Chapter Text
The world went beyond the average void. One with endless crafting tables. One guy trapped in there, forever. A miracle he hadn’t completely lost his mind yet. The chickens constantly tapped everything. His kill count was unknown by now, purely for survival. The animals never went extinct, better than loneliness, but irritating that he couldn’t be left alone.
Safurn didn’t remember how he ended up here in the first place. He was asleep, and when awoke, he was trapped in this realm. Inventory was still there, yet no signs of exit to escape.
Years passed, not a single human interaction except through his somehow working devices. He reached out to his old friends; Roswo and Blake. They tried everything. Any traces of this mysterious world dissolved into nothingness, leading to more questions.
It turned morning. Or not. Whenever he woke up, he considered it morning. He ate, slept, built when he felt like it. Or when ‘it’ wanted him to.
The goddamn giant. He hated it. With his life, he hated it.
“Wake up you idiot. Got a new build for ya.” a voice rumbled, shaking Safurn awake. He rubbed his eyes, already adjusted to the pure darkness that surrounded him.
A routine he adapted to. Being enslaved and punished for the slightest mistakes. He walked outside of his house, made with crafting tables, and Mello stood in the center, it’s expressionless form staring down at him.
“You’re late. Again.”
“I’m sorry. I was rea-“
A crafting table flew towards him, punching him in the stomach. He fell back on the ground, hard, clutching it in pain. The giant had no mercy, as it walked away, leaving Safurn with the pain. It hurts. He had been hit several times, but the pain was continuous.
Cried enough, tears dried up, and he got back up again. Go to work. Build. Sleep. Don’t sleep. Wake up. Eat. Repeat.
Ding!
Finally. His phone lit up with a notification.
“Blake had posted a video!”
Mello had a weird obsession with Blake, forcing Safurn to only follow his tutorials. No one else’s.
The video showcased Blake being jolly as usual, teaching his viewers how to build a beautiful fountain. He had a variety of block choices. Safurn did not. His inventory, full of raw chicken, 12 stacks of crafting tables, and emptiness. The remaining spaces had disappeared. He felt sick just by searching through those tables.
He took an empty area a few hundred crafting tables away, and pulled his phone out again.
“Please help me.” He commented, and pressed the sent button before he was caught. The message went through, but the result did not.
P̷̤̖̩̼͂͆̀͋̉̌͠l̷̥͙̯̱̮̿̚e̶͎̭̣̦̠̯̺̊̊̂̀̕ą̴͖͍̬̩̏̒̀ͅś̵̨̙̹̻͚̹̺͔̿͌͆̓̈́̕ê̷̱͈͎̫͙̓̎̕.̸̨̱͙̪̙̺̟̣̌.̵̹̻̦̬̃ ̴̝͓̇̿͆͌͝ḫ̶̢̖͖̜̠͇̣̓̒́̓̿ḛ̷̪̱̝̦̯́͋͊͝l̵͇̙̎͗̎͜͝p̶̖̺̩̄͂̈́̽͗ ̵̢̨͉͔̜̦̻̽̅͂͌m̶͙͌͝͝ë̵̪̳̆̓.̴̞̙̬̗̀
The comment never arrived to the video. The corruption devoured it before it reached the outside realm. An alert rang through his ears.
DIDN’T YOU LEARN YOUR LESSON ABOUT TRYING TO ESCAPE?
…
The sunset glazed the world, this bright, warm orange that made everyone’s day. Blake sat on a swing he had made, enjoying this moment of silence and peace. Felt too quiet. Unnatural. Just his nerves. Probably.
The smooth surface of the spruce wood slab supported his weight, his legs swinging, moving the swing alongside it. The soft creaks were relaxing rather than annoying, creating a steady melody of his creation.
Unbeknownst to him, he had company. Roswo kept himself hidden in the trees, peaking through the leaves and drinking in the sight of his love, all relaxed. He wishes he could be the one who made Blake smile, relax completely.
The sight fluttered his heart, a smile of his own forming, smile of pure adoration and desire. It was getting tiring following Blake around and secretly watching him. Roswo knew it was wrong. However, his need to see Blake consumed his mind. He couldn’t stop, he wished to. Why was he being a creep like this. How could he not be a normal person and talk to Blake normally.
He was not normal, was he? He’d kill for Blake. Anyone who dared to mess with his love shall pay the price.
“Hi Roswo.” a whispering voice startled Roswo. It was Wykull. Of course it had to be him.
For his information, Wykull and Blake were close friends. Too close for comfort. And Roswo couldn’t let that happen. He hadn’t killed or harmed Wykull yet from the fact that Blake relied on him emotionally to keep going. He has seen how Blake broke down in front of Wykull, crying and crying until his vision blurred for an hour.
He wanted everything to be perfect for his Blakey. Although it was getting infuriating how he was tolerating Wykull. In his mind, this guy was a bastard who wanted to steal his love interest, and make fun of him. Roswo did not respond back to the gentle greeting, turning his attention back on Blake’s relaxed form.
Wykull followed his gaze, acknowledging Roswo’s obvious interest in Blake. He had already known, it was obvious to everyone except Blake himself. He never took the hints, dismissing Roswo’s flirting and compliments as friendliness.
“You should ask him out.” Wykull suggested, a teasing grin on his face. Roswo gave him a glare that wiped the playful expression right off of him. “Right. Sorry.”
He never understood why Roswo disliked him so much, when all he did was exist and treat both him and Blake as friends.
Deciding to leave Roswo alone, Wykull turned towards the other direction, and walked away.
When he arrived near his base, he noticed a strange, floating platform in the air. It couldn’t have been naturally made, nor built recently. A bunch of oak planks casting a shadow over him, blocking the sun.
‘Did Blake make this as some sort of a joke?’ Wykull debated. Blake wasn’t the type to do such thing, and wasn’t his style. Something strang was going on. From one of the chests, he grabbed a handful of stacks of dirt blocks, and began bridging up. Had to be at least 319 blocks tall. Fortunately, he was patient enough for this.
He reached his goal, placing down a water block at the top to ensure he can go down easily. To his surprise, the oak wood planks were actually crafting tables. Which puzzled him further. Out of all building blocks and blocks out there, why a crafting table specifically? A sign sat in the center, covered with a dirty hand mark.
P̷̥͚̣̰̙͚̩̲̝̤̘̤̈̐l̴̛͎͕̬͎̾̎̇̿̔̀͛͌̍͌̎̒͋͠ḙ̸̢͎͉̗͌̍̅̎͆̓͝a̴̧̋̒͋͆͝s̷̨̘̦̹͋͒͐́̚ͅe̷̡͉̝̠̖̻̬̺͑́͂͗͊̎̕͘.̴̳̪͠.̸̛̤͓͑̋̊͑͋̑͠ ̵̡̨̨̞̮̗̙͓̈́͌̊̾̔̒̒͋͑͑͊̚͝͝͝h̵̨̛̹̪̯͙͈͈̹̩̮͌̽̅̚è̷̞̟̜̞͈̘̙̙̂͋̈̈̽͒̏͜͜l̴̡͙̩͈͈͙̞̱͓̏p̴̧͚̟̠͔̼͚̭̼̺̥͇͖̲̎̆̃̾̐̊̈́̎̕̕ͅ ̷̢͓̻͇̰̲̏͆̾m̷̡̛͙͈͚̪̫͔̲̲̪̏͊̂͐̍͘̕ͅȩ̸̨̨͚̣̩̝̖̺̰̠̮̗̓̏̽͋̿̓̆̈̂͗͊̌̉.̷̢̖̻͚́̏̈̈́͑͋͛̑̀̋̄͝͝”