Steve felt the sensation of being weightless for a few moments as he hurled upward through the sky. He tried to blink, but the effort was beyond him and his eyes stayed open. Then he felt like he was being hurled down towards the earth, gradually picking up speed. He felt like he was going to break in half from all the stress, then: WHUMP. Steve hit the cold sand of a beach. The first thing he felt after this was a pulsing pain in his stomach, shoulder, and chest. He vaguely remembered being shot multiple times in those places by a skeleton riding a spider, but decided that had been a dream. He got up on his knees, pushing his body off of the sand. Steve looked at they sky and saw that it was around…2’o clock in the morning? He squinted, looking into the darkness, and seeing shapes coming towards him. There was a skeleton, brandishing a bow, and two of the exploding reptiles that Steve feared. There was also a humanoid creature, with green skin and tattered clothes. Steve decided that all of these things were hostile, and began jogging away from them. As he ran out onto the open plain, legs burning from the run, more of the green humanoids joined the group chasing him. The skeleton nocked an arrow, and, taking precise aim, released its bony fingers. There was a whizzing sound as it flew right by Steve’s head and embedded itself in the ground. Steve saw his house and ran in the front door, slamming it shut behind him and bracing it with a cube of dirt. He saw all of his stuff on the floor and picked it up, still breathing hard from the exhilaration. He picked the stone sword he made earlier and swung it around, slamming open the front door and charging out to meet the incoming force.
Steve caught the last zombie with a sword to the head. It moaned and burst into smoke, dropping two feathers. He picked them up, stashing them in his backpack. His stone sword was beginning to crumble around the edges, and every hit made it break more. He heard a hissing behind him, and swiped viciously with his sword, catching the creeper (Steve coined the word after he noticed that they made no noise whatsoever, except hissing) with the tip of his blade. It to burst into a cloud of smoke, dropping a gray powder. He still didn’t know what that was, but he knew it had to be explosive. It was sunrise now, and he walked back to his house. As Steve passed over a sandy patch of land, backpack jostling against his shoulders, half of the gray powder he was carrying dropped out of his hands. He grunted as he bent down, hands searching through the sand, mixing it together. Steve decided that the powder was lost, which was a shame since he had lost five pieces of it. As he put his foot down on the sand and: FWOOM. Steve was blasted backwards, landing against a tree trunk. He looked back at the sandy patch, and saw that it had been blown to bits by some sort of explosion. Then it struck him. The gray powder was a crude form of gunpowder, and in this world it reacted with sand in a 5:4 ratio. This formed an explosive mixture that reacted to contact. Steve jogged back to his house, stopping by another sandy patch to pick up four pieces of sand. He put his other pieces of gunpowder on the bench, mixing it with the sand in the same 5:4 ratio and forming it into a cube. A red skin rippled over the sandy gray cube, binding it together. Steve noticed the label on the skin: Trinitrotoluene: execute extreme caution when using. “TNT, huh?” muttered Steve as he picked up the cube with a grin.
“Time for science!”