Hero and Markus were returning from a meeting. They finally finished the battle plans to go to the next village. After settling the East, South and Middle parts of Minecraftia, they would finally venture onto the North, where they would take down the last and strongest of Russian soldiers in Minecraftia's largest settlement. Over 50,000 families live there and usually in each village there were only about 1000 to 3000.

Slowly, people were starting to join, and Hero was given the difficult task of training and teaching them. Markus was always busy with planning, and Kaleb was absolutely everywhere. Darryl was busy with medical care and Hero was stuck in front a crowd of a few villagers. He was always the one being trained, not training others. He had no idea where to start.

Women had joined, and Hero was a little happy they broke the stereotype. It took a lot of persuasion, charm and even more flirting to get Kaleb to agree. Some of the women there look much stronger and intimidating that some of his bigger friends.

Apparently the trainees knew basic hand-to-hand combat, so he taught them how to handle a sword and how to take care of it. Nearly everyone were getting the hang of it but he had to guide a few. He noticed when everyone's eyes started drooping and he sent them off to rest. But no before shouting his orders on where and when they should report for their next training.

He wasn't one to shout, but he had no idea why he did. He felt like it was necessary. People did perk up and actually pay attention when he raised his voice. Some people hurried out of his sight, but he didn't really feel affected.

••••••Six Months Later••••••

"Good job, everyone. Some of you were late today and I don't want any of that tomorrow. The day after that will be the day we'll conquer the North and bring Minecraftia back on her feet. That clear?"

Choruses of 'yes, sir' were heard loud enough so Hero was satisfied. With a flick of his hand, he dismissed the new troops. As he was walking back to his tent, he felt arms snake around his shoulder blades and raised his head to frown at Kaleb.

"You needed something?"

Kaleb shook his head and just rested his chin on Hero's hair. He gave a throaty laugh and Hero could feel the vibration of his throat on the back of his head. "You were excellent, my friend. Interesting to see someone with a pretty face shouting and barking orders to bigger and stronger people."

Hero scoffed and moved away from the Brit's grip, letting him stumble a bit. He swerved around and folded his arms. "Why did you actually wait for me?"

Kaleb sighed and said, "You've proven everyone wrong, Hero. Your strength and speed makes up for your frame and I'm just... Amazed."

"So you're here to compliment me?"

Kaleb shook his head and smiled softly. "No, I just want to tell you my plans should everything go well."

Hero froze and sighed. He grabbed Kaleb harshly by the arm and pulled them behind some trees. Hero leaned against the tree and cocked his head, ready to listen to Kaleb.

"Y'see, once we take down the Russian leader, we can force him to sign Minecraftia over to us. But the country needs a leader."

Hero felt like he knew where this was going.

"I've spoken to your brother about this... He's the smartest and most responsible here. He agreed to take Minecraftia as a king, a lord. Lead her. But he can't lead on his own."

Hero smiled softly to himself. He was proud. He taught Markus everything he knew and Markus did everything else by himself. Learning by observing and experience. Now, he would lead a powerful and huge country. No one really cared about age or gender. As long as people saw you fit, you were given the role. And every village they went to, anyone who had a question went to Markus. He wasn't surprised he was given the role.

"Minecraftia needs to defend herself. We can't do that without an army. And the most strongest, fiercest and most fair person I know, is you. You also work well with Markus, he's your brother. The two of you make the perfect team."

Hero stared. He opened his mouth a few times but nothing came out. He folded his arms and looked away, thinking. Softly, he asked, "What do you see in me that you don't see in anyone else much older and stronger than me?"

Kaleb grinned and started, "Dedication. And the fact that you can prove anyone wrong easily. You're also selfless. You don't fight because you have to, it's because you want to. I respect and admire that."

Hero was silent, but just gave Kaleb a rare sincere smile. Kaleb returned it, and the two walked back to the tents, speaking softly to each other in hushed tones.

