The windows of text winked out at his command, and with only a thought, the inventory screen unfolded in his mind's eye. The grid of empty squares was no longer pristine—two of the forty little boxes now held glowing icons, and the currency section at the bottom showed a neat 10 floating above the first of six stacked coin symbols.
"Wonderful," he muttered. "The world may have gone to hell, but at least my imaginary wallet's getting fat."
Curiosity got the better of him, and he focused on the second new addition. A soft pulse of thought, and the item labelled Healing Unguent (Iron) materialized in his palm. Jace turned it over in his hands.
It was a small, round tin, surprisingly ordinary compared to the fanfare of rainbow smoke and floating screens. Its smooth, brushed metal surface reflected the sun, catching on the faint ridges of the engraved symbol stamped into the lid. The sight tugged at a buried memory—his nanna's medicine cabinet. She used to keep an old tin of all-purpose ointment tucked away under the laundry sink, a relic so ancient the label had faded and the metal had grown orange with rust. Whenever Jace scraped a knee as a kid, she'd crack it open, and the pungent salve inside would sting like hell while smelling faintly of camphor and regret.
At least this version didn't look like it was on the verge of giving him tetanus.
The distinction between grandmothers flickered across his mind, unbidden. Nanna—the maternal one—had been the source of rusty tins, endless biscuits, and unconditional affection. His father's mother, however, was Grandmother, and she had no patience for anything short of sterile, clinical precision. A retired otorhinolaryngologist—ear, nose, and throat surgeon, as she'd remind anyone within earshot—she would never have tolerated some moldy ointment tin hanging around the house.
Jace shook his head, forcing the memories aside, and studied the object anew.
Item: [Healing Unguent (Iron)] (iron rank, common)
Topical healing ointment. Inexpensive concoction ideal for superficial injuries. (Consumable, healing).
He raised an eyebrow. "So… fantasy Vaseline with a fancy label. At least it's better than bleeding out in the grass."
Effect: Apply directly to injuries to heal.
Effect reduced on bronze-rank or higher individuals.
Uses remaining: 5/5.
Unlike the strange tablet earlier, the hovering window had no trouble spelling out exactly what this tin was for. No mystery symbols, no question marks—just plain, practical instructions.
Jace popped the lid open with a faint click and immediately wrinkled his nose. "Yep. Definitely Nanna's ointment," he muttered. The smell was sharp and medicinal, a menthol bite that stabbed straight through his sinuses. But at least it helped cut through the lingering reek of the rainbow-smoke hamster carcass.
Inside, the contents gleamed with a greasy sheen. It looked like something halfway between butterscotch sauce and industrial lubricant, only with the faint suggestion that its ingredients had been sourced from the dodgy end of a back-alley pharmacy.
Jace tilted the tin, watching the thick ointment slosh sluggishly. "Right. So let me get this straight—I kill a hamster, and it drops… ointment. In a perfectly sealed tin. Yeah. That tracks." He shook his head. "What next, hamster toothbrushes?"
With a sigh, he touched a finger gently to the wound on his head.
"Ow."
The oversized teeth had left deep punctures in his scalp. Blood still trickled down his forehead in a sticky line, working its way past his temple and toward his cheek. His fingers came away slick and red.
"Well, can't hurt to try," he said. "Not like I've got a first-aid kit stashed in my… imaginary pockets. At least I don't have to worry about getting ointment in my hair." He rubbed a hand across his bare skull, still unsettled by its smoothness.
Scooping up a fingertip of the oily substance, Jace carefully smeared it across the wounds. The effect was immediate. A sharp sting bit into the skin, making his eyes water.
You have used [Healing Unguent (Iron)].
Uses remaining: 4/5.
The sting faded almost instantly, replaced by a soothing warmth. The pain itself melted away just as quickly, vanishing in seconds. Jace gingerly prodded the spot with his fingers. The skin was still slick with blood and ointment, but when he traced along his scalp, there was nothing—no cut, no swelling, not even a tender spot.
"Well, alright then," he said, eyebrows raised. "If medicine's going to pop into existence out of nowhere, it might as well be magically potent."
