After several days’ march, Witherius and his army reached
the basalt deltas of Charburg. The terrain of this land was composed of
blackstone and basalt, and riddled with small pools of lava. Volcanic ash hung
in the air of this place, creating a light fog. As the soldiers trekked on,
they passed by multiple fortresses of nether brick, a dark red brick made from
netherrack. In and around the fortresses, blazes could be seen. The blazes were
a species of fire elemental. Each one had a head comprised of flaming stone,
which hovered above a pillar of smoke and flame. Around each blaze orbited several
metal rods, which it magically manipulated.
In
a few more days, the army finally reached King Pyran’s fortress. It was a massive
and imposing structure, carved out of the side of a monumental mountain of
basalt. “Make camp here,” Witherius ordered the army. “We shall go with Zavlok
and 303 to speak with Pyran.”
As
the three leaders approached the fortress gates, a pair of wildfires—a type of larger
and stronger blazes with four large shields circling around them instead of
several small rods—came into view. They wore netherite helms, and their shields
were made of the same metal, signifying their status as royal guards.
“State your business,” one guard commanded.
“We are here to speak with Pyran,” Zavlok gruffly
explained.
“King Zavlok?! We will escort you to King Pyran at once.
Right this way,” the blaze responded, failing to hide its surprise at the
piglin king’s presence.
Ì
Witherius and his companions followed the wildfires down
a long set of stairs ending in ten-foot-tall, blackstone double doors. A blaze
watched the visitors approach and magically melted down one of its rods,
reshaping the molten metal into a makeshift hand, which it used to depress a lever
set into the wall. The doors silently and smoothly swung open, revealing a
massive underground chamber. The room contained numerous furnaces and forges,
all heated with lava channeled from the volcanic mountain above. Countless blazes were hard at work, making weapons,
armor, and tools out of an alloy called nether gold. Nether gold was created by
combining gold with nether quartz. The resulting alloy had the durability of
steel, the appearance of gold, and a much higher melting point than either.
Witherius immediately spotted a blaze who was rapidly drifting
around the room, shouting instructions to the workers in a commanding, but not
unfriendly, tone. The blaze wore an ornate and stylized netherite helm, and the
rods orbiting around him were made from netherite as opposed to the typical
nether gold. His fire burned brighter, and was a lighter shade of yellow, than
that of any other blaze in the room.
“My liege, King Zavlok and a few companions have come to
speak with you,” one of the wildfires announced to the commanding blaze. The
king nodded his head in response before turning and floating toward his guests.
“Hello, Zavlok. Long time, no see,” Pyran cordially
greeted the piglin king, his deep voice breathy and hollow. “And The Hermit… And
who’s this? Another friend of yours, Zavlok?”
“We are Witherius,” the wither responded.
“Witherius has a plan to unite the kingdoms of the Nether
and destroy the Great Builder Empire. I, and entity 303 here, have agreed to
help him. We have already fought one battle against the forces of the builders,
and it ended in glorious victory!” Zavlok boasted. “We have come to ask you to
join our cause. Just think about the riches and security victory will bring to
both of our kingdoms!”
“I would enjoy destroying the builders!” Pyran boomed. “And
I would love nothing more than to see the heads of Viran and Gaath placed upon
pikes!” he added, his flames momentarily turning white and crackling loudly. He
turned to face Witherius. “And you will lead this new empire, yes?”
Witherius, Zavlok, and Entity 303 nodded their heads in
agreement.
“Then,
as the future king of the united Nether, it is only right that you should have
crowns for your three heads. If you like, I can forge them for you,” Pyran
offered.
“Thank you. That would be excellent,” Witherius replied.
“And may we request that you set this gem into one of the crowns, and set the
other two crowns with a gem each as well?”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Pyran confirmed. “You
three over there! Fetch me six bars of netherite!” the blaze king commanded a
trio of workers.
Ì
The throne room door slowly creaked open as Lieutenant
Lykus limped into the room, still clutching his broken and bloody nose.
“Judging by your rather… disheveled appearance and
Quith’s absence, I assume that your mission was not a success?” Viran thoughtfully
queried.
“Correct, as always, sir,” Lykus replied nasally, pain
evident in his voice. “We tracked the enemy to Gildonia and made haste in closing
in upon them. However, Quith’s monster has allied itself with King Zavlok and
his piglin army, and the two of them have somehow gained the support of The
Hermit and his undead. Our army was routed by the combined might of our enemies,
and Quith did not make it out of his duel with The Hermit. I, and four of my
elite warriors, tried to defeat the traitorous piglin king, but we were unable
to best him. In his rage, he inflicted great injury upon me,” the lieutenant
finished, bowing low as he finished his report.
“All right,” Viran acknowledged with a heavy sigh.
“Lykus, go to a healer and get yourself fixed up. Then you and Gaath, here, will
take an army and actually destroy the wither and his allies this time. I am
tired of this whole thing, and I am tired of the repeated failures. So, this
time… Get. It. Right! Do you understand?” the king threatened.
Lykus snapped to attention. “Sir, yes sir!”
“It will be a short campaign,” Gaath boasted as he strode
out of the room, the lieutenant following close behind.
Ì
Witherius hovered near the center of the blaze king’s
throne room, conversing with Entity 303 while the Zavlok sat in a corner,
habitually and needlessly sharpening his enchanted axe.
