Between Life and Death... Limbo

It's me again before we start please let me know what you think the colors and legion name should be. Thank you all for the comments and power stones!

-XvX-

Atlas narrowed his eyes at the villagers on a hill overlooking the settlement. Initially, the villagers were enthusiastic about exploring their surroundings and tilling the farmlands. However, by the next day, every single one of them appeared visibly more disheveled and tired than when they had arrived, even though it should have been the opposite.

Atlas furrowed his brow, recognizing that the issue might be more nuanced than he initially thought. The villagers' exhaustion could stem from their Warhammer origin, where the warp is an essential element of their being. 

If Atlas's memory served him right, souls are made of warp matter. In a warp vacuum, a soul would start to "leak" until it "deflates," eventually leaving nothing behind. This implies that the entity preserving a soul's integrity is somewhat permeable and depends on the external pressure of the ambient warp matter to remain whole.

Even with the slight connection to the warp he suspects his Minecraft universe to have, it wasn't nearly enough to sustain them fully.

He racked his mind, recalling what he knew about warp phenomena. Unlike Minecraft's structured and orderly reality, the warp was an ever-shifting dimension of raw emotion and psychic energy. The villagers, unfortunate as it is are dependent on existing within that web, they might be experiencing a form of withdrawal—cut off from the warp energy that sustained their souls and bodies.

Despite having food, water, and shelter, their connection to the warp had been deeply ingrained in their very existence, and its absence now strained them.

Atlas's concern grew as he pondered potential solutions. He had to either strengthen the warp connection within his Minecraft dimension or find an alternative way to restore the villagers' vitality. Strengthening the warp connection could be dangerous, given the unpredictable and often corruptive nature of the warp. On the other hand, it was likely the most direct way to keep them alive and functioning in this foreign dimension.

With a sigh, he glanced back at the villagers, who were growing weaker by the hour. Time was running out. He needed a plan—one that didn't risk exposing his world to the dark forces of the warp but could still help them adapt to their new environment.

As Atlas paced, an idea formed in his mind: perhaps he could create or obtain a magical artifact from his system a magical artifact that could act as a buffer, converting the raw energies of the Minecraft universe into something similar to the warp. It wouldn't be perfect, but it might stabilize the villagers for the time being.

Pondering the existence of a widespread energy converter in his Minecraft realm, Atlas shook his head. Passing out energy converters to everyone who enters his dimension would likely cause more problems than was necessary. Desperately searching his mind, the closest thing to a warp in Minecraft was the Nether. 

Facepalming, Atlas couldn't help but wonder if the Nether had a greater connection to the warp than the Overworld did.

Atlas ran a hand through his hair, deep in thought. The Nether. Of course. It was the closest thing to a hellish, chaotic dimension in Minecraft, a place of intense heat, perilous terrain, and strange creatures. Though not a true parallel to the warp, it shared certain similarities: the Nether was a realm of unpredictable danger much like the warp.

"If the Nether is somehow more connected to the warp than the Overworld," Atlas muttered to himself, "it might provide the villagers with a stronger link to the energy they're missing." It was a risky theory, but he had no better alternatives. The Nether's ambient energy might be enough to replicate a fraction of what the villagers needed to function.

However, the Nether was a deadly environment—far too hostile for the already weakened villagers. Exposing them directly to its dangers could be catastrophic. Atlas needed to find a way to harness the Nether's energy without endangering them.

"What if I create a sanctuary for them in the Nether?" he wondered. A protected, controlled space where the villagers could slowly acclimate to its environment, without being exposed to lethal elements like lava, and hostile mobs. He could perhaps build a fortress or an enclosure, that would allow the villagers to safely reside in the Nether while drawing upon its energy.

Another option crossed his mind: constructing a portal-based conduit. If he could create a stable, artificial link between the Nether and the Overworld—maybe even something akin to a conduit or beacon—it might draw in just enough Nether energy to sustain the villagers in the Overworld without the need to transport them entirely into the Nether.

Each plan presented its own set of challenges. Constructing a safe haven in the Nether could be accomplished more quickly, yet it might prove more troublesome over time. Conversely, establishing a conduit would demand more time and resources that were not readily available at the moment.

Atlas sighed, rubbing his temples. He needed to make a choice, and fast. "Do I take them to the Nether, or bring the Nether to them?"

Deciding it was far more practical to bring them to the Nether than vice versa,

Ding.

Atlas halted mid-step, his sharp senses instantly alert as a system notification appeared before him, its glowing text flickering in the warm Nether air:

System Notification: Quest: Help the villagers before it's too late. Reward: Unlimited Flight.

