Chapter Text
When the Central Hub for Regulating Omniversal and Nexus Security came knocking, nothing good ever followed.
For years, CHRONOS had been a name whispered with a mix of awe and dread, a shadowy organization wielding the power to rewrite the fates of entire worlds. To most, they were faceless enforcers, untouchable arbiters of justice operating above any known law. To Xisuma, they were a threat—a chilling reminder that even the safest haven could be invaded.
Xisuma sat in his chair, the glow of his console reflecting off his visor. The comforting hum of the server filled the air, a constant reassurance of the world he had built and protected. But the moment his admin access was abruptly revoked mid-firewall update, a sense of dread settled in his chest. The screen before him blinked once, twice—then flashed crimson.
ACCESS RESTRICTED. SERVER LOCKDOWN IMMINENT.
The words were cold, unyielding, and undeniable.
This wasn’t a polite visit. It was an invasion.
A single chime broke the silence, followed by a cascade of dread-inducing notifications:
Silly joined the game
Guardia joined the game
Karl joined the game
PoliCe joined the game
Each name hit him like a hammer, the weight of their presence settling heavily on his shoulders. Xisuma’s fingers hovered over his communicator as it vibrated incessantly with messages.
The chat was chaos:
TangoTek: What the void is going on?!
PearlescentMoon: X, why can’t I access my tools?!
MumboJumbo: “Who are these people?!”
GoodTimeWithScar: “Are we under attack?!”
The Hermits were panicking.
The Hermitcraft server wasn’t just a shared space—it was a sanctuary. Over the years, it had become a home for the broken and the lost, a refuge for those who needed a fresh start. Xisuma had built it to be more than just blocks and pixels; it was a promise of safety.
Now, that promise was crumbling.
Xisuma’s jaw clenched, his grip tightening around the edge of his desk. The Hermits had been through wars, invasions, and server resets, but this? This was different. CHRONOS wasn’t a rogue player or an unpredictable bug. They were the embodiment of order, the ultimate authority, and they didn’t play by anyone else’s rules.
He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to focus. The Hermits needed leadership, not panic.
Silly joined the game. The name lingered on the screen, burning in his mind. That was the name of a very important and powerful enforcer. The one who took down his twin brother, Evil Xisuma.
Xisuma muttered to himself, his voice low and seething. "They have no right to be here. No warrant. No authority. Not without my permission."
His fingers flew across the communicator, typing a single, decisive message:
Xisumavoid: CHRONOS has infiltrated the server. Everyone to spawn. Now.
The replies were instant:
Impulse: Spawn? Why? What’s happening?
Grian: X, are you serious?
GeminiTay: Is it safe to leave our bases?
He ignored the deluge of responses. They didn’t matter—not yet. Fastening his elytra, he shot into the sky, his mind racing.
The wind howled around him as Xisuma soared through the skies of Season 10. Below him stretched a patchwork of their shared world, each landmark a testament to the Hermits' collective creativity and boundless determination. He passed Grian’s fishing area, its warehouse perched at the edge of Magic Mountain, a beacon of rustic charm and organized chaos.
Mumbo’s starter base hung precariously above the terrain, his town spreading a wide expanse.
Scar’s trees and train came into view, a spectacle of raw beauty and artistry. The track glimmered in the fading sunlight.
Movement caught Xisuma’s eye—two snails, their mischievous presence unmistakable, meandering through a base with unhurried chaos.
The server’s beauty only sharpened Xisuma’s resolve. This wasn’t just a world of blocks and builds; it was a sanctuary. His sanctuary. And CHRONOS had no right to tread here.
As he approached the central spawn platform, he noted the Hermits were already gathering, their colorful forms like scattered confetti. From the ground, the grandeur of their server was lost to the heavy tension settling over the group. Xisuma’s jaw tightened. He wouldn’t let CHRONOS destroy what they had built.
The agents stood in formation at the edge of the platform, their armor gleaming unnaturally in the fading sunlight. It was sleek, pristine, and sterile—a stark contrast to the Hermits’ worn, practical gear. Their faces were obscured by visored helmets, except for one figure who stood slightly ahead.
A woman.
Her uniform was immaculate, her posture rigid with authority. Her piercing eyes swept over the gathering Hermits with clinical precision. She radiated control, an unshakable confidence that sent a chill through Xisuma. He had never met her in person, but he knew she was the infamous ‘Villain Hunter’.
Behind her, the other agents were motionless, their presence like a storm cloud hanging over the server.
One by one, the Hermits arrived, their faces etched with worry. Weapons glinted in the fading light as some clutched swords and bows, their grips tight with nervous energy.
Tango muttered under his breath, his crossbow ready but lowered. "Who are these people, X? And what do they want?"
Pearl kept her distance, her hand hovering over her sword. "They don’t look like they’re here to negotiate."
Even Mumbo, the usually unflappable tinkerer, looked unsettled. He frowned, his gaze lingering on the woman at the front. "There’s something about her," he said quietly. "She seems… familiar."
Xisuma’s head snapped toward him. "Familiar how?"
Mumbo shook his head, frustration creeping into his voice. "I don’t know. I just… I’ve seen her before. Somewhere."
Xisuma turned his attention back to the woman, his jaw tightening. He didn’t need Mumbo’s intuition to recognize her significance.
This wasn’t just a routine visit.