Turning toward the cavern entrance, Gameknight charged up the steps, hoping to reach Crafter, then escape. At the top, he sprinted through the open iron doors and entered the large, round room, identical to the one where he had first met Crafter. It was crowded with armed NPCs, the torches on the walls casting pointed shadows on the ground because of upheld swords. Crafter and the village NPCs, now soldiers, stood ready. Gameknight could taste the fear in the room; the first battle was always the most terrifying. But he knew that the NPCs were not nearly as terrified as himself. He could already see the pointed claws of the zombies reaching out at him through his imagination, the fireballs of blazes seeking his flesh. He shivered.
Moving to Crafter’s side, he whispered into his ear, “The village’s crafter is safely away, but we have to get you out of here as well. Malacoda can still use you for whatever he is planning. We have to escape before it is too late.”
“Not until we help the other villagers get out,” Crafter said, courage resonating in his voice. “We don’t know what that ghast will do when he finds the crafter gone. He may kill everyone who stays behind. We must help them.”
Gameknight leaned in closer. “Crafter, this isn’t our battle,” he whispered.
“What are you talking about?” Crafter snapped, moving back a step. “All of this is our battle. This entire world is our battle. We’re here to stop these monsters and save Minecraft, and anything we can do to resist Malacoda’s plans is our battle. Now draw your sword and get ready.”
Crafter’s admonishment shamed him into drawing his weapon. Gameknight was terrified at the thought of facing off against the monsters of the Nether, but he was even more frightened of failing his friend. Standing with the defenders of this village, he waited.
I hate being this afraid, he thought to himself. I hate it! Why can’t I stand tall and be brave like Crafter?
The shame of his cowardice chipped away at him from within, his fear wrapping around his soul like a hungry viper, ready to strike.
Come on Gameknight, get with it! he screamed at himself, his thoughts sounding mockingly pathetic. Frustration started to grow within him.
He was so scared.
Come on, stand tall and be brave, he thought—no, pleaded . . . STAND TALL AND BE BRAVE!
“STAND TALL AND BE BRAVE!!!”
Oh no, did I say that aloud?
A cheer rose from the NPCs as blocky hands patted him on the shoulders and back, the feeling of courage and bravery visible now on every face.
“That’s right!” Crafter yelled. “Stand tall with the User-that-is-not-a-user and be brave. We will face these beasts and save your village!”
Another cheer rose from the round room as the sounds from the tunnel before them started to get louder.
Someone or something was coming.
They could hear the shuffling feet as if only a few were coming, but then the noise became louder. The shuffling of many feet echoed down the tunnel.
A lot of somethings were coming.
Gameknight gripped his sword firmly and looked around the room. He could see the iron doors that led to the crafting chamber standing open. It took every ounce of strength for him to keep his feet still and not bolt toward those doors and run away.
I hate being afraid!
Gripping his sword even tighter, he turned back toward the tunnel and the approaching mass of bodies. They could now see shapes moving about in the tunnel—many of them—as the running figures approached the room.
Would it be monsters . . . zombies and creepers and spiders?
Just then, a crowd of villagers burst into the room, all of then sprinting, unibrows creased with worry. A relieved sigh filled the room. It wasn’t the monsters . . . not yet.
“Quickly, follow the path down to the cavern floor,” Crafter directed. “Get into the minecarts and escape through the tunnels. There are enough for everyone . . . quickly now.”
The villagers looked in surprise at the small boy who was talking, but the voice of command echoed within his words. Crafter moved forward so that they could see his clothing. They instantly recognized him as a crafter and did as he instructed. The flow of villagers was nearly constant, with parents leading children while neighbors helped the elderly and the sick. Everyone was running to the salvation below: the minecart network.
Just then, the smell of smoke started to trickle down the entrance of the tunnel. At first, it was just a hint, like someone striking a match nearby, but then it grew stronger and stronger. Slowly, the tunnel filled with a smoky haze, the acrid aroma started to bite at the back of Gameknight’s throat with each terrified breath.
The monsters . . . they were coming.
The last of the villagers came running out of the tunnel covered in soot and ash, some of them with clothes partially burned.
“They’re coming,” one of them said in a terrified voice. “Blazes, lots of them.”
“And ghasts and zombies and magma cubes,” another said. “There’re hundreds of them . . . maybe a thousand, and that lone woman holding them all back with her bow.”
