why is it always the 30th chapter that has the weirdest shit lmao enjoy

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Markus fortunately raised his rifle, blocking the attack. The strength that Darryl spoke of was powerful and extremely tiring, as Markus tried to push back. Hero was no match for his brother, so he knocked the rifle onto the ground. It slid far away from them, the king helplessly looking at it. He looked back at Hero, who stalked forward with a menacing look in his eyes. Markus can't help but feel terrible. His brother, his last link to his family was going to kill him. He just backed up to a tree and shut his eyes tight, breathing harshly.

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Nabiel frowned. Roderich was running around, trying to fetch all the glowing red scrolls. All those scrolls held the carefully planned out lives of each loyal Minecraftian. Something happened, and it wasn't supposed to. Nabiel could tell, as these people were supposed to live on, but Hero cut them short. It was Nabiel's duty after all, to keep Minecraftians in check.

"Why are these two glowing gold?"

Nabiel's head snapped around as Roderich stood panting with two lives, two stories in his hands. Nabiel held his hand out and his demon tossed them. He unrolled one and quickly read through the short description. A rather young man. Alive.

"What kind of name is Arache? What do they mean by '50% Spider'? The fuck? How does that work?"

Nabiel elbowed Roderich in the crotch which sent the demon to his knees. He looked down at the scroll, his near future was being crossed out and heavily written over. He saw Hero's name in there more than once. Stealing a glance at the man's picture, he sneered, tossing it away.

"Hero has extremely low standards."

Roderich groaned questionably from the ground. Nabiel gestured wildly to the glowing scrolls, which were rolling towards each other strangely. "He can honestly do better than that," he sighed.

○

Seeing an opening, Markus rolled to the ground, narrowly missing his brother's blow. The sword lodged in the tree Markus used to rest on. Hero struggled to tear it out, and Markus quickly gave himself distance from his brother while he was distracted. Once Hero tore out his sword from the bark, he turned back to his brother, piercing white eyes glowing fiercely. Markus shivered at the ferocity.

Pointing the barrel of his rifle on the ground, he backed up. Hero just kept getting closer, his grip on his sword tightening. "C'mon, big brother, what happened to you?"

Don't answer. Stand straight. Just smile sweetly.

Hero did not want to. His precious little brother who he protected and cared for all his life was standing in front of him. That little brother who was much more mature, more defined and more older, holding a rifle for defense. Against him. Hero fought the commands with all he had. He gulped when he straightened his stance and stared straight at his brother, his lips curling to a smile.

His brother's grip fell loose around his rifle, and Hero wanted to grimace at the hope in his brother's eyes. He wanted to tell him to run, and if possible, take him down. He was dangerous, he was not safe. Derrek did not notice the trembling grip on the sword.

"L-Look, let's just talk. I've been wanting to for a while. Jeb and I... We're worried and we haven't had the chance to ask if you're alright."

Markus was looking down now, his gaze full of sorrow. The dirt would have cried if it was real. Hero felt himself slack.

"So... Are you alright? I know this isn't you. You would never..." Markus turned to the wreckage and village in flames, fire lapping at the sky. It seemed to battle the sun in a fiery battle. Hero followed his gaze and refused to show any emotion to the dark and red bodies in the alleys. "...Do this without something or someone bothering you."

Hero snapped his head towards his brother, and saw the king wince at his cold gaze. He stammered out, "P-Please... Tell me what's wrong."

It wasn't a question. It was a demand. Derrek started talking obnoxiously loud.

Just finish him, Herobrine. Don't let his pity talk get to you.

He was so noisy. It was pissing Hero off. He was so furious at Derrek that he did not notice the clang of his sword as it fell to the ground. His clenched fists were trembling, his nails digging into his palm and drawing blood. Markus started to walk forward cautiously. Hero's head hung, his eyes glaring holes into the ground.

Kill him, little hero. Burn him, punch him, slit his throat, just get rid of him.

Hero felt his lips curl downward in a vicious snarl. Markus stiffened. Suddenly, Hero's life with Derrek flashed before his eyes. It wasn't his trauma-induced flashback, it was a normal one that made him angrier by each passing second. He saw himself submitting helplessly to Derrek's control, feeding his ego. After passing all the nightly murders, Hero was greeted with a different future vision.

