Six,” I splutter indignantly, ignoring everything else. “Six?!” How could I only have a six for Intelligence? And how could that be my highest stat? I mean, the fact that it’s my highest stat isn’t in itself a surprise. I’ve always been more than half-decent at academia. It’s the fact that it’s so low, along with all my other stats, that shocks me. Did all the days at the gym mean nothing? Or maybe they did help since Strength is only one point behind my Intelligence stat …

  I smile wryly as I note my Wisdom stat—not inaccurate, I suppose. I have made some rather stupid decisions, and not just today. Perhaps I ought to think about increasing that at some point, though probably not immediately, as I can’t really see its benefit in the immediate future. Though, maybe that’s my lack of Wisdom talking …

  Sighing, I close the screen. I need to spend some time thinking about it and trying to work out how all the different elements function. But not right now. For now, I know that I definitely can’t absorb more than one knowledge stone a day. So, which knowledge stone? I look over the stones again thoughtfully. Hunting, tracking, and woodcraft are all essential for me at the moment, and I’m grateful Nicholas sent them; though, not so grateful that it outweighs my resentment at him sending me here in the first place. I wrench my thoughts back from that dark place again and reconcentrate on the subject at hand. Based on what I surmise is the function of each of the stones, I reckon that woodcraft is my first priority, and I’ll have to hope that it doesn’t mean carpentry. After that … Well, I’ll have to decide later whether I’m going to need to know how to hunt before learning how to track or vice versa. If the bird was an exception and most creatures here avoid me, I’ll need to be able to find them; therefore, tracking. If today is not an exception, then probably the animals will find me, so hunting becomes more of a priority. Either way, it’s not a decision I can make now.

  Looking back at the letter, I identify the two stones to absorb and triple-check that it should be fine to absorb both of them. “I suggest that you use the Class stone first and then the Skill stone. Once you have received your Class, you will gain access to your status screen. Check your Intelligence stat before deciding how to use the knowledge and Skill stones; unless you have an Intelligence stat of ten or more, I would suggest not using more than one knowledge stone per day,” I read to myself, glancing around every so often just to make sure that nothing is sneaking up on me.

  “So, that means that the Skill stone, the”—I check the letter—“aquamarine one doesn’t depend on my Intelligence stat while the … light green one does.” I’m not completely sure, but I’m sure enough. Now, which one is “aquamarine” and which is “light green”? Because there are three stones that all look similar to me! Arranging them so they go from blue to green, I pick up the middle stone. “Here’s hoping my color identification is the same as Nicholas’s,” I say to myself grimly. Thanks to the previous instructive message, I focus on the object and think, absorb Skill stone.

  It takes a moment, but then it’s almost like the stone turns to gel, slumping into a pool in my hand. The semi-liquid is quickly absorbed, leaving a faint glow in the palm of my hand that just as quickly disappears.

  Unlike the previous time, there’s no pain. Instead, a sort of ecstasy envelops me, an energy running through every cell in my body and making it feel completely fresh. It feels like something is going through my body, searching for problems to solve and injuries to heal. I don’t think this is a crafting Skill, I think to myself muzzily, my eyes rolling into the back of my head at the bliss.

  And the next moment, I groan and collapse forwards over my crossed legs as someone drives a railroad spike through my head—fortunately, not a real one; though, honestly, it might be better if it was. Then at least it would be over quickly. In reality, it’s memories, or perhaps impressions would be a better word, which are being forced into my head.

  I suddenly realize that I know all about Lay-on-Hands and how to use it. I curse out loud as I suddenly regret taking the health potion. Lay-on-Hands most definitely isn’t a crafting Skill—it’s a healing Skill. Sure, it might not have healed my cracked skull in a single cast—I can’t tell what level it’s at without looking at my status, nor how much mana I have—but I could have used it multiple times until I was healed. I only have—had—two health potions; now I only have one. What if I’m severely injured and out of mana at some point in the future?

  Gritting my teeth, there’s not much I can do about the new wave of chagrin that washes through me. All I can do is try to do better in the future. That last health potion is going to be kept for a real emergency. Then I realize that I should be grateful that it is a healing Skill at all. This way, I have on-going access to medical treatment—something that’s going to be very important in a world without hospitals or doctors. Heck, I might even be better off than I would have been in the UK, considering the state of the NHS. I’d probably still be sitting in the waiting room if I’d even gotten to the emergency room.

