Withering World 1 [MCSM Fanfiction]

ENGULFMENT: Chapter 49

Petra

It's all for a reason.

As if Lukas and Radar's deaths happened, so we could defeat WITHER. No, it could have all been avoided.

If the author was here, he would've been willing to explain what he thinks the reason is. I can't infer or predict or conspire like he does- did.

Another thing Ivor may have to scold me for is my lack of care for the work I do above the surface. Though I haven't tried it, I'm sure I will break if I go back up to mob population control - every skeleton will hold the face of Lukas. That's why I laid all the Set One warriors off their cavorting since it doesn't matter, anyway. The beacon won't spawn anymore of those things, so we might as well let nature take its course.

The sound of metal against metal reverberates across my pod, ramming comfort against my eardrums. Sparks glide from the edge of the iron ingot I hold as I brush it along the blade of my sword. I don't plan to use all the loot Olivia gave me just to spruce up Miss Butter, nor do I plan to sharpen my weapon for the whole day. However, seeing Jesse has been ruled out and so has my job, so all I can do is channel everything into mourning for Lukas and Radar now that there are no more tasks on my to-do list.

Miss Butter receives a new shine out of the sharpening session, glimmering so I can see my face clearly in the blade's reflection.

I stand, testing out the aerodynamics of my weapon. It's not much of a difference. Nevertheless, I still feel more powerful with it in my hands again.

I create turbines of gold around me, spinning my sword in infinity twirls and S shapes, figures of eights, behind the backs and overhead. It sweeps around the air like wings of treasure, letting me believe I'll take flight. I soak in the enjoyment of dancing with my blade, swapping hands and letting the hilt flow through my fingers.

Until I see Lukas getting stabbed in the light bouncing off the golden sword.

A raucous scream escapes from my mouth, and I drop my weapon. I fall back, catapulting myself against my bed, breathing and breathing and breathing.

Everything in the room smushes into each other. With nothing to grab firmly onto, my sweaty palms tremble and my face creases, petrified.

I may not be sick, but this may just be the thing I'll never recover from. I can't just snap out of it or do anything to chase these delusions away.

He isn't here. He isn't here.

----

My arms ache from sorting the higher shelves and chests. It's been a while since I ever tidied anything up in my room. At least it's all looking half-decent now.

Sat on my bed, I tug at my shirt's collar and lift the shoulder brace I strapped on not too long ago. The scar used to swell up, though currently, it's sunken and tainted a hazelnut brown. It won't lose its shape when it fades and I can tell it will never blend into my skin or fully heal for the rest of my life. I'll have too many reminders of this in the future. My face crinkles in discomfort.

As I gently lower the brace, a ring of my doorbell breaks into the air.

Odd. I'm not expecting anyone.

"Come in," I say.

The one who opens the door inflicts a wound of regret on me.

"Absolutely not. Get out." My command is direct to the woman in striped purple.

"Petra, just one minute. Please."

"Fine," I grumble, the word like sand pouring down my throat.

Stella walks peculiarly differently than how she usually does - she doesn't strut up to me in prideful strides, only smaller, timid steps, which is something I'll never get used to.

"Your morals are at an all-time low if you've come to tell me I failed. I know I have."

"No, it's not that. I've come to tell you a few different things," she says.

"What? That you're sorry?" I snort, "don't even bother."

She annoys me to bits. I'd kill for her to be less irritating, since it's no longer about what she does. I've known her long enough to understand that it's just who she is.

"Well, I was, but apparently not anymore now that you mention it." Every inch of her is trying not to get angry. "Look, I'm not here to play rivals. All I really want is to help you."

"All you really want is to help me? Or to help me help yourself?"

Jesse isn't here to translate Stella's snobbish desires for me. How am I supposed to know what she truly wants?

About time she realized she can't argue her way around me. Instead, she approaches and places a chest in front of me. "After the admin's defeat, everyone in Champion City began to look up to Beacontown."

This has nothing to do with the chest. I must fan her away before she goes completely out of her mind.

"And you," she says, edging the chest towards me with her foot. "They look up to you more than ever, now that you've given them hope for a cure."

"Are you... for real?"

"You don't have to believe me. Although, I think whatever's inside the chest says everything."

I quit pondering on her mysterious behavior and flip over the wooden lid.

Piles of paper lay flat inside. An assortment of letters, cards, drawings, and packages compress together in the box.

'PETRA' one of the envelopes read.

"What is this?" I ask.

"Gifts from my people. Jesse had a package too..." Her voice lowers and she takes a deep breath. "So did Lukas."

I certainly hope I'm not gonna be the one keeping his.

On the more important note, this is one of the most humble things she's ever done to anyone. It's too abnormal for Stella to be doing this sort of stuff.

"You're being weird," I state.

"Let's just say I've transformed. Say goodbye to my old ways."

"Does that mean you'll now admit you're my fan?"

"Yes, I- wait what?"

I chuckle: this 'new' Stella is more tolerable, more fun to be around. "You still roleplay as me, right? I mean, I last witnessed it two years ago but-"

"Okay, let's not push it." Her grimace brings forth blood that rushes to her cheeks. "You're just- an impressionable person."

Impressionable. I'd like to think so.

"Stella, you adore me. You didn't have to keep being such a jerk."

She sends a hand through her hair, partitioning it differently. "Yes, yeah, I know. You're right. If it makes you feel better, then I'll admit that I'm a fan of yours. You've got the entirety of Champion City wrapped around your pinkie."

This could have been the sort of person who took me in as her hero in residence. I will never know why she had to wait for my friends to end up where they are now.

Our conversation for once wasn't lumbering. Restored inside me is the comfort emanating from Stella's evolved charisma. She developed the emotional intelligence of a genuine leader and almost the humility of a servant.

"I better get going," she softly says. "Got other town duties to uphold."

"You know something? You're not that bad."

As if there was a barrier at the door, she pauses behind it, committing her body into turning back, facing me. "I'm getting there."

"Thank you, Stella."

"No, thank you."

Then she vanishes behind my door, whisked off into the unfussy streets of Sector North. The only indication of her presence is the chest of gifts she left resting in front of me. I glance back at it and pull out one of the aggressively white envelopes with my name in caps written on the opening flap.

Let's see what Champion City has to offer me...

****