Battle for the Nether Read online

Scanning the battlefield with his bright green eyes, Mason chose the route for his army to take—a meandering path past pools of lava and around patches of soul sand. He had to choose the quickest path; right now their entire plan relied on speed.

  The archers from above sprinted down through the ravine to the sloping plain, joining the main force. They took up position at the head of the column, with groups on either side guarding the flanks.

  “TO THE FORTRESS!” Mason yelled, pointing with his iron sword.

  The mass of bodies sprinted forward in tight formation, heading directly for the Nether fortress. In the distance, they could all see the circle of stone that sat on the surface of the boiling sea. Multiple bridges now spanned the lava, each one leading from the shoreline to the island, the dark obsidian pedestals dotting its edges. Along the surface of the fortress, Mason could see workers moving about, expanding the dark structure.

  Those are our people . . . my people, he thought to himself.

  “We’re coming for you!” Mason yelled as they ran forward.

  The fortress looked ominous in the distance. He knew it was filled with more monsters—far more than they’d just faced—but felt confident that the User-that-is-not-a-user would be there when they needed him.

  As they ran forward, Mason could see monsters started to stream out of the massive fortress—more than he’d ever seen in his life. If their plan didn’t work, then everyone in this army would surely die. Looking around him, he saw the brave faces of men and women, confidence in their eyes, and sprinted forward through the Nether and toward what seemed like certain death.

  CHAPTER 24

  MALACODA’S PLAN

  M

  alacoda screamed in rage.

  How could those mindless insects have defeated my army? Where did they get so many warriors? NPCs can’t fight!

  Floating on a balcony that faced the sloping plain, he focused his attention on the approaching army. He could see their archers shooting any monster that approached, killing it within seconds. One zombie-pigman was shot, drawing all the others on the fiery plain to the villagers, but the NPC archers destroyed the approaching monsters in seconds, clearing the plain of defenders. Onward they ran. They didn’t seem to care whether Malacoda could see them or not; they just charged toward his fortress, intent on his destruction.

  “They can’t possibly win,” he mused aloud. “What could these villagers be thinking?”

  “Perhaps they are here to end their miserable lives, Malacoda,” screeched a voice from behind him.

  Spinning, Malacoda formed a ball of fire and held it within his writhing tentacles. “What did you call me?” he demanded of the enderman that stood before him.

  “Ahh . . . right . . . I mean, your Majesty,” Erebus replied.

  “That’s better,” Malacoda snapped, his booming voice filling the stone corridors as the fireball slowly extinguished.

  Malacoda floated farther out onto the balcony and looked at the approaching army. He could see hundreds of villagers, all armored and bristling with weapons, charging toward the fortress. A bulky NPC led the charge—a square-shouldered villager running out in front, his dark beard barely visible from this distance.

  Curious, I would have thought that fool Gameknight999 would be leading. Maybe his own people turned on him and killed him. That thought made Malacoda laugh.

  “What are you laughing about . . . ahh . . . sire?” Erebus asked.

  “I wonder why the User-that-is-not-a-user is not leading this misguided army,” Malacoda said. “Perhaps his NPC pets finally realized that he was insignificant and a coward.”

  “I learned on the last server that Gameknight999 is anything but insignificant, and can do the unexpected at the most inconvenient of times. He should not be ignored.”

  “YOU DARE GIVE ADVICE TO ME?” Malacoda boomed, a fiery ball of flame reappearing within his twitching tentacles.

  Erebus quickly teleported from the balcony and back into the brick-lined hallway, head bowed, trying to look meek and subservient.

  “You try my patience, Erebus. You should be more careful,” Malacoda advised.

  “Yes, sire,” the enderman replied, a wry smile creeping ever so slightly across his downcast face.

  Floating away from the balcony, Malacoda moved down the steps and into the corridor, the cramped space making him feel claustrophobic. He floated right next to Erebus and glared down at the lanky creature. Feeling satisfied that the monster was properly scared and timid, he moved down the passageway, the burning ball within his tentacles evaporating with a puff. He could see his blaze guards stationed periodically throughout the corridor, their dark eyes scanning for threats.

