Gameknight999 sluggishly woke, the confusing fog of his dreams still wrapped around his mind, patches of clarity just beginning to emerge. He was lying in a comfortable bed, a soft red mattress beneath him. His head hurt. It was still ringing for some reason, and the remnants of a headache echoed with each heartbeat. Had all that battle just been a dream, or a nightmare? Opening his eyes slowly, he found himself staring straight up at a wooden ceiling. Turning his head, he saw cobblestone walls around him and a wooden chest in the corner, the shapes surrounding him all blocky and square.
It wasn’t a dream . . . it was still real . . . oh no.
Standing up, Gameknight climbed out of the bed and looked around the room, his head spinning a little as he turned too quickly. It was empty. There was a doorway leading to a larger room and the walls were built out of cobblestone with glass window panes sprinkled throughout. What is this place? Drawing his sword, he moved to the doorway and peered into the next room. It too was empty. Where was he? He saw a wooden door that led to the outside, sunlight streaming through the small window at its top, casting golden shafts of light across the dusty room. Moving to the door, Gameknight could see that there was something outside; in fact, there were many somethings. It looked like people—no, not just people, villagers; he was still in the village. Well, at least he knew where he was.
Reaching for the door, he opened it and stepped outside, sword held at the ready. Moving a few steps from the house, Gameknight stood and looked at the villagers, their bright eyes and unibrows all trained on him. The entire village was here, the NPCs milling about in a large group, the different colors of their long coats looking like a multihued quilt, a wide dark line down the center of each garment. They all looked a little cross-eyed with their pupils slanting toward the long, overhanging nose that dominated the center of their faces. In normal Minecraft, they had all looked the same to Gameknight, but now, in this higher-resolution world, he could see subtle differences. Some had scars on their faces, likely from a zombie claw or spider fang, but there were also slight differences in their facial structure: the tilt of a nose, the width and color of a unibrow, all slightly varied to create a look of individuality for each. Most notable to their appearance was the look of fear as their eyes all focused on Gameknight.
“I’m not sure what happened after the enderman knocked me out, but thank you for putting me to bed,” Gameknight said to the crowd, his head still aching a bit, the terrible memory of the dark beast still vivid in his mind. “I think I needed the rest.”
Silence.
“My name is Gameknight999, and I’m new to this world. I don’t understand why I’m here but I was hoping to get some information.”
Silence.
“I know you can speak,” he said. “I heard the screams last night when the mobs were attacking.”
Silence, but at the mention of the previous night, the villagers rustled about, clearly agitated.
“I’m not a griefer, I’m a friend. I stopped those griefers that attacked at the end of the battle and will stop anymore that come to trouble you. Please, can someone talk to me?”
Silence filled the square, but it was not a peaceful silence; it was coupled with nervous glances being exchanged between NPCs. A feeling of tension and fear seemed to emanate from them, fear of monsters, but also fear of him. But then a small girl stepped forward and walked up to Gameknight999. The child, with arms linked across her chest, long nose hanging slightly to the right between bright green eyes, walked up to him and stood at his feet, her young blocky face looking up into his. She had a couple of bruises on her cheek, her jaw an ugly blackish-bluish color, slightly swollen.
“Thank you for protecting me last night,” the young girl said.
The child then moved closer and leaned her head against Gameknight’s chest. Putting away his sword, Gameknight reached out and gently patted the girl’s head, feeling her lean in deeper. Her hair felt soft to his hands, velvety soft, as he stroked the long strands. The fabric of her coat was rough in contrast. Gameknight smiled, triggering an avalanche of smiling villagers as they all rushed forward, leaning in toward him in a flood of emotion and gratitude. It was like a great celebration, the only one the village had likely ever experienced after an evening of monsters and mobs. The NPCs all spoke at once, recounting Gameknight’s great feats of bravery the night before, their collective appreciation overwhelming, except for one person.
A single villager stood apart from the celebration and glared at Gameknight999.
“What are all of you celebrating?” the lone villager shouted. “He’s a griefer. He killed my wife.”
His dissonant voice instantly quelled the celebration and caused the villagers to take a few steps back, their faces turned toward the source of the malcontent.
“He can’t be trusted. He’ll destroy us all.”
“Now hold on, Digger,” said another voice from the crowd. “He saved us last night, didn’t he? Why would he do that if he was a griefer?”
“What are you saying, Mayor? He’s a griefer,” Digger continued. “Don’t you remember him coming to our village and breaking open doors to let the zombies in? They took Planter and his wife, turned them into villager zombies. Don’t you remember him breaking a block to allow the skeletons to shoot my wife full of arrows?” He paused as he became overwhelmed with emotion. “. . . my wife!”
