I hadn't had many hangovers the day after a party that got out of control; my whole life had revolved around my studies, and when that opened the doors for me to the navy, and then to the SEALs, the idea of getting drunk in a bar or tavern where everything could go wrong at any moment vanished even more eagerly.
But this was different; it wasn't a headache, or dizziness, or sphincter cramps, but the gentle reminder of having made a bad decision and suffering for it.
Getting up from the floor, which was soaked with dried, iron-smelling blood, I noticed that the scars and calluses on my hands and arms had disappeared; even my skin looked and felt smoother. Even the strong tan I had gained from the sun in the Middle East was gone.
The Regeneration Potion had evidently done more to my body than I thought possible in the first place. I thought it would only close the wound from the cut on my arm after my action, but well, I didn't think the Netherite sword would cut more than a dull knife when you decide to run your finger over it.
Because that was where the damn things finally decided to cut.
But, wait, my arm, my severed arm... It was no longer severed, it was... Attached to me, and looking at the ground, just a meter away, was my old arm. It already had a bluish tint and was starting to smell bad, so seeing that the sun was already out, I opened the menu and grabbed a shovel, and with great reluctance, I picked up what was once mine and took it outside the cabin.
Before going out, I had checked the time with the help of a clock, and even though it was not much past eight in the morning, the sun was already burning as if it were scorned. Not wanting to be outside for long, I proceeded to dig a hole deep enough so that animals... if there were any in the first place in this desolate location, wouldn't dig up the arm.
Upon finishing the work, I noticed that where I had left the water bucket the day before, it had now become a small pond, obviously, with infinite water gushing out uncontrollably. Well, I wanted to believe it was infinite, because the water was still gushing out, and while I didn't understand how that happened, I dismissed it as another anomaly of the Minecraft menu and everything that entailed.
The pool already measured more than ten meters in diameter; it was evident that the earth and sand had been craving water for months, perhaps years. And seeing the pond, I decided to try something else.
Drum roll, what was it this time? Well, it was the eggs. Hopefully, this time I wouldn't end up with a severed arm and unconscious, but I wanted to know if the eggs could make life appear from those species, like in the game.
And well, I had nothing to lose.
Okay, I know I just lost an arm, but I got it back, so it doesn't count.
Crazy ideas passed through my mind—wolves, ravagers, creepers, zombies—but controlled thanks to my past lived experience, I decided to start with something harmless. I didn't know if these animals and creatures would be harmless towards me; in the game, that only happened in creative mode.
And although I had access to the menu, it was clear that I did not have immunity to damage; my former arm a meter underground was sufficient proof. So I opted for a salmon. Yes, it was no big deal, but I preferred to keep it that way. I hadn't survived the war by doing stupid things, nor by not thinking—let's forget about the arm—so a harmless salmon was the perfect choice, as the most it could do was jump and hit you in the face.
"Splash!" And yes, the damn thing worked. A reddish fish of almost forty centimeters was swimming in the crystal-clear pond, and like a small child, I set out to... Invoke? Create? I'll call it... Summon. Yes, it's not very original, but it summarizes the action entirely.
Anyway, after summoning more than thirty salmon, I got tired and opted to go back inside the cabin. Had I mentioned the scorching sun? I think so.
Inside, I went to the kitchen and decided to test my creation. Yes, we're talking about an oven. While I could take food from the menu as if I were buying online and not paying, and it would arrive instantly, I preferred to cook myself this time. So I opened the menu, grabbed a raw steak, and placed it in the specific slot inside the oven. And I did the same with the coal.
Once that was done, I closed the oven door and noticed it immediately lit up, and like other weird things, this oven didn't explode from gas or smoke accumulation, and even though it didn't have a vent, everything seemed normal, so wanting to preserve the little sanity I had left, I stopped thinking about how it worked.
So I went to the turntable and put on a soft melody, while taking out an apple and preparing to eat it while sitting at the rough dining table I had created.
But it was at that moment that I heard voices outside.
They sounded like shouts, and... Horses? Immediately, my training kicked in, and I put on the full Netherite armor. If the sword could cut my arm in a single stroke, then this armor might be able to stop bullets, or at least that's what I wanted to believe. Because I didn't think I would survive a combat with several Taliban.
But I remembered the potions. I knew they worked; the puddle of dried blood on the floor was proof of that. So, would the Strength, Speed, and Jump Boost potions also work? Maybe yes, maybe no, but they were my route of action.
Wait, an Enchanted Golden Apple also provided several benefits, so, getting to work, I ate the enchanted golden apple, and just in case, I also ingested the Potion of Strength II and the Potion of Swiftness II.
I noted that the two potions lasted the same as the Regeneration Potion, while the effect of the apple only lasted half an hour. But this would be enough. After that, I cautiously peered through the darkened glass windows, which allowed me to look outside, but from the outside, the interior would not be clearly visible due to the light change.
And well... The view was not what I expected. Damn, what I was seeing made no sense.
While at first I thought I might get answers from these people about where I was, I knew immediately that these people were not friendly.
They wore leather vests and rode beautiful and strong steeds, and the owners of the voices I heard, which resembled Russian or Ukrainian—that is, their riders: they were men with sun-tanned copper skin, robust bodies, and long braids with bells hanging from them.
