Kevin carefully slid down the slope covered in gravel so he would not slip and possibly fall to his death in the ravine that he so foolishly had decided to go down. But from what he had learned so far, this was the place to go. After he had been drawn by some magical force to literally have a boxing match with a tree, breaking it down piece by piece into perfect logs, without even the slightest hint of pain in his knuckles, something inside him had made him make a weird-looking table on which he crafted a few other things, such as an axe. All of his stuff was made out of wood, his sticks, the planks, the tools, everything. Perhaps that is why he had been drawn towards every source of stone he had seen thus far.

That was why Kevin was going down into the ravine. He had finally given in to the urge to break some stone and make new, stronger tools. He didn't quite know what the sword was for, but it was probably for food. He had not killed anything so far, but it was a reoccurring thought he had, just like the one about getting stone. Kevin was not entirely sure why he would need it, other than to maybe survive, but he was here, risking his life for it anyways.

The slope was gradually getting steeper until it was like a wall down to the bottom of the ravine and falling would result in sure death. Kevin was not taking any chances and went around and found other ways to get down until he stood safe and sound at the bottom. His only problem was that according to his mental clock and the colour of the sky as well as the sunlight sipping down into the ravine, it was getting late and nighttime was not too far away. That worried him for some reason. Kevin did not think he was scared of the dark, but at the same time, how would he know? He would not remember it, even if he was.

He sighed and brought out his pickaxe. That was also something weird that he had done out of habit. He could summon his backpack at will and bring out anything that he wanted, but could also have an array of picked-out items that he could summon to his hands without first summoning the backpack. And Kevin did not even want to think about how all of his stuff fit in the backpack. Or how it weighed close to nothing when he held it. It was all so strange, yet he did it as if it was something completely natural.

But it all felt so wrong. There was just something off about everything here, everything that he did. Was it even real? Maybe Kevin was just dreaming and he did remember everything about himself. Maybe Kevin was not even his real name. But what if it was real?

The thought that it may all be real and that Kevin just suffered from extreme memory loss felt like a dagger to his chest and he clutched his hand over his heart. But how wouldn't it be? Even though it all seemed odd, shouldn't things seem that way when you can't remember anything, not even about yourself?

Kevin pushed all of these intrusive thoughts aside and began mining some stone on the wall next to him. Just like the wood, it broke into perfect pieces no matter how much he broke it. It was like it defied all laws of physics. Or maybe it followed them. What did he know about the laws of physics, really? Kevin shook his head and continued mining. He could not let himself think like that. He just needed to get this stone and then he could get out of there and find himself somewhere to stay for the night. Surely there must be other people somewhere close enough for him to find before sunset. Logically, he must at least live nearby to have ended up here. Or maybe he doesn't. And if he did, how would he even be able to recognize his home?

The truth is that he wouldn't, even if someone held up a picture of it right in front of his face, screaming "This is your home! You've lived here for years!" he wouldn't recognize it. He wouldn't recognize his own face in a mirror if it came down to it. Kevin sighed and swung his pickaxe further back than he had before, only to swing it back with enough force to instantly break the stone.

He wondered about what his life had been like. Who he'd been, but most importantly, who he'd been to others. A son? A boyfriend? A friend? He wouldn't know. He couldn't know, and that is what made him so irritated, so agitated that he wanted to scream into the depths of the ravine and let it echo back to him as a sign of his anger, his loss and his fear of the unknown, which, after all, was everything. Even the weird urges that had kept him going thus far.

While pondering all the possibilities of his life, Kevin was tirelessly mining stone until he realised that he already had about double the amount of what he actually needed, assuming that the crafting process required the same amount of materials as when he had been using wood to make his tools. Though once he had put his crafting bench into place on the ground just in front of him, he realized something else could be done with the cobbled stone.

Then came nightfall. Kevin had exploited all the natural resources of the ravine and built up a camp, which he initially thought would be enough for him for the night. Once the sun disappeared and the moon rose, he realized that it was not near as safe as it should be. Nightly creatures, such as moths and owls, were to be expected, but the monsters that crept up on him from the woods and other dark places were not as expected. Truthfully, Kevin was not expecting them at all. Hell, he didn't even know they existed.

What once had been a man, but was now a zombie, gurgled somewhere deep back in its throat and approached him with the sound of dragging feet as it staggered towards him. He knew he would have to fend for himself since there was nobody there to help him, so he had to think quickly. The tools he had crafted, although useful, were not meant to kill anything. Except for...

Except for his sword. It was of stone and would not be as useful as one made out of steel, but it would do the job. Kevin just hoped he was a good enough swordsman to make up for it. The zombie stumbled over its own feet, getting closer to him, and he trusted his sword in its chest before it could come too close. Luckily, he was strong enough to put enough force in the thrust that it went all the way through to the other side, but it also meant he had to step forward, closer to the zombie. This was not ideal, because Kevin was unsure if a sword through the heart was enough to kill it.

It fell dead on the ground and vaporised, leaving only a small piece of rotten flesh behind. Kevin looked at it, a bit puzzled. Was it normal for things to just disappear like that? The more time he spent exploring, the more unsettled he felt. It all felt so wrong yet so familiar. Was he dreaming? He blocked out the thought before he had time to think much more about it.

Just then another zombie spotted him and charged towards him. He took a deep breath to brace himself and got ready to kill such a large amount of creatures that he would lose count by the night's end.

we're doing the titles rick riordan style baby THANKS UNCLE RICK