The pub was still the same.

  Sunlight still baked the paving slabs of the beer garden. The same five pints sat warming on the table, beads of condensation long gone. Nobody had touched them. Nobody had even moved them. It was like the world had frozen mid-frame, everything exactly as they'd left it, except now they weren't the same people coming back.

  Lee leaned over the fence and grabbed the latch, swinging the door open for the others to step through.

  Paul led the way back to their table and slid into his seat, then looked at his drink. "Still here."

  "Aye, but it's warm now," muttered Liam, nudging his pint with one knuckle like it might bite.

  Lee sat last, arms folded on the table. He exhaled slowly. With a practiced thought, he summoned the UI back into his vision, the ghostly translucent screen flickering to life exactly as it had at the square. The glowing tab at the top was still there, blinking away.

  "So.. you guys still got that blinking tab on your screen?" Lee asked. He watched the icon, wondering if he was being singled out or if this was just the next step.

  Ste nodded, leaning back. "Yeah. It's getting easier to call it up, isn't it? I don't even have to squint anymore, just sort of imagine it in front of me."

  "Proper weird, like," agreed Parmo. "But yeah, Lee, mine has the blinking tab as well. I'm clicking it."

  Everyone turned their attention to Parmo, watching his face as he tapped the tab.

  "If it's settings and you find a mute button, go ahead and press it, dude," Paul joked.

  The screen shifted, and a new interface appeared. It was split into two distinct sections. On the left, six headers were listed in a dull, stony grey. They looked locked, inactive.

  [STRENGTH] [AGILITY] [FORTITUDE] [INTELLIGENCE] [WISDOM] [CHARISMA]

  Under each header, tiny lines of text showed the "Sub-Skills", the bits of knowledge and physical habits they'd picked up over the years. Most sat at a baseline, but a few had small, numeric modifiers.

  "No way, it's a fucking stat screen," Lee grinned. "Quick, Liam, dump everything into Intelligence."

  "Ha... ha... ha. Very funny, dickhead," Liam shot back. He was staring at his own screen. "Mine's got a +3 under [Strength] for [Athletics]. It's like it knows I've been hitting the gym, but it's still keeping my base locked."

  "It's an audit," Ste said, his eyes scanning his own display. "Look at the right side. That's the active part."

  Lee turned his attention to the second window. It was bright and hummed with a faint blue light.

  ***

  [VITALS]

  Current Condition: Stable

  Physical Optimisation: In Progress – 12%

  Unlike the locked headers, this section was a list of labels, a clinical breakdown of their bodies. Lee's mouth went dry as he read his own.

  Weight: 152kg → Target: 105kg

  Posture Correction: In Progress

  Respiratory Efficiency: Under Adjustment

  Skin Repair: Ongoing

  Vision Repair: Ongoing

  His hands trembled slightly as he scrolled through it.

  "It knows everything," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

  Ste's screen showed fewer changes, more subtle tweaks.

  Hydration balance: stable

  Muscle conditioning: low-level boost

  Cognitive clarity enhancement: initiated

  Sleep cycle efficiency: under review

  Metabolic regulation...

  He frowned, then looked up. "This thing's not just healing. It's tuning everything."

  Paul froze completely when he saw his entry.

  Old Injury Detected: Left Leg (Major Trauma)

  – Bone structure: severe fragmentation, improper healing

  – Muscle tissue: compromised, extensive scarring

  – Nerve damage: moderate

  – Estimated Recovery: 7 days

  "My leg," he said, voice barely there.

  The others turned to him.

  They all knew. The crash. The surgeries. The months of "maybe we can save it." The way he'd learned to walk all over again, dragging that wider, scarred limb behind him like an anchor he'd carry forever.

  "It says seven days," Paul whispered, staring at the screen like it might be lying. His hand drifted to his left thigh, the one that had never quite looked right since, the one that ached when it rained. "It's going to fix it?"

  "Looks like it," Liam said quietly.

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  Paul didn't move. Didn't blink. Just sat there with his hand on his leg, reading that line over and over.

  Liam checked his screen, scrolling through a list similar to the others.

  Reflex tuning: in progress

  Muscle group optimisation: underway

  Pain modulation: active

  Balance correction: minor skew detected

  Skeletal adjustment: +9cm height

  He let out a low whistle. "I've got the same sort of stuff as you lot, muscle conditioning, reflexes, all that. Just less dramatic, I think. Makes sense. Already been going gym regularly." He squinted at one line. "Though apparently I'm getting a few centimetres taller? Cheers for that, I guess."

