Chapter Text
Fuck Flow, fuck Noob, fuck Skeppy, fuck Jepexx, fuck Seo, fuck Swizu, fuck Tai—that useless fucking admin, letting him die over and over without armor. God damn it, fuck that kid. Fuck his old teammates, they're useless as hell, and fuck Jude—no, not Jude... Yeah... not Jude.
Guilt is still kind of churning in his stomach even if he's the one who ended up losing when he betrayed the bunny. But whatever. It's not like guilt chooses its victims.
"Ugh, god damn it." Sharp groans to himself out loud, tempted to scream into the sky as he slaps a stray branch out of his way, only for it to snap right back and smack him straight across the face. "—Shit." He hisses, wincing as a welt begins to form on his forehead. He stands there for a second, feeling like an idiot, pressing a cold palm against the spot as it steadily heats up.
Snow drifts down, settling over his slightly disheveled hair, still full of leaves and dust from the caves. A few strands are singed from farming netherite in the Nether and, somehow, after making a portal, he'd popped out into a snow biome of all places. He hates the snow.
He hates being cold even more. He can't get warm at all.
The snow tickles his nose as he rubs his forehead, irritated beyond belief. He isn't back in full netherite yet. He managed to scrape a few things out of his ender chest—a heavily damaged chestplate that he repaired by grinding a few mobs in the Nether on the way. His boots are still plain diamond without enchantments, but at least his helmet, chestplate, and leggings are netherite again. He still needs to swing by Jude's base to trade for proper gear.
He's got a sword and an axe, but most of his stuff is just... gone. Flow took everything and never gave any of it back. He'd killed Sharp when he had absolutely nothing on him—no gear, no armor, nothing. It was fucking madness. It was against the goddamn server rules.
He'd torn into everyone in general chat, but the only responses he'd gotten were an "L bozo" from Skeppy and a fucking "lol" from Flow.
Sons of bitches.
It makes him furious—but at the same time, it stokes a fresh, white-hot wave of self-pity, the kind he'd thought he'd beaten out of himself years ago. Somehow it's back, stronger than ever, just because he'd fallen off so hard. And it wasn't even his fault. It really wasn't. He was—he was attacked! And it was against the server rules too! Fuck them all. God damn it.
He has no potions, no spear, not even a proper stash of golden apples. Well... he has twelve, but that's barely enough considering he's practically eating them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner while grinding in the Nether. There's practically nothing left to his name. Even his Strength potions are gone because, what? He got farmed like some goddamn cow? For Notch's sake. He fucking hates this server sometimes as much as he loves it.
Sure, this might be the only server he's ever genuinely liked playing on—and yeah, he loves the fighting and everything that comes with it—but sometimes...
Oh, Notch. Sometimes it feels like everyone is against him. It's complete bullshit. Does he have some giant red marker painted on his back that tells everyone, Hey! Kill me!
He loves the fighting, but can't a guy sit down and eat a few carrots without getting stabbed or launched across the map for once?
“Fucking dumbasses,” Sharp mutters under his breath. He's that pissed.
He checks his communicator again, unsure if he should just call Spongs or Evourai, but decides against it. They're not really his teammates anymore. He's been solo for months now until he partnered up with Jude, got unlimited access to his base, then promptly decided betrayal was fun and went through with it.
And now, he really has nothing.
Then he got himself farmed—perfect. He really is pathetic.
How can he even go back to spawn wearing this? He'll just get killed again, get ratio-ed, and embarrass himself in front of the whole server. (And Jude—wait, why is he always thinking about Jude?) He might need to brew up some invisibility potions again.
Sharp continues trudging through the snow, more flakes settling on his nose before he rubs them away. The damp cold has started to sink deep into his bones, and his armor feels like ice against his body. Small mercies that he's still wearing his undertunic, or his bare skin would've been pressed directly against the metal. He'd probably freeze to death before making it back to spawn and planning his evil master plan to sic himself on those assholes and kill them in the most painful way possible.
Just thinking about it lifts his mood. His heart starts pumping with excitement as he keeps trudging through the snow, sidestepping berry bushes, ducking beneath branches, and plucking twigs from his tangled hair. Briefly, his fingertips brush against Jude's bow—
He's still using it.
—Ah, god damn it.
Is that why everyone's been giving him weird looks after he'd died to Jude's trap? God damn it, he'd forgotten about that.