He and Derrek were talking in his room, his uniform and carpet stained a dark brown due to all the bloodstains. He saw himself much more colder and stoic than he was now. There was a constant sneer on his face, and whenever he spoke, his usually smooth voice was raspy and rough around the edges, as if he had not spoken in years. He could not hear the talking, his Future Vision have not perfected yet.

He found himself backing up, hands up in pathetic surrender as Derrek suddenly picked up the rifle resting on his desk. The barrel pointed directly at Hero's forehead, and Derrek pulled the trigger. His body crumpled to the ground, forehead absolutely destroyed by the bullet. Bits of brain and blood decorated the wall and floor nicely, the general laying still with wide cold eyes. Derrek prodded his body with the smoking rifle, before disappearing.

It was silent, and Hero saw his supposedly dead body jerk his fingers. The bullet wound still wide and disgusting on his temple, his body sat up. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, as if waking up from a deep sleep. He watched his body stand up, before turning around and giving Hero a nice view of his eyes. They weren't his regular blue, or even new white. They were Derrek's possessed eyes. Bright green, weeping black tears as blood from the bullet wound tricked down his cheeks, it was morbidly horrifying.

It flashed a bright white before he was greeted with the same Hero with green eyes. They still sobbed black tears, but a visible and not so pretty bullet wound scar laid on his forehead in display. He was wearing his blue general uniform, but Markus' red royal robes were draped around his shoulders. Markus' crown was placed delicately in his mess of brown hair, as he grinned sweetly down at scarred and fragile soldiers who kneeled at his feet. Hero watched as his once fearless now trembling soldiers kissed his boots. The silence was broken as the vision Hero spoke.

"Your general was oh, so very gracious. He gave me this body to rule you all. Just think of what he had to sacrifice for your lovely king to be here."

He started tapping the bullet wound on his temple, and the shoulders winced.

Stop standing there! You've been still for three full minutes. Get rid of this stupid final obstacle and you'll find your true strength, I promise-

Oh, shut up.

He could feel Derrek's shock and anger.

What? What did you see in your future-

I told you to shut your mouth, didn't I?

The future vision had made Hero see what would happen if he allowed Derrek to continue this game. He then promised himself that he would do everything in his power in order for that foreseen future to not happen.

Excuse me-

No. Nope. Nej. Net. Fuck off. Get your crusty ass hair out of my head and a few galaxies away from me. You've been in control for way too long, ¹jävel. ²Gå ut härifrån."

What-

Fuck. Off. Another word and I will rip your dick off and sew it to your elbow while shoving glass up your ass.

Hero welcomed the silence with a sweet hug.

However, he needed to convince the terrified brother of his that he was not going to kill him. Hero immediately kicked away all his weapons before meeting Markus' eyes. His heart twisted when he saw the pure fear in those amber pupils. They used to be full of admiration and brotherly love. Hero ducked his head, showing his shame for once. He knew Markus was confused at his display. He needed his brother to believe him.

So he cried.

It felt good to release all the pain he held in since the assassination mission. He broke out a choked sob, fat tears replacing the black stains on his cheeks. They plopped onto the soil in streams, as Hero shook and shivered with every gut-wrenching cry. His legs suddenly felt weak, and he fell to his knees. He laid his head in his hands, tears still seeping from between his fingers. He managed to choke out two words, heavy with sorrow and his slight Swede accent that broke out sometimes.

"I-I'm sorry."

He did not look up once as he sobbed. He heard feet crunch against the dead leaves and sticks on the ground as his brother walked closer. He shrunk into himself and jumped when he felt a warm hand caress his hair. He peeked from his fingers to see Markus crying as well, but silently as he carded his hands through Hero's tangled mess. He then bent down, sitting in front of his older brother, comfortingly soothing Hero.

He also then broke out a reply in his cracked and heavy voice. "You always did this to me when the storms were bad at home."

Markus knew that Hero was listening. He continued, "And when I got worried about you and father, you just combed my hair like this to reassure me. When I was stressed after planning the rebellion, you forced me to lay down. You did this too, to get me to sleep. Didn't you sing something as well?"

Hero wasn't sobbing anymore, but he was sniffing at random intervals. He nodded. He rubbed his tearstained hands on his trousers, weakly grinning up at his brother. He knew and accepted the fact that he looked pitiful smiling behind his tears. Markus just smiled back.

