The ability to break down the mighty Oak into perfectly cubic, inventory-ready Oak Logs (4) had given Steve a surge of confidence bordering on euphoria.
He was no longer a man; he was a game avatar.
"And game avatars needed gear!"
He dismissed the floating Cobblestone in his hand, letting it snap back into his hotbar.
He focused his will, bringing up the 9 x 9 inventory grid and the smaller 2 x 2 Crafting Grid that appeared just above his hotbar row.
This was the true test.
"Could the system handle complex transmutation, or was it just block storage?"
He mentally dragged one of the Oak Logs from his inventory and placed it into a square on the 2 x 2 Crafting Grid.
Immediately, the output box lit up, displaying four perfect, lighter-colored cubes: Oak Planks (4).
Pop!
He crafted all four logs, filling his inventory with sixteen planks. With meticulous precision, he then arranged four of these planks into a perfect square on the Crafting Grid.
The output box shimmered, showing a single, solid piece of wood: Crafting Table (1).
He materialized the block in his hand. It was roughly a cubic meter, heavy, and smelled strongly of fresh-cut wood.
"Okay, this is amazing,"
Steve muttered, placing the Crafting Table firmly next to his small campsite.
He now focused on the table itself. The moment he did, the interface changed.
The small 2 x 2 grid was replaced by the full 3 x 3 Crafting Table Interface.
"Now for the next step: sticks. I need to put two planks, one above the other, in the 3 x 3 grid."
The output box yielded Sticks (4).
He repeated the process until he had a solid stack.
Finally, the tools. He arranged the Sticks and Cobblestone (which he mentally harvested from the ground block he'd placed earlier) in the familiar T-shape configuration in the Crafting Table:
"Next… three Cobblestone blocks along the top row, two sticks down the middle column."
Output: Stone Pickaxe (1).
"Alright, two Cobblestone blocks on the top row, one in the second row, sticks below."
Output: Stone Axe (1).
When he materialized the Stone Pickaxe, the tool felt balanced and strangely ergonomic. It was made of the same rough Cobblestone texture, but the handle was smooth, sturdy oak. It looked like a child's toy, but he knew the truth: this was survival.
He looked at the dense forest floor—the dirt, the heavy stone that lay beneath it.
He had been digging small holes with his hands and the dull pocket knife to go to the bathroom. No longer.
"Time to dig."
Steve picked a spot ten meters away from his campsite, hidden beneath a cluster of thick ferns.
The plan was simple: dig straight down, create an initial safe bunker, and most importantly, find a resource that could reliably light his new home—Coal.
He equipped the Stone Pickaxe in his hand and pointed it at the forest dirt. The interface blinked: [BREAK BLOCK: LEFT-CLICK].
He maintained contact, and the Pickaxe, instead of bending or breaking, began to glow faintly with the translucent cracking pattern.
The dirt block beneath him, which would have taken minutes of painful scraping with his hands, dissolved in seconds with a sound like rapid shoveling.
DIRT (1) popped out, floating briefly before entering his inventory.
He hit the next block.
And the next. The work was tireless, but the effect was immediate and systematic.
He worked quickly, creating a simple two-block-wide shaft. He noticed that breaking the dirt with the Pickaxe was nearly twice as fast as breaking the log with his bare hands.
He was gaining efficiency, even if his HP (Health Points) bar (he noticed a small health bar now overlaying his vision) dipped slightly with each missed swing or strenuous movement.
After roughly an hour, he was eight blocks down.
The air grew still, the light faded, and the chill of the earth wrapped around him.
He had to pause every few blocks to place a dirt block beside him to create steps, allowing him to ascend.
At block twelve, he hit a stone. Real stone. It was harder, darker, and resisted the Pickaxe with a grinding, metallic scrape.
The breaking time tripled, and his focus had to be absolute.
CRASH. COBBLESTONE (1).
He continued mining the Cobblestone, block after block, until his inventory began to fill. His back ached, his lungs burned with the effort, but with every successful harvest, he felt the thrill of independence.
At depth twenty, the system rewarded his persistence.
He broke a Cobblestone block, and embedded within the dark gray was a fleck of black. When the block dissolved, two distinct items popped out: COBBLESTONE (1) and the shiny, black hexagonal prism of COAL ORE (1).
"Coal!"
Steve whispered, his voice echoing slightly in the narrow shaft.
He spent the next hour relentlessly mining every fleck of coal he could find.
The Coal Ore block, once harvested, yielded a single lump of Coal (1), ready for use.
By the time the sun had completely disappeared outside—a time he could only estimate by the changing gradient of gray above him—Steve had amassed a considerable haul: six stacks of Cobblestone, four stacks of dirt, and twenty-five pieces of coal.
He ascended the shaft, using the dirt and stone blocks to meticulously fill in the steps he'd created, until he reached the surface.
The night was pitch black, a wall of Appalachian darkness, but Steve felt an intense, satisfying weariness.
He quickly built a small, square room—a temporary bunker—by stacking Cobblestone blocks two high near his old campsite.
The room was crude but solid. He then crafted a simple Furnace by surrounding a block with Cobblestone in the Crafting Table.
He placed the Furnace inside his bunker.
He fueled it with a piece of Oak Log and an initial lump of Coal. His hands hovered over the fuel slot. He didn't know what he needed to smelt, but his eyes fell on the dirt.
Wait.
The real value wasn't just building; it was progression.
He placed eight blocks of Cobblestone into the Furnace. His goal was not just a home, but a reliable light source. He needed Stone.
And with Stone, he could make a smooth, permanent shelter, and more importantly, a Torch.
As the Furnace began to glow, casting a faint, warm orange light that chased the gloom from his bunker, Steve smiled. He was off the grid.
He was safe. And he was just getting started.