"Damn it," Sharp mutters, resting his hand on the bow for a brief moment before letting it fall back to the hilt of his diamond sword. Shoulders hunched, he continues climbing the mountain until he reaches a wide clearing with no trees. The snowfall, however, is beginning to pick up.
He needs to hurry—
But then he pauses. Something dark stands across the clearing. For a moment, he just squints through the curtain of falling snow. What is that? A mob?
It could be. It wouldn't be surprising for one to spawn out here. The sky is dark enough, and the thick snowfall overhead casts enough shadow to keep mobs from burning. Maybe it's a zombie.
Or worse. Another skeleton looking to put an arrow through his forehead again, forcing him to waste even more time digging it out and burning through another golden apple just to heal.
"What the—" Sharp mutters as he cautiously steps closer.
It's not a mob. thank Notch. It's a player.
His heart drops for a moment before immediately soaring again when he realizes he doesn't recognize the hair.
They're wearing a full set of netherite armor, with a netherite sword and axe strapped at either side of their waist. Their leggings have some strange skirt-like garment wrapped around them, draping from the waist down. It billows strangely in the wind, the ragged edges almost seeming to... glow?
Their armor is trimmed too, the patterns shimmering with an odd black-and-red sheen. Though, to be fair, that could just be Sharp's terrible eyesight mixed with the blizzard.
The player's hair is white.
Almost impossibly white. As in, white as snow, white-white.
It blends into the falling snow so well that it almost disappears whenever the wind picks up. The gusts swirl around them, lifting their hair as though the weather itself is trying to help them aura farm for absolutely no reason.
Meanwhile, Sharp's own hair is busy slapping him in the face. A bunch of loose strands—thanks to all the branches he'd yanked himself through—have escaped his bun, and one particularly stubborn lock keeps trying to worm its way into his mouth as he irritably shoves it aside.
Their helmet hides most of their face, a dark visor covering their eyes, but it leaves their mouth exposed, letting Sharp catch just how pale—almost gray—their skin is.
A new player… Sharp doesn't recognize them at all. The snowfall is too thick to make out their name tag, though it might just be getting swallowed by the blizzard.
Shit. If this is a new player, how the hell did they already get a full netherite set? Sharp didn't even know someone new had joined the server. He doesn't remember hearing an announcement—
Ah, right.
He'd set his communicator to silent because he was too pissed and high-strung after getting his ego stomped on over and over again. He'd tilted so hard he'd muted the entire server.
Yeah, okay. That explains it. Still, Sharp was pretty sure he'd only been gone for, what, two weeks? That was way too fast for a newcomer to get geared up like this, even with armor trims. Unless someone had helped them...
Though that was hard to believe. Everyone on this fucking server was bloodthirsty as shit. They'd quick-drop anyone they laid eyes on.
Then again... a new player didn't have any Strength yet. Nobody would really bother killing someone that weak. Guy, girl—whatever they were.
Sharp needs to get out of here. If this person notices him, he's dead. He turns away, taking several careful steps back the way he came, only to stop dead in his tracks.
"Wait a minute..." he mutters. "The great Sharpness Conexion is backing away from a fight? What am I? A pussy?"
The thought alone pisses him off. He's fought countless people while wearing nothing but diamond gear and still came out on top. This is nothing. He's basically in full netherite himself—
Sharp opens his inventory.
The UI greets him with a pile of netherrack, some golden nuggets, a golden spear hanging on by its last sliver of durability, a handful of golden apples, his sword and axe, an iron pickaxe, two healing potions, and fifteen cobwebs.
Okay… He might've been a little optimistic. Back then, even in diamond armor, he'd had stacks of healing supplies. He'd actually been geared. Now? Yeah... he was definitely reaching. He'd get himself killed.
"No, fuck that," Sharp mutters, turning back toward the player, who still hasn't moved. They just stand there. ...Are they AFK? Well! Even better.
Fuck the whole "don't kill AFK players" thing. He needs their loot, and if he gets it, he can march right back to spawn and get his revenge on those assholes.
Besides… "I'm gonna restore my honor," Sharp mutters under his breath. Yep. Honor. He's going to remind everyone exactly who he is. He's still the fucking GOAT.
Sharp crouches low, lowering his profile as he sprints through the snow. His footsteps barely leave an impression, careful enough that not even loose powder sprays into the air.
