Steve worked tirelessly at his crafting table, experimenting with combinations, searching for patterns that might make sense.
He lined up planks and sticks in every possible way, wondering if he could somehow craft a Wooden Shield. Nothing.
Then he tried wolf fangs with sticks, hoping for a Wolf Fang Sword. Still nothing.
After several failed attempts, he sighed and gave up for now. If he wanted to unlock modded equipment, he'd need iron—and access to the JEI mod.
[Just Enough Items.] The perfect mod for viewing every crafting recipe at a glance. For him right now, it would be invaluable.
Thinking of that, he remembered other favorites from the Player's world—Sophisticated Backpacks, JourneyMap—the kind of mods players always loved. And so did he.
Hopefully the next system reward would give him one of those.
He built another furnace, leaving behind some planks and turning all remaining logs into charcoal. Half of it went into crafting torches for his next mining trip; the rest was used to roast the Wolf meat.
Enough food to last him quite a while.
He was still waiting for the meat to cook when a rising cloud of dust appeared on the distant road. A wagon—its wheels rattling fast.
A traveling merchant?
Curious, Steve walked toward it, his square body moving in that awkward rhythm of jumps and strides. He stopped the wagon right in the middle of the road.
The driver saw him and froze, startled—but to his credit, he didn't panic. He rapped twice on the carriage wall.
"Trouble ahead," he said nervously.
The curtain lifted. Two heads peeked out—one of them belonged to Jack, the villager the chief had sent to town. The other was a man with long golden hair and a gauntleted hand gripping the fabric.
"That's it! That's the thing!" Jack shouted, pointing at Steve, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
Following the chief's orders, he had run all the way to the nearby Bardley Town, straight into the Adventurer's Guild. There, driven by fear and desperation, he'd posted a quest: Eliminate the threat to our village. He'd even offered a generous reward.
The gold had worked. Two adventurers had accepted immediately, hired a carriage, and rushed back with him.
The armored warrior looked Steve up and down, then snorted, the corners of his mouth curling.
"That's your monster? It's just a magic golem."
Jack blinked. "Golem?"
He hadn't expected that reaction. The warrior waved dismissively. "You described it like a high-grade magical beast. I thought I'd be slaying something worthwhile. Guess not."
He had been hoping this quest would earn him points—maybe even push him toward a Silver Adventurer rank. But this? A walking block of stone? What a waste of time.
From the carriage, a second man leaned out—a hunter with narrow eyes and a bow slung over his shoulder. His lip curled.
"Definitely a magical construct," he scoffed. "And you panicked over this? Pathetic."
"Ha. There's always a mage behind these things," the warrior said, flexing his shoulders. "We talk to whoever made it, and the job's done."
"Actually," the hunter chuckled, pointing toward the village, "that looks more interesting."
They were staring at the aftermath of the Wolf battle—the blood, the carcasses. The sight made Jack's stomach churn. Without another word, he leapt off the wagon and sprinted toward the village, fear overriding reason.
Steve didn't stop him. He was more focused on the newcomers.
Guard-type villagers? he wondered, peering curiously at them. He opened the driver's trade interface—nothing special, just ordinary goods. Boring. He closed it again.
The driver shivered as a strange pressure brushed against him, though he didn't know why. He'd seen many strange things in his travels, but this was different—wrong, somehow.
Before he could say anything, the warrior frowned, suddenly stiffening. A chill crept up his spine. His muscles locked tight. He tried to draw his sword, but his arm wouldn't move.
He couldn't even step back—his legs might as well have been rooted in the dirt.
"What are you—"
The shout broke his paralysis.
The hunter reacted instantly, jumping down from the carriage and drawing his bow. "Let him go!"
Steve tilted his head, uninterested. He opened the warrior's trade menu—and frowned in disappointment.
No weapons. No armor. Just overpriced bottles of ale and shiny trinkets. Completely useless.
What a greedy man, he thought.
Then his screen flashed red. His health dropped by two hearts.
He turned just in time to see the warrior vault backward, sword drawn, while the hunter reloaded another arrow, eyes sharp and murderous.
Steve blinked. Are raiders and villagers allies in this world?
Whatever. Questions could wait.
He drew his stone sword and rushed forward. He hated ranged attackers most of all.
The hunter fired immediately, but Steve built up a dirt block barrier mid-run, the arrow thunking harmlessly into it. With a jump and a quick stack beneath his feet, he vaulted over the wagon.
The hunter's eyes widened—he hadn't expected that. He yanked another arrow from his quiver, but the sunlight suddenly dimmed. He looked up just in time to see the sword descending.
"Look out!" the warrior roared, raising his blade to intercept. But Steve's strength was overwhelming. The blocky sword struck with bone-shaking force, knocking the warrior backward, nearly toppling him.
The hunter's arm came up instinctively, blocking with a hidden dagger, but the impact drove him stumbling to his knees.
So strong! Both men realized it at once.
The warrior steadied himself, sweat beading under his helm. "Wait—we mean no harm!" he shouted.
If this was a magically constructed golem, then its creator had to be a powerful mage. And you didn't pick fights with mages—not if you wanted to keep breathing.
But Steve didn't slow down. His empty square face turned toward the hunter again, sword raised.
"Shit!" the hunter cursed, channeling mana into his legs. Dust burst beneath his boots as he slid backward, drawing an enchanted arrow.
The shot glowed faintly as it flew—but before it could reach him, a perfectly cubic dirt wall rose from the ground, blocking it completely.
Then Steve leapt from above, sword first.
The blade slammed into the hunter, knocking him to the ground. He barely had time to scream before another series of blows silenced him completely.
When it was over, Steve hesitated.
No drops. No loot. Nothing.
Did I kill a villager by mistake? he wondered.
He turned to the warrior, who was trembling, his sword thrown aside, both hands raised high. "I swear I don't mean any harm! I'm not with him!"
He really didn't look like he wanted a fight.
Steve stared at him for a few seconds, then shrugged mentally.
Whatever. What's done is done.
He tried opening the corpse's trade menu—no response. Disabled. Pity.
So he gave up, tucked his sword away, and hopped back toward the village. He had more important things to do.
Two ranged attackers in a row.
He really needed a shield.