Science started with him grabbing the three-quarters-full bag of rice, dragging it next to the table, scooping out a cup of it, and pouring it onto the only clean plate he could find in the kitchen.

  ‘Ugh, the moment I have five minutes, I’m going to clean this pigsty up!’ he mused as he tossed aside another pile of dirty clothes with his feet.

  Gabriel took a seat at the table, placed the deck next to the plate, and took a deep breath. He lifted the top card with one hand, and with the other hand, he picked up one solitary grain of rice.

  Having already seen that it worked before, he slowly moved the two objects until they touched and flicked the mental switch. The grain instantly vanished from his hand and reappeared on the card beneath it.

  On it, he could see the grain of rice in the middle, and behind it a very vague silhouette of a rice paddy field framed by a white border around it. It read: 1 x Low-Quality Rice Grain.

  Nodding slightly, he repeated the same thing, and within a few seconds, he was holding two Low-Quality Rice Grain cards. Staring at them intently, he brought the two cards together until they touched and flicked a second mental switch.

  One of the cards emptied, returning to its base state, while the text on the other changed. It looked the same, though Gabriel could have sworn that the background was a little sharper than before. It read: 1 x Medium-Quality Rice Grain. The border remained white despite the increase in quality.

  “So far, it’s exactly what I expected to happen. Let’s continue!” he muttered, reaching for more rice and cards.

  A few minutes later, with a noticeable portion of rice missing from the plate, he had eight cards in front of him. They still only had the white borders, but at least the text under them was a bit more promising than before. After medium quality, it went to high, then to premium, super premium, and now he was holding eight 1 x Tribute Quality Rice Grain cards. The background had sharpened, displaying an idyllic rice paddy field, flooded with water, while the rice grain was surrounded by a very thin halo of light.

  Taking two of those, he slowly touched them together and activated the fusion. Just as before in earlier attempts, one of them vanished, and the other changed.

  The first thing he noticed was that the border of the card changed from white to vibrant green, and the image on the card looked as if it had gone through professional digital enhancement. The rice paddy looked as if it would come alive any second, and the rice grain was pearlescent white, almost glowing from within.

  Reading the text, he let out a low whistle: 1 x Ordinary Spiritual Rice.

  “Now we’re cooking!” he exclaimed happily, instantly reaching for more rice without hesitation.

  A few minutes later, he went through almost a thousand rice grains. Thankfully, that much rice was only around thirty grams, leaving him with plenty to work with. After ordinary, the rice went to low, medium, and high, until he finally held a 1 x Ascended-Grade Spiritual Rice in his hand, the border now polished silver rather than white or green.

  The entire picture radiated a spiritual aura and wafted the scent of spring, filling the area around him with a subtle, refreshing breeze.

  Gabriel tried to fuse two of the ascended grains together, but when he attempted to flick the switch to initiate the fusion, he found it unresponsive. Closing his eyes, he focused on the sensation and tried again, exerting more mental effort than before.

  But nothing happened.

  However, he could distinctly feel resistance, as though an unseen hand was gently restraining his own metaphorical arm, preventing him from activating the switch. For a fleeting moment, he even sensed a mild reproach from an unknown source, subtle but unmistakable.

  “Alright,” he muttered. “Message received. Do not fuck with super rice. Got it.” He separated the two cards immediately.

  Staring at the supernatural grain, he couldn’t help but swallow. He instinctively knew that eating it would be one of the most incredible experiences imaginable at his current level. Unfortunately, he also had enough sense not to try. Cultivation stories were filled with idiots who consumed things far beyond their limits and promptly exploded.

  Gabriel had a distinct aversion to exploding…

  Instead, he activated another function of his new power.

  He watched without emotion as the image of the rice grain vanished from the card, erased completely, and placed beyond the reach of any mortal being or mechanism. For a brief instant, he felt a gentle pat on his head before the sensation faded, reinforcing that he had made the correct decision.

  Staring at the now-empty card, Gabriel let out a long sigh and deliberately lowered his expectations to something survivable.

  An hour later, he had two cards in front of him. One displayed a small pile of rice grains, backed by the familiar rice paddy image, and read: 1 x Ordinary Spiritual Rice (100g). He didn’t even need a scale; the card handled the measurement automatically with surprising accuracy.

  “Very useful,” he murmured. “Nice quality-of-life design choice…” Turning his attention to the second card, he noted the same green border. It read: 1 x Ordinary Spirit Water (150 ml) – perfect amount for a rice cooker.

