“He’s somewhere in the village,” Feyd asked, bowing his head respectfully and nervously.
“Bring him quickly, and do not make me wait. My patience is short.”
The enderman disappeared in a cloud of purple mist and quickly returned with the zombie king at his side, facing backward, a dark red hand on the zombie’s shoulder.
“What is the meaning of this?” the zombie bellowed as he reached for his sword. “Xa-Tul was inspecting the victory brought about by the zombies. Xa-Tul demands to be treated with the respect deserving of a conquering hero.”
“Be quiet, you fool,” Herobrine snapped.
The zombie king turned around and was surprised to find Herobrine there. Quickly, he bowed his head, trying to show enough respect to avoid the dragon’s temper.
“Now both of you listen,” Herobrine said. “That battle was pathetic. Their archers kept us out of the village. If I hadn’t intervened, then the NPCs would still be in control. We need something to neutralize their archers.” The dragon paced back and forth as his eyes grew bright, deep in thought. His mighty paws made the ground quake as he paced, but then suddenly, he stopped and turned his massive head toward his generals. “We need our own archers. We need the skeletons.”
“They still hide in their tunnels, Maker,” Feyd said. “The sniveling creatures are afraid of the User-that-is-not-a-user because of the Last Battle.”
“The Last Battle hasn’t happened yet,” Herobrine snapped, his eyes glowing brighter.
“But they do not know that,” Feyd said.
Herobrine growled, then turned and faced the zombie king.
“Your troops were pathetic,” the dragon said. “Since they cannot fight well, we have to make up for their shortcomings with numbers. You will bring more zombies here, to this spot.”
“But Xa-Tul emptied many zombie-towns to give you the army that you had,” the zombie king explained. “When the others learn of the losses at this—”
“Do not tell them of the losses!” Herobrine boomed. “Order them to come, or destroy them. You will take a company of my endermen with you. I know of the portals that connect all of your underground towns. Use the portals and bring all of them here. If any refuse, destroy them.”
“But how are we to survive up here on the surface?” Xa-Tul asked. “The End does not give us sustenance as it does the endermen. We cannot survive for long away from our zombie-towns.”
Herobrine growled, then closed his eyes. Concentrating deeply, he gathered his crafting powers, causing his front paws to glow. Reaching out, he plunged his clawed fingers into the pale End Stone. Slowly, an insipid sickly looking yellow glow radiated outward. Instantly, a tiny green dot formed in front of the dragon, and emerald sparks burst from it. When they landed on the zombie king, Xa-Tul smiled and moved closer.
Reaching deeper into the ground, Herobrine pushed his crafting powers harder until pure white spots formed on the End Stone as well. These tiny bleached circles instantly brought forth glistening white embers, similar to those of the zombie HP fountain, but completely white instead of emerald green.
Herobrine drew his hands from the pale soil and looked at his kings, an evil smile on his dragon face.
“Tell the skeletons there will be HP fountains up here for them as well as for the zombies,” Herobrine explained. “I have promised the Overworld to the creatures of the shadows. Here is my proof.”
Feyd chuckled, his own eyes glowing white with glee.
“Bring me my soldiers,” Herobrine added. “I want three hundred skeletons and three hundred zombies here within a day or I will be upset. And when I get upset, I might get the irresistible urge to destroy a general. Let’s see who disappoints me first.”
Flapping his mighty wings, Herobrine leapt up into the air, leaving his terrified generals on the ground below. As he rose, he watched his transformation wave stretch out in all directions, a sparkling purple and yellow ring moving at walking speed across the Overworld. Behind the lavender ring, everything was a beautiful pale yellow: trees, plants, pigs, cows . . . Everything turned to End Stone.
Herobrine laughed.
Soon, his transformation wave would engulf all of Minecraft, but he had to reach the User-that-is-not-a-user first. He wanted to be the one to destroy that foolish user. Herobrine had much to punish him for, and he didn’t want the transformation wave to steal from him the glory of Gameknight999’s destruction. That would not do at all.
