Chapter 3: Days of Stone and Silence
The sun rose gently over the horizon, bathing the world in soft orange light. Dew sparkled on the grass blocks, and a gentle breeze flowed across Tanvin Khan's small plot of land. Birds chirped quietly in the distance, and the gentle clucking of his lone chicken broke the morning silence.
Tanvin sat at the edge of the pond, legs dangling into the cool water. His fishing rod bobbed gently with the ripples.
[Day 4: Status — Hunger: 90%, Mood: Content]
He exhaled slowly, watching the square clouds drift across the sky. In the past three days, his life had slowed down into a peaceful rhythm: wake up, tend to the crops, feed the chicken, fish a little, and work on the homestead.
It was simple. And strangely enough, it made him feel alive.
Back in Bangladesh, life had felt so loud. Fast. No time to pause or breathe. But here, every hour moved at a steady, calming pace. No deadlines. No noise. Just wind, sky, and blocks.
The rod tugged.
He pulled it up in one swift motion.
[+1 Raw Cod]
He grinned and added the fish to the small pile beside him. "That's dinner sorted."
Standing up, Tanvin made his way back to the house—a sturdy cobblestone cottage now, with a small chimney and a fenced porch. The wooden door creaked as he stepped inside. His furnace was already burning with leftover coal from the night before.
He dropped in the fish and began to prepare breakfast.
Sitting on a makeshift chair—a stair block turned sideways—he chewed quietly, listening to the crackling fire and the sound of chickens pecking outside.
[You feel: Well-fed. Inspired.]
[Tip: Consider taming nearby animals for companionship.]
The message vanished, and Tanvin glanced through the window at the grassy field. He'd seen some wild cows and pigs roaming around the past two days. The idea of taming one... it didn't sound bad.
"Guess it's time for a farm expansion."
After breakfast, he grabbed some wooden fences, wheat, and a stack of cobblestone, then ventured out. He kept an eye on the animals, approaching slowly.
"Come on, buddy..." he said, holding wheat in his hand.
A cow blinked at him, sniffed the wheat, and followed.
[+1 Cow Added to Pen]
Then another. And a third. He fenced them in beside the chicken coop and gave each a name in his mind—MooMoo, Boba, and Tango.
"Yeah, you guys are officially the first citizens of Khanstead."
He laughed softly at his own joke.
The name stuck.
Khanstead.
It had a nice ring to it.
Back at the center of his land, he began laying down the foundation of what he imagined would one day be the town square: smooth stone slabs, arranged in a circle, with a few torches planted for lighting.
He added a small well in the middle using cobblestone walls and a bucket of water. Simple, but cozy.
[Achievement Unlocked: Hamlet Dreams]
[Reward: +1 Saddle, +1 Name Tag]
Tanvin's eyes widened as the saddle and name tag appeared in his inventory.
"A horse... I can tame a horse now."
He looked across the river where he'd seen a few wild horses grazing before. But he didn't rush. No need. There was something comforting about saving small goals for tomorrow.
Instead, he spent the rest of the day crafting a bookshelf.
He'd collected a few pieces of sugar cane and turned them into paper. With some leftover leather from cows, he finally made his first books.
[+1 Bookshelf Placed]
It sat proudly in the corner of his house, next to the bed and chest.
Tanvin stared at it for a long moment, then smiled.
"I know you're empty for now," he said to the shelf, "but one day, you'll hold enchanted tomes and stories of this place."
The fireplace crackled warmly as the sun dipped behind the trees.
He stood outside on the porch, hands in his pockets, watching the sky shift from orange to deep blue.
Stars blinked into view—square, just like everything else—but still beautiful.
He didn't feel lonely. Not really.
Though the silence sometimes echoed a little too loudly at night.
Lying in bed, he stared at the ceiling.
"Ammu(Mom), Abbu(Dad)... I wonder if you're looking for me," he whispered. "I'm okay. I'm safe. And I'm building something."
Sleep came slowly that night.
But it was deep.
---
The next morning brought rain.
It wasn't loud or stormy. Just a gentle drizzle, the kind that made the world look softer.
[Day 5: Weather — Light Rain. Crops Watered Automatically.]
He stepped outside, hood up, and watched the raindrops splash onto the stone paths.
The wheat fields shimmered with moisture, and droplets clung to the wooden fences. Even the animals seemed quieter today, nestled under their makeshift roofs.
Tanvin took the day slow.
He added a few torches to light up the area. Planted more beetroot seeds. Cleaned up some overgrown grass around his territory.
At noon, he brewed mushroom stew using a red mushroom he'd found under a tree.
It wasn't much, but it was warm and filling.
He ate it slowly, enjoying the taste.
[You feel: Cozy. Peaceful.]
He opened the chest beside his bed and started organizing it—stone in one row, tools in another, food in a separate corner. Neat, tidy.
Later, he began carving out a small basement beneath the house. Not for storage, just for the comfort of having a quiet underground place to think and maybe mine later.
Hours passed.
Rain turned to mist.
And as evening fell, Tanvin stood at the edge of his porch again, looking out at the soft blue twilight.
Khanstead was growing.
So was he.
Little by little.
Block by block.
And though he didn't know when—or if—he'd ever return to the real world, for now... this world was enough.
This peace was real.