Hours. Hours and hours.

This is how people got around here? They could fucking fly and do magic, all of that shit, but they walked everywhere? Jesus Christ. From up in Aspenoc’s spire I could see that this kingdom was huge, and I knew the southern farmlands were much larger than the northern path we had taken yesterday, but really? Like, really?

Fogwarth’s irritating and continuous humming had me crawling out of my skin after the first hour. I immediately regretted feeling so jovial about him finding his happiness again. On top of that, any conversation we tried to hold was interrupted by the rock twins and their weird unified speech pattern.

I shuttered when I realized that there were probably many, many more [Golem Familiars] roaming around. A vivid, horrible nightmare flashes where I had to hold a conversation with three of these assholes all at the same time.

My debuff timer proved to be useful to track the time. I had just fallen below 50 hours and although we were still doing alright, with only two more levels to go, I still couldn’t help but be a little paranoid that we wouldn’t make it in time. Worried that something went wrong somewhere. Maybe we didn’t earn enough combat experience, maybe I wouldn’t inflict enough ability damage or whatever. I was nearly positive the stealth one was out of the question with big bumbling Fogwarth smashing his way through the underbrush and clobbering anything that moved. If subtlety was the name of the game then Fogwarth was playing something else entirely.

[Decay Timer: 49 Hours, 39 Minutes, 12 Seconds]

We had been awake and on the move for nearly five entire hours now. Slaughtering a gang of tigers and their mama might seem like a big accomplishment for that time frame, but considering that our only quest was to check out the southern wall it really didn’t feel like good timing. And we had to report back within 24 hours? What kind of bullshit was that?

Realizing that me arguing with myself and just generally being a Holden Caulfield wasn’t making time move by any faster, I decided to go back to learning more about the world.

“So, equipment levels. What’s that about? My armor gave me a bump up to 83 but it doesn’t seem like a whole lot to me. I mean, I’m encased entirely in the damn thing and somehow I still have less than you,” I said to Fogwarth.

He thankfully stopped his humming and visibly grew excited to talk about equipment.

“A terrific question indeed! Great of you to ask, sir berry. Fogwarth, The Forgetful strikes again!”

“Terrific.”

“Great.”

I held back a groan and almost shattered my berry teeth from clenching my jaw. I hated them.

“Equipment levels are, in some ways and many ways, more important than your personal level or even your abilities! Why, a powerful wielder of lightning itself is little more than a minor spark when faced with the toppling power of excellent armor and exquisite weaponry,” Fogwarth said, staring into the midday sky in boyish wonder. “Much like Tiers for evolutions or Ranks for classes, equipment levels have Grades. At the same time, some equipment may require you to have gained a certain level or possess a certain Tier, even rarer pieces begging you to achieve a high class Rank, so all of your growth tends to feed one another like a mother Raven and her newborn flock.”

“Or a mother seagull,” Ix-Lok answered first this time, followed by, “Mother Crow works too,” from Ak-Lok.

“Alright, I like that,” I answered, metaphorically nodding my head since I couldn’t actually nod my head. “I can wrap my stem around it. It makes sense. So basically my equipment level is low because I haven’t hit Tier 1 evolutions yet, and because I’m a low level overall. Still seems like mine should be at least a little higher since I’m literally inside of a metal ball.”

“Yes. Yes you are, sir berry. However,” Fogwarth said, then paused to remove his helmet, carefully navigating it over his horns while simultaneously squishing out his big plump face. He held the helmet up where I could easily see it. “You have but a single piece of armor. Whether it is a chest piece or a helmet I have not the fondest idea, but it is just one. If it were a match of simply one helmet against another then we may be more evenly matched, but sadly it is not the case. I have a helm, to be sure, but I also have a chest piece, gauntlets, leg armor, and boots. Now that I am a Tier 1 evolved being there will be various ornaments, trinkets, and jewelry I could obtain to further better myself. Then there is a weapon, which we cannot forget. A weapon may be the highest rated piece of equipment of all!”

“It is,” Ix-Lok said, this time barring interference from its brother. It motioned with a slow stone hand to its bow against its back. “Very high equipment level.” Then it motioned to its body. “No armor.”

Well. They don’t have to talk at the same time it seems. Assholes.

“No armor?” I questioned. “If equipment levels are so important then why not wear armor? Style choice? Prefer to be bare rock and let it all hang in the breeze?”

I received nothing but stone faces back. To be fair that’s all they could offer.

“Cannot wear,” the other piped up. “Evolution.”

“Huh?” I said, going back to Fogwarth. “Foggy, any ideas?”