"Do you know what it was?"

Hero sighed, "Byssan Lull. Mother loved to sing it to me."

Markus laughed, "It's a little dark, isn't it?"

Hero nodded, now leaning against his brother, his forehead against his brother's shoulder. The combing has stopped, but Markus just laid his hand on his brother's head. If things were different, Hero would have snapped at Markus to get it of him, yelling something about 'taking advantage over his short height'.

"It wasn't you, right? It couldn't be."

Hero looked up at Markus with blank white eyes before shrugging. His brother flinched under him. Hero just replied gruffly, "It was. Partially. Someone told-no, forced me to do it all. I never intended to do it."

He hung his head, "At least not to the innocent."

Markus nodded absently before whispering, "Then I don't blame you."

Hero smiled, "Thank you."

It was relaxing. They were surrounded by destruction caused by Hero's hands, yes, but the two understood each other. Hero was glad he raised his brother right, to be understanding and fair. Hero felt as peace for once. He may have opened up to his brother, but not fully. He had just discovered the oddly sadistic side of himself, and he decided it was too early for that.

Hero found himself opening eyes that he never remembered closing. He raised his head groggily and heard it. Murmur of commands, answering voices in one. The familiar sound of military boots stomping. No, running.

He pushed himself to his feet, catching Markus' confused look. He then picked up his rifle, and ignored Markus' pained look as he cocked and raised it. Markus winced when it pointed at him briefly, before it raised to aim at the squad of his own soldiers also poised with their rifles at him. Markus had only begun to turn around and tell them to stop when Hero identified one of the rifles as a different gun.

Before Markus could start, the different gun jerked from being shot, and Hero watched the white dart fly to his shoulder, piercing his shirt and pricking his skin painfully. He lowered the rifle, grinning at how well-trained soldiers are. He made eye contact with a shocked Markus, catching the look of realization as Hero found his eyelids growing too heavy.

He collapsed to the ground before Markus could even scream.

○

He was shorter than before, he swore to himself. Hero found himself in a house that was dull and gray. Dust had collected everywhere, his feet leaving marks on the gray floor. He had reached the end of the familiar hallway before an all too familiar intercepted him, reeking the stench of alcohol and raising a broken beer bottle. Hero was a child again, and he was in his father's beer bottle range.

"Fuck."

Hero shot up and groaned at the fast motion. His stomach tried to keep up with his quick pace but failed. The general rolled to his side to vomit on the floor. He emptied what little his stomach had left before lying weakly on the dirty mattress under him. He murmured a charm to clean away the dirt and grime on his uniform and face. The vomit on the floor had disappeared as well, but Hero still carefully stepped around the area.

He looked around. Stone walls, a lone toilet and sink in the corner. An uncomfortable bed attached to the wall. Oh, those iron bars as well.

The dungeons.

Hero was frankly surprised why he wasn't executed yet. He dismissed the sadistic thought and made his way to the bars, poking his head out- benefits of being small -and looking at the other convicts he locked up in the past few years. Those who locked eyes with them stared in surprise before breaking into laughter. They then shouted and yelled on how the general was now a 'stinking prisoner in his own castle'. Multiple prisoners joined in the unpleasant chorus of laughter.

Until Hero punched the wall and it shook. The fire on the torches blazed and glowed brightly in his anger. The prisoners gasped and retreated to the back walls of their cells, looking away from Hero's blazing white eyes. Hero retracted his hand and watching the bruising disappear in a few minutes. He then reached out to his ear, but frowned at the slight chip there after a bullet shot through it. The cut on his leg because of a bullet graze had healed, but left a nasty scar.

After looking himself, Hero noticed that even more scars had accompanied the childhood ones. His glamour had fallen, and Hero could see all the scalds, scars and scrapes his body has been through. It was so nasty that Hero had to bite back another round of vomit. He then turned to look out the small window of bars that allowed him to see the outside. Multiple fully armed soldiers were pacing outside. They looked much more serious than he had ever seen them before. Some of them were bandaged up, and looked a little frightened. The panicky ones stole glances at his cell windows regularly.