He draws his sword from its sheath and lunges at the player, whose body is turned slightly to the side. Just as his blade is about to slice into their neck— They snap their head toward him at the last possible second and draw their own sword.
Clang! The blades collide, and Sharp grunts as a sharp jolt shoots through his wrist and all the way into his shoulder. Their parry is absurdly strong. Well... so much for the sneak attack.
Whether this player had ears made of gold or somehow spotted him through the blizzard, it doesn't matter now.
Fuck it. Sharp's winning this fight without getting hit.
He rolls across the snow, circling around them. The stranger pivots to follow, but Sharp brings up his shield, catching their sword with a heavy thunk before sweeping a leg beneath theirs.
They leap clean over it. A boot slams into Sharp's chest.
The impact launches him backward. He tumbles through the snow, flipping over his shield as the air is blasted from his lungs.
What in the name of Notch was in those boots? That kick felt impossibly heavy. Like he'd just been hit by a building… Or maybe the building had been thrown at him.
Sharp raises his head and barely has any time to react, bringing his sword up just in time to parry the attack. Snow flies wildly around them as he blocks strike after strike being sent his way. He's on the defensive now—fuck.
He throws up his shield as the player slams their shoulder into him, sending him skidding backward. This time he doesn't topple. Instead, he uses the momentum to plant his feet, yanks the golden spear from his inventory, and hurls it at them.
The player freezes—flinching, about to dodge—but Sharp is faster. The golden spear punches straight through their neck. His eyes catch the small, almost unnoticeable gap in the white fabric beneath their armor, just enough for the spear to slip through and bypass the protection.
The player chokes, desperately grabbing at the shaft of the spear, but Sharp only shoves harder, throwing his full body weight behind it. The force sends the player stumbling backward, blood spurting from their mouth. Sharp lunges after them, tackling them into the snow.
They hit the ground on their back, hair fanning across the white powder as blood pours from their neck, spreading across the snow in thick, slick globs. Sharp twists the spear, almost surprised that the player doesn't react despite the blood pouring from both their neck and mouth. They simply lie there, sprawled—and dead.
Finally. "Thank Notch," Sharp mutters. Just to be sure, he drives the spear even deeper into their neck until they're no longer twitching. Then he lets go, leaving it protruding grotesquely from the wound.
It's a brutal sight, not something normally seen after a player dies. Tai made sure to add plugins to tone things down. Usually there's barely any blood unless you're injured, and when you die, you don't bleed out—you just go poof. Or you're supposed to go poof.
Granted, Sharp is used to this kind of gore. Most players aren't—that's why the plugin exists in the first place. But this... this is strange. The player isn't despawning. They're still bleeding.
Sharp nudges their shoulder with his boot before kneeling beside them. He presses two fingers against the side of their neck that isn't skewered by the broad spearhead. Nothing, no pulse. Their skin is cold. Which is a little strange because usually after death, your body still has its warmth, not until a few hours would pass, that's where the cold would set it. But then again they’re in a snow biome,
His gaze trails over the body—their hair spread across the snow, blood steadily staining the ground beneath them as it continues to trickle from their neck and lips. For a long moment, Sharp just stares at their face, waiting for them to despawn.
Maybe this is what happens when you choose not to respawn yet? Is that why the body isn't going poof? "I can't wait—I need the gear, damn it." He unclasps their chestplate, revealing a white dress underneath with red and black accents. Sharp pauses for a second.
Looks like they're a she. Doesn't matter. He kills everyone no matter who, what, any gender, any creature, whether it be an avian or a half human half piglin.
He continues looting, stripping off her armor. He's nice enough to swap his battered set onto her body instead. He leaves the helmet alone, though. He doesn't want a visor—it’ll only limit his already shitty vision, and besides, the enchanted helmet he has on him is already better than whatever she's wearing.
Grabbing her wrist, he presses down until her inventory UI pops open—Only to find... nothing.
Sharp crouches there in the snow, the pool of blood slowly widening beneath the corpse as he stares at the interface. The inventory is completely black, tangled with strange crimson vines crawling across every slot.
He can't see shit. Is this some kind of resource pack that stops people from looting your inventory? Is that why she's refusing to respawn? Fucker. This motherfucker, she thinks she can outsmart him? Fuck!
"Motherfucker. Alright, fine. Fuck you too." Sharp spat as he drops her hand roughly, letting it flop limply back into the snow before standing up. Whatever.
He got a good set of armor out of it. It fits him perfectly, snug like a hug, and it looks good on him too. He's always liked black and red together.
