The warm scent of roasted meat and ale clung to the air, thick and inviting—a stark contrast to the biting cold of the wilderness Haruto had endured for days. The low murmur of voices mixed with the occasional burst of laughter, the sound of tankards clashing together, the clatter of dice rolling across wooden tables.

  The tavern was alive, but not rowdy—a place where weary travelers and mercenaries found temporary peace between battles, contracts, and betrayals. Candlelight flickered against stained walls, casting uneven shadows that danced along the warped wood of the floorboards.

  Haruto sat hunched over a splintered wooden table, tearing into his food with the desperation of a man who had nearly starved to death. The stew was lukewarm, the bread stale—but it was the best thing he’d eaten in days.

  Across from him, Dren leaned back in his chair, watching him with a bemused smirk.

  "You eat like someone who's been chewing on tree bark for a week."

  Haruto barely spared him a glance, too busy devouring the meal.

  "Try living off whatever half-poisonous crap you can scavenge, then see how you handle table manners."

  Dren chuckled, taking a slow sip from his flask. The firelight caught the edge of his scarred knuckles as he set it down.

  "Fair enough. But if you want to keep eating like this, you’ll need to learn how things work around here." He tapped a finger against the wooden surface. "Otherwise, someone’s gonna take your food—and probably your head along with it."

  Haruto swallowed the last bite and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  "Fine. Educate me."

  Dren set his drink down and tapped the table.

  "Lesson one—money."

  Dren reached into his coat and pulled out a small, battered copper coin, its edges worn smooth from years of circulation. He flicked it onto the table, and the metal clinked against the wood before settling near Haruto’s half-finished plate.

  Haruto picked it up, feeling the rough surface between his fingers. It wasn’t perfectly round—slightly misshapen, as if it had been crudely stamped rather than carefully minted.

  Dren leaned forward, tapping the coin with a finger.

  "This? This is where you start."

  He reached into his pocket again, fishing out a dull silver coin and flipping it onto the table beside the copper.

  "Silver’s for the working class—merchants, craftsmen, soldiers. It’s enough to eat well, sleep with a roof over your head, and keep people from looking at you like gutter trash." He scoffed. "Most folk dream of living on silver. They don’t realize it’s just another chain."

  Dren didn’t pull out a gold coin. Instead, he glanced around the room, lowering his voice.

  "Gold? That’s noble money. You start dealing in gold, people start asking questions. Where you got it, who you owe. Who owns you. The church? The crown? A noble house?" He smirked. "You don’t get gold without strings attached."

  He leaned back, taking another sip from his flask before letting out a dry chuckle.

  "And platinum?" He scoffed. "I’ve never even touched the damn thing. That’s not money—that’s power. If you see someone spending platinum, you’re either looking at a king, a guild master, or someone you shouldn’t be pissing off."

  Haruto exhaled, flipping the copper coin between his fingers. He had nothing. In a way, that meant he was invisible.

  For now.

  "So, I need money," he muttered. "That much is obvious."

  Dren grinned, setting his flask down.

  "Now you’re catching on."

  Dren reached into his coat and pulled out a small, glowing Status Stone, setting it on the table between them. The crystal pulsed faintly, its dim light casting shifting shadows over the rough wooden surface.

  "Every idiot in this world is obsessed with numbers—levels, skills, power ranks, titles." He leaned back, taking a slow sip from his flask. "You’re either ‘useful’ or ‘dead weight.’ And if the system decides you’re the latter, well…" He shrugged. "You won’t last long."

  Haruto met his gaze, expression unreadable.

  "And I assume I’m the latter."

  Dren smirked, shaking his head. "Not my call. But let’s break it down before you start sulking."

  He tapped the Status Stone, and faint runes flickered across its surface.

  Dren lifted a finger.

  "Listen up. There are four main parts to this world’s system. Everything—stats, magic, combat—fits into one of these. Get a handle on this, and maybe you’ll stop walking around like a half-dead stray."

