Minecraft the Novel - chapter 7

Chapter 7 – The Bone Contract

There’s no light.

Absolute darkness.

Flicker of light passes by.

‘What was that?’ I think. Then, a small light appears from a room. The room is guarded by a rotten wooden door, with smoke coming out of it. Various types of bones and shells, stripped of flesh and marrows, are scattered everywhere.

The door creaks, open.

Closed.

‘Should I follow?’ My mind is debating over the question. However, my body, unable to function according to my will, draws itself closer to the door.

No, no, no, please. Don’t do this. You’ll get captured for sure.

My hand grabs the doorknob.

Twist, creak, open.

I step inside, against my own will, my brain screaming to my body. (You idiot! What are you doing!) The room is very hot and dry, with more bones laying on the floor or hanging on the wall. In the middle of the room sits a cauldron, boiling and belching fumes. Two hooded figures, men or beasts I cannot identify, observe the cauldron. One of the figure has a sword, the other has a bag. The one with the sword is long and lanky, while the other one is stocky and short.

“Look at that!” The short figure speaks in a high-pitched shrill, sounding like two metal scraping each other. “The potion is blood red! It’s radiant, like sun!”

“Yes.” The tall figure croaks, obviously much calmer and more rational then the stocky one. “The potion is almost mature. However we require one more material.”

“Aye.” The stocky figure mutters an agreement. “Unfortunately, I have a very bad memory so I’ll have to be informed of the last material again. Now, what was it?”

“You simpleton.” The tall figure groans, his voice deep and hoarse. “It’s a pint of purified blood.”

“Now I remember.” The stocky figure guffaws, and the tall one chuckles lightly.
“Show me your wrist.” The tall one draws his swords.

“No way! I lost too much blood on this goddamn potion and I’m not giving any more! I’m already as pale as full moon.”

“Then what would you do?” The tall one argues with a bit of controlled anger in his voice.

“I caught this.” The stocky one opens the bag and dumps the content of the container. I gasp in disbelief, unable to resist my overflowing disgust towards the two figures.

An elf girl stands in front of my eyesight. She has long, wispy golden hair coated with red blood, deep maroon eyes, and catlike appearance and figures. Her hands and feet are bound by ropes, and a tape blocks her mouth from screaming. Her entire body is bruised and beat up, with a large scar across her stomach. Her simple, brown leather tunic and greaves are ragged and torn.

“A rare catch.” The tall figure bends his knees to have a closer look at the elf. Judging by her figure, her appearance and her height, I estimates her to be no older than 20. However, her piercing glare at the tall figure seems nothing like immaturity. “Unusual, but works, nevertheless.”

Then the stocky one grabs the tall figure’s sword and beheads the poor elven girl. Blood sprouts from her corpse, as the stocky figure drops her head casually into the cauldron. The potion thickens and darkens almost instantaneously, and few seconds later, becomes very thick and black.

“It is complete! It is complete!” The stocky figure jumps for joy.

“Are you ready to take the Bone Contract?” The tall figure grabs two goblets from a hidden table.

“More than ready, my brethren.” the stocky figure sniggers, taking one of the goblets. He scoops a goblet full of liquid. The tall one does the same.

“Toast.” the tall one says.

“Toast.” the stocky one replies.

Then they drink as my vision dims into darkness. When my vision is completely blackened, the most horrible, agonizing howl erupts from the darkness, almost sounding like two soul exiled to Hell...

I wake up and find myself in a bed. I am put on clean clothes and well-cared. The bed takes up the most of the room, although the room allows some paintings, a window and a door. Carefully I get up and walk out of the room.

“Hey you’re awake.” Claudia comes into view as I turn left, her hands and parts of her head bandaged. Robert, Jake, and Ashton stands next to Claudia.

Ashton is mid-sized, handsome guy, with stiff buzzed hair, oak-colored, moody eyes with depth, and overall skinny limbs. His arrogant hand gestures were always a pain before, but now it makes me feel joyous and not lonely.

“Bro, what happened?” Ashton starts. “You dropped dead in front of Sylph’s house. I thought you were gonna kick the bucket.”

“I really have no idea what happened.” I state. “However I do remember a dream that I saw.”

“A dream?” Robert asks. “What dream?”

“Well, it was like blah blah potions, blah blah blood, blah blah toast,” I explain. “I really didn’t get most of the two hooded figures’ dialogues. However I did see them brewing potion and saying something about the Bone Contract.”

“The Bone Contract,” Jake defines. “A potion-drinking ritual that combines two souls into one to create a physically and magically enhanced creature. The result is often horrendous.”

“Nobody knows much about the Bone Contract.” Robert says. “However we do know that you do not want to go one-on-one on the results. They have various lethal weapons against you.”

“I also saw an elf. Are elves real in Minecraft?” I inquire.

“Nobody knows for sure.” Jake responds. “However it is unlikely to have any other species that are not controlled by the Admin.”

“But there was one in my dream.” I argue.

“It could just be your illusion.” Ashton smirks, takes out a cigarette, and says, “I need a lighter.”

“Oh no, you better not be smoking that thing in my infirmary!” Sylph, who came up from first floor, spots Ashton with a cigarette and shouts. She grabs a broomstick nearby, and chases Ashton with it.

