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Flame watches as Wemmbu drops his sword to the ground once more. He had been watching Wemmbu train with the sword for hours, but it didn't seem like it was going very well. And it's not like Wemmbu isn't doing well; it's that he's way too hard on himself.
It's so obvious, from his head to his toes—Flame can tell Wemmbu is fueled by some fucked up energy and desperation. Nothing to it, really. When he's like this, it's as if he's fighting Flame himself, trying so hard to win.
There was truly no reason. Sure, Wemmbu gave up the number one title, but number two was just as good. So he may not be known as 'the strongest,' but he's still known as 'the powerhouse.' Flame may be the skilled player, but Wemmbu is the powerful player.
So why was Wemmbu training so hard with a sword out of all weapons? He mains the Mace, not the sword. He actually stated multiple times that he doesn't even like fighting with the sword because his claws always feel uncomfortable with the sword's handle.
He can retract the claws, Flame notes to his brain. He can, but why would he? With the advantage his claws give him in every single fight, it would be absolutely foolish to retract them for the sole reason of holding a sword more comfortably.
Flame's attention snaps back to Wemmbu when he hears his signature groan, ha! The demon was giving up so fast!
It really makes Flame wonder, though. Why was Wemmbu here, training?
The demon walks over to a log and sits down, the sword now resting on the soft green grass. Wemmbu turns his head to the sun, absorbing the warm light. Wemmbu looks peaceful like this, with no enemy or ally around.
He seems quiet when there's no one to entertain but himself. Wemmbu doesn't even bother to utter a sound. Maybe it's for the better, because as strong as he is, he has yet to find out that Flame is watching.
There’s something beautiful in Wemmbu training, though. Flame would never say it out loud, but the demon’s build is ridiculous in the best way, all slim waist, long lines, and wiry muscle. From the side, he looks like a decorative twig someone put a crown on, yet he lifts a mace like it’s a toy.
He hits the mace like it's a toy as well. The mace hurts like hell, but his manic laugh when he hits makes it seem like he's playing a mole game every time they run from roof to roof. Wemmbu's weapon was the mace; it was his pride and joy.
So Flame is now up with the same question. Why train with a sword? Why try to play with a sword when he's so obviously built to smash with the mace and pull his nukes? What changed?
In addition, where's Egg? Doesn't Wemmbu usually hang with Egg whenever possible? Glued by the hips, if you will. He doesn't stray far from Egg if he can help it, so Eggchan is perhaps close?
If Eggchan is near, with enough force, his questions will be answered.
So Flame went searching.
The blaze headed away from the clearing and deep into the forest. Maybe Eggchan was resting somewhere in the shade, maybe reading.
The forest looked comforting. Different shades of green all mix, and the bright sun casts a beautiful golden light. Maybe Flame can bring Lomedy here; the farmer would probably enjoy the forest more than Flame does.
Back to business, Flame walks around the forest silently. Watching out for any indication that someone had trodden the ground. Searching for any footsteps that disrupt the natural look of the lively grass.
Egg is not like Wemmbu; he doesn't step as gracefully, doesn't hide his footsteps. If Egg had walked through this forest, Flame would have no problem finding him. So with that being acknowledged, Flame can pretty confidently say that Egg is not in this direction.
So Flame heads back to the clearing, just to make sure Wemmbu hasn't left. Maybe it's also to double-check if Egg is there, somewhere. Maybe the seraphim is under some shade, close enough that Wemmbu can see him.
But as the clearing slowly comes into view, so does Wemmbu's back. There's no Eggchan to be found. Wemmbu isn't speaking to anyone. So no, Egg is not there.
Once again, Flame's mind drifts to Lomedy. He bets Lomedy would have already come up with another place to search. He and Egg are so alike, peaceful players teamed with the strongest ones. Lomedy would probably know where to go in this forest for a perfect spot to relax and write.
But Lomedy isn't here. Flame and Lomedy aren't even on good terms right now. He wonders that maybe, just maybe, Wemmbu and Eggchan aren't on good terms right now, too. He wonders, and even begins to hope, that it isn't true.
Because if a friendship as strong as theirs can be broken, what does it say about him and Lomedy?
Flame's mind can't go further, as he hears movement from the clearing and snaps back to the land of the living. Watching as Wemmbu once again gets himself up to continue training.
This reminds him of Mane—the training. Mane would train for hours alone; he would start as early as sunrise and finish as late as sunset.
