by Cube Kid
And Mike is right. We have a wall. That wall will buy our village some time.
* * *
After I left the jail, I sat down next to some farmer’s carrot crop. I just sat there for a long time. Thinking. Too much crazy stuff was happening to me at once. I’m only twelve, you know? And not only do I have to do homework and do my best in school—I also have to deal with annoying bullies like Max and his best friend, Razberry.
Then, if that wasn’t enough, I now have to cheer up Steve.
And free Mike from jail.
Also . . . I have to convince the elders to let Steve and Mike teach.
So much to do.
Why can’t things just be easy? I’m starting to miss the simple days. The boring days. But it’s like this: I want to become a warrior. So I can’t just freak out when faced with problems, right?
Would a warrior do that?
Would a warrior just complain about how confusing everything is?
My village needs me. I must be strong right now. Steve and Mike must become our combat teachers. The village needs both of them. You see, there are 150 students; even if I manage to get Steve back to normal, how can he teach that many at once? If Mike helps out, we can split the students into two classes.
Why do I have to do all this stuff, anyway? Why didn’t the elders think of recruiting Mike and Steve? Well, I know the answer to that. The older people in our village don’t trust outsiders at all. Having outsiders as teachers . . . it’s unimaginable to them. Such a thing has probably never crossed their minds. So . . . they’re going to be very resistant to my idea.
Sigh. I updated the “Things to Do” list in my record book. Yes, the record books can do more than just track our scores and level. They’re handy little things.
Urrrrggggg.
That’s a “hurrggg” without an “h” sound. It means, I’m so frustrated, I can’t even properly “hurrggg.”
The mayor won’t release Mike. No matter what. Mike’s going to be in jail for a long time. The mayor wants Mike to pay for his actions. The mayor said if he releases Mike so easily, then others might get the idea that they won’t be punished for any crimes.
So here’s the situation: Steve’s super sad, and Mike’s in jail. There’s no way to get a combat teacher.
Urrrrggggg.
. . .
The mayor did say, however, that he’d be willing to let Steve be a teacher. On one condition. Steve has to prove himself. He has to show the mayor and the elders that he has skill in combat. Obviously, that’s not going to happen anytime soon.
Not with Steve in depressed mode.
Sigh.
I had to suffer through another boring combat class with Urf as the teacher. Of course, Steve’s still moping. After school, Stump and I thought of everything we could to cheer him up.
Stump baked him a cake. Steve ate it silently and went back to his bed.
Sara and Ariel even brought him some ice cream. Ghast tear swirl.
As expected, he said it wasn’t nearly as good as the ice cream on Earth.
I honestly don’t know what to do.
His sadness is rubbing off on me, so . . .
I don’t feel like writing much today . . .
It’s really late.
I’m writing because . . .I figured it out.
I finally got Steve back to his normal self.
It was something I’d never thought of, until now. This time, I really have to thank the mobs—the spiders, in particular. You see, tonight, while we were sleeping, another spider climbed up our house. Somehow, it got stuck on the eave of the house or something. The spider totally panicked.
Squeak!
Squeak squeak squeak squeak!
There was a moment of silence (perhaps as the spider realized it was totally stuck) until:
SQUEEE-EE-EE-EE-EE-EE-EE-EE-EE-EE-EE-EE-EE-EE-EE-EE-EE-EE-EE . . .
It was—without a doubt—the most annoying sound in the world.
It was more annoying than Max’s voice. It was more annoying than the kids at school today who asked me countless questions about building. As if I’m some kind of building genius now. The sound the spider made was so annoying, Steve actually jumped out of bed and looked out the window.
“Jeez,” he said. “Won’t that thing shut up?!”
“I’ve heard worse,” I said. “About a month ago, spiders carried some zombies up onto our roof. Just to annoy us.”
“You poor villagers,” he said. “You guys have to put up with this every night?”
“Almost every night.” I climbed out of bed. “If it’s not the spiders squeaking, it’s the zombies moaning. If it’s not the zombies moaning, it’s the slimes oozing around. Welcome to my life.”
This was when I had my idea.
“And it’s your life, too, Steve. It’s going to be like this every night, unless we find a way to fight off the mobs. Make them so afraid, they never leave whatever dark caves they came from.”
That did it.
Worked like a charm.
Steve let out a breath. His shoulders sagged. He stared at the floor. Then he took out his wooden sword and left my room. Moments later, the squeaks stopped. Perhaps the spider spotted Steve.
Squeak?
Cheeeeeee—ihhhh!
WHUMP.
Eeeeeehhhhhhhhh—!!
THUD.
And then, silence. When Steve came back into my room, he was almost smiling. “Much better,” he said.
Now was my time to strike. I knew I had to get him to agree to be a teacher while he was still in a good mood.
“So this means you’ll be our teacher, right?”
“Yeah.” He paused. “I mean, I’m stuck in this world, right? I can’t do anything about it, so . . . whatever, you know? I might as well help you guys out.”
