Oneshots! (Mostly Hermitcraft)

Running to Never: We claw our way to the top [Impulse]

I sight, draw, and release, sending the arrow straight through his abdomen. It punches through his armour and he staggers, hand flying to press against the wound. He scowls, leaping forward with his sword, eyes wild with bloodlust and eagerness for death. I cast my bow to the side, drawing my sword and barely blocking his strike, sparks flying from our blows. My arm is bleeding profusely, only three hearts unopened. I shove him off, lifting my leg and delivering a solid kick to his chest.

"Impulse!" Bdubs screams as I advance on him, sword at the ready. He scrambles backwards, tripping and landing on his back with a loud oof and groans as the arrow moves where it is embedded in his body.

I blink away tears. "Day One crew!" I shout, allowing the hurt, pain, of betrayal to lace my voice. "We were allies and they give you a clock – a clock – and you turn your back on everything. You're betraying me!"

"Says the traitor!" he shoots back, slowly pushing himself up, grip tight on the hilt of his sword. "Whose side are you on anyway, Impulse? Huh? You're one to talk about being a traitor."

I bite my bottom lip, unable to come up with a good response. He leaps back up, health regenerated, and darts back in, thrusting the point of his sword at my chest. I deflect it, the diamond scraping against my chestplate. My sword flashes in the air, then his blade is flying and we're standing chest-to-chest, my sword buried up to its hilt in his chest.

His eyes roll back into his head and he sags, strength leaving his limbs as he dies.

He doesn't disappear.

He's gone. He's dead. Permanently. I look down at my blood-soaked clothing, covered in the life of someone I had referred to as one of my greatest, closest friends in this world. He's dead. I killed him. His blood is on my hands.

I hadn't wanted to, not really. I never wanted to be responsible for the death of one of my friends, no matter how short that friendship lasted. His body slips off my sword, landing with a wet thud in the growing pool of blood. Shakily, I manage to eat a few carrots, my magic picking up the slack and healing my wounds, closing the hives from the poison and sealing the wound across my chest. Finally, my arm stops bleeding, red hearts closing and healing – for the most part.

Bdubs is dead and it's all my fault.

"Well, that was unexpected," Grian says, standing a few feet away. Scar stands just behind him, shirtless grey skin shining with sweat under the afternoon sun. Grian's bright yellow eyes bore into mine, black sclera hiding his real emotions. I shift my gaze to Scar, holding his crimson, bloody, scheming stare. He smiles, then leans over, whispering into the avian's ear. Grian grins maliciously, then leaps forward, thrusting his sword through my defences and piercing my armour, penetrating my chest.

I scream, drawing back and pressing my hand to the wound, blood dripping down my arm as four of the hearts reopen. The drops join the pool on the floor, followed by the stream spouting from my chest. Scar attacks from the side, grinning ghoulishly. I block, jogging backwards to where I had left my bow. My hand closes around the grip as I duck, avoiding a lethal swipe from Grian. I slide backwards, retreating as quickly as I dare, drawing and nocking an arrow in the process.

I sight down its shaft at Scar, shooting it with deadly accuracy. I don't bother to see if it hits and roll out of Grian's way, slinging my bow over my shoulder and catching his sword on mine, pressing into our locked blades. Glancing over his shoulder, I see Scar collapse, arrow buried in his forehead. I blink back tears as Grian's scowl deepens, black eyes meeting mine and staring into my soul.

"Now that was low," he growls as the life drains out of Scar. "You barely gave him a chance."

"Two versus one wasn't fair," I protest, slowly giving ground. He hisses and leaps forward again, sword flying in a dazzling combination. I barely manage to deflect him, moving to the side and sweeping my sword toward his abdomen. It hits with a dull thud, cutting through his armour and embedding itself in his stomach. He screams, blood flooding down his front to pool on the ground. He clutches his hand to it, weakly swinging his sword to graze the side of my leg.