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L’Manberg is gone. It’s no one’s fault, not really. Or at least, he thinks it’s no one’s fault, but Punz insists it’s Wilbur’s and Tommy insists it’s his, and one of those two is dead now and the other is in prison so whose is it, actually?
And he thinks and thinks and thinks, watches the clock tick by for hours and days and months until he’s bored of it, throws it away, watches it catch fire and tries to do the same to the lectern beside it but realizes he’s lost the strength to even carry it a block or two away.
And when Tommy comes, they fight, and who expects anything else, really, when that’s all they’ve known in the past, and it comes down to kill or be killed and he does. He does. And he revives him, sure, because who would murder their greatest enemy without bringing them back from the dead (that’s common courtesy, or at least that’s what he’s been taught after years and years of having it done to him), but it’s not enough, never enough, because Tommy’s a kid and Dream’s an adult and he should know better, but who was there when he was laying next to the gods, in pain, Tommy’s age or younger, and they were desperately searching for a way to cheat death?
Who was there when he created a safe haven, one to escape to, one to lead all the children from the Bedwars arenas to and the lost soldiers of the Hypixel army to and even others like him, the “unkillable,” the “totems of undying,” the elytra-wearing immortals that needed a place to go to?
But whatever the case, one thing’s led to another and now he’s lying here, broken and bloodied and dirty, begging for Sapnap to just kill him already because he’s not sure if he can survive another “visit” from Quackity, because he’s not sure if he can survive another day torn between this body and and that of XD’s, because he’s not sure if he can survive himself, honestly, guilt and shame reaching him until he throws himself into the lava day after day until Sam finally chains him to the wall and tells him to stop trying to commit suicide, that it’d just be a waste of time and resources.
And it’s true, isn’t it?
He’s just a waste of space, a waste of time, a waste of everything, he’s never been able to keep the server under control even without having to fight some god for power over his own limbs, and it’s better off without him, better off with someone else at the reins, and he looks at Sapnap and tries to tell him that with his eyes but it doesn’t work . It never does.
And he can’t speak, not really, voice gravelly and weak and words tumbling over themselves because he’s always stuttered, always had trouble vocalizing things, but it’s so hard to do so when you’re in pain and when not speaking, not fighting back means mercy, at least for a few seconds, and he understands. He finally understands.
And he regrets it all, regrets the day he chose violence over peace, chose power over community, chose mercenaries and gold over friendship and honor and security, because when historians look at the wars, the battles, the losses, they won’t see a fight between a drug lord and a soldier, they’ll see him as a tyrant, a monster, paint his golden horns as demon-like and his silvery-white hair with streaks of blood and darkness, turn him into the villain they wanted and he complied with, because what else was he to do than give into the rumors and turn on them all if it would make them a family again?
Sapnap doesn’t kill him. He’s unarmed, carrying no sword to drive through his heart, no axe to slit his throat, no fishing pole to wrap around his neck, and he almost suggests an alternative way (he’s had enough time to ponder all the possible deaths, of course), but something stops him.
It’s in his eyes, Sapnap’s eyes, and he’s not sure what the emotion is until his friend (former friend, he has to remind himself) says it out loud. Pity. He pities him. But why would he, why wouldn’t he just take him out once and for all, be the hero in someone else’s storybook, kill the big bad wolf just like everyone wanted? He’d do it himself, but he’s tried too many times for it to work, and he knows that the only way he can truly lose a life on this server is if someone else does it for him.
Sapnap leaves, wordless except for that one sentence, and he shudders, waiting for someone else to give him a chance. Not a chance for forgiveness, no, he left that one behind once he asked the Syndicate for help in destroying New L’Manberg, but a chance for some peace and quiet for once in his god-forsaken lifetime.
Tommy visits again, though this time, he’s unwelcome. Sam drags him away from his cell before he has a chance to land even one hit on him, and he’s disappointed, really, because how is he supposed to lose his last life if everyone seems hell-bent on keeping him alive?
He’s stuck with Ghostbur, and though he doesn’t entirely feel like doing it, he has an opportunity to bring Wilbur back, and Wilbur could help. So he threatens Tommy’s life, he threatens escape, he forces Sam into a corner, because that’s all he knows now, violence and villainy, and he revives Wilbur Soot from the dead.
There’s a train station sitting in the middle of nowhere, and it feels like home. He wants to stay there, lie down on the bench next to the tracks, and just fall asleep listening to the stars and the sun and the moon, but he’s awoken by a tall man in a trench coat anxious to return to the Overworld. He waves it goodbye, not forever but just for a while, and promises a return.
Wilbur has a streak in his hair the same color as his own hair, the same color as Tommy’s streak, the same color as Techno’s hair before he dyed it all pink and swore to never look back. He wants to dye it, wants to leave this obsidian box and go back to that station or failing that, flee the area and just chase the End like old times. Wilbur leaves, and he sits in silence once more.
There’s a rumble in the distance, and he’s awoken by guards screaming about a breach in the system and Sam’s voice over the intercom blaring out to all that will listen. He blinks once, twice, three times, and sees XD standing there, watching over him, beckoning to him. He holds out his wrists, lamenting his chains, hoping there’s nothing to be done about it, but from behind a blur of purple cuts through them easily, helps him up, and teleports all three of them away.
He sits on the edge of a cliff thousands of blocks away, searching for an answer. XD plays with an ocelot to his left, basking in the sunny glory of the jungle. Ranboo places blocks to his right, creating a picture of grass and dirt for the villagers to find.
Dream sighs, and jumps off.