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><>2nd person POV<><

In the familiar universe of Minecraft... You can either be a boy or girl reader and it still fit.

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Your back is scraped harshly against the stone wall. Dang, your old back kinda needed that actually. Your long grey hair proves just how long you have managed to survive. It has surprised you really with all the trouble you cause.

"Finally.. So, old lady, what are your final words?" An old man with white hair snarled. He had spent his entire life hunting you. And for what? It was pretty pointless! Nevertheless, you knew he had finally one-upped you. He had the help of a couple trusty iron golems on either side of him. You already took a few bad hits to the ribs and limbs, so you were in no fighting condition. That didn't keep you from fighting back though.

"Such a pitty. I had hoped you would grow some brains and decide to do something with your life other than waste it hunting me. How pathetic do you think you are?!" You spit. His face contorts as he pulls out a handy dagger. A few old memories flash in your mind at the sight of it. Heh, he must have promised himself to kill you with the same dagger you used to kill his king, Myphalayus. It was a pitiful reason, really. He caught your smirk and his brows scrunches down to a scowl. He then thrusts the dagger in towards your heart. With pure adrenaline rushing through you, you swipe your hand to the side to deflect the blade. As you did so, you grabbed the man's wrist holding the dagger with incredible speed and turned it into himself. All is silent the next moment. The iron golems look down at their master with strait emotionless faces as they watch him fall to the floor, dead. They didn't attack, knowing what you had yet to find out already.

A small frown drops on your face. You had never wanted to kill him. He had always been a fun one. Surely, life would be bleak without him always sneaking over your shoulder. Then, with you not knowing why, your vision blurs and grew darker. You stumble on your old feet. What was wrong? Your heart slows, and pain coats your chest. Without looking, you place your hand over your rib cage and feel it immediately be painted in warm liquid. You didn't even need to look down. You could just tell right away. You were dieing. Somehow that dagger had still stabbed you deep enough to reach your heart.

Knowing where this was going, you weakly pass the iron golems, them letting you for whatever reason, and sit down at your study. The room you are in was your old basement made of stone bricks and dust. Your desk was covered in maps and other old books you had written by hand over the last few years. Calmly, you sat down and pulled out an old dusty book, and pulled out an ink pen. You flip through hundreds of pages all full of notes, written in many different handwritings. The book itself was so old it was falling apart, even when preserved so well. Carefully, you flip to one of the last pages in your book that hadn't been filled with text yet. In it, you wrote, "Looks like I've got myself into another big pickle.. Only this time, I won't be able to bounce back. At least.. I get another chance at this. Hopefully, I will finally accomplish my mission this next go-round. Wish me luck." After that, you pass.

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The sun shines down on your face. That queasy feelig comes back. It always drains a lot of you to do that. Luckily, you no longer feel any pain. Nothing really.

After a moment or two of laying on your back just looking at the blue sky above you, you get up. You smile as soon as you don't feel any sore back or anything of the sort. The only thing you wonder... who, exactly are you now? You stand up with remarkable ease. Way better than before for sure. You stretch your back, groaning with contentment, then sigh as you look around. Wait, that voice sounded maskulin. Unlike before. Quickly, you look around for some kind of reflective surface. Not too far away you spot a tiny pond. You then walk over to it and look down into the blue.

Looking back up at you is a young man. A pretty handsome man at that. You now have mildly short, wild, black hair and stellar golden eyes. Your structure is firm and your shape fit. Your clothes are simple. A tight black t-shirt and dark jean pants.

"Heh, now for a new name that fits the new me." You chuckle, taking a moment to adjust to the deeper voice as well. "Hmmm, how about... Cody?" You question your reflection. You watched as your reflection smiled. "Cody it is then." You say out loud to no one but yourself. After another moment to adjust to the height difference as well, you look up at the sun. Though it is not setting yet, you know it will soon. "Well, Cody, looks like I have to make a shelter now." You speak to yourself again, to both get used to your new voice and new name.. Following your own instructions, you turn from the sun and head towards the nearest collection of trees. You always seem to re appear in an empty meadow for some reason. Instead of simply walking, you begain sprinting to the trees, testing to see how fast your new legs can go. They move extremely fast, that combined with your ever increasing energy, and you are almost going at super human speeds. This is interrupted when you trip over your own foot, however. Garsh. Forgot to take into consideration that your feet are a lot larger too. You shrug it off and begain running again. With practice, you should be back up to your original flawless pace.

After less than five minutes of running, you stop at the tree-line, panting like a maniac. You will need to work on conditioning your body all over again to get used to the strain, looks like.

"Alright, time to toughen some knuckles." You say to yourself, readying your poor flawless fists. They always seem so innocent when first starting out, no matter who you are. Knowing this is going to hurt, you prepare yourself mentally as you walk up to the nearest tree. Next up, you slam your fist deep into the bark with deadly accuracy, strength, and speed. Once done, your hand recoils and you have a good look at it. The poor thing was bruised so easily. You, unlike the lucky ones who's strength grows slowly along with their responsibilities are already used to this kind of conditioning by the age you reset at, which is always age twenty.

You push down the desire to just not, and punch again, this time with your other fist. It hurts just as bad, but you don't stop. You continue this punching until the tree has become nothing but oak logs in your inventory and splinters still remaining in the grass. Your knuckles at that point are bleeding and pleading to end the torture. Adhering to your fists' pleads, you take a break. You take your break by creating a crafting table and turning the remaining logs into planks. After that, you decide to sit on the crafting table and deal with your bleeding fists; ripping the ends of your jeans enough to use them to wrap around your wrists and fists. You wrap them in a way so they are more like gloves, still able to use your hands practically with them on. You probably should have thought of wrapping those on before to be honest.

'No, no, please don't!' Your fists screech when you get up and walk over to the next tree. The conditioning then continues. After a few solid hours, you have enough wood to make a fitting shelter as well as two arms sore to the bone. When you are satisfied you finally smile to yourself. You break your crafting table and look around for the best place to build a temporary home. Eventually, you plan on finding a small town where you can keep up with the news and figure out how long you were gone. It usually varies between one week to five years, so there is no way to know for sure how long you were gone. Until then, you have to toughen up and get used to your new strength.

You find a nice flat place in the large meadow you woke up in. It was close to s small creek where you could set up a small bridge to fish from. Oh yeah, food. You forgot about that. After living for so long with all the needed supplies and more, it can be confusing suddenly having to call back those old instincts. You will worry about food tomorrow though. The sun is setting, orange and pink light resting over the distant hills, and monsters will be out and about any time now. You hadn't made a sword yet so you have to resort to the safety of your shelter.

Wall by wall, you build your house. You fill a couple spots you want to make windows someday with dirt and make a simple half slab roof, going upward at the top like most houses do so you won't have to bother about going back up there and making it look better later.

Finally, after a full, tiring day. You finish the floor and place a door. With no bed, you curl up in the far corner you plan on placing your future bed someday, and fall fast asleep. Good night.