➤ Chapter 1: "So This... Is My World Now?"
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The sky above was an endless, cloud-dotted blue. The sun hovered gently overhead, casting light on a landscape made entirely of blocks. Trees stood like sentinels with cubed leaves swaying slightly in the breeze. Grass rustled beneath his boots. The wind was silent, yet the world buzzed with the calm hum of nature—birds chirped, pigs snorted somewhere nearby, and the leaves creaked softly as if welcoming him.
Ehsan opened his eyes and blinked slowly. His heart wasn't racing. There was no sense of panic, no cinematic flare. Just... stillness.
He looked down at his hands—pixelated. Blocky. His fingers were stiff rectangles of color. He turned them, flexed them, and watched the simple animations follow his will. "I'm in the game," he murmured, almost laughing at the absurdity. "I'm inside Minecraft."
No HUD. No chat box. No sign of a server or mods.
Just survival mode.
He checked his inventory. Nothing but an empty 2x2 crafting grid. No starter tools. No bonus chest.
"Classic start," he whispered, smiling faintly.
In his twenty-one years, Ehsan had sunk hundreds of hours into Minecraft. From sleepy weekend builds to slow survival runs, he wasn't new to this. But being inside it? That was new. No instructions. No fanfare. No messages welcoming him to a server. Just the blocky world, as quiet and indifferent as ever.
He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with fresh, digital air. Then he muttered aloud, "Alright. First things first."
Punch wood.
He walked toward the nearest oak tree, one of several dotting a gently rolling grassy plain. The biome looked like a typical plains-forest border. Good mix of wood, animals, and open space. He started punching the trunk. Thump. Thump. Thump. The sensation was dull and muted, like hitting firm foam. The log cracked and floated in place for a second before popping into his hand with that familiar plop.
He gathered five more blocks, then crafted a crafting table.
The old rhythm returned without effort:
Four planks.
Crafting table.
Sticks.
Wooden pickaxe.
The first tool felt light and crude in his hand. It would break quickly, but it would do for now.
He glanced around. Sheep grazed nearby. Three of them.
"Perfect," he said. "A bed tonight."
He didn't like killing animals in the game, even when he was just a player on a screen. But this time, it felt more real. The sheep looked at him, blinking slowly with square eyes.
"Sorry, buddy," he said gently, before swinging.
Three wool. A few raw mutton.
It never got easier.
Still, he knew the rules. A bed meant safety. A respawn point. Peace from the phantoms. It was strange—those mechanics still mattered, even here. The game logic remained unchanged.
By midday, he'd gathered enough wood, stone, and food to get by. He'd even managed to find coal in a hillside deposit, the black veins running like fossilized fire through gray stone. His stone pickaxe clacked with satisfying rhythm as he mined. Small things felt rewarding. That was the beauty of Minecraft—progress, however slow, always felt like something you earned.
With stone tools in hand and a bundle of supplies, he walked until he found a shallow pond nestled beside a small hill, trees encircling the clearing like guardians.
"This'll do," he said. "Home."
Not yet, maybe. But someday.
He set the crafting table down beside the water. Then a furnace. He cooked the mutton while gathering dirt and shaping the landscape. He didn't want to live in a hole or box. Not this time. This world felt too real to rush.
Instead, he shaped a simple earth mound against the hill. Temporary. A single door would do. No windows yet. Just safety for the night.
By sunset, he had a bed made and placed inside his little shelter. The sky turned shades of orange and magenta, the light glinting off the pond's pixelated surface like scattered gems.
He stood by the water, holding a cooked piece of mutton, and stared at the sun as it sank beneath the horizon.
"I'm alone," he said quietly. "No one's coming. No chat messages. No portals. Just me."
But the loneliness didn't frighten him. Not yet.
He took a bite of food. The stars blinked into view, and the square moon began its slow rise.
He went inside, shut the door, and lay on the bed.
The fabric of the world dimmed. The night came.
And for the first time in this new blocky life, Ehsan slept.
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To be continued...
➤ Next Chapter: "I'm Not in a Rush to Escape"
Thanks for reading!