I opened my eyes and, for some reason, felt cold and grassy? Why do I feel grass—I remember I haven't touched grass for a month. Blinking.
I sat up. The sky above me was square. The clouds were square. Even the dirt under my hands was… blocky.
[Adam]:…oh no.
I looked at the square tree, the endless void surrounding the tiny patch of land beneath me, and the single chest sitting right at the edge.
I pinched my cheek. Pain.
[Adam]: Okay… this isn't a dream.
My stomach sank.
Skyblock.
Not just Minecraft—Skyblock. The cruelest starting point humanity had ever thought of.
I shuffled over to the chest like it might explode if I moved too fast. My hands trembled as I lifted the lid.
Inside, the usual cursed starter pack stared back at me:
One block of ice.
One bucket of lava.
Ten bone meal.
Nothing more, nothing less.
It took me ten minutes to calm down, and then I punched the tree, took the wood, crafted planks, then a crafting table, and lastly some stickies.
And then… I tried.
[One hour later]
This is the worst. I tried everything—sticks in weird shapes, planks in circles, even a full chest of random junk—
Nothing.
Only the vanilla recipes worked.
No magic hammers, no laser drills, no compressed cobblestone generators, no "shift + right click to instantly build a mansion."
Just… wood tools.
The dreaded wooden pickaxe sat in my hand, mocking me.
I sighed, staring at the empty void beyond my island.
[Adam]: So this is really just… vanilla Skyblock.
I took a deep breath.
I mean, how hard could surviving be?
[Ten hours later]
Kill me.
I made a cobblestone generator, stripped away the extra dirt for farmland, planted a couple of trees, and I'm halfway through building a monster spawner because I need iron, villagers, silk, and more if I ever want to survive.
Also, most of the floor is stone now… Damn it, I'm starting to get crazy and talk to myself inside my own head.
[Next Day]
I got a villager.
Don't ask how—it was chaos.
Step one: capture a witch.
Step two: let her chuck potions at a zombie villager.
Step three: force-feed the poor guy a golden apple I "bought" from a passing merchant who definitely overcharged me.
Somehow… it worked.
Now I have a Weaponsmith. His name? Vlad V. Valentine.
Don't question it—I was sleep-deprived.
With Vlad around, progress finally started to feel possible. I scraped together my first ten iron, enough to make a cauldron, and finally experimented with generating more lava and water. The thrill of progress almost made me forget how mind-numbingly boring potatoes, carrots, and bread had become.
I want meat.
I want milk.
I want bacon.
So, next plan: a barn. Animals. A proper farm.
I miss… caring for something. I miss the mindless brain rot of feeding cows and watching chickens pop out eggs. I even miss my friends… though I guess here, I only have Vlad, who stares at me with those blank villager eyes and goes "Hrrrm."
Not the same.
[First Week]
I've had some truly questionable moments this week. Like the time I tried to eat rotten flesh because I heard it "counts" as food? Don't do that. Also, I stared at a skeleton long enough to start having an existential conversation about bone structure and whether it's "smash or pass." I went with… smash. Don't judge me.
[Adam]: Mike — I mean it. I'm really sorry, Lilith. Don't throw that at me. You two can ask Vlad; he'll vouch that no inappropriate touching occurred. He has that blank villager stare, but he's a man of honor.
I've been talking to a skeleton and a witch. That sentence alone should terrify a sane person. Somehow, those conversations helped. I also have an iron golem now (he's called Tyrant), and four villagers, including Vlad — farmer, armorer, butcher, and whatever Vlad technically is now. Progress.
I made it to the Nether — which, by the way, is flatter and more voided than Lilith's chest. Had to lay down extra blocks to get piglins spawning, but hey, progress. I finally have a bed, a full set of iron armor, and I'm close to maxing the village levels. The shop's starting to feel less like "island project" and more like "actual civilization."
The villagers I've got: farmer, armorer, butcher — the essentials. I've also hauled in more water and dirt (thank you, creative uses of cauldrons and awkward lava logic), and I planted every kind of tree I could find. Now I just wait for them to stop being teenagers and actually grow.