CHAPTER 21
FINDING COURAGE
When Gameknight stepped out of the minecart in Crafter’s village, the warriors from the battle were all talking about The End, each tale becoming bigger and more terrible than the last. Tearful stories were relayed of friends and neighbors who couldn’t escape the poisonous tide of transformation. Silent statues now marked their passing.
Gameknight could see fear and uncertainty in their eyes, and he understood why. What they had witnessed was horrifying. Their friends had been transformed from living NPCs to stone in the blink of an eye, and all because of their enemy, Herobrine.
The image of that monster popped into his head; pointed teeth, razor-sharp talons, spiked tail . . . those blazing white eyes. Everything about the creature was terrifying and he reminded Gameknight of the bullies at school, especially Skorch, the big red-headed kid in eighth grade. He was so tired of bullies pushing him and his sister around at school, in the neighborhood, at the park . . . and now in Minecraft.
He’d had enough!
When Gameknight thought about facing Herobrine, his blood turned to ice. But he knew that if he did nothing, then the outcome here was guaranteed; all of these NPCs would perish.
I must help them, Gameknight thought, even if helping them means facing Herobrine and his monster kings.
Turning to the throngs of terrified NPCs, Gameknight found Crafter amidst the panicking villagers and moved to his friend’s side. Stepping up on top of a block of stone, Gameknight shouted to get everyone’s attention. They did not hear him. Placing another block under him, he rose higher, and with another block, even higher.
“Quiet!” he yelled as he banged the side of his diamond sword against the stone cubes beneath his feet. “QUIET!”
The NPCs all stopped talking and looked up at the User-that-is-not-a-user.
“I know what we just witnessed was terrible,” Gameknight said in a sad voice. “It was beyond anything any of us could ever imagine, but we cannot lose hope.”
Spreading his fingers wide, he reached up high into the air, extending his arm as far as it would go, then clenched his hand into a fist. A hundred villagers followed his example. Thinking about Herobrine, Gameknight squeezed until his knuckles turned white.
“We will not let Herobrine get away with this!” Gameknight finally said, his eyes filled with fiery rage. “He will be brought to justice.”
“But he’s the Ender Dragon. He’s too strong.”
“We should just run away . . .”
“Yes, he is strong, but we cannot run away,” Gameknight said. “Running away from a problem never solves anything. It will only make the problem worse. No! I say we face him again and again until we can finally stop him here, at our village.”
“But what if—”
“There is no ‘What if’!” the User-that-is-not-a-user cried. “There is only now! And right now, you all need to decide if you are with me in this or not.” Putting his sword back in his inventory, Gameknight jumped down and walked amongst the villagers. “I am going to fight Herobrine until he is defeated. What we’ve done already hasn’t worked. We’ve been trying to stop him with walls and swords, arrows and fortifications.” He paused to scan the crowd, looking for his father. “Dad, what’s rule number 2?”
“Rule number 2: If what you’re doing doesn’t work, try something different,” Monkeypants quoted.
“Exactly,” Gameknight said. “We realized now that we can’t fight Herobrine with just armor and swords; we need to try something different.
Just then, Digger and Herder entered the crafting chamber and stood on the long stairway that led to the floor. Gameknight looked up at the big NPC and clasped his fist to his chest, then bowed to him, apologizing again.
“I took Digger’s wife from him with my selfish griefing behavior, because I was a fool. I even griefed this village on numerous occasions, all because I was an idiot.”
“You can say that again,” Hunter added.
Stitcher gave her older sister an angry stare, silencing her.
“But there was one thing I was certain of back during my griefing days,” Gameknight said. “Do you know what it was?” He paused, giving the villagers time to think. “I was really good at griefing . . . maybe the best . . . the king of the griefers. I’m not proud of those days, but I know that I was better than anyone else at ruining PvP games, destroying castles, stealing stuff. I was the king of the griefers and no one could compete with me.”
