With his inventory stocked, Erik left the village. The square sun was already beginning its slow descent, painting the blocky sky in hues of orange and purple. He knew he didn't have much time. Night was coming, and with it, the monsters. Without a bed, he couldn't sleep to skip the night, so his only option was to find or create a secure hiding place.

  He spotted a towering mountain range in the distance, its jagged, blocky peaks promising solid rock. He headed towards it, his wooden pickaxe ready. Reaching the base of the mountain, he found a sheer rock face. He began to dig, carving a small, temporary shelter directly into the stone. The *clink* of his pickaxe against the rock was a rhythmic sound, a testament to his effort. He dug out a small 3x3 room, just enough space for him to stand and turn, leaving a single one-block opening. As the last sliver of the sun disappeared, he sealed the entrance with a block of dirt, plunging his tiny room into absolute darkness.

  He crafted a torch using a piece of coal he had found while digging and one of his sticks. The flickering, warm light pushed back the oppressive darkness, making the small stone chamber feel almost cozy. Outside, the sounds of the night began: the low, guttural groan of a Zombie, the distant, rattling clatter of a Skeleton's bones, and the ominous hiss that signaled a Creeper. He took out one of the loaves of bread he had traded for and ate it slowly, savoring the taste as his hunger bar refilled. He was safe, fed, and had survived his first night on Haven, alone but prepared.

  When morning came, heralded by the faint glow filtering through the cracks in his dirt seal, Erik dug his way out of the shelter. The sun was rising, burning away the last of the night's monsters. He continued his journey, now with a clearer purpose: to find the perfect, permanent place to build his base. He wanted a location that was easily defensible, had good access to resources, and offered a commanding view of the surrounding area.

  He found the ideal spot an hour later: a high plateau that jutted out over a dense forest on one side and a wide, winding river on the other. Its sheer cliffs offered natural protection, and the surrounding landscape promised wood, water, and likely caves within the mountain itself. This would be the heart of Haven, his sanctuary.

  His first task was to set up the official server spawn point. He cleared a flat area on the plateau and meticulously built a small cobblestone platform. He crafted a chest and placed it in the center. From his inventory, he placed two loaves of bread and crafted a wooden sword, carefully placing them inside the chest. Finally, he crafted a sign and placed it above the chest. Using the mental interface, he wrote the words he had planned: "Welcome! Take 1 bread & 1 wooden sword."

  With the welcome chest ready for the first visitor, Erik began work on his own small house nearby. He laid down a foundation of oak planks and started building up the walls. It was hard work, but it was satisfying. He was building a home, a true anchor in this new reality.

  After a few hours of focused work, the sun high in the sky, Erik decided to take a short break. He walked over to the cobblestone platform, a sense of quiet pride swelling within him. The sign was there, the chest was there. He opened the lid.

  The wooden sword was gone. And one of the loaves of bread was missing.

  Erik stood completely still, his eyes fixed on the empty slots in the chest. He wasn't alone anymore. Someone else was on his server. A new player had arrived.

  He quickly crafted a new wooden sword for himself, his mind racing. He had hoped for a peaceful arrival, but the world had taught him caution. He climbed to the highest point of his plateau and scanned the surrounding landscape. He looked for any sign of the newcomer, any movement that might betray their presence. It didn't take long. In the valley below, near the river, he saw a figure. This player wasn't punching trees or digging. They were breaking blocks of dirt and stone in a haphazard, almost destructive way, leaving a trail of unnecessary damage. This wasn't the careful resource gathering of a new survivor; this was something else.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Erik descended the plateau, his new wooden sword held ready. He approached the figure cautiously. The player, a tall, lean man with a dark, aggressive-looking skin, turned sharply as Erik drew near. There was no friendly greeting, no curious glance. His eyes narrowed, and he immediately pulled out a wooden sword, identical to the one Erik had placed in the welcome chest. "What do you want?" the man snarled, his voice rough.

  "Welcome to Haven," Erik said, keeping his voice calm, his sword still at his side. "I'm Erik. I created this server. I see you found the welcome chest."

  "Yeah, I found it," the man, who had no name floating above his head, sneered. "And now I'm finding you. This server looks ripe for the taking. My name's Blade. And this is my server now." Without another word, Blade lunged, his wooden sword arcing towards Erik's head.

  Erik reacted instantly. He brought his own sword up, blocking Blade's attack with a sharp *clack*. The force of the blow vibrated through his arm. Blade was fast, aggressive, and clearly experienced in combat. He pressed his attack, swinging wildly, trying to overwhelm Erik. Erik parried, dodged, and stepped back, looking for an opening. He wasn't a master swordsman, but he knew the basics, and he had the advantage of knowing the terrain.

  Blade overextended on a wide swing. Erik saw his chance. He sidestepped the blow, letting Blade's momentum carry him past. As Blade stumbled, Erik brought his sword around in a swift, precise arc, not to strike, but to hook. The wooden blade caught Blade's wrist, twisting it sharply. Blade cried out, his grip loosening. With a final, powerful flick, Erik knocked the sword from Blade's hand. It flew through the air, landing with a soft thud in the grass several blocks away.

  Blade stood there, disarmed, breathing heavily, his eyes wide with surprise and rage. He lunged for Erik, trying to tackle him, but Erik pushed him back with the flat of his sword. "This is Haven," Erik said, his voice firm, unwavering. "And here, we don't steal, we don't destroy, and we don't fight. You broke the rules the moment you attacked me."

  Blade glared, his chest heaving. "So what? You gonna kill me?" he spat, a challenge in his eyes.

  Erik lowered his sword. "No," he said. "I'm not going to kill you. That's not how Haven works. But you can't stay here. This server is for peace, not for plunder. You need to leave."

  Blade scoffed. "Never!" With a sudden, desperate burst of speed, he spun and bolted, sprinting towards the dense line of trees at the edge of the valley. Erik reacted instantly, lunging forward, but Blade was too quick, his eyes burning with a promise of retribution. He vanished into the shadows of the forest, his footsteps quickly swallowed by the rustling leaves.

  Erik stood alone in the valley, his sword still in hand. The encounter had been brief, but intense. Haven had faced its first test, and while Erik had upheld its ideals by not killing, he had failed to secure its peace. Blade was still out there, a lurking threat. He returned to his plateau, the setting sun casting long shadows, his resolve hardened. Haven was his, and he would protect it, but he now knew it would be a constant struggle.