I returned to our cave easily enough, despite having to pause between each teleportation so as to rest from carrying the heavy chest. A fear still lingered in me that the Player might have followed me, but it is hard to track an Enderman, as I know. Our teleportation makes even keeping us in sight a challenge, and following in our trail a practical impossibility. There was a reason we were some of the more numerous mobs around.

I set the chest down with a sigh and began sorting the contents thereof into various bags brought along for this purpose. Outside the cave, I could hear Rolburn ambling about aimlessly, muttering things to himself. "Come, my friend!" I called to him. "We should set out soon. There is a Player nearby, he may find us if we are not careful." Rolburn answered with a grunt, but remained in the sun. Perhaps he was cold. Could he even feel cold anymore?

I set my teeth and ignored the painful questions for now. Once I was finished gathering our stolen supplies together, I would give some to Rolburn, along with his "yellow peace", and we would leave this place. Where we would go and what we would seek, if anything, I had little notion of at the present. It was enough, now, that we would be gone from the vicinity of that Player.

After a little time, I had completed our preparations and stood satisfied with my work. "Rolburn!" I shouted once more, going to the entrance of the cave. I saw no sign of him. "Rolburn?" My heart began to pound. When had I last heard his voice talking to himself? Panic lent me speed and I began teleporting in various directions, looking for signs of the Piglin. I called to him each time I paused, my desperation growing as I continuously found no trace of him. What had I been thinking, letting him wander alone? His mind was cracked, he could not properly care for himself. I cursed myself for a fool.

And then I heard his voice. A sudden squeal from close by, just behind a little slope to my right. A creek was flowing there; perhaps he'd fallen in. Purple particles swirled and flashed as I instantly landed at its edge and saw my friend.

The Player stood before him, his hands outstretched. Reaching for Rolburn. I roared, my jaw stretching wide enough to swallow the Player's head whole, and lunged at him. He looked up, his eyes wide and scared, but too late to dodge me. I smashed into him, bowling him into the grass. "Rolburn, get behind me!" I cried, rushing forward again. The Player hadn't time to get up before I was upon him.

My fury burned as though the Ender Dragon had set her fire ablaze in my heart. Rolburn had been trapped and led out into a world that had stripped him of sanity and flesh alike by a Player just like this one. Maybe it was even the same one. I didn't care. The only thing that mattered was protecting Rolburn. I seized the Player's hands and held them apart. He yelled in fear and scrambled to get away from me, but my hold was firm. I kicked straight down, my foot slamming into the monster's chest. All his breath flew out and he gasped, his face going white with pain. Once more I stamped on him and then again. A sharp crack broke from his body. His hands were limp in my grasp. I dropped them and stood back, panting. The Player lay there, his eyes wide and his mouth open without breath or sound. But I saw he was still alive. He stared at my hands in dread, his own trembling on the ground. All at once air came rushing into his lungs and he started groaning. It sounded like his voice was almost gone, and there was a harshness to it that grated.

I looked back at Rolburn. The Piglin stood, unharmed and shaking, behind me. His back was pressed to the trunk of a tree that grew close to the creek. He tried to speak but didn't seem able to. I went to him, looking him over for anything wrong. "Rolburn. Rolburn, talk to me. What is it? What did he do to you?"

The Player cried on the ground behind me. Rolburn seemed unable to take his eyes off the limp monster I had defeated. I laid my hand on one side of his face. "Did he hurt you?" A shake of the head was my only answer. It was enough. "Good." I turned back to the Player.

He moaned as he saw me come toward him. >I didn't hurt him.< He protested weakly. >I didn't even go to hurt him. I promise.<

I thought about Rolburn. About how a Player had taken him from his home in a boat and had left him out here to die. I thought about my people and the girl Player I had seen taking the eyes of my kind. I thought about their slaughtering and their indifference for our lives. Their contempt and their self-centered lives. They stole gold from lands that were not theirs. They killed whomever they pleased and they abused villagers, treating them like slaves for their own ends. Villagers had never done anything against anyone; they didn't deserve to be treated like that. My people did not deserve to be butchered and have their eyes removed. Piglins stayed in the Nether and kept to themselves, so why were their resources being robbed and their bastions desecrated? What gave these creatures the right to any of their actions? We were here first. We lived in peace before they came. I glared down at the Player. They thought they had the right because they were stronger.

Well. Who was stronger now? This one, at least, would learn differently.

I knelt beside the Player, who still would not meet my gaze. He shut his eyes tightly and gripped strands of grass in his fists. His whole body quivered on the ground and he pleaded for his life in whispers I paid no heed to. When had he or his kind ever listened to the begging of others who didn't want to die? I reached out and touched the sides of his head with my fingers. The Player drew in a sharp breath and lay as still as he could. His eyes were still closed.

