Epilouge: Part Two

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Mumbo stared at his arms, deep gashes and scars littered across his skin. Some had been from the explosion of the TNT launcher, others were from the brainwashed Hermits fighting him, though most were from being crushed underneath the rubble and debris. He had it worst out of all the Hermits, healing potions unable to handle the amount of damage his body had been put through.

"You were running purely on adrenaline. It's a miracle you were even able to move." Stress told him, removing the old bandages from his right leg. She frowned at the scars, which seemed much worse than his other limbs.

Grian raised his eyebrows. "Hey, what's wrong?" He asked, placing a hand on the brunette's shoulder.

"Your leg got the worst of the rubble. You're lucky you're left handed, Mumbo, otherwise you would have permanent damage in your dominant leg."

"There's such a thing as a dominant leg—?" Joe blinked.

Mumbo felt his frown deepen. "So what does that mean for my leg?"

Stress tossed the old wrapping into the garbage, shaking her head. "You won't be able to stand without support from a cane. There's a possibility for a recovery, but I'm not sure it'll be likely with how bad your leg is."

His gaze fell back to the scars on his arms. Truthfully, the redstoner couldn't even feel his right leg. It was mainly numb. He could move it slightly, though it would come with a stab of pain. The scars would be mostly hidden by Mumbo's usual attire, though there was a rather drastic wound from his neck leading up to his cheek. It was most likely from the explosion, there was another scar just like it in the center of his chest.

"Hey, at least you'll look even fancier with a cane." Grian half-joked, placing a hand on Mumbo's shoulder.

"Not the time, G." Joe said, shooting a disappointed glare towards the builder.

"Nono, it's fine." The Brit assured the two, "Really. I don't mind."

"Sometimes we joke to cope with the trauma." Stress added, rummaging through a chest before pulling out a potion of regeneration.

Silence fell over the room for a couple minutes, before Joe let out a heavy sigh. "We all went through a lot." He said, staring at the floor.

"Mm." Mumbo nodded, taking the bottle that Stress handed him.

He tried to hold it steady, tugging at the cork to open the potion. Pain shot through his hands, the bottle slipping from his grasp before falling into his lap. Grian picked up the potion, opening it with relative ease. The redstoner muttered a soft 'thank you', sipping the glowing liquid slowly to numb the pain.

"That's another thing— there's definitely damage in your hands. Those are more likely to recover than your leg, but still. It'll be difficult to grasp and hold anything."

"Jeez, I'm just a mess." He laughed rather sadly, tears pricking the ends of his eyes. "And what happens if I don't recover? I won't be able to build or do redstone ever again? How can I be a Hermit if I can't do anything?"

Grian shook his head. "Mumbo, you'll always be a Hermit, no matter what. And you're going to recover, I promise."

"Just get a lot of rest for now. I bet we can talk to Doc or Iskall about making you a super cool redstone cane." Said the southerner hopefully, though Mumbo winced at the thought.

"I'd...rather not see them for a bit. Every time I close my eyes, it's like I can still see them. Those black masks and silver eyes...I just can't shake that." Mumbo sighed, clutching the wool blankets in his recovery bed.

Stress crossed her arms, glancing to the side. "So it's not just me. I hate to say it, but I just think they'll suddenly turn on us at any moment. Like they'll become possessed again."

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