I've Been Fooled by My Identification Skills.

On the day I awakened at the age of eighteen, I acquired the most useless skill in history: appraisal. Others awakened combat skills and flew into the sky to escape from the earth, but I could only read the item description. Until I picked up the rotten apple, the identification box was blank. I casually typed in "sweet, juicy apple" and the next second it really changed. From then on, the world became my editorial backstage. I changed the worn-out books into "peerless secrets" and the rusty dagger into "artifact embryos". When I was dying in the Colosseum, the enemy entry was modified: "Loyal Pet Dog". Later, I stepped into the hospital and saw the gray words above people's heads: "30 days countdown to genetic collapse." It turns out that what I modified was never the items, but the underlying rules of how the world works.