They packed torches, blocks, food, a pickaxe, a trusty sword and shield, and because it’s always more fun when it goes CLANG, they lifted the new anvil into their inventory. The path to the stronghold was already marked: once upon a time, JJ had thrown an Eye of Ender, watched it drift across the hills, and built a tidy little ladder down where it hovered. Now they took two steps at a time, torches blinking on as the world got quieter and stonier. 

The stronghold welcomed them with its usual charm: stone bricks, a whiff of mystery, and the absolute promise that something was going to go wrong. JJ crept through a corridor, tapped a cracked stone brick with their pickaxe. CRACK! They jerked back as a tiny gray noodle with legs popped out.  

“Fiddlesticks! Silverfish!” JJ yelped, stepping back to a safe distance. 

The silverfish made the sound of a sock sliding under a bed as it zipped at JJ’s boots. They jumped up and down, swatting wildly. Finally, they connected and the fight was won. JJ listened. More skitters echoed, which was not ideal. 

“Finley?” JJ called. 

“Up here!” Finley’s voice bounced from deeper in the stronghold. “Hurry? This room has… a lot of roommates.” 

JJ rounded a corner and ran into an empty room. Well, almost empty. In the corner stood a silverfish spawner. It whirred like the tiny, rude machine it was. All over the floor, silverfish wiggled. Finley was perched on a small pillar of blocks in the middle of the room like a decorative statue, swinging their sword desperately. 

JJ took a breath. Time for tidy heroics. 

First: light. Torches out, lights on! 

Second: space.

JJ placed blocks from the doorway toward Finley, making a little bridge while keeping their shield up. The silverfish scuttled and JJ answered with an elegant dance you do when a floor is made of ankle biter: swish, swish, step, swish, swish, step. 

A whole cluster gathered under the bridge, squeaking and scrabbling, waiting for a chance. JJ glanced up at the arch above the doorway. A plan bonked into place. 

“Finley,” JJ said, “I’m going to try something that goes clang.” 

“Clang away!” Finley said, swishing their sword like it had never been swushed before. 

JJ stacked two blocks on the arch, placed the anvil on top, lined it up over the swarm, and knocked out the temporary support with a quick tap. 

The anvil obeyed gravity, which was never a given in the Overworld. 

KA-CHONK! 

A satisfying puff of silverfish went poof. The anvil settled right in the hallway like a big metal period at the end of a noisy sentence. The remaining fish scattered. JJ darted forward, finished off the stragglers, then turned to the real problem: the spawner. 

Pickaxe out. Chop-chop-chop. Crack! The iron bars of the cage shattered into sparkles. The spawner fizzled out and died, leaving nothing behind but a little shower of XP and the world’s most relieved silence. 

Finley wobbled in relief. “That was extremely clang.” 

JJ bowed. “I practice.” 

They patched the floor with stone blocks so no more sneaky blocks would surprise anyone, peeked in a chest in the library for a few music-related books (and some thread for bowstrings from the cobwebs, because libraries are polite like that), and then hustled back up the ladder with their packs a little heavier and their pulses a lot calmer. 

By the time they reached the cherry grove, the sun was sliding down, and the petals were falling softly. JJ spread out the picnic blankets, set the banner that read BLOSSOM BASH, and tuned the note blocks until they sounded like a happy hopscotch. Finley placed a sign that said “SILVERFISH-FREE ZONE.” Just in case any of them had secretly followed them, and could also read. You never know. 

The anvil got one last job. JJ slipped Finley’s shield onto it and renamed it: 

“Silver Slayer.” 

Finley held it up so the cherry leaves reflected off the metal rim. 

They ate bread and berries, while the trees murmured pink and the sky learned a dozen new sunset colors. A breeze pushed petals across their boots. The note blocks plinked a little two-chord loop that made the world seem rounder and kinder. 

“Thanks for the rescue,” Finley said. 

“Thanks for bringing home the music,” JJ answered.  

They clinked their shields together, thunk, and watched the cherry grove glow. The anvil sat nearby, smug and useful. Everything felt safe again, and clean as a new chunk. 

Far below, the stronghold was quiet. Up here, the petals fell like applause.