I spent about ten minutes binding the spells to my fingers and decided to test [Analyze], which logically stuck to my index finger.

  "It's an unknown object," Valtar declared, and I could practically visualize him shrugging his hands in mockery. And I didn't even know what he looked like.

  "It's a stick," I countered, pointing at it.

  "To you, it's a stick," Valtar snapped. "But for a zero-level [Analyze], it's an object with zero identification level. Develop the skill! Analyze everything in sight!"

  In a fit of pique, I kicked the stick, and it bounced off a stone, traitorously shot into the air, and smacked me on the forehead.

  "Stick-Human: 2-0," Valtar commented, savoring the moment. "And something else for the future: I would advise everyone to tell them you are a player. But protocols require me to care about your well-being. Therefore, I advise you not to tell anyone you are a player. Activate spells with your fingers as inconspicuously as possible. Speaking of your survivability... It completely slipped my memory..."

  A persistent scarlet dot began blinking annoyingly on my visual periphery. I "clicked" on it with my gaze.

  "Achievement 'First Step into the Unknown' received!" Valtar announced with fanfare in his voice (I wisely chose not to argue with this circus). "You have arrived in Transcendal. What's so difficult about that, considering almost everything was done for you? Nothing. This is just a formal way to hand you your starting equipment. Reward: 'Shameful Shoddiness' Beginner Adventurer Set’."

  "And where is it?" I asked, puzzled.

  "In your inventory, of course. You are a funny human, you know. Would I waste energy on direct materialization?"

  I found "Inventory" in the menu, past a couple of other tabs. It turned out to be an infinite grid of slots. In the first lay an image of a sword (I had already forgotten about my gift), and in the adjacent one, a pile of rags.

  "Pull items out with your finger," Valtar suggested. "Put them back in the same way. You are allotted a personal subspace, but only for one ton. There are also limitations on the size and mass of a single object. I know, give you players an inch, and you'd start dismantling buildings."

  I poked the clothing, and a small plaque popped up next to it: "Set of Clothing 'Shameful Shoddiness': +10% to experience gain rate. Everything you find in the future will be better than this." I hooked it with my finger and pulled it outside the grid. A twisted heap of fabric and leather materialized in the air and plopped onto the grass.

  "Does the name absolutely have to be like that?" I asked, unfolding the clothes.

  "No."

  I changed. Rough leather jackboots, canvas trousers that looked like they were woven with a potato sack in mind, a linen shirt with lacing on the chest, and a leather vest, slightly longer than the shirt. The massive belt with a pouch had to be wrapped around my waist twice, making me look like a sailor preparing for a force nine gale. The coarse fabric creaked at the joints, and I gained no protection compared to my old jacket and jeans, but the 10% experience gain rate seemed like a nice bonus (though I had little idea what that actually meant). Most importantly, the clothing looked native. At least, I hoped so. I still didn't have complete faith in Valtar.

  "Now you won't be mistaken for a beggar from another dimension. Just a beggar," Valtar confirmed (or mocked) my guesses. "Perfect visual congruence."

  While changing, I examined my body. All my scars were intact, the birthmark on my thigh remained. Even a strip of dirt on my elbow, brought from Earth, was preserved (keep it as a souvenir?). Excellent. That means the body is rightfully mine, and no personality transfer occurred (I dislike, you know, ruptures in my consciousness continuum). Or their cloning device is perfect (which is not excellent). My knee no longer ached, and my body felt one hundred percent functional, charged with that vibrating lightness. I squatted a couple of times, then danced something vaguely resembling a Cossack dance, and, purely out of awakened mischief, cartwheeled across the clearing. The Status informed me that I spent 6 PE on this. Life is viable.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  From my old clothes, I transferred my few earthly possessions into the inventory: keys (now just low-quality iron resource), a promotional flyer (to impress the natives with glossy paper?), and a smartphone. The moment I fished the phone—this last piece of home—out of my pocket, a miniature but incredibly accurate bolt of lightning struck from the clear sky. CRACK! In my hand remained a smoking, melted lump of plastic and glass, which I immediately dropped with reflexive horror.

  "You're welcome," Valtar said smugly. "I cured your primate addiction in one shot. I know how obsessed you are with those glowing bricks."

  "There were photos on it..." I said quietly.