“So…
what really is your stake in all of this, 303?” Center probed.
“You were quick to join our cause, but you never really
explained why,” Right added.
“It’s because I agree with you,” the entity replied. “The
builders leave nothing but destruction and corruption in their wake, and the
Nether will be a much better place with them gone and you in charge.” He
paused. “It’s also because I am tired of being viewed as some kind of boogieman
who lives alone out in the wastes. I am looking forward to the respect that
winning this war will grant, and to people finally realizing that I am much
more than a hermit,” he confided.
“I think I get that,” the wither mused.
Just then, the door swung open and King Pyran entered.
Three of his rods had been formed into hands and, in each, he held an exquisite
netherite crown. Each crown had a large and well-cut gem set into its front,
one featuring the topaz containing Xamodas’ soul, while the others bore an
emerald and a ruby, respectively. “Your crowns, Witherius,” the blaze king announced,
his cavernous voice filling the room. “I hope they are to your liking.”
“They very much are,” the wither gratefully replied as he
telekinetically placed them upon his heads.
“With that out of the way, I say it’s about time we set
out for Ghastastan,” Pyran suggested.
Witherius’ heads replied in turn:
“I
agree.”
“Let’s
do it!”
“We
can certainly use Irritus’ help in this war.”
Ì
Witherius watched from overhead as his army slowly
marched around the edge of a terrific lake of lava. In the distance, he could
see the dark brown valleys of soul sand that made up Ghastastan. Suddenly, a
cry of “Attack!” rang out across the wastes, and a sizable force of builders,
supported by clockwork soldiers, charged out from behind a large, nearby hill.
“It’s that commander from the last battle! He is leading
them!” Center shouted to his army.
“I’ll handle him!” Pyran yelled back. The blaze king shot
through the air, making a beeline for Lykus. As he neared his target, he observed
Witherius and Zavlok beginning to tear into the enemy forces.
“You
must be that lieutenant who fought against King Zavlok,” Pyran threateningly boomed
from above Lykus. “The Nether does not belong to Viran. He is naught but a usurper!
The Nether belongs to the blazes, the piglins, and the ghasts! Now I shall give
you the fate you deserve!” he roared, his fire flaring white with fury.
“I will not fall for the lies of a rebel!” the lieutenant
shot back, motioning two elite warriors forward. “We shall stop this traitor
together!”
Pyran quickly descended until he was hovering just off
the ground. Once in position, the blaze king rapidly spun his rods around
himself as he unleashed a powerful jet of white-hot flames. Lykus dropped to
one knee and interposed his shield, saving himself from his foe’s burning
wrath. Meanwhile, one of his warriors leapt out of the way, while the other was
caught in the flames and boiled within his armor before collapsing to the
ground.
The remaining builder knight dashed forward, sweeping his
greatsword at the attacking elemental. One of Pyran’s rods abruptly dissolved
into glob of molten metal, then swiftly reshaped into a shield, hardening just
in time to block the incoming blow. The incredulous soldier reacted too slowly
to avoid being slashed across the abdomen by a sword that was formed just as
rapidly as the shield. As the elite warrior stumbled back, Lykus lunged
forward, jabbing his sword at Pyran’s head.
The blaze king darted backwards, allowing the attack to
pass harmlessly in front of him. Before his two advancing foes could strike at
him again, he levitated his rods, his sword, and his shield above himself. A
moment later, he slammed them to the ground in unison, creating a powerful
shockwave that was accompanied by a magically-conjured burst of flame. Pyran approached
his prone and singed adversaries, and plunged his burning blade into the
knight’s chest.
The lieutenant recovered quickly and regained his feet,
only to be knocked flat once again as the blaze’s shield struck him across the
face. Lykus rolled out of the way of a downward stab, then leapt back to his
feet, leaving his weapon and shield on the ground as he ran away. “Retreat!” he
yelled over the din as he fled. Pyran moved to pursue the fleeing commander,
but his path was blocked by a pair of clockwork warriors. Although he swiftly
put down the two constructs, his foe had already escaped his grasp.
Witherius watched with a trio of grins as the decimated
enemy forces fled in terror. “Uh, guys, I think we have a problem!” Left
shouted after happening to glance to one side. The other two heads immediately
turned in the direction he was looking. A much larger army of builders than the
one they had just defeated was charging across a massive bridge from the other
side of the lava lake, and at the formation’s head was a man whom Witherius
recognized from his inherited memories as Supreme Commander Gaath.
“Ready yourselves! We have another fight on our hands!”
Center bellowed.
A series of terrific booms echoed across the lake as
several fireballs rained from above and impacted with the bridge, collapsing a
large section of it into the magma and preventing Gaath’s forces from reaching
their quarry. All was silent for a moment as everyone turned in unison to look
to the skies. Hovering above the battlefield was a squad of ghasts, a type of
aberration composed of a balloon-like white body with several long tentacles on
the underside and a large mouth that issued small streams of smoke. Their red eyes
were accented underneath with ebony, tear-like markings.
“Witherius, King Irritus wishes to speak with you at his fortress,”
one of the ghasts decreed.
“You heard him! Onward to the ghast king’s castle!” commanded
Witherius.
Gaath stood at the edge of the damaged bridge, shaking
his fist at the sky as he watched his enemy escape his clutches.
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