Chapter 5: Inventory Unlocked
Alright. Time for the big one.
The Dimensional Hourglass.
Leon took a breath like he was about to open a final exam paper that could either grant him immortality or immediate emotional damage.
He reached into the vault and felt it—the smooth, cold surface of something that probably came with a warning label in god-speak.
The hourglass floated into his hand, sand swirling sideways like, '"Gravity? Never heard of her."'
No dramatic music. No anime glow-up.
Just a quiet pulse. Like the item was checking his vibe before unlocking.
He narrowed his eyes. "If you turn me into a time ghost, I swear I'm haunting someone."
His consciousness blinked.
One second he was in his room. The next—boom.
Empty void.
No walls. No furniture. No ominous whispers. Just miles of flat glowing space and vibes.
"Okay, this is either a pocket dimension or Apple's new startup campus," Leon muttered.
He looked down. Feet—check. Arms—check. Not dead. Not floating.
'Cool. I'm real in here but I can feel it my body was still in the room.'
Then the weirdness hit.
He moved his hand. Normal speed.
But it 'felt' slow. Like underwater slow. Not resistance, just... delay.
Like time was wearing Crocs.
A thought slid into his brain, soft but crystal clear:
> 'One second outside = one thousand in. No aging. No hunger. No distractions. Just you.'
Leon stood there for a full minute, processing that.
Then: "I've unlocked anime training arc mode."
His brain went full gremlin.
'I could master swordplay. Or train magic. Or rewatch my entire childhood trauma in peace!'
He dropped into a squat and slapped the ground lightly.
Solid. Real.
Even if he was not really present in the physical form, he couldn't separate the difference.
No monsters. No taxes. Just infinite productivity and zero judgment.
"God, this is what introverts dream of."
He stood up again, flexing his fingers. Still energized. No pain. No fatigue.
This wasn't just a hideout.
It was a weapon.
He could grind levels in peace. Learn spells. Meditate. Scream-cry for three days straight and come out looking emotionally balanced.
And then?
Step back into the real world like, '"I've changed."'
His grin was full gremlin now. "Okay, this is my favorite child now. Sorry, soup."
With a flicker of thought, the vault closed. The void snapped shut like a tab in incognito mode.
Leon was back in his room.
Steam still rose from the soup. The window creaked. Time hadn't budged an inch.
And he just casually gained a thousand hours of freedom.
He stared blankly at the ceiling.
"This is so broken I love it."
He sat cross-legged, spoon on one side, hourglass floating like a smug little deity on the other.
Five treasures explored.
Two to go.
And with this much time?
He could become 'anything'.
Even someone who stops getting beat up by soup thieves.
'Alright, Leon,' he thought, rubbing his hands together. 'You've got mystical artifacts stored in a soul-bounded pocket dimension. You're technically a magical orphan in a fantasy world. And this houglas seems greatest out of all, What's next? Try not to choke on your own greatness?'
He closed his eyes, breathed out slowly, and focused.
With a thought, the vault opened.
Two remaining items hovered in that familiar starlit void. He'd already tested the spoon—Soup God Mode—the ultimate business and hunger code, the boots he could wear all day, the Cloack that looked shabby but could be useful in circumstance, the orb that doesn't seem to work for now but he felt it acknowledges his existence but he needed something more to merge with it, and last the Time hourglass the walking cheat code. But there were still two other goodies waiting to be unwrapped like high-stakes birthday presents.
"Let's see what else you've got for me, RNGesus."
He reached first for the Ring of Minor Regeneration.
With a flicker, the thin silver ring shimmered into reality. It looked... underwhelming. No flaming runes, no swirling energy, not even a dramatic pulse of crimson light. Just a ring. Plain, functional, vaguely magical.
Leon frowned. "You better not be just jewelry."
Still, he slipped it onto his finger—and instantly flinched as a warm wave flowed across his skin, like slipping into a hot bath. A glow shimmered faintly across his arms and chest before vanishing.
His old bruises—knees from all that running, shoulders from that fall near the barrels—faded in seconds.
Leon blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then looked at his hand like it had just asked him to prom.
"Okay. You win. You're staying."
He flexed his fingers, admiring how natural it felt. Like the ring had always been there.
"A healing ring that works on thought... I'm never taking this off. Ever. I'm marrying this ring. We're dating now."
With his confidence fully recharged (and his joints no longer hating him), Leon turned to the next treasure.
The Blade of Convenient Sharpness.
It appeared in a quiet flash—long, sleek, and deadly elegant. A matte black blade in a sheath of matching darkness, with a polished silver handle so perfectly balanced it looked like it belonged in a noble's collection, not in the hands of a half-starved soup vendor.
Leon reached for it.
It dropped like a comet.
Clang.
The sound echoed through the floorboards as the sword hit with a bone-jarring thud, cracking the wood beneath.
Leon just stared at it.
Then tried to lift it.
Nothing.
He gave it another tug.
The sword didn't budge.
"What the hell are you, Excalibur's angry cousin?" he hissed, now using both hands and all the might his noodle arms could muster.
Still nothing.
It just sat there. Sheathed. Quiet. Heavy as sin.
And then he felt it.
A presence.
Like the sword was... watching him.
Not literally. But spiritually.
His chest tightened. A cold sweat crept down his back. The air around the blade wrapped, as if something ancient and violent was barely tolerating his existence.
Leon let go like it had grown teeth.
Okay. That one? That one was scary.
"Noted," he muttered, backing away like the sword might suddenly leap up and yell "Boo."
He sat on the edge of the bed, wiping his palms on his trousers. "So. We've got an emo sword that hates me, a healing ring that loves me, and a soup spoon that wants to feed the world."
He exhaled.
This world was mad.
But for the first time, he didn't feel powerless in it.
A little unhinged? Maybe. But not powerless.
Leon glanced at the orb still floating in the air—silent, stubborn, and radiating untouchable potential. If it wasn't ready to play nice, then fine.
"Back into the vault you go," he muttered not thinking it would actually work.
He reached out, not physically, but through that inner thread—the strange storage connection the cosmic entity said was tied to his soul. A flicker of will, a pulse of intent.
The orb shimmered… then vanished in a flicker of stardust, pulled back into the dimensional vault like it had been yanked through a cosmic USB port.
Leon froze.
Then broke into a grin so wide it hurt.
"Wait. Wait wait wait—so I can just store stuff? Instantly? In the storage connected to my 'soul'?"
He turned to the cloak, boots, and ring—his hands practically vibrating.
"This is an inventory system. A literal cheat menu."
He laughed under his breath. "I'm a walking shonen protagonist."
For the first time in this world, he felt 'equipped'.
And the game had officially begun.