Chapter Text
Being the leader of a group of people like the hermits, put many strange things onto Xisuma. He had to manage their world, to keep an eye out for faulty things in the fabric and make sure everything ran smoothly. That was the easier part, the one he could do in his sleep if it was needed.
The not-so-easy parts had everything to do with a group of mismatched individuals who he loved and appreciated more than anything. They weren’t prone to conflict, rarely truly upset with one another, but they were no strangers to certain eccentricities.
They could all take care of themselves while seeing their grand projects take shape on landscapes that they also changed to their fitting. Most meetings were just discussing their latest projects or the economy of their world. But every now and then, something bigger would happen, something they had to discuss at length amongst each other to hinder long-lasting conflicts.
Xisuma had thought that the disappearance and reappearance of eight of them had been a one-time thing, since Grian had insisted on it pretty heavily.
The world liked to prove him wrong with how things looked. One day, months after the original incident, Xisuma received a message on his communicator that sent his stomach into a pit.
<Keralis1> anyone seen bubbles and tango lately?
He read the message with a deeply furrowed brow. It was the third message to appear in the chat that day, with two messages from Joe and Doc, asking similar questions about their missing friends.
That was never a good sign. Xisuma pulled out a few rockets and launched himself into the air. When he was on a comfortable path towards Boatem, he responded to Keralis.
<Xisuma> i’ll check out Boatem. when’s the last time you saw them?
The Boatem Crew and the Big Eyes Crew had been at odds lately. Xisuma hadn’t talked to any of them in a good while, too caught up in his own projects. But he kept up with some of their rivalry, just to ensure it didn’t get out of hand. He hadn’t thought it anything but a playful spat.
He still didn’t.
<Keralis1> saw tango last night and bdubs was working on the horse course last week
<Docm77> boatem is empty.
Xisuma ignored the pit in his stomach and flew west, towards Boatem. Passing through their borders had started to overwhelm anyone with a strong surge of dizziness from the many sensory inputs that came from so many hermits living closely. But by now everyone knew when to expect it.
He landed in the middle of it all, close to the Boatem Pole and let his eyes dart across the rest of their town with precision. Just as Doc had claimed, the town looked completely deserted. Usually, there’d be at least one or two of them out and about, building something, restocking shops, and throwing each other into the void.
Now, it was empty. Eerily so.
Xisuma spotted Doc right outside Impulse’s base.
“Doc?” he called out, using his hand to cup his mouth.
Doc turned around with a solemn expression and walked over. “I thought Ren might’ve gone here…”
Xisuma mentally tallied who was missing so far, already dreading the numbers and the names. Tango, Bdubs, Ren, Boatem—plus, if Joe’s message from the morning was taken into consideration, that would mean Cleo was missing as well.
“Are you sure Mumbo and Pearl aren’t around?” Xisuma asked with a hint of desperation. It didn’t make sense for those two to be gone too. As far as he was aware, Pearl hadn’t been in the death game, and Mumbo definitely hadn’t.
“I’m pretty sure, yeah,” Doc said. “If they were here, they’d have answered.”
Xisuma sighed deeply. The sound of hissing could be heard from Scar’s base, followed by a crash. Xisuma and Doc shot towards the noise, charging through Scar’s front door with a swiftness that could only be from the fear building between them.
There was Cub. Crouched on the floor by Jellie’s food bowl and an extra fish in his hand. He looked up at Xisuma and Cub.
“Jellie looks like she hasn’t eaten breakfast,” he said calmly, letting the words hang in the air. Scar would never let Jellie go without breakfast—not on purpose.
Xisuma nodded slowly and pulled out his communicator once again. He’d just check on Iskall. If Etho was still home, then maybe… maybe it was all a big misunderstanding. A prank. Grian was prone to pranks—Xisuma ignored the large part of him that knew Grian would never pull a prank like that.
<Xisuma whispers to iskall85> is etho with you?
<iskall85> he and bdubs were working with the horses yesterday. haven’t seen him this morning. anything wrong?
Everything was wrong. But Xisuma couldn’t very well write that. He needed to keep calm and steady to get them through this a second time—if it was really happening again.
Cub stroked Jellie’s fur and picked her up, walking out the door to take a look at Boatem Town. Doc and Xisuma followed quietly.
“I have never seen this place so lifeless,” Doc said.
There was no Scar, Grian, Mumbo, Pearl, and Mumbo, sauntering about their town with laughter. There were no messages on the communicator to indicate they’d been there through the night. The last message from any of them was Impulse telling Mumbo to come to his base two nights ago.
It had happened before, maybe that was why the dread that crept through Xisuma was familiar. Intrusive but not strange. He couldn’t find any words, which was a problem. Because Xisuma was looked up to for guidance. He was a leader figure to them all, and if he couldn’t figure anything out, things were much worse for the rest.
Cub looked at Xisuma in understanding. “Why don’t we ask the rest, just to make sure?”
Xisuma nodded and typed something into his communicator once again. He would never forget which members had gone missing only four months ago—would never forget the fruitless attempts at tracking them down that had taken over all his waking days.
<Xisuma> if anyone has seen mumbo, grian, pearl, impulse, scar, bdubs, tango, ren, or etho around, please tell me. the last time anyone has seen any of them seems to be yesterday
He knew that writing something like that would turn everyone’s world upside down and was already considering setting up their meeting room again. He’d just stored the chairs away yesterday.
<GeminiTay> i talked to pearl yesterday at noon…
<Zedaph> what, did everyone just leave?
It wasn’t fair. They’d moved worlds and settled in this one to avoid the grasp of the Watchers. Grian had assured them that it was a one-off thing, even if he’d said it with hesitation.
They’d been wrong, and they’d failed. It seemed to dawn on Cub and Doc too, who shared twin looks of worry, as more messages from other hermits appeared at alarming rates.
