You died with the good stuff on you. It is still on the ground. You know the way. You just do not want to walk it.

Again.

So you walk it. The mob that got you is gone. The hole is not. You eat bread you do not remember making. It was in the chest from the last time you thought you were finished.

Chat said reset like it was small. It was not small. It was the whole run, sat back at the start. The bed is not yours. You set it anyway. Last time you skipped it, and the walk back took the night.

Fine.

Somebody else picked up a torch anyway. No speech. Just the light moving down the tunnel you already dug. Someone asks if you are still on. You are. The answer takes a second. Your hands are busy.

The stuff you lost was good. What you have now is worse. It is enough to reach the stuff you lost. Night again. You do not dig a fresh hole to hide in. You already know which dark is which.

Walk.

The dragon can wait. The setback already happened. You are still holding the pick. The run can start over. The world does not. The tunnel is still there when you are ready to be mad at it.