Atlas woke early, the scent of herbs still strong in his nostrils. And probably a few herbs, actually. It had been a difficult evening.

Still, his HP bar was full - in fact the loud ping informing him such was why he was awake so early, and his MP bar had filled not long after. The perfect time for some experiments.

He’d wanted the first one to be on his clothes, which he’d taken off before going to bed - not without some difficulty getting the sleeves over his bracers. Now they stubbornly refused to disappear. According to his menu they were still “equipped”, despite all evidence to the contrary, but unless he was going to risk disintegrating the inn’s bedsheets, which felt a little unappreciative, he had nothing to switch over to. About the only thing he could do was damage them to see what happened to their code, but he didn’t really want to mess up his only outfit, even for science.

Which left only one thing. Atlas raised his bracer and hit the scan button. The beam flashed over a sleeve.

REFORMATTING.

The outfit disappeared from the chair and reappeared on his body a moment later. Atlas adjusted his collar and nodded thoughtfully. Alright, that could potentially be quite useful, assuming he needed to get dressed in a hurry sometime or… He rolled up his sleeves and scanned his trousers. The sleeves reappeared in an unrolled state a moment later. Wipe his sleeve along his dirty bowl? Gone a moment later. And it only took a few moments for his blue bar to refill as well. Shame the default state of his clothes was a shabby mess, but still, that was surprisingly convenient. He fixed his collar again.

Alright, same experiment, except… Atlas tapped his second…. B Button? The dive knife appeared before his hand and he caught it instantly, again without so much as a thought. That was almost worth testing on its own, but first, Atlas reached out and placed the knife on the table.

Except he didn’t. The knife was still firmly in his grasp. Atlas tried again, but his hand simply ignored all attempts to get it to release the knife. Flip it over in his hand, fine, he caught it deftly by the blade before flipping it once more. Toss it up and grab it from the air? No problem, even though he had no idea how he did it without losing a finger.

Atlas frowned. This raised an uncomfortable question about his relationship with the bracers that he’d have been happier about if he could actually take them off. Or was that in itself a mental block just like this one?

Alright, how about… Atlas flicked the knife up, balancing the tip on one finger. Easy with its flat tip. He slapped the blade with his other hand. Though he tried to catch it - without any intention to do so - it clattered to the floor besides his bed.

TOOL LOST

[Rusted Dive Knife]

DISARMED

Success! Atlas reached down and scooped the knife back up.

TOOL LOGGED

[Rusted Dive Knife]

EQUIP Y/N?

Atlas tapped “no”, then reequiped it using the menu instead. It worked the same way as the code grid menu, just a few taps and he was holding it in his hand again.

He threw it.

TOOL LOST

[Rusted Dive Knife]

LAUNCHED

He hadn’t expected that to work, but it did. One smooth flick and the knife was spinning over the small bedside table, clipping the tray as it sailed past before striking the wall. It fell to the ground.

So did the tray.

“Ah!” Atlas launched from the bed, arms outstretched. He barely intercepted the porcelain bowl before it hit the ground. The tray clattered to the floor, the spoon a moment later after bouncing off his head. He sighed with relief.

MATERIAL LOGGED

“Nooooo.” Atlas slumped to the floor. Explaining to Mrs Damastes that he’d broken her bowl would have been bad, but how infinitely worse to tell her he’d atomised it? And who knew how expensive porcelain was in this weird setting? It wasn’t like he could work off the debt, either. Washing dishes? Mopping floors? He had a singularly pathetic version of the Midas touch. He couldn’t even pick up the tray. Atlas sat up, rubbing his ribs. He’d even lost a pixel of HP from the impact.

Okay. He couldn’t see the sun since his room faced out towards the sea, which was still shrouded with the same fog bank as yesterday, but the sky was still pretty dark, overcast with thick clouds. Did they have clocks here? What time would they expect him to leave?

Atlas gritted his teeth. He didn’t even know what deadline he was working with. Better not waste any time. He tapped on the materials menu, and sure enough there was the bowl. He highlighted it.

[Bone China Bowl]

PROPERTY OF DAMASTES MAGIC BED INN

STAINED WITH SOUP

NOT CHEAP

“...I hate you.” Atlas glowered at the bracers. He tapped the B button just in case, but it just closed the menu. He reopened it. The slime cores were special, right? He selected the next item down, [Slime Jelly x 11], and hit the scan button.

MATERIAL REAPED

NO NEW CODES FOUND

The x11 turned into x1 on his menu, and an amorphous mass of goo appeared in the air in front of him. Hope dimly flickered in Atlas’ chest before the jelly was consumed by the same white flame as before. Not even ash made it to the floorboards.

