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The Crimson Forest was no ordinary biome. Well, no biome in the Nether was. The difference between the Crimson Forests and the other biomes was close to none, except for one thing; every being born in the forest was exceptional. The Netherlings from that region were known to be stronger, tougher, and much more clever than the others. And that applied even to the half-hybrids, like FlameFrags.
Although he was often ostracized — due to being half-human, half-tiger half-Netherling — Flame never let it get to him. He'd spend his days alone, away from his family and his relatives. He was still a small child, but that didn't restrain him in any way. Flame loved to explore the Nether, loved to interact with its fauna and flora. Sometimes, Flame would leave the kingdom for days. And, unsurprisingly, no one actually cared.
The Netherlings from the Crimson Forests were trained from a young age to be ruthless, cruel, and apathetic. The elders would teach the young to be independent from the very moment they learned how to use their abilities. So, there wasn't much space for affection in Flame's life. Not that he cared though — you can't miss something you've never had, can you?
—
“Dude, look at that. I think that's the kingdom they were talking about.” An anonymous figure comments, pointing at the rather large dominion just a few hundred blocks away.
“Ah, yeah, I see it! It's huge, wow. How'd they even make a kingdom in these conditions?” His friend ponders while they make their way to the civilization.
Flame watched from a distance, hidden between lava waterfalls, as two hybrids of the Overworld talked. There was a strange structure near them — the very thing they had come through. It looked like a portal, grandiosely glowing purple swirls, framed by thick black obsidian. Flame had never seen the Nether Portal, only heard about it. Once the two strangers were far enough, Flame left the spot he was in.
He carefully approached the whirling portal, tilting his head and flicking his tail as he examined it. He, for the love of Wither, did not understand what he was looking at. The portal was five times taller than him, and only getting up the obsidian rims was already a workout. He chose not to enter it right away, as the little boy had no idea what awaited him in the Overworld. The stories he heard about it weren't scary in any way, but he was still wary.
The thought of leaving and potentially never coming back was dreadful by itself. However, the more he thought about it, the more reasons came into his head. For one, he didn't have any true friends in the Nether. Sure, Jepexx and Mapicc were friendly towards him, but only because he was half-human like them. And Flame wouldn't call them friends, more like friendly acquaintances. And his family was… okay, at max.
His father was too busy training the youth he deemed worthy to give attention to his only son. His mother was nowhere to be seen. She was a human-tiger hybrid, after all. She'd been exiled long ago, merely two weeks after Flame was born. His father had told him she almost died during childbirth, due to the Netherling traits he holds.
Truthfully, Flame didn't have any reason to stay. No one would care if he left, and he wouldn't miss anyone from the Nether. So, making the final decision, Flame struggles to climb into the portal, but manages to go through. The world turns around him, the purple light consuming his vision for a few seconds.
FlameFrags didn't know what to expect when he finally came out the other side, but definitely not being flung onto the ground by the portal's overpowering magic. He groans, touching the brown dirt under his palms. He gets up, looking around; he is currently in the middle of a jungle.
Except little Flame over here did not fucking know what a jungle was, so he didn't know what to make of the overwhelming amount of green around him. The Nether had no green to speak of. As far as Flame knew, this color simply didn’t exist. The flood of new sights became too much to process, so Flame collapsed on the ground again, falling to his knees. He remained there for a long moment, kneeling in the dirt, his little brain desperately trying to make sense of everything around him.
The thick and tall trees created a canopy, shading him from the intense sun. The vivid baby blue sky gazing at him from behind the leaves. The smell of the grass and the plants it supports invading his senses. His ears picking up every hiss and rustle from the animals, the rivers running along the distant stream. It was so much. So many new things; new colors, shapes, scents, textures. And probably new tastes, too. But Flame won't risk dying to some random pretty-looking root.
He slowly spins around, back and forth, baffled. His eyes didn't know where to look first. But, he only had so much time. From the same portal he was just in, the two men he previously saw came through. Flame’s first instinct was to run, but he didn't know where to. He stayed still, his body unmoving as he stared into the eyes of the men, like a deer in the headlights. His tail stiffened, claws digging into the packed dirt.
