The cottage trembled as Wilbur stepped across the threshold. His presence was a tempest, a whirlwind of memories and madness. The walls groaned, and Technoblade’s ancient sword hummed in its sheath. Philza, ever watchful, adjusted his tattered cloak and met Wilbur’s gaze.
“You’ve brought back the chaos,” Wilbur murmured, his eyes like fractured mirrors. “I am the echo of a thousand screams—the remnants of a shattered soul.”
Tommy circled him, eyes fever-bright. “But you’re alive, Wilbur. Sort of.”
Wilbur laughed—a sound that scraped against sanity. “Alive? No, my dear Tommy. I am the embodiment of entropy. The universe’s cruel joke.”
Dream, freed from his prison, stood at the periphery. His eyes held a mix of fear and fascination. “What have we done?”
Tommy grinned, the jagged edge of his mind cutting through reason. “We’ve rewritten fate. We’ve torn open the seams of reality.”
Wilbur’s gaze shifted to Dream. “And you, my old adversary. You thought you could imprison me. But now, we’re bound together.”
Dream’s voice wavered. “I never wanted this.”
“But you’ll play your part,” Wilbur said. “You’ll weave the threads of existence until they fray.”
Tommy’s plan unfolded—a twisted ballet of cruelty. They dragged Dream to the center of the room, the stone floor etched with ancient symbols. Wilbur traced sigils with fingers that held the weight of centuries.
“Bring him back,” Tommy demanded, eyes wild. “Bring back the Wilbur who danced on the brink of madness.”
Dream’s hands trembled as he chanted. The air shimmered, and the room pulsed with energy. Wilbur’s laughter echoed, a chorus of lost souls.
And then, from the fractured echoes, emerged a figure—a Wilbur unlike any they remembered. His eyes were twin supernovas, and his grin split the world in two.
“Hello, old friends,” Crazy Wilbur said. “I’ve missed the chaos.”
Tommy clapped him on the back. “Welcome back, mate.”
But Dream’s gaze was haunted. “What have we unleashed?”
Crazy Wilbur twirled, his laughter a maddening melody. “The end, my dear Dream. The end and the beginning.”
They danced, the four of them—a quartet of fractured souls. The walls crumbled, and the sky bled colors unseen by mortal eyes. Reality quivered, and the universe held its breath.
Technoblade raised his sword. “What now?”
Wilbur’s eyes blazed. “We become legends. We tear down the walls of this world and build anew.”
And so, they stepped into the fractured echoes—their laughter and screams woven into the fabric of existence. The Dream SMP would never be the same. Chaos reigned, and sanity fled.
In the end, they were not heroes or villains. They were something else—a collision of broken dreams and fractured echoes, dancing on the precipice of eternity.
Tbc~
