Quest for Justice, page 33
As Stan finally reached the lava moat at the base of the castle, he was momentarily deterred by the sight of Archie and G engaged in raging combat with the giant beast-man, Minotaurus. Stan wasn’t worried about them—he was sure that they could take him on. What did unnerve him a bit were the looks of supreme rage upon both of their faces. Indeed, the only time Stan had seen them look that angry was back in the Adorian Village right after Minotaurus had killed Adoria.
Praying that nobody else had died, and remembering that completing his own task was the only way to ensure that nobody else did, Stan pulled out his last Ender Pearl. With an almighty toss, the green orb flew up to the castle bridge. Stan closed his eyes and allowed himself to be consumed by the rushing flow of teleportation, opening his eyes only when he felt solid brick beneath his feet.
Stan found, to his relief, that his aim had been true. He now found himself standing on the bridge of the King’s castle. The green below him was punctuated by small, multicolored dots that were his battling friends and foes. Knowing then what he would find, Stan took a deep breath, assured himself one last time that he was ready, and turned to face his adversary for the first and most definitely the last time.
He stood there, on the other end of the bridge, staring Stan down like a hawk eying a mouse. Slowly, the King reached across his body to the sword hanging at his left side, and, grasping the hilt, pulled it out and pointed it at Stan. Stan could see a second sword dangling at his right side and a bow slung across his back. As the sun glinted off the diamond covering his chest and head, and the sword now fixed with unwavering confidence toward Stan, there was no smile on King Kev’s face as he gave Stan a look that clearly offered him the first move.
Stan had planned for this, and in response, he reached for one of the two iron axes strapped onto his back. King Kev’s eyebrows twitched in surprise for a moment and then fixated back into a scowl. Stan was not surprised. Had the King pulled out any but the highest tier of weapon, he would have been surprised, too.
Keeping his game plan in mind, Stan held the King’s gaze for a few moments, those remorseless blue eyes erasing all doubt he had about the battle he was about to undertake. Then, the fates of Adoria, Crazy Steve, and so many others forced their way out of his throat, manifesting themselves in a war cry as Stan charged the King.
King Kev’s expressionless face morphed into a slight hint of a smile at Stan’s apparent foolishness for charging him head-on, but Stan had a plan. A few blocks before he would have come into the range of the King’s sword, Stan threw the iron axe with all his strength at the King. The King had clearly not been expecting this, but he managed to dodge with a dive roll to the side. His diamond sword rose just in time to counter the diamond blade of the axe Stan had pulled from his inventory.
The King thrust upward with his sword, regaining his footing but still giving Stan the offensive, which he pressed with pleasure. It was becoming very obvious, very quickly, however, that the caliber of King Kev’s sword fighting far surpassed any that Stan had seen, any that DZ possibly could have demonstrated to him. In the midst of the battle of his life, Stan was at the top of his game, but it still seemed that the King was only toying with him, his blade fluidly moving through the air as if he could predict the motions of Stan’s axe.
Sensing that his current approach would get him nowhere, Stan tried a new one and cut to the side, slamming the wooden handle of his axe across King Kev’s chest, hoping to knock him off the bridge and into his demise below. The contact of wood on diamond reverberated in the form of a shock wave through the King. The unpredicted offense momentarily stunned him, but it was not to last. As Stan was about to drive him over the edge, King Kev placed his hand onto one of the battlements and in a showcase of incredible upper-body strength, he pushed off his hand and sailed into the air.
It was with implausible agility that King Kev positioned his bow and fired five arrows in rapid succession at Stan. The King was clearly an exceptional archer as well, for despite the fact that he was in midair, the arrows still found Stan, bouncing off his armor. When the King hit the ground, his features were twisted with a fresh wave of fury. He wasted no time making it clear that he had the offensive now.
There was nothing Stan could do. The King was now fighting with a technique of the sword that Stan had never seen before, and despite his best efforts, it was less than ten seconds before Stan’s axe lay far from his reach, having clattered across the stone and stopping less than a block short of falling from the edge of the bridge.
