Chapter 6: One Year Later

Year 1, Day 1

It's been a whole year since I first arrived in this strange, hostile world. A year. I had to double-check my tally marks to be sure, but it's true. I've been so caught up in taming this village, in surviving day after day, that I almost forgot to keep track of the time.

It's strange to think that an entire year has passed. I remember when I first arrived, how everything was a blur of panic and fear. The nights were filled with the groans of the undead, and the days were a frantic scramble to find food and build shelter. Back then, I couldn't imagine surviving a week, let alone a year. But now, here I am, still standing.

The village is no longer the desolate place it once was. The walls I built stand strong and tall, keeping the dangers of the night at bay. Inside these walls, life has taken root. The wheat fields are flourishing, providing me with a steady supply of bread. Shadow, my faithful companion, has made hunting easier. Together, we've brought down enough wild animals to keep my storage stocked with beef and mutton. The cows give me milk, the chickens lay eggs, and life has become manageable.

Shadow has been a lifesaver—literally. It's hard to believe that many months ago, he was a wild animal, gnawing on my sheep. Now, he's my partner, helping me hunt, keeping me company. His loyalty is one of the few constants in this ever-changing world. I never thought I'd find comfort in the companionship of a wolf, but here we are.

I've been so focused on the day-to-day tasks—rebuilding the village, tending to the crops, reinforcing the walls—that I've barely had time to think, let alone write. It's only now, as I sit here, reflecting on all that's happened, that I realize how much time has passed.

A year.

It seems strange to even acknowledge it, let alone celebrate it. What would I even be celebrating? Surviving another day? Outlasting the horrors that surround me? Or perhaps it's the simple fact that I've managed to carve out a life here, even if it's far from the life I once knew. But as odd as it feels, I find myself wanting to mark the occasion. It's not like there's anything else to do, and maybe—just maybe—it's worth acknowledging that I've made it this far.

To mark the occasion, I decided to do something different, something special. It feels strange to celebrate when there's no one here to celebrate with, but I couldn't shake the feeling that this milestone deserved some recognition. A few months back, while I was out hunting, I stumbled upon a small patch of sugar canes growing near a river. At the time, they were just a sweet treat to chew on during breaks, but since then, I've figured out how to turn them into sugar.

With sugar, eggs from the chickens, and wheat from the fields, I realized I had the ingredients to make a cake. I've been so focused on survival that I hadn't thought about anything like this before. It almost feels like a birthday party, but the strange part is, I don't even know when my birthday is anymore. That part of me, the part that remembers things like birthdays and celebrations, feels so distant—like it belongs to someone else.

I went ahead and baked the cake. It turned out better than I expected—light, sweet, a rare treat in a world like this. I sat down at my table, Shadow by my side, and cut a slice. As I took that first bite, something strange happened. It wasn't just the taste of the cake—it was the realization of how alone I truly am.

For the past year, I've been living in this village, surviving, building, protecting myself from the dangers of the night. I've been so caught up in fortifying these walls, in creating a safe haven, that I forgot something crucial—something that goes beyond survival. I forgot to look for other people.

This planet, this world, it's enormous. There must be others out there—people like me, trying to survive, trying to build a life in this desolate place. But where are they? How far away are they? And, what if I'm the only one left? The thought gnaws at me as I finish my slice of cake.

I've been living behind these walls, convincing myself that I'm safe, that I've created a life here. But it's not enough. Not anymore. The truth is, I've been hiding. Hiding from the world outside, hiding from the fear that maybe—just maybe—I'm all that's left.

As I finish my cake, the sweetness turns bitter in my mouth. I look over at Shadow, happily gnawing on a bone beside me, oblivious to the thoughts swirling in my head. He's been my companion, my friend, but he can't answer the questions that are now burning in my mind.

Tomorrow, I'll start searching. I don't know where to begin, or how far I'll have to go, but I can't stay behind these walls forever. I need to know if there's anyone else out there. If there are others, I need to find them. And if I'm the last one left, I need to know that too.