One of the men jumped at the sight of the small demon, pointing a diamond sword at his forehead.
“Oh, shit. Yo, bro, isn't this a Netherling cub? How the fuck is it here?” He calls his partner, both of them treating Flame like an irrational animal.
FlameFrags could only retreat, crawling on the ground as the players in front of him approached with their weapons. In theory, he could just rip their throat apart using his claws; or burn them with his flames. He could do that. If he wasn't petrified in fear, that is. Not to mention his inexperience in close combat against grown ass, armed men.
He kept crawling until his back hit a tree trunk, his tiny ears pressed down against his hair. The man holding the sword signs something with his head over to his partner. The other guy approaches Flame by his side, picking him up by the back part of his collar.
“He's so small. It really is a cub! Look, so scary! Hahahaha.” The man holding him laughs, swinging him around like a toy.
“Wait, true. I think he's a half breed, dude. Netherlings usually have red skin, or paper white skin, right? I think this one was exiled for not being fully Netherling, hehehe.”
Flame growls, flailing uselessly in his hold. His tail lashed wildly, horns glowing with pent-up energy. The two adults just continued mocking him, poking at him with the tip of their swords. They weren't trying to kill him — not yet at least. It still hurt, though. The boy whines, trying to curl up, or wiggle around enough to free himself. His struggle only earns snickers, the two captors just grinning wider at the performance. The sword's tip left tiny red cuts across his arms, torso, and ankles. The cuts were very shallow, but the burning sting was enough to make him weep.
“Huh, I didn’t know they bleed red.” The one holding Flame notes, trying to make a star shaped cut around the boy’s ankle.
“Obviously. It’s a fucking mongrel. Of course he won’t bleed black like the normal Netherling.”
The two continue to torment the child, not minding the growls and weeps from their victim.
That was, until a sharp spear tore clean through the neck of the man holding FlameFrags. Blood sprayed out of the wound, the man freezes in shock before falling on the ground and releasing his hold on Flame. He struggles, drowning in his own blood, desperately trying to cover the injury with his hands, to no avail.
His buddy freezes at the sudden attack, before retreating and looking around in panic. Flame took the opportunity to run and instinctively hide behind the thickest tree nearby. He stays there, panting slightly as he looks over to the remaining player. A figure suddenly landed on the man’s shoulders, gouging his eyes out using their claws. The man screams, cursing at them before swinging his sword in a random direction.
The attacker dodged the sword with ease, proceeding to tightly hold onto the man's head. They twisted the man's neck with scary expertise. A loud crack echoed through the jungle, before the victim crumpled to the ground. His breathing stops almost immediately. The two corpses lay there, faces forever paralyzed in fear.
Flame watches the scene in both horror and awe. The human side of him recoiled in horror. Every other part of his being, however, was enthralled by the stranger who had butchered two players with such effortless precision.
The stranger was now looting the two corpses, though they remained wary. They hadn't forgotten about the little boy who had bolted the moment his captor hit the ground. Flame made a judgement call, and slowly approached the person who didn't seem much more than three or four years older. The more he approached, the more he realized that the person wasn't as strange as they initially seemed. Dangerous, sure, but not outright strange. The person was just a little boy, like FlameFrags.
He was only a few centimeters taller than Flame, his clothes focused on practicality rather than fashion. He bore an outworn bandage strapped over his right eye, almost covering the left one too. His blond hair was arranged into cute, short locs. He also had animal ears, but Flame wasn't sure what animal he was a hybrid of. The stranger's tail swished lazily as he sorted through the loot, deciding what was worth keeping. Dry leaves crunched beneath Flame's boots, making his presence audibly known. The looter straightened up, his ears perking toward the sound.
“... Hello.” Flame muttered cautiously, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as he stopped his steps a few meters away.
“... Hi.” The other answered, monotonous.
“Uh… Are you… going to kill me, too?”
“I dunno.”
His uncertainty only makes Flame more nervous. They fall silent for some seconds, before the demon comments childishly,
“That was cool.”
The other boy only tilts his head, confused. His hands were still a bit bloody after what he'd done to the players.
“You… Eh, you killing the players… That was… cool.”
“Okay?”
