Kazimierz.
Nate left the Nether Fortress, stepping back through the swirling portal and into the overworld.
The moment his boots hit solid ground, the cold wind bit at his skin, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and distant fire.
He had barely taken a few steps when he heard it, the shuffling movement, the whispered voices, the soft creak of leather and steel. His grip tightened on his pickaxe. Who-?
He immediately thought of Bandits, they were the most annoying of the bunch.
A shadow shifted at the edge of his vision, and then they were upon him several figures lunging from the darkness, their machetes and Axes gleaming under the pale moonlight that pierced the 4x4 glass roof of his base.
Nate reacted instantly, years of instinct kicking in(not really, just the system helping bro out)
His pickaxe was already in motion before his mind had fully processed the attack. (Sheesh, System carrying the fight fr)
He swung it in a tight arc, the iron tip slamming into the first bandit's gut. The force lifted the man off his feet, sending him sprawling backward with a pained wheeze. Before he was killed by a crossbow bolt to the head.
Another one came at him, Machete raised high. Nate ducked under the slash and countered with his axe, burying the blade into the attacker's shoulder. The bandit(?) howled in pain, stumbling back and clutching his injured shoulder, but Nate was already moving, pivoting on his heel and smashing the blunt end of the pickaxe into another enemy's knee.
The sickening crunch of bone breaking filled the air. Before Nate ripped it from the Bandits knee.
And Put it straight through his Teeth.
Which he did, and earned him the sound of crunched bones, and the sight of gore, that no regular 16 year old should have seen.
A crossbow bolt whizzed past his head, barely missing him.
Nate cursed and rolled to the side, pulling up his shield from his inventory in a blink.
Another bolt clanged off the metal as he surged forward, closing the distance between him and the ranged attackers.
A bandit with a shield tried to intercept him, but Nate was faster as he feinted with his axe on his left hand, drawing the block, then slammed his pickaxe into the man's exposed ribs. The bandit gasped and collapsed.
More were coming. He could hear the rapid footsteps, the adrenaline-fueled shouts. He had to end this now.
Nate swapped to his sword, the familiar weight settling in his grip. He surged forward, shield raised, and crashed into their ranks like a force of nature.
His sword lashed out, cutting through leather armor and slicing tendons. A bandit with a spear jabbed at him, but Nate knocked the attack aside with his shield before running the man through.
He spun, using the momentum to drive his axe into another attacker's chest. The impact sent blood splattering across the ground.
The remaining bandits hesitated.
Good.
A deep growl rumbled from the shadows, and then the first Wither Skeleton appeared. Then another. And another.
Aptus had arrived, and with him, a squad of Wither Skeletons, their eerie red eyes glowing in the night.
The bandits, already battered and bruised, turned to flee.
But it was too late, far Too late.
The Wither Skeletons descended upon them with terrifying precision, grey blades cutting through flesh and bone. Those that didn't die immediately succumbed to the creeping decay of the Wither effect, their skin turning black as death consumed them from within.