Ashton scowls as he runs away, everyone else laughs.

“I cannot answer about the elves nor about the Bone Contract.” says Robert. “However I do know that you need more rest. Go back inside and take a good nap.”

Minecraft the Novel - chapter 6

Chapter 6 – Meditation

As I left the treehouse of Hamish’s, I check if any mobs are around. The surrounding plains are dead silent. The crater is still there, leaving the road asymmetric. Blood puddle has hardened into brown sheen.

“Done with the lesson?” A voice startles me, and I turn back. It is Robert, with a turquoise-blade sword drawn and ready. His iron armor glistens with reflected torchlight.

“Yes.” I reply, and Robert smiles.

“Good.” Robert says. “Then I will accompany you to your next lesson.”

Sylph’s house is built with rather unique design. The bottom part is wide and built with stone slabs. From the stone base, a wooden spiral staircase appears that leads to a grassy dirt cube that are covered with leaves and vines. Streams of water sprouts from the top edges of the cube, forming a giant walls of waterfall that surrounds the staircase. A large garden of reeds, flowers, mushrooms, wheat, pumpkins, and melons surrounds the house.

“Sylph will take care of your knowledge in mod. She is an excellent moderator, but I have to warn you.” Robert announces.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Drink lots of water,” Robert answers. “and eat a lot of snacks. Mod conjuration takes a lot of energy, and you do not want to faint from dehydration.”

The base of Sylph’s house is cold and dry, with a door that leads to the backyard garden and paintings of plants and flowers. In the middle of the base, there is a staircase: the staircase that leads to the dirt cube. The floor glows with illuminating stones. A sign posted on the base of the staircase says: ‘Climb’.

I step on the stairs and the stairs creaks with protest. I carefully walk up the stairs, worried that the stairs might collapse. Creaks grow softer as I go up, however, and when I have reached the top of the staircase, it was silent.

I open the door and stare at the sight. The dirt cube is a massive garden of flowers, trees, and crops, with most of the garden omitted to the outsider’s views. Rivers flow from an artificially-made body of water to crops. An island with a bed, a workbench and a large chest floats motionlessly in the middle of the lake, and on the island sits Sylph Leon.

Sylph resembles an elf: beautiful but strange. Her wavy amber hair with jet black streaks stopping at her frail shoulders, gray, clouded eyes, and delicate figure all harmonizes into one blocky person.

“Welcome.” Sylph greets.

“Hi.” I reply. “Where do I sit?”

“You need not to move.” Sylph answers as she draws a simple drawing on the dirt floor of the island, and articulates “Selfa Nacee”

The drawing carved on the ground glow and fades as the lake water splits to the sides, exposing wet muddy road.

“Come to the island.” Sylph orders, and I do so. She encloses the road with a hand gesture after I climb up the island.

“How did you do that?” I ask.
“Selfa Nacee,” Sylph responds, “is a mod that splits the body of water. It literally means ‘split water’.”

“That’s what mod is?” I question in disbelief.

“Yes.” Sylph answers, “Mod is nothing complicated nor too difficult. It’s as easy as pie.”

“You make it sound like nothing.” I groan with complaint.

“It will be once you learn.” Sylph smiles. “Let’s get started.”

I meditated for an hour, as told by Sylph. I have, however no idea why I have to do this. My butt starts to hurt and I feel itchy to move. But if I move, Sylph will hit me with a stick.

“One hour is up.” Sylph announces, and I relax my pose. “What did you feel?”

“Nothing.” I answer. “Except for some itchiness.”

“You didn’t try.” Sylph declares.

“But I had no idea what to do!” I argue.

“You just had to clear your mind.” Sylph sighs, leaning on a tree. “You will meditate every lesson until you gain enough power to conjure mod at will. After that, you’ll learn symbols and phrases. You can go now.”

“Wait,” I say, “you never told me how meditation could help me do what you did earlier.”

“Sit.” She commands. I grudgingly sits down.

“Mod requires considerable amount of energy. Messing around with mod without acquiring basic stamina will kill you. That’s why I will never teach you something like this until you are capable.” Sylph states as she finished drawing a very complex symbols.

“Lewe Ria Denal Rife Nar,” Sylph articulates, and the symbols illuminates with red lights. “Straf on Fez.”

The symbols fade as air near the drawing swirls into a small twister, reaching to the top of the cube but only a cube wide. After the twister reaches maximum speed, it catches on fire, but does not burn anything because of such a small area of effect. The twister goes on for several seconds, then Sylph dismisses it. Her breath sounds a bit fatigued.

“That,” I state, “was cool.”

“I restricted the area of the mod with the barring charm.” Sylph says. “You see, it already takes significant energy to call upon the powers of mod, but to sustain it within a certain area takes a lot of time and skill.”

“Will meditation give me skill?” I ask.

“No.” Sylph answers. “However, it will help you pacify your spirit so you can wield your energy at will.”

“It does?” I exclaim.

“Yes.” Sylph smiles. “Spirits of the worldly beings are too clouded to activate mod, but once you get used to this world, your fogged soul will be liberated of all distractions and then you’ll be able to conjure mod.”

“I can’t wait.”

“You will come tomorrow again to meditate. Until then, farewell.”