Stan could barely breathe. His chest moved, but only slightly, as it was pinned under King Kev’s foot. Stan could not think clearly. His mind was thrashing between two trains of thought, one panicking over his impending doom, the other scrabbling to formulate a plan to escape his cruel fate.
“I don’t like people who try to kill me, Stan,” said the King, his voice shaking with rage, and it occurred to Stan that it was the first time he had ever heard the King speak in person. His voice was considerably lower and more menacing than it had sounded projected over the courtyard. “I tend to find them, rather unpleasant, you know? The kind of people that cause problems. The kind of people”—and his voice went steely, his face ugly with hatred—“that I don’t want in my kingdom.”
The King jammed his knee downward into Stan’s chest. The pressure seemed to increase tenfold. He half hoped now that the King would kill him soon, before his organs collapsed. It seemed he would get his wish. The King drew his bow and notched an arrow. Desperate to go down fighting, Stan aimed one last defiant jab upward at the King’s face. Feeble as it might have been, the King still had to weave his head to the side to avoid it. With a look that said more than any insult ever could, King Kev pulled back the string. Stan closed his eyes.
When the weight lifted from his chest, Stan knew that it was over. The arrow had entered his temple, and he had gone the same way as Crazy Steve. It was odd though, he realized—he hadn’t felt a thing.
Stan opened his eyes and saw with a start that he was not, in fact, dead. He could see the body of King Kev flying backward and away from him, his diamond helmet spinning about in a lopsided pattern beside him. But by what force? Stan looked up, and his immediate reaction was that the pressure on his innards must have impaired his thoughts, because he could not be seeing correctly.
The figure standing over him, holding Stan’s axe in a stance of attack, was dead. Stan had watched him die. And if he had been alive, there was no way that he would be here or that he would have saved Stan’s life from the King.
But as Stan’s vision came back into complete focus, he saw that this truth against all truths was true, and that the armored form of Mr. A was indeed reaching down, offering Stan a hand up.
“Are you all right, Stan?” asked the Griefer, and Stan heard unmistakable, genuine concern in his voice.
Sure that something was wrong, it was only tentatively that Stan answered, “Yeah,” and grasped Mr. A’s hand, letting himself be pulled back to his feet.
“Here’s your axe,” Mr. A said, and he held it out to Stan, who accepted it gratefully but cautiously. A small sound of “Wha—” escaped Stan’s lips before Mr. A cut him off.
“Stan, I’m sure you have a million questions, and I would call you an idiot if you completely trusted me right now, but I want you to know two things. One: I am not going to hurt you. Two: I’m going to help you kill the King. I’ll explain everything else in a second.”
Indeed, questions were exploding inside Stan’s head like TNT, but he focused himself on the form of King Kev, who had wasted no time regaining his footing and retrieving his helmet, and who was now looking at Mr. A with surprised fury. Stan decided to let things play out, trusting that he would understand everything within the next couple of minutes.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” barked the King in wild rage.
Mr. A smirked. “You don’t recognize me, do you, Kev old boy?” he responded.
The King’s eyes widened, his mouth dropped open, and the grip on his sword tightened. Obviously something about this phrase sat ill with the King.
“That . . . that voice . . . ,” said the King, growing white, as if he had seen a ghost. “Is that . . . are you . . . is that really you, Avery?”
“What, not happy to see me, Kev?” Mr. A asked. “That’s okay. I wouldn’t be, either.”
Stan’s mind was working in double time, trying to process what he had just heard. Had the King just called Mr. A “Avery”? But then . . . that couldn’t mean . . . what?
“How are you here, Avery?” asked the King, a tangible element of fear in his voice. “You’re dead. I killed you. There’s no possible way that you’re alive.”
“I’m . . . kind of thinking the same thing, Mr. A,” replied Stan, his voice shaky. “What I mean is, how are you alive? And why,” Stan’s head hurt even saying it, “does he keep calling you Avery?”