  He moved slowly through it, his tentacles dragging on the ground and creating a noise that sounded like snakes slithering along. Erebus followed obediently behind him, for now.

  “Do we have enough crafters?” Malacoda asked Erebus. “Have your foolish Overworld monsters gathered enough for my plan?”

  “Yes . . . ahhh . . . sire. The last batch of captives yielded the remaining crafters you need.”

  “Excellent,” Malacoda said excitedly. “SOUND THE ALARM! It’s time to activate the portal and move my army to the Source.”

  “You mean our army,” Erebus corrected. “My forces will only follow my orders.”

  “Yes, yes, whatever,” Malacoda replied, anger and frustration leaking into his voice. He gestured with a tentacle to a nearby skeleton. “You, wither skeleton, send for my generals. It is time we begin our assault on the Source.”

  The dark skeleton nodded once and floated off, the clattering of his bones echoing through the stone passage.

  “What of the approaching army?” Erebus asked.

  Malacoda stopped and gave the enderman a scowl.

  “Sire,” the King of the Endermen added rather reluctantly.

  “They are not a large enough force to be of any concern. When they reach us, we will be ready with a trap, and then the jaws of death will crush them. They will be destroyed soon enough.”

  Malacoda then laughed an evil, maniacal laugh that made all the monsters nearby shudder. Then he thought of the approaching army of fools being destroyed just as they opened the portal to the Source and laughed even harder. But then a disturbing thought pricked his vile mind. It was something Erebus had said about the User-that-is-not-a-user . . . doing the unexpected and appearing at inconvenient times . . . This made Malacoda pause for a moment. He loved it when a plan came together, and this Gameknight999 was an unknown variable, though an insignificant one. But still he wondered—where was the User-that-is-not-a-user?

  CHAPTER 25

  CRAFTER

  M

  ason drove his force across the smoky land, the burning patches of netherrack and the bubbling lava rivers giving off a black, sooty smoke that covered the landscape, making it hard at times to see. Regardless, the NPC army sprinted through the Nether toward the circle of stones. In the distance, he could see monsters flowing out of the massive fortress, some of them lining up to face them. Most of the monsters, however, were just milling about on the center of the gigantic island, standing there as if waiting for something to happen.

  A group of zombie-pigmen suddenly burst at them. Their archers took the monsters down before they could get within striking distance, and the army of NPCs did not slow their advance; they just continued toward the fortress. They knew that Malacoda’s eyes were trained on them and that he would be prepared for their arrival . . . just as they had planned. Their progress was slow, because their short, stubby legs were unable to move any faster. They went from sprinting to running, then back to sprinting again as they moved across the Nether, Mason driving his force hard. They had to be there at the exact time they’d laid out, or their plan would fail.

  Scanning the terrain, he looked for some sign that everything was going as arranged. Where are you, User-that-is-not-a-user? You’d better be there when we need you, or we’re all dead, he thought to himself, a
shudder of fear rippling down his spine.

  He drove his force even harder, and they charged forward, crossing the netherrack plain in a zigzag path, having to go around lava pools and flaming blocks. The monsters across the plain had now started to avoid them, knowing that to approach this force meant instant death.

  As they neared the fortress, they started to hear the creatures that had gathered in front of them. The mechanical wheezing of the blazes, the moaning of the zombies, and the purring cries of the ghasts filled the air. As expected, Malacoda had the blazes and ghasts out front, their long-range fireballs a devastating weapon in the open, which is exactly where they were.

  “REFORM!” Mason yelled.

  The soldiers changed their formation as they ran, swordsmen to the front, archers and snowball throwers behind. The warriors at the front removed their iron chest plates and replaced them with diamond ones. They then pulled out potions of fire resistance and drank, giving their bodies a subtle sparkle. This was their fire shield. These warriors had to hold long enough to give the archers and snowball throwers time to take out the long-range threats.

