~~~(Pov: Caspian Darkwood)~~~
~~~~(Date: 57 AC)~~~~
Sand. Endless sand. No matter where I looked, there was nothing but sand.
I'd been under that scorching sun for half an hour now without seeing a single drop of water, a blade of grass, or the slightest hint of a village or human settlement. And honestly? I had no fucking clue how I'd ended up in this situation. I clearly remembered climbing into my Humvee on the way back to base when a blinding flash of light forced me to squeeze my eyes shut, and then…
I opened them again only to find my ass full of sand.
Sure, the landscape bore a strong resemblance to Iraq, but something deep in my gut told me I wasn't anywhere even remotely familiar. And since it wasn't night, I couldn't even use the stars to figure out my position.
How the hell had this happened? What was I doing here? It was obvious I was no longer in my vehicle—or anywhere close to my comfort zone—because, well, I was in the middle of a goddamn abandoned desert, for fuck's sake!
*Plonk!*
"Huh?"
Right beside me floated a small cube. Apparently made of sand. Exactly where I'd just punched the ground in frustration a moment ago. The… cube was floating freely, completely unbothered by my confusion or current state. About twenty centimeters off the sandy ground.
Look, as a soldier with over ten years of field experience, I've seen things. Done things. I'm not the kind of man who scares easily. I try to approach everything with calm and objectivity—because letting emotions get in the way during a firefight with the Lebanese would just get you killed.
"Yeah, I've finally lost it. I knew killing terrorists for so long would eventually mess me up," I thought. It was honestly the only logical explanation. A few hours ago I was doing my job as a soldier, not… wherever the hell this was.
Though now that I think about it, this floating cube looked familiar… Roblox? No, cubes didn't float in Roblox—or at least I didn't think so. It'd been years since I last played. Tetris? Nope. Geometry Dash? Definitely not.
"Minecraft!" I shouted out loud, as if I'd just cracked the key evidence in a murder case instead of figuring out why a floating sand block felt so damn familiar.
"Shit… Yeah, I've definitely gone insane. PTSD? I never thought I'd get it, but then again, someone who had it probably wouldn't admit it."
But still—the cube didn't vanish. Not even after I rubbed my eyes hard enough to see stars.
So, with nothing left to lose—well, maybe my sanity—I reached out to see if it was a mirage, some heatstroke hallucination from dehydration or too much sun. I touched the floating cube.
The instant my fingers made contact, it felt like a gust of wind brushed past it—and then the cube disappeared exactly the way it had appeared.
"That's it? So I am crazy?"
No… no I wasn't.
Because a few seconds later, an image appeared right in front of my retinas: a row of empty squares filling my vision. On the left, six smaller squares showed different tabs: a magnifying glass, a brick wall, a sword and helmet, a bed, a patch of grass with a flower, and finally a chest.
I decided to just roll with the hallucination. At least I recognized it now: this was the creative menu from the famous game Minecraft.
So I mentally "tapped" the bed icon.
The row of empty slots was instantly replaced by a long list of items, tools, and blocks.
The one that caught my eye immediately? The water bucket.
The moment I focused on it, I felt a new weight in my hand. Wanting to look away from the menu, I willed it closed—and it obeyed, letting me see the yellow hellscape again.
But that didn't matter anymore. My full attention was on the water bucket now in my right hand. It didn't look big—in fact, it was kind of see-through—but I could clearly see water sloshing inside. It barely weighed anything, just a slight cool sensation against my palm.
With my common sense already lying shattered on the ground, I hurriedly tipped the bucket and poured the water onto the sand.
*Splash!*
It worked. It actually fucking worked.
Right in front of me, a perfect source block of water spread out in a controlled flow, soaking the dry sand and sending a refreshing coolness up through my boots. The spot where I'd poured it kept flowing—like an infinite little spring—crystal-clear water filling a small pool in the ground.
Total relief for my dehydrated body.
Now convinced that at least some of this might be real, I opened the menu again and went to the sword-and-helmet tab. There were tons of items, but the one that made my stomach growl was the fully cooked chicken.
I hadn't eaten anything in the half hour I'd spent staring at my surroundings after magically appearing here, and the sun and heat had made me ravenous. So I did the same thing I'd done with the water bucket—selected the chicken.
When I closed the menu, there it was: a perfectly cooked, juicy chicken in my hand.
Without a second thought, I tore into the thigh. Tender meat, glorious flavor exploding on my tongue. I didn't even care that I was smearing grease all over my military uniform.
When I finished, I felt completely satisfied—but I also noticed the sun was at its highest point in the sky. No trees, no rocks, nothing to shield me from its burning rays.
But now that I knew I had access to the Minecraft creative menu—something I still didn't fully understand, but I sure as hell wasn't going to question the only thing keeping me alive—I decided to end this ordeal once and for all.