  "Still gonna be the shortest though," Parmo grinned.

  "Not by much anymore," Liam shot back. "Free gym membership and a growth spurt. Can't complain."

  Parmo went still, eyes locked on his screen. His breathing, always with that faint wheeze underneath, caught slightly.

  "This thing's gonna fix me," he said quietly.

  The others turned to him.

  His UI was longer than some of theirs.

  Respiratory System: Critical Repair

  – Lung capacity: severely reduced, chronic inflammation detected

  – Airway restriction: moderate to severe

  – Estimated restoration: 7 days

  Metabolic Adjustment: In Progress

  – Weight: 58kg → Target: 72kg

  – Muscle mass development: initiated

  – Nutrient absorption: under optimisation

  He touched his chest, almost unconsciously reaching for the inhaler that lived in his pocket. The one he'd carried since he was seven. The one that had ruled his life, what sports he couldn't play, which days he stayed inside, the panic when he couldn't find it.

  "Seven days," he repeated, voice a little unsteady. "No more inhaler?"

  "Looks like it," Ste said.

  Parmo just sat there, staring at the words like they might vanish if he looked away.

  No one said anything for a moment. The sounds of the town drifted faintly over the pub walls, voices, clinking bottles, the slow reawakening of a changed world.

  But the UI wasn't done.

  Another faint pulse, not from the stat tab, but somewhere deeper.

  Lee felt it before he saw it. A quiet nudge in the corner of his mind. The way your brain makes connections, stat screens, skill trees, and if those exist, then logically...

  He muttered, "Inventory."

  The moment the word left his mouth, the UI shimmered again, and another screen opened.

  Rows of boxes. Empty slots. Neat and gridded like an RPG bag screen.

  One slot near the top left wasn't empty.

  A small glowing shape hovered there, nondescript, labelled simply:

  [Starter Item: Unknown Object]

  Status: Inert

  Lee blinked.

  "Dudes," he said. "We've got an inventory."

  Paul sat back, eyebrows raised. "OK, now it's a game."

  Liam laughed. "Next you'll be telling me we've got a quest log."

  There was a beat.

  Everyone glanced at their UIs.

  Waiting.

  Nothing.

  Paul snorted. "Yeah, nice try Liam. It seems your weeb powers aren't on Lee's level."

  "I mean, obviously, but I was curious," Liam protested, grinning. "What if it worked?"

  "Then we'd know you're the chosen one," Parmo said, deadpan. "Destined to collect ten wolf pelts and return them to the village elder for 50 XP."

  Ste shook his head. "Can you imagine? Quest: Find Mike. Reward: A pat on the back and a cup of tea."

  "I'd take the tea, to be fair," Liam muttered.

  Lee was still grinning. "At least we know voice commands work for some things. Just not that."

  "Yet," Liam added. "Give it a week. We'll probably unlock a bloody quest board."

  Ste leaned forward, curious now. "You think that thing, the 'starter item', you think we can use it?"

  "I dunno," Lee said. "But if we've got an inventory, then maybe we're meant to find things."

  Parmo grinned. "Bet you Lee's inventory is full of random shite by the end of the week. Probably hoarding cheese wheels and dragon bones."

  There was a pause.

  Liam looked up. "Hang on. If magic inventories are real, and this optimization thing is actually making me taller, what about dragons?"

  The table went quiet for a beat.

  Then Paul snorted. "Oh fuck off. Dragons? Come on."

  "Yeah, alright mate. Fucking dragons," Parmo laughed.

  Lee grinned. "We'll see."

  "We won't," Paul said firmly. "Because they don't exist."

  Ste leaned back, smirking. "Right, well, while you lot argue about mythical lizards, Parmo's already planning on ninja-looting everyone's gear."

  The lads laughed, the tension breaking.

  The group fell quiet again, each lost in thought, the weight of everything suddenly reframed. The grass beyond Murry Street wasn't just a void. It was unexplored territory. The blinking tab had changed everything.

  Paul tapped his screen one more time and leaned back in his chair.

  "Right. So now what?"

  Just then, beyond the pub walls, they heard someone shout:

  "Oi! This UI thing's got a stat page! It's changing my blood pressure!"

  Another voice joined in from across the street.

  "Yeah well mine's buggered off, hasn't it? Can't get the bloody thing back. Load of shite if you ask me!"

  The lads looked at each other.

  Lee smiled faintly, the weight in his chest a little lighter.

  "Guess word's getting out."