"Remember me!" I shouted. Tears flowed down my face. I stood amongst my comrades, my sword at the ready. My enemy stayed silent, staring through their cloak. A pair of white eyes started to glow.

"Pitiful man… I have already forgotten." The sound of a laugh echoed through the halls.

"…" I stared silently, a determined look on my face. "Your blood shall be on my hands."

"Silly boy, gods don't bleed."

I never was appreciated. The lowlife, the outcast, the useless one. Every time I needed to get into shelter, I was shut out. I burned to death every day. All that was left for the player to take was some flesh. I was considered the worst out of all the mobs, the least useful. I was shunned for my effort. People laughed at my loneliness. I never felt anger at the others, nor did I accept my fate. I just sat there and cried. I cried every day, and I cried every stormy night. I finally decided to ditch this "Steve", and traveled. I traveled far, and died many times. I finally came upon a village, glowing in the soft night. I could hear chatter. The reaction I got when coming in was less than satisfactory.

"It's him! The Deathbringer!"

"He'll suck our brains out!"

"And feast on our hearts!"

"Hey, I don't-" My response was cut off by the sound of doors shutting. There was one girl sitting on the edge of the street. I walked over to her. She looked up. I looked at her face, making the judgement that she was 17, two years younger than me. "You all alone?" I asked.

"Yes… Everyone here treats me like a reject."

"That's not fair!" I responded.

"It kinda is. I am a rejected piece of code. I am Herobrine. A failed chunk of these worlds. I lay around, hoping someone will accept me. Your name is Zombie, correct?"

"I am a zombie, but I go by Zach. Both have Z's, so it's easy to remember."

"Ah. You can call me Hera." She smiled.

"Certainly. Have any head garments? I burn in daylight."

"Ah! Okay, here." She gave me a leather hat. It was my first gift.

We went on to become great friends. We understood our loneliness, our plight for recognition. We sympathized, and became greater friends. We stayed that way for 2 years. One day, however…

Steve came to town. He wanted to steal the villagers' crops. He saw me… and killed me. He ripped the flesh off me in a brutal display. After returning, I reassured Hera that I was fine. Something snapped within her. She never came out to see me. A year later, she returned to town, muttering about "killing the new king Steve." However, she was much different. She never spoke to anyone, and never showed compassion. She received weapons and armor through trade. She left town in the direction of King Steve's castle. I followed her steps. She did the deed. After Steve was dead, permanently, she ruled. She changed the world into an iron-fist dictatorship. I was sulking one day, partially broken, when the mobs came to me. They told me that I stood the greatest chance in fighting her, thus ending her rule.

She was very different. We saw her sitting upon her throne, wearing an emerald hued cloak.

"Remember me!" I shouted. Tears flowed down my face. I stood amongst my comrades, my sword at the ready. My enemy stayed silent, staring through their cloak. A pair of white eyes started to glow.

"Pitiful man… I have already forgotten." The sound of a laugh echoed through the halls.

"…" I stared silently, a determined look on my face. "Your blood shall be on my hands."

"Silly boy, gods don't bleed."

I rushed in to fight her, pickaxe vs sword. We fought in an epic struggle, resulting in many nicks and scrapes on me. When she pounded me into the ground, I thought I was done. However, the unexpected happened. All my allies attacked her at once, leaving her vulnerable. I got up, and held my sword above her damaged body.

"…" I sat there silently.

"…" She sat there silently.

A drip of blood splattered on the ground.

"I used to love you…"

The sound of a sword hitting its target was echoed throughout the entire building.

"Game over."