I didn't mean to let him die. I thought rivalry could survive anything-that fire could burn without taking something with it. The Law fell, the world kept moving, and Flamefrags was left standing with power in his hands and nothing in his chest but heat. Wemmbu lingers anyway. In the silence. In the anger. In every victory that feels like a loss. This is a story about what refuses to end-about denial dressed as strength, about grief the fire will not name, and about a ghost who was never meant to fade.

Wemmbu felt exhaustion creep in like a creeper stalking him through the shadows, getting closer with every heartbeat, waiting to explode. He looked up. Flame was standing on a stone block, calm, deadly, unrelenting. Wemmbu knew he was outmatched... but getting caught wasn't an option. He refused. Maybe... maybe he could fake it again. Not the invisible knight this time - that mask was shattered the moment Flame and Parrot revealed it. He scanned his inventory. Calm. Calculating. Smirk creeping across his face. With a practiced flick, he opened his elytra and shot skyward. Ignoring the arrow that pierced it, he propelled himself as high as he could, counting rockets - ten. Ten chances to put the distance between him and the render limit, to vanish from sight. And then... he grabbed the fishing rod. The one relic left to him, rotting in his inventory since the Mafia days. He flicked it with precision. One pull, one perfect swing. And just like that, he was gone. Do you want me to do that next? Authors note: This book is not for 17 below. Due to regulations and policies, this story contains some sexual chapters. Psychological and some small self harm. Read at your own risk and don't continue if the following stated is something you don't like.