Diggy Diggy Hole Chapter 40 (Patreon)

I was a dwarf on a mission. I... Literally couldn't care less about the King's moot at the moment, at the all-consuming desire I had to make a Beacon that could match the Throne of Power.

Granted, a beacon may not represent the fortune of my race, nor grant ageless immortality to a dwarf. But its value on a battlefield couldn't be underestimated in the slightest!

Actually... If someone was constantly under the effects of regeneration II woudn't it clearly affect their lifespan in a Wolverine-like way in slowing down their inevitable decay greatly?

Still, it didn't take long for me to get the Nether Skeleton heads, and I already had a great amount of soul sand from making the massive miles-long tunnel between holds.

But seeing as I didn't want any other dwarves to know the 'how' a Wither was born yet. I went deeper into the Nether to fight it with all my best armor and weapons alone.

'I am only operating under the logic of normal Minecraft with some other random mods crafting stuff, when I figure out how to make it by hand. So I won't have a world-destroying Wither on my hands should I fuck it up.' I mused to myself.

Then I had a... Funny thought. What if when seeing an army of Greenskins or Skaven? I just summoned a half dozen Withers to fuck with them. It's not like they could use the Nether Stars if they got them.

Though that also made me consider something else. "I can't help but wonder. Will I ever find the End Portal? I wonder if I could raise my own dragon mount?" As I knew of alot of heroes in this world that had dragon mounts. Living or undead either way.

And there were several Minecraft mods that allowed you to tame a dragon mount/pet after killing the Ender Dragon at worst.

"I can get into the nether... So logically, my system probably stuffed an end portal somewhere right?" I muttered mentally as I finished putting down the soul sand and two of the wither skulls.

Still, it was fucking go time now. I took out five giant tankards of ale, chugged them down to boost myself even as I felt my body thrum with heat as said body processed the alcohol.

Then I also forcefully ate a miner's meal that also boosted my stats, with my body actually steaming from the excess power from temporary buffs running through it.

Also, the steam was the actual liquids from the massive amount of ale I just pounded like shots...

And with a large step stool, creaking with the weight of the finality of this moment. I set down the final wither skull.

There was an instance of silence where I thought that I had been made a fool of.

Then, three seconds of self-doubt later, an explosion of magical energy hit me!

Then my face met the scalding heat of the surrounding netherrack as I was shot across the room I had created for this fight with a grunt of pain.

But I was a stout dwarf! So even feeling my bones rattled I got up with nothing but a split lip and fury in my gaze as a shriek rang out from the monstrous Wither who looked quite different from it's Minecraft form.

Though that made sense. It wasn't entirely in block form as a monster from Minecraft, they still looked more different.

It looking different didn't stop me from letting out a powerful "Khazaad!" I roared as a battle cry, and with all my buffs active, I charged in with my heavily enchanted battle axe raised above my head!

In response to my war cry it sent off its exploding heads towards me, and I just smashed my axe into the flying heads with another war cry, even as I felt the Wither curse latch onto me via the exploding heads' cursed magical energy reaching my essence.

But I didn't care about some dip shit poison curse.

The Wither screamed even as it attempted to fly away as I slammed my enchanted axe into it's chest and my axe bit deeply and made it fly backwards with it's chest raised upwards as it attempted to throw me off of it.

But I didn't stop. I embraced the inner Slayer inside of me as I exploded in the fire of Aqshy ripping my axe out and even as another Wither skull blew up part of my enchanted armor with the withering, breaking down the enchantments on my armor.

I just slammed my golden fire-covered axe back into the wither, which exploded in flames as it was covered in the fiery flames of the Fire wind of magic!

And this Wither didn't live off of game logic. It didn't have hit points or a health bar... It was a 'mortal' creature. And when a mortal creature had half of it's chest carved off and was engulfed in flames, it wasn't going to be able to react well in battle.

Thu,s with another five chops of my axe, I cut the Wither completely in half with a mad roar, leaving me as a pillar of flames, which slammed into the roof of the netherrack above my head, dropping a pile of debris onto me.

The pile of rocks hitting me on the head actually cleared the Slayer rage out of me for a moment for me to heavily exhale furiously with steam coming from my mouth and nose with each heavy breath.

Then I hissed at the pain I was in. As not only did I burn myself with the fire I conjured, I could also feel the curse of the Wither filling my essence and sapping my life force with each moment.

So with a pained scowl, I took out a jug of milk... And I jugged it down, which made my stomach rumble as I had truly consumed way too much bullshit.

Still, looking at the Nether Star in my hands. It was all worth it.

'Now the question is. Can I make a giant steam-powered tank to carry the Beacon before the King's Moot in three days?'