Hels couldn't tell exactly when he woke up, but when he did, he could barely open his eyes.

If nothing from earlier screamed something was wrong, this was surely the sign. He knew he wasn't so weak that he could couldn't quite open his eyes or twitch a finger. The knight wears netherite armor and lifts gold daily, he can't just loose muscle over the period of a night.

Hels groaned loudly. He didn't even try to hide it, though he knew Evil X was somewhere in the area just to piss him off. Typical EX.

Pushing the blankets off and propping himself up on his elbows, he grimaced at his sweaty underclothing and sheets. Hels doesn't normally sweat during sleep due to his conditioning for the Nether, so the point of something was wrong still stood, unfortunately.

He sighed and flopped back onto his bed. It was almost like he was twelve again--he didn't want to get out of bed at all, whether for school or training. The bed was more appealing than physical movement.

But no, Hels had training to do, he needed to train to not get punted across the world by his counterpart. He needed to prepare for the next duel, the duel that might possibly be his first win against Wels. ('Rather pathetic,' he thought. 'A slim chance at a first win against his other...') So with an audible sigh, Hels swung his legs over the side of his bed.

And he unceremoniously dropped to the floor with an echoing thud the moment he tried to stand.

He couldn't even walk.

That's not good. That's not good at all. How was he supposed to do anything when he was so weak he couldn't even use his legs?

It even took way too much effort than it should have to sit up against his bed. Hels forced a harsh sigh through his lips as he tilted his head to the ceiling, resting it on the half-splintered wood and tattered cloths.

His door creaked, and someone peaked their head in.

"Everything alright?" And true to Hels' thoughts, Evil X was still around. Hels stared for a moment. EX's white hair fell around his shoulders, the iconic helmet nowhere to be found. He only took his helmet off if he slept, and the tiniest sliver of Hels felt bad for waking him up.

"No," Hels monotoned instead, his fingers uselessly scratching against the floor. He would laugh at his weakness, but he couldn't find the energy to do so. "Help me and never speak of this ever again."

Within a few strides, EX stood over him. The Voidwalker tilted his head as he focused a tired gaze upon Hels, holding his hand out. Hels scowled and reached for it, making him red armored player grin.

"Me? Tattling on people?" Evil X quietly said, dramatically clapping a hand to his chest as he pulled Hels up. "I would never."

"Yeah yeah, you told on me when I slipped from the high platform that one time." Hels flopped into his bed like he hadn't gotten out in the first place. He pulled the blanket around his body again, ignoring the sweaty sheets underneath him. Disgusting.

"Couldn't resist." Evil X rocked back on his heels with a smirk. His voice then lowered into the same voice that is used when he's talking about something he cares about. As if. "Anyways, you falling out of bed woke up the entire biome. Tell me, what's wrong?"

What's wrong? He couldn't walk and could barely move a limb. He couldn't even stand on his own, or get into his bed by himself. His energy seemed to have been sucked up by some unknown force, quite obviously by his lack of ability to do literally anything, and EX is asking what's wrong?

"Nothing." In Hels' defense, that is every player's answer when someone blatantly asks if anything is wrong.

A cold hand was pressed to his forehead, and he did not whine at it. Maybe a little. Hels couldn't even bat it away if he wanted to. His arms felt like led and were tangled in the blanket.

"You're sick, Hels." The bed dipped slightly as Evil X sat next to the Netherborn. Hels shook his head, but EX continued. "You've got a fever."

"I don't get sick," Hels grunted. "Just get me a healing potion or something and I'll be fine."

The knight didn't know his thought process for that so-called solution, but it seemed reasonable enough to work.

To his dismay though, Evil X shook his head. "Healing potions don't help sickness, they help physical wounds and what not."

Hels glared, but it was weaker than the slap he gave EX. "Regen, then," he said.

Evil X gave him a dead stare, only to be met by his back. "I'm gonna hide your training items until you get better and there's nothing you can do about it." Hels blew a raspberry. Unfair, considering he could do literally nothing about it.

"You touch the equipment and I'll fed you to the hoglins. Just get me a regen." A glass bottle was almost instantaneously pushed to his lips. Hels' eyes widened in brief surprise before he started to drink the potion, being sure to take every drop.

Much to Hels' disappointment, he only felt marginally better. It was not enough to be walking around and training like usual. Perhaps he just needed sleep... just needed to take a break for once in a lifetime...

Hels would never verbally thank Evil X for at least trying, but he hopes the Voidwalker understands. It's not like 'thank you' is apart of Netherborns' vocabulary.

"Got any ideas on why you're still sick?" Evil X finally said. Hels glared at the wall his bed was placed near. So he was wrong about the regen potion, fine. Doesn't mean EX had to rub it in.

"No," he only monotoned.

"Yay," Evil X cheered dryly.

The knight scoffed, tugging the blanket over his head. "Like you're any helpful."

Evil X clicked his tongue, not at all fazed by the accusation (because he knew it was completely correct). "In my defense, you aren't telling me anything, right?" Hels pouted silently.

It's not like he could tell EX what to help with. Hels didn't even know what was wrong with himself. He doubts there's anything in the healing books he stored somewhere in his mess of a base, and Hels himself didn't specialize in healing in the slightest.

When Evil X got no response within in the next minute, he sighed and, in a very familiar way (especially in the past few days), made his way towards the door. Hels didn't stop him.

"Right. I'll leave you to it." And the door softly clicked shut, leaving the Netherborn in silence once again.

So, with nothing better to do, Hels sat there, pondering his recent life choices and what he could have done to deserve this until he fell asleep again.

(If you couldn't tell already, this book only serves to humor me
Lmao it sure as hell won't live up to it's cover)
(November 21st, 2020. 1165 words)