Hero sighed and turned, he couldn't teleport out. He still felt weak after that huge round of using his... Powers. He could only make it to inside the castle walls, but there was no doubt it was heavily guarded after his outburst. He was also unarmed and outnumbered. He couldn't escape, at least not now. He did doubt the latter a little, they should be discussing his public execution date.

They never did public execution, as Markus deemed it wrong. Hero knew he committed crimes no Minecraftian criminal has ever done before, so he would be an exception to the public execution, of course. He had always been an exception. Hero couldn't help but feel like he was going to be just like his father, hanged in public because he hurt who he (used to) love. Hero just sat on his bed, waiting for soldiers to bring him to his death. He appreciated the silence of Derrek, he seemed to be gone, for now at least.

The general raised his head at the rustle of keys. He waited for the swinging gate, the shutting and footsteps. He did not hear the next rustle of keys though, and looked up fully to see his brother on the other side of the bars.

"So, when is it?"

His brother looked puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

Hero frowned, rising to his feet to lean on the bars, his arms folded. He repeated a little more harshly, "My execution."

Markus did not wince at the tone, but at his words. He looked away and Hero could see his brother's Adam's Apple as he gulped. "In a few hours," he muttered.

"You didn't try and cover me, right?"

Markus raised his head, "No! I'm so sorry, Hero, but I couldn't-"

"Good."

Markus sunk back, "What?"

Hero rolled his eyes, even though it was ineffective. "If you did try to cover me, you'd be joining me with rope around your pretty little neck."

Hero knew he was cold and harsh, but not like that. Never to his brother like that. It seemed to roll of his tongue naturally though. Markus seemed to notice, but did not ask him about it.

"Hero?"

The ex-general hummed in question.

"Aren't you... Worried? Scared?"

Hero was quire for a second, before shaking his head. Markus looked appalled, and was about to protest until Hero cut him off, "It's expected. I suddenly murder hundreds of the innocent and got caught. Of course I would be executed in public. No doubt that the entirety of Minecraftia wants me dead."

"But-"

"I killed Darryl, Markus. I was about to kill you too."

Markus looked pissed now, and Hero was a little shocked to see such pure fury. "Because you were under the influence of someone else, you told me!"

Hero snorted, dismissing Markus' anger and pacing around his cell. "Tell the public that and see whether they agree. They would never believe you. In fact, they would want me to decapitated in public because I 'brainwashed' the king."

He paused. "Just accept it, Markus."

"I don't want you to go." The ex-general turned to look shocked at the sincerity and sorrow in that voice. Markus' eyes were shining under the flames of the torches, he was about to spill. Hero just smiled weakly, "Markus, it's you against everyone else. Majority wins."

Markus looked hopeful, and Hero almost whined at that pure look on his brother. "What about you? It can be us against the world, Hero. It had always been that way, right?"

Hero was quiet. Markus grew anxious. "R-Right?"

Hero just looked at him from behind his messy hair. Markus knew those eyes were pure white, but he could feel the intense gaze of his older brother.

"I want me gone too."

○

Markus had left a few minutes before the actual guards would get him. Unfortunately, the king was expected to watch the execution, as the people would be suspicious if he did not turn up. Hero saw his little brother hold in his tears as he left. In a matter of minutes, the sun had begun to set and three guards had arrived. They never stopped to salute their superior, as he had turned out to be lower than a peasant. They tightened his wrists behind his backs with the standard handcuffs. Two led him at his sides, their rifles close to their chests. The third one has the barrel of their rifle rested on Hero's back, pushing him along.

Maids and butlers in the castle avoided looking at him, hurrying with their duties. As he was led through the entrance and out to the city, he saw Markus in royal robes and in his crown entering a carriage. They would be waiting at the public execution area, the very center of the North. Markus looked at him with dull eyes, and Hero saw the redness under his eyes. He had been crying. Hero sighed as he was shoved into a metal carriage pulled by two horses. He sat alone in the back, bars separating him from the two guards in the front, sitting down and murmuring to each other.

The guard led the horses to the area, and Hero was unceremoniously shoved out of the carriage. He saw Markus surrounded by guards in front of the execution stage. A executioner stood in a cloak hiding their face, a black bag in his hands. That black bag would cover his face as he was hung. It was odd to see his murderer. Of course, there was a huge crowd of angry civilians, some raising torches, celebrating his capture and oncoming death. Minecraftia would be one less murderer. They cheered, Markus casting his eyes away as Hero voluntarily walked up the stage. The guards behind him gulped as he passed and stormed forward.