“I’ll take care of Jellie,” Cub said. It was a small consolation, a thing that Scar would no doubt appreciate if he wasn’t far out of their grasp.
”There’s not much we can do, is there, X?” Doc asked.
The question didn’t require an answer. They all remembered the last time.
When Cleo returned home, reappearing in her bed, but hurriedly heading towards spawn, everyone had swarmed around her, drowning her in questions about where she’d been and where they rest of them had gone.
She’d lashed out at Joe—who’d been the first one to find her—almost killing him on the spot. And then she’d been tasked with telling everyone about a death game, where every participant had three lives, and an insatiable bloodlust that tore them apart from the inside.
The rest of them came back too, and everyone let out a breath of relief for each hermit that came back with horrible stories leaving their tongues. Most of them came back quietly, with reassurances that they were fine despite it all. It was only when Ren came back that Xisuma once again worried.
Ren looked different. A large bloody crown adorned his head, and his skin was as pale as snow. He didn’t talk to anyone at all at first, and none of the returning hermits talked to him either.
Then Impulse returned.
“That traitor!” He yelled to himself, making everyone who’d come to the shopping district tense. “A clock! Why would he care about a stupid clock?”
Cleo straightened her back and walked past everyone. She stopped in front of Impulse and put a hand on his shoulder. “What happened? Who’s left?”
Impulse shrugged off the hand and glared—though it didn’t exactly look directed at Cleo. “Bdubs killed me because Scar gave him a clock. It’s just those three and BigB left.”
Tango let out a low whistle, earning a glare from Cleo. “Wanna bet on who wins? My vote’s on Scar.”
Finally, Ren decided to speak up, head held high and condescending. “My bet’s on that filthy desert person too. He managed to slay me after all.”
“It better be Grian or BigB,” Impulse said.
Cleo shot a strained smile at Ren. “At least it wasn’t the mad king.”
Everyone—except the disappearing hermits—watched in confusion and horror as Ren proceeded to insult Cleo with colourful words, in an accent he hadn’t had when he left. They all readily jumped to Cleo’s defence. Joe even pulled out his bow and pointed an arrow at Ren.
Cleo took it all with a deadpan expression. “We’re not there anymore, Ren.”
Ren glared and muttered something about his hand, before walking off and settling on the curb outside the Town Hall.
Xisuma stifled the urge to follow him, to figure out what made him act like that, but he still wanted more explanations. Cleo had explained the rules, how something collaborative had turned into a war between two major factions. It didn’t explain much about Ren.
The hermits camped in the shopping district as they waited for the last three hermits. Or, mostly for Bdubs, who had set his spawn in the Town Hall before leaving. Mumbo and Cub were in the jungle, waiting for Grian and Scar where they would be coming back.
Bdubs did not come back quietly. As was his nature, he startled everyone out of their moody conversations with a loud scream.
“No! Scar!”
Everyone shot up in an instant, hurrying towards Bdubs’ room.
“That traitor!” Bdubs yelled to himself. He whipped his head upwards and noticed them all in the doorway, but his eyes fixated on only one of them.
“Cleo,” his voice cracked.
“Hi, Bdubs,” Cleo said gently, pushing past the other hermits to go into the room. She joined Bdubs on the bed and pulled him towards her chest. One silent moment passed before Bdubs buried his head against her and started sobbing. Cleo lowered her head, but Xisuma caught sight of the tears rolling down her cheeks.
The hermits watched in stunned silence, which was only broken by Etho, ushering everybody away. Maybe it was because few had ever seen Cleo cry, or Bdubs sound so deeply broken, that the hermits managed to step back and leave them be.
“They were teammates,” Etho told Xisuma quietly, leaning against the frame of the door in an almost protective manner. “They just need each other now.”
Xisuma nodded and attempted to understand. He couldn’t. Not really.
Bdubs’ sobs could be heard for a while in the town hall, but soon enough they quieted down. That was when Etho, Tango, and Impulse all headed into the room—even Ren made a reappearance to go in there. He’d discarded his crown somewhere.
As Xisuma tried to cope with the helplessness that squeezed at his heart in an uncomfortable manner, he got a message he didn’t even realise he’d been waiting for.
<MumboJumbo> grian and scar are back, we’re in grian’s starter base.
Xisuma sighed deeply and tried to grasp at any relief those messages brought. All the hermits were home and safe, even if they were acting weirder than ever. A collective sigh of relief passed through the town hall.
“I’m going to go meet them,” Xisuma told them all. “You can all stay here and… make sure everyone feels safe.”
False shot up from her seat. “I’m coming with you.”
Xisuma nodded and together they shot off, wasting many rockets in their haste. They landed right outside Grian’s starter base, amongst the looming jungle trees. The sun was setting, and two clear voices could be heard from the inside, speaking at high volumes.
False put a hand on her scabbard and opened the front door. They were greeted by the sight of Cub and Mumbo, standing carefully against the walls, holding a distance to Grian and Scar, who were arguing.
Grian’s cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were bloodshot. He was wearing a rugged brown cloak over his jumper, and his wings looked weirdly stiff. “I killed you, Scar. I can’t see why you’d want anything to do with me.”
“It was only fair!” Scar retorted. Their mayor was not wearing a shirt, and his skin was a sickish grey. “After what I did…”
“I gave in to the voices,” Grian hissed, voice bordering on hysterical. He reached a hand into his hair and tugged at it harshly.
Scar’s face fell and he edged closer to Grian. In an intimately caring gesture, Scar lifted his hand and guided Grian’s hand away from his hair. Grian looked at him with wide eyes and didn’t stop Scar from intertwining their hands.
“We all did,” Scar whispered.
It was such a weird moment. It didn’t even feel like those two knew the others were there. Xisuma looked at Mumbo and Cub. Mumbo’s brows were drawn together, and he raised his arm as if to interfere, but then lowered it again, deciding against that course of action. Cub was a bit harder to read, but Xisuma could see an analytical glint in his eyes.
