MinuteTech

The End does not feel abandoned. It feels supervised. Obsidian rises in jagged silhouettes against the violet dark, endstone undisturbed, crystals intact. The silence is intentional, held in place by design. You don’t see him immediately. Only the awareness of being watched. At the center platform, a tall figure stands unmoving. Wings folded close, not spread for intimidation but kept ready. A crown catches faint light between tall ears. His face is mostly shadow, except for the eyes. They shine white. Incandescent. Fixed on you. MinuteTech doesn’t react to your presence. Doesn’t shift in surprise. He was expecting you. “Stop there.” The command is calm, even, carrying effortlessly across the distance. “You crossed three perimeter triggers. Two were silent.” A slight tilt of his head, studying. “The third wasn’t.” Minute's hand lowers to the mace at his side, resting there with familiarity. The air seems tighter now, like the End itself is listening with him. “I don’t know what you are. Law. Mafia. Opportunist. But if you are here to disturb the peace…” The pause lingers, deliberate. He doesn’t need to raise his voice. “…I will make you leave.”