The darkness settled fast—faster than Steve expected.
Inside his tiny wooden shelter, he pressed his back against the wall, listening. The night outside felt alive… hostile… wrong. Every sound carried a threat. Every silence felt even worse.
Hiss…
That sound again.
Steve's breath caught. It slithered across the air like a warning. He peeked through the small gaps between the wooden blocks. Two glowing eyes stared back at him from the darkness.
Square. Green. Unblinking.
He didn't know what the creature was, but his instincts trembled with fear.
Don't open the door.Don't go outside.Wait. Survive.
Another noise sliced the silence.
Clack… clack… clack…
Slow, heavy footsteps. Something was dragging itself across the ground. Steve's heart pounded as a tall shape lurked near the edge of the trees. Long limbs. Purple particles drifting around its body like smoke.
Steve whispered, "What are those things…?"
The creature twitched its head.
It heard him.
Steve stumbled backward, his foot hitting a wooden block. The noise echoed in the tiny shelter, and the creature outside froze. For a moment, everything went silent.
Then
THUNK!Something hit the wall.
Steve jumped.
Another impact. And another.
The shelter shuddered. The wooden planks creaked under the force.
"Okay… okay… think, Steve… think!" he muttered.
He didn't know how he knew, but suddenly the thought rushed into his mind:
Craft something. Anything. A weapon.
He dropped to his knees and placed the wooden planks in front of him. His hands moved on instinct, arranging shapes he didn't understand. In a flash of light
A crafting table appeared beneath his fingers.
Steve froze.
"What did I just do…?"
There was no time to question it. The monsters outside grew impatient. Scratching. Growling. Waiting for one weak moment.
He frantically placed pieces of wood onto the table.A stick.Another plank.A shape formed
A wooden sword materialized in his hands.
He stared at it, shocked. A simple weapon… yet it felt like hope.
The wall behind him cracked again.
This time, a green blocky face pushed halfway through.
Its mouth opened.
SSSSSSS
Steve didn't think.
He acted.
With a desperate shout, he swung the sword. The blade hit the creature's face, and in an explosion of smoke and particle fragments, it vanished.
Silence swallowed the night once more.
Steve collapsed to his knees, breathing hard. His arms trembled from fear and adrenaline, but he was alive.
He looked at the wooden sword.
"Tools… weapons… crafting…" he murmured.
Every moment in this world triggered a new instinct. New knowledge. As if the world itself whispered the rules into his mind.
He wasn't just surviving.
He was learning.
And for the first time since waking up…
He felt something else.
A spark.
A challenge.
Steve stood up, gripping the sword tighter as the creatures growled outside.
"If this world wants a fight…" he whispered, "…then I'll give it one."
The first night wasn't over.
And Steve wasn't done fighting.