Archive of Our Own ^beta

Despite the blue skies, Lime could only feel the emptiness of the world. Lush green grass was a stark contrast to the weight he seemed to bear on his shoulders, the infinite sorrows that hung upon his shoulders, trying to drag him down with their many hands. Today was something Lime could only call a ‘hard day’. A day where the skies didn’t rain to let him disguise his incessant tears. A day where everything was perfect, except for his deep emptiness. 

This wasn’t the first time he struggled with this sorrow. It came in waves, pulling him up and down, one small thing setting off a chain reaction that he had no clue how to stop. Logic—

Lime choked back a sudden sob. He froze as his body lurched beyond his own control. He closed his eyes and breathed, struggling to keep them steady, to suppress his emotions for just a little while longer. Just enough to fly to… somewhere. Somewhere that his memory wasn’t impressed. Somewhere he was free from reminders of his friend.

His wings were heavy, and, after several failed attempts that only lead to scraped knees, he gave up on the elytra. He just had to get out of here. He didn’t know where here was, but he needed to be elsewhere. Somewhere besides the apocalyptic wasteland of Legacy’s overworld.

When they had started rebuilding, the idea of making it themed like an apocalypse, to celebrate what had happened to their old world, had seemed fun. But now, it was just a painful reminder that they had lost. Lost to the withers. How could they not have, each small victory preceded by even worse defeat? They may have rescued him from Slicer, from drifting aimlessly in the infinite rift, but they couldn’t rescue Logic .

A Nether Portal. A place to hide. Lime walked in, allowing the magic of the portal to seep into him, taking him away with the familiar nausea, to a place. The Nether was so barely made, and that made it the perfect place to forget, for a moment. 

Why do you have to forget?

Lime flinched. The voice came and went, any remnants of it being his memory. By the time he walked out of the portal, Lime knew he had to be alone. This one lead to the roof. Most did. The Nether Roof was the only part of the Nether that wasn’t unbearable in its heat, the void above providing a weird semblance of a breeze. 

It also had a statue. The Wither Commanders. They had appeared a few weeks ago, after QRC, depicting various figures. No one knew what to make of them, although the new Legates were still investigating.

Most of the old Legates had given up.

Sometimes, friends and family would appear. Lime had heard from Poppy of the Lady Agnes herself appearing, a revelation that made him call up the mentioned in a panic, just to find out she was fine, in fact, having little clue of what was even happening on Legacy. There was nothing, maybe it was just drawing from a random pool of players, nothing special.

At least, not usually.

Because the figure on the statue as Lime approached was a familiar silhouette. The hair sprang out in a certain way, the pose seemed such. Lime hadly could believe it was simply a statue, a false impersonation. 

It looked like Logic and it was so painfully real.

Lime couldn’t help himself. He ran.

He ran to see the face of the statue and that was Logic’s face, with hollow eyes and a blank stare that cut Lime’s heart into pieces. Still, umoving, like a villager spawned with no AI in a creative world, just a husk, a decoration.

But, why must it stay that way?

That voice, again. Lime wished it would go away, let him grieve in private, not keep poking at his mind.

Do you not have the power to try to bring him back? Is this not worth it?

A villager with no AI… but, with some effort, just some simple commands, it could be reawakened, a soul added to the corpse. But it wouldn’t work with a player, commands couldn’t do that, the data just didn’t exist to be changed.

An admin couldn’t. But you could.

That… was a dangerous thought.

Lime looked around. The voice was eerily external. But there was no one around who could be saying anything. It was almost like it was the cry of the Enderdragon, heard by everyone as it makes its final deaths cry.

Or, perhaps, the awakening of a wither. 

Well?

Surface level. Barely more than the other datapacks and plugins they’ve put on the server. Maybe he’d have to mod the world, slightly, but it would be possible. He could make it possible. It wouldn’t harm anyone else, and it would save Logic. Free his soul from the rift and place it safely inside a new form.

That’s how he escaped Slicer, a new form, same soul. He could do the same for Logic. And this Wither Commander would be a base, a form he could build off of.

Oh Lime, what are you doing? 

But as he opened the console, he felt a rush of adrenaline. He typed out a few commands, working to awaken the body as much as he could on a server side. Turning the still statue into something that could accept a soul was a difficult challenge. Soon, he found himself at a roadblock with admin magic. He needed to go deeper. 

The next form of magic he could use for this was modding. It was so much like the Dev Magic he could hold, and thanks to his unique position, he had to be careful he didn’t accidentally go too deep and change the Game Itself. 

He was never a Dev who specialized in creating new creatures. He wasn’t one for coaxing Axolotls away from lava, or teaching Goats how to jump. But he had seen it done, seen the loving care that would be poured into the creation of them, each Goat’s leap carrying days of work inside of it. Each Player’s breath, a marvel of creation. He remembered Logic’s hair, his soft curls, his brown streaks that could sometimes turn almost reddish-brown in the light, or when lightened by the sun. He remembered his skin, small scars and imperfections. He remembered his eyes, bright and gleaming, open and willing. He remembered all that was Logic, the statue a base for the skin, for the form. 

A vessel to hold the soul. Logic’s body. But he needed to go deeper.

The soul, the heart of a Player, it wasn’t accessible to ordinary modders. If this Logic was to go between worlds, he had to go deeper, take the form from the rift and plant it inside of him. He closed his eyes, bracing to not lose himself in the infinity of stars that was one of the deepest layers of the Game. 

He is here.

Exhale. 

Where is he?

The world was so bright, so dark, words, letters… it was so easy to get lost, this deep into the world, in all the colors and shapes that formed everything. He could barely remember his own name sometimes, drifting through space. But he remembered his goal.

Where is Logic?

He turned around, motioning LogicalGeekBoy in the air, making it clear to the Universe what he wanted. 

We can give you Logic.

Who are you?

We can give you Logic.

He pulled back, wishing desperately to take a breath of air, an action impossible in this deepest depths of reality, the space before it turned into words and numbers in a script so foreign. He wanted Logic. He needed Logic back. Why was he hesitant? 

“I just want my friend back,” Lime whispered hoarsely. 

The spoken words echoed in the universe, carrying his sorrow, his guilt, his pain at failing one of the few duties he had. He was a protector and he failed to protect Logic. How could he pretend he was anything more then a failure, when Logic was still trapped in the Rift and he couldn’t get his soul free, as deep into the world as he was? 

The Game seemed to respond. A comforting aura, a pat on the back, an apology for Lime’s sorrow. He craved the feeling, following it listlessly. But, then, quick as it came, it vanished in a cloud of darkness. Suffocating, all surrounding, all consuming darkness . 

And in the darkness, some familiar data, the composition familiar, the usertag known to him. He hurled towards the data, wishing to grab it despite the darkness closing in.

“Logic?” Lime whispered.

The data shifted, changing position rapidly, like the entity it belonged to was thrashing. Darkness rose to cover it, to cover Lime. 

We can give you Logic.

Lime curled in, suffocating, an action that should be impossible in this airless realm. He threw himself away, breaking free from the Dev Realm, the darkness still held on. He couldn’t see . 

Do you trust us, Lime?

Lime’s vision flashed with Logic. With his creation, still so patiently waiting for the finishing touch, for the soul of a player to possess it, inhabit it, for Logic to return and be safe. 

Was it the Withers speaking to him?

Lime prayed it was not as he turned into their embrace. Memories that he had forced down were stirring, and he found himself forcefully shoving them down once more. Logic was what mattered, not him. If Logic could be saved, he would trust this darkness.

“I do.”

And the darkness consumed him.

.

He awoke with a start, gasping for air. The suffocating chill of the bedrock floor continued to rip warmth from his body. If not for the red cloak he wore, his muscles would have been in pain from his position. He forced himself to sit up, his body straining with the effort. Nether roof, empty ceiling… 

Logic.

He looked around, frantic in his weariness, his eyes blurry, just to focus on a still, but breathing , body. He crawled over, holding the body gently in shock. He had done it. 

Then why did something scream at him, deep inside, from instincts honed, to run? 

The face, the body, it was as he remembered, perhaps even more perfectly then his memory. The soul, when he dove a bit deeper, felt… off. Was it off? For a moment, he felt a tinge of doubt as his muscles tensed. Was something wrong? 

Do you want to be wrong?

He shivered in the chill, huddling his cloak around him. He was misremembering. This was Logic. This was Logic. It had to be Logic. 

He slowly pushed back a stray hair that had fallen to hide Logic’s closed eyes. They were still closed, if not for the rise and fall of his chest, Lime could barely believe he was alive. When would he wake up?

Almost like prompted by his thought, the figure, Logic, blinked open his eyes. For a moment, Lime froze. They were red, like a mooshroom. Like… blue seas, just covered slightly in the red dawn. 

“Logic?” Lime asked, his walls starting to spring up again as his mind screamed words of warning.

Logic turned to Lime. The trace of red was gone, and his face was breaking into a smile. “ Lime! ”

Logic’s arms were thrown around Lime, into a deep, genuine embrace. Lime squeezed back, tears already pulling in his own dark oak eyes. He had done it. Any doubts, any words of warning planted deep in his gut were thrown away, all arguments against this suppressed. While Logic wasn’t usually a hugging type, it must have been so lonely in the Rift. Still, Lime pulled away, trying not to giggle with joy, seeing his friend again.

“It’s really you,” Lime exhaled.

“Of course,” Logic said, face flickering, “who else would I be?”

“It’s just,” Lime sighed, looking down at his cloak, covering the bedrock floor, “I’ve really missed you.”

Logic wrapped his hand around Lime’s face, stroking it uncharacteristically possessively. “I’ve missed you too.”

The touch wasn’t gentle. Lime didn’t know what to think of it as Logic gripped his face with a force unknown to Logic. He just froze, following Logic’s eyes as they glistened red again. Lime tensed even as the water that had been building in his eyes finally began to fell. Logic’s head was tilted slightly, and his smile was just a bit wider then Lime remembered. 

Lime found a whimper rising in his throat.

Logic chuckled, “Man, I can’t wait to go back to building, to creating. The Rift was beautiful, but I’ve missed you.”

“The others will be glad to see you,” Lime smiled, “Thomas in particular. He looks up to you like no one else.”

“I know that name…” Logic hummed.

“ThomasToSpace, he… he was one of the new members I called for help,” Lime recalled.

Logic raised his hand to quote, “‘You asked me for help.’”

“Yes, he did say that,” Lime sighed, remembering that day. Using the Rift like that to call for help was a last ditch effort. It could have gone wrong in so many ways. The people arriving could have become trapped in the Wither’s control. He could have hurt them. 

Logic seemed to see his worry. He was always so considerate of that, willing to work with Lime’s occasional quiet bouts of anxiety. “I’d be happy to meet them,” Logic replied, “you’ll have to introduce us. But first—“ Logic straightened up “—I would really just like to go home to Quantum Reef.”

“Yeah,” Lime nodded. He grunted as he stood up, offering a hand to help Logic. Logic leaned on him, holding him close. Lime closed his eyes and breathed, trying to ground himself. Logic had never been this touchy before. He must be touch starved, craving interaction and taking it. And getting used to a new form doubly so. Still, each squeeze felt wrong in the part of his brain that Lime ignored. This was Logic. He is Logic. 

“I barely remember where to go,” Logic chuckled again, “could you show me?”

“We’ll have to go a longer route,” Lime replied, “you don’t have an elytra, so we should stop at the armor equipper to grab one.”

“Right, elytra. Flying.”

“Have you missed it?” Lime asked.

“Of course!” Logic exclaimed, “who wouldn’t miss flight?”

Lime snorted. “I’ll show you around. A lot of new stuff has been popping up lately.”

Logic slung an arm around Lime’s neck, squeezing it. In a tone Lime couldn’t quite place, he exclaimed, “I can’t wait.”

———

They weren’t the only ones there when they stepped out of the Nether Portal and into the room, elytra and armor stands. Mr. Beardstone was observing one of the elytra with a thoughtful look, stroking the thin, almost invisible purple scales that covered each delicate pair of wings. Considering he was wearing an elytra himself, Lime couldn’t imagine why Beardstone needed to be there. Perhaps he was hoping to repair his elytra, they were always a bother when they broke, Mending could only fix small tears. Full restoration of wings took a needle, thread, and plenty of care.

Lime glanced over to Logic. He was staring at Mr. B with narrowed eyes, like he was focused on the man. Lime wondered what Logic was thinking, the first new legate he would get to meet. It made him smile to consider as he called out a greeting to Beardstone. 

“Hey Lime,” Beardstone greeted. The bearded man’s face fell on Logic, and he almost seemed to jump back in surprise. “Who is that ?”

Lime smiled nervously as Logic’s grip tightened. He had to be nervous, then. “Beardstone, I don’t think you’ve met Logic yet.”

“Logic?” Beardstone’s voice was… puzzled. He stepped towards Logic, biting his lip. He turned to Lime, asking, without some amount of distress, “Why are his eyes red?”

“They aren’t,” Lime reassured, “it’s probably just the lighting.”

Beardstone frowned, taking a step back and placing his hand on a diamond sword, the sharp blade still sheathed. “That isn’t Logic, Lime.”

Lime snapped, “Who’s known Logic for years? You’ve never met him. He is Logic.”

“His hair is off.”

“I rebuilt his body,” Lime replied coldly. He found himself reciprocating Logic’s tight grip, refusing to let his recovered friend go. Logic’s said something Lime didn’t catch.

Beardstone obviously did, jumping back and grabbing his sword.

“…” Beardstone shouted. Lime shook his head to clear his ears, the noise blocking it. He had a small headache beginning to form.

Headache or no, when Beardstone lifted his sword, Lime was quick to react. His shield in his right arm, Lime blocked Beardstone’s blade.

“What are you doing?” Lime growled, “You are attacking Logic .”

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” Beardstone’s voice carried a treacherous disbelief within it, “That’s obviously a …”

Lime didn’t catch Beardstone’s accusation, indeed refusing to even consider it. It was like each lie thrown made Lime’s conviction more firm. “Do you know what I can do?” he spat.

“The Lime I know wouldn’t have done this,” Beardstone replied steadily.

“The Beardstone I know wouldn’t attack my friend,” Lime replied, itching to grab a sword. He glanced at Logic, who seemed to have a smirk on his face.

Lime was glad that he wasn’t too scared.

“Lime,” Beardstone sighed, “please, something isn’t right here.”

“What isn’t right is you attacked us,” Line replied.

“That isn’t Logic,” Beardstone continued to insist, “just believe me.”

“You’re stressing him out,” Lime accused, “just go. Please.”

“I am Logic,” a small voice came from the corner, “why are you attacking Lime?”

Beardstone and Logic locked gazes, the former having a glare that was almost capable of killing. He sighed again as he spun around. 

“Where are you going to take him Lime?”

“QRC,” Lime answered.

Beardstone glanced at Logic. “Something is wrong here Lime. You have to see it. The …”

Lime shook his head to clear his headache. He’d need plenty of time in dark rooms to help it. “I’m leaving,” Lime announced. “If you need us, we’ll be in QRC. I hope you’ll learn to recognize an ally in the future.” Lime turned to Logic, speaking aside, “Do you remember how to put your elytra on?”

Logic smiled and nodded, quickly fastening the straps of the wings. Lime offered some rockets, and motioned for Logic to go first, jumping off the building, they flew towards the white structures and towers of QRC. The water was murky, and Lime found himself gazing into it, at the reflection of Logic. It was almost distorted, Logic looked so much paler in the water, even compared to Lime himself. He frowned, but when he glanced at his friend flying beside him, he couldn’t place anything out of the ordinary. Beardstone’s accusations were just that, accusations. How could he think to be able to tell more than Lime?

He’ll never understand Logic like you.

The voices were comforting. Lime didn’t know where they were coming from, it had to be from somewhere inside him, but he found himself welcoming their thoughts. It was like having a friend in his mind, sharing his thoughts with. It at least knew that this Logic was real. 

To Lime’s mild surprise, as the two swooped closer to QRC, Logic veered off, heading towards the black stain of QRC. The Citadel of Power. Lime followed Logic, the two landing safely at the entrance. Logic walked in without a word, looking around at the dark hallways. 

“These weren’t here before,” Logic commented, glancing at the stored trophies. The achievement awards. 

Lime frowned. He had thought Logic had seen them? He must’ve been misremembering. “They’re the achievements, I—“

Logic cut him off, “I know that. I’m just surprised where you chose to store them.”

“It… seemed to fit,” Lime replied, touching one of the glowing objects and sighing. He trembled mildly at the power the objects contained. He didn’t know how he didn’t recognize the Wither’s touch before. The energy that was so clear now had been muddled, hidden. 

“What happened to the milk bucket?” Logic questioned.

Lime looked at the renamed bucket that stood in its place, “I… drank it.”

“Drank it?” Logic tilted his head, his eyes clouded with thought. “Did it taste the same?”

Lime nodded, “I think. It was in the heat of the moment.”

“Hm,” Logic commented, turning away from the display. 

Lime stood still, absorbing the atmosphere of the build. Logic stood next to him, looking into the place as well. 

