Just as Hank Fowler was about to use his [Inspect] skill on The Magnifying Glass, a wave of dizziness hit him like a rogue tidal wave. He stumbled, nearly face-planting into the dirt.

"Bro, you alright?" The entrenching tool asked, his voice laced with concern.

Hank shook his head, trying to clear the fog. He plopped down on the straw bed, panting like he'd just run a marathon in lead boots. His mind raced, trying to piece together what had just happened.

What the hell was that?

Why did I suddenly feel like my brain was doing the cha-cha?

He pondered for a moment, a suspicion creeping into his thoughts. Could it be that I'm overusing my skills?

Using skills drained mental energy.

And when that mental energy hit rock bottom, well, that's when the world started spinning.

Thinking this, Hank Fowler quickly pulled up his status screen. Seeing that his [Spirit] stat was down to a measly 1 point, the truth hit him like a brick. This was the side effect of spamming [Inspect] like a newbie who just discovered the button.

He'd just used [Inspect] four times, burning through 40 points of [Spirit].

That meant each use cost a whopping 10 [Spirit], way more than his [Heal] skill.

Luckily, [Spirit] regenerated on its own, so it wasn't a total disaster.

After a while, Hank decided to catch some Zs on the bed.

...

He slept for a solid two hours.

When the sky started turning into a canvas of dusky hues, Hank finally opened his eyes.

That nap had done him some good. He felt somewhat refreshed, and the dizziness was gone, replaced by a dull ache that was at least manageable.

He sat on the bed for a bit, gathering his strength, before grabbing The Magnifying Glass and Frying Pan and heading out to the yard.

He then lit a fire and placed Frying Pan on top.

"Bro, didn't you just scarf down that sea turtle meat? You still hungry?" Magnifying Glass asked, tilting his handle in curiosity.

Hank chuckled. "Not eating, just making some soup."

He planned to cook those mushrooms he'd found.

Supposedly, they boosted [Spirit].

Maybe they could even refill his depleted reserves.

Fifteen minutes later, a pot of mushroom soup was ready.

Hank wasted no time in digging in.

The taste was alright, a bit bland. Would've been killer with some salt, but beggars can't be choosers.

Before he knew it, the entire pot of mushroom soup was gone.

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He quickly opened his status screen again.

[Survivor: Hank Fowler]

[Area: 10001]

[Level: 4]

[Experience: 50/500]

[Constitution: 8 (+30)]

[Strength: 8 (+30)]

[Agility: 10 (+30)]

[Defense: 5 (+30)]

[Spirit: 61 (+30)]

[Talents: Heal, Inspect, Space]

"Holy crap!" Hank exclaimed, eyes wide with surprise.

Not only had the mushroom soup added 50 [Spirit], but it had also completely replenished the [Spirit] he'd used up.

These things were seriously magical.

Now that his [Spirit] was back in action, it was time to investigate this [Space] talent.

As Hank focused on it, information flooded his mind.

[Space: An offensive, control, and mobility-type talent. Grants the abilities of Spatial Bind, Spatial Slash, and Teleportation.]

[Spatial Bind: Upon activation, generates an invisible force that restrains the target. Note: Continuously consumes Spirit while in use.]

[Spatial Slash: Unleashes a spatial blade with terrifying destructive power. The more Spirit consumed, the greater the power. Note: Each use consumes a minimum of 100 Spirit.]

[Teleportation: Instantly traverse space. The more Spirit consumed, the greater the distance traversed. Note: Each use consumes a minimum of 100 Spirit.]

Hank was utterly dumbfounded.

This [Space] talent was ridiculously powerful.

With this, his strength had skyrocketed.

Those other survivors, Willow Frost and Zara Vance, or whatever their names were, they were nothing compared to him now. They were like ants beneath his boot.

"Haha!" Hank couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"Bro, are you sure you're okay?" Corn asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

"I'm fine," Hank said, raising an eyebrow. He turned to Corn and, without missing a beat, activated [Inspect].

[Target: Corn]

[Level: 1]

[Evolution Progress: 60%]

[Attack: 0]

[Defense: 1]

[Spirit: 10]

[Talent: Not Yet Awakened]

"So weak?" Hank frowned.

This Corn had talked a big game before, even boasting about unleashing corn bombs. Turns out, he was all talk and no action.

Noticing Hank's sour expression, Corn hesitantly asked, "Bro, what's wrong?"

Hank's eyes narrowed. "You said you were all that, right? Show me what you've got."

Corn: "I haven't leveled up yet, so I'm weak as hell right now. But once I level up, I'll awaken my talent, and then I'll be a total badass."

"Oh, really?" Hank muttered, unconvinced.

"Seriously, I'm not lying!" Corn insisted, sounding earnest.

"Alright, I'll take your word for it... for now," Hank said, nodding slowly.

This Corn's evolution progress was at 60%. If he fed it some more crap and a few more rounds of pee, it should be able to hit level 2.

With that in mind, Hank unbuckled his belt and let loose a stream of urine on Corn.

"This piss is the good stuff! I love it! So good, so good!" Corn exclaimed, practically vibrating with joy.

Hank clicked his tongue, pulled up his pants, and headed back to The Hut.

Just as he opened the door, he heard Luna Lovelace's voice outside. "Hank Fowler."

"What do you want now?" Hank asked, stopping in his tracks and turning to face her.

"I... I wanted to borrow something," Luna said, looking like she was holding something back.

"I don't have it," Hank replied bluntly.

Did she think his place was some kind of charity? Always coming to borrow stuff.

"Huh?" Luna was taken aback. "But I haven't even said what I want to borrow. How do you know you don't have it?"

Hank shook his head, exasperated. "I just don't want to lend anything to you. I was trying to be polite, but I guess you didn't get the hint."

Luna Lovelace: "..."

Was he really that heartless?

After a moment of awkward silence, Luna said, "I can cut some thatch for you, as an exchange."

Hank thought for a moment. "What do you want to borrow?"

He wasn't going to lend anything for free.

But if there was something in it for him, that was a different story.

Luna bit her lip. "I wanted to borrow some... toilet paper."

Hank froze, momentarily stunned.

Toilet paper? What for?

Then it hit him.

She needed to take a dump.

Everyone had to poop.

It was a law of nature. Nobody could escape it.

"Hank, please lend me some," Luna pleaded, looking at him with puppy-dog eyes.

Hank's eyes flickered. "Why don't you just borrow some from Willow Frost and Zara Vance? Why come to me?"

Luna lowered her head. "They don't have any."

Hank was curious. "Then how do they wipe their butts? With rocks? Leaves? Or maybe their fingers?"

"Hank, that's disgusting!" Luna exclaimed, feeling a wave of nausea.

Hank raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "What's so disgusting about it? If you don't have toilet paper, those are your options, right?"

"We don't use those things," Luna pouted.

"Then what do you use?" Hank was genuinely interested now.

Luna hesitated for a moment before saying, "They ripped up their clothes and used them to wipe."

Hank stroked his chin, a thoughtful expression on his face. "If they keep doing that, won't they run out of clothes?"