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—roof and all—by 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—a 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—with 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.

“Indeed,” answered the stone-faced administrator. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Siempre studied the corpses. They all belonged to malnourished trash—his 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—but 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—a 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.