(3rd Life, bet'cha weren't expecting that)

(Warnings: death[though you don't actually see anyone die] aslo knives[is that a warning thing? IDK])

Scar bounded across the dunes excitedly. The sun beat down relentlessly, but it didn't bother him too much.

"Come on Grian, hurry up!" He called behind him. The two men had spotted an aggravated enderman sitting in a boat and wanted to see who it would go after. It was risky, but you can afford to take risks when you have three lives. Well... He glanced down at the two black markings which went around his wrist. Maybe not three, anymore. A few weeks ago, Grian had led a creeper into a group of people as a prank. Scar had lost his first life in the explosion. But there were no hard feelings, the two had built an empire together in this desert.

Scar turned, still running, and spotted Grian stumbling across the loose sand. He had long since replaced his usual red sweater with a t-shirt of the same color, to better withstand the heat.

"Scar... huff... Slow. Down." Grian staggered to catch up, but his eyes suddenly widened in panic. "Wait- Scar, stop!"

The ground beneath Scar disappeared. He had forgotten about the ravine.

Scar heard his name being screamed, and a small cry escaped his own throat as he plummeted towards the rocks below. He shut his eyes and braced himself for the painful impact. Dying wasn't fun, but at least he knew he'd respawn back at his bed.

<~~~>

When Scar opened his eyes, he had no idea where he was. He should have woken up on his bed as soon as he died. Instead, he was standing in a gray void which seemed to go on forever. There was nothing around him and he couldn't even see the ground he was standing on. Was there even ground there? He shivered, hugging his bare arms, but he didnt feel cold. He didn't feel anything. Panic gripped at his chest and he began hyperventilating.

"What is this place?!" He shouted into the abyss, not knowing if he even expected a response. "Where am I? I shouldn't be here!"

A figure appeared beside him and he nearly jumped out of his skin. The figure stood unmoving as Scar tried to regain his composure. They were covered in white and gold robes. A strange language was written across every inch of the garment. The only part of them that was visible was their face. It was beautiful. Almost too beautiful. It didn't seem real. They looked at him with an expressionless gaze.

"Welcome, GoodTimesWithScar." Their voice echoed, though there was nothing for the sound to echo off of.

"No no no, there must be some sort of mistake. I shouldn't be here. I still have one life left, see?" Scar held up his wrist, showing the robed figure the single black marking surrounding it. They nodded patiently.

"I am aware of this. And you will return to your world shortly. However, there is something I wish to inform you of before you return."

Scar frowned worriedly. "What's that?"

They stepped closer and looked down on him. They were at least a foot taller. "You're on your last life. Once you die, that's it. There is no coming back." Scar knew this already. Where were they going with this? "And it's become clear to me that you are at a disadvantage."

"Are you saying I'm clumsy?"

"It's not that. I have been watching you, all of you, for quite some time now. I know things you do not... Like how there are people among the group who will not hesitate to take your last life."

"What? No, They wouldn't do that..." Doubt crept into his mind and his voice became quieter. "Would they...?"

"You have had quite a few... disagreements with one in particular. Disagreements over an enchanting table, perhaps?"

"What? Ren?" Scar vaguely recalled a heated argument which had broken out between the two when Ren had refused to sell the enchanter. "That was just a fight, he'd never kill someone over that! That's insane!"

The figure just shook their head sadly, the first hint of emotion they had shown this whole time. "I'm afraid he doesn't see it that way. You've seen how he acts..." They waved a hand and the gray nothingness dissolved into sky. Scar looked down, it was as if they were standing on an invisible floor miles above the ground. He could see the desert he had just been in, the village where he had burned down that tree, Dogwarts, with its walls surrounding it... "He's built a kingdom, made himself king. I'm afraid he's gone mad. And a mad king does not tolerate disrespect."

Scar looked up and met the figure's dark eyes for the first time. "Why should I trust you?"

"Well, to put it simply," they stepped closer. "There's no one else you can trust. You've made enemies, set fire to everything in sight, and your companion, Grian? Why, he's only loyal out of servitude. They leaned closer and whispered in Scar's ear as if to share a secret. "What do you think will happen once he's paid off his debt?"

The gray void returned and Scar shuddered. "...what am I supposed to do?"

"Survive. Trust no one, and do not wait for your enemy to strike first. You have a choice, GoodTimesWithScar, you can either kill or be killed."

When Scar spoke it was barely more than a whisper. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"You may have made a poor choice in allies," they said. "But that doesn't mean your story should end so soon... I think it's time for you to go back now."

Scar's fingertips began to glow a bright white, the glow traveling up his arms and across his body. He looked up and met the figure's gaze one last time before his vision was engulfed by the blinding light.

<~~~>

Even after the player had returned to the Overworld, the robed figure stood staring at the spot where he had been. A smile twitched at the corner of their mouth, a smile that never reached their eyes, and they quietly laughed to themself.

Oh, how gullible players were. How manipulable. They were such simple lies, really. As for what would result from them... they couldn't wait to see.

<~~~>

Scar repeatedly tightened and loosened his grip on the knife. It had been a day or two since he had fallen into the ravine.

Too long, he thought. Someone could've gotten you by now. He had been paranoid since then, constantly looking over his shoulder. He hadn't gotten a bit of sleep and every noise sent him reaching for the knife he had found before leaving the desert, never to come back.

A knife which now sat in his hand, obscured by the folds of a dark gray cloak.

He crept along the inner side of Dogwarts' fortified walls, hidden by his cloak and the night, eyes darting around, searching for any signs of danger. He was in enemy territory, yet there wasn't a trap in sight. This would be too easy.

He found Ren crouched in front of a chest. His ears shot up at the sound of footsteps, but he didn't turn around, seemingly recognizing them. Sadly, he didn't recognize the sound of steel brushing against fabric.

"Oh hey Scar, what're you doing h-"

<~~~>

"You wanted to speak with me, my lord?" Martin stood uneasily at the edge of the stone platform, shifting his weight between his feet. Ren stood at the center with his back to Martin, instead facing the closed gates of Dogwarts as if in thought. Martin was unsure whether the king had heard him, and was about to ask again when Ren spoke.

"What has happened to this place?" Martin knew he wasn't just talking about Dogwarts, the whole world had been sent into madness in the week since Scar had slain Ren without warning. More people had lost lives, and it seemed anyone who hit their third life became more on edge. Murderous, even. The small kingdom of Dogwarts had become more of a fortress, keeping out all external dangers. But what was going on outside the walls still had its effect on them. "Everything was fine. Then he lost his second life and... something changed."

"Perhaps we may never know?"

"Perhaps not. But... Martin, I must ask something of you."

Martin was sure he didn't like where this was going. "Anything, my lord."

Ren turned to face Martin. His eyes seemed sad and with the slightest hint of fear. In his hands, he held an axe, the blade sharpened and glinting in the sunlight.

"I want you to slay me."

"I- don't understand..." Martin's words caught in his throat. He couldn't tear his gaze from the weapon.

"Something happened to Scar when he lost his second life. I don't know how I know but he saw something. I need to know what he saw. Martin, I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't believe it was necessary. If you don't, I'll have to find some other way, and I'm not sure I have the strength to do that. So not as your king, but as your friend, please..."

He handed the axe to Martin, who took it hesitantly. Martin stared at the blade, transfixed. His vision blurred and he blinked it away, droplets falling onto his reflection. He looked up and met Ren's gaze.

"I'll do it."

With a look of relief, Ren closed his eyes and bowed his head. Martin gripped the wooden handle, his knuckles turning white. He knew this had to be done. The axe sailed in a downwards arc.

<~~~>

"Welcome, RenTheDog."