Also: no iron farm. Tyrant would be offended, and I don't want an angry iron golem rolling around, taking side quests from me.
I miss the internet. I miss zoning out to old anime — Dragon Ball Z, RWBY, Attack on Titan — the nostalgia hits hard when you're mining cobblestone for the thirtieth hour.
I'm tired of sleeping on the floor. Time for a real bed. Finally. Civilization, you're welcome.
[Day 15]
I finally got gold. Traded with piglins, survived the bartering chaos, and came away richer (and slightly singed). The village has exploded into something real — every job site present and humming, villagers wandering the streets, and a new iron golem has spawned itself into existence: Mr. Xeno. He looks like he means business.
I've been expanding the island non-stop. Built a proper village grid, improved farms, and — because I apparently can't stop myself — I put a mansion smack in the middle of the town. It's obnoxiously excessive and exactly what I needed. My mental breaks have gotten fewer since the place stopped feeling like a handful of blocks and started feeling like a home. For the first time in ages, I can actually sleep without waking up to panic.
Still, something felt off. Like the kind of wrong you notice in the back of your neck: I kept getting the feeling I was being watched. I spent most of my iron on building extra golems and a stone fence around the village, which should keep mobs out and make everything look suitably fortified.
But last night, something watched me from my bedroom window. On the second floor. I don't know how anything could be on the second floor without me seeing it enter — the mansion has one narrow staircase and I lock the doors — but there was definitely a silhouette at the window, small and still, like a thing that knows what it's doing.
Mr. Xeno was on patrol downstairs, and the villagers pretended to be asleep. I pretended to be asleep, too, which is a terrible plan. My brain did not cooperate. I sat there counting heartbeats and wondering if whatever watched me was curious, hungry, or just plain rude.
Either way, it's here now. And I don't like guests who don't knock.
[Day 16]
...............................
It had white eyes. It looked at me through the window. It was floating there.
I couldn't breathe for a moment. The silhouette from the night before wasn't a silhouette anymore — whatever it was, it had hollow, white eyes that didn't blink. It hovered a foot off the ground, motionless, as if it were studying the way I liked to sleep.
By morning, nobody — and I mean nobody — went near Eddie's house. Eddie was one of the farmers; he used to get visitors every day, trade seeds, and tell me the same three villager jokes over and over. Today, the path to his door was empty.
I forced myself to check. The front door was ajar. Inside: redstone scattered across the floor like a warning, and a stench I'd hoped I'd never learn to recognize. A zombie villager crouched in the corner. I did what I always do — splash potion, golden apple, the whole tedious ritual — and after an hour of shaking and groans, he popped back into a villager.
He looked at me with new eyes. He wasn't Eddie.
His skin tone was wrong, his voice cracked in a way Eddie's never had, and when I asked his name, he didn't answer. He shuffled away to a random job block and pretended to be busy, like a marionette that had missed its cue.
I bought diamond armor, a diamond axe, and some enchantments from the villagers — and from that traveling merchant who showed up with suspicious timing and sold me Unbreaking III. I don't know if it was impulse or panic-buying, but the weight of that armor made me feel less exposed. The axe felt good in my hands — honest, solid, useful.
[Day 17]
He left.
Not Eddie. Not the cured zombie. The thing with the white eyes. At dawn, the window was empty; the air felt colder for a moment, like someone had pressed pause on the world and then let it go. The impostor villager stayed. The redstone remained on the floor, and when I swept it into a pile, it crackled like it was quietly pleased.
Mr. Xeno and Tyrant patrolled harder. Vlad blinked with that same flat villager expression, which somehow read as smug. The villagers whispered at night in little bursts of consonants and sighs. I slept in armor just in case.
Whatever watched me learned something, or took what it wanted, or was bored and moved on. Either way, it left a footprint — a hollow, echoing weight behind my ribs I can't shake.