“Oh certainly!” He answered with enthusiasm. “The Loks are constructs of my brother, the [Golemancer], and these have restrictions in place. As a familiar, they were limited to simply their abilities and natural stone defenses. However, unlike you and I, sir berry, a familiar cannot evolve at all unless they go through a terribly arduous ordeal that is also undertaken by the summoner. Thus, having two of our dear Loks altered to be [Unbound] is an incredible rarity.”

“We are grateful for Lord Fogdahn.”

“Thankful for Lord Fogdahn, we are.”

I gave them a berry blink. “This… this world is confusing. So, just to clarify this nonsense,” I said, clearing my throat just on principle. “You literally could not pick up and shoot a bow before you were [Unbound], but now you can. However you can’t put on a fucking shirt until you evolve?”

“Yes.”

“Correct.”

“That makes no Goddamn sense,” I answered. “Just put on the armor! Who cares what the rules say?”

Fogwarth belly laughed. “Oh my, sir berry. You put me in stitches! Why, I could not have begged the Gods for a more humorous best friend and lifelong ally. Just put on the armor? Is that what one would do in your world?”

“Yes!” I shouted. “Fuck yes!”

“Armor would degrade rapidly,” Ix-Lok said.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“We would have all negative effects,” Ak-Lok added in near-unison.

Then they both punctuated the sentence with, “There would be no upside.”

Fogwarth nodded. “They would not receive a boost to equipment level, the durability would not even carry them through the day, and they would be over-encumbered just by the weight of it alone. Most armor is custom made, be it leather, metal, or even some of the finer cloth pieces, and there is no possible way to make them for a Golem prior to tier 1. It is a marvel the Golem’s in your world can just wear what they please!”

“We don’t have…” I squeezed my eyes shut in frustration. “You know what? Never mind. Sounds great.

Without warning I heard the sounds of two bow strings snap behind me, then felt the rush of air as two great arrows rocketed by and burst through a shadowed patch of tall crops.

[Your party has slain a Brush Tiger - Level 9. You are awarded 94 experience points]

This was the third or fourth time the Loks had done that, taking out a prowling tiger before we had even known of their presence. Fogwarth made it known after the first that he didn’t believe they’d actually attack us and probably were scouting after the carnage we had left behind, but the Loks were taking no chances. Neither of them missed a beat, always firing arrows and putting their weapons back before we even received the kill notification. It was pretty impressive at first, until Foggy told me it was a passive ability available to most bow-based classes called [Hunter Sense].

I mindlessly wondered about useful passives I’d open up eventually besides just getting bigger.

With that thought fresh in my brain, I decided to dig through my interface while we walked. I had spent very little time browsing them since I honestly hoped to be awake right about now. As I pulled it up I looked at the typical gray tabs that held no current information. My skill tree tab had been one of those as well but had opened once I got my ability point. I had to guess there were other things that would come my way and prompt those tabs as well. I went to my status tab first and mentally pulled it up, showing my stats and my spinning blueberry avatar.

[Name: Barry.

Title: None.

Race: Calypso Blueberry.

Level: 3.

Class: Angiomancer.

Rarity: Abundant.

Equipment Level: 83]

Not too much changed on here outside of my level. However with my status option open I could see an additional tab for some of my individual status items. For example, equipment level had a drop down that showed the value of each piece of equipment, along with a [Natural] option that must be anything about my body that added value. Being a squishy blueberry it was no surprise I didn’t have anything to offer as far as natural defenses, although Foggy would argue my deliciousness should add value. Rarity had nothing, and my class one only had a drop down that I guessed tracked each time my class would change with an evolution like Foggy’s had, but it didn’t seem relevant right now. Title just tracked… well, titles, and race seemed to function just like Class. However, the one I needed was level.

Sure enough it had displayed the “factors” of my level, for lack of a better term.

[Level: 3.

Current Experience Pool: 452/750

Total Experience: 1252

[Experience Types Earned:

Quest: 0, 0%%

Labor: 0, 0%

Comfort: 0, 0%

Companion: 533, 42.5%

Party: 318, 25.4%

Combat: 32.1%

Familiar: 0, 0%]

“Ah… shit,” I said, my interface still twinkling in my vision. It just slipped out on its own after viewing my experience breakdown.

I was nowhere near where I would need to be for any of the evolution paths. So, again, shit. I wasn’t close to the [Battle Berry] and [Calypso Brawler] paths with my combat experience being so low. I was above the combat experience threshold for my primary pick, the [Berry Rootling] path, but I still only had a single ability and I was in the opposite direction of the stupid stem from the northern orchard anyway. Then there was the tiger one, the [Wildberry Prowler] path. I searched three times and could find nothing indicating stealth experience, and I really doubted I was getting any with the shambling rock twins or Fogwarth’s big ass clunky armor.

