Chapter 225: Inventory

The lamp on the table had burned lower by the time Encrid reached the last window.

He had saved it for the end.

«« Narrative Relevance »»

[ Current Value: 8.46% ]

[ Golden Tip: A special event will be triggered when Narrative Relevance reaches 10%. ]

One point five four percent.

The last time he had checked this window, he had been sitting in the Watcher’s Office with a cold cup of tea. The number had been 2.78%, and he had spent the evening wondering what would happen when it reached ten.

He still wanted to know.

But now he had another question.

How much would it cost him to get there?

He had climbed from less than three percent to more than eight by losing the Wall, surviving eleven days in the dark, and watching thousands of people die.

He did not know what the last one and a half percent would require.

He was fairly certain it would not come cheaply.

He lay still for a while, thinking about it. Then he set the question aside and returned to the main menu.

One slot was still locked.

The other had a name now.

He opened it.

[ INVENTORY ]

[ Slots: 10 ]

[ Each slot holds one item, or one stack of up to 99 identical small items. ]

[ Items must be small enough for one person to lift and carry. ]

[ Time does not pass inside the Inventory. ]

[ Storing requires touch. Retrieved items appear in the Host’s hand. ]

[ Stored items will not put any burden on the user ]

[ The Inventory cannot hold: living beings, items bound to another soul, Divine Relics, items holding an active consequence or spell. ]

[ Additional slots will open as Narrative Relevance grows. ]

Encrid read the information once, then went through it again, sorting each rule in his mind.

Ten slots. Small items. No living beings.

And time did not pass inside.

That last rule interested him the most.

Food would not spoil. Medicine would remain usable. Clean bandages would stay clean, even after days on the road.

A pot of soup stored while it was still hot would remain hot when he retrieved it, even if he had spent ten days marching through the snow.

In his previous life, carrying supplies had always been a problem. A soldier could only take so much with him, and every extra kilogram made a difference over a long journey.

Food, water, ammunition, medicine. Everything had to be weighed against the distance he needed to travel and the strength he would have left when he arrived.

Ten slots that added no weight to his body could change that completely.

Then he read the next line.

Retrieved items appear in the Host’s hand.

He thought about it for a while.

A weapon could appear in his hand whenever he needed it. Someone could search him and find nothing, only for him to produce a sword moments later.

A guard could take his weapon at the entrance to a hall, and he could still walk inside with another one.

It was useful.

It was also dangerous.

If someone saw an object disappear into thin air and reappear in his hand, they would want an explanation. Some people might believe it was magic. Others might decide that anything they could not understand was a threat.

He had no desire to explain the system to anyone, especially not to someone with enough authority to make trouble for him.

He would have to be careful.

Encrid looked at the table beside the bed. It was about an arm’s length away. On it sat the lamp, a cup of water the Reaper had left for him, the empty clay cup from the Sage’s foul drink, and a wooden spoon.

He gritted his teeth and moved his right arm.

It took longer than he expected. The bandages pulled at his skin, and the muscles beneath his shoulder blade ached. He ignored the pain and kept reaching until his fingertips touched the spoon.

’Store.’

The spoon disappeared.

There was no flash of light or strange sound. One moment it was beneath his fingers, and the next it was gone.

[ Slot 1: Wooden spoon ×1 ]

He thought about the spoon again, and it appeared in his hand.

Encrid let out a slow breath.

So the window was telling the truth.

He tried the same thing with the cup of water. After touching its rim, he stored it.

The cup and the water inside it disappeared together.

[ Slot 2: Cup of water ×1 ]

He left it there.

If the system was correct, the water would still be there tomorrow, exactly as it was now. He wanted to test that before trusting the Inventory with anything important.

Then he looked toward the corner of the room.

Someone had placed his belongings there. His coat had been folded neatly, and his boots sat beside it. A sword in a plain scabbard leaned against the wall.

Winter Oath.

He had not known the Reaper had brought it.

There was also a small grey cushion resting on top of his coat.

Even from the bed, Encrid could tell that something was wrong with it. The fabric was stretched tightly, and the cushion looked swollen, as though something inside it was trying to push its way out.

The Pillow of the Sleeping God.

He could not reach it from where he lay, but he did not need to.

The system had already explained why it could not be stored.

Divine Relics.

Somewhere inside that cushion was the dragon breath he had encountered at the end of the Span. He still did not understand what had happened when he used the Familiar Seal, but the result had been clear enough.

He had bound a dragon to himself.

And now that dragon was somewhere he couldn’t perceive.

He looked at it for a long time before turning back to the Inventory.

He had nine ordinary slots to work with, assuming he kept the spoon and water where they were.

The tenth slot was different.

[ Slot 10: ?????? ]

[ This item precedes narrative availability. ]

Encrid frowned.

He tried to retrieve whatever was inside.

Nothing happened.

He tried to examine the slot again, but the black bars remained unchanged.

He had never stored anything there. In fact, he had not even known the Inventory existed until a few hours ago.

Yet the tenth slot was not empty.

Something was already inside.

? ? ?