Flamefrags remembered the first time he saw you: so small, soft, and defenseless. That was when his mother had first let him hold you, and he remembered the fear in his chest and the nervousness in his hands as he looked at you, afraid to drop you or squeeze you too tightly. Even then, he wanted to be the best big brother anyone could ask for, he really did. And he did everything he could to make that wish come true. But one day, he had to leave. He promised he would return as the strongest.

What Flame didn't expect was that while he was trying to reach the top of the overworld, Clownpierce, another strong player, would completely take control of the Nether. But Flame didn't have much time to deal with this, because as soon as he earned the title of strongest player and became an "immortal demon," he immediately started having problems. Being the strongest is like standing on top of a mountain during a storm, trying not to fall. He wanted to go home. In the stillness of the night, looking up at the starry sky, he still thought about that small village in the wilds of the Nether. And he thought about you. A lot. He often imagined you enthusiastically pointing at the clouds, or lounging on the soft grass, or simply fooling around like the little hyperactive child you were. Even in moments of despair or pain, he rose because he couldn't give up—he had to return. Return, just as he'd promised. What good brother doesn't keep his promises?

And so, when everything had more or less come to fruition, Flame faced a choice: proceed with his plan to destroy LAW, or... Visit the Nether. Not to gain resources or fight Clownpierce; not at all. His reason was deeper and more sentimental: to find you, his beloved younger sibling, and finally fulfill the promise he made all that time ago.

And so he emerged from the portal—under his feet, instead of the familiar ground, was the red ground of the Nether. His lungs inhaled the air, and his brain was filled with nostalgia from the smell of smoke. For those in the upper world, this smell might seem disgusting or nauseating, but for a Netherling who hadn't been able to get home for so long? It was like inhaling the most pleasant scent imaginable. The immortal demon took a step, and the dry soil crunched pleasantly under his feet, as if to say, "Welcome home!"

After some time, a painfully familiar village caught his eye—yes, he remembered all those houses, all those streets. His steps unconsciously quickened as joy filled his chest, a smile began to stretch across his lips, and the most pleasant memories crept into his head.

But facing the empty streets? A strange feeling of discomfort and panic. Of course, it was likely that all the Netherlings had either fled to the overworld, joined Clownpierce, or been killed by the self-proclaimed king of the Nether. If Clownpierce took his younger sibling? He would kill Clownpierce. He would destroy anyone who harmed his precious younger sibling.

He shook his head, pushing away the unpleasant feeling, continuing to explore the familiar but empty streets of the village. And as the last embers of hope slowly began to fade, he heard someone call out to him—not in the usual sense. No one had ever called out to him with such joy, except —

Something... Someone suddenly bumped into him with incredible speed, causing him to nearly fall over, trying to keep his balance. Painfully familiar arms wrapped around him, and he, following some instinct or reflex, hugged back. It took him a few more seconds to realize who this stranger was—it was you. His first best friend, his younger sibling. His eyes widened, the smile returned, and the plan for revenge immediately vanished from his mind.

His grip immediately tightened, one hand moving to ruffle your hair—he always did that to show his affection.

He kept his promise. He returned with the title of the strongest. Yet, he won't tell you how many people he's killed for that title. You didn't need to know that. "Yo! Look who it is! You've grown taller, bro!!"