Satisfied, Jace snapped the lid shut and sent the tin back into his inventory. Then his eyes shifted to the other glowing icon still waiting for him. Another pulse of thought, and something materialized in his hand.
A small gem, smooth and teardrop-shaped, gleamed up at him. Its surface caught the light in shades of red and brown, as if fire and earth had fused into a single crystal. Jace turned it over in his fingers, its weight oddly reassuring despite its size.
Item: [Monster Core (Lesser)] (iron rank, common)
The magic core of a lesser monster (crafting material, magic core).
Effect: Common component for ritual magic and magic item creation.
Jace stared at the glowing text, lips twitching. "Oh, brilliant. A hamster heart-rock for magic rituals. Of course magic is a thing. Why wouldn't it be? I'm apparently living inside a video game now."
He rolled the little gem between his fingers again. Up close, the faint shimmer inside it reminded him of embers trapped in amber—pretty, in a cheap crystal-shop kind of way. With a sigh, he pushed it back into his inventory, watching it vanish as though swallowed by the air.
"Yeah, no, this tracks. Either I've gone full isekai, or…" He trailed off, rubbing at his temple. "Or I've had an aneurysm and this is my brain's last hurrah. Just a fireworks display of nonsense as everything shuts down."
The thought lingered. He could picture it too clearly: his sister unlocking his door after he failed to pick up her calls, her little girl clinging to her side as they stepped into his flat. His niece, staring wide-eyed at the body on the couch, controller still clutched in hand.
Jace winced. "Wow. Okay. Not thinking about that. Not if I want to stay functional." He let out a hollow laugh. "Alright, new rule. Pretend the delusion is real. That's healthier than… that."
Pushing the thought down, he turned his focus back to the inventory. The currency counter glowed invitingly. Ten little notches stacked above the first coin icon. Jace frowned. "How do I even… take that out? Is there a button? A slot? Do I need to shake my head three times?"
He tapped the glowing number experimentally.
You have 10 [Lesser Spirit Coins]. How many would you like to withdraw?
Jace blinked. "Uh. One, I guess."
There was a faint pop, and suddenly a coin rested in his palm. It was cool to the touch, smooth-edged and perfectly round, about the size of a two-dollar piece. Its surface was a washed-out blue, with a faint metallic gleam that caught the sunlight. But when he rubbed it between his fingers, it felt wrong—closer to glass than metal, fragile in a way that didn't match its shine.
Jace held it up to the light, squinting. "Spirit money. Sure. Why not. Next you'll tell me I can put it in a vending machine for potions."
Item: [Lesser Spirit Coin] (Iron Rank, Common)
Description: An imperfect condensation of raw, unrefined magic, unstable yet useful. (Currency, crafting material)
Effect: Can be expended to power lesser-ranked magical artifacts or consumed as a ritual catalyst.
Jace held the coin up to the light, squinting at the faint figure stamped onto its face. At first, he thought it was some generic heroic figure—until recognition set in. It wasn't a stranger at all. The coin bore his own likeness, smirking smugly and flashing a thumbs up.
"…What? My chin is not that big."
He flipped it over, half-afraid of what else he might find. The reverse side was even worse: bold letters etched into the surface declared, PRODUCT OF Jace. G'DAY, MATE!
Jace dragged a weary hand down his face. The ridiculousness of the coin somehow outweighed the sheer impossibility of conjuring currency from thin air. "Yep," he muttered, voice dry. "I've officially gone insane."
Before he could linger too long on the absurdity, agony lanced up his leg. A wet, slippery creature had sunk its teeth deep into the tender flesh of his inner thigh. Jace let out a strangled cry, part raw pain, part panicked horror. He was still very much without pants, and the thing had chosen to attack far too close to an area that should have been off-limits to hostile wildlife.
"Not there! Not there!"
Instinct took over. He seized the creature's slick, writhing body with both hands, muscles straining as he tried to wrench it free. It refused to let go, its teeth tearing another bloody chunk from his thigh. Jace screamed again, but this time he didn't let go. Clutching it in a death grip, he swung the beast wildly and slammed it again and again into the thorny hedge, each impact punctuated with another grunt of pain and fury.
You have defeated [Flying Eel]
Defeat lesser monsters: 9/10