𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙮-𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙚

ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ
ᴡɪʟʙᴜʀ

Wilbur was sitting in a room full of signs scratches on the walls. Each sign held a line from the L'Manburg anthem, and he read and reread each sign as if he had just written them. Dark bags under his eyes signal that he hasn't slept in days, or at least hasn't slept good. Instead, the man had been searching for the room he was sitting in at this very moment, for he had lost it a week before.

A week ago, Wilbur had said he would blow the land he stood upon, to absolute smithereens. He wanted to tear the place down to nothing but a pile of rubble and ash, blow the whole thing up and be at peace. He had planned to do so at the festival at Tubbo's word- "Let the festival begin,". Fortunately for everyone else, Wilbur couldn't find this room, and hadn't been able to do so, but now?

No one could stop him- no one would dare stop him.

The button was sitting there, just nailed to the wall like the signs, like the dried blood, like every single memory of L'Manburg. All around Wilbur were reasons to blow it all, and no one could stop him, no one would stop him if he simply reached out and touched the button. No one would be able to reverse the TNT exploding underneath his feet- the land around from collapsing in on itself. This was the final action- and he was so close to living it.

He was so close to peace, after many years of just tierless bloodshed and pain, he was so close to peace.

So close to pressing the button, so close to ending it all. Yet he didn't.

Maybe it was because of this new overwhelming feeling coming into play, or his desire for chaos, but Wilbur did not press the button, instead, he walked out of the room and covered the opening with a few tree branches. Instead of pressing the button and blowing the whole place- he walked back to Pogtopia.

He had some things to think on.

ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ
ᴛᴇᴄʜɴᴏʙʟᴀᴅᴇ

Deep within another dimension, a man with long ears and pink hair stood holding a sword with a special enchantment. He stood in the blistering cold, freezing his entire body as the blue flames around him roared on.

A black skeleton, looking as if it were dipped in coal, was laid in front of the man, its body slowly fading from the world. The man leaned down and grabbed a hold of the head of the skeleton, ripping the skull from the spine. The man smiled, dirt and soot smeared on his pig mask adorned on his face. His hands were steady, even in the cold, as he looked at the dark skull.

The skeleton was called a Wither Skeleton, and its ebony skull was darker than the night sky, or the deep parts of the caves the light just couldn't quite touch. It looked horrific and gross, looked like it was straight from a nightmare, but the man with the pig mask did not look away or cower in fear. Instead, he opened a locked chest that emitted a faint purple light that was colored a deep green-blue, and pricked his finger on his sword. He dropped his blood onto the lock, and an eye that looked to be made of actual emeralds.

The man waited patiently for the chest to unlock, and after processing his blood, it did. He opened the chest, and a bright, green glow shot out from the blue box. The man smiled.

Inside the chest were five dark skulls, looking identical to the one in the man's hand. He gently placed the skull in the box, and closed the lid, watching as the eye on the front blinked, and closed. The box then started to shake, and it looked like it was going to implode, but all it did was crumble down slowly, and the man gathered the remains and stuffed them into a bag strapped to his side.

The pink haired man smiled, and started to walk away into the dark surroundings. He slowly disappeared from sight and into the cold, blue area around him.

Welcome to the Nether, a place of very few peaceful haitants, and fewer wildlife. The place was too cold to inhabit normal animals and plants, they would die before the first day. The Nether, though covered in fire and lava, active volcanoes and held no water whatsoever, was cold to the normal person. There was so much heat, and so much lava, that just stepping foot into the place would fry your nervous system and shut down your senses, staying here for too long would ultimately kill you, if the natives don't that is.

In other words- welcome to hell.

𝟾𝟷𝟷 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴠᴇ ɪɴsɪᴅᴇ ᴀɴ ᴇɴᴅᴇʀᴄʜᴇsᴛ-