Chapter Text
“If I die, this country goes down with me!”
He felt lightheaded and dizzy, the room was spinning around him and he supported himself on a wall to stay upright. His chest hurt like someone reached into him and held his heart in a vice-like grip. Or maybe that is just what it feels like to be held at swordpoint by practically everyone in the nation?
“Surrender now Schlatt. Victory or death!” Wilbur’s voice came from his right, or perhaps his left. He could not tell at this point. Fundy tried to approach him and he hit him with his empty bottle. Several others within arm’s reach were conked as well, and the glass smashed into pieces on their enchanted Netherite armor. He held up the bottle, desperately warding off the circle around him. He was helpless and everyone knew it.
“You know, this is rather sad.” Was Technoblade here too?!
The blood god was here. Oh, he was going to die now. Schlatt giggled.
Wilbur spoke again, sounding annoyed. “Tommy, do you still have Dream’s crossbow?”
“Yea”
“Put it between his eyes.”
A figure- that he now could recognize as Tommyinnit- raised his crossbow and pointed it right at his head. He quickly staggered backward, away from imminent death. He didn't want to die, no. Not like this. His back hit someone behind him, and he turned a bit too quickly towards them, seeing a familiar face.
“Flatty Patty?”
The pain in his chest flared, and he had an excellent view of Quackity’s expression changing from cold anger to shock as his legs folded under him and the world went black. The voices around him panicked, but they sounded distant to him, and he closed his eyes as the pain faded into weariness. The bone-deep weariness trickled into nothingness.
And suddenly, everything came back into focus. He blinked in surprise, feeling like he had woken from a refreshing nap, then noticed his eyesight was better than before. In fact, he seemed healthier in general. Nothing hurt, for some reason he didn’t feel any fear or anxiety, and he had full sobriety to enjoy it. Then it hit him where he was.
“I’m standing in Wilbur’s shady little drug van! How the hell am I still here?!”
He opened the door to leave the empty van, then nearly fell face-first on the grass outside as his hand went straight through the wooden door.
He stared at his hand and the door, stunned. Then he finally looked down. His own corpse was laying at his feet, face twisted in one last sardonic smile.
It was really fortunate that no one could hear the ghost’s scream.
In hindsight, Schlatt would admit that his death was greatly ironic. Having a heart attack in the same van which the country was founded in, drunk off his ass and surrounded by everyone who he had driven away? Even he felt there was something karmic about it.
While he was hovering, Fundy passed by him but did not react in any way. So he was invisible, huh? He stayed near his body for several minutes, unsure about what to do now that he was dead. After that, staring at his own corpse started to get boring. What, it is not like the body will get up and walk away. He wanted to do something else. Mind made up, he tailed behind the fox-eared spy to see the fallout of the rebels’ victory
Seeing Tubbo become the president was a bit of a surprise. Though he mostly kept him around to try and manipulate him and the exiles, the kid was competent and functioned well as a right-hand man. He kept things in order and has some experience in organization and governance. Plus, everyone not-bowing to Tommy was hilarious.
Technoblade committing terrorism right after was a given. Come on, the man was an anarchist. They could have at least waited for the piglin to leave before putting someone new in charge. He took some pleasure in their screams. It felt good to see his enemies suffer, after all the paranoia and betrayal.
Wilbur going batshit insane was definitely unexpected.
“There was a special place, where men could go and emancipate the brutality and tyranny of their rulers~”
He had followed the rebels and watched the presidency be handed through several people before finally reaching Tubbo. During the speech, the ex-president had appeared shifty and pale, and took the first opportunity of distraction to slip away. He followed him of course, and found himself behind the podium in an empty gray room full of a mad scrawl of song lyrics and ominous messages, watching the man have some kind of breakdown.
Schlatt hated Wilbur.
The sky was blue, the sun rose every morning, and Jebediah Schlatt hated Wilbur Soot.
Don't get him wrong, they were friends once. Wilbur was charisma and ambition and broken rules, and Schlatt, younger and quieter, followed him with awe. They were similar in their ways. Both were bright and manipulative kids who were not above cheating others to get ahead. But there was one reason that he stayed with him for so long.
