"Hello? Anyone out there who isn't trying to eat me or force me to resurrect ancient dragons?" Markle calls out to the empty plains stretching before him. The blocky sun beats down on his pixelated shoulders, and the silence that answers feels heavier than his old office building.
"Great conversation, Markle. Very stimulating." He sighs, kicking at a patch of cubic flowers.
The morning after his encounter with the zombie "brotherhood," Markle had slipped away from the birch forest, determined to put some distance between himself and his undead stalkers. Now, hours later, loneliness gnaws at him more fiercely than hunger.
"Thirty days to resurrect a dragon or face the wrath of every zombie in the game." He counts on his blocky fingers. "No pressure at all."
A sheep wanders past, its rectangular eyes vacant and unresponsive. Markle approaches it cautiously.
"Hey there, buddy. Any chance you can talk too? Maybe give me some advice on dragon resurrection?"
The sheep bleats and continues munching grass. Markle reaches out to pet its wooly head.
"Didn't think so." His hand passes through the cubic wool, feeling both solid and unreal at the same time. "At least you're not threatening me."
He continues walking across the rolling landscape. Each hill and valley rendered in perfect right angles. His footsteps make the familiar tapping sound with each block he traverses.
"I should find a village. There have to be NPCs somewhere who aren't zombies." He shields his eyes, looking for any sign of civilization on the horizon.
A thought strikes him. "Wait, if I'm the 'chosen one' with magic powers, shouldn't I be able to actually use them?"
Markle stops walking and extends his hand toward a nearby tree. His brow furrows with concentration.
"Abracadabra!" Nothing happens. The tree remains undisturbed.
"Hocus pocus?" Still nothing.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" He makes the swish-and-flick motion with his blocky wrist. The tree continues to exist in stubborn immobility.
Markle drops his arm with a frustrated groan. "Of course it wouldn't be that easy."
A chicken clucks nearby, watching his efforts with what seems like judgment in its square eyes.
"Don't give me that look," Markle tells it. "I'd like to see you try casting spells with these rigid arms."
He continues walking, the landscape gradually shifting from plains to a sparse oak forest. The shadows of cube leaves dapple the ground beneath his feet.
"Maybe I need to be more dramatic." Markle plants his feet firmly, squares his shoulders, and thrusts both hands forward.
"HADOUKEN!" he shouts. The forest echoes his voice back at him mockingly.
No blue fireball erupts from his palms. No energy courses through his digital body. Just silence and the distant moo of a cow.
"That would've been too easy," Markle mutters, resuming his walk. "Though it would've been nice to have some Ryu powers about now."
The sun climbs higher in the square sky. Markle's thoughts turn to his former life, to his apartment that now sits empty, to Keller who's probably furious about the missing Bramson proposal.
"Wonder if they found me yet." His voice grows quieter. "Wonder what they think happened."
He imagines the scene: his body discovered in the bathtub, electrocuted. A tragic accident. Would anyone besides his landlord even notice he was gone?
"Stop it," he chides himself. "Focus on the now. Find NPCs. Learn about this world."
Markle pauses atop a hill, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Hello! Any villages nearby? Anyone?"
Only the wind answers, whistling through the cubic trees.
"Fine then." He cracks his knuckles. "Let's try something bigger."
Markle widens his stance, cups his hands at his side, and begins the familiar chant he'd seen countless times on TV.
"Ka... me... ha... me..." He draws out each syllable, imagining energy building between his palms. "HAAAAA!"
He thrusts his hands forward with all his might. Not even a spark appears.
A pig walks by, snorting what sounds suspiciously like laughter.
"You know what? I don't need this kind of judgment from livestock." Markle wipes imaginary sweat from his brow. "Dragon Ball makes it look so easy."
His stomach rumbles, reminding him that he hasn't eaten since arriving in this world. Do digital bodies need food? He isn't sure, but the hunger feels real enough.
"Should probably find some apples or something." He eyes the trees around him. "After one more try."
Markle forms his hands into the position he remembers from Naruto, concentrating on his palm as if spinning energy into a compact ball.
"Rasengan!" he shouts, pushing his hand forward. Nothing materializes.
"Come on!" Frustration edges into his voice. "If I'm supposed to have magic, where is it?"
He tries again, then again. Each attempt leaving him more discouraged than the last. His throat grows dry from shouting anime attack names into the empty wilderness.
"Maybe it's something specific to this world?" He considers the zombies' words. "Lightning magic? Storm power?"
Markle raises his hands toward the clear blue sky. "Thunder! Lightning! Storm! Electricity!"
The cloudless sky offers no response. Not even a gentle breeze acknowledges his efforts.
"This is embarrassing." He drops his arms. "Good thing no one's around to see the 'chosen one' failing miserably at being chosen."
The sun begins its descent toward the horizon. Markle has been walking and attempting magic for hours, with nothing to show for it but fatigue and growing hunger.
"One more." He stands straight, feet spread apart. "The most ridiculous one yet."
Taking a deep breath, Markle pounds his chest with both fists. "Gear Second! Gear Third! Gear Fourth! Gear Fifth!"
He stretches his arms experimentally. They remain as blocky and ordinary as before. No rubber powers, no transformation.
"Worth a shot." He shrugs, continuing his journey. "Maybe I need to eat a Devil Fruit first."
The landscape changes again, opening into a vast savanna biome with scattered acacia trees. Perfect visibility, but still no sign of villages or NPCs.
"I should really build a shelter before night falls." Markle glances at the setting sun. "Or I'll be having another chat with the zombie brotherhood."
His feet ache from walking, a strange sensation in this digital body that shouldn't feel pain. Yet somehow it does, along with hunger, fatigue, and the hollow feeling of loneliness.
"There has to be someone in this world besides monsters and zombies with ulterior motives." He squints at the distant horizon, searching for any sign of square houses or farmland.
Markle's shadow stretches long across the ground as the sun begins to set. He'll need to make a decision soon: keep searching or build emergency shelter for the night.
"If I really am the chosen one," he says to the darkening sky, "a little hint would be nice about now."
But the Minecraft world keeps its secrets, and Markle Voig continues his solitary journey across the blocky landscape, the promise of magic still dormant within him.