*Drip.* *Drip.* *Drip.*
Rain fell in a persistent, steady rhythm—not as heavy, but relentless—soaking Zoe's already worn body. Each step demanded effort, the cold biting into his limbs and slowing him further.
"Right. Not like their Minecraft curses… No… their—damn it."
After what felt like hours of trudging, he arrived back where he started. His only reward: a narrow escape from death. Collapsing beside a stump, Zoe's breath came in shallow gasps, his body numb.
A gust of wind cut through the silence—thud. He turned. An arrow had embedded itself into the stump. From the haze emerged a skeleton, rigidly drawing another arrow from its shoulder-slung quiver.
"I just can't catch a break, can I?"
Zoe dove left. The next arrow grazed his thigh, a thin crimson line immediately blooming.
"HSS—Of course. Fine. Let's just end this."
Summoning what little strength remained, Zoe charged the skeleton, tackling it. The jagged arrow in its grip slashed his skin as they wrestled. Seconds dragged on as he slammed his fists into its skull.
"Just die."
*Crack.*
"Die already."
*Crack.*
"I SAID JUST DIE!"
*Shatter.*
Gasping, Zoe slumped beside the fractured bones. Rain pattered on his upturned face. Eventually, he dragged the remains back to the stump, laying them beside him.
"Let's see… A worn bow, a quiver. Not terrible."
"One arrow. A few bones."
Inspecting the skeleton closely, he noted gaps in the skull and other missing parts.
"Could've been worse."
"Exactly."
"When am I ever wrong?"
"True… haha. Ha-ha~."
His laughter echoed into the chunk—no people, no animals, no monsters—only wind and the fraying threads of his sanity.
"All right, enough. Time to think."
He examined everything—checking for fractures, even inspecting the shattered skeleton. Cracks appeared on every surface.
"Pretty useless, huh? Still—use what you've got."
Trying to stay optimistic, he brainstormed possible uses. The bow? Ineffective against skeletons. He set it aside. That left the bones.
"What can I even do with you? Bone meal. That's it."
"Yes, exactly."
Clutching the bones, he turned toward the stump—but hesitated. They were intact, not pulverized.
"Damn. Even cracked, they're whole. I've got to crush them."
He spent minutes trying to break them with brute force, to no avail. Surveying his surroundings: only grass stretching into the horizon. No shelter. No tools. No shirt. Barefoot. Pants in tatters. Just as he was about to give up, a new idea surfaced.
"They don't have to be powder—just broken enough to nourish the stump."
He ground the bones against the stump and earth, pressing and snapping them until they fractured. He carefully scattered the pieces around the base.
Then he waited. One minute. One hour. Nothing. No chemical reaction. No apple. Not even growth.
"Well, that's disappointing. Maybe an apple grew?"
He checked. No apple—but four folded green leaves were emerging.
"Let's see, from when I ate it to now… one day?"
"Yeah, let's say one day. So maybe a week to grow."
As he calculated the growth cycle and his likelihood of survival, reality set in—grim and sharp. One apple, barely sustaining him. Then he remembered the branch he'd planted. It was gone.
"No surprise there. Time to explore more."
He checked the stump and both branches once more before grabbing the quiver, arrow, and bow, and set off—this time, heading right.
*Splash.* *Splash.* *Splash.*
"Mhm, maybe the tree's in danger from the rain."
A flash of panic rose, then fell. He could do nothing—unless he wanted to lie over it all day. But he needed to explore.
"Leave it to chance. If it dies, I'll just find a new one."
Hours passed. Grass, hills, more grass. Eventually, a brief rest. Then more walking. Then—finally—something.
"That's… Yes. Something."
He bent down and picked it up. A rock. Relief and joy lit his face.
"I missed this. I can do so much with a rock."
His mind raced: tools, shelter, maybe a furnace. Even if he had only one item to cook, it would be better than raw.
"Wait… this isn't a block."
"Shit."
Snapped from his excitement, he scanned the terrain. Hills, grass, dirt… and the rock in his hand.
"How did I not notice? Nothing's a block—it's all… like real life. Shit. Fuck you!"
He stomped furiously, dirt and pebbles scattering. Eventually, he collapsed, exhausted.
*Huff.* *Huff.* *Huff.*
"Just deal with it. That's all you can do."
He got up and gathered as many rocks as he could carry, beginning the long walk back.
*Crunch.* *Crunch.* *Crunch.*
As night fell, a clatter sounded—an arrow whizzed past. He turned. A skeleton. Another arrow flew from past him from behind.
"Two skeletons. Shit."
"Let's get this over with. I can test my aim."
Dropping the rocks, he reached for the lone arrow—then remembered it was useless. He dove right. Another arrow struck where he'd been.
"If arrows won't work… how about a rock."
He seized the largest stone he could wield and charged. Tackling the first skeleton, he smashed its skull with the rock, ignoring the slashes across his skin—until a sudden stab in his back.
"Hiss—shit, I forgot. Two skeletons."
With a sharp inhale, he rolled, confirmed the first was dead, then charged the second. It met the same fate.
*Huff.* *Huff.* *Huff.*
"Always out of breath. Let's finish this."
*Yank.*
"Ouch—huff hate huff that part the most."
He pushed through the pain, collected the rocks, and walked back to the stump. Coming back, one skeleton remained intact; the other dissolving into red particles.
"Even that's implemented, huh."
*Sigh.*
The second skeleton began to dissolve too. Quickly, he touched it—and its items. The decay stopped, but they weren't restored.
"Great. Another problem."
Ignoring it for now, he gathered everything and stacked it.
"Now what?"
*Shiver.*
"Huh? Why's it so cold?"
The temperature plummeted—from breeze, to chill, to near freezing.
"It wasn't like this before. Why now?"
*Sneeze.*
Thinking fast, he inventoried his supplies.
"What do I have? Bones, wood, bow… right!"
He broke a piece from the damaged bow and tried to start a fire. No luck.
"Start, damn it. Start!"
Then he remembered.
"Right. I can use the rock to drill a hole in the good bow and use it as a fire starter."
Several failed attempts later, a spark caught. Then it died. Then another spark. Finally, a flame.
"Okay. Okay, good. Let's make it bigger."
He fed the fire with broken bow pieces until it produced warmth. The sixth day passed without incident.
Zoe awoke to clear skies. No rain. He checked the branches—one had a bud; the other, more height.
"So, four or five days to grow fully."
"Mhm. Now that I think about it, rocks and skeletons didn't show up until day five."
"Great. New stuff every five days. It's day six now. What next—a creeper?"
A shiver ran down his spine. Teeth clenched.
"No, wait. Could use the gunpowder."
Regaining composure, he looked at the broken bow and worn quiver.
*Cough.*
"Right. I need water. But no fire source. Nothing to purify it."
An idea formed. He grabbed rocks, placed them in the quiver, then scooped up water. Poking a hole in the bottom, he shook it to filter.
A few minutes later, the water was marginally cleaner—still tasted like dirt, but drinkable.
"Blah—really need more wood or something for fires."
After organizing his supplies, Zoe headed left. More rocks. No skeletons. The back-and-forth exhausted him. He collapsed near the stump and slept.