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The End is quiet, and so was he. Wemmbu stood on the gray outer ring surrounding the end base, looking out to the endless expanse of the void as his cape billowed out to the cold gust of wind that came and went like a witness passing by.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of fireworks and landing feet behind him, Minute approached from behind.
“Stargazing?”
“Huh? Oh, yo,” the demon turned his head in greeting, before looking back at the void. The guardian stopped beside him, now gazing at the same sight, the darkness that never ended and the stars littered through it like glitter.
“I thought you would’ve left by now,” Minute mused, eyes breaking away from the view to look at the demon beside him.
“Uh…” he glanced back, not really sure what to say, “I don’t really want to, yet.”
Minute didn’t reply immediately. The demon could feel his scrutinizing gaze deepening, but he didn’t acknowledge it, only fixing his eyes on the same lonely star as his mind wandered.
Lately, Wemmbu’s visits to the end have been getting longer.
Usually, he visits every now and then for a short talk, a restock, and he’s off once again. Always moving. Always pushing forward.
Now, ever since he’d defeated Flame, it’s as if he was reluctant to leave.
It’s a good thing though. Wemmbu needs to take it easy, Minute thinks.
Another cold gust of wind passes, Wemmbu’s cape waving dramatically, though the demon didn’t seem to heed it any mind.
“It’s cold out here,” Minute breaks the silence again, “Don’t wanna come inside?”
“Nah.” Wemmbu waved a hand, cocking his head with a prideful smirk, “What kind of strongest player can’t handle a little cold?”
Minute doesn’t refute it, but Wemmbu didn’t miss the way his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, even as he shrugged with a soft exhale, “I guess you’re right.”
…
“Isn’t this the part where you impart your wise MinuteTech words?” Wemmbu raised a brow, unnerved by the compliance he didn’t expect.
The guardian chuckled at that, “There’s no need for that, you’re already reflecting, aren’t you?”
“…what?”
“I can tell. You’ve got that contemplating look… like someone who doesn’t know how to move forward and can’t help but look back at the past.”
Wemmbu snorted, rolling his eyes at the other’s philosophical nonsense. “Right, and you got all that from me looking at nothing?” the demon challenged, doubtful.
“I’ll admit, it’s a wild guess. I mean, that’s not the only thing that led me to this conclusion, you know.” Minute clarified, though he didn’t elaborate, “You aren’t usually a stargazer.”
“I— alright bro,” Wemmbu faltered, shifting under Minute’s observant eyes. He’d bite back, reply with another remark laced with sarcasm and mirth, but the words won’t come out. Because as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Minute was right, and though he didn’t want to let it show, Minute already knew.
It’d be pointless to lie now.
Wemmbu bit the inside of his lip, because he didn’t want to tell the truth either.
Not that there was any truth that mattered.
“...I mean, I guess… I wouldn’t usually do this either. I just… I don’t even know what to do anymore,” the demon spoke, slowly tracing the words, slowly gathering his thoughts as he went, because up until Minute had interrupted him, his thoughts had been too messy to piece himself properly.
He lowers his gaze, kicking a pebble off the edge, watching it disappear into the void. “I mean—it’s stupid. I won, I should be proud of that, right? Happy.”
His fists clenched.
And as Wemmbu tried, Minute was still, quiet. No sudden movements, no sharp breaths, just watching—patiently, like someone afraid of scaring an injured wolf away. Minute’s presence wasn’t a disruption, because he listened, he observed, and he gave the demon space to solve the puzzle that was his identity.
And Wemmbu’s thoughts spiraled all the while.
Because now, for once, he had everything he ever wanted. Everything he fought tooth and nail for, everything he’d painstakingly crawled toward.
The bombs.
The mace.
The victory.
The title.
The power.
Finally, for once, he came out on top. No plot twists, no losses, just him, standing at the peak with the thrilling exhilaration of the power he held.
The moment he left that mesa, he became the strongest. Untouchable.
…So why did it feel like he hadn’t won anything at all?
The more he thought about it, the more it felt like every milestone was built on another loss. Another betrayal. Another piece of himself he had to set on fire just to keep going.
And now that he stood at the top—
He couldn’t remember why he wanted to climb.
“I guess…”
I’m lost.
“I’m just bored now.” he finished, his head hung to the side, eyes lidded low.
Minute’s gaze softened, not because believed it, but because he could see past it. Past the boredom, underneath the mask of indifference, he could hear the truth buckling.
So close, yet so far.
Like Wemmbu didn’t want to uncover it. Didn’t want to untangle the knots if it meant vulnerability. Like he was afraid to admit to himself the truth buried underneath—afraid it’d matter more than a passing joke.
He didn’t say he was lost, he said he was ‘bored’.
He didn’t say he didn’t want to go home, only that he didn’t want to leave yet.
