[Day 49]
The castle was finally starting to feel alive again.
Silk was halfway across the main hall—literally walking on the ceiling—replacing the old glowstone clusters with clean electric lights. She hummed softly, her voice echoing faintly through the marble corridors.
The air smelled of polish, metal, and faint ozone.
I paused by the doorway, watching her swap out chandeliers for light fixtures shaped like floating rings.
[Adam]: You're redecorating again?
[Silk]: Optimization. The glowstone frequency was attracting monster-moths. They kept setting off the defense alarms.
I left her to her work and headed into the kitchen. The sound of clanking metal and low humming filled the air.
Vlad stood in front of the new refrigerator—a reinforced industrial unit large enough to store six cahstes—methodically loading it with supplies. Bottles of potion coolant clinked together beside jars of pickled slime and neatly stacked energy bars.
He glanced over his shoulder as I stepped in.
[Vlad]: Hey, brother. Dinner's simple tonight—egg and steak, with a side of berry juice.
[Adam]: You're actually cooking? Not just throwing meat into a furnace and calling it cuisine?
[Vlad]: I've evolved. Got a pan and everything.
He flipped a piece of steak with a pair of tongs that looked more like blacksmith tools than kitchenware. The sizzling filled the room with a smell that somehow blended iron, salt, and nostalgia.
[Vlad]: Don't just stand there—grab some plates.
[Adam]: Right, right. Can't ruin table manners. I've spent so long eating while standing that I started devolving into a savage who forgets what plates even are.
[Vlad]: That explains the teeth marks on the frying pan.
Before I could come up with a comeback, Mike stormed into the room, holding a strange, glowing tablet like he'd just discovered fire.
[Mike]: Hey, Adam! Vlad! Great news—I finally connected us to the universal Wi-Fi!
He puffed his chest proudly.
[Mike]: We can stream anything from anywhere in the multiverse now. And get this—it's voice-activated!
My mind immediately started sprinting faster than logic could catch up. A dozen songs, sounds, and memes flashed through my brain at once.
[Adam]: Play [Voices – Derivakat | Project: BLADE | Chorus of 70 | Dream SMP Original Song].
The room went perfectly silent.
Vlad blinked. Silk paused mid-ceiling. Mike just stared at me.
[Mike]: Uh… I haven't activated it yet.
Silk voice came from the ceiling.
[Silk]: Recommendation—wait until system boot completes before issuing divine musical commands.
[Vlad]: Translation—let him finish plugging it in, genius.
[Adam]: Sorry. Just wanted to hear a good song—one that reminds me of… better times.
Mike smiled faintly, opened the fridge, and pulled out a chilled cup of coffee. The steam curled with the smell of roasted beans and ozone.
[Mike]: You're not going to check out the new temple, Adam? It's finished—mostly.
[Adam]: Later. For now, I've got to review our progress. Yesterday, monsters started breaking out of the tower again—and, just to remind you, some of those zombies had guns.
Mike winced, sipping his coffee like it might protect him.
I spread the holo-reports across the table, each one flickering with neat lines of glowing text:
Tyrant was running mining and lumber operations—efficiently, as always.
Lilith had taken over potion brewing and managed the hotel for traders and travelers.
Silk handled construction, upgrades, and defensive layouts.
Vlad oversaw food—farming, livestock, and fishing, and forged about ninety percent of our weapons on the side.
Mike coordinated the caravans that stumbled into our skyblock… when they actually did. The rest of the time, he helped Vlad with firearms production.
And me?
I went wherever I was needed—fighting, trading, repairing, or just keeping everyone alive long enough to see the next sunrise.
[Adam]: We're holding things together… barely. But it's working. For now.
[Vlad]: That "for now" part is doing a lot of heavy lifting, brother. We've been overworking ourselves for days—barely sleeping, barely eating.
[Adam]: I know. But let's keep some perspective. Remember Lee? The man you struggled with—the one who destroyed an entire world? He was killed and fed to me because his god got angry. And that same god… was erased with a blink by someone even stronger.
Silence settled over the room, heavy enough to make the lights hum louder.
[Vlad]: When you put it that way… our problems suddenly feel small.
[Adam]: Exactly. Perspective. Now pass me the steak before something else decides to declare war on us.
[Vlad]: Still, we need to rest a little.
[Mike]: If Adam allows it, then I have an idea.
[Adam]: Sure, why not? What's the harm in a little fun?
[Five hours later]
[Silk]: As you approach the evil king's castle, you see—
pause
[Silk]: Throw the dice to continue.
[Adam]: I didn't think DnD sessions lasted this long.
[Vlad]: That's because someone—
He glares at Mike
[Vlad]: —decided to charm every single tavern wench we met instead of following the plot.
Mike rolls the dice dramatically
[Mike]: …Natural one.
Vlad facepalmed so hard it left a red mark on his forehead.
[Vlad]: The mighty hero trips over his own ego and falls into the moat. Classic.
[Adam]: You know what? This might actually be worse than fighting zombies with guns.
[Silk]: Correction: statistically, it is safer.
[???]: Did someone say safer? Because that sounds boring.
Everyone turned as Lilith glided into the room, holding a mug of tea that smelled faintly of sweat and regret.
[Lilith]: I finish one potion batch, come to relax, and find you all fighting imaginary kings? Move over. I'm joining.
