Bad time

The Nether air was thick with the stench of brimstone and old smoke, but Spoke could hardly draw a clear breath through the dull, hot ache settling in the back of his throat. He pressed two fingers against his temples, rubbing in small circles as the stone ceiling rumbled above them.

"They’re still on us, Spoke! Dig faster!" Mapicc yelled, pickaxe swinging in desperate, uneven arcs. Invisible strikes pelted against his back; the clatter of shattering netherite echoed through the tunnel as his chestplate gave way completely. "I’m one hit—I'm dead, Spoke, I'm dead!"

"I’m digging, shut up!" Spoke rasped. His throat felt like sandpaper. He cleared it harshly, coughing once into his sleeve before plunging his pickaxe into the netherrack.

Out of the gloom behind them dropped a figure in heavy armor. A heavy iron mace swept through the empty air with a sickening crunch. A player's particle cloud exploded into smoke, followed instantly by another. Minute stood over the dispersing ash, breathing steadily, his mace dripping with kinetic impact particles.

"Why are you two fighting invisible soldiers?" Minute demanded, his voice hard and pragmatic as he stepped between them and the dark tunnel. "How are you even breathing right now?"

"We don't know!" Mapicc wheezed, falling to his knees. "Ender chest. Please, Minute, just put down an Ender chest!"

Minute dropped the obsidian box without hesitation, his eyes scanning the cavern. "How many were following you?"

"Fifty," Spoke managed, swallowing hard against a dry sting in his pharynx. "At least fifty."

Minute’s face drained of color. "Fifty isn't normal. Up. Dig to the roof. Now."

They broke through the bedrock ceiling into the vast, desolate expanse of the Nether roof. Spoke stumbled slightly onto the flat bedrock, his head pounding in rhythm with his racing pulse. It was just exhaustion, he told himself—just the suffocating heat of the Nether and running on zero sleep.

"How do you even know their tactics, Minute?" Spoke asked, leaning his hands on his knees to catch his breath. His voice had a raspy edge to it.

"I was in the Mafia," Minute answered flatly, walking briskly toward the horizon. "Before Ashswagg went mad with power. It used to be about survival and trade. Then Ash weaponized everyone, forced stasis chambers on every recruit, turned players into nameless numbers. I left before they could chain me to a trapdoor. I've been running ever since."

"We should just roll into Mafia City and drop Ash right now," Mapicc muttered, patching his bare chest with spare leather.

Minute paused and glared at him. "It is a genuine miracle you aren't in a spectator void right now, Mapicc. That is the worst idea I have ever heard. Normal PvP doesn't work against them. Ash doesn't fight fair, and neither do fifty invisible men. You need traps. Do you have allies? Anyone?"

"Squiddo and Jepexx," Spoke said, coughing into his fist. A small, dry rattle lingered in his chest. "Though... neither of them are exactly PvP warlords."

"Then they're liabilities," Minute said, stopping near a drop-off. "And so are you. I don't do teams. Teammates get you killed."

Minute turned and vanished into the Nether fog. Mapicc exchanged a wild look with Spoke. "Splash invisibility," Mapicc whispered. "Now."

Stripping off their gear, they trailed Minute's faint footprints through a hidden portal that led into an Overworld mountain vault. When they broke through the final stone wall, Minute was already waiting, his crossbow raised and loaded.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't execute you both," Minute growled.

"Because if you do, I'll broadcast these coordinates to the entire server within ten seconds," Spoke said smoothly, offering a grin that lacked its usual sharpness. A sudden prickle in his eyes made him blink heavily. "Besides, Minute. You’re alone. We’re hated. Together, we’re a nuisance they can't ignore."

Minute stared at Spoke, his eyes drifting to the slight tremor in the boy's posture before he sighed and lowered the bow. "You're reckless. Both of you." Yet, he turned to his double chests, tossing bundles of potions, stacks of golden apples, armor pieces, and bottles of enchanting at their feet. "Take it. We're moving."