The thrill of the challenge sent his heart racing. Flying had always been a dream—a way to break free from the limitations of the ground, to soar across dimensions without the need for Ender pearls or portals. But now, it was more than a dream. It was within reach, tied to the fate of the villagers.

"Help them before it's too late..." he muttered to himself, his gaze narrowing.

There was no time to waste.

 Atlas immediately set out to find diamonds to obtain the obsidian needed to make the portal. Half an hour later, Atlas found some in a small vein in the deep dark. Just as he picked up the diamonds to craft a diamond pickaxe, he noticed that he had completed a quest for finding diamonds, and the reward was a one time use enchanting Mending voucher allowing him to directly apply an enchantment to an item, prompting him to raise an eyebrow in surprise.

Without further delay, Atlas swiftly created a diamond pickaxe and enhanced it with the voucher.

Shortly after, he discovered a lava lake.

Giving a nod of approval at the sight of the lava lake, its glow faintly illuminating the cave, Atlas knew he had found what he needed: a plentiful lava source to construct a portal to the Nether. He wasted no time and began transforming the lava into obsidian by pouring water over it.

As the first blocks of obsidian cooled and hardened, Atlas took up his diamond pickaxe, now more efficient with his swift strikes. Each hit chipped away at the dark, shiny stone, with every block slowly yielding to his pickaxe's blade. It wasn't the fastest process, but motivated by the urgent need to protect the villagers, Atlas persevered until he had gathered enough obsidian to erect the Nether portal, thus taking one step closer to saving the villager's future.

Atlas took one final look around the cave, ensuring he had everything he needed. The portal was ready, but he realized it would be too inconvenient for the villagers to make their way down into the cave—especially in their weakened state. They'd need the portal to be easily accessible from the surface.

With a nod, he pocketed the flint and steel he had made while descending to find lava, gripped his pickaxe, and began the slow ascent back to the surface. His diamond pickaxe made short work of the stone as he dug upward, carving a staircase. The dim glow of his torch illuminated the stone as he worked, and soon, the stone began to turn into dirt, signaling he was nearing the surface.

finally breaking through the last layer of dirt, Atlas emerged back into the sunlight. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the brightness, taking in the sight of the village just a short distance away. The villagers, though still busy with their routines, looked more fatigued than ever.

Wasting no time, Atlas began constructing the Nether portal in a clearing near the village. It would need to be close enough for them to access easily, yet far enough away to avoid any dangers spilling out of the Nether into their home.

He built the portal frame quickly, his movements efficient and precise. Once the obsidian was in place, he stood back, lit the portal with his flint and steel, and watched as a film of purple energy flared to life, swirling ominously within the frame.

The gateway to the Nether was ready.

Before passing through the portal, Atlas's voice echoed across the village as he stood before the swirling Nether portal."Do not enter this portal if you value your lives," Atlas continued his tone firm. "This is not a threat, but a warning. I will return; until then, please keep your distance." The villagers, already in a state of exhaustion and confusion, paused in their tasks, staring at him with wide, startled eyes. Some whispered among themselves, glancing nervously at the ominous purple glow of the portal.

He waited a moment longer, watching the villagers absorb his words. Slowly, they nodded in understanding, many of them retreating farther from the portal's eerie sounds, while others returned to their tasks, albeit more cautiously.

Satisfied that the villagers would heed his warning, Atlas turned back to the portal. The Nether awaited him, with all its dangers and unknowns. But if his plan worked, it would give the villagers the energy they needed to survive. Taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerves and stepped forward, allowing the swirling purple energy to envelop him as he passed through the portal once more.

As the Overworld dissolved behind him, Atlas felt the familiar, stomach-turning sensation of dimensional travel. Moments later, the landscape of the Nether came into view—a chaotic world of heat, lava, and danger. He had to move quickly if he was to build a sanctuary here, a place that would allow the villagers to draw upon the Nether's energy without being exposed to its lethal hazards.

Ding.

A soft chime echoed in Atlas's mind as a system notification materialized before his eyes. The words seemed to hover in the air, shimmering in the strange twilight atop the bedrock roof of the Nether.

System Notification: Congratulations, Atlas. You have been declared a Dimension Walker. For traveling to your third dimension, you have unlocked the ability to teleport yourself and anyone within your sight freely between all dimensions you have entered.

Atlas blinked, the words sinking in as a strange warmth spread through his body. suddenly relaxed. His mind swam with new possibilities as he felt something shift within him—like a door had been unlocked inside his soul, granting him access to a vast, interconnected web of realms.

He instinctively knew what had changed.