  "Besides, if the locals see such 'magic,' they'll burn you at the stake faster than you can say 'selfie'," he saved a more weighty argument for last.

  "Listen," I dragged out, rubbing my temples. "I understand I chose [Anointed] myself, but sooner or later this question will come up anyway, so why postpone it? Can you be... turned off? Temporarily! Or put on silent mode?"

  "Buddy, no way," Valtar's voice became oily and pleased in anticipation of his next words. "And why do you say such hurtful things? I might get offended," and suddenly his tone dropped three octaves, transforming into a booming bass that made my teeth vibrate. "I CONTROL ALL YOUR RANDOMNESS. ALL THE CONTENTS OF YOUR LOOT. AND THE QUEST NARRATIVE FRAMEWORK. IS IT WISE TO ANGER SUCH AN OMNIPOTENT ENTITY UPON WHOM YOUR ENTIRE WORTHLESS LIFE DEPENDS? Just think about it at your leisure... he-he," he finished in a good-natured voice.

  I hope you never have to hear a demonic rumble right in the bones of your own skull. But if it happens, join my club.

  "Fine, I apologize," I exhaled. "Glad I found that out so quickly. Spared the agony of uncertainty."

  I carefully folded my old clothes into the inventory and finally turned my attention to the reason I had attracted persecution by choosing the [Gifted] trait. Pulling the sword out into the evening light, I examined it thoroughly, looking for the catch. It was a rusty short blade with a wobbly hilt wrapped in rotten leather. Very rusty. Insultingly rusty. It was so old it looked like it would crumble from a single awkward glance. I was looking for a positive catch. The only positive thing about the sword was that I didn't see its name or effects. Although, maybe there weren't any. After checking with [Analyze], it turned out to be "something sharp."

  On the other hand, whoever considers this scrap iron a valuable object worth hunting for is unlikely to be someone powerful. More likely, a beggar and slightly crazy.

  The unfamiliar star, lord of the local sky, began to dip toward the horizon, staining the turquoise expanse with lilac and crimson hues, and making the forest gloomier. I decided to use the remaining light for scouting, and also to collect all the available resources at my disposal—sticks. For lack of anything else, they are suitable for anything: as a club, for a trap, or for a fire. If there is no stamped paper, write on plain paper. And I needed to occupy my hands with something before my brain completely went haywire in the grips of the absurd.

  "Hey, pssst," the System whispered, like a conspirator in a bad detective movie. "You just got another achievement. I highly recommend opening it right now."

  It had indeed appeared, and I opened it with a glance.

  "Achievement 'Seriously?' received!" Valtar reported. "You were not summoned here for a boyish dream of playing Robinson Crusoe. Find adventures! Fight! Magic! Or at least try. Reward: it seems you desperately need help, Lex. Receive the 'Sparkfall' Ring and a Flask of Nourishing Slurry (composition not recommended for inquiring).

  The 'Sparkfall' Ring turned out to be a dull copper band with the description: What do you think it does, judging by the name? Squeeze the ring to summon a shower of sparks. [Analyze] suggested the ring might be circular. The flask was a simple leather vessel with a chained cork. Inside sloshed a grey substance that smelled like wet cardboard and old earth. [Analyze] confidently stated: Definitely not a basilisk.

  Putting the ring on my finger and squeezing it with the adjacent ones, I conjured a burst of sparks from the side of my palm, briefly illuminating the deepening twilight. Risking a sip from the flask, I suddenly realized how desperately hungry I was and drank it to the bottom, barely noticing the foul taste. A slightly shameful feeling of fullness immediately spread through my body.

  "Thanks..." I said uncertainly, grateful for both the gifts and the fact that the concoction wasn't poisoned.

  "And you were probably going to try and make fire with sticks. Like an animal," Valtar scoffed.

  I was about to object, but the forest above the hill began to crackle assertively. No, even crunch. With such force, as if something the size of a railroad car and with corresponding strength was smashing through the ancient trunks, not bothering to go around. I noticed that all the multicolored lights instantly dissolved into the air, as if they had never been there. Then, the impact of footsteps began to transmit to me through the soil. I tensed, looking at the swaying treetops. For the first time (even through the [Flameborn] filter), something inside me trembled.

  "Feigned regret: What bad luck..." Valtar said, and through his electronic timbre, something that sounded suspiciously like joy broke through.