Finally, I thought. Steve was his normal self again. But then, there was still a problem . . .
“Now, you have to convince the mayor to let you be a teacher,” I said.
He gave me a funny look. “And how exactly do I do that?”
“The mayor said you have to prove yourself. They don’t want a noob teaching the class.”
“Got it,” he said. “Tomorrow, tell the elders to meet at the wall, at the north gate. Okay?”
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
He smiled, but only slightly. There was a gleam in his eye.
“I’m going to prove myself.”
When I woke up, Steve was rummaging through my supply chests.
“Good morning,” he said. “I’m taking some sand.”
“What for?”
He gave me a stern look. “Do you want me to be your teacher or not?”
“Okay, okay. Take whatever you need.”
“Good,” he said. “Then I’m also taking an iron ingot, a piece of flint, some oak wood, and some cobblestone. Oh, and also, your crafting table. Thanks.”
“What? What are you going to do with all of that stuff?”
“You’ll find out tonight,” he said with a wink. “Make sure the elders are there, okay?”
“Hurrrrr. Okay.”
After I arrived at school, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Steve was going to do. Why did he need an iron ingot and a piece of flint? Also, what was the sand for? I was lost.
Later that day, I told the elders and the mayor to meet at the north gate. The day seemed to take forever to end . . .
Finally, nighttime arrived and I was standing next to Steve at the north gate. Soon, villagers began gathering around us, elders and blacksmiths, librarians and fishermen, and finally the mayor himself. They began talking in low tones. Whispers.
“Rhurrr, what is Steve doing?”
“Is he actually going outside?”
>
“At night?!”
“Hurrrrn, is he nuts?”
Stump emerged from the confused crowd. “What’s going on, Runt?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “But I have a feeling we’re going to have a new combat teacher soon.”
“Hurrrrr, what are you talking about?”
“Just watch.”
The noise from the villagers grew louder and louder. Steve glanced at them all, then stepped on the pressure plate that opened the wall’s iron door. And then he went outside. Stump and I scrambled up the wall’s ladders to watch what he was doing. The other villagers did the same. There must have been over five hundred villagers standing on the wall.
At first, Steve simply stood out there, in the open plains. The sun sank lower and lower. Nothing happened for a long time . . . until mobs appeared in the distance. In the gloom.
Zombies.
Creepers.
Even an enderman
Steve had no armor, and only a stone sword. Everyone thought he was done for.
Looking at the poorly equipped Steve, you couldn’t imagine anything except the mobs turning him into mush.
The creepers came for him first. Steve leapt in the air and knocked them back before they could explode. Then, with blinding speed, he cut each of them down. Strangely, he also collected the gunpowder they dropped. The elder, Urf, wasn’t too pleased with this.
“What’s he doing gathering gunpowder?” he said. “He needs to run away! Those zombies are so close! Maybe I should go out there myself and show him how it’s done!”
“Oh, I can’t watch this!” said the mayor, shielding his eyes.
A girl was almost crying. “Those zombies are going to get him! Steve!! Run!!”
Indeed, the zombies were slowly shambling toward him. They were forming a ring around him. There was no escape. My heart sank when the enderman teleported beside him.
Steve swung and swung, striking the enderman before it could attack. With an eerie howl, the enderman dropped to the ground, dead.
Steve bent down to pick up what the enderman dropped. An ender pearl. Me being the noob that I am, I had no idea why Steve was gathering the items. He should have been focusing on the zombies surrounding him, right? Instead, he set my crafting table on the ground. We villagers just stood upon the wall, watching helplessly.
Urf gasped. “Crafting?” he said. “Ridiculous! What kind of noob is he? Why is he crafting in the middle of combat?!”
Villagers were really freaking out. Huge tears, lots of hurrgggs and shouts and gasps. Stump and I glanced at each other with wide eyes.
“Steve’s acting really crazy,” said Stump.
I nodded. “Crazy is what we need right now.”
The zombies were almost on him. Steve set sand and gunpowder on the crafting table. He was . . .
crafting TNT.
He set the TNT on the ground, next to the crafting table.
“This is for what you did to my base!!” he shouted.
Everyone gasped at what he did next. He took out his flint and steel, and lit the TNT. The noise from the villagers was deafening. Well, the TNT blast would surely kill most of the zombies, but what about Steve? He was going to die, too—right? Wrong.
As the lit TNT hissed away, he whipped out the ender pearl, and threw it as far as he could . . .
BOOM
The TNT exploded, sending zombies flying. Most died from the explosion, of course. As for Steve, he was standing just outside the blast radius. Untouched. He had used the ender pearl to teleport to safety . . . less than a second before the TNT went off. With nothing but a stone sword and some TNT, he had killed a small army of mobs . . . without even taking a scratch.
No one could believe it.