The Citadel always made Lime uncomfortable to be near, but he was always drawn to it. He supposed it was because he had built it, technically. It was his hands that gathered the resources. It was his mind that designed it. He created this place, and, as much as he was desperate to leave it, for all he had thought about leaving some TNT scattered and removing the last remnants of his time as Slicer, he couldn’t. So he simply stowed his items inside of it, letting them be the reason he came. No other reason. 

Logic’s touch was no longer a surprise, but it still made him flinch. Logic’s hand rested close, long fingernails scratching the surface of his skin. “You must enjoy this place, to spend so much time here.”

“I… I don’t,” Lime said, looking at the floor.

“Are you sure?” Logic asked, so oddly innocently, “it’s rather peaceful, compared to the brightness of QRC. I always loved looking at it while I was building.”

“I… if you say…” Lime’s voice trailed off as he considered Logic’s words. Maybe it was nice, the contrast to the other buildings. Logic had always loved the clean look, the futuristic, modern appearance. But maybe, it was easy to get tired of white. And the Citadel was a nice contrast in those cases. 

“You’re probably getting tired, Lime,” Logic said comfortingly, “why don’t you show us to the bedrooms and you can get some rest.”

Almost as soon as Logic mentioned it, Lime felt the tiredness that had been growing in the background, ever since he had used so much energy to create Logic’s new form, come to full fruition. He almost stumbled on his legs, turning to powder snow beneath him, barely able to hold anything up. Logic’s reassuring smile, and his steady grip, kept Lime upright. 

Lime nodded, walking forward, falling on his elytra, and rocketing up to one of the towers in the corner, one of the levels not filled with various farms. There was where Logic had kept his bed, and a smaller blanket and pillow was there, for when Lime crashed after helping Logic, too tired to continue on. Living quarters rarely were much, most preferring to dedicate their time, but Logic did have a small, messy loft, left untouched since his disappearance. A furnace equipped with a stove lay in the corner, with some ingredients laying in a chest for when they wanted to be fancier in their diet.  Nearby, a bookshelf and desk lay, an inkwell open and dried next to a quill and knife, with paper and a small sugarcane farm ready for when mode was needed.

It pained Lime’s heart to see it, the room was so, genuinely, unashamedly Logic . He could even see the first peaking of a new farm design, scribbles and doodles. Now that Logic was back, maybe the two could build something together. He vocalized this thought.

“I would love that!” Logic exclaimed excitedly. “I could probably sketch up a design. I even know the perfect location.”

“Maybe tomorrow?” Lime suggested.

“Maybe,” Logic smiled, “first I think you need to rest. It’ll take time to plan and gather the materials, but I bet it’ll be so much fun!”

Lime smiled back. He felt awkward in how tired he was, his headache from earlier returning as his brain was filled with fog. It was hard to think as Logic lead him to the green comforter and white sheets of his bed. Logic pet his hair and he tucked him in. Lime didn’t even struggle.

Slipping away, Lime heard Logic giggle, the voice distorted. “We’re going to have so much fun together, SlicedLime .”

.

“Poppy?”

The cat-lady turned around. “Beardie! What do you need so late?”

“I saw Lime today,” Mr. Beardstone replied gravely, “and ‘Logic’ was with him.”

“That… doesn’t sound good?” Poppy asked, confused.

“It definitely wasn’t Logic. I… I think it was Slicer.”

.

Lime was awoken by a rising sun and the smell of freshly baked cookies. He blinked his eyes open, struggling to let his muscles move. It was like a great weight was on them, restraining his movements. 

“Wake up, Lime,” Logic’s voice chuckled from across the room, “you can get out of bed.”

Lime stretched, his muscles finally deciding to wake up with the rest of him. He rubbed his eyes as he suppressed a yawn, walking over to Logic. Logic seemed to have already remade his bed. 

“I made you cookies! Milk and cookies.”

“My favorite breakfast food,” Lime joked.

“Any food is a breakfast food,” Logic reassured, “but I thought it would be better than gnashing on nothing but golden carrots and steak all day.”

“They are a nice change of pace,” Lime nodded, a plate of cookies and two warm glasses of milk laid on the table. The glass was oddly sparkling, a faint shimmer dancing around it. Lime shook his head, trying to wake himself up more.

Logic set himself in one of the chairs, motioning for Lime to sit beside him. He pushed a glass toward Lime, who accepted it, although he did not drink it, letting the warmth seep into his cool hands.

“I stayed up a bit last night,” Logic said, reaching for a cookie.

“Oh?” Lime tilted his head, trying to emulate the motion Logic had been doing more often as of late.

“I was thinking, the first building you and I really bonded over when we reunited. Maybe we should memorialize it.” 

“Make a new armor station?” Lime asked, still not touching his milk.

“No, silly,” Logic chuckled. He sipped his own glass, looking at Lime with calculating eyes. Lime shuffled the glass from his left to right hand, finally taking a sip. It tasted… good, if not odd in its warmth. Logic probably heated it. 

He swallowed, “the Citadel?”

“Of course!” Logic’s eyes shone.

Lime frowned, his stomach churning at the idea. “I don’t know…”

“Why not? I have a design already, even!”

Lime couldn’t disappoint those bright blue eyes. He smiled awkwardly, trying to think of an excuse to not build with that palette again, as he stalled by taking a long sip of milk.

Logic was still smiling when he set it down and wiped his mouth.

“I… just want to spend a few days enjoying your company,” Lime suggested, “we could see the things you haven’t seen in a while! It… it would be fun.”

“Oh, of course,” Logic nodded, “we could even collect materials for the build.”

Lime nodded, only half paying attention. His brain was so oddly foggy at the moment. Even sipping on the milk hardly helped. He listened to Logic ramble about the items, it was the same palette as the Citadel. Blackstone, nether brick, stained glass, basalt, all manners of nether materials. He nodded along vaguely following. 

“Enjoying your milk?” Logic asked as Lime finished the cup. His mind answered the question, but he was barely able to muster up so much as a nod. One of his muscles seized, and for a moment, it felt hard to keep what he had just drank down. 

Logic was there with a soothing hand and sympathetic smile. “I’m glad you enjoyed the cookies,” he said. 

Lime found his body settling, if it was not still a bit shaky. He wiped his eyes again, standing up. He wasn’t sure where he wanted to go, he just felt an urge to move . “They were wonderful.”

He hadn’t eaten any. They lay there, untouched. 

“How about you take me on that server tour?” Logic suggested, “I’d love to see everyone’s bases. Especially the new ones.”

“Of course,” Lime nodded. He walked to the door, surprised when Logic jumped up to open it for him. It took a fair amount of fiddling to open, and Logic glanced at him apologetically.

“I accidentally locked it when I went for a walk last night,” Logic explained, opening the door and allowing the two to walk out onto an open platform.

Lime nodded, a bit surprised at his own acceptance towards being locked in. He supposed it didn’t matter much, considering he was asleep the entire time. Still, it was like he was more unnerved by his acceptance of this then what had actually happened. It was a confusing conundrum, and one Lime’s aching brain didn’t have time to consider, as Logic jumped from the tower, flying towards the middle of QRC, where a massive Nether Portal lay.

It would probably be better to fly above the water, but with how addled Lime felt, he had already been pulled into the portal to begin with. They spawned near the statue where this had all begun.

The Wither Commander had yet to be replaced. None of the other things they tried to destroy the statues had worked. Then again, no one had tried using creation magic on them before. But Lime had.

“You were very clever to do that,” Logic praised, his fingers reaching and stringing themselves through Lime’s hair. Lime tried to pull away, but Logic simply tightened his grip, turning Lime to face the empty stand. “I’m so thankful you gave me back a body.”

“I’m happy you’re back,” Lime said uncertainly. 

“You made your own body after Slicer,” Logic mentioned, “is that something easy for you to do?”

“It’s not the most challenging thing,” Lime answered, “it was hard, before… usually I need a base to work with but… Slicer…”

Logic nodded sympathetically, finally letting Lime’s hair go. He rubbed at the pressure, the spot where Logic had dug his hand in, still slightly aching. “Can you use anything as a base? Armor stand, maybe a mob?”

“Any entity can become a player,” Lime answered, “I merely… gave it form.”

“Lime,” Logic said, “have I ever told you how clever your powers are.”

Lime shook his head, refusing to meet Logic’s steady, predatory gaze. This was Logic, he reminded himself. This was how Logic acted. This was Logic and he was safe. 

“It’s amazing how you manage to create all this, on a deeper level then even modders . I’ve heard, when you made Python, you threw a trident,” Logic said casually.

“You… you were there, remember,” Lime asked.

“Of course,” Logic replied, face expressionless, “I was just wondering if it’s possible your powers helped to create him, not just the trident experiment.”

“That…” Lime found his voice shaking. Logic’s gaze made him feel so oddly small. “We didn’t make anyone. He already existed. We just summoned him.”

“But could your powers make, perchance, another player?” Logic suggested.

Lime exhaled slowly. He looked at Logic from behind strands of disheveled white hair. “I didn’t make you…”

“Of course you didn’t,” Logic snorted, “but could you?”

“I…” Lime glanced at bedrock, “Yes. It’s… not that hard.”

“With a base to work off of?” Logic suggested.

Lime nodded, “With some entity to put the soul into.”

Logic smiled and patted Lime’s back, “That’s just what I needed to know. Are you ready to show me around now.”

Lime stood up straight, wondering when he had begun to slink down into himself. He smiled, slightly forcefully, and, as he pulled back his hair into his standard half-up, half-down, he replied, “Of course!”

“What are we waiting for!” Logic exclaimed, like he hadn’t been the one to delay this. He practically pulled Lime towards a portal, Lime stumbling on his feet in Logic’s hurry. He was almost pushed through, feeling the nausea more this time around. He guessed it was a sign towards his own recovery from the morning.

Showing Logic around was easy. He was quick to listen and ask questions about what had changed. Still, Lime was a bit surprised at what he remembered and what he didn’t. It was almost like, any builds that were too recent, even ones built before his capture, were wiped from Logic’s mind. Despite this, he kept a cheerful attitude about it, suggesting that he simply had lost track of what had happened, with everything changing so fast.

Lime found his relief growing with the lack of Legates around. Especially as they stopped by Mr. Beardstone’s house. The bearded man’s accusations towards Logic still stung, and Lime couldn’t help his voice faltering as he pointed out the shipping containers that had been delivered, in spite of the post-apocalyptic state of the server.

“He keeps acting so suspicious, that Beardstone,” Logic suggested.

“I… how?” Lime asked.

“Well it’s obvious,” Logic said, like it was, in fact, something elementary that Lime should have known, “he makes wild accusations about people, and he even seems to have a way to get in and out the server without us. When’s the last time you’ve left?”

It wasn’t easy to get off of Legacy, but it certainly wasn’t impossible. As the withering chaotic events grew, several members fled for better waters. Pearl’s almost complete departure in particular was still rough on Lime. He hated how he couldn’t protect his friends, he couldn’t keep them safe on the server he loved so dearly.

Lime shook his head, turning away from the structure. Beardstone may be a talented builder, but he didn’t want to be reminded of his… friend at that moment.

“Where to next?” Logic asked.

Lime considered. They had taken a peak at most people’s bases. Thomas, Malcolm, Kim… BTD was the last one. “BowTieDaniels’ place is right behind that tent, past the llama.”

He led the duo, wading through the river, on the short walk to BTD’s house. Fortunately, there was a bridge on the other side, and their feet quickly dried in the beating desert-savannah sun. The walk was short, and Logic cracked a joke. Lime snorted in reply, and the two continued to banter as they approached the house. 

The two fell silent as they went over the bridge, seeing they weren’t alone. BTD was constructing an odd pink and black tree, and Avomance was watching him, apparently chatting. BTD and Avomance waved as the two approached. Lime caught a quick glare from Logic at Avo, but the look disappeared quickly, replaced by a brighter, more genuine smile. 

“Avomance!” Logic exclaimed, “I can’t believe I’m seeing you again.”

“Logic,” Avomance replied, with less enthusiasm. He seemed to look upon Logic with suspicion, an action Lime found disheartening. Why can’t his friends like each other again? Did Beardstone spread his own opinions? 

“I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you,” BTD hurried to Logic’s side, ignoring Lime. “I have your bow tie, actually! We should go grab it.”

“My… bow tie?” Logic asked, taking a step away from the enthused BTD. 

“Of course!” BTD nodded. He and Avomance exchanged a glance. “I’ve gotta show you, come on!”

“I think I would prefer to stay with Lime, actually,” Logic shifted, wrapping a hand around the now-frozen Lime. 

“I need to talk to Lime, Logic,” Avomance replied, his face looking distant and dark. 

“You can say anything in front of Logic,” Lime affirmed. He tried to emulate Logic’s touch, but found himself awkwardly patting Logic’s back instead. Logic still seemed to appreciate it from the tight squeeze he gave.

BTD didn’t falter from his cheerfulness. He grabbed Logic’s arm, prying him off of Lime. “Come on, I’m so excited to finally talk to another Bow Tie enthusiast. I have to show you my entire collection.”

Logic continued to protest as BTD dragged the smaller man away and into the house. Lime, trying to follow, found himself blocked by Avo. Lime sighed, rubbing his head as a brief pain shot through it. 

“Lime, come on,” Avomance motioned to a spot beside the black and pink tree shape, in the shade from the hot sun. “Let’s sit down and talk?”

Lime didn’t move. “What do you want to talk about?” 

“It’s Logic.”

Lime flinched. 

Avomance squinted.

“Why do you need to talk about him?” Lime asked.

“You rescued him,” Avomance said, “ how? ”

While his tone seemed genuine, Lime couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be an accusation against him. “Did Beardstone talk to you?” Lime asked.

“Poppy did,” Avomance corrected, “she’s worried about you. We all are.”

“Why aren’t any of you happy?” Lime asked. “Logic is back and it’s like I am the only one who cares.”

“Mr. B talked with Zloy, you remember him?” Avomance asked.

“What would Zloy have to do with anything?” Lime questioned, remembering the zombie dimension traveler that they had accidentally pulled into Legacy through the rift. He had seemed nice, despite the ‘netherite’ stone swords. However, he hadn’t stayed for long before he was pulled back into other worlds. He wondered how Mr. B knew him, Zloy had left long before Lime had called Beardstone into their world.

“He was on a world with Zloy,” Avomance answered, “and… Zloy built something. An AI.”

“Lots of players have made AI’s,” Lime pointed out, “I could name three from Hermitcraft alone .”

“This is different,” Avomance insisted, “Alice, she— they were called. And they had a player form and they were, for all purposes, Zloy’s child. I just… maybe this Logic could be similar.”

“I didn’t make Logic,” Lime spat, “I simply made a new physical form for him.”

“Are you sure?” Avomance asked, eyes glistening, “because that? That man isn’t acting like the Logic I remember.”

“You and Logic never talked as much as we have,” Lime replied, “if he wasn’t real, I , would know.”

“Are you sure ?” Avomance said again.

Lime’s eyes flashed. He was angry. So sorely angry. “What are you accusing me of?” Lime shouted.

“Lime, I’m not accusing you, I’m just—“

“Leave. Just, go ,” Lime hissed.

“Lime, your eyes are red,” Avomance’s tone was filled with worry… or maybe pity.

“I’m fine,” Lime insisted, “just go. Now.”

“Lime—“

“Lime!” Logic’s voice called. He rushed over, putting himself in between the two glaring men. He touched Lime on the shoulder, rubbing slightly. Lime’s vision went blurry, and he blinked water back.

“What’s going on?” BTD asked.

“Lime, please,” Avomance continued, “Beardstone—“

“Lime is leaving,” Logic declared. “His mind isn’t going to be poisoned by wild accusations from you.” Logic grabbed Lime, forcefully opening his wings, before launching a rocket for the two to fly away.

.

“Did he recognize it?”

“It’s… what is he?”

“Mr. Beardstone thinks it’s Slicer.”

“I thought you said Slicer was more obvious.”

“It definitely isn’t Slicer. I’m getting an expert to test my theory.”

“Who?”

“I think we’ll need to contact Zloy.”

.

The duo landed in the gardens of QRC, Lime still dazed from what happened. He had yelled at his friend, and was only now coming to enough of his senses to conceive of it. He found himself brought to his knees from his sobbing. He would have almost thought this Logic… He would have thought Logic would comfort him. Instead, he just walked forward, admiring the carefully cultivated plants, only slightly running wild from lack of care. Lime focused on the grass beneath him to distract himself from his heavy breathing.

“Why are you so stressed?” Logic asked, plucking a flower.

“I…” images of him yelling, Avomance’s mention of red eyes, his own uncontrollable emotions, “I don’t know.”

Logic sighed, kneeling down next to Lime. Lime squeezed his legs tightly, trying to become as small as possible. Everything felt so hopeless . “Lime,” Logic’s voice was analytical, calm, grounding. The perfect thing for the distressed developer to cling on to. “Why do you care so much about whether they think I’m real?”