  He tapped the table for emphasis.

  "These are the basics. Your natural abilities. Some people are just born better. If your stats suck, you’re already fighting an uphill battle."

  

  
• Examples: Strength, Agility, Intelligence, Endurance.


  
• "Training helps, sure. But if you’re born weak? Well… you’ll never match someone who started ahead of you. Some noble kid with a Strength of 20? He’ll still crush you even if you train your ass off from sunrise to sunset."


  

  

  
• "This is what separates the survivors from the corpses. Weapon techniques, fighting styles, survival training. You want to fight? You’d better have some of these."


  
• Examples: Swordsmanship, Archery, Unarmed Combat, Shield Mastery.


  
• "But even then, not everyone is built for it. Some poor bastard could train with a sword for twenty years and still die to a kid who was just born better."


  

  Dren scoffed.

  "Now this? This is where things get unfair."

  

  
• Examples: Elemental Magic, Healing, Enchantments, Barrier Arts.


  
• "Either you’re born with magical affinity, or you’re not. If you are, magic’s as easy as breathing. If not?" He smirked. "Enjoy spending the next decade learning to light a candle while some noble brat burns down a forest with a sneeze."


  

  He leaned in slightly.

  "Now these… these are the real wild cards."

  

  
• Examples: Heroic Abilities, System-Bound Powers, Forbidden Techniques.


  
• "They don’t follow normal rules. Some people get skills that shouldn’t exist. And guess what?" His smirk widened. "Those are the ones who decide who wins and who loses."


  

  Haruto exhaled slowly, his fingers flexing against the table as he finally focused on his Status Screen. The text appeared in front of him, flickering faintly in his vision.

  

  
• Strength: 8


  
• Agility: 10


  
• Endurance: 9


  
• Intelligence: 15


  
• Perception: 14


  
• Dexterity: 10


  
• Charisma: 11


  
• Luck: [NULL]


  

  

  
• [Inventory Management – Level 1]


  

  Haruto frowned, his fingers tightening into a fist.

  "That’s it?"

  Dren leaned forward, peering at the screen before letting out a low whistle.

  "No magic, no combat skills… just that weird Inventory thing? Damn, no wonder they tossed you."

  Haruto’s jaw clenched. The numbers didn’t lie.

  He wasn’t strong. He wasn’t fast. He wasn’t even lucky.

  It was almost laughable—he barely had more than a random villager.

  But the more he stared at the screen, the more uneasy he felt.

  Something was wrong.

  

  
• His Strength, Agility, and Endurance were low. That made sense. He wasn’t a fighter.


  
• His Intelligence and Perception were high. That was interesting, at least.


  
• His Luck? …It wasn’t even displayed.


  

  Haruto scowled at his Status Screen, his gaze locking onto the blank space where his Luck stat should have been.

  He exhaled sharply. "Well, that’s just fantastic."

  Dren raised an eyebrow, still sipping from his flask.

  "What?"

  Haruto leaned back against his chair, staring at the ceiling like he was waiting for some divine revelation that never came.

  "My Luck stat isn’t even displayed."

  Dren blinked.

  "Huh. That’s… unusual."

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Haruto let out a dry laugh.

  "Yeah, even the system took one look at me and went, ‘Nah, we ain’t doing this.’"

  Dren snorted, nearly choking on his drink. "Shit, that’s grim."

  Haruto shrugged. "At this point? Feels about right." He gestured vaguely around him.

  "I got summoned into another world, got instantly labeled a mistake, thrown into the wilderness with no supplies, poisoned myself on day one, got chased by a wolf, fell into a death trap, nearly got crushed by an ancient guardian, and now I find out I’m statistically unlucky."

  He threw his hands up.

  "Honestly, I feel like I should’ve seen this coming."

  Dren was still grinning.

  "So what, you think the system hates you?"

  Haruto smirked.

  "I think if the system had the option, it would've re-rolled my entire existence."

