Heyo, my Edgelings!

This chapter includes the one and only p0tat0-g0ddess . I have been reading her stories since I was 10 and she has been my idol, role model, and mentor through all of my writing projects. Thank you so much for being an amazing writer and person!

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Your vision swirls with dozens of sparking purple vortexes as you step back through the portal, once again entering the stuffy heat of the Nether.

As the dark red Netherrack fades into view, your first thoughts are of how Herobrine's injuries are fairing. He was so weak when you left, would he even be alive when you got there? Considering he hadn't died from the wound in the first place, his death from the aftermath was unlikely.

The Endermen you had commanded to stay and guard the portal duck their heads to salute you as you stepped through the obsidian frame. They hold their iron sickles at ready, prepared for any attack. You smile your approval.

"Return to the End and resume your duties there, my fellows. Remember to disable to portal when you are back on the other side," you repeat the orders the Council have given you.

They gaze at you in surprise. "You are staying here Keeper?" Irah questions, concern written on her features.

"Yes," you answer, a look of grim determination set on your features, "The Council has deemed it necessary for the activities of the new Nether ruler to be monitored and his origins investigated."

"Shouldn't you have a least a couple guards here to aid you?" She asks.

"Since he has shown no aggression towards me when I am on my own, the Council has decided it would be best if no one else becomes involved." The word 'endangered' replaces the word 'involved' in your head, but you are trying to soothe your comrades fears, not heighten them.

It feels rather nice that they care about your safety.

"But if the portal is disabled, how will you be able to reach out for assistance if needed?" Herlii ponders.

You sigh. That would be the biggest downfall to this arrangement. "The portal will be reopened once a week so that I can report back to the Council. If things go badly before the portal opens, I will go seek assistance from a Netherian Ender community." And hope they help, you silently add. Endermen in the Nether were notorious for resisting Council rulings, so they may or may not decide to assist you.

Their worries finally satisfied, the last of the guards step through the portal, back to the End. You are momentarily jealous, and have to again remind yourself that you are the one who chose this. You stand there before the portal for a moment, waiting.

Then with the sound of shattering glass, the portal breaks, frame and all disappearing into nothingness.

You feel a spike of anxiety shoot through your stomach, making you slightly nauseous as the reality of your situation sets in. You're trapped in the Nether.

You take a deep, shaky breath, squashing your emotions and choosing to focus on your plans for the week ahead. You hope Herobrine will be in good enough condition to talk. You have a set of questions already planned out.

You get lost in your mind as usual while you walk over the highly elevated land surrounding the lava ocean, moving steadily towards the fortress.

What was he? How could survive such wounds in the first place? Why did he look so much like a human?

You fall down a rabbit hole of all the theorized possibilities you have come up with so far. Before you realize it, you've nearly ran into the rugged Blackstone walls of the Great Hall. You're just happy you didn't accidently walk into a lava pool, though you are fireproof, so it wouldn't do all that much damage.

Shaking the clutter out of your head, you proceed to walk back around to the main entrance, where the Piglin Brutes guard the door just as before.

They nod as you pass between them, back into the huge arena. This time it is completely empty and eerily quiet in contrast to the absolute chaos of only a couple hours ago.

You glance down into the pit. Dried blood still cakes the Netherrack floor and Blackstone walls, but the bodies have been removed. You briefly ponder where the Piglins discard their dead, and come to the conclusion that they are most likely thrown into the lava, similar to the way Endermen bodies are ceremonially thrown into the Void.

You walk through the empty stands, making your way to one of the stairwells leading into the true fortress. The pit and stands only takes up about half of the Great Hall, the rest is set up like a normal fortress with barracks, storage rooms, and meeting halls.

You make your way down the hall of one of the many levels of the place. You honestly have no idea where you are going; the whole place is just a huge jumbled maze with a sloppy layout.

Blackstone hall after Blackstone hall, pretty soon you worry that you are walking in circles. Where are all the Piglins? Then you hear something, a faint sound of footsteps on stone from further down the hall.

As you make your way towards them, a feeling of unease settles in the pit of your stomach. You are cautious in your approach, wary of what might be around the corner.

At the end of the hall, there is a door, but unlike the many other doors, this one is open...

...and guarded.

Two black figures stand rigidly on each side of the door. They look like solidified Piglin shadows, and glare at you with dull white eyes glowing faintly on their otherwise pitch black countenance.

