Hi there. It's been a while. Actually, it's been over a year. As you can tell, I have put this book on the back burner for quite some time. I've been focusing more on the books that I enjoy writing, such as a watcher AU of mine called 'The Silver Sun' or a ScarDubs book called 'Love is Vexing'. Obviously that isn't an excuse and I'm so sorry for the delay. I'll be working to wrap up this story and once it's finished I'll be going back and editing all the chapters. There's a lot of grammatical errors that I want to fix, so I'll be spending some time doing that in the future. But anyways, please enjoy.

Oh yes, and a special thank-you to RowdyKid04 on TikTok. They made a wonderful animatic/edit of Different on their account, which you should totally check out. That post really pulled me out of the writing slump that I've found myself in lately. So thanks again!

Anyway, that's enough from me. -ThatHermitWeirdo

—

His hands were shaking. The blood that stained his palms had dried to his skin, tainting the pale color with dark crimson that he wouldn't be able to forget. Everything in Mumbo's mind was a wreck, emotions and guilt piling up and overflowing. He wanted to cry, to pull out his hair, to scream and bang his fists against the walls. Yet he stayed seated for the time being, as if he were a husk of his former self.

"Take your time to process things. Cub and the other hermits who have been freed are going to help everyone else, so take a minute to breathe. You've been through a lot." Joe said, his voice barely a whisper. He stood with his arms crossed in the room, as if he were still on edge with the redstoner's sporadic mood swings.

Ex and Hels had done this to him, but maybe they just gave him a little push. Mumbo had been the one to create these traps. He was the one who put the hermit's lives at risk. The two evil hermits had no part in his plan. He was a different man because of what they did to him. He was a broken man now.

There wasn't a way to bring back the dead, Mumbo was aware that many people wouldn't forgive him for what he had done. But there was a way to prevent the death of others. He needed to fix things somehow, even though he knew he could never fix the friendships he had previously. The others would never see him the same way ever again.

"I just—" Mumbo said with a shaking voice, nearing the verge of tears. "—I just can't believe the things I've done. It feels like a dream. I— I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I couldn't control myself, I couldn't s-stop—"

"Hey, it's alright. Just take a few deep breaths." Joe said calmly, kneeling beside the redstoner. "I know this is overwhelming, but you're back to your normal self. Ex and Hels did this to you, they pushed you to your breaking point. We can fix things. I promise, we'll get you the help that you need. But we need to help the others first, okay?"

He wiped the tears that were streaming down his cheeks onto the sleeve of his bloody dress shirt, giving a slight nod of understanding. Joe stood up before reaching out his hand, offering to help Mumbo to his feet. Though, there was hesitation. He looked at the southerner with confusion and fear, his ruby red gaze sparkling with tears.

"Why...why aren't you afraid? I killed our friends. I hurt the only family I have. Everyone else looked at me like a monster, like a freak. And I deserve it.."

"You were a puppet. A toy for the real monsters to cause contention and pain throughout the server. You didn't have a choice." Joe said in an attempt to soothe the broken man, but Mumbo was not convinced.

"Leave me." He begged, "Just let me rot. I can't trust myself when my thoughts are barely my own. I'll hurt the others. Please, just get out."

"You know I'm not going to do that." The poet huffed with a frown. "If you really want to be forgiven, then you gotta show that you mean it. Help us shut off this death trap, before anyone else is hurt."

"Alright." Mumbo nodded, though his tone of voice was scared and lacking confidence. "I think..I think I remember building tunnels. In the walls. Just in case I needed to..uh...make a quick escape, I guess. S-sorry, everything is just jumbled and messy. Gah, I'm such a spoon." He said, hiding his face in his hands.

"No no, that's good!" Joe smiled positively. "Can one of them take us to the control room?"

"I think so. It's on the surface, in the jungle, but I remember digging the tunnel to connect it to the underground system.."

"Well then, lead the way!"

—

The ashes of their campfire was all that was left. There wasn't anything to help fuel the fire, meaning that it was quick to die out. Grian poked the cinders that remained to glow orange with a rock, stirring the remains in hopes to rekindle their source of warmth.

"Well," The Brit sighed in defeat. "I don't think our fire is going to come back any time soon. I guess we just have to wait down here..."