  Dren chuckled.

  "Well, if it makes you feel any better, most people with Luck maxed out end up getting stabbed in a back alley by someone with no luck and a grudge."

  Haruto raised his drink.

  "To being statistically doomed, then."

  Dren clinked his flask against Haruto’s mug.

  "Cheers."

  Dren took a slow sip of his drink, watching Haruto’s face shift from frustration to calculation.

  Most people, when they saw weak stats, just gave up.

  But Haruto?

  He was thinking.

  That was interesting.

  Dren smirked. "Don’t let it get to you too much. Strength ain’t everything."

  Haruto looked up. "What do you mean?"

  Dren rolled his shoulders. "You ever seen a guy with all the talent in the world get outplayed by someone smarter?"

  Haruto thought about it. He didn’t know about Kaito’s stats, but he knew how people worked. There were always the naturally gifted—the ones who had everything handed to them.

  And then there were the ones who survived anyway.

  A slow grin spread across Haruto’s face. "Yeah… I have."

  Dren raised his flask. "Then you already know. The best player isn’t always the strongest. It’s the one who knows how the game is rigged."

  Dren took another slow sip of his drink before giving Haruto a knowing look. His usual smirk had faded, replaced by something colder, sharper—something that felt dangerously close to knowledge no one was supposed to say out loud.

  "But here’s the thing—skills?" Dren said, his voice quieter now. "They’re not just assigned. Sometimes… they’re taken away."

  Haruto frowned, setting his drink down. "What do you mean?"

  Dren leaned forward, his gaze scanning the room as if making sure no one was listening.

  "Some people are just born different. You ever meet a kid who picks up a sword and swings it better than a trained knight? Or some farmhand who calls fire to his hands without ever reading a magic book?"

  Haruto nodded slowly. That kind of thing was common in fantasy worlds. Prodigies. Geniuses. The chosen few.

  Dren tapped a finger on the table. "That’s an innate skill. Some folks just have them. They don’t have to grind levels or study scrolls—they’re just gifted."

  Haruto’s fingers curled slightly. "And what happens to them?"

  Dren exhaled, his expression darkening.

  "Depends. If the kingdom likes them, they get trained. If not?" He made a slashing motion across his throat. "They disappear."

  Haruto’s stomach twisted. "You mean they kill them?"

  Dren took another slow sip before answering. "Not always. Sometimes, their skills just… stop working."

  Haruto stiffened. "The system can block skills?"

  Dren shook his head. "Not the system." He met Haruto’s eyes, his voice dropping lower, weighted with meaning.

  "The Goddess of Fate."

  Silence stretched between them.

  Haruto narrowed his eyes. "What?"

  Dren leaned in further, voice barely above a whisper. "The Goddess of Fate decides what skills are allowed and which ones aren’t. If she doesn’t want you getting stronger, she locks your skill away. If you’re dangerous enough? She erases it entirely."

  He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his usual smirk faltering before he muttered, almost absently, "Happened before."

  Haruto caught the shift in his tone. Just for a second, Dren seemed distant—like he was looking at something that wasn’t there.

  But before Haruto could press, the older man took another swig from his flask and shook his head, as if brushing the thought away.

  Haruto frowned. "Before?"

  Dren scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Who the hell knows? Could’ve been some prodigy peasant, some wannabe hero, some poor bastard who got too strong. Not like it matters, does it?"

  Haruto raised an eyebrow. "That’s a weirdly vague answer."

  Dren huffed. "Memories get blurry when you drink as much as I do, kid."

  Haruto smirked. "Oh yeah? Or did you drink so much because they were blurry?"

  Dren shot him a look. "I'd quit while I was ahead, kid."

  Haruto chuckled before sighing, leaning back in his chair. "Well, at least I don’t have to worry about that. I’m too broke to afford alcohol."

  Dren grinned. "Ah, you’ll get there. First step is acknowledging the pain. Second step is letting it fester."

