The air in the upper levels of Ashwall Spire was dry, like the breath of an oven left ajar too long. The tunnel ahead flickered with the low glow of magma veins etched along the walls. Nolan crouched behind a collapsed outcropping, holding a glowing Wooden Plank card in his soul-hand. He whispered the name of the card, and a spear materialized in his hand with a pulse of mana.

  “Let’s try again,” he muttered, feeling the weight of it.

  He summoned a second spear. Two spears. Two chances.

  His opponents were three flame-coated hounds—red-skinned beasts with molten eyes and snarling mouths that hissed steam. They prowled the corridor with eerie synchronization, sniffing for prey.

  Nolan took a breath, centered his stance, and let his instincts guide him. With a smooth motion—form honed by his Full Body Control talent—he hurled the first spear. It sailed like a javelin, striking the lead hound through the neck.

  The second spear followed a breath later, puncturing the chest of the second monster.

  But the third beast didn’t flinch. It leapt over its dying kin, bounding toward Nolan.

  “Of course,” he hissed.

  In a flash, he summoned his Claw Hook card, and the curved weapon snapped into his grip. He lunged forward, ducking low and jamming the hooked tip into the hound’s chest.

  The beast howled, thrashing. Nolan gritted his teeth, planted his foot, and yanked—leveraging the hook’s curve to pull the monster off balance.

  “Now!”

  He summoned the Fire Drill mid-motion. It pulsed in his hand—shorter now, having been damaged in a previous fight. He drove the spinning head forward in one swift stab—straight into the beast’s molten eye.

  The creature jerked, spasmed, then went limp.

  Nolan staggered back, panting. All three monsters lay dead.

  The spearheads had shattered. The fire drill cracked in half. Only the claw hook remained intact.

  He wiped sweat from his brow and muttered, “First thing I do when I get out of here… buy a proper knife.”

  A familiar shimmer pulsed beside him.

  “You won’t find any,” the Akashic Record said flatly, emerging mid-hover beside a floating rune chart.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Nolan squinted at her. “What?”

  “There are no knives. Or swords. Or utensils. Not like you think.”

  “That’s… impossible.”

  “Not in this world,” she replied, arms crossed. “History diverged. Your Earth’s humans developed tools out of necessity—no claws, no magic. Just stamina and intellect. Here, humans adapted around magic. Their claws and swords are spells. Cooking? Done with telekinesis and ignition spells. Even cutting vegetables is a mana trick.”

  Nolan groaned. “So you’re telling me no one ever thought to just use… steel?”

  “Oh, they tried. But it’s inefficient. Magic is cleaner, faster, and more cost-effective when you’re born with the right talent.”

  She flicked her clipboard. “Besides, the only advanced industries here are textiles, paper-making, and jewelry. Everything else? Alchemy, enchantments, potion brewing. Bottles and tools come from the dungeons. Reclaimed, not crafted.”

  “Great,” Nolan muttered. “So markets are useless?”

  “Markets rely on dungeon yield. If you want consistent gear, go dungeon diving or make your own.”

  He looked at his fire drill card. “Not like I’m good at crafting.”

  “I can fix that.”

  Nolan blinked. “You?”

  “I’m the Akashic Record,” she said with a tired smile. “Knowledge is my domain. With enough raw materials, I can guide you through basic crafting techniques.”

  “That sounds like cheating.”

  “Call it what it is—sacrifice. Gods always demanded it. Oracles traded offerings for visions. I just ask for components.”

  “So you’ll give me crafting knowledge if I give you junk?”

  “Not junk. Materials. The better they are, the better your options. I can give you beginner techniques. But mastering crafting? That’s still on you.”

  “Of course,” he sighed.

  With a groan, he sat back and retrieved the Fire Drill card from the graveyard—recycled with a soft hum. He summoned it again, set up a small cooking pit with some of his recovered Planks, and skewered monster meat onto sharpened sticks.

  Flames flickered to life.

  Nolan smiled. “Primitive barbecue. Take that, magic users.”

  The Akashic Record watched him quietly.

  “Aren’t you busy right now?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I am. But I’m also the embodiment of global systems. I can manage thousands of conversations across countless planes. This world just demands more of my attention because of all its inefficiencies.”

  “Still feels personal.”

  She didn’t deny it.

  As meat cooked and smoke curled upward, Nolan pondered aloud. “It’s kind of weird, though. Humans here don’t rely on tools. Doesn’t that have huge implications?”

  “Magic became their evolution,” she answered. “Where Earth used brains and tools, this world used mana and instincts. The Goddess structured their survival around natural spells. No weapons, no gears. Magic is their muscle.”

  “Doesn’t that create problems?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Especially when the magic economy collapses. Which is why you’re here.”

  Nolan poked at the meat. “Figures.”

  She floated closer. “The Goddess gave infrastructure designs in the system window. Huts. Villas. Bridges. Offerings required for larger blueprints. But no one looks. They’re too used to shortcutting with spells.”

  Nolan snorted. “Sounds like microtransactions.”

  “I added those offerings. If I allowed free knowledge, the system would collapse from resource imbalance.”

  He shook his head. “The Goddess is stingy.”

  “I’m the stingy one,” she corrected. “She just doodled on divine napkins and called it a world.”

  As the fire cracked and meat roasted, Nolan leaned back.

  “You know,” he muttered, “for a political corpse with wooden spears, this isn’t too bad.”

  “You’ve survived longer than expected,” the Akashic Record replied.

  Nolan smiled. “Then I guess I better start crafting better spears.”