“Excuse me, Grian, Scar,” Xisuma said carefully.
Grian’s eyes shifted towards him, and he subtly positioned himself in front of Scar, wing covering half of Scar’s body. Behind him, Scar put a hand on his shoulder, but all the softness had left his eyes.
Xisuma was reminded of Ren, who wasn’t entirely himself, and tried to apply it to these two too. Suddenly, Mumbo and Cub’s distances made a little more sense. He took a step back and raised his hands in surrender.
“Sorry, my friends,” he said slowly.
Grian’s eyes darted between them all. “We’re—” He cut himself off. “Scar?”
“Yes, Grian?”
“We’re home, aren’t we?” Grian whispered. Xisuma was sure he’d only meant for Scar to hear it and felt weirdly regretful for hearing it. Scar surveyed them all carefully, eyes lingering on Xisuma. Xisuma shot him a single nod, which seemed to satisfy Scar.
“We are,” Scar smiled, voice unsteady. “G, you won!”
“I won,” Grian echoed weakly.
Mumbo stepped forward. “We’re happy to have you two back.”
“Everyone came back, right?” Grian asked, a desperate tint to his voice.
Xisuma couldn’t remember ever hearing Grian sound like that before, and that tone absolutely demanded an answer. He’d had been so worried, he hadn’t even thought to consider that the missing hermits could be worried too, especially Grian, who had told Xisuma he was removed from his old world once, a long time ago. Of course, he’d be concerned.
“They did,” Xisuma assured quickly. “You two were the last two to come back.”
Scar and Grian shared a look, thousands of things passing between them in the silence. Grian took a deep unsteady breath. Scar stepped in front of him and smiled easily. “That’s wonderful to hear. Do you happen to know if Bdubs is mad at me?”
Grian let out a shaky chuckle into Scar’s arm.
“He woke up screaming your name,” False said bluntly, though she had a reassuring smile on her lips.
When Scar winced, Grian patted his shoulder silently, before turning back to Xisuma. “How much has everyone told you?”
“They’ve said it was a death game,” he said. “With a world border and a limited number of lives.”
Grian shifted on his feet, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here, and about to say anything but the words that came out of his mouth.
“You should probably call for a meeting.”
Xisuma had been trying to puzzle everything together from whatever pieces the missing hermits decided to share. During the meeting, they’d given a short list of events and introduced the rest of the hermits to the other participants of the games. People who were far out of their reach by then.
Grian told them of the creatures who watched, deities that Xisuma had thought were fake until that moment. When he spoke before all the hermits, a heavy weight rested on his shoulders, a weight that even his wings couldn’t carry.
The creatures were dark, mischievous, and bored.
The hermits voted and Xisuma created a new world. He swore to himself that his friends wouldn’t be taken again. That they’d never have to find all their grand structures empty and lifeless.
They were gone again.
The remaining hermits gathered at spawn for a discussion.
Keralis put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry too much, Shiswammy. They all came back in one piece last time.” His tone was as warm as ever, and it almost helped settle the deep despair that clung to Xisuma.
Almost.
“Was no one with any of them when they disappeared?” Cub asked curiously.
Everyone shook their heads. Doc, Iskall, and Joe looked particularly bothered by this.
“I visited Boatem,” Gem said with a bittersweet smile. “It looked so weird without them to light up the place.”
And they talked. That was all they could do for the time being. Wait and talk. Until the moment they had their friends back.
Mumbo came back to an empty town.
The scarlet eyes of his best friend were burned into his vision, making him shiver in his bed.
His actual bed. His sheets. His home.
He looked down at himself and winced to see his dress shirt covered in blood, looking quite gruesome. It made nausea bubble in his stomach. The feeling of being chased down settled over him, and for a few silent minutes he waited to see if anyone would strike.
No one did.
He was home.
What should he do? He’d lost, hadn’t he? He’d been stabbed through his heart by his best friend, his most valued ally. It felt so wrong on so many levels.
The rest of the hermits must be worried sick. Mumbo remembered how distressed he had been the first time around, when half of the jungle settlers disappeared into thin air, only to reappear with grudges and heavy baggage. He got up from the bed and fiddled around for his communicator.
He didn’t bother writing a message and smacked down on the call button.
Xisuma picked up in an instant. “Mumbo? Oh, thank the Void. You’re back, mate!”
Mumbo swallowed. “Can you come to Boatem?”
He knew he could find Xisuma easily, and that Boatem was often disorientating for non-Boatem people. But the thought of venturing out with so many unknown variables made the sick feeling in his stomach stronger.
“Of course, mate,” Xisuma said, “I’ll be there in five minutes, alright?”
Five minutes was enough for Mumbo to change out of the bloody dress shirt. He was disturbed to find that the stab hadn’t even scarred, and all evidence that it had happened was the bloody dress shirt.
Xisuma appeared at an inconvenient time—which was before Mumbo had discarded the shirt properly.
“Mate, what’s that?” he asked, eyeing the bloody stains with a wrinkled brow.
“Final life,” Mumbo swallowed. “I think this means the rest are coming soon.”
Xisuma had held back for a solid minute before he wrapped his arms around Mumbo.
“Last time, Tim was the first one to die,” Grian laughed while Jimmy looked sheepish.
Impulse gave Jimmy a reassuring smile. “Someone had to be the first one out, man.”
Martyn seemed to take joy in joining Grian’s teasing, hinting at a history between those three that Mumbo had never even heard of.
“Wouldn’t it be funny if you were out first again?” Martyn teased.
Grian pointed his loaded crossbow towards Jimmy. “That could be arranged!”
Jimmy squawked and stood up. “Hey! Grian!”
They all laughed. Even Mumbo.
Grian lowered his crossbow with a smirk. “I’ll just kill you later, Timmy. When I get boogey, you’re my target.”
