Mind Hero

The hero trekked miles upon miles through valleys and canyons. He traveled through the harsh and unforgiving heat of the desert and the unbearable cold of the Arctic biomes. And when his feet were sore and bloodied and blisters he collapsed in front of the palace before him. A palace where the monks slept and meditated, and a palace where the sacred scrolls which documented history were held.

Upon entering the temple, he found it odd that there were no monks around. The crystal white floors and velvet curtain adorned walls were very welcoming, and yet the air smelled of rot. What looked to be a pleasant dwelling had an unusually dark atmosphere, and this made the hero wary. So wary in fact, that his posture straightened and his body tensed up. His hand curled into a fist as he moved ahead, craning his neck in all directions to get a view of the enormous place. He cracked his knuckles and approached the large alter in the center of the room. It stood on multiple stone blocks that had been smoothed out in the intense fires of a furnace. Several gold blocks stood on top of the stone to form a handle, and in that handle sat an emerald spear. The hero stood in place, staring in awe, admiring the emerald spear's majestic beauty. It was the greatest weapon he had ever seen. It had been masterfully crafted. As he stood there and watched it, he heard a squeaky voice from behind him. It was a voice he had never heard before, and its shrill voice was unmatched in high pitch.

"It's quite beautiful, isn't it," The voice said.

"Yea, it is," The hero responded. He had never seen such a perfect craft in his life. The Gem twinkled in the sun's rays, giving off an aura of pure radiance. With glee, the hero stepped even closer to it, staring even harder.

"You can't take your eyes off it, can you? Isn't it the most perfect creation man hath ever made?"

The hero agreed with the voice. It truly was.

"Well hero, go ahead. Why don't you pick it up? Why don't you inspect it for yourself?"

The hero's hands loosened, and his fingers curled around the smooth circumference of the spear's hilt. Carefully, he removed the spear from the shrine in which it had been placed and brought it closer to his eyes. The hard metal felt cold in his hands, and a chill ran up his spine. His heart beat against his chest as his breathing accelerated for a split second, and then slowed down once more.

"Good hero. Good... How does it feel to hold the greatest weapon in the universe? How does it feel Hero? Isn't it empowering? Do you feel the pure, raw, unfiltered energy flowing through your veins?

"Yes," was all the hero said in response. He did feel the unbreakable power running through him. Unwavering strength and might he possessed. He felt invincible.

"Now, Hero, aim the tip of the spear at your heart and strike yourself down. End your existence, and you shall become one with the spear. You shall become one with the beauty you so desperately want. Isn't this what you desire?"

"Yes, this is what I desire," Replied the hero. In a trance-like motion, he aimed the spear at his chest and prepared to streak. And with one last breath, he muttered something. Something faint and unheard to the voice behind him.

"What did you say, hero?"

The hero turned and looked behind him, towards the voice below.

"I said you're a damn fool if you think I'm weak enough to let a spear stop me from saving my people."

The voice let out a confused "Huh" as the hero ran towards it. As the hero lunged at the voice with a spear he stopped. There before him stood a monk, smiling.

"Good, you have passed the mental test. We needed to know if you could, because your powerful adversary can manipulate your mind with ease."

The hero looked confused and set the spear to his side.

"I could have killed you," The hero said.

"But you didn't," Replied the monk, smiling.

Within the blink of an eye, the monk snatched the spear away from the hero and stabbed it through his knee. The tip came out the other side of his leg, stained with the fresh blood of the hero. The monk then kicked the hero over and grabbed ahold of the spear's elongated grip, twisted is. As he twisted, the spear shredded and tore through bone and muscle. The hero cried out in pain, wincing and tearing up and he crawled away from the monk. And right before the hero's very eyes, the monk transformed. His new form wasn't much of a form at all. Pure black substance filled the monk's clothing and overflowed from every possible opening. The substance was similar to that of the one the hero saw in the nether. It was the evil's trademark feature. Again, the voice spoke.

"And yet, your mind wasn't strong enough to see through this."

The hero observed as the voice dressed in monk clothing pointed to the left. The hero watched as the mental projection the voice had displaced collapsed. The alter wasn't really an alter of gold at all. Dead monks were piled on top of each other, their jaws unhinged and completely ripped off.

You... Monster," The hero said, directing his voice towards the figure before him.

The creature cackled in its all too familiar high pitched screech.

"You're so pathetic and weak. How could anyone such as yourself ever claim themselves to be the hero of Minecraft? Hell, I don't even need a legendary spear to defeat you. I'll just rip into your throat and pull your insides out through their instead!"

The creature through the spear to this side and rushed towards the hero. It opened its palms to reveal a set of talons which looked to be capable of piercing through obsidian itself. And as the creature brought its hand forward to strike, the hero stumbled to his feet. He showed a faint smile as he blocked the blow with his hands. The talons tore through his palm and exited through the back, ripping chunks of flesh out in the process.

"What the..." The beast said.

Yet again the beast brought back struck with its other hand. Again, the creature's talons plunged into the hero's hand. Gritting his teeth to bear the pain the hero clasped his hands and arms shut, trapping the monster's talons. The monsters screeched in frustration. Even though it had no body, a hole in the darkness opened itself to reveal sharp fangs. It had to be the monster's mouth. It aimed directly at the hero's neck, but thinking quickly, the hero tilted his head forward. The teeth strike upon the diamond helmet, completely shattering them. The creature screeched and tried to pull away, but the hero had it in his grasps. Again and Again, the hero smashed the diamond helmet into the mouth of the best, denting and crunching its unviewable form until the black substance ruptured from its mouth and spilled everywhere.

As the last gargles and moans from the monster escaped its lips, the hero heaved his body over to the monks. He apologized to them for not being able to save them in time. The body count had risen, and the hero still blamed himself. Yet, he used the anger and sadness he felt to push him. To push him to stop the evil spreading through the land and save his people. On one of the monks, the hero found a potion of healing and the hero guzzled it down. He watched as the wounds on his hands vanished, and then he went to the emerald spear. He held it in his hands, firmly gripping it. He once again felt the power coursing through his body, his mind, his spirit and his soul.

Despite this power, he felt proud that he had ignored its pull and defeated his previous foe. He felt confident that through the trial of the mind he was completely unwavering in his loyalty and dedication to save the world. And as he exited the temple and stared out into the bright day before him, he saw the forest. A place of nature and life, filled with pure energy. But it was what he saw after that made him grip the spear tightly and run towards the forest. As he ran towards the shrubbery and foliage, he thought to himself one thought that he never had before.

What kind of fire is black?