Something was wrong with my body.

  Pain. Bearable, but constant. Like a million tiny needles gently pricking every muscle in my body.

  Regeneration was extremely slow, and it didn't seem as fast as before.

  I felt tired, needing to sleep several times a day.

  It seems that the impact from falling off the mountain was more severe than I thought.

  With that in mind, it was time to settle down somewhere for a while to heal.

  I explored the base of the mountain, hoping to find a cave or possible shelter, but there was nothing.

  What was abundant were stones. Lots of them. Oh, and I found that may have been my dried left eye. Ugh.

  "Might I suggest, sir, the construction of a rudimentary dwelling? Stones abound, and with a modest infusion of black elixir and local soil, we may fashion something akin to those earthen abodes one observes in... those most enlightening instructional spectacles upon the internet," Waldo said.

  I paused for a second, scanning the barren landscape.

  No Wi-Fi. No cat videos. Just rocks, fatigue and the relentless heat of the twin suns above.

  Was this how the guy in Cast Away felt? You know, minus the alien bugs trying to eat him.

  "That's a good idea, Waldo. Let's try that."

  Slowly and painfully, I began to gather stones. Each step sent a jolt through my spine. I shuffled, stooped and lifted. The small ones were merciful, but the big ones mocked me.

  Several naps, a pulled muscle, and one accidental rock to the foot later, I'd gathered a pathetic but nice mountain of stones. Good enough for a house. Or a tomb.

  "Most commendable work, sir. Now, the next matter at hand: procuring a sufficient quantity of black elixir, which, fortuitously, remains plentiful in these parts. Might I inquire as to your intended method of extraction?"

  I stopped and tried thinking for a moment.

  Damn, even thinking hurt. Probably another side effect of the whole 'brain-splattered-on-impact' incident.

  "Maybe you can enlighten me again? Something that doesn't involve me bleeding out my fingertips again, if possible."

  Waldo thought. Then kept thinking. Then, really committed to the whole thinking thing.

  "Might I propose, sir, the formation of an aura-based vessel? One suited for the delicate task of elixir collection, and ideally, free of bloodshed this time."

  "Wonderful idea, Waldo! Elegant. Practical. Doesn't involve hemorrhaging. I'm in."

  By the way, I was still naked, refusing to use aura to make some underwear to cover my little friend. You get used to it. Eventually.

  I clasped my hands then and concentrated. I had to make a vessel out of aura. It shouldn't have been a problem...

  But then, as always, my dear lifelong companion “problem” made a dramatic entrance.

  I could barely concentrate my aura.

  I could feel the energy in my body, yes, but I was barely able to mobilize it. Trying that was like pushing wet sand uphill with a toothpick.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  That was a serious problem. Naturally, I turned to the ancient, sacred wisdom passed down through countless generations of degenerates: webnovels.

  I sat down and assumed the lotus position.

  I took a deep breath, held it, and prepared to gaze inward, like some kind of spiritual chiropractor.

  Surprisingly, it didn't take long. The relative silence of the alien wasteland helped.

  Damn...

  I could see the energy veins all over my body. My inner network.

  From my head to the tips of my toes. Even a small vein poking out of my... you know what? Let’s just not talk about that one.

  It was amazing. But I don't think the twisting path they were making was a good sign.

  They were tangled, some barely allowing the energy to flow. Others seemed on the verge of breaking.

  Well. I'd survived worse.

  Slowly, with extreme care, I began to mobilize the energy in my left leg in an attempt to heal the veins.

  And boy, did it work.

  The veins began to straighten, unraveling like oily spaghetti.

  Everything was going well, until...

  AAAGH!

  Pain. Blinding. Like every nerve decided to scream at once in all caps.

  I had no idea this process would be so painful. On the bright side, the veins seemed to be healing. The downside? I’d fixed maybe one percent of one leg. Fantastic. At this rate, I’d be healed in a few geological eras.

  "Waldo, this looks bad. There is a cure, yes. But I don't know how long it will take. And right now, I'm not feeling very masochistic."

  Waldo looked at me with concern, but I could see a small light ignite in his rocky eyes.

  "Most unfortunate, sir. I shall endeavor to remain optimistic regarding your recovery. However, may I propose an alternative approach? Rather than laboriously collecting the elixir, one might consider preparing the material directly within a nearby pond. Convenience, I daresay, would be greatly improved, and you might even construct your dwelling adjacent to it."

  What a great idea! Classic Waldo.

  “So, a black elixir jacuzzi next to my rock house. Sounds charmingly suicidal. Let’s do it.”

  I found the closest pool of black elixir to the pile of stones I'd collected, and got to work.

  First, I scraped off the hard earth and grounded it into as much powder as I could. Then, it was time for the first test.

  I mixed the powder with black elixir, stacked some stones, and pressed it all together, like a psychotic, naked bricklayer.

  For maybe the first time ever, I didn’t hate the twin suns trying to grill me alive. Naked construction warms the soul. Literally.

  The mini wall dried after a few minutes, and to my delight, the result was quite sturdy.

  "Wonderful, Waldo! This has potential."

  “Splendid news, sir! At this rate, we shall enjoy civilized shelter before you suffer another catastrophic injury,” Waldo congratulated me.

  Perfect. Encouraged and full of determination, I began laying the foundation for the house. Nothing too complicated: just a pile of stones with mud and black elixir.

  After a few hours, I had the base of the house, a small square with enough space for Waldo and me to live comfortably.

  Let’s fast-forward through the construction montage. I’d bore you with the details, but I’m not trying to put you to sleep. Yet.

  Two days. That's how long it took me to put together a house.

  With walls, a roof, and even a comfortable, hard pseudo-bed made of stones, which I would cover with beast hides if I ever hunted one again.

  But there was a problem: no bathroom. Nah, I'm kidding. The entire wasteland was my bathroom. That's the least it could give me in return, right?

  I built a house with nothing but rocks, sludge, pain, and spite. Eat your heart out, Bob the Builder.

  Waldo clapped with his imaginary hands and let out a low whistle.

  "If I may be so bold, sir... that is, without question, one of the most magnificent structures I have witnessed in my countless millennia of existence, dating all the way back to my humble beginnings as interstellar dust."

  "Of course, Waldo, of course. We’re talking about none other than Keegan Carter. Survivor, hunter, chef, martial artist... and now bricklayer extraordinaire. Humble, multi-talented legend at your service."

  Small oversight: no doors, no windows.

  Privacy? Handled. I left a human-sized hole in the roof, naturally, covered with a flat rock in case it ever rained. Which, then again, given the charming hellscape I lived in, was about as likely as hugging my mom again. So let's hope it rained, right?

  “Might I inquire, sir, as to the nature of the scheme presently percolating in your mind?” Waldo asked me, intrigued.

  Contrary to what my rocky companion probably expected, my mind was completely blank.

  "Well... first on the list... uh... should be... uhh..."

  I felt dizzy. And nauseous. Like my thoughts were melting sideways.

  "If I may, sir, I would most heartily recommend that you retire for the evening. You have exerted yourself admirably over these past days, and a period of restorative rest is not only deserved, but necessary," Waldo told me.

  He was right. I did deserve a rest. Waldo always knew what to say.

  Thanks Waldo.

  With great effort, I climbed the house's wall, which of course had small steps built in, and entered through the roof opening.

  I set Waldo on his altar, collapsed onto my pseudo-bed, shifted my aching back into place, and closed my eyes.

  The silence was strange. Unfamiliar. But not unwelcome.

  And besides, hey! I was a proud homeowner.

  Crazy, considering the market.