And then Flame lost his attention. Their conversation barely lasted a minute. Not to mention the limited grasp of language they had, since they were both little children. “Rude”, he thought. The boy wasn't exactly friendly. But he wasn't being aggressive, so that's good. Flame, against his better judgement, takes two or three steps closer to the other kid, almost close enough to mess with the loot that clearly wasn’t his. He receives a growl from the looter at the approach, but doesn’t retreat. His heart is anxious, as Flame isn’t sure if he’ll have the same fate as the two dead men on the ground.
“Do you… Um, do you have a name? My name is FlameFrags.” He asks timidly, really hoping he won’t just have two claws digging his eyes out; the image was wicked. To his relief, he earned an actual answer,
“I’m Manepear.” The blond’s only visible eye seems to pierce right through Flame, making him recoil a bit.
“... Manepear. Hey, Manepear, can you teach me how to do that?” Flame asks, enthusiastic albeit scared.
“Teach you what? How to kill?”
“Yes! That was awesome! I didn’t even see you coming.”
“Oh… I mean, I can teach you, I guess. But why would I do that? I don’t know you.”
“Yes you do. I’m Flame.” The little demon remarks, his tail swinging around happily.
“And you came out of that weird, glowing purple thing there, like these players.” Manepear nudges one of the corpses with his foot, his ears perking in amusement.
“Yeah but I’m not like them. And also, you saved me.”
“I didn’t mean to save you. I want their loot.”
“I can help you hunt.”
“You can’t.”
“I can if you teach me. I can do cool things too, look.”
FlameFrags proceeds to grab one of the men’s raw meat, and direct his flames through it. The mutton soons becomes well-done, the smell of the meat’s tenderness putting a sparkle in Manepear’s eyes. He approaches Flame, looking closer at the meat in his hold.
“... How’d you do that?” Manepear inquired, grabbing the steak for himself, and downing it right then and there. Flame stared. Three bites. The steak was gone. Oh lawd.
"Uhhh. It's my ability. I can create fire. I can be useful to you!" The demon explained, trying to ignore the fact that Manepear had somehow inhaled an entire steak in three bites.
“Is that so?” Mane was still chewing, his tail swooshing behind him in delight. “I guess you are kinda useful. Flame, was it? Yeah, sure, just call me Mane.”
And so, the two children became a duo. Manepear had neither a family nor a home, and before long, Flame had adapted to his nomadic way of life.
They spent their nights in caves, atop massive tree branches, or among the ruins scattered across the land. As they wandered from place to place, the two boys gradually learned more about each other. Manepear figured Flame was around seven years old, while he himself was eleven. In return, Flame discovered what kind of hybrid Mane was, along with the curious fact that a lion hybrid lived in the jungle rather than the savannah.
Still, Flame knew next to nothing about the Overworld. Whenever he had a question, Manepear reluctantly took it upon himself to answer it — and, little by little, to train him as well.
—
FlameFrags never found out why Manepear wore that bandage over his eyes. A year passed before Flame finally got his answer.
It happened on an otherwise ordinary day.
“Maneee!” Flame called out, returning to the cave they were staying in for the last week or so.
Manepear was polishing the handcrafted spears they had. The rhythmic scrape of stone against metal, accompanied by the crackle of the campfire, filled the cave with a sense of life. As he entered, Mane looked up at him.
“Welcome back. Did you find anything? Or anyone?” Mane stops what he’s doing to look over to Flame’s bag. The other notices the lack of the bandage over Manepear’s eyes.
“Not really. There are apple trees around here, did you know? They’re already covered with apples. I picked some.” Flame settles down the bag full of apples in front of Mane, before commenting,
“You’re not using the bandages.”
“Yeah.” Mane only shrugs, before grabbing an apple from the bag.
“... Hm, now that I think about it… Mane, why do you only take off the bandage when we’re inside? It makes no sense.”
“What? Oh, right. My eyes are just, like, really sensitive to light. The caves are dark, so I’m fine without the bandages here.” Manepear explains, his ears twitching in relaxation as he takes another ferocious bite off the apple.
“Ah. Really? That’s it? No big secret?”
