Chapter Text
The fighting had ended hours ago, but across the battlefield a heavy miasma of smoke that smelled of gunpowder and blood lingered like morning fog. Those who were not used to such carnage had struggled to hold down their meager rations, their faces streaked with mud and gore.
Even after so many years, Fit would be lying if he said that his stomach didn’t turn at such a grisly sight; but it was a feeling he welcomed, proof that he had established himself as the true ruler of this barren wasteland. His soldiers had fought hard, as they’d been trained to do, with a passion that had not been matched by any of their foes. Trusted allies looked to him for guidance, leadership, and protection; enemies saw the feared ruler of 2b2t and knew they were fucked.
Fit made sure to speak to each of his soldiers and commend them for their courage and strength. Some seemed unsure, inexperienced and scared, but they smiled when their king expressed his pride in such a personal manner. If their eyes were wet, Fit made a point not to mention it; they would learn soon enough that tears were not a currency accepted in a place like 2b2t.
Finally, he sat down on a broken chunk of cobblestone, taking a few minutes to oil his prosthetic. It was a miracle that he’d survived the blast that mangled his left arm. Bad was indispensable as a potion master, and Fit owed him his life. It had taken time to craft a clumsy yet functional metal gauntlet to cover the stub and allow Fit to continue fighting with two hands. He worked oil into the joints, frowning at the rust slowly spreading out various spots.
Fit felt a light touch on his shoulder. He jumped slightly, tensed for another fight, but he relaxed when he saw his second in command.
“Ah, Phil! I wondered where you’d wandered off to. Glad to see you managed to get out nearly unscathed.”
Philza nodded stiffly, exhaustion etched into his features. His left wing hung at an odd angle, likely sprained, with a few feathers missing.
“There’s someone here to speak with you, mate,” he said, tightly.
Fit frowned. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know, but they said it’s urgent.”
“Urgent, huh? Interesting. Well, lead on. Better get it over with.”
Fit groaned as he stood, following Phil out to the edge of the battlefield. A solitary figure stood looking over the carnage, shrouded in a dark cloak.
The hood shifted as the figure turned to face them, but Fit could not see their face.
“Your Majesty,” the figure said, in a sonorous voice. He bowed deeply. “It is an honor to meet you.”
“Wish I could say the same, stranger.” Fit forced an approximation of a smile, but he could not hide his apprehension.
“Please,” the figure said, waving their hand in a strange, fluid gesture. “I am Madagio.”
Fit was unimpressed. “Alright, Madagio . What do you want?”
“Direct. I like that.” Madagio hummed. “I am here on business, as I’m sure your general informed you. However, this is a rather private matter. I would prefer that we speak alone.”
“No fuckin’ chance, mate.” Phil moved to unsheathe his sword, but Fit motioned for him to stop.
“Easy, Phil. I can handle this; go get your wing checked out. And make sure Tubbo isn’t stealing all of the leftover TNT, will ya?”
“Like hell I’m going to leave you alone with this guy.”
“ Phil ,” Fit said, firmly. “That’s an order.”
Phil’s feathers puffed up, but he did not argue further. With a scowl, Phil turned away and limped back toward camp.
Fit waited until he was out of earshot.
“You know, not just anyone has the balls to ask for a private meeting in this hellscape. You have my attention, stranger.”
“Good.” Madagio inclined his head. “I’m here to make you an offer.”
Fit snorted.
“An offer, eh? Buddy, this ain’t my first day. If you wanna make a deal, you gotta make it worth my time.”
"And I intend to." Madagio cast his arm out in a wide gesture that encompassed the smoldering, gray landscape. “Look around you. You know as well as I that this land was not always so barren. What if I told you I could restore peace to this hellscape?”
Fit raised an eyebrow. “So what, you wanna reform 2b2t? Good luck, bud. You're better off draining the ocean.”
“No,” Madagio said. “Not reform it. Rebuild it, from the bedrock up. For over a decade, roving bands of barbarians such as yourself have been allowed to live a lawless existence. Hoarding resources, destroying shelters, killing without remorse. Such unbridled anarchy may have been entertaining at first, but…you’ve been left on your own for long enough. I’d say it’s time for a reset.”
“The fuck do you mean, a ‘reset’?”
Madagio sighed, shaking his head. “Come now, you’re smarter than that. You’ve heard the stories, haven’t you? Tales of what this world was before all of this chaos and destruction?”
“‘Course I’ve heard the stories,” Fit grumbled. “And that’s all they are – bedtime stories people tell their kids to help ’em sleep.”
“You don’t believe it’s possible for such a world to exist?” Madagio asked.
Fit gripped his ax tightly. “You’ve been doing a lot of talking without saying much, pal. So I suggest you make your point and get on your way.”
“Of course. There is much to be done, after all.”
Madagio stood straight, a full head taller than Fit. The strange man leaned closer, and at last Fit could see his face – or, lack thereof. Madagio’s skin was snowy white and completely featureless. Fit’s mind reeled, but he forced himself to stand firmly in place.
“I am going to recreate this world to my specifications, no matter what you say. But, as a sign of my respect for you, I will give you a choice. Accept my offer, and I will ensure that you retain your title as ruler when I make this world anew – with myself as your chief advisor, of course. Deny me, however…” He leaned in close enough that Fit could feel his icy breath on his face. “And I will ensure that your name is lost to time.”
Fit growled, low in his throat.
“I serve no one.”
“Is that so?” Madagio mused, slowly circling Fit. “Not even your soldiers? Or your son?”
Fire flooded Fit’s veins.
"Leave my boy out of this," he spat. "My personal life is none of your goddamn business."
Madagio tsked. “Who would’ve thought that the mighty FitMC would have such a soft spot? Such an unfortunate weakness. But it works in my favor.”
“You aren’t going to touch a single hair on my son’s head, you freak."
Madagio raised his hands. “I am not your enemy, Fit. I’m here to help you create a better world. A safer world. For your friends and family. Isn’t that what you want?”
“You have no fuckin’ clue what I want,” Fit said, shifting his ax. “You don’t know me. No one knows me. That's how you stay alive; a lesson you're gonna learn the hard way.”
Fit swung in a wide arc, aiming for Madagio’s shoulder to incapacitate him. To his shock, the ax passed straight through as if the figure were made of mist, and the momentum nearly forced Fit to his knees. A cold wave of dread washed over him.
“The hell…?”
“Your reputation precedes you,” Madagio said, amused. “As ruthless as you are diplomatic. Such traits would benefit us, should we work together. But I can see that you require a bit more persuading.”
Madagio made a sharp, quick gesture, and Fit barely had time to react before glass shattered at his feet. Almost immediately, his limbs grew heavy and awkward, forcing him to the ground. Fit tried to reach for the bottle of milk on his belt, but the slowness potion had already rendered his good arm useless.
“ Fit! ”
He heard Philza’s voice echo over the field, followed by a chorus of outraged cries.
“Don’t worry,” Madagio said, sickly sweet. “I’m not going to kill you. I still have use for you, after all. But I can’t have you and your friends causing trouble while I remake this world.” He leaned down, lifting Fit’s head. “I’m sure, with time, you’ll get over this...pig-headed nature of yours.”
He tightened his hold on Fit’s head, and Fit cried out as searing pain radiated through his skull.
There was a sharp sound, metal on stone, and Fit felt a wave of heat wash over him. The world tilted, and his stomach dropped as he fell through the air. He was faintly aware of arms wrapping around his torso, slowing his descent, before he succumbed to the encroaching darkness.