"T-Trex?" Rolburn asked. "What're you doing?" His voice sounded scared.

A shudder ran down my back as I saw how fragile the Player's head looked in my hands. Hands capable of burrowing through rock. "I will avenge you. Avenge those I lost. He will never hurt anyone ever again." I grabbed hold firmly. "His death will send a message to other Players when I display what remains of his body outside his home. They will learn there are consequences to killing so carelessly."

The grass rustled as Rolburn's hooves moved through it. He got down on one knee beside me. "Trex, he didn't hurt me."

"He was going to." I answered irritably. There was a strange hesitation growing inside me. A seed of fear that held me back from killing the Player right away. I was angry with myself. Why didn't I just break his neck and be done with it?

Rolburn grunted. "No, Trex. He came in peace. Look." And he reached down, tapping the Player's legs. Golden guards were strapping to them, but all the rest of his armor was iron. I growled, a high rasping sound in my throat.

"Players are liars, Rolburn. He put those on to set you at your ease. He would have killed you anyway." I stared down at the monster's face. If he would only open his eyes, I would have all the excuse in the world to kill him. Look me in the eyes, I urged him in my mind. Just look at me. But he never moved. I brought to mind all that I had seen of Player atrocities, replaying them so I could overcome this weakness. What did it matter if I had never killed before? Here was the best opportunity, lying between my hands right now. I should take it. I owed every Enderman who'd ever died by Player hands the justice of this horror's death.

But Rolburn still urged me to hold back. "Trex, he couldn't have known I was here. He came with peace on him. And he never hurt you. Don't kill him, please."

Anger rippled under my skin and I gripped the Player's head harder until he whimpered. "Why? Why shouldn't I? Who cares if he didn't hurt us? He's killed many of our kind before, you count on it. They all have! Why should I spare this one? Why should I spare any one? They are all murderers, they should all die!" I could feel strength rise through my body as my fingers pressed into the pale flesh of the creature in my hands. His hands clenched on the grass so hard they shook and his feet were twitching. Already he was in pain. I had broken the bones in his chest. His punishment was upon him and he knew it.

Rolburn put both his hands over mine. The skin of the right hand was mostly gone, so that I felt bone where his palm should be as he tried to draw me away. "You told me a story, Trex, a few nights ago. I want to tell you one now. He's not going anywhere, so wait a moment and listen, okay?"

I looked up at the Piglin. His eye was bright and focused on my own. His expression, was of it I could still read, was solemn and pleading. With another growl, I let go of the Player, who immediately began to shiver and cry silently. He tried to bring his hands up to cover where I'd grabbed him, but the bones in his chest grated against each other and he groaned again. "Fine." I replied. "Tell me."

Rolburn sat back, his hands falling to play with the grass before him. "Before I was trapped," he began slowly, "I had a father and a mother. I had four siblings too. Three brothers and a sister. And we were visited by a Player too. His head was golden and so was his heart."

I frowned. "What?"

Rolburn kept talking. "What he mined went in his pockets, but it was never of ours. All his work was white and shining and hard. It clinked like glass in his pockets, but he never broke the peace. He traded with my father and mother with what gold he already had for string and boxes and leather and sticks. He learned a few words of our language. One day..." Rolburn paused, gazing off over the creek and towards the Player's house.

I glanced that way too, but there was nothing to be seen but grass and treetops and flowers. Nothing to be heard but wind and the occasional twittering of a bird and the soft cries of the Player beside us. I looked back at the Piglin. "Go on, Rolburn."

He blinked and resumed. "Others came who were not so nice. They broke all the peace they could and gathered it in their secret pockets. They stole what they wanted, but that one Player never did. One day the thieves came and wanted our house. They like the gold in our windows and our gold door and the gold in our walls. So we fought them." Rolburn snuffled and his ear flapped. "They killed mother. Took her crossbow. Father told my brothers and sister and me to run. But we saw that Player, with his head of gold. He was running towards us, holding a golden sword in one hand and a shield in the other. He fought the other Players and saved my father." With another snuffle, Rolburn looked down at the Player. "This one has no head of gold, but you have not yet seen his heart. It may be darker than polished blackstone, but you don't know that, Trex. Not all Players are monsters."

I sighed and shook my head. "That's not enough, Rolburn. I may not know what his heart holds, but neither did you know that your Player was good either. He saved you? He saved Piglins who were trading with him, giving him what he wanted. Players like to keep those alive who deal well with them. He treated you like they treat villagers, Rolburn. That's all he was saving."

