"Guys, I have an idea."
Doc addressed the group gruffly, Scar standing awkwardly behind him.
Zed perked up. "What is it then? Spill."
"Remember Area 77?" Doc asked. "Well, I and Scar had originally created it to study unnatural phenomenon and stuff like aliens or glitches. In doing so, we've both learned quite a bit when it comes to containing this sort of stuff."
"Doccy, what are you implying?" Keralis asked curiously.
Doc began pacing a little. "If we build some sort of containment cell, we might be able to successfully capture Ren or Wels. From there, we might be able to bring them to their senses with enough good stimuli."
Tango frowned. "Stimuli? You're not thinking of-"
"He means trying to help the hermit remember who they are." Scar interjected. "We'd probably have the best chance with Ren. Renbob is naturally anti-violent, so that could be in our favor."
"How would we actually catch him though?" Mumbo questioned. "If the corruption is a hivemind, this won't be that easy."
"Uh... Live bait?" Impulse suggested.
________________
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Impulse asked for the hundredth time..
Zed nodded enthusiastically. "Trust me, unnecessarily complicated stuff is my whole thing. And sheep. I'm sure a distraction will be easy squeezy."
Tango gave him a worried look. "Zed, what if you get hurt like Impulse did? I don't want to lose either of you."
"Tango, Impy, I'll be fine. Worse case scenario, I end up in the containment chamber with Ren. No biggie!" Zed gave them a hug. "I'll be back before you know it."
_________________
Joe ran a hand over the books on the shelf.
A familiar one caught his eye, and he picked it up. Dark blue leather, elegant handwriting, signed anonymous?
He'd almost forgot about this one. He flipped it open curiously, finding a small guide on Nether mobs. Joe smiled as he remembered the pain it was to make, all the deaths in lava were well worth it.
It wasn't often Joe found his own writings in world-spawned bookshelves, but it was a pleasant surprise whenever he did. Most of his writing was in the form of poetry or journals, but a few, such as this one, were straightforward to avoid any confusion.
These only made up a small fraction of the vast library in the worlds code, most books originally written by players. Some were unfinished, accidentally left on a shelf for the code to take hold of. Many were simple singleplayer journals, similar stories of building a base and beating the ender dragon.
Once Joe found a book by someone named Technoblade, a thrilling tale of a war between two farmers. A few months later he'd discovered another work by the same person, this one a journal written during the hardships of war and the authors struggle to take down the government. It wasn't too often Joe found stories or journals like these, reminding him of the servers outside Hermitcraft, the millions of worlds gifted by the code.
Joe placed the book back down, skimming through the shelves again. A though gnawed at his mind, resurfaced by the thoughts of books. That magic book that Grian had found, the one that turned out to be a vessel for an enemy...
He couldn't help but wonder if it was his.
He'd never gotten a good look at it so he couldn't be sure. There were others who'd written stuff on the Fae, the chance of it happening to be his was infinitesimal.
Joe remembered Scar, and how he'd felt guilty about his crystals. Joe supposed he'd felt the same way.
A sigh escaped him, and he walked over to the enchantment table. Setting down a few pieces of lapis and a helmet, he stepped back to watch the magic do it's work.
It was funny, how many things used up normal magic all the time. Potions, enchanting, even endermen. Then there was the types of magic that were rarer, but not always more powerful. Creative, Watcher magic, Admin privilege's, Mods... Fae magic was among these, but it never really got well known. From what Joe guessed, other Fae usually hid like he did.
He wasn't quite sure why he still hadn't told anyone about his heritage, but it's not like he could now.
The most he could do was try to help however he could. He had an idea, a hunch. If his was correct, then he had a lot of preparations to do.
T⍑ᒷ ⍊𝙹╎ᓵᒷᓭ ᔑ∷ᒷ ⊣∷𝙹∴╎リ⊣.
T⍑ᒷ|| ꖎ╎ᒷ ╎リ ∴ᔑ╎T ̣.
T⍑ᒷ ᓵꖎ𝙹ᓵꖌ ℸ ̣ ╎ᓵꖌᓭ 𝙹リ.
T⍑ᒷ||'ꖎꖎ ∴⍑╎ᓭ!¡ᒷ∷ ||𝙹⚍∷ ⎓ᔑℸ ̣ ᒷ.