Atlas now possessed the power to teleport between dimensions without restriction. No more gathering materials, no more building intricate portals. The very fabric of space and time was his to bend and reshape. It was as natural as taking a step forward. The sensation was strange but familiar, like the moment before moving forward when you knew you were about to be in a new place but hadn't yet taken the step. He hadn't done it yet, but he was already there.

His thoughts were a whirlwind, starting with the Warhammer universe, then the Overworld, and now to the Nether. Soon, Atlas would add another realm to his list: the End.

Shaking his head Atlas gripped his pickaxe, eyes scanning the hostile terrain ahead. "Time to get to work," Atlas muttered, stepping forward into the crimson-hued world of the Nether.

Atlas exhaled deeply, his eyes scanning the barren, redish landscape of the Nether's wastelands. The air was thick with heat, but it was surprisingly quiet—no ghasts in sight, no immediate threats. He was surrounded only by zombie piglins, who paid him no attention as long as he didn't provoke them. It was a stroke of luck to have landed in such a relatively peaceful area, especially considering the volatile nature of the Nether.

His relief grew as he spotted the warped forest biome nearby, its towering teal-blue fungi casting an otherworldly feeling to anyone unfamiliar. The warped forest was home to the Endermen, mysterious creatures with an innate connection to dimensions and teleportation—creatures whose items upon death could help him take another step forward in his dilemma.

Even though he had the ability to teleport them back to the Warhammer universe, he pondered the future. He couldn't constantly interrupt his tasks to transport the villagers back and forth whenever they grew tired.

Refocusing his next task was to travel to the warped forest. Atlas also needed to prepare mentally to face the Endermen, who wouldn't take kindly to being looked at.

Atlas set off toward the warped forest, the eerie teal of the warped trees beckoning him forward. "Let's hope this goes smoothly," he thought. If he could collect enough materials and ender pearls, the villagers' salvation might just be within reach.

Atlas stood in the Warped forest, the glow of shroomlight blocks casting shadows across the warped forest. The air was thick with heat, and the unsettling sound of distant Endermen mumbles echoed through in the distance. In front of him stood an Enderman—its tall, shadowy figure looming in the warped terrain, its violet eyes glowing eerily in the dim light.

Atlas cracked his knuckles, his iron claws glinting as he prepared for what was to come. He had no sword, no armor—just his bare hands and his will. He knew what he needed: Ender pearls. The fastest way to get them was through brute force. His fingers twitched, and with a slow, deliberate move, he looked straight into the Enderman's eyes.

A guttural, otherworldly screech echoed through the warped forest as the Enderman rushed at him, its elongated limbs flailing violently. Atlas sidestepped the initial attack, his instincts sharp from years of survival in the harshest conditions. His fist shot out, connecting with the creature's chest, the iron nails biting into its ebony skin. The Enderman staggered but teleported away before Atlas could land another blow.

He cursed under his breath, his eyes scanning the warped trees for the creature's reappearance. Suddenly, the Enderman materialized behind him, its long arm swiping at his back. Atlas felt the sting of the attack as he stumbled forward, but he quickly regained his footing. Spinning around, he unleashed a flurry of punches, each one hitting the Enderman with brutal force. The creature screeched again, enraged, but Atlas was relentless. Blow after blow, he pressed on, using his iron-clad claws to tear into the Enderman's dark form.

Finally, Atlas impaled the head of the Enderman it let out one final shriek before vanishing into a mist of purple particle. Leaving behind an Ender pearl and experience orbs, Atlas absorbed the experience, which visibly healed his injuries and sated his hunger. He knelt to pick up the pearl, its smooth surface shining in his palm.

It wasn't enough. He needed more.

Atlas rose from his crouch, the Ender pearl clutched in his hand, its surface faintly reflecting the harsh red hues of the Nether. He could feel its latent power thrumming, the strange energy swirling within the smooth orb. But once again Atlas knew it wasn't enough. Not for what he had in mind.

The healing rush from the experience orbs coursed through his veins, knitting his wounds and dulling the ache in his muscles. His hunger was sated for the moment, but the drive within him, the need to press on, remained unquenched. He needed more Ender pearls if he was to pull off his untested plan.

His eyes scanned the warped forest, a twisted, alien landscape where the shadows seemed to move on their own. He tightened his grip, cracking his knuckles. A flicker of movement caught his eye—another Enderman, lurking among the warped vines, towering and menacing.

Atlas smirked. Perfect.

With a swift movement, he locked eyes with the Enderman. It froze for a moment, its purple eyes burning with anger. Then, with a screech that vibrated his insides, the creature blinked toward him, its slender limbs flailing. But Atlas was ready. He had fought enough of these creatures to know their patterns.

