Marvel: As a survival player of Minecraft

Manav arrived in Sokovia, stepping out of the airport after clearing the usual checks and protocols. As soon as he walked out through the main gate, he was met with an unexpected commotion. A group of taxi drivers, sensing a potential passenger, surrounded him like sharks circling their prey. They called out to him in loud, competing voices, each more insistent than the last.

"Taxi! Cheapest rates!"

"Where are you heading? I'll take you there fast!"

"Come with me, I know the best routes!"

Manav was taken aback. He had never experienced anything like this before, and for a moment, he stood frozen in confusion. The sheer aggressiveness of the drivers was overwhelming. After gathering his thoughts, he decided on a quick response to defuse the situation.

"I'm a local," Manav said firmly, waving them off. "I live nearby and just got back from abroad. I don't need a taxi, thanks."

The drivers' faces fell immediately. Realizing they had wasted their energy on someone who wasn't a paying customer, they backed off with visible frustration, muttering complaints to each other as they dispersed. Manav watched them retreat before taking a deep breath and turning his attention to the city ahead.

He looked around and spotted a direction board fixed to a pole nearby. According to the signs, the city center wasn't too far, so he decided to walk. He adjusted his chest-like backpack, making sure his belongings were secure. His passport and money were safely stored inside—a precaution he'd taken before leaving New York. Back then, he had tested a unique method of protection: breaking his passport and other essential papers into their block versions, ensuring their contents remained intact but disguised. Airport officers had dismissed the unusual appearance as nothing more than a trendy design.

As he walked toward the city center, he stopped occasionally to ask pedestrians for directions to a hotel. They were polite enough, offering him helpful suggestions, and Manav made sure to thank them each time. After about half an hour of walking, he came across a hotel that seemed to fit his needs. It wasn't overly fancy, nor did it look rundown—a perfect middle ground.

Manav had always preferred such places. He believed they attracted less attention, sparing him from potential trouble. At hotels like this, no one would look down on him as a poor traveler to exploit or mistake him for a rich target to rob.

He stepped into the lobby, where an old man sat behind the reception counter. Without hesitation, Manav approached the desk.

"Uncle, I'd like a room for a few days," he said plainly.

The old man peered at him through his glasses. "Sure. I'll need your name, passport, and mobile number," he replied, pulling out a registration logbook.

Manav handed over his details, watching as the man meticulously noted them down. After quoting the daily rent, the old man accepted the payment and handed him a room key.

"Here you go, young man," the old man said, passing him the key. "By the way, what brings you to Sokovia?"

"I'm working on a project," Manav explained, keeping his tone casual. "It's about identifying challenges in struggling countries and proposing solutions to improve their conditions. Sokovia seemed like the ideal place for research."

The old man nodded thoughtfully. "That's an admirable task, but let me warn you: Sokovia isn't the safest place right now. There are protests and unrest in several areas. Be careful while you're out and about."

"I will, Uncle. Thank you for the advice," Manav replied with a small smile before heading upstairs.

Reaching his assigned room, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. The room was modest but clean, with basic furnishings and a small window overlooking the street. After locking the door behind him, Manav began inspecting the space thoroughly. He wasn't the type to let his guard down, especially not in unfamiliar territory. Once he was satisfied there were no hidden cameras or other threats, he set his backpack on the bed and sat down to rest.

Looking up at the white ceiling fan spinning lazily, his thoughts turned to the looming threat.

"I don't know when Ultron and his bots will arrive, but I need to be ready," he murmured to himself. He had rushed to Sokovia overnight, leaving many of his raw materials unprocessed. Preparations couldn't wait any longer.

Manav stood up, retrieving his crafting table from his backpack. He placed it on the floor and immediately set to work. His first task was to create a functional gas mask. Using a mix of iron ingots and experimenting with different combinations, he struggled at first to produce a usable design. Frustrated but persistent, he finally succeeded in crafting an iron gas mask. However, when he tried to wear it with his iron helmet, the pieces didn't fit properly.

"Maybe I can combine the two into a single piece," he thought aloud. Placing the helmet and gas mask on the crafting table, he experimented until the table vibrated softly, producing a new item: a reinforced helmet with an integrated gas mask. He tried it on, relieved to find it fit perfectly without restricting his movement or vision.

Encouraged by this success, Manav moved on to upgrading the rest of his armor. He crafted elbow-length gloves from iron ingots and integrated them with his existing gear, ensuring no gaps remained in his protection. Piece by piece, he fortified his armor, preparing for the battle he knew was inevitable.

After completing his armor upgrades, he crafted bows, arrows, and other essential supplies. Once everything was ready, he packed up his crafting table and stored all the items back in his backpack. Feeling both physically and mentally drained, he took out a block-version cake and ate it to restore his energy. With his hunger satisfied, he lay down on the bed and quickly fell asleep.

The next morning, Manav woke up feeling refreshed. After a quick shower and a simple breakfast of bread, he stepped out of the hotel to explore the city. He knew that understanding Sokovia's layout was crucial. Even though Ultron's robots could scan and adapt to the terrain instantly, Manav believed knowing the city's streets and hiding spots would give him an edge.

He spent the day wandering through various neighborhoods, paying close attention to landmarks and potential choke points. By sunset, he wasn't fully familiar with Sokovia, but he had learned enough to feel confident about navigating the city in an emergency.

As he walked along a quiet street, his mind wandered to new ideas for weapons. He envisioned a Minecraft-style shotgun, combining real-world mechanics with block-based elements. Using a gun frame as the base, he planned to incorporate Redstone for the trigger mechanism and minimized TNT for explosive cartridges. The idea excited him, but he decided to save the crafting for later.

Feeling mentally tired, Manav stopped at a small coffee shop to recharge. He ordered a strong coffee, sipping it slowly as he reflected on his preparations so far. After finishing, he dropped a tip into a donation box for orphaned children before heading back out.

On his way back, Manav overheard pedestrians discussing an abandoned mine on the outskirts of the city. The mine, they claimed, was haunted, and no one dared to enter—even during the day. Intrigued by the rumors, Manav decided to investigate.

After asking for directions, he walked for nearly an hour before arriving at the mine's entrance. A rusty warning sign cautioned against entry, citing the risk of tunnel collapses. Manav paid it no mind. Donning his armor and shield, he stepped into the dark, narrow tunnels.

For a long while, he wandered through the eerie silence, the only sound being his footsteps echoing off the damp walls. Eventually, he came across a heavy black iron door. Without hesitation, he kicked it open, only to be met with a foul stench. Covering his face with his gas mask, he stepped inside.

The small, dimly lit room looked like someone had lived there for years. A gas stove, mini fridge, car batteries, and a rickety table were scattered around. On the bed lay a corpse—an old man who appeared to have passed away days ago.

"Probably died of old age," Manav muttered, inspecting the room for anything useful. Most of the items were mundane, but a small, tattered book on the table caught his eye. Picking it up, he was surprised to find the title in English: The Flying City of Sokovia.

Curiosity sparked, he opened the book, wondering what secrets it might reveal about the city and its mysterious past.