Overworld in Flames

by Mark Cheverton

  “What are you doing?” Butch snapped.

  “There are no monsters here,” Gameknight said. “Put your sword away.”

  The big NPC glanced around, suddenly realizing that there were no other weapons drawn. Reluctantly, he put his blade back into his inventory.

  “If this wasn’t a monster attack, then how did the fire get started?” Butch demanded to know.

  The villagers all pointed to the pack mule.

  “The mule got out and knocked over one of the furnaces,” the village’s crafter said.

  “Then … then there is no danger here?” Butch sputtered.

  The old crafter shook his head and smiled.

  The big NPC kicked the ground in frustration, sending a clump of dirt flying, then turned and jumped onto his dark horse.

  “The forest!” he shouted, before galloping for the village gates.

  “Wait, where are you going?” Hunter asked.

  “The forest is on fire! Come on!” Butch bellowed.

  Hunter gave an exasperated growl, then pulled her reins around to follow him.

  Gameknight ran to his horse and mounted quickly. Many of the villagers shouted questions at the riders as they left, but none answered. They all rode their horses toward the dark columns of smoke now climbing high into the sky.

  “Wait for us!” Stitcher screamed ahead.

  But Butch only rode faster.

  Gameknight pulled up to Crafter’s side. Smoke from the forest fire was now blotting out the setting sun, erasing the rosy-red sky to the west and replacing it with a sad gray haze. As the sun sank behind the horizon, the biome in the distance gave off a flickering orange glow that stretched from one end of the spruce forest to the other. It was a huge fire, but as they rode, Gameknight realized it was not getting brighter: it was grower dimmer. Clearly, it was burning itself out.

  They rode hard into the night, pushing their horses to the brink of exhaustion. Finally, Gameknight put out his hand. He refused to drive the horses any harder, so he pulled back on the reins, slowing from a gallop to a trot.

  The others slowed as well, except for Butch, who continued to pull ahead. But none of them cared anymore. They could feel the strain in the animals and knew they had to slow down, or they would end up killing their mounts.

  “Herder, I think you should send your wolves out with Butch,” Crafter said. “He’ll be alone out there now, and it’s getting dark; he may be in trouble.”

  “It serves him right,” Hunter snapped.

  “Yeah!” Stitcher added.

  “We don’t abandon our friends, no matter what,” Crafter replied.

  Hunter sighed and nodded her head as Herder leaned down and spoke to the alpha male. The wolf barked once, then took off running, the rest of the pack following close behind. They became ghostly specters as they shot off into the darkness, quickly fading from sight.

  The party continued at a much slower pace. Eventually, they found themselves at the edge of the forest, a full moon high in the sky. The square, pale face shone a silvery light on the Overworld, giving the companions just enough light to see what was before them. They all dismounted and approached the disastrous scene. Herder placed a fence post into the ground and tied all the horses to it so they would not wander off. Gameknight cast the lanky boy a smile, then scanned the surroundings looking for Butch’s horse; it was nowhere to be seen.

  Gameknight stared at the devastated biome in shock. As before, many trees lay on their side, their scorched remains an ashen gray. They were nearly all composed of ash, just barely holding their original long, rectangular forms together. They reminded Gameknight of long gravestones, marking the burial place of the once-proud forest. But the most eerie thing was the silence. Not a single animal made a sound: no moos, no bleats, no clucks. It felt as if the User-that-is-not-a-user had something in his ears, blocking out the always-present sounds of the Overworld. There was nothing left alive. All the animals had either run away or perished.

  As he moved into the carnage, Gameknight thought maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. There was no color to be seen other than black and gray. Charred wood and ash covered the ground, giving the appearance that everything was in black-and-white, like on his Grandma GG’s old TV. Stepping up to one of the fallen trees, the User-that-is-not-a-user could see a boot print in the side of the charcoal trunk; Butch had been here.

  “He was here,” Gameknight whispered. The silence made him want to be quiet for some reason. “Where do you think he went?”

