Markus ran out of the school and into his brother's arms. The two laughed and tried to wrestle the other into the ground playfully. He told his hero whatever happened on that day.

"Really, Hero. I'm serious. She had no right to give us homework anyway," complained Markus.

His older brother chuckled before offering, "I can still teach you."

Markus rolled his eyes, frowning. He replied, "No way. Pappa has chores for you, right?"

Hero stiffened at that. He decided to dodge the question with a quick answer. He shrugged, "Who knows?"

Hero was now 12, and in one year he would be reaching his teenager years, the period of time where people regret every decision they had ever made. Hero had already begun regretting all his life decisions, he was always the early bird. How was he coping with his father? Quite well.

He had mastered hunting, cleaning and cooking since Markus was really messy and picky. Their father was always out to probably get drunk some more and Hero made sure that Markus was sleeping whenever he would get home. Their father was not home so Markus had his homework sprawled all over the dining table, his older brother next to him. Hero occupied himself with a book he had gotten from a schoolmate on war and army stuff.

The older brother was really motivated by the book. He wanted to learn how to handle swords, guns and bows. He wanted to actually have a diamond sword. But the Russians forbade that. Minecraftia was under Russia's rule, many wanted independence but they were to frightened by the neighboring country. There was only one army but the general had just died. The Russians made no move and no new general was appointed.

That left Minecraftia's only army filled with sloths, who were too busy hitting on girls and drinking to even want independence. There was authority, a lord, in fact. The Russians appointed one of their people to watch over and control Minecraftia.

The lord was just an old hag.

He just rolled in gold and pride while sitting on the throne. Hero scowled at that. He knew this would not possible but he wanted to change that. He wanted to change everything. He wanted to protect but he never dared to go against his father.

"Hero... I can't do this anymore. English is hard!"

Hero looked up from his book and narrowed his blue eyes and replied calmly, "You speak English every day, would you rather learn Russian?"

Markus gave a dramatic gasp and shook his head. He made a cross with his arms and yelled, "No! No! Hearing you speak in Russian at school is weird. It's like a weird creeper language or something."

Power: 9%

Immediately, Hero answered, "Creepers don't speak Russian. They communicate in forms of hisses and high-pitched snarls. Some may say they share the same language with spiders and silverfish."

Markus widened his eyes and asked, "School taught you stuff on mobs? Would I learn that when I'm older?"

Hero realized what he had just said and replied hoarsely, "Um, no. It's... General knowledge."

How did I know that? I've never heard that before. Oh god, am I teaching Markus lies?

Despite what he thought about, he did not say anything to take back that fact. He felt right. He felt smart. Markus shrugged and finished up his homework and peered over to the book.

He asked, "Hero, what are... De-dife-"

Hero answered immediately, "Defending. It's when you try to guard yourself from an attack. It could also mean to speak in favor of, to justify, to compete to keep or to protect something."

Hero blinked. He may be good at English but he was definitely not a dictionary who spouted definitions at the top of his head. Markus spoke, "That sounds... Weird. What's 'justify'?"

Hero enthusiastically answered, "It is to show or prove to be right or reasonable. Argue for your point."

Markus opened his mouth but his brother cut his impending question, "Reasonable means having fair judgement, based on good sense or being able to reason logically- er... Smartly."

Markus gaped. He eagerly said, "You're amazing at this! ¹Trevlig!"

Hero smiled but it fell when he heard the door creak open. He gulped and gathered up Markus' things. He dragged his little brother upstairs and ushered him into his room. He told Markus to be extremely quiet before he ran downstairs to tend to his father.

○

Hero dragged himself to the toilet once his father fell asleep on the couch. He had a secret stash of bandages and medicine in the glass cabinet. He took them out and tended to his own wounds. His quick mind immediately set to giving him information. He was thrown to the ground three times which resulted in bruises and a bleeding nose. He was pulled by his hair which made his head ache. He sighed. The boy was lucky today. On other days, his father would burn him with a cigarette.

Those hurt a lot, even for a small stick. He got back to his bedroom and took his shirt off. His torso was all bandaged up since he was kicked yesterday. Markus was probably already asleep in his bed. Hero does not feel sleepy at all. He just sat on his bed and continued his reading.

At some point he got a long stick from the woods and tried some techniques. He fell once and his torso had hurt even more. He became more careful and practiced more slowly. It was already 3 in the morning when he grew bored. He just paced round the room, thinking. He decided to be up early and prepared himself for school. It never hurt to be a little paranoid.

When he was all fresh and tidy, he sat on the floor and pulled on a blue coat. He has tons of blue clothes. His mother thought that clothing that matches his eye color looked beautiful on him. He was confused when she used beautiful instead of handsome.

He did not argue. He admitted that he actually looked good in those. The long sleeves covered his scarred arms, which were cut from accidents. There were also burns and bruises. Whenever someone at school would brush past him harshly, he would wince in pain. Those who did not like him would give a rather gentle nudge or poke, which would reopen some of the fresh cuts.

He would have to go to the bathroom and roll up his sleeve and wash it off. He does not enjoy people touching him. If the blood stained the coat, he would have to unfortunately have to take it off for the rest of the day. Though no one would ask. No one really cared anyway. So far, he only had two friends. One of those friends was the one who lent him the book on war. Unfortunately, they did not have the same classes and they could only see each other during recess or lunch.

But those friends got injured and sick way too much. They were absent most of the time. Whether it be the annoying case of flu or a sprained ankle, Hero would face all the bullies alone.

Why? Because he was undeniably short. He did not know why. He was just an inch or two taller than his little brother. Hero could say that it is because of malnutrition, but he didn't want anyone finding out about the lack of food at his household. He absolutely hated it most of the time though, always having to sit in front, catching the end of paper balls when the teachers were not paying attention. Other times, it was beneficial as he could hide in small and tight places where no one could get him. He once hid from bullies in a cupboard in the classroom.

○

His friends were absent. Again. The teacher said that it was something about food poisoning. Hero just scoffed. Just because the twins ate a pig that was smeared in poisoned cow dung and had been eating apples laced in zombie flesh, Hero would have to deal with a few- Okay, calm yourself. You are over reacting. They probably just ate too fast. Like they normally do, the wild dogs.

The class turned to stare at him. One boy laughed, "You're only one-third of a trio now, Persson. Without two people having to hold you up, how's the weather down there?"

The class then erupted in laughter. Normally, the Swede would ignore remarks, but he was particularly not in a great mood and the bastard just mentioned his friends. Hero grabbed his textbook and made his way to the boy.

"²Du gris."

Hero threw the textbook at the boy, who got hit in the face and yelped. The boy fell over and held his face in pain. The Swede just stared down the boy menacingly before he looked at all the other kids. He spat, "Tell the teacher and Mr. Smartass here wouldn't be the only one on the floor."

The students gulped and widened their eyes before they turned to face the front in fear. Hero held out his hand. The boy shrunk back and cowered behind his arm. Hero rolled his eyes and pulled he boy back on his feet. He then pushed the boy back to his seat and said, "Don't do that again."

The boy just nodded slowly and turned to the front, waiting for the teacher. Hero made his way back to his seat, textbook in hand. It was a little dented from the impact on the kid's head but Hero did not mind. He felt oddly satisfied.

☆

Swedish is not my language! These are translated from English on Google Translate. Google Translate isn't accurate and I don't have any Swedish translators so... Just pointing out that the Swedish dialogues are not accurate.

1 - Swedish: Nice!

2 - Swedish: You pig.