  Haruto raised his mug. "To repressed trauma."

  Dren clinked his flask against it. "May it be slow and entertaining."

  Haruto’s breath slowed. His mind flashed back to his Status Screen.

  The blank space where his Luck stat should have been.

  His pulse quickened. "So, she decides who gets to be strong?"

  Dren let out a dry chuckle. "Now you get it. The nobles, the knights, the church—they’re strong because she allows them to be." He swirled his drink, watching the liquid shift. "You? If she didn’t want you around, you wouldn’t be. Simple as that."

  Haruto exhaled through his nose. Then, without missing a beat, he muttered, "So what, does she just sit up there watching me trip over myself like it’s her favorite comedy show?"

  Dren blinked.

  Haruto leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

  "‘Oh wow, look at this poor bastard. No skills, no combat training, no luck. Let’s dump him in the middle of nowhere and see how long it takes before something eats him!’" He spread his hands as if narrating a grand performance. "‘Ooooh, he almost died from eating a berry? That’s hilarious, let’s make it happen again!’"

  Dren choked on his drink.

  Haruto shook his head, sighing dramatically. "You’d think an all-powerful divine being would have better hobbies, but I guess watching people suffer is more entertaining than celestial solitaire."

  Dren wiped his mouth, still wheezing from laughter. "You’re either the dumbest guy in this world, or the ballsiest."

  Haruto picked up his mug, taking a slow sip. "I mean, at this point, does it even matter?"

  Dren raised his flask. "To being Fate’s favorite punching bag."

  Haruto clinked his mug against it. "Cheers."

  Haruto opened his Inventory for the first time.

  Inside, he saw an item icon—a pair of worn gauntlets.

  The moment he focused on them, a flicker of memory resurfaced.

  A dimly lit ruin. Dust swirling in the stale air. His hands, trembling from exhaustion, reaching out. The feeling of cold metal—and then, nothing.

  Vanishing.

  At the time, he thought they had disintegrated, broken apart from age. But no. They had been stored automatically.

  "Before I even knew I had an Inventory."

  His stomach tightened. If he had stored them without realizing it, what else could he have done without knowing?

  He pulled them out, turning them over in his hands. The metal was worn but solid, the leather supple despite its age. They weren’t overly ornate—no divine markings, no elaborate craftsmanship.

  But… something about them felt off.

  Not unnatural. Just… wrong in a way he couldn’t explain.

  "The system didn’t react to them. No warning, no error. Just another item in my Inventory."

  His fingers flexed, and the leather tightened around his wrists, molding to his hands like they belonged there.

  Dren raised an eyebrow. "Fancy gloves?"

  Haruto flexed his fingers, adjusting to the fit. "Just something I picked up."

  Haruto adjusted the gauntlets, the leather snug against his skin.

  "No status screen, no magic glow, nothing that screams ‘overpowered artifact.’" He exhaled through his nose. "Guess I’ll figure it out the hard way."

  He glanced down at his cloak. It had been with him since he stumbled out of the ruins—a battered but reliable piece of survival gear.

  His Inventory had worked on the gauntlets before, so he might as well test it with something else.

  Focusing his mind, he willed the cloak into storage.

  The fabric vanished instantly.

  For a moment, he only felt the familiar emptiness of an item being stored. But then—

  A faint pulse of energy flickered across his vision.

  A second later, something new appeared.

  

  
• Material: Adaptive Weave – Resistant to Environmental Conditions


  
• Properties: Passive Camouflage, Elemental Resistance, Weight Adjustment


  

  Haruto’s breath hitched.

  "…What the hell?"

  His Inventory had never done this before. No labels, no descriptions—just storage.

  So why now?

  Slowly, he willed the cloak back out.

  It reappeared in his hands, feeling exactly the same as before. But now? Now he knew.

  He turned it over, running his fingers along the fabric. It wasn’t just sturdy—it was adaptive.

  He hadn’t noticed before, but it had subtly adjusted to whatever conditions he had been in.