When Mane was training Flame, it took the blaze a while to get used to the amount of training. Of course, it was the fastest skill he learnt, but it came at the cost of his sleep, his schedule, and his sanity.
Mane's training was impossible to get used to. The first thing Flame did after he departed from his brother was catch up on his missed sleep.
Mane's training was torture, Flame huffs to himself as he focuses on the field again. Wemmbu was dripping with sweat; his movements looked determined, as if he was truly aiming for something in this training session.
Whatever it was, Flame couldn't spend his time watching. He had a seraphim to catch.
So, Flame went the opposite way this time, to follow the river he spotted when he looked for Wemmbu. This situation is absurd, Flame thinks.
There is no chance he went out of his way to find Wemmbu for a fight, just for him to suddenly change directions and look for Eggchan.
But he needs to find Egg, Wemmbu's Egg, because Egg knows everything that is going on with Wemmbu. So the seraphim would definitely know why the macer decided to expand his skillset.
The more he walked and searched, the more he thought about this. It made absolutely no sense, in Flame's eyes, that Wemmbu would suddenly want to fight with a sword. It makes it even weirder when he remembers that Wemmbu constantly complains about how boring sword fights are.
Wemmbu is an energetic person; he needs constant movement and stimulation to pass the time. A sword fight wouldn't fit him; the combat takes time to master, and the fights take time to complete.
Wemmbu would get bored mid-fight. He wouldn't be able to consistently fight with a sword because half of the fight is healing and shielding. Wemmbu needs movement, which is why he uses an elytra and a mace, Flame assumes.
So, the same question as before bubbles up. Why? Why would Wemmbu ever need to use a sword? Not even that—why would he want to?
He's a perfectly capable fighter as he is, as cheat-y as it is to use a mace, it's still a combat weapon, even if Flame doesn't see it as one.
And the fact that Wemmbu mastered the mace, the fact that Wemmbu took the time to learn the weapon, the ins and outs of the style. The beauty in the ruins it makes.
That was impressive.
Not that Flame would ever admit that it was, not to Wemmbu.
The sound of soft breathing snapped Flame out of his head. He looked over, and of course, Eggchan was slumped against a tree in the shade, napping.
Truly a chingie.
Flame made his way over and bent down in front of the seraphim. Who knew Egg closed his head wings to cover his face when he slept, and that they twitched!
That's sweet, that Wemmbu protects Egg so well that the seraphim feels safe enough to fall asleep because the demon is just a few hundred blocks away.
It's sweet in a painful way, Flame frowns. Lomedy would probably never actually sleep this peacefully when he's around Flame. Unlike the friendship these two had, Flame was really bad with keeping his heathy.
In one way or another, his friends would get mad and leave. That's just how life was for the immortal demon, he supposes.
Just to scare the angel, Flame blew air at his wings. That seems to work as Egg yelped and his wings zapped open, revealing a scared face for a second.
Egg looked at Flame, his back now pressed hard into the trunk. Oh, come on! If he wanted to kill Egg, the seraphim would already be dead!
Flame frowns once more as he looks at Egg.
Egg frowns back, sad that his sleep was disturbed. But that frown disappears quickly when he realizes that this isn't his Wemm.
"F-Flame?! What-" Egg isn't able to finish his sentence. Flame grabs Egg's wrist and pulls him up. Now the two are standing.
"Walk with me, Egg."
So yeah, no. He didn't really know what to do now. The two walk along the river, and Egg keeps glancing at Flame. And Flame keeps clenching his fist.
It's so awkward. How does he go about asking why Wemmbu is training with a sword without sounding like a creep?
Because if Egg asks how long he'd been watching. It would be weird to explain how he watched his rival for hours in a random clearing just because he wanted to fight. It would be even weirder to explain how he spent 2 days tracking down the demon.
And even weirder than weird if he were to explain he needs Egg to tell him if Wemmbu is okay because the dude looks frustrated as hell with himself.
Maybe Egg realized what was happening at one point, because he stopped glancing at Flame and instead looked in the clearing's direction. Egg wanted to ask, of course he did, but this is Flamefrags; Wemmbu's rival! One wrong move and Egg is dead!
So, Egg waited. He walked along with Flame, as peaceful as the walk was, he couldn't help but panic. He waited, and waited some more. Until they reached where the river splits. Egg had walked here countless times before; this was the place Wemmbu started training in back when Mane disappeared, so of course he had.