I don't know if this is the start of something worse or just one strange visit. I do know one thing: I'm not letting anyone near Eddie's house without me watching.
[Day 18]
The impostor villager was gone.
I checked every building in the village, every chest, every farm plot. The iron golems did a sweep and came back with nothing but annoyed iron-golem grunts. No footprints led out. No tracks across the edge blocks. The redstone pile had been disturbed—spread into a thin line toward the back window—but it stopped halfway, like someone had teleported the last few inches away.
On the second-floor sill where I'd first seen the white eyes, there was a faint residue: tiny smears across the glass that shimmered for a second when the morning sun hit them. They weren't quite fingerprints, more like the impression of something that isn't supposed to touch the world.
I checked my inventory by habit — the book wasn't glowing. The Manual lay quiet, inert for now, which either meant it was content to watch me fumble, or it was waiting for me to do something important. Neither option felt comforting.
So I did what felt practical. I barricaded Eddie's house from the outside, placed pressure plates that would set off note blocks if anyone crossed them, and buried little pits with signs that read: DO NOT STEP — TRAP (signs have always been a terrible bluff, but bluffs work sometimes). I posted Mr. Xeno at the front gate and told Tyrant to sleep near the back door.
Then I sat in my second–floor bedroom, armor on, axe across my knees, and watched the village below. The villagers shuffled about their business with the eerie normalcy of people who've already decided to ignore the weird. The sun slid toward evening, shadows lengthened, and for the first time since I landed on this floating rock, I felt like I was waiting for something inevitable.
I didn't know if the thing would return. I only knew I wouldn't be asleep if it did.
[Day 21]
Ran into some pillagers today. Bad news for them.
I wiped them out and triggered a raid, which I then soloed. Alone. Didn't want the golems risking themselves on my watch. It was exhausting, but worth it — I ended up with two Totems of Undying and a pile of loot that made the whole village cheer in their weird "Hrrrm" way.
For once, nothing suspicious happened. No white eyes in the windows, no redstone trails, no impostor villagers. Just a straightforward battle, some blood pumping in my ears, and the quiet satisfaction of not dying.
Afterward, I finally did something fun. I tamed a couple of horses and, because I was bored and apparently insane, I started experimenting with them. A splash of speed potion here, a splash of jump boost there, then some breeding… and I may have created what I'm calling: the Super Horse.
It runs like lightning, jumps like it's trying to reach the clouds, and nearly bucked me into the void when I first mounted it. But hey — style points.
For the first time in days, I almost felt… normal.
Almost.
Because then I saw it. A mob I know doesn't exist in vanilla Minecraft.
Bigfoot.
Yes, Bigfoot. Just stomping around on the edge of the village like it was here to borrow sugar. And I am certain Mojang hasn't patched Bigfoot into the game.
I responded like any sane person: I built fire towers. All you need is stone, soul sand, and a snow golem — turns out improvised snowball-flamethrowers are excellent for keeping nightmares at bay. The village perimeter now looks like some kind of cursed holiday decoration, but at least it works.
[Day 22]
Found bees today. Actual bees. Which means I can finally make honey, and let me tell you: eating something sweet that isn't stale bread, potatoes, or "technically food" cookies? That was a whole new experience. I nearly cried.
But the relief didn't last long.
Apparently, those "weird monsters" from yesterday weren't random mobs — they were werewolves. In vanilla. How? Why? Nobody knows.
I hunted a few down, expecting maybe a fang, a claw, a bottle of werewolf blood, something I could use. But no — they dropped nothing. Not even XP orbs. Just… nothing.
That's worse than loot. That means they weren't supposed to be here at all.
[Day 23]
{This page is covered in blood. The writing is smeared, shaky, and barely legible.}
[Day 25]
I lost half the village.
While I was busy holding off the werewolves, vampires hit from the other side. They swarmed the streets, turned most of the villagers into their own, and slaughtered the golems.
We lost Mr. Xeno. We lost most of the iron wall I'd built. And we lost Vlad.
Except… not in the way I thought.