“Because… I don’t… what if they are right?” Lime asked, “what if I’m just going crazy?”

Logic scoffed. “You are probably more rational now then you’ve ever been. What have the others ever done for you?”

“They helped us fight the Withers,” Lime pointed out.

Logic rolled his eyes, “And they didn’t even succeed. You fought so hard, and they couldn’t even arrive in time to save me. Doesn’t that make you… frustrated . Maybe a little… angry ?”

Logic was poking holes into Lime’s mind, small, precise attacks. Lime only sobbed as it happened, nothing but ears to Logic’s words. They had helped, as much as they could. Why would he blame them? 

“Aren’t you… happy , then, to get a chance to yell? To let it out on them?”

And he was . He was flooded by a rush of something he wanted to call adrenaline, but was forced to admit it was joy. He chuckled between sobs, imagining Avomance’s look of concern. It was almost silly to imagine that face on the others … 

No.

Lime gasped, shaking his head. “Why would I think such things?” he cried, “they are my friends . You are my friend.”

“You’re the one who thought it,” Logic shrugged, “not us.”

Lime’s mind was too rattled to capture Logic’s words.

Logic sighed, grabbing Lime’s arm and helping to force him to his feet. “You’ll be fine,” Logic said, “why don’t we go back and grab some leftover cookies? It might help you clear your mind.”

Lime nodded quietly, brushing away a few more tears that threatened to spill. He leaned heavily on Logic as they walked the way there, up long flights of stairs. This time, the door easily opened up. Logic guided Lime to the table, making him sit down on a chair. He then lit the furnace, preparing some warm milk.

Lime sat in silent contemplation. He had his friend back. Why did it feel like everything was falling apart?

A mug of warmed milk was pushed in front of him. Logic ordered, “Drink.”

Without a second thought, Lime took a long sip of the soothing drink. Logic’s smile made it worth it, despite the fact Lime didn’t feel very hungry. “When did you get into an obsession with milk?” Lime asked.

“It helps promote strong bones,” Logic said. 

“That’s not entirely true,” Lime replied, staring off into the distance, “calcium is important, but a well balanced diet is most important. Besides, many dark green grasses contain more calcium.”

“I didn’t know that,” Logic chuckled.

Lime frowned. “I… thought I’ve told you that before.”

Lime sighed. He took a seat next to Lime, almost uncomfortably close. “Lime… I’m… after the rift, I’ve been having some memory issues. You’d understand, right.”

Lime did. His brain had been off for a few weeks following… Lime drank more milk, before nodding.

Logic giggled, “You have a mustache, Lime.”

He leaned over with a wool rag to wipe it off. Lime smiled awkwardly afterwards. “That’s… fun.”

Logic stared into Lime’s eyes. His eyes were blue. Not red. And Lime’s were brown. Not red. They were both okay. Lime wished the others could understand. Maybe he didn’t need them… something inside him told him that he didn’t. All he needed was Logic. He could just listen to Logic and everything would be okay. Logic was logical, after all. 

“Could… I see your diagrams, for the build again?” Lime requested.

Logic’s eyes shone, pulling out the sketches for a build. Lime looked down as Logic pointed out different components. It wasn’t identical to the Citadel. It was more of a tower, built around a base of obsidian. Notes such as ‘wither skeleton sentries’ and ‘chains or iron bars?’ were dotting the outside. 

Logic sounded so passionate, just like he would if the build was a farm, or some other redstone contraption. Lime loved it. This was proof that this had to be the Logic he knew. Logic was passionate about the things he loved. It was always so nice to see, and Lime found himself smiling, adding suggestions, jotting down more notes.

Any past worries about this build being so similar to the Citadel seemed to vanish, like they had drunk a potion of invisibility. Even if it was odd, some of the design choices, the skeletons… it wasn’t as if it mattered. What mattered was that they were doing it together. 

Soon, the plan had finally been finalized. Lime had finished his drink, and was feeling oddly tired, practically hypnotized by Logic’s words. Logic’s smile, it was so sharp. It seemed to grip Lime’s mind like Logic’s hands had done. 

“You are tired.”

Lime nodded, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Logic hummed, looking thoughtfully at the mug. 

“My… Logic,” Lime gasped as a sudden, sharp pain shot through him. Something was wrong. He could feel something rushing through him, something that set his veins on fire, “it hurts.”

Logic watched as Lime kicked away, falling on the floor, muscles squeezing. “You aren’t in pain,” Logic dismissed, “you’re just tired.”

Lime wasn’t tired, but he found his eyes closing anyway. Hands wrapped around him and dragged him into his bed, laying a blanket haphazardly over. With his muscles seizing, Lime couldn’t even move to adjust himself. He was a prisoner in his own body.

“Too much, then,” Logic murmured. A warm hand grabbed his neck, pressing against it to feel its pulse. “This’ll be a longer task, if this much energy causes seizures.”

Lime wanted to scream, asking what Logic meant. But everything hurt, and it was almost like the words slipped from his brain as soon as they were said. It was a strange helplessness. Lime could only try to gasp out, “Help…”

Hands wiped the side of his face, brushing back stray hairs. A sigh, and the floor creaked as someone stood up, “Just sleep Lime. You’ll forget all of this in the morning.”

And Lime was helpless to not fade away into nothingness.

.

“Let me get this right,” Zloy said incredulously, “you are choosing the guy traumatized by the death of his child, to figure out if someone else actually created someone?”

“Well, now that you put it like that ,” Poppy winced.

Avomance opened his mouth. “You’d be the only person—“

“—Zombie—“

“—Zombie, we know who has ever created something like this! You might be able to tell,” Avomance insisted.

Zloy shook his head. “Just because my name is evil doesn’t mean I can tell when someone else is evil. I barely know SlicedLime or LogicalGeekBoy, I wouldn’t be able to figure out if he was created or not! Ali— my child, I didn’t make them on purpose.” Zloy sighed, “I just did it on accident.”

“Do you think Lime did this on accident?” Poppy asked.

Zloy looked thoughtfully. “Is Lime the type to get sad and make rash decisions.”

“He’s never really been…” Avomance said, his voice trailing.

“Emotional,” Poppy replied.

“Ever,” Avomance confirmed.

“So,” Zloy replied, “you have a guy with the power of creation, who apparently suppresses his emotions enough that you’ve barely seen them. Do you think he’d get upset and accidentally create a fake version of his best friend?”

“Then Avo’s theory is right?” Poppy asked, tail twitching. 

“Alternatively, what withering event is going on right now?” Zloy asked.

“Cutest Companion,” Avomance said, “we all have to carry around axolotls.”

“I mean…” Zloy looked around, “I’m not carrying an axolotl?”

“Wait,” Poppy said, “you don’t feel unbearably lonely?” 

“Or see text with puns about how you need an axolotl?” Avomance suggested.

Zloy sighed deeply, “Why are the withers like this?” he asked no one in particular. 

Poppy took her axolotl out of her pockets, the cute animal swimming in it. She gently set it down on the floor, staring at it. “Oh.”

“So, Logic might be the withering event, just like Slicer…” Avomance thought aloud.

“I don’t think he is Slicer,” Zloy said. “I suspect Lime created him, but the withers infected this Logic.”

“But why do they always go after Lime?” Poppy asked.

“Do you really have to ask that?” Zloy asked, raising a nonexistent eyebrow. 

“We have to tell him!” Avomance exclaimed.

“But would he ever believe us?” Poppy asked. 

The three looked around at each other, each knowing the answer. Lime was convinced that Logic was real, despite how he didn’t behave like Logic . How could they convince him that something was wrong, when every insistence was met with more resistance?

“I still think you should talk to him, Zloy,” Avomance said, “it might be better if you can relate to losing a friend, and creating someone.”

“They were my child ,” Zloy muttered.

.

When Lime woke up, he was greeted by an already alert and awake Logic. From the bags under Logic’s eyes, Lime almost wondered if he had even slept himself. But that didn’t matter when Lime was whisked away, given a whisk, and began to whisk some batter for a cake.

As Logic explained, after the stress of yesterday, making a cake together would be a great bonding activity that wouldn’t cause too much stress. Logic had gotten up early to mine for the resources for their build, and trade with villagers for some of the more complex ingredients, such as butter. Baking was just chemistry, after all, “and what sort of geek doesn’t love chemistry!”

Lime couldn’t find fault with that, giggling as Logic checked one of his books for how to create baking powder from broken down cobblestone fragments. The reaction was easy enough, but Logic took it with great care, although he couldn’t resist adding in some vinegar to clean the bowls, creating a foaming sensation.

Meanwhile, Lime found himself grinding up wheat for a rough flour. It was a simple task, and he could chat away with Logic, who was creaming the butter and sugar together.

“I had hoped the villagers would have had some cocoa powder, but I ended up deciding to stick with a basic cake,” Logic explained.

“There is a jungle nearby,” Lime recalled, “might be too late to grab some cocoa beans now.”

“I’ll remember that for next time,” Logic nodded, “I had enough trouble gathering butter as it was.”

The villagers never were eager to give up their precious supplies of food to players, even in exchange for emeralds. 

Lime offered his freshly ground flour to Logic, who poured it in with the concoction he made, quickly stirring it together. Lime grabbed a pan from a chest, offering it up for Logic to pour his batter in.

While the batter lay baking in a furnace, next was the frosting. Logic brought out milk for a quick buttercream frosting. Not Lime’s favorite, but tasty none-the-less.

Sugar, butter, and milk mixed together, created a simple frosting. To Lime surprise, Logic added some black dye in it, turning the frosting a dark color. 

Then, it was just a waiting game for the cake to fully cook. Logic offered another glass of milk and he gladly drank it. His head felt a bit foggy, and it was hard to think. He almost felt like he was simply floating through, listening to Logic’s cheerful words, with no real thoughts of his own. Logic said something, and Lime responded without even knowing what he said. At least it seemed to make Logic happy, and that’s the only thing that mattered; pleasing Logic.

The only thing that brought him out of his stupor was an incessant beeping

“The cake’s ready,” Logic squealed. Lime gripped the table, breathing heavily as Logic grabbed some wool, so as not to burn his hands, as he grabbed the cake out of the furnace. “It just has to cool and then we can frost it.”

The table was hard, solid, grounding. Logic’s nonchalant words felt so dizzying to Lime’s head. He just squeezed the solid wood, the firm oak, the table. His eyes were closed as he simply focused, in, and out. In, and out.

“Are you okay, Lime?” Logic asked, grabbing his shoulder, and, with his other hand, slowly peeling away Lime’s iron grip on the table. Lime found himself holding Logic’s hands for comfort. Logic set himself up as the only place Lime could go to ground himself, as the only player Lime could truly trust. But instead of feeling suspicious like he maybe should have, Lime just felt… dependent.

“I need you,” Lime tested. It felt right. How had he lived without Logic this long? He could barely control his own sorrow, how could he last without Logic?

“I know you do,” Logic said, his voice oddly… something. Some trace that Lime’s mind refused to catch. But there was something there.

Lime assumed it was nothing.

A few hours later, the cake had been frosted, and Lime was left alone. Logic had locked him in, going off to collect more materials for the build. They would begin working on it tomorrow, right over the original rift. Lime had been given some basic blueprints, and now he was working on more details. Logic had praised Lime’s mind for making the Citadel look so beautiful (for the first time, Lime thought he could agree), and left him to plan the exterior decorations. From the cell in the middle, with materials only put as a question mark, to the fancy walls outside, it was going to be big; almost more a temple to the Withers.

Of course, it was just for fun. Just a decoration; it didn’t mean anything. That’s what Logic had told him, and Lime had agreed. Just because it was so similar, from the materials, to the mind making it perfect , it was just for show. 

The hardest part would be gathering the wither skeletons. Logic’s notes had suggestions for as many as twenty. Twenty named wither skeletons, one would almost think they were going to create a withering army. It would be the perfect defense for the Rift. Anything else would become too corrupted at the rift’s core, but the skeletons couldn’t be. 

Lime was too deep into his planning to even respond when he heard the first knock on the door, considering whether glazed terracotta would be too busy of a design right next to the containment cell. The second, louder knock had him standing up. He walked over to the locked door, wondering who it was. Logic certainly wouldn’t knock.

“Hello?” he asked, his voice scratchy.

“It’s me, Lime,” a barely recognizable voice flew through, “may I come in?”

“It’s locked,” Lime warned. 

“Can’t you unlock it?” the voice asked. Whoever it was had a familiar, foreign, accent. 

“No,” Lime replied quietly.

The voice was quiet. The doorknob rattled a bit, before an audible click was heard. The door swung open to reveal…

Zloy. That zombie they had accidentally picked up when traveling across the Rift.

Lime didn’t remember Zloy much. He knew he had scammed them into fake Netherite Swords by enchanting them with Mending. He also knew that, as soon as they had managed to get a connection with another world, Zloy had jumped ship, mentioning something about needing to see his ‘All Store’ again. 

“Now can I come in?” Zloy asked, looking at Lime’s fidgeting figure. Lime suddenly felt slightly self conscious of his moving. There was a small, ever present nervousness inside him, a voice telling him Logic might not like this.

Lime’s small nod was a testament to this. It was hard to speak, Zloy may have barely reached Lime’s waist, but he carried himself with a charisma. And his eyes. His yellow eyes seemed to look at Lime with… something akin to pity.

“Did they put you up to this?” Lime asked, already knowing the answer.

“They told me what was going on,” Zloy said, helping himself to a chair, “I agreed to talk to you. You see, I also accidentally created a… well they are, were, my daughter…” Zloy’s voice faded into a quiet mumble.

Lime’s gaze softened. “It’s difficult to lose someone,” he agreed, looking at the cooling cake.

“It is,” Zloy nodded, his voice thick. “I’d give anything to talk to Alice for just a few more minutes.”

“Lots of players have lost someone,” Lime mused, “why did they send you specifically?”

“I made Alice, sorta, on accident,” Zloy replied.

Lime flinched, “I didn’t make Logic, that is Logic.”

“Yes, he is,” Zloy affirmed.

Lime felt a sudden pang of relief. He blinked away tears he hadn’t known he was forming. 

Zloy continued, “I didn’t make Alice either. She appeared and I guess I made her a body.”

“I made Logic a new vessel to inhabit,” Lime mused. 

“Then we’re more similar than we’d think,” Zloy replied, with a small smile. 

The two sat in an awkward silence, the conversation having already died.

“How have the Withers been?” Zloy asked, “I remember when I left you were dealing with withering events. What one is going on now?”

“Cutest Companion,” Lime replied, “we have to carry around axolotls.”

“Or what?” Zloy asked.

“It’s… like the world is empty. A weird loneliness,” Lime recalled, shuddering as he remembered the pangs he felt after the event started. How it took a few experiments to realize it was, in fact, axolotls they referred to. How everything started feeling okay once he had the adorable little creature by his side. 

“Could I see your axolotl?” Zloy asked.

Lime nodded, looking through his hotbar… 

He blinked. He didn’t have his axolotl on him? Then, why wasn’t he lonely? 

“Do you not have it?” Zloy asked.

“When did the event change?” Lime shot back, slightly distressed.

“Apparently,” Zloy said, “when Logic appeared.”

Lime bit his lip, shaking slightly. It was like his brain refused to think. He stood up, walking over to the chest, and pulling out a cup of milk. He kept shaking as he drank it, letting it calm him down. His body became still and his mind became emptier. He wished Logic was there. He knew Logic would know what to do.

“I didn’t know you were a milk person,” Zloy commented. 

Lime didn’t respond. 

“Could I have some?”

Lime poured a glass and gave it to Zloy. He took a small sniff and a small sip. 

Zloy frowned. “It had a weird appearance.”

“It’s just milk,” Lime replied. “Tastes fine.”

“I can’t actually taste, my taste buds rotted off a few years ago,” Zloy said. 

Lime kept his eyes on the floor. He wished Logic was there. He begged for Logic to be there.

“What about the cake?”

Lime turned around, cutting a piece and thrusting it at Zloy. Lime’s voice shook as he said, “Take it and go.”

“SlicedLime,” Zloy said, inching forward. 

Lime couldn’t take it, “Just go. And tell the others I won’t talk to them without Logic. Whatever you have to say can be said with him.”

Zloy sighed. He took the cake and left. The door swung shut and locked itself behind him.

Lime collapsed on the floor and began sobbing, a position that Logic found him in, hours later, before which Lime dutifully recounted the tale to Logic.

That was the last time he was left alone again.

.

“Oooh, cake,” Poppy said, looking over at Zloy’s offerings.

“Did Lime give you that?” Avomance asked.

Zloy nodded. He took a glob of cake, and a glob of frosting. He squinted his eyes at them. “So you know how when items are enchanted they glow weirdly?”

The two nodded.

“And how that that also happens with those annoying achievement trophies?”

“And the achievements,” Avomance mused, “are also withering energy . Zloy, are you saying Lime’s being poisoned?”

“I’m not not saying it,” Zloy replied, “I don’t get why milk of all the things.”

“Because…” Poppy said, tail twitching, “Lime’s drank withering energized milk before, his achievement trophy. They must’ve figured out a way to hide it from him.”