“Lone woman?” Crafter asked. “Who?”
“I don’t know who she is,” the last villager said as she headed toward the stairway that led to the cavern floor. “I never saw a village woman with red hair like that, but she’s keeping the monsters from getting into the tower with her bow. When she runs out of arrows . . . she’s dead.”
“You hear that?” Crafter said to Gameknight. “We have to help her. Come on, everyone, the battle is up there.”
And then Crafter charged forward through the smoke-filled tunnel to the ladder that led up to the surface, the other village soldiers following their young leader, leaving Gameknight standing there wrapped in fear.
He wasn’t a hero. He was just a kid who liked to play Minecraft, but he couldn’t let his friend, his only friend on this server, Crafter, face this threat alone. He had to help him, even though fear blanketed his mind and the courage he’d felt on the last server was a distant memory. Moving toward the tunnel, he could hear the clash of swords echoing out of the tunnel . . . Crafter.
Sprinting with all his might, he shot down the tunnel, through clouds of smoke that choked the passageway, his golden sword held up high. Ahead, he could see the flash of iron against gold: their soldiers were engaged with zombie-pigmen. Pushing through the crowd, he attacked a zombie, its rotten flesh hanging off its body in flaps, part of its skull and ribs exposed where skin was missing; it was an attractive target for his razor-sharp sword. This was something he’d done many times; sometimes he’d been fighting monsters, other times he’d been attacking other players. His cyber bullying history was not something he was proud of, but his experience served him well at the moment as he dodged attacks and drove his sword through zombie bodies. Gameknight999 had become a killing machine, acting without thought, his mind lost in the heat of battle. With practiced efficiency, he tore through the monsters, slashing his sword under armored plates and blocking lethal blows as he danced through the battle lines with a deadly grace.
Attacking monster after monster, Gameknight fought through the clash of bodies, wanting to get to his friend. He could see him in the distance, the young boy slashing out at legs with his iron sword, ducking under attack and taking advantage of his diminutive height. Kicking one monster away, Gameknight999 drove his sword through another, its rotting body disappearing with a pop as its HP was consumed. Spinning to block a golden blade, he slashed at a black furry spider. Knocking away dark claws, he slashed at the zombie, then stabbed at the spider, killing both. Hacking at one after another, the User-that-is-not-a-user fought from pure instinct, carving a pathway through the tunnel. Finally, he reached his friend.
Crafter was facing off against a zombie-pigman that was armored, its golden coat looking like melted butter on the monster. Moving with lightning speed, Gameknight slashed at the armor’s weak points . . . under the arm . . . near the neck . . . at the waist. He attacked at the points where the armor plates met, and maneuvered his sword so that it slipped in and found soft flesh. In moments, the creature was destroyed, giving him time to talk with his friend.
“Crafter, we have to get you out of here.”
“Not ‘til we save Hunter,” Crafter objected.
“But Malacoda wants you just as badly as any other crafter. You’re what he wants right now, not these few NPCs. Come on, we have to get out of here.”
Just then, Hunter appeared, covered in soot. Part of her clothing was singed, the edges of her smock still smoking a bit. Her face looked as if it were made from stone, grim determination mixed with unbridled hatred carved deep into her skin.
“Oh good, you’re here,” she said quickly. “Any of you got any arrows? I’m kinda getting low.” She gave them both a grin, her eyes filled with excitement and a thirst for battle.
“What are you doing? We have to get out of here!” Gameknight yelled over the din of battle.
Just then, a zombie-pigman lunged at them. Hunter deflected the golden blade with her bow as Gameknight hacked at the creature’s side, hitting it quickly with three well-aimed attacks. The monster evaporated, leaving behind small glowing balls of XP that flew to him.
“Nice,” Hunter said with a quirky grin. Then she spun and fired another arrow down the dark tunnel, striking some monster in the distance.
Suddenly, a fireball streaked out of the darkness and burst above their heads.
“Blazes, or worse,” Gameknight said, unease edging his voice. “We have to get out of here.”
“I think you’re right,” Hunter said.
“EVERYONE FALL BACK TO THE MINECART NETWORK!” Crafter yelled, his high-pitched voice piercing through the sound of battle.
