Chapter Text
Wemmbu had wanted to be a hero. He truly did. But he wasn’t built for it. His body was far too lean and his power was less than impressive.
So he never passed the test.
It didn’t bother him much anymore, almost all of the people who try to go to CV High School never make it far as heroes anyway. The Caves were never quite known for their good heroes. Instead they were known for their constant lack of resources and their tyrannical ruler.
Not very good things to be known for huh.
Wemmbu sat in the small dojo he helped out at, his legs hanging over the front desk he usually worked at. His tail swung causally behind him while his wings spread wide without any limitations.
He had his broken phone in his hand as he scrolled through his weird FYP. There were a few videos about fighting techniques but they were far too focused on looking cool than actually doing damage. There were a few Deltarune edits and gameplay, but he mostly focused on the villains and hero fights that show up often on his screen.
Wemmbu quite likes watching the fights, though the heroes usually fight very inefficiently. It bothers him a lot. Without thinking much about it he sent a comment mentioning the problems before swiping away onto a Adrien Christian Hernado video.
He giggled, a soft noise coming out of his mouth. Wemmbu wasn’t much of a talker since his school had been bombed by villains. Yes, you heard him right. Bombed.
The door slammed open as some students poured into the dojo, checking in before heading into the locker rooms to change. Wemmbu waited patiently for his friends to walk in. He should be going to high school, but his family didn’t have the money for that. So instead he worked.
How he had a phone with his money problems would stay between him and Ish.
(Yes, Ish is considered a god in this universe. I have a small headcannon where there are two gods who rule Minecraft, Ish being one of them.)
Okay, yea he stole it.
Anyway, his ear twitched expectantly as he heard the familiar loud voices of his three friends. Jaden, Cod, and Yungy barged into the building laughing about the burger incident.
Wemmbu happily waved at the trio, his tail wagging behind him. Jaden ran up to him with a smile prominent on his face. His smiles were always so bright, if Jaden were ever forced to wear a mask it’d be a horrible day for the world.
The other two chattered about random stuff and Jaden and Wemmbu giggled about how the Coach had a massive bald spot.
Soon enough, they were all forced to get ready to get on the mat. The group got ready together, their voices getting somewhat drowned out by the loud shouting of the other kids and teens scattered around the dojo.
Today was turning out to be a great day for Wemmbu.
…
Screams.
That’s all Wemmbu could hear.
He was buried under a large chunk of concrete from the Dojo roof, his right leg was being slowly crushed by the weight of the stone.
His panicked gaze scanned the room looking for his friends, Cod was passed out against a wall, blood dripping from the gash against his chest. Yungy lay unconscious next to him. A large wound cut across his head as well a few smaller ones that were scattered across his body.
Thank the gods they were fine. As he finally laid his eyes on Jaden, he felt like puking. The older boy had the skin on the lower half of his face completely burnt and or skinned off. Along his chest and arm lay a large gash that went too deep at his ribs, slightly showing the bone.
Blood seeped from the wounds, forming a large puddle around the siren.
Wemmbu felt the bile rising in his throat as he attempted to claw his way over to the severely injured boy. He felt a slight resistance, and a sharp sensation on his leg, before it gave way and he could move freely through the rubble.
He could hear the screams around him as he dragged his broken body through the wreckage. His whole being burned as the flames licked at his body and singed his wings.
When he finally made it to Jaden, his head felt heavy, and his lungs burned. “N- *cough* No… Jay? Th- this *cough* isn’t funny!” The small amount of tears that dripped from his face dried as quickly as they came from the overwhelming heat around them.
Why had the villains decided to attack that day? Wemmbu was having such a great day too.
Wemmbu curled up next to the boy, his wings lay useless behind him, the appendages being far too damaged to actually do anything.
He wanted to go home.
He wanted to leave.
Wemmbu hates villains, he hates heroes for not doing anything.
Why can’t they all just live in peace?
Why must we all hurt one another?
Why
Why
Why
Why
Why
Why
Why
Why
————
It was a massacre. Flame stared at the burning nation. The Caves had been completely destroyed by the villain group Cindercrest, known for their violent attacks and need for destruction.
All manners of heroes gathered in the nation. Including many apprentices, one of which including Flame himself.
He worked under his brother who was the number 5 hero.
News reporters swarmed the area, pointing their cameras at the heroes. But Flame couldn’t seem to care like he usually might have, he simply watched as more and more dead bodies got dragged out of the rubble.
As Flame walked around he noticed many groups of people, one being a group of what seemed like military personnel, another being one with just three old ladies whispering in hushed voices.
Then he saw a small group of teens and children that were either out on a stretcher recovering or on the ground, a thin white sheet covering their bodies.
Flame saw one medic pull a sheet over a young boy’s body, the child only being around 7 years old.
One girl, who was probably 16, was sitting straight up, looking at the people around her with hatred burning in her eyes. The lady’s body was burnt and her wings were practically useless, so Flame somewhat understood her fury.
Then the woman’s eyes landed on Flame. For some strange reason, more anger poured into her sharp gaze as she glared at Flame. Flame, being the man he was, glared right back.
Eventually, Flame walked away. He needed to go help people.
…
Two weeks later, every dead body and survivor had been found.
Only 40 people survived the attack.
19 of those people died soon after.
10 of those people were severely injured.
And the others were often unable to talk, likely being traumatized from the incident.
Flame knew he wanted to be a hero, but he couldn’t imagine being able to stand watching as people died because of his own faults.
His heart clenched as he stared at the TV screen, the news reporter was talking about the incident like it was a daily occurrence. Perhaps it was for The Caves.
Mane sat next to him scrolling on his phone, laughter occasionally slipping out.
For some reason, Mane didn’t seem to care about everyone who died. Flame wanted to ask why but the lion would just say something about ‘not his people, not his problem.’
It bothered Flame. How people could just ignore what people went through because they weren’t the ones experiencing it.
He clenched his fist tight, his dull nails digging into his skin enough to draw blood.
Most heroes don’t save people out of the goodness of their hearts like many might think. They save people for money.
Flame hates heroes like that.