[✔] Someone Named Xelqua (Hermitcraft Fanfiction)

XLVI.

(its been two months since i started this book. March 2, 2020. thank you for sticking with me through his long and hard journey if you havent lost interest <3)

(and im sorry the end isnt emotional enough for my liking but i dont want that part to drag on. im on a time limit, so ill probably go back and edit it later)

[Death. Blood. Gore.]

"Your spike is dysfunctional," I gasped out after a moment of stunned silence, voice thick and layered with grief. Yavin stared at his empty hand, then to the pieces on the floor. He turned his glare back on me, a blazing fury in his eyes. Pressing harder, he snarled wordlessly. I dug my nails into his wrist, the edges of my vision blackening rapidly. Yavin yelped and dropped me.

The black faded from my eyes as I gasped for air. I looked up, fingers grasping my throat. Yavin was clutching his wrist as if I broke it. At the weird angle it was in, I wouldn't doubt it. Scrambling to my feet, I saw him pull back his other arm. Yavin punched me as hard as he could. His hand bounced off me like my skin was made of rubber.

The instructor's face paled as the sound of a critical punch sounded, but no sign of damage appeared. Quickly looking into my inventory, my fingers brushed over the infinite amount of items.

Creative mode.

Yavin tried blasting me to pieces, but the magic curved around my body and destroyed the poor wall behind me. He tried everything he could to hurt me, but by the end, he was panting and sweating, hands on his knees and staff discarded on the floor. I had not been scratched in the slightest.

His glance went towards the window.

"Not wise, Instructor Yavin," I growled. "I could throw you out the window without effort." Yavin stared at me, and for the first time, fear was as obvious as day in his eyes. He disappeared down the hall and to the lower floor with bloody footprints trailing after him.

I squatted down near Quinn, emotion fluctuating in my mind. His eyes were blankly staring at the ceiling, giving me an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Tenderly reaching out, I closed his eyes and bowed my head. After a few moments of respectful silence, I hoisted Quinn's body over my shoulder as if it were nothing. Must be the creative mode's strength. I tucked the remains of Quinn's staff in my inventory. I put a hand on the wall to not topple over.

With an ear-shattering boom, an explosion shook the building. I looked out one of the shattered windows, seeing half of the Facility shake. As if in slow motion, it collapsed and fell to the floor, kicking up dust and debris. I let a watery smile on my face, satisfied with half of this hellhole destroyed.

Stepping on the ledge of the window, I jumped and shot through the air, scanning the ground for any injured Hermits. False and Doc stumbled out, limping and supporting each other. Angry red burns covered their body. Mumbo scrambled to his feet, shakily waving up at me with blood dripping down the side of his head. Iskall probably had it the worse as he was the one closest to the center of the explosion. He was the one to set it off. He dragged himself out one of the holes in the wall, falling to the floor and breathing hard. EX and X dove out a higher part in the crumbling part of the Facility, gliding to the floor.

I lowered myself to Iskall, spreading my wings last minute to slow my fall. Placing my instructor on the ground farther away, I set the pieces of his staff next to his body. The other Hermit's only watched in stunned silence, the knowledge of one of the more powerful people of the team hitting them like a brick.

I jogged over to Iskall. Skidding to my knees, I examined him to make sure he was alright.

EX and Xisuma landed farther away, both collapsing from magical exhaustion. Doc was examining his robotic arm with an expressionless face. It was half functioning. He was already fixing it. False was doubled over, hands on her knees. Mumbo was approaching me with a distressed expression. Joe was handing out healing supplies as he stayed away from Pv-

Wait one moment.

No-

"Iskall," I said, shaking his shoulder. He didn't respond. Is he just unconscious? My thoughts instantly went through the worst situations, sending my mind spiraling down into the large hole of terror. Mumbo knelt down on Iskall's other side, staying silent as he sensed my panic.

"No," I muttered, drawing back slightly. Mumbo's expression steadily became more panicked. Looking for his pulse in both his wrist and neck, I searched and searched. The other Hermits looked over, a horrified expression etched in each of their faces.

I found nothing. Not even a faint pulse of life.

This isn't-

I- no no no no no, he's- no, I can't-

"Iskall!" I cried out, lowering my head closer to him, my chest almost touching his. Mumbo's breathing hitched. He pulled away, scrambling away with wide-eyes and a gaping mouth.

"No- Grian, Grian no, please- please tell me- he's still living! He's still living, he's going to respawn and we'll all be okay!" Mumbo's quiet plea turned into heart-wrenching screams as tears streamed out of his eyes like a river. He came closer again and shook my shoulder, growing more desperate as each moment passed. I slowly sat up, silently looking at the floor. Mumbo tilted my head up with a gentle hand, eyes demanding yet dreading the answer.

My head spun as if I stepped into a Nether portal. Vision blurring and chest heavy with guilt, I solemnly shook my head, directing my eyes downwards. My heart felt as if someone tied a cement block to it and dropped it into the void.

Mumbo's cry filled the End, layered with indescribable grief.

And there wasn't a single person who didn't hear it.