Marco startles into awareness, having just been in the lush gardens of the Ivory estate. He looks around finding similar lush greenery for a few feet around the massive tree before utter blackness. About ten feet out from the trunk, the world seems to end, just terminating to deep void black.

  Marco shuffles closer to the trunk, trying to stay as far away from the void as possible.

  “Hello Traveler.” A voice booms within his head, causing him to stumble a little bit before he catches his balance on the trunk of the tree.

  “Hello? Who are you? Where am I?” Marco asks in a panic.

  “Calm Traveler. I mean you no harm, you are safe in my grove.” The voice once again returns, “I am the Tree of Woodholme, ancient protector of the realm.”

  “You’re the tree? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at this point; magic, other races, and talking trees.” Marco says, shaking his head.

  A deep thrumming sound vibrates the ground around him, he realizes that the tree is laughing. “Yes, I am the tree. Or I am the spirit of the tree, having gained sentience over my very long life.” Woodholme says, “I escaped the cursed Deadwood early in my life, thankfully avoiding being drained of life force and intelligence.”

  “I have never seen such a large tree before,” says Marco, craning his neck upwards to see more of the ivory tree. “You have beautiful leaves.”

  “Thank you young one, I grew them myself.” Another vibration runs through the clearing, a chuckle from Woodholme. “We have limited time here so I will be direct. I always try and meet new Travelers on behalf of the System, kind of like an extra check.”

  “As I am sure you already know, I am Marco Vito. Currently staying at the House of Ivory.” Marco blurts out, afraid of failing some hidden test.

  “Calm, Marco of Salt. I mean you no harm.” The Tree of Woodholme says, “It is merely a formality, and a chance for a gift.”

  “You have that close of a relationship with the System?” Marco takes a deep breath, “I thought that the System was more impartial to its people.”

  “Normally, Yes. Travelers can have a great deal of influence on the world of Omnia. The System tends to keep a closer eye on them.” The tree explains, as it finishes its previous statement, it seems to grow larger in Marco’s vision. A strong pressure emanates from the trunk, pressing down on Marco. He stumbles again, catching himself, preventing his knee from hitting the dirt and grass.

  “Answer my three questions with full honesty and openness and you pass the Systems test.” The tree, louder than before, booms audibly this time. “First question, Do you mean harm to those around you? To the world of Omnia and the greater realm beyond?”

  “No. I have only been here one day, I just want to live an interesting life, filled with friends, family, and food.” Marco pants out, the pressure still present.

  “Very well,” the tree continues audibly, "Second question, do you possess any knowledge of realm travel or chaos magic?”

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  “No, once again I was just a Executive Chef until yesterday. Earth didn’t have magic and the System said I ended up here as a magical accident.”

  “Excellent.” Woodholme continues, pausing slightly before answering its next question. “What are your plans for the future?”

  “I still don’t know what is possible in this world, I just want to grow, learn about new food, and make new friends.” Marco pushes his answer from between clenched teeth. The pressure disappears immediately, “I left behind two people on Earth, my two best friends and the closest people to me in my life. New people cannot replace the, but it can numb the pain, to meet new and interesting people.”

  “Most excellent, Marco of Salt. You are welcome in Woodholme forevermore. I have an additional gift for you, one who is able to withstand the pressure of a peak existence.” A thin branch slowly snakes down from the canopy, a single leaf on the very end, glowing with power.

  The leaf touches Marco’s left hand, a short searing pain flashes through him, like touching one of the shelves in an oven but jerking back before it can do lasting damage. A small tattoo appears on the skin on the back of his hand, between the thumb and forefinger. A small pale green leaf, in the star-shape that seems to be common here.

  “I have gifted you with an [Inventory], a small extradimensional space that will grow with your affinity. It can only contain inanimate objects, living things will not be able to enter, time does pass inside this space but I have heard of another bestowed [Inventory] that slows the passage of time within.” The Tree explains, “Explore, adventure, grow and learn and maybe you will find something interesting.”

  “Thank you, we have stories of magic and such back home and an [Inventory] is a kingly gift.” Marco bows low to the tree, “I will do my best to find new things and raise up people if I find them.”

  “Our time draw to an end young one, go explore my town. Find new foods to enjoy and live under the Sun. Be safe and farewell.” The Tree of Woodholme, rustles in a nonexistent breeze before Marco finds himself back in the garden, amongst the hedges and flowers. The massive tree, nowhere in sight.

  The warmth of the sun melts the stress from Marco as he takes a couple of deep breaths. “That was an insane experience, who would believe me back home that I spoke to a tree in what appeared to be the void of space.” Marco shakes his head, bewildered by the experience.

  He looks to his left hand where the new tattoo joins the burn marks and scars, badges of honor of a long career in the restaurant industry. “[Inventory]” Marco thinks to himself, hoping to understand a little bit of the new gift he has been given.

  *Ping* New Perk Unlocked.

  [Inventory: Gifted]

  [Inventory]: An extradimensional storage space, capable of holding inanimate objects. Total Weight Reduction. Current Space: 10x10x10ft.

  Marco reels at the amount of space given to him by the Tree of Woodholme. He smiles to himself, thinking about how much easier adventuring will be with an extradimensional room that he can fill with useful things, like produce for cooking on the road.

  He looks upward toward the sky, noticing that the sun had moved a small amount since his talk with Ben after breakfast, but not quite enough to make it close to the midday meal. “Damn, I really need a better way of telling time. Maybe I can ask Coron or someone of the House.” Marco sighs, used to a world of smartphones and watches.

  He returns to his slow wander of the garden, taking in the sights of colorful flowers, the smell of verdant green grass, and the sounds of nature; the wind rustling grass, small birds announcing their issues with the world, and the trickle of water through a small stream that winds through the beautiful landscape.

  Marco eventually stumbles upon a very comfortable looking bench, wooden but worn in a way that betrays it years of use. “This is a very comfortable spot, complete with a nice warm sunbeam.” He sits, wiggling to get more comfortable before just laying down on the bench and resting, thinking about his conversation with Woodholme, the tree.

  “The pressure that it emanated was insane, that I was able to say standing was a miracle.” Was Marco’s last thought before he drifted off to doze in the sun.