Chapter Text
It had been a long time since anyone had seen Wemmbu. An oddly long time actually. The purple voidling was usually pestering or bothering Flame for some purpose or another. Or somehow the tales of his great adventures spread around the server. It was weird actually. He’d expected Wemmbu to come and gloat to him about his victory over Flame at some point or another, but it had been months, and he still hasn’t heard a word from his rival.
And not just Wemmbu, MinuteTech and Eggchan too. Despite being known as Wemmbu’s biggest allies, not a single shred of information about the other two had reached Flame. Not a single killing, disagreement, or hostage situation had reached the main server. Interesting, knowing Minute’s history of killing people who show up at the end randomly.
The whole situation was uncomfortably different. It was nothing like their usual routine and it was throwing Flame off. But it’s not like he’d go looking for Wemmbu, he didn’t even care about him that much. Even if he hadn’t heard from his rival in months. He was probably just stocking up or training like himself.
He shouldn’t even be concerned, this wasn’t even that weird, Wemmbu was known for weird spells and tangents. He’s never tethered to a single place, Flame knew that was his way of life. Wemmbu would turn up eventually. He always did.
— —
The ringing in his ears hadn’t stopped. It’d been weeks since he had triggered the nukes on Flame and consequently got injured by his own bombs.
When the fishing poles were aimed towards Flame, the sound of the mechanism blew up in his ears, triggering a persistent ringing sound that hadn’t faded. Amplified by the persistent bombs he’d dropped on Flame throughout their fight. The ringing had become so distracting that he’d started potting healing or regeneration every seven minutes to lessen the noise. It was a vicious cycle; getting sick from constantly potting potions or not being able to focus because of persistent migraines infecting his life.
And It was only getting worse.
Wemmbu had now taken permanent residence in the End with Egg and Minute. He couldn’t handle the Overworld noises. The screaming of the players at spawn, mooing of the cows, and explosions of the creepers all caused a heavy migraine that was only relieved in the dark. So stayed confined to his bed, the End dimension being a virtually silent and dark place meant that it was perfect for his situation.
“Wemmbu… You have to get up at some point, you know,” drawled Minute. He was standing calmly in the doorway of Wemmbu’s room, arms crossed, looking down at Wemmbu with concern.
“I can’t… It hurts too much.. You know this,” he muttered, buried under his pillows and blankets. His hand came up to wipe the occasional tear from the pain of his migraine.
“I know, I know. We’ll figure something out ok? You know me and Egg promised to figure this out,” minute spoke. Slinking out of the doorway and further into the room. “Listen Wemmbu– at some point we’re going to have to leave this base. Our part of the End is getting more and more dangerous as the days go on, with the influx of raids, and you’re obviously in no condition to fight any of them.”
“Where are you suggesting we go then? There’s not many options y’know, I physically can’t leave this dimension anymore without practically dying.” Snickered Wemmbu, pain evident in his voice.
“I was talking it over with Egg recently, we could always move you out to a further part of the End until you get better? I know it’s not perfect, but it’s the last place anyone would go to look. And it’s difficult for even a fully stacked player to traverse all the way out there,” suggested Minute. At this point he had made his way over and was sitting next to the Wemmbu shaped lump on the bed. As Wemmbu spoke his next words Minute took an Enderchest out of his inventory to grab a shulker of regeneration potions.
“How far…” Wemmbu muttered, the sound muffled by the blankets overtop him.
“The third End Ring at least. There is a known civilization on the first one so it's safest to have at least a ring in between us and them. Especially if we’re making that our permanent base.” Stated Minute, concern deep within in his words.
“Fine.. As long as it’s us I don’t care. I don’t want to deal with any of the other players again. I can’t do it anymore..”
Minute nodded and sighed, after he then said his goodbyes to Wemmbu, leaving him to rest. It was hard feeling such deep responsibility for someone, knowing you have to defend them because they can’t do it themselves. But he loved his friends more than anything, and he was willing to go to the ends of the world to make sure that they were safe.
He knew what he had to do to ensure Wemmbu’s survival, it wouldn’t be pretty but sometimes that’s the sacrifice he has to make. With Egg’s help, they would be able to hide Wemmbu until they figured out how to cure him.
And so, Minute left his friends house, plans of traveling and base builds already coming to fruition in his mind. Never pausing, always one step ahead.
— —
Usually, Flame didn’t take losses lightly. He was the kind of man to immediately go and settle his score, the type of man to resort to violence first, negotiations later. Especially with his detested rival. But, there was something special about this time. A strange shift in the air as he laid on the ground, head pounding from the constant closing of open wounds on his body from his totems and pots. The dust floating up in plumes around him, disturbed by the bombs that had been triggered.
Flame laid on the ground for hours, silence only broken by the shuffling of an armadillo, or the screeches of the bats. He laid there, in the cracked clay of the ground, contemplating how he lost to a man of such inferior strength. A man who had lost to him not but a month ago. It was strange how one's power could be crushed so quickly. How the tides shift and allow for such terrible change.
How someone he considered nothing more than a pest to mess around with, could change into someone he didn’t recognize.
But what more could he do? Wemmbu had long since gone, flying off into the frigid night. Probably thousands of blocks away by now. There was no point in him staying and wallowing on the ground.
Say what you want about him, he’d never resign himself to misery over a loss. He’d continue on and fight again. It was his way of life. It was all he knew.
So, like always, Flame got up off the ground and continued on with his life, vowing to crush Wemmbu, so he’d never have to deal with the shame of a loss this great again. So he never had to picture the face of his disappointed mentor, or Wemmbu’s terrible grin, victorious from a fight that he blatantly cheated to win. Flame wouldn’t allow himself to lose. He couldn’t.
He would work to get better, get more gear, before setting out to find and hunt down Wemmbu. To settle their score once and for all. Even if it was the last thing he did.