“That’s not all I saw,” Zloy said, “SlicedLime also has plans. For a building that looks a lot like that Citadel.”

“Why is Lime building another Citadel?” Avomance asked, tilting his head, “He hates that place.”

Zloy shrugged, “Like I said, I don’t know SlicedLime or LogicalGeekBoy well enough to guess. I legitimately am not sure what else I can do here.”

“If you want to leave, you can,” Avomance sighed, “but it would be nice if you can stay. You might be the only person to get through to Lime.”

“How?” Zloy said incredulously.

“I don’t know,” Avomance admitted.

“So,” Zloy said, rubbing his face with his hands, “we have no plan, few allies, a SlicedLime who doesn’t want to listen to reason, and a LogicalGeekBoy who is probably trying to do something actually evil.”

“It does sound hopeless when you put it like that,” Poppy cringed.

“How? It only took two of you to take down Slicer last time,” Zloy pointed out, “with everyone it should be a piece of, well, cake.”

.

“Wake up Lime,” Logic’s voice giggled. Lime sat up, his brain not even registering the environment around him. His dreams had been dark, almost reminding him of his time spent in the rift when the Withers had played with his body. Voices, mocking voices, laughing at him… 

He shook his head clear. Dreams weren’t real, but Logic was real. And Logic wanted him to wake up . His brain focused on Logic’s outstretched hand and he pulled himself up. Logic was already moving as Lime caught his breath, trying to stumble after him. 

Lime paused, for a moment. There was some water in a cauldron, where the dishes would be washed, and he chanced to catch a reflection of himself. His hair was in such disarray, the ordinarily pulled back, half-up, half-down, style seemed more like a matted mess. Whether it was the blue of the water, he didn’t know, but his skin looked unusually pale, and the bags under his haunted, oddly reddish eyes were growing. There was a hint of unhealthy blackness to his veins as well. He tried to sweep a hair back, instead just feeling the mat that had begun to build. He didn’t even want to look down and see his dirty clothes.

Logic noticed that he was simply staring at his reflection instead of following him. Logic’s appearance was well put together, his hair neatly groomed, his bowtie impeccable. While his eyes were also closer to red, and his veins also flushing black, it was almost less noticeable.

“Without me, you’re a mess,” Logic observed, “you can’t do anything on your own except cry.”

Lime blinked back tears as Logic’s words rang in the air, holding themselves up there and exposing Lime for all to see. 

Logic sighed disappointedly, “I can’t let them see you like this. Why don’t we clean you up a bit before going to build?”

Lime was making Logic look bad. That was all. No concern for Lime. Lime squeezed his eyes shut as he nodded, not quite wanting to be mentally there. Logic guided him to sit on the chair, and slowly brushed out the mats between Lime’s flinches and fidgets. 

The silence wasn’t the comfortable quiet between two friends who were happy to be together. It was an oppressive, disappointed silence. A silence where Lime could tell himself that the brush gently brushing out the mats was being held by someone who cared for him. Logic must care, even if only a little, to help Lime through this negative mental state.

As the brush strokes turned from slightly painful to a more smooth, Logic’s small humming was more audible to Lime. He wished he recognized the song, some sort of long dark retelling of an upbeat base.

“Is that better,” Logic asked, a soft thunk as he set the brush down on the table. 

Lime exhaled as he saw his face. It looked better. He was happier. 

“I also have a change of clothes for you,” Logic continued, “in the chest over there. You can change and I’ll wait outside for you.”

A quick nod of affirmation, and a few quick minutes, and Lime was feeling much more comfortable. As he walked outside, Logic was leaning on the concrete beside the door, he bowed his head slightly. “Thank you.”

Logic smiled, a hand stroking Lime’s long, silky locks. “What are friends for?”

“For building together?” Lime suggested, trying to make an awkward joke.

Logic face scrunched into a forced smile, “Of course. I have the materials gathered.” His face relaxed, eyes gleaming as he added, “Your design was great. I can see why the Withers chose your mind to create the Citadel.”

Lime frowned, trying to avoid turning in the direction of that place. “Thank you?”

Logic chuckled, “Don’t thank me until after we get this built. It’s really going to be the crown jewel of Legacy when we are done. Do you have your elytra?”

Lime did, and quickly fastened the straps to put it on. Logic practically pushed him off the tower, before the two began flying towards the contraption containing the rift.

Lime kept his eyes on Logic the entire flight. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to look down, to see all the builds his friends had made. They weren’t going to go anywhere. Were they?

With some grace from years of practice, the two swooped down to the spot Logic had chosen. It was near, but not on top of, the original spot of the rift. Lime guessed that was due to the many abandoned buildings that lay around, derelict and forgotten. 

Except, one wasn’t as empty as Logic had evidently hoped. He had already laid down a foundation, and was showing the spot to Lime, when the familiar zombie voice called out from the nearby ship. “What are you building?”

Logic ignored Zloy. “Here,” he said, “is the start of the wither skeleton chambers. I’ll collect them, any one of them could probably knock you over.”

Logic’s chuckle at his own words did nothing to stop Lime’s own sinking sense of self-pity.

“Hey,” Zloy called out. The zombie jumped ship and glided over to the two. “You’re obstructing my sight lines.” 

“Not like you’ve been around to care,” Lime snarked. He looked away from Zloy’s eyes, biting his lips in surprise at his own words.

Zloy didn’t seem to be deterred. “What are you, hrmgh .”

A stone sword laid inside of the zombie. Lime gasped, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him from running forward and taking care of Zloy’s wounds. The sword slash was bleeding a golden color, and the wound was throbbing, from an unhealthy black to a pale green. The body lurched as it gave away, bursting into a pile of items.

“Why did you…” Lime’s voice trailed off. Logic threw the sword beside Zloy’s items, refusing to pick either up. 

“I was just giving him back his sword,” Logic smiled, his eyes a cruel red. Lime took a step back, unnerved. Logic’s face twisted into anger. “Come on, we have a sanctum to build.”

Lime froze, breathing heavily. It was like his world was shaking, caught between horror and following Logic’s commands. His vision was blurry, and all he could feel was the linen of his tunic on his skin, the sand digging into his soft leather boots, the weight of the armor on his arms and shoulders, the pulling of a hand on his hair , forcing him to stumble forward.

“Oh SlicedLime,” Logic sighed, “you are so close to being perfect. Why can’t you just follow me? We’re doing something fun, aren’t we?”

Lime nodded, the hand on his hair relaxing to allow him the motion.

“Then,” Logic’s voice carried a sinister undertone, “why don’t you grab this stone, and I this concrete, and let’s build something worthy of the withers.”

The grip on his head was released, and something thrust into his hand. Blackstone. 

Material from the Nether. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed, reminding himself he was safe. 

He could trust Logic. He would trust Logic.

Lime’s face took on a soft smile, placing the first of many blackstone. “Let’s build.”

.

“They’ve built so much already,” Poppy’s voice carried a slight hint of distress.

Mr. Beardstone shook his head, “Have they ever taken a break?”

“No,” Zloy sighed, “they’ve been building since Logic killed me. Thankfully it only was a few hour respawn.”

“Don’t call it that,” Avomance growled, his gaze focused.

“Unless you have a better name,” Zloy replied, shrugging.

“I don’t,” Avomance sighed, “but it’s a wither. It’s not Logic. Logic wouldn’t do this.”

“It could be that Logic was just corrupted,” the small, sorrow filled voice of ThomasToSpace pointed out.

“He wouldn’t,” Avomance affirmed.

“How long has he been gone?” Zloy questioned.

“Just— look,” Avomance sighed, “none of this will bring either of the two back. Lime, Logic, we need to rescue them both .”

“But our priority has to be Lime,” BTD pipped up.

“…why?” Thomas asked.

“We don’t know if this Logic is Logic or not,” BTD said, “but we are certain that that Lime is Lime. I’d rather have a friend I know is a friend, then to free someone who might be my friend, but could also be an enemy.”

The others saw reason with this line of thinking, even if Avomance seemed to be holding back frustration. 

Poppy put her hand on his shoulder, “We’re going to rescue him Avo. Maybe not Logic today, but after this? I’m not leaving Logic behind anymore.”

Avomance straightened up, nodding and blinking back a tear. “Tomorrow. We’ll gear up today and attack tomorrow.”

.

“If we work through the night,” Logic observed, “we’ll finish this by morning.”

Lime’s muscles were aching. It wasn’t the first time he had worked so long on a build, but he had had a few days of resting before it. A long day of building was something to work up to, not something one could just pick up and do. His clothes were covered in sand, and his mouth yearning for a sip of water, instead of the foul-tasting milk Logic insisted he drink that made his mind quiet.

But it was all worth it when seeing what they had accomplished. It wasn’t the largest build ever, but it truly was worthy to be a Sanctum. Lime’s mind had designed, and his hands were building this structure, with the gentle help of Logic. 

The outside was a tall fortress, blackstone walls detailed with terracotta to make an imposing fortress any player would be dwarfed by. That was just a wall, however. A second layer was even more intricate in designs, from upside down triangles representing the withers, to cages to contain the captured wither skeletons. Said skeletons were one of the last details needed to be grabbed.

The interior was what they were working on now. Logic had insisted on decorating the innermost part, where a decorated cell was going, himself, leaving Lime to work on polishing the other places. The Sanctum may not be the most detailed it could be, but Lime supposed they would have more time to work on it… after.

Some deep recess of his mind questioned if it even was Lime working on it. His body had fallen into a dark haze, almost like otherworldly hands were controlling it. The feeling reminded Lime of the voices he had heard when this all began, that had fallen silent the more Logic had spoken. 

Yet, were those not his own voices? What could control his mind besides himself? It was him who felt good when Logic’s silvertongue wormed praises into his ear, and him who hurt when the same voice was used to pierce and mock. It was him who nodded along this entire time, and it was him who wanted to see this through to the end.

“You’re doing so well,” Logic reassured, hands on Lime’s shoulders. 

Lime felt chills down his spine. He nodded, his mind racing. When did he start to feel his pulse in his head? “I’m tired,” he whispered.

“You’ll be able to rest soon,” Logic promised, “we just have to put the wither skeletons in their places. And then it will be perfect. And then you will be perfect.”

Lime fumbled, tripping on his own feet. He may have scraped a knee had his pants not protected them when he fell. He looked up at Logic’s disdainful face, and whispered once more; “I’m tired.”

Logic grabbed Lime’s hand and forced him to his feet. He wrapped a hand around Lime’s neck, a dangerous gesture of warning. His voice became distorted as he murmured, “You can rest once the wither skeletons are in place, little god.”

Lime kept close to Logic’s body as the two stumbled to the nether portal. There was no nausea from going through, just a deep pit in his stomach rising. This nether portal was linked underneath the bedrock ceiling, right next to a long netherrack tunnel. 

Logic released his grip on Lime, making Lime scurry to keep up with Logic’s determined pace as he marched down the tunnel. It was a long walk, and Lime found himself coughing as they passed through the biomes, the particles in the air flying into his lungs. Logic had no such issues.

The tunnel led straight to a nether fortress, almost entirely covered by netherrack. A few wither skeletons already were spawned. Logic paused, and Lime almost bumped into him. 

Logic turned around. He had a pile of name tags in his hand. He offered a few to Lime. Lime read them silently. Wither Commander 1 .

“How are we going to lure 20 wither skellys through that tunnel?” Lime asked.

“We’ll use you as bait,” Logic replied, a trace of a smirk on his lips. He took back the nametags, turning toward the skeletons. 

“Wait, Logic,” Lime gasped.

“Are you ready Lime?” Logic asked, ignoring the shivering of Lime.

“They’ll just go after you and get distracted,” Lime rushed out without a breath.

Logic shook his head. “They wouldn’t attack me. But you?” Logic stepped back, Lime barely having a chance to register what was happening, “get ready to run .”

Logic pushed Lime forward, sending the man tumbling to the ground towards the wither skeletons. His cry of surprise alerted them, and the group began to race towards him.

Lime picked himself up, turned to the tunnel, and ran.

It was a stumbling run of adrenaline, of fear of the skeletons he could hear on his tail. Twice, he stumbled, twice, he fell into the squishy netherrack. His head swam as he urged his muscles to get up, the portal wasn’t that far, just a few more blocks. He didn’t look to see how many were following him, but from the rattle of bones, like the roar of the rain in a jungle, there were many. 

There was one thing he didn’t account for. The nether portal was closed in. He wouldn’t have time to escape before they would grab him in their boney clutches and let him wither away. He closed his eyes, jumping through the portal’s magic, before spinning around and taking a defensive stance. He prayed most would be lead through the portal and not pathfind to him. 

He counted between breaths. One, two… four, six… fifteen skeletons in all made it through the portal. Fifteen on the other side.

And one with something clever in their bone brain electing to move around the portal’s magic, to the cornered Lime. 

Their sword raised and struck Lime’s outstretched arm, nicking him through the chainmail. Lime closed his eyes, ready to prepare for the inevitable wither effect that would course through his veins, burning him from the inside out. 

It never came.

Instead, Logic rushed and pushed the wither skeleton inside. Lime could see a few more had come with Logic, and were peacefully waiting around the portal to be shown through. A odd pang shot through him. Logic’s eyes, they were a deep scarlet, and slightly narrowed in wrinkled amusement. 

“I gathered the last of them,” Logic replied in a mocking tone, “you did so well.”

Lime let out a huff. Even he wasn’t sure whether it was indigence or amusement. 

Logic was content, at least, to let him lie down and recover while the last few wither skeletons were rounded up into the portal. Lime watched Logic do it. He spoke a few words, and they did precisely as Logic commanded. Like he was their commander, and they only the commanded. 

“Get up,” Logic said to Lime. Lime complied as one of the wither skeletons would, promptly and obediently. Logic lead him to the portal and pushed him though.

Lime missed when the nausea was from the portal.

On the other side of the portal, 20 wither skeletons, all named, stood patiently for their commander. A few ran to attack Lime when he appeared. Lime turned his side to them, ready for them to slash him once more.

“Stop,” Logic ordered. The skeletons froze in their running. “Go into the cages.”

The skeletons who had run after Lime all turned, marching into the cages that Logic had planned. The rest followed suite after some more barked orders. Lime watched in amazement as they all filled in. The cages surrounded the only part Lime still hadn’t seen, the innermost part of the entire build. 

It was blackstone and obsidian mixed in a strange dissonance of color, obviously designed more for strength than beauty. There were some red highlights painted on, but beyond that, not much. 

“It’s like a cage,” Lime murmured. He took a step towards it, transfixed on the box. His stomach did flip flops and his legs screamed to get away. His mind, however, was silent. He turned his head to Logic. It flopped over slightly, like he didn’t have enough energy to keep it raised.

Logic was rooting in an ender chest, a mild smirk on his face. Lime watched as he took out a smallish, black cup. No, a clear cup, filled with an inky black fluid that seemed to steam slightly. The cup itself shimmered with the glow of enchantment, and even Logic, with all his wither resistance, seemed to be careful that not a drop spilled onto his hands. Logic poured the fluid into a leather waterskin, corking the top once it was filled up. He slung the waterskin’s strap over his shoulder, grabbed a diamond pickaxe, and broke the enderchest. 

It was only then he noticed Lime’s watchful eyes. His expression turned narrow in an odd hate, before morphing into a steady, careful, cheery look. “Are you looking at the Inner Sanctum?” Logic asked.

Lime turned his eyes to the obsidian and nodded.

Logic chuckled, “Don’t worry, I’ll show you inside,” his mouth grinned, “I think you’ll really enjoy it in there.”

Logic walked over, taking Lime’s hand. Lime followed like a sheep to the slaughter, only the slight twitch of his limbs showing any sense of fear or nervousness. The two walked around the wither skeletons to a small opening. It wasn’t a door, just the last crack that hadn’t been sealed yet. Lime didn’t see any true entrance or exit.

Inside, the room was dark. A musty smell of debris and decay filled the oddly cool air. Lime let go of Logic’s hands, pausing to hug himself as he shivered, taking in the ashes and the void. This… this wasn’t right. Somewhere in Lime’s mind, something was desperately truing to tell him to escape. It was only now, in the den of the ocelot, that Lime paused enough to actually listen.

“I don’t want this,” Lime said, his voice shaking as much as he desperately wanted to sound confident. He wasn’t confident, he was confused. He didn’t understand what was wrong, all he knew was that something in this room was deeply warped, twisted… withered .

“Why not?” asked Logic and it wasn’t Logic’s voice. The being was standing between him and the exit, forcing Lime to back up to avoid them. They had a darkness, a decayed look of flesh falling off, and turning into a decayed pile. Their veins pulsed black, but their eyes were Logic’s. 

Despite the red, his eyes were Logic’s eyes.

But… were they right? Was that Logic? It wasn’t like Lime didn’t look so painfully similar, with blackened veins and decaying spirit. It was like something had been put inside of him, like a poisonous withering energy. 

“You’re connecting the dots, aren’t you?” Not Logic sighed, “you’re such a fool.”