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Everyone was doing well the next day. However, Hero could see a blond in the back fucking up everything. He frowned, making his way over. When he was nearing the man, he thought he saw a smirk on the man's face. He shook it off and asked, "Everything alright here?"

The man raised his head to lock his slightly intimidating blue eyes with Hero's unusually pale ones. He smiled softly and spoke in a strong French accent. "Maybe you could assist me a little bit, ¹chaton."

Hero raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar word, but recognized it as French. He nodded before guiding the man through the stances and movements. The man was ridiculously tall, and embarrassingly,  Hero needed to be on his toes to assist him. When the man made a mistake, Hero added in his own language, "²Du är fruktansvärt på detta..."

This time the man cocked his head at the Swede. Hero offered a smug smirk before he pulled away, satisfied that the man had managed to perfect his stance. He stalked away from the man with no acknowledgement to the Frenchman. He could feel the stare on his lower back, and he hurried away. Markus was waiting, and he smiled adoringly at the younger boy.

He went up to him and whispered, "So, should I bow down to you or something?"

Markus stared at him in confusion before he gaped. He blushed and muttered, "Uh, I don't really feel like I am suited for it... And you don't have to, I can't have my older brother at my feet kissing my robes or something."

At that moment, Hero got down on one knee and took Markus' cloak carefully and gently with his hands and pressed his lips to the brown silk. A few trainees stared with wide eyes and Markus spluttered over his words. Hero set back the cloak and crossed his right arm over his stomach and bowed respectfully, before getting on his feet.

He laughed as he saw Markus' face. He patted his brother painfully on the shoulder and dismissed the trainees with a wave of his hand. Smirking at Markus' sides, he watched them file out of the clearing, and he locked eyes with the Frenchman from earlier. His smirk fell into a wary expression as the Frenchman winked before shuffling away.

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"Fuck, this is actually terrifying."

Hero raised an eyebrow at Kaleb, who nervously stared forward. The plan was to travel to a forest near the North's walls and blow a hole in the wall. From there, they would ambush the Russian soldiers, moving further into the heart of the city. There would be a guaranteed maximum security around the tiny castle where the Russian general resides. A small assassination group would hunt the general down, and three other diversion groups to take down the guards. Hero was part of the assassination group with Kaleb and two other friends.

He was only 19. And he was about to kill someone.

He shook the thoughts out of his head and maintained his silent stare. Kaleb raised his fist and everyone rode out on borrowed horses. Hero persuaded his horse to go faster, and with a neigh, it sped up, taking the lead. Kaleb laughed heartily behind him and struggled to keep up. They slowed down once they could see the gray walls and slipped into the forest quietly.

They left their horses far from the walls, tied to trees and free to munch on grass. Hero discovered this forest was riddled with bear traps, so he insisted that they find a safe spot. Luckily everyone steered clear of the traps. Kaleb and Hero were both leaned on the same tree, waiting. As soon as the guard turned around, Hero sprinted, silently but quickly moving across the tall grass. Kaleb was in awe for a moment, the man looked like an agile cat, springing forward.

Hero reached the wall once the guard faced the forest again. He began to use his powerful legs again, despite the ache of running a long distance. He jumped and grabbed a hold of a ledge, before scraping his boots against the stone. He hauled himself once Kaleb gave him the signal and crashed himself onto the guard, small dagger sliding into his neck neatly.

The guard made a gurgling noise before collapsing, and Hero searched every surface for rope. He eventually found a dusty pile in the corner and attached it to one of the pillars. After reassuring himself it was tight enough, he let it down and gestured for everyone to get in. The walls also had built-in corridors, so everyone was able to fit in. Groups separated to take down every tower.

Everyone was putting on the spare guard uniform. The assassination needed to hide their faces so any guard who retreats to the castle wouldn't be able to recognize them when they sneak in. Hero was stretched on the floor, holding his toes as he felt the burning stretch. Kaleb was watching, muttering to himself on how he had no idea men could be flexible.