Though if he's being honest, he's always liked red more.
He steps away from her body and unclasps his communicator from his waist, unmuting it before opening the holographic UI in front of him. He scrolls through the server chat, finding a few members talking amongst themselves. Jude and Parker are asking each other where they are before the conversation cuts off to Spongs asking Saparata to meet up for dinner, only for Saps to reject him in general.
Sharp snorts, rolling his eyes as he shakes his head. Deserved. Anyways, that's not what he's here for. He's here to check everyone's reaction to his kill—
Huh. Wait, hold on. Where's the kill announcement? The next messages are from yesterday.
He scrolls back down and finds nothing, then back up through the older messages before getting distracted midway and checking his DMs.
Nothing. He tries not to take it to heart, but it looks like disappearing for two weeks meant nothing to some people. He thought they were friends—or at least colleagues he was somewhat close with. Not even a "sorry" from Tai. That fucker.
"Motherfucking Tai... where the hell is the announcement? What the fuck?" Sharp mutters to himself, scratching through his hair in pure annoyance and confusion as he opens the tab list. His eyes roam over the names. Everyone is familiar to him. He knows everyone there.
Where's the new player then?
Wait... is this some kind of new plugin where players can change both their name and appearance?
Sharp doesn't even get the chance to think about it. Behind him, he hears the fwoop of boots cutting through the snow. His communicator slips from his hand as he whirls around, bringing his left arm up to block the attack that was heading straight to his open neck.
A flash of white hair fills his vision. Then blinding pain. The player's mouth—and somehow, impossibly sharp teeth—latch onto his hand and bite down hard. Blood spurts from the wound as Sharp yelps, instinctively kicking her away.
She dodges effortlessly, springing backward. Sharp lets out a strangled yell, clutching his wrist as blood drips between his fingers. His inventory UI pops open, and he freezes.
His hearts are withering. Not just turning darker where their hearts usually lose their red color but the UI remains there—the hearts themselves are slowly disappearing—the actual heart UI is disappearing one by one. They shake violently as the red drains from them before they flicker... and vanish.
"What the shit?" Sharp whispers, staring as another heart slowly disappears.
The player wipes the back of her hand across her lips, smearing together her blood and his. "Do you know a player... an admin by the name of Tai?" Oh great! She talks. Per–fucking—fect!
Sharp raises his head with a wince. He doesn't know if it's just the placebo effect of watching his hearts disappear one by one, but his legs are shaking. His body feels weak.
He collapses onto his knees, breathing harshly. The cold from the snow beneath him seems to seep into his body far faster now. A sharp whine escapes him as his breaths become quick and ragged.
"What?" he hisses. "What about Tai?" The player tilts her head and slowly walks toward him.
"How the fuck did you survive the spear to the neck?" Sharp demands, hissing again as his eyes lock onto the wound. The skin and flesh are still split wide open. The golden spear lies behind her, probably ripped free while Sharp was distracted.
The woman doesn't answer. A calm breeze passes between them, stirring her white hair, the strands lightly stained red. "Do you know where Tai is?" she asks again.
"Who the fuck are you? Is that you, Jepexx? If you're fucking with me, I'm going to fucking kill you right now," Sharp barks.
Anger simmers beneath his panic. This is a mess. He should've made sure she was really dead.
He tries to stand but nearly topples over, forcing himself to remain kneeling. His body trembles as he watches more of his hearts disappear.
Only six left. They're still draining. What the hell is happening? How did she do that? From a bite? There isn't even a potion effect. Whatever was in that bite is killing him.
He doesn't even know if it's permanent. If he dies from this… Is he even going to wake up?
"Where is Tai?" the woman asks again, her voice lower this time as she tilts her head. Her visor still hides her eyes, but Sharp can see the unmistakable disdain on her face. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, her fists tightly clenched.
Sharp grins, cradling his bitten hand against his chest.
"And what do I get if I tell you where he is?" he asks, cocking his head.
The woman doesn't answer, only stares at him from behind her visor. Another icy breeze sweeps between them, and Sharp blinks.
"Nothing. I will not owe you anything, nor will I give you what you want. Now, tell me where Tai is."
Sharp lets out a laugh. So this isn't anyone he knows. No new plugin—just some new player who sounds like she's out for Tai's head. Now what kind of tomfuckery has that kid gotten himself into this time?