Mumbo saw the opportunity and raised his spyglass. “Your t-aha-rget!”
Another round of laughter and several bad puns later, Impulse leaned against a log.
“Things did seem to take a turn for the worse after Jimmy died, though,” he said thoughtfully.
Mumbo raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
No one seemed to have a concrete answer for him, but Grian’s eyes clouded over at those words. Something that was never explained to Mumbo.
It was only as Grian had pierced Mumbo’s heart that he’d finally fully understood the nature of the games. When the first death had passed, something snapped. The collective agreement to hold back bounced off them, and the bloodlust took over.
Mumbo took a deep breath to try to settle the ache in his heart. “It was really bad, X.”
Xisuma pulled away and glanced at the bloody dress shirt once again. He turned his gaze to Mumbo.
“Tell me everything.”
From what Mumbo shared with him, Xisuma started putting together a story.
It involved more people than last time, but the rules were more or less the same, with the addition of a betrayer, a boogeyman. Mumbo had only managed to explain his own day 1 alliance, the Southlanders, when their conversation was interrupted.
Their communicators rang.
<impulseSV> back in boatem
Mumbo paled, and Xisuma had never seen him look so concerned.
“Do you want to share explanations for later, when everyone has returned?” Xisuma asked. It’d be easier to explain with everyone else there, instead of Mumbo somehow oversharing his experience—it might come across as biased that way and the last thing Xisuma wanted was more conflict.
“I think I’d prefer that, yes,” Mumbo nodded.
Their communicators were exploding with messages from the rest of the hermits. Xisuma turned off his as he and Mumbo walked out of the Utopia and tracked down Impulse.
Impulse’s return wasn't one with angry outbursts this time, instead, he was perched on the wall of his factory, looking worse for wear.
He looked right through Xisuma.
“We summoned the Wither…” He told Mumbo. “Grian and I.”
Mumbo smiled carefully. “And how’d that go?” Xisuma was surprised to hear a teasing tilt to his tone.
“It didn’t go so well.” Impulse put on a strained smile and jumped down. “I’m so glad to be back.”
Xisuma was at a loss for words. Even though Mumbo had come back with a bloodied shirt, and Impulse spoke of a Wither, they both seemed collected. He’d be inclined to believe that they were almost fine if memories of last time they’d all returned played in his mind.
No one had been fine.
“Let’s gather the hermits,” Xisuma said.
Not to talk about the game, but to help settle everyone’s worries. Impulse and Mumbo agreed, and when everyone had gathered, those two stayed close to each other, looking tense in the crowd.
Bdubs woke up screaming. He pleaded, and cried, and waited for another life to engulf him, taking him back to where he needed to be.
The life never came. Grian’s arrow impaled his shoulder and Bdubs was dead.
He woke up screaming for Etho.
So so stupid. So so unlucky. The unfairness of it all made him scream even louder. His bed was in the fallen moon, which was decently isolated, so it wasn’t like anyone would hear him.
“Darn it, Etho!” He yelled to himself.
Had Grian and Tango been right? No, no they couldn’t have been! There must’ve been a mistake. Etho was slow to act sometimes, but he wanted them to win together—he’d said that himself. Bdubs’ death didn’t mean that Etho didn’t care.
Bdubs ignored the nagging voices of Grian and Tango telling him otherwise.
Time was up. Etho was far out of his reach. And Bdubs was alone.
Was he alone? Memories of this world, his home, had been so blurred, so alien in the spruce and dark oak forests of the game. Someone here must care about him or miss him right now. But there was no Cleo waiting for him to come back. It was only Bdubs.
He looked around the familiar clutter of the fallen moon. It wasn't as charming as it had been when he first set it up, now, it made him feel trapped. Heck! If someone walked up the stairs right now, he’d be in a terrible position.
Bdubs shot up from his bed and tore open a chest. Sword. Check. Extra bed. Check.
The hermits must be freaked out. Bdubs eyed his communicator, which he’d abandoned on his bedside table. He should write something or track down X or Keralis, to assure them that he was home and safe.
But, well.
Tango had called Bdubs selfish many times in their last moments together. Amongst other things (cruel, greedy, awful)—Bdubs denied it, it was easy to do that when Etho taunted Tango too.
Maybe Tango had a point, Bdubs thought tiredly as he snuck out of his base in the death of the night—full moon glaring at him, unusually bright—and walked down the paths until he reached his destination.
The horse course.
With a yawn, he placed down the extra bed in the middle of the course, ignoring a group of mobs just a few metres away.
Bdubs fell asleep.
He dreamt of reds, a familiar friend, with clipped wings and red eyes, and a foreign foe, with a large bloody cloak covering his body, speaking to him from a world he could no longer reach.
A week passed.
Mumbo and Impulse tried to bring some life back to Boatem, with significant help from Cub, Stress, False, and Gem.
They didn’t talk about the game. Mumbo didn’t attempt to bring it up, and neither did Impulse. He suspected that Xisuma had told the others to not ask any questions until every missing hermit was safe and accounted for.
It made a lot of sense considering some of the awkward conflicts that had spawned between the hermits last time. Bdubs and Impulse specifically hadn’t held back against each other, and Mumbo suspected that Scar and Ren’s good-hearted natures were the only things keeping them from being at each other’s throats too.
Last time, some had picked sides after hearing how everything had gone. Even Mumbo had been happy that Grian won after seeing how Ren acted when he got back.
Chances were, Xisuma was trying to avoid things like that.
It was a decision Mumbo respected, even when it made for awkward situations. He tried to continue old projects, but quickly found himself getting distracted by thoughts of a game he hadn’t ever wanted to be a part of.
Tango did not return quietly. He came back with smoke blowing off him in streams and grass burning beneath his feet. He didn’t announce his return on his communicator. Instead, he opted to show up in Boatem with demands rolling off his tongue.