I pulled out wood blocks, stone blocks, and stone slabs. And I started building a small cabin to protect myself from the sun.
By the time I finished, the sun had passed its zenith—probably two or four in the afternoon. Knowing it wasn't smart to stay outside any longer, I stepped inside.
My creation wasn't huge, but it was cozy: a small kitchen, a dining area with four comfortable wooden chairs, two spacious bedrooms, and a storage room.
I knew I couldn't stay in this desert forever, but I also understood I needed to get used to this "power" first—figure out its limits, its range, everything it could offer me.
So, without putting it off any longer, I began exploring the menu in depth. I pulled out gold, diamonds, food, tools… I even took out a jukebox and started playing some chill music.
Everything felt magical. Items appeared instantly, only becoming tangible once I decided I wanted them to—like blocks, weapons, food, water buckets, milk buckets…
But when I reached one particular section, I stopped to seriously consider the implications.
Potions.
From the game, I remembered poison, strength, speed, slow falling, healing, regeneration…
And that's when an idea hit me.
If these potions actually worked the way the game said they did… I'd be filthy rich. There are billionaires out there with terminal illnesses who'd pay fortunes not to die. More than that—this could let me finally leave the military for good. I was tired of that life. Constant death, misery… All I wanted was luxury, comfort, and zero complications.
These potions could give me exactly that.
So, determined to test whether they really worked, I placed a Potion of Regeneration on the rough dining table.
I still had no idea where I was, but if these worked…
I went back into the weapons and armor section—and I was blown away.
In the game, armor covers the body, legs, feet, and head, but leaves the arms exposed. But when I pulled out a full set of Netherite armor and thought about equipping it… it instantly wrapped around me like a second skin.
I was wearing my military uniform underneath, but it didn't feel bulky or uncomfortable at all.
And the design?
Holy shit.
It was gorgeous—sleek plates across the chest, arms, shoulders, and hips. Matte black with subtle pale-gray runes and patterns running through it.
It looked magnificent.
(image)
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~~~~(Date: 57 AC)~~~~
And even though in the game Steve and the other characters looked pretty cool, those blocky sprites didn't even come close to doing justice to how breathtaking the real-life armors and weapons were.
The plate armor was covered in intricate engravings and glowing runes, whether it was iron, gold, diamond, or netherite. Even the simplest full iron set had this elegant, almost humble beauty to it, yet the moment I put the whole thing on it felt lighter than modern tactical gear and insanely comfortable.
The weapons were pure works of art. Every sword was a proper greatsword: long, perfectly balanced, with leather-wrapped grips, pommels and crossguards carved so finely you could spend hours tracing the details with your eyes. But the Netherite ones… God damn. That signature smoky, rippling pattern identical to high-end Damascus steel. When the light hit the blade just right, it looked like liquid shadow.
I removed the chest piece, then the left vambrace and pauldron. What I was about to do didn't need armor in the way.
I uncorked the Potion of Regeneration and chugged it in one go. Sweet, electric cherry taste.
Top-left of my HUD: a countdown appeared.
2:59:45 → 2:59:44…
Three hours. Good. At least now I'd know the exact duration, and later I could test if every potion lasted the same or if there were tiers.
But the timer alone already proved the potion was active.
Which meant I was ready to do something absolutely batshit insane.
The Netherite sword weighed maybe two pounds tops; it floated in my right hand like it was made of air. I set my bare left forearm on the table, palm up. The blade caught the lantern light and threw back a faint, ominous shimmer.
So yeah, I really had lost my mind.
But if this was a dream or some coma hallucination, the pain would snap me out of it, right?
No more overthinking.
I lined the edge against my forearm, took half a breath, and pulled.
*THUNK*
A wet, heavy sound as my severed arm dropped onto the wooden floor.
A million thoughts fired at once:
1. I barely applied any pressure. 2. This fucking Netherite sword was sharper than physics should allow. It sliced clean through muscle, bone, and tendon like they were warm butter.
Then the pain arrived.
It wasn't pain. It was the end of the world concentrated in one limb. A white-hot tsunami that started behind my eyes and detonated down the stump. I've taken AK rounds, RPG shrapnel, you name it; nothing, nothing, came close to this. My vision collapsed into tunnel vision, unshed tears turning everything into watercolor streaks. I think I screamed. I definitely screamed.
And then… movement.
Through the red haze I saw the stump twitching, bubbling. Flesh knitting, bone extending, veins and muscle fibers weaving themselves together in grotesque, hyper-accelerated real time. Like watching a comic-book mutant regenerate, except it was my own damn arm.
The pain spiked again, higher, impossibly higher, and the edges of my vision went black.
The last thing I saw before passing out was a brand-new hand, perfect fingers flexing at the end of a perfect new arm.
Then the world cut to black.