Chapter 17

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Mitch's POV

I lazily trudged into my bedroom as the TV played, not wanting to see what the dark sorcerer was up to in the world.

My back flopped against my mattress as I allowed myself to lay down.

The room was dark, thanks to the drawn blinds and closed door, making it hard to stay awake.

Just a small nap, no harm in that right? I thought, adjusting the pillow under my head.

My eyes closed and the comfort of unconsciousness welcomed me as I drifted off.

When I awoke I was no longer in my soft bed, but lying on my back in a field.

A blocky field.

Minecraft. I'm back in Minecraft.

A diamond sword rested a few blocks away from my hand as I sat up, a quiet moan forcing it's way out of my mouth.

"Finally. You're awake." an all too familiar voice groaned in mock annoyance from behind me.

My lips twisted into a scowl as I grabbed the sword and jumped to my feet.

The other stood not even five blocks away from me, his white eyes glowering with amusement.

"You know, I've waited a long time for this opportunity." he muttered, nonchalantly cleaning his sword.

"To what? Kill me?" I shot back, raising my sword.

The other smirked his signature insane smile and nodded. "In the most agonizing way possible."

I rolled my eyes. "If you think I'm just going to let you kill me without a fight then you're mistaken."

The other chuckled darkly. "That's what I want to hear."

With a low, inhuman growl, he lunged forward, his sword aimed for my chest.

I blocked it with ease and swung at his back.

He twisted around and quickly blocked my attack.

"Your swings are weak and predictable, Mitchell."

I glared and went into a defensive stance. "And your words mean nothing to me."

He scoffed and swung at my head.

Yelping, I jumped to the side.

The other grinned and pointed his blade at my chest. "You're pathetic, Mitchell."

I growled and lunged forward, plunging my sword through his stomach.

A strangled gurgle escaped his throat as he fell to his knees.

"Remember, Mitchell, things aren't always as they seem." The dark sorcerer's voice echoed in my ear as the other's face seemed to twist and turn in my vision.

I blinked a few times and gasped.

The other was no longer the person on his knees with a sword through his stomach before me.

It was Connor.

I screamed and fell to my knees next to him, ripping the sword from his stomach.

Next thing I knew, I was almost jumping out of my bed.

My breathing was heavy, my clothes soaked in sweat, as I swore loudly.

It was a dream. Just a dream. Not real. It's not real.

The Outbreak; Sequel to The PlaguePrzeczytaj tę opowieść za DARMO!