Lime focused on his breathing, the air felt like ashes. His legs kept backing up, he didn’t want Not Logic to touch him. He kept back up until he hit a wall, a wall with such an unusual texture.

Lime’s eyes were wide and scared as he choked out, “What are you?”

Not Logic laughed, deep and booming. It echoed in the darkness of the room, creating a dissonant shriek. “I am Logic, Lime,” they mocked, “I am Logic. Why don’t you be a good little god and believe us?”

Lime collapsed, curling into a shaking ball. His fevered mind vaguely recognized the floor beneath him, the same texture he had felt when this all began. Bedrock. 

How had Logic even obtained Bedrock? How had he done any of this? And what was he doing?

Everything was too overwhelming for the little god. He couldn’t handle the dissonant shrieks, the void’s screams, the hands that wrapped around him in a mockery of a hug, the smell of ash, the taste of decay, the world was nothing more than death. His world was too big to think.

The taste of leather was shoved into his mouth. He kept his mouth shut tight, refusing to give the Withers this.

“Open your mouth, Lime,” Not Logic ordered. Lime shook his head, feeling tears run down his cheeks. A hand pinched his nose, forcing him to open his mouth to breath. The waterskin was forced into his mouth, and tilted up.

The fluid burned his tongue and cheeks, and Lime convulsed. There was a hand on the back of his head, forcing him to drink the poison it had to be. Some spurted out and burned his face as it sank to the floor. Even as he swallowed, some got into his lungs and made him cough, over and over again. His head swarmed in pain and he barely registered when the waterskin was taken away. His body and veins burned, his body moved without him knowing, and his mind was little more than a haze. 

“You did such a good job making ‘Logic’,” a voice murmured, “you’re going to make us more ‘Logic’s, more players to follow our rule. When we have the bodies of players, we will be unstoppable. And all you have to do is make those wither skeletons into players. It can’t be harder than an armor stand.”

The voice faded away. He could hear footsteps walking away. They paused.

“And Lime?” the voice said, “thank you so much for your trust.”

His world was plunged into complete darkness with the sound of blocks placing. He was now completely encased in the bedrock prison. 

The Wither who pretended to be Logic sighed as they replaced the obsidian, completing the build. None of them knew how long it would take to fully lure the developer into creating their player army. Their withering poison would help persuade, but it would take some clever deceiving to make sure it went well. 

But for now, all he had to do was wait.

.

The sunrise was bleeding.

Avomance looked at the building that had appeared as if by magic overnight with some level of dread and awe. The way the withers worked, quickly and horribly efficiently, was almost disheartening. They could create something so easily. The Citadel had been large enough, but whatever this was supposed to be was twice as large and thrice as ominous. 

He had hardly swept a wink that night. Neither had Poppy, he knew. She was nearby, sorting out armor for the morning in a comfortable, if nervous, silence. He had caught her eye a few times, a gaze that shared both their worries.

“It’s going to be a rough day today,” Zloy’s voice broke the quiet. 

Avomance turned around. The zombie had already put himself together, some loose pieces of armor protecting him. Zloy never seemed to favor wearing armor, preferring a few choice pieces. Avomance turned back to the sunrise. “It is,” Avomance replied, his voice cracking.

“Not just the whole, rescuing Lime, thing,” Zloy rushed out awkwardly, “the sun. Red sky in the morning, take warning. That.”

“Just what we need,” Poppy sighed, “rain.” Her fur was standing up and her tail twitched with nervousness. 

“Maybe it’s an advantage,” Zloy suggested, “this is our home turf. And withers never seem to care much for water.”

“It doesn’t hurt them either,” Avomance pointed out.

“But for that,” Zloy grinned, “we have smite five netherite swords.”

Zloy outstretched a sword to Avo, who took it in surprise. He examined it closely, making sure it wasn’t stone. He looked over to Zloy, “Where did you find these?”

Zloy waved him off, “I stored a cache of netherite before I left. The books I got from Thomas.”

Avomance stood up, testing the blade in the air. Its deadly smite rang true, and Avomance let out a satisfied grunt. He turned to Poppy, find her already sheathing her own gift. 

“I didn’t have enough for everyone,” Zloy warned, “but we’re going to divide anyway. You two and Beardstone can come with me. We know each other best, so we’ll be able to fight together. We’re going to distract Logic as much as possible. Thomas is going to lead Malcolm, Kim, BTD, and Amy to capture and rescue Lime.” Zloy’s eyes took on a dark look, “Hopefully he comes easily. If not, they’ll all have potions of slowness and weakness to use.”

“Why wouldn’t he come easily?” Avomance questioned.

Zloy looked to the side, “He could easily have been corrupted. I don’t want to think about it, but if he is… this could become more of a ‘defeat the enemies’ than a rescue. But we can’t let Lime escape.”

Poppy shuddered. “Have we considered… contacting someone to let them know…”

“We don’t know if he’s been corrupted yet,” Avomance replied, “I don’t want him to get in trouble if it’s nothing.”

“Avomance’s right,” Zloy said, “but if it does go south…”

“We can’t let the withers have a literal god on their side,” Avomance sighed, “and corruption would be different from possession.”

“We still don’t know so much about this situation,” Zloy replied, “what the poison is doing, what they actually are trying to do to Lime.”

“We don’t even know if this is only about Lime, or if he was just the easiest target,” Poppy pointed out.

“But does it matter?” a voice asked.

“Thomas!” Avomance exclaimed.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Thomas admitted, the alien shrugging, “I was just…”

“Thinking about Logic?” Zloy asked, his tone a kind teasing.

Thomas nodded, flushing. 

The four shuffled awkwardly all looking at each other. 

Poppy broke the silence, “It doesn’t matter. This, all of this. Any of us could have been the wither’s target. Lime was first, but then Logic was captured and it’s all…” she sighed, “but right now? We can’t just see this as Lime. We all want to, Lime has always asked us to, but we don’t know the extent of his powers. If it’s half of what I’ve heard him mention, it’s dangerous. Having Logic is like them having an arrow. Them having Lime is like them having a stack of TNT. We have to remember that today.

“The Withers have gone too far this time. They’ve harassed us for far too long. I refuse to let them keep doing this. Maybe we won’t win this war today, but we will win the battle. We will get Lime back today. And we will rescue Logic, if not today, then perhaps tomorrow. But they won’t win.” Poppy’s eyes blazed, “They can’t win. We won’t let them win. They may be deities but we are players. And one thing I’ve always been told is that a player never quits. I intend to live up to that today.”

“For Lime,” Avomance murmured.

“For Logic,” Thomas responded.

Zloy finished, “For Legacy.”

.

-

.

As the sun rose, 8 armored individuals flew to the Sanctum. Thomas’ was especially heavy over his spacesuit, but it needed to be. He was never more aware of the dangers, the small parts of him where a blade might be able to sink through. It wasn’t that he was anxious, just a smidge nervous at leading this mission, especially against someone who may or may not be Logic.

While it wasn’t vocalized, Thomas suspected he had been chosen to lead the rescue on Lime to keep him away from Logic. The way Zloy had phrased it, “we’ll keep Logic out of your way,” combined with Poppy’s sad stare at him, only made it seem more obvious. Sure, he had a healthy level of idol worship of Logic, but if it came down to Logic or Lime… he would make the right choice. He just had to remember that this wasn’t actually Logic.

Logic. Logic, Logic, Logic . Thomas shook his head, reminding himself to stay in the game. His pursuit was Lime, and if all went to plan, he wouldn’t even catch a glimpse of the wither-possessed Logic. That Logic needed a better name. Slicer… Illogic? But maybe this Logic was smart too, and logical. Then that name wouldn’t make sense! 

“Thomas!” Poppy called. Thomas turned to see the rest of the group spiraling down, to land just outside of the new building, by the odd land ship.

He shook his head and followed the group, landing neatly on top of the ship. It felt crowded with eight people, not designed for much more then one or two persons. Thomas found himself by Beardstone, Zloy, and Poppy as they all shuffled into a circle.

“Thanks for letting us use your ship,” Poppy murmured to Zloy. 

Zloy shrugged, “It’ll be a good place to plan.”

Thomas heard more assorted conversations, from worry to nervous assurance. He stayed quiet, looking around the the group. 

Avomance cleared his throat, “Legates,” he said firmly, before waiting for the chatter to die down, “we all know what’s happened. The withers got to Logic. We may all have our own theories on what happened, but the one thing to know is that the being in Logic’s body can’t be treated like him. He has to go down, today .

“We can’t afford another loss. We need to rescue Lime. I,” Avomance nodded, “Zloy, Beardstone, and Poppy are the distraction. We’re going first, lure Logic away from the building, clear the way for you to search for Lime. We’ve been watching the building, and Lime going inside was the last time any of us have seen him. It’s possible he… might not be there.” Avomance swallowed, looking shamed, “We don’t know and we won’t know until we get inside. It’s also possible Lime might not want to go with you. For that, we have splash potions of weakness and slowness.”

“I have one more thing,” Amy piped up. They turned to Thomas, and gently passed over a potion. It was a bubbling liquid, pinkish with small bits inside. He looked at it with an odd curiosity, not recognizing the potion.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s a turtle master potion. Slowness six,” Amy explained, “I made one, super potent. I brewed it with azure bluet and tulips, blindness and weakness. It would instantly knock Lime out if… if we needed.”

“Thank you,” Thomas replied, pocketing the precious fluid. He could see Malcolm and Kim exchange a worried glance. None of them liked the idea of using the potions they had.

“Then, are you and your team ready Thomas?” Avomance asked. Thomas looked back. There was Kim, in her fursuit, carefully polishing her own smite v sword. Malcolm was fidgeting, but his face was etched in stone. Amy was checking their potion stash, the frog queen well prepared with their concoctions. BTD adjusted his armor on top of his suit, making sure his ‘lucky bowtie’ was clearly visible. They were a ragtag group, but Thomas had confidence. They had their courage, they had their strength. And they had the drive to rescue Logic, and Lime, from the Wither’s clutches.

He nodded, “Let’s do this.”

The first plan was simple. Avomance’s group would go first, while Thomas’ would watch from the ship (Zloy gently patted the ship, murmuring encouraging nonsense. Thomas guessed Zloy had built it.) Thomas had a spyglass, so he could watch the action. Once Logic was lured away, then they could sneak in.

Thomas’s eye was on them, the others crowded around. 

“Where are they?” BTD asked.

“They’re close. The walls have a door, I think they’re going to go through that rather than flying in,” Thomas observed, squinting. “Looks like the door is locked, so they’re breaking through.”

“We won’t be able to see them when they’re inside,” Amy worried. 

“I can make out a bit inside of the door,” Thomas reassured, “not much.”

“I wonder why Logic is doing this,” Malcolm said, “I always thought he was cool, but after this?”

“It’s definitely not Logic,” BTD assured, “it has to be a wither possessing his body.”

“It could be him, just corrupted.”

“Logic wouldn’t!”

“We never met the guy, we were called by Lime.”

“Guys,” Thomas broke through. His stomachs were having butterflies at the arguing. “We’re on Lime duty, not Logic.”

“Do you still have eyes on their group?” Kim broke through.

Thomas shook his head, “They’re behind a wall. I can’t see them.”

“Personally,” Amy said, “I think that this Logic is a manifestation of Lime’s emotions and that once we defeat Lime, he’ll go away.”

“Beardstone said that that Logic was oddly possessive of Lime,” Malcolm recalled. 

“It’s obvious,” Amy continued, “Lime’s been hiding how bad he feels, had an emotional spiral, and created this Logic from those feelings.”

BTD snorted, “It has to be a wither. If Lime made this Logic it’d at least act more like him.”

“I see them!” Thomas gasped, “I think Logic’s there.”

“Do you see Lime?” Kim asked.

“No,” Thomas said, “just Zloy and Poppy. Beardstone is dragging something… Avo !”

“What’s wrong with Avomance?” Malcolm asked, his voice rushed.

“He’s pulsing. I think he’s poisoned,” Thomas’ eyes were wide as he observed.

“They’re in trouble,” BTD said, “we have to help.”

“No,” Kim replied, “our job is Lime . We have to stay here.”

Thomas bit his lip. 

“And leave Avomance to die or worse?” BTD insisted.

“Poppy and Zloy are fighting Logic. I think they’re trying to lure him into the open,” Thomas observed.

A tap on his shoulder made him look up. Malcolm was asked for the spyglass. Thomas handed it over, letting Malcolm commentate.

“Logic is matched,” Malcolm observed, “his sword has to be poisoned. But he isn’t going for the kill, he’s just trying to defend himself.”

“Thomas,” Kim said. Thomas caught her eyes as she continued, “This is our chance. Logic is distracted. We have to go find Lime.”

“But… what about Avo,” Thomas said, torn. If he squinted, he could almost see where they were fighting. 

“Avomance is still down,” Malcolm reported, “Mr. B is defending him.”

“Kim,” Thomas said, his mind forming a plan, “you take Amy, BTD, and Malcolm. I’ll go help Mr. B.”

“Can you handle being near Logic?” Kim asked quietly.

Thomas… wasn’t sure. Logic was his hero, his idol. He didn’t want to be away from him. But he couldn’t trust anyone else to do as good a job as him with fighting Logic. He might not be as good a fighter as Kim, or know Logic as well as Amy, but he could do it. “I won’t stay for long,” Thomas reassured, “just enough to get Avo out of the way. Amy?”

The frog queen looked up.

“Do you have any healing potions for Avo?”

They grinned, “Of course,” they ruffled in their inventory, bringing out two shimmering liquids. One was splash, one wasn’t. “Use the splash potion if needed, but the drinkable one is more effective. They should be able to fight the poison too.”

“Alright,” Thomas nodded. “You go first Kim. I’ll leave as soon as you guys are inside.”

Kim meowed for the others to follow her as she secured her wings. She left first, flying into the air, beneath the slowly forming clouds. BTD and Malcolm followed suite. Amy took a moment to pause.

“Don’t let Avomance die,” they warned, “not without healing him. Otherwise…”

“He’ll be out of commission for a few days,” Thomas nodded.

“And we don’t know where he might respawn,” Amy said darkly. 

Thomas felt taken aback. “You can’t be suggesting…”

“Good luck, Thomas,” they said, before too, falling onto their wings and trailing behind the others.

Thomas adjusted his helmet. His rocket in hand, he flung himself towards the battle, the dust kicking off as he flew close to the ground.

He could see the scene even clearer. The sand was stained red as Logic viscously weaved in between Zloy and Poppy. Avomance was gasping in pain. Mr. B’s face looked haunted. Thomas closed his eyes as he rocketed, intending on hitting Logic straight from the air. 

His shoulder bruised as it made contact, throwing Logic across the sand. He unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Logic, letting his heavy breaths carry him.

“Thomas,” Logic said, “is that really you?”

Thomas blinked. He let himself a moment to take in the scene. Blood stained sand, a cloudy sky. Logic was beneath his feet, Thomas had placed his foot on his chest. Poppy and Zloy were to his side, their faces determined and their stances ready. To his other side, Mr. B carried his sword with hesitancy, his eyes wide as he protected the slowly dying Avo.

That moment was all Logic needed.

Thomas gasped as he was thrown off, his armor thankfully protecting him from the blade of Logic’s sword, if not the force behind the thrust. Poppy and Zloy sprang into action, leaping in front of Thomas to prevent another blow. 

Zloy grunted.

“What are you doing here?” Mr. Beardstone hissed.

“I have potions for Avomance,” Thomas replied. He grabbed the healing potion, scurrying past Beardstone to Avomance’s side.

“You’re supposed to be looking for Lime,” Mr. Beardstone said, “you’re supposed to be leading that.”

“I put Kim in charge,” Thomas reassured, “just let me do this first.”

Mr. Beardstone sighed and withdrew, going back to his guard. Thomas looked over Avomance, wincing at the ugly, pulsing wounds in between the armor. Avomance’s eyes were half closed and his mouth grunting in pain.

Thomas decided to use the splash potion first.

He carefully poured it on the wounds, watching them knit themselves together as the magic seeped through. Avomance sighed in relief, his eyes opening. 

“Thomas?” he murmured in confusion.

Thomas held the potion to Avomance’s lip. “Drink this,” he said, “it’ll make you feel better.”

Avomance dutifully drank the potion. The sweet smell filled the air as it was poured into him. His wounds weren’t fully gone, but they had settled into a more healthy purple bruise then the sickly, pulsing green and black they had been. 

Avomance immediately tried to get up. He groaned in pain as he moved.

Mr. Beardstone was quick to stop that, “You’re safe Avo. Zloy and Poppy are holding off Logic. You can rest.”

“We could use a hand about now!” Zloy called out. His shoulder had been scraped, but he seemed to have escaped the worst of the poison. Still, Poppy looked tired and Zloy twice as so.

“I can’t let them fight alone,” Avomance insisted.

“Stay here,” Thomas ordered. He grabbed his sword.

“Doesn’t Kim need you?” Mr. Beardstone shouted.