For now, though, I'll try to enjoy what's left of this day. I'll share the rest of the cake with Shadow, and I'll rest. But tomorrow, things will be different. Tomorrow, I'll start looking for answers.

Year 1, Day 2

Today, I have started preparing for the journey that could change everything. After a restless night, thoughts swirling with questions and doubts, I knew I couldn't go on living behind these walls forever until I die, pretending that this small village is all there is to my world. If there are others out there, I need to find them. If there are answers to be found, I need to seek them out.

The first step was the cartography studio. For months, I boarded up the door, too focused on survival to think about what might lie beyond the walls of this village. Today, I pulled down the wooden planks, one by one, and stepped inside.

The room was dusty, the air heavy with disuse. But despite the time that's passed, the maps on the walls and tables were still legible—faded, yes, but not yet lost to time. These maps are old, worn from use by the villagers who once lived here, and marked with the places they had explored.

As I studied the maps, I remembered something that sent a chill down my spine long ago. There were several markers, denoting areas of interest, but one stood out—a large "X" in the direction from where the monsters have been coming. It's not a symbol of treasure or discovery; it feels more like a warning. A place to avoid.

But I can't ignore it. If the villagers were cautious enough to mark it, it must mean something—something important. It might be dangerous, but I've faced danger before. This time, though, I'm not just defending my village; I'm seeking answers. I need to understand this world, to know why these creatures exist and where they come from. And I need to know if I'm truly alone.

This "X" will be my final destination. First, I will re-explore the markers the villagers made to see what were they looking for. I'll gather my supplies, ready Shadow, and set out at first light. I'll be cautious—this isn't just a simple hunt or a journey to gather resources. This is the beginning of something much bigger.

If I find answers there, they might lead me to other places, other villages, or even other people like me. If I can understand what's happening here, I can use that knowledge to explore further and, hopefully, find others.

It's time to leave the safety of these walls behind. It's time to face the unknown. Whatever I find out there, it's better than living in uncertainty.

Tomorrow, I begin my journey.

Year 1, Day 3

The sun was barely up when I set out this morning, leaving behind the safety of the village that has been my fortress for the past year. My bag was filled with food and tools, and my stone sword hung at my side, with Shadow padding quietly by my feet. I wore my leather armor, the lighter weight of it both a comfort and a reminder of the dangers I might face. The path ahead was long, but I was ready.

As I marched forward, I kept my bow half-drawn, my senses on high alert. The world beyond the village is a hostile one, listening for the moans of zombies and the clatter of skeletons that might still roam the land, even in the daylight. I also kept my eyes out for Creepers, ever wary of their silent approach. But for all the dangers that lurk out here, there was something exhilarating about the journey—a sense of purpose that had been missing for so long.

After several hours of careful travel, I arrived at the first marker on the map. What I found there both fascinated and saddened me: an old, abandoned building, left to decay in the wilderness. The wooden door, rotted from time and exposure, fell to the ground with a dull thud as I pushed it open. The structure was built from cobblestone, but it was clear that it hadn't been maintained for years, possibly decades. The walls were crumbling in places, and vines had begun to reclaim the stone.

Inside, the building was filled with remnants of the past. There were several beds, old and dusty, that once must have provided rest to the workers who lived here. Chests lined the walls, though most were empty or filled with decayed and useless items. A few furnaces stood cold and unused, their grates clogged with ash. The smell of abandonment hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint scent of old campfires that had long since gone cold.

As I looked around, I could almost see the villagers who had once inhabited this place—working together, gathering materials, resting by the fire to tell stories. This wasn't just any building; it was a hub of activity, a place where people came to gather resources and support the village I now call home. But now, it was nothing more than a relic of a time long past.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of loss. The world these people knew is gone, leaving behind only these ruins. But there's also a glimmer of hope in this discovery. If this was a place where villagers worked, it means they were once organized, purposeful, and, most importantly, they were not alone. They had each other, and they had a community.

I spent some time exploring the building, checking every corner for clues about what might have happened here. But there was nothing more to be found—no notes, no signs of struggle, just the quiet remnants of a life that had been abandoned.

