All was proceeding smoothly.

The rafts, being the improvised constructs they were, occasionally had some issues—one of which had landed the pyromancy user in the back—Braulia—in 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—only 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—or 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—at 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—so 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.”

“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—the 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.