"Come to my hideout," Spoke offered, tucking an enchanted apple into his belt. He sniffled, wiping the back of his hand across his nose. "Never been jumped there. It's safe."

"You're calling me a friend already?" Minute asked skeptically, though his tone had softened. "I'm not your ally, Spoke."

"You're gearing us up like one," Spoke countered, giving a half-laugh that dissolved into a rough, sputtering cough.

Minute frowned, stepping closer. "How long have you had that cough?"

"Just since the Nether," Spoke said, waving a hand dismissively. "Probably breathed in too much blaze powder or ash. It's nothing."

Minute didn't look convinced. He retrieved a leather waterskin from his inventory and thrust it into Spoke's hands. "Drink. You're flushed."

They took to the sky, gliding on elytras toward Spoke's spawn hideout. But the moment they landed, obsidian blocks sealed the entrance. Four invisible figures shimmered from the shadows, swords drawn.

The clash was frantic. Spoke scrambled backward, fumbling with his elytra as the durability dwindled into the red. "Mapicc, mend my wings! Throw the bottles!" Mapicc hurled the enchanting glass, but Spoke’s reflexes were sluggish; the bottles shattered uselessly against the stone wall beside him.

Minute dropped in like an anvil. His mace crushed the nearest attacker with a deafening thud, and the remaining three scrambled back, firing a bright white firework into the sky—a retreat flare.

"Move!" Minute ordered, herding them toward a snowy grove riddled with powdered snow pits. "Put these on." He tossed them leather boots. "They're sending higher ranks now. A Copper-Trimmed player was with that squad. Ash knows where we are."

They took refuge beneath a pine canopy. Spoke leaned back against the rough trunk, shivering slightly. The cold mountain air should have felt refreshing against the heat radiating from his skin, but instead, it seeped deep into his bones, setting off a sharp chill along his spine.

"We need recruits," Mapicc insisted. "Jepexx's base is gone—orbital cannon took care of that—so who else?"

A figure materialized behind a nearby birch tree, casual and unbothered.

"Who's there?" Minute shouted, raising his shield.

"Relax, guys," PlanetLord said, waving a lazy hand. "It's just me. Did you two really have to blow up my flower farm?"

"We didn't do it!" Mapicc protested. "It was Ashswagg's mafia! They're framing us!"

Spoke pulled himself upright, clearing his raspy throat to deliver his usual silver-tongued pitch. "Planet... look, I'm sorry about your vaults earlier. Duped junk anyway. But this 'A' guy—Ash—he’s completely unhinged. Join us. We take him down, your flowers are avenged."

Planet shrugged. "I mean, he does sound pretty evil. Sure, why not."

"Great," Spoke smirked, though his voice sounded thin. As Mapicc distracted Planet with a trading offer, Spoke slipped a Curse of Binding turtle shell onto him. Planet blinked, tapping the helmet. "Wait, this won't come off."

"Fashion statement," Spoke croaked, letting out a ragged cough that bent him double.

Minute was at his side instantly, a firm hand pressing against Spoke's shoulder to steady him. Minute's other hand lightly brushed Spoke's forehead, pulling back with a scowl. "You're burning up."

"I told you, I'm fine," Spoke muttered, though his teeth clicked together in an involuntary shiver. "Just... little headache. Chills from the snow."

"You have a fever, kid," Minute said, his voice dropping into a stern, protective rumble. "You shouldn't be flying, let alone sprinting across coordinates."

"We don't have time for a sick day, Minute," Spoke insisted, glaring through glassy eyes. "If we stop, we're dead."

Before Minute could argue, a spectral arrow hissed through the branches, striking Planet square in the shoulder. A glowing golden aura enveloped him. A Diamond-Trimmed soldier emerged on the ridgeline, followed by a terrifying swarm of invisible silhouettes.

"Run!" Minute roared.