“I’m sure you both have quite a few questions. Before I kill you, Kev”—to which he gave a chuckle and King Kev shook in rage—“I will give a brief summary of my life, which I think should put to rest any questions that either of you may have.
“After you killed me, Kev, I found myself unable to ever return to Elementia again. I was miserable. I had done so much in this place, and it was gone. I decided that it was my duty to return, and to do everything possible to make sure that what happened to me didn’t happen to anyone else here ever again. That was when I created a new account, and I rejoined Elementia again under the name of Adam711, a name not too dissimilar to who I feel I always will truly be, Avery007.
“I played the game of Minecraft from the beginning, gathering all my necessary resources and eventually building myself up into the warrior that I was when you killed me, Kev. It wasn’t enough, though. I wanted so desperately to take you down. I quickly learned of a settlement composed of players that you had banished, Kev, and who were living in the Southern Tundra Biome. I knew that if there was anywhere that I could start to raise an army to destroy you, it would be there, seeing as the Adorian Village was still in its infancy at that time.
“I arrived at that settlement, and it was miserable. The snowy wasteland of the tundra had no trees, barely any animals, and those poor players were struggling to survive. That settlement is probably dead by now, not that you’d care, Kev, but I was sure that, at the time, they would join me in my plan. They did not, however. They must have been extremely paranoid from living in poverty for so long, for the moment I tried to enlist them to my rebellion, they beat me down with their stone tools, calling me a dangerous monster that they couldn’t afford to deal with. And just like that, Adam711 died the same way as Avery007.
“I became twisted, dark. The same way you are now, Kev. As a matter of fact, I started in a cycle of dark thoughts, and I eventually tricked myself into believing that the lower-level players of this game who didn’t join me in my plan—which frankly must have sounded deranged to them—were the reason that the server was in the state of decline that continues to this day. I now know that it is because of you, Kev. But at the time I was in a bad place in my thoughts. Determined to extract my revenge, I rejoined the game a second time, this time with my current body and name, Mr. A.
“It was not long after I rejoined that I ran into you for the first time, Stan. I had already killed a number of new players, and that golden sword was the best weapon that I had found. I now deeply regret all those actions, and I realize there is nothing worse in this world than attacking the innocent. But regardless, you three escaped me. As the first ones to ever do so, I found myself unable to want anything except for you, Kat, and Charlie dead. As you know, I hunted you down, gaining better materials for myself as you did the same, and it all culminated when you knocked me into that lava pit over the End Portal.
“I believed, and I now know, that you supposed that I had died in that burning pit. I would have, too, had it not been for the Potion of Fire Resistance that I had in my inventory. As I lay there under the lava, I heard what you said, Stan. I thank you for what you said, because I came back to my senses after that. I realized, for the first time since my reincarnation as Mr. A, how very corrupt I had become. I hated myself for what felt like forever as I floated there in that burning pit. I realized then that the only way I could redeem myself for my actions was to help you. You had told me that you were plotting to overthrow Kev, and I swore right then and there that I would do whatever it took to help you. He’s the corrupt one. He’s the reason I died. He’s the reason everyone’s been dying.
“And so now, I’m here to kill you, Kev,” finished Mr. A, or Avery, with an almost amused smile on his face. Stan was incredulous, but as he thought about it, fitting all the pieces of the story together in his head, it made sense. Mr. A had not been friends with Avery007—he was Avery007.
King Kev had not moved throughout Avery’s speech, but his face now showed obvious fear at the fact that his best friend–turned–enemy had returned from the grave not once but twice. Then, slowly, King Kev’s face broke into a bemused sort of grin.
“Very well. If you’d like to duel, Avery, I’d be more than happy to oblige you,” he said slowly, danger dripping from his voice. “But let me just remind you . . . I’ve beaten you once, and you can be sure that I’ll do it again.”
