Herobrine's Message Read online

  DEDICATION

  To my mentor,

  Kyoshi Chick Gavitt

  (1967–2015)

  With great respect

  EPIGRAPH

  “Everyone sees what you appear to be. Few

  experience what you really are.”

  —Niccolò Machiavelli

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  PROLOGUE

  PART I: THE MISSIONS BEGIN

  CHAPTER 1: The General’s Request

  CHAPTER 2: The Missions

  CHAPTER 3: The Mushroom Purge

  CHAPTER 4: Spies and Hunters

  CHAPTER 5: The Return of the Voice

  CHAPTER 6: The Seeds of Hatred

  CHAPTER 7: The Black Hood

  CHAPTER 8: Breakout

  CHAPTER 9: The Faces of Evil

  CHAPTER 10: The Potential

  PART II: THE DUSK OF HOPE

  CHAPTER 11: The Encounter

  CHAPTER 12: The Common Ally

  CHAPTER 13: Herobrine

  CHAPTER 14: An Unexpected Return

  CHAPTER 15: The Legacy of the King

  CHAPTER 16: Darkness from Above

  PART III: THE ULTIMATUM

  CHAPTER 17: The Free Ones

  CHAPTER 18: Underground

  CHAPTER 19: The New Plans

  CHAPTER 20: The Last Chance

  CHAPTER 21: The Battle of the Adorian Village

  CHAPTER 22: Return to Nocturia

  CHAPTER 23: Prelude to War

  CHAPTER 24: The Battle of Element City

  CHAPTER 25: Fighting a Myth

  PART IV: HEROBRINE’S MESSAGE

  CHAPTER 26: Endgame

  CHAPTER 27: The Message

  CHAPTER 28: Return of the Heroes

  CHAPTER 29: The Last Battlefield

  CHAPTER 30: The Duel of the Gods

  CHAPTER 31: The Two Cities

  EPILOGUE: A Promise Fulfilled

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  Back Ad

  About the Author

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  PROLOGUE

  A faint breeze blew through the Great Wood, rustling the leaves of the blocky trees that ringed a small, unassuming knoll. It had been months since Stan2012, so new to the world of Minecraft, had stood at the precipice of Spawnpoint Hill, in awe of the cubic world around him. By all accounts, very little had changed since then. The trees still stood tall, dark, and ominous. The hill was still dotted with patches of overgrown grass, and the occasional patch of red and yellow flowers. The squared-off brook still trickled lazily down the hill, passing by the opening to a bottomless ravine.

  However, the server was now drastically different from when Stan had first entered it. On this day, the sky was a dull gray, and the air was charged with the onset of a storm. A roll of thunder crashed in the distance. A light drizzle of rain began to fall as the gentle gusts of wind shook the boughs of the leaf blocks in the trees. The midday sun was unable to shine through the clouds above, and the sky cast barely enough light to see.

  Then, all at once, a figure appeared on top of the hill.

  A streak of lightning crackled in the distance, illuminating the figure for a split second. The figure held nothing in his pale, blocky hands. He wore navy-blue pants and dark-brown shoes, while the upper half of his body was covered by a black cloak. The covering extended upward over his head, obscuring his face from view.

  This figure was known by many names. One of them was the Black Hood.

  The Black Hood took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. He held out his blocky hand and opened it, allowing the rain to cascade over his outstretched palm. He relished the feeling as all his senses slowly came to life and he, once again, felt the sheer wonder of existing in the realm of Minecraft.

  Oh, yes, the Black Hood thought, euphoria spreading throughout his entire body. It has been far too long since I have been in this game. I had forgotten just how it feels. It is so good to be back.

  The Black Hood looked around. Spawnpoint Hill was completely deserted. The Black Hood was relieved as he hastily jogged down the hill and into the forest, taking refuge from the light rain. After all, he was not supposed to be here. If anybody found out about him, the Black Hood’s life could be compromised.

  The Black Hood sighed again, this time with determination. There was a reason that he had come to this server called Elementia. Though he had vowed to never again return to Minecraft after his last experience, the Black Hood knew that this particular server was in a state of horrible unbalance. A great evil had risen here, manifested in a power of untold strength. If this power should win the war now being fought, far more than the server would be destroyed. It might very well pose a danger to the game of Minecraft itself.

  The Black Hood knew what he must do. Although this unspeakable evil had spread throughout Elementia, a glimmer of hope still shone. Element City, the stronghold of justice and the spirit of rebellion in the world, was still alive, however weakened it may be. And as long as Element City remains standing, the Black Hood mused to himself, so too was there a chance that the people within may be reunited with the one single player who had the ability to lead them to victory over the great evil once and for all.

  I must move quickly, the Black Hood thought urgently. Although Element City will never stop fighting the invading forces of the Noctem Alliance, there will inevitably come a time when fighting is futile. And if that time comes before I can reach him . . . The Black Hood glanced down at his pale, blocky hand. It was imperative that he achieve his goals unseen, which may necessitate that he kill any witnesses he encountered. He would need a weapon to swiftly and inconspicuously dispose of anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path. With all his willpower, the Black Hood concentrated on his hand. He imagined the feeling of a diamond sword clutched tightly in his grasp, equipped with the highest of Sharpness enchantments. In a few seconds, the Black Hood could feel the hilt of a sword clutched in his hands, although it was not yet visible. He continued to concentrate.

