Legacy of Herobrine ✓

Chapter 35

There was complete silence. Shock and fear crackled in the air like a strike of impending lightning. Everyone gazed up at the one atop the horse in the gaping hole. Herobrine, Faolan told himself. Much less terrifying in dreams. Can't even believe I carry the bloodline of this guy.

"Leave us," Bridget shouted. "This is not your fight."

Somehow, she managed to keep the fear out of her voice. Herobrine smiled. "That, my good lady, you have wrong. This is very much my fight. I fight for what is right. Do you see your own ancestor on your side here?"

Bridget curled her lip. "He favors me."
"He sits upon his throne and looks down at you in shame," he retorted, likely rolling his eyes. "Honestly. He told me himself that you're as greedy for power as a sheep is for grass. I see you have lost many to this cause," he remarked, glancing around the battlefield, where piles of items and experience points lay.

"A cause that could benefit the world."

"And as blind as a bat. He said that about you, too. Where are your two deputies, I might ask?"

Bridget looked around, as if expecting to see them jump out of the crowd. Her look of confidence faded into that of surprise, but was quickly shielded with another of anger. "Dead." She snarled. "Now what are you going to do about it, o great Herobrine?"

He shrugged complacently. "What I do best. Balance it." Herobrine held up one hand and gave a long, piercing wolf whistle. There were a few whines from dogs, including Sapphire's own, and the mist started to solidify.

Well, not exactly. The mist-figures took the shape of people and mobs. They turned half-opaque, almost like Amia, but shimmering with a distinctive violet aura, like an enchanted weapon. They stood in ranks, holding misty weapons.

"What are those?" A Descendant from the crowd asked a little too loud.

Herobrine locked his glowing eyes on the speaker and said, "Spirits. I control the killed, the killers, and the ones about to be killed. Like you."

The wave of spirits flowed forward, taking the Descendants of Notch by surprise. The spirits were actual 100% solid, judging from how hard their blows landed.

Sapphire regained her senses first and ordered the blazes to open fire. Bridget focused her energy on deflecting their charges, while Kyle and her attacked her from the back. JP summoned a few bolts of lightning, but Faolan hesitated.

He was watching the fight intensely. Come on. Join in, he ordered himself, but found that he didn't want to move. This is the girl who betrayed you. Used you. Rage grew inside of him with every thinking word.

She pulled you from your life. She saved you, but only for her own good. She left Celeste there. She could have survived if they had taken her with them. She lied to you, pretended to be your friend. She imprisoned you and abused you. She doesn't care. She just wants your power. The mist seemed to turn scarlet and his grip on his sword hilt tightened. Your friends are fighting for you. They want her dead. You do.

So finish it.

Faolan moved forward, first in an unsteady walk, then into a full-on sprint. Spirits seemed to appear at his flanks, driving him on. He almost thought he saw a familiar wave of brown hair but it was gone in an instant. It gave him strength, even if it was a false thought.

He leapt into the fight, sword slicing fiercely. It hit skin and he felt a rush of content. Another slash, another. There was the CHINK! of force field collision, but it didn't matter.

Death mattered.

In his peripheral vision, he noticed Sapphire backing off. Kyle looked furious still, but he took a step back and let Faolan bear down on the traitor. Good, he thought. She's mine.

Finally, he managed to push her onto the ground. Her health was low, and a long cut ran from her collarbone to her shoulder. She stared at him, a bruise below one eye, her gaze filled with malice. He returned it. He knew what everyone wanted around him. To finish it.

Grip tightening again, he looked right into the hazel eyes that once held so much happiness and joy. Fake happiness. Happiness that was simply an act to get him to trust her.

And as he raised his blade, he thought that he saw the tiniest flicker of fear, like torchlight in the far distance.

He ignored it and brought his sword down.