Writing Championships #4

Sapphire Simps

Warnings: Death and a bit of gore (not in detail)

It was their fault...wasn't it? 

 Iskall stood on the wrong end of the portal, staring into its dark void. They held a pearl in their hand, but they didn't want to throw it, even if they knew it was safe now.

How did they know? Someone else had taken the bullet for them. Or rather...TNT blast.

Mumbo and they had planned to raid the End for its shulker boxes and enchanted gear, but it hadn't been a safe trip. The main spawn had been rigged with TNT, but both of them had managed to avoid it. Then, they both thought they were safe, so Mumbo had went to one of the outer portals--the ones that led to End Cities--and thrown a pearl into it.

He'd been blown up immediately on the other side by more TNT. 

After all, in the game of Demise, you couldn't trust anyone.

Iskall hated that Mumbo had gone out. In a way, they thought it should've been them. They had cheated death once at the main spawn. Then, their friend had taken the blast for them. They were the one who should have died there. Not Mumbo.

But it was too late now.

They fucked up. They knew that. They knew they had deserved that hatred-filled stare that Mumbo had given them once they had respawned, now with a greyscale skin tone. Like the rest of the Demised players. Like an enderman stalking their prey.

They probably should just take themself out of the game. After all...who would want a cheater who only used their friends as a human shield from death?

There was two of them left. They could afford to just hand it over to Doc. At least he deserved it. They sure as hell didn't.

But Iskall didn't want to end up going that far. In case the others realized why they had decided on such a cruel burden on them. They didn't want to share that burden with anyone. They weren't planning to anytime soon.

They just had to hope that Doc would outlast them.

Iskall winning was just never meant to be.

Iskall didn't even know if it was even worth playing this sick game anymore....but they would try and keep going. Not for themself, but for their friends. They knew they would want them to keep going.

As they traveled back slowly from their failed Endbust...a message appeared in the chat.

Doc's death message.

That meant that Iskall had won.

But...they didn't deserve to win at all. 

And...the rest of the Hermits seemed to agree.

For when they stepped through the Nether portal leading to the gaming district, the first thing they felt was the sharp blade of a sword stabbing right through their gut. And the laughter of all the dead Hermits finally getting their revenge against Iskall.

And they deserved it. It was their fault, after all, wasn't it? Not just Mumbo's death. Grian's. The rest of the Dragon Bros. They'd all been cannon fodder to them. They could see that now.

Could they? Could they really? They didn't know what was real anymore and what wasn't. The grief over losing all their friends was too much to bear. It was too much. All of it. They didn't know what was their fault and what wasn't

Why were they laughing? What was so funny? They were being left out of a sick joke.

Their vision started fading to black, and they groaned from the pain of the sword blade.

Guess this is how it all ends, huh...?

Iskall could feel their heartbeat slowing down. They let their arms fall to their sides as they laid back in the cold grass, accepting the present and the reality. Their chest rose and fell with each drawn out breath and their eyes softly fell shut.

It was only right there and right then that they finally felt like they were being freed of the invisible chains that reigned them in. For better or for worse, Iskall knew deep down that things would never be the same again.

It was their fault, after all. All of it was.

Score: 8