“I think the lack of operating powers will make a difference this time, don’t you think, Stan?” came Avery’s response, and he looked over at Stan, who responded with a confident grin. Avery was genuinely remorseful for his attacks against lower-levels, and as he had just saved Stan’s life, Stan felt very confident in trusting him. He looked over at the King and saw what could only be described as eagerness crossing his face as Avery drew his diamond sword. King Kev, in response, drew a second diamond sword in his left hand.
Avery rushed in to engage the King on one side, quickly followed by Stan on the other. The four blades clashed against one another, but clearly King Kev’s prowess with the sword extended to dual wielding. Stan fought as hard as ever, but the King seemed to be able to fight just as well with his left hand as with his right, despite the fact that King Kev’s right hand was then being used in the fight against Avery. Before long, the King feinted backward and thrust his sword into Stan’s chest. The point glanced off the armor, but the impact threw Stan backward, and he skidded away from the King, who sheathed his sword and went into a single-sword combat with Avery.
Stan didn’t even try to re-enter the fight, because this was a caliber of sword fighting that he hadn’t known was possible. Throughout his time in Elementia, he had kept on thinking that he had seen the best swordfighters in the land, but as he watched King Kev and Avery lock blades in the dangerous dance, he knew that neither was holding anything back, and that he could never fight at a level even close to that of these two players.
“What’s . . . the matter,” grunted Avery as the swords continued to clash. His voice had a taunt to it. “You getting . . . tired . . . Kev, old boy?” he added with a weak smirk.
Indeed, after fighting all-out for a minute, the two fighters did both seem to be tiring. The King’s face was red and screwed up with effort, and Avery was sweating buckets. Still, though, Avery found the breath to continue to torment the King.
“Not . . . so easy . . . with no . . . operating powers . . . is it . . . Kev?” shouted Avery, and on the last word the tip of Avery’s sword locked into the handle of the King’s, and the sword went flying into the air and over the edge of the bridge. Desperation ripe on his face, the King reached for the sword at his side, but it had already been cut from there by a quick blow from Avery’s blade, and the King was now completely defenseless, staring down the elongated, sharp point of Avery’s diamond sword.
“Any last words, Kev?” panted Avery, a triumphant smile breaking on his face.
Rather than responding, the King moved into action as quick as a whip. He leaped backward, drew a hidden sword from his inventory, and attacked. Avery smirked, and Stan didn’t understand why King Kev would attempt such a risky maneuver. Avery had the upper hand. What was he playing at? But as the sword swung forward, Stan realized with a jolt that the luster on the diamond sword, made ambiguous by the gleaming sun, meant that the King had the element of surprise on his side.
“Avery, look out! The sword is—”
But it was too late. The Knockback enchantment on the glowing weapon released a shockwave as King Kev swung it, a shockwave that hit Avery across the chest with blunt force. As Avery stumbled backward, he suddenly found himself tumbling very quickly toward the edge of the bridge as the King released another rapid succession of attacks. At the very edge of the bridge, an uppercut sent Avery flying wildly into the air, and it was less than a second before the King had sheathed his sword, loaded his bow, and sent an arrow flying into Avery’s head.
Stan sprinted to the edge of the bridge and stood, transfixed in horror, as Avery fell from the bridge, his items falling about him. Stan couldn’t pull his eyes away until the end, and the end was finally reached when the body of Mr. A, who had once been known as Adam711 and Avery007, disappeared before it could fall into the lava moat below.
Stan felt as though a sizable chunk of him had been ripped out, and he couldn’t stop staring at the spot where the form of Avery, his most dangerous menace turned valiant supporter, had just faded from Elementia for a third time. Then, Stan’s eyes were ripped from the spot as an unseen force sent him flying into the center of the bridge. Stan looked up and saw King Kev charging him, sword in hand, looking as feral as Rex had that first day he had burst from the forest intent on feasting on Stan’s throat.
The King’s sword spun in his hand twice more, and two more deadening bolts of energy struck Stan, making him roll in pain across the bridge. In his agony, Stan barely was able to look up and see the pulsating purple face of the King standing above him, staring him down.
