Steve studied the villager before him.
She was nothing like the ones he was used to seeing. Her features were too refined—so lifelike that even the most detailed modded worlds he had been in couldn't compare.
If the Player were still controlling him, they'd probably be spinning around her in excitement by now, jumping and crouching repeatedly, maybe even calling other players to come and look.
Perhaps… even sneaking a peek under her skirt.
He was tempted to crouch, to mimic that familiar human behavior—but instead, he shifted his gaze toward the wolf.
This creature was unlike any wolf he had ever encountered. It was several times larger, and its movements were startlingly vivid. He could even see the ripple of muscles in its legs when it hesitated between attacking and retreating.
A shame he didn't have bones on him—he would've tamed it in a heartbeat.
So cute, he thought, drawing his stone sword and charging forward.
...
Elena barely had time to scream when the strange blue monster suddenly materialized a crude, blocky sword. But before her voice could leave her throat, the creature darted past her and swung. The blade struck the Wolf's head with a crack that echoed through the forest.
Though the movement was stiff and unnatural, the sheer strength behind it was terrifying. The wolf's skull split open, blood spraying, and its massive body was thrown half a meter backward.
The wolf yelped in pain, baring its fangs. Fury flashed in its eyes as it lunged again—only for the blocky figure to step back with an uncanny, mechanical precision.
Another strike came. Brutal, heavy. The wolf reeled as its ear was sliced clean off.
Elena could hardly believe what she was seeing. That crude-looking sword—it was made of stone, yet it cut like sharpened steel.
Her breath caught in her chest as the wolf staggered. Dizzy and panicked from repeated head blows, it tried to retreat and regroup. But the monster didn't allow it.
The next slash carved a deep wound along its belly. Blood poured freely, soaking the forest floor.
Fear replaced defiance. The wolf turned to flee, but the pain in its side threw off its balance. It slammed into a tree, trying desperately to rise—only to feel another crushing blow cleave into its back legs.
They went numb instantly.
The creature collapsed, rolling onto its side, whimpering and curling its forelimbs as if begging for mercy.
Steve stopped, watching it.
For a moment, the wolf thought it had been spared. Then the sword fell one last time, and everything went silent.
Elena's heart thundered in her chest. Her breathing came fast and ragged.
That monster—its strength was unnatural. And it was merciless.
In mere seconds, it had hacked the Wolf apart like a butcher working a carcass.
When the creature stopped moving, she thought it was over and tried to stand—only for it to turn toward her and leap forward in that same strange, bouncing gait.
Terror froze her body solid. If even the Wolf couldn't survive, what chance did she have?
The monster loomed over her, tall and broad, its bloodstained figure radiating an oppressive presence. She could see the crimson coating its body—but it was… fading. Absorbed, vanishing into the air.
Then it raised its sword.
She gasped. This is it.
Her eyes squeezed shut—but no pain came.
Cautiously, she peeked through trembling lashes. The creature stood still, staring at her—or perhaps its arm was moving slightly, as though breathing for him.
But its chest didn't rise or fall.
She wanted to crawl away, yet her legs refused to move, bound by some unseen force.
Then something dropped into her hand. Startled, she looked down.
A perfect square of wolf hide lay there—soft, processed, tanned.
The moment she took it, the invisible grip vanished. She stumbled back several paces, clutching the hide. The monster made no move to follow. It merely watched her silently, sword lowered.
It wasn't attacking.
What… what is this? she wondered. Why give me this?
Confusion gradually softened her fear. Her rational mind was finally catching up. The pain in her leg pulsed sharply—if she didn't treat it soon, it would only worsen.
Maybe… maybe this creature didn't want to hurt her?
She swallowed hard, her voice shaking.
"Th-thank you… for saving me."
No response.
"I'm hurt… may I leave?"
Still nothing.
Step by step, she backed away—then turned and ran. Only when she was far enough that the forest swallowed the blue figure did she finally slow down, panting and grinning through tears.
She was alive.
...
Steve didn't notice her fear when she fled. He was too busy processing information.
The voice from before had mentioned collecting iron ingots to unlock his first mod. But clearly, this world wasn't ordinary—it already had countless mods running.
Take that wolf, for instance. About forty-five hit points. Complex animations. Fleeing behavior. Even begging for mercy.
It was adorable. And the combat feedback felt great.
From the kill, he'd gathered one Wolf Hide, two pieces of leather, two chunks of wolf meat, and a couple of experience orbs.
The corpse hadn't despawned yet, but he didn't think much of it.
He wasn't sure what to do with the hide—until he noticed that the villager had accepted it in trade. Perhaps as thanks for saving her, she'd even raised her offer.
Originally two hides for one emerald; now, one hide for one emerald. Not bad.
He made the trade without hesitation.
The villager's movements were detailed too—expressive, human-like. She even spoke. That alone made him wonder if this world had a story built into it.
But Steve wasn't Alex—he didn't care about roleplay or plot. He was more interested in survival than conversation.
A quick glance at his hunger bar showed three icons missing. He crunched on a piece of Wolf Meat, the sound sharp and crisp, then spotted the name "Elena" hovering faintly above the villager's head.
He started hopping after her.
If she was returning somewhere, that meant a village.
And he was right.
The village sat behind crude defenses—wooden stakes sharpened into walls, angled outward spikes along the base, and a narrow moat encircling it.
It looked less like a village and more like a raider camp, though there were no crossbow-wielding pillagers in sight.
Elena stumbled through the gate, shouting for help. Soon, villagers poured out, crowding around her, their voices filled with panic and relief.
Steve watched from a distance, nostalgia stirring.
He missed the Player. He couldn't help imagining what the Player would do, seeing this "realistic" scene.
Probably make him run up to the crowd and spam crouch, trying to fit in.
Smiling faintly at the thought, Steve bounded forward and started doing exactly that—jumping and crouching repeatedly in front of the villagers, wiggling his square butt like a faithful companion waiting for attention.