He was led to the square platform outlined on the floor. With a pull of a lever, it would swing, leaving him to choke on the rope that was hanging prepared for him, waiting. He turned to stare at the executioner, who jumped, but stood their ground. He turned and looked at Markus, who looked devastated. The surrounding guards raised their rifles, ready to protect the last trustworthy Persson. It had slowly begun raining, how dramatic. Guards rushed to shield the king's appearance from the weather.

The executioner took the rope hanging behind Hero, and carefully fitted it around his neck. The crowd's cheer grew louder, overjoyed that he would soon choke to death. The annoying tickle and ache of the rope bristles tingled his neck, and he rolled his head, trying to get rid of it. The executioner raised the bag, but announced in a gruff voice, "Any words from you, your highness?"

Hero did not turn to look at Markus this time. He knew Markus had declined. He could still hear the rampant thoughts going on his brother's head.

It didn't have to be this way. I'm so sorry. Please don't do this. I don't want to be here. I don't want to watch. You're all I have. I love you, you were and always will be my hero.

It was heartbreaking. Hero suddenly felt bad. His brother would have to watch his last family member be choked to death by his own people. By those who worshipped him. Hero suddenly hated the tickles of the rope bristle even more now. He hated the outline of the trapdoor under him. He hated the black bag. He hated himself. He hated the crowd. He hated the executioner. He hated he rope around his wrists. He wanted to escape.

His eyes raked over the crowd menacingly, and his eyes ventured to an alley. Something white and glowing stepped out, and Hero felt odd positivity flow through him. He saw the unicorn he had seen a few weeks ago. It raised its head behind the crowd and seemed angry at them. Hero stopped a smirk. It then made eye contact with him, brown beady eyes staring hard. It's wistful and lovely voice filled his ears.

You're almost there. I told you I would be watching you. You're a fully trained young soldier full of energy. You are also a wise tactician, even if you do not reach your brother's standard. Think hard, think cautiously. You are not meant to end now. There are dozens of people to meet. Places to go. Lessons to learn. This would be the last you hear of me, as I was sent to watch you only temporarily. After this, you will be able to make your own decisions well. Have fun, my angel.

"Any last words, monster?"

Hero cocked his head and sighed, the crowd growing quiet as they wanted to hear what the murderer had to say. They leaned in as he opened his mouth.

"You pronounced 'Herobrine' wrong. Close enough though, A for effort. Also, there's another murderer in the crowd."

Markus looked confused at the name, and Hero found himself puzzled too. He absolutely hated the name. He regretted saying that, now Minecraftia would refer to him as so. Dangit. Also, while everyone gasped and turned to look at each other, trying to identify the non-existent second murderer, Hero felt his wrists grow warm. The fire he summoned in his hands burnt the rope to ashes, and he swung his elbow to connect with the executioner's face. The executioner fell off the stage grunting.

Everyone's attention turned from the crowd to him as Hero held out his hand, and a nearby soldier's rifle was summoned harshly from his arms and into Hero's. He cocked it and pointed it at the crowd, smirking.

"Just kidding, he's right here."

Markus had allowed himself to smile a little, impressed with this new attitude of his brother. He grunted as guards pulled him behind them, and watched his brother closely with a small smirk. Civilians screamed and the crowd parted, running to safety and away from the rifle's range. Guards pulled Markus away into the carriage and towards the castle, the king looking displeased as he left the party early. Hero turned to the soldiers and smiled sweetly.

"Where's your salute, cadets?"

All of them winced, but quickly got their rifles up. They were too slow for their superior, as Hero summoned up a shield, deflecting bullets. Hero tossed the rifle away, deciding to explore how far he could push his powers. Holding out his hands, he grinned as a massive fireball formed, dancing on his fingertips. Laughing at the guards, he threw the fireballs at their feet, not aiming to harm them but distract them. As fire separated the two, Hero turned and bolted. He ran towards the walls, separating him from the forest. He heard guards rushing after him, shooting blindly. He snorted and reached the wall, jumping and scaling it. Nearby guards in the guard towers were alerted and raised their rifles, but as they ran from the shelter, their smooth heels on their boots slid against the wet stone floor, and they fell.