What are they? You never learned about anything like this. Does Herobrine have something to do with it?

Maybe he is inside...

You slowly approach the doorway, never taking your eyes off them, watching for any signs of attack.

They remain unmoving until you put your foot down inside the doorway. Immediately, they both become animate and roughly shove you back, causing you to fall on your bottom.

You stand and narrow your eyes, drawing your scythe from its harness strapped on your back. You swing it around, fight mode activated. Though the shadow pig things make no further move to attack you, instead resuming their stoic stance on either side of the door.

You replace your scythe, and decide to take a different approach. You squint through the doorway, peering into the dark room. You can make out several more pairs of faintly glowing white eyes, but one pair glows much brighter than the others.

"Herobrine?" You call out. You wonder if he can even answer you. Has anyone even attempted to treat his injuries?

"What do you want Enderman?" he growls back, a detached voice in the shadows. You are surprised at how loud and normal his voice sounds, he could barely whisper only a couple hours ago.

"I wish to speak with you," You answer simply, your voice devoid of emotion. You aren't going to let his foul mood get to you. You wonder if he was only being cooperative before because he was injured. Would he prove more difficult when healed?

"Well I don't. Leave," he ordered.

This slightly irks you. Did he think he could just order you around? "I'm afraid that I am required to stay. So I suggest you be civil. All I ask is that you answer my questions, then I shall leave you in peace."

"Required to stay? Says who? I thought I am in charge now."

"You are ruler over the Nether, but if you remember, I am an Enderman."

"Sulfer and Soulsand, I don't care. Go away or I'll order my Withered to attack you."

"So that's what these entities are called?" You motion to them. "I have no doubt I could destroy them all faster than you could blink."

"Oh really?"

This guy has some nerve. You narrow your eyes and feel your blood heat up. Not with anger, with literal heat. In a split second, red fire roared up around you as you set yourself on fire.

In the flickering red light, you could fully see into the room. Herobrine's sitting on a pile of Hoglin leather, surrounded by his Withered. A bloody bandage is carelessly throw to the side, and you assume that it used to be wrapped around his chest. The wound is still gaping wide open, ribs exposed, but it is considerable smaller than it was only a short time ago. He must heal very quickly.

He stares at you with wide eyes, which he quickly narrows. "Your not going to leave me alone, are you?"

"No."

"Well, we can speak just fine with you out there. Why did you need to come in anyways?" his voice drips with suspicion.

"I was simply curious how you were faring."

"Why do you care?"

You sigh, "Is it wrong to be concerned for your wellbeing?"

"You have no idea who I am." He answers blandly.

"That doesn't mean I can't be polite, unlike you."

He sneers and moves his head as if rolling his eyes, though you cant know for certain because he has no pupils. "Fine, whatever. But I want to ask the first question. I'm not going to be interrogated."

"If you wish," you shrug and allow your fire to go out with a hiss, plunging the room before you into darkness yet again.

"Why are you so short?" Is the first question Herobrine, his voice now detached from his body, asks.

You scoff and glare at those two glowing eyes in disgust, "Really? That's the first thing you can come up with? Do you have any shred of good manners?"

"You said I could ask." Amusement drifts into his tone.

Now it's your turn to roll your eyes. You liked him better with only one lung. "I was born this way."

"Ah, so that explains the fire too. You're a mutant."

At this you physically recoil in disgust, stepping back as though you have been assaulted by a foul odor. How dare he?! "I am not a mutant!! I'll have you know that I am a highly respected individual for my age!! You have no idea who I am!"

"Creepers! Calm down, Spitfire! Clearly 'mutant' means something different to you guys." You can almost imagine him holding his hands up in fake surrender.

You are momentarily absorbed in the irony of him saying 'creeper' and 'calm down' side by side. "A mutant is a mindless beast, a hideous caricature. They are the embodiment of broken code and shame. How do you interpret that?"

"Wow, that is bad. To humans it just meant you were born different than the rest of your species."

You are slightly confused by his abrupt switch from rude to almost apologetic, but you also aren't complaining. "To humans? So you are a human then?"

A hiss echoes off the walls from within the room. "No, I am not human. Not anymore." The cold hatred and resentment drenching every syllable startles you.

Man, this guy has a lot of mood swings.