“Where the hell is Bdubs?” He asked, red eyes narrower than ever.
Mumbo wrote a quick message to Xisuma while letting out a confused exclamation. “Why would Bdubs be here?”
Tango had never been so short-fused. “Because he died.”
“We haven't seen him at all,” Impulse said carefully.
Whatever peace Mumbo had managed to feel that week dissipated. Had Bdubs died and not come back? That was a new variable, a dangerous one at that.
Tango scratched his chin and glared at the ground, which was mostly soot surrounding his feet. For a moment, he contemplated in silence. “Oh.” His eyes narrowed even further. “I see. He’s sulking because no one came to bail him out again!”
Mumbo and Impulse shared a look. It was Impulse who spoke up next.
“Bdubs can’t end these games on good terms with anyone, huh.”
“Oh, you don’t know half of it!” Tango complained. “I’m going to find him and tell him how stupid he is.”
Mumbo coughed. “X is on his way?”
Tango stopped in his tracks, conflict painting his face. He seemed to have been so caught up in whatever grudge he had with Bdubs, that he hadn’t even considered how important his return was.
Mumbo was still sort of caught up in the fact that Bdubs had appeared at some point and decided against telling anyone. How could he do that in good conscience? Was it because he’d come back so late last time and therefore not experienced the excruciating wait?
Tango tapped his foot and grabbed a rocket from his belt. “Tell him I’ll be at the horse course.”
“The horse course?” Mumbo blurted.
In a swoosh, Tango was gone, leaving two confused hermits in his wake.
In the rush of it all, Mumbo remembered Etho and Bdubs gravitating towards one another in a way he couldn’t begin to describe.
He and Bdubs had both been red, teamed up. And yet, every conversation led back to Etho.
Bdubs always found a way to reminisce about all the moments they’d shared, to their snow fort, to the first boogey kill. Mumbo could imagine many of the other participants would’ve been driven to annoyance with the frequent rants, but Mumbo felt a pang of pale green envy.
How could Bdubs and Etho find themselves so attached in a world that pitted them against each other at every turn? It didn’t seem fair.
Mumbo bitterly wondered if that was how Grian and Scar had acted in that desert of theirs. They never talked about it, and he would’ve never been able to guess that they’d had a meaningful alliance based on how they treated each other this time around.
But he still remembered when the two of them had returned the first time around. Grian clinging to Scar like a lifeline, muttering apologies while Scar stroked his hair with a soft smile.
He wondered what happened.
Then he was killed by Grian.
“You’re so stupid.”
That was Tango’s voice. Bdubs missed when it sounded amused around him. He surely wasn’t going to wake up now if all Tango could muster was petty malice.
“You can’t just sleep until Etho’s here. That’s not how this works, Bdubs.”
“Be nice to Bubbles,” Keralis' honey voice intervened. Thank you, Keralis.
“He betrayed me,” Tango yelled. “And now he’s trying to sleep his problems away. Everyone’s worried and he is selfish.”
The tone was familiar, and Bdubs found himself back in the snow fort, with a growling Tango threatening him while he and Etho teased and taunted.
Bdubs missed Etho. Did Etho miss Bdubs?
The voices didn’t say anything more.
Scar woke up peacefully in the waggon, with a weight on his chest that for once felt familiar and warm instead of intrusive.
He let out a breath. Not one of relief, but one to confirm that he was alive. Dying in those games was distinctly different from dying in this world, and returning to the right state of mind was difficult.
Jellie purred. She didn’t look any thinner than when he’d first left, which meant that a hermit had taken care of her. Scar assumed it was Cub. He should go say thank you to Cub.
Not yet though, not while Scar still feared the red seeping through his system. It had scared him last time, how long he’d held back near Grian and how fickle that self-control was in the face of anyone else. Even now, when he’d barely survived any time as a red life, he felt the bloodlust, familiar as it had always been.
He spent two additional hours in the wagon, breathing deeply, feeding Jellie, and removing any weapons from his body. The robes he was wearing were covered in blood—his blood—and they weren’t super fitting for this world, so he discarded them and put himself into Swaggon-appropriate attire.
Only when he was sure he wouldn’t accidentally murder the first person he met, could Scar step outside. He stepped out and took in the sights of Boatem, leaning on his cane with a relaxed smile. Jellie walked between his feet with a meow.
Boatem looked as it always had. Chaotic and wonderful, and so unapologetically home.
“Scar!” Mumbo’s voice called out.
Scar turned his head to the left, and sure enough, there he was, in all his sharp-suited glory.
“Mumbo Jumbo!” Scar greeted. “How glad I am to see your moustached face!”
Mumbo walked up to him and gave him a distressed once-over. “Are you okay?”
“Why Mumbo, I’ve never been better!” The lie rolled off his tongue easily.
Mumbo let out a sigh and smiled. “Oh, mate, I’m so glad to hear that. Tango’s been acting… a bit nuts if you ask me.”
Scar hummed. “Our Tango went out in an unfortunate way.”
“How?” Mumbo asked.
“With a boom, of course!” Scar grinned. “How’s everyone doing, Mumbo? Oh, I bet X has grey hair by now—or… does he even have hair?”
Mumbo let out a chuckle, it sounded slightly exasperated to Scar’s ears. “We’re in a bit of a limbo if I’m being honest— Waiting for the rest to come back is an excruciating task in itself.”
Scar never got to try that. All he remembered from before was dying in the ring, waking up, and waiting for Grian, who was by his side in less than a minute. Scar suppressed any additional thoughts on Grian. Especially the ones that yearned for his presence.
“I can’t believe Grian stole a life from you and lost it just like that!” Joel mused on a visit to the humble dirt hurt Scar had built himself. “You must be so angry. Especially considering… Well—” he fixed Scar a meaningful look.
Scar busied himself with rearranging some junk in his chests. “Oh, but Joel, my fellow wizard. I am a conman, and as a conman, I appreciate the art of a deal!”