  As they neared the massive collection of monsters, they stopped and their archers opened up. Wave after wave of arrows streaked through the air, as the archers aimed at the ghasts as they did before, groups of six working in a synchronized fashion, all focusing on the same target, taking it out in an instant. At the same time, a white blur of snowballs flew through the air, raining down on the blazes. They screamed in pain as the balls of ice hit them, their internal flames sputtering and shaking. Some of them threw their deadly fire toward the NPCs, the balls of flame bursting on the diamond-encrusted warriors at the front. A few balls of fire flew over the front line and landed amongst the group of archers. Screams of pain and despair floated up from the army as the villagers’ HP was consumed. Many died in the first attack, but when one archer was killed, two stepped forward to take his place so that the flow of deadly arrows continued unabated.

  The front rank held after the first volley of fireballs, as the snowballs thinned out the blazes. But then, out of nowhere, a gigantic cluster of ghasts appeared through the smoky haze on their left flank, their evil baby faces lit with rage. They rained down spheres of death upon on the archers, a single fireball enveloping multiple warriors at a time. More attacks came from above, some of them now landing amidst the snowball throwers. Archers turned to face this new threat, but that left the ghasts before them able to attack with impunity.

  At that instant, the zombie-pigmen and skeletons charged forward, engaging the swordsmen at the front. The battle quickly degenerated from a carefully orchestrated sequence of attacks into a melee of villagers fighting hand-to-hand with monsters. They were fighting for their lives. The ranks tried to hold, but there were just too many attackers; they were being overwhelmed.

  Mason tried to direct his troops to seal up breaches in his lines, but he just didn’t have enough NPCs to fight this kind of battle out in the open. The mass of monsters before him were too numerous . . . Where is the User-that-is-not-a-user? He could see his newfound friends and neighbors perishing before him, their lives being sacrificed for their common cause. Screams of agony and misery echoed across the battlefield as more monsters charged forward. He tried to pull his troops back, but groups of zombie-pigmen had gotten behind them.

  There was no place to go . . . they were surrounded.

  Where are you, Gameknight999?

  Monsters hammered at them from all sides. Fireballs streamed in from the ghasts overhead, smashing into the NPCs who were fighting for their lives. The blazes that had survived the snowball attack pounded away at them, their fireballs streaking in with pinpoint accuracy, every one of them finding a target. A large cluster of magma cubes charged forward, smashing their gelatinous bodies against the front line of diamond-clad warriors. Swords slashed at the bouncy cubes, only to divide them into more and more of the monsters. A large company of zombie-pigmen engaged their right flank, their moaning wails sounding sorrowful but at the same time excited at the prospect of killing. It was chaos. Mason looked around and saw his army—no, his people—perishing around him, their screams of pain and terror adding to the cacophony of battle. It was terrible.

  What should I do . . . what should I do?

  And then suddenly, out of the haze of the Nether, he heard a battle cry.

  “FOR MINECRAFT!”

  The sound did not come from his troops, but from somewhere else. And it was not just a single voice or a hundred voices; it was a thousand angry voices, crying out as one. Leaping through the smoky mist came Gameknight999 himself, clad in diamond armor and sitting atop a mighty steed. But he was not alone; the army he brought was also on horseback, the massive animals leaping through the smoky haze.

  The incoming cavalry fired bows from their saddles, striking out at the ghasts from behind, the monsters’ HP disappearing before they even knew what was happening. In seconds, Gameknight’s thousand-strong army shredded the airborne threats, then turned their attention to the ground forces. Putting away their bows, the horsemen and horsewomen drew their swords and charged toward the remaining monsters. Forming an armored wedge, they drove into the ranks of the monsters, carving a terrible path of destruction through the enemy forces. Monsters tried to flee before them, but the horses were just too fast. They shattered the enemy lines, tearing apart zombie-pigmen in seconds, cleaving great slashes of destruction amongst the blazes, and shattering the wall of magma cubes. They drove their deadly formation completely through the enemy forces, smashing their resistance completely.