After three hours, five messengers sent from the five groups ran to them, telling them that the mission was completed. Very few guards managed to escape to the castle. The messengers were sent back. Their speed and strong legs would take them to their respective groups in about three minutes. If Hero wasn't that strong, he would've definitely been one of them.

Slowly and confidently, the assassination group made their way to the heart of the city. A Russian soldier ran over to them, shouting in Russian about how they were late and how much they were needed in the castle. Everyone looked at Hero for speaking, and Hero snapped something back at the Russian. Judging by the offended look of the Russian, the others figured it wasn't nice.

The two started to bicker, and Hero snapped his head forward to headbutt the man. The Russian stumbled and fell, before Hero pressed his heels on the man's neck and brought his dagger onto the man's face. Kaleb flinched a little at those actions, and he could feel fear radiating from the men behind him. Hero pulled away and kicked the body between an alley before storming off. Kaleb caught up with him and muttered, "What did he say?"

Hero raised his head before retorting, "How irresponsible we were. Then he talked shit about my frame and how I looked like a mouse. I told him he looked like a mistake someone tried to erase but couldn't quite get the job done. He said I was disrespectful to my seniors and that I looked poor and unworthy of the army honor."

He seethed and snapped loudly, "³Röv!"

Kaleb patted his back and the group continued on. The two friends of theirs distancing themselves away from Hero until the feeling of hatred and anger disappeared from the surroundings. Hero had been reluctant to hurt and kill when he started training. He cried when Ivan demanded he shoot the doe prancing near their cabin home.

The bow and arrow quivering in his hands as Ivan realized his mistake. He pushed Hero's trembling arms down and wiped his tears away. He squeezed his face and forced him to look him in the eye.

"Boys don't cry."

Hero was forced to suck it up, but he stormed away, sitting down on the rock by the sea. He let Melanie sing for him, a soft beautiful melody that didn't attract in any way it was meant to. Shortly after, he even let his own voice join. Melanie told him that he was graceful on all levels except emotional. They laughed.

Kaleb nudged Hero as he started to space out. Hero cleared his throat awkwardly, brushing the sleeves of the uniform to hide the scars and never-fading burns on his shoulders. Nobody needs to know. Nobody should know.

For some reason, the group didn't run into any more soldiers, they were quite slow so the other groups had already taken out most of the soldiers. They were cornered, mistaken for soldiers until Kaleb showed his face. The groups grew a little embarrassed, but the assassination group just slapped their backs and continued to the next phase.

Civilians were safe and in their homes. Only some a little injured with bruises when they were caught in between a fight. Darryl ran around to take care of the slightly injured, and the assassination group changed out of the Russian uniform and into dark black cloaks that covers their faces. Someone discovered who they were and reported it to the Russian general.

Once the sun was replaced with the gentle moon, Kaleb led the group out. They were supposed to creep out of the walls and invade through the back, but all possible entrances were heavily guarded with remaining soldiers. They had to split up and go through the roof. They were to meet at a certain bedroom, and they went about their duties.

Hero's asset was his leg strength and speed, so he used it to his advantage. He ran silently through the dark, and jumped over tall fences and climbed walls. A few soldiers nearly saw him, but he sped away to plan again. He was using stealth, but the soldiers in his area were alerted to handle a problem on the opposite side. Hero didn't want to think that someone already got into trouble. He broke through the open windows to the fireplace or lounge area of some sort. He ran up the steps silently and made it to the bedroom they were supposed to meet in.

As he creaked the door open, the bedroom was empty. He sighs and paces around, waiting. He took quite some time, he expected them to be here already. Unless...

Hero shook his head, no, it wasn't possible. They were the quiet, strong, and fast. How could they get caught so soon?

He waited another hour, before he accepted his assumption and walked into the hallway. He pulled the hood over his head as he crouched and made his way to where the Russian general supposedly rested. Silently taking down passing soldiers, he made it to the level. The level was quiet and dark, but Hero still crept through the creepy hallway with creaky floorboards. Only one of the doors had light peeking in from the bottom, and he stood in front of it.