Joel snickered. “I don’t think you’re supposed to admit that you’re a conman, Scar.”
“We’re starting a business together. It’s best if we understand each other.”
The alliance with Joel had been the last thing Scar expected to come out of their first days together. He’d been fine with giving Grian the life, it sucked to have been beaten at his own game, but to have that connection with Grian was comforting.
Until it had been ripped away.
Scar didn’t know Joel well, but he understood the man held a similar fondness for mischief, with a touch of arrogance.
“Oh, I think we do, Scar.”
He could work with that.
Bdubs woke up with a startle. Something wet was touching his face.
He groaned and opened his eyes for the first time in who knows how long.
“Lulu?” He asked meekly.
Lulu whinnied and bumped its snout against his face.
“Yuck, Lulu!”
Bdubs sat up and looked around. No Tango. No Keralis. Weird. He could’ve sworn they’d been there.
“Oh, Lulu. I’m so sorry. Stupid me didn’t even come by and say hi! Did you get out here all by yourself?”
Lulu didn’t answer him. But he knew she’d travelled all the way out here just as he had.
Despite himself, Bdubs searched the entire course for the familiar mismatched eyes that he so desperately needed to see again.
Nothing. The games were still going, but Bdubs knew they were coming to an end, that blood would be shed soon enough, with one sole survivor.
Grian had never carried himself like a winner. When he and Scar returned the first time around, they’d swiftly and gravely informed everyone of what exactly had happened. Bdubs had been so caught up in a petty argument with Impulse that he’d failed to properly listen to the words Grian had said.
It was something about watchers.
Bdubs wanted Etho to win, and he’d manage the long wait.
He went home.
Tango and Keralis welcomed him back. Tango with half-glares that made Bdubs miss Etho, and Keralis with a warmth that made Bdubs miss Etho even more.
Xisuma stopped by and asked him a few questions about where he’d been and let out a fond laugh when Bdubs told him he’d been sleeping.
Bdubs didn’t mention the dreams he’d had about the other world, not when Xisuma had decided that an arranged meeting with all hermits would be the best course of action. He should ask Grian about it at some point, since Grian seemed to be the one who’d initiated the contact.
Spectating Watching was not a state Cleo had been privy to before. She understood that someone watched the games they had no choice but to play. She’d listened intently when Grian explained the Watchers and their goals.
Doing it herself was something different. She could sense others around her. Etho, Martyn, Pearl, Joel, and Grian. They were all watching too—as Scott and Ren battled each other on a cliffy hillside.
It was over so quickly, and Cleo couldn’t help a small surge of satisfaction that a zombie had gotten the final hit on Ren.
To see her teammate be the last one standing was thrilling too. She wondered if Scar had felt a similar pride when Grian won.
The voices of the dead were warped around Scott, but Cleo doubted he could hear.
Scott stood tall, covered in red, another winner. He didn’t look happy. He looked ecstatic.
Grian did something, eyes purple, and Scott was dead too.
Everyone had to die.
Returning home was disorientating.
That would be Grian’s excuse if anyone witnessed his breakdown upon return.
There was still a smile on his lips when he woke up in Midnight Ally, a gleeful one that had appeared at the opportunity to kill Scott. Everyone had to die, Grian reminded himself, even the winners.
The mirth was quickly replaced by dread.
It was almost laughable how quickly Grian’s emotions shifted. How he could smile one second and nearly tear out his hair in the next.
Scott had won, and Grian had never stood a chance.
During the first game, Grian had nightmares infested with purple eyes and grating laughter. Those carried into this one too, only louder and ruthlessly persistent. He knew what the nightmares communicated. There were dangers just beyond them, hidden behind a veil only visible to those with toxic purple eyes.
Scott had won. Would the Watchers see something in him like they had Grian?
Grian stifled a sob with his hand as he wondered what it meant for them. He needed to find Scott, to make sure he was safe. His heart ached for the others too, even Joel—Especially Joel—Who would’ve turned on Grian in a second if it benefitted him, who’d somehow been Grian’s most successful alliance.
He threw his pillow towards the charged creeper with a frustrated yell; it landed pathetically in front of the window.
Xisuma would help Grian track down Scott, wouldn’t he? Wherever he was now. If Grian just politely explained that he needed to leave the world they’d settled in to protect them from the games they’d just played anyway.
Grian wiped away his final tears and got up. Everyone should be home now, which meant— Well, he didn’t know what that meant. He hoped it meant they were safe, that the Watchers had gotten what they wanted for now.
Pearl was outside the alley, waiting for him. He wondered if she’d heard him cry.
“Grian?” Pearl’s voice was uncertain. She’d never sounded uncertain in the other world, not with Scott by her side.
Grian didn’t even bother to hide his red-rimmed eyes. “Hey, Pearl.”
“Scott won,” she said with a small smile, pride evident in her voice.
Grian nodded. “He’s clever.”
“You’re a monster.” Scott’s voice echoed in his head, as it had many times before.
Scott had always understood the game better than anyone else. Or at least he’d understood how to win it. His self-control and levelheadedness were unparalleled.
“Don’t be grumpy, Griba. You won last time, didn’t you?” Pearl teased.
Grian couldn’t even find it within himself to joke around with her. “They found us again, Pearl,” he whispered. He couldn’t bear to say the words any louder. It would only make them that much truer.
She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him, their animosity from hours before already put behind them. “Let’s find X.”
People often told Etho he was detached. He stayed out of the heart of trouble if he could, and he wasn’t one to let his emotions get the best of him. Even during his coldest kills, he was calm, unlike people like Joel, who preferred a whole lot of bravado, or even Bdubs with his boogey exclamation.
The first game hadn’t really bothered him too much, he’d felt vaguely concerned for his friends when they took it harder than him, but it had been kind of fun. A break from routine.