  When the pain finally fades, I breathe a sigh of relief. Though tempted to try to use it, I don’t actually have anything to heal right now and don’t want to waste the mana. Besides, it feels like the memories haven’t quite “settled,” like I’ve just learned something new but need to sleep on it to let the connections form fully. I hesitate as I pick up the light green stone. Should I risk taking it? It felt like an awful lot of information was shoved in my brain just now. What if Nicholas was expecting me to have a higher Intelligence level when he gave me the advice? I look at the letter again, trying to parse through the wording. At the same time, I’m starting to get a bit jittery. My skin is itching from the drying blood, there’s a bird carcass in front of me that is starting to attract flies, and who knows when something bigger will come to investigate. Even I know that blood attracts predators. That’s why the expression “blood in the water” exists, right?

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  “It’s got to be okay,” I decide finally, my voice sounding uncertain even in my own ears. In the letter, he talks about “knowledge” stones being the issue and recommends taking the Skill stone before even checking my status. Deciding that just sitting here and agonizing is probably worse than the other options, I pick up the light green stone and absorb it as I did the Skill stone. It’s not a railroad spike this time—it’s worse. More like the train being driven into my head, all lights and horns blazing. I reel, lose my balance drunkenly, and fall. The added pain of hitting the floor is a sidenote to what’s happening with my head.

  Why am I in so much pain? I ask myself blearily through the sensation. Has something gone wrong?

  Fortunately for me, nothing has gone wrong. It simply turns out that shoving years’ worth of knowledge about surviving in the wild into my head all in one go is just a little more impactful than the vague sense of how to use a skill that I’d received before. Worse, I can sense that some of it is slipping away. Maybe I shouldn’t have absorbed it so close to the Skill stone, or maybe it would have happened anyway. I’m just too unfamiliar with even the basics of what is being shoved into my mind; some of it just isn’t sticking. Maybe it’s even because of my recent concussion. Even though it’s healed, what if it’s left some sort of lingering difficulty in absorption?

  Fortunately for me, it’s only a small portion that’s lost, as absorbing this stone is within my capabilities—just. That said, I have to admit that I only draw these conclusions after the pain starts to subside. “Ow,” I groan, daring to open my eyes; they had slid shut. The sunlight dazzles me for a moment and sends a bolt of pain spearing once more through my brain.

  I slam them shut again, waiting for the spinning to subside a bit more, but make a new attempt as soon as I feel remotely ready. As soon as I think about what to do next, my new wilderness survival knowledge screams at me that lying out in the open with closed eyes is not the best way to see the next day. Or even the next hour. And it is wilderness survival, thankfully. More than just surviving in the forest, this stone has given me the knowledge of how to survive in a range of environments—all of them, of course, far from any inhabited area.

  Newly armed with knowledge, I find my hesitancy about the path forward clearing up a bit. I quickly crawl out from under the table and put the remaining stones into the pocket that wasn’t torn up by the bird’s attack. I shrug on the extra clothes that I had pushed off at the start and then sling the pack with the other survival supplies over my shoulder, where it joins the other backpack I brought with me.

  My most important items now stored, I gaze at my bright orange and green suitcases wondering how I’m going to carry them. Then I remember something else important.

  “Inventory,” I say quietly. The message said that I could either say it or think it; for this test, I decided to say it. For the next, I’ll try thinking it. Twenty empty squares appear before my eyes, only a faint mistiness making them stand out from the area in front of me.

  I decide to test with something I don’t care about and pick a stone up off the ground. I first try to put the stone in one of the boxes in front of me, but my hand just waves in the air, and the stone remains stubbornly held within it. Something’s missing. Hmm.

  “Put stone in my Inventory?” I ask uncertainly. Nothing happens. I think back to my previous interactions with this System. Most of them have required verbal or mental instructions. Verbal isn’t working, so what about thinking them?

  Put the stone in my Inventory, I think, concentrating on the stone being in one of the boxes in front of me. Suddenly, the weight of it is missing from my hand. I raise my eyebrows. That worked? Leaning down to pick up another stone from the ground without closing the Inventory, I heft it in my hand thoughtfully. Was it the clear thought that was missing originally? Or the intention?

  This time I don’t put words to my thoughts and just imagine the stone being in the same slot as the other one.

  A moment later, it’s gone from my hand and there are two stones in the same slot. “Good to know,” I murmur to myself. Close Inventory, I think, and the boxes disappear from my vision. “All right, time to test opening it again.” Hopefully, the stones will still be there. This time I don’t say the command out loud; instead, I make the thought as firm as I can. The boxes reappear. The two stones are still there.