“She’ll be fine,” Thomas reassured. With that, he ran into the fray, blocking a hit that was dangerously close to Zloy’s neck. The zombie was panting heavily. 

“Thanks,” he gasped. 

“Joined the fight then, Thomas?” Logic laughed. They all were catching their breath, but Thomas was fresh. 

He swung his sword with practiced movements. Logic could block and dodge with ease, but it was clear he was just as tired as Zloy and Poppy. His movements were slower, and his movements labored. Thomas’ less practiced thrusting forced Logic back.

Thomas stepped to the left. Logic stepped back further. Thomas’ face was etched determination as he forced Logic back.

Straight into the wall. Logic was pressed back. Zloy and Poppy appeared on Thomas’ left and right, cornering the man.

“Your move, Logic ,” Poppy said, pointing her blade towards the cornered player.

Zloy took a step closer, his voice a snarl. “Where is Lime?”

Logic ignored both their words. His red eyes met Thomas’. With a strange sort of glee, he took a small step closer to Thomas, “We never had much chance to talk, Thomas.”

“And we aren’t talking now,” Thomas replied. He hoped his voice was steadier then it sounded.

“I am your idol, aren’t I?” Logic probed, ignoring Thomas’ words, “you look up to me like no one else.”

“I told Lime that,” Thomas whispered, feeling himself shrinking.

“Keep your head in the moment, Thomas,” Poppy snarled. Her eyes were narrowed in on Logic, “One more move and you’ll meet my sword, Logic .”

“I’m not moving,” Logic replied, “I’m just talking with my friend. Are we friends, Thomas?”

“Oh for the love of— shut . up ,” Zloy hissed, enunciating his words.

“Lime trusts me,” Logic said, “do you trust us Thomas?”

“Where. Is. Lime ?!” Poppy screeched. She jumped, her blade slashing wildly as she attacked with angry eyes.

Logic kicked her back. She landed with a thud, but was quick to her feet and slashing again.

Zloy and Thomas stood aside, carefully circling the two, looking for an opening.

Thomas heard the shifting of glass in his inventory. The potions that were intended for Lime were still there. And one in particular…

“Back off Poppy!” Thomas shouted, throwing the potion onto Logic. The glass collapsed into small, but harmless fragments as the ingredients absorbed themselves into Logic’s skin. If it weren’t for Poppy’s catlike reflexes, she might not have dodged the throw.

Logic’s sword clattered to the ground as the player was brought to his knees. He looked around frantically, but it seemed Amy’s work was solid. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t fight, and he could barely move. The three circled around cautiously.

It was Zloy to speak up first. “Now, Logic. Where is our friend?”

“I can assure you,” Logic smiled in spite of the situation, “your rescue group I know you’ve sent won’t find him. He’s safe, and, once he accepts his role, I know he’ll be happy.” Thomas didn’t know whether he was sad or not that the brews left the ability to speak.

Zloy looked darkly, “If you are hurting him.”

Logic chuckled, “He isn’t being hurt, not much, at least. He’s just, learned a new perspective, let’s say.”

“What are you doing to him?” Poppy asked with rage.

Logic smiled grimly, “That’s not the question, Poppy. It’s not about what we are doing. It’s about what we have already done .”

And that’s when Thomas heard the most horrifying sound he had ever heard.

If you have ever heard a screaming goat, its bleats hauntingly like a human’s scream, you haven’t heard a fifth of what this sound of pure, empty pain was like. It resonated deeper than any pure human scream. It echoed through the world, and there was no way to hide or cover your ears. It came in through your mind.

Any player would have been brought to their knees by the shriek, but, perhaps, they would recover quickly. But not the Legates, for they knew who the voice behind that cry was.

Lime. 

If Thomas was able to cry, he thought he would do so right then. He didn’t have the fortitude to move.

But Logic did. And Thomas watched, paralyzed, as the man ever so slowly grabbed a bucket of milk and sipped the precious fluid. The potion was a waste. 

It was Poppy who was the first to be able to speak. She gasped out in a quiet voice, “What did you do?”

Their comms buzzed like a choir. Thomas dared to look down at his, tied around his wrist like a watch. His stomachs sank as he read;

WitherCommander1 joined the game.

“Oh SlicedLime,” Zloy whispered, “what did you do?”

.

The developer had done what he knew best when presented with a set of impossible options. He had chosen to create instead of destroy.

It was a choice he wouldn’t have second guessed in any situation where he was stable enough to make the choice. He never wanted to just remove something, unless it truly was unnecessary, but even then he would rather replace it. Improve it. For the ideal word, he would want to innovate, adapt, change, make better . 

The voices had understood that as they flooded his fevered mind. They had comforted him as he left his body once more. It had been too painful to stay in that empty prison, barely able to even breathe. Here, walking through a space that some might call a rift between worlds, he was safe. Here he had the guidance his confused mind so desperately craved.

He was so confused. It was like someone had put his memories in a scrambler, and every time he chased them, they just flew further away. The voices didn’t like when he tried to chase them, they barely liked it when he would think. They seemed to growl and bite at him when he thought too deeply. It gave him a headache that made him curl and whimper.

You did well, the voices promised, now make another.

The first player he had made… he didn’t remember the process. They had been so pleased, but he didn’t remember what enticed him to begin. All he knew is that they had 19 more to make, 19 more and then they would let him sleep for a while.

He wanted to sleep. It was too exhausting, making players. But he could make another, easily enough. And then he could sleep.

Make us a player from the wither skeleton, the voices murmured, showing him the entity they meant. Make us a player, now.

He looked at the data closely. Every entity, every mob, was unique. And every player moreso. The voices had to be powerful themselves, to know that building off of an entity, instead of creating a player from scratch, was easier. He hoped they would have more then just wither skeletons though. He liked trying new things.

His task set, he set to work, tweaking the data and inputting commands to turn the skeleton into a player. He didn’t remember how he learned to do this, he just could .

You are powerful little god , the voices crowed, we are so glad we can help you.

He didn’t need flattery, but he was grateful for the company.

One string of code led to another. He briefly dived even deeper to finish the soul. The voices didn’t like him staying that deep too long. Something about danger. He wasn’t sure what they meant. The world here was so peaceful. What danger could there be?

18, 17, 16 more players and then he could sleep.

He was working on five when the other voice appeared.

.

The inside of the building was eerie. 

The ceiling looked like crimson blood, the vines crawling down from it. The walls were placed almost too methodically, their blackstone still fresh from being placed down. If Kim brushed herself against the wall, her fur would blacken from the dust.

She had been leading the group, BTD on her left, Malcolm on the right, and Amy in the rear of the four. They had originally discussed splitting up, then decided to stay together after a scare from some monsters. Evidently, Lime and Logic hadn’t considered lighting up the build.

Kim didn’t like losing focus when it counted. Sure, she could go with the flow, but right now she was holding back frustration at being so suddenly thrust into this position. She hadn’t prepared to lead a search, and, beyond just looking through every room, she had no clue how to get through.

Lime’s screams had just urged her on further. The others had been bantering a bit, but all that had fallen silent after that cry that brought them to their knees. Malcolm was still shivering from the horror. She hoped she would never have to hear a sound like that again, not from anyone. And it didn’t even bring them any closer to finding Lime, the noise had echoed from the universe, like the cry of a dragon dying, not from any direction she could trace.

If this meant Lime was already in the Rift, she didn’t know what they could do. 

“How many more rooms could there be?” Amy asked. They had a certain tiredness in their eyes that Kim knew well. When you have been worrying for so long, that worrying more was exhausting. 

“We have to be getting close to the center,” Kim replied, “I’ve been trying to lead us in a spiral. It’s possible Lime is in the middle.”

“Nevermind Lime,” BTD said, “I’m still worried about those messages in chat.”

“Not even Lime could create a person,” Malcolm dismissed, “you can’t do that with commands.”

“You can’t make an axolotl with commands in 1.16, but they still figured out how to include them in 1.17,” Amy pointed out.

“We’ll worry about that when we see something,” Kim responded. She hissed as a zombie moved in from the darkness, a few quick slashes quickly dispatching them. She poked her head in the next room, checking to see if it was clear.

Books, papers, even a desk. It almost looked like this room could be a library. Although she shuddered from the sinister atmosphere of the black leather filled bookshelves, there were no more mobs in sight, probably chased away from the few candles lit. 

She motioned for the other three to continue inwards, stepping carefully so as not to disturb the wooden floor. The others had no such qualms, to her mild irritation.

“Wait,” Amy said, “what’s that?”

Kim followed Amy’s finger to a pile of papers, tucked away in a corner safely. BTD walked up, grabbing the pile and laying them on top of the table in the center of the room.

“They’re… the blueprints for this build!” Malcolm gasped.

Kim looked down. Lime’s neat handwriting could be seen in the margins. She supposed the rest were written by Logic. Scribbles, ideas, all for this build. 

Kim flipped through the papers. The first designs were entirely Logic’s handwriting. The second and third iterations seemed to have more input. The fourth, however, the handwriting changed. Instead of neat lines, Lime’s writing was more erratic scribbles. Like holding the pencil was hard. They were less coherent as well, with a few notes, ones she couldn’t even imagine him ever writing.

“Don’t trust anyone but Logic,” Malcolm read aloud, “is 20 wither skeletons enough or too many. And the center of the build is entirely blank on this one.”

“On this one it just says ‘cell’. Like, it has fantasy cell designs, all in Lime’s writing,” Amy reported.

“Are there any that have more detailed plans for the center?” BTD asked.

“Hmm,” Malcolm shuffled through the papers. Kim looked at her own, frowning. 

They had it. This was the key to finding Lime. They just had to figure out where he might be hidden, and they would find him. Why did it feel almost too easy?

“Found it,” Amy said, laying out a larger paper. 

There were no notes from Lime on this paper. Just neat descriptions, with eerie phrases, such as ‘can the god break bedrock?’ and ‘should we provide anything inside.’ 

“That,” Kim realized, “must be where Lime is.”

“Bedrock, surrounded by obsidian, guarded by wither skeletons,” Malcolm observed. He looked up at the others, “They just won’t give the guy a break.”

“It doesn’t look like he’s given anything,” Amy said, “he’d die of starvation without an entrance.”

“But this doesn’t have an entrance,” BTD’s expression was thoughtful, “according to this, they were just going to seal him in. It’s possible they can do that because his body isn’t using energy, at all, besides basic basic functions.”

“Then he’s trapped in the Rift?” Amy asked, eyes widening in horror.

“Or worse,” Malcolm said darkly.

“We know where he is,” Kim declared. She straightened up, her tail lashing as she paced, “here, is where we are. We’re so close, just down the hall. We can fight off some wither skeletons easily enough.”

“What about the bedrock?” Amy asked.

Kim bit her lip, her sharp fangs poking out. “We’ll worry about that when we get to it.”

“I know how to break bedrock,” BTD said suddenly. “I’m not the best, but we’d only need to break one or two blocks to get to Lime.”

“How did he even get bedrock?” Malcolm questioned, “that’s not supposed to be possible.”

“Neither is breaking it,” BTD said, “there will always be exploits.”

“Just keep your weapons drawn.” Kim took her own sword, laying it on top of the table. The others followed, Malcolm with his bow, Amy with their tipped arrows, BTD with his blade. “We’re a few steps away. BTD, you need pistons, TNT, and redstone, right?”

“I have everything but TNT in my ender chest,” BTD nodded.

“I have TNT in my ender chest,” Amy added.

“Did anyone bring an ender chest?” Kim asked.

“Got one,” Malcolm said, placing down the chest. Amy and BTD both grabbed the items, exchanging potions for TNT.

“Okay,” Kim said, “Malcolm, Amy, and I are going to go after the skeletons. BTD, you’re going to break in and grab Lime.”

“Should I use the potions?”

“If you must,” Kim sighed. She grabbed her sword, spinning around towards the door. The others scurried to follow her.

The lack of monsters was almost uncomfortable for how dark the room was. 

A sword in one hand and a lantern in the other, she crept inside the inner rooms. Her cat-eyes narrowed as she took in the scene. A decorated box, that would be where the bedrock chamber should lay. Surrounding that was… cages. Small cages, fit for a single mob, and they were filled with wither skeletons , bedecked with shining diamond armour and swords.

Kim frowned. Why would they trap the skeletons like that if they were intended to defend Lime? 

“Woah,” Amy gasped.

One of the skeletons was shaking, almost distorting. Its skeletal structure was warping in air and a light emitted from it. The skeleton rose in the air, its body thrashed around. A hoarse sound, not quite a scream, skeletons didn’t have lungs to scream, came from the being. Its bones grew flesh, muscles, skin, as it was forcibly reshaped into… something new. The light blinded Kim, and she put her hand up to try to block the worst of the rays. She could see galactic symbols, like an enchantment table, circling around the skeleton, faster and faster.

Until, it stopped. The light faded. There was silence, for a heartbeat.

A buzz from their communicators. 

Based on the name tag above the former wither skeleton, she guessed the message.

WitherCommander4 joined the game.

“What in the nether is that?” Amy asked in shock.

“They’re a player,” Malcolm’s voice carried amazement and awe, “but how…”

“Did Lime do that?” BTD asked.

“Did the Withers?” Malcolm suggested.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kim snarled, “they’re trying to kill us!”

The player had broken free and was now charging, sword drawn. Kim stayed steady, curling her claws into the stone to keep her stance. The player’s sword clashed against Kim’s. She stomped on their foot. They hissed in pain as they stumbled.

“BTD, go!” Kim shouted. 

BTD scurried off. Kim jumped in front of the player when they tried to follow. Her eyes and claws curled in concentration.

“If you want to hurt him,” she said, “you’ll have to get through me .”

With that, the two began to fight.

.

If Beardie hadn’t remembered he had a bow, all five of them would have been screwed the moment that the other allies arrived. As it was, the fight that had been a three on one had quickly turned to a five on four, two players racing to Logic’s rescue, with a third close behind.

Zloy had no idea where or how they had appeared, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was focusing on beating them. 

Avomance was further away, sitting on the ground, shooting whenever he got an opening. He wasn’t the best shot, but the occasional arrow did meet its mark well enough to help. Avomance finally being able to defend himself allow Beardstone to join the fray again. Zloy and Beardstone were attacking one of the players. 

They weren’t the best fighters, not like Lyarrah or Pix or some others that Zloy had fought beside, but they were fresh. Zloy had been fighting for hours, it felt like, and he could feel the weighing exhaustion on his muscles. Whenever he took a breath, the player would attack with renewed vigor. If it weren’t for Beardstone blocking every blow, he would have taken a few more hits. At least this blade wasn’t poisoned.

“I’d kill for one of your mech suits right now Beardstone,” Zloy choked out between gasps.

“I’ve never made mech suits,” Beardstone shouted back. He grunted as the sword bludgeoned against his armor.

“Gahhh your amnesia,” Zloy groaned. He looked to the side. Thomas and Logic were locked in a deadly grasp. Thomas’ armor had taken a beating, but Logic’s withering blade hadn’t reached flesh. Poppy, however, was being cornered, a player on either side as she was forced to back up, right into the wall. 

Zloy raced over, kicking the nearest one. They fell to the ground with a thud. Zloy took a step forward and sliced into them. His sword found the spaces in between their armor. They exploded into a pile of items, with nothing but some smoke showing that there had once been a player there.

“Nice one, Zloy,” Poppy grinned. The other had backed away at the approach. “Just three more and we can go home.”

“I hope,” Zloy sighed. Avomance’s arrow just narrowly missed the player in front of them as the three went back into the fray.

.

Lime , the voice said, what are you doing?

This voice wasn’t like the other ones. They screamed, screeched, barked in a dissonance of a thousand beings, all trapped in one angry storm. This voice, instead, was calm and quiet. Introspective. In a way, it was almost familiar to his mind. A part of him felt scared in the voice's presence, but another called it a friend. He wasn’t sure which to pay attention to.

“I am making a player,” he said to the voice. 

What is the player going to be like? the voice asked.

“They’re going to be kind,” he replied, “they might enjoy reading, if they get a chance to learn, and they like peace and quiet more than loudness. They will also be fierce when their friends are hurting.”

That seems like a nice player.

“I hope they will be.”

You’ve made other players, haven’t you?

“This is my fifth.”

What were the others like?

“The first one was a good fighter. They are fast and courageous, and would never give up if they had a chance. 

“The second was gentler. They don’t like fighting, but they are excited to explore.

“The third was smart. They’ll definitely learn about the Game quickly, maybe even discover something new.

“Finally, the fourth was musical. They’ll probably sing as they grind, making their own unique mark on the world.”

Why are you making these players? 

He frowned, “The other voices told me to.”

Why would they want you to make players?

His frown deepened, “I… I don’t know.”

Then I suggest one more thing?

“What is it?”

The other voices want you to make them an army of players, don’t they?

“They never said army,” he thought aloud, “but… why else would they want so many players handcrafted like this.”

Instead of giving them what they want, the voice said, why not make the player disobedient, steadfast, and firmly for good?