  Just a bit more . . . he thought. Almost done . . .

  Then, just as the turquoise sword was materializing, there was a crash of thunder and a bolt of lightning lit up the sky, striking near the Black Hood. The explosion on the ground launched the Black Hood backward, through the air, and he came crashing to the dirt-block ground.

  Wincing, the Black Hood opened his eyes. He had lost all concentration, and the diamond sword was nowhere to be seen.

  Suddenly, another boom of thunder, louder than the last, screamed above him as the sky broke and rain came pouring down. The Black Hood whipped his head upward.

  This can’t just be a coincidence, the Black Hood realized frantically. He must know that I am here.

  This thought was followed by an earsplitting boom of thunder that reverberated through the forest. And in the midst of the sound, the Black Hood heard a very distinct voice ring out, not from anywhere in this world, but from within his own mind.

  REMEMBER MY LAST.

  The Black Hood lay sprawled on his back on the ground, petrified. He remained that way for a full minute, heart racing and breathing rapidly. However, when no more thunderclaps sounded throughout the sky, the Black Hood finally allowed himself to take a deep breath. Baffled, he looked up at the sky yet again.

  What are you trying to tell me? he thought as hard as he could, deeply troubled and puzzled.

  There was no reply, from either within or beyond the Black Hood’s mind. The only sound that resonated throughout the area was the constant patter of the downpour.

  Hmmm . . . This is most interesting . . . the Black Hood thought, intrigued. Coul
d it possibly be . . . that I cannot use my true power? Is that what you want?

  The Black Hood waited anxiously for a full minute, hoping for a reply that never came. The Black Hood sighed.

  Well, he knows that I am here now. This thought unnerved him quite a bit, as he realized the implications that came with this fact. He was now under the constant surveillance and scrutiny of something that had the ability to destroy him at a moment’s notice. The Black Hood was surprised that his presence had even been detected, yet he was even more surprised that he had not been destroyed because of it.

  I suppose, the Black Hood thought, that I am safe . . . for now at least. If he knows that I am here, but hasn’t yet destroyed me . . . I wonder what else I can get away with. I shall have to experiment with this more as I continue on my mission. As of now, however . . . it’s probably for the best to play it safe.

  The Black Hood glanced longingly at his hand. It would have been so simple if he could create his own diamond sword. However, it appeared that was one of the things he was not allowed to do; he supposed he would have to return to the basics.

  The Black Hood pulled himself up off the ground, and walked over to the nearest tree. He drew back his fist and sunk it as hard as he could into the wood-block trunk of the tree. Through the dim light of the rainstorm, the Black Hood noticed a small crack appear in the center of the block, and he continued to throw punch after punch into the block of wood.

  Look at me, the Black Hood thought to himself with an amused chuckle. Gathering wood by hand, just like a new player!

  It wasn’t long before the Black Hood had punched enough wood blocks to gather what he needed. It didn’t take him long to convert the wooden blocks into planks, and the planks into a crafting table. Minutes later, he pulled a wooden pickaxe off the table.

  The Black Hood smiled. This tool would suffice until he found time to invest in the creation of better materials. Now, however, time was short. The longer he waited, the further the Noctem Alliance crept toward victory. And if he failed to act, all would be lost.

  And so, pickaxe grasped in hand and a resolve of steel in his mind, the Black Hood turned to the west and began to walk, disappearing into the fog.

  PART I: THE MISSIONS BEGIN

  CHAPTER 1 THE GENERAL’S REQUEST

  It was high noon in the Far Western Desert. The sun shone bright overhead in the crisp blue sky, beating down on the heat-baked sand blocks. Two- or three-block-high cacti sprouted up from the tan earth and speckled the dusty landscape with green, while a few odd Creepers and Spiders wandered aimlessly across the barren wasteland. The endless dune sea was nearly as vast as the Ender Desert, and was far less traveled in this day and age. At any given time, the Far Western Desert contained just a few players, and they rarely stayed there for long.

  The average player on the Minecraft server Elementia would find it foolish to venture into the Far Western Desert at all. There was hardly anything to be gained from it and everything to lose in the hot desert sun. However, if a player were to make the long trek across thousands of blocks of sand, into the very epicenter of the desert, he or she would find a small cluster of buildings. The houses were centered around a gravel network of roads and constructed of wood planks, clearly indicating that, at one point in the distant past, this town with no name had been filled with NPC villagers.

  No villagers were left now.

  Instead, this hollow shell of a village had been populated by players, though they were not the type that anyone would want to run into. These players bore various scars across their skins, and would snarl and crack their knuckles menacingly should you be so unfortunate as to catch their eye. This was the type of town where an accusation over stolen iron or diamonds would start a fight that only one would walk away from.

  And there were a lot of diamonds and iron to fight over. Countless valuable items passed through this trading post of the desert in exchange for services of the underhanded sort, which the residents of the town were happy to provide. Just like the materials, though, the residents of this town never stayed there for long. This was the place to go if you needed a job done discreetly, so it was not a place where you wanted to be caught.