[Mike]: Finally! Someone with proper taste! Here—take a spare character sheet.
She leans over, reading her character sheet.
[Lilith]: "Necromancer Princess"? …Oh, that's too easy. I'll take it.
[Silk]: Adding new player: Lilith. Difficulty adjusted. Enemy reinforcement units: two skeletal knights.
[Vlad]: Great, now the game's spawning minions because she walked in.
[Adam]: That tracks.
Before they could roll, the door creaked open again. Tyrant ducked under the frame, his massive shoulders nearly scraping the top.
[Tyrant]: What's all this?
[Mike]: We're playing DnD. Want in?
Tyrant's eyes scanned the table—dice, papers, snacks, chaos.
[Adam]: Kind of. You roll dice, fight monsters, pretend to be heroes.
[Tyrant]: Hm. …I fight?
[Vlad]: Only on paper.
Tyrant stared at him for a moment, then at the dice.
[Mike]: Oh, come on, it's fun! Sit down, big guy. You can be the tank.
He sat. The chair creaked like it was reconsidering its life choices.
[Lilith]: Perfect timing. We needed someone to kick down the castle gate anyway.
[Silk]: Updating campaign log. Player "Tyrant" added. Castle gate durability reduced by ninety percent.
[Adam]: You didn't even roll yet!
[Silk]: Statistical inevitability, also adding invisible enemies for balance.
Everyone burst out laughing as Tyrant silently picked up a die the size of a walnut and rolled it with the delicacy of a wrecking ball.
The die bounced twice, spun in a slow arc, and landed on a twenty.
[Mike]: No way. Natural twenty?!
[Silk]: Confirmed. Critical success. Gate destroyed. Nearby landscape… also destroyed.
[Lilith]: That's my bodyguard.
[Vlad]: You're supposed to open the gate, not level the kingdom!
[Adam]: You literally vaporized the guards, the moat, and half the quest line!
[Silk]: Correction—seventy percent of the quest line. Recalibrating objectives.
[Mike]: Guess we're speedrunning this campaign now.
[Lilith]: Works for me. Less talking, more looting.
[Vlad]: And I thought Adam was the chaotic one.
[Adam]: Don't drag me into this!
The laughter built again—loud, unrestrained, echoing off the stone walls of the hall. Dice clattered, mugs clinked, and for a rare stretch of time, the world outside didn't matter. No gods. No monsters. Just them.
[Silk]: New event: the Evil King emerges from the rubble. Roll for initiative.
[Tyrant]:…Twenty again.
[Mike]: This is rigged.
[Silk]: Statistical impossibility detected. Suspicion of divine interference: ninety-nine percent.
They all froze, then burst into even louder laughter.
[Adam]: All right! One last round, then we call it a night.
[Vlad]: You said that an hour ago.
[Mike]: You say that every hour.
[Silk]: Probability of session ending soon: zero percent.
[Adam]: Fine. But if Tyrant rolls another twenty, I'm unplugging the Wi-Fi.
[Mike]: Try me.
[One hour later]
The game board looked like a battlefield in its own right—dice everywhere, character sheets covered in snack crumbs, miniature figures knocked over like tiny casualties of war.
Tyrant, utterly unfazed, sat exactly as he had an hour ago… except with a small pile of dice in front of him. All showing twenties.
[Vlad]: This is no longer probability. This is a curse. A muscular, silent curse.
[Mike]: A blessing, actually. For me. Our party hasn't taken damage in forty-five minutes.
[Lilith]: That's because everything dies before it gets a turn.
[Adam]: He sneezed earlier, and Silk counted it as an intimidation check.
[Silk]: Natural twenty effect confirmed. Enemy morale reduced to zero.
Tyrant blinked once and reached for another die.
[Adam]: Don't you do it. Don't—
The die rolled. Spun. Landed.
Twenty.
[Vlad]: OH COME ON!
Mike threw his hands up in triumph.
[Mike]: Face it! The universe fears him!
[Silk]: New system note: Tyrant has exceeded standard luck thresholds. Reclassifying the player as a "walking disaster event."
[Lilith]: Finally, a correct label.
Adam groaned, dragging both hands down his face.
[Adam]: All right. That's it. Session over. Fun's great until physics quits.
[Vlad]: Agreed. I think the fabric of reality needs a break from Tyrant's dice.
Tyrant leaned back, calm as still water, and muttered the most words he'd used all night:
[Tyrant]: Good game. Sleep now.
Everyone paused.
[Lilith]: …Did he just give an order?
[Mike]: I… feel like I should obey.
Adam yawned so suddenly it startled him.
[Adam]: Damn it, he has area-of-effect bedtime authority.
Silk gathered the dice with her threads, tidying the table far faster than any of them ever could.
[Silk]: Session complete. Team exhaustion level: critical. Recommended action: unconsciousness.
Adam stood, stretching his stiff back.
[Adam]: Fine. Fine. We rest. Before one of you rolls so high the moon falls out of the sky.
The group dispersed—some to beds, some to couches, some (Mike) to the floor because he gave up halfway down the hallway.
As the last lights dimmed, Silk quietly updated the campaign log:
[Silk]: Team morale: restored. Bond strength: high. Chaos factor: inevitable.
Then she flicked off the final lamp and vanished into the rafters, leaving the castle in peaceful silence.
For the first time in far too long…
Everyone slept without fear.
[Chapter end]