He looked at the player he was making. They were just data at the moment. If he let them out now, they would be a creature who was quiet, thoughtful, reflective. Why not add a trace of rebellion in them? Why not make them against the voices want?

I know you must do as they say, the voice sighed, but they never said to make the players obedient to them.

“Should I not make them what they would want?” he asked, “They have given me a purpose. I don’t know who I am.”

You are SlicedLime , the voice was shimmering. It was a strange blue light in the darkness and the 0’s and 1’s curling around the world. You’re my friend.

“Did I make you?” the being called SlicedLime asked.

No. We’ve done so much together. Please, Lime, remember me. You are my friend, I love you.

He gasped as the darkness suddenly covered the light. It wrapped around him, tendrils grabbing his limbs. He struggled for a moment, before giving in to the attack. The voices were safe, he told himself.

What did it say to you? they asked, what did he say?

He buried it all. He buried the name, he buried the rebellion, deep inside of him where they couldn’t steal it. He walked to the surface, returning to the rift and replied, “He told me the universe loves me.”

The voices grew dissonant as they discussed this amongst themselves. He ignored them, he had to make another player.

15 more and then he could rest.

.

Kim spat out blood. 

She could easily keep up with the player. Their inexperience shone with every hesitant slash, every slight stumble. At this point, she was more playing with them, like a cat to a rabbit, only this time the rabbit was biting back. She was buying time, time for BTD to work his redstone skills, time for him to free Lime.

That didn’t make the few times they did land a hit hurt any less.

She wished Malcolm and Amy were helping her more. The two were support fighters, staying more to the side and doing their best to help from there. Their barrage of arrows made the battlefield even more dangerous.

“Kim! Help!” BTD shouted.

Kim looked towards the sound. Another player —wither skeleton— was climbing up to BTD. Their sword had already made contact with BTD’s foot, and the redstoner was thrashing, trying to protect both his build, and himself, from the attacker.

But that distraction also cost Kim a blow to the stomach. She curled and hissed in pain, her mind trying to figure out which target to go after.

Malcolm, the blessed music man, chose for her. His bow in hand, he rushed to BTD’s rescue, sending arrow, after arrow, flying into the assailant. Most deflected harmlessly off the armor of equal strength, but a few met their marks. The player screamed as they were knocked off of BTD.

Kim, however, wasn’t so lucky. A sword hit bludgeoned her gut as she was distracted. She hissed in pain, before kicking her assailant, landing square in the shin. 

They fell back, scraping their armor against the stone floor. Kim waited for them to get up.

They didn’t.

“Behind you!” Amy shouted.

Another player, this one with arrows jutting out of them, barely missed a blow on Kim. She gasped in disbelief. They just keep coming.

“Wait,” Kim choked in between breaths. “They’re coming from the wither skeletons. Amy!”

The frog queen’s eyes widened as they put the dots together. They turned around, grabbing her own small blade, and pierced the nearest skeleton. After a few hits, it evaporated into dust, bones, and a pile of damaged armor.

Kim smiled grimly. There was the solution. BTD had broken one layer of bedrock and was working on a second layer. Malcolm was fending off any attackers with his barrage of arrows. It was up to Kim to protect Amy as they finished off the skeletons.

“Bring it on ,” she snarled.

.

Thomas braced himself for the next hit. There was no way he could dodge it, and the others were too far to help. All he could do was hope his spacesuit would stay safe and that the poison of the blade wouldn’t piece him yet. He didn’t want to be like poor Avomance, in pain on the sidelines. He couldn’t leave the others like this, but he had no chance.

The swing never came. Logic just breathed, shifted his glasses. He looked afar, like he wasn’t truly there, trapped in his own mind. Thomas didn’t attack, too confused to consider it as he stepped forward. 

“Logic?” he asked tentatively, holding out a hand.

Logic pushed him away with a growl, “You fools .”

“What?” Thomas asked. 

Logic sheathed his sword, running away towards the entrance to the building. Thomas blinked as the other two who were still alive ran away too. The five stood in shock.

“They must be going after Kim!” Avomance shouted. The player stumbled forward, trying to follow. Beardstone grabbed his arm, helping prop him up. “I’m fine, Mr. B.”

“Are you?” Zloy shot. “You were stabbed hard and despite those health potions, I can’t guess you have more than one or two hits in you.”

“I don’t want to just stay behind,” Avomance replied.

“Let’s just go, Thomas,” Poppy said quietly, grabbing Thomas’ hand. He felt almost dragged forward, away from the arguing Avomance and Zloy. 

Thomas found the inside of the Wither’s building to be dark, much darker than the Citadel was. He blinked as his eyes readjusted to the darkness. The floor was also different, stone instead of sand. His shoes made a clicking noise on the material as he ran through the building.

“Where are they?” Poppy hissed. 

“They have to be in the center, right?” Thomas suggested. 

“How can we find that?” Poppy asked. The path veered off into two different directions. Thomas, however, had a quick solution. He grabbed a pickaxe from his inventory, and swung .

The efficiency enchantment helped reduce the rocks to rubble quickly, making a small hole, just big enough for them both to squeeze through.

“Smart,” Poppy observed, jumping through with her lithe form. Thomas squeezed through after her. There seemed to be more than just one wing, but here, they could hear the familiar sounds of fighting. Poppy and Thomas rushed towards the noise.

Logic and the other two hadn’t arrived yet. Kim was fending off two players singlepawed, wariness clearly building inside of her. BTD appeared to be doing redstone on the top of a large central building, with Malcolm protecting him from anyone coming near. Amy was nowhere in sight, but from the sounds of dying wither skeletons, Thomas could guess she was just behind the corner.

“I’ll help Amy, you get Kim?” Thomas suggested.

Poppy nodded, racing towards Kim to help ward the two off. 

Thomas ran around the building to find Amy, slowly hacking away at a skeleton.

“Thomas!” she said, relief in her voice.

“What are you doing?” Thomas asked.

“These skeletons are turning into the players,” Amy replied, “I don’t know how, but I’m trying to stop it.”

Thomas’ brain turned. If Lime was doing this, could he turn any entity into a player? Did those mysterious statues that somehow, sometimes turn into Logic actually become Logic?

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me?” Amy asked.

“Oh, right,” Thomas nodded. He hurried to the next wither skeleton, slashing and stabbing at the bones. The armor took a while to break enough for his hits to do much, to Thomas’ growing frustration. When the skeleton finally collapsed, too much time had passed.

Amy screamed.

Logic had them, his poisoned sword pointed, not at the throat, that would be too clean a kill, it was resting against their arm, ready to slash.

“Let go of them, Logic,” Thomas spat.

“Put your sword on the ground, or your ’friend’ ,” Thomas could hear the air quotes, “suffers.”

Thomas is torn. Seeing Avomance’s suffering… he can’t put Amy through that. Not if he could avoid it. He set down his sword.

“Thomas, don’t,” Amy gasped.

Thomas couldn’t meet her eyes.

“You did well, you two,” Logic’s praise didn’t meet the coldness of his eyes, “five wither skeletons in full armor is a lot to take down. But you’ve failed.”

BTD shouted. Thomas flinched at the sound of someone thrown off a roof. 

“Thomas,” Amy pleaded.

The sword inched closer. Thomas bit his lip, finally looking at Amy. He frowned as he looked at her hand. A potion of harming.

Thomas’ eyes widened. In a voice he hoped was casual, he asked, “So then what? Are you just going to make more players? And where is the real Logic? Are you even a player?”

Logic chuckled, “I am the real Logic. And we’re not going to tell you our plans, not until we have certainly won. That… BowTieDaniels, was it, of yours came dangerously close to breaking through the bedrock, and we can’t have you taking our prize. It would be nicer for everyone if you all just gave in.”

“So you are a player?” Thomas asked.

“If you killed me,” Logic smiled, “I would just come back, everytime. You can never rid yourselves of the Withers. We are a part of you .”

Thomas nodded.

Logic screamed, thrashing pain as the acid of the potion of harming hit his skin. Amy crawled out of his grip. Thomas picked up his sword, before running to help drag Amy out.

They had already half drank a potion of healing when he got there. 

“Thanks,” they coughed as he helped them up. 

“You get skeletons, I’ll help BTD,” Thomas replied. 

Amy nodded.

They both left.

.

“Why are the wither skeletons fading?” the being who might be known as SlicedLime asked the voices. 

You do not need to ask such things , the voices scolded, you are not to think. You are to serve us .

He shifted uncomfortably. He needed a rest, for a moment. His powers didn’t work forever, although he suspected he could do more if he remembered how to use them fully. As it was, making these players was taking a toll on him. It was harder to keep a form together so that he wasn’t just a mind alone in the rift between worlds like the other voices he had seen. Something told him it was important to keep himself as together as he could.

He wished for the blue light again. He missed seeing color, the endless blackness was suffocating in a strange way. Not as suffocating as his worldly form, but just as dark and void. 

He had tried to go back to his worldly form. They hadn’t liked that, refusing to let him stay for long. Despite their screaming, he had almost thought he had heard something while in there. Not that anyone would come for him. He was truly, unendingly, alone.

Maybe this world, the blue light, the voices, maybe it was all fake. Maybe, stuck in the terrible suffocation that was his body, he had just forgotten himself and created this world. Maybe that’s why he didn’t know who he was.

But the blue light did. And the blue light could appear when he made a player. That was why he descended, for another time, to make a player.

The blue light had talked him through the last two, suggesting personalities, mentioning stories. It was the murmurs of a past he didn’t remember. Just like then, the blue light was waiting for him.

“This is seven, isn’t it?” he asked no one in particular.

Seven players in one day, the blue light replied, I’ve… I never realized how powerful you can be .

“I’m not powerful,” he deflected.

You’re the only person I’ve ever met who can create player life like that, the blue light replied, I guess it’s true what some players call you, what was it, a ‘god of creation’?

“I am not a god,” he replied tersely, “merely a developer.

But you develop the world itself , the blue light pointed out, I’ve made redstone contraptions, but that’s nothing compared to you.

He smiled slightly, “Your farms are incredible, do you remember when you farmed the withers themselves? The amount of nether stars you had, you could have covered the server in beacons!”

You didn’t do too bad then with Limepunk , the blue light chuckled.

“Sure, one true king of… of Legacy…” he frowned. Legacy, what’s a legacy? It was handing things down to a successor, it was the mark left behind on the world. Something told him, however, that him saying legacy meant something deeper. It wasn’t legacy, it was Legacy . Leg. A. Cy.

Are you remembering, Lime? the blue light asked.

He was and he was terrified . The memories didn’t come peacefully, they roared through. Images, flashes of a life, filling him with fear. He had wings, he curled them around himself, blocking out the light, the world itself. 

He took his fear, his agony, his worry and his confusion, and he shoved them away, straight into the new player. He didn’t care, he had to leave. Something was happening in his mind, and all he could focus on was that it wasn’t safe to be here.

There was nowhere else to go, but he didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be somewhere quiet, someplace safe.

The suffocating darkness refused to show Lime any such mercy.

.

Zloy was dragging Avomance with him as he struggled towards the sounds of violence. He’d sent Beardstone ahead, the man was one of the least tired of the group. “You are heavy,” Zloy grunted.

“Just drop me and my bow off in a corner somewhere,” Avomance sighed.

“Next time, don’t get yourself stabbed through the spine by a poisoned blade?” Zloy couldn’t stop himself from joking.

Avomance chuckled, “I’ll keep that in mind. Surprised the healing potions didn’t do more.”

“They kept you alive,” Zloy replied, “I would have hated to lose you for however long your respawn would take.”

“So you do have a heart,” Avomance teased.

“Don’t mention it. Seriously, don’t,” Zloy grumbled. 

Avomance’s eyes held no promises.

The two had had to go the long way around the building, Avomance not being able to maneuver his body through the small hole dug out. As fast as Zloy could be, there was only so much he could do to get to the others faster. 

He hoped they had done okay without them. 

From the viscous grunts, shouts, and clanking of metal, the fight at least wasn’t over yet. Zloy hobbled over, Avomance’s attempted steps barely helping. He could see a clear area, right beside a pile of cloth in a cage, and he carefully rested Avomance next to it. 

The pile of cloth was sobbing.

Zloy blinked, realizing that that wasn’t a pile of cloth, but a living, breathing, and apparently terrified player. He stood in shock, not sure what to do. He needed to find a different place for Avomance, but… Poppy, Kim, and Beardstone were fighting off three players behind him. BTD seemed close to death on the sidelines. He couldn’t even see Amy, Thomas, or Malcolm, but he could certainly hear their cries.

“Hey,” Avomance said, poking the sobbing clot, “are you alright?”

The player’s face was nothing but fear, tears, and snot. They had wide, brown eyes like Lime, and short bouncy hair like Logic. Their clothes were black robes, laying loosely on their body. It made sense, Zloy supposed, he had mistaken their lean body and still sobbing for a pile of cloth.

“It’s okay,” Avomance reassured, “I won’t hurt you.”

“They want me to hurt you,” the player whimpered.

Avomance frowned. He scooted closer to them. “The Withers?”

The player nodded.

“Do you want to hurt us?”

They shook their head vehemently, “No… I’m scared. I’m just terrified. I don’t know anything, please, I’m scared, don’t hurt me, please .”

Avomance’s gaze softened. “You don’t have to listen to them. You’re safe here. We can help you.”

“I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared. You are very brave to admit you are scared. You are very brave to resist the Withers.”

“I’m not brave,” they sniffled, “I’m a coward.”

“You’ve existed for five minutes and are already resisting the Withers!” Avomance exclaimed, “if that makes a coward, then I don’t know what bravery is.”

The player tilted their head in thought. 

“They may have named you WitherCommander7, but you are not their servant. You can be your own person,” Avomance’s voice was steady, gentle. Zloy found the strings of his own cold heart being plucked.

The player smiled through tears, “I would like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” they nodded, wiping back tears, “I think we all would like that.”

.

You are ours , the Withers’ screech echoed in Lime’s mind.

He was sitting, criss-cross, floating through the air with his eyes closed. He knew what they wanted. Another player. He knew they were upset, he could tell they were hurting him. But he wouldn’t fall for their tricks anymore.

He felt a deep, burning anger inside of him, like a well waiting to explode. He was angry at the Withers, for their part in his deception. He was angry at ‘Logic’, for that wither’s corruption. But most of all, he was angry at himself, for his own blind sorrow that led to all this. For his blind trust in what he should have seen was little more than his own decayed creation. 

He feared for the lives he brought into the world, as their creator. Seven players, how could he protect them from the withers? Would they even want to see him, knowing why he brought them into the world? He felt a rising shame most of all as he imagined the others finding out, the others knowing all that he had done.

This was his fault. He crafted this bed and now he must lie in it. He didn’t deserve any better.

The Wither’s tendrils grabbed at him, trying to shake him, make him break his meditative concentration. He could feel their energy running through his veins, threatening him. That was another thing he catalogued, another change to his body. He would need to remove that from his physical form if he ever wanted to trust it again. He could preserve his soul, the essence of his being, but his data was once again permanently marked as a servant for the withers. They had violated him, again .

Again, again, again .

Another corner of his mind had him frowning. This corner was focusing on the Withers themselves. They seemed… angry, but not at him. They were angry at someone else, perhaps at one of Lime’s creations. If he listened closely, he could hear them scolding them. 

If he shouted loud enough, would they be able to hear him?

He opened his eyes and began, slowly, walking to where the withers gave commands to their servants. The hands grabbed at his every move, ripping out hair, ripping out feathers. He steadily ignored them, letting his mind focus on his goal, and not at the swirling storm of hatred and withering around him.

They wanted the players to attack, to fight his friends. He narrowed his eyes in concentration as he recited his own commands.

“You don’t have to listen to the Withers,” he said, an aura of calm around his words, “be quiet, be still. You can be free from them. We do not control you, you are players now. You may have once been skeletons, mobs, entities, but now you are players .”

The Withers didn’t like this. His face was expressionless as they burned his body, setting the energy in his veins ablaze with their wrath. He could survive this. He had survived this before.

“You have freewill,” he insists, “you are a player, they cannot harm you in any way that matters.”

He pictured Poppy, joking with Beardstone on a long night. He saw Malcolm, strumming on a guitar while Amy played the drums. He envisioned Kim and Avo, joking with each other. He saw himself with Thomas, observing the stars and pointing out the constellations of space. And he pictured Logic, holding onto his mind as a steady beacon of light, watching them all from the rift, listening, waiting patiently for them.

“You choose who matters to you.”

.

The wither commanders had stopped fighting. 

They seemed to be looking around, at each other, nervously. Even Logic seemed hesitant as his eyes dashed between the players. Thomas didn’t put his sword down. This could be momentary. This didn’t mean anything, did it?

It was a sudden quiet, a stillness in the air, the uncertainty of two sides when neither truly wanted to fight. 

Logic sighed loudly, “Do you really believe him? I can tell you what’s happening to that ‘voice’ now. He’ll be hurt, you don’t want to be hurt, do you ?”

“Oh shut it, ‘Logic’,” Avomance called. He was hobbling along, supported by… a player. A wither commander. He looked exhausted but firm. The player beside him had their eyes firmly on the ground.