The demon carried so much, and he didn’t let anyone see a fraction of it.
But Minute gets it, this is his way of survival.
Boredom is the closest the guardian’s getting to the truth, but he won’t pry. He won’t force the cracks open.
What Wemmbu needs now isn’t advice, not as it stands.
It’s a shoulder to lean on.
“Wanna shout it out to the void?”
Wemmbu blinked, and slowly raised his head, “Shout to the void that I’m bored?”
“No,” Minute turned to fully face the demon, though his eyes never left him once, “That you made it. That you survived.”
“What—and what’s that supposed to do?”
“They say the void consumes all… so what would swallow your burdens better than the void? I mean, it could be fun. You have nothing else to do anyway, right?”
“I mean, I wouldn’t call this a burden,” the demon shrugged, a smile creeping up his face in a weird confused sort of amusement, “I’m just bored.”
“Are you?”
“…yes…???”
Minute arched a brow, egging him on with a shit-eating grin, “Then shout it out.”
Wemmbu laughed out loud with an incredulous look, startled and amused and a little embarrassed all at the same time. He hesitated for a second, eyes flickering between the guardian and the end he protected because this idea is stupid. So stupid. Ridiculous even. Childish—but Minute’s grin was contagious. And soon enough, he found himself grinning back.
Minute’s like the void.
Quiet and distant—but he’s there. Watching. Observing. But he doesn’t respond, doesn’t yell back.
He gives you space, endless space.
And he listens.
And it’s cold—but it’s there.
And it’s comforting.
Wemmbu inhaled, and yelled out to the endless expanse of space before them, a gloved hand cupping the side of his mouth.
“I’M BOOOOREDD!!”
He yells, but it’s thin. Light. Unserious. The kind of tone he uses when he plays along with a stupid bit. A fake, ironic voice you’d hear him use as he laughs along with Egg’s stupid jokes.
It’s light, but it’s not him, not the raw feelings deep inside. It’s the Wemmbu he knows when he’s reigning it in, keeping the mood shallow, keeping his peers from delving deeper into an emotional boundary he didn’t want to unpack.
It’s lighthearted, it’s comfortable, but it’s not what Minute’s wanting to hear.
“Come on! Surely you can yell better than that!” he pushed, nudging the demon on the side with his elbow.
Let go, just for today.
Wemmbu grinned wider with a competitive look in his eyes, and inhaled a second time.
“THERE’S NOTHING TO DO ON THE SERVER ANYMORE!!!”
It’s playful, shouted with a wide childish grin—but it’s louder this time. A raw scream of genuine frustration, one so loud it would’ve peaked a mic.
Minute couldn’t help but laugh, “This is Minecraft’s Most Strongest Player, screaming at the edge of the void.”
That got Wemmbu laughing again. This time, it was loud, stupid, alive.
“WHO’S THE TINY BUG NOW, ZAM?!” Wemmbu jabbed both middle fingers toward the empty horizon.
“NOT YOU!” Minute hollered with him.
“NOT ME!”
“LOUDER!”
Something cracked open in him—something raw, something long buried. And then, louder than he had ever yelled before,
“I’M NOT A LOST CAUSE!!!”
Minute let out a soft, involuntary “woah” underneath his breath. But Wemmbu wasn’t finished.
“I AM THE STRONGEST PLAYER ON THIS MINECRAFT SMP!”
The guardian chuckled softly. Inside, he felt something akin to pride, delighted at the demon’s stupid grin, his booming voice, watching with endearing eyes.
It’s the happiest he’s ever looked.
He inhaled, wrapping an arm around the other’s neck.
“WE ARE THE STRONGEST PLAYERS ON THIS MINECRAFT SMP!”
Wemmbu faltered in shock, but quickly recovered, shouting those words back with all teeth and adrenaline, like a kid yelling at the top of the world.
“WE ARE THE STRONGEST PLAYERS ON THIS MINECRAFT SMP!”
And in addition, another middle finger.
“FUCK YOU FLAMEFRAGS!!!”
Their laughter bounced off the obsidian and vanished into the void, and for the first time since Flame’s defeat… Wemmbu felt lighter. Like the heavy feeling in his chest has really been swallowed by the void.
He wiped at a tear, still smiling.
“Haha… oh my god, I wonder if we like, made it harder for Egg to read with that,” the demon thought out loud, voice slightly hoarser than before.
Minute didn’t reply, still catching his breath from the laughter the two had shared in tandem.
“Hah… haha, got anything else you want to get rid of?”
Wemmbu’s knees buckled, and he sat on the hard stone floor, feet dangling off the edge as he shook his head. “Nah bro, I’m just tired now.”
Minute sat too, patient as ever.
“That’s alright, we can sit in silence, then.”