Great. So he had upgraded to either stealing the bowl forever or actually disintegrating it. It was good to have the choice between which disaster he wanted. This was the problem with only having two buttons. He glared at the black metal contraptions binding his wrists. They weren’t even easy to use, having to swap hands every time he wanted to press a button, and the buttons themselves weren’t even close together, he could barely reach both at the same ti- Hm. He rubbed his chin.

Atlas perked up at the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside, coming closer. A guest heading for the bathroom? Check out time for freeloaders? He winced. Time to take a third option. He tapped the next menu item, [Sand x16], then twisted his hand across the bracer, pressing both buttons simultaneously.

MATERIAL EJECTED

A ball of sand bigger than his head appeared in front of him and splatted down onto the floor. Atlas pumped his fist. The footsteps stopped in front of his door. He hadn’t dared lock it with the key last night. Spinning around to the bed, he ejected the bowl. It landed safely on the covers. Atlas twisted back towards the doorway, plastering on his best innocent smile...

The footsteps moved back the way they’d come. Atlas dropped down in relief before looking to the heap of sand spread across the floorboards. He took an experimental fistful, it didn’t disappear. He groaned.

A pyrrhic victory.

Well he could clean that up in a minute. Maybe his mysterious visitor had left a broom? Atlas poked his head out into the corridor. The hallway was devoid of people, whoever had been there had gone, but had indeed left a parting gift. A pair of thick woolen socks folded neatly over two sturdy, ankle length brown boots. A single gold coin had been laid on top.

Raising his bracer, he tapped the scan button.

[Adventurer’s Boots]

GIFT FROM A MYSTERIOUS BENEFACTOR

ONE PREVIOUS OWNER

EXACTLY YOUR SIZE

Atlas smiled. He really was going to have to find some way to repay everything they’d done for him.

He should probably start by cleaning up all that sand.

Atlas was in good spirits as he walked down stairs, having deposited most of the sand into a clay pot he’d found under the bed and engaged in some light cleaning that had involved far too much wading through menus by the time he was done.

“Morning, handsome.” Despite the hour, the young woman - Sanda? - was standing at the counter when he entered the hall, polishing the dark wood with a threadbare rag.

“Good morning.” Atlas smiled at her.

“Trouble sleeping? It’s not quite six yet.”

So they did have clocks, or at least some way of telling time. Good to know. “Just trying to get an early start, I guess. And you?”

Sanda grinned brightly. “Oh, I’m a real early bird myself. Not like the boss. She’s up late most nights on account of her husband. Can I get you anything to eat?”

Atlas adopted a neutral expression and nodded, filing that away under “way too much information’. “Yes please.”

Science was hungry work, after all. He reached for the golden coin he’d rematerialised in advance.

Sanda raised a hand. “No charge, boss’ orders. I’ll get it for you in a jiffy, just find yourself a seat somewhere.”

Without waiting for a reply Sanda swept past him, leaving a faint sweet smell tickling Atlas’ nose as she bustled into the kitchen, rag laid over her shoulder. Atlas watched her go.

She really was the complete opposite to Mrs Damastes, bright and friendly. Pretty too, though she didn’t have the same hypnotic attraction Mrs Damastes held over him. He’d just started thinking about her again, after all.

Atlas shook his head, picking a table close to the window where he could see into the town. A few lone figures were out and about, carrying bundles or pushing carts in the grey dawn light. One plump woman staggered onto the street with a bucket in each hand. A handful of children followed her like ducklings down the street, leaving puddles of water from their own buckets as they went.

Hm. Maybe there was a well? He could try logging some water for his trip to the city, though come to think of it, he hadn’t logged any in the cave. Did his bracers just ignore it? He didn’t have fistfuls of oxygen in his inventory, after all.

Atlas spent a few minutes trying to grab exactly that before pausing in a fit of self-consciousness. From elsewhere in the hall came the rhythmic toll of a clock. Atlas peered around curiously but couldn’t see any sign of it.

Bong.

The kitchen door opened to reveal Sanda, smiling as usual, a steaming tray in each hand.

Bong.

“Hope you don’t mind some company while you eat, Handsome.” Bong. She winked. “Because I’ve got a powerful hunger myself.”

Bong.

Atlas just smiled as she walked over - Bong - depositing the trays expertly on the table and dropping herself opposite him.

Bong.

His smile froze. There, overlaid over the top corner of his eye was a single message.

THIRTEEN DAYS REMAINING