Philza Oneshots

2 strikes.

Ph1LzA was slain by a Ghast.

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Hello! Back at it again, by my nature I was obliged to take up this challenge. 

This was requested (or challenged) by Cookie_Obsession

Angsty time :)

Also, I was forced to watch SMPEarth for this, so...

Appreciate me (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞

Note: The music above is extremely dreamy and melancholic, and the animation is really smooth and well-drawn, I recommend you give it a few minutes of your time :)

I'm currently listening to the Philza lofi above while writing this-))

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===-1st strike-===

Holding his diamond pickaxe, he mined away at obsidian for the intention of creating a portal. A portal to basically hell.

1 obsidian.

2 obsidian.

Soon, he had 10, enough to make a portal. Leaving the mine, he scouted a good place to make a portal. He knew things could go in and out, and so he wanted to make a safehouse to cover the portal on both sides, overworld and nether alike.

On the way back, he felt as if all breath had been squeezed out of his lungs. He took a deep breath, taking in the wonderful scent of the tall spruce trees surrounding him. The birds' routinely chirp filled the forest, and the scuffling of foxes, wolves and sheep alike. The sun shone like a warm, welcoming parent looking after her children.

Finally, he reached his small base and pushed the birch door open, heading over to a wall filled with chests stacked on top of each other. He opened the nearest one and took some birch planks, dark oak trapdoors and spruce doors (my combination, istg if you say anything-).

The wind drifted in, dragging his coat, hair and hat with it. He snatched his green and white striped bucket hat out of airbound and went to close the door, but not before a creeper welcomed itself and blew up everything.

He sighed. He tried to not let this happen, but here we are. He quickly picked up as much of everything as he could, stuffing them in chests and keeping only the materials needed to fix the exterior, just to not allow anymore hostile mobs in. And off he went, a flint and steel in his right hand. He returned through the tranquil forest, extending his hands out to the portal and scraping the steel against the flint to light it. A purple glow emitted almost instantly, as if a chemical reaction had instilled, and he passed through it to Hell.

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He trod through the nether, keeping his distance from the piglins and having to squash a few baby magmas who tried to push him into lava now and then. Of course, he'd been here before. But he'd just created this world, and so he needed to return to a nether empty of his crazy builds. The music of the world played overhead, as it always did. What a strange world, he realised. A world where music played from the limitless, blue skies. Or in this case, the stifling hot roof of Hell. And yet somehow, Hell's music seemed peaceful, dreamy. Endearing, yet mysterious, as if the many trapped souls were singing in a melancholic harmony.