  After a moment’s thought, he stood, retrieved the salt from the kitchen, and began to fuse it methodically until he produced a 1 x Ordinary Spirit Salt (1g) card.

  With all three cards in hand, he walked over to the battered rice cooker. He released the rice first, letting the pearlescent grains tumble inside, followed by the water and then the salt. Cooking spiritual ingredients in a cheap, battered appliance felt mildly sacrilegious, but he didn’t have any better options. Besides, it was starting to get harder and harder to ignore the hunger gnawing at his stomach.

  He pressed the button, left the cooker to do its job, and returned to the large bag of mundane rice.

  Gabriel stared at it for a moment before clapping his hands together, trying to hype himself up. “Right! Time to get the rest…”

  As the spirit rice cooked, he went through the remainder of the low-quality rice the previous owner of the body had purchased at the local market, converting it patiently until he was left with a single card: 1 x Ordinary Spirit Rice (25 g).

  It wasn’t much. He had to consume roughly thirty grams of normal rice to create a single grain of ordinary spiritual quality. But waste not, and all that…

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  By the time the big bag was empty, and he had washed a small bowl and fork, the rice cooker chimed that it was ready.

  He hadn’t even stepped close to the device, but he could already smell the heavenly aroma of the cooked rice.

  The rice looked ordinary at first glance – white, fluffy, unassuming – but the moment he lifted the lid, Gabriel knew that it was anything but that.

  Each grain of rice shimmered faintly with vitality, and the scent of a freshly tilled field radiated from the cooker. Carefully – ensuring not a single grain was lost – he transferred the entire portion into his bowl.

  He sat on the couch, stared at it for a moment, then lifted his fork and took a bite without any hesitation or ceremony.

  It tasted like rice.

  That realization surprised him more than the flavor itself.

  However, he wasn’t disappointed. The taste was unlike anything he had ever experienced when eating rice. It was as though every previous meal had been a cheap imitation, a pale echo of the real thing he was tasting now. This time, it was the true, unadulterated experience of rice – nothing more and nothing less.

  Within seconds, the bowl was empty, and Gabriel stared down at it with a faint sense of loss rather than hunger. Despite how good it had been, he wasn’t convinced he could have eaten another bowl, no matter how tasty it was.

  He stood and was about to carry the bowl to the hastily and partially cleaned sink when a subtle warmth bloomed in his stomach, similar to the sensation of drinking hot soup on a cold day after being outside too long. The warmth spread outward, slow and lazy, seeping into his limbs and chest.

  As he focused on the sensation, he realized his breathing had grown easier, as if his sinuses had cleared. The lingering grogginess from his nap on the old couch faded, leaving his thoughts clearer than they had been all day.

  “Ahh…” he exhaled, letting out a satisfied sigh as the last of the warmth finally dissipated, leaving him refreshed and comfortably full. “Worth all the trouble…” he muttered while mentally calculating how much it would cost to eat the same rice every day.

  His inherited finances weren’t dire, but they weren’t especially promising either. The apartment he was currently staying in was rented from a stereotypical fat landlord who favored white wife-beaters with at least one visible stain. The rent ran about 1,500 credits per month, utilities not included.

  His job – cashier at the ubiquitous Freshway grocery chain that seemed to be on every corner – paid him between 2,000 and 3,500 credits, depending on how many shifts he picked up, thankfully, after taxes.

  Sorting through his memories, Gabriel realized he carried no real debts. Oakvale Community College had been nearly free (thanks to government subsidies), and by working while attending, he had avoided student loans entirely. Even if it took him six years to finish. He didn’t own a car. His parents’ debts had disappeared with them. He had refused his inheritance – accepting it would have cost more than it was worth – and his only consistent indulgence was a collection of online subscriptions.

  Everything else had gone into savings. According to his most recent memories, the account held around 5,000 credits, plus a little extra. Not life-changing, but enough to serve as a buffer.

  Credits, or creds as the youth called them, were this world’s unified currency. The previous patchwork system of national currencies had collapsed roughly a century ago due to the sheer volume of supervillains targeting financial institutions. In a rare show of global cooperation, nations had come together to implement the credit system as a shared solution. No matter where you were in the world, transactions were handled using the same currency without conversion.

  “Well,” Gabriel muttered, pushing the financial matters aside, “time for the second experiment.”

  He reached for the cards again with renewed focus.

  Selecting one at random, turned his attention to the nearest lamp. He held the card close to the old light bulb and reached for the mental switch while concentrating on the light pouring from it rather than the object itself.