  “Who knows?” Digger replied.

  “Who cares?” Hunter added.

  Stitcher punched her sister in the arm.

  “Hunter, be nice,” Stitcher chided. The older sister just smiled.

  “Herder, are your wolves still with him?” Crafter asked.

  “Of course,” the young NPC replied with pride. “They will stay and protect Butch until …” He didn’t finish the sentence, but they all knew what he meant: until death.

  “Call to them,” Crafter said.

  Herder put his rectangular fingers to his mouth and whistled. The shrill sound cut through the silence like a razor-sharp sword. Instantly, barking could be heard off to the left. The party ran in that direction, their hurried steps causing clouds of ash to rise up off the ground, hiding their feet and the ground from view.

  The ground crunched under their boots as if it were fragile sheets of the finest crystal. Shards of reddish-brown glass flew in all directions, bouncing off their armor and adding to the dust and debris.

  As Gameknight ran, he noticed the reddish hue to the shards and recognized it, but he couldn’t remember where he’d seen it before. Putting aside the thought for the moment, he focused on following Stitcher as the young girl blazed a path through the devastated landscape.

  Soon, they saw a group of low, white shapes materializing out of the gloom. As they neared, a taller figure began to emerge amidst the ghostly forms: it was Butch, surrounded by the wolves.

  “How could this happen?” Butch said. “This forest is completely destroyed.”

  “We can see that,” Hunter replied.

  “But look at the ground,” he said.

  Gameknight pushed the piles of ash aside and saw that all of the ground had been fused into a dirty, reddish-brown glass. Moving farther into the devastation, he saw it had all been turned into glass … every last block of dirt. Whoever had done this had not only destroyed the trees and all the life within the forest, but they’d also destroyed the land itself so that it would never again support life.

  Rage bubbled up from within Gameknight999. This criminal act wasn’t just about burning down a few trees; it was about the complete destruction of the land, just like in the last burned forest they’d found. Questions tumbled around in his head as he tried to figure out how it was done—and why. The two destroyed forests were far apart … too far apart for an army to move from one to the other without being seen.

  The User-that-is-not-a-user knelt and scratched at the ground with the tip of his sword. It crumbled to dust. Scooping up the dust into a pile, he held it before his eyes. There was a familiar look to it that he still couldn’t place. Reds and dark-brown and lighter-brown and different shades of pink … the colors almost triggered a memory in the back of his mind, but Gameknight just couldn’t quite put it all together.

  Frustrated, he kicked aside the pile of dust and turned to walk away, but as he did, something gold shone through the debris and caught his attention. Was it gold ore, or maybe a zombie’s golden sword? His imagination swirled with possibilities as he stooped over for a closer look.

  “What is this doing here?” he gasped as he reached out and picked up the golden object.

  “What did you say, Gameknight?” Crafter said.

  The User-that-is-not-a-user did not reply. He held up the slightly warm golden rod and stared at it.

  “What is that?” Herder asked as he approached, his dutiful wolves right on his heels.

  “A bla
ze rod,” Gameknight replied.

  “But how would a blaze rod get here?” Stitcher asked.

  “There is only one explanation,” Gameknight said. “It must have been—”

  “Blazes did this!” Butch interrupted. “And one of them was killed. Someone must have been here and fought back.”

  “There’s no way one person could have fought off all the blazes that did this to the forest and survived,” Digger said. “But then, where are their items? If the HP of this mysterious defender was destroyed, he or she would have dropped all their inventory, and I don’t see anything on the ground other than ash and fallen trees.”

  “More blaze rods!” Hunter hollered. “Over here.”

  They all moved to the spot where she stood. At her feet were three more of the golden rods. Gameknight bent down and picked them up. They felt warm, as always; just the smallest trace of the monster’s internal flame still resided within the shining rods.

  “At least now we know who our enemy is,” Butch said. “And we know where they are: in the Nether. It’s time for a little payback.”