Judging by the way he answered you, you deduct that it would be best to wait and ask more questions about his origins later. "I see.... By the way, did you call me Spitfire?"

Maybe changing to subject will help lighten his mood.

"Yeah, what of it?"

"Why? Did you forget my name?"

"Yeah, and also you caught yourself on fire when you got all riled up."

Eyes widening in surprise you look down and realize that you are back on fire. You extinguish it quickly, chest glowing slightly from embarrassment.

"So... what's your name again?" Herobrine asks.

"Y/N."

"Alright Y/N, what's the year?

You frown, what an odd question. "198 since the III Interdimensional War. Why?"

"Notch! 5 years?!?!" Herobrine whistles. "I didn't think it had been that long."

"What has been that long?"

"That's how long I've been in the Nether. 5 years..." he murmurs in disbelief.

You decide to take a risk. "So you are originally from the Overworld?"

His eyes bob up and down absently, and you can only assume he is nodding. You can't help but get the feeling that he is listening to someone else, but there is no one else here. You shake the odd feeling off.

"Why are you back here? What do the Endermen want?" He asks abruptly after a strange second of silence.

"There has never been an instance like this, and the Endermen Council is concerned about your intentions now that you are in power." You explain, straight-forward and blunt.

His eyes narrow into glowing slits, "So you are going to ask me questions and leave?"

"No, I am going to remain here and monitor your behavior to make sure that you have no hostile intentions."

"So you are planning on openly spying on me in my own fortress?" He chuckles, "I don't think so."

"You are obligated to host me while I am in the Nether. It was in the vow you swore just a couple hours ago." You remind him.

"To Nether with-" He abruptly cut himself of with a shocked yelp of pain. You listen in confusion as he spends the next couple minutes whispering and mumbling to himself. You can't hear anything he's saying.

You just don't understand, one minute he is having a normal conversation with you, then the next he devolves into this near-insanity.

"Fine! Fine! It can stay!" he yells to himself, while your standing directly in front of him. Rude.

"I'm not an 'it'." You say with contempt.

His gaze suddenly snaps up and meets yours, jolting him out his weird spell.

"Uhhh... then... what...?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose and huff a sigh, "I am a she, and it is very rude to talk about someone right in front of their face."

"It is just a bit of a new concept. I thought Endermen were just mindless monsters until today. I had no idea you have names and can talk and are so... humanlike." Herobrine explains.

"I suppose it is necessary for humans to spread such propaganda about Endermen so that they will be more excepting of mass murdering them to rip their life-force from their chest." You narrow your eyes and snarl.

Herobrine blinks, "I have never thought of it like that, but that does make sense."

At this point you have had about enough of this conversation, drained by the social interaction.

"Well, this has been interesting, and I will be back to follow up and continue this conversation tomorrow. Could you summon a Piglin to lead me to my chamber? I was unable to locate one eariler." You announce.

"Uh, sure." Immediately, one of the statue-like Withered by the door thaws into movement, walking past you and down the hall, you assume to go find a Piglin.

Silence reigns for a while.

"Y/N." Herobrine asks in a surprising vulnerable tone.

"Yeah?"

"I never answered your first question."

"Oh?" You forgot about that.

"I'm..." he began, stuttering slightly, as though he doesn't really know how to answer, "I'm doing fine. Thanks for asking."

Your eyes widen in surprise, did he just... thank you? He is only becoming more confusing...

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"Heeeeeyaw!" Lydia yelled as she skillfully swiped a wooden head off of a dummy. Sweat dripped from her brow as she quickly stabbed through another one behind her. "Hichaaaah!"

"Are the sound effects really necessary?" Cedrick chuckled from his comfortable position leaning on the border fence of the training yard.

Lydia ignored him as she knocked down the last dummy standing. "You don't have the right to criticize my technique, Mr. Lost-the-Last-Duel."

Cedrick smiled his beaming white smile teasingly, his golden eyes twinkling, "Oh? And what about all the matches before that?"

"They don't count." Lydia nodded dismissively, readjusting the bun holding her auburn hair mostly out of her face.

Cedrick straightened and stretched, drawing his own diamond sword from the sheath on his belt. He swung it through the air in practiced, thoughtful precision. "So that means after today's duel, yesterday's will also be irrelevant?"

"No."

"And why is that?"

