Protectors Are For Weaklings (Completed)

Herobrine

Two heads swivelled automatically to the sound, and of course, they were mine and Markus'. I could see everyone else's heads cocked in confusion, and no one else were pointing in the right direction.

Markus just smiled. I froze, because that smile was directed towards me. Right on time was the only thing that I could hear from him. Did he mean that he had predicted this?

A sudden movement to my left alerted me to a player, dressed a little bit too similar to me. It was as if someone had designed his clothing to be identical to mine, but had forgotten the colours. He was absentmindedly doing a trick with a dagger, quite similar to the flips a person might do with a pencil in class. His deep blue eyes was the first feature my eyes fell on first.

But what was more remarkable was that he had no nametag.

Before I had a chance to ponder about this, a cry rang in the air, and I shifted as much as I could to be away from it. I've heard him scream before.

It was Phase's. How did he escape?

Even though I was far away, a red bandana caught my vision. You are confused. Mind if I shed a little light?

- - -

The pale ground told me right away that I was in the End, as well as the sky that would be unnatural if it were in the Overworld. My perspective wasn't clear - one moment I was perched on top of an indifferent hill of the pale Endstone, and the next somewhere else.

Endermen were dotted everywhere, as long as they were inside the ring of obsidian towers. The Enderdragon laid near one of them, as if soaking up power. It was almost too tiny to see... If there was an average mortal investigating. But I was no average mortal. Even if it almost escaped my attention, I could see a brown splatter against the Endstone, as if a person were standing there.

The perspectives never stayed long enough for me to decipher everything.

The next were two vials - one purple, and one black. The black one was smaller in size.

And finally...

There was no image, but only a sudden searing pain in my arm. The view melted away until I was back. Back at the arena.

I gasped, and Ethan was gone from where I saw him in the seating. In fact, everyone was gone, and rain was splattering against the high almost unseeable glass dome. The sound was unmistakable, though.

It must have not been long, though. The mysterious player was still at my side, and he was staring at me as if I had grown an extra arm. Or he could have just been staring at my eyes, I don't know.

"Are you... Are you okay?"

It was probably the most ridiculous thing I could have heard. Although, it was hard not to respond to that voice, no matter how pathetic the response was. "Maybe."

He seemed to be satisfied with it. I guess not everyone was gone. There were still a few stragglers.

"Do you think that your friend will survive?"

"I don't know."

There were a few side effects from him giving me those images that really didn't make sense. For one, I had a dull numbing that was slowly disappearing. Then I could feel what woke me up in the first place.

I touched my arm, and I could feel a pinprick of blood. It wasn't a stab wound, though. A single needle was littered on the ground, as if it were a last ditch effort to hide it.

"Steve!"

The order barked over the clearing, and the player raised his head almost automatically.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, but I ignored the confusion as I was knocked out. Again.