This place, though decayed and forgotten, has given me a new sense of determination. If the villagers had the strength to build this, then perhaps I can find the strength to uncover more of this world's secrets. There are more markers on the map, and each one might hold a piece of the puzzle I'm trying to solve.

After exploring the abandoned building, I decided to take a look outside. The sun was still high in the sky as I looked around. That's when I noticed it—a dark, gaping maw in the earth just a short distance away. A cave.

There was something about the cave that called to me, a sense of mystery that needed unraveling. I approached it slowly, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. As I got closer, the faint sounds of the undead reached my ears—groans, shuffling feet, the clattering of bones. The cave was not just a natural formation; it was a hiding place for the creatures that fear the purifying light of the sun.

With my bow drawn, I entered the cave, each step careful and deliberate. The air inside was damp and musty, the kind that clings to your skin and makes your breath feel heavy. I lit the dark cave by thrusting torches into the walls, acting as both lights and guide markers so I don't get lost. I kept my senses sharp, eyes straining to pierce the darkness, ears tuned to every sound. It didn't take long before I spotted the first undead—a zombie, its skin green and mottled, shuffling toward me with a low moan.

I let my arrow fly, the bowstring snapping back with a satisfying twang. The arrow struck true, sinking into the zombie's chest and sending it crumpling to the ground before it had a chance to strike. I moved forward, readying another arrow, dispatching each undead creature as it appeared. Skeletons, zombies—they all fell before they could get close. I wasn't going to take any chances.

As I ventured deeper into the cave, the surroundings began to change. The walls, once smooth and natural, became jagged, marked with the signs of human activity. It was then that I realized this wasn't just a cave—it was a mine. The villagers must have used it to extract valuable resources, transporting them back to the village to sustain their lives.

I examined the marks left by the pickaxes, running my fingers along the grooves in the stone. They told a story of hard work and perseverance, of villagers who toiled in the cave to provide for their community. As I continued to explore, I found what I had suspected—traces of coal embedded in the rock. This was a coal mine, once a vital source of fuel for the villagers, used to cook their food and lit their furnaces.

The mine was extensive, with tunnels branching off in several directions. The villagers must have spent countless hours down here, chipping away at the rock, extracting the coal that was so essential to their way of life. But now, like the building above, the mine was abandoned once the veins of coal were exhausted.

I couldn't help but feel a connection to those who had come before me. They had carved out a life in this harsh world, finding ways to survive and thrive. And now, in their absence, I was following in their footsteps, learning from their efforts.

Year 1, Day 20

It took several days of careful travel back and forth from the village, exploring the mines that the villagers mapped out. Each one was the same, an abandoned house and an exhausted mine. With Shadow by my side, I finally arrived at the location marked with the ominous "X" on the old map. I had expected another small cave or perhaps an abandoned mine, like the others I've explored. But what I found was far more daunting.

The opening was colossal—unlike anything I'd encountered before. The entrance yawned wide and deep, as if the earth itself had cracked open, revealing the abyss below. From where I stood, I could see nothing but a void stretching downwards, a black pit that seemed to swallow the light. Even standing at the edge, I could hear them—thousands of voices, an endless chorus of the undead, moaning and groaning as they shuffled in the darkness far below. It was a haunting sound, a reminder of the danger that lurked beneath the surface.

This was it. The source. The place where the undead were emerging from each night, spreading out across the land in search of anyone foolish enough to be awake once the sun sets. I knew then that if I wanted to put an end to their nightly invasions, if I wanted to be able to explore further and find others, this was the place I needed to confront first. But descending into that darkness, unprepared, would be suicide. I could sense the magnitude of what lay below—a veritable army of the undead, waiting for the cover of night to rise again.

I knew I couldn't simply charge in. I would need to prepare—more than ever before. The first step would be to build a secure base at the entrance of the cave, a place where I could retreat, rest, and heal if things went wrong. For my survival, I must emulate what the villagers did. A base to have a safe place to rest and restock. It needed to be sturdy, capable of withstanding any assault from the creatures within, yet comfortable enough to provide refuge as I plotted my descent into the heart of the enemy's lair.

