00 — Lettuce K

Patience was one of his tools. He rebuilt slowly, methodically, until the Law returned—not as a shadow of its former self, but stronger, sharper, and more disciplined. Thousands of players, drawn by promises of safety and order, flocked under his banner. With this strength, he attempted to hunt Flame and Wemmbu, to imprison them, to finally impose his vision on the world. He failed—but failure, in his mind, was never permanent.

Desperation and calculation intertwined. Lettuce proposed a battle, a thousand versus two, knowing his best soldiers would die. He sent lesser members instead, watching from a distance as they fell, their screams a testament to the ruthlessness of the world.

From that moment, Lettuce’s vision changed. Justice was no longer enough. Order was insufficient. He wanted dominion. He wanted to be King of Unstable. And a king, he knew, required control.

The world did not reward the cautious or the righteous; it rewarded the decisive, the ruthless, and the cunning.
Seeking that fragile stability, Lettuce next joined Skyblock Civilization. A new faction, a fresh start. He poured his knowledge into fortifying its defenses, training its soldiers, and preparing for the inevitable storm. And yet history repeated itself. The Mafia, relentless and omnipresent, crushed Skyblock Civilization, leaving nothing but rubble and despair.

Unwilling to submit again, Lettuce fled to Lopezz’s Ice Mountain Civilization, a fortress carved into a frozen wasteland, where jagged peaks promised protection. He believed that perhaps, in the harshness of nature, there could be security. But no walls, no ice, no planning could shield them from the Mafia’s reach. Lopezz’s people fell as swiftly as all the others had.

Through every loss, every betrayal, every shattered faction, Lettuce learned. He learned that survival was more than skill; it was strategy, deception, and control. And so, when the Invis Mafia was finally defeated, he did not seek another refuge. He sought power, not sanctuary.

It was then that Lettuce realized something vital: if the world would not give him peace, he would create it himself. He founded something new: the Law. Its purpose was deceptively simple—to bring order, justice, and security to a server mired in chaos. Its vision was noble, its execution ambitious. Yet ideals alone were insufficient. Against the overwhelming might of Flame and Wemmbu, two players whose power eclipsed even his own careful calculations, the Law was fragile. Its members fell, one by one, leaving Lettuce with nothing but a hollow base, a shallow mark in the earth.
But Lettuce did not disappear.

From the ashes of empires rose new powers, more ruthless and efficient than the old: the Mafia. Unlike the empire, which governed with bureaucracy and pride, the Mafia ruled through fear and precision. Resistance was a luxury, and defiance was fatal. Seeking safety, Lettuce joined Parrot’s End Civilization, a faction led by a player named Parrot, renowned for intelligence and strategy that rivaled the very rulers of the server.

For a moment, it seemed refuge might finally be within reach. Parrot welcomed him, assigning him to important missions, relying on his skill in battle and strategy. Lettuce watched carefully, studied the dynamics, learned the subtleties of leadership. And yet, even in this sanctuary, the shadow of the Mafia loomed. As it had done with countless others, the Mafia descended upon End Civilization. The city fell with frightening inevitability.

Buildings burned, soldiers died, and friends vanished into the dark. Lettuce, once again, was forced to flee—but this time, capture awaited.

He was taken to Capital City, a place ruled by the Mafia and its enforcers, the Reddons. There, he was reduced to labor, digging stone and minerals under the sunless towers of the city. The work was exhausting, relentless, and utterly devoid of freedom. Every day he endured, but Lettuce’s mind never dulled. He studied the guards, memorized the schedules, noted the weaknesses. He waited.

Months passed. Parrot, once a figure of hope, was captured alongside other friends. Lettuce had expected despair—but Parrot had not surrendered. Together, they orchestrated a revolt, a brilliant and daring strike that freed the workers and dismantled the forced labor system. The moment of liberation was intoxicating, but fleeting. It reminded Lettuce of one unchangeable truth: stability was always temporary.

Lettuce had always been a man—or, perhaps, a player—defined by circumstance. For as long as he could remember, he had been part of something larger than himself, rarely by choice and never without consequence. Loyalty was never a free gift; it was a burden, a chain he carried and wore with a grim pragmatism. Some would call it survival. Others, ambition. But for Lettuce, it was simply the logic of the world: the strong dictated the rules, and the weak either obeyed or fell.

His earliest allegiance was to the PrinceZam Empire, a sprawling network of cities, soldiers, and ambition. He had been young, eager, and naïve, and the uniform of a guard had made him feel important, even invincible.

The PrinceZam Empire was ruthless, efficient, and utterly self-assured. It was during this time that Lettuce participated in a campaign he would later reflect on with mixed emotions—a campaign to destroy the Wemmbu civilization, a small but thriving society on the outskirts of the empire.
Why destroy it? Because Zam said it was useless. There was no reasoning beyond that, no negotiation, no mercy. In the world of empires and power, utility was the only measure of worth. That day, Lettuce had marched with countless others, swords and spells in hand, watching as homes burned, crops were leveled, and the people of Wemmbu fled into the forest, screaming and cursing.

He remembered the fear, the desperation, and the quiet, lingering question at the back of his mind: Am I a hero or a monster?

The question went unanswered. Because soon after, the war came for the empire itself. The PrinceZam Empire, overconfident and reckless, crumbled under the weight of its own decisions. Cities fell, generals turned against one another, and soldiers who had once obeyed orders without question now scattered like leaves in a storm. Lettuce survived, as he always did, but survival came with its own scars.

Lettuce’s personality was a fusion of intellect, control, discipline, and calculated ruthlessness. He was charming yet intimidating, manipulative yet principled by his own internal logic, and always patient yet relentless. His Lawful Evil nature, combined with his obsession with order, control, and strategic dominance, made him both a visionary and a tyrant—a ruler capable of inspiring loyalty and fear in equal measure. To the world, he spoke of peace, justice, and freedom. To those who opposed him or did something against the law– even just a crime as simple as stealing, he would deliver pain, punishment, and ultimately, death. And to himself, he was the architect of inevitability: a man who shaped chaos into order, one calculated move at a time. Despite knowing his actions were gruesome and his ways are twisted, he believes he is in the right. Because why wouldn't he be? After all, the end justifies the means, and the end will be justice and peace for everyone but filthy criminals.