  This particular day started off typically. The sun shined hot, and there had already been various fits of bare-knuckle brawling among the players who were in the town.

  When the sun was at its zenith in the sky, a figure appeared on the horizon. As the others went about their daily business, the player slowly approached the town. And as he walked down the dusty gravel road, more and more of the ruffian inhabitants of the village seemed to be giving him a steely glance out of the corner of their eyes. He hardly noticed; he was sure that this desert wasteland had never seen a player as important as he before.

  The player was dressed in black pants and a black shirt, with a golden cloak draped over his head, flowing like a shimmering waterfall onto his upper body. His striking skin was hard to ignore as he briskly turned and headed into a large building on the main road.

  This building, which had once been the village library, had been gutted, the inside library furnishings replaced by tables and chairs. These were occupied by players laughing and shouting in raucous fashion, gulping bottles of QPO and SloPo as they did so. A long stretch of wood blocks created a counter that ran the length of the building. From behind this wooden strip, the bartender shouted out, asking if the golden-hooded figure would care for a drink. The figure gave no reply, simply waving his hand in rejection. After all, he was about to attend a meeting of the utmost importance to the cause of the Noctem Alliance. His mind could not be clouded by potion.

  As the figure looked around for his contact, he was momentarily distracted by the taunts, jeers, and general cacophony of a fight breaking out in the corner of the bar. The figure allowed himself a moment to watch as two thuggish brutes in tattered clothes locked their pickaxes. Soon an explosion of cheers erupted from the corner as one of the players slumped to the ground beside his pickaxe, and the crowd scrambled to collect his dropped items for themselves. The figure was slightly irritated by the noise, but he knew that it was by no means a bad thing—quite the contrary, actually. This was the perfect place to go if you didn’t wish to be overheard.

  As the rumble of the fight died down, the figure once again looked around the bar for his contact. It took a few passes before he finally locked eyes with a lone player, sitting across from an empty seat at a table amid the ruckus. This player was dressed in a relatively common skin, bearing the same body coloring as a spider. However, of the many eyes on the player’s face, only the two largest ones had a distinctly human trait to them.

  The golden-hooded figure walked over and sat down across from the player. He wasted no time in speaking.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you. They say you’re good at what you do.”

  The spider-player smiled. “And I heard that you might show your face around here again. Count Drake, I presume?”

  The gold-hooded figure faltered for a moment, but only slightly. He was nearly positive that this was the player he was looking for, but he had to be sure without a doubt.

  “I go by General Drake now, actually,” Drake responded evenly.

  The spider-player held her poker face; Drake couldn’t read her in the slightest. He knew that the time had come, and he reached into the folds of his shawl. From there, he produced an item, the head of a Creeper. He only showed it to the spider-player for a moment before immediately returning it to his inventory. Drake then glanced at the spider-player expectantly.

  With her face still locked into a steely gaze, the spider-player reached under the table. Drake focused intently on her hand, and watched as she produced her own Creeper head for a moment before returning it to her inventory.

  Instantly, the aura of tension at the table relaxed, and both players smiled. The two old friends had each revealed the unique items they had given each other the last time they had met, and both now knew they could talk freely.


  “It’s good to see you again, Arachnia,” Drake said. Then he smirked. “From what I heard, you’ve been pretty busy since I left.”

  “You might say that,” the spider-player replied, amused. “I have to say, Drake, it’s good to see you too. It’s been a long time. So, you’re a general now, huh?”

  “Sure am,” Drake said.

  “And am I to assume that this is a position you obtained somewhere other than under the command of President Stan?” Arachnia asked with a smirk.

  Drake chuckled. “Oh, don’t patronize me. You know perfectly well what I think of the illustrious Stan2012.” His voice was dripping with oily cynicism. “No, I’m now a general of the Noctem Alliance.”

  “Really,” said Arachnia, raising an eyebrow slightly. “You don’t mean that little protesters group that somehow managed to take over the entire server?”

  “That’s the one,” Drake replied, nodding. “I assume that you know what has happened in the Elementia mainland over the past month.”

  “Of course I do, Drake. You of all people should know just how much information passes through this settlement,” Arachnia murmured darkly. “Although I have to admit, it never did come to my attention that you were the one in charge of leading the Noctem Alliance to victory.”

  Drake looked humble. “Well, I helped, but to be honest, I was just following orders. All the people who truly led the takeover are dead now, and Lord Tenebris appointed me and a few of my colleagues in their places.”

  “Lord Tenebris . . . I assume that he’s the leader of the Noctem Alliance?” Arachnia asked.

  A ray of zealous awe crossed Drake’s face at this question, causing Arachnia to raise an eyebrow again as Drake replied.

  “Oh, he is far more than that, my friend. I would say more, but trust me, you’ll know soon enough.”

  Arachnia laughed. “I’ll take your word for it. So, what brings you out here, Drake? Surely an all-powerful general of the ruling organization of Elementia must have a good reason for trekking out into the middle of nowhere.”