The NPCs looked at each other, confused.
“Well, it’s time we put those old skills to use. It’s time we griefed Herobrine,” the User-that-is-not-a-user stated. “Dad, what’s rule number three?”
“When something is working, don’t change anything,” Monkeypants stated.
“That’s right. I know my griefing works, because I did things to people, terrible things, and always got away with it. Now it’s time to use my griefing for good, to turn it on Herobrine. I am going to grief him over and over until he is overwhelmed with frustration. Because of my griefs, he will be forced to slow his attacks to a crawl, giving us time to prepare for the final showdown.
“Now I understand that many of you are afraid. . . . I’m scared, too, but you can’t just run and hide. That transformation wave will eventually find you . . . find all of us.”
“Then how will you stop that wave?” someone asked from the crowd.
“I don’t know,” Gameknight replied. “But I am certain that if we just give up and hide, then we are doomed.”
The NPCs grew silent.
“If we do nothing, then the outcome is guaranteed,” Gameknight stated. “If we do something, then maybe we can change our fates. What I’m going to do is slow down Herobrine by griefing him every chance I get while those who remain here prepare the village and the castle.” He walked through the crowd, looking into the rectangular eyes of each scared NPC. “I know you’re afraid of that transformation wave . . . only an idiot wouldn’t be. I’m afraid of it too, but I’m more afraid that I might let all of you down and not be the User-that-is-not-a-user that you all need me to be. But if I do nothing . . . well, we know what would happen then, and that’s unacceptable.”
He looked up at Digger, who clenched his hand in a fist and pounded it against his chest. It sounded like thunder echoing through the crafting chamber. Herder did the same, creating another burst of thunder. Many of the NPCs looked up at the two villagers, but fear still ruled their minds.
Gameknight smiled up at his friends.
Pushing through the crowd, Stitcher moved to his side and she slammed her fist against her armor, turning to glare at the other NPCs.
“I know that I can give Crafter, Digger, and Herder the time they need to get this village prepared for battle. I cannot do it alone,” Gameknight said. “But if I must . . . I will face Herobrine on my own.”
“No, you won’t,” Monkeypants said as he pushed through the NPCs to stand at his son’s side. “There will at least be two of us next to you.” His father looked down at Stitcher and smiled at her, then clenched his hand into a fist and slammed it against his iron chest plate.
“I’m not missing the fun,” Hunter said, her fist pounding on her chest. “We’re with you, Gameknight999. And just so we’re clear, the only way you can not be the person we need is if you give up and stop trying.”
Gameknight smiled at his friend, then turned to face the rest of the villagers. He could still see fear filling their eyes—fear of the transformation wave and fear of Herobrine.
Gameknight sighed.
“Well . . . if you won’t help me, then—”
“NO!” cracked an aged voice.
Pushing through the crowd, Gameknight saw Farmer coming toward him. The old woman had been in the first village to fall to Herobrine’s army. She had lost everything to the monsters, and yet she was still here fighting.
Shoving her way forward, she stepped up to Gameknight999.
“Give me your sword,” she snapped, her wrinkled eyes filled with intense rage.
Gameknight drew his iron sword and offered it to her, hilt first. The old woman tried to lift it up over her head, but it was too heavy. Instead, she held it with both hands and raised it up as high as she could. The tip of the blade made it just to her shoulder height, causing the other villagers to step back.
With the blade wavering in her hands, she spoke.
“What’s wrong with you people?” she shouted at the villagers. “These monsters are going to take everything from you, your village . . . your loved ones . . . even Minecraft. If you need it, I will stand with you, Gameknight999. My sword will be there at your side, even if I can’t quite hold it up for very long.”
Her tired arms finally gave out and the sword clattered to the floor. Gameknight bent and picked it up with his left hand, then drew his diamond blade with his right.