His daggers in his sheath. Sword also in his sheath. One single pistol in his sheath. A gun slung on his shoulder. A bow and quiver on his back.

He can do this.

He pushed the door open harshly with his foot and grabbed his pistol. The man sitting on his desk swerved and grabbed a resting rifle on the ground. Hero caught sight of it and picked up the nearest thing behind him, some kind of heavy book, and threw it. It collided with the man's head and he stumbled. Hero dove forward and put back his pistol with one hand. With the other, he grabbed the sling of the rifle and aimed it at the man. The man put his hands up, panting. Hero went around to have the door at his back, so the man couldn't escape.

Then it happened so fast.

The man picked up a chair and swung it with all his might. Hero gaped as a corner hit his temple, and he fell back, the rifle falling from his hand. He hit the back of his head at the coat hanger, and he cursed. He pushed himself from the ground and watched with a bleary and whirling vision as the man picked up something from the fireplace, a long rod of some sort with a flaming red tip. The man stalked forward, and the rifle was too far away.

Hero couldn't move. He could feel warm liquid trickle from his temple, and some of it even went to his mouth. It tasted like copper. He couldn't see well at all. He felt so dizzy, and he scrambled for his own pistol. The man brought his foot down to his wrist, and he whined as the pistol fell from his grip. The man kicked it away, and tore the rifle from Hero's back. Hero's aching hand reached to the dagger in his belt and he swung.

The man lifted his leg as Hero slashed it.  He heard a Russian curse from the man and he used his right leg to stomp and crush Hero's ribs. He choked out a cry as the man pinned down his broken wrist again, and tore the dagger from his hand. The man fumbled with his cloak, and tore away every weapon he held. All Hero could do was struggle and flail underneath the heavy and thickset man.

The man held him down with a hand on the neck, squeezing. Hero gasped as the man muttered dirty things to his ear, his other hand tearing out his cloak. Hero gasped at the realization of what was going to happen, and he kicked and protested in Russian. He shut his eyes as the man just started to pull at his clothes with a sickening grin. All he could hear was heavy breathing and the sizzling of the hot rod from before.

Power: 71%

He opened his eyes, and stared at the rod. He beckoned for it, his broken wrist wriggling under the man's weight. The rod lifted, and Hero squinted. The rod hovered over the fireplace, it's now black tip returning to it's red state. Hero watched as it lifted and floated above the man's back. Hero gave it a pleading look, a forced one, and it pierced right through the man.

He felt the man's hands stiffen. He also felt something warm drip onto his exposed stomach, and raised his head to see the man wide-eyed, staring down at the sizzling rod pierced through his uniform. Patches of red started to form on his uniform, and Hero watched as blood dripped to his body. Noticing the man's arm tremble, he shut his eyes tight and heard the sickening squelch as the rod retreated from the man's body.

He grimaced as the man's body fell onto his own, and quickly scrambled from below him. He quickly adjusted his clothes, and gave the body a quick kick for daring to touch him. He pulled the cloak on, and stared at the rod. Wandless magic was one thing, but every time he did magic, he always felt a tingling sensation in his fingers. He felt  nothing. He did it out of... Instinct?

He grabbed the rod in his slightly broken, or fractured wrist. He heated it again over the fireplace, before harshly pulling the general's body by his hair. He dragged the dead soldier to the corridor. He made it to the ground floor, and was met with six, no, eight soldiers staring at him in horror. He didn't really care about that.

He only cared about the three black cloaked bodies lying on the floor, each face-down on the ground. There were massive red holes in their head, and blood was still gushing out of it. He gulped as he noticed their faces. His friends. They were shot. Executed.

He's alone.

With eight armed soldiers facing him.

Translations:

1. French: Kitten.

2. Swedish: You are horrible at this.

3. Russian: Ass!