Epilogue: A Little Extra Something

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"God damnit— GRIAN!!"

The enraged shout of one Iskall85 echoed through the shopping district, the male cursing out to the mischievous blond who was, at this very minute, running away as he cackled, whipping out his dark purple wings and shooting into the bright blue sky.

Iskall came flying by, Mumbo watching the scene on top of Sahara with amusement. The other Architect had even gotten their rival company involved— Scar and Cub trying to cut the winged male off only to run into the ground or a wall, dying from Kinetic Energy, as the communicators said.

Grian had once again done something to Sahara— he removed a part of a line of Redstone and hasn't told anyone where which has messed up 99 per cent of the system, the one per cent being the restock part as they had to do that part themselves.

After the whole 'back in time' fiasco, Grian had collapsed out of exhaustion— both physical and mental. Grian told everyone exactly what had happened, not really, as said previously, he very much so twisted the truth, but no one needs to know that.

And no one is ever going to find out— ever.

But he recovered, and so did everyone else. Now they were all back to normal, though things were a little more fun as Grian could now freely use his powers around them. He made a shop, as his powers could make quite grand shop openings and party attractions, and decided that he could get quite a few diamonds for it.

Everyone is happy, and Grian no longer has such a heavy burden on his shoulders, and he's now safe from the Watchers.

Quite a happy ending, no?

Done, done, done!
Welcome to the end of this book, and this series! I can— and will— do one-shots in my one-shot book, in fact, I already have done a couple.

(P.s, make sure to request, I'm already out of ideas—)

Also, I have just put up another Hermitcraft book called 'Numb'! So go check that out if you're interested. It's another Watcher Au except with my OC being the main character.

Thank you for getting this far, you have no idea how much it means to me!

(P.ps, shameless self-advertising, amirite—)

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