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Philza’s pretty sure he’s functionally immortal.
Sort of.
He’s gotten a handful of titles through the centuries that he’s been around. Angel of Death, Death’s Groom, even The Hardcore God, once respawning became ubiquitous in all the larger servers.
That didn’t make dying any more likeable, though. Easier, maybe, since he knows what awaits him on the other side, but never more likable. Even so, his lady would never give him more than one life at a time. You know its worth, she would say, unlike the millions of other doddering fools that flit into my realm every day. Besides, it takes you long enough to visit with one life. You would have me wait a century if I gave you another, nevermind the near-infinite chances the rest of them have.
"That was one time," he protested, recalling his fifty-year run that had gained him such fame. Five decades of progress on that private server, gone, followed by a short and grumpy hiatus in his love’s realm. He supposed it was time to try for something new, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be bitter over the loss.
Mm. And then you were only gone for seventy days before I found you in my arms once more.
"Aw, you counted?" He teased half-heartedly, because he'd counted, too. Seventy days and four hours, compared to fifty years and change, compared again to the ten or so years that most accomplished hardcore players averaged out at. Thousands of messages had bombarded his communicator, congratulations and condolences on his run, sponsorship offers and advertisement contracts, even a few flirty pick-up lines here and there. He'd been emotionally and physically worn out from his time in that world when he opened the latest one, and it had shown in the relatively short time it took to die.
I said that you were not ready to return, but did you listen? No, she drawled. You impertinent, insufferable, lovable man of mine.
He chuckled, pressing a quick peck to her lips and brushing a lock of her hair back. It was true, he hadn’t been ready, should’ve healed longer before throwing himself back into the thick of things. He wouldn’t make that mistake again— at least, not for a few lifetimes. "You know I can't stay," he whispered. " You know my itch to craft, to build, to soar in the sky..."
And the void is no place for an angel to fly. Yes, I do, she smiled sadly, the scene so similar to the vow they’d sworn nine cycles ago. I would never clip your wings, even if doing so ensures your presence by my side.
Sleep, now, and when you are ready, the worlds will see your return.
Not for the first time, he wondered with a breathless laugh what he had done to deserve someone like her. Taking her hand in his, he closed his eyes. "Will you keep me company, Lady Kristin Minecraft, love of my lives?"
A huff. Philza Watson Minecraft , Death said, and he could imagine the twinkle in her eyes that they shared. Could probably see it, too, if everything wasn’t suddenly so heavy. Need you always ask?