I was on my way, but I was fucked if we didn’t think of a plan soon.

“Hm?” Fogwarth said, cocking his head and looking up at me. “Everything alright up there, sir berry?”

“Nah, not really,” I answered with a sigh. “I checked my status or whatever, and it looks like our plan is working but I’m still a bit all over the map here with the evolutions. It’s risky but… I think the golems need to stop killing the tigers around us. It’s ruining the balance due to some party experience thing I didn’t know about. Even then, still don’t know if I’ll hit any of the paths. And what about the stealth experience? That one isn’t even listed.”

After we exited the underbrush we had hit winding dirt roads wide enough for a wage that cut through the vast farmland. The plant life was still too large to be normal, but the fields of grains and produce were lined neatly and seemed to be growing at an alarming rate. Clearly Mothric didn’t have to worry about food shortages, but then again there weren’t nearly as many people even in the main town or castle as I thought there would be. Either they leveraged the majority of their people for their military and guard, or they were dealing with population issues. I shrugged off either issue as I looked around the endless farmlands surrounding us.

In the distance I could finally see the top edge of the massive wall that surrounded the Kingdom, only another couple hours away it seemed like. Fog also hung heavy in the air the closer we headed toward it, with the mist around us being barely noticeable but clearly much more dense up ahead.

“That would not be a problem, sir berry. Ak-Lok and Ix-Lok are amongst the finest of Companions a noble Spanworm could ask for. We shall let them know of our needs, and their honor shall keep them on the path of your evolution! No longer will the patrolling tigers be stricken down unless they attempt harm on us first!”

[Your party has slain a Brush Tiger - Level 8. You are awarded 82 experience points]

“Last one,” Ix-Lok said.

“Not Companions,” Ak-Lok unnecessarily added.

“Stupid ass rocks…” I said under my breath as I continued to look out over the crop fields and toward our destination.

Fogwarth suddenly jerked to a halt, signaling the two golems behind us to pause as well with a raised hand. I could see his head move side to side, the afternoon sun glinting off of his pearl horns and making them look like liquid ivory. I gave a look around as best as I could too, not seeing anything but knowing that didn’t always matter in this world. I could hear the two golems behind us unsling their bows from their backs, remove a great arrow each, then shift to either side of us.

A moment later I heard it. The low rumble that shook the metal of our makeshift weapon and vibrated up into my berry body. We all fell silent, worried about the cause of the unnatural sound. It was such a low growl that it could have been from beneath the ground itself, perhaps a great underground beast that wanted to eat us, or even the earth was splitting in two. It called out for drawn out seconds, horrifying even at its barely audible level.

We braced ourselves for combat.

“Yes…” Fogwarth said, looking around once more. “This will do for our purposes. This is as good of a place as any I suppose.”

“What? What? Are we going to die?” I asked under my breath, trying to mask my panic. “Is this where we die, Foggy?!”

“No… we do not die on this day…” Fogwarth said, suddenly jamming me into the ground so that I was standing vertically like a lollipop.

Without a moment of hesitation Fogwarth began pulling things out of… nowhere? Literally pulling things out of seemingly nowhere. An entire blanket, patterned in red and white squares and large enough to be a bed sheet. A few heaping wicker baskets of food. Canteens of water. A fucking cushion that he decided to throw down and sit on. He even had a little napkin that he shoved into the top of his armor like he was on a fine dining date. Finally I saw the small burlap sack he was removing all of these things from, barely larger than a typical medieval coin purse.

“Stealth experience does not exist. Rather, this is a situational event that must be utilized, such as a farmer may acquire labor experience whilst harvesting his crop, yet he would not receive harvesting experience nor would he receive selling experience when his goods are sold! Am I making any sense to you, sir berry?”

I let the silence linger for several long moments.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, scowling from my vantage. “You have really got to be kidding me. Was that all just a set up to a stomach growling joke? What the fuck, dude?”

“Hm?” Fogwarth said, pulling out the first course of what seemed like a five course meal. “Did I lead you to believe it was something else? Why, I had thought for sure I was being quite obvious that my level of hunger had hit a peak. I have the debuff to prove it, sir berry!”

I stared at him.

He stared at me.

I stared.

He took another big, juicy bite of a bowling ball sized blueberry that could have been a distant cousin, and just gave me his pudgy, berry slathered smile as he chewed his meal.

“I promise, I asked each of them several questions before packing them as a snack! None replied, unfortunately.”