Steve was panicking, he wasn't used to this, yeah, he played the game but being in one is different, it was blocky this one is realistic.
He could see the decay coming off the skeleton, the rotten flesh still trying its best to stay attached to it, the strange darkness that seems to consume light inside of its eyes.
He was used to seeing pixels not a skeleton coming back to life ready to hunt him, however he didn't have time to feel fear-the skeleton was already quickly turning around. Steve no longer being able to hide in fear switches his stone sword to his axe, jumping and slamming it into the skeleton's skull he visibly sees it get damaged.
The skeleton's skull now cracked turns around staring at Steve so intense he felt like his soul is being judged by it, drawing its bow in lightning speeds an arrow is launched towards him from the bow.
Narrowly dodging it from piercing his liver Steve's axe crashes down into the skeleton's skull once more, with a crit it nearly falls, feeling a rage flowing through him fueled by fear-Steve palms the skeleton's crumbling head with both hands and slams it into the wall.
It finally turning into white particles and disappearing into the aether. However, the fight between the two did not go unnoticed, the other undead who were still wandering around Steve's lawn now looked straight at him.
Steve counted the mobs and what they were, 'Four Skeletons, seven zombies, three spiders, and 2 creepers...' The horde of creatures came charging at him or readying their bows.
A spider and a zombie approached him first, shielding the spider lunge and slashing the zombie across the chest Steve has entered a combat mode.
Some would consider the state Steve has entered to be the 'flow state', everything flows in a perfect rhythm. Whether the zombie tried to attack him he would just kick it back, the spider trying to lunge again got an axe stuck in its head, and when more of the horde came closer, he went to one of the creepers.
'If I remember correctly creepers take 1.5 seconds of a player being in their range and eyesight for it to explode, the horde will make it here in 1 or 1.7 seconds, if my luck is good, it'll be around 1.2 to 1.3 seconds.' With his thoughts running at stupid speed due to adrenaline or something else Steve hatches a plan.
The horde now surrounding him and the creeper it begins to ignite, dashing just before it could finish exploding Steve uses his shield against the explosion. A zombie managed to smack Steve's arm before the explosion, the arm raising his shield, before the explosion goes off Steve's shield isn't covering his full body.
With a boom the horde is obliterated, however Steve is on the ground-his ears ringing like he was on a battlefield-it was partly true. His right arm is severely damaged looking like a burnt bloody stump, his right side of his face is damaged and charred, his right eye barely being able to be opened.
Screaming out in pain he's barely able to comprehend what happened to him, his one good eye is still scanning for danger around him as the lingering echoes of the blast resonated through the desolate landscape.
In fact, most of his right side is burnt and charred, with his shirt somehow perfectly fine despite a point-blank explosion.
Getting up using his sword as a walking stick, he enters his barely decorated house and starts leaning on a slab chair. Opening his inventory and getting some of his bread he consumes it, his injuries begin to rapidly heal once his hunger bar and saturation reach max, the process felt nice-way nicer than the feeling of his eye being nearly blasted out and his arm turned into a red burnt pulp.
Steve now fully healed finds himself hit with a wakeup call, he can't be careless like that, he had nearly died-with just a measly three and a half hearts left from the explosion. He needs armor, and he needs to not charge into battle with reckless abandon, or at the very least with a strategy.
Crafting a trapdoor and digging down through his base he begins to start a mine. "Just gotta keep on moving keep on pushing." Was the tune that Steve hummed to himself while he mined down, mining out a space for himself in his makeshift mine at Y level 12, the best Y level for iron.
Starting to use his trusty strip-mine technique Steve after six hours of continuous mining he ends up with a decent haul...
...
Steve's Pov
Well, that was something. After mining for hours, I got around 2 and a half stacks of iron, 3 stacks of coal, 48 redstone surprisingly, and 1 stack of gold.
The space from my mining trip could probably allow me to build an underground base, a decent house, maybe a mini city that has like 3-4 houses.
However, when I decided to go back up I couldn't because I didn't craft and place down any ladders. At first, I almost wanted to bridge myself back up-or see if I even could do that. Jumping up and then placing blocks fast enough would seem like a pretty big problem.
Eventually I just crafted ladders and placed them as I climbed up, when I got back into my home, I noticed how barren it was. I had a storage area and a smelting area, that was all besides the crafting table meant to be placed next to my nonexistent bed.
Smelting my iron, I began to notice how pitiful inefficient it was compared to an automatic smelter I used to build in previous worlds. Maybe I should build the automatic one, way more efficient than just doing it manually and it frees up time for other tasks I could do.