This time around, it tore open his heart, flipping over his world until he no longer recognized anything.
It had started in such a light-hearted manner. Wandering through the caves with Bdubs—and later Tango and Skizz—was a simple activity that would often go overlooked in the other world.
It had been fun to banter in the darkness. It had even been fun after; when Bdubs played the ominous record by the enchanter and killed Grian. Etho appreciated the humour of it all despite his fast-beating heart.
The boogey curse hadn’t been that scary to him. Even Grian’s cold threats had amused him.
He supposed the early days were easier.
As a week passed and a new boogeyman snuck around amongst them, Etho started to contemplate.
But it hadn’t been just one boogey, it had been several. The events managed to bypass Etho, but everyone on the server would feel the consequences when the first red started sauntering around the server, assuring them all that they weren’t safe.
All Etho could think about between bantering with his team and trying to keep Bdubs alive was that first day in the cave. He’d seen no bloodlust in Bdubs eyes, not until they’d all been by the enchanter.
Bdubs kept dying. Etho scrambled around to get him back every time. Etho couldn't even blame him when Bdubs had first made a deal with Scar for the enchanter. Most people walked around with plenty of interactions with Scar where they walked out with questionable bargains.
A single life lost in exchange for a monopoly didn’t seem too bad. They could work with that.
Until Bdubs fell.
Etho met Grian on a hunt for creepers.
“Oh, hi, Etho.”
Grian was alone, which was an odd sight in the light of his desert alliance from before, where Grian alone usually meant he and Scar were hatching a plot. The red in his eyes was intimidating, Etho would be the first one to admit that.
Bdubs wasn’t that scary as a red life, he still complained about Etho’s stairs in the same way. The only problem was the fact that Bdubs’ offer to be red together sounded terribly enticing. Etho didn’t want to cave in just yet.
“Grian,” Etho greeted carefully. He wasn’t sure how this interaction would go— if Grian had any control over the bloodlust that seemed to cloud even the smartest player’s judgements.
“I heard Bdubs had a little fall,” Grian said, he was holding an axe in his hands, and Etho could pick up on a faint smell of sulphur.
“I heard you did too,” Etho responded casually.
Grian snorted and ruffled his clipped wings. “Gravity is the real enemy in these games, just ask Scar.”
Etho had many questions regarding Grian and Scar the last time around, and he wasn’t one to let an opportunity like this pass by.
“You and Scar stayed together even though he was red,” Etho observed, watching Grian’s reaction carefully.
Grian’s eyes sharpened. “It was a fluke.”
“Grian,” Etho said, “What does it mean when someone can ignore the bloodlust around someone else?”
They’d been in that cave for hours and Bdubs hadn't done anything.
Grian’s eyes took an even darker shade of red at that question. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
Etho didn’t challenge that claim. He simply started moving away from Grian before the bloodlust would make him swipe.
Grian followed, but it wasn’t a pursuit. “So, you two are still living together?”
“We split the fort,” Etho said, pushing aside some thick branches, for a quicker route to the fort.
“You got a plan to get him out of red?” Grian speculated.
Etho hummed, purple robes and mischievous grins played in his mind. “I may have something in mind.”
“He’s dead weight, Etho,” Grian said, striking a creeper in his way, the low hiss was loud in the dense and quiet forest. “I wouldn’t bother.”
Etho grabbed a branch and readied himself to climb. “And that’s why you won't do so good this time around.”
And with that he jumped into the tree, ignoring Grian’s narrowed eyes following him through the trees.
Grian was wrong. Etho was sure of it. He was sure that the reason he’d won the first round was because he and Scar stuck together for so long, having a steady alliance. He couldn’t understand how Grian had won and then managed to misunderstand the reason as to why.
It didn’t matter to Etho.
He had a wizard to track down.
For once, Etho didn’t wake up cold. He woke up in his house in the Savannah cliffs. He didn’t waste any time sulking in bed about his loss. Scott had won, and Etho hadn’t. That was it. Etho needed to find Bdubs.
“Etho!” Iskall greeted him brightly. “I’m so happy to see you again.”
Despite the heavy feeling of regret that would haunt Etho until he found the only person that had been on his mind for weeks, Etho returned the light energy.
He was back home; the game was over.
“You too, man,” Etho said. He refrained from instantly asking about Bdubs, assuming everyone came back exactly as they had last time.
“You should contact Xisuma,” Iskall said, “I think we’re only missing Grian, Cleo, Ren, and Pearl.”
Etho grabbed his communicator. “If I’m here, then they should be too, I think.”
They’d stayed behind to watch. He knew as much. Grian had also somehow killed Scott.
The scene in front of Xisuma was familiar, but no less dreadful than it had been last time. Every hermit was gathered at spawn, spread around a large meeting table that they rarely brought out. Hermits weren’t fond of sitting still.
Xisuma’s focus was on the hermits that had disappeared and returned once again. They weren’t sitting with their townmates like they usually would during meetings. Scar, Pearl, Mumbo, and Impulse were grouped together, but Grian was sitting a few seats away with Tango on one side and Ren and Doc on the other. Cleo had settled with Joe but looked distracted. Etho and Bdubs were sitting a bit isolated from the rest, Bdubs leaning against Etho, both with tired eyes.
Xisuma cleared his throat and stood up. Dozens of eyes turned to him.
“What happened?” he asked. He knew it was a loaded question and that no one would be keen on answering it. He wished he could do something as the hermits who had gone missing looked between each other with expectant eyes, waiting for someone to speak up first.
No one volunteered.
“Please,” Xisuma said calmly. “Could someone perhaps take it from the start? I heard you had a random number of lives assigned?”
Cleo looked at Grian expectedly, who pressed his lips together and dodged her gaze. She sighed. “That was the first change,” she explained. “Someone got six lives while others got two.”
“Who got two lives?” Gem asked.
Grian, Ren, and Cleo all raised their hands like school kids and received many pitiful looks.