The chase was a nightmare of screaming rockets, shattered portal frames, and frantic tunneling. They ran across thousands of blocks. Mapicc handed his own armor to Planet to keep him alive through the crossfire. Spoke’s vision swam with every step; his boots felt like lead, and every breath burned down into his chest like hot needles. They finally triggered one of Minute's tripwire traps, collapsing a stone cavern on their pursuers and scattering into the dark Overworld.

They regrouped hours later inside an abandoned desert temple. Spoke sat collapsed against a sandstone pillar, his head resting against the cool surface, shivering violently despite the desert heat.

"Planet went to find backup," Mapicc reported quietly. "Who's left for us? Parrot's group?"

"No," Spoke whispered, his throat raw and swollen. "They... tried to kill you. ManePear. We need Mane."

They tracked Mane to the ruined Ice Castle. Mane was leaning casually on a diamond sword, wholly uninterested in their panic.

"Mane, please," Spoke pleaded, his usual energetic cadence replaced by a desperate rasp. "Thousands of invisible players. We need your PvP."

Mane rolled his eyes. "Spoke, you're always trolling. I play this game for fun, not to sweat your imaginary wars."

"It's not a bit!" Spoke snapped, but the yell triggered a violent fit of hacking coughs that forced him to his knees, clutching his ribs.

Mane blinked, momentarily unnerved, before pulling out splash potions. "Look, let me pot up and we can duel, otherwise get out of my castle." When Spoke and Mapicc tried to corner him with a minecart trick to prove their desperation, Mane popped a totem, laughed, broke their Nether portal, and flew away into the clouds.

"Waste of time," Mapicc muttered.

They barely made it to Squiddo's base before another squad ambushed them, forced into another of Minute's powdered snow traps to bury a Gold-Trimmed officer. When they finally tumbled into Squiddo's wooden hall, she was busy organizing barrels, humming softly to herself.

"Squiddo," Spoke wheezed, slumping against a crafting table.

"You blew up my farm," Squiddo said, not looking up. "I don't really trust you guys right now."

"We didn't!" Mapicc cried. "Ash framed us!"

Spoke tried to muster his charm, but a dizzy spell made the room tilt. "Squiddo... please. You don't have to fight. You build. You have contacts. We just need help."

Before she could answer, the front door splintered inward. A Diamond-Trimmed warrior stepped through the threshold, raising a mace.

"Out! Use the elytra!" Spoke screamed.

Mapicc shoved his spare wings into Squiddo's hands, and they blasted through the ceiling just as black signal fireworks lit the night sky. In the chaos of the retreat along an underground railway, dogs howled, wolves snapped, and Mapicc was separated in the dark.

Spoke stumbled into a ravine, coughing until he choked, collapsing against the stone floor.

A hand grabbed his arm, hauling him up into a hidden alcove. It was Minute. Planet, Squiddo, and Baconnwaffles were already there, huddled in the dim torchlight.

"Where is Mapicc?" Minute asked grimly.

"They took him," Spoke breathed, tears of strain and fever pricking the corners of his eyes. "They got him, Minute."

Minute knelt before Spoke, setting aside his weapons. He took a damp cloth from his pack, pressing it gently to Spoke's blazing forehead, ignoring the younger player's weak attempt to pull away. "You're burning through your health bar just breathing, Spoke. Drink this." He forced a bottle of honey and a healing potion into Spoke's hands. "Drink it all."

Spoke swallowed it down gratefully, his chest shuddering as the chills wracked his frame. "Ash wants my exploits. That’s what this is about. If I don't give them up, he's going to kill Mapicc."

"We don't exploit," Minute said firmly.

"We might have to!" Spoke rasped.

Squiddo stepped forward quietly. "Ash gave me coordinates once... for an outpost. If Mapicc is anywhere, he might be there. The coordinates are on my pet ocelot back at my castle."

Minute narrowed his eyes, pulling Spoke back a pace. "You worked for Ash?"

"He's a friend," Squiddo said softly, looking away. "Or... he was."

Minute pulled Spoke outside into the cool night air. "It's a trap, Spoke. She’s loyal to him. We can't walk into this."