“It’s OK, Farmer, I can hold your sword for you,” the User-that-is-not-a-user said.
Farmer moved in front of Gameknight.
“Then I will use my body as your shield,” she croaked in an aged, scratchy voice. “You will not be alone on the battlefield.”
The villagers looked at the old woman with shock and wonder in their eyes. Many of them nodded their blocky heads as they stared at Farmer, their fear replaced with pride.
A young boy Gameknight had never seen before moved forward to stand in front of Farmer, using his small body to protect the old woman. A planter then pulled out her hoe and stood next to Farmer, a look of grim determination on her face.
“You will not be alone,” Farmer said, slamming her fist to her chest. “I’ll be at your side.”
“You will not be alone,” said another.
“I’ll fight with you . . .”
“I’m with you . . .”
An avalanche of bravery crashed down upon the NPCs, all triggered by the withered form of an old farmer. With fists slamming against chests, the terrified villagers transformed themselves, by the strength of their will, from a collection of terrified individuals to an army of fighters, ready to battle for their freedom against an unstoppable foe. The chamber filled with thunder as fists crashed against leather, iron, and diamond. They all knew their chances of success were slim, but with the User-that-is-not-a-user at the head of their army, they all had something that Herobrine could not take away from them: hope.
CHAPTER 22
DESERT BATTLE
Standing on the sandy wall, Gameknight peered out into the darkening desert, watching for the predator that he knew was stalking him: Herobrine.
With the newly-energized NPCs, Gameknight and the villagers had emptied three more villages in Herobrine’s path and brought them all here to this village in the desert. He’d been preparing a massive grief against Herobrine. TNT and other traps had been distributed all around the village. They had labored for days, digging holes, running redstone powder, setting traps, and finally they were ready.
But these preparations hadn’t just been for the village. NPCs were replicating their efforts in the next four villages as well, creating a line of booby traps that led all the way to Crafter’s village.
To make his griefs as effective as possible, Gameknight needed the monsters so mad that they’d charge forward when they saw him. As a result, the cavalry had gone off to harass the enemy during its long trek ac
ross Minecraft. They attacked the monster army’s flanks and rear while NPCs set traps ahead of them. With tripwires and pressure plates tied to TNT and arrow dispensers, the traps hadn’t done a lot of damage, but that hadn’t been their intent. Their purpose had been to troll them, making them mad and careless. Based on the reports he’d received from the returning warriors, it was working beautifully. The monster army was now infuriated and wanted nothing more than to destroy every NPC they saw.
Looking out across the desert, Gameknight could see the last preparations being completed. Warriors were climbing out of trees that Treebrin had planted, while Grassbrin was finishing placing lines of dirt that would hold his long green snares. A wide moat was being filled around the desert village; the water, though only four blocks deep, would be wide enough to keep the endermen from approaching.
They were ready.
Looking to the west, Gameknight could see the sun’s square face start to kiss the horizon. Normally, the night would have made the villagers nervous, but this time, they wanted the darkness. Their pressure plates and trip wires would be harder to see.
Suddenly, a firework shot into the sky, exploding in a burst of green sparks that formed the face of a creeper. One of the monsters had stepped on a tripwire.
They were here.
“Everyone get to your positions!” Gameknight shouted. “Archers to the walls and towers. We’ll easily keep the zombies back from the walls, but be ready for the dragon. When he spits his purple poison and turns the desert to End Stone, that will be our signal to flee.”
Looking behind him, Gameknight could see pools of water all throughout the village, especially around the archer towers. Ladders took too long to climb down, they’d found, so instead the warriors would jump into pools of water to get down from their battle stations and run for the minecarts when it was time to retreat.
Another firework shot into the sky, this one bursting into a large orange sphere.
“They’re almost here. Get ready!” Gameknight shouted.
“I see them!” Stitcher shouted from the tallest archer tower. “They’re just moving over the largest hill and they are . . . oh my.”
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