Herobrine, a figure of stark black and crimson, limped down the path. His white eyes, cold and calculating, missed nothing. The pain in his side was a dull throb and he was bleeding from the head, a testament to the rebellion's unexpected success. Yet, his face remained impassive. A silent watcher lurked in the shadows; a new challenge had emerged from the ashes of the old. The "god" was wounded, but the game was far from over..
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