  Instead of turning for another pass, though, the mounted army continued onward toward the fortress, leaving Mason’s troops to finish off the horde. With the ghasts and blazes now destroyed, the remaining monsters, who had been standing their ground, were quickly destroyed; those that fled were spared their lives.

  Gameknight moved like an automated robot without thought or fear; he was in the now and nothing would stop him. He was a killing machine, his sword and bow something these monsters would remember for a long time. Looking over his shoulder, he could see that Mason had the remnants of the monster mob well in hand, and turned forward, with his sight set on their next target.

  “Mason, catch up when you can!” he yelled, then turned his attention back to the fortress. “Onward to the fortress!”

  “FOR MINECRAFT!” Hunter yelled at his side, her black and white horse running with seemingly endless strength.

  Others joined the battle cry as they streaked toward the mighty citadel.

  In the distance, he could see monsters milling about on the island. Blazes were leading NPCs to the obsidian pedestals, planting them in front of the diamond crafting blocks. A collection of villagers was being held at the center of the island and they were surrounded by blazes—likely hostages to force the crafters to do Malacoda’s bidding. And then he saw the gigantic beast himself floating out of the fortress, his tentacles holding something beneath his massive body. Gameknight knew exactly what it was, and spurred his horse for more speed, Hunter right at his side.

  “You ready?” he asked her.

  “Yep,” she replied, then moved her horse closer. And in a single, dangerous leap, she jumped from her horse and stood on the back of his, her hands resting on his shoulders for support. He grabbed the line to her horse and charged forward, the riderless mount following his closely. “Let’s do this!”

  They closed the distance to the fortress in minutes. None of the monsters noticed their approach, expecting the army that had been sent earlier to easily deal with the threat, but as they neared, the thunderous hooves drew the attention of the mobs. Alarms sounded throughout the fortress, but there were no more monsters within the dark castle. They were all out on the stone island, clustered together, waiting.

  Malacoda deposited his package on the center pedestal; it was Crafter. In the distance, Gameknight could just barely make out the monster’s words.

  “Now activate
the crafting bench before you,” the King of the Nether commanded, his voice booming like thunder.

  “No,” Crafter snapped.

  A flick of a single tentacle commanded the blazes to incinerate a couple of the hostages, their cries of unspeakable anguish filling the air.

  “DO IT!”

  “No.”

  Another flick. More cries of pain, shortly followed by the pleadings of the survivors. Distress covered Crafter’s face as he settled his hands on the crafting bench. He could not bear to hear anyone else suffer because of him. He had no choice. Looking around him, he could see that the other twelve crafters had activated their diamond crafting benches, a ring of glowing blue cubes now surrounding the island. Tears streamed down their faces as piles of possessions scattered on the ground, marking the victims killed to force the crafters to do as they were told. Sighing, he drew on his crafting powers and extended them into the crafting bench, causing the blue cube to suddenly flare into life. It shot out icy cobalt beams of power to the other crafting benches until a spider web of energy had been formed. Then a purple haze started to materialize across the island. Crafter knew what that color meant: a portal . . . a massive portal.

  Just then, a commotion erupted behind him; it was the sound of steel on steel, the clash of bodies in battle. Turning, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Galloping straight toward him was Gameknight999 on horseback, and Hunter was standing behind him, a massive army of mounted NPC warriors at their back. The cavalry smashed into the monsters, swords flashing out to rend monster flesh. The monsters turned to face off against the approaching force, making them slow their advance . . . all except Gameknight and Hunter. They crossed the stone island in seconds, their horse pushing aside the monsters in their path as if they were feathers. As they neared, Hunter leaped from the horse and landed atop the obsidian pedestal.

  “What are you doing?” Crafter asked, disbelief in his voice.

  Without an answer, she drew a diamond pickaxe and hammered away at the blue crafting bench. Malacoda, who was watching from above, was clearly stunned by what was happening.