Hero could have laughed.

But he was busy escaping. Wet strands of hair clung to his forehead, thunder and lightning filling the silence and sky. Rainfall drenched his military shirt and trousers, and he thanked all the gods that he was wearing combat military boots that had no heels. His dog tags shook around his neck as he ran along the slope of the forest. Guards were trying to catch up behind him. He heard one particularly loud shot, and gasped as he recognized it as a sniper rifle sound. There was always at least one sniper at the guard towers.

Following the sound, Hero felt the familiar yet excruciating pain of a bullet entering his left leg. He let out a yelp as his boots slid on a stone, and he fell. Loud thunder filled the air as Hero rolled down the slope and collapsed against a tree harshly. His temples hit the tree badly, and he groaned. His shot leg dragged behind him, and he tried to move his good one.

And he felt something sink down on his good foot, impossibly piercing through the extremely tough material of his boots. It snapped down and Hero heard it click into place, refusing to let go. The pain was unbearable and he swore it snapped bone. His hand immediately went to his mouth, his fangs sinking into his palm as he suppressed a scream. He did not want to give away his location. Blood seeped from the bullet wound and his hand. There was blood everywhere. He forced himself to raise his head and growled at the sight of a bear trap around his foot. It was horrible. It really did tear his boots, and one of the spikes had gone right through, meeting the second spike at the bottom. Most of the blood had come from this mangled mess, and Hero clutched at the grass in pain.

A bullet mark, a bear trap breaking his foot and two long canines stuck in his hand.

It was all too much. Hero looked up the slope, and saw multiple guards pass his area, frantically asking each other where he went. After a few minutes and ensuring he was far away from them, he tore his hands away from his flesh and screamed. Rain splattered onto his open wounds, and the pain increased tenfold. His quick recovering powers would not be able to save him from this. Hero pushed himself to sat up, and as he dragged the bear-trapped foot, he screamed again. He had forced himself not to cry, and just seethed as he leaned on the tree trunk. He was covered in grass, leaves and sticks, drenched, bleeding out, and had both legs disabled. 

He threw his head back, his loud growls battling the thunder. His arms were shaking, clutching desperately at whatever he could grab. He pulled on grass, tearing the patch of flora under him. His fingers started to ache from the desperate pulling. He did not dare move his legs, and just breathed harshly. He would not make it.

His sensitive ears picked up a a sound and his nose picked up a peculiar scent among the pattering of rain and scent of blood. He rolled his fingers into fists and growled menacingly at the rustling bushes not too far away. He saw a large shape appear from the bushes.

A spider.

It was abnormally large, and had a distinct pattern from a regular and cave spider. It's furry body was multiple shades of black, gray and dark blue. Several pairs of red glowing eyes seemed to stare at him with... Recognition?

He still snarled and snapped, "Stay away from me!"

He did not want to be found mauled by a spider while a bear trap and bullet was stuck in his legs. The spider hissed lowly, but not in hostility as it crept closer. Hero shrunk back out of instinct, and howled at the pain sent up both this legs. The spider halted and stared him up and down. Slowly, the hulking form of the spider glowed and Hero looked away from the bright light. He turned back to see the spider gone. In its place, was a young man. He looked a little older than Hero, and was dark-skinned, almost hiding him in the dark green shades of the forest at night.

Under the light from lightning, Hero could see his dark brown skin and black locks of hair. They were long and rested on the side of his face as the other part was shaved. He caught sight of two long fangs overlapping his lower lip. The man was obnoxiously tall, and looked rather lean and muscular. He was wearing a black vest over a purple button-up. He wore a little loose black pants topped with brown boots. They looked quite worn out and dirty. What caught Hero's attention was the eyes of this rather handsome man. They were like a spider's. They were crimson red and glowing, with black slits across them. They seemed to stare down at Hero, but he could see shock in those captivating eyes.

Hero still pressed himself against the trunk, trying to put distance between himself and this man. His eyes widened at what the man had said though. His voice was gruff, but somewhat relaxing to Hero's ears.

"Who did this to you, Princess?"

□

Translations:

1. Swedish: -motherfucker.
2. Swedish: Get out of here.