Work Text:
“Faster!”
“Steadier!”
“Pick up your feet!”
Grian’s whole body ached; his feet were sore, his arms trembling with exertion, and he felt like somebody had bashed his head with a rock. And yet he kept going. He kept swinging his sword, desperately trying to keep his form clean and his swings steady through the mental and physical exhaustion clouding his mind.
“You’re sloppy!”
“Not precise enough!”
“Not good enough!”
The Watcher screamed at him while he trained, criticizing his technique and belittling his combat capabilities.
Grian plunged his sword into the heart of the last opponent the simulator threw at him. The faceless player disintegrated, fading back into the simulation. Grian sank to his knees, chest heaving and forehead drenched in sweat. His head dropped, eyes closing as the exhaustion caught up to him. The sword he was holding clattered to the ground next to him as his arms went limp by his sides. He had so many cuts and bruises from hours of training, every inch of skin was littered with gashes from his opponents. Even though it was only his mind that was in the simulation and his body was somewhere in the Watcher Headquarters, he would still feel every scrape and cut he got while he was in the simulation.
He stayed there for only a few seconds before he heard the Watcher start to lecture him.
“What do you think you are doing?” the Watcher scolded him. “Never let your guard down, never let go of your weapon! Has your training taught you nothing? I thought you were better than this, Xelqua!” The Watcher’s voice echoed throughout the simulation, booming inside of Grian’s head.
“I’m doing everything I can!” Grian screamed as he lifted his head to glare at the Watcher. “I’ve been going for hours, I’ve run the simulation countless times, what more do you want from me?” Grian could feel the frustration and anger leaking into his words, but he couldn't care less at this point. Maybe, if he angered the Watcher with his attitude, it would beat him and put him out of his misery already.
The Watcher seemed to get bigger, all six wings flaring as it spoke. “What I want, is for you to improve your combat skills. You’re still too slow, your defense isn’t effective, and your strikes need to be more precise and forceful. I thought we wouldn’t have to do this, but clearly, you’ve shown that you lack the necessary skills needed in close combat. If you had tried harder in your original training, you would never lose a battle like this. You wouldn’t have lost the two victories you could have had in the Games.”
The mention of the Life Games stung Grian. He had just lost his last life before he was unceremoniously thrown out of the server and into the Watchers’ combat simulation. The adrenaline of his fight with Martyn still fresh in his head, the phantom feeling of victory just out of reach still brushing his fingers when he stood face to face with the head Watcher. From that point until now, he had been going through the training simulation.
The salt on the wound had really rubbed Grian the wrong way. Realistically, he should have thought before he next spoke, but obviously that didn’t happen.
“If you’re so good in combat, why don’t you fight me yourself? Why don’t you show me what my form is supposed to look like, how precise I need to be, or how quick I should be?”
The Watcher said nothing, but its silence spoke volumes. Grian could feel the sinister grin that was growing on its face from behind the mask. Then, it spoke:
“I’ll make a deal with you.”
Grian straightened his back a little, skeptical at the thought of a deal with the Watcher. In the past, he had made deals with the Watchers, and been burned by their false promises.
“A… deal?” he questioned.
“Yes, Xelqua, a deal.” the Watcher answered. “You’ll do one more short round of the simulation, and if you survive, you can fight me. And if you defeat me, I’ll release you. But if not, you stay here and train until I deem you combat ready.”
The Watcher’s offer sounded terribly enticing. The thought of freedom almost had Grian foaming at the mouth. He could go back to his friends, his Hermitcraft base, take time to just forget about the death games for a while… before they inevitably come back. But time off is still time off.
Grian’s entire body longed for a break; he didn’t think he could survive more conditioning. He was desperate.
But was he that desperate?
“I accept the deal.”
Grian grabbed a hold of his sword and used it to help him off the ground. His legs shook as he steadied himself, his head spinning slightly. His feet still ached and his cuts still stung, but this newfound possibility of freedom burned deep in Grian’s gut, fueling him.
The Watcher didn’t say anything before the simulation started up again.
Grian charged at the nearest opponent, only realizing what was different about them when he looked at its face.
He was looking directly at Gem.
Grian stumbled back, completely taken off guard by seeing his former teammate. He closed his eyes and shook his head, hoping that what he saw was just a trick of the light or something that his mind made up to play tricks on him.
He opened his eyes, but nothing had changed. The opponent still had Gem’s face, except this time, she was actively charging at him.
Grian yelped and tried to block her sword, but he was just barely too late and her blade nicked his wrist as a result.
He pushed her away from him, and used the opportunity to glance around him. His heart sank into his stomach when he saw the faces of all his fellow Lifers on the simulation dummies.
He would have to kill every single one of his friends to earn his own freedom.
His mind snapped back into combat mode when he saw Skizz take a swing at him. Grian was able to find an opening in his defense, and strike him with his sword. He hit him right in the heart, effectively killing him right away.
The next attempt at him was Joel, Jimmy, and BigB coming for him from all sides. There were too many of them, and only one of him. He was able to land hits on all of them and eventually take all of them out, but not without gaining a handful of gashes himself.
The rest of the battle was a blur to Grian. He tried to pay as little attention as possible as he killed all his friends, the red bloodlust no longer there to dull the guilt of murder. He felt increasingly sick as he continued to slaughter the rest of his friends, and his mental as well as physical strength deteriorated with every swing of his sword.
By the closing end of the battle, the only people left were Gem and Pearl.
His Villies.
“No,” Grian whispered. “No, no, no, please no, I can’t watch them die again.” His breathing was already ragged and uneven from the physical strain of fighting, but now he was starting to hyperventilate. “No, Pearl, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, Gem, oh Gem I’m so sorry I didn’t think before I killed you! Please, I can’t watch you die again!”
Gem and Pearl said nothing to him. They just walked over to him, weapons in hand, ready to end him.
Grian attempted to back away from them, but tripped on his own food, sending him falling on his back.
The last thing he saw was his former teammates hovering over him, until Gem shoved her sword clean into his chest.
Right before he passed out, he heard the whispering of the Watcher in his ears.
“Game over, Xelqua.”