Digger glared at Gameknight as the memory of that evening started to replay in his mind, the whites of his eyes turning red with rage.
“I held her in my arms as her HP slowly decayed, her life ebbing away. She was in terrible pain, pierced by at least five or six arrows, but worse than the pain, I think, was the fear of dying, of leaving her family and her village. ‘Take care of our children,’ she whispered to me as I held her in my arms and stroked her hair.” Two young NPCs moved to stand next to Digger, a boy and a girl, both leaning against their father, tears now trickling down their faces. “I told her I’d take care of them and love them enough for the both of us, and you know what she did? She smiled as if my words made the fear of dying go away. And then slowly she disappeared from my arms and from my life, forever.
“This user, or whatever he is, cannot be trusted; he’s worse than the mobs. At least with the mobs we know what they’ll do and why, but with griefers, you never know what they’ll do. They kill for fun. They destroy out of boredom. They are a menace to all Minecraft worlds, not just on this server plane, but on all planes, all the way to the Source.”
“Now, Digger, this one is different, see,” the Mayor said sternly. “He proved himself to be our friend last night and we won’t turn him away.” Turning to face Gameknight, he continued, “You are welcome here, friend, and we will offer you any assistance you require. We owe you that for last night.”
“We’ve never seen the mobs pushed back like last night,” another villager said from somewhere in the crowd.
“That’s right,” said another. “With that many zombies and skeletons, they would have surely destroyed all of us, like the prophecy predicts.”
Then one of the villagers gasped as they pointed above Gameknight’s head. Others noticed it as well and gaped, a look of awe and shock painted on their square faces.
“The thread . . . the thread . . .” they muttered to each other in hushed voices. “The prophecy . . . prophecy . . . prophecy. . .”
Gameknight looked up to see what they were pointing at but only saw blue sky and blocky white clouds drifting lazily overhead. Looking back at the crowd, he saw looks of awe and fear on some of the NPCs’ faces.
“What is this prophecy?” Gameknight asked, confused.
The villagers instantly grew silent, all eyes turned toward Gameknight, then back to the Mayor.
“What?” Gameknight asked.
“The prophecy tells us of an impending battle, great enough to wipe out our village,” the Mayor explained, his eyes glancing above Gameknight’s head, then back down to his face.
“Not just our village,” said a voice from the crowd.
“The thread . . . the thread . . .” quiet voices muttered.
“True,” the Mayor continued, his voice loud compared to hush of all the others, “not just our village, but all villages.”
“All villages . . . why? How is this possible?”
Gameknight asked.
“The mobs are multiplying on this server plane, growing their number and their strength,” the Mayor explained. “Soon, they will overwhelm our world and destroy every living thing.”
“But why?” Gameknight asked, glancing up again. He still didn’t see anything.
The villagers looked nervously at each other and then back at the Mayor, all of them muttering something under their breaths, their words unrecognizable to Gameknight.
“What are you saying? What’s really going on here?” he asked the crowd of NPCs.
Finally, one of the villagers spoke up in a clear voice, his words rising above the rest.
“The Crafter,” the voice shouted. “He must see the Crafter.”
“What?” Gameknight said.
“The Crafter . . . the Crafter . . . the Crafter,” whispered the villagers all at once.
“Yes, Tracker, I think you are right,” the Mayor said as he stepped closer to Gameknight. “You must see the Crafter.” Looking up, he checked the position of the sun. “Everyone tend to your duties. We still have a lot of sunlight left and much to do before the next attack comes. Now go. I will take this user that doesn’t look like a normal user to see the Crafter.”
The villagers started to disperse, murmuring to each other as they went.
“That’s strange,” Gameknight said. “The terrible enderman last night called me something similar. It called me User-that-is-not-a-user, kinda like what you just said. What does it mean?”
Suddenly, all of the NPCs stopped in their tracks and turned to face Gameknight, complete silence filling the village. A distant mooing and the occasional oink floated on the breeze as the blocky faces stared at him, a look of wonder and fear painted across their boxy faces.
“The prophecy . . . the prophecy . . . the prophecy . . .” the villagers murmured with voices full of awe yet also filled with terror at the same time, all eyes locked on him.
“Yes, we must definitely get you to the Crafter,” the Mayor said, a deadly serious tone to his voice. “Come, follow.”
The Mayor walked off, heading toward the castle-like building with the tall tower that every village seemed to have. Gameknight999 followed, the sound of the villager’s voices echoing in his mind, waves of confusion and fear flowing through his soul.