The bottle fell to the ground and shattered. Not that its owner cared. The previous battle had taken a toll on his body, and he had barely won. The health potion he took was all he cared about, not its glass container. Devouring a loaf of bread, the warrior descended down stone-brick stairs, letting adrenaline subside. He closed his eyes and concentrated, picking out the energies of those on the battlefield. Hours ago, twelve of them fought to the death, in teams of three. Now only six remained, one of which his teammates. A flash in the scape of his meditation. Five remained. He was now the last of his team.
Opening the glowing white squares which gave him sight, he leisurely made his way to a nearby enemy. At the gate of the castle's entrance lay his next victim. The bleeding, dark gray figure didn't stand a chance, and they both knew that. Two red spider eyes closed, accepting death. As he snapped the Spider Queen's neck, Herobrine couldn't help but realize that he was imprisoned two days ago. Now he had a chance at freedom, not that he cared. A look at the Spider's crippling wound reminded him of the one reason he decided to be a part of this battle. A pretender, yet one who had done what he couldn't. The fallen brother's blood boiled at the thought of his nemesis. Then he smiled.
His vengeance was near.