The villagers began their retreat back to the crafting cavern. The zombie-pigmen were confused at first, but then quickly ran after their prey. Gameknight and Crafter were able to attack them from the back of the group, hacking away at their backs and legs, killing them in an instant. Arrows streaked past Gameknight’s head as Hunter sought out targets of her own, killing monsters farther down the passage. In minutes, they’d killed the remaining zombies in the tunnel, and followed the villagers toward the minecarts. Sprinting into the crafting chamber, they bolted down the steps to the cavern floor. They’d only just reached it when balls of fire streaked into the room, striking one villager after another, causing them to burst into flame, their HP diminishing quickly . . . and then they were gone, dead. More balls of fire flew into the chamber as an army of blazes burst through the twin iron doors at the chamber’s entrance. They were creatures of flame and smoke, with glowing yellow rods spinning about their center, a bright yellow head floating atop the body of fire. Their dead black eyes glared down at the surviving villagers with a look of unbridled hatred. The blazes launched the flaming projectiles at the NPCs, the burning spheres crashing into NPCs and consuming HP in minutes. They were carefully aimed to steer clear of Crafter, Gameknight and Hunter benefitting from still being at his side.
“Quickly, get on the minecarts!” Crafter yelled. “If you’re the last one, break the track behind you . . . GO!”
The surviving villagers headed for the minecarts, Gameknight and his companions doing the same. Suddenly, a noise came from the cavern entrance. It was a terrible sound, like the yowl of a wounded, moaning cat. It was a sound made by a creature that was filled with unspeakable despair mixed with a thirst for vengeance on those who were happy and alive. Few ever heard this sound and lived, for it came from the most terrible of Nether creatures, a ghast.
Gameknight turned and saw a large white creature slowly float down from the cavern entrance. Nine long tentacles hung beneath the large, bone-white cube, each one writhing and bending, itching to grab hold of its next victim. This was not a normal monster. It was the biggest creature Gameknight had ever seen in Minecraft, much larger than the standard ghast. No . . . this was something different . . . something terrible. This horrific ghast was the King of the Nether—this was Malacoda.
Gameknight was petrified with fear. This was the most terrifying creature he’d ever seen, and easily made Erebus seem like a child’s toy. This monster was the incarnation of hopelessness and despair tied together with the rusty wires of anger and hatred. This was the face that nightmares feared; this was the face of terror.
The moans from Malacoda brought an eerie silence to the room. The villagers turned toward the sound, and their mouths fell open in shock. They had never seen such a terrifying thing in their lives, and it instantly caused all of them to panic. NPCs collided with NPCs as they all bolted for the minecarts, almost climbing on each other in an effort to escape.
The King of the Nether struck out at one of the remaining villagers, throwing a gigantic fireball at the hapless victim and engulfing the doomed soul in a firestorm that mercifully consumed his HP in mere seconds.
Malacoda laughed. “Ha ha ha ha,” the ghast boomed. “Now that one went up quick.”
Scanning the chamber for his next victim, Malacoda launched a fireball at another NPC, then another, and another, until his burning red eyes fell on Crafter, Gameknight, and Hunter, and stopped his attack. The villagers took advantage, those remaining jumping into minecarts and escaping, leaving the three comrades to face the King of the Nether.
“Now what do we have here?” his glowing red eyes scanned Crafter with meticulous care. “A child who is more than a child . . . this is interesting.” His malicious voice filled the chamber as he pointed at Crafter with one of his serpentine tentacles. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“You won’t get a crafter from this village, demon!” Crafter yelled back at the monster.
“Is that so?” Malacoda said.
He flicked his tentacles toward a group of blazes. The burning creatures slowly floated toward the trio, sparks and ash flying from their glowing bodies.
“Quickly, to the minecarts,” Crafter said. “I’ll go last. They won’t shoot any fireballs and risk hitting me.”
Taking three quick steps, Hunter leaped into a minecart and shot down the tunnel. Then Gameknight and Crafter jumped into the last minecart, just as Malacoda fired a huge fireball at the tunnel, hoping to cut off their escape. Their minecart sped down the tracks just ahead of the incendiary ball, the back of the tunnel erupting in explosive flame. The tunnel collapsed just behind their minecart, thankfully sealing it off.
They’d escaped, but just barely.
As they sped down the tracks, Gameknight could hear the ear-splitting screams of frustration from Malacoda, the ghast king yelling at the top of his lungs.
“I’LL GET YOU YET . . .”