I always knew Steve was good, but after seeing this, I realized—the guy’s a master. The surviving zombies rose up, bodies smoking. They didn’t shamble toward Steve, though. They were too scared. For the first time in my life, I saw mobs that were actually afraid. When Steve turned around to the zombies, as if inviting them to attack, they
ran away (well, it was more like a slow jog, but still, I’d never seen zombies move so fast before).
Steve looked up at all us villagers on the wall and said:
“That’s how we do it on Earth.”
I’m a little sad, because my crafting table was destroyed by the TNT. Also, Steve used the last of my sand to craft that TNT, and I’d been saving that iron ingot to make a sword. That flint was for some arrows, too.
I know they’re simple items. But I’m poor, remember? The only emeralds I get are the ones my mom gives me to buy lunch. What am I saying? I’d pay fifty emeralds to see Steve do that again. Last night was amazing. Besides, the elders and the mayor agreed to let Steve teach us.
So Steve’s back to normal.
Not only that, after Steve’s impressive display, the mayor released Mike from jail. The elders are finally starting to warm up to the outsiders. We’re cooperating with them.
Of course, Mike also has to prove himself before he can become a combat teacher. We’ll see how that goes. Mike’s going to fight the mobs tomorrow, just like Steve did.
Now I can focus on my classes and homework, and nothing else. Now that I don’t have to worry about Steve and Mike, it’s just study, study, study. I’ll pass Max. Just wait.
Hurrrmmm. I really wonder what Mike is going to do tomorrow.
What Mike did was almost as cool as what Steve did.
A group of witches was outside the village last night. Mike bought a cow from a farmer and three iron ingots from a blacksmith. He also bought something from me.
Remember that time I coughed up a slime ball? Well, I’d stashed it in one of my chests, and Mike was interested in it. As it turns out, he used it to craft a leash. He made a bucket with the three iron ingots. It was really weird, but Mike went outside the village wall, tugging a cow on a leash and holding a bucket full of milk.
Just like with Steve, everyone thought he was nuts. Why would someone go into combat with a cow?
Even Steve didn’t know what was going on.
And what was up with the milk, anyway?
Of course, there was a reason for all of this. Apparently, the people from Earth are really clever.
See, here’s the thing. The main attacks of witches are their poison bombs. If they can’t poison you, they really can’t do much. And milk cures poison. Just chug a bucket of milk and all poison is removed from your body.
Whenever a witch hit Mike with a poison bomb, he drank milk immediately. Then he turned to the cow and milked it super fast. It was unbelievable. The witches couldn’t really hurt him at all. In this particular battle situation, a cow was invaluable.
Tonight I realized that there’s a lot more to combat than swinging a sword.
Mike cut down the witches, one by one. The last remaining witch even started crying.
“Why isn’t my poison working?!” the witch cried. “It’s not fair!”
“Not fair? Tell that to the zombies who ambushed me the other day,” Mike said. “Go on witch, I’m letting you go. I’m letting you go so you can tell all the other mobs . . . this village isn’t playing around anymore. Any witch who comes here is going to meet an army of villagers with milk buckets. And if you send zombies, we’ll replace the milk buckets with lava buckets. We’ll have an army of cats waiting for your creepers. An army of dogs for your skeletons. Water buckets for your endermen. And send as many slimes as you want. I could use more slime balls.”
The witch ran off. The villagers cheered as Mike returned to the village.
“Not bad,” Steve said with a grin.
I gave him a thumbs up. “So cool . . .” I paused, trying to remember the word, “ . . . dude.”
Mike smiled. “
Thanks.”
The mayor approached. “Well done,” he said. Then his face became very serious. “Tomorrow, I’d like to have a special meeting with you warriors. I have something to tell you. It’s about your world, and how you came to exist here. To be honest, I didn’t believe it myself, until I saw both of you fight. What I’ve been told . . . it must be true. I know that now.” Then the mayor glanced at me. “This includes you, Runt. I want you to come to my house with Steve tomorrow night.”
“What?” I blinked, totally confused. “Why me? I’m not a warrior.”
“Yes, that’s true.” The mayor sighed. “Now, Runt, I don’t want to be the one to tell you this, but . . .” What the mayor said next shattered my heart. “You are a noob,” he said. “Combat is not in your future. I’m afraid you will never become a warrior. However, I do feel that you have a special connection with outsiders. So please come tomorrow. That is all.”
After these crushing words, the mayor took off, along with the elders. Max and Razberry laughed in the distance. They had heard the whole thing. I only stared at the ground . . .
The mayor had said . . . I’m a noob . . . Well, fine, I’m a noob!!! I’ll never become a warrior. The mayor really made me see the light. My only purpose is to help the real warriors like Steve and Mike.
I am . . . a noob . . .
My life is back to normal.
By “normal,” I mean it’s just studying hard in school and dealing with a few bullies.
I no longer have to worry about Steve and Mike. They’re teachers, starting tomorrow, and they’re building their own houses. More importantly, the other villagers like them. Outsiders used to have a bad reputation around here. Before, when one of them walked into our village, everyone would be asking questions like: