《Progression Farmer》


 1. Stroke

    Midday Sunson was powerless to stop his grip from loosening around the handle of his scythe. Each additional swing of the tool worsened the tingling numbness in his fingers, and he could tell that his trembling body was just inches away from its breaking point. Even the simple feat of staying on his feet was proving difficult as he stood knees buckling in the blazing hot wheat field with heavy streams of unwiped sweat pouring into bloodshot eyes.


    Heatstroke.


    It was his second run-in with the condition since he had been brought to the plantation, and he half-heartedly hoped that it would actually manage to kill him this time: seeing as he had already lost everything besides his life, that final step did not seem so daunting.


    The scythe fell from his hands, landing with a soft thud in the topsoil beneath. He looked to his shaking hands and let out a sigh.


    It had been two months since his arrival. What had once been fairly healthy young man was now a shriveled husk of his former self, with little more than bruised, sunburnt skin covering a now almost skeletal frame.


    His legs finally gave out.


    Midday dropped unceremoniously to the ground as his last thread of strength snapped. Next thing he knew, he was face down in a disgusting pillow of dirt from which he made no effort to free himself. There was no point in trying to survive, he thought. All that awaited him upon recovery was more anguish.


    He had not been there long, but Midday already understood that nobody escaped Elvanera Plantation. The almost weekly executions of slaves who had tried to leave had made that obvious enough. Death was a mercy that swiftly came to those too weak to endure the intentionally cruel conditions of the plantation¡ªa description fellow prisoners had been saying he matched since his arrival. And so he laid flat on the ground as the sun melted him away.


    Midday laid there unmoving for a few minutes more before an unexpected urge washed over him: If I¡¯m going to die either way, I might as well be facing the sky when the time comes. See the blue one last time, I guess. Midday wasn¡¯t sure why the thought had popped into his mind, but he nonetheless summoned the last of his strength and started working to roll himself onto his back.


    He was about halfway through the motion, propped up sideways with the side of his head flush to the ground, when the glint of something shiny sticking out of the soil a few feet away caught his attention. The object was mostly buried, and it was only visible for the split second that the sunlight hit it at the perfect angle, but the fact he had seen something was certain.


    Curiosity momentarily surpassed his exhaustion. Midday reached over to the spot where he had seen the shiny thing and tried to pull it out. The object in question was very small and so, even though he knew roughly where it was, some amount of effort was expended before his fingers finally ran over the smooth surface of a metallic object covered almost entirely in dirt.


    Midday pulled the object out of the soil and took it into his palm. It was a ring: a small copper band covered in tiny engravings of watering cans and soil pots. He stared at the jewelry for a few moments, unsure of what to make of it, before casually slipping it onto his finger simply because he could.


    ¡°Effect Added. Elvanerean Ring: Accelerates growth of any plant the user points at by one year. Can be used 3 times per day.¡±


    His eyes went wide. This was no ordinary ring. No, he knew what this was. The fact that the voice had spoken made that obvious enough: this ring was a special-grade item. He had only seen one other special-grade item in his entire life, that being the ancestral treasure of his native village: a horn that could summon rain once per season¡ªbut he had only seen that object. Never in his life had he imagined that he would be able to actually touch a special-grade item, much less have one for himself.


    And yet there the ring was on his pinky finger. He had no idea what to make of it, other than that it was needlessly cruel of the gods to give him such an exquisite blessing just before what would probably be his demise. He was no more protected from the brutal sun with the ring than without it and so lay Midday flat on his back, staring at the cloudless blue sky.


    A fire ignited in his previously sunken eyes as his gaze met with the painful stare of the sun. He had long since given up hope on life after realizing that he would never escape the plantation, but the discovery of the ring had rekindled his ambition¡ªhe now had reason to believe he might be able to improve his prospects. He wanted to reach for the sun.


    But to accomplish that required him to survive the present situation. Not an easy task considering how damaged his body already was. He didn¡¯t even have the strength to call for help¡ªnot that anyone would have heard him if he did. All he could do was prolong the inevitable and pray that he might survive long enough for someone to find him.


    And so did the best thing he could think to: crawl into the relatively cool shade of the tall wheat he had been trying to cut not long ago. Midday very nearly fell unconscious before finally inching his way into the shade, but his will to live was stronger than before and so he was able to force himself to stay awake until the task was complete. Immediately he felt slightly better than before, but his body was already too forgone to recover just with shade alone. This was merely a last-ditch effort at buying time, but that was good enough. He left his feet poking out of the wheat so that it would be easier to find his body.


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    With that, he passed out.


    ?


    Midday woke up in a familiar room: the tiny log cabin he and three others begrudgingly called home. It was hardly big enough for one person¡ªmuch less four¡ªand the decades old slaves¡¯ quarters were in constant need of repairs no one ever got around to doing. Moonlight filtering in through an unfixed and ever-enlarging hole in the wall that nowadays passed for a window told him he had been unconscious for quite some time. It had been early afternoon when he''d passed out.


    Someone had laid him flat on his bed: a long wooden board just inches off the dirt floor. It wasn¡¯t much, but the thin layer of wood nonetheless helped to separate him from the bugs he shared the cabin with. A surprisingly clean linen blanket covered his body and, from that, he guessed that one of his roommates had spent a great deal of effort caring for him. Must''ve been Gork.


    The first thing he did after the initial observations was check to make sure the ring was still on his finger. Miraculously, it was. Guess no one noticed. Using the smallest motions possible, he slipped the ring off and placed it into the pocket of his trousers. Not telling anyone about this.


    ¡°Jenjo says you¡¯ve got one hell of a beating coming your way,¡± said a familiar young man, who was sitting cross-legged in front of the mudbrick fireplace adjacent to the door. He had his back turned to Midday, instead preferring to watch the flames dance. ¡°First thing tomorrow, he says. This is the third time you¡¯ve missed your quota this week¡­ And you know what that means.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Midday stared idly up at the ceiling. ¡°The 3 strikes rule. Looks like I¡¯ll be spinning the wheel tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you¡¯ll get lucky and hit the jackpot.¡± The roommate sighed. ¡°But, then again, Jenjo would probably make you spin it again if you did. He prides himself on his cruelty, you know.¡±


    ¡°Everyone knows.¡± Midday kept his eyes on the ceiling, watching as a spider devoured a moth ensnared in its web. A few other moths were flying nearby, indifferent to the ordeal. ¡°You must have been the one who found me. Where are the others? They should be here by now, given how late it is.¡±


    ¡°Romulo is out hunting for XP, as per usual, and Glauster is outside. He assumed you were going to die tonight, and he didn''t want to see that.


    ¡°Can''t say I blame him¡± Midday chuckled, ¡°Well, in any case, thanks for saving me, Gork.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    Gork Treeson was the oldest of the four cabinmates at 19 and yet he was by far the most na?ve. He was the child of a good-natured pair of doctors who treated anyone, relying solely on donations from other good-natured villagers to get by¡ªan upbringing which had imparted an unshakable faith in humanity upon him. In contrast to the other slaves with medical skills, who always made sure to have their patients at the very least swear indebtedness to them, Gork never asked for anything in return. It went without saying that was very easily taken advantage of.


    Midday sighed. ¡°How much longer do you think I have before I drop dead for real?¡±


    ¡°Another month, if I had to guess.¡± The matter-or-a-fact answer surprised Midday. He had asked this same thing in the past, but Gork has always dodged the question. ¡°You came to the plantation at level 5. You were decently healthy, sure, but, at level 5? Physical fitness can only get you so far.¡± He shook his head. ¡°If only there were a dungeon around here¡­ You could have gotten some XP that way.¡±


    ¡°As if they would let me run it.¡± Midday frowned. One month to live, huh? That was probably a best-case scenario. Even so, he resolved to surpass that by leaps and bounds. With the help of a special-grade item, he believed anything was possible. All he needed was a plan. ¡°So¡­ seeing as you were training to be a doctor and all before you got captured, you probably know all the best plants, right?¡±


    ¡°Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°Wishful thinking never did anyone harm.¡±


    ¡°Well, uh, the ''best'' plants grown on the island would probably be the 6 Agricultural Treasures of Elvanera Plantation¡­¡±


    ¡°And which of them do you think would be best for someone like myself?¡±


    ¡°Seriously, where are these questions coming from?¡±


    ¡°It is not fun to think about that which you don¡¯t have?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ Not sure I follow but, to answer your question, if I could give you any plant right now, it would probably be Devil Peppercorn.¡±


    ¡°Devil Peppercorn?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I guess so.¡±


    ¡°I see. Thanks.¡±


    Midday and everyone else at the plantation more-or-less knew the basic details of each of the 6 Agricultural Treasures. Devil Peppercorn, for instance, was a spice famous for its ability to boost the ¡°healthiness¡± of any meal. With a little bit of Devil Peppercorn sprinkled in, something simple as lentil soup could become equivalent to a carefully calculated feast planned by a team of expert nutritionists. Midday was confident that if he obtained some and then proceeded to add it into all of his meals, his emaciation would soon be a thing of the past.


    That said, amazing as the crop was, there was a terrible tradeoff: it tasted awful. So gut wrenchingly awful that despite the fact that it had been proven to vastly improve the general health and physique of anyone who consumed the spice regularly, almost nobody actually did. There was also the fact that Devil Peppercorn, like any other agricultural treasure, was known to grow extremely slowly even in the magical soils of Elvanera Island¡ªbut that was where the ring entered the equation: he could circumvent the wait using its power, provided that the ring worked as he hoped it did.


    The remaining downside didn¡¯t mean much to Midday either¡ªfor it was either get stronger and live or stay weak and die. Things like bad tasting food were of no concern to him at that time and, with that thought in mind, he resolved to make his first move towards obtaining some of the spice as soon as possible. Survival was a race against the clock, after all, and there was no time to loiter about pondering every possible alternative.


    ¡°Whatever you say, Midday.¡± Gork shrugged, not sure what to make of his cabinmate¡¯s question. ¡°Now go back to bed. You have a beating in store for you tomorrow morning, and the best way to prepare is to get some rest.¡±


    And so Midday called it a night.

 2. Test

    The deafening sound of the 30-minutes-before-sunrise bell startled Midday to his senses. Seeing as the sun had yet to peak over the horizon, the cabin¡¯s interior was dark and damp with morning humidity. Midday brushed off some bugs crawling along his chest and sat up, finding his body still somewhat weaker than usual.


    Besides himself, there were two other people in the cabin. Gork still in bed, struggling through the process of waking up, while another person¡ªGlauster Fogson was his name¡ªhad clearly been up for a while. As the unofficial chef of the cabin, he was in the process of getting a fire going so that he could start making breakfast. Midday noticed that he had the already skinned corpses of two rabbits laid out on a wooden tray beside him.


    ¡°Morning.¡± Glauster struck his flint and steel together several times, apparently not having much luck with the ordeal. ¡°Good job surviving yesterday.¡± He struck the flint a few more times, generating a few sparks with each strike, but none of them landed in just the right way necessary to get a fire going. ¡°The logs got wet.¡± He hopped up onto his feet and grabbed an opaque glass bottle off the otherwise vacant bed of Romulo, who was the fourth roommate. He poured out some of the liquid onto the logs and then, with the very next strike, got a fire going. ¡°That lit easier than I thought. Must be distilled. Whiskey, I think.¡± Glauster sighed. ¡°Wonder where the hell he got it.¡±


    ¡°Probably won it in a fight. They make whiskey here, don''t they? Probably not all that hard to come by if you know where to look."


    ¡°Probably so.¡± Glauster placed a pot full to the brim with water into the fireplace. ¡°I hear you¡¯ve got a meeting with Jenjo today.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Midday drew a deep breath. ¡°He¡¯ll probably make me spin the wheel.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± Glauster looked over his shoulder at Midday. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll be praying for your luck then.¡± He tossed handful of flour into the pot. ¡°Think you¡¯ll live?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Midday frowned. ¡°He would be doing me a favor if he killed me, no? That¡¯s why he won¡¯t do it.¡±


    "Interesting thought process.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Midday stood up and started toward the door. ¡°How long would you say we have until breakfast today?¡±


    ¡°Something like 20 minutes. Why?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to know if I had time to take a walk. Looks like I do.¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡± Gork, who had been sitting in bed, fingers combing through his long hair, spoke, ¡°You ought to stay in bed and rest!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but I need some time to think.¡± Midday stepped outside before Gork could respond.


    The cabin in which Midday and the others lived was only a small part of a much bigger settlement tucked away within the shady confines of an otherwise untamed forest. Hundreds of rudimentary cabins, each decades old and in varying states of disrepair formed a neighborhood of sorts, and there were already dozens of slaves running to and from the drinking wells to fill their pots with the water necessary to make their breakfast stews. Things would get even busier in the coming hour as people started heading out for work, and it was that knowledge that had encouraged Midday to get outside as soon after waking up as he had.


    Midday wanted to test his ring, and he absolutely could not afford to be seen doing it. Fortunately, seeing as the undergrowth surrounding the slave encampment was always incredibly thick no matter how often people tried to clear it, he was confident that he could covertly slip out beyond the confines of the settlement and test it under the cover of the surrounding vegetation.


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    He walked along the dirt road, trying to look as normal as possible, until he at last came to a stretch of the street where nobody was walking. Without hesitation, he threw himself into the tall thornbushes that lined the edges the settlement and slowly worked his way through them. The bushes existed mainly to deter monsters from entering the encampment and so Midday was unsurprised that it took him several minutes to get through them unscathed.


    It became apparent upon reaching the other side that the area beyond the thornbushes was not meant for human traversal: a thick layer of underbrush¡ªcomposed of roots, fallen branches, and small shrubs¡ªwent all the way up to his knees and filled the area as far as he could see. Each step he took had to be careful so as to not trip or rub against thorns. It took him a few minutes of hobbling deeper into the wilderness before he finally felt as though he was far enough away from everyone else to safely test the ring. Aware that his time was limited, he quickly slipped it onto his finger.


    ¡°Effect Added. Elvanerean Ring: Accelerates growth of any plant the user points at by one year. Can be used 3 times per day.¡±


    A stupid grin spread across his face upon hearing the voice. He still struggled to fathom the fact that he was wearing a special-grade item and, as he gazed at the ring on his finger with the excited eyes of a young child about to unwrap a present. All he needed now was a target to use the ring on. He surveyed the area, looking for something interesting on which he might test its power.


    There was no shortage of plants in the area¡ªin fact, there were practically all he could see¡ªbut the sheer abundance of options made choosing all that much more difficult. He ruled out the trees and shrubs as too dull to match the exoticness of the ring. He knew that he technically had three charges and therefore didn¡¯t necessarily need to be overly stringent about making the decision, but he wanted to save as many charges as possible in the event that he somehow obtained some Devil Peppercorn seeds by the end of the day.


    ¡°One charge it is then. Hmm¡­¡± He narrowed it down to two choices. The first was a blackberry bush that would probably bear enough fruit to make for a full meal if he used the ring on it but, seeing as he had less than an hour before his torture session with Jenjo, his appetite wasn¡¯t very strong to begin. The second option, which was the one he ended up choosing after some thought, was a simple flower that caught his eye for its vibrant yellow color: a sunflower.


    Midday had always liked sunflowers. They reminded him both of the sun and of his family name. He found it curious to see that the sunflower he was looking at lived in such a shady area, evidently not in its ideal environment, and he found himself relating to its unending toil to survive despite its impossible circumstances. ¡°Might as well give it a boost.¡±


    He pointed his pinky finger out at the sunflower for a few seconds, unsure of what to expect. The engravings on the ring then began to glow green. So it really is legit¡­ Midday kept pointing at the sunflower, still unsure of if anything had happened. Finally, after about additional ten seconds of waiting for something to happen, a burst of green energy shot out of Midday¡¯s fingertip and flew into the sunflower with the speed of an arrow. ¡°Woah!¡± Midday, his hands now trembling in surprise, glanced at the ring. It had already returned to its inert state. ¡°Did it¡­ work?¡±


    He looked to the sunflower for answers. Sure enough, it had already begun to grow. The speed was astounding, with every passing second seeming to add several inches of height and a few additional leaves to the plant. It continued growing about thirty seconds before the transformation stopped abruptly as it had started. The sunflower had gone from a little sprout no taller than his knees to a massive, blooming flower that was taller he was in only half a minute.


    Midday felt his heart beating wildly in his chest as he let out a round of giddy laughter. The Elvanerean Ring was the real deal, he had absolutely no doubts about that now. If word got out that he had something like this, Jenjo or any other supervisor that caught wind of it would undoubtedly have him executed. But why did I, of all people, find this? He had no good guesses besides maybe divine intervention but, regardless of the reason, it didn¡¯t really matter. What did matter, however, was how he was going to use it. He knew that he absolutely had to get his hands on at least one of the agricultural treasures as soon as possible¡ªpreferably Devil Peppercorn, as Gork had suggested¡ªbut any of them would do.


    He knelt down next to the sunflower, took off the ring, and buried in the topsoil beside the plant. Better to keep it here than in my pocket. Less chance of getting caught that way. He sighed upon standing up and stepping away from the ring. What awaited him next was literal torture at the hands of Jenjo followed by figurative torture in the fields. His excitement faded as he pondered the coming day, but all would be well so long as he survived yet another day.

 3. Wheel

    Glauster and Gork sat around the only table of the cabin when Midday returned from his experiments with the Elvanerean Ring. Both were intensely focused on watching the battle between two beetles they had set out on the tabletop to duke it out.


    Seeing as playing cards had been banned after someone with an uncatalogued Ability had used them to kill over a dozen guards in a failed escape attempt, the slaves of Elvanera Plantation oftentimes had to come up with unorthodox pastimes. There was a wide variety of weird hobbies among the slaves of the plantation, but the prevailing one in Slave Quarter #344 was beetle fighting.


    Romulo had introduced the sport to the rest of the cabin about a month before, explaining that it was a popular tradition among his people, and the game had quickly become a hit. All four residents¡ªincluding Midday¡ªhad their own resident beetle they trained (or tried to) for the sake of beating the beetles belonging to their fellow cabinmates in what essentially amounted to wrestling matches. The sport was fairly interesting to watch, and the participating beetles never got injured from the matches, so there were typically a handful of battles throughout the day. They had even gone so far as to make a leaderboard for their beetles, ranking them by their success in the ring, and Midday took some level of silent pride in the fact that his beetle, Mister Potatoes, was the reigning champion.


    ¡°How¡¯s breakfast coming?¡± Midday walked over to the table and sat down to watch the match, which seemed to be in its final moments. Glauster¡¯s beetle clearly had the edge, pushing Gork¡¯s beetle closer and then closer still to the edge of the wooden plate they used as an arena. ¡°Looks like we have a winner.¡±


    ¡°Not yet!¡± exclaimed Gork, who proceeded to give his beetle some encouraging words. ¡°My beetle can still win.¡±


    ¡°Breakfast should be ready if you don¡¯t mind taking the pot off the fire.¡± Glauster grinned, watching as his beetle approached its victory. ¡°I was going to do it a few minutes ago, after the match, but Gork¡¯s beetle is really fired up today. It¡¯s taking longer than expected.¡±


    ¡°No worries.¡± Midday used a wooden ladle to pick up the pot and set it down on the dirt floor. He then grabbed three bowls from the nook above the fireplace and divvied out the chicken & lentil soup Glauster had prepared for them. He grabbed a bowl for himself and started toward the table.


    Just a moment later, Glauster jumped to his feet, victory on his face. ¡°Damn right!¡± He walked over to the leaderboard, which was a small slab of slate propped up against the wall, and used a soft piece of limestone to make a tally next to his beetle¡¯s name. ¡°That makes me tied for #2! Romulo and I will have to have a match this evening to settle the score. If he shows up tonight, that is¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d be shocked if he did.¡± Gork drew a deep breath. ¡°He¡¯s been pretty much nocturnal since last week. The last time I saw him was three days ago, and he¡¯d only come back to have me treat his wounds. He left immediately thereafter.¡± He got up and set his beetle down near his bed.


    ¡°What a nut,¡± said Glauster as he reached for a bowl of soup, ¡°But, with how hard he¡¯s been been working, he¡¯ll probably reach level 10 pretty soon, right?¡±


    ¡°Without access to a dungeon? I doubt it. He¡¯s already plenty strong enough to hunt the monsters he needs for his level-up, but finding those monsters is the hard part. His XP gain has been slow, he tells me. Steady, sure, but definitely slow too. I reckon it will probably take him the better part of a year. Either that or he dies trying¡­¡± Gork grabbed a bowl of soup and sat down at the table.


    Now that all three of them were at the table, the conversation inevitably turned to Midday and his current predicament. Gork was worried that Midday¡¯s body would finally break under the stress of Jenjo¡¯s torture, but Midday assured him that his will to live would get him through anything¡ªat least for a few days. Glauster didn¡¯t say much throughout the meal, but he promised Midday that he would try to help, at least a little, with Midday¡¯s quota for the day because the aftermath of the torture would make it harder for him to work.


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    Following the breakfast, all three grabbed their scythes and left the cabin: Glauster and Gork went to the fields to do their daily work while Midday started walking toward the officer cabin where his torture would take place.


    ?


    The officer cabin stood out starkly from the surrounding cabins. Despite being home to only two people¡ªJenjo, the head guard of Neighborhood 8, and his assistant, Mell¡ªit was several times larger than anything else in the area (though it still only had a single floor). The place had a well-kept exterior, complete with a cozy porch and windows that had actual glass instead of simply being open air. As for the interior, Midday knew nothing. Torture was the only reason he had ever come here before, and that was always done outside in public where people could witness it.


    Jenjo, a lanky man who always wore both a sword and a pistol on his waist, was already sitting outside in a nice rocking chair he kept out on the porch when Midday arrived. He closed the book he had been reading upon noticing that his guest had arrived. After hesitantly setting it down on a table beside him, he gradually rose to his feet.


    ¡°Ah, yes, I do believe someone was supposed to spin the wheel of games this morning.¡± Jenjo had a nasally yet deep voice that Midday hated as much as anything else about the plantation. ¡°Was that you?¡±


    ¡°Erm, yes sir, I do believe so.¡±


    ¡°Good. Good.¡± Jenjo stepped off the porch and walked to Midday until he was less than an arm¡¯s length away. ¡°Follow me.¡± He started walking towards what Midday knew from experience was the main plaza area where all major public events were held: from mere general announcements to torture sessions to full-on executions, the plaza was the place where it all happened. ¡°You know, I would prefer not to do this, but you really got to make your quotas.¡±


    Midday said nothing. He knew from the other slaves that Jenjo was fairly easy to bribe, but he had nothing to offer. It was better, in that case, to simply stay quiet and let the process run its course. Other slaves, most of which had scythes on their backs because they were headed out to the fields, saw Midday walking behind Jenjo and murmured amongst themselves, but nobody said anything. It was better not to get involved with these things.


    After a few minutes of walking, they arrived. A big circle, notable for the fact that it was paved with stone as opposed to simple dirt, greeted them. This was the plaza, and it was quite sizable. The sole structure in the area, however, was a simple wooden stage on which there was a brightly colored wheel divided into 8 sections, each labelled with a different punishment. Midday sighed, aware that in a few minutes his fate would be decided by luck. There was no real crowd in the plaza, per say, but there was a sizable amount of foot traffic running through the area because most people had to pass through the chokepoint on the way to work each morning.


    ¡°Alright, kiddo.¡± Jenjo shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m going to hurry through it today, if you don¡¯t mind. Coffee with coworkers, you know how it is.¡±


    Midday, in fact, did not know how it was, nor did he care. He was glad, however, to hear that the ordeal would be over soon after it began. He followed Jenjo up onto the stage.


    ¡°Eh-em! People of Neighborhood 8! Good morning to all!¡± Jenjo reciting his script, speaking to a crowd that continued walking as though they had heard nothing. ¡°Today begins with this lazy fellow here! What¡¯s your name, you lazy good-for-nothing?¡±


    ¡°Midday Sunson.¡± Midday tensed up as he read through the daily torture possibilities on the wheel. The punishments ranged from taking a swim in boiling water to having wasp eggs inserted into an open wound to straight up plain execution. All of the options were absolutely dreadful save for one: the section labeled ¡®SAFE¡¯. If he managed to land that, he would get off without any punishment at all. The chances were 1 in 8, so getting it wasn¡¯t completely out of the question¡ªthough he still expected the worst.


    ¡°And why are you here, Midday Sunson?¡±


    ¡°I failed to meet my daily quota three times since the last time I came onto this stage. This is my punishment.¡±


    ¡°A punctual answer, Midday Sunson. Well said.¡± Jenjo frowned at the audience, which was practically nonexistent because everyone was on their way to work and didn¡¯t have time to watch Jenjo¡¯s silly show. They had all seen it enough times for the novelty to wear off by then. ¡°Well¡­ Let¡¯s get to it then. Step up and spin!¡±


    Midday meandered over to the wheel, stared at it for a few seconds, and then gave it the hardest spin he could muster.

 4. Finger

    The wheel of fun spun for a good while and made loud clicking sounds as it did. So loud, in fact, that it managed to catch the attention of a few people in the plaza¡ªwho started watching it with half-interested gazes, probably just using the ordeal as an excuse to procrastinate going to work.


    Jenjo stood on the opposite side of the wheel to Midday, also fairly disinterested in the proceedings. To him, this was merely the first spin of probably more than a dozen that would happen throughout the day. Things had been fun at the start, when the new batch of slaves had come in with fresh and strong bodies, because just about everyone was able to meet their quota back then. The wheel only spun maybe every other day back then and so there had always been a sense of novelty to it.


    Now though, due to nonstop overwork, chronic malnourishment, and a general lack of sleep, only the toughest slaves were still holding out. Most slaves had already become skinny husks just a step away from death¡ªjust like the surprisingly calm kid across from him who was spinning the wheel. It was a horrible system, really, and by no means was it sustainable, but Jenjo''s boss had made it clear on several occasions that he was not permitted to modify it in any way. It was strange but, if it was what the higher-ups wanted, then that was how things had to be.


    Jenjo sighed to himself, hoping that whatever punishment the kid landed would be one that was quick to dish out. Something like ¡®EXECUTION¡¯ or ¡®PAIN AMPLIFICATION DRUG¡¯ or ¡®DISMEMBERMENT¡¯ were his favorites not because the torture was anything special, but because they were quick and easy methods that would let him go back to his cabin and return to reading the book he had so rudely been interrupted from reading by this duty of his. Even the incredibly bland ¡®SAFE¡¯ option didn¡¯t seem all too bad when faced with the fact that the coffee his assistant had brewed for him was getting colder with each passing second. It was true that his assistant had the Pyromancy Ability and could heat it up for him if he asked her to, but that always seemed to make the taste worse (and it was usually pretty bad to begin with). In any case, he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.


    Midday stood still and kept a straight face, his demeanor perhaps coming across as rather stoic to the steadily growing crowd of onlookers, but the internal landscape of his mind told a very different story: he found himself oddly ambivalent to the idea of experiencing pain, but Midday was nonetheless terrified of getting crippled or killed. The Elvanerean Ring required him to be alive and well to best be taken advantage of and so his hope was that the punishment would be something painful but not especially injury-inducing.


    The wheel was slowing down. A few seconds more and his fate would be decided. Midday¡¯s stoicism broke down at the thought of that, and he broke out into a cold sweat as his body became increasingly heavy. The wheel got slower and slower. Eight possibilities, two of them almost certain to be fatal and three with the potential to cripple him. He didn¡¯t like his odds at all, but the wheel was indifferent to all but luck. It was too late to do anything but watch.


    Finally, after almost a minute of drawn-out waiting that was torture in of itself, the wheel came to a stop. It had landed on ¡®DISMEMBERMENT¡¯.


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    Midday tensed up, struggling to fully comprehend what was to come. Dismemberment? Dismemberment?! Fuck! He blinked rapidly, his heart racing. Anything but that! Midday had seen someone land ¡®DISMEMBERMENT¡¯ before. It had ended with the slave losing an arm. Please no! He reflexively took a step back, away from Jenjo¡ªwho had already drawn his sword and was walking calmly toward him.


    ¡°Alright, kid.¡± Jenjo frowned. ¡°Pick one of your fingers, if you¡¯d be so kind.¡±


    ¡°Umm¡­¡± Midday forced himself not to move. Running away would get him killed, he knew that much. ¡°If I may ask, sir, why?¡± Midday knew exactly why. He had no idea why he had asked such a dumb question.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to cut off whichever one you tell me to.¡± Jenjo¡¯s sword, a gilded cutlass he had apparently looted off an infamous pirate during his career in the navy, began to glow in a dark red hue as he hoisted the blade up over his shoulder.


    Midday had seen this before. Jenjo¡ªwho proudly proclaimed himself as a level 20 individual whenever he got the chance¡ªhad three Abilities (or maybe less, if he had any multi-tiered ones, but Midday had no way of knowing that kind of thing). In any case, this was one of them. Phantom Slice was its name, and he had seen Jenjo use it to cut off someone¡¯s head while standing more than twenty feet away a few weeks before. Right away Midday understood that he only had a few seconds to think before the charge-up period was over.


    ¡°My¡­ left middle finger, sir!¡± Midday didn¡¯t have time to put too much thought into the decision. ¡°Please cut off my left middle finger!¡±


    ¡°If you insist.¡± Jenjo swung his sword. An arc of reddish energy flew from the blade, matching the trajectory of his swing. Less than a second later, Midday¡¯s left middle finger fell to the ground with a faint splat.


    Midday screamed in agony, the pain unlike anything he had ever felt. He wobbled back a few steps, recoiling from the sight of a fast stream of blood spurting out from the open stub where his finger was supposed to be, and fell backward onto the ground where he writhed like a dying worm.


    Jenjo shook his head. Based on the calm expression the boy had maintained until learning of his fate and on the fact that he had been decisive enough to pick which finger to lose in a span of maybe 3 seconds, he had hoped his victim would prove strong-willed enough to conscript as a potential combatant in the weekly fight club. What a shame it was that the kid¡¯s reaction to the torture had been so typical. His hyperventilating lungs and feverish eyes demonstrated a pain tolerance that was only average at best. ¡°Oh well,¡± he muttered. ¡°You¡¯re free to go now, kid.¡± Jenjo frowned. It should have been obvious from the start that anyone who couldn¡¯t even manage to complete their daily quota on a consistent basis had no chance of being anything special.


    Jenjo watched with some level of amusement as the boy staggered onto his feet and started hobbling away. Perhaps this boy has more willpower than I gave him credit for? It was by no means rare for someone to be able to walk away after getting tortured, but the people who did that were usually in much better health to begin with than this kid. Jenjo got his hopes up a second time, resolving to learn the boy¡¯s name at some point if he managed to survive another month or two, but he gave up on this resolution a few moments later when the kid collapsed, evidently unconscious. Nope. Worthless.


    The last thing Jenjo saw before leaving the stage and returning to his cabin were two people, one of which he recognized. It was Romulo, one of Jenjo¡¯s favorite slaves due to his prowess as a combatant in the weekly fight club, and someone else¡ªwho carried a roll of bandages. Jenjo said nothing as the two rushed over to the kid¡¯s unconscious body, scooped him up, and carried him away. He figured he could ask just Romulo about it later if he ever wanted to learn more, though he suspected he would never feel any inclination to do so.

 5. Romulo

    Midday woke up to a familiar scene: he was lying flat on his bed under the roof of the log cabin. Immediately he understood that someone¡ªalmost certainly Gork¡ªhad come to the plaza and taken him back to the cabin to treat his wounds. My wounds? Oh yeah¡­


    ¡°He chopped my fucking finger off!¡± Midday shot up to an upright position, reliving the painful memory of experiencing such intense agony that it rendered him unconscious via shock. ¡°Fucking hell!¡± His breathing was intense as he pulled his left hand out from under the blankets to inspect the wound.


    It was fortunate that his entire hand was covered in bandages by then, because he probably would have passed out a second time if he had seen the grizzly, still-bleeding injury that would eventually close but never truly heal. One did not regrow fingers, after all. It was gone for good.


    ¡°You got lucky,¡± said Romulo. ¡°Gork and I thought he was going to take one of your arms. That¡¯s how he usually likes to do it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Romulo?¡± Midday raised an eyebrow. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen you in a while, what gives?¡± He turned around to look at Romulo, who was in the middle of a set of push-ups.


    The first thing anyone noticed about Romulo was his stature: the man was massive. No, to merely call him massive and leave it there would be an insult. Romulo was easily more than 9 feet tall¡ªand probably closer to 10¡ªbut the thing that really set him apart from everyone else, even moreso than his height, was his physique: he was only 17 years old, the same age as Midday, and yet he had a physique that would put most bodybuilders to shame. His shoulders were broader than most doorframes and his hands were like trashcan lids. The scythe he had on his back¡ªthe same oversized standard-issue model used by everyone else on the plantation¡ªlooked like a toy on his always-shirtless back.


    ¡°My supply of Green Vitality Mochi ran out this morning, so I came back to have Glauster make me another batch.¡± Romulo jumped up to his feet after a few more push-ups. ¡°And that makes 500!¡± He brushed his extraordinarily long black hair¡ªwhich fell all the way below his knees when it wasn¡¯t tied up in a ponytail¡ªout of his face and shrugged. ¡°I brought all the ingredients and whatnot, hoping that this would be a nice in-and-out ordeal so that I could get back to training as soon as possible, but when I found Glauster working out in the fields, he told me that I had ought to help you before he would consider making another batch. So I thought, ¡®hey, I might as well¡¯, and I ended up rushing over to the plaza. Gork was already there, ready with the bandages when I arrived¡­ That guy is really quite the idiot, you know. He might miss his quota today because of how long he spent treating your wounds.¡±


    ¡°I do wish he would consider being less virtuous, yeah.¡± Midday walked over to the table and sat down. ¡°His selflessness is gonna get him in some serious trouble someday, I think.¡±


    ¡°Definitely.¡± Romulo wiped off his sweat and took a seat at the table. ¡°Just like how your weakness is going to get you killed unless you do something about it.¡± He stared Midday dead in the eye.


    Midday gulped. Oh boy, here we go again¡­ This wasn¡¯t the first time Romulo had lectured him on this topic and it certainly wouldn¡¯t be the last. ¡°I know, Romulo. Believe me, I know.¡±


    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you do something about it?! Every time I see you, you¡¯re weaker than before! I just don¡¯t understand why anyone would willingly stay weak¡ªmuch less actively let themselves get weaker! If your weakness is killing you, just get stronger! It¡¯s that simple!¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s not that simple¡­¡± Midday looked at some ants crawling along the floor, trying not to make eye contact with his all too intimidating roommate. ¡°As I¡¯ve said before, not everyone gets to be born as a 10-foot-tall, musclebound freak with a natural affinity for combat! Some people are just born weak, you know, people like me¡­¡± Midday kept staring down at the ants. ¡°Us regular people have to spend all of our waking hours working in the fields just to meet the daily quotas. There¡¯s no time to do anything else and, even if there somehow was, the exhaustion from doing 12 hours of hard labor every day kills any motivation we might otherwise have to ¡®better ourselves¡¯, as you put it.¡± Midday sighed. ¡°And why don¡¯t you just drop it? I won¡¯t be lectured on this topic by someone who was born naturally stronger than everyone else.¡±


    Romulo stood up, slouching to keep his head form hitting the ceiling, and screamed:


    ¡°If your body is naturally weak, then that¡¯s what levels are for! Dumbass! If your body is weak, you overcome that with level-ups! Weaker people tend to level-up more easily, you know! You have no excuses!¡± Romulo stopped himself, took a deep breath, and continued, his tone now reeled in somewhat. ¡°I¡¯ll give it to you that it¡¯s probably true that you at level 9 would be a lot weaker than I am at level 9, but you would still be miles stronger than you are now. Miles, I tell you!¡±


    Midday just sighed. It was true, leveling-up certainly sounded nice, but Romulo was phrasing it as if it was simply a matter of showing up, putting in the work, and reaping the rewards¡ªall of which was true, Midday supposed, but the fact of the matter was that leveling up was a horrendously slow and terribly dangerous process. Even with half-decent methods, it could take months risking one''s life on an almost daily basis just to earn a single level-up. Romulo himself had already spent more than a month trying to get to level ten and, at his current rate, it would be several more before he actually did. As such, Midday saw levels as worthless. He just plain didn''t have time for them as things stood.


    Despite having lived together for two months, Midday had never quite managed to become friends with Romulo in the same way that he was friends with Gork and Glauster. The reason for this, Midday believed, had to do with Romulo¡¯s ideology: for him, the only thing that had value was strength¡ªsomething Midday had none of. Gork and Glauster weren¡¯t exactly powerhouses either but, for Romulo, they were still respectable because their strength came in other forms: Gork was a doctor knowledgeable enough to save people from the brink of death on a regular basis while Glauster was a cook skilled enough to complete special-grade recipes. Midday, on the other hand, seemingly had no worthwhile attributes. Romulo had been friendly at first, trying to reserve judgment until he saw a better side to Midday, but it had been two months and he had mostly given up on respecting his roommate.


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    But, of course, Romulo had no way of knowing about Midday¡¯s newfound asset: the Elvanerean Ring. Midday suppressed a chuckle at the thought of how surprised his cabinmates would be when he suddenly started progressing from worthless to perhaps even stronger than Romulo.


    ¡°Okay¡­ Well, if you¡¯re so hellbent on wanting me to get stronger, how about you help me do it?¡±


    Romulo raised an eyebrow. ¡°And¡­ how would that work?¡± Romulo was surprised to hear such a thing come from Midday¡¯s mouth. It made him happy to hear that the seeds of ambition were perhaps finally taking root in his acquaintance. Are my words finally getting through to him? He had always secretly hoped that Midday would ask him to become his coach and request to be put on a training regimen. Before getting enslaved, Romulo had wanted to become a drill sergeant for the military¡ªor really anything else that involved teaching. If only I hadn¡¯t been born transhuman¡­ Memories of all the discrimination he had faced in his younger days, purely because of his mongrel lineage, put a frown on his face.


    ¡°You¡¯re close to Jenjo, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that got to do with anything?¡± Romulo frowned. He didn¡¯t like where this conversation was going anymore. Anything involving Jenjo could never be good.


    ¡°You probably know about Devil Peppercorn then, no?¡±


    ¡°What about it?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m wondering if you could maybe get me some. I¡¯ll get stronger if I eat it, won¡¯t I?¡±


    Romulo laughed. ¡°Ah¡­ Midday, you really are an idiot, you know? And here I was thinking you were finally going to say something half-decent!¡± He shook his head in disapproval, still chuckling to himself. ¡°I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you don¡¯t have the willpower to stomach it. Not even I was able to get myself to eat it again after the first time I tried it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve tried it?¡±


    ¡°Of course I have. Like you, I thought it would make me stronger¡ªand it probably would have if I had been able to stick with it¡ªbut, again, the taste is bad to the point where even I, someone whose main goal in life is getting stronger, gave up on it after trying it just once. If you want to get stronger, that¡¯s great, and I¡¯m here to help you, but you need to put in the work! There are no shortcuts!¡±


    Midday faltered. Romulo certainly had a much stronger will than him. If not even Romulo could handle the spice, it seemed delusional to think that he would be able to. Even so, he was desperate. ¡°Okay¡­ Well where did you get it? Do you still have it?¡±


    ¡°Ah, no. The sample I received went bad shortly after I got it. Lost its special-grade status. Devil Peppercorn is worthless unless it¡¯s fresh, it seems.¡±


    ¡°Gotcha¡­ But where did you get it? I at least want to give it a try.¡±


    ¡°Bought it off another slave. They were from Neighborhood 6, which is where they produce Devil Peppercorn, so she was able to smuggle it over the wall fairly easily. Paid her with a few bottles of whiskey. Romulo sighed. ¡°But seriously, Midday, it¡¯s not worth it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m on the brink of death either way at the moment. As I''ve been saying, with the way things stand, there¡¯s no time for conventional training¡ªand certainly not XP grinding. I need something that will act fast.¡± Midday gulped. ¡°Would you be open to obtaining some Devil Peppercorn for me? I only need a few seeds, that¡¯s all. I just want¡­ to give it a try, that¡¯s all.¡± That was a lie, of course. His actual intent was to take the seeds and use his magic ring to grow them into harvestable plants on a regular basis. A few seeds was all it took to guarantee an infinite supply. Romulo couldn¡¯t know that though. Nobody could know about the ring.


    ¡°Hmm. I could probably snag some off Jenjo¡­ But why should I? Is there anything you can offer me in return?¡±


    ¡°Well, do I have anything you want?¡± Midday couldn¡¯t think of anything (besides the ring, which he obviously had no intention of even so much as hinting at).


    Romulo thought about it for a moment. Regarding material possessions, the answer was no. Midday had absolutely nothing to his name. He was poor even among slaves. Is there anything I want? Getting Devil Peppercorn would not be hard at all for him. In fact, Jenjo would almost certainly be happy to give him some if he asked for it. Giving a slave an agricultural treasure was technically a very serious infraction, sure, but nobody would bother enforcing anything if the treasure in question was Devil Peppercorn¡ªwhich was by leaps and bounds the least valuable (at least monetarily) agricultural treasure. He was certain that he could get Jenjo to give him some, no questions asked, if he said that he would be eating it to get stronger.


    ¡°Actually, yes, Midday. There is something.¡± His cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. He was about to ask for something very stupid. Something he had secretly been thinking about for quite some time, probably moreso due to the loneliness he had carved out for himself than any good reason. ¡°But you have to understand, it''s punishable by death for a slave to be caught in possession of an agricultural treasure¡­ So I sort of do feel as though I can ask for just about anything, am I wrong?¡± He tried to sound as serious as possible, but worried that Midday could still somehow tell how ridiculous the thing he was about to say was.


    Midday, now somewhat nervous, tensed up. ¡°What¡¯s your price?¡±


    And then there was a moment of silence between the two. Midday, anticipating the worst, steeled his resolve to the best of his ability. He had no idea what to expect. Romulo, on the other hand, was fidgeting awkwardly, unsure of how Midday would respond. After an intense 10 seconds of painful anticipation, he pulled himself together and spoke:


    ¡°Let me be your coach.¡± Romulo averted his previously dead-on eye contact, already feeling humiliated by his own request.


    Midday blinked a few times. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°In exchange for getting you Devil Peppercorn, you have to promise me one hour of your time every day for the purpose of training.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ Umm¡­ Sure?¡± Midday, dumbfounded, didn¡¯t know what to think. All he knew was that it sounded a hell of a lot better than the awful things he had been imagining. Ooooookay then¡­ I guess that works? Giving up a whole hour of the day, for any purpose, was a steep price when he thought about it though. "Actually, umm¡ª"


    ¡°Alright, great!¡± Romulo jumped up to his feet before Midday could respond. ¡°I¡¯ll have you your Peppercorn by the end of the day. No take backs! Your training starts this evening after you get back from work!¡± He left the cabin and ran off before Midday could ask any questions. R-right. Guess that¡­ Takes care of that?


    Midday sat there at the table for a while, confused beyond measure, until he suddenly remembered that he had somewhere to be.


    ¡°Shit! Still got work!¡±


    Despite his injuries, he grabbed his scythe off his bed. Judging by the light coming through the window, it was still before noon. One hell of a day ahead of me¡­ With a sigh, he left the cabin and headed toward the wheat fields.

 6. Field

    Midday arrived to his assigned plot of farmland at about ten in the morning. It had taken him about 45 minutes of walking to get there, and he was tired after having gone through what had already felt like a long day, but there he was with a rusty scythe and a giant plot of wheat to cut.


    ¡°Better get to it,¡± he said, taking the scythe out of the holster on his back and the first swing of the day. A little patch of wheat fell to the ground and then, a few seconds later, another patch followed. He made no effort to pick the fallen grains up or tie them in bundle or really do anything at all besides the simple of act of swinging his scythe.


    The reason for this was because of the very strange way in which Neighborhood 8 was operated. Generally speaking, all the fieldwork slaves had to do was tend to and then eventually cut the grains. The remaining steps after the initial harvest were completely out of their hands¡ªfor everything else was done by the tiny yet innumerous tornadoes that appeared once every couple nights and scooped up the fallen grains to be brought to the main processing facility.


    It was a bizarre and wholly unnatural process indeed, and Midday hadn¡¯t believed that such a thing could really be possible at first, but sometimes he could look out and see the faint outlines of thousands upon thousands of narrow cyclones coming down from the clouds like tendrils of the night sky and so he had no choice but accept it as reality.


    The simple explanation for this otherworldly phenomenon, according to the veteran slaves he had asked not long after arriving to the plantation, was a single individual with the power to control the weather to such an extent as to create and simultaneously maintain the 12 climates of Elvanera Island: one for each of the 12 Neighborhoods¡ªwhich all contained well over 250,000 acres of usable farmland. Midday still had a hard time believing that any one person could possess the godlike amount of power necessary for such a feat, but he had no alternative explanations for why the daytime weather in Neighborhood 8 was always¡ªwithout exception¡ªhot and sunny. There was never a cloud in the sky during the day, and it never¡ªliterally never¡ªrained until late in the evening after the workday was finished.


    After about half-an-hour of work, he stopped abruptly and let out a sigh as he turned his attention to his bandaged-up hand. The bandages had pretty much entirely turned red by then, and little drops of blood occasionally seeped through to the surface, but the blood loss seemed to have slowed down a good bit by then. Even so, it hurt like a bitch.


    It didn¡¯t seem to matter how he held the scythe. As long as his left hand was wrapped around the handle¡ªas it needed to be, seeing as the scythe was even taller than he was and therefore far too heavy to use with one hand¡ªthe pain in his finger was excruciating beyond belief. Everything he did seemed to agitate it more, and he struggled to see how he had any chance at all of completing his daily quota before the sheer agony of the wound made it impossible to even think about working.


    But he had to find a way. If he failed to reach his quota for the day, that would make two failed quotas in a row¡ªa losing streak which would technically not result in any immediate punishment but would nonetheless not bode well for him either. Strikes were essentially permanent, and the only way to get them cleared was to spin the wheel: something Midday didn¡¯t want to do ever again. As such, getting even one strike was something to be avoided at all costs.


    He bit his lip and wrapped both hands around the scythe, immediately grimacing upon feeling the pain in his finger stub return. There was only one way Midday could think of to complete his quota for the day, and the solution was simple: push through the pain.


    He widened his feet, brought the scythe over his shoulder, and swung. The pain, as before, was agonizing, but he nonetheless tried his best to ignore it and took yet another swing. Two patches. As if the injury wasn¡¯t bad enough on its own, Midday also had to contend with the eternally hot weather of Neighborhood 8. It was no more tolerable than it had been yesterday when he had gotten heat stroke. If anything, it was worse. Why me? He felt more discouraged with every swing. The task at hand seemed insurmountable, but he just shook his head and kept swinging. What else can I do?


    Midday sighed again. His na?ve hope upon finding the Elvanerean Ring was that his general quality of life would skyrocket immediately after finding it. His plan had been to find seeds for and subsequently cultivate each of the agricultural treasures, using their powers to rapidly become tremendously powerful, but the truth was that getting to that point would take a long time¡ªand there was a good chance he would drop dead long before ever getting that far.


    He would soon have unlimited access to Devil Peppercorn, which was an exciting prospect to be sure, but all it did was make food healthier. It was true that the extent of the improvement was drastic to the point where there were many stories about people who consumed it regularly throughout their lives living several decades past 100, but the fact remained that all it did was boost nutritional value. Midday didn¡¯t know exactly how the ingredient worked¡ªhe had never actually seen it, only heard about it¡ªbut he struggled how something like that would start showing benefits in anything less than a few weeks.


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    ¡°If only I could get my hands on some Vigor Lentils!¡± He shouted to a field empty besides himself. The plantation was so massive and horrendously understaffed that the nearest person was working several hundred meters away. Anything Midday said or screamed would be all but drowned out beneath a flat sea of wheat rustling under a light breeze. ¡°Is that really too much to ask?¡±


    Of course it was. Unlike Devil Peppercorn, Vigor Lentils were unquestionably useful with no tremendous downsides¡ªwell, none besides the incredibly time-consuming process of preparing the ingredient for consumption. Strongheart Soup, the final, consumable form of the ingredient, was apparently able to boost one¡¯s endurance for up to six hours at a time¡ªthough the duration was largely dependent on the skill of the chef. If he could get his hands on something like that, working in the fields would be cinch.


    But the obvious usefulness of Vigor Lentils was the same reason for why he couldn¡¯t have them: the ingredient was always in high-demand and extremely lucrative to produce. As such, the security surrounding Neighborhood 4, where the crop was grown, was virtually impenetrable. It was hopeless.


    He returned his attention to the wheat. Regular wheat. There was nothing special about it. In a plantation where special-grade plants were the norm, it seemed mighty unfortunate that he was tasked with harvesting the same kind of plain old wheat they had grown in his village. But there was nothing that could be done about it. All he had to do was meet his quota. He got back to swinging.


    Midday never hummed or whistled during his work. The sound that filled the vast majority of his waking hours was the rustling of wheat in the wind. He generally worked silently, thinking about nothing in particular, until his work for the day was complete but, today, his thoughts were all over the place: between coming up with ideas for how he might survive and dealing with the pain from his finger, it was difficult to focus on chopping¡ªnot that he really needed to, the work was mindless as could be.


    Six hours of backbreaking labor passed by uneventfully. Midday, already exhausted to the point where it was difficult to stand, stopped and surveyed his work:


    Just over halfway finished. He frowned. At this rate, there was no way he would finish everything he was supposed to do by the end of the workday, which would be marked by sunset. It simply wasn¡¯t possible for someone like him clear the remaining portion of his quota in the 4 or so hours that remained. He needed to speed up.


    ¡°Fucking hell.¡± Midday looked at his scythe, which he reckoned might be older than he was. The rusty iron blade never held an edge no matter how many times he sharpened it, and the handle had given him more splinters than he could count. ¡°Worthless junk.¡± He decided that it might be a good idea to look into getting a better scythe. He knew that the slaves in the so-called ¡®Upper Neighborhoods¡¯¡ªwhich what Neighborhoods 1 through 6 were called, due to the fact that they were the ones tasked with producing agricultural treasures¡ªwere treated relatively well and were given tools made from high-quality steel. If he could get a well-made scythe with a genuine-article steel blade smuggled in through the barrier walls, he reckoned his efficiency in the field would improve. As if that would ever happen¡­ No, wait, hold on a minute, it actually could!


    He recalled his conversation with Romulo. Romulo had first obtained Devil Peppercorn by trading smuggled whiskey to someone in Neighborhood 6. In other words, Romulo had to be at least somewhat involved in the world of smugglers. If I can start growing Devil Peppercorn en masse and sell it in bulk to people in the other Neighborhoods, I could probably trade my way up to a half-decent scythe before long. Midday hopped up to his feet, excited to get his feet wet in the black market as soon as possible. He felt a little revitalized after having hatched what he considered to be one of his first fairly decent schemes. It gave him hope some hope for his future.


    He picked up his scythe and got back to work. His missing finger had long since started bleeding again, and he was now steadily losing blood through it, but there was nothing that could be done about that for the time being. The only thing that mattered at that time was cutting all the wheat left in his quota¡ªwhich was essentially just a giant box whose borders were marked by painted wooden poles that a group of higher-ranked slaves were responsible for moving the location of every night. Probably due to human error moreso than anything else, the size of this box varied by the day and, today, it just so happened to be on the smaller side. He took that as encouragement and continued his work with the greatest zeal he could muster.


    Finally, after ten hours of nonstop hard labor, he had done it: despite a late start and a missing finger, Midday had cleared the entirety of his quota, finishing just minutes before sunset, and had avoided gaining a strike. For the first time in ages, Midday was proud of himself.


    Now all he had to do was make it back to the cabin in one piece. He groaned, dreading the three mile walk ahead of him. It was all too temped to find a nice comfy spot in the wheat and pass out there, but he soldiered on nonetheless, propelled forward mostly by Romulo¡¯s promise to have some Devil Peppercorn ready for him by the time he got back.


    Hobbling forward as best he could, Midday journeyed back to the cabin.

 7. Bowl

    The others were all inside the cabin having a beetle wrestling match when Midday finally returned late in the evening. Things were looking rather intense, and Midday, despite his exhaustion, sat down at the table right away to watch the battle from up close. Nobody spoke a word upon Midday¡¯s entrance nor would they until after the match was finished. Such was the intensity of beetle wrestling.


    Romulo¡¯s beetle¡ªTomulo¡ªwas a member of a small, weak species with a thin exoskeleton and almost nonexistent horns. By all means, his beetle should not have been able to stand on even ground with Big Beetle Beater, which was the name of Glauster¡¯s beetle. Even so, Tomulo had a mastery of ¡°beetle martial arts¡±, a term coined by Romulo, that all humans and beetles present had to acknowledge as nothing short of artful. The way it consistently kept its body low to the ground so that it would have the deftness to dodge the unrefined yet powerful-due-to-size attacks of Big Beetle Beater was something worthy of respect.


    Even so, Tomulo could hardly even garner so much as a flinch from its opponent, which was almost ten times heavier than it. Tomulo¡¯s refined technique, borne out of an intense training regimen of Romulo¡¯s design, meant nothing in the face of such an enormous disparity in raw power. Taking just one direct hit from Big Beetle Beater would almost certainly send Tomulo off the plate and onto the table, marking its loss.


    And yet Tomulo showed no signs of giving up. The beetle wanted to win, not just for the sake of receiving tasty fruits from its master, but also to prove that its long (relative to its lifespan) journey as a warrior had really meant something. That it had really achieved something worth celebrating.


    The humans watched with focused eyes, hoping to see the underdog they had all grown attached to over the month since Romulo had found it sitting on a tree branch try its best and win. Even Glauster, whose beetle was currently in the process of fighting Tomulo, was feeling conflicted. He wanted his beetle to win so that he could challenge Midday¡¯s beetle in a championship title match, but he also wanted Tomulo to achieve the victory it had worked harder than anyone else to achieve.


    The battle raged on and on, with Tomulo¡¯s movements gradually getting slow and Big Beetle Beater¡¯s speed remaining about the same. If this was an endurance match, Tomulo stood no shot at victory. BBB¡ªas he was known amongst the cabinmates¡ªcould simply stay put until Tomulo wore itself out and then strike the final blow. Its victory had been all but guaranteed from the start.


    Sure enough, the thing everyone had expected from the start finally happened after more than five minutes of hard-fought battling. BBB had landed the finishing blow, a simple uppercut that had sent Tomulo just barely off the edge. It was over.


    Romulo picked up Tomulo and offered reassuring words, telling the beetle that he would make improvements to his diet and training. ¡°You¡¯ll be the champion someday, Tomulo! You just need to work even harder.¡±


    Glauster picked up BBB gave it the berry that had been offered as the prize for whichever beetle won the match. BBB wolfed it down and lounged idly on Glauster¡¯s hand. ¡°I guess it¡¯s time to fight the champion¡­¡± He looked to Midday.


    ¡°You sure about that?¡± Midday grinned. If there was one thing he was confident in, it was his beetle. Mister Potatoes was a member of a rare species of exceptionally large beetles¡ªin which full-grown adult males could weigh as much as 20 pounds. Mister Potatoes, however, was still very young though, and he only weighed maybe one or two pounds. Even so, that was far larger any regular beetle could ever hope to be. He was the true indomitable fortress of beetle wrestling, and nobody had even come close to beating him. ¡°Be my guest.¡±


    Glauster shook his head. ¡°You know what? BBB just finished a match less than a minute ago. He needs to get some rest.¡±


    ¡°Let him have it then.¡± Midday looked over to Mister Potatoes, who was currently hanging from the ceiling in search of pests to hunt and devour. ¡°The champion is busy right now anyways, it seems.¡±


    ¡°Plus,¡± added Romulo, ¡°We already have quite the show in store for us tonight. Don¡¯t we, Midday?¡±


    ¡°Umm¡­¡± Is he talking about the peppercorn? Are really doing this in front of them? Midday bit his lip. He had been hoping that this would be a covert ordeal. "Maybe?"


    ¡°Glauster, how long until dinner?¡±


    ¡°Well, we can eat whenever.¡± Glauster looked at the fireplace, where a boiling pot of oatmeal & lentil soup resided. ¡°But you already know that. You were the one who asked Gork and I to wait several hours for Midday to get back so that we could all eat to together.¡±


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    ¡°Yes I was¡­ but do you know why I did that?¡±


    ¡°Uh, no? You grinned like an idiot and said it would be a surprise when I asked you. You said that same thing over and over again.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s time for the surprise to be revealed. Serve the soup, please!¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Glauster took four bowls off the nook above the fireplace and divvied out the soup, taking care to give everyone equal proportions despite the obvious gap in dietary needs between Romulo and everyone else. He set the bowls out on the table and looked to Romulo. ¡°Okay, so now what?¡±


    ¡°Have you heard of Devil Peppercorn?¡± Romulo leaned forward over the table and flashed a devilish grin.


    ¡°Who hasn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Good, that makes things easy then.¡± Romulo took a small metal canister out of his pocket and set it down on the table, making sure to put it closest to Midday. ¡°Midday wanted to give it a try, so I went ahead and got him some.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Gork went wide-eyed. ¡°Midday! Is this why you asked me about what medicine I¡¯d give you if I could choose anything? You were planning to risk your life to obtain some?¡± He winced as if in pain. ¡°They¡¯ll have your life if they discover this scheme of yours! How far back have you been planning this?¡±


    ¡°Ever since you told me about it.¡±


    ¡°Only last night?! How the hell did you get something like this in a single day?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not the one who got it. That was where Romulo came in.¡±


    Gork calmed himself down somewhat. ¡°Oh, I suppose that makes sense then. Still! This is not something you should have!¡±


    ¡°And yet here it is on the dinner table.¡± Midday felt his heart accelerating. He was simultaneously looking forward to trying what just might be his saving grace and dreading its awful taste. But just how bad could it be? He steeled his nerves and braced himself for hell.


    Glauster leaned forward to inspect the canister, evidently curious. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll give it a try too. We just sprinkle it into our food, right?¡±


    ¡°Well, you have to grind it up before you can do that, but yeah. That¡¯s the gist of it. It¡¯s ridiculously simple to prepare relative to the other agricultural treasures.¡± Romulo chuckled. ¡°Still, I think you should wait until after you see how Midday reacts to eating it. Believe me, your curiosity will be all but squashed once you see how he reacts. Are you ready, Midday?¡±


    ¡°As I¡¯ll ever be¡­¡±


    Midday picked up the canister and popped of the lid. Inside were a few dozen marble-sized beads. Each one was bright red and shiny, as if to say ¡®danger¡¯ in the most obvious way possible, but that did not deter Midday, who had already resolved to eat Devil Peppercorn with every meal. He picked up a bead and brought it up to his eyes. It was incredibly shiny, almost like polished glass. ¡°So how do I go about grinding it then?¡±


    ¡°A mortar and pestle will do.¡± Romulo, without getting up, reached for the nook over the fireplace using the unreasonably long arms that came with the territory of being ten feet tall. ¡°Here you go.¡± He set it down on the table in front of Midday.


    ¡°Does the number of beads matter?¡±


    ¡°Just do one.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ will using more of them increase the effectiveness?¡± Midday was in a hurry to see some results. He figured increasing his ¡®dosage¡¯ would be a good way to go about doing that.


    ¡°Marginally.¡± Romulo shook his head. ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking. Trust me, it¡¯s not worth it.¡±


    ¡°Well, maybe not, but if there¡¯s any improvement to be had, I ought to go for it.¡± Midday stared down at the floor. ¡°All of us know I can¡¯t keep going on like this¡­¡± He thought quietly to himself for a moment about how many beads to take. Because of the Elvanerean Ring, he would soon have an unlimited supply. There was no need to be carefully ration or anything like that. As such, the only question he needed to answer was how much he was willing to suffer for his own betterment. ¡°As much as it takes,¡± he said out loud after some deliberation, ¡°I¡¯ll suffer as much as it takes¡­¡±


    ¡°What are you murmuring about over there?¡± asked Glauster.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take three beads to start.¡± Midday tilted the canister until three beads dropped from it into the mortar but, before he could grab the pestle to start grinding them up, Romulo grabbed it. Midday stared up at Romulo.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a fucking idiot,¡± said Romulo. ¡°Take only one or you¡¯ll regret it.¡± Romulo met gazes with Midday and stared back for a few tense seconds before finally conceding the pestle to his cabinmate. ¡°I didn''t realize how serious you were about this."


    Midday nodded and took the pestle. After grinding up three beads of Devil Peppercorn, he drew a deep breath and braced himself for what was to come. ¡°I just dump it all into my soup, right?¡± He held the mortar above his bowl, ready to drop its contents.


    ¡°That¡¯s correct.¡± Romulo and the others were also bracing themselves for the moment he took his first bite. ¡°One final bit of advice: eat the whole soup in one go. That¡¯s the only way you¡¯ll finish it.¡±


    ¡°Then here goes!¡± Midday flipped the mortar upside down, sending the crushed-up peppercorn plummeting into his soup. It landed with a soft splash and immediately dissolved.


    Everyone except Romulo stared at the bowl in bewilderment. The vibrant red powder had vanished instantly, without a trace, and there was no sign of it having altered the soup in any way whatsoever. A tad perplexed, Midday a whiff of the steam coming off the soup. It smelled the same as before.


    ¡°Did¡­ Did it work?¡± He gazed into the bowl, his heart racing. This was it. This was the big moment. The first step toward his goal. How anticlimactic it had been, he thought. He didn¡¯t really know what he had been hoping for, but he supposed something more theatrical would have been nice. ¡°Am I good to eat it now?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Romulo tensed up. ¡°Go for it.¡±


    After some hesitation, Midday picked up the bowl and wolfed it down until nothing remained.

 8. Taste

    There was no calm before the storm. The torture began as soon as Midday put the bowl down.


    At once he felt as though his tongue had been replaced with a million tiny eels, each slimy and out of control. It felt as though they were trying to break free from the knots which held them together in the shape of what had once been a tongue.


    But that was only the start of it.


    If his tongue had become a collection of eels, then his teeth were something else: crabs who hid underneath their shells, drilling relentless into the now pulpy flesh of his gums. He had no control over anything in his mouth. It felt as though an entire world''s worth of disgusting creatures had colonized the insides of his mouth and throat, all of them hellbent on making him as miserable as possible. There were worms and other parasites digging into his gums, which made them extremely itchy, but there was nothing he could do to stop them.


    He could see the entire ecosystem living in his mouth with perfect clarity now, the picture becoming more complex with every passing moment. Already, he wanted to puke, but such a thing seemed impossible. Midday could feel the creatures plunging down his intestines, toward his stomach, and he could tell that it was them who had control over his body now, not him. He had strong urge to drink a cup of boiling water, to purge his insides of the infestation he felt was underway, but his better judgement kept him from doing this. He knew¡ªat least logically¡ªthat all of this was just in his head, even though all of his senses told him otherwise.


    And all that was merely the texture of the Devil Peppercorn infused soup.


    The taste came next, after the texture had thoroughly made itself at home in his mouth, throat, intestines, and stomach. Suddenly a series of waves¡ªeach with the might of a tsunami¡ªflooded his mouth: deathly bitterness, followed by mind-numbing sourness, followed by overwhelming sweetness, followed by downright infernal spiciness attacked him in a never-ending and always escalating cycle. Any efforts to think were quickly overwhelmed by the assault on his senses. Romulo, Gork, and Glauster were saying something, he thought, but Midday¡¯s brain seemed to be too overloaded with processing the taste of the soup to have anything left over for deciphering sights or sounds.


    Oddly enough, his nose still worked just fine, but all it smelled was bog-standard oatmeal and lentil soup. The Devil Peppercorn had no effect on odor, he realized, though¡ªin a way¡ªthat he wished it did: the alluring aroma of a soup untainted by the peppercorn taunted him with cruel imaginations of what could have been, of what meal he could have enjoyed had he not tainted it with truly devilish peppercorn he had once looked upon as a symbol of hope.


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    Midday collapsed onto the floor, squirming like the creatures he felt must have taken over his body by then, and he remained that way¡ªunable to comprehend anything besides the torture he had inflicted upon himself¡ªfor what felt like an eternity.


    ?


    All traces of the Devil Peppercorn in his mouth disappeared at once. Midday laid there, unmoving for the first time in hours, for a few moments, basking in the glorious peace that that had returned to him, before Romulo interrupted his blissful rest.


    ¡°Looks like you''ve made it to the end.¡± Romulo shrugged. ¡°That was quite the show, I¡¯ve got to say.¡±


    Midday sighed, his eyes still closed. ¡°Fucking hell¡­¡±


    ¡°It looked like you were having a seizure the whole time!¡± exclaimed Glauster, who was in the middle of sharpening his scythe. ¡°I knew it was going to be bad, but that was something else entirely¡­ I¡¯ve seen people spin the wheel and suffer less than that.¡±


    ¡°How long was I out?¡±


    ¡°3 hours,¡± answered Romulo. ¡°You took 3 beads and so you were out for 3 hours. I guess that must be how it works.¡±


    ¡°It¡­ It felt a lot longer than that. Like several days, at least.¡±


    ¡°But it was just 3 hours. Odd, isn''t it? I had the same experience.¡±


    Midday sat up. He had been laid flat out on his bed, it seemed. When did they do that? He knew for a fact that he had been conscious throughout the whole experience. ¡°I guess it¡¯s really over¡­¡±


    ¡°Funny it stops all suddenly like that.¡± Romulo was sitting at the table, helping his beetle run through some sort of exercise routine.


    ¡°Y-yeah.¡± Midday looked at his left hand. The old bandages had been taken off and replaced with new, fresh ones. I really didn¡¯t notice Gork doing that? What the hell? All he could remember since eating the Devil Peppercorn was pain¡ªa weird kind of pain that he was unsure even counted as pain because of how alien it was. ¡°Uh, Gork, it¡¯s probably a bit early to ask this¡­ but how¡¯s my health?¡±


    ¡°Exactly the same as it was three hours ago, I suppose.¡± Gork was upright sitting in his bed, reading a book he must have gotten off the black market or perhaps in exchange for his medical services. Midday was curious what it was about but, seeing as he was unable to read, it only caught his interest for a split second. ¡°These things take time. If you eat it on a regular basis, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll start seeing results soon.


    ¡°Oh god no¡­¡± Midday closed his eyes and laid himself back down on the bed. ¡°I really don¡¯t want to think about that right now¡­ Actually, I think the only thing I want right now is to be unconscious¡­ Goodnight.¡±


    ¡°But Midday,¡± said Romulo, ¡°don¡¯t you remember your promise?¡±


    Midday did, in fact, remember their promise and, while he did intend to honor it, the fact of the matter was that he had just spent 3 hours straight in pure agony. He felt justified in deciding that it would wait until tomorrow. Exhausted from what had perhaps been the longest day of his life up to that point, he fell asleep in seconds. Romulo grumbled something to himself but, perhaps because he was able to sympathize with Midday since he too had tried Devil Peppercorn before, he did nothing to wake his cabinmate.

 9. Workaround

    The 30-minutes-before-sunrise bell brought Midday to his senses. Although he was groggy from the abrupt start to his day, he had been having a nightmare about Devil Peppercorn and thus was glad to be awake. Sitting up, he took stock of the room.


    The Devil Peppercorn canister was still sitting aloof on the table, taunting him with its cruel promise of strength but only at a great cost. He stared at it for a few seconds, pondering the situation, until he shook his head and frowned: it had somehow managed to taste far worse than he had expected it to. Almost unimaginably so. Midday knew that it could become the gateway to a better life if he hunkered down and sprinkled some into every meal, but the thought of doing so filled him with a dread that seemed insurmountable. Just the sight of the canister alone made his body heavy and his knees weak.


    Glauster was the first to get out of bed. He walked over to the fireplace, got it started, and left with a big pot of water which he would use to make the morning oatmeal they ate 9 days out of 10. Midday wondered if maybe Glauster could think of something to make the peppercorn more bearable, he did come from a culinary background after all¡ªwith his family having owned a bakery before a group of ¡®adventurers¡¯ came to their village and enslaved a bunch of people on behalf of the plantation. It seemed plausible that maybe Glauster could at the very least think of something, but Midday nonetheless still had his doubts.


    Getting up, Midday started thinking about the ring. He knew he ought to get a Devil Peppercorn farm up and running as soon as possible, but the question in his mind was how to go about doing such a thing without arousing suspicion. The location he had chosen for his test the other day would not work for a long-term operation, for it was close to the slave encampment and, seeing as many slaves were known to forage in the woods for foods to supplement their lackluster diets, it would be prone to accidental discovery. Even so, he failed to think of any better alternatives: he would certainly get caught if he tried to set his farm up anywhere besides the forest but, if he went any deeper into the forest than he already was, the chances of running into dangerous wildlife would increase. Guess I¡¯ll have to take my chances for now. He let out a big sigh.


    ¡°You do that a lot, don¡¯t you?¡± Gork was sitting in bed, combing his hair. Cleanliness of any sort was a scarce commodity in Neighborhood 8, and the blonde doctor was one of the only people Midday knew who actually found the time to bathe on a regular basis. The main reason for this practice, he had been told, was that good hygiene helped with medical stuff¡ªthough Midday didn¡¯t really see how.


    ¡°Do what?¡± Midday rolled out of bed and looked to his scythe. He had some time before breakfast to sharpen it if he wanted, but doing so would be mostly pointless. The blade would stay sharp for maybe a few hundred swings at the most and then go back to being the dull piece of junk it always was. Glauster was better at sharpening stuff by a great deal¡ªhe had formal training in the art of sharpening kitchen knives and therefore knew all the proper techniques¡ªbut Glauster wasn¡¯t the kind of person to do other people¡¯s chores out of the kindness of his heart. If Midday wanted him to sharpen his scythe, that service would come at a cost. He decided not to worry about keeping the blade sharp for the time being.


    ¡°That sighing thing. You do it whenever you get stressed.¡±


    ¡°Is that¡­ not a normal thing to do?¡±


    ¡°Well, you do it more than most.¡± Gork shook his clothes free of bugs and got up. ¡°It¡¯s the peppercorn, isn¡¯t it? That¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking about.¡±


    ¡°Something like that.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ Well, I¡¯ll tell you what then: if you want to live, eat that peppercorn with every meal.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ And I understand that, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°No buts,¡± Gork interrupted, ¡°I don¡¯t know how bad that soup last night really was, nor do I intend to get firsthand experience and find out, but I do know that your life depends on whether or not you eat those peppercorns. So eat them. That¡¯s my advice.¡±


    Midday frowned. Gork was right. He had already become so emaciated that each of his ribs were visible beneath his skin whenever he took off his shirt. A single glance was all it took for anyone to know that he was on straight path to death as things stood. The fact of the matter was that it simply wasn¡¯t possible someone for like him¡ªa level 5 individual who was weak even for his level¡ªto live off the slave rations alone. Working in the fields was incredibly strenuous for Midday, and completing his daily quota took more energy out of him than the foods he usually ate¡ªsmall portions of oats and lentils¡ªcould replenish. Glauster and Gork were skinny too, of course, but Glauster was level 8 and Gork was level 7. Their bodies were stronger by default, and as a result they needed less energy to complete the same feats. As such, they were more easily capable of living off the slave rations.


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    ¡°I know, I know.¡± Midday looked down at his missing finger. With that most recent addition to his struggles, things truly were dire as could be. The choice to eat peppercorn with every meal should have made itself and yet Midday was still on the fence. He knew what the correct decision was, but making it was difficult. ¡°But how the hell am I supposed to get myself to eat that stuff every day? It... was torture.¡±


    ¡°Willpower,¡± said Gork. ¡°Plain discipline.¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah, but that¡¯s what I¡¯m lacking.¡± Midday wondered if maybe Romulo might have some advice on the matter but, as per usual, the giant had already left for the fields. Romulo, the bastion of physical might that he was, could usually complete his entire quota in just under 4 hours. He liked to leave early and get to his plot as soon as the sun rose¡ªwhich marked the earliest possible time one could start working¡ªso that he could be done before noon and spend the rest of the day either lounging about or grinding XP. He had neither time nor need for breakfast, preferring instead to eat the animals he hunted in the forest. It wouldn¡¯t be until evening that Midday had any chance of seeing him again.


    ¡°Then get more of it, I guess.¡± Gork frowned. If Romulo, someone obsessed with physical might, couldn¡¯t be bothered to eat Devil Peppercorn despite having easy access to it, there was essentially zero chance that Midday would be able to stick with it, not even if his life depended on it. ¡°Or maybe come up with a workaround, I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°A workaround, huh?¡± Midday sighed. To him it seemed as though Devil Peppercorn, one of the mighty agricultural treasures of Elvanera Plantation, was too great a crop for mere ¡®workarounds¡¯ to have any effect. ¡°What, like cutting off my tongue so that I don¡¯t have to taste it?¡± Midday frowned. He obviously had no intention to do such a thing, but it seemed like anything less hardcore than that would accomplish nothing in the face of such a lofty obstacle.


    ¡°That could work.¡± Gork chuckled. ¡°Though I would just put some hot coals on my tongue if I were you. It would burn off the tastebuds, but you would still get to keep the tongue.¡±


    Midday flinched. ¡°That¡¯s a joke, right?¡±


    ¡°It would probably be for the best if it was.¡±


    ¡°R-right¡­ Well, let me know if you think of something more, umm, doable, I guess.¡±


    For a few moments there was silence. Both Midday and Gork were trying to come up with possible solutions to the problem. Gork came up with several possibilities, but most of them involved some amount of mutilation so he didn¡¯t bother sharing them. Midday, on the other hand, turned his thoughts to one of the agricultural treasures: Millennium Truffles¡ªan ingredient so legendary in its deliciousness that he thought just might be able to nullify the peppercorn. It was a shame that they would probably be even more difficult to obtain than Vigor Lentils though: seeing as they were a popular food among the various kings of the Kingmaker Plains¡ªwhich was the region surrounding the lake in which Elvanera Island was located¡ªeven a single clove of the stuff was worth more than 5,000,000 Coin. That was several dozen lifetimes worth of money for most people, and it went without saying that the security surrounding the crop would be downright otherworldly as the result. There was also the fact that farming them, even with the power of the ring, would be damn near impossible; the ingredient got its name from the fact that it took a thousand years to grow (though he was certain that, like himself, the plantation had ways of accelerating the process). Midday slumped back and frowned, feeling the task ahead to be impossible.


    ¡°How about force feeding?¡± Gork broke the silence with a surprisingly mundane solution.


    Midday tensed up. ¡°...What?"


    ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± Midday looked at Gork and saw that his expression was stern. ¡°If you don¡¯t have the willpower necessary to eat Devil Peppercorn on a regular basis, leave it up to other people to force that discipline upon you.¡±


    ¡°Do¡­ we really have to be approaching this that way?¡±


    ¡°Personally, I think it¡¯s your best bet, but maybe you can think of something better.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ force feeding? Really? Isn¡¯t that something they use for torture?¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve seen it on the wheel a few times.¡±


    ¡°So¡­¡±


    ¡°But you know what they say: no pain, no gain,¡± Gork paused,¡± Plus, if you drop the dosage down to one bead, it won¡¯t be as bad as before. And maybe you¡¯ll start getting used to it after a while.¡±


    ¡°But I mean¡­ come on, there¡¯s got to be a better way¡­¡±


    ¡°Do tell.¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Midday strained himself to think of a better alternative, but nothing came to mind. Force feeding, awful as it might be, was actually a pretty solid idea when he thought about it: it took his greatest weakness out of the equation¡ªthat being himself. Moreover, it was simple and required no special preparations or sacrifices. ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°You should just hurry up and agree. We would only have to get physical if you refused to eat your food. It would just be something to keep you on track."


    ¡°Well¡­ We can try it, I guess¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not good enough. We need to put this in writing.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°We should make a contract¡ªa written statement between two parties that formally states the terms of an agreement.¡±


    ¡°W-why would we do that? I can¡¯t even write, you know¡­¡±


    ¡°Simple. To prevent you from backing out. And to prevent you from blaming us for your suffering. You wouldn¡¯t be able to fault us for putting you through hell if all we were doing was fulfilling our portion of an agreement,¡± Gork grinned. ¡°I¡¯ll start drafting it right away. Let¡¯s have this squared away before breakfast.¡± He got up and left the cabin.


    Midday swallowed, unsure of what to expect.

 10. Contract

    Gork came back to the cabin a few minutes later with a large stone in his arms. ¡°We¡¯ll put the contract on this rock.¡± He let it fall from his arms, and it landed with a loud thud. He then proceeded to pick up the piece of soft limestone they used to write tallies onto the beetle wrestling leaderboard and brought it over the new stone. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s get started, shall we?¡±


    Midday nodded, still a tad dumbstruck by the strangeness of the situation.


    ¡°Okay. Here are the terms I came up with: in signing this contract Midday Sunson consents to the use of force by Gork Treeson, Glauster Fogson, and Romulo of Umola Woods for the purpose of ensuring that he consumes Devil Peppercorn with each meal for the duration of time until this contract expires¡ªand the expiration will happen either after one month has passed since the creation of this contract or whenever the supply of Devil Peppercorn supple runs out, whichever comes first.¡± Gork paused, allowing Midday to process his words. ¡°Are those terms acceptable?"


    Midday gulped. ¡°Uh, yeah, I guess¡­¡±


    ¡°Alright! That settles that then.¡± Gork got to work with scribbling down the terms of the agreement on the stone while Midday watched, feeling more than a tad anxious about the whole thing. After about thirty seconds of waiting, the doctor spoke: ¡°Done! Now all you¡¯ve got to do is sign it.¡±


    ¡°¡­And how am I supposed to do that?¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah, I guess you wouldn¡¯t have a proper signature, would you?¡± Gork took a second to think. ¡°Just put a symbol that represents you on it.¡±


    ¡°A symbol that represents me, huh? That¡¯s easy. Hand me the chalk, I guess.¡± Gork gave him the piece of limestone and, with that, Midday got to work drawing the best depiction of a sunflower he possible could with his incredibly limited artistic ability: it was just a big circle surrounded by a bunch of petals. He spent about a minute making sure he had it how he liked it.


    ¡°A flower?¡±


    ¡°A sunflower.¡± Gork set the chalk down and sighed. ¡°So it¡¯s done then?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the contract is officially in effect. So brace yourself, because you¡¯ll be having a Devil Peppercorn infused breakfast this morning.¡±


    Midday could only groan. This was for the best, he knew, but knowing the truth and fully embracing it were not the same thing. Despite only having signed the contract a few seconds ago, he was already starting to wonder how he might go about getting out of it. He shook his head, clearing his mind of these thoughts, and resolved to try his best to take things one meal at a time.


    Glauster came back with a pot full of water not long after the contract was completed and started working on breakfast while Gork told him about the agreement Midday had locked himself into. Glauster laughed at this, finding it amusing, and agreed without hesitation to help not because he was especially invested in Midday¡¯s wellbeing, but moreso because of how funny he thought it had been to see Midday flopping around like a fish as he did the night before.


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Midday, hoping that the chef¡ªwith all his culinary knowledge¡ªmight have some ideas for nullifying or at least weakening peppercorn, ¡°So with all that said, is there anything you think we can do to make it more palatable?¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± answered Glauster without hesitation, ¡°My specialty is in making good-tasting ingredients taste great, not making bad-tasting ones taste acceptable. Plus, I¡¯ve never cooked with an agricultural treasure before. I hear they have all sorts of special properties to contend with.¡± He stirred the oatmeal he had been working on. ¡°But maybe I can think of something if you give me a reason to. It would be a lot of work on my end though¡­¡±


    Midday narrowed his eyes. Of course it had come to this. Glauster was very-well adapted to the life of a slave, and he knew how foolish it was to offer one¡¯s expertise for no charge¡ªeven to a friend. ¡°And what¡¯s your price?¡± asked Midday.


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    ¡°Well, I want to put a big emphasis on the maybe here.¡± Glauster took the pot off the fireplace and set it down on the floor to cool. ¡°Frankly, I do consider myself a great chef by all means but, even still, I¡¯m no ability user¡ªand I reckon what you¡¯re asking me to do is a job for one. This is an agricultural treasure, after all.¡± He divvied out the soup, setting each bowl out on the table before sitting down. ¡°That said, I can definitely try to figure something out¡ªso long as you compensate me for my time, that is.¡± Glauster grinned from ear-to-ear. ¡°But let¡¯s worry about that later. It¡¯s time for breakfast! Now get to work on grinding that peppercorn¡­ Or else!¡±


    Midday swallowed. He had been dreading this with all his heart. Even so, he had already given up his ability to back down. Feeling that it would be quite humiliating to have Glauster and Gork pin him down and force the food into his mouth, he picked up the Devil Peppercorn canister and took out a bead. He stared at the bead for a while, hesitant to move onto the next step.


    ¡°What if I just swallow the bead whole after eating the actual meal? That would still work, right?¡±


    Gork frowned. ¡°Romulo said it had to be ground up to work, didn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°He did¡­¡± Midday stared down at his feet. ¡°Well, what if I grind it up but save the powder for after the meal and eat it like a dessert?¡±


    ¡°I feel like you already know the answers to these questions.¡± Gork¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°The way Devil Peppercorn works is by boosting the nutritional value of food. It technically has no nutritional value on its own, so you need to have it in tandem with food to get results. But you already knew that. It¡¯s common knowledge. Stop stalling and get on with it.¡±


    Midday tensed up as he dropped the Devil Peppercorn bead into the mortar and started crushing it with the pestle. ¡°Okay, but what if I make the portion size of the food in question really small so that eating it all in one go is easier?¡±


    ¡°You could do that, I suppose.¡± Gork shrugged. ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t see any issue with that¡ªat least not as I understand the crop. Though you¡¯d still be eating one bead¡¯s worth of Devil Peppercorn either way, so the taste would be just as bad,¡± he paused, ¡°and it might not fully absorb if the portion size is too small.¡±


    ¡°And you also managed to eat an entire bowl¡¯s worth of peppercorn-infused soup last night without issue,¡± added Glauster. ¡°Just eat all of what I gave you in one go, I say. The end result will be the same.¡±


    ¡°R-right, well¡­¡± Midday noticed how heavy his arms felt as they held up small bowl containing the peppercorn. ¡°So¡­¡± He hesitated, not quite able to bring himself to take the next step.


    ¡°10. 9. 8.¡± Glauster started a countdown. ¡°7. 6. 5.¡± He stood up and approached Midday. Gork, understanding what he was trying to accomplish, did the same.


    Now faced with the pressure of both two people standing beside him and a foreboding countdown, Midday forced himself to move. He dumped the crushed-up Devil Peppercorn powder into his oatmeal and sighed.


    ¡°4. 3. 2.¡± Glauster continued all the same, still unsatisfied.


    Midday panicked. He had been hoping that the countdown would end with him adding the peppercorn into his breakfast. Now though, he understood that the it would only end when he actually took the plunge and ate his oatmeal. He stared at the bowl in anguish, aware of the steadily approaching hands of Gork and Glauster coming toward his shoulders. He had to act now. Midday closed his eyes and brought the bowl to his lips, tipping it sideways in an effort to finish it all as quickly as possible.


    The bowl fell from his hands a few seconds later, the torture having already begun.


    ?


    Midday groaned as he came to his senses. The experience had been just as intense as before, with the only difference coming in the form of length. It felt like a whole day had passed but, as he opened his eyes and looked through one of the cracks in the walls, it became apparent that it was still very early in the morning. Probably 1 hour on the dot. That seems to be how it works¡­


    He laid there in bed for a few minutes, still recovering from the hell he had just been pulled out of ever so suddenly. Seeing as nobody had said anything upon his awakening, he realized that he had the cabin to himself: Romulo was still at work while Gork and Glauster had probably left not long after he had finished his breakfast.


    Midday still found it crazy how the taste and texture of Devil Peppercorn were so intense that they could completely overtake all other senses. Gork, he realized, had even managed to replace his bandages on his hand again without Midday ever noticing.


    He had been fully conscious throughout his journey through hell, he knew that for certain, and yet the agony had blinded him to anything happening outside of his mouth. It seemed impossible to think that he ever might get used to eating something like that, and the knowledge that he would go through the same torment again at dinnertime filled him with never-ending supply of dread even though the meal in question was still more than 10 hours away.


    The first thing he did upon getting out of bed was walk over to the Devil Peppercorn canister and take out a single bead. By the end of the day, he hoped, the small bead he now held in his hands would become a mighty vine bearing fresh cloves of Devil Peppercorn. After stuffing it into his pocket, Midday grabbed his scythe and left for the fields.

 11. Vines

    As much as Midday would have liked to say that his diet from hell had already given him super strength and made his daily work all that much easier as a result, the truth was that he struggled to notice any difference at all. Between his still-painful missing finger and the fact that he had only gotten less than 6 hours of sleep on the night before (which was fairly typical for him those days), Midday struggled just as much as he usually did. 12 hours after beginning the work, he finished his quota¡ªstill disappointed in how slow his growth was shaping up to be. Midday almost, for just a split second, considered upping his peppercorn dosage to 2 or maybe even 3 beads per meal just to start seeing some gains sooner, but he was well aware of the fact that he had nowhere near the willpower necessary for such a thing. In fact, he trembled just thinking about the notion of having only 1 bead sprinkled into his dinner that night.


    Getting up from the spot near the wheat where he had been resting since finishing his work, Midday started towards the slave encampment¡ªor, rather, towards the place in the forest where he kept the ring. Judging from the sky, he reckoned he still had maybe an hour-and-a-half before sunset and so he figured the forest should be safe for the most part so long as he finished everything he planned to do before nightfall.


    He decided to take a detour on the way back. Running into his cabinmates was one thing, but there were also several other people he was at the very least acquainted with¡ªmany of which he expected would gladly kill him in cold blood to get their hands on the ring. Even the more benevolent ones, he figured, would still at the very least spread rumors about seeing him acting odd. In short, getting seen by anyone who knew his name was to be avoided at all costs. With that in mind, he set off for the forest.


    ?


    Midday stood gazing upon the sunflower he had gifted with the blessing of incredible growth on the previous day. It was standing tall and yellow as late evening light fell through the shade of the oaken leaves above, absorbing all it could of what little light remained of the day.


    It had taken him a while to get here. His detour had cost him maybe fifteen-or-so extra minutes of walking as he had decided it would be wise to never use the same entrance to the forest twice if he could help it. The fewer clues he left, the better. And with his life at risk, he had to do the best he could.


    Now that he stood there pondering how exactly he would go about farming Devil Peppercorn, he came to the realization that he knew almost nothing about the plant as a crop. As an ingredient? Sure. That was what everyone talked about. But in the context of it as a crop cultivated for the purpose of agriculture, he knew almost nothing. Will it even grow here? Each Neighborhood had a different climate and general ecosystem optimized for the crop they specialized in growing. The growing conditions in Neighborhood 6 were definitely different as opposed to Neighborhood 8, but the extent of those differences was the important question that needed to be answered.


    All he knew for certain was that Devil Peppercorn was a vine that grew on trees. Beyond that, all he could do was guess. And he had a lot of guessing to do: light levels, temperature, humidity, water requirements, and several other assorted needs came to mind immediately.


    But before worrying about any of those things¡ªmost of which he no control over¡ªhe bent down and pulled the ring out of the soil:


    ¡°Effect Added. Elvanerean Ring: Accelerates growth of any plant the user points at by one year. Can be used 3 times per day.¡±


    Still works! There were very few things that made him smile those days but having a magical ring on his finger was certainly one of them. He held it up close to his eye and laughed, giddy with excitement. Midday had been waiting for this all day, and he wasted no time in taking the Devil Peppercorn seed out of his pocket to begin his work. Excited as he was, speed was of the essence. The less time he spent in the forest, he figured, the lower his chances were of being discovered.


    He found a nice-looking spot at the base of an especially big oak tree and dug out a small hole to plant the seed inside of. Once that was done, he simply dropped the Devil Peppercorn bead into it. Every bead of Devil Peppercorn¡ªjust like ordinary peppercorn¡ªhad a seed at the center and so he was fairly certain that he could just plant the bead as it was.


    Once the freshly planted seed was covered up and ready to go, all that remained was for Midday to use the ring. His heart was racing, excited to see what would happen and nervous that maybe the ring¡¯s power would be unable to penetrate through the 2 or 3 inches of soil under which the seed was buried.


    He pointed his pinky at the spot where he had buried the seed and took a deep breath. This was the moment of truth: would a gigantic vine shoot out of the soil in a few seconds, or would the ground remain as it had been before? There was only one way to find out. As he held his finger up to the soil, butterflies in his stomach, Midday thought about what this meant to him.


    This was his ticket. His opportunity to finally break free from a tortured life of stagnancy and decay. The Elvanerean Ring, he decided, was his sun: the thing that allowed him to grow and reach new heights when it otherwise would have been impossible to do so. He was only a tiny seed buried underground at that moment¡ªdesperate to sprout out and feel the warmth of the sun firsthand¡ªbut, in time, and with the light of the ring by his side, Midday saw himself maturing into a mighty tree just like the noble oak now he gazed upon so fondly.


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    It was a serene moment to finally be taking the first steps toward a better life and yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, there were other thoughts. Thoughts of how undeserving he was of such an amazing gift. Thoughts of the thousands upon thousands of slaves who had suffered just as much as him and would continue to do so while he greedily used the power of a ring he possessed for no good reason besides luck. But rather than feel as though he was obligated to help those less fortunate than himself, Midday merely became all that much more thankful that he had been the one to find the ring as opposed to someone else. He offered up a silent prayer of thanks addressed to nothing in particular.


    The ring activated. A bright burst of green energy shot out of his fingertips toward the spot in the ground where the Devil Peppercorn seed was buried and, for a few seconds, he held his breath in anticipation of the outcome. If the power had worked through the few inches of soil that separated the seed from direct contact, it would only be a few more seconds before the first signs of life popped out from the cradle of dirt in which it had been born.


    Sure enough, the first thin tendril of the green vine sprouted from the soil, wagging around helplessly in search of something to cling onto. Midday grinned wider than he had done in months upon seeing this, for this was like watching his future blood right before his very eyes.


    A few seconds of growth later, the tendril was more than a foot long and had made contact with the broad trunk of the oak tree Midday had placed it next to so that it might grow around it, climbing ever higher on the tall tree as the seconds ticked away, accelerating its development with each passing moment. By the ten-second mark the vine had split itself into an elegant double helix which wrapped around the oak tree in an elegant pattern, crossing in on itself wherever the helixes met. At twenty seconds the vines had wrapped themselves around the tree trunk maybe ten times, now wrapped securely around it as the tendrils climbed ever higher up the tree with steadily thickening vines. Finally, at the thirty-second mark, the growth stopped. The Devil Peppercorn vines were still immature, having yet to bear any fruit, but they were tall and firmly rooted in place with the oldest tendrils having become almost as thick as his arm and covered in big leaves that dropped down more than a foot each. All said and done, the plant was about 5 feet tall around the oak tree and was differentiable from the nearby vines only by the elegant double helix pattern in which it climbed up the oak tree. In other words, impressive as it was, the plant still had a lot of growing to do. Midday reckoned that it would only start bearing fruit once its vines started wrapping themselves around branches.


    ¡°Time for round two then.¡± Wasting no time, he pointed his pinky at the plant¡ªwhich was now quite easy to do seeing as the Devil Peppercorn vines were quite large and thus an easy target to aim at. As a rule, it seemed, the ring took 15 seconds to charge¡ªduring which process the inscriptions that covered its exterior glowed in an increasingly bright green. ¡°Wonder how far it¡¯ll get this time.¡±


    After the 15-second charge-up, another burst of green energy shot out of his fingertip and landed dead on against the leaves of the plant. Midday watched in awe as the plant began to grow once again and this time, seeing as its roots were already in place, it grew much faster than before. By the time the 30 seconds of growth ended, the plant was a little more than 10 feet tall and far thicker than before¡ªto the point where the bark on the lower portions of the oak tree was almost entirely hidden behind a wall of green.


    Curious to see if there were any signs of peppercorn beads starting to form, Midday walked around the perimeter of the tree, surveying it carefully in search of the fruit. Upon finding nothing, he shrugged and, with a carefree smile on his face, pointed his finger at the vine once again. This is my last charge of the day. Let¡¯s see some fruit!


    A blast of green energy launched itself at the Devil Peppercorn plant fifteen seconds later and, with that, the growth resumed yet again. The double helix tendrils of the plant wrapped themselves neatly time and time again around the trunk, finally climbing up to the lowest branches of the oak tree and starting to wrap themselves around the gigantic branches which Midday hoped would be the home of his first Devil Peppercorn harvest. He watched the branches intently, not paying much attention to the now completely vine-covered trunk, in hopes of spotting the first beads forming.


    But, as the 30 seconds of growth drew to a close, Midday realized that there was still no fruit to be seen. The sole product of today¡¯s efforts was the creation of a young but not yet mature Devil Peppercorn plant¡ªwhich was by no means a small feat. He had just witnessed 3 years of growth in the span of maybe 2 minutes, and there were probably very few other people alive who could claim to have seen anything so amazing. Even so, Midday was a tad disappointed. The fact that there was still no fruit seemed a tad anticlimactic, but there was nothing that could be done about it until the next day.


    He was by no means surprised that there hadn¡¯t been fruit. All 6 of the agricultural treasures grown at Elvanera Plantation were notorious for being incredibly slow to grow¡ªwith some of them requiring more than a decade to fully mature¡ªand Devil Peppercorn was no exception. Midday expected to see the first beads forming by tomorrow though, and he was giddy with excitement as he buried the ring beside the sunflower he had kept it under on the previous day.


    Midday was relieved to see that Devil Peppercorn could grow in the conditions of Neighborhood 8. He expected that perhaps there might be some complications stemming from it at some point, but he just shelved those concerns for the time being as he hurried to leave his garden as soon as he possibly could. His entire time in the garden that day had totaled less than 5 minutes¡ªa fact he took pride in, for he believed the best way to avoid detection was to spend as little time there as he possibly could.


    With a smile on his face, Midday left for the cabin.

 12. Training

    Romulo was sitting in front of the entrance to the cabin when Midday returned, humming a relaxed tune to himself as he watched people come and go down the dirt road on which Slave Quarters #344 was located. The giant was chewing on a piece of raw meat, straight off the bones of what Midday guessed from the color was some sort of bird, as Midday approached.


    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± asked Midday. ¡°Why are you sitting out here?¡±


    ¡°Because I was waiting for you.¡± Romulo popped up onto his feet. ¡°Now let¡¯s get started with your training!¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Midday shifted uncomfortably¡ªas he usually did whenever he saw Romulo treating himself to a chunk of uncooked flesh¡ªand frowned. Oh right¡­ I agreed to this in exchange for the peppercorn, didn¡¯t I? He let out a big sigh. ¡°Can¡¯t I at least get a few minutes to rest first? I¡¯ve been busy all day, you know.¡±


    ¡°You absolutely cannot!¡± answered Romulo, who was now smiling excitedly. ¡°Sunset is less than half an hour away and yet you still have two hours of training ahead of you! Do you really want to be out in the forest any later in the night than you have to be? You know how dangerous it gets in the darkest hours.¡±


    Midday flinched. ¡°Wait. Two hours? I thought it was just one¡­ And why are we going into the forest at night, to begin with? Won¡¯t there be monsters?¡± He instinctively took a step away from Romulo.


    Romulo took a step forward and bent down until he was at eye level with Midday. ¡°Well, you missed yesterday, so you¡¯re making up for it today! And the monsters won¡¯t be an issue where we¡¯re going¡ªat least not the bigger ones, that is.¡± Romulo chuckled, which made Midday nervous. ¡°But enough chit-chat! We don¡¯t have time to deal with your hesitation!¡± Romulo swooped down and scooped Midday off the ground before his roommate could react. Now holding Midday like a princess, Romulo immediately started walking towards the thornbushes that acted as the border between civilization and the forest.


    ¡°Put me down!¡± Midday struggled with all his might to break free, but the attempt was laughable at best: Romulo was more than 9 feet tall and weighed over 1000 pounds¡ªwith most of that in the form of muscle. Additionally, as if those two metrics weren¡¯t already enough, Romulo also just so happened to be level 9, which was almost double Midday¡¯s level 5. The gap between them was miles across. ¡°What the hell are you doing?!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll put you down in a few minutes,¡± said Romulo. ¡°After we get to our destination.¡±


    Romulo walked to the spot he had carved out in the thornbushes just behind their cabin. It was a somewhat narrow gap, barely wide enough for Romulo to squeeze through if he went in sideways, but it nonetheless served as his personal entrance to the forest¡ªand he generally used it several times throughout the day.


    Midday gave up on struggling and sighed, dreading whatever crazy thing he knew Romulo had in store for him. This might have been the first time that he himself was training with Romulo, but it was not the first time that he had seen Romulo training someone. Midday had watched his cabinmate train his beetle, Tomulo, on many occasions, and each time the regimen seemed to get more bizarre. A recent memory in which Romulo had made his beetle walk atop a sheet of hot metal to ¡®toughen up its feet¡¯ came to mind. Perhaps even crazier than that regimen, though, was the fact that it had actually somehow managed to work. In any case, all Midday could hope for was that his training would not be something quite so hellish as what Tomulo had to go through.


    Entering into the forest it became apparent how often Romulo came here: there was a clear path, defined by the distinct lack of undergrowth that otherwise made it hard to walk in the forest, where he usually walked. It led in a straight line towards a destination Midday could only guess at, for he had always made sure to avoid this place before today.


    ¡°So, umm, now that we¡¯re on our way towards wherever you have in mind, can you tell me what the plan is?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll find out soon enough,¡± said Romulo.


    The two of them continued deeper into the forest for a few additional minutes, leading Midday to wonder just how deep this trail really went but, before he could find out, Romulo suddenly veered off the path into untamed wilderness. He stepped carefully above exposed roots and small shrubs, not slowing down even slightly despite the rough terrain. After about a minute of traveling deeper into the untamed wilderness, Romulo finally came to a large clearing in which there was a single enormous tree at the center. It was very distinct even at a glance, for it was completely devoid of leaves and white bark with a smooth, almost bony texture. Additionally, the tree had a narrow trunk and yet it was massive all the same¡ªwith a height almost double that of anything else in the area.


    ¡°S-seriously, Romulo! Where the fuck are we going?¡± Midday had never seen such an odd tree before, but he knew from the start that he did not like whatever this thing was. Everything from its pale coloration to its total lack of leaves gave him a sense that he was looking at something unnatural. ¡°What is this thing?¡±


    ¡°A Leechfort Tree,¡± said Romulo. ¡°You know, for someone who spends their days working in the fields, you¡¯re not much of an outdoorsman, are you? I thought you¡¯d know what this is¡­ and that you would be screaming by now!¡±


    ¡°W-what?! Please just tell me outright what the hell this thing actually is!¡±


    ¡°A Leechfort Tree¡ªas you might be able to guess from the name¡ªis a somewhat rare type of aspen tree that has something called a mutualistic relationship with certain species of giant leeches known as Army Leeches. They¡¯re exactly as bad as the name suggests.¡± Romulo looked up. The sky was getting darker, but he, with the ¡®eyes of a predator¡¯ that came from his lineage, had somewhat decent night vision capabilities. It was nowhere near the level of a full-blooded Knight¡ªwhich was the umbrella term for the variety of posthuman that one of his grandparents had supposedly been¡ªbut his vision was still far better than any ordinary human could hope to match. He could see that there were already dozens of leeches hanging from the branch directly above him, ready to drop down for a surprise attack. But they knew that he was watching them and that he could kill any number of them with ease, so they simply waited from the treetops for when he¡ªor the far, far weaker human in his arms¡ªlowered his guard. He grinned at the impressive intuition of the hunters above, seeing them as a worthy challenge for his student.


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    ¡°And¡­ Why the fuck are we here then?!¡± Midday, unlike his cabinmate, was a completely ordinary individual with no special bloodline or Abilities or anything else that would have made it possible to see the horde of thirty-pound leeches hiding high above in the treetops. Even so, he understood the words ¡®giant leeches¡¯ well enough to know that he wanted to be anywhere but where he was at that moment.


    Romulo chuckled. ¡°You¡¯ve got the wrong idea, Midday, we still aren¡¯t at our destination yet¡­¡± The giant then proceeded to manhandle Midday until the terrified young man was hanging with his arms wrapped around Romulo¡¯s neck as though he were a backpack of some sort. ¡°We¡¯re going¡­ up!¡± Romulo then held up his hands, showing Midday the process of his fingertips slowly transforming into large, beastly claws.


    ¡°You can do that?!¡± Midday was too taken aback by the metamorphosis to realize that now would be a good time to let go so that he might fall to the ground and try his luck running away from Romulo¡ªnot that he could have succeeded in the attempt though.


    ¡°Yeah! It isn¡¯t a natural, instinctive thing for me like I imagine it probably is for full-blooded knights, and I couldn¡¯t do this at all until just a few months ago¡ªjust before I came to the plantation¡ªbut you¡¯d be amazed how much you can accomplish with enough training. I¡¯ve gotten pretty good at it by now!¡±


    ¡°Man¡­ Being a transhuman sure does have its perks.¡± Midday shuddered. ¡°I do wonder just what the hell a full-blooded knight would be like. Seeing as you¡¯re 75% ordinary human and only 25% knight, I imagine that the genuine-article purebloods must be ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°Well, my mother, who was half-blooded, was more than 15 feet tall from what I¡¯ve heard. And they say that full-blooded adults average like 25 feet tall and can weigh almost 20,000 pounds¡­ But stop trying to distract me here! You¡¯re stalling for time, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°What? No¡­ Why would I do that?¡±


    ¡°Hard to say. I don¡¯t know why anyone would willingly skip out on training!¡± Romulo, with his claws now fully drawn, stepped toward the tree and stuck one of his claws into it, penetrating the bark with ease. He then did the same with his other claw. Midday, now realizing what was about to happen, understood that he needed to let go before Romulo moved any further, but fear kept him immobilized for just half a second too long.


    By which time Romulo had already started climbing. The giant climbed with such ease, his claws giving him a nigh-flawless grip on the tree, that he was able to rise maybe a few feet per second. Midday understood immediately that he would fall, probably to his death, if he let go, and so all he could do was close his eyes and hold on for dear life as a terrifying ascent ensued.


    After about 30 seconds of utter terror, the journey came to an abrupt stop. Romulo plucked Midday off his back and set him down on a branch just barely large enough to support his weight. ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± said Romulo. ¡°Open your eyes.¡±


    Midday hesitantly did as he had been told only to find that he and Romulo were atop some of the highest accessible branches of the Leechfort Tree. It was a nauseatingly long drop to the ground, he discovered upon making the mistake of looking down, and Midday reckoned that they were more than a hundred feet up at that moment. Even more horrifying than the height, however, was the presence of dozens of utterly monstrous leeches slithering up from the lower branches toward him and Romulo.


    ¡°WHAT THE FUCK!¡± He screamed at the top of his lungs upon seeing the wormlike beasts. ¡°What the fuck! What the fuck! What¡­ are those things!? Kill them, Romulo! Kill them, I beg you!¡± As much as he wanted to run away, the fact of the matter was that doing so was entirely impossible. His heart was racing as stared at the slithering masses of flesh and their gaping maws.


    ¡°Alright. Your training begins now!¡± Romulo remained calm. ¡°Your task¡­ is to climb down to the bottom from here! But before that, catch!¡± Romulo took a small pouch out of his pocket and tossed it down to Midday, who just barely managed to catch it. ¡°The leeches are weak to salt. In high enough quantities, it can kill them outright but, in smaller amounts, it just paralyzes them momentarily! This bag contains enough to kill maybe 1 individual at the absolute maximum¡ªand even that is iffy. So your best bet at survival is to carefully ration the salt and use as little as possible to traverse the tree so that you don¡¯t run out before reaching the bottom! Good luck! I¡¯ll be leaving now!¡± Romulo started descending the tree, using his claws to trivialize the otherwise difficult task.


    ¡°S-survival? SURVIVAL?!¡± Midday forgot his fear for a moment as anger swelled up inside him. ¡°You mean¡­ I might die here?!¡±


    Romulo stopped for a second to reply. ¡°Well, I¡¯d say there¡¯s probably only a thirty percent chance of that happening at the most, but yeah! Training works best when there¡¯s risk involved! Again, good luck! I¡¯m off to the cabin to have dinner now! Bye! I¡¯ll come back to check on you in two hours!¡± He resumed his exit, disappearing down the tree at a frighteningly rapid pace. Before long, he had made it to the bottom and disappeared into the forest. Midday felt his heart sink as he realized he was alone in what just might have been the most blatantly lethal situation he had ever been in. This was not training, he thought. This was just a glorified execution.


    For a moment, he sat there on his branch, staring at the utterly horrendous army of leeches slithering up the tree trunk with terrible ease. They moved slowly, no more than a few inches per second, but they never stopped moving. Midday felt completely defeated as he gazed upon the ever-enlarging horde of aggressors coming to suck his blood. Given how large they were, he reckoned just a few of them would be enough to suck him completely dry.


    Midday felt completely hopeless as he gazed upon his encroaching doom. By no means was he a fighter or a climber or a naturalist or anything that possibly could have made it possible for him to survive this situation. He had the salt, sure, and the scythe on his back too, but neither of those did anything to instill confidence in his sullen eyes. Was this really the end? Dead to some sort of cruel excuse for a training exercise? For a while, he believed that the answer was yes. That he would die a meaningless death that night and that there was nothing he could do about it.


    In all likelihood, his initial view of the situation was probably correct, but the thought of the ring stirred up something in his fast-beating heart. Death was not an option, he remembered, for he had something to live for. If he died now, the opportunities inherent to his possession of the Elvanerean Ring would be wasted and never come to fruition. The thought of all that potential disappearing into thin air for such a stupid reason ignited a fire in his chest. He to live, somehow. That much was certain. He could not let it end here.


    With that sudden burst of zeal at the forefront of his mind, Midday struggled to his feet, using the tree trunk to support himself, and looked down at the leeches. Survival was unlikely, sure, but he resolved to do the best he could. It was time to make a plan.

 13. Leeches

    The branches of the Leechfort Tree were long and narrow, hardly the kind of thing Midday imagined he could walk on, but he had to find a way somehow¡ªfor the leeches were closing in fast. He debated drawing his scythe and attempting to use it as a weapon to keep the leeches away but, given how unwieldy something like a scythe was for that purpose and how uneven the footing was, Midday decided against it. If anything, he thought, it would be better to take his scythe off and let it fall the hundred-or-so feet to the soil to take some weight off himself, but Midday did not do this because he feared the idea of losing any of the already few options he had.


    Midday had no idea how to climb a tree¡ªor really anything at all, for that matter. He imagined that it might be possible to hop down to the branch directly below the one that he was already on, but the thought of doing so terrified him. The nearest branch was not especially far, at about 5 feet down from where he was, but getting there would nonetheless require him to drop down such that his feet would be touching nothing for a brief moment.


    It was a small leap, sure, but a leap of faith all the same. One slight mistake would send him plummeting to his death, he realized, and it was this thought that kept him paralyzed in fear as the leeches continued toward him. Additionally, as if climbing downwards wasn¡¯t hard enough on its own, there was also the fact that descending the tree meant getting closer to the very same leeches he was trying to get away from.


    Maybe I should just stay up here at the top and try to fend them off? No, there are so many of them¡­ I¡¯d get overwhelmed before long. He recalled the bag of salt he had in his pocket. Is there anything I can do with that? Yes, there was but, unless all he wanted to do was stave off the inevitable for a few minutes longer, making good use of the salt would require him to make a rapid descent, relying on the supposed ability of the powder to paralyze any leech that stood directly in his way. No matter how hard he tried to find the ¡®correct¡¯ solution to the problem at hand, it was hopeless: every option had serious tradeoffs, and trying to figure out which one he should choose was a task he lost several seconds thinking about. Decisiveness, he realized, was not his forte.


    The thing that made Midday move was the knowledge that he had to do something if he wanted to live¡ªanything was better than just standing there as his demise approached.


    Now with the simple goal of doing something, anything at all, he grabbed hold of the branch above him, the one Romulo had been standing on when explaining the conditions of this so-called ¡®training exercise¡¯ and pulled on it. The branch had already been partially snapped due to supporting the immense weight of the giant, and Midday reckoned he could break the very long but quite narrow branch the rest of the way there with some effort.


    He pulled hard on the branch, very nearly lifting himself into the air with the amount of effort he put into tearing it from its spot on the tree, and the branch did snap a little more as the result, but not enough to actually fall as he wanted it to. A little more tearing would send it crashing down onto the leeches, crushing a few in the process and hopefully slowing the horde down, but his weight alone simply wasn¡¯t enough to do it.


    Shit! Shit! Shit! The leeches were getting closer with every passing second, and all he could think to do was panic. Come up with something! Damn it! He racked his brain for ideas, desperate to find anything at all to try, but the sheer terror of the experience made it difficult to think. He knew he needed to calm down, but that was easier said than done.


    Finally, only after the leeches had already closed much of the distance that there had initially been¡ªfor they generally seemed to have all been congregated in the lower portions of the tree at the time of Midday¡¯s arrival¡ªhe drew his scythe out of the holder on his back and started alternating between sawing and chopping motions in an effort to bring down the branch above, which was an endeavor severely limited by the fact that he could not move his feet lest risk tripping. It took a few seconds to do it, by which time the leeches were close enough that he could see saliva slobbering out from their enormous mouths, but the branch was finally severed from the tree with a last-ditch swing.


    The branch, which had been something like 30 feet long, dropped like a boulder, narrowly missing Midday as it fell. It landed on a branch about 10 feet down, which both killed some leeches who had been waiting there and snapped the lower branch in its entirety, sending both logs spiraling downwards as harbingers of destruction. They broke another 6 or 7 branches before finally landing with a gigantic thud that shook the ground and reverberated throughout the area.


    ¡°+1 XP. +1 XP. +3 XP. +1 XP¡­¡± The voice began to speak. It droned on and on, tallying all the deaths that had been deemed sufficient to count for XP. All and all it worked out to 13 XP, more than all of what Midday had previously earned since coming to the plantation.


    Even so, the effort had been a waste.


    The leeches that had been climbing up the tree¡¯s trunk as opposed to its branches were the most immediate threat by far¡ªand they had been almost entirely unaffected by the attack. They were close enough to climb onto the branch Midday was standing on now, and that was exactly what they did. Like a huge, writhing mass of sludge, they inched towards him now, only a few feet from his ankles. Moreover, Midday realized that his attack with the branch had the unfortunate side effect of making it more difficult to start descending the tree to get away from them¡ªfor several branches that he otherwise might have been able to use were either gone or damaged now.


    A leech lunged at him, which he responded to by tossing a pinch of salt at it¡ªwhich successfully stunned the creature for a moment¡ªand kicking it off the branch. It fell off the side of the narrow beam on which Midday and about 30 giant leeches were having a heated standoff.


    At such a high altitude, the fall proved lethal even to the leech who was adapted to falling great distances onto its prey. Midday did not receive any XP for this kill though, and he guessed that the reason for this was that the voice had deemed that particular leech insufficiently powerful relative to himself to reward him with XP for killing.


    Not that whether or not he got XP mattered to Midday though, for he still had the more immediate problem of several dozen leeches to deal with, each of which was about 30 pounds and thus would be impossible to deal with using only simple kicks and punches. His scythe wouldn¡¯t be all that useful either, for even if he did somehow manage to swing it at them without losing his footing, the leeches were all big enough that, at his skill level, he reckoned the blade would get stuck inside them instead of cleaving through.


    His best bet, he knew, was to flee as soon as possible and take his chances with dropping down to the next lowest branch, but even as he was pushed further and further back along the branch, he hesitated. Midday was not a fighter. He had never been in a fight. He had been the target of beatdowns, sure, but never had he stood as a genuine combatant to a threatening opponent. This was a new experience for him, and he simply didn¡¯t have enough experience to handle it without letting emotions cloud his judgment.


    Still though, instincts were a powerful force in these kinds of situations. As another leech lunched toward him, Midday reflexively leaped down off the branch and landed, just barely maintaining his balance, on the next one below it. He kept his center of balance as low as possible in an effort to stay standing despite the wobbling caused by his feet crashing down upon it.


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    Looking up, he saw that the leeches were unphased. Despite their slow speed, they had ridiculous mobility along the bark of the tree, and the leeches were seemingly able to ignore gravity as they crawled onto the underside of the upper branch and hung themselves like bats in a cave, positioning themselves such that they could drop down on Midday if he made the mistake of walking under them.


    Midday grimaced. This must have been the so-called mutualistic relationship Romulo had mentioned. There must have been some sort of bizarre mechanism inherent to the bonelike bark of the Leechfort Tree that allowed what otherwise should have been very immobile creatures to crawl along it with perfect ease. Is there anything I can do to exploit that? Midday tried to strategize¡ªsomething the leeches were content to let him waste time trying to do because it allowed them to assume even more advantageous positions while he was busy thinking. Eventually Midday realized that the Leechfort Bark had no obvious weaknesses, at least none that he could discern with what little time he had. He then realized that he had just wasted a whole 5 seconds standing still as yet more leeches from lower on the tree approached him. There were now leeches both on the branch above him, ready to drop down, and on the one he was standing on, ready to lunge at him. There were even a few leeches on the branch directly below¡ªthough the fall to that one was almost 10 feet long because the branch that had originally been closest had fallen due to the log he had dropped on it not long before.


    The leeches on the same branch he was currently standing on began their slow march toward him, forcing Midday to take a few steps back onto the thinner portion of the branch away from the trunk. The branch bent and cracked as the already thin beam beneath him became even thinner with each step. Think of something! Think! What the hell is wrong with you?! He strained his mind for ideas. Anything would do. It didn¡¯t matter how awful it was. He just wanted to at the very least do something before it was too late.


    An idea came to mind. A very questionable one at that, but an idea all the same. These leeches are after my blood¡­ And, if I reopen the wound on my finger¡­ I¡¯ll start shooting blood¡­ Maybe that will accomplish something? It was a stretch¡ªa massive one at that¡ªbut, seeing as he had nowhere near enough salt to deal with an army that now numbered more than 50 giant leeches, Midday decided to give it a shot.


    He ripped off the bandages on his finger, seeing the disgusting and still entirely unhealed wound with his own two eyes for the first time as he did so. It was a sight that ordinarily would have made him nauseous but, at that moment, the gaping hole where his left middle finger should have been barely registered. All he saw was a source of blood and so, with his right hand, he ripped violently as he could at the recently formed scab that had been keeping the blood in.


    Complete agony ensued as blood started shooting out of his finger with a forcefulness rivaling the blood loss he had endured in the first few seconds after Jenjo had cut it off. The leeches reacted immediately, forgetting their strategic positioning at the sight of fresh blood. Each of them charged toward him at full speed, desperate to be one of the few that would get to latch on and drink the limited quantity of blood contained within Midday¡¯s body.


    Doing his best to ignore the pain, Midday pointed his left hand at the gigantic horde of leeches and allowed his blood to shoot out directly onto their bodies, hoping that maybe he would get a reaction of some kind.


    Sure enough, he did. One hell of a reaction at that. The leeches broke into a chaotic frenzy as they battled each other to slurp up the limited quantity of blood being shot into their frontlines. He thought he heard someone exclaiming ¡°holy shit!¡± in the distance, but the notion that someone might be watching him barely registered as he contended with the gut-wrenching fear and hellish pain at the forefront of his mind. Things got crazier by the second as more and more leeches piled onto the spot where the blood was being shot into. Several leeches fell off the branch during the struggle, plummeting to their deaths.


    ¡°+1 XP. +1 XP. +1 XP¡­¡± The voice droned on and on throughout the carnage, rewarding him for causing the deaths of several creatures, but Midday gave no acknowledgment to the voice. His mind was still focused purely on survival.


    If they follow the blood so feverishly¡­ Midday somehow managed to grin, now seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. In one simple gesture, he pointed this finger away from the branch so that the river of blood became a waterfall leading straight to the ground far below.


    Drunk off the taste of blood, nearly all of the leeches jumped down after it.


    +1 XP. +1XP. +1XP¡­¡± The voice droned on even faster now, rapidly calculating the XP reward for dozens upon dozens of simultaneous deaths.


    As far as Midday could tell, there were about 5 leeches remaining in the tree after that and, seeing as they had just watched so many of their kin perish at the hands of this scrawny human who had no business posing any kind of threat to them whatsoever, they were furious. They all rushed towards him at once, moving faster than any of the leeches had done before then.


    But at this point, Midday believed that he already won. He had enough salt to deal with such a small number, and the remaining ones he saw were just charging straight at him. Midday simply threw a pinch of salt at each one whenever it got close and kicked it off the side. He had managed to kill 3 leeches in this manner and was feeling extremely relieved, convinced that the real fight was over, when he realized that there was something heavy on his leg. He turned his attention away from the leeches attacking him for just a split second, to see what it was, and very nearly fell to his doom upon wincing at the sight of a giant leech latched on and sucking away at one of his calves. It had snuck up from behind, he realized, while he had been preoccupied with everything else.


    Luckily, he still had most of his salt and was able to pour a large quantity of it onto the creature to get it to let go, after which he kicked it off the branch to its doom, but the leech had nonetheless already bitten him and thus injected its enzymes into his leg¡ªwhich was now bleeding profusely.


    Unable to do anything about the bleeding for the moment, he turned his attention back to the two remaining leeches he was aware of and finished them off with his proven-effective combination of salt followed by a kick.


    With that, it was over¡ªor, at the very least, he hoped it was. He surveyed the area as best he could for any sign of remaining stragglers but saw none: he decided that they were either A) hiding in hopes that he would leave without killing or B) planning an ambush. Either way, he was almost out of salt now and wanted to do everything in his power to avoid additional combat. Fighting them head-to-head without the help of salt was something he wanted to avoid at all costs.


    He stood there on that branch for a while, victorious but still unable to bring himself to take the immense risk involved with descending the tree without knowing how to climb. The fact that he was feeling immense pain in his left hand and was losing blood at an alarming rate from two separate places on his body did little to help matters. The blood loss was getting to him fast, and his mind was getting hazy as he struggled to stay conscious.


    Romulo, perhaps understanding this, then proceeded to pop out from behind a tree he had been hiding behind and stepped up to the enormous pile of leech carcasses left under the tree while gazing up at Midday. ¡°Holy shit! All I wanted you to do was face your fears and climb down! But you straight up eradicated those fuckers! Maybe I underestimated you! You might be ready for the old growth sooner than I thought!¡± The sun had already set by then and Midday could only faintly make out the silhouette of the cabinmate he hated oh so much at that moment.


    ¡°Get me out of here,¡± replied Midday, not wanting to talk.


    ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± said Romulo, feeling a little¡ªbut only a little¡ªguilty about the whole affair. He had kept a bow and arrow drawn and aimed throughout the whole exercise, ready in case of an emergency (his take on the definition of the word was very unique, it seemed) and so he felt as though he had done nothing wrong. Romulo took a few moments to transform his fingertips into claws once again and started working his way up the tree.


    He picked up Midday as soon as he got to him and hurriedly worked his way back down afterward.


    ¡°You know, that whole exercise was less than 5 minutes long. We technically have 1 hour and 55 minutes left to train, because you missed yesterday and so I added on an hour to adjust for that, but I think we can just call it a day here.¡± With Midday in his arms, he started toward the cabin. ¡°I promise you that tomorrow¡¯s training will be something much easier¡ªwith a 0% chance of death.¡±


    Midday offered no response, seeing as he had already passed out from both exhaustion and blood loss.

 14. Debate

    Midday awoke to the now familiar taste of Devil Peppercorn. Opening his eyes, he saw Glauster standing above him with a spoon, having just shoveled some Devil Peppercorn-infested soup into his mouth. Immediately Midday tried to get up, but Romulo was there too, holding him down. Gork was also present, quietly treating Midday¡¯s wounds as the other two did their thing.


    This was hell, Midday decided, as Glauster forced his jaw open and stuffed another scoop down his throat. He was amazed at just how much worse his life had gotten ever since finding the ring. It seemed like the opposite should have been the case but, in reality, all he had gotten out of it so far was a torturous diet along with an arguably even more torturous ¡®training regimen¡¯. How long would this hell last? He pondered this question deeply as he struggled fruitlessly against Romulo to break free.


    ¡°Let¡ª¡± before he could finish his sentence with ¡®me go¡¯, Glauster forced yet another mouthful of soup into his mouth. He did this a few more times, all the while Midday tried his best to squirm his way out of the situation until the last of the soup was finally gone.


    ¡°All done,¡± said Glauster. ¡°Now go to bed!¡±


    ¡°Easier said than done¡­¡± replied Midday, who forced out a reply despite the horrid taste in his mouth as the taste of the soup began to overwhelm his senses.


    Romulo kept holding Midday down for about another minute as Gork finished wrapping the bandages around his leg, which was still bleeding profusely due to the anticoagulant properties possessed by the leech. Once that was done, each of the cabinmates¡ªbarring Midday, who was in too much agony to care¡ªlet out a big sigh as they seated themselves around the table to talk:


    ¡°What the hell were you thinking, Romulo? Don¡¯t you know what kind of state he¡¯s in?! Midday was already just a few steps away from dying as it was! That was NOT training! All you did was torture him!¡± Gork was livid. ¡°He¡¯s a living, breathing person, you know! Not some sort of monster like you!¡±


    Romulo gazed down at the edge of the table, speaking softly. ¡°Monster?¡±


    Gork felt his stomach drop. He had misspoken, he realized, and he already felt terrible about it. Many people across the Kingmaker Plains, especially in rural areas like the village Gork was from, had strongly negative feelings towards mod humans. It was to the point where most villages barred transhumans from entering their borders, seeing them as terrible abominations capable of causing untold amounts of destruction with ease. Even posthumans, the full-blooded and thus more tolerable counterparts to the mongrel transhumans, were generally feared¡ªthough most people knew better than to do anything that insulted them directly. Despite his otherwise compassionate nature, Gork had hated mod humans just as much as anyone else before meeting Romulo¡ªwho was the first transhuman Gork had ever actually seen in the flesh¡ªand his old habits still slipped out from time to time. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ You know I don¡¯t mean that, Romulo¡­ But you¡¯ve got to understand where I¡¯m coming from here: Midday doesn¡¯t have regenerative capabilities like you do. That finger he lost the other day, for instance, that¡¯s never growing back¡­ A little bit of training is fine, I think, but promise me that you won¡¯t do anything with a risk of seriously injuring him.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not some sort of freak, you know. I¡¯m not¡­¡±


    ¡°And I didn¡¯t say you were¡­ All I¡¯m saying is that Midday is in no state to do such high-intensity activities as things stand. Maybe in a month, after the Devil Peppercorn has had time to work its magic, sure, but as of right now? Absolutely not. He¡¯s not some sort of pet like your beetle, you know. Midday is a human being whose life is just as precious as anyone else, and he ought to be treated as such.¡± Gork paused. ¡°Besides, there are other ways to train besides life-or-death situations, aren¡¯t there? How about pushups and sit-ups? That kind of thing would probably be okay.¡±


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    ¡°Strength training would be worthless¡­ Based on how much he has to strain himself to finish his quotas, he¡¯s definitely overtraining at the moment. He makes his body work too much and lets it recover too little¡ªand the result is the steady decline we¡¯ve seen over the past two months¡­ making him do physical conditioning would only worsen that issue¡­¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­ You know more about how all that works than me, but you get the idea, don¡¯t you? Midday wakes up every day not knowing if it will be his last. He can¡¯t afford to do anything dangerous like the XP grinding I assume you were trying to prepare him for tonight.¡±


    ¡°But he¡¯ll stay weak forever if he doesn¡¯t level up. Devil Peppercorn will make his body stronger, sure, but at the end of the day he¡¯d still be level 5.¡± Romulo kept his eyes down at his lap, still hung up on the fact that Gork, someone he considered a friend, had just called him a monster. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder if that was how Gork really felt about him, and if all the kindness his cabinmate had shown him over the past two months had merely been an act. Romulo suddenly had an urge to run off into the forest and train¡ªat least that way his mind would be occupied with something else for a while.


    ¡°Yes, and I understand that and agree with you, but all I¡¯m saying is to hold off on doing anything crazy until he achieves the outstanding physique necessary to make routine XP grinding a more realistic endeavor for him.¡±


    ¡°But that could take months¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware.¡±


    ¡°But I don¡¯t want to wait that long¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s your problem. Don¡¯t bring Midday into it.¡±


    ¡°Do you think¡­¡± Romulo mumbled. ¡°Do you think it would happen faster if he increased his Devil Peppercorn intake to something crazy like 5 beads per meal?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no way he would agree to that. And 1 bead is plenty either way.¡±


    ¡°Can you at the very least look into better workarounds then? I bet Netari would know something. She¡¯s the best doctor in Neighborhood 8, right?¡±


    Gork¡¯s eyes narrowed as his lips curled into a deep frown. ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask her yourself if it matters so much to you?¡± Gork hated Netari. She was more skilled than him, sure, but that didn¡¯t change the fact that she was everything Gork believed a doctor should strive not to be: predatory, profit-hungry, and prideful. Even still, he was almost certain given her skill that she would be able to help. ¡°I refuse to ask her for any favors¡­ and I would advise you do to the same.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pay her a visit tomorrow.¡± Romulo sighed. ¡°I can just walk away if her terms are too much.¡±


    ¡°Do what you will,¡± said Gork, still frowning. ¡°Just be careful.¡± He left the table and walked over to the wooden board that passed for a bed. After shaking his sheets clean of bugs, he set them down and rolled into bed.


    Romulo sighed once again, taking a note from Midday¡¯s playbook in his excessive use of the gesture, and left the cabin for some late-night training after saying goodbye to Glauster, who himself was also leaving the cabin to meet up with some friends who lived in the nearby cabins. Of all 4 residents of Slave Quarter #344, Glauster had the healthiest social life by a wide margin¡ªand he frequented the so-called hang-out spots that were scattered throughout the enclave almost daily.


    The other three were much less sociable. Romulo had no real friends at all besides his cabinmates due to his status both as a transhuman and as a fighter in the weekly fight club, Gork had few friends because he spent all of his free time doing medical work, and Midday actually had a decent number of friendly acquaintances¡ªbut he rarely had time to talk to anyone those days because his steady degeneration had lengthened his workdays to the point where all he usually had time to do during the day was exactly that: work.


    Now that everyone was gone or asleep, all Midday could do was spend the next hour lying in bed, suffering the bad taste of Devil Peppercorn with no end in sight. And then, when the flavor-induced torture finally did end, Midday was too exhausted to do anything and so he just went to bed immediately afterward.

 15. Bell

    The 30-minutes-before sunrise bell shocked a groggy Midday unwillingly to his senses. He hated a lot of the things about the island, but that damn bell, he reckoned, had to be in the top 5 worst things about Elvanera Plantation. He could just never get used to the deafening sounds that traveled several miles from atop the 3,000-foot-tall barrier walls on which the belltowers resided to reach the cabin every morning.


    He sat up slowly, not especially excited to start what he knew would be yet another grueling day, and surveyed the cabin. Glauster and Romulo were gone already¡ªwith the former probably in the process of fetching water to make oatmeal breakfast and the latter certainly already on his way to work. Gork was up too, working through the knots in his naturally wavy long hair as he usually did upon waking up.


    Midday stretched a little bit before getting up and noticing that there was a small pool of blood staining his bed where his calf had rested on the night before and that his bandaged calf was still bleeding from the night before¡ªthough the pace had slowed to a slow trickle by then.


    ¡°Fucking hell,¡± said Midday. ¡°Damn leeches.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah, how was your training last night?¡± Gork casually gazed over at Midday with relaxed eyes, not pausing for a moment in his detangling efforts¡ªwhich was always a daunting task for the man.


    ¡°Worse than the peppercorn.¡±


    Gork chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s one hell of a statement to make.¡± He paused. ¡°Just out of curiosity, how much XP did that whole charade net you?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ Something like 60 total, I think. It was a lot.¡±


    ¡°No shit. That¡¯s like a tenth of the way to level 6 in a single night.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Midday sighed, ¡°Wasn¡¯t worth it though.¡±


    ¡°Agreed.¡± Gork got up and walked over to the table at the center of the room. ¡°Romulo is more invested in this training regimen stuff than I thought. Did you hear our conversation last night?¡±


    ¡°Bits and pieces.¡± Midday followed Gork to the table and took a seat. ¡°But for the most part? No.¡±


    ¡°I think he¡¯s been wanting to do this for a while now. Train you, I mean.¡±


    ¡°No shit. He¡¯s been making offers for this kind of thing since we got here. You and Glauster have gotten your fair share of offers too, no?¡±


    ¡°Countless times, yeah.¡± Gork shook his head. ¡°I gave him a stern lecture last night¡­ Told him not to push you so hard and all that basic logic sort of stuff... And somehow that resulted in him deciding to visit Netari. Can¡¯t say I was expecting that.¡± Gork paused. ¡°He wants to learn the secrets of Devil Peppercorn. To find a way to negate the downsides of the ingredient.¡±


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    ¡°Netari?¡± Midday tried to remember who that was. They were a fairly prominent slave, he knew that much, and he had definitely heard of them before, but he took very little stock in keeping tabs on the so-called ¡®upper-class slaves¡¯ of Neighborhood 8 and so he failed to match a face to the name.


    ¡°She¡¯s the most prominent doctor in the Neighborhood. And big in the black market too, I suspect.¡± Glauster sighed. ¡°Believe it or not, she¡¯s the reason we got this relatively well-kept cabin. She has ties with Jenjo¡¯s assistant, Mell, and, upon learning that I had medical skills, she pulled some strings behind the scenes to get me placed in here¡ªso that I would ¡®owe her a favor¡¯ and whatnot.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­ But how is this place well-kept?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve got no holes in the roof.¡±


    ¡°But we¡¯ve got ¡®em in the walls.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re missing the point. What I¡¯m trying to say here is that she will definitely do everything in her power to take advantage of Romulo. To get him to ¡®owe her a favor¡¯ or something along those lines.¡±


    ¡°Romulo is less exploitable than you. He¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    It was barely visible beneath his dark skin, but Gork¡¯s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment for a few moments before regaining his composure. ¡°But still. Why is he going to such great lengths? He never did anything at all for you before you agreed to ¡®be his student¡¯. So why now?¡±


    ¡°Because he wants a friend, I reckon.¡± Midday sighed. ¡°Or maybe he just feels bad about almost killing me last night and wants to make up for it. Does it really matter either way?¡±


    ¡°No, I suppose not.¡± Gork frowned. ¡°The issue is more with me than Romulo. I just really¡­ dislike Netari and would rather not have anyone I know get help from her. My ego is getting in the way of my judgment here, I know, but still. She¡¯s the kind of doctor who intentionally makes sure not to fully cure her patients to ensure that business never runs dry."


    ¡°Maybe so. But, again, Romulo¡ªfor better or worse¡ªis one hell of a guy. He can do the claws thing now, apparently.¡±


    ¡°The claws thing?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. He can turn his fingers into claws somehow.¡±


    ¡°Weird... Maybe that''s a clue as to which House he''s descended from?"


    ¡°Maybe so."


    The conversation continued onward until Glauster arrived, at which time the dreaded wait for breakfast began, and the topic shifted from Romulo to the ongoing events of Neighborhood 8. They were holding an execution that evening, apparently, for a group of slaves that had tried to run away¡ªand the slaves in question were fairly well-known as members of the weekly fight club, so it was going to be quite the event, and some people were worried that Jenjo''s boss might show up. Glauster and his friends were all going to be there that night, and he invited Midday¡ªbut not Gork, who he already knew despised such things¡ªto come. Midday politely declined, using his busyness as a justification for his absence and, with that, the conversation moved on to other things¡ªone such being the rumor that a Severity 5 monster had shown up in Neighborhood 9 and had killed hundreds of people, including the head guard of the Neighborhood, and that the plantation was thus due for another batch of fresh slaves fairly soon. It was all decently interesting stuff that helped distract Midday from the dread of his upcoming breakfast, but breakfast came soon enough all the same.


    With the aid of a 10-second countdown and lots of threats, Midday managed to wolf down his oatmeal without much fuss. As per usual, agony ensued and, for the next hour, he was out of commission. Following the sudden end of the aftertaste paralysis at the end of the hour, Midday wasted no time in hurrying off to work¡ªencouraging himself with the thought that his Devil Peppercorn plant would bear its first fruit later that day as he left.

 16. Bloom

    Midday spent the entire day working out in the fields: swinging his scythe with bloody hands caused by the freshly reopened wound on his finger, sweating under the sweltering daytime heat, and bleeding through the bandages wrapped around his calf. It was grueling work, and the Devil Peppercorn still had yet to materialize any benefits whatsoever. Even so, he knew better than to let the pain stop him from finishing the quota. After more than 13 hours of work, he had just barely managed to finish his quota before sunset, which was so eminent by the time he was done that the sky had already taken on the cascading hues of nightfall orange and pink.


    He sat down atop a pile of fallen wheat, trying to regain his strength before starting his journey to the forest where his Devil Peppercorn vines resided. Watching the sunset, Midday sighed: he tried to keep his thoughts optimistic, with things like how he might go about getting a better scythe or perhaps another one of the agricultural treasures, but more often than not he found it hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel¡ªfor the tunnel in question was just so unbearably long. Devil Peppercorn was just the first step of a long staircase and yet he was struggling with even that. If freedom was the ultimate destination, just how long would it take to get there? Just how much more would he have to suffer? He sighed. In all likelihood, he would never escape the plantation. Nobody did. Not even the people with the best prospects to do so. As members of the weekly fight club, there was no question that all the people who were getting executed that evening were far more talented than he would ever be and yet, without exception, all of them had failed in their pursuit of freedom.


    Midday was not a talented individual; he knew that much. The only reason he had any prospects at all was because he had stumbled upon a magic ring he by no means deserved. Making good use of it, he believed, required more intelligence, more determination, and more skill than he could ever hope to have. All 3 of his cabinmates could have made far better use of it than him, he was sure of it.


    He sat there for a while until the sun had fully set behind the distant yet never out of sight barrier walls. The watchmen who appeared as barely visible specks atop the wall from where Midday was sitting started their nightly work of recording who had made or had not made their quotas¡ªusing sight-enhancement Abilities which were further bolstered with the aid of something called ¡®binoculars¡¯ to easily see several miles into the distance. Midday hated the watchmen and the surveillance they represented a great deal but, like most things in the plantation, all he could do was quietly despise them and nothing more.


    With another sigh, he rose to his feet and started toward the forest.


    ?


    It was almost pitch-black by the time Midday made it to his destination. What little light the already faint crescent moon provided was reduced even further by the ceiling of leaves above that hungrily devoured the moonlight.


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    The result of this darkness was a disoriented Midday who had to rely mostly on memory¡ªwhich was not very helpful, seeing as he had only been to his spot in the forest a few times by then¡ªto navigate. He tripped several times on the way there and was bleeding a little after getting cut on thorns, but Midday did not care. Making sure he used all 3 charges of his ring took precedence over everything else. He fumbled his way to the sunflower that marked where the ring was buried and dug it up:


    ¡°Effect Added. Elvanerean Ring: Accelerates growth of any plant the user points at by one year. Can be used 3 times per day.¡±


    Midday wasted no time in feeling his way to the ancient oak tree that housed his Devil Peppercorn vines and pointing the ring at it. Trying to spend as little time as possible in the forest was his usual protocol, but the rush was especially important today. Now that nighttime darkness had set in over the forest, it was safe to say that the dangerous wildlife was already on the prowl. Leaving as soon as possible was at the forefront of his concerns.


    The ring launched its charge for the day at the vines, sparking a rapid explosion of growth as the plant continued wrapping itself around the tree trunk and, more importantly, spreading its tendrils over the branches which would soon bear fruit. It was too dark for Midday to discern much in the way of specific details, and he wasn¡¯t sure whether any peppercorns had formed yet, but it didn¡¯t matter if they had: he had no intention of harvesting them that night either way. All he wanted to do was make sure he used up all his charges.


    Another blast of green light. Yet more growth followed. The Devil Peppercorn was certifiably massive now, with 5 years of growth technically already under its belt, and Midday thought he could see the drooping silhouettes of densely packed bunches of beads forming. He struggled to see the specific details, but it seemed as though the beads in question were much smaller than the beads that had been in the canister.


    One more. He pointed his finger, waited for the ring to charge up, and released a burst of light not long afterward. As the light shot out, he used the illumination it provided to catch a peek at the drooping bunches of what he was now certain were Devil Peppercorn beads¡ªalbeit not fully mature ones yet. A smile spread across his face upon seeing this. There were dozens of beads, maybe hundreds, in each clump, all waiting to be harvested. As the plant received its third year of growth for the day, the beads ripened into genuine-article Devil Peppercorn, complete with the signature bright red color, but one thing bothered Midday: they were still much smaller than the ones in the Devil Peppercorn canister. Are mine still not fully mature? Or are the growing conditions limiting their size? It made sense that the products grown in Neighborhood 6, which had nigh-flawless growing conditions for the crop, would be superior in some aspects to what he could grow in Neighborhood 8¡¯s microclimate. Is it just size though? Midday sighed. He would have to do some experiments later. But that was later, not now. All he needed to do for the moment was leave the forest and head to the cabin. As such, he did exactly that.

 17. Date

    Romulo was the only person present when Midday made it back to the cabin¡ªan omen Midday knew could not be good. He was sitting cross-legged at the table, watching Tomulo, his beetle, doing battle with some fairly large ants that were also on the table. Glauster, he knew, was probably still at the execution while Gork, if he had to guess, was probably off on some emergency doctor business.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Supervising Tomulo¡¯s combat training.¡± Romulo shrugged. ¡°But I guess we can call it quits now that you¡¯re here.¡± Romulo scooped up his beetle and squashed all the remaining ants with a single press of the thumb. He then haphazardly tossed the beetle at one of the walls, which Tomulo responded to by positioning itself to land gracefully, sticking to the wall upon crashing into it. ¡°How was your day?¡±


    ¡°Typical. You?¡± Midday was waiting fearfully for Romulo to announce that it was time for training.


    ¡°Very much the opposite¡­ Probably one of the weirdest days I¡¯ve had in quite some time. But I did get some good information about Devil Peppercorn, so there¡¯s that.¡±


    ¡°From Netari?¡±


    ¡°Ah, so Gork told you. Yeah, she knew a lot about the subject.¡± Romulo was twiddling his thumbs and looking at his lap, a combination of gestures Midday did not know how to interpret.


    ¡°But there was a price, no? From what I¡¯ve heard about her, I doubt she would tell you anything just out of the goodness of her heart. Just what kind of price did you have to pay?¡±


    ¡°Well, she told me everything I wanted to know¡­ In exchange for going on a date with her.¡±


    Midday blinked a few times. ¡°¡­What?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, uh, it caught me by surprise too¡­ That¡¯s the first time a girl has shown any interest at all in me.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh¡­¡± Midday, dumbstruck, wasn¡¯t sure how to proceed. This was not the kind of conversation he had expected to have with the giant whose cheeks were blushing red. ¡°So, umm, when exactly is this ¡®date¡¯ going to happen?¡±


    ¡°It already did.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ Well, uh, congratulations? Sorry if this is prying but, umm, how did it go?¡±


    ¡°We went hiking through the forest and had a sunny picnic in a nice little clearing I use as a campsite sometimes¡­ And she taught me how to drink liquor like a nobleman while I showed the various medicinal herbs endemic to the area. It was nerve-wracking¡­ But I think it went well?¡±


    Midday sat silently for a moment, unsure of what to think, before responding. ¡°I hate to be the person to say this, but do you think she might just be trying to use you? Like trying to get on your good side because you¡¯re the most physically powerful slave in the whole Neighborhood?¡±


    ¡°Hah¡­ You and I think alike, don¡¯t we?¡± Romulo chuckled. ¡°I learned when I was young that when people are nice to me, the reason usually ends up being because they were trying to take advantage of my strength. After all, why else would any reasonable person tolerate a disgusting transhuman like me?¡± He chuckled again, more quietly this time. ¡°But no, I honestly think she has a ¡®thing¡¯ for me¡­ Though the reason she gave me for it was¡­ a bit weird.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s really tall¡ªand I¡¯m the only person she¡¯s ever met who¡¯s taller than her¡ªso apparently she took that as a sign¡­¡±


    ¡°Golly¡­ Just how huge is she then?¡±


    ¡°Just under 7 feet tall.


    ¡°Holy shit.¡±


    ¡°I mean¡­ She¡¯s still pretty tiny by my standards, I think, but I dunno¡­¡± Romulo sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s talk about all that later. The real news is all the information I got on Devil Peppercorn.¡±


    ¡°R-right.¡± Midday was more than happy to change the topic to something a bit more approachable. ¡°So, uh, what did you learn?¡±


    ¡°A few things¡ªthe most important of which was a solution to your taste-related problems.¡± A half-formed grin snuck its way onto his lips, but he forced it into a frown just a few moments later.


    Midday, perplexed by the odd body language, leaned forward, speaking in a hushed tone of disbelief. ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡±


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    ¡°Dead.¡± Romulo leaned forward too, now speaking in a whisper¡ªalbeit a loud one that was audible from anywhere in the room. ¡°You probably aren¡¯t going to like it though.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ That¡¯ll be decided after I hear what it is.¡± Midday gestured for Romulo to continue.


    ¡°Netari¡­ She, umm, how do I put this?¡± He thought in silence for a moment, mulling over the words he was about to say. ¡°It seems that Netari likes to¡­ experiment.¡±


    Midday broke into a cold sweat, getting nervous because of the obvious apprehension in Romulo¡¯s voice. ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s¡­ a procedure.¡± Romulo gazed past Midday and stared at the wall. ¡°A procedure that would¡ªamong many other things¡ªallow you to consciously choose to turn your sense of taste on or off¡­ and she offered to give it to you for free with no strings attached.¡±


    Midday felt a pit forming of anxiousness forming in his gut as he sat silently in horrid anticipation of the incredibly awful twist he instinctively knew to expect. He gestured for Romulo to continue.


    ¡°She also assures me that¡ªat least to the extent of her knowledge¡ªthere will be absolutely no downsides or complications related to the procedure. It will be a simple ¡®upgrade¡¯ to the anatomy of your tongue in every aspect, she says¡­¡±


    ¡°Get on with it.¡± Midday drew a deep breath. ¡°You¡¯re leaving something out, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Romulo winced. ¡°Ah¡­ Well, uh, yeah. There¡¯s no real nice way to put this, but, umm, the nature of this procedure is a replacement.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a certain creature that Netari is studying right now on behalf of one of her clients. It survives by crawling into the mouths of unsuspecting animals and assimilating itself into the tongues of those creatures before eventually replacing them altogether¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me.¡± Midday knew where this was going, and he was getting queasy just thinking about it. ¡°I think I¡¯ll pass.¡±


    Romulo continued anyways. ¡°Tongue Jellies are generally quite weak and, in the wild, it would be impossible for them to absorb themselves into the tongue of anything larger than maybe a squirrel, but Netari has somehow found a way to circumvent this limitation, thereby allowing them to incorporate into much larger organisms¡ª¡±


    ¡°I really do not think we need to continue this conversation.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­. I thought you¡¯d say that. The way I describe it probably makes it sound gross, but Netari showed me some of the animals she had tested this procedure on, and it wasn¡¯t disgusting as I thought it would be. The only real difference was that their tongues had turned black.¡±


    ¡°Even still.¡± Midday shuddered at the thought of having another creature living inside his mouth. ¡°Would it be permanent?¡±


    Romulo nodded.


    ¡°Then yeah, I pass.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s your decision, then so be it, but you should know that Netari invited you to come to the cabin she¡¯s been using as her laboratory and have everything explained to you by the person who would be performing the surgery. Sooner is better, she said. If you show up tomorrow¡ªregardless of if you end up going through with the procedure or not¡ªshe promised me that you would receive some sort of reward as a sign of thanks for your timeliness.¡±


    ¡°So she¡¯s desperate.¡± Midday sighed. He still had no interest in the surgery, but establishing ties with someone he knew had connections to the black market and all the smuggling that went along with it would be a wise move to make¡ªespecially now that he had Devil Peppercorn beads to sell. ¡°That reward had better be worth my time¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be decent. After all, she¡¯s one of the richest slaves in the Neighborhood. One of the whiskeys she brought to our picnic was aged for 12 years and, in alcohol, older apparently equals better¡ªso I guess it probably had to be expensive?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ that is how alcohol works, yes.¡± Midday frowned. ¡°But yeah, I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll be able to meet the painfully low standards I have for the moment. I¡¯ll go tomorrow after work.¡±


    ¡°Good choice.¡± Romulo popped onto his feet so quickly that he banged his head against the low ceiling of the cabin. ¡°Damn roof! We ought to get around to doing some renovations at some point. Raising the ceiling up maybe 5 feet or so would do the trick.¡± He stooped down and grinned. ¡°But who cares about all that? It¡¯s time to train!¡±


    ¡°Ugh¡­ We¡¯re still doing that? The sun went down a while ago¡­ and I still have to eat¡ªwhich I guess will take an hour at the absolute minimum when you factor in the peppercorn paralysis. I also have the additional task of cooking dinner tonight, seeing as Glauster isn¡¯t home right now. As if all that wasn¡¯t enough already, I also need to find at least some time to sleep. So¡­¡±


    ¡°So what?¡± Romulo grinned. ¡°I accounted for all that. Today¡¯s training will be something we can do here in the cabin, if that¡¯s alright with you. We can do it while your dinner cooks, and we can call it quits after you eat.¡±


    ¡°What if, instead of that, we just sat around and did nothing while dinner cooks?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a bad attitude.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, I feel pretty justified in wanting to laze about and rest for a change. Let me remind you that I had to reopen the wound on my left hand because of your stupid little ¡®training¡¯ last night¡­ And my leg is somehow still bleeding! And all that is in addition to very nearly killing myself in the field every day! Just hurry up and cut me some slack already, will you?¡±


    Romulo just shrugged. ¡°Frustrated, are you? How about taking it all out on something?¡±


    ¡°The hell are you on about?¡± Midday got up and grabbed the empty pot that was sitting idle above the fireplace.


    ¡°What if today¡¯s training session was literally just you trying to beat me up and nothing more? I wouldn¡¯t dodge or fight back at all.¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll pass,¡± answered Midday, who was already walking towards the door. ¡°I know what you¡¯re doing here. You¡¯re trying to show me how weak I am by letting me attack you only to realize that I''m completely incapable of hurting you, and your intent in doing so is to illustrate how weak I am and how much I need to improve¡­ But believe me, Romulo, I¡¯m well aware of how pathetic I am.¡±


    ¡°It was that obvious, huh? I¡¯m amazed you guessed that.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, I did.¡± Midday sighed as he stepped out the door. ¡°I¡¯m off to fetch water now. See you in a few minutes, I guess."

 18. Potatoes

    Midday stood hunched over at the well, steadily cranking the lever that controlled the rope it was attached to lower the pot deeper and then deeper still. It was not a difficult process but, seeing as the well in question was more than a hundred feet deep, it always took a while to get it done.


    And so he sat there silently listening to the faraway sounds of the execution taking place in the plaza that night. He was surprised that he could hear the shrill screams of the spectators who had gone to watch the ordeal all the way from where he lived, which was a fairly long walk away from the plaza, but when he thought about it, it really wasn¡¯t all that bizarre: as members of the Weekly Fight Club, a group of elites handpicked by Jenjo, all of the people getting killed that day were among the most well-known slaves in the Neighborhood, with most of them hovering around level 15. It was only natural that many people would care about their deaths.


    The empty pot finally made it to the bottom of the well, filling up with fresh groundwater as soon as it arrived. Now for the hard part. Midday frowned as he strained himself to pull up the pot which was now several times heavier. He cranked the lever with all his might, breaking out into a sweat from all the effort. He had no idea why the well had to be so deep¡ªor why he had to use a metal pot instead of a bucket¡ªbut none of that mattered. Midday spent the next several minutes hoisting the pot up out of the well, thinking about the execution and all the oddities relating to it as he worked.


    He wondered why Romulo hadn¡¯t mentioned it during their previous conversation. As one of the top-ranked members of the Weekly Fight Club, the giant almost certainly knew all the people that were dying that night and, in all likelihood, he had probably even beaten a few of them in fights. Were they just strangers to him? Midday sighed. Romulo never talked about the Fight Club unless specifically asked. Ah, who cares? Probably best to stay ignorant about these things. Either way, he reckoned he would be hearing most of the all-too-gory details from Glauster on the following morning.


    After unhooking the pot from the well and carrying it back to the cabin, Midday entered to the sight of Romulo holding Tomulo in his palm. The giant had started the fireplace while Midday had been out getting water, and the flames were already burning strong.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± said Midday as placed the pot into the red-hot furnace. ¡°Saved me a few minutes there.¡± He then reached up to the nook above the fireplace and grabbed a brown sack of oats from which he took the small portion that would soon become his oatmeal dinner. Midday knew better than to take more than what could comfortably fit it on a single hand, as the cabin only received two small bags of food per week¡ªone of oats and the other of lentils¡ªand so they had to ration carefully to stretch their limited supply to last a full 7 days. ¡°Are you eating tonight?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡± Romulo looked up at the ceiling. ¡°Ended up eating a few dozen of those leeches you killed yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Raw?¡±


    ¡°Damn right.¡±


    ¡°Geez.¡± Midday sighed. ¡°Well, whatever. More food for the rest of us that way.¡±


    Even after accounting for the fact that he weighed almost ten times more than the next biggest resident of the cabin¡ªwhich was Gork¡ªRomulo still managed to have an appetite of unreasonable magnitude. He could eat an entire deer in one sitting and still have room for more, which was a feat Midday had once had the misfortune of witnessing firsthand. Romulo himself considered his atrociously high dietary needs as a curse caused by his mongrel blood¡ªthough it was really just one of the prices he had to pay in exchange for the slew of benefits his anatomy provided: accelerated regeneration, enhanced durability, augmented strength and endurance, and¡ªmost recently¡ªthe ability to turn his appendages into claws were just a few of the many perks that he had to pay for, at least partially, with calories.


    It went without saying that the rations allotted to him were nowhere near enough to keep his body healthy and so he got most of his food during his XP grinding sessions in the forest, in which he had a rule of eating everything he killed. He also received an enormous feast every Sunday as one of the rewards for his participation in the Weekly Fight Club¡ªwhich was the only time he ate cooked meat. In any case, Midday appreciated the fact that Romulo usually donated his portion of the weekly rations to the others.


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    Midday dumped his oats into the pot and let them start cooking. ¡°So we are skipping the ¡®training¡¯ thing tonight, right? The soup will be ready like 10 minutes. That¡¯s hardly enough time to do anything.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, seeing as you are fairly injured right now, I guess it¡¯s fine if you rest tonight.¡± Romulo shrugged. ¡°But Mister Potatoes could use a workout, don¡¯t you think? How about he and Tomulo have a match while we wait for the soup to cook?¡±


    ¡°Not really sure what you¡¯re trying to accomplish here, but sure. I guess that¡¯s fine.¡± Midday looked up the ceiling, where Mister Potatoes, his mighty beetle, was resting idly. ¡°You wanna have a match, Mister Potatoes?¡±


    Mister Potatoes, while still only an insect, was an unusually astute creature, and he had somehow managed to learn his name such that he would look down at Midday whenever the human called out to him. The beetle¡ªwhose sharp mandibles were longer than its actual body¡ªstood still for a moment as if thinking before finally crawling along the ceiling until it was positioned directly above the table. Mister Potatoes then jumped down from the ceiling, landing gracefully on the table below.


    ¡°That beetle of yours is something else,¡± said Romulo. ¡°Which I guess makes sense, seeing as it¡¯s a member of the Emperor Rockjaw species, which, in its fully matured form, is the largest and mightiest member of the Rockjaw genus of beetles.¡± He set Tomulo down on the table beside Mister Potatoes¡ªwho was easily a dozen, if not several dozen, times larger than the smaller beetle. ¡°And if Mister Potatoes ever becomes a fully-fledged Emperor, which would happen during mating season if he won the tournament of sovereignty¡ªa feat that would require him to be the victor in a free-for-all tournament against 999 other male beetles of the same species¡ªhe could become large enough to split several men in half with a single chomp of those huge jaws, and he would be able to breed with the empress resulting from the other half of that same tournament, thereby sparking the birth of a new royal family. It¡¯s really fascinating, honestly. I¡¯m amazed you found such a unique creature.¡±


    ¡°You sure do know a lot about nature. I just picked him up because I thought he looked cool.¡± Midday looked at Mister Potatoes with renewed interest. Romulo had told him what species his beetle belonged to before, but this was the first time there had been any mention of the fact that his beetle might one day become even larger than Romulo. ¡°So how much of a chance does he have of winning that tournament thingy?¡±


    ¡°None. A full-grown non-royalty member of his species can weigh as much as ten pounds and would also have several years of experience surviving out in the wild. As a young individual weighing less than 2 pounds, he would get beaten to a pulp.¡±


    ¡°Damn.¡± Midday sighed. ¡°Not that it matters, but what do you think would happen if we started sprinkling Devil Peppercorn onto the bugs he eats?¡±


    ¡°That would be a massive waste of a precious resource and, if I had to guess, he would probably starve to death after refusing to eat.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ What if¡­ As a way to test the safety of this whole ¡®Tongue Jelly¡¯ thing¡­ We had Netari do her procedure on him? And then I could wait maybe a few weeks to see what kind of side effects there are. Maybe I could also experiment with adding Devil Peppercorn to his food and then if he still chose to eat it afterward, that would prove the procedure to be effective¡ªat least for its main intended purpose.¡±


    ¡°That would¡­ be interesting, I¡¯ll give you that much.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll bring Mister Potatoes with me to the meeting tomorrow then. That way, I can watch her perform the procedure just to make sure she can¡¯t hide any methods.


    ¡°Well¡­ Mister Potatoes is small enough to where the procedure wouldn¡¯t be necessary, but Netari might be willing to humor you regardless, just for fun. She sort of has that energy about her, I think.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll give it a shot. Anyways, let¡¯s get this match underway.¡±


    Midday picked up Mister Potatoes, who had an incredibly shiny, black exoskeleton that always looked pristine, as though it had been freshly waxed. The bulky creature was heavy in his palm, with its natural armor probably being denser than most metals, but the most defining feature of all were its mandibles: they were sharper than any knife Midday had ever come across, and just as large too. The beetle was quite gentle though, and it never used its deadly weapon against other beetles¡ªwhich Mister Potatoes could easily cleave in half if he ever felt like it. Midday set Mister Potatoes down on the wooden plate that served as the arena.


    Romulo set Tomulo down on the plate a few seconds later. ¡°Ready?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Alright. Then¡­ 1¡­ 2¡­ 3¡­ Begin!¡±

 19. Garden

    The fight ended in less than 5 seconds. Tomulo, a member of a nimble species whose most impressive trait was their highly developed wings that allowed for a level of maneuverability on par with hummingbirds when in flight, stood no chance in the wrestling arena¡ªwhere flying was banned in its entirety. Mister Potatoes won the fight with a simple swipe of the dull side of its mandibles that had easily launched Tomulo off the plate and nearly off the table.


    ¡°What did you expect?¡± asked Midday. ¡°Was that supposed to be some sort of training exercise?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ My goal was to show you that even though your body is weak right now, you can still stand a chance against opponents much stronger than yourself and then, from there, I was going to segue into the idea that you ought to start learning martial arts¡­ But damn. Mister Potatoes is strong. So, uh, maybe you can interpret this as a sign that you ought to start working to increase your level because, at the end of the day, raw power always plays a major role in the outcomes of battles?¡±


    ¡°Okay then, Romulo. Whatever you say.¡± Midday picked up his beetle¡ªwho was incapable of flight due to his bulk¡ªand stood up on his toes to reach for the ceiling, where Mister Potatoes usually liked to hang out. The beetle then proceeded to climb off his hand and walk to its favorite spot in the cabin: the spot on the ceiling just above where Midday slept. ¡°I¡¯m going to have my soup now, I guess.¡±


    Midday got himself a bowl of oatmeal, sat down with it, was threatened into adding Devil Peppercorn to it, and was then subsequently threatened into eating it. Immediately upon finishing his bowl, he was reminded of just how hellish the ingredient really was, and he barely made it to his bed before the awful taste reached the point where it overwhelmed his other senses.


    As he laid there in peppercorn-induced hell, Midday started warming up to the idea of having a ¡®Tongue Jelly¡¯ inside of his mouth¡ªthough he still detested the idea a great deal and resolved to have Mister Potatoes get the procedure before even beginning to seriously consider having the surgery done on himself.


    ?


    Midday woke up to the 30-minutes-before-sunrise bell, went through his standard morning routine¡ªwhich included talking to Glauster about the executions of the previous night¡ªand set out for work an hour after being forced into having a Peppercorn-infused breakfast. The bleeding on his leg had stopped by then, thankfully, and the wound on his finger had reclosed for the most part¡ªthough it still had yet to heal even slightly. Moreover, he was starting to feel ever so slightly healthier as a result of his experiences with the peppercorn. He wasn¡¯t sure he actually was healthier, but he liked to believe there was more to it than simply wanting to believe he was making progress so badly that he had tricked himself into thinking that had.


    After about grueling 12 hours in the fields¡ªduring which he had nearly, but not quite, collapsed on two separate occasions¡ªhis quota was done for the day. All in all, not bad, he thought. His left hand had still hurt like hell throughout the entire workday, but he was getting used to that by now, and he soldiered through it more easily than before.


    While exiting the fields, he pondered his next course of action. He could either A) grab Mister Potatoes and then head straight to Netari or B) go straight to the Devil Peppercorn vines and pick his first harvest. Either way, he reckoned, it would be best to do both¡ªand so he ended up choosing the latter of the two, hoping that he could experiment with feeding Mister Potatoes Devil Peppercorn-infused food immediately following the surgery or maybe even get an appraisal from of his crops from Netari, someone who probably knew a great deal about the plant.


    And so with that thought in mind, he set out for the forest.


    ?


    45 minutes later, he had arrived and could now for the first time view his Devil Peppercorn vine under the light of day. It was pretty marvelous, he decided, that he had achieved 6 years of growth in just two days, and he excitedly reached up to one of the branches and pulled a clump containing maybe a hundred shiny red berries off the drooping cluster that held them all together. A hundred beads per cluster seemed to be the average size, and there were 5 clusters in total as things currently stood. 500 Devil Peppercorn beads in 2 days, huh? A soft chuckle escaped his lips. That ought to be worth something!


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    He picked a single bead off the clump he was holding in his hands and popped it into his mouth just because he could. Seeing as there was no food to absorb into, the inert bead was completely flavorless and went down without a problem. He grinned. It was true that eating the beads on their own, without mixing them into any food, achieved absolutely nothing, but Midday still found it incredibly satisfying to do so¡ªfor his ability to do so without having to worry about wasting his supply was proof of how far he¡¯d come. For all intents and purposes, he had an infinite number of beads at his disposal. So many, in fact, that he decided not to use the Elvanerean Ring on the Devil Peppercorn plant that day. There were already enough beads present on the tree to last him quite some time, and he figured that his 3 charges for the day would be better spent elsewhere.


    He turned his attention to a blackberry bush he had once considered using the ring on and pointed his pinky finger¡ªon which the ring already resided¡ªat the plant. After waiting for the 15-second charge-up to finish, it released its signature green bolt of energy, which crashed dead-on into the bush.


    For 30 seconds the bush grew larger and then larger still, with new blackberries forming along its branches with incredible speed. By the time he was done, the bush¡ªwhich had already been fully mature to begin with¡ªwas covered in delicious-looking blackberries. Without thinking, Midday walked over to the bush and picked a few to see how they tasted.


    Like ambrosia, it turned out. After having only eaten Devil Peppercorn-infested food for a few days, regular food now seemed to taste like heaven itself. He almost wanted to cry tears of joy, such was the extent of his delight, but Midday instead proceeded to ruin the sanctity of the moment by gorging himself like a ravenous animal, stuffing incredible amounts of food into his mouth until his stomach felt as though it were about to pop.


    He sat down beside the bush, which still had several pounds of unharvested blackberries ready to be eaten on the next day, and enjoyed a deep breath of relief. As bad as his life might be, he thought, at least he would never have to go hungry again. Midday sat there with a relaxed smile, feeling reassured that his life was only just beginning now.


    Still got 2 charges¡­ Hmm¡­ Midday looked around the area for something to use the ring on. Using 3 charges per day, he knew, was essential¡ªfor it would be a waste to use anything less. I¡¯ve got my peppercorn and my food taken care of, so what else is there? He thought about it for only a few seconds before finding his answer. Security. He pointed his finger at the underbrush and allowed the ring to start charging. This place is obvious as fuck at the moment. Some unsuspecting person foraging for food will definitely find it soon if I don¡¯t do anything about it. Midday grinned. It was a good thing that the ring allowed him to do exactly that. By increasing the size of the underbrush surrounding the area, he could deter people from accidentally stumbling into what was now becoming a garden of sorts. I think that, from now on, if I can¡¯t think of anything to use my charges for the day on, they should go towards building up a wall of plants surrounding this little garden of mine. The place should be all but impenetrable in a few weeks, I reckon.


    A bolt of light flew out and landed on a small but thorny shrub. It swelled in size for the next 30 seconds until it had gone from being about as tall as his knees to something that reached up to his chest. The plant had gotten bulkier too, and it did a decent job of blocking the path. Even so, Midday still thought there was more room for improvement and so he used his third charge on the same plant. By the time it had finished growing, it was taller than he was and very thick too. Its leaves did well to block anyone from peering through, and he reckoned that anyone besides Romulo¡ªwho was still far taller than the plant¡ªwould find it impossible to see past the mighty shrub.


    Not half bad! He stared at the plant for a while, still amazed at the power he wielded at his fingertips. It would still be a long time before the area was completely enclosed¡ªwith the thorny shrub still not quite wide enough to cover the gap between the two trees it was nestled between, but it was a decent start by all means. Time to get going, I suppose. Midday ended up only taking about 30 beads of Devil Peppercorn with him, which were small enough to hide in his pockets with ease. He felt a little sad to leave the garden but, as he buried the ring, he couldn¡¯t help but be a little curious about his upcoming meeting with Netari. Guess I ought to go back and grab Mister Potatoes before I go.


    With his business in the garden finished for the day, he left for the cabin.

 20. Netari

    Midday stood aghast upon stepping into Netari¡¯s territory. It was a territory, yes, because unlike all the other slaves in Neighborhood 8, who had to share their cabins with each other, Netari had 4 of them all to herself. All and all, it was arguably an even nicer setup than what Jenjo had, and Midday couldn¡¯t help but be intimidated by the sheer disparity in wealth between Netari and himself. The gap was so wide, in fact, that she even had a pack of wolves¡ªliteral wolves¡ªkeeping watch for any potential trespassers, which left Midday stunned as to how such a thing was possible. One of the wolves that was watching him opened its mouth to yawn, revealing a soot-black tongue in the process of doing so.


    Aside from a strikingly well-dressed girl whose uniform had obviously been tailored to fit better than the incredibly baggy standard-issue attire everyone else wore, the place was a ghost town with absolutely no foot traffic. Netari¡¯s territory was positioned such that her cabins formed a little cul-de-sac at the end of one of the roads. It was a neat little place, thought Midday, and he could see right away how the doctor had earned her status as an ¡®upper-class slave¡¯. She even had her own well at the center of the cul-de-sac that Midday imagined was for Neteri¡¯s use alone.


    With Mister Potatoes sitting on his shoulder, Midday called out to the girl, who was currently in the middle washing one of the cabins. ¡°Umm¡­ I¡¯m here to meet with Netari? Is¡­ that you?¡± He already knew that the answer was no because Romulo had made it clear that Netari was unreasonably tall, and his girl was quite petite, but he just couldn¡¯t think of anything else to say.


    ¡°Nope!¡± answered the girl. ¡°I¡¯m her assistant. Or maybe it would be more accurate to call me an apprentice these days? I¡¯m not really sure, to be honest.¡± She set down the washcloth she had been using to wipe some dirt off the cabin and stepped toward Midday. ¡°In any case, the name¡¯s Veolia Songson. What kind of business are you here for? I see that you¡¯re injured, but it looks like someone¡¯s already taken care of that, no?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, uh, I have a friend who¡¯s pretty good at that sort of stuff.¡± Midday frowned, knowing that it would be wise not to mention Gork if he could help it. ¡°But I¡¯m actually here to talk to Netari about ¡®Tongue Jellies¡¯¡­ Romulo sent me, if that matters to you.¡±


    ¡°Oh! That¡¯s good!¡± Veolia walked all the way over to Midday. ¡°Netari has had a crush on that guy for sooo long now¡­ I¡¯m glad she finally made a move on him! They¡¯re kind of a cute couple, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if you can call them a couple after one date¡­ But sure.¡± Midday drew a deep breath. ¡°So, umm, anyway, is Netari home right now?¡±


    ¡°Yep!¡± said Veolia, ¡°But she¡¯s treating a patient in the medical cabin right now, so how about you come into the hangout cabin for some coffee while she wraps that up? We can chat, if you like.¡±


    ¡°Oh, umm, sure. That¡­ works.¡± He took a glance at the wolves. There were 5 of them in total, and each was watching Midday was keen eyes now that he was close to one of the residents they were supposed to protect. Midday really did not enjoy the way they glared at him, and his instincts told him that he was in danger so long as he was this close to them. Better get inside then.


    ¡°Alrighty then! Follow me!¡±


    He followed Veolia into one of the cabins. All of them were decorated slightly differently on the exteriors, and this one was painted a coastal shade of blue and had large glass windows on all four of its walls¡ªallowing huge amounts of sunlight into the building even at the late hour of the day.


    The interior was furnished with a small kitchen running along the wall opposite to the window and a couch along with a coffee table sitting in front of the brick fireplace. Most amazing of all to Midday, however, was the fact that the floor was made out of well-preserved planks of mahogany on which there were no bugs to be seen. Not even one? What the hell? He looked up to the ceiling and saw that there were no spiders or ants or anything at all crawling on it either. You got to be kidding me¡­ How? Midday his best to look calm and collected, but that was easier said than done when faced with such a chasmic difference in wealth.


    ¡°Feel free to sit down on the couch! I¡¯ll join you in a second. Just gotta fetch us some coffee first.¡±


    ¡°R-right.¡± He shuffled over to the couch and took a seat. It was the first time he had sat on anything besides dirt, grass, or bug-infested wood in two months, and he had forgotten just now nice it was to have a decent chair. He wanted to lean back and enjoy the seat as much as he could, but he kept himself from doing so, instead choosing to sit upright with a stiff back in hopes of looking focused and alert.


    Veolia came a few seconds later with two mugs full of a steaming-hot fluid that had a nearly opaque, black color. It had a distinct, earthy smell to it that he found quite appealing, but he wasn¡¯t sure what to make of it beyond that. ¡°Is this¡­ coffee?¡± He accidentally spoke the question on his mind.


    ¡°Is this your first time having coffee?¡± Veola sat down next to him on the couch, just inches away from Midday. She picked up one of the mugs and took a sip, as if to show him that it was safe, and set it down again. ¡°Why don¡¯t you give it a shot? Just remember to take a small sip at first or you¡¯ll burn your tongue!¡±


    ¡°Erm, alright.¡± Midday awkwardly picked up his mug and brought it to his lips, taking a small sip. He recoiled from the unexpected bitterness almost immediately thereafter. ¡°Is it supposed to be medicinal?¡±


    Veolia laughed. ¡°Ah, well, not really, but Netari might disagree with that¡­ She¡¯s hopelessly addicted to this stuff, you know. Stays up way too late drinking it sometimes. I¡¯m guessing you found it bitter?¡±


    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡± Midday blushed, surprised by and embarrassed about the fact that he had just addressed someone who was clearly the same age as himself with ma¡¯am as opposed to just using their name like a normal person.


    ¡°Just call me Veolia. No need to be so formal.¡±


    ¡°Right. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°And no need to apologize either!¡±


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Midday nodded and took another sip of his coffee, trying to appreciate what was surely a very expensive beverage as best he could. ¡°So¡­ I guess we can get down to business?¡±


    ¡°Business? What business? That¡¯s Netari¡¯s thing! You and I are going to sit here and make small talk about Netari and Romulo¡¯s flourishing relationship until Netari finishes her business with the client who¡¯s getting treated right now, got it?¡±


    ¡°O-okay then¡­?¡± Midday was stunned. This was evidently not how he had imagined his trip into Netari¡¯s territory would go, and he wasn¡¯t really sure how to react.


    ¡°Oh, and to be perfectly honest with you here, I have no idea how long it will be before she¡¯s finished in there! So get cozy¡­ because we might be here for a while.¡±


    The two of them spent the next 20 minutes making awkward small talk¡ªmost of which was her asking for advice on what kinds of things Romulo liked to do so that Netari could plan better dates and whatnot, but the conversation eventually drifted away from that towards education. Veolia was horrified upon learning that neither Midday nor Romulo knew how to read and, seeing as how Netari¡¯s meeting with her client was taking much longer than expected, Veolia eventually took out a novel she had been reading and had Midday look over her shoulder as she read it aloud, hoping that maybe he would pick up on a few things from the process. Midday learned absolutely nothing from this endeavor, but he was nonetheless glad that they had found something to do that didn¡¯t involve making conversation.


    Finally, after more than an hour of waiting, Netari burst through the door unannounced with blood still on her hands from the procedure she had been doing before then. Her first words were: ¡°Fucking finally! Holy shit! Who the hell loses not one, but BOTH of their legs in a single fucking day! Do you KNOW how LONG it took me to sew that shit back together? Like 3 hours, that¡¯s how long! What¡ª¡± She stopped herself from continuing upon noticing Midday sitting on the couch, taking on a much more professional-sounding tone after taking a moment to regain her composure. ¡°Oh¡­ I see we have a guest. You must be Midday, I take it?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. And, judging from your height, you¡¯re Netari.¡±


    Netari was tall. Unreasonably so. It might have been true that she was short relative to someone like Romulo but, to Midday, she was by all means a giant. She had a fairly decent athletic build to go along with her stature too and, from what he had learned after talking with Veolia, her appearance was for more than show.


    When you combined Netari¡¯s enormous stature with the fact that she was a whopping level 15, one could very easily argue that, before the recent arrival of Romulo, she had been the strongest slave in Neighborhood 8 in regard to raw physical might and, even now, one could still so far as to say that she was a contender for the status of having the best Ability in the Neighborhood. Midday hadn¡¯t known much about her before his conversation with Veolia, but he was now well aware of just how big of a deal she was. Even so, he remained calm and composed, trying to play it cool.


    ¡°Correct. So you¡¯re here for the Tongue Jelly procedure then? Good! Oddly enough, it¡¯s been difficult finding test subjects for this one.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here to talk about the Tongue Jelly procedure. And to claim my compensation for taking the trouble to come here for a visit. If I¡¯m sufficiently impressed by all that, I¡¯ll consider allowing you to perform this procedure on me.¡±


    ¡°The hell do you mean ¡®taking the trouble to come here for a visit¡¯? You live like 2 minutes away. Our houses are literally on the same street.¡±


    ¡°Even so, I expect that you¡¯ll honor your promise, no?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I will.¡± She shrugged. ¡°So, what do you want?¡±


    ¡°Well, frankly, not much. Just information.¡±


    ¡°What kind of information?¡±


    ¡°Put succinctly, to not waste your time, I want information about the black market.¡±


    ¡°Whoa, dude, slow down. You¡¯re awfully pushy for a level 5 brat, aren¡¯t you? I met you not even 30 seconds ago and yet you¡¯re already asking me to give you confidential information about something I almost certainly know nothing about. Can¡¯t you just ask me for food or something? You look like you need some. Romulo told me you were skinny¡­ but jeez. Not THAT skinny.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s what I¡¯ve got the Devil Peppercorn for,¡± said Midday.


    ¡°Uh, you do know that Devil Peppercorn only makes foods healthier, right? It doesn¡¯t add calories or anything like that. All it does is reallocate the way the calories in any given food are distributed in such as way as to maximize the ¡®healthiness¡¯ of any given meal for the specific needs of any given individual¡ªwhich is insanely impressive, of course, but it won¡¯t help you gain weight.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand. I thought the whole point of the ingredient was that it boosted the nutritional value of foods.¡±


    ¡°It does, but not in the way you think. Take oatmeal, for instance. You probably have that a lot, so it¡¯s a decent example.¡± Netari walked over to the kitchen and opened a cabinet in which there was a large collection of alcohol. She spent a few seconds surveying the options before grabbing a beer and taking a seat at a desk situated adjacent to the kitchen. ¡°Stop me if you don¡¯t know what these words mean, but oatmeal, as a food made purely out of grains, is very high in carbohydrates but, relatively speaking, is low in protein. This is normally fine, but seeing as you, in particular, are someone who does a lot of physical labor out in the field every day, it¡¯s only natural that you would benefit from getting more protein in your diet as opposed to carbohydrates. As such, Devil Peppercorn recognizes this and converts most of the preexisting carbohydrates into protein for you without adding or subtracting from the total number of calories present in the food. It¡¯s really nothing special in of itself, and you could theoretically obtain the same results via well-planned dieting but, realistically speaking, a Devil Peppercorn diet is always superior to a conventional one because the ingredient itself knows the exactly what your body needs at any given point in time and can adjust the dietary values of a meal accordingly in real-time.¡± She paused to take a sip from her beer. ¡°But again, it doesn¡¯t add or subtract calories. If you want to gain weight, the only way to do that with what you have available to you at the moment is to eat more food. Plain and simple.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ see.¡± Midday nodded. It was clear to him that her knowledge of the ingredient was miles ahead of what Gork had been able to tell him¡ªthough he only understood maybe half of the jargon she had used. ¡°So, what happens when you increase your dosage? Is there a benefit to doing that?¡±


    ¡°There is.¡± She took another sip of beer. ¡°The efficacy of the ingredient increases in a ¡®1 + ? + ? + 1/n¡¯ sequence, meaning that 3 beads give 75% better results than taking only 1, which might be worth the suffering if you¡¯re especially desperate, but that taking, say, 10 beads¡ªnot that such a thing would be possible¡ªwould only give 99% better results than taking 1 bead. It¡¯s less than double the efficacy for 10 times higher intake. In simpler terms, there are diminishing returns as the dosage increases.¡± She took yet another sip of beer, finishing off the entire bottle in only 3 sips. ¡°The mechanism for how that works, before you ask, is that Devil Peppercorn achieves a greater level of control over the nutritional values of any given food as the concentration increases, allowing to more precisely adjust its properties to better maximize health benefit.¡± Netari sighed. ¡°I trust that¡¯s all the information you needed?¡±


    ¡°Well, my question was about the black market¡­¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t give fuck what your question was. That¡¯s all the information you¡¯re getting today. Consider yourself rewarded.¡± She lazily set aside the beer bottle and stood up. ¡°Now that that¡¯s out of the way, let¡¯s talk about the Tongue Jellies, shall we? Come with me. I¡¯ll take you to the laboratory cabin.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Midday stood up and followed her out the door. ¡°See you later, Veolia.¡± He figured he would get another chance to ask Netari about the black market soon enough and, since the information about Devil Peppercorn had been fairly useful, he was satisfied for the time being.


    Veolia returned the farewell and, with that, Midday and Netari set out for the laboratory.

 21. Lab

    The cabin that housed Netari¡¯s laboratory was fairly unassuming from the outside¡ªwith no real special features besides a comically large padlock that secured a door comprised of solid stone. Upon stepping inside, however, Midday felt as though he had been transported into a different world. There were still the same standard wooden walls and low ceiling you could find in every cabin, but there were a few key differences that struck him as important¡ªthe first, and probably less impressive in the grand scheme of things was the fact that the floor was built from stone tiles instead of dirt and that, like the other cabin, it was completely devoid of bugs¡ªbut the second thing he noticed, which by the most bizarre, was the presence of innumerous glass tubes and beakers filled with even more odd fluids of various colors and consistencies littered about several different tables along with various anatomy charts and things along those lines hanging from the walls. There was an enormous bookshelf too, bigger than any bookshelf Midday had ever seen, and it was filled to the brim with various volumes and tomes he imagined probably had to do with medical stuff in one way or another.


    ¡°Welcome to the lab! This is where I design new treatments and procedures.¡± Netari took a seat on a chair that Midday decided was notable for the fact that it had wheels and could spin around if Netari wanted it to. ¡°You ought to consider yourself lucky. Most of my patients never get to see this place.¡±


    ¡°Maybe so, but I reckon most of your patients don¡¯t have to worry about parasites infesting their tongues.¡±


    Netari scoffed. ¡°Tongue Jellies are NOT parasitic. Why does everyone keep saying that?¡± She grabbed a tube filled with a black, tarlike fluid off her desk and twirled it in her fingers. ¡°Parasites are creatures that greedily live off their hosts while offering nothing in return, but Tongue Jellies aren¡¯t like that. They offer a ridiculously wide range of benefits in exchange for their host allowing them to live inside their body. Honestly! The more I research them, the more impressed I become. Those little suckers can do everything!¡± Netari extended her hand toward Midday, holding up the vial in which the tarlike fluid resided. ¡°Anyways, this is the specimen that would be replacing your tongue should you choose to go through with the procedure. This little guy can do a lot more for you than make it possible to eat Devil Peppercorn, you know. Have you ever seen how lizards use their tongues to navigate and whatnot? You would be able to do that too should you let this guy into your mouth. Have you ever seen how frogs can catch flies with their tongues? You would be able to do that too. You know how some cats have prickly tongues that they can use to peel back flesh? Well, you get the idea by now. One of my wolves has already gotten to the point where he can sharpshoot birds out of the sky only using its spit.¡±


    Midday staggered backward upon considering. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be joking! I don¡¯t care how amazing it is. I still don¡¯t want some sort of weird, alien, ¡®thing¡¯ squirming around in my mouth all the time!¡±


    ¡°Oh, relax, will you? The Tongue Jelly hooks into your nervous system in exactly the same way that your regular tongue would, so you would be able to control it just like you can control your boring regular tongue. The only downside is that you would have to eat ever so slightly more food to support the enhanced functionality of your tongue.¡±


    ¡°And¡­ just how much more are we talking?¡±


    ¡°Like 10 percent.¡±


    Midday thought in silence for a moment. Presuming that everything Netari was saying was true, it really did seem like the benefits far outweighed the costs. If the only downside was the fact that he would have to eat a little bit more, that didn¡¯t seem quite so bad. It certainly beat the suffering through the hell that was eating Devil Peppercorn twice per day. Even so, Midday knew he had to exercise caution and so he finally mentioned the beetle on his shoulder.


    ¡°Tell you what: if you perform your surgery on this beetle and let me watch you throughout every step of the process, explaining everything you do during the operation, and I find it all to be agreeable, I will consider allowing you to carry out your procedure on me: a human test subject. Additionally, because of the experimental and therefore risky nature of this surgery, I would expect compensation in the form of you helping me get my foot in the door regarding the black market and the world of smuggling. To further sweeten the deal on your end, I would also allow you to call me into this building once per week for a 30-minute checkup should such a thing interest you. How does all that sound?¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Hah. I bet you had thought of all that a while ago and were waiting to say that, weren¡¯t you?¡± Netari chuckled. ¡°Alright. I accept your terms as they are.¡±


    ¡°That easily?¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah. All that sounds fine to me.¡±


    ¡°Oh, umm alright.¡± Midday shrugged. ¡°Well, here¡¯s my beetle. His name is Mister Potatoes.¡±


    ¡°Well met, Mister Potatoes.¡± Netari grinned. ¡°I guess it¡¯s time to get this show on the road?¡±


    ¡°Do what you will.¡± He handed Mister Potatoes off to Netari, who set him down on her table.


    What followed was a two-hour-long surgery, during most of which Netari was explaining the various aspects of the procedure in highly technical detail. Midday understood very little of it, but he understood that the basic idea behind the operation was simple: the reason Tongue Jellies were normally unable to infect anything larger than a squirrel was because their mechanism of attachment required them to penetrate into the core of the tongue where the nerve endings and veins resided¡ªwhich was something they were unable to accomplish in larger creatures. As such, Netari¡¯s method involved cutting an artificial ¡®tunnel¡¯ of sorts into the base of the tongue and then allowing the Jelly to insert itself into that tunnel before stitching the incision shut using her Ability. It was a fairly simple process, thought Midday, and Netari promised him that she had to go extra slow during the demonstration because she was performing the surgery on a beetle, which was something she had never done before, and she assured him that the actual procedure, when performed on him, would take less than an hour¡ªpossibly less than 30 minutes.


    After everything was said and done, and the paralysis-inducing drug she had used to keep the beetle still throughout the procedure had run its course, Mister Potatoes got up and started walking around as though nothing had happened.


    ¡°Amazing¡­¡± Midday stared at the beetle, who really did seem perfectly fine. ¡°So how will we know it worked?¡±


    ¡°Well, I guess the first test I¡¯d do if I were you would be with Devil Peppercorn. That¡¯s your main area of concern, right?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. I guess I¡¯ll do that when I get back to my cabin. It¡¯s getting awfully late, but I have a canister of beads there, so I should be able to do a quick test.¡±


    ¡°Alright. Well, is there anything else you need from me before you go?¡±


    ¡°Not that I can think of.¡±


    ¡°Then hurry up and leave. I¡¯m going to bed now.¡± She got up from her swivel chair and ushered Midday out of the cabin before closing the door behind them and locking it shut. ¡°Damn¡­ I really just spent 2 hours doing surgery on a beetle¡­ Fucking hell¡­ Well, good night, I guess. Bye.¡± Netari walked away before disappearing into one of the cabins¡ªthis one notable for the fact that it was 2 stories tall.


    I guess that takes care of that. Midday sighed before walking back to Slave Quarter #344 with a quick stride. At about the halfway mark, he stopped after noticing some ants crawling along the road. Might as well give it a quick test. He took a Devil Peppercorn bead out of his pocket and crushed it up a rock he found on the ground. With that done, he squashed one of the ants under his thumb and rolled its body around in the powder, which disappeared as it vanished into the corpse. Now that he had a Devil Peppercorn-infused ant, he brought it up to Mister Potatoes, who ate it without a second thought and seemed perfectly fine afterward. It worked THAT fast? What the fuck? Midday drew a deep breath. Looks like I seriously ought to start thinking about getting that procedure. He sighed again at the thought of the operation before continuing the rest of the way back to the cabin.


    It was dark inside the cabin when he arrived, with the fireplace probably having been extinguished a while ago by then. Gork and Glauster were sleeping already, and Romulo was nowhere to be seen¡ªpresumably because he was out grinding XP in the forest. Midday wasted no time in setting his beetle down on the ceiling and going to bed, though he found it difficult to sleep that night now that all the pieces were finally coming together.


    Using the power of the ring, he could give himself essentially limitless food with the blackberry bush while also giving himself essentially limitless Devil Peppercorn that he could sprinkle onto said food. Moreover, the Tongue Jelly, disgusting as it was, had finally given him the solution for the main issue associated with the peppercorn, that being the bad taste. If figuring how to make effective use of Devil Peppercorn had been a puzzle, Midday was confident in saying that he had finally managed to solve it¡ªand that he would soon be much, much better off as the result. His initial intent had been to wait a while to see how Mister Potatoes reacted to the surgery but, after seeing how effective the procedure had already proven itself to be, Midday decided to have the surgery as soon as he possibly could.


    He fell asleep with a smile on his face, impatiently waiting for the next day.

 22. Time

    Midday awoke tired as ever. One thing that no amount of Devil Peppercorn could fix was his chronic lack of sleep. It was true that the insomnia he had once suffered from during his time as a villager had all but gone away by then¡ªthanks to the extreme exhaustion inherent to the life of a slave¡ªbut he still had the issue of going to bed extremely late and waking up extremely early. No amount of his newfound diligence and grit that had been borne out of his finding of the ring could speed up how long it took to complete his daily quotas and so, to accomplish all the things he had over the past few days, it was only natural that he had to pay a price in the form of sleep.


    Because of the surgery he had watched on the previous night, plus his endeavors in the garden, Midday reckoned he had gotten less than 5 hours of sleep that morning. The resulting exhaustion was palpable to him and anyone who might have seen him: with heavy bags under his eyes and a general sluggishness to each of his movements making it obvious. Maybe sleep is the next thing I ought to work on¡­


    With a sigh, he forced himself to sit up.


    ¡°You were out awfully late last night,¡± said Gork as he combed through the knots in his hair. ¡°I got worried and was planning to head out to the fields to make sure you were alright, but Romulo was acting really weird and assured me that you were fine.¡± Gork frowned. ¡°Just what have you gotten yourself into? Ever since you lost that finger¡­ Or, no, maybe it was when you had heat stroke the day before that¡­ Ever since whatever it was, you¡¯ve certainly changed¡­ I feel like it wasn¡¯t that long ago when pretty much everything you said was self-pitying bullshit¡­ So what changed?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a lot to unpack at 6 in the morning,¡± answered Midday, who normally would have been nervous by that point, but the exhaustion kept him from feeling much of anything. Even so, he obviously couldn¡¯t tell Gork about the ring, and Romulo had asked him not to say anything about Netari either. As such, Midday felt that his hands were behind his back. He had to keep it vague. ¡°I¡¯m sure you, of all people, know how near-death experiences change people.¡±


    ¡°I do, but I can¡¯t help but feel that this goes beyond that.¡± Gork shook his head. ¡°And it¡¯s not like this is your first near-death experience either. That was your second run-in with heat stroke, and all it did the first time was make you even more insufferable with the ¡®death is a mercy for the weak¡¯ stuff. Why was the result so different the second time?¡±


    ¡°This is too much conversation for 6 in the morning.¡±


    ¡°Whatever you say, Midday. I can tell that you¡¯re hiding something, but I suppose you must have your reasons for doing so. I won¡¯t pry any further.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not hiding anything, but thanks for the sentiment.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡± Gork shrugged and then, with a deeper frown than before, continued brushing his hair. ¡°On a lighter note, one of my patients gifted me some shampoo the other day. My hair is looking better than ever.¡±


    ¡°Shampoo?¡± Midday was glad to see that Gork was letting him off the hook with the previous topic so easily.


    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s a type of soap, I guess. You lather it into your hair and whatnot. Speaking of which, when was the last time you took a bath?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a good question.¡±


    ¡°You really ought to do it every now and again. Staying clean helps ward off disease and all that.¡±


    ¡°It can go on the to-do list for things to do when I have more free time.¡± Midday rose up to his feet, his body still feeling heavy from the lack of sleep. He then reached up to the ceiling and grabbed Mister Potatoes. The beetle seemed to be doing fairly well, without any obvious signs of sickness, and Midday smiled upon seeing this. ¡°But, for now, well, there are only so many hours in a day.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough. I imagine that Devil Peppercorn will start showing its first results over the next few days so who knows? You might find yourself finishing work in under 8 hours per day fairly soon¡ªI think should be about the limit of what you can expect to accomplish with the ¡®good health¡¯ Devil Peppercorn provides.¡±


    ¡°And then I would have to level-up if I wanted to improve beyond that?¡±


    ¡°Something like that, yeah.¡±


    Gork and Midday talked for a little while longer about the various things happening throughout the plantation, with a discussion of a supposed visit from a plantation higher-up that was scheduled to happen at some point within the near future at the forefront of the conversation. Gork believed that Jenjo would do something to commemorate the occasion, but he didn¡¯t even begin to guess what that might be.


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    Glauster came in with a pot full of water not long thereafter, and the three of them ate breakfast together¡ªwith Midday, as per usual, being pressured into eating his Devil Peppercorn-infested oatmeal. Everyone else left after eating while Midday suffered through an hour of hell and then, as soon as the taste left his mouth, Midday grabbed his scythe and left for the fields.


    ?


    Midday did not complete his quota that day.


    He tried his hardest, straining himself to the point of exhaustion and then beyond even that but, between his recently acquired injuries and all the other factors holding him back, the area of the wheat field marked off for him to cut that day was simply too large for him to stand any chance of completing before sunset.


    At first, he blamed it on luck: the people who came to the fields every night to designate everyone¡¯s quotas were notoriously inconsistent with their work, with the size of any given quota oftentimes feeling completely arbitrary. They had given him an unusually large quota that day and, at first, Midday chalked his failure up to that fact alone.


    But, as he laid there in the field, his back pressed flat against a prickly bed of wheat and his eyes gazing at the starry nighttime sky above, Midday decided that there was more to it than that¡ªand that the real person to blame was none other than himself. He had been drunk off the ring¡¯s power, he realized, and had failed to realize just how much he had been overworking himself ever since discovering it. Every single night, he went off and did something in a quest to improve his circumstances, disregarding an ever-growing need for rest in the process. But the exhaustion had finally caught up to him.


    Strike one.


    Time was the problem: Midday simply didn¡¯t have enough of it. Every action¡ªno matter so small¡ªhad a price. Doing one thing necessarily meant not doing something else, for time, by nature, was limited. Every hour he spent suffering after eating peppercorn-infused food was an hour that otherwise could have been spent sleeping or gardening or even just working in the field. Given that the taste from 1 bead of Devil Peppercorn lasted 1 hour and that he consumed 2 beads per day, simple math dictated that he spent 2 hours of precious time each day to peppercorn paralysis. Was the benefit obtained from the crop really worth that much time? He decided that the answer was no. It was impossible to justify that kind of time expenditure for something whose benefits were so slow to materialize.


    But, of course, that was where Netari¡¯s experimental surgery came into the equation. If successful, he would gain 2 hours every day to spend however he wished while still being able to enjoy the benefits of Devil Peppercorn. It was true that there was a great deal of risk involved, but Midday was more than ready to take risks by that point.


    Midday stood up onto wobbly feet and surveyed the field as he started the long walk towards Netari¡¯s territory. The fact that he had failed stung all that much more upon realizing that he had completed all but a sliver of his quota: twenty minutes more and he would have finished. It was too late now though, and chances were that the watchmen standing on the Neighborhood wall had already recorded the strike. He wanted to be angry, to rage at the cruelty of his circumstances, but all Midday could do as he walked away was let out a defeated sigh.


    ?


    Netari¡¯s wolves greeted Midday with howls upon his arrival to their cul-de-sac. From there, they made quick work of surrounding him such that he didn¡¯t dare move an inch. Even so, Midday found himself unafraid. He could tell at a glance that they were well-trained and that he was safe so long he didn¡¯t act out of line.


    After a few minutes of howling, Netari finally got the memo and popped out of the cabin Veolia had taken him into on the previous night. She was wearing pajamas by then, something Midday had never seen before, and was holding a coffee mug so gigantic that she had to hold it with both hands.


    ¡°Midday! What the hell is wrong with you, showing up this late?¡± She waved to the wolves and, with that, all of them went silent before sulking off into the darkness. ¡°Do you not see the sign on my door? It says ¡®CLOSED¡¯, dumbass. For your sake, I hope you have a good reason for being here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here for the Tongue Jelly procedure.¡±


    Netari stood silent for a moment before shrugging. ¡°Fair enough. Alright then. Stand out here for a bit. I need a few minutes to get things ready.¡± Netari hurried off to the two-story cabin Midday assumed was the one she used as her house and exited a few minutes later wearing short-sleeved clothes. From there, she went into the medical cabin and came out carrying several vials of various drugs and medicines. ¡°Follow me inside,¡± she said as she walked towards yet another cabin. This one was painted dark red and had neither windows nor even a chimney.


    Midday followed her into the cabin and found that, as expected, this was the medical cabin: the place where she did most of her work throughout the day. There was a wide variety of medical equipment scattered throughout the room, most of which Midday recognized due to the time he¡¯d spent with Gork, but there were a few additional, obviously more sophisticated instruments thrown into the mix as well¡ªfirst and foremost among them was a complete set of surgical tools along the lines of various scalpels and scissors. The real star of the show, however, was a gigantic slab of smooth white marble at the center of the room. A layer of fabric-covered its surface, probably as a means of soaking up any blood that might be spilled during the procedure, and Midday was altogether amazed that she could afford to use such eccentric equipment.


    ¡°Alright. Lie yourself down on the slab. The sooner we get this done, the better.¡±

 23. Agreement

    Midday drew a deep breath as he reluctantly sat himself on the operating table. A heavy pit of anxiousness was forming in his chest as he came face-to-face with the reality of the situation: he was allowing what was essentially a stranger to perform an experimental surgery on him that had never been tested on a human before. A procedure that, if successful, would result in him having some sort of alien ¡®creature¡¯ permanently embedded in his mouth and, if it was unsuccessful, well, he tried his best not to think about that. Either way, Midday found himself nauseous with fear. He had a strong urge to back out, to run away and try his luck with a different approach, but the fact remained that he was desperate to see improvement fast¡ªand that this was the quickest way toward that end.


    ¡°Drink this,¡± said Netari as she handed him a vial of yellow liquid he knew after watching this same surgery be performed on Mister Potatoes was the anesthetic that would keep him from flailing about throughout the procedure.


    Midday took the vial and stared at it for a while, not quite ready to take the plunge.


    Netari, seeing this behavior, rolled her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re wasting my time. Yours too.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I know, but this is serious¡­¡± Midday looked down at his lap, taking his eyes away from the vial. ¡°I won¡¯t lose my sense of taste or anything like that, right? And there are no downsides to this procedure besides an increased appetite, right?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the theory, yeah.¡±


    ¡°But you don¡¯t know anything for sure¡­¡±


    ¡°How could I? You¡¯ll be the first human I¡¯ve done this procedure on.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re reasonably confident that everything will work out fine in the end, right?¡±


    ¡°If I had to put an estimate on it, I would probably put the likelihood that everything goes off without a hitch at 70 percent.¡±


    Midday froze. ¡°Only 70 percent? Isn¡¯t that¡­ kind of low?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m 100 percent confident that you¡¯ll survive the surgery, at the very least. The only way you could die is if you went into shock, but I have the means of handling that should it happen. You really don¡¯t need to be so worried. I¡¯m the best doctor in Neighborhood 8, you know.¡±


    ¡°But what does that 70 percent represent then, if not survival?¡±


    ¡°Unforeseen side effects.¡± Netari shrugged. ¡°Again, I¡¯ve tested this procedure on several animals over the past few weeks, including several large mammals. The results have been promising across the board, so I see no reason to believe that the results would be any different for a human.¡±


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    ¡°But what if they are?¡±


    ¡°Then that would be your problem, not mine.¡± Netari walked over to Midday and bent down above him, with her towering frame looming over the feeble young man. ¡°Tell you what: how about I sweeten the deal for you just so that we can get things moving along? I''ll have one of the people indebted to me complete your quota tomorrow in your stead so that you can take the day off to recover from the surgery¡ªnot this is a procedure that you need a whole day to recover from. How does that sound?¡±


    ¡°But wouldn¡¯t that person get a strike?¡±


    ¡°They would, yes, but that¡¯s not your problem, is it?¡±


    ¡°No¡­ I suppose not.¡± Midday sighed. He felt a little guilty about so readily accepting an offer that would inevitably result in the suffering of someone else, but only a little. Altruism was by no means his strong suit. ¡°I¡¯ll do it if you bump your offer up to two days.¡± He kept his eyes on his lap, neither daring to look up at the giant above him nor exactly sure why he had risked ruining what was undeniably already a very generous offer.


    Netari grinned. ¡°The person I have in mind for this already has a strike, you know. They would end up spending the wheel if I made them do that¡­ which is fine by me, of course¡ªperhaps even preferable in this specific case¡ªbut I don¡¯t know if the same holds true for you. Do you really want to send someone to the wheel just so that you can laze about doing nothing for an extra day?¡±


    ¡°Do you not have multiple people indebted to you? Wouldn¡¯t it be possible to have one person do my quota one day and then have another complete it on the day after that?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps I do. But frankly, I would prefer to send this person to the wheel if possible. Being as cruel as possible to those who go against me is good for my image. Gotta send a message and all that, you know how these things go.¡±


    Midday flinched. He had forgotten just how notorious Netari was among the residents of Neighborhood 8. She was someone who had no qualms about letting patients die if they refused to accept her outrageously unfair terms, and had even been known to have other competing doctors killed off if their affairs conflicted with hers. Midday reckoned she probably would have had Gork assassinated too if the good-natured doctor hadn¡¯t been under Romulo¡¯s protection. ¡°And¡­ just what did this person to anger you so much?¡±


    ¡°They went to another doctor despite agreeing that I would be the only doctor they would ever visit for the rest of their lives.¡±


    ¡°Oh, umm, I see¡­¡±


    ¡°So what will it be, Midday? Make your decision.¡±


    ¡°I guess¡­ I¡¯ll take the two-day option.¡± Midday felt like an awful person, and he found himself amazed by the sheer extent of his callousness. If this stranger got unlucky with the wheel¡ªwhich was not very uncommon at all¡ªthey very well might die because of this decision. Moreover, if they managed to get a nonfatal yet still hazardous option, Netari would surely use their injuries as a chance to make them all that much more indebted to her. And yet despite having considered all of these possibilities, Midday had still made the greedy choice in the end. The guilt was already weighing down on him somewhat, but the real source of discomfort was fear about what might happen if his cabinmates¡ªespecially Gork¡ªfound out about this arrangement.


    ¡°Ha! I underestimated you, Midday! Two days it is!¡± She let out a hearty laugh before curling her lips into an impatient frown. ¡°Now hurry up and chug that vial.¡±


    Midday did as instructed and finished off everything in the vial in one huge bitter gulp. His muscles immediately started relaxing themselves as a result, making it nearly impossible to move them in any way whatsoever. A few seconds later, his mind started getting hazy, and then, just a few seconds after that, he was out cold.


    Netari wasted no time in beginning the procedure.

 24. Aligned

    Midday gradually came to his senses as the anesthetic wore off. His mind was foggy because of the drug, and it was difficult to think coherently, but he was nonetheless vaguely aware of the fact that the surgery ended a while ago by then¡ªas evidenced by the fact that it was almost pitch-black inside the cabin, with only a sliver of sunlight coming in through the gap between the door and the floor. Must¡¯ve slept through the night¡­


    Unable to do much else, he let out a sigh which, oddly enough, came out as a soft whistle. Huh¡­ He wondered if that had just been a random one-off thing or if perhaps it had something to do with the surgery. Another sigh proved it was the latter.


    ¡°What the¡­¡± He laid there in quiet confusion as the last dregs of anesthesia ran their course, thinking to the best of his ability about the procedure and the effects might have already had. He could feel his tongue very acutely in his mouth, moreso than ever before¡ªand he felt as though the sense of touch inherent to the organ had increased in detail to an extraordinary degree, allowing him to discern the textures of the parts of his mouth it brushed up against with incredible clarity: from the smooth backsides of his teeth to softy pulpy feel of his gums to even the dangling tonsils at the back of his mouth, this newfound level of spatial awareness of the insides of his mouth told him more about each object than what should have been possible to discern. ¡°Ugh¡­¡± The ability to feel every little bump and fold of anything that came into contact with his tongue almost reminded him of Devil Peppercorn and the way the ingredient amplified the apparent texture of any food it came into contact with, and Midday wasn¡¯t exactly sure he enjoyed this newly improved sense of touch.


    He laid there for another ten minutes or so before the anesthetic finally wore off enough to start moving around, all the while acquainting himself with the previously unknown details of his mouth¡ªthe most prevalent of which were various mixtures of plaque and tartar that had he now knew had been accumulating throughout his mouth throughout his life. He remembered Gork mentioning the importance of ¡®brushing your teeth¡¯ in the past and, though Midday hadn¡¯t really believed everything Gork told him back then, he certainly did now. His mouth, he now knew, was disgusting.


    Sitting up, stuck his pointer finger into his mouth and felt at his tongue. It was an endeavor that made him realize that his tongue now had a far more potent sense of touch than anything his fingers could hope to match. He could feel the various wrinkles and layers of his skin to the point where he could easily visualize his fingerprint¡ªsomething he hadn¡¯t even known existed before then. As for what his finger was able to discern, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Besides feeling perhaps slightly more ¡®solid¡¯, there really wasn¡¯t any difference.


    ¡°Guess it went well enough¡­¡± He sighed again¡ªwhich this time came out as a proper sigh, as opposed to the odd whistle that had occurred the first few times he had tried it after waking up. Glad that¡¯s in order. He forced himself up onto his feet and started toward the door. He wasn¡¯t sure as to exactly what time it was, but he hoped that it would be late enough into the morning for Netari to be awake so that he could ask her some questions.


    Popping out of the medical cabin, he found that the sun had been up for maybe an hour or two. Did I sleep through the 30-minutes-before-sunrise bell? Yikes¡­ That¡¯s new. Veolia was standing outside in the cul-de-sac doing some sort of martial arts punching practice, and Midday noticed upon seeing this that her fists were shining with fiery red light. She was only punching the air in front of her and yet the force behind each blow was so great that the leaves on the ground were blown around with every strike. He reckoned that there was enough power behind her fists to knock someone¡¯s head off their shoulders.


    ¡°Practicing with your Ability?¡± Midday stepped out toward her with a neutral face. He wasn¡¯t in an especially good mood at that moment, and all he really wanted was to talk to Netari about how the procedure went.


    ¡°You guessed it! Weekly Fight Club is tomorrow, and my opponent is a lot stronger this time than usual¡ªso I¡¯m freshening up on my Opus.¡±


    Midday, though not entirely interested in the subject matter, couldn¡¯t help but raise an eyebrow. He had known Veolia was by no means an average slave, but the fact that she could use an Opus meant that she was a stage two Ability user¡ªwhich in turn meant that she possessed a level of skill with at least one of her Abilities that was sufficient to develop ultra-powerful named techniques using said Ability. Midday knew of less than 10 people in the Neighborhood capable of using Opuses, and he had never expected that Veolia would join their ranks. At once he understood why Netari allowed her to live such a seemingly carefree lifestyle: depending on the specific details of her Opus, which Midday assumed was something meant for combat based on her training methods, she could probably go toe-to-toe with someone several levels above her and win with ease. Veolia¡¯s presence alone probably deterred most people from going against Netari¡ªwho was also an Opus user, albeit one focused on developing medical techniques as opposed to something better suited for winning fights.


    ¡°Oh? I didn¡¯t realize you were a member of the fight club¡­ What level are you, if you don¡¯t mind me asking?¡±


    ¡°Level 12!¡± Veolia let her fists drop to her sides and shrugged. ¡°You really don¡¯t keep up with Weekly Flight Club, do you? They¡¯ve got all that sort of info up on the rankings bulletin¡ª¡± She stopped for a moment and then shook her head. ¡°Though I guess that isn¡¯t very helpful for someone who doesn¡¯t know how to read¡­¡±


    ¡°No, umm, not particularly.¡± Midday looked past Veolia towards the two-story cabin in which he imagined Netari resided. ¡°I hate to bother you with this, seeing how you¡¯re busy with training and all, but do you think it would be okay for me to talk to Netari?¡±


    ¡°Probably, but she¡¯s actually out on business right now. Had to pay a visit to that guy who¡¯s doing your quotas for the next few days and whatnot.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ When will she be back?¡±


    ¡°Well, she¡¯s got a meeting with Jenjo and Mell this morning too, so that might take a while¡­ I dunno, maybe come back late in the afternoon?¡± She reassumed her stance and resumed the training she had been doing for a few seconds before turning back to Midday one last time. ¡°Oh, and, by the way, you¡¯re free to grab some food from our pantry before you go, if you¡¯d like! I imagine your cabinmates have already had their breakfasts and cleaned the pots by now, so it¡¯d probably just be more convenient to eat here real quick before you go!¡±


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    ¡°Oh, uh, thank you for the offer¡­ But I think I¡¯ll pass. I don¡¯t have much of an appetite right now.¡± Midday failed to stop a smile from forming on his lips as he thought about the fresh blackberries waiting for him in the forest. To say he wasn¡¯t hungry had been a lie but, given that he was dealing with Netari, albeit indirectly, he was reluctant to accept one-way favors she would certainly him to reciprocate at some point. ¡°I think I¡¯m just going to go back to my cabin and sleep for a few more hours.¡±


    ¡°Ah, well, you do you. See you soon!¡±


    ¡°See you soon.¡± Midday left the Netari¡¯s territory and started heading toward his garden in the forest. He was still tired, that much was true, but curiosity surpassed exhaustion and he was more than a little curious to see how the experience of eating food would be different now that he had what was essentially a new tongue. He was especially curious to see how his new tongue would handle Devil Peppercorn.


    ?


    As he stood there in the garden, feeling relatively safe in his aloneness, a subdued giggle escaped Midday¡¯s lips. This was the moment of truth, he thought, the stars had finally aligned after several hellish days of doing everything in his power to get to this point. All three issues had been addressed: food supply, Devil Peppercorn supply, and the bad taste inherent to Devil Peppercorn-infused food. All he had to do now was put his solutions to the test.


    He hurried over to the Devil Peppercorn vine and plucked a clump containing about a hundred beads off the tree before making his way to the blackberry bush and picking almost two pounds¡¯ worth of berries. After that step was taken care of, he set the berries down on a flat stone.


    In a small corner of the same stone, he dumped all the peppercorn beads and started crushing them up with the help of a rock of such size that he had to hold it with both hands. After he was finished making the powder, he simply scooped it up with his hands and sprinkled it onto the pile of blackberries until, at last, all traces of the powder were gone¡ªhaving been fully absorbed into the berries.


    Now came the part he had been dreading most: the taste test. His hands began to tremble with nervous anticipation. Midday took some amount of solace in the fact that Mister Potatoes had been fine after having some Devil Peppercorn-infused ants on the previous night, but the ordeal was nerve-wracking all the same. He took a big gulp, swallowing his fears¡ªif only for a moment¡ªas he bent down and picked up a single berry. His hands were shaking so terribly by then that could hardly keep the berry from falling out of his palm but, before any such thing could happen, he shut his eyes tight and stuck it into his mouth:


    Nothing.


    There was no taste. Absolutely none. He could still make out the texture of the blackberry¡ªand in unimaginably high detail at that¡ªbut there was no trace of either the sweet tanginess of the blackberry or the hell that was Devil Peppercorn. The extremely potent texture of the Devil Peppercorn-infused food, which he now realized had probably just been in his head the whole time, was also absent. ¡°What the hell?¡± Now a tad worried because of the flavorless void in his mouth, he tried his luck with another berry.


    Still nothing.


    ¡°Did I¡­ No¡­ That can¡¯t be¡­¡± Midday hopped up onto his feet, made his way to the blackberry bush, picked an untainted blackberry off the plant, and stuck it into his mouth.


    Another dose of bland nothingness.


    He was still able to enjoy the texture somewhat¡ªowing in large part to the vastly improved sense of touch that his new tongue provided¡ªbut, regarding taste, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. His stomach dropped as he connected the dots. He had lost his sense of taste in its entirety: it was as though each of his tastebuds had been exchanged for thousands upon thousands of microscopic feelers that gave him great tactile awareness at the expense of his ability to taste food.


    Midday stood still as a statue for a while, mortified at what he had done to himself, before drawing in a deep breath and then letting out what very well might have been the biggest sigh of his life.


    ¡°Fucking hell¡­¡± He half-heartedly hoped that Netari would be able to fix him, but he had his doubts. Plus, even if she could do something, she would be almost certain to charge a price he would never be able to afford for the service. Now that Midday had gotten the surgery, he was back to being just yet another customer for her to squeeze as much value out of as possible. Midday knew he could also ask Gork for help, but the fact of the matter was that Gork, while talented in every sense of the word, was nowhere near as skilled as Netari and, though Midday supposed that it would probably be fine to ask Gork for advice regardless, he decided against it: Gork very rarely got angry, but Midday was certain that the young doctor would be furious if he ever found out that he had worked alongside Netari¡ªeven moreso if he ever learned that Midday had all but sentenced someone to the wheel in the process of doing so.


    With the deepest frown of his life spread across his face, Midday started shoveling the remaining two pounds of berries into his mouth. Though he planned to visit Netari to at the very least ask some questions about the loss of taste, he decided that, in the meantime, it was best to make the most of the situation. He could eat an unlimited amount of Devil Peppercorn with zero repercussion and, though he now detested the means by which he had achieved this feat, it was by no means something to make light of. He gorged himself until his stomach felt as though it would pop at any second and then beyond even that until every single Devil Peppercorn-infused blackberry had been devoured.


    He sat down his back pressed against a tree as he pondered the significance of this meal: he had just consumed more than a hundred beads¡¯ worth of Devil Peppercorn without suffering the ill effects of their taste even slightly. Complete immunity. That was what he had achieved¡ªthough he found the price he had paid for it far too steep. There was some level of enjoyment in exploring the innumerable nuances of texture between blackberries, but that was more along the lines of scholarly appreciation than anything else. It paled in comparison to actually being able to enjoy the taste of food, which was an ability he desperately prayed might be returned to him in the coming days.


    He rested at the base of that tree for a while, forgetting his policy of always spending the absolute minimum amount of time in his garden as possible in doing so. There was a lot on his mind, and security certainly wasn¡¯t one of them. Even so, after fifteen minutes of sitting in silence, he forced himself to get up and dig out the ring. Gotta use my charges.


    ¡°Effect Added. Elvanerean Ring: Accelerates growth of any plant the user points at by one year. Can be used 3 times per day.¡±


    He gave the first charge to the peppercorn vine, which sprouted another 5 clusters of Devil Peppercorn as a result¡ªall of which were still much smaller than the Devil Peppercorns from Neighborhood 6. That brought his estimated total number of beads up to a little under a thousand, which seemed like more than what he could ever possibly need.


    The second charge went to the blackberry bush, which fully replenished its supply of blackberries. There were enough on the bush to last him several days¡ªif not a whole week¡ªif he only ate as hunger dictated, but Midday instead planned to finish the entire supply in just two days. He knew that he needed to gain weight and that he needed to do it fast so, naturally, he planned to eat as much food as possible each day until he achieved the physique he wanted.


    The third and final charge for the day went to a thorny bush, which sprouted up between two trees, mostly blocking both the path and the view into the garden. It wasn¡¯t perfect, and Midday reckoned that he would probably need to give it another charge to get the full coverage he wanted, but Midday nonetheless considered it a good start.


    With all that taken care of, he took off the ring, buried it, and set off for the cabin¡ªwhere he hoped to spend the next few hours catching up on sleep.

 25. Tea

    ¡°So you¡¯re alive after all.¡± Midday awoke to the sound of Glauster¡¯s voice. The 15-year-old sounded tired and maybe even a little distraught. Judging from the scythe on his back, Midday assumed he had just gotten back from the fields. ¡°We had a feeling that was the case, but nobody knew for sure last night. Gork and Romulo even went out to look for you.¡±


    ¡°And you stayed here?¡± Midday sat up and gave Glauster a weak smile. He had gone straight to Netari¡¯s territory on the night before, not bothering to visit the cabin and explain his intentions to anyone. Midday reckoned Romulo had probably been able to guess what had happened but had ended up playing along with Gork to avoid rousing suspicion about his involvement with Netari.


    ¡°Damn right.¡± Glauster set his scythe down by his bed and sat down at the bedside. ¡°You and I are alike in that regard, I think. So alike that I know better than to ask where the hell you were last night because you would just lie to my face without a shred of remorse.¡±


    ¡°Maybe so.¡± Midday sat up, feeling somewhat¡ªthough not entirely¡ªrefreshed after having slept for a good handful of hours. ¡°How was work?¡±


    ¡°Pretty standard. Not really sure how much there is to say on that front.¡± Glauster sighed. ¡°That said, there is some news you ought to hear about¡­¡± He looked down at a cockroach scampering across the floor and brought his foot down on it, killing the unsuspecting bug in one fell swoop.


    ¡°Oh?¡± Midday rolled out of bed and walked over to the center of the cabin where the short wooden table they had most of their conversations at. It was so low to the ground that it would have been impossible to slide a chair into. He sat down cross-legged and turned his eyes to Glauster, who had also seated himself at the table.


    ¡°It¡¯s about Jenjo¡¯s boss¡ªor, rather, it¡¯s about the boss of Jenjo¡¯s boss.¡±


    ¡°The boss¡­ of Jenjo¡¯s boss? The chain of command goes that high?¡±


    ¡°Of course it does.¡± He frowned. ¡°After all, Elvanera Group is one of the largest independent organizations in the region¡ªprobably only beaten out by The Coalition in terms of influence¡ªand the plantation is just one of several divisions under their umbrella, so it goes without saying that the hierarchy of people running this thing is convoluted as hell.¡± He chuckled under his breath. ¡°And Jenjo, that fucker, is just a worthless grunt doing grunt work for the people who actually matter. There are probably like 5 tiers of management between him and the real bigshots¡­ So we¡¯re really just ants, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Something like that.¡± Midday sighed. He had known that the plantation was just one aspect of Elvanera Group¡ªalbeit still probably the most important one¡ªbut he rarely thought about the fact that the organization was so much more than that. The sheer scale of their operations was impossible for a peasant from an isolated village with a population of less than a hundred to fathom. He sat still for a moment, trying to conceptualize just how big Elvanera Group truly was, before finally giving up with a sigh. ¡°So, what¡¯s the big news about the boss of Jenjo¡¯s boss?¡±


    ¡°Siempre Elvanera, head administrator of Neighborhoods 7 through 12, will be visiting our section of Neighborhood 8 tomorrow. I saw the announcement in the fields today¡­ it was painted onto the side of a giant airship.¡±


    ¡°Damn.¡± Midday had only seen an airship twice in his life: both times while working out in the wheat fields. They were an incredibly rare sight, even in the wealthiest parts of the Kingmaker Plains, and they were generally considered a technological marvel beyond what could generally be produced in the region. The only reliable way to get them, according to an old conversion with Gork, was to import them from a technologically advanced city called Xixecal¡ªwhich was supposedly located several thousand miles away in one of the regions that bordered the Kingmaker Plains. Needless to say, the fact that Elvanera Group had access to airships was not to be taken lightly. ¡°So¡­ why is someone so important coming here?¡±


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    ¡°Some of the more experienced slaves said that Siempre does an in-person survey of all the Neighborhoods they manage twice per year.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­ And is there going to be anything special happening tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°You probably already guessed that there¡¯ll be an assembly tomorrow evening, after everyone finishes work but, beyond that, it sort of just depends on how the dice roll.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you say that about pretty much anything?¡±


    ¡°Sure, but, like, I didn''t mean that metaphorically. From what I¡¯ve been hearing, this guy literally carries around a set of hundred-sided dice that he forces people to roll in order to determine their fates.¡± Glauster grinned. ¡°I should add that this is the dude who came up with the three strikes wheel. It should go without saying that he¡¯s known to be completely unhinged.¡±


    ¡°Fucking hell.¡±


    ¡°Fucking hell is right¡­ and the worst part is that Jenjo wasn¡¯t expecting him to come tomorrow. He canceled tonight¡¯s Weekly Fight Club so that he could make a bunch of last-minute preparations.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Midday sighed. ¡°So I guess that means you three will be here at the cabin tonight?¡±


    ¡°I have no clue about the others but, as for me, I¡¯ll be at Oolong¡¯s tonight. I want to get whatever information I can about this Siempre Elvanera fellow, and Oolong is the person to ask. I just need to whip up some sort of treat for him before I head out. That¡¯s how you get on his good side, you know.¡±


    ¡°Oolong, huh? As in Oolong Tea? You¡¯re in cahoots with someone like that?¡± Midday sighed. Oolong was known throughout the area for one simple reason: the geezer was the highest-level individual in the Neighborhood at an astonishing level 23. It was a number surpassing the likes of even someone like Jenjo¡ªthough Jenjo was still far, far stronger than him as a result of developing his Abilities for combat as opposed to the art of brewing delicious beverages. ¡°Damn shame I¡¯ll never get to appreciate his signature tea.¡±


    ¡°Hah, well, if it makes you feel any better, I still haven¡¯t gotten to try it either. That beverage is way too powerful for any sensible person to give away freely. You¡¯ve got to be in his inner circle before he even thinks about offering it to you. That¡¯s how he keeps his people loyal to him.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re sucking up to him in hopes of becoming his lapdog? Just how good is this drink?¡±


    ¡°His Dusk Night Dawn Tea is said to boost the effectiveness of sleep by a factor of 3¡ªmeaning that one can get 3 hours of energy with only 1 hour of rest.¡± A fiendish grin spread across Glauster¡¯s face. ¡°It¡¯s a special-grade recipe that Oolong invented, and only he knows how to brew it¡­ but, hypothetically speaking, if he let his guard down and a certain someone stole his recipe and then subsequently learned how to make it for themselves, that hypothetical individual would be able to create a faction of their own centered around the production and subsequent sale of the beverage. They would go from being a total no-name to one of the wealthiest slaves in the Neighborhood. With Romulo¡¯s protection¡ªwhich this person would be all but guaranteed to receive in exchange for access to the drink¡ªnobody would be able to make a move against this person without risking their lives.¡±


    Midday gazed up at the ceiling, admiring his cabinmate for having the same sort of ambition that he had. ¡°And just how long have you been working at this little scheme of yours?¡±


    ¡°A few weeks.¡±


    ¡°And how¡¯s progress been?¡±


    ¡°Steady. Oolong likes me well enough for the time being.¡±


    ¡°I see. Let me know if I can do anything to assist you with that.¡±


    Glauster shrugged. ¡°Not sure if you can, but I¡¯ll let you know if I think of something.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good to me.¡± Midday shrugged too. He was busy enough as it was and, though he hoped that Glauster would be successful so that he might gain access to the special-grade tea the boy had described, he had enough on his plate as it was.


    ¡°Alright, well, I guess I¡¯ll get to work on whipping up something for Oolong then. The sooner I start the better.¡± Glauster rose to his feet. ¡°I¡¯m off to collect some ingredients. See you soon.¡± He grabbed a pouch off the nook above the fireplace and left without another word.


    Midday sat there at the table for a few minutes longer to make sure that Glauster would be out of the area by the time he left and, after peeking through a crack in the wall to make sure the coast was clear, he too left the cabin, setting off towards his garden to have another blackberry feast.

 26. Rain

    Jenjo sat hunched over at an old desk. It was still early in the afternoon and yet the inside of his bedroom was almost pitch-black¡ªwith all of what little light there was coming from the gaps between the window blinds.


    In his hands he held a letter. A letter from Siempre Elvanera. It had been more than ten minutes since he had finished reading it and yet he still sat there staring at it with sunken eyes. Over the past few years since he had started working at the plantation, Jenjo had learned to expect madness from anything with Lord Siempre¡¯s name attached to it, but the contents of this letter exceeded madness. Jenjo was no stranger to cruelty, but the sheer wickedness of the experiment described in the letter made him feel sorry for the slaves and for himself. It was to the point where he seriously considered trying to quit his job¡ªthough he knew that the only result of such an attempt would be his early death. Elvanera Group knew better than to let those with the potential to leak information about their operations stay alive.


    ¡°Dueling Room.¡± He activated one of his Opuses. There was no real need to do this, seeing as he simply could have opened the blinds to allow more sunlight into the bedroom, but he liked to see the soft blue illumination spread throughout the room like an expanding balloon until the entirety of the room was submerged within the confines of the dim bluish light that was emitted as a byproduct of the technique.


    Even though this was arguably one of the worst possible ways to use this Opus¡ªwhich, due to the impatience of his younger self, could only be activated once per week¡ªJenjo nonetheless took satisfaction in the fact that he was strong enough for that not to matter. He was confident in believing that he was strong enough to kill just about anyone in Neighborhood 8 with just his baseline Abilities or maybe even with just plain swordsmanship. Whether or not he had access to all of his Opuses at any given time was a total nonissue.


    Or, at least, that¡¯s what he wanted to think.


    After reading the contents of Lord Siempre¡¯s letter, however, he wasn¡¯t so sure and, as he peered out the window at an overcast sky, Jenjo feared that his easygoing days as the untouchable tyrant of Neighborhood 8 were coming to a close.


    ?


    Midday was walking back to his cabin after his second feast for the day in hopes of getting a few more hours of sleep before sunset. His goal was to sleep as much as possible that day in hopes of rejuvenating his body as much as such a thing would allow.


    He thought about Oolong¡¯s Dusk Night Dawn Tea as he walked through the streets of the neighborhood, which were getting busier now that it was late enough into the afternoon for a good portion of people to have meant their quotas, and he wondered what would happen if someone drank Oolong¡¯s beverage and still forced themselves to get a full night¡¯s sleep despite technically not needing it. Would 8 hours of rest become equivalent to 24? He had no definite answer for that but, if that logic ever proved to be correct, it would mean that Dusk Night Dawn Tea was superior to all but maybe two of the agricultural treasures¡ªwith only Neighborhood 1¡¯s Lordmaker Rye, which was by far the most powerful crop Midday knew of, and Neighborhood 2¡¯s Metamorphosis Mushrooms, which supposedly played a vital role in the creation and development of posthumans, surpassing Oolong¡¯s signature brew.


    If he could gain access to something like that, he was certain that his circumstances would rapidly improve. Maybe I really ought to do what I can for Glauster after all¡­ He sighed. Cooperation was by no means his strong suit, and his fear of having someone discover the Elvanerean Ring further estranged him from the prospect of working with his cabinmates on open terms.


    He sighed again upon looking up at the sky. Although the streets of the slave enclave were eternally shaded under the thick leaves and branches of the oaken forest above, it was still easy to peak through the cracks and see what the weather was doing¡ªthough there was never a point in doing so because the daytime weather of Neighborhood 8 was supposed to be always sunny and cloudless. In the two months that he had been at the plantation, that had always been the case.


    And so it was quite alarming to find the sun was completely hidden behind an impenetrable layer of featureless grey. The shift had been very sudden, taking place over the span of maybe a few minutes at the most, and seeing this change take place immediately told him and the other slaves traveling along the road feel that something was wrong. Several people hurried into their cabins while many more sped up along their respective routes towards cabins of their own. Midday was among these people, hoping that maybe Gork or Romulo could offer some kind of explanation for the phenomenon when they made it back to the cabin for the day.


    ?


    Midday slept for another hour or so after returning to the cabin and, upon waking up, he was greeted with the deafening roar of unnaturally heavy rain crashing down against the wooden roof. At first, it made him assume he had somehow slept past sunset because it was not especially uncommon for it to rain during the night¡ªthough that rain was usually little more than a drizzle¡ªbut, upon looking through the cracks in the walls, he noticed that there was still light in the sky, albeit faint behind the dense fog that had set in.


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    Half a dozen narrow waterfalls of rainwater poured down into the cabin through cracks in the roof and had presumably been doing so for quite some time, seeing as the was the floor had already flooded to the point of being several inches deep. Holy hell¡­ Just what are they thinking? He carefully stood up atop the elevated board that passed for his bed and surveyed the cabin.


    The water was still low enough that no serious had been caused but, seeing as the rain seemed to be getting heavier, he worried that the cabin would incur some serious damage if nothing was done about it. Seriously¡­ What¡¯s going on out there? He prayed that his cabinmates would make a quick return so that they might provide an explanation.


    Midday knew that the weather almost certainly had something to do with the upcoming arrival of Siempre Elvanera, but he struggled to see why the person who controlled the weather throughout the plantation had chosen to make the Neighborhood as miserable as possible prior to Siempre¡¯s arrival. He dreaded the thought of trudging through knee-deep mud on the following morning¡ªand he was regretfully thankful that somebody else would be tasked with completing his quota for the coming day.


    In any case, Midday decided that he had no time to sit around thinking about the flood or any of the potential reasons for it. His house was flooding and there was hardly anything he could do about it for, even if he plugged the holes in the ceiling, water could continue pouring in from the cracks and the walls and the gaps between the door and its frame. The only way to deal with the water, he believed, was to wait. Even so, seeing his house incurring damage so rapidly was stressful enough to force him out of the cabin and out onto the street where the rainstorm immediately rendered his clothes drenched.


    ¡°Is anyone out there?¡± He called out to the neighboring cabins out of reflex. Crying out for help was by no means something he enjoyed, but Midday was the type to cave in to whatever he deemed necessary rather easily. ¡°I need some help here!¡±


    It was impossible to see much of anything more than maybe ten feet away because of the dense fog and the heavy rain, but Midday knew that the people living in the surrounding cabins had surely returned from work by then. There were a few seconds of silence before a voice called out to him from across the street.


    ¡°Flooding?¡± The voice was mostly drowned out under the endless roar of the rainstorm, and the fog was dense enough to render the speaker invisible, but Midday could still recognize from the tone that the person asking the question was unperturbed by the rain¡ªcoming across as quite aloof.


    ¡°Yeah! Any ideas for what to do?¡±


    ¡°Not really.¡± The person, who was still invisible behind the fog, answered without hesitation. ¡°I¡¯ve got this handy dandy Umbrella Ring on me at the moment so, frankly, I¡¯m not really even thinking about it.¡± Judging from their voice and the accent that went along with it, Midday guessed that it was an educated woman with an easygoing demeanor. The fact they had mentioned a so-called ¡®Umbrella Ring¡¯ was a bit strange, but he didn¡¯t want to jump to conclusions. ¡°But let me tell you this: if your house is already flooding after only a few hours, it won¡¯t last to the end of the month. It¡¯ll be raining nonstop for the 30 days or so¡ªunless the experiment ends up killing all of you before then, that is.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Midday winced. Who was this person? He had no idea. The way they were talking made it sound like they knew why the weather was acting so strangely. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±


    ¡°Who knows? All saying is that you either need to make some serious upgrades to that cabin of yours or find a completely new place to live.¡± The person stepped forward out of the fog and gradually came into view until Midday realized that the person he was talking to was by no means a slave. They wore the same uniform as Jenjo¡ªcomplete with a burgundy trench coat on which Elvanera Group¡¯s insignia was emblazoned and some form-fitting trousers. She wore three golden rings on her right hand and a silver one on her left and, upon seeing how the rain seemed to curve around her as though there was an invisible roof above her head, he decided that her Umbrella Ring¡ªalong with the other three¡ªwas a special-grade item. ¡°Say, do you know where I could find a girl called Netari? I¡¯m told she lives somewhere around here.¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Midday took a step back. Was this Siempre Elvanera? He struggled to imagine that there could be anyone else with enough money to afford four special-grade rings. ¡°And, if you don¡¯t mind me asking, what business do you have with Netari?¡±


    ¡°Mulberry Slumpson is my name. I¡¯m the head guard over at Neighborhood 3.¡± She replied nonchalantly. ¡°I¡¯m probably not supposed to tell you any of the specific details, but I don¡¯t think any harm will come from telling you that Siempre asked me and a whole bunch of other people to come to this Neighborhood to do some preliminary work for tomorrow.¡± Mulberry shrugged. ¡°Talking to Netari is one of my assignments.¡± Mulberry walked closer to Midday, pointed her middle finger up to the sky, and said: ¡°Expand.¡±


    The radius of the invisible roof produced by her Umbrella Ring tripled in size, expanding until it was almost as wide as the road itself. Midday found that the rain had stopped pouring down above him and that he was no longer getting wet¡ªthough the ground beneath was still muddy. The linen wraps that passed for his rudimentary shoes fell apart a little bit more in accordance with the sensation of his feet sinking deeper into cold mud.


    ¡°Gotta love the Umbrella Ring, I gotta tell ya,¡± commented Mulberry. ¡°Neighborhood 3 is actually even rainier than this, so having one of these suckers is pretty much a requirement for anyone who works there¡­ But I never thought I¡¯d need it in the sunny wonderland that Neighborhood 8 is supposed to be. Crazy how things change.¡± She took a step forward. ¡°Enough chit-chat! Could you go ahead and lead me to Netari¡¯s place?¡± Mulberry gestured for Midday to start moving and, seeing as he was dealing with someone who could kill him with zero effort, Midday pushed his worries about his flooding cabin into the back of his mind and started walking. Mulberry followed close behind.

 27. Mulberry

    Midday walked with careful steps, doing his best not to do anything that might upset his unexpected visitor. This was not at all what he expected upon stepping foot outside and calling for help, and he was torn between considering the encounter incredibly lucky or horribly unlucky. Anyone who willingly became a head guard at the plantation was, in his eyes, almost certainly an awful person. It was a job that allowed those who had it to be as cruel as they wanted and face no repercussions for doing so. The kinds of people that sort of thing attracted could be nothing but trouble. Even so, Mulberry almost certainly knew the answers to the questions that had been on his mind ever since obtaining the Elvanerean Ring. He decided to try his luck.


    ¡°So, umm, are magic rings like that Umbrella Ring of yours common in Neighborhood 3?¡±


    ¡°Fairly common.¡± Mulberry grinned pridefully. ¡°Every slave assigned to my Neighborhood gets a Raincoat Ring upon arrival¡ªwhich is basically just a weaker version of the Umbrella Ring. I¡¯m actually wearing that ring right now as a supplement to the umbrella.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡± Midday was slightly taken aback by how talkative Mulberry was showing herself to be. It almost felt as though she were going out of her way to spoon-feed him all the information he wanted. ¡°Are these Raincoat Rings easy to obtain?¡±


    ¡°Fairly. Raincoat Rings are just dungeon loot, you know. You can get them as an uncommon drop from an optional boss in Hyetal Canyon. We just buy them off the delvers who run that dungeon professionally. They¡¯re expensive items, sure, but we only have a few dozen slaves in my Neighborhood anyways¡ªso the upfront cost is a nonissue. Such a nonissue, in fact, that we actually have a pretty large surplus at the moment. So many that we¡¯re not even sure what to do with them all.¡± She paused. ¡°My boss and I have been giving them out left and right as of late in exchange for favors. It¡¯s a wasteful practice, no doubt, seeing as we could always just upgrade them into Umbrella Rings instead, but the process of doing so is awfully annoying¡ªso we don¡¯t bother.¡±


    ¡°Upgrade?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. You can combine Raincoat Rings with a few other components to get the more powerful Umbrella Ring as a result.¡± Mulberry chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re awfully curious about these rings, aren¡¯t you? Do you want one?¡±


    Midday stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. ¡°What?¡±


    Mulberry took a silver ring out of her breast pocket and held it between her fingers such that Midday could examine the item. There were a few tiny blue gems in the shape of raindrops embedded into its polished surface. ¡°There¡¯s a certain individual here at Neighborhood 8 that I would prefer to survive the upcoming month. You can have this ring if you agree to protect them with all of what little might you probably have.¡±


    Midday looked at the head guard with wide eyes, stunned at the unexpected prospect of obtaining a special-grade item. All he had wanted from this conversation was information about the Elvanerean Ring, but here he was being offered something far better¡ªat least on paper. He failed to see how a ring that kept rain away could compare to a ring that allowed him to obtain agricultural treasures with ease, but a magic ring was still exactly that: magical. It was a hard opportunity to pass up on.


    ¡°Just so ya know, I¡¯ve already given out a few of these rings to other people on this street and I intend to give out a few more before I head back to the airship for the night. You wouldn¡¯t be alone in this.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡± Midday frowned. It made no sense to ask someone as weak as himself to serve as a bodyguard. With a few weeks of nonstop Devil Peppercorn feasts under his belt, he expected, he would rise to be at the very least above average among the slaves of Neighborhood 8, but that was, again, several weeks away and Midday was still weak as ever at the moment, currently only having achieved marginal improvement over how he had been upon finding the Elvanerean Ring. As such, it struck him as mighty suspicious that he, a skinny husk that barely qualified as fodder, was receiving this kind of offer. Even so, the allure of obtaining a magic ring was impossible to resist in its entirety. ¡°And just who would I be protecting?¡±


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    ¡°A talking frog named Solomon. He lives in the ¡®old growth¡¯ section of the forest¡ªso you would be living there for the next month¡­ or at the very least until the fog clears.¡±


    Midday tensed up. ¡°Living there? In the old growth?¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh. Living there.¡± She stopped for a moment before continuing. ¡°Your daily quotas won¡¯t be an issue. They¡¯re canceling those as of tomorrow evening.¡±


    ¡°R-right.¡± Midday looked down at his feet for a moment, thinking about the poor soul who had been forced into doing his work for that day, and then back up to Mulberry. He decided in the back of his mind to try and get Netari to cancel that unfortunate individual¡¯s burden as soon as he got the chance to ask. ¡°So what exactly would I be protecting this frog from? If Solomon has already been living there on his own and is still doing fine, I doubt he needs the help.¡±


    ¡°This upcoming month will be unusually dangerous. The important thing here is that you make up your mind within the next minute. Siempre has me on a tight schedule. For that matter, hurry up and start walking again.¡± She gave Midday a push and, with that, the two started moving.


    During their walk Midday thought deeply about the prospect of going into the old growth¡ªwhich was the ultra-dangerous portion of the forest where Romulo did most of his XP grinding. He knew from listening to Romulo¡¯s stories that it was by no means rare to come across indexed monsters in that area¡ªwhich meant that they were dangerous enough for The Coalition to have given them severity ratings.


    For reference, the highest severity indexed monster Midday had ever encountered in the flesh had been a grizzly bear, which was considered a textbook example of a severity 1 threat. He still remembered the simultaneous senses of terror and awe he had felt as the gigantic beast had come up to the stream he and his father had been fishing at to catch some salmon, and the thought of possibly running into something even stronger was off-putting to put it kindly. Not even someone like Romulo could reliably go up against indexed monsters in direct combat; the giant had to rely on things like pitfalls or poisoned carcasses to take down anything that dangerous.


    Even so, a magic ring¡ªno matter how useless it seemed¡ªwas too good to ignore. In a worst-case scenario, he reckoned he could sell it to one of the upper-class slaves for a hefty chunk of change and, more likely than not, he felt that the ring would eventually prove itself to be capable of more than the limited uses that were currently coming to mind.


    ¡°So how many people are you planning to recruit for this?¡± Midday frowned as he walked. With enough manpower, he reckoned, the old growth might become manageable.


    ¡°Maybe a dozen? That¡¯s how many rings I brought, but I don¡¯t have much time. Siempre wants to be back in the airship by the end of the hour, and I have no idea how long this conversation with Netari is going to last.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­ Are any of the people you¡¯ve recruited thus far strong?¡±


    ¡°By your standards? Or by mine?¡±


    ¡°Umm, I guess by mine?¡±


    ¡°Of the seven people I¡¯ve already recruited¡ªyourself included¡ªthree are level 15.¡± She chuckled softly, the subdued laughter almost sounding nervous in tone, before continuing. ¡°No idea what their Abilities are though. In any case, that probably sounds pretty good to you, no?¡±


    ¡°Good enough, I suppose.¡± Midday frowned. There were not very many level 15 individuals in Neighborhood 8, and most of them belonged to the Weekly Fight Club. They weren¡¯t the sort of people you could just bump into by chance, which led him to think that perhaps Mulberry had done some research prior to her visit. If that was the case, however, it made very little sense to only find a few competent people and leave the other spots on the team up to chance. If Mulberry had looked into things in advance, it was only logical that she would have preselected every member of the crew. As such, Midday wondered what she was playing at.


    ¡°So do you accept?¡±


    Midday sighed. ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Good answer.¡± Mulberry gave him a tap on the shoulder. ¡°Take your ring.¡±

 28. Raincoat

    Midday slipped the ring onto his index finger; somehow instinctively aware the ring¡¯s effect would only activate if it was wrapped around that specific digit. He realized that he oftentimes got the same sensation with the Elvanerean Ring too, feeling internally that the ring had to go on his pinky finger whenever he dug it out of the soil and held it in his palm. Weird... In any case, The Voice spoke as soon as the ring was secured close to his knuckle:


    ¡°Effect Added. Raincoat Ring: Unwanted water is weakly repelled while this ring is equipped.¡±


    There was no immediate observable difference because of the ongoing coverage provided by the invisible ceiling stemming from Mulberry¡¯s Umbrella Ring but, upon closer inspection, he noticed that the mud on his feet¡ªwhich was so saturated with rainwater by that point that there a thin film of stagnant water had formed above it¡ªseemed to propel itself away from his feet in such a way that his toes had almost seemed to take on the characteristics of a shovel, cleaving through the soil with moist soil with ease. He also noted that the water on the baggy long-sleeved tunic he wore as part of his uniform seemed to be dripping out from the fabric somewhat faster than before, seemingly racing to become dry as soon as possible.


    All said and done, Midday wasn¡¯t especially impressed¡ªthough he reckoned that might soon change it was true that the rain would continue for a whole month.


    ¡°Like it?¡± Mulberry


    ¡°Sure.¡± Midday looked away from the head guard of Neighborhood 3 and let out a subdued sigh. ¡°Not sure if it¡¯s worth the price I paid for it, but I reckon it¡¯s too late to back out now.¡±


    ¡°Damn right.¡± Mulberry grinned. ¡°You¡¯ve got a good cynicism about you, kid. But there¡¯s more to this ring than I think you realize. If you ever obtain a water-related ability, this ring will have good synergy with it. One of my Opuses actually requires me to be wearing this ring to activate. Care for a demonstration?¡± Her lips curled into an even more intense grin, which gave Midday the impression that she was moreso looking to brag about how awesome she was than to show him anything of value. Even so, he decided to humor her.


    Midday sighed once again. ¡°Sure.¡±


    She pointed the finger on which her Raincoat Ring resided up towards the sky and then said: ¡°Raincoat Beam.¡±


    The fog directly above Mulberry instantly cleared, resulting in the near-instantaneous formation of a several-hundred-feet-long narrow tube of clear sky¡ªonly a few feet in radius¡ªthat shot upwards vertically through both the fog and the rainclouds, leaving a tiny ray of bright sunlight in its wake for a few seconds before the fog rolled back into place a few moments later and covered it up.


    ¡°My Raincoat Beam is an Opus that repels any moisture it comes into contact with such that, if I were to use it on a normal person, the water inside their organs would strain itself to escape their body with enough violence to make them explode. Pretty neat, right?¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± answered Midday, trying to ignore how casually brutal the example she had provided had been. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll keep that in mind for if I ever get an Ability?¡±


    ¡°Sounds like a plan.¡± She put pointed her index finger at him. ¡°Now get moving! I¡¯ve got to see this Netari person.¡± Midday started walking once more, with Mulberry following close behind as she provided the details for his upcoming trek into the forest. ¡°So, as for tomorrow evening, you and the other people will rendezvous at Slave Quarter #200 immediately following Siempre¡¯s announcement. The sooner you guys leave, the better off you guys are going to be.¡± She sighed. ¡°And, during the announcement, make sure you and the people you care about stand near the back of the crowd.¡±


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    ¡°Why is that?¡±


    ¡°Just trust me on this.¡±


    Midday just nodded, failing to offer a spoken response.


    After another 30 seconds or so of walking, the two had arrived at Netari¡¯s territory. The wolves that were keeping guard at first snarled at the intruders, but Mulberry paid them no mind. Mere ordinary wolves, regardless of quantity, posed zero threat to someone like her. She simply walked up to the only cabin that had the lights on and knocked on the door.


    ¡°You can go now,¡± she said to Midday, who had followed her to the doorstep. ¡°Our business is done.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­ But I need to ask Netari something really quick if that¡¯s alright. It¡¯ll take maybe 10 seconds at the most.¡±


    Mulberry narrowed her eyes. ¡°You can either tell me now so that I can relay it to her on the way out or wait outside until my business with her is finished. I must remind you that I¡¯m on a tight timetable here, and I¡¯m not especially inclined to let someone like you squander it¡ªnot even if it really would only take ten seconds.¡±


    ¡°But there are wolves out here,¡± remarked Midday as he eyed seven wolves that had them surrounded so closely by then that it would be impossible to react if one of them chose to pounce. ¡°They might kill me if I stay here too long.¡± Midday spoke matter-of-factly, hoping that perhaps Mulberry would be gracious enough to follow her inside.


    ¡°So what? Just kick ¡®em away if they give you trouble. If a few little wolves are giving you that much headache, I hate to say it, but you¡¯re probably going to die fairly soon¡ªregardless of if you actually follow through with this deal of ours.¡± She shook her head like a disappointed mother. ¡°Just tell me what you wanted to say and I¡¯ll see to it that you can leave without the dogs bothering you¡­ Also, wow, what is taking this person so long to answer the door?¡±


    Midday sighed. All things considered, whether or not this unknown person got a third strike or not really didn¡¯t matter all that much to him. Even if they did accrue 3 strikes as a result of him, Mulberry had explicitly stated that daily quotas would soon become a nonissue anyways. There was a good chance that this person would be able to skip the wheel even if they really did make it to 3 strikes and, with that thought in mind, Midday ended up sharing his request to have this person¡¯s work canceled for the next day with Mulberry in hopes that maybe she would bring it up at some point.


    Mulberry nodded after hearing his request. ¡°Is that all?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Okay then. See you later.¡±


    With a half-assed grasping motion, Mulberry somehow managed to ¡°catch¡± all of the rain in a 30-foot radius such that all the droplets were hovering magically in place, seemingly unable to fall any further despite the force of gravity that should have been pushing them down. The rain droplets then began to squeeze in on each other until a gigantic, perfectly round ball of rainwater had formed.


    With the floating ball created, Mulberry pointed her finger down, sending the orb down toward Midday at breakneck speed. Before he could move away, the water crashed down on him and, just like that, scooped him up. He was now floating breathlessly at the center of an enormous prison of levitating water. His natural reflexes kicked in and made him try to swim his way out, but the effort was hopeless. The water was actively working to keep him at its center. What in the world?


    A flick of the wrist launched Midday and the water orb away with the speed of a cannonball fired fresh out of the barrel. He flew several hundred feet into the air, the surroundings disappearing into the fog that smothered him on all sides, before crashing down hard only a few seconds later, with the now dissipated orb somehow having cushioned his fall such that he was miraculously uninjured.


    Struggling back up to his feet, he realized that he had landed just inches away from the front door of his cabin, which was now heavily leaking water through the gap between the door and the ground beneath it.


    ¡°Fucking hell¡­¡± Midday let out the sigh to end all sighs. It seemed unreasonable to him that anyone was allowed to possess the kind of power necessary for the feat Mulberry had just performed¡ªsending someone probably more than a thousand feet away in total in mere seconds while still maintaining pinpoint accuracy without leaving even so much as a scratch¡ªbut that was reality. She hadn¡¯t even uttered a technique name, which meant there was a good chance she had done it without using an Opus. He had always known himself to be powerless, but it was never fun to be reminded of just how huge the disparity between the weak and strong truly was.


    In any case, now that he was home, Midday, who was now soaking wet even with the help of the Raincoat Ring¡ªwhich was currently working to the best of its ability to dry him off¡ªstepped inside.

 29. Plan

    Midday had the home to himself for a while before anyone else showed up, during which time he actually did manage to plug up the holes in the ceiling and walls with a haphazard concoction of sticks and mud. Midday had no idea how long the seal would hold, but he was nonetheless satisfied with his work¡ªeven if the floor was currently flooded to the point that only the topside of the table at the center of the room was unsubmerged.


    Romulo was the first one to return to the cabin. He came inside soaking wet with an unrestrained frown and depressed shoulders. Upon seeing Midday sitting atop the table with blank eyes on his face and a ring on his finger, the frown deepened even further.


    ¡°What the hell is happening out there? I was just about to corner this Greenhorn Centipede that probably would¡¯ve been worth 50 XP when the rain started coming down. The stupid critter scampered off into its burrow as soon as the first drops came down! And then the mud started getting thick and walking back was a pain and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Was that centipede thing in the old growth?¡±


    Midday already knew the answer. Anything worth that much XP had to be at least somewhat noteworthy. The single highest XP reward Midday had ever received in his whole life had been from euthanizing a disease-ridden bull a few years back to prevent the illness from spreading throughout the cattle, and that endeavor had netted him something like 40 XP. That meant that this centipede had probably been stronger¡ªat least by the somewhat unreliable assessment of The Voice¡ªthan an animal that had been large enough to survive multiple arrows to the head before finally croaking. The regular forest could be dangerous, sure, but it was only in the old growth where things were that dangerous.


    ¡°Yeah¡­ That¡¯s an oddly direct question, what is it to you?¡±


    Midday wasted no time in explaining the whole situation: from the details of the ring to the mission he had received to the vague warnings Mulberry had provided. It was a nice feeling to get everything (besides anything relating to the Elvanerean Ring) off his chest, especially when the person he was divulging the information to was Romulo¡ªwho was trustworthy and strong. If anyone could help him, Midday felt that it would be the giant.


    ¡°So this is all just for some sort of experiment?¡± Romulo, who was still standing, his back hunched a great deal to avoid hitting his head on the roof, stuck his hands into his pockets and bit his lip. He had expected the rain to be indicative of something undesirable as soon as it had begun, but this was beyond his wildest expectations. Cold sweat, mixed with the rainwater he was still drenched in, dripped from his chin.


    ¡°That¡¯s what she said.¡±


    ¡°And a ton of people are going to die because of this experiment?¡±


    ¡°Probably so.¡±


    There was a short silence before the conversation resumed. Romulo, who stood uncomfortably, his gigantic feet still submerged under the floodwater, was deep in contemplation, trying to come up with the best course of action. Midday tried to do the same, of course, but his mood was much too sour to think at full capacity.


    ¡°So what do we do?¡±


    ¡°There should be no issues with telling Glauster everything, but we¡¯ll have to be careful with what we say to Gork. He¡¯d spread the word to as many people as possible if he found out, and the ensuing panic very well might actually increase the number of casualties¡­ and, while I hate to be thinking this way, him leaking this stuff to everyone would result in us losing the advantage we hold regarding information.¡± He looked down at his feet, which were starting to wrinkle up in response to the lukewarm water below. ¡°It¡¯s hard to know what to do when the details we have are so vague. For all we know, this Mulberry person might have been intentionally trying to deceive you.¡±


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    ¡°Doubt it.¡± Midday raised his finger to Romulo. ¡°This ring is proof enough of that, I think.¡±


    ¡°I guess you¡¯re right.¡± Romulo pressed his index and middle fingers into his forehead as though he had a headache. ¡°Plus. Someone that strong has no reason to bother with things like deception. Based on what you¡¯ve said, she¡¯s probably a fair bit above level 30.¡±


    ¡°Who cares? The important thing is that she gave us information. I don¡¯t know what this Siempre individual is planning, but we should be fine¡ªat least in the short term¡ªif we stand at the back of the crowd during tomorrow¡¯s announcement. Following that, I¡¯m not sure how things will proceed.¡± Midday let out a big sigh. ¡°I plan to meet with the other people Mulberry selected directly afterward and head straight into the forest. How about you?¡±


    ¡°Hard to say but, depending on the immediate severity of the situation, I might try to climb a tall tree and watch the ground below in search of information as the chaos breaks loose. If things are looking especially bad¡ªand my gut is telling me that they will¡ªI¡¯ll retreat to the old growth and camp out until things go back to normal. I already have an underground safe house of sorts that I use to hide from high severity monsters, so it shouldn¡¯t be too difficult to stay alive. If things conditions are looking decent, I¡¯ll probably try to reconvene with you at some point.¡±


    ¡°Got it¡­ By the way, just how dangerous is the old growth to begin with? I know there were some fairly dangerous creatures out there, so I guess I¡¯m just trying to calculate my odds of survival.¡±


    ¡°The highest you¡¯ll see regularly is severity 2; the highest you¡¯ll ever see is severity 3.¡±


    ¡°Severity 2¡­ On a regular basis? How the hell are you alive?¡± Midday frowned. He had already known this information for quite some time because of Romulo¡¯s stories but, now that he was faced with the prospect of actually going there, it somehow felt as though he was hearing about it for the first time.


    ¡°I¡¯m good at avoiding them. Most of my XP grinding is just waiting in safe places for easy prey to show up and fall into my traps. I only go out into the open when I absolutely have to.¡±


    ¡°R-right¡­ But how do these animals get so big, to begin with? What¡¯s so special about the old growth?¡±


    ¡°As I¡¯ve said before, it all comes down to Valley Algae¡ªa highly nutritious food source that covers the area in its entirety. It provides absurd amounts of energy to the animals that eat it while still being incredibly abundant and quick to grow. That means that the herbivores can eat nonstop without ever having to worry about running out of food which, of course, results in them achieving incredibly large sizes. Because these herbivores are so big, the predators that eat them have to be even bigger to successfully hunt them. That pattern continues up the food chain.¡± He grinned. ¡°It¡¯s a really interesting ecosystem, actually, and the Freshwater Oaky Mangroves that define the look of the place are a sight to behold, with many of them exceeding 200 feet in height and 50 feet in trunk diameter. The branches are so big that even someone as large as me can walk on them with ease.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡± Midday gave all that information a subdued sigh. He knew how enthusiastic Romulo was about all things nature and, to an extent, he appreciated the giant¡¯s dedication to studying it¡ªwith those height and diameter statistics probably having been the result of him actually going around and measuring the trees manually just for the sake of satisfying his curiosity¡ªbut he didn¡¯t care much for how outlandish the old growth seemed in comparison to everywhere else he had been throughout his short life. Thinking about the alien nature of the environment in which he would soon find himself gave Midday a sense of quiet anxiety that he knew would not dissipate until he was there. ¡°Well, in any case, I suppose you and I have ought to start making preparations for tomorrow then. Sorry that the whole ¡°coaching thing¡± you wanted to do fell to the wayside so soon after it started.¡±


    ¡°Then how about we kick it back into motion after we both get through the coming month?¡±


    ¡°Sounds good.¡± Midday shrugged. He had a hunch that, should both of them survive the experiment, neither of them would be the same person by the time it was all said and done. There was a good chance, thought Midday, that he would gain enough experience during his time as Solomon the Frog¡¯s bodyguard as to not necessarily need coaching afterward. ¡°I¡¯m going to head out and try to find the other Raincoat Ring holders.¡± Midday, of course, was lying in saying this. His real intention was to have another Devil Peppercorn-infused blackberry feast and to recover the Elvanerean Ring so that he would have it with him during his time in the old growth. ¡°Be back in a bit.¡±


    ¡°See you soon. I¡¯ll wait here for Glauster and Gork.¡±


    With that said, Midday left for the garden.

 30. Siempre

    Siempre Elvanera stood perfectly upright as he gazed out through an enormous glass window that allowed enough early evening sunlight into his bedroom that he felt no need to use the ceiling lantern. His stern face, chiseled into a permanent frown by year after year of dissatisfaction, was thus cast into a cool blue shade that highlighted the prominent cheekbones that gave his eyes a perpetually sunken look and suggested an eternally sullen mood to all who saw the fifty-something-year-old man.


    Just over 3 miles below the airship he begrudgingly called home was Elvanera Island. From this position, directly above Neighborhood 8, he could see the vast majority of the island and even a good bit of the perpetually tempestuous Lake Wavemake surrounding it. If he had been a more sentimental man, capable of appreciating the stunning view he had the privilege of waking up to every morning, then perhaps he would have been able to find more gratification from the life he had been given no choice but to lead.


    But he was not a sentimental man. In his youth, shortly after achieving level 10 and gaining his first Ability, a stroke of misfortune had resulted in an experiment with said Ability going haywire, which had resulted in the unintentional deaths of 20,000 people and the collapse of the city he had once called home. Nearly three decades later, he still felt no remorse for his actions because he considered the data gained from the incident more valuable in the grand scheme of things than the lives he had claimed to obtain it. Because of this cold and generally unsympathetic nature, he was unable to enjoy the view and thus hated it for the imprisonment he believed it to represent.


    He looked down at Neighborhood 8. Aside from 3,000-feet-tall walls that denoted the edges of the region, it was invisible¡ªwith Weathermaker, the individual responsible for controlling the weather throughout Elvanera Island, having already completely drowned the place in fog. All was proceeding according to schedule.


    Glancing at the clock, he nodded in approval¡ªwhich was the closest gesture he had to a smile. In less than 24 hours, he would set foot on land for the first time in almost a year. Siempre felt that this was the closest he had been to experiencing excitement in quite some time. Tomorrow was going to be fun.


    He grabbed a hundred-sided die out from one of the two breast pockets in the loose-fitting lab coat he always wore to hide the deformities resulting from decades of self-experimentation and tossed it up into the air.


    ¡°Truthseeker Dice: I will escape this plantation at some point during the coming month.¡±


    The die landed on the freshly waxed hardwood floor with a light clatter and bounced a few times before finally landing on 72. He stooped down, a task made difficult by his artificially elongated spine¡ªwhich was about twice as long as it should have been, given the length of his limbs¡ªand picked up the dice.


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    Seventy-two percent. That was his probability of success according to the unbiased amalgamation of all the information he had collected throughout his life. Presuming that the information he had collected on the plantation and all its security measures was accurate, that made for respectable odds. He had asked the dice this question every month for the past 7 years, but this was the first time he had ever rolled anything higher than a 60. He placed his dice back into his right breast pocket, thus completing the Opus he had just used.


    He rolled the dice a few more times that evening, asking that same hundred-sided die various questions to help determine which specific strategies would have the highest probabilities of success. Each question was asked in a whisper to ensure that none of the several dozen maids or butlers that served him would catch wind of his intentions.


    ?


    Midday patted his gorging belly as he finished the last of his feast and started back towards the cabin with the Elvanerean Ring in one pocket and about a hundred Devil Peppercorn beads in the other. It was true that he still had yet to recover his sense of taste, but the animalistic satisfaction of putting food in his stomach was still somewhat satisfying in of itself¡ªeven with rain pelting him from above.


    The flooding was getting to the point of absurdity. The heaviness of the rain, as in how much fell in a given timeframe, had more or less stabilized by then, but that by no means meant that the ground it was pouring down upon had done the same. Previously small puddles were already starting to coalesce into larger ponds and, at the rate things were going, the point where a boat would be required to traverse the terrain in any meaningful way was only a few days away at the most.


    Not that it especially mattered. He knew from past conversations that, due to the geography of the area, the old growth was perpetually flooded anyways. He had never been to a swamp before, but he knew what they were well enough to know that the place he was going could more-or-less be described as one. Seeing as he currently lacked the physical prowess to reliably climb trees, which was how Romulo traversed the region, it was pretty much a given that he would need some sort of boat to traverse the place.


    But that was a task best left for the future. He was confident that, even with his limited talent for woodworking, it would be possible to build a raft big enough for just one person in the time he had left before Siempre Elvanera¡¯s arrival, but that making anything substantially larger would require more tools and time than were available. It was best then, he decided, to save the task for when he could recruit the help of his fellow ¡®bodyguards¡¯ to build a more substantial vessel that could carry the whole crew simultaneously.


    In the meantime, he decided that the best thing he could do was head back to the cabin and ask Romulo as many questions about the old growth as possible. The more information he had about the area, the more valued an otherwise physically weak and unskilled individual like himself would within among the other bodyguards which, at least according to Mulberry, already had multiple level 15 individuals in their ranks. He understood that keeping up with people like that¡ªall of which were probably a great deal stronger than the best hunters from his village¡ªon the basis of anything besides knowledge was impossible for a normal person like himself.


    And so, with that thought in mind, he trudged back through the mud toward the cabin.

 31. Interim

    Glauster and Gork had made it back to the cabin by the time he arrived. Both of them looked exhausted as they stood in the now knee-deep water. Seeing as the flood had already gotten to the point where the table at the center of the room was submerged, there wasn¡¯t a single place left where one could sit down and stay dry. All parties present, Romulo and Midday included, had the miserable conditions of their cabin plastered across their faces.


    ¡°Quite the story, Midday.¡± Glauster greeted Midday with a sarcastic smile in which he did an odd squinting thing with his eyes. ¡°The craziest part is that I actually believe it.¡±


    ¡°So you heard?¡± Midday glanced down at his feet to see how the Raincoat Ring was responding to the total submersion of his lower legs. Not well, it turned out: all the ring could do in such intense conditions was make the water around his calves and shins ripple a little.


    ¡°Damn right I did. Romulo isn¡¯t the type to withhold that kind of information.¡±


    ¡°And Gork knows too, I take it?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately so,¡± answered Gork. The light was very dim within the cabin, with the fog blotting out most of what little sunlight remained of the day, but Midday could nonetheless make out the distinct red color of blood on Gork¡¯s hands. More likely than not, he had just gotten back from performing surgery. ¡°And I should add that you have nothing to worry about¡­ Glauster has already made me promise not to share this information with anyone.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± Midday sighed. ¡°And, just out of curiosity, have you guys made any plans for surviving the coming month?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to escape the island,¡± answered Glauster, without a trace of sarcasm.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ quite the statement.¡± Midday shook his head, not quite taking the oh-so-bold statement seriously. Nobody escaped the plantation. He had seen enough executions to know that much. Even if one somehow got past the walls, the lake surrounding the island was enormous to the point where it was more than a hundred miles to the mainland. Additionally, its waters were riddled with hundred-foot-high waves and terrifying leviathans. In short, it was impossible to leave without using the subterranean rail system that had carried him and the others to the plantation just over two months before. ¡°How?¡±


    Glauster pointed downwards. ¡°The railroad, of course. It goes without saying that the watchmen who normally keep surveillance over us are unable to see through this fog. That opens up plenty of possibilities. Given how big the rail network most likely is, it might be feasible to make a slow escape by sneaking through the tunnels.¡±


    ¡°That seems idiotic to me, but I guess I¡¯ll be wishing you the best of luck with that.¡± He turned to Gork. ¡°And how about you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m staying here,¡± answered Gork. ¡°I don¡¯t know what they¡¯re playing at with this, but it sounds like a lot of people will be getting hurt because of it. Doctors will be needed, I think.¡±


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    ¡°Thought as much.¡± Midday sighed. ¡°Well, good luck to everyone.¡± He then proceeded to reach up toward the ceiling. ¡°And how about you, Mister Potatoes? Care to join me in the forest?¡±


    Mister Potatoes, being a bug and whatnot, was probably incapable of understanding any of what Midday had just said. Even so, the beetle crawled along the ceiling until it was directly above Midday, at which point the beetle dropped down into the hands of the human beneath.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a yes.¡± Midday placed Mister Potatoes on his shoulder, where the beetle seemed content to reside for the time being. ¡°You¡¯re a good beetle, Mister Potatoes.¡±


    Mister Potatoes responded with what Midday interpreted as an affectionate lick to his neck, the beetle¡¯s black, jelly-infected tongue traveling about six inches out of the creature¡¯s mouth¡ªsort of like a frog¡ªto accomplish said feat. Looks like he¡¯s already learned a few tricks. Not bad.


    It was obvious that a creature as small as Mister Potatoes would probably not be very useful in a place like the old growth. Still, Midday found the presence of his companion reassuring, especially now that they had a weird sort of kinship in that they both possessed jelly-infected tongues. He found himself viewing Mister Potatoes as something more akin to a partner than a pet.


    ¡°I guess we ought to have something to eat,¡± said Glauster, not commenting on the impossibly long tongue that should have been anatomically impossible for a creature like Mister Potatoes to possess. ¡°Too bad the fireplace is underwater now. We¡¯ll have to get by on raw oats for now. They should be edible enough, I think.¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll skip dinner tonight,¡± said Midday. ¡°You guys can keep the food for yourselves.¡± He had just come back from stuffing his mouth with blackberries for fifteen minutes until his stomach felt like it might burst. Eating was the last thing on his mind at that moment.


    ¡°Trying to get out of eating your peppercorn?¡± Gork managed a weak grin. ¡°The stone with your contract written on it might be underwater now, but that doesn¡¯t invalidate the agreement, does it?¡±


    ¡°I suppose not. I guess I¡¯ll have some oats then.¡± Midday responded nonchalantly. Seeing as he had already ¡®conquered¡¯ Devil Peppercorn, he saw no reason to dread it anymore.


    The four roommates spent the next few minutes divvying out handfuls of dry oats and eating them wordlessly. Gork was more than a little surprised upon seeing Midday unhesitatingly stuff his mouth with Devil Peppercorn-infested food and even more shocked when Midday seemed indifferent to the horrible aftertaste, but he said nothing of this¡ªpresumably not wanting to know what sort of hell his roommate had gone through to overcome the drawbacks of the godforsaken seasoning in such a short period.


    After supper, they agreed that an early bedtime would be wise. Each cabinmate had all sorts of preparations to make before Siempre Elvanera¡¯s announcement and, with how dense the fog was, there was essentially no visibility now that the sun had fallen low along the horizon. It was best, they decided, to rest as much as possible until the sun rose, at which time they would all get up and scramble to do what needed to be done.


    In order to rest without risking hypothermia from the water, Midday, Glauster, and Gork tied some logs to the bottoms of their beds to improve their buoyancy, thus allowing the beds to float like miniature rafts atop the ever-rising waterline while they slept. Romulo, on the other hand, went outside and climbed up a tree, where he slept under the limited shelter of its leaves. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, and the four knew that they needed to get their rest now while they still had the chance.

 32. Coffee

    Midday awoke to the deafening roar of the 30-minutes-before-sunrise bell, which easily drowned out the already thunderous sound of the unending rainstorm crashing down like millions of tiny gunshots on the roof. He groaned, detesting the bell just as much as usual, and, after some reluctance, he decided that he was awake and that it was time to start the day.


    Opening his eyes, he realized the flooding had reached a point where he could reach up and touch the ceiling while laying down flat on his back. That means... the water is already something like five feet high? He shook his head, trying not to acknowledge that if the rain continued like this, the cabin would be entirely underwater¡ªroof and all¡ªby the time sunset rolled around.


    Using his arms as paddles, he maneuvered the wooden plank he had used as a bed for the past two months towards Glauster, who was already sharpening a tiny knife that Midday recognized as a shiv. He looked like he had been at it for a while.


    ¡°Yup,¡± answered Glauster. ¡°I guess I ought to get going now. This might be the last time I see you guys.¡± He paddled his makeshift raft over to the doorframe and, with some effort, started squeezing his way through it.


    ¡°You¡¯re skipping the announcement?¡±


    ¡°Got to get a head start, yeah. My destination is about ten miles away and, seeing as the water is too high to walk now, I¡¯ve got to start the journey as soon as possible.¡± Glauster grinned as he made it out through the doorway. ¡°It¡¯s been nice knowing you guys; tell Romulo that I wish him the best.¡±


    With that, Glauster was gone. Midday and Gork shouted their goodbyes, but the chances that Glauster could hear them over the sound of the rain were low.


    ¡°Damn. That might be the last time we ever see him,¡± said Midday, who found himself oddly ambivalent to the departure. ¡°This shit is getting intense.¡± He looked to the nook above the fireplace, which was still not quite flooded, and realized that Gork had taken their entire supply of food along with him. This fact didn¡¯t matter much to Midday, who had the Elvanerean Ring in his pocket, but it still stung a little.


    ¡°Alright, Gork. I guess I¡¯ll see you at the announcement?¡± Midday, wanting to start his preparations, started maneuvering his raft toward the doorway.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope so.¡± Gork followed suit. He had business of his own to take care of. Not long after that, each of the four cabinmates was out making preparations.


    ?


    ¡°31 individuals dead already. Good work.¡±


    Siempre Elvanera looked through the thick glass panel between him and the bodies. The original plan had been to have only 25 people perish from the unannounced and rapid flooding but going above that threshold was hardly a detriment to the experiment. He had already requested to reserve the excess for personal use¡ªa proposal that would certainly be denied.


    Mulberry Slumpson, the head guard of Neighborhood 3, stood directly to his left, pretending to look calmly at the pile of corpses she had spent the past few hours collecting at the behest of the man beside her. Her face was calm and gathered at a glance, but closer inspection would have revealed a slight tremble that hinted at a troubled mind. She had spent more than a decade as a soldier and had both seen and committed her fair share of atrocities during those years, but looking into the blank eyes of the dead still never sat well.


    ¡°Not a bad stack at all!¡± commented a jovial man standing directly to Siempre¡¯s left. The man in question was called Coffee Coffee: the head guard of Neighborhood 12. He was a little over 7 feet tall and had no flesh¡ªwith a body composed of various human bones assembled in a vaguely humanoid shape. The first impression of any typical person would have been to deem the skinny creature as some sort of undead, but the truth was that he was actually a golem created by the chairwoman of Elvanera Group a few months before. The only evidence of this was the marble-sized core floating in defiance of gravity behind his ribcage, but that was currently covered up with a stylish turtleneck he had sewn for himself just a few days before. It was almost unheard of for a golem to be able to speak, much less have hobbies like sewing, but Coffee Coffee¡¯s existence came as no surprise when one considered the fact that the chairwoman had personally created him. ¡°I¡¯m jealous, Mister Siempre! You¡¯ve got one hell of a show ahead of you.¡± He gave Siempre a friendly pat on the shoulder.


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    ¡°Indeed,¡± answered the stone-faced administrator. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to it.¡±


    Siempre studied the corpses. They all belonged to malnourished trash¡ªhis preferred kind of specimen. How delightful it would have been, he thought, to string them all together into one of his corpse chimeras, but, lamentably, he had long since lost the privilege of doing so.


    ¡°Say, are you two staying after tonight¡¯s announcement?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going back to my Neighborhood afterward,¡± said Mulberry. ¡°My people need me.¡±


    ¡°And how about you, Coffee?¡±


    ¡°My orders are to kill that Jenjo fellow but, after I take care of that, yeah, I¡¯ll probably wanna head back.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Siempre kept a perfect poker face but, in truth, he was surprised. Why had the chairwoman elected to have Jenjo murdered? He had no idea why seeing as Jenjo presented no threat and could still be useful to the organization after the experiment ended. Moreover, there was no good reason to make a weak fighter like Coffee Coffee take care of it when stronger individuals were readily available. ¡°That¡¯ll be a tough battle if I¡¯m not mistaken. Are you doing it on your own?¡±


    ¡°Those were my orders.¡±


    ¡°I see. I¡¯ll be praying for your success.¡± Siempre made a mental note to himself to warn Jenjo if the chance to do so without getting caught arose. His initial plan had been to utilize the Jenjo in his escape attempt, but the man wasn¡¯t so essential that it was necessary to take risks to keep him alive. ¡°I¡¯ll be returning to my office now. Both of you have my thanks for helping with the experiment. I¡¯ll arrange compensation for you two. See me in my office if you need me before the announcement.¡± Siempre walked down the hallway and disappeared around a corner. Once his footsteps subsided, Coffee turned to Mulberry.


    ¡°Coffee?¡± The head guard of Neighborhood 12 smiled to the greatest extent that his bony face would permit.


    Mulberry shrugged. ¡°Why not?¡±


    The skeleton unzipped his cashmere turtleneck and reached into the space where his belly should have been before pulling out a metal carafe and a mug. The golem poured out a cup of coffee and handed it to her.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Mulberry took a sip, indifferent to the fact that it was hot enough to scald the insides of an average person¡¯s mouth. ¡°Pretty good.¡±


    ¡°Thank you very much!¡± Coffee gave Mulberry a quick bow, feeling a bit intimidated by the fact that Mulberry had ignored what he considered to be the very potent Effect his coffee gave anyone who consumed it. Was she seriously that far above him? Did his most impressive capability not phase her at all? He shuddered at the knowledge that the answer to both questions was probably yes. ¡°Hey, is it okay if I ask you something?¡±


    ¡°Shoot.¡± Mulberry took another sip, still unphased by the almost boiling beverage.


    ¡°Okay¡­ Umm, do you have any advice for killing this Jenjo guy?¡±


    ¡°Uh, sure. My advice is to kill him while he¡¯s sleeping. He¡¯ll beat you a hundred times out of a hundred if you face him in direct combat.¡±


    ¡°R-really?¡± Coffee took a step back. ¡°He¡¯s that strong?¡±


    ¡°Relative to you.¡±


    ¡°Jeez¡­¡±


    ¡°You might stand a chance in combat if you manage to get him while he¡¯s away from his weapons, like if he¡¯s taking a bath or something but, other than that, your odds of victory are pretty much zero. A tier 5 golem like yourself is generally supposed to be equal in raw power to a level 20 human, if memory serves¡ªbut Jenjo, despite only being level 20 himself, is probably equal in combat prowess to what you would expect from someone approaching 30. He had a lot of potential before he became a criminal and went to the plantation seeking refuge. I think he was trying to make it big in the professional dueling circuit back in his younger days.¡± She shrugged. ¡°So, unless the chairwoman gave you some unreasonably powerful Attributes, you¡¯re probably in a tough spot at the moment. Got anything good for combat?¡±


    ¡°Well, umm, I was originally created as a barista for one of those coffee shops the chairwoman uses to entertain guests¡­ so, umm, not really?¡± Slightly embarrassed, he turned his gaze to the bodies piled up in the cargo chamber. He always found it relaxing to look at fresh corpses¡ªa trait he took pride in knowing he had inherited from his creator.


    ¡°Huh. I¡¯m surprised that the chairwoman made you a head guard.¡±


    Coffee flinched at the comment. ¡°Well¡­ All we do in Neighborhood 12 is grow flowers¡­ And my assistant is pretty tough. He sort of covers for me, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Eh. Well, good luck, I guess. You¡¯ve got a whole month to kill this guy, so play it safe.¡± With that, Mulberry was gone. Coffee hadn¡¯t even been able to perceive her seemingly instantaneous exit, which was a shortcoming he was ashamed of. The thing he feared more than anything else in the world was disappointing his master, but Mulberry, who was arguably the strongest of the head guards and therefore very knowledgeable on all things combat, had made it sound like that was almost guaranteed to happen.


    Coffee stood there in the hallway for a while, gazing at the corpses with empty sockets that passed for eyes and wondering how in the world he was supposed to complete the seemingly impossible task ahead.

 33. Start

    After a long day of preparations, Midday finally considered himself ready for the announcement¡ªand in the nick of time too, for the day had flown away as he had scrambled to do everything he could. There were now less than twenty minutes before the announcement.


    He wore a makeshift belt around his waist, which he had fashioned out of some rope he had found near the plaza a few hours before and, on this belt, there were a few items: a crude stone hatchet he had prepared for himself as both a weapon and a tool, a pouch filled Devil Peppercorn beads along with some iron nails he had stolen from the cabins in the area, and a bottle of whiskey he had found in the wreckage of a house that hadn¡¯t withstood the flooding. All in all, he felt that he had done a reasonably good job preparing for the old growth, and he was anxiously awaiting the announcement as he sat on his raft, which he had already expanded to the point where he could sit without worrying about anything slipping.


    ¡°Ready?¡± Romulo, who had somehow managed to build himself a makeshift canoe already, had a severe look on his face as he looked at Midday and Gork¡ªboth of which were floating beside him. ¡°We should start heading over now.¡±


    ¡°Looks like it¡¯s that time,¡± said Midday who, despite the aid of his ring, was thoroughly drenched and therefore miserable. He had begun to shiver quite some time ago by then and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. Midday looked into the wall of fog that seemed to drown out the world and sighed. He had his whiskey, which he hoped would help him start a fire, but several hours would pass before he would get the chance. Without further ado, he started paddling with his wrinkly and somewhat numbed hands.


    Gork, who arguably had the most luxurious boat because of the crude, tentlike roof he had built for it, looked down at their house, which was now wholly unsalvageable, and said farewell to the cabin before starting with his paddling. ¡°I wonder how far Glauster has gotten by now.¡±


    ¡°Who knows?¡± Romulo shrugged. ¡°He¡¯s not the type to die easily, so I¡¯d imagine he¡¯s at least halfway there by now.¡± The giant had a wooden oar for paddling, which made his canoe easily several times faster than the other boats.


    As their journey to the plaza began, the trio passed several people who had, for a litany of reasons, been unable to make boats and thus had to either swim to the plaza or try their luck jumping between rooftops. There were also a few groups of what Midday assumed to be friends who had banded together to build rafts large enough for half a dozen people to better survive the flood¡ªwhich they, of course, had no idea how long would last¡ªand looked pretty prepared for the tribulations ahead. More likely than not, he thought, one of the other bearers of the raincoat ring had leaked information about the upcoming disaster and people had been preparing accordingly.


    In any case, the journey to the plaza proceeded without issue.


    The first thing Midday noticed upon arrival to the plaza was the absurdly high number of rafts in the area. He could not see all of them due to the fog but, based on the sounds he was hearing, there had to be at least a hundred in the general area. It amazed him that so many people had been resourceful enough to churn out a boat in such a short period¡ªthough most people were still either swimming or standing on the rooftops that surrounded the plaza.


    After a few minutes of floating idly while they waited for the announcement to begin, a bell rang and, with that, all the fog in the plaza was gone¡ªwhich revealed the utterly gigantic airship floating a few hundred feet above the plaza. The thing easily dwarfed anything Midday had ever seen before, and the sheer scale of the thing was unsettling. It was massive to the point where it acted as an umbrella, shielding hundreds of people from the rain and causing waterfalls to form on its along its edges. At once, Midday was left with the impression that whoever owned such a vessel, which was painted a light blue color that seemed to match the sky perfectly, must be a regal individual indeed.


    ¡°Good evening, people of Neighborhood 8.¡± A monotonous voice resounded throughout the area with impossible volume. Everyone turned to look up and see who was speaking, only to find a grotesque excuse for a man slowly floating down toward the crowd. He had an oversized purple balloon in one hand and a briefcase in the other. ¡°I am Siempre Elvanera.¡±


    Midday winced. Siempre had a stiff, upright posture that accentuated the fact that his torso was about twice as long as it should have been. His jet-black hair was combed back and held in place with a shiny gel that gave the man an air of formality further enhanced by the well-tailored and pristine lab coat he wore.


    Siempre started floating downward toward the crowd. The crowd watched in silence as he drew nearer and then nearer still. Everyone could tell upon glancing into his long-since-dead eyes that the man was dangerous.


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    Already on the ground were two individuals: Mulberry and some sort of tall skeleton-looking thing. Both stood atop the surface of the water as though it were solid ground and, once Siempre started getting closer to them, they bowed down and did not lift their heads until Siempre landed atop the water. Siempre then nodded to Mulberry. She nodded back and raised both arms overhead.


    Over the span of the next few seconds, all the water in the area disappeared. The clouds parted too and, by the time it was done, Mulberry had created a dry and vibrantly sunny plaza¡ªalbeit one still surrounded by looming walls of muddy water and opaque fog.


    Midday and more than a hundred other people suddenly found that their boats were sitting atop dry pavement and that they, along with their clothes, were also perfectly dry. Midday wondered how many hundreds of thousands of gallons Mulberry had simultaneously manipulated to achieve this result and guessed that it was probably close to a million. He let out a big sigh.


    Siempre and his assistants were now standing on the stage where the wheel of games that Jenjo used to dish out various tortures resided. Jenjo was there too, of course, though unconcealed fear was plastered plainly across his face as he stood sandwiched between Mulberry and the tall skeleton creature.


    ¡°Thank you to everyone currently attending this meeting,¡± started Siempre, ¡°Surveying the crowd, it looks like turnout is about ninety-five percent. Unfortunately, those who chose not to attend are about to be killed. I suggest all of you cover your ears and close your eyes now.¡±


    The crowd, not quite sure what to make of these instructions, hesitated to do so, and the result was that many people were stunned when the sky turned white. Thousands of lightning bolts and thunderstrikes flew down from the sky and crashed into the still-flooded Neighborhood surrounding the plaza. The onslaught continued for about thirty seconds, during which time there was so much thunder that the otherwise distinct booms of thunder blended into a low rumble loud enough to cause every bone in the body to tremble.


    ¡°That should have killed most of the stragglers. Good. We can proceed.¡±


    The crowd, realizing that hundreds of people had just passed away, fell silent. It became clear to all that they were not dealing with deranged rulers gone mad with power but, rather, that their oppressors could be seen as gods in all but name. Even the strongest residents of Neighborhood 8 now understood that they were utterly powerless against their captors.


    ¡°Neighborhood 8 has been selected as the subject of an experiment concerning the efficacy of a recently acquired Ability belonging to an individual known as Weathermaker¡ªthe same individual responsible for all weather-related phenomena on this plantation and for the lightning storm that just occurred. This Neighborhood will be used to conduct various tests over the next four weeks or until every resident is presumed dead. During these coming weeks, all ordinary duties will be suspended so that every individual will be more able to focus on survival. Those who make it to the end of the month, including individuals sent here because of criminal offenses, will be granted freedom.¡± Having said everything he needed to say, Siempre nodded to himself. ¡°The experiment hereby begins.¡±


    About 30 human corpses were dropped out of a hatch from the airship above, with some of the bodies landing on the people standing closest to the stage and thereby crushing them to death.


    The crowd broke out into a panic. Nobody was exactly sure what had just happened, but it was clear enough that now was a good time to leave. As people scrambled toward the tall walls of water that surrounded the plaza, Siempre continued:


    ¡°Until approximately 1 minute ago, this fog was inert but, as of now, the Ability has been activated and thus the fog has taken on its desired characteristics. My subordinate will now allow the fog to return while still keeping the water away. I suggest that all of you watch what is about to occur, as it will reveal the nature of this experiment.¡±


    The fog steadily started creeping in toward the plaza, but Mulberry was keeping it thin enough that everyone could still see what was happening:


    Each corpse started twitching as soon as it came into contact with the fog. A few seconds after that, all of them had risen to their feet and were hobbling around with the kind of loose movements one might expect from someone a drunkard on the brink of passing out. After some additional seconds of grogginess, the corpses regained their composure and exploded into motion, with the horde dispersing as each corpse picked a target and sprinted toward them with frightening speed.


    In the span of maybe five seconds, another ten people perished.


    The newly dead people popped back onto their feet just seconds after death and started attacking whichever living people were closest. The crowd turned to run, with many of them abandoning their boats in a panicked effort to escape before they too were killed and brought back to life as bloodthirsty monsters but, as soon as the undead¡ªwhich just everyone now knew either from folktales or personal experience was what they were dealing with¡ªstarted charging toward Siempre and his subordinates, Mulberry let all the water she had been keeping out of the plaza flood back in with an explosive wave that swept anyone not already sitting on a boat off their feet.


    With that, the fog and its accompanying rain were back in full force. Midday couldn¡¯t see anything more than a few feet away from his raft; because of this, he no longer knew where Romulo or Gork had gone. The only other living thing he could see was Mister Potatoes, who had been sitting on his shoulder all day.


    He tried his best not to make any noise as he started paddling his way toward the rendezvous point where he was supposed to meet the other bodyguards, but it was hard not to scream as the carnage unfolding behind him made its way into his ears. A torrent of people calling for help as zombies dragged them down under the water flooded his ears with a dread that made his body heavy and his heart weak.


    Beyond a shred of doubt, the experiment had begun.

 34. Group

    It was all but impossible to navigate in the face of the awful visibility and the gut-wrenching horror that the rain and fog seemingly did their best to hide. Midday¡¯s teeth chattered, not from cold¡ªthe air was still reasonably warm¡ªbut from the sensation of cold borne out of fear. Goosebumps felt like icy needles poking out of his skin as he listened to the gradual decrescendo of the tragedy unfolding in the plaza he had narrowly escaped less than a minute before.


    The screams had mostly died off by then, and the only sounds he heard were the rain pelting him from above and his raft carving turbulently through the water. Despite the loud volume of the rain, Midday felt like an eerie silence had washed over the Neighborhood. He had no idea where the undead might be hiding, and the thought that there could be a zombie stalking his raft from below the waterline at that very moment kept him deathly afraid of making noise.


    Midday noticed, upon feeling numbness make its way up his arms, that he had unconsciously started holding his breath. He forced himself to breathe but, as he did so, it dawned on him that Siempre Elvanera had hinted at the fog playing a role in the creating the undead and that, in breathing said fog, he might be putting himself at risk of becoming a zombie himself.


    He almost wanted to laugh about it.


    The game had been lost before it had begun. Weathermaker, the individual Siempre had claimed was responsible for the fog, was so impossibly far above him and everyone else in the Neighborhood that opposing them felt like a cruel joke. This was not a battle for survival. All this could be described as someone squashing bugs for fun.


    If Weathermaker wanted to kill everyone in the Neighborhood, there was no reason to believe, based on what had been demonstrated thus far, that it would take more than ten seconds for them to do so. Survival depended not on the valiant efforts of those trapped within the walls of the Neighborhood but, instead, life and death were determined by the whims of a being whose power transcended Midday¡¯s comprehension and, when he took all that into account, Midday couldn¡¯t help but crack a sad chuckle at how arbitrary everything was.


    ¡°Oi.¡± A survivor on a raft of their own appeared out of the fog and came up beside him. ¡°Do me a favor and try your best not to lose it.¡±


    Midday looked up at the person and sighed.


    They were wearing a Raincoat Ring. This was one of his fellow bodyguards. For some reason, Midday now found the thought that Mulberry had thought it would be possible for the bodyguards to protect anything at all humorous. It was a bad joke, sure, having been crafted unintentionally from naivety, but another subdued chuckle escaped his lips at the sight of this person.


    ¡°Do yourself a favor and get it together.¡± The person, a woman in her early twenties, put a palm to her temple and shook her head in disapproval. She was about as skinny as Midday, suggesting that she too was likely to be low level, but a composed demeanor¡ªwhich manifested in everything from her steely blue eyes to her easygoing breaths¡ªstood in direct contrast to the assumption that she was weak.


    Midday, agreeing with the assessment that his current attitude would do more harm than good, let out a deep sigh and was subsequently more-or-less returned to his usual self.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°Honey Beeson. I¡¯m level 7. You?¡±


    ¡°Midday Sunson. Level 5.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± Her lips curled into a bleak smile. ¡°Looks like you and I will be the runts of the litter.¡±


    ¡°Hopefully.¡±


    The water on which their boats floated which, having been significantly disturbed by the thousands of lightning strikes and the ongoing rainstorm, was very choppy and required both of them to lay on their stomachs to avoid capsizing. Even without the threat of the undead, it was hardly the ideal position to have a conversation, and the fact that Midday had to deal with the knowledge that Glauster had probably been electrocuted to death and might already be a zombie killed the conversation before it had any chance of getting off the ground.


    Romulo was alive. He was sure of that much. There was nothing to worry about on that front. Gork was probably alive too, but Midday knew there was a high chance that the kindhearted doctor would get himself killed trying to help people. The fact that all Midday could do about that was let out a defeated sigh didn¡¯t sit well with him. Now, more than ever, he longed for the kind of strength that would make it impossible for the world to toss him around as it so often did.


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    It was a morbid brand of curiosity that drove him to wonder about what level this Weathermaker individual was. Sixty? Seventy? Maybe eighty? He sighed. Attaching a number to something so far beyond his understanding seemed impossible. Even someone like Mulberry was beyond his ability to approximate¡ªand she was probably several orders of magnitude weaker than the godlike entity known only as Weathermaker.


    Another sigh. Thinking about those things was pointless. It would be better, he decided, to start seriously thinking about how he might go about leveling up if he truly wanted to be free from the indifferent shackles of fortune. Devil Peppercorn and the blackberries that usually accompanied it had already made his body more robust¡ªand would continue to do so for the foreseeable future¡ªbut the fact of the matter was that a powerful level 5 was still only level 5 at the end of the day. He needed XP.


    ¡°Looks like there aren¡¯t many zombies around here. Wonder where they all went.¡± Honey looked down into the water below them. ¡°What are the chances that they¡¯re lurking just a few feet beneath us, waiting for us to let our guards down?¡± Her face was like that of a kid telling a scary campfire story.


    ¡°Fairly high,¡± answered Midday. ¡°So zip it. I don¡¯t think either of us wants to run into one of them right now. Quieter is better, I think. The sun is getting low, so unless they gained some sort of night vision by becoming undead, they¡¯ll probably be hunting mostly by sound. The rain is loud enough to hide most of our activities, but I¡¯d prefer to save the conversation for when we meet with the rest of the group.¡±


    ¡°That was a lot of words for someone who just told me how important it is to be quiet.¡±


    Midday felt his eyebrows tense up at this comment but said nothing in response. The two paddled their rafts beside each other for several minutes until finally making it to what they assumed was their rendezvous point. It was hard to know for sure, given that the only way one could navigate at this point was by looking at the chimneys and treetops that were still above the waterline, but the fact that other people were sitting there was evidence enough that they had arrived.


    Six people, most of which floated alone on rafts that had been haphazardly tied together with rope, were sitting in a loose circle. Nobody seemed incredibly talkative but, upon seeing that two people wearing Raincoat Rings had arrived, one of the people spoke:


    ¡°Hello.¡± A familiar man greeted Midday and Honey with a somber voice. His raft was by far the largest and sturdiest of the boats in the circle, having been built from a robust mixture of wooden planks and logs. ¡°Glad you two made it.¡± The man, who was sheltered under a slanted tarp held up by two walls of wood, held up an oil lantern whose warm orange light illuminated his face.


    Midday at once realized that the person speaking to him was none other than Jenjo: the oh-so-cruel head guard of Neighborhood 8. He froze up in shock. Had the authorities caught wind of Mulberry¡¯s plan? Was this the end? Unable to run because of the zombies that might be lurking underneath, he stared intensely at the forlorn-looking man.


    Jenjo, perhaps having expected the fear in Midday¡¯s eyes, shrugged. ¡°Ah, no. I¡¯m not the head guard anymore. Technically speaking, I was removed from the position a few days ago. For all intents and purposes, I¡¯m just a slave now.¡±


    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t explain why you¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°For the same reason as you. Mulberry hired me to protect Solomon the Frog.¡± Jenjo made no attempt at hiding his frown. ¡°But let¡¯s continue this conversation after everyone else arrives. You¡¯re not the first person to ask me these questions and you certainly won¡¯t be the last. I¡¯d rather not repeat myself too many times. For the time being, take a gun and shut up.¡±


    Jenjo turned his attention to a gigantic duffel bag laying beside him and spent a few seconds rummaging through it before pulling out two weapons that Midday immediately recognized as the same kind of dueling pistol Jenjo always wore on his waist opposite to his cutlass¡ªthough the ones currently in his hands were obviously of far cheaper make.


    He tossed one to Honey, which she easily caught, and then another to Midday, which he barely managed to catch by clapping his hands around the barrel.


    ¡°You¡¯re giving us firearms?¡± Honey grinned at the weapon in her hands before pointing it at Jenjo. Nobody besides Midday flinched upon seeing what she was trying to do. ¡°That¡¯s risky, don¡¯t you know? I¡¯m sure you know how many people around here would love to see you dead.¡±


    ¡°Quite aware, yes.¡± Jenjo set his lantern down beside him and slouched a little more. ¡°Go ahead and shoot. See what happens.¡±


    Honey did precisely that and pulled the trigger only to find that nothing had happened.


    Jenjo let out a disappointed sigh. ¡°Good lord. Did you really think it would be loaded?¡±


    Honey played it cool: ¡°I was trying to say that I¡¯m serious about hating you. I obviously knew that there wouldn¡¯t be any bullets in there. Duh.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but there are bullets in there already. I was only kidding about it not being loaded.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ But¡­ Why didn¡¯t anything come out?¡±


    ¡°Well, for one, the safety mechanism is still triggered. Disabling that would be a good place to start.¡±


    ¡°And¡­ how would I do that?¡±


    Jenjo sighed once again. ¡°I¡¯ll give you and all the other weaker members of the group a crash course in marksmanship later. Not yet though. How about you do us all a favor and shut up for a few minutes while you try to figure it out for yourself?¡±


    Honey grumbled some sort of rude response but said nothing more. A short silence ensued.

 35. Gang

    The return to silence gave Midday a chance to get situated a little better. One people on a nearby raft, a young man probably no more than a year older than Midday, tossed over a rope and asked him to tie his raft into the chain they were building to connect the boats. Midday took it and, a few moments after beginning his awful attempt at knotwork, addressed the individual¡ªwho had a very distinctive blue hair that Midday thought had to be dyed and an even more distinctive long nose that protruded more than a foot out of his face.


    ¡°Stop me if we¡¯re saving introductions for after everyone gets here, but who might you be?¡±


    ¡°Ablute Xun Jin of Yuxzi Ridge.¡± The man grinned, revealing a mouth of sharp, jagged teeth almost reminiscent of a shark. ¡°Take a good look at me, because this is the face of the future world¡¯s greatest bath maker.¡±


    ¡°Bath maker?¡±


    ¡°Right on! I will someday become the founder of the world¡¯s greatest bathhouse!¡± Ablute had a sparkle in his eyes as he turned his attention to Midday¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Cool beetle! Is it related to your Ability? Let me guess: Bug Catcher? Vermineer? Or could it maybe even be full-fledged Entomancy?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s just a pet.¡± Midday sighed, not sure what to think of this person¡¯s stated goal in life. He failed to see how could there really even be that much to baths in the first place. All the bathing he had partaken in throughout his life had consisted of wading out into a river and maybe rubbing some sand around to loosen up the dirt. It was hard to fathom that there could be much more to it than that and, in any case, he was far more interested in the fact that Ablute had so casually assumed he was an Ability user. That probably meant Ablute himself was at least level 10¡ªand thus had an ability of his own.


    ¡°I getcha! Still cool though. What kind of beetle is it?¡±


    ¡°Something called an Emperor Rockjaw. Mister Potatoes is supposedly quite exotic.¡± Midday sighed. ¡°Say, do you mind if I ask your Ability?¡±


    ¡°Currents,¡± answered Ablute, ¡°I¡¯ll give you the rundown on it after everyone else gets here!¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Midday sighed again before tossing the rope to Honey and asking her to link her boat up with everyone else. Honey was still preoccupied with her handgun, a piece of machinery she evidently had no experience with, but she stopped for a few moments to heed his request.


    A few minutes later, another raft arrived. Jenjo gave them their greetings, they naturally freaked out a tad upon realizing who he was, Jenjo tossed them their guns, and then they settled down like everyone else. After another ten minutes of unrewarded waiting, Jenjo stood up on his raft and sighed:


    ¡°Looks like the others aren¡¯t going to make it¡ªif there were more people than just us to begin with. I think it highly likely that Mulberry lied to us about how many people she intended to recruit in the first place. Raincoat Rings may be easy to get for someone with the Ringsmith Ability, but they are still not so commonplace that she would be able to carelessly hand out a dozen of them. Moreover, I can tell from looking at the lot of you I¡¯m the only person here above level 15. She promised that there would be at least three level 15s, but none of you look strong enough to be that level. My Duelist Ability gives me a good sense for this sort of thing.¡± He sighed. ¡°I should add that I¡¯m not concerned about what anyone¡¯s level is right now. Mulberry gave me a few things that¡¯ll help with the leveling process. More on that after we meet with Solomon.¡±


    Midday raised an eyebrow at that last part but said nothing.


    ¡°So you don¡¯t feel like waiting anymore?¡± The person who had been last to arrive spoke up over the rain. Her face was hidden under a leather hood stitched onto an ordinary worker uniform. ¡°There are only nine of us. That¡¯s not enough. Also, what gives you the right to act as the leader? Why do you think we should believe that nobody is better suited to the role of captain?¡±


    Jenjo chuckled at the questions. ¡°The undead¡ªif that¡¯s actually what they are¡ªwill find us if we spend too long lollygagging here. I might be strong enough to take on maybe a dozen at once, but even I have my limits. Protecting you guys adds an additional burden.¡± He grinned. ¡°And the reason I¡¯m the leader, by the way, is because I¡¯m the only one guaranteed to survive through the end of the month. The rest of you are squishy meat sacks that¡¯ll die from just about anything.¡± He grinned even deeper, reveling in his importance relative to everyone else. ¡°Adding onto that is the fact that Mulberry gave me, not you, the backpack of goodies that¡¯ll help us survive. Fact of the matter is that she wanted me to be in charge.¡±


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    Jenjo looked to Ablute.


    ¡°What level are you? I overheard you mentioning your Ability earlier.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m level 10,¡± answered Ablute.


    Jenjo sighed. ¡°Your Ability lets you manipulate water currents, correct? Are at least proficient enough with it to propel our boats toward the old growth?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Ablute scratched his chin. ¡°My maximum range is a radius of about 50 feet, but the current would be really weak if I stretched it that thin. I could compensate for that to an extent by treating it like a sprint and using up all my power to get us going at a good speed, but I¡¯d only be able to maintain that for a few minutes¡ªand then I would be too exhausted to do much besides take a nap afterwards.¡±


    ¡°Looks like we¡¯ll have to get you up a few levels. Making you stronger will be a top priority. Can you manipulate the shape of your range of influence to better maximize it for our purposes? Or have you not learned how to do that yet?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t even know that was possible.¡± Ablute stared at Jenjo with a blank smile.


    ¡°Technique-related stuff like that isn¡¯t tied to level. You just have to practice.¡± He shrugged. ¡°But no worries. Save your strength for later. We¡¯ll just paddle our way there in the standard fashion.¡±


    Jenjo turned around and hopped out the backside of his raft toward a tree. He then drew his sword and, with a few quick slashes, cut off a few chunks of wood that everyone immediately understood were to be used as oars. He did a few more slices to improve the shape and then tossed them out to everyone.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get a move on.¡±


    Midday obediently started paddling but was quick to notice that Honey and the girl with a hood over her face weren¡¯t doing anything. It didn¡¯t matter especially much to him¡ªthe force being generated from Jenjo and the other people near the front was enough that all the rafts started moving forward through the trees.


    Now entering into the forest, the leaves above provided much-needed respite from the rainfall. Rain still filtered down through the leaves in enormous quantities, but it was much quieter in doing so¡ªwith the majority of the noise having been absorbed by the treetops. All he needed now, thought Midday, was a way to warm up a tad. He had been shivering so long that he had lost track of it.


    ¡°So how about we go around and introduce ourselves now?¡± Jenjo, whose raft was at the front of the chain, called back to everyone else. ¡°I¡¯ll start.¡±


    Jenjo cleared his throat for effect and began: ¡°My name is Jenjo of Harriseppu. I¡¯m level 20. My Abilities are Duelist and Phantom Slice. Duelist is a passive Ability that boosts my proficiency in all dueling-related endeavors; Phantom Slice allows me to cut things without actually running my blade through them. My most relevant skill to this expedition is combat. That¡¯s all I¡¯ll say for now. Let¡¯s go down the chain.¡±


    Jenjo pointed to the person directly behind him¡ªa chubby middle-aged man with a hairline so receded that it began closer to the back of his skull than his forehead. The man squinted at Jenjo upon having been called upon.


    ¡°Bell Bellson at your service,¡± said the man with the raspy voice of a heavy smoker, ¡°My level is 15 and my Ability is Sandeater¡ªwhich allows me to gain XP and nutrition by eating sand. It has no other uses. Much to my chagrin, I am unable to claim that I have any relevant skills to the expedition.¡±


    The next three people were all strong carpenters without Abilities. Two of them were level 9 and the other was level 8¡ªand they all knew each other, as evidenced by the fact that they all shared the same well-built raft¡ªbut, besides that, Midday saw nothing else noteworthy about them for the time being. Jenjo seemed quite pleased upon learning that the expedition had so many carpenters coming along for the ride though. Next up was Ablute of Palython, the weird-looking youth with too big a smile for the situation:


    ¡°My name is Ablute of Palython, and take a good look at me, because this is the face of the future world¡¯s greatest bath maker!¡± Ablute paused as if to make sure everyone really did have time to take a good look at him. ¡°My Ability is Current, and I can use it to manipulate water currents. I plan to make to use it to make something called a ¡®Lazy River¡¯ after I escape the plantation! My most relevant skill to the expedition is water purification. I¡¯ve got a three-pronged approach to it! Filtration, distillation, and refrigeration!¡±


    With that out of the way, it was Midday¡¯s turn.


    ¡°My name is Midday Sunson. Level 5. I have some knowledge of the old growth.¡±


    A few people flinched. Level 5 was low. About as low as one could reasonably expect to find. How had Mulberry managed to find someone this weak? Nobody knew for sure¡ªas it had seemed until then that everyone else was at the very least above average¡ªbut nobody especially cared either.


    Honey went next, declaring that she had two currently had both a passion for beekeeping and a goal to kill Jenjo. At only level 7 though, no one thought that she would be able to succeed.


    The final person was the hooded girl. From her voice, Midday guessed that she was about the same age as himself. ¡°Call me Braulia. My Ability is Pyromancy and I¡¯m level 13. Having someone capable of starting fires at will be invaluable to the group.¡±


    With that, introductions were done. The group paddled quietly through the forest for a while. At the present rate, thought Midday, it would not be long before they arrived to the old growth.

 36. Gun

    All was proceeding smoothly.


    The rafts, being the improvised constructs they were, occasionally had some issues¡ªone of which had landed the pyromancy user in the back¡ªBraulia¡ªin near the front in the Carpentry Trio¡¯s raft. Other than that, there really wasn¡¯t anything especially treacherous about the journey as of yet. Midday assumed that most of the animals large enough to pose a threat to them had already drowned.


    Trees were the only real obstacle, with the rafts oftentimes getting caught on them increasingly often as the forest thickened deeper into the forest but, besides that, they were making good time. Everything was seeming alright to Midday until Jenjo suddenly called back from up front:


    ¡°One of you said you were level 5, right?¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± said Midday, his aching hands numb the work they had been doing. The unclean water agitated his recently severed left middle finger, and he occasionally had to take it out of the water until the pain went away¡ªonly for the process to repeat a few minutes afterwards once he resumed his work.


    ¡°Midday, right?¡± Jenjo paused for a moment. ¡°Do you know how to use a gun?¡±


    ¡°Not yet.¡± Midday decided to use the conversation as an excuse to stop paddling for a minute and sit up.


    ¡°Then I guess it¡¯s time for the crash course. Pick up your pistol, kid.¡±


    Midday did as he was told, but felt a pit forming in his stomach as he wracked his brain for answers as to why he had been given such worrying instructions.


    ¡°That right there in your hands is a Coalition Standard Issue Spring-Piston Handgun. They give it out as one of the options for a starter weapon to anyone they can sucker into joining the organization¡ªor to anyone who buys one for 90 Coins in one of their monster-hunting supply shops.¡± He paused. ¡°I do hope everyone is listening to this. It applies to all of you.¡± Jenjo continued. ¡°They designed it for use by beginner Legionnaires against unindexed monsters like goblins and such, but you¡¯ll be using it to fend for yourself in the old growth¡ªat least until you get to level 10, that is. In any case, start pumping it up. Keep the safety on for now though. No sense in taking that off just yet. We¡¯ve still got a minute or two.¡±


    ¡°A minute or two before what?¡± Midday could discern much detail, but he could tell through their faded silhouettes in the fog that the carpentry sisters had already picked up their pistols. One of them looked forward to Jenjo. ¡°Don¡¯t be coy. What are you talking about right now?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s some sort of creature trailing us right now. Nothing major. Judging from the sound, it only weighs a few hundred pounds¡ªso its probably just an undead deer or something along those lines.¡±


    ¡°Undead?¡± One of the carpentry trio members spoke up, and the three of them started pumping up their pistols in preparation for combat.


    ¡°Yeah. Pretty sure this fog works on all animals. Not just people.¡± He sighed. ¡°Don¡¯t forget that this is Weathermaker we¡¯re talking about here.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that mean¡­¡± She shuddered, ¡°No, that can¡¯t be right. Wouldn¡¯t that mean that literally anything that perishes will come back to life as an undead? That¡¯d get out of hand way too fast.¡±


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°Maybe. Too early to say for sure.¡± Jenjo sighed. ¡°Everyone go ahead and pump your guns, but don¡¯t shoot just yet. Just cock back the barrel a few times and leave it at that.¡±


    Midday did as he was told and pulled the barrel back. It slid a few inches out of its socket before snapping back into place. He did it again and noticed that it was slightly difficult to do it now. A third pump was challenging enough that he really had to tense his muscles and, after the fourth, he was thoroughly exhausted. Midday tried for a fifth pump but couldn¡¯t get the barrel to slide far enough back for it to count.


    ¡°How many pumps did ya get, Midday?¡±


    ¡°4.¡±


    ¡°Damn. That probably won¡¯t be enough to kill whatever has been swimming behind us for a few minutes now, but it¡¯ll hopefully do enough damage for The Voice to throw some XP your way when it dies. Before you take the shot, though, you need to catch something I¡¯m about to throw your way. It¡¯s coming your way on the count of three. 1. 2. 3. Catch!¡±


    Midday managed to grab a small square of the air when it appeared out of the fog a few seconds later. He eyed it for a moment and realized that it was a cracker of some sort, probably a saltine. It was white in color and had dry and crisp feel in his hand.


    ¡°The hell is this?¡± He mumbled to himself.


    ¡°Eat that it and find out.¡± said Jenjo, who had somehow heard him despite the rain pouring down on the treetops above.


    ¡°Uh¡­ Okay?¡±


    Midday ate the cracker. It tasted like nothing because of his accursed black tongue, but he had a feeling that he wasn¡¯t missing much in this instance. Crackers like this usually had about as much flavor as a brick.


    ¡°Effect added. Lordmaker Saltine: Drastically improves XP gain for five minutes if the user is below level 15.


    Midday went wide eyed. There was no doubt in his mind that this cracker had been made using Lordmaker Rye¡ªthe greatest of the six agricultural treasures grown on the plantation. It was an exorbitantly expensive crop with an absurdly powerful attribute, and he was thoroughly shocked by the fact that Jenjo had just given him a taste of it. Midday was unable to contain his nervous chuckle. He had gone into this expedition with the intent to level up once or maybe twice if things went well but, with this, reaching the all-too-important level 10 milestone just might be in reach. His heart was beating fast, and it sped up even more when Jenjo spoke once again.


    ¡°I trust you understand how important it is that you get at least a few hits in now?¡±


    Midday nodded, unable to bring himself to speak. Jenjo, of course, did not see this because of the fog, but continued all the same.


    ¡°Close your eyes and listen. Try to hear it breathing. Once you find it, take the shot. If it lives, shoot again. Rinse and repeat until it dies. Everyone else should stand down for now. But keep your eyes peeled. If the kid manages to kill it by himself, there¡¯s a chance he¡¯ll level up. You ready, kid?¡±


    Midday was already deep in concentration by the time Jenjo got around to asking the question. He made no effort to respond, choosing instead to focus on the surroundings. For any clues that might lead him to the location of the pursuer. He sat in silence, trying his best to filter out white noise and mental chatter, for the better part of a minute.


    He heard all sorts of things had had gone unnoticed while doing this: birds singing, leaves swaying gently or collapsing under the rain, grasshoppers and cicadas chirping, and frogs croaking. He listened patiently for a sign of his prey but heard nothing. Before he knew it a minute had passed.


    In differing circumstances, Midday reckoned he would have given up by that point, but he only had a five-minute window before the saltine¡¯s Effect expired. He had to kill the beast during that window no matter what. He could not let this opportunity go to waste.


    After almost two minutes of listening, he heard a branch snap. Without conscious thought, he disengaged the safety mechanism on his pistol and steadied his hands. Another twig snapped a few seconds later. He aimed his gun toward the source of the noise.


    Listening carefully, focusing every fiber of his being into hearing something more, to get the last piece of information he needed to act, Midday finally heard it: a deep, husky sort of breathing that suggested lungs of enormous size. The lungs of something far larger than a simple deer. It was a forceful kind of breathing, the kind you¡¯d expect to hear from an animal trying to keep its head above the waterline. Now that he had heard it, he knew what he had to do.


    Midday took the shot.

 37. Lordmaker

    A dreadful squeal, reminiscent of someone blowing on a whistle, resounded throughout the area.


    Midday started pumping up his gun once again, doing his best to keep his hands steady in spite of a rapidly accelerating heart. One pump. Two pumps. He focused on counting, trying to ignore the ear-splitting scream of the beast behind the fog. Five pumps. Here goes.


    He took another shot.


    Another earsplitting scream followed immediately thereafter.


    It was strange. He had no experience with guns and yet he had just put two bullets in a row into a creature he couldn¡¯t even see. A creature more than fifty feet away. Was it luck? He had no idea and tried his best not to think about it. Thinking had wait until after he got his XP.


    The pumped up his gun again. At this point his body was getting tired and, though the heat of the moment allowed him to force his arms to get to five pumps once again, he understood that he would have to drop down to four pumps going forward. He decided that he needed to make this shot count because the ones following it would be weaker. Midday allowed himself some time to steady his hands and then pulled the trigger.


    Nothing.


    A miss. That much was to be expected. More likely than anything, he told himself, the first few shots had been lucky and nothing more. It wasn''t as though he actually knew how to use a gun. Still, he managed to keep calm and not let the disappointment get the better of him. He got to work charging the pistol, his arms already feeling like rubber and, after four excruciating pumps, he closed his eyes once again to listen for the creature''s breathing, wich had become a clearly audible wheeze at this point.


    Waiting to hear the beast once more had cost him some time though, and the creature was now less than twenty feet away, with the silhouette of enormous horns already creeping out of the fog, but he had no complaints about the decreased distance. Firing close-range would do more damage.


    With the barrel pointed at the source of the breathing noises, Midday pulled the trigger.


    Another scream followed. The agonized cries of the dying beast almost made Midday feel bad for what he had done, but he didn¡¯t let his guilt get in the way of finishing the hunt. He started pumping his pumping his pistol once again, well-aware of the fact that this would be his last chance to kill the thing because, if the creature got too close, Jenjo would step in and save him. Midday couldn''t let that happen though. He needed the XP.


    The beast close enough now that Midday realized what he was dealing with. In a general sense, it could be described as a deer, but the truth was that the animal in question was a moose. An enormous moose that probably weighed well over a thousand pounds. The vacant look in its unblinking eyes made him realize that it was probably already dead. That it was a zombie. He decided that it was time to put the final nail in the coffin.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Midday put a bullet between its eyes just as it got close enough to lunge at him.


    ¡°+437 XP. Level increased from 5 to 6.¡±


    He collapsed onto his back as the moose croaked its last breath and let out a deep, relieved sigh.


    Finally. Midday grinned. He had finally placed his foot on the staircase. He had finally made undeniable progress. It felt good. Just plain felt good. He didn¡¯t feel any different after the level-up besides an ever so slight feeling lightness that may as well have been the result an excited heart that felt as though it were on the brink of exploding. Even so, he knew that the differences would make themselves known soon enough. A higher-level individual was, of course, stronger.


    While Midday was basking in his success, Jenjo used his Phantom Slice to behead the corpse of the moose.


    ¡°That should stop it from coming back a second time,¡± said the satisfied-looking level 20 as he called out to Midday. ¡°Let¡¯s hope so anyways. Good work. How much XP did that net you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m level 6¡­ I¡¯m level 6¡­¡± Midday found that he only half-believed his own words. The Voice itself had confirmed them to be true, but he had been level 5 for most of his life by then and he had always imagined that he would stay way for the rest of his life. ¡°I¡¯m level 6.¡±


    ¡°Damn. That was fast. How much XP did that kill net you?¡±


    ¡°Four-hundred-thirty-something¡­¡± Midday chuckled at the absurdity of the statement. The moose had been big, sure, but it was still nowhere close to being threatening enough to justify that much XP. ¡°That cracker you gave me¡­ Is it what I think it is?¡±


    ¡°Depends on whether or not you think it¡¯s a saltine made from Lordmaker Rye.¡±


    Everyone flinched at Jenjo¡¯s casual mention of Lordmaker Rye. It was the crop grown exclusively in Neighborhood 1, and its unprocessed seeds were guarded by several layers of security to prevent anyone besides Elvanera Group from being able to grow it. For him to be wasting such valuable consumables on a level 5 who showed no special promise in particular¡ªbesides his bizarre knack for sharpshooting¡ªmade everyone wonder just how many of those crackers he had stashed away in that duffel bag of his.


    ¡°To call Mulberry rich is an understatement.¡± Jenjo continued. ¡°We have enough goodies for everyone here for everyone present to at the very least reach level 10 by the end of the month.¡± He sighed. ¡°Solomon is probably a target of assassination by the higher-ups, so everyone involved in protecting him will need to be strong. But enough of that for now. Time to start paddling again. Make sure your gun has the safety mechanism triggered.¡±


    Midday flicked the safety on and put the gun down, still amazed at what he had just done. It was true that he had been raised the traditional way for someone from Greatoak Village and thus had to put up with daily archery practice until he turned 13, but he had never been especially talented as a bowman. To make matters worse, Midday had quit practicing archery as soon as he had been allowed to do so. In short, it made no sense for him to be good with guns, but he was glad that he was.


    He got to work with paddling. The old growth was probably no more than ten minutes away by that point and, now that he was in good spirits after having leveled up, he was almost looking forward to seeing what awaited him there.

 38. Old Growth

    The raft caravan arrived at the precipice of what better weather would have revealed to be an enormous crater close to a thousand feet deep and several miles across. Today though, the only evidence that they were at their destination was the dim, ethereal blue luminescence emanating from the fuzzy surface of the algae-covered swamp water.


    ¡°Here we are,¡± Jenjo unceremoniously declared. ¡°The old growth.¡±


    Midday reached down and scooped up a handful of the vibrant blue Valley Algae and stared at it the substance, which began to glow a little brighter in response to his touch, for a moment before letting it fall back into the water. It was likely that this was the only thing he would be eating throughout the coming month and, since taste no longer applied to him, his only thought was about how well it would synergize with Devil Peppercorn.


    ¡°So where the hell is this Solomon guy?¡± Honey scoffed, unimpressed at the otherworldly blue algae that smothered the water like grass over dirt. ¡°We¡¯ve got to be getting close by now, right?¡±


    ¡°He lives on the back of one of the elephants that live here,¡± answered Jenjo. ¡°That¡¯s all she told me.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ In any case, I trust we should have our guns ready now that we¡¯ve arrived?¡± Bell, the heavyset old hunchback, had long since readied his pistol. The question was just a roundabout way of reminding everyone to be on guard for the dangers they would soon face.


    Midday took the hint and readied his weapon¡ªthough he knew such a puny device would be no match for the residents of the old growth. This was a place where creatures stronger than the moose he had killed less than ten minutes ago were at the bottom of the food chain.


    A story Romulo had told him a month ago came to mind. It was his account of an encounter with the most lethal species in the old growth. The Swampopotamus. With an average height in excess of ten feet at the shoulder and a typical weight of fifty-thousand pounds, they were all but indestructible beasts that ruled over the algae supply with iron hooves. The only species larger than them were the Old Growth Elephants¡ªpeaceful behemoths that made the Swampopotamuses look minuscule by comparison.


    ¡°Having your guns out would be wise,¡± agreed Jenjo.


    The rafts continued into the crater known as the old growth. Its edges were gently sloped at first, and Midday initially found the sensation of entering the area akin to being carried along a slow river, but the rafts kept picking up speed as the ground beneath them steepened until it almost felt as though they were barreling down a waterfall.


    Midday gripped the edges of his boat as best he could, holding on for dear life as rain and wind alike pelted his face until the water finally leveled out at the bottom of the crater with a suddenness that knocked the wind out of him.


    When he managed to pull his head up from the raft, he was greeted by the sight of a herd of zebras. They looked exactly like their conventional counterparts besides the fact that their color scheme was black and red as opposed to the usual black and white.


    The creatures stood atop the surface of the water as though it were solid ground and were grazing the algae that grew on its surface as if it were grass. There were about a dozen in total that could be seen, but Midday imagined that there were many more hidden behind the fog. They stepped aside whenever rafts came near, but the zebras made no attempt to run.


    ¡°Red Stripe Zebras,¡± he said, informing his companions as to what they were seeing. Romulo had told him about these creatures in the past. ¡°They¡¯re born with the ability to walk on water.¡±


    ¡°We see that.¡± The carpentry sister who did all the talking, whom Midday had yet to learn the name of, stared at the creatures with a bored gaze. ¡°The real question here is why they aren¡¯t trying to get away from us. That¡¯s unusual, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Probably because they would just be running from one problem to another,¡± answered Midday. ¡°Swampopotamuses and other creatures like that are far more of a threat to them than we are. I imagine they prefer taking their chances with us weak humans to facing all but certain death by trespassing into hippo territory.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± All three carpentry sisters nodded in unison.


    ¡°Do you think we could ride them? Like horses?¡± Ablute looked up at the creatures with glee.


    ¡°Not without a creature taming Ability.¡± Jenjo frowned. ¡°These are wild animals. We should ignore them for now. We can come back to kill them for XP later, but now isn¡¯t the time for that. Just keep paddling. We need to find a tree before we run into those hippos the kid mentioned.¡±


    Midday and the others eyed the zebras as their boats floated past. The zebras did the same to them.


    One of the most immediate differences between the old growth and the forest that surrounded it was the density of the trees. The Freshwater Oaky Mangroves that dominated the old growth were all interconnected by their mangled network of interlocking branches, such that almost no rainfall could penetrate their layers after layers of leaves, but there was an enormous gap between the trunk of each individual tree. So wide, in fact, that fog was all Midday could see upon trying to study the surroundings. That was no surprise, of course, but he nonetheless found the feeling of being trapped in a featureless abyss a tad unnerving. He hoped that the fog would clear soon.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    For the time being though, it was there to stay¡ªan inescapable visual reminder of just how pointless his struggle really was. If Weathermaker or Siempre Elvanera or Mulberry or anyone else like that truly wanted him dead, he would die. Simple as that. He took the fact that he was still breathing as a sign that his existence had been overlooked and that he would therefore be spared for at least a little while longer, but he knew that everything could end at a moment¡¯s notice.


    He had gained a level, sure, and that was a step in the right direction, but he was still just as powerless in the grand scheme of things as before. The Elvanerean Ring was undeniably an extraordinarily powerful item when used to its full potential, and that made it sting all that much more that he still had yet to make the most of it. Midday wondered if he would live long enough to get the chance.


    The side of what Midday assumed was a tree came into view. It was hard to say for sure because the thing had such a broad trunk that appeared as a flat wall to him, but its soot-black bark was proof enough of what it was. Thick vines that glowed in the same ethereal blue as the algae wrapped around the entire trunk with huge tendrils of such thickness that it looked possible to climb them in much the same way that one might scale a ladder.


    Thanks to his time spent with Romulo, he managed to identify the plant as Glowing Spidervine: a mildly poisonous vine that could do everything a rope could do and then some. It was supposedly possible to make an edible dish out of it by boiling the vines, but Midday wasn¡¯t especially keen on giving anyone ideas. The Valley Algae was a better food source anyways as, according to Romulo, it was ¡®impossibly nutritious¡¯ to the point of containing more than a dozen times as much ¡®energy by volume'' as one would get from eating pure refined sugar. With Devil Peppercorn thrown into the mix, it seemed very likely that his emaciation would soon be a thing of the past, and the thought of it put a weak smile on his face.


    ¡°And now we climb,¡± said Jenjo as he tossed a makeshift anchor comprised of several prison shackles tied together down into the murky waters below. ¡°Correct me if I¡¯m wrong, but it¡¯ll be much safer up there than down here.¡±


    ¡°Definitely,¡± said Midday. ¡°It¡¯ll still be dangerous up there but, more than anything else, we can¡¯t afford an encounter with a Swampopotamus herd. On an individual basis, they¡¯re classified as Severity 2 creatures, but any given herd of them will have about a hundred members¡ªso dealing with them directly is pretty much impossible.


    ¡°That many?¡± Jenjo frowned. ¡°If that¡¯s true, I miscalculated. My plan had been to hunt them for XP and, while I still intend to, it sounds as though some preparations will be necessary before we can get started with that. But before thinking about anything along those lines, we need to find Solomon.¡±


    ¡°And do we have ideas as to where that fellow might be?¡± asked Bell.


    ¡°All we know is that he¡¯s on the back of one of the giant elephants that live here. Your guess is as good as mine regarding which specific one, but I expect that it¡¯ll take a day or two for us to track him down. In the meantime, we¡¯ll traverse this place from the relative safety of the treetops.¡± Jenjo grabbed the Spidervine and started climbing, not paying any mind to the surely immense weight of his enormous duffel bag as he went. ¡°Now get to it.¡±


    Bell was the first to follow suit. Based on level, he was the second strongest member of the group behind only Jenjo and, sure enough, he made the climbing look effortless, catching up to Jenjo in a matter of seconds.


    Next came the carpentry trio and Ablute, all of which were above average in both level and physique. They scaled the vines without much difficulty, perhaps finding a little trouble when the vines¡ªthe organic things they were¡ªmoved in unexpected ways, but the struggle was very minor.


    Midday looked up at the tree. It was essentially a vertical wall above him and, because of the fog, there was no way of knowing exactly how much of it he would have to climb before making it to the treetops. To make matters worse, his knowledge of the fish that lived in the swamp made the prospect of falling all that much worse.


    During their time in Slave Quarter #344, Romulo had occasionally brought back fish he had gotten from the old growth to have Glauster cook them, and it was through these experiences that Midday had learned about the existence of some creature native to the old growth. Among other things, there were Reverse Lampreys¡ªwhich injected fluid into their victims that could, as Romulo had put it, ¡®infect the target creature with a desire to protect their aggressor at any cost¡¯¡ªand Godmouth Bass¡ªa small fish with the ability to increase the size of their mouths to such an extent that they could ¡®swallow a horse in one gulp¡¯. It was strange stuff, and the alien nature of it all made Midday uneasy.


    More daunting than any of that though was the thought of being left behind. Hoping to avoid that worst-case scenario, he forced himself to begin his ascent, wincing as the time-weathered bark, rendered rough and gnarled through centuries of wear, rubbed against his hands. To make matters worse, the rain made the vines slippery to the touch. This was mitigated somewhat by the hydrophobic properties granted to him by the Raincoat Ring but, even still, the experience of his fingers sliding around against his will did little to inspire confidence.


    Worse still was the fact that the bugs who lived in the vines¡ªsmall termites of some sort¡ªhad taken it upon themselves to attack what they perceived to be an invader to their territory. The bites didn¡¯t do any real damage, but they were undeniably painful and, if not for Mister Potatoes scurrying around and eating them by the dozen, Midday reckoned that the pain would have been a lot worse.


    Despite all of that, he slowly made his way up the tree, finally arriving at the enormous branch everyone else ahead of him had been waiting atop for quite a while by then. The only person who hadn¡¯t made it to the top yet was Braulia, the hooded pyromancer. She had used her Ability a while back to kill the termites attacking her, but the unfortunate consequence of this was that the vines she had been holding onto became too damaged to support her weight. She''d dropped like a rock.


    Braulia had gotten herself out of the water pretty quickly after that, and nothing had come of the incident besides giving Midday the honor of not being the last to arrive but, even still, seeing someone fall like that put everyone on edge.


    ¡°Try to be mindful of your footsteps,¡± said Jenjo. ¡°The branches sway a little with every motion, so staying balanced is important. It¡¯s a long fall to the bottom.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Midday nodded and, with some help from Ablute, he rose to his feet and looked around.


    They were standing on a branch so wide that it almost resembled a bridge and so long that Midday was left with the impression that it might as well be infinite. Looking up, he saw that there were countless branches just like this one higher up on the tree, and many of them interlocked with each other to create complex networks that, according to Romulo, made it possible to traverse the entire area without ever venturing near the dangerous waterline below.


    A few minutes later, after Braulia had made it to the top, Jenjo motioned for the group to start their journey along the branch and, with that, the search for giant elephants had begun.

 39. Views

    Romulo watched the Swampopotamuses from a wooden perch far above the waterline. Owing to the fact that, before the undead rain, he had occasionally liked to spend the night here in the Old Growth, he had a few hideouts scattered about the place.


    This one, a nest that had formerly belonged to a Yakara¡ªthat was to say, a giant species of cannibalistic bird that lived in the area¡ªwas a humble little cave carved out in the side of a tree. Owing to the young pseudohuman¡¯s massive stature, the place felt a bit claustrophobic, but the safety afforded by its position halfway between the water and the branches more than made up for that. None of the predators he feared most were able to reach such a place.


    Speaking of predators he feared, the herd of Swampopotamuses below him was near the top of his list. Even though Romulo stood almost ten feet tall and had a body far more robust than that of an ordinary person, he knew that a single bite from one of those tyrants would spell instant death.


    Fortunately, he had spent enough time observing them enough to know that anything below a certain size did not register as a threat to the creatures: so long as the intruder in question weighed less than five pounds, the Swampopotamuses would not attack. That knowledge was what gave him the ability to fish in Swampopotamus territory without agitating them. The creatures, militant as they were, had no reason to lash out at someone who obeyed their rules.


    And so he sat there, about thirty feet up from the water, with a fishing rod in hand and a hook in the water. In the next few minutes, Romulo hoped, he would catch something. Many creatures in the Old Growth were extremely aggressive, so hooking a fish never took very long.


    Between the gentle pitter-patter of leaves catching the heavy downpour above him and the calm breeze around him, Romulo was almost tempted to find the situation relaxing. It was true, yes, that he had been forced to play a violent death game against what, relative to himself, might as well be a god, but he nonetheless found himself enjoying the situation from moment to moment¡ªeven if the big picture stuff did not bode well for him. As long as he never left his hiding spot, there really wasn¡¯t any danger.


    Some early trials he had conducted on the way there had revealed the terrifying nature of the undead rain¡ªa phenomenon in which any animal that died would come back stronger and more aggressive than before, seemingly without a limit to the number of times it could revive¡ªand, if based purely on that, it was easy to be lulled into believing that survival was impossible, but knew enough about Opuses to understood that they always had restrictions and weaknesses. Those limitations were what gave them their power, after all, and all Romulo needed to do was figure out what they were.


    He already had a few theories: namely that one of the limitations was that there needed to be a lot of moisture in the environment for it to work, but he had no way of testing that without incurring some risk. Still, if his hypothesis about the creatures revived by the undead rain getting stronger with every death was true, the sooner he tested it, the better off he would be.


    But, for the time being, Romulo was content to sit there with his fishing rod, enjoying the sights and sounds of the swamp under the rain.


    ?


    Siempre Elvanera, sitting aboard the luxury yacht he had been allowed to borrow during the Undead Rain Experiment, looked down at the maids and butlers whose mission it had been to keep watch over him throughout to the duration of the experiment.


    They were currently in the middle of a battle against the horde of zombies that had besieged the yacht and, of the twelve servants whose mission it had been to keep watch over him throughout the duration of the experiment to make sure he didn¡¯t try anything, nine were already dead and, by the look of things, the remaining three would soon follow suit.


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    Siempre took a sip of 50-year-old whiskey, pleased at his good fortune.


    The zombies created by the undead rain were far stronger than he¡¯d expected. So strong, in fact, that he began to wonder if they would reach the point of becoming dangerous enough that his life would be endangered. The odds favored that outcome, he believed, but just to make sure, he took out his hundred-sided die and threw it up into the air, stating the following before it hit the ground:


    ¡°Truthseeker Dice: The zombies in this area us will become strong enough to pose a serious threat to me by the end of the month.¡±


    The die landed on the carpeted floor and rolled for a bit before finally landing on 94.


    He tensed up. Ninety-seven percent. That the probability of his prediction coming true according to the unbiased amalgamation of the information he had collected throughout his life. It was possible, of course, that some of his information was wrong, but that number was probably correct.


    It was true that he was level 33 and therefore quite powerful, but he was by no means a fighter. None of his Abilities were naturally geared toward combat, nor had he ever trained to make them useful for combat and, as a result, none of them were. Even someone as weak as Jenjo could pose a serious threat to him in a direct encounter, so it made sense that the zombies would be able to reach that point too. In any case, his findings meant that all he needed to do was get off the island before the month was over.


    He wanted to ask the dice some follow-up questions, but one of the restrictions for his Opus was that he had to wait at least half an hour between uses, so that would have to wait.


    In the meantime, he was content to watch as the zombies butchered his servants.


    ?


    Nobody spoke as the bodyguards-to-be tiptoed along the branches they were using as roads. Most of them, especially the lower-level members like Midday and Honey, had to put most of their energy into keeping balance. Additionally, the sound of rainfall was a lot louder now that they were closer to the treetops. It was wetter up there too and, if not for the Raincoat Rings, the walk would have been very miserable indeed¡ªnot that it wasn¡¯t miserable enough knowing that, excluding Jenjo and Bell, falling into the water more than a hundred feet below was probably synonymous with death. Between the Swampopotamuses and everything else that lived down there, being in the water for more than a few seconds was like asking to be ripped to shreds.


    The treetops were dangerous too, of course, and Midday had spotted more everything from regular squirrels to 20-foot-long millipedes that moved faster than Midday reckoned he could sprint. He also noticed that there were a few Crop Baboons watching the group with keen eyes, probably trying to judge if the humans were a threat to be dealt with or if they could just be ignored. Each one was about twice the size of a person and, as a species, they had the notable trait of having edible blue fur that was identical in every way¡ªincluding nutritional value¡ªto Valley Algae. As such, whenever Crop Baboons got hungry, they simply ripped off some of their fur and ate it and, because the fur in question grew back faster than they could eat it, the baboons had the amazing trait of being entirely self-sustaining. Along with Swampopotamuses and Old Growth Elephants, Romulo had once called them one top three most dominant creatures in the old growth.


    Midday could see why. If Jenjo hadn¡¯t been there to protect them, he imagined that just one of the baboons would have been enough to wipe out the whole group. It was a good thing, then, that they were pretty chill. Seeing as Crop Baboons were self-sustaining, they didn¡¯t have as much of a reason to care about maintaining their territories as other creatures like the Swampopotamuses. Romulo had never been attacked by one¡ªthough that might have had something to do with the fact that Romulo was scary enough of an opponent that it just wasn¡¯t worth the risk.


    ?


    Finally, after twenty minutes of walking, they had finally come across an elephant or, rather, the distant sounds of one headed in their general direction.


    Everything in the vicinity of the fog-veiled beast trembled as it approached. Leaves shook, branches swayed, and even the thick trunks of the Freshwater Oaky Mangrove trees seemed to wobble with its footsteps. It sounded as though the behemoth was headed directly toward them, and Midday felt his stomach drop when he realized that it most certainly was.

 40. Solomon

    Midday damn-near pissed himself when the elephant lifted its trunk to the exact branch he and the others were standing on. Coming face-to-face with its enormous trunk, which was like that of the trees native to the old growth¡ªif not larger and sturdier¡ªwas an experience on par with when Weathermaker had killed hundreds of people in less than a second with his lightning. The realization that a creature so incalculably massive could actually exist made him feel even smaller and more powerless than before. Thanks to his experience with Weathermaker, he hated the feeling.


    The elephant took in a big whiff with such force that Midday felt as though he was about to be sucked into the titan''s trunk and then froze for a few seconds. From then on, the creature, its mouth still distant below, started making clicking sounds. These noises meant nothing to most of the group and, if not for Jenjo''s eyes suddenly going wide, everyone would have assumed that they were merely the typical noises of an animal.


    But Jenjo, with a background in the military, knew better. He knew that the elephant was using morse code to speak. He listened, stunned at what was happening, for many seconds until the creature finished its message.


    "My name is Jenjo of Harriseppu," he declared to the beast, trying his best to maintain his composure. "We were sent here by Mulberry Slumpson to protect Solomon the Frog."


    The elephant responded with some more clicks that Midday had no means to decipher.


    "Sounds like we know as little as you do. All I can say with confidence right now is that this fog was created by someone called Weathermaker and that it can reanimate the corpses."


    The elephant once again answered with some clicks.


    "Oh, him? His name is Midday, I think. What of it?"


    Midday winced. Why had his name come up? The only reason he could think of was that the elephant had mentioned him, but he couldn''t think of any reason for why that might be. He clenched his fists at his sides, trying to keep his growing anxiousness in check. The elephant continued.


    "I can accept those terms. Just to clarify, we''ll still be allowed to follow you two, right?"


    The elephant answered with some clicks.


    "Then it sounds like we have an agreement. Feel free to take him." Jenjo turned to Midday. "I have no idea why, but this elephant wants you¡ªand you alone¡ªto ride on its back and be the first to meet Solomon. We''ll be following close behind."


    The elephant positioned its trunk to be directly beneath where Midday was standing and made some clicks.


    "It says to jump down," said Jenjo, who Midday¡ªunaware of the existence of morse code¡ªcould not even begin to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why the man could speak the language of elephants.


    Midday stared down at the top of its trunk. The thick, wrinkled hide was a deep grey-brown, and its surface was adorned with intricate patterns of mud and moss. The drop was only a few feet, but the distance seemed enormous when coupled with the mysterious nature of the beast.


    "Do I need to push you?" said Jenjo in far too serious a tone for Midday''s liking. "I confess that I''m just as confused by this as you are, but don''t be impolite."


    Midday said a quick prayer to no one in particular and jumped. He landed less than a second later, owing to the fact that the elephant had such precise control over its trunk as to hold it just inches away from the branch. From there, the elephant curled its trunk to send Midday rolling down it as though it were a slide. Now atop the creature''s head, Midday gathered his bearings and looked around.


    The portions of its ears that he could see were like the masts of a ship, and its back was so broad that the edges were hidden in the fog. No doubt about it, the creature was large enough to build a mansion or two atop but, despite all these things, one trait stood out above the rest.


    The elephant had a small forest on its back, complete with everything from small patches of grass to decently large trees. Squirrels, birds, deer, and other wildlife lived in this forest, and as amazed as Midday was by all this, he didn''t get any time to appreciate it because, once the elephant started walking, he lost his ability to maintain balance. Each step was like an earthquake, and all Midday could do was wrap his arms around a tree and hope for the best. This elephant was not walking with the grace of a centuries-old giant but, rather, it was galloping through the swamp like a horse.


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    Before long, the elephant had arrived at its destination: another elephant, this one somehow even bigger than the last. Upon arrival, the first elephant curled its trunk around Midday before he could react and squeezed. Rather than crushing him though, the gentle titan had simply picked him up and gently dropped him off on the other elephant''s back.


    Gathering his bearings once again, Midday looked up and saw the second elephant had an entirely different biome on its back. This time, it was a pond: a giant pond that somehow existed atop the bizarre, concave-shaped back of the second elephant.


    Mister Potatoes, who had somehow managed to stay on Midday''s shoulder during the craziness that had just ensued, licked up a nearby firefly as Midday looked around and saw the lily-pad-filled pond ahead filled with all sorts of tadpoles, small fish, geckos, and all kinds of creatures one might expect to find in a pond. The beetle, evidently hungry, shot out his tongue¡ªwhich could apparently extend multiple feet out his mouth now¡ªand snacked on various bugs on the ground, treating the place like a buffet more than anything else.


    Midday, still confused, stood there for a while, at first just taking in the sights and then beginning the search for Solomon. He still wasn''t sure why he, out of everyone in the group, had been singled out, but he imagined he would find out soon enough. All he needed to do for the present moment was to find Solomon.


    It was fortunate, then, that doing so was very easy. An ordinary-sized green frog, no difference in appearance from any other frog insofar as Midday could tell, was sitting atop an ethereal blue hand that levitated a few feet above the ground. Upon seeing Midday, the frog flew over to him atop the hand.


    "Hullo. Who might you be?"


    "Midday Sunson," answered Midday, trying his best to stay composed. "Mulberry sent me and a few others to protect you this month.


    "Oh, I see. Didn''t know she was doing anything like that." The frog, Solomon, looked at Midday with a blank stare that someone more sensitive to such a thing might consider cute. "Well, thanks for coming."


    Midday nodded, not sure what to say.


    "Mugrim says you''re an Elvanerean. I''m surprised you''re not here to kill me. Not that you could."


    "Mugrim? Kill you? I''m sorry, but I don''t follow. What are you talking about?"


    "Mugrim is the name of the elephant who carried you here. The name of the elephant you''re standing on right now, by the way, is Jugrim." The frog stopped for a moment. "At least, that''s what I call them."


    "Okay¡­ Cool, I guess? Forgive me for asking, but why did you think I''m here to kill you?"


    "Because you''re an Elvanerean, no? Mugrim said so."


    "Uh¡­ I mean, I live on Elvanera Island at the moment¡­ So I guess?"


    "That''s not what I mean. You do have the ring, no?"


    "Wait¡­ What do you mean by that?" Midday tensed up. Solomon was talking about the Elvanerean Ring, no doubt about that, but how did he know about it? He hadn''t told anyone about it.


    "Old Growth Elephants have some of the best noses you''ll ever come across. They know an Elvanerean Ring when they smell one. I taught them that."


    "Oh¡­ I see." Midday frowned. "So you know what it is."


    "Yes. That''s a component of my research." The frog went silent for a few seconds. "I have an Elvanerean Ring too. I was under the impression that Elvanera Group found out about it and had sent you here to kill me and retake it. But I guess not."


    "I''m here to protect you."


    "Right. Can you use it?"


    "Use what? The ring?"


    "The ring."


    "Uh¡­" Midday was not enjoying this conversation very much. Giving up his secrets was a very unpleasant thing to do, but he nonetheless felt compelled to answer honestly. This frog, after all, might know something. "Y-yeah?"


    "I see. Keep it then. It might play an important role in your future. I would advise keeping it a secret from everyone else, by the way."


    "What kind of role?"


    "Depends. What level are you?"


    "Six."


    "Oh. Level up four more times then."


    "And then something will happen?"


    "It''s possible."


    "Like what?"


    "Depends."


    "You''re¡­ not going to tell me, are you?"


    "It''ll be a surprise."


    "Why won''t you tell me? What harm would come of it?"


    "It''ll ruin the surprise. Tell me this: how many charges can you use per day?"


    "Uh, three? Why?"


    "I only get one. You must really love agriculture. You''ll probably be fine then. Probably."


    "I mean, okay? Whatever." Midday knew that he had an entire month to get information out of Solomon, so he wasn''t especially worried about interrogating the frog for everything it knew at the present moment. "Putting the ring aside for a moment, what now? Should I be doing anything?"


    "Hmm. Build a house? That''s your prerogative. Unless you''re good at science. In that case, I could use some help."


    "With what?"


    "Are you good at science?"


    "Not really? I mean¡ª"


    "If you get good at science, you can help. Until then, do whatever."


    "Oh, umm, alright. Sure. Well, is it okay if my companions come aboard this elephant now?"


    "Yeah."


    "Okay. Well, can you tell this elephant that?"


    "Jugrim."


    "R-right. Can you tell Jugrim to let them aboard?"


    "Hey, Jugrim. You heard that just now, right?"


    The elephant made some clicking sounds.


    "Jugrim will let them on when they get here. It''ll be a while before then. I''m going to do some science now. Bye." Solomon, still atop the ethereal hand, flew away.


    Midday stood there, dumbfounded, for a while before deciding he might as well have a look around. He had never imagined he might find himself standing beside the pond on a giant elephant''s back. And yet there he was.

 41. Powers

    It took Midday a few minutes of walking to traverse the complete perimeter of the pond¡ªsuch was the incredible size of the elephant atop which it was located¡ªand, by the time he arrived at the base of the tree where he had started, everything below his shins was doused in a thick layer of mud.


    He didn¡¯t bother trying to get the grime off his body, for the heavy downpour had already converted most of the soil on Jugrim¡¯s back to a knee-deep sludge Midday deemed inescapable. All cleaning himself off would do, he imagined, was make it all that much more frustrating when he inevitably got covered in filth again. It was true that the wide array of grasses, shrubs, and small trees that dug their roots into the soil surrounding the pond helped to keep the mud in place, but the benefit they could provide when faced with such unprecedented rainfall was negligible at best.


    Midday sighed. If not for his time spent in the squalor of Slave Quarter #344, he imagined that he would have been thoroughly disgusted with the state of things, but his standards were low enough nowadays that he found himself mostly unbothered by the inhospitable surroundings. Having a roof over his head would be nice, but he was in no rush to build one. The other group members were better suited to that task anyways and, moreso than that, Midday had something else he needed to do before worrying about anything like that: he took out the Elvanerean Ring and put it on.


    ¡°Effect Added. Elvanerean Ring: Accelerates growth of any plant the user points at by one year. Can be used 3 times per day.¡±


    Owing to the fact that Solomon supposedly had an Elvanerean Ring of his own¡ªsomething Midday still wasn¡¯t sure what to make of¡ªMidday had made sure to look out for special-grade plants like Devil Peppercorn during his walk but, possibly due to the heavy fog, nothing of interest had turned up during the search.


    As such, Midday decided to take matters into his own hands. He pulled one of the Devil Peppercorn beads he had brought along for the journey with him out of his pocket, buried it at the base of a willow tree growing just inches from the pond, and pointed his finger at it.


    The ring started glowing its familiar green hue, steadily building in intensity for the ten-second charge-up period, until a bolt of green light shot out of his fingertip and toward the buried peppercorn seed.


    A slender tendril of green vine crawled out of the mud shortly after that, wagging around aimlessly in search of something to cling onto. It took a while but, after ten more seconds of growth, the tendril found the tree and started wrapping itself around its trunk. The remaining growth from the first charge saw the vine split into its familiar double helix pattern around the trunk and wrap around it a few times, climbing a foot or two up the tree in doing so. He was happy to see this, but couldn¡¯t help but take note of the fact the growth was noticeably slower than the first time he had used the Elvanerean Ring to create a Devil Peppercorn vine. Midday reckoned that it had something to do with the growing conditions being less hospitable for the plant than before, but he wasn¡¯t sure.


    In any case, the remaining two charges brought the plant up to a decent size. Three years of growth, after all, was nothing to scoff at¡ªand the vines had thoroughly colonized the willow tree by the time he was done for the day. Tomorrow, after a few more charges, the vines would bear their first fruit.


    He nodded in approval. Midday still had enough Devil Peppercorn beads in his pocket to cover him for any meals before the vines bore their first fruit and, on the whole, he felt pretty good about the food situation. Combining the energy-dense Valley Algae native to the old growth with the nutrient-enhancing capabilities of Devil Peppercorn seemed like a perfect cure for his malnourished physique.


    With his plant now well-situated on the willow tree, Midday took the ring off and walked away. Jenjo and the others would be arriving soon, and he didn¡¯t want to be anywhere near the Devil Peppercorn vine when they showed up.


    ?


    Siempre Elvanera had never piloted a yacht before¡ªor any vehicle besides a horse, for that matter¡ªand now that he was trying it for the first time, he realized that there was far more to the process than he had imagined. Siempre had managed to get the engine turned on and make the boat move, albeit slowly, but he had gotten the vessel wedged between some trees almost immediately after doing so.


    It had been a few minutes since that had happened and, while there hadn¡¯t been any severe damage to the vessel insofar as he could discern, he nonetheless found himself somewhat frustrated at his incompetence. More frustrating still was the current predicament involving the horde of zombies that had climbed onto the boat and were doing everything in their power to break into the cockpit in which he was currently standing. Should they succeed in doing so, he expected, there was a high probability that the zombies would be able to overwhelm him¡ªthereby resulting in his demise.


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    If he had been a lesser man, Siempre believed, the situation would have been a terrifying ordeal. The sounds of essentially unkillable fists banging on the door behind him, trying to break it down, and the sight of mutated corpses, very lively in their fanatism for killing him, assailing the windows in front of him were both quite worrisome. He wanted to consult his Truthseeker Dice to ask how long it would be before the zombies made it into the cockpit, but there were still five minutes left on his cooldown.


    Giving up on piloting the yacht, he sat down in the captain¡¯s chair and started formulating a plan. Siempre had three Abilities, and at least one of them, he anticipated, would prove successful in getting him out of the situation. He combed through his options.


    His favorite Ability was Highroller¡ªwhich was the one that enabled his Truthseeker Dice Opus¡ªand it gave him the potential to develop various dice-related powers. The only combat-related power he had used this Ability to create, however, was called Muscle Roulette. It allowed him to bet his physical strength on the result of a dice roll. If the 6-sided die he used for the power landed on anything above 1, his physical prowess would be doubled for 5 minutes. Moreover, the effect was multiplicative: multiple good rolls in a row would result in an exponential boost to his power. The tradeoff was that, should he get unlucky and roll a 1, he would lose all of his physical strength for several days at the minimum, with the total time the resulting complete body paralysis lasted scaling with the number of good rolls preceding it. As such, he treated Muscle Roulette as a last resort.


    His second Ability, Marionette, allowed him to turn things into puppets. In his youth, he had been able to use it on any inanimate object¡ªwhich would have been helpful in this situation¡ªbut he had long ago chosen to sacrifice this capability in exchange for a boost to his power to reanimate corpses. He was skilled enough with it that even a regular human corpse could reach parity¡ªalbeit only in terms of physical strength¡ªwith what one might expect from a level 20 individual. The issue, however, was that all the corpses around him had already been reanimated; Marionette only worked on inanimate objects, so he couldn¡¯t use it on them.


    His third Ability¡ªand by far his most potent one¡ªwas called Mutagen. It gave him the power to induce mutations in any living organism he touched with his right hand. If the situation called for it, he had the option of using it on himself to transform into an inhuman monstrosity of some sort but, once again, he considered that a last resort. He couldn¡¯t use it on the zombies either because they were technically already dead.


    The zombies continued the assault, slamming their malformed bodies against the cockpit walls with no regard for their safety. Siempre frowned at the sound of one headbutting the reinforced glass window of the cockpit with such force that its skull shattered, killing the zombie in question.


    The fact that Weathermaker could create such fiendish creatures on such a large scale was an astonishing thing indeed. Siempre watched as the zombie who had just died slamming its head against the glass regenerated, this time with a reformed skull of such thickness that its face became buried under a mass of exposed bone. With this new body, the regenerated zombie resumed its headbutts. The increased mass of its cranium meant that it hit harder, and small cracks began to form along the glass.


    Siempre sighed. Combat wasn¡¯t his specialty, and the best thing he could think to do was use Muscle Roulette. With the physical might gained from just one successful roll, the horde would no longer pose any threat. He also had the option of just using his raw physical strength¡ªhe was level 33, after all¡ªbut, truth be told, he didn¡¯t know the last time he had exercised. His life aboard the airship had been a sedentary one and, owing to the lack of living test subjects, he had been experimenting on his own body for quite some time. Many of those experiments had been detrimental to his health, resulting in his body being quite fragile for a man of his level. As such, Muscle Roulette was the only way to guarantee a successful escape. He took the six-sided die he had crafted from human bones out of his breast pocket¡ªone of the conditions of Muscle Roulette was that it only worked with this specific die¡ªand threw it up in the air.


    It landed on 3.


    He nodded in approval as he felt a surge of power course through his body. Standing up, he walked over to the window and threw a punch. The glass shattered immediately and, with that, he stepped out onto the deck. Dozens of zombies lunged at him, but he sidestepped all of them. Siempre walked unperturbed through the horde, sending any zombie that got in his way flying off into the fog with what to him felt like nothing more than a light push.


    In hindsight, he realized that he had underestimated his baseline capabilities. The dice roll had been unnecessary. He hated unnecessary risks, so this revelation annoyed him. Regardless, he made his way out toward the tree he had crashed into earlier¡ªmaking sure not to kill any zombies along the way to avoid making them any more dangerous than they already were¡ªand jumped a good twenty feet upwards or so.


    He landed gracefully atop a branch and, with a frown on his face, disappeared into the forest. Siempre had not planned to lose access to the yacht so early, but these zombies had already far surpassed expectations.


    Siempre wondered if the chairwoman and Weathermaker had secretly known they would be this powerful and were actively trying to ensure that he and everyone else currently in Neighborhood 8 would be dead by the end of the month, but he found such a thing unlikely. His Abilities were useful to the chairwoman. That was why he had been inducted into Elvanera Group despite not actually being an Elvanerean in the true sense of the term. Moreover, if the chairwoman had wanted him dead, she could have just killed him herself¡ªor sent someone like Mulberry to do it for her. As such, he believed that the most likely scenario was that Weathermaker had genuinely not expected this Opus to be so powerful and had been mistaken in sharing their estimates with the chairwoman.


    As he jumped from tree to tree, trying to make the most of the five minutes he had before the boost from playing Muscle Roulette expired, Siempre decided to look for survivors. Human or otherwise.

 42. Honey

    Jenjo glanced around at the odd scenery.


    He had always known the place was unique even in comparison to the already rather bizarre Elvanera Island by virtue of its unusual history, but he had never imagined that it would be so otherworldly as to feature giant elephants who knew morse code. That was a little outlandish, even by his standards.


    It was true that he had encountered many things crazier than this during his time as a commodore for the navy of Bolumbatto¡ªhis home country¡ªbut it had been many years since that part of his life, and he was no longer used to encountering such brazen oddities. His eyes glimmered with weary intrigue while his heart grew heavy with an ever-worsening dread of uncertainty.


    The air atop Jugrim was thick with heavy humidity and the smell of exotic flowers and, for the first time in a while, the sound of chirping birds reached his ears. Solemn-looking willow trees grew around the pond, their drooping leaves providing much-needed respite from the heavy rain, and swathes of fireflies danced over the waterline. Besides the sensation of thick mud burying his feet a little more with every second, Jenjo judged that it was a hospitable place, and the wildlife here seemed much more agreeable than the hellish creatures native to the swamp waters below.


    Looking back at the other members of the group, he was left with the impression that they felt much the same. The journey to get here had been a brutal one and, for the sake of them not becoming especially traumatized, some rest would be necessary. His time on the battlefield had imparted a belief in him that a soldier with a broken mind was arguably more troublesome to command than one with a broken body, and so keeping the others in usable condition, even at the expense of short-term productivity, was near the top of his agenda. He had wanted to order the others to start working on a shelter upon their arrival but, with everything that had happened thus far, he refrained from doing so.


    ¡°Feel free to look around or do whatever else you feel like,¡± he said, ¡°Jugrim said that this place is safe for the time being, so you can relax for now. I also have a bottle of whiskey in my bag if anyone wants some.¡± Jenjo gave a dejected sigh, trying to match the somber mood of everyone else. ¡°I¡¯m going to look for Midday now. You¡¯re welcome to join me, but don¡¯t feel obligated to do so.¡±


    A giant snake had attacked them on the way to Jugrim, resulting in the death and subsequent zombification of Honey Beeson¡ªtheir weakest member, probably even moreso than Midday¡ªand though the girl had been nothing more than a vaguely acquainted stranger to them, the realization that the month ahead would likely be rife with similarly awful things loomed at the forefront of their civilian minds. Only Jenjo, with his ample experience surrounding the topic of death, was jaded enough to what had happened to remain unphased. He had dealt with the zombified Honey by kicking her down off the branch she had been standing on, and he hadn¡¯t seen her since.


    Jenjo, while by no means happy about losing a member, wasn¡¯t especially worried about it. Himself included, the group still had eight surviving members. That number would dwindle in the near future, no doubt about that, but their numbers were still high enough for it not to be too serious of an issue.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d like you up on that whiskey offer,¡± said Bell as Jenjo and the others began to disperse. The old hunchback had been silent ever since the trouble with Honey about thirty minutes before, and Jenjo had no qualms about obliging the request. Besides himself, Bell struck Jenjo as the most competent member of the group and so keeping the geezer in high spirits would be important.


    Jenjo, who had already begun walking toward the pond, took out a bottle of cheap but strong whiskey and took a small sip for himself. He then passed it to Bell, who took an equally tiny swig as he walked beside the former guard.


    ¡°No need to hold back,¡± said Jenjo. ¡°I¡¯m only having a little because I need to stay sharp at all times, but you don¡¯t need to worry about that as much.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. I¡¯m getting notes of pepper and oak on the nose, perhaps with a hint of peat,¡± answered Bell after a short silence. He took another sip. ¡°Not bad for a cheap whiskey. My wife and I used to enjoy Elvanera Group¡¯s whiskey every Friday. Before the slavers captured us. It was our weekend ritual.¡± He gazed up at the trees above. ¡°I wonder how my she¡¯s doing these days¡­¡±


    ¡°Survive to the end of the month, and you might get the chance to find out.¡± Jenjo, despite his better judgment, grabbed the bottle once again, took a big sip, and passed it back to Bell. ¡°Never had the chance to get married myself. Got engaged at one point, but the Coalition made me an international outlaw before we could go through with it. Had to disappear after that. Didn¡¯t want to drag her down with me. That¡¯s how I ended up here, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Sorry to hear it.¡± Bell took another sip. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to know if there any slaves on the island named Velvet Tollson, would you?¡±


    Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°That¡¯s your wife?¡± Jenjo sighed, once again taking a sip. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard the name but, if she¡¯s still alive, I would guess that she¡¯s probably somewhere on the island. The capture crews Elvanera Group hires for that sort of thing usually take everyone in the villages they attack so, unless she was out of town when the capturers arrived, my guess would be that she¡¯s in a different Neighborhood.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Bell looked off into the fog.


    ¡°It¡¯s not all bad. Did she have an Ability?¡±


    ¡°It was called Quicksand. Gave her improved reflexes and agility when standing on sand.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. We don¡¯t have any sandy biomes here on Elvanera Island, so I doubt that any specific Neighborhoods would have taken a special interest in her. She probably got sent to a random Neighborhood among the lower six. If she¡¯s high-level enough to have an Ability, though, I¡¯d wager that she¡¯s still at the very least alive¡ªthough it¡¯s probably better to operate under the assumption that she¡¯s not. No need to set yourself up for disappointment.¡±


    ¡°Do you think the higher-ups at Elvanera Group will let her go too if I survive to the end of the month?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Jenjo took back the bottle and put it in his bag. ¡°Not easily anyway. Mulberry might be willing to pull some strings if we successfully protect Solomon, but I doubt it. Still, the odds aren¡¯t zero. The chairwoman is a fickle woman. Just focus on keeping Solomon and yourself alive. Do that, and it¡¯s anyone¡¯s guess what¡¯ll happen afterward.¡±


    ¡°Right. I¡¯ll do my best.¡±


    ¡°As will I.¡±


    The two walked together for a short while until a frog sitting on an ethereal blue hand floated down to them from above. It was an ordinary frog, not unique looking in any way, but Jenjo knew at once who this was. He took a small wooden box out of his bag and offered it up to the frog.


    ¡°My name is Jenjo, and I¡¯m the leader of the bodyguards Mulberry sent here to protect you. Additionally, Mulberry wanted this delivered to you. It contains seeds for Devil Peppercorn, Vigor Lentils, Metamorphosis Mushrooms, and Lordmaker Rye.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± said Solomon.


    Another ethereal hand appeared out of thin air and lifted the bag off the mud.


    ¡°Of course, sir. Now that my group has arrived, is there anything you¡¯d like us to do?¡±


    ¡°Are any of you good at science?¡±


    ¡°Depends on how you define ¡®good¡¯ but, frankly, I doubt that anyone of us will be able to live up to your standards. I hear that your research is very complex. My apologies.¡±


    ¡°No worries. Just stay out of the way.¡±


    ¡°Yes sir.¡± Jenjo frowned. ¡°Pardon me for asking, but where is Midday? He was the first person to arrive.¡±


    ¡°Not sure. He¡¯s somewhere around here though. Bye.¡± Solomon flew away, taking the box with him.


    ¡°Odd fellow,¡± said Jenjo. ¡°Not very talkative.¡±


    ¡°Well, he is a frog,¡± noted Bell. ¡°I¡¯m surprised he can speak at all.¡±


    ¡°Talking frogs aren¡¯t that rare. In one distant region, several thousand miles away from the Kingmaker Plains, they¡¯re more common than humans. They call that place Boiling Swamp, and my guess is that Solomon was born there.¡±


    ¡°The more you know.¡±


    ¡°Yup.¡± Jenjo shrugged. ¡°Now we need to find Midday. Work can begin after that.¡±


    ?


    Midday was thankful for the warm weather. The humidity was so great that his rain-drenched clothes stuck like glue to his skin and the air felt weird to breathe but, if nothing else, at least he wasn¡¯t shivering. As a matter of fact, as he sat there between two somber willow trees that existed especially close to one another, the general ambiance was one of much-needed peace. The roots and branches of the two trees overlapped to create an especially dense ceiling of foliage that acted as the closest thing to shelter he had come across since the Undead Rain had begun.


    It had been a while since Midday had planted the Devil Peppercorn tree and, owing to the fact that it had taken a surprisingly long time for the others to arrive¡ªmore than an hour, in fact¡ªhe had gotten bored earlier and undertaken something along the lines of a botanical tour. Like his first attempt at exploring Jugrim¡¯s back, the search had been fruitless, but he reckoned that had more to do with his lack of knowledge than anything else. Midday only knew about the plants Romulo had mentioned during their time in Slave Quarter #344. He was rapidly realizing that those plants only accounted for a minuscule fraction of the flora in the old growth. Discovering the identities of the unknown majority would be an undertaking all his own. He had no idea how he might go about starting that project but reckoned he ought to think of something.


    If Solomon really had an Elvanerean Ring, there was no reason to think that he wouldn¡¯t have used it to grow some ultra-powerful crops. Midday decided to get up and ask the frog about it but, before he could do so, Jenjo¡¯s voice made him flinch.


    ¡°Midday.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± answered Midday. ¡°How was the trip? Seems like it took a while.¡±


    ¡°Honey is dead,¡± was the prompt response, ¡°How was your meeting with Solomon?¡±


    It took Midday a few seconds to process the news. He sat there in silence, staring blankly at Jenjo and Bell¡ªwho was standing behind him¡ªfor a few seconds, before offering up a response.


    ¡°The meeting was fine. Solomon flew over to me on some sort of weird floating hand thing and asked me if I was good at science. When I said no, he lost interest and flew away.¡±


    ¡°Hah. Nice response. I genuinely can¡¯t tell if you¡¯re genuinely unphased or if you¡¯re just really good at compartmentalizing trauma.¡± Jenjo frowned. ¡°Also, I get the feeling you¡¯re not telling me everything here, but whatever. You probably have your reasons. Just know that I¡¯ll kill you if you betray us.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± Midday sighed. After hearing the news and feeling the gravity of the situation set in, he was tempted to mention the ring, but he refrained. Solomon, he believed, probably had a good reason for advising him not to tell anyone about its existence. ¡°So Honey is dead?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. A giant snake crushed her.¡±


    ¡°Did she¡­ turn into a zombie?¡±


    ¡°She did.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ Where is she?¡±


    ¡°In the swamp somewhere.¡± Jenjo turned around and started walking away. ¡°But nevermind that. You probably understand better than anyone else that you¡¯re deadweight as you are now. Most of our members are like that. So get up and follow me. It¡¯s time to rectify that.¡±

 43. Exigence

    Midday, Bell, and Jenjo stood at the shore of the pond. The rain, listening for a moment to the sound of rain splashing down into the murky water and to the croaks of toads resting on lily pads¡ªof which there were hundreds. Probably by virtue of increased altitude, the fog up was not quite so oppressive on Jugrim¡¯s back as it had been during their journey to get here, and it was thanks to this that Midday was able to see something very curious indeed: sitting at the center of the pond was a vibrant flower of incredible size. With more knowledgeable eyes, he would have identified it as a lotus but, at present, the only thing he knew for certain was that this plant was special.