Flame obviously hadn't, though. Why would he? He's obviously here for Wemmbu. What else would he do in a random forest close to 700 thousand blocks away from his base?
Maybe it took Flame a bit, but he finally found how he wanted to bring up the extremely weird topic of Wemmbu training with a sword. So, he took a deep breath, and finally, "Why is Wemmbu training, Egg?"
The seraphim switched from foot to foot. Even he didn't really know the reason. Wemmbu explained it once or twice, but even then, Wemmbu didn't explain it well. It's quite hard to understand Wemmbu when he's shutting himself off. Unlike most times when Wemmbu feels any kind of emotion, when he's truly, deeply frustrated, he shuts up.
This had been a problem since they were children, or Wemmbu being a child, Egg has no real age, Wemmbu would go through something that would deeply upset him, and wouldn't speak for a few days. He would try to fix the problem by himself until he'd give up and explain with very few words the problem he'd encountered.
So, what could Egg do other than explain just that?
He took a deep breath, his head wings fluttering a bit in the cold wind before he began speaking, "Flame, you see… Wemmbu has this… problem, when he's…" Egg glances at Flame, who's looking at Egg as if the seraphim held answers to solving world hunger. "When he's frustrated? No, not just frustrated, it's just the most common—no wait. I will just—"
"When Wemmbu is frustrated, go on," Flame said, his dreads moving in the wind. "When Wemm is frustrated, he… He sorta doesn't tell me what's up. In a few days, I'm sure, he'll tell me the problem. But I don't… I don't know what's wrong… right now." Egg says, actually mutters the last part. It makes Flame hum.
So Wemmbu is frustrated.
"I think it has something to do with you, though," Egg says. This makes Flame stop and stare. With him? He hadn't talked to Wemmbu since they beat the law. He hadn't even seen the dude until the beginning of today, when he was hungry for a painful fight.
It always was something to do with Flame, Egg knows. Lately, when Wemmbu shuts down, it's about Flame. When Wemmbu talks to him about his problems, it's always Flame's skill. Or, Wemmbu's lack of skill.
Maybe it's because Manepear left, too. The only trainer he had for the mace left, and now that's his main weapon. Of course, he'd feel like he failed somewhere along the way.
Maybe Flame should know that, too. That Wemmbu hates that Flame is so skilled. That Flame is so amazing and learns how to fight so fast, while he has to spend hours learning one skill to even begin to understand it.
Flame swims through uncharted waters as if he's owed something. While Wemmbu swims through them like he's drowning, slowly. "Wemmbu is…" Or maybe Flame shouldn't know. He doesn't think Wemmbu would like Flame to know about his insecurities.
"Is what, Egg? Speak." Okay, harsh much, isn't it? If Lomedy were here, this would go a lot smoother. But then again, he's here to blow some steam because of Lomedy.
So now, with Flame sounding as frustrated as he is, Egg is finally scared. He knows that if he gets slightly hurt, Wemmbu would feel off enough to check on Egg. But Flame is faster; he'll always be faster. His breath shatter came unexpectedly from Egg, and for some reason, it made Flame's head ache just a bit.
"You're better than him," Egg forces out, his head down and wings fluttering. It makes flame huff, and answer Egg's not so much of a question, "Of course I am, Egg."
Yeah, sure, Flame is better. But that's not what Egg meant, and he can tell that Flame understands that. Flame isn't dumb; he wouldn't be the number one fighter if he were even close to an idiot.
There is this type of unmatched brain that you need to be able to stand at the top of the fighting tier list. The type of brain Flame had, as unfortunate as this situation is for Egg. He should have just shut up before he said another word; Wemmbu would be angry at him.
The last thing Egg wants is to make Wemm even more frustrated.
It's too late, though, is it not? Flame is already interested in understanding Wemmbu, and is smart enough to maybe figure it out by himself if he'd have a few hours to think. Now the worry is that he'd misunderstand, and maybe that will lead to situations Egg doesn't want Wemmbu to be in.
So the smart thing now, as both the seraphim and the blaze already understand, is for Egg to share what needs to be shared, and for Flame to back off once he knows this information. That way, Flame gets to know what he wants to know, and Wemmbu isn't risking his life to protect Egg from Flame.
"Wemm has this thing… Like- he can't stay second place," Egg starts, and Flame looks towards the direction of the clearing once more.
