Steve studied the villager in front of him.
She didn't look like any villager he'd ever seen before. The level of detail was... unreal.
Even in all the modded worlds he'd explored, not one had villagers that looked this lifelike.
If the Player were still controlling him, they'd probably be running circles around her right now—jumping excitedly, sending messages in chat, calling the others to come see.
Maybe even trying to peek under her skirt.
Steve thought about crouching to imitate the Player's antics, but his attention shifted to the wolf instead.
This wolf wasn't like the ones he remembered either. It was several times larger, and its movements were so much more fluid. He could even see the muscles in its legs flex and tense as it hesitated—wanting to attack but holding back.
Too bad he didn't have bones; otherwise, he would've kept it as a pet.
Cute little thing, Steve thought, drawing his stone sword and slashing forward.
Elina froze as the monster suddenly pulled out a strange-looking sword. She opened her mouth to scream—
—but before she could, the creature dashed past her and brought the sword crashing down on the Wind Wolf's head.
The swing was stiff, almost robotic, but the force behind it was overwhelming. The Wind Wolf howled as blood burst from its skull, its massive body stumbling back half a meter.
It snarled, fury flaring in its eyes, and lunged forward again—
—but the monster stepped back in a jerky motion and struck once more. The blade smashed down with brutal precision, forcing the Wind Wolf backward again, one of its ears flying off in the process.
That sword—it looked like a chunk of stone, yet it was that sharp?
Elina's scream caught in her throat. She trembled as she watched the impossible scene unfold.
The Wind Wolf whimpered, its head ringing from repeated blows. It staggered, tried to retreat, to think—but the blocky monster didn't give it the chance. Another heavy strike came down, the blade slicing through its flank.
Even though the sword missed its center, a deep gash ripped open its side, blood gushing out in sheets.
Terror overtook the Wind Wolf. It realized it couldn't win.
It turned to flee.
But pain and dizziness made its movements sluggish. It picked the wrong path, snagged against a tree for half a heartbeat—
—and in that instant, agony exploded through its hind leg. It crashed headfirst into the trunk, trying desperately to get back up, only for another strike to slice through its waist. Its back legs went limp instantly.
The beast rolled onto its side, curling its front paws inward, howling pitifully for mercy.
The monster paused.
For a moment, the Wind Wolf dared to hope—then the sword came down again, fast and merciless. The world went dark.
Elina's heart pounded violently. Her breathing came in short, ragged bursts she couldn't control.
That thing... it was terrifying. Its strength was monstrous, its attacks brutal and precise. In just a few seconds, it had hacked the Wind Wolf to pieces.
When it finally stopped moving, she made up her mind to crawl away—to run.
But before she could move, the creature turned toward her and started hopping closer.
Her blood ran cold. Every muscle locked. Even the Wind Wolf hadn't survived. What chance did she have?
The monster loomed over her, its tall, blocky frame radiating a suffocating pressure.
She noticed its entire body was stained with blood—but the red was fading, being absorbed somehow, vanishing into its skin.
Then, suddenly, it raised its sword and swung it toward her.
This is it!
Elina squeezed her eyes shut. No pain came.
Cautiously, she cracked one eye open. The creature was standing still, staring at her.
No—its arm was twitching slightly, almost like it was breathing. But its chest wasn't moving at all.
She tried to inch backward, but her legs wouldn't move—something invisible held her in place.
She could only pray silently.
Then, without warning, her hand grew heavy. Instinctively, she gripped whatever had appeared there. When she looked down, her breath caught.
A square-cut wolf pelt. Dried, tanned, and soft to the touch.
A moment later, the unseen pressure vanished. She stumbled back several steps. The monster just stood there, watching her. The sword had disappeared from its hand.
It wasn't attacking her.
What's going on? What does this mean? Why give me this?
Questions swirled through her mind. Maybe it was because she was thinking so fast, but her fear started to dull a little, reason creeping back in.
Her leg throbbed painfully, the wound getting worse by the minute. If she didn't treat it soon, she was done for.
Maybe... maybe the monster didn't mean her harm.
She wasn't sure. She couldn't be. But she swallowed hard and, trembling, raised the pelt.
"Th-thank you... for saving me."
No response.
"I need to treat my wound... can I go?"
Still nothing.
She took a cautious step back. Then another. When the creature didn't move, she finally turned and bolted, running until the forest swallowed her completely. Only then did she slow down, teeth clenched against the pain.
She was alive.
Steve had no idea how terrified Elina had been when she left. He was too busy processing what he'd learned.
The voice earlier had mentioned something about collecting Iron Ingots to unlock his first mod. But it was obvious this world was part of a massive modpack already.
Take that wolf, for example—its health was around forty-five, and it had adaptive behavior. It fled, it begged for mercy.
Fascinating. Cute, even. And the fight had felt so satisfying.
From its drops, he'd picked up one Wind Wolf Pelt, two pieces of leather, two chunks of Wind Wolf Meat, and a pair of experience orbs.
The body hadn't despawned, but he didn't think much of it.
He wasn't sure what the pelt was for, but apparently that villager—Elina—was buying them. Maybe because he'd saved her, her offer price was higher than normal.
Normally, two pelts for one Emerald. She gave him one Emerald per pelt. Nice deal.
The villagers here were unusually detailed too. Their movements were fluid, and they actually spoke. He couldn't help but wonder if this world had a story mode.
But he wasn't like Alex, who loved slow-paced, narrative-heavy worlds. Steve didn't care much about storylines. Even the villager's gratitude had only surprised him for a moment.
He glanced at his hunger bar—three points down. He munched noisily on a piece of Wind Wolf Meat, the crunch-crunch-crunch echoing faintly, then jogged off after Elina.
If he followed her, he figured he'd find a village. And sure enough, he did.
It was small and crude, surrounded by sharpened stakes forming a fence. Spikes jutted out at the base, and beyond that was a narrow moat circling the perimeter.
It looked less like a village and more like a pillager outpost—but there were no crossbow-wielding raiders around.
Elina staggered toward the gate, shouting for help. Within seconds, several people rushed out, their voices overlapping in panic and concern.
Steve watched from a distance, his chest tightening with something he couldn't quite name.
He missed the Player.
If the Player were here, how would they react to this "realistic" scene? Probably run straight in, crouching repeatedly to "blend in," maybe spamming emotes for fun.
The thought made him smile—or whatever counted as a smile for him.
So he hopped toward the gate and, in front of the crowd of villagers, started crouching repeatedly—bobbing his blocky butt up and down.