Organizing my inventory first than I began to make the automatic smelting array, with nine furnaces, eighteen hoppers, a redstone block, one minecart with a chest in it, and finally one double chest I made it.
"It's not the best, but it'll do the job." And with those words uttered by my mouth by myself. I began to plan, if I'm in this new world I should probably have an idea of what I want to do, right?
Obviously going to the Nether, The End, and killing the Ender Dragon our on my list of things but what else? The Wither seems a bit too dangerous for comfort, hell I might not even do the dragon if I have too, getting some totems of undying from the woodland mansion seems like a good idea.
Probably should also build an automated farm-what kind of redstone engineer am I if I'm still farming like a peasant? Though I would probably need an abundance of food if I am to thrive.
Maybe I should get an animal farm running, chickens would do nicely. Got I love me some chicken... Would it be burnt though?
...
Narration
As Steve began to ponder what he should plan and do he decided he needed to venture out into the world. His current dwelling, while functional for basic living, offered limited choices for him to do, trapping him and stripping freedom away from him.
Now crafting full iron armor and tools from his smelting array he breeds and shears his sheep, with his bed now crafted he feels a pang of laziness striking him. 'Maybe going to bed right now wouldn't be a bad idea, I can adventure tomorrow...' And thus, Steve collapses onto his bed, not even taking off his armor before falling entirely asleep.
He dreams of adventures yet to happen, him fighting a Dragon, the Ender Dragon clearly. Him dodging mystical purple fireballs that cause explosions whenever they come in contact with the ground or obsidian pillars, in his hands he sees a black sword and pickaxe.
Are those Netherite? As his subconscious mind processed the implications of such rare and powerful tools, the dream shifted, revealing a castle, one made of black stone and obsidian, guarded by what looks like Nether mobs. This formidable fortress, imbued with a palpable aura of dark energy and ancient power, seemed to defy the very laws of reality, its structure suggesting an architect of immense, perhaps even eldritch, capabilities.
Steve then begins to feel a profound sense of unease, something that feels familiar to him-wait, what took him to this world again? That glitched out Steve skin... Steve now in a somewhat limbo state between dream and waking world tries to influence it.
Yearning to understand what that thing was, he tries to grasp what lucid dreaming teachings he learned and the details of his beginning transmigration to this new world.
He after a while of struggling to even move in the dream realm, went into a state that of the spectator mode of the original game from this omniscient perspective, he could perceive the dream's architecture with unprecedented clarity, the mobs didn't notice as he passed by-though he felt like he was being watched.
Phasing through the walls of the castle he noticed things that weren't in the game, or the original one. Hieroglyphics of an ancient society seemly long gone-it details a man who seemed to be created by something, from the very fibers of this world and the sun and moon.
This man seemed blessed under the starlight and revered as a deity, with depictions showing him building and erecting monuments of great stature. Then there were more people like him, these seemly ancient builders who possessed the same abilities as he did.
Until one day that grand society went into a war, a civil war, kingdoms clashing and armies decimating the once-flourishing landscapes in their wake. All because of one man, the original one, he dared to harness power from beyond, from darkness, from a void.
Steve continuing on to observe this historical narrative unfold, perceived that this forbidden knowledge led to a calamity that ended this society. The once-vibrant civilization crumbled, leaving behind only ruins and the lingering echoes of a cataclysmic conflict fueled by an insatiable hunger for forbidden power.
Eventually the Gods came once more; to reset the world, the original man resisted the restructure. The man stood his ground but even he was just a demigod, only half perfection.
The Gods themselves tore him apart into pieces, scattering him across the lands, then there was nothing. The rest of the hieroglyphics just stop, it seemed as if no one came to finish the documentation of history, or maybe this was a religion.
Seemly now at the end of the hallway he stumbles upon a throne room, a hall in it of itself. Upon that throne is man, a man that looks exactly like Steve but, colder, sharper, and seemly older.
Steve's copycat sits upon his throne with his eyes closed, but with a faint glow seemly being held back by them. In his hands rests a stone sword, though it seems massive-much bigger than the ones he crafted.
Suddenly the strange entity opens its eyes, it has no pupils, instead glowing pure white orbs that swallow the rest of its eyes. The thing's face begins to change into a frown, a normal everyday frown that you would see from a regular person, this however in no shape or form is a normal person.
Grabbing its great sword it directly points it at Steve, even in this spectral state it can notice him, 'What the fu-' before he could even finish his thought the thing dashes at him.
Appearing right next to him before it pushes its great sword into the ground behind him. Steve feels himself... Falling? No, that was his upper half separating from his lower half, falling onto the cold hard stone floor Steve wakes up...
(Hopefully my spin on the lore is decent)