Above all else, Wilbur had vision. It was what drew them to each other, both wanting to be great in a world they saw as dreary and complacent with the bare minimum. He might have actually made a good president, Schlatt thought bitterly. Wilbur had more vision than him, always looking ahead, seeing endless possibilities in every investment and action, to the point where he would forget the people around him. It was burned into his brain, every single instance where Wilbur had broken his boundaries or left him behind.
He remembered when Wilbur smashed the plank and glass walls, the sharp wood and glass raining and the water pouring in, and Schlatt knew he had told him that he will stay there because he can’t swim. He remembered crouching in a single wooden hole as magma slowly rose around him, the wood becoming hotter and hotter, and no matter where he looked Wilbur wasn’t anywhere around him. He remembered Wilbur towering into the sky, leaving him behind as he crouched under an overhang, dynamite raining from the sky and destroying everything. Always leaving him behind.
Wilbur always loved his dynamite, I should have expected this.
And after every single experience, Wilbur would just laugh and smile, as though nothing had happened, and expected him to be the same. He ran off, started his own country, then called him after years asking whether he wanted to come. When Schlatt exiled him, that decision was almost completely out of personal spite.
He would bet all his SclattCoin that the man’s weakness played a part in the creation of L’manburg. Wilbur looked at Tommy and Tubbo and saw the potential warriors and defenders they could be, not as what they are: children. He never saw anything wrong with manipulating child soldiers, sending them to fight and bleed and die for him.
He never expected to lose the election, and being exiled completely blindsided him. In a single moment, all of the potential, the endless possibilities of what he could make L’manburg into collapsed into a single point.
Survive.
And the next time he tried to look ahead, he could not see the glory and freedom that he had when L’manburg first rose. That was what probably did him in, Schlatt thought.
“The thing I built this nation for doesn't exist anymore! The thing I worked towards doesn’t exist anymore. It’s all- it’s all gone.”
In hindsight, he was right. Wilbur had vision.
“Are you really going to do this?” Philza had come from another server after hearing of the chaos.
He hesitated, withdrawing from the button. A blast of fireworks sounded, and the ghost cringed. The ex-president heard it too and studied the button with renewed conflict.
Wilbur shook his head and switched back to his song. “A very big place...that is blown up, my L’manberg~”
“Are you seriously going to do this?” He floated above him, “You killed me to have this country, and now you're going to blow it up right after?!” But Wilbur could not hear him, and even if he did, there was no stopping him. He grinned, madness swirling in his eyes.
“My L’manburg!”
*click
Phil leaped into action, protecting Wilbur from the explosion as the cavern of the wall shattered and flames spread from the igniting TNT. Schlatt covered his face with an arm, despite his incorporeal nature. Debris flew right through him but shredded Phil’s right wing. In the distance, Technoblade’s laughter echoed as the citizens of L’manburg cried out in shock and agony. Two withers rained explosions of violet flames, killing and destroying the city, and for a short time, anarchy reigned supreme. Schlatt felt grateful that he was already dead.
After several respawns, a hard-fought battle, and Technoblade committing mass genocide, the withers had been slain. The blood god had left, the dictator had died, and L’manburg may be wrecked but its people were still standing. As the dust settled, a large crater cut into the center of the country. Everyone was tired and sad but hopeful for a better future.
“Your hope is disgusting.” he said, “It will only get worse from here on out.” No one heard him.
Everyone gathered near the L’mantree, which Schlatt didn’t even know was a thing before now, and Tommy placed a music block and played a song for all the people gathered. There will be more conflict in their futures, but not yet. As Cat’s notes permeated the air, Tommy said to Dream “In the end, it's always us against you. You can never separate us, and that’s why we are better than you. We fight for a good cause.”
“The same cause Wilbur fought for?”
Tommy glared at Dream’s mask. “Just leave us alone.”
“Ok then.”
As he walked away, Dream tossed one last stick of TNT into their house. The front of the house was blown to pieces.
Tommy scowled. “Man, he’s such a bitch.”
“Green is such an ugly color too,” Tubbo added.
Schlatt found himself agreeing.