  “Hold on,” Crafter said, putting up his hands to calm everyone. “We need to think this through. How did the blazes even get into the Overworld? They don’t have Herobrine with them this time to make portals.”

  “Who cares about the ‘how’?” Butch said. “We have a target! It’s time to attack. We need to go to the Nether before they turn their fireballs on the villages and NPCs.”

  “Just wait a minute, Butch,” Gameknight said. “We need to move carefully, so that we are prepared. The Nether can be a dangerous place.”

  “I know it’s a dangerous place. I’m not stupid,” Butch complained.

  “No one is saying you’re stupid,” Crafter said.

  Hunter smiled and was about to say something, but Stitcher punched her in the arm before she could speak.

  “The User-that-is-not-a-user is right,” Crafter added. “We need to think about what our next move should be.”

  “Maybe we should—” Gameknight started to say, but he was interrupted.

  “You said you have a witch at your village?” Butch asked, pacing in circles, working himself up. Crafter nodded. “Then we go there and get some fire resistance potions. We’ll then sneak into the Nether. The monsters won’t even know we’re there.”

  “That seems like a reasonable plan,” Digger said, his eyes filled with rage as he surveyed the damage to Minecraft.

  “I hate to say it, but I like it too,” Herder added.

  Both Hunter and Stitcher nodded.

  “But what about—” Gameknight said, but was again cut off.

  “Then it’s decided!” Butch said. “If we ride all night and all day, we should be back to your village by tomorrow night. But I’m going to need a horse.”

  Herder cast the big NPC an angry glare.

  “Why?” the young boy asked.

  “I didn’t have time to tie him up to anything,” Butch answered. “And besides, he was too weak.”

  “That’s because you rode him too hard,” Herder scolded. “You need to be …” Herder stopped talking when Butch turned his back and headed out of the scorched forest and back to the grassy plains.

  Herder glared at Butch, then turned and glanced at Gameknight999. The User-that-is-not-a-user shrugged, then stared down at the blaze rod in his hand, lost in thought. The last time they’d been in the Nether, all of them were nearly killed. Would it be any different this time? With Butch leading them, Gameknight worried that the NPC wouldn’t be levelheaded enough to keep everyone safe. He had to do something to give them an edge … but what?

  CHAPTER 7

  BUTCH

  Herder had not been happy to hear of the harsh treatment one of his horses had endured, and he gave Butch a strong lecture on how to properly treat the animals. But the big NPC paid little attention. He just moved his hand up and down the length of his sword while Herder talked, as if he were merely waiting for the lecture to be over. Giving up, Herder stormed away to find a new mount.

  Gameknight watched curiously as Herder moved out into the open grassy plain, his wolves surrounding him. He pulled out an apple, then made a whinnying sound like a horse. Instantly, a small herd of majestic animals emerged on the horizon and came running over. They stopped in front of him, each eager to please the lanky NPC. Reaching into his inventory for more apples, Herder gave one to each of them, then patted them affectionately on the neck. They whinnied and nuzzled him with their big, wet, square noses.

  Herder pulled out a saddle from his inventory. Gameknight expected the animals to run, but they all stayed still, as if being commanded to stay stationary. Reaching up, Herder put the saddle on the strongest of the horses, a large chestnut brown mare, then rode it back to his companions, letting the rest of the herd run back across the open plains.

  He pulled up next to Butch. The big NPC held out his hands for the reins, but Herder held back.

  “You take care of this one, properly, or you’ll answer to me,” Herder said, his face creased with a scowl. “Do you understand me?”

  “Come on, kid, get down. We need to get moving,” Butch replied.

  “Do you understand me?” Herder said, this time, a little louder.

  The big NPC stared up at the boy and saw the look of determination on the young face. He smiled and nodded his head.

  “Yeah, I understand,” Butch said.

  Gameknight could tell Herder didn’t trust the big NPC, but knew he had no choice but to surrender the horse. Herder dismounted without taking his eyes off Butch, then moved to his own brown spotted pony. The young boy jumped up onto his horse and pulled on the reins just as it started to bolt away. All of the big animals were anxious to leave the burned-out forest, but unfortunately, the path they had to take would lead them right through the scorched landscape.