"Wait for what?" Iskall grumbled weakly, they had woken up about ten minutes prior. "For the hermits to rescue us? Or for the mobs to spawn and finish us off?"

His gaze didn't leave the final scraps of the fire as he spoke. "I don't know. We could be the last two people left. Maybe everyone else is gone."

They sighed, shaking their head. "N-no, we shouldn't think like that. Sorry. I'm just—" the Swedish redstoner groaned as they tried to move, poison still flowing through their blood. "—sick and tired of this. I want Mumbo back. I want to feel safe on the server again. No more fighting with everyone..."

"I know what you mean. Let's try and stay positive for now, okay? In the meantime, let's see what we can do about your wound."

Iskall glanced down at their wrist, where the poisonous arrow had lodged itself previously. It was dripping with blood, which they hadn't noticed. "Oh." They blinked, "Right. That's probably smart."

"I didn't want to do anything while you were sleeping," Grian said as he ripped the left sleeve off of his sweater, tearing the red fabric into a long strip. "Just in case I may hurt you. Stick out your wrist for me, okay?"

Pain struck through their arm as the wound was wrapped with pressure, the Swede wincing as the builder tied the makeshift bandage around their bloody wrist. "That should hold. Has the poison worn off?"

"I think so, but I'm definitely weak from its effects. But I'm not sure I can walk, or even stand.."

"I guess we'll just have to wait for someone to come and find us." Grian shrugged with a lack of hope, turning his attention back to the ashes.

The two sat in silence, watching as the cinders slowly lost their orange glow. Time was lost, neither of the hermits aware of how long it had been since they were tossed down the pit. Was it hours? Or was it days? They had both been unconscious for quite some time, meaning that it was impossible to tell how long it had really been.

Maybe an hour or two had passed before a sound had finally broken the extended silence. Footsteps had come from above, causing both Grian and Iskall to glance upwards at the noise. Someone was inside of the control room, most likely Mumbo, but it was possible that one of the hermits had managed to escape. Neither of them wanted to risk their lives by speaking up, so the two stayed quiet.

Grian lifted a jagged rock off of the ground, nearly the size of a baseball, though it was pointed and rough on one end. It was a useless weapon, but it was still some kind of weapon. He pulled Iskall closer, the Swede gripping their bandaged wrist. Their eyes were glued to the ceiling above them, waiting for the eventual moment where it would open.

Two people were talking, their muffled voices could be heard through the cracks of the wooden flooring. One was pacing while the other seemed to be at a standstill, though their voices were noticeably different.

"D-do you think we're gonna be saved?" Iskall questioned, their pale face lighting up with joy.

"I don't know. What if Mumbo took a hostage?"

"Right, right." They sighed, "Sorry."

"We're gonna be saved." The Brit assured them as they placed a hand on their shoulder. "We'll get out of here soon, okay?"

"Okay."

They stayed like that for a little longer. Silent, scared, but most of all they were unaware of what was awaiting them. The pit was growing colder without the warmth of a campfire, with the smell of smoke destined to give away the two hermits eventually. Grian was surprised that they hadn't been discovered sooner, although the scent may have faded from the hours that had passed. It was hard to tell, since he had grown accustomed to the musty smell of dirt and muck.

One of the voices walked over the platform where the ground had opened up from, the sound echoing through the deep pit. It was hard to tell, but it seemed like they walked over towards the second voice. Maybe they were standing by the control panel?

Just as he was trying to remember the layout of the room above, there was a thud of sorts. It had come from above, which had instantly grabbed the attention of the two hermits. The metal platform rumbled, the floor beginning to slowly open up. The warmth of torchlight fell upon their faces, causing Grian to squint at the figure standing on the edge of the pit.

"Can you stand?" They asked, presumably speaking to Iskall.

"No, I don't think I have the energy."

"We'll find a way to get you out of there safely, then. Hold tight!" The southerner voice said, their accent much clearer the second time they spoke.

"Joe?" The builder asked with a raise of his eyebrow. "Is that you?"

He smiled, pushing his rectangular glasses back to the bridge of his nose. "Howdy Grian. Good to see you two are doin' alright."