He didn't die. He turned. Not just into a vampire — into a first-gen. To my knowledge, first-gens have over 1,000 HP, hit for 50 damage per strike, and wear invisible armor thick as obsidian. A good vampire hunter might take one down. Might.
I couldn't bring myself to kill him. Even if I could.
It took fifty golems — fifty — plus everything I had left in reserves to bring down just one of the first-gens. The air reeked of smoke and iron. Arrows spent, potions gone, defenses crumbling.
Vlad stood in the ruins of his home, eyes glowing like burning coals. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He just… watched me.
So I walled his house off. Bricked every window, sealed every door. Not a perfect solution, but it was all I could do before the next bell sounded.
And it did.
Another wave is coming — this time from the west. I can hear them in the distance, snarling, howling, chanting.
I'm running out of time.
[Day 26]
Haven't slept for three days. My resources are almost gone. My chest of arrows is empty, my potion racks are dry, and the farms are half-trampled from the last attack.
Only seven villagers are left. Seven, out of an entire bustling town I built with my own two hands. And just two golems remain. One of them is Tyrant, and he looks… tired. If golems can even feel that.
I spent most of the day building a graveyard. Not fancy, just rows of stone markers, each with a name carved in clumsy letters. Names of the ones I knew. Names of the ones I could remember.
The rest… I couldn't bring myself to mark them. It hurt too much to admit how many are already gone.
The graveyard sits on the east edge of the island, away from the farms and the houses. I wanted it to be quiet. A place where the wind actually feels like wind, not just another reminder that the void is waiting to swallow us.
I don't know if anyone will come here after me. I don't know if anyone will even read these pages if I fall. But at least the names won't vanish. At least someone will know they existed.
Tonight, I sleep in my armor again. If I can sleep at all.
[Day 28]
I rebuilt the village. Not just rebuilt — fortified. Ten times stronger than before.
Walls layered in stone and obsidian, fire towers on every corner, fences lined with soul sand, and snow golems pelting anything that gets too close. I built a castle at the center, thick and unyielding, so that even if the outer walls fall, something will still stand.
I made more golems. Dozens of them, their heavy steps echoing across the stone. I stockpiled weapons — swords, axes, crossbows, shields. Chests full of armor, ready for anyone who can still fight.
This time, I left no room for error.
I even trained. I used the monster spawner as an arena, testing myself against skeletons, zombies, even Endermen — two, sometimes three at once. My hands are raw from gripping weapons, my reflexes sharper than they've ever been. If death comes, it'll have to fight harder for me now.
…And I forgot to write this down earlier, but both of my Totems of Undying are gone. Used up. Spent. Burned out of existence during the raids.
That stings more than I expected. Those totems were a safety net — a promise that I could push just a little further, risk just a little more. Now it's only me, my armor, and the defenses I've built.
I can't shake the feeling that I'm preparing for something bigger than vampires, werewolves, or pillagers. Something that doesn't care how many walls I raise.
But if it comes… it's going to have to break through a fortress.
And me.
[Day 29]
Today I pushed back two more raids. Pillagers, vindicators, evokers — nothing new, nothing I haven't seen before, but they came harder than usual. They always do now.
I survived, and I got supplies. Emeralds, arrows, crossbows, and even some enchanted books.
Used them to craft myself a new axe — Unbreaking III, Flame, Sharpness IV. Heavy in the hand, balanced just right. It doesn't just feel like a weapon; it feels like a lifeline.
As for armor… well, that's next on the list. My diamond set is strong, but the cracks are starting to show. Each raid chips away at it, and every fight against Endermen or worse pushes it closer to breaking. I need to reinforce it. Replace it. Something better — maybe even start preparing for Netherite, if I can manage it.
The castle feels safer now, but I know better than to let myself relax.
Raids are training, nothing more. The real enemy — the white-eyed figure, the strange mobs, the shifting world — hasn't shown its hand yet.
When it does, I want to be ready.
[Day 30]
I met the traveling merchant and he spoke...
[Chapter end]