  “Let’s go,” Digger said as he kicked his big white horse into motion, heading again to the southwest. “Make a diamond formation, with Herder in the center and the wolves along our perimeter.”

  With practiced efficiency, they moved into position, with Gameknight999 at the head. The only one that didn’t seem to know his place was Butch. He assumed he would be the tip of the diamond, so he moved his horse forward, shouldering the User-that-is-not-a-user out of the way. Gameknight gave Butch an angry glare, but the interloper hardly noticed. He just kicked his horse into a gallop, the rest of the group following behind.

  “I guess Butch will lead for a while,” Stitcher said, trying to defuse the tension.

  Hunter laughed and slapped Gameknight on the back as she rode past, leaving him to take up the rear position in the diamond.

  They rode in uneasy silence through the burned-out forest, all of the companions surveying the devastated landscape in disbelief. Everything was destroyed in the cold taiga biome. Not a single animal nor plant was seen. The blazes had completely eradicated every living thing from the area, leaving not even the smallest blade of grass alive; they had been incredibly thorough.

  As they rode, Gameknight watched Herder. He knew the cold taiga biomes were one of the places wolves spawned naturally, but as they traversed the wasteland, they didn’t see any of the white furry animals appear. Herder gave off a shrill, high-pitched whistle now and then to call out to any animals that might be lurking around in the area, but none materialized out of the hazy darkness.

  It was as if this section of Minecraft was completely dead.

  The lanky boy slumped in his saddle when he realized none would come to his call.

  “Don’t give up, Herder,” Gameknight said from behind. “That’s not the way we do things. We keep trying, and we refuse to quit. So keep searching for your wolves. They’ll come soon.”

  “This land is dead,” Butch said from over his shoulder. “Hoping for something that will never come is pointless. The only thing you can count on is what you can do yourself.”

  “That’s not a very optimistic attitude,” Crafter said.


  “It’s just the truth,” Butch replied. “You don’t necessarily have to like the truth, but it’s still the way it is.”

  “I don’t agree,” Gameknight said. “Hope is a powerful thing. We’ve seen villagers stand up against unbelievable odds and battle overwhelming foes because they had hope that they could win the day.”

  “And did they win the day?” Butch asked. “Or were they killed?”

  “Some lost their lives, but many survived,” Crafter said.

  “But some died. Like I was saying; those people had hope, and they were still destroyed,” Butch said confidently, as if he were reciting some kind of universal truth. “You can only count on what you see in front of you. Miracles are for fools.”

  “You’re wrong,” Gameknight said sheepishly. “If there is life, then there is hope.” But no one seemed to hear him.

  “Butch, what happened to make you such a bundle of joy?” Hunter asked. “You’ve been pessimistic, angry, and generally not so much fun to be around since we met you.”

  “You mean back when I saved all you in the Bryce canyon?” Butch replied, glaring over his shoulder at the redhead.

  “That’s right,” Hunter replied. “I would have been really happy that I’d saved some peoples’ lives, but based on your reaction, it seemed like it was just another day for you.”

  Butch growled as his anger grew.

  “What my incredibly insensitive sister is trying to say,” Stitcher interjected, “is that we were all grateful to you and your warriors for saving us back then. But why do we never see you happy? Even when we defeated Herobrine’s command blocks, you didn’t seem pleased. What happened to make you so angry?”

  “You mean besides Herobrine putting holes in my village and destroying men, women, and children?” Butch asked.

  “Yep,” Hunter said quickly before Stitcher could speak. “What’s the deal?”

  “You want to know the deal?” Butch snapped. “I’ll tell you the deal. Our village always had to deal with monsters on a daily basis. There was a skeleton town nearby, and a zombie town, and a spider’s nest as well. The monsters would attack every night, and our army would ride out and meet them, destroying the threat before they ever reached our doors.