“There is no way I’m going to go outside and wander blindly around the countryside.”

He had woken up at least warm this morning. Practically toasty. But there was a problem.

He had to go outside eventually. That was a good way to get killed, he thought to himself. There were things out there that ate frozen goblin meat.

Speaking of.

He was definitely screwed in the meat department. For a moment, he even wondered what frozen goblin tasted like. It was probably a good thing that he didn’t have to find out, he decided. Technically, they were tool users and probably sentient. That would be like eating a whale.

His stomach grumbled. “Mmmmm. Whale.” He sounded wistful.

“I am definitely not a hero.” He reminded himself of his firm conviction to run away at the first sign of danger “This is not a game, and outside is scary.” He added for good measure.

His stomach sounded off again. He sighed. It was time to go outside. Maybe he could get lucky and pick some berries.

He cautiously made for the door, hatchet in hand.

--

He found berries and a weird fruit that were apple-esque nearby. Apple enough to be amazing. Probably why the cabin had been built where it was, he reasoned. It meant he didn’t have to wander, which was altogether the best thing that had happened to him today.

And the berries hadn’t even made him delirious, which was a valid concern that was overridden the moment he started salivating.

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He sat, content with a decently full belly, on his low stool at the table. He eyed his hatchet, without which he would be so much very more worse off.

A memory of his father came unbidden to his head, which made him equal measures happy and sad. *Before you do anything else, son, name your tools. That way you’re more liable to take care of them, and they are more liable to take care of you.*

“I’m fine here, Dad. And I promise I will.”

He fished the first and only thing he took with him out of his pants pocket: a steel screw that had the word ‘Atlas’ down its side.

Slowly and carefully used the screw to etch onto the face of the hatchet. Fifteen minutes worth of work and he had the word ‘hope’ in cursive letters on its face. It looked good. Fitting, even.

After a moment of pause, he flipped the hatchet over to its opposite face. “Yea.” He resolved to etch again, this time tracing out the modified omega symbol he had seen from the event. The outline came together decently.

It looked like it lacked some some detail though. Which he thoughtfully added with a flourish.

And then it happened.

A strange *ding!* heralded a box which overlaid his vision, obscuring the table. He jumped out of his seat, “Jelly beans catfuck!”

He seriously wondered if he was losing his grip on clarity.

Nothing else happened, except a blood sugar spike. And probably some early onset arrhythmia.

Suspiciously, he read the floating text, which was wasn’t, he realized, floating in the sky. It was in his head. He could still see the table if he focused on it. And then he could focus on the text box floating in his head.

He did it a few more times to be sure. Head. Table. Head.

Congratulations! You have seen into the strata of the cosmos and wondered upon its weaving. Through tracing the mysteries of the world and fearless experimentation, you have unlocked the class, [Natural Inscriptionist]. Accept class [Y / N]?

For several long moments he just stared. The world was a rational place, even if unexplained phenomena occurred. Even if everything he knew about the scientific method.. wasn’t .

Yeap, the scary floating words were still there.

He paused for a moment. “Fine! Whatever! You win. I thereby give up on my degree in physics and any acceptable viewpoint of the observable universe. I accept my insanity!”

The world went white.