Chapter Text
Nufuli was dead.
He had to be dead - he had to be. It had been the last thought to run through his mind as that arrow had pierced through his chest, ripping through his netherite chestplate like it was butter, skewering his torso like a rag doll, and shooting out through the other side. He’d known it, clear as day, a singular thought drumming through his mind - before it all went dark.
And then - nothing.
There was nothing at all when he died. There had been an explosion of pain, and then-
Nufuli sat upright on the cold, hard cobblestone, panting.
His body was hit by an array of senses, each hurting more than the last - his eyes hurt, his head was pounding, blood was roaring in his ears. His mind was as wild as Spawn, his limbs trembling -
Most of all his chest, his chest, his chest burned like fire. It felt like a blowtorch had been shoved through his heart.
Nufuli had no idea how he’d gotten here, with no armour on his body, no items in his inventory. It had been years on the server since he’d ever been like that. Slowly, the raging pain faded away to a dull throb.
“What…” he whispered, his jumbled brain jerkily trying to process what was going on.
He was dead. That player in the swirly armour killed him. An arrow had ripped right through his chest. He’d lost everything, all his armour and items. He remembered dying, how sick was that? And yet…
Looking down at his trembling, pale, rough hands, he let out a shaky breath. And yet, he was alive.
He wasn’t dead.
But how? Players on Unstable didn’t just come back to life. Once you die, you stay dead, and through all the power and anarchy and corruption and violence on this twisted, horrible server, that was the one most stark, terrifying truth about the server. Everything you do, you will only ever do it in this one life. There will never be another.
So how-?
A loud, resounding boom jerked him awake. At last, his brain began to work again, and he realised where he was.
He was in the desolate hellscape of Spawn.
On a huge multiplayer server, not everybody is as righteous or quiet as most players. Many things are ravaged and destroyed, and that is all just part of the server’s personality. One extremely ravaged and destroyed thing is Spawn.
Spawn is a hell to be in, even the most experienced and elite players dislike going there, as it reminds them of the ugliness of this server. It is a disgusting monstrosity of pillars and lava casts, withers flying everywhere, and the randomest, stupidest things some immature players could think of. And Nufuli was lying right in the centre spawn point of it all.
A wither entered his eyeline, the dead eyes on its three dead heads staring at him.
“Oh fuck!” He shouted, scrambling to his feet.
Luckily for Nufuli, he was not some random, unskilled new player. He was proudly one of the Older players, players who had been around for a long time with the server. Players whose bases were stacked with items they’d grinded for hours on this server to get, players who always knew where on the server they were, players you couldn’t beat in a fight, players who knew everyone, being friends with some or having beef with others.
Leaping left, he narrowly missed a huge explosion that almost knocked him off the platform. Fortunately, he managed to land narrowly on a neighbouring block and crouch. Watching the wither, he calculated his path down.
Help, he needed help, he needed help!
He could private message someone, but who? He could message leowo0k, his old friend. Sure, the last time they’d talked - right before he died - they’d parted ways. But it had been on good terms, you know? He could try. But what would Leo do? He knew Nufuli was definitely dead. How would he react if his dead best friend suddenly messaged him?
Scanning his surroundings, he launched himself off the block and managed to roll onto a nearby platform.
He opened chat and began to type with trembling fingers, /msg-
Boom. Nufuli was knocked off his feet, tumbling off the platform. The wither had hit near him, and he was thrown off the blocks. Fortunately, he managed to land on a small area of diorite a dozen blocks down, hurting him. He was down to 4 hearts. Furiously he scanned the area, desperate to find a way down.
There! A tiny pool at the very bottom of Spawn’s concrete jungle. Could he make it?
Glancing up at the wither, he decided he had no choice. It would be really stupid to come back to life just to die again to a stupid wither - or even worse, fall damage.
For a fleeting moment he wondered why he had spawned back at Spawn. Why hadn’t he appeared at his bed in the BAT headquarters? What had happened to it, who destroyed it?
Those thoughts did not linger in his mind for long. Here’s to nothing, he thought, and leapt.