Virus (A Minecraft Story)

Chapter 3

I stared at the carnage below in horror, eyes widening in disbelief and fear.
The others trotted up beside me, and gasped at the view below, the terror evident on their faces.
The village was in chaos.

The entire village, save the stone well and the castle in the center, was in flames.
The fire ate away at the walls and roofs, a terrible, raging inferno, and inside a couple homes, I heard the screams of helpless villagers trying to escape.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

About forty green-skinned zombies were storming the village, slamming their fists against the doors and marching after the villagers desperately trying to escape. Their dead black eyes, normally blank and lifeless, were full of gleeful malevolence, and they laughed in hoarse, scratchy voices as they watched the villagers fall.

What was even scarier than the hate in their eyes was the way they were marching, acting like a united fighting force rather than a disorganised mass of stumbling, growling flesh-eaters.
They each had a weapon, whether it be a sword or an axe or a very sharp gardening hoe.
They also wore armour, ranging from a couple of flimsy pieces of leather to full iron body armour, complete with a sword to match.

One of the zombies reached into a destroyed house and dragged off a screaming villager by his ankle, even as he clawed at the dirt and wailed for help.
I didn't see what happened to him.
I didn't want to know.

Those monsters should've burned, because none of them were wearing helmets, but standing directly in the middle of their swarm was a tall, slender zombie, his hands raised to the heavens like he was praying.

He had a proud, regal face set into a vicious snarl, his skin a few green shades lighter than his warrior companions. He had a golden crown with rubies set into it perched atop his head, and a cloak made of shadows was draped around his shoulders.

And, pouring from his hands like liquid water, were pitch-black shadows that writhed and twisted like black-skinned snakes, forming an ominous cloud of midnight over the village, keeping the zombies alive.

"We have to help them." I said, sliding off Snowfire and landing in a crouch.
Buddy jumped down expectantly, tail wagging, but I told him and Snowfire to stay, and they did so with extreme reluctance.

The others vaulted off their mounts, and each of my three friends drew their trademark weapons in preparation for battle.

The one most common fact about Realmers was that we could be wounded and killed, while the Users just kept coming back - respawning, someone had jokingingly called it.

But we had many things that the Users didn't - there were some things they left behind when they died, like iron, apples and certain other materials.

But there were also other things that they didn't have, metals and food and weapons unique only to Realmers.
We could, for example, create things from things the Users could get, like diamond, obsidian and netherrack.
But us?
We had things that were even better.

Loca pulled out his pair of modified gold pickaxes from the holsters in his belt; the part used for mining was so sharp it could slice clean through flesh and bone, and the handles were wrapped in a leather grip so he could keep a handle on them while fighting.

Ana had slipped out her fighting staff, a grass-green neon colour that drew all the attention when she fought with it. A blade snapped out of each end of her staff, which she twirled in anticipation.

Lyta had her sword in hand, the blade made from a combination of diamond and quartz that she had made and enchanted specially herself. She had a dark blue jewel set into the hilt, for reasons unknown to us, but it didn't affect her swordsman skills; in fact, she seemed even better with it in her hand.