Minecraft Short Stories

Shadow of Death

The heat of the Nether was intolerable at first, but he was born in it, after all, and he swiftly got accustomed to it again.

  Every time a ghast flew by, he would freak out, for fear that he was near, and had found him. But in the end, it was always just a ghast.

  The southern Nether was a quiet place, yet it was dark, without too much lava, and had a good distance from the Great Lava Sea, which he was grateful for. He didn't like fire. Not one bit.

  A good thing was that it was far enough from him. Herobrine's nether castle was in the north, and he moved to the south, determined to stay as far away from him as possible. The guy was like a damn cop, tracking down rogues with powers like him and making sure they didn't do anything too stupid, strictly monitoring their actions. Ever since that Entity 303 was erased off the surface of the world, Herobrine had redoubled his efforts, tracking them down. They had to try extra hard to stay hidden.

  Actually, Herobrine had once offered him a chance at working for him, but he turned the white eyed man down flat. He didn't really like working for others, especially not him, the guy that had been hunting him for a such a long time.

  The place he lived was almost devoid of any mobs. Good, less of them to report to their king.

  He spread his wings, the pure black feathers glinting dully, feeling the air. He flapped them, and they propelled him skywards. He unsheathed the twin swords on his back, and sped off, holding his swords tightly, the grey metal left a thin trail of smoke as he went.

  There was a portal to the overworld, and he flew towards it, his own private portal, tucking in his wings and diving into the black obsidian frame.

  The world changed, and he spread his wings once he reached the other side. One reason his portal wasn't discovered was that it was in mid air, in the sky. He soared, observing the world below him.

  He spotted a lone target, and he tucked in his wings and dived, the cool night air rushed past him, as he poisitioned his swords before him, forming an aerodynamic shape.

  His victim looked up only as he spread his wings to halt his descent, blocking out the night. Fear showed on the face of his victim, as the shadow of death descended on him, blotting out the moon itself.

  The blades flashed, instantly sending his soul flying from his body. He descended, as strength rushed into him. When he killed, his kills would provide him with energy. He didn't need to eat, but he needed to kill to stay alive, or else, he would slowly lose energy to anchor himself to the world of Minecraftia, and be erased permanently.

  He scanned the land for more victims, he was still hungry.

  He leapt into the air, descending silently upon his victims. Unlike Herobrine or Entity 303, he couldn't afford to be noticed. So he snuck around at night, reaping just enough lives to keep him going. He didn't like his life, leeching off others' deaths, but that was what he was made to do. And it was rather boring, really.

  He reaped a few more souls, until it was enough to sustain him for another day. He made his way back to the portal, until he heard a slow clapping that made him freeze. He hovered in the air, turning towards the person, just to find a man with snow white skin, and eyes the colour of dried blood, leaning against a tree.

  "Impressive," the pale man drawled in his cold voice," there he descends, like a shadow of death. Beautiful."

  "Who are you?" He asked in that hissing, raspy voice of his, and he was almost surprised to hear it himself, having not spoken for such a long time.

  " Where are my manners?" The man said," my name is Israphel, and all that matters is that I know who you are."

  "You know who I am," He mused," tell me, Israphel. Who am I?"

  "My, my, Azrael," Israphel chuckled," you really underestimate my knowledge, Angel of Death. I have been interested in you for a very long time."

  "Not interested," Azrael turned to leave, but found himself frozen in the air, unable to move," what..."

  "Now, now," Israphel rubbed his hands together," I still have not finished yet. I am here to offer you a role, an important one."

  " In case you don't have ears, I am not interested," Azrael scowled, still frozen in mid air.

  "Oh, I offer you revenge," Israphel said, playing with his fingers," and I am sure you will not regret it."

  Azrael couldn't say he was tempted," Alright, you piqued my interest. Upon whom?"

  "Upon someone who betrayed me and imprisoned me for five hundred years," Israphel's eyes smouldered, glowing bright red," and I am sure you aren't very fond of him either."

  "Spill the beans, who is he?" Azrael snapped. He, for one, wasn't a patient person.

  "I will give you a hint. Brown hair, cyan tee, purple pants," Israphel said," and lastly, those eyes. The legendary eyes of the void itself."

  The Angel of Death was seriously tempted.

  "I will leave it to you to decide," Israphel turned away," choose wisely, eh?"

  Azrael found he could move, and when he looked back at the pale faced man, he was already gone.

  Huh, now that was an offer he consider, and that would definitely make his life interesting.

A/N
Confused? This is a preview of what is to happen. I don't own the Angel of Death, I merely fitted him with the name Azrael.