“We created you,” Logic growled.

“Actually,” Poppy called, “that was Lime, wasn’t it?”

“Without us,” Logic replied, “you all would have been dead. Look, they killed the wither skeletons who could have been alive as well! They don’t care about you.”

“Just because we aren’t actively making players to use as nothing more then servants doesn’t mean we don’t care about them when they are alive,” Zloy snorted. 

“You just want us to hurt people,” a player piped up, “I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.”

There was a murmur of agreement. Thomas looked around. 6 players, new to the world, 8 legates, and one Wither. Not Logic. The being was just a wither in a player’s body. 

‘Logic’ growled. He spun around, raised his sword, his aim at the nearest player cowering beneath him. 

He froze, an arrow suddenly stuck in his back. He turned around, to see Malcolm’s aimed bow. 

Thomas ran up, ready to defend the player. 

“You won’t win,” Avomance said, “if you surrender now, maybe we can work through this.”

“You don’t have to listen to the Withers,” Amy called.

In an instant, three things happened.

‘Logic’ threw his sword. Malcolm and Amy released their arrows. Both met their mark.

‘Logic’ fell into a pile of dust as the arrows hit their mark, leaving only a head behind. Avomance wasn’t so lucky.

Avomance’s body flashed, black, red, as the poison ran through his veins once more. Amy raced over, her eyes wide.

“The rift!” Avomance said between sobs of pain, “throw his head into the rift.” 

With that, he too fell apart.

The player beside him screamed.

“It’s okay,” Amy said, calming them down, “it’s okay, he’ll respawn in a few days.”

“I don’t want him in a few days,” they said hoarsely, tears rushing out of their eyes, “I want him now .

Thomas walked over, grabbing the head that had fallen. The red eyes of the Withers stared at him. He shuddered. 

“If throwing the head into the rift gave us Lime back the last time…” Poppy murmured.

“You don’t think?” Thomas gasped, allowing himself a moment to hope. 

“Worst that happens is it doesn’t work,” Zloy shrugged.

“But throwing it in will definitely seal away this ‘Logic’,” Beardstone said.

“Okay,” Thomas nodded. He straightened up, “Zloy, Poppy, could you come with me to do it so that Amy can treat BTD and he can finish getting Lime?”

“It might be best if I go instead of Poppy,” Beardstone interjected, “I have experience as a scientist, and if Lime is awake, he might need a familiar face.”

“That’s, yes. That makes sense,” Thomas nodded.

“I want to go too,” a voice, the player who had been helping Avomance, spoke up. Their eyes blazed as they continued, “I want to see him gone.”

“Okay, but could the rest of you stay?” Thomas asked.

“Why?” another player asked.

“I prefer to have less people in case something goes wrong,” Thomas answered.

“It was only Avomance and Logic who ran the machine last time,” Poppy called out, “but we could use your help with Lime.”

The players murmured among themselves. To the reluctance of a few, they agreed to stay.

“Do you know how to fly?” Thomas asked, grabbing a spare pair of wings and rockets from his inventory.

The player shook their head, “I only… started existing, today.”

“Well then,” Beardstone had a twinkle in his eyes, “you’re going to have some fun.”

The first hurdle to bringing the player, of all things, was stepping outside. While newly spawned in players always came with some basic knowledge, every new experience for them was often a surprise. Thomas could relate, in a way. While he spawned in years ago, on some singleplayer world, he still sometimes encountered something new that he approached with the odd wonder of a new player. 

“Is that sand ?” they asked, kneeling down to feel the ground, “it’s so oddly soft. And hot.”

Zloy smiled, “The world’s wonderful. Just wait till you try flight.”

“How do you even put these wings on? Elytra, wings, it’s so beautiful!”

Thomas chuckled as he demonstrated the various straps that attached the elytra to a person. He offered them a rocket. “Just jump, pull the rocket, and then follow us.”

The player nodded. Zloy took off first, circling above them. Beardstone quickly followed. The player looked at Thomas. 

He smiled, “Your turn.”

They giggled, jumped, and fell onto the wings. They flew straight up. Thomas grinned as he followed suite.

Getting to the site of the Rift wasn’t too far of a journey. The most treacherous part, however, was flying into the ravine. Thomas did a few swoops to slow him, and the other player, down before going, slowly, into the cave. He landed neatly on the platform.

They landed in one piece.

“Oof,” they gasped as they wiggled their body to make sure it was all there. Beardstone snorted in amusement.

“Now does anyone know how to operate this thing?” Zloy asked, “I know you put the head in that cauldron but then what?”

“I imagine it has something to do with these levers,” Beardstone said, “give me five minutes and I’ll figure it out.”

While the two figured out the machine, the player and Thomas approached the cauldron. He gently set the head in, refusing to meet its eerie eyes.

“Do players drop heads when they die?” the player asked.

“On some worlds. But not on all of them,” Thomas replied. 

“How many worlds are there?” 

“Many, maybe infinite,” Thomas replied with a small sigh, “I wonder if Lime would know.”

“Which one is Lime?” the player tilted their head, their brown eyes shining in youthful curiosity.

“You haven’t met him,” Thomas replied, “he created you, we think.”

“Was he the voice that told us to stop fighting?” 

Thomas blinked, “Maybe. I’ll have to introduce you to everyone. All of you.”

“Do you know what my name is?” 

Thomas paused. He had just been calling them all players. It seemed kinder then calling them wither commander or wither skeletons. The name tag above them still read WitherCommander7 in its simple, almost mocking print. “You can choose what you want to be called,” Thomas replied, “anything.”

“Anything…” the player thought, “I’ll have to think about it.”

Thomas smiled.

“We’ve figured it out,” Zloy called, “get back on the platform.”

Thomas and the player scurried on.

“We just have to flick this lever,” Beardstone said, demonstrating. The machine flickered on, orbs of light falling through it. “Wait one moment… now, Zloy!”

Zloy flicked another lever. The skull disappeared. There was almost a crackle of light, and Thomas found himself covering his eyes.

The machine shut down. Thomas stared at the cauldron in hope.

It was empty.

“There,” Beardstone nodded, “I think it worked.”

“But when Avomance and Logic threw Slicer’s head in, Lime came back,” Thomas said miserably.

“Slicer was in Lime’s body. This Logic must not actually be Logic,” Zloy pointed out.

Thomas sighed. He had hoped… but however they get Logic back, it would be harder then this. 

“Let’s get going back,” Beardstone said, “BTD must have gotten Lime free by now.”

.

The Withers were leaving him alone. 

Lime appreciated that. He didn’t hurt them, they stayed away from him. It was an uneasy peace as he felt them plotting in anger, but he was too tired to worry about that.

Instead, he found himself wandering, looking for the source of the blue light that he knew as Logic. He had to be somewhere.

It took a few minutes, but he found him. Sitting in a small, especially dark place, but whole, and in player form.

“Lime,” Logic greeted simply. 

Lime sat down beside Logic. “I tried to get you back,” he said, not meeting Logic’s heavy blue eyes.”

“I saw,” Logic replied, “I tried, I really did. But I couldn’t leave this place and they got in instead.”

“I should have tried harder, made sure it was you,” Lime sighed. 

Logic smiled softly, “We both feel we messed up.”

“Isn’t that great,” Lime chuckled, “Team LL, the best screwups on the Legacy SMP server.”

“At least you can go back,” Logic sighed.

Lime frowned, “I’m not leaving you here. Not again. I can’t.”

“I can see you guys in here,” Logic replied. He waved Lime over to a small hole, almost like a tear in the void of the rift. Lime’s eyes widened as he saw the others. Thomas, Beardstone, Zloy, and one of the players he created, talking near the Rift. Elsewhere, Poppy, BTD, Amy, Malcolm, and five others were joking while… breaking bedrock.

“There are only six players,” Lime observed.

“The seventh is still respawning,” Logic pointed out, showing the wisps of energy that were slowly reforming at spawn.

“I don’t know how I’m going to take care of them,” Lime sighed, “I was so stupid.”

“You didn’t know what was going on,” Logic said gently, “I wish I had found you sooner.”

“That doesn’t change the fact there are seven newly spawned players here with us. This world isn’t safe for them,” Lime said.

“Then bring them to a world that is safe.” Logic stepped back from the tear in the world. “This wasn’t your fault. You tried to bring me back. You didn’t know any of this would happen.”

“No…” Lime said, staring at what he thought was the floor.

“And once you knew what was going on, did you try to stop it—“

“—I should have known what was going on,” Lime said, stressing his words.

Logic’s eyes were too kind for him. “Lime,” he said gently, “I’m safe. We’re all safe. Even those players you made. It turned out okay.”

“But how can I give them the best life they can have?” Lime asked, “they’re now my responsibility.”

“Are these the first players you’ve ever made?” Logic asked.

“Usually they’re just made on their own. The Game wants to populate the worlds. I’ve only ever handcrafted a few, usually for fixing glitches,” Lime replied. 

“What did you do with them then?” 

“I just… let them live their lives in a world…”

“Then,” Logic said, “despite the circumstances, why not let them live their best life, maybe on a server together?”

Lime hummed in thought. He couldn’t set up something like that on his own. He would want it to be entirely safe, safe from any withers who might try to influence them with their wither skeleton-hybrid routes. He’d have to ask for something this entire situation could have been avoided with had he asked for at the beginning; help.

“Something’s happening,” Logic’s words broke Lime out of his head. He looked up, seeing the rift shift restlessly, like a pile of endermites trapped in a hole, covering the sky.

“What is happening?” Lime asked, his stance shifting defensively.

“I… I think the Rift is opening,” Logic said with a trace of confusion.

Almost as soon as it began, the rumbling stopped. Lime frowned, and looked over at Logic.

Logic’s face was still and hardened. “I think it’s time you went home.”

“I can’t leave you, Logic,” Lime insisted.

“This isn’t goodbye,” Logic stated firmly, “we’ll meet again soon. I just need time. I’ll walk you as far as I can go.”

Lime wondered how that felt. Time, alone in the rift, with only the withers who hardly bothered you for company. Was it worth it? But all Lime could say was, “Thank you.”

The walk was quiet between them. While technically, Lime could leave anywhere and return to his body, unlike Logic he was merely a lost soul wandering this plane, and unlike most lost souls he had the power to get back, he relished the last few moments he had with his friend. It may not be for forever, but to say goodbye now was to move on from his grief.

Maybe he could call it his grief that lead to all this. He had felt so alone, and he made a mistake in his fear and depression. He needed to ask for help this time, even if he didn’t want to. 

Logic paused. 

“Is this goodbye?” Lime asked.

“It’s not goodbye, it’s just until we can see each other again,” Logic replied.

“May I hug you?” Lime asked.

Logic blinked in surprise, but nodded.

Lime threw his arms around Logic and squeezed. Lime could feel the pressure against his spirit as he and Logic’s met. He didn’t want to let go, to move on at all. But he did anyway.

“Until tomorrow?” Logic smiled between tears.

“Until tomorrow, my friend.” Lime’s face was engraved with sorrow as he turned around and closed his eyes, allowing himself, once again, to walk between worlds, and to return to his physical form.

.

It was two days later when she arrived. She was a woman in a green dress, with reddish-blonde hair held up in a ponytail. Her eyes were deep, like Lime’s. Unlike Lime’s thick, burgundy cloak, her cape seemed more like a wispy pile of light, draped fabric that flowed with her. It still bore the same logo and apple-pendant that denoted her status. Lady Agnes.

When she arrived, she had greeted them with cordiality, before asking them for information on what had happened over the last week. They had stumbled over themselves to answer her questions, phrasing and clarifying. They were all honest, but… no one wanted to get Lime in trouble. 

He had made a mistake, and even the new players had long since forgiven him.

Thomas wasn’t sure if it had worked. Neither did Avomance, from the way he paced around the room. Or maybe Avo was just glad that respawn had mostly cured his legs of the wither paralysis that had been on the sword. It would still take a few days for the injury to go back to normal.

Poppy was brooding in the corner, her tail twitching from side to side. One of the new players was watching the motion in odd fascination. Another group was being watched by BTD, playing in the corner a game that Thomas could only observe as being called ‘can you break it by punching’. Currently they were testing obsidian. Nearby, Malcolm was teaching two how to read sheet music, with Amy close by heckling him the entire time. Beardstone was introducing one to the functions of a communicator. Finally, Zloy, like Poppy and Thomas, was quietly sitting, looking out a window at the wide outside of Legacy.

Checking the sun’s position, it had to have been at least an hour since the lady had taken Lime for a talk. It couldn’t be too much longer, could it?

Thomas’ thoughts were answered by the devs themselves. The door flung open, Lime following the lady with a tired expression on his face.

There was a murmuring that began, but it silenced as soon as the lady stood up, just a bit straighter. She carried a sense of authority even the newest of players could feel.

“As I could tell you all were concerned, Lime is not being removed from the team for this,” Lady Agnes said.

A mild racket broke up from the new players.

After patiently waiting for them to quiet down again, she continued, “He has, however, agreed to work with us on dealing with his emotions before it becomes a problem, and has been informed that bodily possession does, in fact, qualify as something to report.”

Her voice lifted with a slight smile at the end, encouraging a few awkward chuckles. Thomas didn’t see the humor in it.

“While I don’t want to provide too many details for Lime’s privacy, I will share with you this; the withers here are beyond dangerous and power hungry.”

“Tell us something we don’t know,” Amy sighed.

Lady Agnes turned to them, her eyes slightly harsh, “They aren’t normal withers. They have specifically parked themselves right outside this world and seem to believe the area around it is their own. Without you here, it’s possible that this would be a much larger threat. But, so long as players are in this world, they can’t leave. Lime has now been permanently assigned to watch over this world until we figure out a way to remove their threat.”

Thomas blinked. He supposed it made sense the Withers weren’t just ordinary withers, but for them to be bad enough even an outsider dev calls them that… it didn’t bring confidence.

“I want to thank all of you legates for staying with this world and tending it,” the lady concluded. She turned to the new players, looking over them. “As for you seven, you’ll be coming with me.”

There was a murmuring in their crowd.

“But, what if we like it here?” one player piped up.

“You’ll love it somewhere else,” she stated, “you seven have so much to learn. It’s best to do a fresh start on a fresh world. And I have a few custom tweaks I can use to make it less dangerous for you seven.”

The murmuring started again. Thomas and Poppy shared a look. 

“Will we stay together?” one player asked.

“Of course,” the lady smiled, “and I can also get you better usernames. The Withers are so uncreative.”

Excited voices piped up.

“I want to be a diamond!”

“Diamonds are boring, netherite is cool.”

“I like the name ‘Lapis’.”

The lady clapped, “You can decide as we love. Come along, please.”

Six excited players scurried to follow her out. One stayed behind. They were the brown-eyed one that Avomance had first befriended.

“Before I go,” they said, “I wanted to say thank you for comforting me. I was… so scared.”

“That was my fault.” Everyone left turned to Lime in surprise as he spoke. “I was scared, and I think I passed it to you. Can you forgive me for burdening you with this fear?”

The player seemed surprised, “Of course, I don’t mind anymore… I’m nervous but… I can handle it..”

“You might need to head along now,” Avomance replied, “Lady Agnes will be waiting.”

“I just…” the player bit their lips, “I wanted to chose a name after you. Avo. Maybe Avum, so I don’t… if you don’t mind…”

“Of course I wouldn’t mind!” Avomance exclaimed, brushing away a tear, “that’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for me, and it’s such a pretty name. You’re going to do great things, Avum.”

They smiled, nervously, but their joy shone through their eyes. “I guess, goodbye.”

Avomance nodded. “I’ll visit you someday, he promised.

Avum walked out of the room, leaving the legates finally alone. There was a comforting stillness in the air, a bit of peace after a long day.  

“That… that apology goes to all of you,” Lime replied, “Agnes didn’t mention it, but I am going to see someone for this. The Withers put both my brain and my body through a lot with their withering energy.”

“It’s fine my dude,” Zloy replied, “we’re all in one piece, we’re all okay, I got to hang out with Beardstone… all in all I’d say this was a pretty decent adventure.”

“And besides,” Poppy replied, “just because we didn’t rescue him today, doesn’t mean we can’t try again tomorrow. Or the next day.”

“He’s watching over us,” Lime replied, staring at the ceiling with an oddly reflective look, “and he always will be.”

A strange rumbling awoke them. A flash.

“Chaotic Event; Proximity Voices… Permanently,” Poppy wavered in confusion.

Thomas opened his communicator. Everything seemed normal, save for…

“They disabled our ability to call each other?” Thomas said in confusion.

”The withers really must be running out of ideas,” Zloy snorted.

A chuckling spread like a wildfire through the group. Their situation couldn’t at least be said to be absurd. Soon, however, the group settled down, the legates relaxing together as the family they were. 

Not everything could be said to be well. Zloy would be leaving soon, once more. Logic was still in the Rift. The Withers were still plotting how to silence the Legate’s voices. But for now, for at least bit longer, they could finally rest.