I would need plenty of stone bricks, strong and resilient, to form the walls of my base. I'd need to build it on a platform, only accessible with a ladder; taking advantage of the fact that they cannot climb. I'd need to set up a perimeter of torches and traps, ensuring that the area around the base remained clearly safe and visible. And inside, I'd need to stockpile food, chests, a bed, furnaces, and tools—everything I might need for what could be the most dangerous mission I've ever undertaken.

The thought of what lay ahead was intimidating, but I couldn't allow myself to be paralyzed by fear. This was a necessary step if I wanted to survive, to thrive, and to find others like me in this desolate world. The undead had been a constant threat since I arrived, and now, for the first time, I had the opportunity to strike back.

I could feel Shadow's presence beside me, a silent companion in this eerie place. He sensed the danger too, his hackles raised as he sniffed the air. But he remained by my side, loyal and protective. I would like him to accompany me into the cave, but it may be too dangerous for him. He will need to stay in the village until I return.

For now, though, I would return to the village, gather my resources, and prepare for what was to come. The cave wasn't going anywhere, and when I was ready, I would descend into the darkness and face whatever lay below. If I could find the source of the undead and stop it, then maybe—just maybe—I could begin to rebuild, to move forward, and to find others who might still be out there, somewhere in this vast, hostile world.

Year 1, Day 35

The stone bricks I had crafted back at the village were sturdy, but their weight posed a significant challenge. Transporting them by hand over such a long distance would be slow and exhausting. I needed a better solution, something to speed up the process and allow me to focus on fortifying my defenses.

That's when the idea struck me: I needed to tame more wildlife, animals that could help me with the heavy lifting. I had seen horses and donkeys grazing near the forest during my previous expeditions, and I knew they could be invaluable for this task. Horses were fast and could carry me quickly across the land, while donkeys, with their ability to carry loads, could transport the heavy stone bricks to the cave site.

With a plan in mind, I set out to capture these animals. Armed with leads and a handful of apples, I ventured out into the wild. It didn't take long before I found a strong, sleek brown horse with a shiny coat, grazing peacefully near the edge of the forest. After a bit of coaxing, the horse accepted the apple from my hand and allowed me to put the lead around its neck. Next, I found a sturdy donkey, smaller and slower than the horse, but strong and reliable, the perfect beast of burden. I led both animals back to the village, careful to avoid any lurking undead along the way.

Once back at the village, I set to work building a stable for my new companions. The stable needed to be secure, but also accessible. I decided to build it with an access hole through the village wall, making it easy for me to come and go while ensuring that the undead couldn't get inside. The animals would be kept just outside the village walls. The undead never seem uninterested in attacking animals, so I was confident that my new allies would be safe.

With the stable completed, I began the process of taming the horse and donkey. It took some time, but soon they became accustomed to my presence and were ready to assist me. I equipped the donkey with chests, filling them with stone bricks, tools, and other necessary supplies. The horse, meanwhile, would carry me swiftly to and from the cave site anytime I needed to check on Shadow and the other animals.

The journey back to the cave was much easier now, with the donkey carrying the bulk of the materials. As I unloaded the stone bricks and began constructing the base, I felt a surge of determination. This base would be my first line of defense, a fortress where I could rest, plan, and prepare for the descent into the abyss.

The foundation was laid first, using the strongest bricks to create a solid base that could withstand any assault. The walls followed, thick and high, with small windows to allow me to keep watch over the surrounding area. Inside, I built a small living space, complete with a bed, crafting table, and storage chests. I also set up several furnaces, ready to smelt more materials and food as needed.

It took many days of hard work, but eventually, the base was complete. As I stood back and admired my handiwork, I felt a sense of accomplishment. This was more than just a building—it was a symbol of my determination to survive, to fight back against the darkness, and to carve out a place for myself in this hostile world.