Either they were very good at Mongol-like or even Tartar disguises, or they were something completely different. But observing them more closely, I noticed their braids, bells, the weapons they carried resembling scimitars and sickles... Damn no. I know I haven't been the greatest Samaritan, but I cannot be in this place.
Dothraki, Essos, Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire.
Everything I remembered from the books and the series flooded me suddenly, making me understand where I might be and the danger I was in.
"Shit."
Knowing that no agreement could be reached with people like the Dothraki and that my life was in danger if I didn't prepare to face them, I decided to open the menu and take out a lighter along with a block of dynamite.
I might be able to regenerate, and pass out in the process, but I was also protected by full armor, which was not the case for these men. So an explosion of dynamite in the center of their group, and they would be pulp.
Furthermore, the effects of the potions were kicking in. My sense of perception was heightened; I could see the flight of the flies hovering over the puddle of dried blood on the floor, and if I concentrated even more, I could even see their wings beat, as if they were in slow motion.
So, adding that to my training as a soldier, I had the advantage, and I just had to make sure not to get surrounded.
I took the sword, with its large blade and a two-handed hilt, it looked like a bastard sword, and its smoky pattern on the blade and the guard of the same material made it both beautiful and dangerous. I knew it was a tool of death, so I decided to go out.
Outside, a large group of men surrounded the cabin, and now that I was out in the open, I could see that it was an entire massive group; there were easily at least a hundred men surrounding the cabin, and I couldn't help but clench my jaw. There was no going back now.
"Peng!"
One of the... Dothraki, I was still getting used to that, had grabbed a salmon from the small pond—my salmon—the animal was struggling in his hands, while a smug smile adorned his face full of scars and sunburn.
"That's mine," I said, and those who hadn't noticed my presence yet did, looking at me with suspicion, some even grasping their scimitars tighter. In that instant, I managed to observe them in full detail.
Their postures, their control over the horses they rode, who seemed to have more power than others—all in just two seconds. Those potions were definitely magnificent.
"Demir giysili garip Adam," the one who looked like the leader or Khal spoke in his guttural language, provoking laughter from those around him. The strange thing about this was that I understood him; I was wrong, it wasn't Belarusian or Ukrainian, but a language similar to Turkish.
And now, knowing their language, or something similar, I spat onto the sandy ground, while counterattacking. [Vahşi, git, yoksa toprağı senin ve halkının kanıyla beslemek zorunda kalacağım] "Savage, leave, or I'll have to feed the sand with your blood and the blood of your people."
That seemed to enrage the men, and before even the one I assumed was the leader could give an order, one of them approached me head-on, mounted on his horse, while brandishing his sickle in search of my head.
But to me, it was as if the man was approaching with the speed of a two-year-old child, and without letting him get close, I ran toward him. I could see how the features of his face wrinkled in surprise, but it was already too late for him.
Upon reaching the front of his horse, I lifted it with pure brute strength from the back of its front legs. The animal felt like I was lifting a cat, and it rose half a meter off the ground, only to then fall sideways, crushing the idiot who thought he would have a chance under its body.
Noticing his fall, I immediately went to him, and grabbing the sword that hung from my waist, I gripped it with my right hand only and delivered a strong blow to his neck.
The sword cut through skin, muscle, and bone just like scissors cut paper, with the sword even remaining partially submerged in the sand, and the man's head separating from his body.
I bent down and grabbed the head by its long braid, and then threw it at the leader. [Cehenneme gidebilirsin; oraya nasıl gideceğini bilmiyorsan, seve seve sana bir kapı açarım; benim için bunu yapmak çok kolay] "You can go to hell; if you don't know how to get there, I will gladly open a door for you; it's very easy for me to do."
Those words hit the mark, making the man angry, who signaled to four men who were close to him, who did not hesitate to advance together towards me.
Instantly, I concentrated even more, feeling the world around me slow down. Even the sound of the horses' hooves was slow to reach my ears, but I still wasn't overconfident, and again, I launched myself before they could reach me. I positioned myself between two of the four riders, standing in the middle of both.
And without doing much, I grabbed both men by their feet, both right and left. The force of my grip made them let go of their horses' reins, as they fell face-first to the ground. I immediately stomped on their knees, and a loud crack could be heard.
Thus, they would no longer be a problem. The other two stopped their horses upon noticing that I had passed next to them with extreme speed, but in their skirmish, they didn't realize that I had ended up close to their Khal.
And unwilling to lose the opportunity, I launched myself with all the speed I could muster and crashed full-force into the man's horse. The poor creature couldn't understand what had happened before it became a bloody mess.
As for its rider, he had fallen, and apparently his left leg was broken at a nasty angle to look at, but that was not my concern. He had looked for trouble, and I only responded to how he acted. So, determined to end this, I grabbed him from the ground long before the other riders could react.
And gripping his head with my left hand, and his right shoulder with my other hand, I pulled. The crunching of bones and tendons sounded chillingly, and I quickly ended up holding his head, forcibly ripped from his body.
While everyone looked at me with absolute terror.