  Right, now to get them out. As it turns out, removing the items from the boxes is simply the reverse of putting them in—instead of focusing on putting them in the box, I have to focus on them being in my hand. It’s good to work out the exact method, but I do find it a little cumbersome. Not useful for an emergency situation, I note, resolving to keep my health potion and knife on my person. I swiftly drop them unceremoniously on the floor—common pebbles, after all, are not what I wish to store. Instead, I hold onto the handle of my bright orange suitcase and focus on putting it into one of the boxes. Nothing happens.

  Is it because it’s a bag full of items? Does it not count as a single item and that’s why it’s not working? Are there are too many items within it to fit in the twenty boxes? Dismay fills me at the thought. In neither design nor color is either of my suitcases adapted to my new environment, but I’d rather not have to just ditch everything either.

  I sigh. If I’m going to have to ditch everything I can’t carry, I’d better first work out how many slots I’ll be able to fill. Releasing the handle of my bag, I go over to the carcass of the bird I’ve just killed. My new wilderness survival memories are screaming at me that this is a useful food source but also that butchery and blood are a perfect way to lure predators. Right now, that’s the last thing I want to do. Plus, there’s no water source nearby to enable me to clean up the mess. As much as I want to prioritize the photographs of my family, I cannot. Food is going to be far more important. So, reaching down with a heavy heart, I touch the body of the bird and focus on putting it in my Inventory. Nothing happens. I frown. This can’t be because there are too many items. It’s a single item. If the body of a creature is counted according to its organs or feathers or whatever, then what is considered a single item? Beyond stones, of course. No, there must be another explanation. I think back to when I put the stones in. What’s the difference between this and that? They were smaller, for sure, and I held them in my hand rather than leaving them resting on the ground. Is that the difference?

  Returning to my suitcase, I lift it off the ground and then once more focus on it being placed in one of the empty slots. This time, to my delight, I feel the weight disappear from my hand, and a picture of my bag appears in the slot.

  A grin splits my face. I’m more relieved than I thought I’d be at realizing that it wasn’t the nature of a bag full of items that was the problem. I quickly place my lime green bag right next to my orange one; a weight lifts off my chest when they are both stowed safely away.

  For a moment I wonder at the nature of the Inventory. It had no issue with taking the two suitcases and can apparently hold a lot of items. I don’t feel any extra weight on me, so it’s not like an invisible backpack. Is it some sort of non-physical space? What are its limits? Looking at the dead bird, I have to hope that at the very least it will hide the smell of blood. It would be immensely helpful if the Inventory space held the items within it in stasis; if not, I may find that the meat has spoiled before I manage to finish butchering it. Assuming I can get it inside my Inventory, of course.

  The bird is big and dead—it’s a literal deadweight—but by carefully arranging its limbs and heaving with all my might, I get it off the ground. Though it’s only been raised by a centimeter or so, I’m impressed with myself … and also in pain. Before I drop it, I quickly activate my Inventory and imagine putting the bird in it. To my relief, the whole carcass suddenly vanishes.

  I stagger, thrown off-balance by the abrupt disappearance of the weight I was pressing against. So, the theory is proven thrice over: I need to hold whatever I wish to put in my Inventory off the ground. No putting an airplane in my Inventory—if I found one, that is. And I don’t know if there’s any size limit per item slot. Another thought has me pulling the precious knowledge stones out of my pocket and putting them into three of the seventeen slots that remain. No way do I want to lose those! About to set out once more, I have another thought. I wonder …

  Shrugging my backpack off again, I try to put that in my Inventory. I grin as it also succeeds. Even better, it only takes up one slot. This Inventory is awesome! Maybe I should do the same with my new survival pack? I try it, but this time it doesn’t work. I frown. Why did the suitcases and backpack work and the last bag didn’t? A loud cry rings out and I jump, reminded of where I am. No time to continue testing out theories—not sitting out in the open as I am. Frankly, I’m lucky I haven’t been attacked while playing around with my Inventory in such a vulnerable position. I quickly fill up a few more spaces in my Inventory with the bulky coats I’m wearing, giving me more range of movement. I now know that the difference of speed between wearing them and not could save my life—or end it. As I’m about to leave, my gaze is caught by the single item remaining, which is sticking out from the mountainside like a sore thumb. The table.

  That could be useful, I think to myself. As a table, as a barrier, as material for weapons, or simply as firewood, there are many uses for this piece of furniture. Lifting it is as cumbersome as the bird was, but I manage to get it off the ground. However, the moment I try to enter it into my Inventory, it crumbles to golden dust, which then disappears with the breeze. I’m left staring at my empty hands, the single slot intended for it left bare. Well, I think to myself, a little dismayed, at least that didn’t happen to anything else.