Arknightcraft Modpack

After the Infected patrol squad left the village, life gradually returned to normal.

Even though the terrifying knight might return at any time, the villagers were too focused on surviving the present to think much about the future.

To Steven’s surprise, the villagers resumed their daily routines much faster than he anticipated.

This unexpected resilience also made it easier for him to initiate trades with the locals. Thanks to Alina, a kind-hearted local girl, Steven—posing as a traveling merchant—quickly gained the villagers’ trust.

And when he brought out an impressive supply of baked potatoes and an assortment of dried meats as barter goods, he instantly became the most celebrated figure in the village.

No, calling him the village’s savior wouldn’t even be an exaggeration. If the villagers were asked to erect a monument in his honor, they would likely do so without hesitation.

After all, following the Infected patrol squad’s raid, the village was left with barely enough resources to survive the winter. Though the knight’s intervention had scared off the patrol, sparing them from losing their last bit of food, making it through the harsh winter was still a daunting challenge.

Steven’s arrival changed everything. His seemingly bottomless bag of potatoes and dried meat was a game-changer.

More astonishingly, his terms of trade were ridiculously simple. All he asked for was wood—the most abundant resource on this snowy plain.

Twelve hours of chopping trees would earn a family of three enough potatoes to last three days or a small portion of beef or lamb. To the villagers, this was nothing short of a blessing.

In this freezing weather, most of the elderly, women, and children in the village had no work opportunities, spending their days huddled in their drafty homes, praying for the winter to pass. Steven’s offer of “work for food” was nothing less than salvation.

And so, the villagers practically worshipped him.

“This level of work intensity is considered a blessing to them? Did I set my prices too high?” Steven mused, amused by the situation. “Sometimes, you really have to admire capitalists. Their shamelessness is on a level I can’t hope to reach.”

What Steven initially thought was a lazy and self-serving way to offload labor had unexpectedly mobilized the entire village into becoming his workforce.

He had even deliberately set the work hours and conditions high—effectively a “996” work schedule, which, to him, was the bare minimum for laborers. Yet the villagers embraced the deal enthusiastically.

“I don’t understand why you need so much wood. Didn’t you say you’re a doctor? Why collect such a massive amount of wood? Are you building something?”

Over the past few days, Talulah had grown more familiar with Steven. Both outsiders to the village, they found common ground despite their prickly personalities. With Alina—a sweet, nurturing presence—acting as a mediator, Talulah had come to grudgingly accept this oddball as a friend.

A friend with a lot of secrets and absurdly overwhelming strength, but a friend nonetheless.

“No, I’m using it to make charcoal.”

“Charcoal? What for? You’ve piled up so much wood outside your house it’s practically a mountain.”

Talulah was even more perplexed. A doctor producing that much charcoal—was he planning to burn his house down? With the sheer volume of wood he had collected, he could burn down the entire village if he wanted.

“Sigh. You don’t understand. The charcoal is for smelting steel.”

Steven lounged in a chair at the recycling station he had set up at the village entrance, speaking in a leisurely tone.

The joy of being a boss and delegating work to others was unparalleled. Sure, he could chop wood much faster than the hundred villagers combined, but where was the fun in that?

The greatest driver of technological innovation among humans was laziness, and the same was true for a Minecrafter’s desire to automate everything.

As long as he could sit here and collect resources, why rush? Efficiency was irrelevant when he wasn’t in a hurry.

“Smelting steel?”

Talulah’s face twisted in confusion. She knew charcoal was used for smelting steel, but even if Steven had the technical skill to do it, what was he going to do with the steel?

A guy like him didn’t need steel weapons. With his strength, even a wooden stick could be a deadly weapon.

After seeing him single-handedly move the entire day’s worth of wood—about a hundred logs—to his side in one go, Talulah understood just how terrifyingly strong he was.

Carrying such a load at speeds that seemed faster than flying was simply beyond her comprehension.

“You wouldn’t understand even if I explained. Let’s just say this is the first step to making a fortune.”

After witnessing the Infected patrol squad—a supposedly official organization—still relying on swords and other cold weapons, Steven had already spotted a lucrative business opportunity.

An opportunity ripe for monopolization.

Here’s a question: in an era of war and turmoil, aside from food, what’s the most valuable commodity?

The answer is obvious—weaponry.

And as it happened, Steven had access to a “Modern Warfare” mod named Vic’s Modern Warfare Mod, which could produce firearms. Although these weapons were practically toys to him, if sold as armaments in this world…

Steven figured becoming the richest man here wouldn’t be out of reach.

Of course, he wasn’t planning to become an arms dealer just yet. This was still in the idea stage. For now, he would focus on crafting the guns using his resources.

Whether or not he’d sell them? That would depend on his mood.

Besides, simply pulling materials from a [Crafting Table] felt too much like cheating—it wouldn’t be fun. Handcrafting everything himself was far more satisfying.

As he lounged lazily and watched the villagers chop wood for him, Steven thought to himself that life as a boss was indeed hard. Even sitting here supervising was exhausting in its own way.

“You’re…”

Talulah trailed off before sighing. “Forget it. Trying to understand what’s going on in your head would probably drive me insane. But regardless, you’ve saved this village again.”

Talulah looked at Steven, who was reclining like a content landlord. Though her gaze carried some frustration, it was mostly filled with gratitude.

She understood very well that without Steven providing food and work, these elderly and incapable villagers might not survive the winter at all.

Moreover, his so-called “work requirements” were laughably lenient. Compared to the hellish conditions of Ursus’s official mines, Steven’s operation felt like a utopia.

“A twelve-hour workday with no holidays counts as saving them? You make it sound like I’m some kind of saint,” Steven said, covering his face in mock embarrassment.

If Talulah hadn’t brought it up, he might not have even thought about it. Now, though, he couldn’t help but feel he wasn’t cutthroat enough to be a proper capitalist. Maybe he really wasn’t ruthless enough to deserve being lynched someday. Who would’ve thought these people would treat him like a deity?

“Work? This is charity,” Talulah replied earnestly. To the villagers, what Steven was doing was nothing short of philanthropy.

If anyone tried to stop them from working for him, they’d be making enemies of the entire village.

“What’s a holiday?”

Alina tilted her head, puzzled by the unfamiliar term. To her, the idea of a job that allowed her to support her family was already miraculous. Why would anyone want to give that up to do something else?

“Alright, that’s enough Soviet jokes for one day,” Steven muttered, deciding not to delve deeper. Even Alina and Talulah thought he was running a charity. If the conversation continued, he feared he might really end up as some capitalist caricature dangling from a lamppost.

Let’s just say Ursus has its own peculiarities.

“Honestly, I’d chop wood for you myself if I could,” Talulah said, giving him a push on his reclining chair. “But the old folks back home told us to keep you company and try to get you to stay in the village a bit longer.”

The two elders had noticed how well she and Steven got along for some inexplicable reason. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been sitting here chatting idly with him.

“I think it’s nice. I rarely see you talk this much with anyone else,” Alina chimed in, smiling. While she didn’t always understand what Steven and Talulah were talking about, she could tell their relationship was gradually improving.

“Ahem. If you’re trying to win my favor, shouldn’t you be showing me some respect? And pushing me like that? The nerve!”

Raising an eyebrow, Steven reached into his pocket and pulled out an empty bottle, placing it on the table in front of him.

“You know the drill.”

“Get lost.”