Hermitcraft/Empires SMP/Third Life/Afterlife Randomness

Fate is Cruel

"For that," Scar continued. "You may slay me and take the Enchanter." He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable.

Part of Grian wanted to. The Red side of Grian wanted to.

But the color of his name didn't define him. "I... I can't."

Scar opened his eyes. "What?"

"I can't," Grian repeated, not realizing the tears were coming until they ran down his face. "I just can't."

He couldn't let all the hard work go to waste.

Scar was crying too.

"Let's win this together," Grian said.

Scar smiled weakly and nodded.

No! a voice in Grian's head said. There can only be one!

The voice sounded suspiciously like Ren.

Scar's smile faded. "It's a ghost," he realized, probably the one intelligent thing he had said in the entirety of Third Life.

"Ren?" Grian asked hesitantly.

What do you think? There can only be one! Fight!

Fight! Fight! Fight! Other ghosts chimed in.

Grian and Scar exchanged glances.

"One last 'bro' moment," Grian pleaded.

Fine, Scott said.

Oh, hooray, Grian thought. Even our allies want us dead.

Scar took out the boat that he had named the USS Friendship. The boat that Scar and Bigb had rode together, back in the swamp right before Grian had died.

They got in and Scar rode around in the water. Bdubs' body was on the bank, which Ghost Bdubs didn't seem to like. Blood drifted in tiny streams in the already murky water.

There was something horribly, disturbingly funny about it all.

That's enough, Ren said. Now fight!

"We should do it by Pizza's grave," Scar said. Their eyes met, and Grian could see that he wanted to stall as much as Grian did.

No weapons! Ren commanded. No armor! In a cactus circle!

He continued to suggest more gruesome ways to have the final duel, but among Impulse's chanting of FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! they couldn't hear him.

Grian nodded and got out of the boat, wringing put his sweater sleeves. He probably didn't need to. They were already torn and frayed beyond repair, so there was no point.

They headed for the desert.

------

A hot, dry breeze blew at the top of Monopoly Mountain, ruffling their hair and pushing a tumbleweed down the steep slope.

Scar and Grian stood inside a haphazard circle of cactus that they had made. Both of them stood ready to fight, but each saw the fear behind the other's eyes.

As much as they wanted the chance to win, they didn't want to die.

But at least it wasn't in an embarrassing way, like falling into a ravine while singing about science.

Hm, where had that happened before?

"Wait!" Scar said. "I have something."

Grian didn't really like the way he was smiling.

It wasn't supposed to be this way! Scar was supposed to not like the way Grian was smiling!

Scar took out a flint and steel and lit a small fire. Then he took out a shield.

The shield.

The banner on that shield had been the one that turned this place, this desert that once had pristine dunes as far as the eye could see, into a battlefield. This was the reason for the many bloodstains in the sand, for the giant crater interrupting the terrain.

Grian had never thought that it would get this out of hand.

Scar gazed at the shield one last time, taking in the three white triangles on a red field. It had been made to symbolize blood dripping down a white banner.

Scar threw the shield in the fire.

It was incredibly satisfying to watch it burn.

"Take that, Red Army!" Scar yelled, looking up at the sky.

You're looking at the wrong place, Etho commented.

Ren didn't say anything about the original banner burning, which Grian found out of character. Maybe he was so angry that he couldn't find words strong enough or something.

"Ooh, I have another one," Scar said. He took out a folded Red Army banner, a normal one this time - not on a shield. He burned that too.

Scar burned one more banner before taking out an enchanting table. The Enchanter that Scar had tried to buy from Ren. That had made them rivals. The banner had started the war.

Scar burned that too and punched the air in triumph.

Fight now, Ren said, his mental voice flat.

"Okay then," Grian said tightly. "Shall we let the ghosts count us in?"

That was followed by all of the deceased trying to count them in at once. Some started at five. Some at three. But as soon as someone got to one, they attacked.

Grian and Scar punched and kicked and apologized, tears of guilt and pain streaming down both their faces. Grian didn't know how long it lasted.

The duel took them out of the cactus circle, much to Ren's displeasure. Then they maneuvered back in.

Only when one of them fell did they stop.

Grian fell to his knees next to his best friend's body, digging his bloody hands into the sand. His crying turned to ugly sobbing. "That's what you get..." he choked. "That's what you get for being a total idiot."

One left, a ghost murmured.

Fate was cruel. Death was mercy.

Grian got up and stumbled past Pizza's grave. He stood at the edge of the little Pride Rock thing that Scar had built.

The sunset view over the desert was stunning. Grian could see the bunker, the huge crater in front of it, the lava moat where he had died, the ravine that had turned Scar red, some Red Army banners fluttering in the wind. But he didn't really care.

Why was life so unfair?

It should have been me.

One left, the ghosts murmured.

"One left," Grian said to himself.

There was no thrill of winning, no feeling of victory. Grian had killed and been killed. And now it was over.

This is it.

Grian jumped.