    The fireflies that filled the area with light like thousands of tiny streetlamps avoided flying within a certain radius of the lotus and, upon a closer glance, it appeared as though the reason for this was that there was a force that pushed them away whenever they tried to get close. More than that, however, the main reason the lotus had caught his attention was that it was large enough that Midday reckoned it might be possible to stand atop. He refused to believe it was an ordinary plant.


    ¡°Any idea what that is?¡± asked Jenjo, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly.


    ¡°No,¡± answered Midday in the most businesslike tone he could muster. ¡°But it¡¯s important. That much is certain. We should ask Solomon about it.¡±


    ¡°Next time he turns up, we will. Before that, though, I¡¯ve got a task for you.¡± Jenjo turned to make direct eye contact with Midday. He reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°At level 6, you¡¯re the weakest member of the group by a considerable margin. You¡¯re weak, self-centered, and altogether unskilled. It¡¯s true that you¡¯re good with a gun, but you¡¯re nowhere near good enough to face the kinds of threats that¡¯ll be coming our way in the near future.¡± Jenjo lifted his hand off Midday and turned his gaze back to the pond, staring out into the fog with a pensive expression. ¡°Fortunately, I have a plan that will rectify two of those things very quickly provided that the assumptions I¡¯ve based it on are valid.¡±


    ¡°What do you have in mind?¡±


    ¡°Simple. The first thing you need to do is crush some minnows.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­¡± Midday looked down at the school of minnows that had made their way to the shoreline where they stood. They were small creatures, evidently not special in any way, and Midday failed to see what good might come of killing them. ¡°But why?¡±


    ¡°Think about it. Any corpse exposed to this fog comes back to life. That raises a few questions, but the most immediate one pertains to whether a creature submerged underwater at the time of its death will still get reanimated. I want you to spend some time conducting trials to better understand the nature of Weathermaker¡¯s revival toxin.¡±


    Without warning, Jenjo drew his cutlass and sliced a minnow in half. The motion was so fast that Midday didn¡¯t even realize what the man was trying to do until he had already picked up the corpse and was holding it in his outstretched palm.


    ¡°This fish will come back to life in a few seconds and, insofar as we believe with our current understanding, there is no upper limit to the number of times it can die and come back.¡± The severed head of the minnow started twitching in his hand. ¡°Moreover, each successive revival makes the creature in question more dangerous.¡± A little stem of flesh sprouted out from the head of the minnow and expanded until the creature was similar in appearance to an earthworm. Jenjo crushed the newly regenerated creature with the squeeze of his fist, bringing about its second death just moments after its revival. ¡°Owing to the fact that Weathermaker is a mid-tier Elysian-level individual at best, it¡¯s safe to say that there¡¯s an upper limit to what can be achieved via this ¡®post-mortem upgrade¡¯ phenomenon. As for where that limit lies¡­¡± Jenjo grinned. ¡°That¡¯s your job to find out, Midday.¡±


    Jenjo tossed the now twice-killed minnow toward Midday. Following its second death, the creature¡¯s wormlike body had thickened to a point where it looked as though it would take a lot more effort to kill via the same squeezing method that Jenjo had just used a few seconds before. The original head was still that of a tiny minnow, but the second rebirth had changed the rest of its body into a bulbous cylinder. The minnow, still very immobile, began to writhe its way toward Midday as soon as it landed. Midday, forgetting the stoicism he had been trying to cultivate in himself, jerked back at the sight of the macabre horror approaching him.


    ¡°Find the upper limit to the post-mortem upgrades and get some XP while you¡¯re at it.¡± Jenjo reached into his bag and grabbed a few Lordmaker Saltines. Ignoring the zombie minnow, he stepped toward Midday and handed off the crackers. ¡°Alright. Good luck. Bell, you come with me. We¡¯ve got other things to attend to.¡±


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    Bell nodded sheepishly. ¡°I wish you the best of luck, Midday. I¡¯ll pray for your success.¡±


    ¡°Y-yeah.¡± Midday forced himself to calm down somewhat after realizing that the minnow, despite its appearance, posed no threat whatsoever to him in its current state. ¡°I¡¯ll do the same.¡±


    With that, Jenjo and Bell disappeared into the fog, leaving Midday alone with the zombie minnow.


    ?


    Romulo was curled up in a fetal position, hiding as best he could in the hollowed-out tree trunk he had taken up shelter inside of. He had been hearing footsteps¡ªhuman footsteps¡ªfor the past few minutes and, though he supposed it was possible that they belonged to Midday or someone else he knew, the giant knew better than to assume the best.


    The stride of this unforeseen interloper gave him a bad feeling: their footsteps were far too confident for his liking. The branch bridges formed by the mangroves were like suspended bridges in how shaky they were, and yet the person above didn¡¯t seem to be bothered by it. There was also a lightness to the footfalls, as though the intruder weighed almost nothing, and Romulo didn¡¯t know what to make of that.


    But the real issue was that the person had been in the area for a few minutes by then, circling the tree where Romulo in which Romulo was hiding. No doubt, thought Romulo, the person in question knew that someone was nearby and was looking for them. The main question was why.


    For starters, it shouldn¡¯t have been possible for anyone to detect him. He was low to the old swamp waterline, where the fog was thickest, and it was impossible to see anything more than a few feet away from him. Moreover, the heavy rain smothered any noises he might have accidentally made, so hearing him would have been impossible. With all that, detecting him should have been impossible. Not even someone with a sensory-type Ability should have been able to find him in his very well-hidden shelter¡ªnot unless they were stupidly powerful or skilled, anyways. For a moment, he worried that the person he was dealing with was way out of his league, but then he made a simple realization:


    During his preparations for the month, Romulo¡ªinexperienced as he was¡ªhad made one very simple oversight: he had done nothing to cover his scent. The thought of rolling in mud or doing something else along those lines to cover his tracks had never even occurred to him, and it was all too clear now that the result was that anything with a good nose would be able to find him extremely easily.


    There were several other possible explanations for it, but the assumption that his pursuer had followed his scent seemed to be the most plausible one by far: scent-based Abilities, while not common, certainly weren¡¯t rare either and, even without an Ability, it would have been easy for his pursuer to just bring an ordinary dog to accomplish the same feat.


    Regardless of how it had been done, it became apparent that the pursuer did indeed know where Romulo was when stopped walking and called out to him:


    ¡°Hello! Why are you hiding down there, mister? How did you even get there in the first place?¡±


    Romulo held his breath, refusing to make a peep.


    ¡°It¡¯s understandable that you¡¯re afraid! But don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m not here to hurt you. In fact, I¡¯m here because I need your help!¡± The tone was friendly. ¡°You see, I have something I need to do, but I¡¯ve realized that I probably can¡¯t do it on my own¡­ And that¡¯s where you come into the equation!¡±


    Romulo remained silent.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know your name or anything like that, but I do know that you¡¯re like ten feet tall and muscular as hell. You caught my eye when Siempre was introducing the rules of the experiment, so I figured I might as well approach you with an offer but, boy do you travel fast! Took me a while to catch up! Anyways, are you good in combat? Like really good? I need to recruit someone strong.¡±


    Romulo, despite his better judgment, posited a question: ¡°And why is that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m more of a support kind of guy. Not really a frontliner, if you catch my drift here, but that¡¯s the problem. You see, my boss wants to kill a certain someone, but after some thought, I¡¯ve realized that it would be pretty much impossible for me to do it on my own¡­ And unlike you humans, it¡¯s not as though I can come back as a zombie and carry on with my mission if I die. I only get one shot at this, so I need to do it right, I think! Will you help me?¡±


    ¡°Why should I?¡±


    ¡°Ah. Fair point. Well, for starters, I guess I should introduce myself: my name is Coffee Coffee, and I¡¯m the head guard of Neighborhood 12. Additionally, I am a golem who was brought into this world by the chairwoman of Elvanera Group.¡±


    ¡°...And?¡±


    ¡°And I have a lot of really high-up connections, so to speak. Based on your size, you¡¯re probably a pseudo-human individual, no? Well, what if I told you I have a way to turn you into a full-fledged posthuman?¡±


    ¡°H-how?¡± Romulo felt his stomach drop at the prospect of becoming a true, genuine-article, Knight. If that actually happened, he would be considered far too valuable of an asset to use as a mere slave. He didn''t know much about Knights but, one thing he did know was that they were generally seen as equivalent to a thousand normal soldiers.


    ¡°I had a feeling that would get your attention. I¡¯ll tell you all about it if come out of that hidey-hole of yours. Heck, I¡¯ll even throw a cup of coffee into the mix as an added bonus!¡±


    ¡°I have no reason to believe you.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Then how about I drop a hint to entice you?¡± There was a short pause. ¡°Siempre Elvanera.¡±


    ¡°What about him?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s relevant to this. You¡¯ll have to come up and talk to me face-to-face to learn more though.¡±


    Romulo sat silent for a few seconds before making his decision. Despite his well-founded apprehension, the promise of achieving greater strength was too alluring for him to resist. With a forceful exhale and a lot of doubt, he started climbing up to the branch Coffee was standing atop.

 44. Unfold

    Everitime Elvanera, chairwoman of Elvanera Group, had been trying to be more positive about things of late. That said, however, she couldn¡¯t help but crack a frown as she eyed the closed folder sitting on her desk. Contained within its manilla confines were the latest reports of the things happening in Elvanera Group¡ªboth on the namesake island and abroad.


    With how things were going as of late, Everitime didn¡¯t care much for the idea of opening it.


    She already had enough shit going on in her personal life right now as it was.


    Between dealing with her daughter, who refused to inherit Elvanera Group because of the ¡®unethical practices inherent to the nature of the organization¡¯ and her son, who had run off a few weeks ago without telling anyone to ¡®teach impoverished communities high yield yet nonetheless sustainable farming practices,¡¯ Everitime Elvanera had a lot on her plate.


    She respected her children for doing what they believed in, but damn was it annoying.


    The worst part was that her husband just said ¡®they need to find themselves¡¯ whenever she suggested doing something about it. The only silver lining was that both of their kids¡ªespecially Alwayz, their daughter¡ªwere powerful for people their ages, so safety wasn¡¯t a big concern, but even THAT was a problem, apparently. They had gotten strong because of the high-intensity leveling program she¡¯d put them through, but apparently, that had been ¡®child abuse¡¯ and ¡®the ends didn¡¯t justify the means¡¯.


    Speaking of problems, there was also the ongoing issue with Weathermaker. The whole, ¡®you need to sacrifice a few hundred people to me a year or else I¡¯ll bring pestilence and decay to the Kingmaker Plains¡¯ thing was never very fun to deal with, but it was especially annoying at the present moment.


    Everitime sighed.


    he debacle with the ¡®Undead Rain¡¯ had come as an unwelcome surprise a few weeks before.


    Weathermaker had been dissatisfied with the most recent batch of sacrifices, finding them ¡®not tortured enough¡¯ and so he had decided to make the inhabitants of Neighborhood 8 play a ¡®penalty game¡¯ of sorts¡ªone that would almost certainly result in the death of everyone who had been living there.


    The whole ¡®it¡¯s an experiment¡¯ excuse she¡¯d used to justify it to everyone else had admittedly been a pretty shitty one, but oh well. Weathermaker didn¡¯t want anyone besides her and a few others to know their true nature, so lies like that were occasionally necessary. It had been that way for centuries.


    In any case, finding a few thousand new slaves to replace the dead ones would be one hell of a chore.


    Everitime pressed her face down against her desk, wondering for a moment if maybe she could just find some random goober to take over Elvanera Group so that she could retire but, of course, it wasn¡¯t that simple. Not just anyone could run a world-class farming/human sacrifice organization.


    ¡°Bleh.¡± She picked up a coffee pot that had been sitting on her desk and poured some of the beverage into her ¡®#1 Gardening Enthusiast¡¯ mug. ¡°At least that Siempre guy will probably die¡­ Maybe¡­¡±


    ?


    Midday took in a slow breath of stagnant, vaguely sour-tasting air. It was strange, he thought, that the air tasted sour to him, seeing as the tongue jelly had more-or-less stolen that sense from him.


    Maybe it was a sign that he was recovering but, then again, probably not. He had no faith in his luck.


    With a sigh, he looked down at the regenerating carcass of the zombie tadpole he¡¯d just stomped to death. Midday had never considered himself squeamish¡ªhis life even before getting shipped off to Elvanera Island had never allowed for such luxuries¡ªbut that didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t disgusted by the task at hand: Killing a zombie tadpole that came back to life no matter how many times he killed it, all the while becoming more gruesome and dangerous after each death, was not his idea of fun.


    As always, the rain was coming down hard.


    There were never any fluctuations in the weight of the downpour. The monotony was a blessing and a curse, for on one hand it was a constant discomfort, ever-present at the back of his mind. On the other, however, its monotonous consistency was what made it so easy to get used to as the new status quo.


    He supposed that he also had the Raincoat Ring to thank for making his life a little less miserable, its power reflecting much of the water that landed on him. Still, the ring wasn¡¯t much solace against the drabness of the god or the thick mud encroaching up his legs, encasing them in a tomb of grime.


    He let out a sigh. No doubt about it, thought Midday, this place was hell.


    His only saving grace was that the other members of the Solomon Bodyguard Team were all more competent than he, but even that was a problem in of itself: He knew that he was essentially seen as deadweight, and the feeling of being disposable at the earliest convenience was unpleasant.


    ¡°Looks like you¡¯re my only friend here, Mister Potatoes.¡±


    The giant beetle on his shoulder, of course, did not respond.


    ¡°You and the Elvanerean Ring, I guess.¡±


    Mister Potatoes remained silent.


    ¡°You know, I hear the Valley Algae is a good food source.¡±


    He watched idly as the zombie tadpole reformed itself. This was the sixth time he had killed the creature and by now it had swelled up from its original size of one inch to a comparatively enormous two feet; its body had adapted to the land as well, taking on a wormlike appearance as its previously fragile, slimy membrane was replaced with hide thick and calloused to the point of unwieldiness.


    ¡°Bet something good would happen if I mix the algae with Devil Peppercorn,¡± he said, thinking out loud.


    The beetle launched its Tongue Jelly-infused tongue out of its mouth as though it were a frog and, in a lightning-fast motion, caught one of the several hundred gnats that were buzzing around Midday.


    Midday wondered if that was okay, since it seemed possible that the bug might revive inside Mister Potatoes¡¯ stomach and become a very serious problem for the beetle, but Mister Potatoes had been eating bugs on and off for the past fifteen minutes but had yet to show any signs of discomfort.


    He reckoned there might be a clue in that. He also reckoned that the possibility of bugs¡ªnumerous as they were, dying and undergoing the mutation process¡ªcould potentially become a serious threat.


    As for Mister Potatoes'' continued good health, Midday guessed that maybe the resurrection process couldn¡¯t happen inside a stomach because the rain couldn¡¯t reach there, but he didn¡¯t know for sure.


    He was just glad his beetle hadn¡¯t exploded.


    In any case, the tadpole had fully regenerated and was slowly inching toward Midday.


    He looked down at it and let out a sigh.


    Having done this so many times by now, Midday had a decent grasp on how the revival mechanism worked, and he was pretty sure that the tadpole would never become a threat to him. It might become impossible to for him kill, sure, but being good at survival and being dangerous were not the same.


    Insofar as he could tell, the undead rain was not intelligent. It simply took whatever caused any given creature¡¯s demise and made it more resistant to that specific thing.


    When the tadpole died from the blunt force trauma of a stomp, it adapted thicker skin to withstand blunt force better, and so on. As such, over the past few deaths, the tadpole had become very resistant to getting crushed to death, but that was it. It had gotten bigger, its skin had toughened, and its innards had softened such that it could now be squished like a pillow only to later regain its normal shape, but the creature still moved about with the agility one would expect from a fish out of water.


    Moreover, while the first few resurrections had resulted in incredible transformations¡ªwith the tadpole¡¯s size doubling after every death¡ªthings were slowing down now. The transformative aspect of the undead rain was most potent for the first few resurrections, though the actual resurrections themselves remained constant: the tadpole always took 10 seconds to bring itself back to life.


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    The knowledge that things stabilized after the first few deaths and that the resurrection process only changed the creature to be more resilient against what had killed it represented a weakness to be exploited in Midday¡¯s eyes. If a creature was killed via, say, suffocation 10 times, it might gain adaptations like extra noses or other things like that, but it probably wouldn¡¯t grow in size or get stronger in the conventional sense. Moreover, since that creature would have used up most of its potential for adaptation in its first few deaths, it would be unable to adapt to new, novel causes of death¡ªlike gunfire or blunt force, for instance.


    Still, that method didn¡¯t strike him as practical. Killing an already dangerous creature several times would, of course, be dangerous¡ªnot to mention time-consuming and energy-intensive.


    Middy let out a sigh.


    Theorizing aside, he was sure now that the tadpole posed no threat.


    Sure, it had ballooned to several dozen times its original size in less than an hour, but it was still just a tadpole at the end of the day. The real problem, thought Midday, would be if something that was already dangerous to begin with died several times. If that happened, he feared that a true monster would be born, but the odds of that worst-case scenario struck Midday as low. Strong things, after all, tended not to die very much, especially not after getting even harder to kill if they did get slain.


    He stomped on the tadpole a few times until it was dead again.


    ?


    Jenjo and Bell stood at the edge of the elephant¡¯s back, looking down into the foggy abyss below. It was impossible to see much of anything down there aside from the soft blue of the Valley Algae¡¯s bioluminescence, but Jenjo wasn¡¯t worried.


    ¡°So, Mister Jenjo,¡± began Bell, his tone polite. ¡°You wished to fish?¡±


    ¡°In a roundabout way,¡± answered Jenjo, still peering over the edge. ¡°We¡¯ll be fishing, yeah, but not for fish. I¡¯m not interested in finding out what kind of monster we¡¯d get if we tried to cook a fish.¡±


    ¡°Then it must be the algae you want. I do believe Midday said something about it being edible.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re exactly right.¡± Jenjo stepped back from the pond and leaned himself against a tree. ¡°The only question is how to go about scraping it off the water. We¡¯re more than a hundred feet up from the waterline here, and I don¡¯t think either of us wants to climb down and harvest it by hand.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. I suppose not. What about that Ablute fellow? He has water-related powers, no?¡±


    ¡°But he has no skill in using them, and his level isn¡¯t high enough to brute force it.¡± Jenjo took a moment to scratch his chin. ¡°I thought a fishing rod might work, but the yields would be low. I¡¯d like to come up with something better. Any ideas?¡±


    ¡°I believe that a fishing rod would work, Mister Jenjo¡ªalbeit with some modifications from the conventional form. Instead of a hook, we could have a bucket at the end and, instead of a string, we could use rope. In other words, we could build something halfway between a fishing rod and a well.¡±


    ¡°Not bad,¡± said Jenjo, nodding. ¡°That should be doable. Can I leave that task of building it to you?¡±


    "Of course, Mister Jenjo," Bell replied with a smile. ¡°Your talents are better used elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°Alright. Well, best of luck with that.¡± Jenjo started walking away. ¡°In that case, I¡¯ll go check on the shelter crew. If you need any assistance with the algae well, Midday can probably help.¡±


    ?


    Jenjo was surprised to find Ablute, Braulia, and the Carpentry Sisters were making quick progress.


    Ablute, with his Currents Ability, had his hands dug into the muddy walls of the soon-to-be shelter. He was using his power to force the water inside the mud toward the exterior side of the wall, where Braulia was using her Pyromancy to evaporate it and dry the bricks into a solid form¡ªand all of this was happening under the orders of the carpentry sisters, who had the discipline of experienced soldiers.


    Seeing that things were going smoothly there, he decided not to bother them and to instead spend his time patrolling the island for any potential threats. As the only truly combat-capable member of the Solomon Bodyguard Team, he reckoned this sort of thing was really what he ought to be doing with his time. He enjoyed the power that came from his status as the leader but, after seeing how well the carpentry sisters were managing their admittedly rather subpar peers, he wondered if it might be wise to defer leadership to them so that he would have more time to patrol the edges of the elephant.


    But then, just as he was beginning to think that, his plans went out the window.


    A stern-faced man with a torso more than twice as long as it should have been¡ªthe supposed result of an attempt to ¡®upgrade¡¯ his spine several years ago¡ªwas standing under the shelter of a tree, though he did not need to do so, as the Umbrella Ring on his finger kept him perfectly dry regardless.


    ¡°Hello, Jenjo,¡± said Siempre Elvanera.


    Jenjo grabbed his sword. If things went sour here, his death was likely.


    ¡°How can I help you?¡± said Jenjo, all the while charging up his Phantom Slice Ability.


    Although Siempre was much higher level than him, Jenjo felt that he could slay the man if he played his cards right. He knew that the overseer was above level thirty and that he therefore possessed three Abilities¡ªof which Jenjo only knew Mutagen, the power that had earned him his title as an Elvanerean, and Marionette, which allowed him to turn corpses into his puppets. As for the third power, Jenjo had no clue, but he had never heard anything about Siempre being especially formidable as a fighter.


    Jenjo puts the odds of him successfully killing his former boss at 50/50. He liked those odds.


    ¡°Shelter, Jenjo. I¡¯m looking for it. This place will be suitable for me.¡±


    ¡°Leave.¡± Jenjo¡¯s phantom slice was somewhat charged by now. It still wasn¡¯t enough to kill a man like Siempre¡ªnot unless he was at point-blank range¡ªbut it made for a good deterrent all the same.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not draw your ire,¡± said Siempre, his face devoid of emotion. ¡°I have no reason to be your enemy. If I did, do you believe we would be having this conversation? No, Jenjo. We wouldn¡¯t. The only person hunting you right now is Coffee Coffee. What I want is a frog called Solomon. Are you familiar?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°Ah. I see. Since you were head guard for quite some time there and are currently on the back of an Old Growth Elephant¡ªthe same kind of elephant Solomon is known to live atop¡ªI thought you might know something, but I suppose that was fallacious cognition on my part.¡± He took a step back, increasing the distance between himself and Jenjo¡¯s cutlass. ¡°I suppose I can¡¯t order you to tell me the truth, seeing as you don¡¯t work for me anymore, but worry not. At present, I am not feeling especially loyal to the chairwoman. If you stand in my way, doing her the favor of killing that frog is not worth the trouble.¡±


    ¡°Why are you even here in the first place?¡± Jenjo asked, more than happy to stall. The longer he kept his hands in position, the more powerful his phantom slash would become. ¡°Isn¡¯t your main job to create posthumans? I have a hard time believing that Everitime would allow production to stop just so that you, a non-combatant, could come here and use your valuable time to kill a frog, of all things.¡±


    ¡°You must remember that things in life can oftentimes be complicated, Jenjo. I see no reason to give a precise answer. Not yet, I suppose. If you agree to ally with me, I will elucidate you on such matters.¡±


    ¡°Fuck off. You sentenced me to death and want to be friends?¡±


    ¡°Everitime sentenced you to death, on Weathermaker¡¯s request. Not me. I only wrote the letter setting that into motion. But I digress. We should work together. If you are unaffiliated with Solomon the Frog, I see no reason for us to have animosity toward one another.¡±


    ¡°Weathermaker¡­¡± Jenjo faltered for a moment. ¡°Weathermaker requested my death?¡±


    ¡°Indirectly, but, yes, I believe that to be the case. You haven¡¯t been at the plantation long enough to experience this firsthand, but these unjustifiably expensive death games happen every so often.¡± He paused. ¡°But Everitime, while eccentric, is not so foolish as to kill off her workers for entertainment.¡±


    ¡°But you are,¡± noted Jenjo. ¡°You came up with the Wheel of Punishment, along with several other things to make the lives of the people here harder for no valid reason, did you not?¡±


    ¡°I did not. Those were all implemented on Everitime¡¯s orders¡ªand I suspect that those orders in turn originated from Weathermaker. If you want more information, work with me. I could turn you into a posthuman, if that interests you. Given your current strength, you would be monstrously powerful if I did so. Perhaps strong enough to force your way off this island. I would follow in your wake, of course.¡±


    ¡°And what are the odds I retain my humanity through that? Your method isn¡¯t known for being safe.¡±


    ¡°Converting a human into a posthuman in the span of just a few days is hard on the body, regardless of the method. I will make no guarantees regarding the result of your transformation.¡±


    ¡°Then fuck off.¡±


    In the eyes of the administrators, most people on Elvanera Island were as disposable, and Siempre¡¯s methods took full advantage of that. The man would simply get a batch of a hundred or so different people and use his Mutagen power on them¡ªwhich was almost completely random in its effects.


    Most people died from that method¡ªwith the corpses of ¡®failed specimens¡¯ ending up as puppets for Siempre¡ªbut the rare few who survived the ¡®mutation lottery¡¯, as he had once heard it described, were almost always so far removed from their original forms and mentalities that it was impossible to know they had ever been human without prior knowledge of their condition.


    As far as posthuman creation methods went, Siempre¡¯s was by far the fastest, and by far the worst. The whole point of Elvanera Group¡¯s posthumans was that they were the cheapest, most mass-producible ones on the market, and Jenjo had no interest in becoming one of them.


    Siempre remained neutral about the rejection. "Very well. I won''t push the issue any further. If you change your mind on the alliance or otherwise, however, find me. I trust that you will be able to.¡± He turned around. ¡°I¡¯ll be leaving now but, first, I leave you with an offer: if you should just so happen to find Solomon and bring him to me, I will do everything in my power to ensure you are rewarded handsomely for the assistance. That is all.¡±


    With a great leap, Siempre flung himself off Jugrim, landing unseen elsewhere far below.


    Jenjo didn''t let his guard down until he was sure Siempre was long gone. By the time he finally chose to release Phantom Slice, his arms felt like they were going to explode¡ªand indeed they would have if he had kept charging it for another minute. Phantom Slice, while powerful, put a huge strain on the body.


    Resting his arms at his sides, he started thinking about Siempre¡¯s offer.


    He had no intent of accepting it, knowing full well that Siempre could not be trusted, but he all the while wondered what Siempre¡¯s intention had been in approaching so directly.


    It seemed highly unlikely that Siempre would have expected Jenjo to simply accept his offer without a moment''s thought. The man was far too intelligent for such a miscalculation. Perhaps it had been a test, a way to see just how desperate Jenjo was or where his loyalties truly lied. Or maybe it had been an attempt at psychological warfare, and Siempre had been trying to throw him off his game.


    Whatever the case, it didn¡¯t matter. He had been expecting an encounter with Siempre. Not this soon, of course¡ªthe speed at which the man had arrived was absurd¡ªbut he had planned for the man to show up at some point. At which time, his intention had been to duel Siempre to the death, but he had made the mistake of using his Dueling Room Opus a few days ago, and the cooldown lasted a week. Until he regained access to that power, he didn¡¯t want to risk fighting Siempre outright.


    It was going to be a long month, thought Jenjo. He started walking back to the others.

 45. Foundations

    Romulo and Coffee Coffee sat beside each other on an especially large branch. Both were rather tall, with Coffee at 7 feet and Romulo closer to 10, but the wood showed no signs of snapping. That much wasn¡¯t much of a surprise, seeing as Coffee was a skeleton weighing no more than 30 pounds, but Romulo was still rather impressed at how sturdy these Freshwater Oaky Mangrove trees were.


    Both he and Coffee were gazing into the fog, the air between them quite serene, sipping the coffee that Coffee had made for them, which Romulo had been amazed to find had an unexpected benefit.


    ¡°Proper Coffee: Grants all the benefits of coffee without any of the downsides.¡±


    He still remembered the Voice announcing what it was, but it wasn¡¯t until Coffee had started explaining the implications that the true extent the special-grade beverage¡¯s effect became clear to him.


    Since there were no downsides, none whatsoever, to drinking gallons and gallons of the stuff, that was exactly what Romulo had been trying to do. The goal, as Coffee put it, was to reach ¡®maximum saturation¡¯¡ªthe point at which the possible benefits to be gained from drinking coffee were maxed out.


    Toward this end, Romulo had already downed more than 20 cups.


    Owing to his size, Coffee estimated that he would need close to fifty before he reached that point, so the two were just sitting there on the branch. Coffee, as a golem with no internal organs, was unable to derive any benefits from drinking his coffee, so he focused on making it, while Romulo drank.


    With every cup, he grew a little more alert, his focus improving ever so slightly, and the flavor was pretty good too. It didn¡¯t make much sense to him that Coffee, a golem created by the chairwoman of Elvanera Group for nonviolent purposes, had been sent to assassinate a powerhouse like Jenjo.


    ¡°It still doesn''t track,¡± Romulo finally said, breaking the comfortable silence they¡¯d settled into. He set the empty mug down, and Coffee immediately refilled it from the seemingly inexhaustible carafe. ¡°Jenjo is not a simple person to deal with. From my understanding, he¡¯s successfully developed more than one Opus. That¡¯s not normal. Most people are unable to develop their first Opus before reaching level 30.¡±


    Coffee tilted his skeletal head. ¡°His combat prowess is formidable, yes.¡±


    ¡°And you, meanwhile, are weak.¡± Romulo paused. ¡°It begs the question: Why were you, of all the options, sent here to kill him? Wouldn¡¯t it make more sense to have Siempre or someone else at that tier do it instead? Or, hell, why not just have Weathermaker fry him with lightning and be done with it?¡±


    Coffee Coffee tilted his skull, the empty sockets seeming to consider Romulo¡¯s words. ¡°It is quite perplexing, is it not?¡± The golem¡¯s voice remained cheerful, almost jarringly so given the topic. ¡°One might even suspect the Chairwoman has other motives! Or perhaps,¡± Coffee tapped a bony finger against his temple, ¡°perhaps she simply has great faith in me? This is what I prefer to believe.¡±


    Romulo grunted, taking another deep gulp of coffee. He was starting to feel it more now. Not just alertness, but a strange vibrancy, like the edges of his vision were sharper, the sounds of the rain clearer, his thoughts moving faster. Twenty-something cups in, and the effects were becoming less subtle. ¡°Faith doesn¡¯t stop a Phantom Slice from taking your head off before you know what¡¯s happening. Jenjo¡¯s killed people from twenty feet away. He¡¯s ex-military and a duelist. Strong.¡±


    ¡°Precisely!¡± Coffee clapped his skeletal hands together softly. ¡°Which is why a direct confrontation would be inadvisable! As the lovely Head Guard Mulberry suggested, stealth and opportunity are key! Perhaps poison? A well-placed trap? There are many paths to victory that do not involve clashing steel!¡± Coffee gazed off, looking vaguely into the fog. ¡°Besides, the Chairwoman¡¯s commands are absolute. If she decrees that I, Coffee Coffee, am to eliminate Jenjo, then eliminate Jenjo I shall attempt to do!¡±


    Romulo studied the golem, who was still looking off into the fog. At once, he reached his conclusion.


    The Chairwoman probably didn¡¯t care if Coffee succeeded or failed, as long as the attempt was made.


    Maybe Coffee was just a distraction for someone else? Or maybe the Chairwoman truly was that whimsical. Or perhaps the golem was a pawn in some kind of scheme¡ªone in which Jenjo¡¯s death was of little to no actual concern. Jenjo was powerful relative to Romulo and Coffee, yes, but if the higher-ups really wanted him dead, they no doubt could have made that happen by now.


    Whatever the truth was, it was of no concern to Romulo.


    For the time being, entering this partnership was a simple decision.


    Coffee could provide him with an unlimited source of safe, power-boosting hydration. Additionally, without any flesh to corrupt, Coffee was probably immune to the Undead Rain. That, combined with the fact that the golem didn¡¯t need to eat, meant that keeping him around was unlikely to cause problems.


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    Another thought, a dishonorable one Romulo felt guilty that had entered his head, was that, if things looked like they were going south, he could always just abandon or even betray Coffee. He had no interest in throwing his life away trying to fight someone more than 10 levels stronger than him.


    That said, there was a carrot attached to Coffee¡¯s proverbial stick, and it did indeed entice Romulo.


    ¡°And this¡­ transformation you mentioned,¡± Romulo said, his voice low. ¡°Turning me into a Knight. I didn¡¯t know such a thing was possible. Tell me, friend: How does Siempre Elvanera fit into that?¡±


    ¡°Ah, the reward! Yes! Siempre is instrumental! He possesses the Mutagen ability, you see¡ªone of only three individuals known to the Chairwoman capable of initiating such transformations! While his methods¡­ perhaps carry certain risks,¡± Coffee waved a hand dismissively, ¡°the potential is undeniable! Imagine it, Romulo! The power, the resilience, the stature! Why, your strength would grow tenfold!¡±


    Romulo felt a surge of desire. Strength. Power. It was what he craved above all else. The downsides of Siempre¡¯s methods were well-known¡ªmonstrous forms, loss of self¡ªbut the gamble might be worth it.


    ¡°You know, if I received that transformation now, killing Jenjo would be a lot more feasible, no?¡±


    ¡°Yes, that would be the ideal sequence of events. I believe that you are sufficiently honorable to fulfill your end of the bargain should you undergo the metamorphosis and have things proceed well.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s the plan then? Find Siempre, try our luck with the transformation, and go from there?¡±


    ¡°Tentatively, yes. I believe that will maximize our odds of success.¡±


    Romulo smiled. ¡°Works for me. And how do we find Siempre?¡±


    The skeleton went silent for a moment.


    ¡°I do not know,¡± he finally said.


    Romulo shook his head and chuckled. ¡°I kind of figured.¡±


    With one smooth motion, the giant rose to his feet, such that he stood balanced atop the branch.


    ¡°Well,¡± said Romulo, ¡°We¡¯d better start looking then.¡±


    ?


    Midday stared at the tadpole. It had died more than thirty times now and, at this point, he was starting to think that it was straight up invincible¡ªor, rather, invincible to death by blunt force.


    It was just a big mass of calloused skin now, its actual body nearly impossible to find amid the folds. In this state, the creature was immobile to the point where it was more like a rock than a living creature.


    The thought of using the tadpole¡¯s motionless body as a heated pillow popped into Midday¡¯s head: The rain was warm to the touch, but constant exposure nonetheless left him shivering, so the warmth from the skin-blob tadpole would have been nice. The thought of creating several such tadpoles and using them to guarantee his warmth while sleeping occurred to him for some reason, but he was not yet so far gone as to seriously consider it. Just a few months prior, after all, he¡¯d still been a typical villager.


    Plus, Jugrim was already somewhat warm to the touch. If he slept with his back flush to the elephant¡¯s skin, he¡¯d accomplish nearly the same effect as his skin-tadpole approach would likely achieve.


    The tadpole¡¯s form had more-or-less stabilized after the tenth death, with the changes from that point onwards becoming increasingly smaller until it became impossible to notice them without close inspection. As such, Midday thought now might be a good time to call it quits with the tadpole.


    Surely there were better things he could be doing.


    If Jenjo didn¡¯t have any work for him, then he could at the very least spend some time collecting useful plants and adding them to his garden. Right now, all he had was the Devil Peppercorn, but the old growth was a treasure trove of unique flora, and Midday wanted to see what he could find.


    The giant lotus in the center of the pond stood out to him as one possible avenue for that.


    Before any of that though, waste disposal: He picked up the tadpole, which couldn¡¯t even struggle against him at this point, and took it to the edge of Jugrim, where he dumped it into the swamp below.


    From there, Midday started walking toward the spot where the others were building their shelter.


    After a short trudge through the mud, he arrived to find that the shelter was taking shape.


    Ablute, Braulia, and the Carpentry Sisters worked with surprising efficiency.


    The group was more than halfway done laying the foundation: A circle of rammed earth about 15 feet across. The platform was elevated above the surroundings¡ªjust enough to prevent water from seeping into the structure that would soon be built on top of it. Crude wooden spokes that the Carpentry Sisters had gathered and driven deep into the mud helped ensure that the mud foundation stayed cohesive.


    The Carpentry Sisters mainly busied themselves shoveling loose mud and piling it up to form the foundation. They performed this work barehanded, but that didn¡¯t seem to slow them down much.


    Ablute and Braulia, on the other hand, were tasked with solidifying the mud.


    Ablute¡¯s water manipulation ability allowed him to squeeze most of the water out of the mud.


    From there, Braulia would blast the mostly dried dirt with intense heat, cooking it until it became solid.


    ¡°Need a hand?¡± Midday asked, stepping closer.


    One of the Carpentry Sisters, the one who usually did the talking, looked up. ¡°Finished your task?¡±


    ¡°More or less,¡± Midday replied. ¡°Learned some things. Big one is that the changes zombies undergo between deaths are determined by the way they died. There¡¯s also an upper limit to mutations somewhere around the 10th death. Unsure what to do with that knowledge though.¡±


    ¡°As we learn more, our course of action in dealing with the zombies will become clearer.¡±


    Midday nodded. ¡°So, do you need anything here?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± the lead Carpentry Sister, the one who always seemed to be doing the talking for the trio, made a sweeping gesture before pointing near the edge of the foundation circle. ¡°Grab some mud and pack it between the spokes. I don¡¯t see a point in sleeping before we have a roof over our heads, so expect to work nonstop until then. I¡¯m guessing it¡¯ll be 12 hours or so. Hurry up and get moving.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡±


    Midday wasted no time getting to work. Working in the fields had squeezed out all the laziness that otherwise might have been present in his temperament. He bent down and set about his work.

 46. Eden

    The sky had gone dark by the time the Solomon Bodyguard group finished building their shelter.


    After Jenjo had come back from his earlier patrol, progress had accelerated considerably.


    The former guard could fell trees with a single slash of his cutlass, something he did many times as he worked with greater zeal than anyone else in the group. It was clear to everyone that after his encounter with Siempre, Jenjo¡¯s cool pragmatism had been tainted with an undercurrent of anxiety.


    A sense of urgency was apparent in everything Jenjo did, and that attitude was infectious. None of them knew much about Siempre, but common sense said that if someone as strong as Jenjo feared the guy, weaklings like them should do the same. For his part, Midday was not overly concerned. Siempre was after the frog, not him: if it came down to it, he¡¯d gladly give up the mission.


    Finally, the last mud brick, dried hastily by Braulia¡¯s pyromancy, was set in place. The shelter was complete: a squat, windowless dome of hardened earth barely tall enough for Jenjo to stand upright in, even when hunched. It wasn¡¯t pretty, smelling strongly of damp soil and cooked mud, but the rough, uneven roof promised dryness, a luxury none of them had known since the Undead Rain began.


    They gathered inside, collapsing onto the slightly less muddy floor within.


    The air was thick and still, a stark contrast to the wind and rain outside.


    Braulia, despite her exhaustion, coaxed a small, flickering flame to life in a fireplace at the center of the hut, igniting dry twigs Jenjo had managed to procure. As the wood began to crackle, orange light cast long, dancing shadows on their weary faces, illuminating the grime and fatigue etched onto each one.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Jenjo¡¯s voice was tight, betraying the tension Midday had observed earlier. He paced the small confines of the shelter, his movements jerky. ¡°Before rest, we eat.¡±


    He reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a slimy clump of Blue Valley Algae.


    It had a filmy quality to it, but the truly notable thing about the stuff was the subtle blue glow it gave off.


    Bell had finished building the Algae Well hours ago, but Jenjo had made the group hold off on eating until now. Although everyone was hungry enough not to care, eating raw food was mighty unwise, especially in their current circumstances. Now that they could cook, Jenjo deemed it safe to eat.


    Jenjo set the algae clump, which he¡¯d squeezed into a small ball, on a hot stone atop the fire.


    He took out a few more clumps, made a few more algae balls, and set those out to cook also.


    The algae sizzled softly on the hot stone, its blue glow intensifying momentarily before fading to a duller, cooked grayish blue. A faint, earthy scent, not entirely unpleasant, began to fill the shelter, mingling with the smell of woodsmoke and damp earth. It smelled like a fruitier version of cooked spinach.


    Midday watched the cooking process with great anticipation.


    He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the small, hard beads of Devil Peppercorn.


    This was it.


    There was no better food to pair with Devil Peppercorn. The algae, said to be impossibly nutrient-dense, would turn into a panacea of sorts when combined with the nutrient-optimizing power of the peppercorn. Additionally, with his tasteless tongue, he could consume as much as needed.


    This meal, he told himself, would be the true beginning of his physical recovery, the foundation upon which he could build strength and, eventually, gain more levels. Finally, it was all coming together.


    Jenjo used a stick to flip the algae balls, ensuring they cooked evenly. They firmed up quickly, losing their slimy texture and taking on the appearance of misshapen patties on the verge of falling apart.


    After a few minutes, he deemed them ready.


    ¡°Food¡¯s up,¡± Jenjo announced, nudging the cooked algae balls off the stone onto a relatively clean patch of the mud floor near the fire. ¡°One each for now. A single ball probably contains more energy than an entire day¡¯s worth of the rations you lot have been eating. Eat too much, and you could go into shock.¡±


    They gathered around the meager offering.


    Midday reached for an algae patty and, without hesitation, took out a single Devil Peppercorn bead from his pocket. He tore it up as best he could with a nail and dropped it onto the patty.


    The peppercorn vanished instantly, absorbed into the cooked algae.


    He took a bite.


    As expected, there was no taste. Only texture.


    The patty was dense, almost rubbery, but yielded easily enough to his teeth. It was strangely filling, even after just one bite. He focused on the sensation, the way it felt against his enhanced tongue, discerning the fibrous structure within the meal. It wasn¡¯t enjoyable, but it wasn¡¯t unpleasant. It was simply fuel.


    He ate quickly, finishing his patty before most of the others had taken more than a tentative bite.


    ¡°Huh, not at all what I expected,¡± said Ablute after giving it a try. ¡°I¡¯ve never had something this sweet! Heck, I don¡¯t even think just straight up eating a bunch of refined sugar would be anything like this.¡±


    Jenjo downed his meal in a single gulp. ¡°It¡¯s far too sweet to be pleasant on its own, but I imagine it would work well in a stir fry, with other ingredients present to dilute its intense sweetness. In any case, this is most likely all we¡¯re eating for the next month. Meat is off the menu for now, seeing as we don¡¯t yet know if it¡¯ll come back to life while inside us. As for other plants, we don¡¯t know for sure if they¡¯re safe.¡±


    ¡°Solomon may be willing to share his knowledge with us,¡± Bell said, chewing thoughtfully.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± said Jenjo. ¡°Keep in mind, however, that he¡¯s a frog¡ªhe predominantly eats insects.¡±


    Midday, already feeling sleepy, nodded. ¡°If that¡¯s the case and he hasn¡¯t exploded yet, can¡¯t we take that to mean that the Undead Rain has no effect on creatures inside the stomach of another? If that weren¡¯t so, the flies Solomon ate today would have died several times inside of him before evolving the means to break out.¡± He reached up to Mister Potatoes. The beetle was perched on his shoulder, occasionally snapping up a stray insect drawn by the firelight. ¡°Mister Potatoes here provides even more evidence.¡±


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    The Carpentry sister who did all the talking for her siblings spoke. ¡°That¡¯s plausible. A stomach is certainly different from the outside. Acidic, lacking direct contact with the rain or fog¡­ It might disrupt the reanimation process. We should investigate whether the rain or the fog causes reanimation¡ªor if it¡¯s just moisture in general. The more information we have, the better our decisions will be.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll conduct more research, but no eating meat until we have absolute proof it is safe,¡± Jenjo cut in sharply. His eyes flickered towards the crude entrance of the shelter, the anxiety still evident despite his commanding tone. ¡°I¡¯m not risking one of you eating meat, having it revive inside you, and watching it claw its way out. Not until we have absolute proof. Algae is safe. Algae is what we eat.¡±


    No one argued.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Jenjo continued, ¡°We need rest, but we also need security. We¡¯ll break up watch into four shifts of two. First shift goes to Braulia and Camellia. Second will be Midday and I. Third is Bell and Iris. Fourth is Ablute and Azalea. That way, each watch has someone over level 10 on it. That said, I don¡¯t expect you to fight. If anything comes up¡ªanything at all¡ªwake me up, and I¡¯ll handle it. Any questions?¡±


    Silence met his question. The exhaustion was profound, settling deep into their bones.


    ¡°Good. Braulia, Camellia, you¡¯re up. Everyone else, get some sleep.¡±


    The group dispersed, finding spots on the packed earth floor.


    Midday curled up near the wall. Mister Potatoes made a little nest in his hair.


    The mud beneath him was still damp, but the relative dryness compared to the outside world was a much-needed comfort. He closed his eyes, listened to the crackling of the fire and the muffled drumming of the rain against the dome, and in mere seconds, he fell into a deep slumber.


    ?


    Siempre Elvanera perched atop a colossal mangrove branch, the omnipresent drizzle bending around him thanks to his Umbrella Ring. The night was absolute, the only illumination coming from the faint, pulsating blue of the Valley Algae coating the swamp water far below and the intermittent flashes of fireflies flitting through the dense foliage.


    He allowed himself a moment of stillness, processing the encounter with Jenjo.


    The former guard¡¯s refusal did not surprise him.


    Jenjo possessed a stubborn streak and a pragmatic distrust born from years navigating treacherous waters, both literal and political. Like Siempre, the man was a war criminal wanted dead in many nations. Such a person would not¡ªcould not¡ªtrust others so easily. Like Siempre, he¡¯d come to Elvanera Group seeking amnesty. Like Siempre, he¡¯d never once doubted that he¡¯d be betrayed.


    Not that the refusal mattered. Their conversation had gone exactly as Siempre wished: Jenjo was probably more anxious now. Spurred on by the revelation that he was being hunted, the man would move brashly. He would work harder in the short term to prepare, shirking rest to do more.


    That would be fine for a few days, but it was only a matter of time before the signs of exhaustion began to show. At that time, Coffee would have the advantage. When Coffee made his move, Siempre planned to use the resulting chaos to secure Solomon. Of course, even in a one-on-one battle, he would need to be careful and come into the encounter having made extensive preparations. That frog was not weak.


    He had a few trump cards in mind: try playing Muscle Roulette in hopes of getting a good roll, wait for the zombies to get strong enough to bring down Jugrim, or attempt to gain the favor of an Eden.


    Siempre himself had once had a prayer answered by Varla Netari, the Eden of Mysteries, so he knew it was possible: in his younger years, the Eden of Mysteries had blessed him with a deep understanding of genetics. Taking this event to mean that she already seemed to favor him, he hoped that she would give him the chance to enter into a deal of some sort¡ªone in which she helped him escape the island.


    There was also a good chance that the Devil, Jinthraa¡ªthe Eden of Severance¡ªwould respond to his prayers, but it was probably better to kill himself here and now than to go down such a terrible path.


    He decided to try his hand at making an appeal to the Eden of Mysteries.


    Siempre looked up at the night sky and spoke.


    ¡°Varla Netari, eternal seeker of everything there is to know, governor of all magic, hear me.¡±


    Upon completing the incantation, Siempre experienced the sensation of being watched.


    A demand manifested within his mind, not as words, but as an undeniable imperative.


    The toll for an audience. A secret. Something novel.


    Siempre scanned the archives of his mind. What could he offer that would satisfy such a being? Knowledge of Weathermaker? He nearly chuckled at the thought that an Eden would care about an entity so insignificant as Weathermaker. Personal secrets? Varla probably didn¡¯t give a damn.


    He settled on something specific, something derived from the painful crucible of his own self-experimentation: a niche interaction he¡¯d discovered between dormant retroviral sequences and artificially induced telomere regeneration under extreme psionic pressure¡ªa biological paradox that defied conventional understanding, yielding peculiar, temporary cellular immortality at the cost of genomic stability. It was obscure, perhaps useless in the grand scheme, but fundamentally new.


    This, Siempre projected, centering his thoughts on the knowledge he was offering.


    The mental pressure intensified, became invasive. It felt like a cold, precise scalpel dissecting his memories. There was a sharp, tearing sensation, not physical, but psychic. Then, a void. The intricate knowledge of the cellular interaction vanished, leaving behind only the ghost of a memory that he once knew something significant related to cellular aging and psionics.


    Accepted. State your petition.


    ¡°I require escape from this island,¡± Siempre projected back, keeping his mental voice steady, betraying none of the urgency or fear churning beneath his forced composure. ¡°Or, failing direct intervention, knowledge pertinent to achieving said escape. Specifically, information regarding weaknesses in the island¡¯s containment, the current Opus employed by Weathermaker, or the intentions of the Chairwoman regarding my fate.¡±


    You¡¯ve done a number of interesting things in your short life thus far, Pipkin Barleycorn.


    Siempre blanched. He hadn¡¯t used his birth name in decades. It wasn¡¯t surprising that a being on the level of Varla would know it though¡ªshe easily could have pulled it straight from his mind, after all.


    I gave you a small degree of knowledge regarding genetics some twenty-seven years ago. You have built upon that foundation to an extent, and I have observed all those additions. Your achievements are minor, but they are sufficient to earn you some knowledge free of charge: Everitime Elvanera does not actively seek your death, but she would not be displeased should you happen to perish this month.


    Siempre wasn¡¯t surprised. That more-or-less matched his expectations, but it was nice to know for sure.


    As for the other information you seek, you neither have the knowledge nor the capacity for action to trade for it, and I¡¯m uninterested in giving it to you for free. Perhaps if you hadn¡¯t been complacent with your research for the last seventeen years, allowing yourself to be restrained, I would be more interested in helping you. Regardless, I¡¯d like to see you survive this. If you do, I suggest emigrating to a distant city called Crux Megapolis and seeking employment at a company called Crux Pharma.


    The sense of being observed lingered for a moment after Varla Netari¡¯s presence withdrew, leaving Siempre feeling hollowed out, the intricate knowledge he¡¯d offered now just a phantom in his mental landscape. Crux Megapolis. Crux Pharma. Names filed away, possibilities noted, but irrelevant for now.


    He had to focus on escaping.


    Varla¡¯s confirmation of Everitime¡¯s indifference solidified his resolve. He wasn¡¯t being actively hunted by the Chairwoman, merely permitted to perish. It was a subtle distinction, but a crucial one: it meant Everitime likely wouldn¡¯t interfere directly unless his escape attempt became too blatant or threatened core Elvanera Group interests. Weathermaker remained the primary, unpredictable threat.


    He glanced back towards the direction Jenjo was in.


    For now, letting Jenjo stew in his paranoia while Coffee planned his clumsy assassination attempt seemed the most prudent course¡ªnot that the outcome was of any major significance to him.


    With another leap, Siempre propelled himself onto a higher branch, vanishing into the night.