The Enderman teleported in front of him, its long arm swinging down in an attempt to crush him. Atlas dodged with a graceful roll, coming up with his fists raised. He let loose a devastating punch into the creature's torso, his iron claws tearing into its shadowy form. The Enderman howled in pain but teleported away before Atlas could land a follow-up strike.

Atlas steadied his breathing, his eyes darting across the clearing, waiting for the creature to reappear. He knew better than to relax too soon. The Enderman returned in a flash, appearing behind him. But Atlas spun with a quick jab, slamming his fist into its skull with brutal force. The creature stumbled back, disoriented, and Atlas pressed his advantage.

With a series of crushing blows, he pounded the Enderman until it collapsed into a cloud of purple mist, leaving behind another Ender pearl and a fresh wave of experience orbs. Atlas absorbed the experience, feeling his strength rejuvenate once more.

But still, it wasn't enough.

He traversed the twisted forest, vanquishing Endermen one after another, each encounter ending faster than the one before. Atlas's body throbbed with power from the relentless skirmishes and cumulative experiences. Yet, the prize remained consistent—another pearl, additional experience, and an ever-strengthening sense of purpose.

After what seemed like hours but was actually only a few minutes, Atlas stood in the forest. His inventory was now filled with Ender pearls; he had enough.

Looking up at the towering ceiling that stretched endlessly in every direction above him, Atlas felt a rush of determination. The ceiling was the final barrier separating him from the infinite flat land above—a place of peace and stability, a place where he could plan and build without the constant threat of danger.

He wasted no time. Using the materials he had gathered, Atlas began constructing a ladder. He worked methodically, his body still buzzing with the power he had absorbed. The ladder rose higher and higher, climbing toward the ceiling of the Nether. As he ascended, the heat of the lava pools below faded, replaced by the cool, oppressive weight of the bedrock.

At last, he reached the top. The surface of the bedrock ceiling loomed just above his head. He stood on the highest rung of the ladder, pulling out one of the Ender pearls from his inventory. This was the moment he had been waiting for. He knew it was a dangerous gamble—teleporting through the bedrock could go wrong in countless ways. But Atlas wasn't afraid of risk. He never had been.

He tossed the pearl upward.

For a split second, nothing happened. Then, after the pop of an ender pearl, Atlas felt the strange, twisting sensation of being pulled through the fabric of space. His body passed through the solid bedrock, and suddenly, he was standing on top of it.

He looked around in awe. The land stretched out before him—an infinite, flat expanse of bedrock with nothing but the void on the horizon. It was desolate, silent, and perfect. Here, there were no monsters, no lava flows, no ghasts to worry about—just an endless, flat platform.

Atlas stood tall, his fists still clenched from the battles he had fought below. This was his domain now, an infinite canvas where he could build, strategize, and prepare for whatever lay ahead. The Nether's chaos was below him. Now, atop the unyielding roof of the bedrock, Atlas had found a place of pure potential—an empty world where he could make his own rules.

Atlas lay in a bed, his muscles slowly relaxing into the softness of the mattress as the seconds ticked by. He had expected an explosion, a catastrophic burst of fire and energy, the typical fate for anyone foolish enough to sleep in the Nether. But nothing happened. The bed remained solid beneath him, its warped wood creaking slightly as he shifted his weight.

With narrowed eyes, he sat up, glancing around the small house he had hastily constructed from warped planks. The air was still hot, the deep red glow of the Nether casting strange shadows across the walls, but the usual tension of the environment didn't seem as oppressive as before.

Atlas nodded slowly to himself, his skepticism replaced by curiosity. It seemed the rules he had grown accustomed to in the Minecraft universe were... flexible here. Sleeping in the Nether? That was impossible in the game—beds exploded the moment they were touched. But this world, the one he now called home, wasn't an exact replica. It was similar, sure, but there were small differences. Important ones.

As he sat in his Nether house, the realization began to sink in: the laws of this world didn't always align with the game's logic. His ability to sleep in the Nether was proof of that. What else could be different?

His mind raced. Could he mine bedrock? What if the creatures here behaved differently? Perhaps there were resources or structures he had never encountered before, hidden in the vast stretches of the Nether or the Overworld. The thought sent a surge of excitement through him. If this universe wasn't bound by the strict rules of the game, then the possibilities were endless.

Standing up from the bed, Atlas paced around the small space. He felt like an explorer again, a pioneer in an unknown land. If the basic principles of the Minecraft universe were altered, it meant he could push boundaries that hadn't even occurred to him before. Perhaps dimensions could be warped or merged in ways that transcended even the Warhammer universe.