"Then no." Sharp smirks. "Fuck you. I'm not telling you where Tai is."
The woman falls silent, lifting her head as she stands there. For a moment, Sharp thinks she's about to leave him there to die. He's already down to three hearts, the third slowly decaying away.
Then she vanishes. One second she's standing there, the next she's gone, leaving only swirling snow behind. Sharp flinches. She reappears directly in front of him.
A hand clamps around his throat and hauls him off the ground. No—not just to his feet. Higher. He dangles in her grip, choking as he claws at her wrist and kicks uselessly through the air. Her visor hides most of her face, revealing only the faintest glimpse of her eyes through its narrow slits.
"Then I am sorry." She doesn't sound sorry at all. Without another word, she draws back her free hand and, in one impossibly smooth motion, drives it straight through his chest.
Through the netherite armor he stole from her. Through flesh, and through the countless bones of his ribcage. Her arm bursts out his back, tearing through the rear of the chestplate as Sharp goes rigid, his entire body locking up around the impossible intrusion.
He chokes, blood spilling from his lips. How the fuck was she able to do that...? His thoughts are cut off when pain finally registers, agony detonates behind his eyes.
He screams loud, probably enough to be heard from hundreds of blocks away as she rips her arm back, casually taking one of his ribs with it. Sharp crashes into the snow, writhing as blood pours from the gaping wound in his chest. He coughs again and again, each breath flooding the back of his throat with warm blood while his muscles seize uncontrollably.
For a moment, everything goes black. He expects to wake up in Jude's bed. He never bothered setting his spawn anywhere else. There wasn't really a reason to. Jude never complained, and Sharp rarely died enough for it to matter.
His vision returns though. He hears snow and dirt being shoveled. Everything stutters like disconnected snapshots from a broken camera as he blinks. A lone hole sits near his feet.
Then he looks down at his chest. Oh Notch… There’s also a hole with the size of a fist on his chest… Oh my god—how is that even possible…? This has never been done to him before, he’s died to multiple stabbing in his chest or stomach, but never a hand through the chest and straight through the armor.
"A-Ah... Fu-Fuck..." Sharp whispers, a broken whimper escaping him. His entire body feels like it's being pulled in a dozen different directions, and somehow he can feel the empty space in his chest where the woman's arm had passed through.
Movement catches the corner of his eye. The hole wasn't random. A hand reaches out of it. The player climbs back onto the surface, lips curled into a snarl. Sharp notices, for the first time, how unnaturally sharp her teeth are. Both the upper and lower rows look polished into blades.
She notices he's still alive. He tries to push himself away, to crawl, to do anything, but his brain and body no longer seem connected. Nothing responds.
She walks toward him. Only now does he notice her nails—long, black, and razor-like. Darkness creeps up from her fingertips as though frostbite has consumed them, staining her gray skin with a void-black color. She grabs his ankle.
"No!" He tries to fight back, scraping his fingers on the snow to grab onto anything, just anything. “Stop!” he shrieks again, panting hard when a stray stone hits his back and the large gaping wound in his chest that causes his vision to gray out for a single second before he’s back to his body.
“Stop! Help! Anyone! No! Get—off of me!” Sharp tries to kick, but the command never reaches his leg. He can only watch as she's dragged him across the snow toward the open hole.
"Fighting is futile. I apologize it had to be this way, but you are of no use to me. I need an admin." Her voice remains calm. "You fought well—and I enjoyed it, but I don't need you." Then she throws him into the hole.
For one brief instant, everything is weightless. Sharp lets out a shriek as the world flips end over end. He slams against the dirt walls—some stone as he tries to claw at it to catch himself, before plummeting deeper, the impact echoing around him.
Then everything goes dark.
Somehow, Notch had been kind enough to spare him the rest of the pain. Before his body could even strike the ground below, his world had already faded to black.
[...]
conexion fell from a high place.
<_Tai> F
<Skeppy> F
<ItsN00B> F
<ParkerGameBrain> yeouch
<godispase> anyone needs carrots?
<_Tai> me
<JudeLow> mememememe
<_Tai> memememememememe
<JudeLow> bitch
<_Tai> your the bitch
<Skeppy> You’re*
<_Tai> shut uo
<JudeLow> up*
<ParkerGameBrain> …
loppezz fell of a ladder
<loppezz> frick my life
<Skeppy> F
<Saparata> F
<ParkerGameBrain> …