“I mean, my vision is abnormally keen, to the point that I can see through the bandages. But because of that, my eyes are also very sensitive. So… that’s something, I guess.” He sighs, already picking a second apple to eat. “I don’t really like the bandages. It’s ugly and itchy and it falls off too easily. Not to mention that I have to change it every few days, otherwise it’ll stink. I kinda wish I had something better to cover my eyes with.”
“Ohh. Like a proper blindfold?”
“Yeah. But I can’t afford one, and I don’t know how to make one either.”
“I wish I had a blindfold, too. I would look so cool. And people wouldn’t comment on my weird eye anymore.” Flame sits down by Mane, crisscrossed as he stares at the campfire.
“I think your black eye is cool.”
“...” The demon is rendered speechless for a few moments. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Admittedly, Manepear was the only one in the Overworld so far who didn’t think Flame’s black sclera-ed eye was weird or off-putting.
“I’ll get us blindfolds.” Flame declares, sounding so very certain it even made Mane giggle.
—
And he meant it. During one of their trips, they stop by a village per Flame’s request. The merchants sell every possible item, from food to weapons, from clothes to building material. While Manepear bargains with a random merchant selling golden apples, Flame swiftly leaves to look for what he’s been looking for since last month. It didn’t take long until he found a big stand, selling fabrics and various clothes.
His eyes scan for a while, until they land on precisely what he needed; actual blindfolds. Long rectangular cloths, made with a material proper for prolonged use. The price? Two gold ingots each. Back in the Nether, gold was practically worthless. It was everywhere. But in the Overwold?
Flame realized he only had money for one.
Now, he could've done the right thing and bought a blindfold for Mane. He needed it most, since it was a necessity, not just a want. But Flame wasn’t someone entirely ethical, especially at the ripe age of eight. So, he decides to take the dangerous option and wait until the seller is distracted. The moment the merchant looks away, Flame quietly reaches for two random cloths — a black one and an orange one —, and straight up leaves. By the time the merchant notices the missing blindfolds, Flame is already rounding a corner at a full sprint.
Meanwhile Manepear is still trying to friendly coerce the food seller into giving him golden apples because he was “just a poor, hungry boy”. He can already feel a numb, irritating itch behind his eyes. The bandage was so outworn it was basically useless. The harsh sunlight only made it worse.
Manepear managed to get four golden apples from the merchant, and was now looking at other stands, walking slowly. Flame appears behind Mane, still breathless.
"Look what I got!" The boy shows the two [stolen] cloths, giving the orange one to Manepear.
Mane’s eyes lit up… for two seconds. He frowns a bit, asking,
"Where'd you get these? How much did they cost?"
"Nothing. I ran really fast." Flame admits proudly between pants. His tail was almost wagging behind him.
The silence is loud. Manepear sighs, a very tiny smile perking up.
"Now we both have blindfolds!" The demon determines, before Manepear chuckles.
“Uhh, I mean, I’m thankful you did that. But be careful, the merchants can recognize and spread our appearances to others. It’ll be harder to get resources.” He explains. Not out of morality, but because it would be a pain in the ass to be unable to buy anything because they were known as burglars.
Manepear removes the old bandages, and puts on the orange blindfold nonetheless. He stays quiet for some seconds, feeling the soft fabric against his eyes. He smiles again.
"...It's comfortable." Is his verdict. Flame grins, carefully putting on the black blindfold on himself.
Despite his vision not being nearly as keen as Mane’s, the demon eyes he had were enough to let him see through the fabric. Especially his left eye, the one with a pitch-black sclera.
“This is so dope. Now we’re like brothers! Brothers with blindfolds.”
“Blindfold brothers, then.” Mane giggles, truly feeling at ease for once.
“Yeah! We’re the Blindfold Brothers!” Flame celebrates, bouncing up and down with excitement.
Manepear’s smile only widens, before he pulls Flame into a hug. His voice is lower, more vulnerable as he says,
“Thank you, Flame.”
Safe to say, Flame was not used to hugs that didn’t feel political or forced. This was a genuine act of affection, one that Flame can’t recall the last time he experienced it. Despite it all, the demon returns the hug, hiding himself under Manepear’s taller frame. Mane can’t help but chuckle, out of sheer joy. Neither of them thought they’d ever matter this much to someone.