  For a moment, he feared nothing would happen, but then the bulb dimmed ever so slightly, and the card changed.

  It now bore a white border and displayed a simple line art of a lit light bulb. Beneath it, a text identified the contents: 1 x Light.

  Frowning slightly, he reversed the process, releasing the captured light back into the room. There was a brief flash, but nothing else happened, and the card returned to its base state.

  He held out the card again and toggled the switch, this time holding the mental “gates” open far longer than before, allowing the card to absorb as much light as possible. Within seconds, the area around the lamp dimmed as the card continued siphoning off the emitted glow without interruption.

  For a full minute – which he timed precisely – Gabriel held the card in place before pulling it away, letting the lamp return to its former brightness.

  He studied the card, mildly surprised. At a glance, it looked nearly identical to before, but closer inspection revealed subtle differences in the intensity of the light that made up the light bulb drawing. The border remained white, yet the text now read: 1 x Light (Bright).

  “Wow. Such helpful,” he muttered, voice flat with sarcasm rather than awe.

  Closing his eyes, turned the card away from his face and released the stored light. There was no sound, but even with his eyes shut, he perceived the sudden flash that followed. It wasn’t eye-searing – more like the pop of a photographer’s flash.

  Satisfied, Gabriel spent the next several minutes filling five additional cards with light, repeating the process until he had a small stack prepared for later use.

  ‘You never know when you might need a flashbang…’ he mused as he placed the five 1 x Light (Bright) cards neatly on top of the rice card.

  His next experiment involved storing an active electronic device. Drawing on vague memories, he rummaged through a few boxes until he found an old phone, accompanied by its charger and intact cable. He plugged it in and charged it just enough to power it on. Once booted, he confirmed he could still call it using his own phone, which he had found next to his laptop during his previous search.

  The card accepted the old phone without protest and displayed its content accordingly: 1 x Phone (Old), bordered in white, accompanied by a crude and sad-looking drawing of the phone itself.

  Then he called it.

  The call immediately returned an unavailable message. Smiling faintly, Gabriel summoned the old phone back into his hand and called again. This time, the call connected, filling the apartment with cheerful 8-bit music at an unexpectedly high volume.

  Experiment complete, he powered the phone down and rose to his feet with a sense of quiet satisfaction.

  “This is a superhero world,” he said to himself. “At least it looks like one. I need to be prepared.”

  He moved into the bedroom and located a backpack. Without hesitation, he began filling it with a few changes of clothing, several bottles of High-Quality Water courtesy of his cards, and whatever nonperishable food he could scavenge from his understocked kitchen.

  He added an old army knife, a bundle of utensils, and a bowl, and finished with some hygiene products. Once packed, he absorbed the bag into a card, which promptly labeled itself 1 x Bugout Bag.

  A second card absorbed a folder containing his most important documents: his birth certificate, rent agreement, employment contracts, and several certificates he acquired over the years. The card titled itself 1 x Life History – and, unexpectedly, the border appeared deep purple rather than any previous color.

  Ensuring that a stray death laser wouldn’t erase his existence entirely, Gabriel turned his attention back toward his phone and laptop.

  In his previous life, the internet and mobile devices had served as gateways to an overwhelming flood of information – one he desperately hoped still existed here too.

  He retrieved the laptop from the bedroom and settled back onto the couch with a glass of High-Quality Water. The tap water hadn’t inspired confidence, so caution seemed warranted despite the inconvenience.

  The laptop was an unfamiliar brand and bore the subtle wear of long-term use, suggesting Gabriel had used it for years. Digging through inherited memories, he recalled that his parents had purchased it for college, and that the previous Gabriel hadn’t had the heart to replace it even after graduation.

  After entering the password, the screen lit up to reveal a clean desktop. The user interface differed slightly from what he remembered, but the fundamentals were the same. Icons varied in shape and color, yet their functions remained intuitive without requiring major effort on his part to figure out how to operate the device.

  Without checking anything else, he opened the meticulously maintained spreadsheet where the old Gabriel tracked subscriptions and recurring expenses, following the directions found in his new memories. One by one, he visited each site and disabled auto-renewal. While he didn’t mind the occasional indulgence, the sheer number of active subscriptions was excessive by any reasonable standard.

  Better to redirect that money toward rice and other necessities, he thought.

  Once that was done, Gabriel leaned back and let out a slow breath. For the first time since waking up in this unfamiliar body, he felt marginally grounded rather than overwhelmed.

  That sense didn’t last long.

  With trepidation, he clicked on the browser and began typing.

  The history of the world waited…