The Piglin's dark brown eye, misted over and cloudy, gazed at me. "Trex, please. He had no weapon. He came in peace. He never hurt you or even looked at you. Not once did he stop you. Please don't kill him. If he's one of the good Players-"

"There are no good Players." I snapped. "Only indifferent ones." Rolburn lowered his head at my impatient tone. My heart ached as I realized I'd hurt him. I tried something different. "Look...Rolburn..." But the Piglin would not meet my gaze now. He grunted sadly and his hooves scraped against each other. I glanced down at the Player. His eyes were still closed and he said nothing. I wondered if Rolburn could possibly be right. If there were any good Players. But that didn't make sense. There were no stories of good Players. If they existed at all, people would know about them. My hands curled into fists as I made my decision. "Rolburn," I said quietly, "go wait back at the cave."

Rolburn looked up. "What are you going to do?" For once his eye seemed almost clear.

"Go back to the cave and wait, alright?" I repeated, but without raising my voice. I didn't want to scare him again. "I'll join you soon."

"Trex, if he doesn't get help, the Player will die."

I nodded. "I'll take care of him." A knot began to work its way into my stomach and made my hands tremble. I had never lied before. It felt awful, like something had crawled up my throat and into my mouth and died there. But lying seemed better than letting Rolburn watch me kill someone. "Go on. I'll be with you in a bit, okay?"

The Piglin got up. He smiled, a little distantly, and patted my shoulder. "Thanks, Trex." He limped away and I kept my eyes on him. On the flesh eaten away from his bones and the missing patch on his head. I looked and remembered what had been done to him. What had been done to so many like him. Once he was gone, I turned back to the Player, who was still trembling on the grass.

"There are no good Players." I hissed, feeling the joints in my jaw distend and widen in the expression of rage singular to Endermen. "Open your eyes, murderer. Open your eyes and die."

The Player must have sensed his death upon him. He kept his eyes closed, but his whole body trembled and his mouth was a thin white line as he tried to hold back his groans. I reached out, grabbing his head again. I wanted to make him die slowly, to fill his last moments with terror that matched those of every victim he'd slaughtered. I wanted him to know the full extent of what he had done up until his final breath. But I had no time for any of that; Rolburn would be waiting by the cave. I would make this quick.

Before I could break his skull, the Player spoke. >I'm sorry. I wasn't going to hurt him. I only meant to give him some armor. Leather won't help him much out here. I know you care about him, so...I thought to help. I'm sorry I scared him.<

I leaned in close over his face. "Liar." I hissed. "You came for his gold. You came for his meat. His life meant nothing to you." I saw his hand move beside me and I jerked away.

There, floating above his palm, impossibly small, was a chestplate. I stared. He could have had it in reserve for himself. There was no guarantee he'd brought it for Rolburn. And how would he have known to bring it anyway? I checked the Player's own armor. I knew little about the conditions it should be in, but I was pretty sure used iron wouldn't be this clean. Yet he had an extra chestplate. I tried to excuse it. Players could be careful when it came to themselves and their own safety. How could he have known to bring armor anyway?

It didn't matter. I would make an end of this Player and then I'd go to Rolburn and we'd leave this place. Leave it behind us for good. He would never know... "Please don't kill him." Rolburn's  words echoed so loudly in my mind, I was afraid he had spoken them aloud again. I turned quickly, but he wasn't there. The lie I'd told him sat in my mouth, rotting like a zombie's skin. If I killed this Player like I'd meant to, that lie would taint every word I said from then on. Was vengeance worth that? The words "yes" and "no" switched places so many time in my head I wasn't sure which one I believed. The Player bit his lip and groaned again. His hand now held something else. An apple. But what for?

>I'm sorry.< By now, the Player's voice seemed so weak. Maybe he would die anyway. Maybe I could just leave him here and he would die on his own. I watched the apple float and spin in his hand. Why was he giving me that? I suddenly remembered the little corner this Player had made for me. Moss and a grass block and vines and a sign that marked it as mine. "He never hurt you or even looked at you." Rolburn repeated in my head again.

I groaned. My tongue felt like ash and my hands quivered. I still wanted to kill the Player. I still wanted him to suffer. But Rolburn held me back more than I wanted to admit. More than I even understood very well. I searched in my mind, desperately trying to find something this creature had done to mark him as one of the monsters I'd seen. But his chests had held nothing from Endermen. I could prove nothing. I glanced back again.

A little ways off, up the hill, stood Rolburn. I wondered how long I had lingered here and if he'd grown impatient and come to look for me. I couldn't see his eyes very well; he was framed  against the light. But I knew he was watching me. I let go of the Player's head. Disgust with myself warred with a sense of relief. He would not die by my hand. Today.

Rolburn came down the hill. "Thanks, Trex." He said again, standing beside me. "Let's get him to his house so he can heal."