  

  
• The ruins had been damp and cold, yet he hadn’t truly felt it.


  
• The wilderness had been hot at times, but he had barely broken a sweat.


  

  The material adjusted to its environment.

  "I thought this was just some old, tattered cloak… but it’s something else entirely."

  His grip tightened.

  "The gauntlets did this."

  Whatever these ruins had left behind, they weren’t just tools. They were connected to something bigger.

  He glanced down at his hands, exhaling.

  "Alright. That’s one thing learned."

  The Adaptive Cloak wasn’t truly invisible, but the fabric blended slightly into its surroundings, making him harder to spot.

  A stealth item.

  He clenched his fist. Someone designed this for practicality.

  This was meant for someone like me… someone trying to stay unseen.

  Dren, who had been watching Haruto’s expression shift, finally spoke.

  "What, never seen a cloak before?"

  Haruto hesitated. "It’s… different from normal gear."

  Dren snorted. "Wouldn’t be surprised. That thing doesn’t look local. Where’d you get it?"

  Haruto ignored the question, quickly pulling the cloak back on. "Just something I found."

  Dren raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the issue.

  "This cloak… and these gauntlets. Just how much did I walk away with from those ruins?"

  Encouraged by the discovery, Haruto decided to test one more item.

  He looked at the metal band on his finger.

  It was simple—unadorned, with no gems or engravings.

  But something about it felt… off.

  Ever since he had taken it from the hidden chamber in the ruins, he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that it was more than it seemed.

  "If the gauntlets can reveal item properties, then maybe—"

  He focused his thoughts, and the ring vanished into his Inventory.

  At first, nothing happened.

  But then—

  The system shuddered.

  Lines of text flickered before him, appearing distorted, fragmented—glitching.

  Unlike the cloak, this wasn’t just revealing a hidden description.

  It was something the system itself was struggling to process.

  

  
• Material: ERROR – Data Not Found


  
• Properties: ██████ Unbound ████


  
• System Warning: Anomalous Artifact Detected


  

  Haruto’s breath caught.

  "What the hell is this…?"

  Unlike the cloak, which was simply forgotten history, this was something different.

  Something the system didn’t even recognize.

  A chill ran down his spine.

  "This isn’t just unknown. This is… wrong. Like it shouldn’t exist."

  Before he could dwell on it further, the error message expanded.

  A sharp pulse of static rang in his ears, making him wince.

  Without thinking, he immediately pulled the ring back out.

  The error message vanished.

  The tavern’s noise came rushing back in.

  Haruto sat there, his fingers gripping the small, insignificant-looking ring, his pulse racing.

  "The gauntlets let me see descriptions… but this one’s broken."

  Dren, having noticed Haruto’s sudden shift in demeanor, frowned.

  "Oi, you alright? You look like you just saw a ghost."

  Haruto quickly shut the Inventory window and forced a neutral expression.

  "Nothing. Just getting used to the Inventory system."

  Dren didn’t look convinced, but he shrugged.

  "Well, don’t get too lost in that stuff. Plenty of people have walked off a cliff staring at their status screen."

  Haruto barely heard him.

  Dren leaned back in his chair, finishing off his drink.

  "So, what’s next? You gonna keep scraping by, or figure out what those fancy tricks of yours can really do?"

  Haruto exhaled, still gripping the ring before slipping it back into his pocket.

  He had more questions than answers.

  

  
• The cloak had been designed for stealth—meant for someone trying to stay hidden.


  
• The gauntlets could reveal hidden properties—so they weren’t fully normal either. Perhaps they were connected to the system somehow?


  
• The ring was something completely outside the system.


  

  That last fact terrified him and excited him in equal measure.

  Haruto looked up at Dren.

  "First… I need money. Then, I need to know exactly what I can store."

  Dren’s grin widened.

  "Now you’re talking. I might have a job for you."

  Haruto leaned forward.

  "I’m listening."