“It was never a problem for our Grian,” Scar piped up. There was an undertone to it that Xisuma couldn’t ever remember hearing from Scar of all people. He said it casually, but it had a weight to it—and to use that tone against Grian. It was weird.
Grian raised his chin. “Well, if Scar had any actual business instincts, he never would’ve fallen for it.”
“I trusted—“ Scar cut himself off immediately. “I won’t be so easily fooled next time, G.”
Grian’s eyes were darker than Xisuma had ever seen them. He sat back down, looking completely composed. “We’ll see about that.”
There’d been someone to that interaction that no one knew if they were even allowed to touch. It was lucky that they were so many people, and that none of them could handle silence for more than a few seconds. It meant that the next question came along swiftly.
“You sound very intense,” Zedaph said with a hand on his chin. “So, what happened? You spawned and then...?”
“We gathered resources and settled on different parts of the map,” Impulse explained. “There was only one death in the first week, so it was a calm start for most of us.”
“Who died?” Iskall asked.
Nine pairs of eyes turned towards Grian, who was glaring daggers at a grinning Bdubs and sheepish Etho.
Bdubs held his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey now, G. You took me out in the end! Was that not enough?”
Grian didn’t even entertain him with an answer. “Look, if we were to go through every single thing that happened, we’d be in here for hours. Nobody wants that. So, let's discuss the important things and go our merry ways.”
Xisuma didn’t like that idea, he wanted to know everything that had happened between all of them. But to his horror, the other players seemed to be agreeing with Grian, some nodding and others expressing verbal agreement.
Pearl spoke up. “I don’t think the individual events are that important. I think we’d all prefer if we could put this all behind us instead of trying to explain it all... right?”
Tango leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. A few embers danced around him as he looked at Bdubs with scorn. “I don’t know, Pearl. I think it’s only fair everyone knows what a scoundrel Bdubs is.”
Bdubs shot up in an instant, smashing his hands on the table. “You have to get over that, Tango! You don’t understand!”
Etho’s hand landed on Bdubs’ shoulder, which didn’t seem to do much to calm him.
Tango scoffed. “I understand just fine.”
Xisuma was too stunned to speak, which was reflected in the rest of them too. Uncertain glances were passed around, but Cleo was quick to speak first again.
“Guys,” she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What did we agree on last time?”
No one knew exactly what words had been spoken between them all when they’d returned. Everyone had attempted to give them the space they needed to recover, and after starting their new world, things had resolved. Xisuma could only guess what Cleo meant at that moment—and he’d guess it was an agreement to not let the darker things get the best of them—but Bdubs and Tango seemed to understand it perfectly. Bdubs sat back down, receiving a small hair ruffle from Etho.
“None of you have to talk about what happened there," Xisuma said. He wouldn’t want to intrude on how they decided to handle their shared trauma, and he’d try to persuade the others to do the same. Now, he needed them to know that he wouldn’t force it, not when it had already gone off the rails.
“But we have to discuss how you were taken again,” he added. “Did this round reveal anything new?”
When they’d returned last time, Grian had taken the time to explain that the Watchers were the leading force behind the games. He’d said that they’d allowed him to share their feats as a prize for winning. They were powerful enough to pull people away from their worlds and hungry enough to force them to fight their friends to the death, and should therefore not be taken lightly.
This time, Grian didn’t stand in front of a group of confused people, but in front of people who looked to him for more answers, even if he didn’t have them.
He endured intense looks from Cleo, Etho, Pearl, and Ren specifically, but to Xisuma’s surprise, those five didn’t do anything but look. Xisuma assumed something must’ve happened during the last day of the game, for that specific flock to look at Grian.
Grian’s face didn’t reveal anything as he spoke. “Not really. Everything was the same. Taking us from our world, putting us in a game, reds turning hostile—” he paused in consideration. “I guess it felt more intense this time around.”
“Tell me about it!” Bdubs exclaimed, leaning back with crossed arms.
Xisuma needed Grian to explain further. “Do you have any idea as to why?”
“We’re entertainment,” Grian said simply, as he had before. “It’s not fun for them if we all work together. I’m sure they added the curse to make sure no one stayed loyal to one another.”
Silence fell over the room, everyone processing the words. It would explain the higher tensions and the lack of lingering attachments. If Xisuma was to point out who reacted most vividly to that statement, he’d have to say Pearl or Etho. Pearl with an inexplicable gleam in her eye, and Etho with darkening eyes.
“Who won?” Mumbo cut through the silence.
“Scott did!” Pearl said with a proud smile. At the same time, Ren said. “Scott!”
“Who’s Scott?” Jevin asked.
They’d all heard the names of the other participants, though they’d never met them. Every time someone asked about them, the hermit being asked turned weirdly mournful.
“Scott was truly the best player,” Ren said.
“Not as good as the zombie,” Cleo said with a teasing grin, earning a grimace from Ren.
Xisuma realised they weren’t getting anywhere with this.
“We’re not moving worlds again, are we?” False asked.
“It wouldn’t help anything,” Pearl said matter-of-factly. “Right, Grian?”
“Right,” Grian muttered, leaning further back. Xisuma could see him disappearing into himself.
“Are you telling us there’s nothing we can do to prevent them from taking you all again?” Stress frowned.
“Or take more of us,” Gem pointed out. “Since Pearl and Mumbo weren’t there the first time around.”
Xisuma looked at his friends, victims of circumstances out of their control. Mumbo’s brows were knitted closely together. Impulse’s face was carefully neutral. Tango was shooting daggers at Bdubs, who seemed to have moved closer and closer to Etho. Etho wrapped an arm around him in a rare display of physical affection. Scar for once had a grim expression, and Cleo’s grin had long since fallen, leaving behind something empty.
Pearl leaned over and squeezed Grian’s hand.
Grian stood up and left.
No one followed.