many a time, shivering in frantically dug holes as the invis players circled overhead like silent hawks.
"M-minute, I'm s-sorry-" Spoke clutched the corner of Minute's sleeve in a desperate, white-knuckled grip. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in the latter's warm embrace.
After a brief hesitation, Minute's hands moved from his wrists to around his shoulders, pulling him close. "You're strong, Spoke. You know that? Even after everything."
"I'm making so many mistakes. I don't know what to do anymore." Spoke pushed his body further into the man's arms. His limbs sort of locked then, and Minute staggered a little before he managed to settle them both on the floor, his back against the wall with Spoke half-collapsed in his lap.
"Can I say nothing to deter you from your stratagems?" Minute said. "I hate to see you hurting like this, Spoke."
"You don't know what Jamato did. You don't understand. I need to do this."
"Tell me." Minute gently dragged his fingers down Spoke's scalp in a palliative manner. "If you want, that is."
So in a wobbly tone, Spoke explained everything. From where Mapicc first disappeared to the multiple failed escapades he'd tried to make from Purgatory. The Hunger Games-esque arena, the Commander helping him, his time in solitude, and finally the entire procedure of taking over the Null from Jamato.
"Jumper betrayed me," Spoke whispered. "She believed I couldn't do it. That I was doing all this just to send innocent players to their deaths. And Mapicc…" he stopped there. He knew when he sent that wind charge Mapicc's way, he wouldn't die.
But did Mapicc know that?
"Did something happen to him?" Minute asked.
"It was… necessary." Spoke mumbled. "I couldn't let Jamato have the upper hand against me again. I pushed him off the platform. He-he wasn't going to die."
"Does he know that?" Minute shifted under him.
"I-" Spoke wished he could say yes. "…I don't know."
Minute hummed, tightening his grip around Spoke. He didn't seem mad. Shouldn't he be mad?
Shouldn't he be hating Spoke for taking him prisoner?
"…I'm sorry."
Minute glanced down at him, confused and concerned at the same time. "And why should an apology be needed?"
"I've been talking all the time about being betrayed," Spoke sniffed. "And I've betrayed you, too. I'm a hypocrite."
"I admit," Minute said quietly. "I did feel that way, but sitting here I've realised… how can I be mad at you for long? I care about you Spoke, whatever the situation. Isn't that how it's supposed to work?"
Spoke pressed his head into Minute's chest. "Please forgive me." He said it like a prayer. A plea.
And Minute simply held him tighter as the quiet took over the chill of the room and bathed them in empyreal tranquility.
"Your conversation went well, I presume." The Commander said the next day when he found Spoke brooding on his balcony yet again. "Apparently you didn't call for the guards to let you out."
"No, I didn't." Spoke nodded his head for the Commander to walk to the space beside him. "Surprisingly."
"Is that a good thing?" The Commander's tone softened.
Spoke thought back to what had happened last night. Unbeknownst to him, he'd dozed off on Minute's lap, tired out by everything. Minute hadn't moved an inch until he had to wake him a few hours later, claiming it was the next day, though how he knew that in the End was something Spoke could never understand.
"You won't stop me?" He'd asked before he left.
Minute had smiled a bittersweet smile. "You will do what you want to do, Spoke. And I can't stop you either way. Just- if you ever need… me. I'm here for you."
Spoke had closed that conversation with one last hug, and Minute had reciprocated with the same affection he'd shown when he'd helped Spoke against the Mafia.
Now, Spoke let out a slow breath. "Yeah." He murmured. "I believe it was."
"That's good." The Commander said, glancing at him sideways.
"…you can release him."
The Commander's brow raised. "You mean MinuteTech?"
"Yes. Release him. Give him back his gear, everything. Actually, let him restock as well before he leaves."
"He won't come after you again?"
"I'm not keeping him under lock and key for a moment longer. Issue the order, please." Spoke turned, resting his hip on the edge of the railing. He held the Commander’s gaze.
The Commander returned the look, then nodded once, sharp. "As you wish, Spoke."