"Because I won."

Cedrick chuckled, "It's not like that's the only duel you've ever won. We have a fairly even record."

Lydia frowned and rolled her magenta eyes, "Stop trying to be Mr. Humble. We both know you're the better of the two of us. Otherwise you wouldn't be the First General."

"I'm still not as good as Nilan." Cedrick shrugged it off.

"Well no duh, Mr. Obvious. He's the High Commander; what do expect of yourself?"

"To be a good and loyal soldier, willing to defend my country, my loved ones, and the royal family. I don't want to be better Nilan, it was simply an observation. I'm very content with my position, unworthy really..."

"Alright, alright give your speech later and fight me!" Lydia cut off any further ranting. She squared her shoulders and spread her feet out in a balanced posture, raising one of her curved diamond swords.

"Do you want to use both of your swords this time?" Cedrick asked, copying her stance directly across from her.

"Nah, that wouldn't be fair. I can beat you with one sword easily."

"I thought you said I was the superior?"

"Not right now you're not. Have you never heard of a little pre-duel hype?"

Cedrick smiled, "Oh I've heard quite a lot of it, being around you."

Lydia fake scowled as she charged her opponent taking the first attack. Cedrick deflected her swiping sword and countered with his own lunge.

This dance went on for several minutes, until both were sweating, but neither was backing down.

Suddenly, as Lydia side-stepped to dodge an undercut from Cedrick, she accidentally stepped on one of the wooden dummies still lying scattered all over the training yard.

It slid, and her ankle rolled as she fell with a yelp. Cedrick quickly sheathed his sword and knelt to help her. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Lydia said, grabbing ahold of Cedrick's hand and pulling herself up, "Let's keep going!" She wiggled her ankle around a little to verify that it was fine.

"We should probably clean up the dummies first." Cedrick suggested.

"Oh fine..." Lydia huffed in mock exasperation.

"Haven't you always been taught to clear the area before dueling?" a new voice rings out from behind them. Both snap to attention immediately at the sound of that voice.

"Yes sir, Commander Nilan." Lydia and Cedrick both salute as the tall High Commander enters the dusty training yard.

"Then why didn't you?" Nilan asked intimidatingly, his sharp, dark brown eyes fixated on his subordinates. Suddenly Lydia felt like a child again, caught stealing cookies from the kitchen.

"We were... caught up in the moment sir. We promise it won't happen again." Cedrick confessed, never dropping his salute or rigid stance.

"It better not. There is no excuse for sloppiness. Second General Lydia could have easily broken her ankle just then, and would've been unable to defend the kingdom if there came an attack. We are leaders, and as such, we set an example for all of the soldiers below us."

Lydia glanced at Cedrick as they both knelt to pick up the fallen dummies and rolled her eyes.

"He's worse than my mom," Cedrick whispered. Lydia coughed repeatedly, barely covering her laughter.

Nilan stood watching them with a steely gaze the entire time they cleaned up the yard. Indeed, even though, at 20, he was nearly a decade younger than the other two, he always carried himself like a veteran. Unlike other military positions, who became High Commander was mostly determined by your social status.

The title had been held by the firstborn in Nilan's family since the time of the II Interdimensional War. Because of this, Nilan had been held to extremely high standards his entire life, training ever since he was old enough to hold a small wooden sword.

It made him a bit of a killjoy at times.

By the time they had set all the dozens of dummies back up under the small storage shed in the corner, the sun was dipping lower in the sky.

"You ready?" Cedrick asked, once again drawing his sword.

Lydia sighed, glancing up at the sky, "I am scheduled to meet with the queen in a few minutes, so we're going to have to finish tomorrow."

"The queen?" Nilan interjected, his interest clearly perked.

"Yeah, I've been checking up on her a couple times a week, chatting a little, you know... talking about women stuff. Juliara will be there too. We have a little women's castle group going on."

"Well, I happen to come here not only keep you two in check, I came here to train as well." Nilan revealed. "First General Cedrick, I will accompany in a match after I warm up."

"Yes sir," Cedrick nodded, "have fun talking about women stuff Lydia." He smiled and chuckled.

Lydia laughed, "I will!"

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Yay! That was a fun chapter to right! Just a fair warning... the next one will be much darker...

Also, in case you didn't know, Lydia is p0tat0-g0ddess' name.

Edgy out!