"We have to," Spoke whispered, clutching his arms around his chest to stop the shivering. "Mapicc is there. Minute... please. I can't leave him."

Minute looked down at the younger player—exhausted, sick, terrified beneath his bravado. A soft, weary expression touched Minute's eyes. "Stay close to me. Do not do anything reckless. I will get Mapicc back. I promise you."

They flew 25,000 blocks through howling rain to reach the coordinates. Squiddo stayed behind, claiming she had building orders to attend to. When Minute, Planet, and Spoke touched down on the bleak, rocky plateau, there was no outpost.

There were only eight Diamond-Trimmed players stepping out from the shadows.

"Squiddo..." Spoke whispered, horror cutting through his feverish haze.

"Run!" Minute yelled, drawing his mace and slamming his shield forward. "Spoke, Planet—get out of here! Now!"

"Minute, no! We can fight!" Spoke shouted, his voice cracking horribly.

"Go!" Minute roared, smashing two attackers back off the cliffside. "You can't take them like this! Run!"

Planet grabbed Spoke by the back of his tunic, dragging him onto his elytra and igniting a rocket. Spoke looked back through blurred, watering eyes to see Minute engulfed in enchanted swings, holding the line until the clouds swallowed them whole.

They crashed into the dirt miles away. Spoke lay on his back, staring at the gray sky, his chest heaving with shallow, agonizing breaths. Mapicc was captured. Minute was gone. Squiddo had sold them out.

"It's over," Planet said quietly, sitting beside him in the mud. "What do we do?"

"Exploits," Spoke whispered, shivering so hard his teeth chattered violently. "Jamato told me not to... but I have to."

Using the last of their strength, they flew to JamatoP’s old, decimated base. Spoke’s hands shook uncontrollably as he tried to recreate the dupe glitch he remembered from his past. He placed the chests, the pistons, the redstone wire. He loaded the enchanted golden apple into the slot, fired the pulse—

The apple vanished. Nothing multiplied.

"Looking for this?" a smooth, chilling voice echoed across the crater.

Ashswagg stepped out from behind a shattered pillar, twirling a dark firework in his fingers. His armor gleamed with meticulous trims, his posture relaxed and theatrical.

"Every exploit Jamato taught you, Spoke... he showed to me first," Ash said with a faint, mocking smile. "And every single one has been patched. Your knowledge is worthless. Your little rebellion is empty." Ash glanced at Planet, sneering faintly. "And who is this? A little cotton ball?"

"Where is Minute?" Spoke demanded, swaying on his feet, his vision pulsing red at the edges. "What did you do to him?"

From behind Ash, an invisible figure materialized, snapping a Diamond-Trimmed chestplate over his shoulders.

Minute stepped forward, his eyes fixed firmly on the ground, refusing to meet Spoke's gaze.

"He was pragmatic," Ash chuckled softly. "He realized that martyrdom is a fool's errand. Kill them, Minute."

Minute drew his sword.

"Planet, launch!" Spoke choked out, shoving Planet backward as they triggered their firework rockets, spiraling wildly into the sky just as Minute's blade sliced the air where they had stood.

They flew blind, pushing their elytras until the wings tore, tumbling down near an ancient, overgrown stronghold. Spoke collapsed into the dust of the stone corridors, completely spent, his body radiating fever.

"We have to keep moving," Planet urged, kneeling beside him. "Spoke, come on."

"Wait..." Spoke pointed a trembling finger toward a sealed iron door.

Inside was an old stash—a hidden bunker Jamato had left behind. In the center of the room stood an exploited named mob holding an ancient book. Spoke dragged himself forward, his hands trembling as he flipped open the leather cover.

Coordinates. Followed by a single, handwritten line:

If you are reading this, the server has already fallen. I am gone. Do not look for me.

Spoke let the book fall against his chest, closing his eyes as a violent shiver racked his frame. In the dim torchlight of the forgotten stronghold, with the entire world hunting them and his fever burning hot beneath his skin, Spoke stared into the dark and began to plan.