He clenched his fists, his gaze hardening with determination. There was more to this world than he had previously thought, and now that he was a Dimension Walker, able to move between worlds at will, he could test these new boundaries.

Atlas stepped outside his house, breathing in the hot air of the Nether. The endless plain of bedrock was unmoving in the distance, But now, standing atop the bedrock ceiling the landscape no longer felt hostile—it felt like a challenge. A place ripe for exploration.

He glanced back at his bed, its existence now a symbol of what he could achieve here. If he could sleep in the Nether, what else could he accomplish?

With a confident nod, Atlas set off, his eyes scanning the horizon. He would test the limits of this strange, ever-changing universe and uncover every secret it held.

After all, in a world where even the fundamental rules could be rewritten, anything was possible.

Atlas stood in the middle of the village, an eerie silence clung to the air, broken only by the occasional whimper from the villagers. Houses stood tall but the villagers—once bustling with life—were now sprawled across the ground, unconscious. But not dead. Atlas sighed in relief Atlas thought well, at least they're not dead, he thought, his sharp eyes scanning the scene.

He shut his eyes, concentrating his thoughts. One after another, each villager vanished from the village, transported to the Nether, each safely enclosed in their own separate cubicles. The Nether, a realm widely dreaded, had become his haven, a place where he could safeguard them, for the time being. His precision was surgical, executed with the utmost care to ensure their further safety. With each surge of energy, another villager faded from their spots on the ground

When the last villager was gone, Atlas opened his eyes to the emptiness of the village. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting. He swept his gaze across the remains, shaking his head. Despite everything, he couldn't shake the lingering sense of failure gnawing at him.

 A ding from his system momentarily lifted his spirits, signaling that he had gained the ability to fly without limits. Yet, the usual exhilaration from completing a quest was overshadowed by his sense of failure.

That was too close, he thought. I still have much to learn. I'm a far cry from the perpetual general he was literally made to be.

The words echoed in his mind like a bitter reminder of his origins. Atlas wasn't just any soldier, any hero—he was created to be perfect, the culmination of war, strategy, and calculation. Every fiber of his being had been engineered to be flawless, a tireless guardian, an unstoppable force. Yet here he was, feeling inadequate.

His thoughts grew heavy. I was made for this, but I'm still human enough to fail.

The Emperor, Malcador, Erda, and Amar had given him unmatched comprehension and power, but they had also left him with a sense of humanity—emotions, fears, and doubts. At first, he had considered it a strength, but in moments like this, he wondered if it was his greatest weakness.

He reprimanded himself, recognizing that the situation should never have escalated to this extent. He should have been more thoughtful of his actions and not so hasty to act without a plan. As the one few the Emperor will choose to lead his armies and guide countless individuals through the horrors of war, he cannot afford to lack vision.

But the truth gnawed at him: even with his incredible power, even with his ability to shift between worlds and protect those under his care, he had come dangerously close to losing those he had promised protection. The realization weighed on him uncomfortably. His creators had designed him to be infallible, a perpetual general to lead armies and command entire civilizations, but he still felt the sharp sting of inadequacy.

Shaking his head, he dismissed the thought. He couldn't afford weakness right now.

"I need to adapt," Atlas muttered under his breath, his voice firm. "Next time, I'll be ready."

A sudden gust of wind stirred the dust around his feet, breaking the silence. Atlas blinked, clearing his thoughts. Dwelling on his failures wouldn't help anyone. The villagers were safe for now, but that was only the beginning. He would have to make sure they stayed that way.

With a soft hum of energy, Atlas teleported back to the Nether. His presence flickered into the strange, hostile dimension, where the villagers remained in their cubicles, each unconscious and unaware of the fate they had just been saved from. They were floating in limbo, suspended in safety for now.

The villagers already appeared less pale and disheveled; Atlas had succeeded. Yet, it didn't feel like a success. Reflecting on this, it seemed to be what Earthlings would call a hollow victory.

Walking past the cubicles, his mind already turning to his next agenda. He needed a better defense, He needed to start making golems

He wasn't perfect—not yet. But he would keep trying. He had to. The villagers depended on him, and no matter how much he questioned himself, that simple fact kept him going.

Atlas turned away from the cubicals, his glowing gaze hardening as he prepared to return to the village and rebuild. He knew the path ahead would be dreadful, but he also knew one undeniable truth.

Created to be a pillar of humanity, he also wished to lift humanity from the cesspit of doom they had plunged into. He would persevere against all odds, unwavering in his duty, until Man could once again navigate the stars.

Thus, with invigorated resolve, Atlas teleported back to the village, prepared to commence the construction of his Iron farm.