With a full belly and the satisfying, albeit faint, security of a Leather
Cap on his head, Steve turned his attention to his dwelling. His current hut was a miserable 3 x 3 square, barely two blocks high, enough to keep out the elements but not much else.
If this was his hidden sanctuary, it needed to be substantially more secure and less... temporary.
The sun was still high, giving him several hours of precious daylight.
He needed to work fast.
He wanted to expand the base into a defensible, multi-room structure.
He quickly retrieved his Stone Pickaxe and Stone Axe. The first task was collecting building materials.
He targeted a large, nearby section of forest, methodically harvesting a few dozen Oak Logs and several stacks of Cobblestone from the rocky terrain near his hidden mine entrance.
The repetitive motion—the rhythmic thwack of the axe, the grinding shik-shik of the pickaxe—was surprisingly therapeutic.
He found a strange kind of peace in the mechanical, focused labor. He was breaking reality down to its simplest components and reshaping it according to his own will.
Once he had enough resources (approximately six stacks of Oak Planks and ten stacks of Cobblestone), he returned to his existing structure.
He started by tearing down the walls of his original hut, systematically collecting the blocks back into his inventory.
He marked out a much larger footprint: a solid 10 x 8 foundation.
He began laying the groundwork, placing the Cobblestone blocks with speed and precision.
The placement was intuitive; he simply focused on the spot and pushed the block from his inventory into the physical world.
Where the ground was uneven, the block snapped into place, automatically filling the required cubic space, instantly making the forest floor perfectly level.
By mid-afternoon, the foundation was complete.
It was a massive gray rectangle that felt oppressively solid against the natural, curving shapes of the forest.
The sheer scale was reassuring.
Next came the walls. He started placing the Oak Planks above the Cobblestone base, creating a contrasting, two-block-high wall.
He left deliberate gaps for windows—he needed light, even if it meant risking visibility—and a designated space for the front door.
As he worked, he realized a critical need: height.
His two-block high roof was too low, making the interior feel claustrophobic and limiting the space for future crafting stations. He needed a third layer.
He built the walls up to three blocks high.
This demanded intense focus, as he had to place the final layer of blocks while standing on the second layer.
Any slip would result in a potentially fatal fall, but the system seemed to inherently guide his balance. He was, in a very real sense, bound by the rules of the game.
He paused to admire his work. The new structure was enormous compared to the old hut.
He sectioned off the interior mentally: a large main living and crafting area, a small storage room, and perhaps a designated smelting chamber.
He quickly crafted four Torches and placed them inside, illuminating the structure. The light felt weak against the vast interior space, but it was enough for now.
His next major project was the roof. He couldn't leave it open to the sky. He used more of his smooth Stone blocks for the ceiling, ensuring maximum durability and fire resistance.
The final block went into place with a definitive thunk. The roof sealed the structure, trapping the warmth and silence inside.
He then used the remaining wood to craft a dozen Chests.
He placed four in the designated storage area, double-stacked for maximum capacity, and began transferring his existing resources: Cobblestone, Wood, Coal, and food.
The systematic organization felt like a balm to his old office-worker soul.
As the sun began to set, painting the sparse sky visible through the canopy in shades of orange and purple, Steve looked out the window opening.
The forest suddenly looked less inviting, more mysterious. He knew the night brought darkness, and with darkness, unknown dangers.
He needed to protect those window openings. Glass was out of the question—he didn't have sand or a high enough heat source yet.
He needed something quick, cheap, and strong.
He quickly crafted four Wooden Doors and jammed them into the window frames.
It wasn't elegant, but it was robust. He could open them in the day for light and slam them shut at night.
He closed the last door and turned around in his new home. It was blocky, stark, and utterly secure.
The floor was rough dirt, and the walls were basic wood and stone, but he felt a sense of immense accomplishment. He was truly off the grid now.
He glanced at his furnace, still glowing faintly. He had enough cooked meat for two more days. He had shelter.