So does Egg, before he goes on. "I mean- you are number one, Flame. And you will always be number one, and Wemm understands that. He just can't understand how. He trains so much, if not more, and has trained in such a manner that would, realistically, make him better. And in some places, he is better. If you'd duel elytra-mace with him, he'll win, no questions."
Sure, Flame thinks, Wemmbu would win in elytra-mace. But in sword, axe, pots, netherite gear, diamond gear, carts, cross carts. Hell! Even anchor and crystal. Flame would come out on top.
Because Flame trained hard to get to where he is right now.
And in Flame's perspective, Wemmbu didn't train as hard. Because if he did, Flame would be the one holding the number two spot. But maybe, with the way Egg is presenting it, Wemmbu did try hard, maybe harder than Flame.
But he learns the skills so slowly, Flame would master three while he's still learning one. Flame is so unbelievably fast at learning new subjects related to fighting. Unlike Wemmbu, who has to train for hours on the idea of whatever he wants to do, before reaching what he wants to do, and then mastering the move.
Flame moves on x2 speed compared to Wemmbu, which is fine. Everyone has their own pace, and there's no need to be hard on yourself for that.
But there is. There is a need to be hard on yourself. If you learn slow, if you take time, and you don't push yourself, you won't get anywhere.
If you can't trust time will help you to reach a goal, pressure will.
Flame didn’t say anything for a long moment. Egg’s words hung in the air like smoke.
He can’t stay second place.
Flame had heard a lot of things in his life. Threats. Praise. Screaming. Pleading. But this?
This was new. This was… personal.
And it made something in his chest twist.
He didn’t like that.
“Stay here,” Flame muttered, already turning back toward the clearing.
Egg didn’t argue. He just watched him go, wings tight against his ears.
Flame walked faster than before, boots hitting the dirt with purpose. The forest blurred around him until the clearing opened again, and there was Wemmbu.
Still swinging, sweating, failing.
The sword slipped again, clattering against the ground. Wemmbu hissed under his breath, claws flexing, shoulders trembling with a frustration Flame could feel from meters away.
Flame stepped into the clearing.
Wemmbu didn’t notice.
Not until Flame spoke.
“Why are you doing this?”
Wemmbu froze. His back straightened, tail flicking once, sharply. Slowly, he turned his head, eyes narrowing when he saw who it was.
“Oh,” Wemmbu said, voice flat. “It’s you.”
Flame ignored the tone. “Egg told me.”
That got a reaction; a flash of panic, quickly buried.
“Told you what?” Wemmbu asked, too casually.
“That you shut down when you’re frustrated.” Flame crossed his arms. “And that you’ve been like this for days.”
Wemmbu’s jaw tightened. “Egg talks too much.”
“And you talk too little.”
Flame took a step closer. “You’re not going to beat me with a sword.”
Wemmbu’s claws dug into his palms. “I know.”
“Then why—”
“Because I’m tired!” Wemmbu snapped, voice cracking like lightning.
Flame stopped.
Wemmbu’s chest heaved. “I’m tired of being second,” Wemmbu said, quieter now. “I’m tired of training until my hands bleed and still being behind you. I’m tired of watching you learn things in minutes that take me weeks. I’m tired of—”
He swallowed hard.
“I’m tired of feeling like I’m drowning while you’re just… walking.”
Flame didn’t move.
Wemmbu looked away, claws trembling. “I know I’m strong. I know I’m good. But it’s never enough. Not for me. Not when you exist.”
"Who cares about all I did if I can't even pass you in skill? Who? No one will look and say, 'Oh, second strongest, you are sooo cool', no, they say, 'How come you aren't good enough?' Well, guess what! I am good enough, you are just better."
The words hit Flame harder than any mace ever had.
He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to say anything. Feelings were not his battlefield.
So he did the only thing he knew how to do.
He stepped forward, picked up the sword, and tossed it aside.
Wemmbu blinked. “What—”
“You’re not a swordsman,” Flame said. “You’re a macer. The best one.”
Wemmbu’s breath hitched.
Flame pointed at him. “Pick up your mace.”
Wemmbu hesitated. “Why?”
“Because,” Flame said, voice low, steady, certain,
“if you’re going to fight me, you’re going to do it as yourself.”
Wemmbu stared at him.
Then, slowly, he reached for the mace.
And for the first time in days, his hands didn’t shake.