The Void's Song.- Desert Duo. (slow updates)

Solution.

Grian searched for a solution. A solution to fix everyone's memory loss, a solution on what to do if they didn't come back from the death game. A solution to stop this from happening again. A solution to make Scar remember him.

He had never found one. He had lost, and had nothing left to live for. Not in this death game, anyway.

Grian couldn't help but smile as Scott's axe buried itself between his shoulder blades, and ripped out when its owner had decided he had had done enough damage to finish Grian off. Grian's grin didn't cease as life slipped from his veins, or as his eyes grew heavy, and he let them close one final time. He let Scott leave him there, still barely alive. This world had been hell at its finest. And now, he was free of it.

Grian didn't need to say another word, he had done everything he needed to.

"Thank you."

He did anyway.

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Grian opened his eyes, breathing in the fresh, rustic smell that always lingered around Boatem. He lay there for a good minute, not wanting to leave the comfort and stability that his bed offered. He had to get up eventually though, stretching until it felt like all his joints had popped right out from their sockets. He was rather sore, which was odd, his back with a dull ache. Had he taken a nasty hit from a mob recently? Not that he could remember. Maybe he accidentally flew into a tree? It wouldn't have been the first time.

He stared at the floating candles that were viewable from the window, lost in thought. Oh well. Dwelling on the past wouldn't do any good now, would it? All it would do was just bring back unwanted and unneeded memories. Why was his guard so high up though? It felt like every nerve was hyper-lit for battle. He was ready for an attack from any angle. It was weird. He had no reason to be on guard. He was safe here, in the alleyway building that he and Scar had renovated to be more homely than the others.

Grian stood up, grabbing one of his many sweaters. He reached down to take off his shirt when he noticed the clothes that he was currently wearing. A thin brown woollen coat, that was more of a buttoned-up cloak than a jacket, and a loose fitting red t-shirt, as if he would need to move quickly and efficiently once he had cast off the coat. He wore dark leggings with an odd leather satchel on the top. The shoes next to his bed were his normal tight-fitting lace-up boots though.

Digging through the satchel, he pulled up a few chunks of stained glass with bits of writing attached to them. "Healing crystal- 3 iron." "Defence crystal- 5 gold." Pocketing the rocks, he continued rummaging through, he pulled out some slightly-stale bread along with some stray pieces of gunpowder and a single End Crystal. The crystal was useless though, as he had no obsidian.

Why did he have these things? He thought back to days previous, but came up empty. What? What was this bag, what were the rocks, what were his clothes, what was the phantom pain in his back? Why couldn't he remember anything? Where was Scar?

He looked around, searching for tell tale signs of the taller hermit. It was ridiculous, Scar had easily crossed the 6'5 mark, while Grian was stuck down at 5'4. Cursed bullshit short genes. The floor was absent though, of the various chests of junk and random shit that seemed to follow Scar everywhere he went.

He continued around, the lack of all chaos and mayhem becoming more-and-more evident as he navigated through the outside of the building and throughout the rest of the alley. There were cobwebs and mobs everywhere, everything was in terrible condition, nothing looked like it had been used in weeks.

What had happened? It was just like how-

Oh no. No. No No No This was exactly how Scar had described waking up after the first death game. He- he- he had to check.