Beware the darkness

//•∆:｡.｡ 25 ｡.｡:∆•\\

Despite his fatigue, Herobrine did not refuse to go train with Steve. But this time with iron swords. Not well, but what? It's been two months since the start of training and it's time for him to show what he's capable of in a real fight. And by the way, he fought much better than before. Both guys noticed it right away and were both delighted. Steve remembered the gunsmith who made his first sword for him, who taught him the basics of fighting, primarily hand-to-hand. He remembered that village and those kind people who taught him farming, construction, foundry, and so on. It was the best time for Steve, which he would really like to return to. It's just a pity that he won't be able to anymore.… But he had already come to terms with it, even though there was still hope for the best in the depths of his soul. Herobrine, in turn, realized that his powers were at a critical level, and the darkness seemed to feel better. "R̠̒€̼̐t̼̿ü͍ͣr̪̈́n̞ͤ ̦́t͚ͦ0̝̆ ̙̋t͓ͣḧ͔́€̣ͪ ̥̆d͎͛ä͉̏r͎͋k̲ͣn̘̊€̙̊$͈̇$͚̀, — a strong call sounded in his head, — I have made a choice.  ̙ͧC̮ͪ0̪ͥṁ̞€̝ͧ ̜ͬb̦͑ä͙͗¢̭̍k̼͗. No. I'll be here. Go away! ¥̓ͅ0͕ͥu̫̔ ̺͋ä̝̇r̪ͤ€̖͑ ͍̅w̬͌€̘̐ä̦̎k̮ͫ,— at that moment Steve struck, which Herobrine blocked, — ¥͉̍0̼ͬu̟͛ ͇̓ä͈̂r̲ͩ€̻͒ ͓̓ȟ̲€͚̿l͔̈́₽̯̈́l̟̍e̪̚s̳̎$̲͆, — Steve struck a more unusual blow, which Herobrine fended off with a little difficulty, — ¥͖̄0̗ͮǔ̦ ̦̄ä̳̎r͔̔e̝̐ ̭̈ä̳̔l̰̒0̠̂n̹ͤ€̹̈́. I'm not alone. I'll never be alone! — Steve twisted the swords and tried to knock Herobrine's weapon out of his hands, but he reacted quickly and kicked back, but the first blocked it with his hand, after which both jumped away from each other, — B̯ͩū͔̉t͎̿ ̣̎¥̩ͣ0̫̉u͋ͅ ̰̎$͎ͥt̗͂i͎ͮl͓͗l̮̋ ̖̐f̪̉€̲͆€̹ͦl͙̋ ̦̃l͙ͧ0͉́n̪ͫ€̠ͨl̪̎¥̭̽, — the voice in his mind said plaintively, as if caressing, — T̬̀h͎ͦ€͖̇ ͍͒d͍ͦä̼̋ŕ̠k̘̽n̜̚€̳ͩ$͈ͫ$̰͐ ̬͛ṷ̄ͫn͍ͩd̞ͣ€̬̂r͈̓$̪ͬt̻̔ä̫͋n̩ͨd̰́s̯̐ ̯̍ý̘0͈ͭû̟͊.̦̀ ͉͗T̺͐h͈̋e͎ͥ ̻̾ḏͪä̩̏ȑ̯k͔̐ṉ͐e͇͗$͔͌$͍͒ ̘̇i̞̅$̟̏ ̻̃c̳ͫä̖̅l̜̇l̲̂ï̱͗n̜ͣ&̮ͩ ̟̈́y̱̏0̮̍ǔ̯.͉̂ ̾ͅ¥̪ͮ0̭ͪŭ̳ ̱̒w̤̿ï̪ͮl̦̐l̉ͅ ̹́n͈͑€̥̂v̯ͬ€̫̓r̘ͭ ͈ͪb̳ͧ€̰̍ ̟ͥt̫͛r͔ͤū̻̅l̼ͥ¥̜̍ ͚ͮṻ͚n̹ͣd̘ͨ€͔̑r̤̎s̠ͫt̞̔0̞̾0̳̓d̹̚ ̬̚b̯͒¥̪̒ ̲̓ä͖̚n͈̂¥̰͑0͕̀n̠̏e̤̓ ̤ͭ€̜ͥx̘̀¢̺̾€̙ͨp̻̚t͕̋ ̙ͪt̤͊h̙̒€̺͐ ̦̍d̩͐ä̭́r̝ͨk̫ͧn͔ͣ€̩ͬ$͉ͮs̥͛." While Herobrine was listening to that voice, he didn't immediately see Steve's punch. He dodged, but stumbled and would have fallen if the guy hadn't caught him by the scruff of the neck.

— That was awesome! Hey, how are you? — he exclaimed, sitting down next to her. You look tired.

Inside, the white-eyed man hated himself for his weaknesses and blunders. He wanted to scream with impotence and the memories that came flooding back. After all, ever since he got out of eight years of captivity, he had never let his powers fall below a certain level. He was always full of strength and energy, because he replenished his reserves every day from animals, undead and inhabitants of various villages. Now, the only source of his strength is Steve. But he had never taken anything from him yet. He didn't take it and he won't take it. Herobrine was very afraid that after learning his real way of eating, the guy would also think that he was a parasite. "I hate it. I hate you all so much": the white-eyed man thought, clenching his hands into fists, and then turned to Steve and said with his usual calm face:

— I'm fine. And yes, you're right, it was amazing. You're doing great.

The guy just beamed all over.

— I tried! Are you hurt? I saw you twisted your leg, I think.

— I'm fine, — Herobrine replied, getting up, — We can continue.

Steve agreed. In the second and further rounds, the white-eyed cleared his mind and forced himself to focus only on the battle. So they worked out for some more time, after which they decided to rest.