Chapter 43: Foggy Bottom

The fog definitely wasn’t obeying the laws of physics I was used to seeing, as it wrapped around our convoy like the smothering hand of a government regulator, smothering all individuality within a thick, formless morass.

[Water stored.]

The sole saving grace was that it didn’t appear immune to my inventory, allowing me to carve away any strands that got too close to my person.

“Storages work on it!” I shouted out, for everyone’s benefit, because the more warm bodies we kept on our side, the better my odds of survival.

There was plenty to be said about rugged individuality, and it certainly had its place, but not on the open battlefield, not at my current strength, anyway. So, I kept syphoning away as much fog as I could, all while trying to peer through it to figure out what was going on at a wider level. A sudden crack made my head jerk, and I nearly swung my knife out of reflex before I realised it wasn’t something external. Bringing my status up, I ran my eyes over my latest messages, only to find something quite peculiar.

[Jug destroyed.]

I’d taken a jug with me, before departing the inn, just in case I had to demonstrate my supposed hydrokinesis in the upcoming meeting. I hadn’t used it at all, so it just sat there, a reliable source of water in case I ran out at any point, never a bad thing to have. Now, it was gone, but not everything had disappeared in that time, as a quick glance at my inventory showed.

[Inventory

* 9 Gilt (Frontier)

* Padlock (Locked)

* Gambeson

* Backup Shirt and Pants

* Mask (Cat)

* 3x Loaf of bread

* 6x Apple

* Bag of Oatmeal

* Cheese Wheel

* 4x Chunk of Salt Pork

* 6x Orange

* Lemon

* 11x Plums

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

* Dirt

* Water (200 oz)]

Even more so than before, as I didn’t think the jug could have managed more than a hundred and fifty ounces, even filled dangerously close to the brim. So, the container was gone, but the contents remained, now bolstered with every drop of fluid I extracted from the fog. In a way, it was reassuring, as the only addition being water meant that the fog itself consisted of natural materials, and that at least I wasn’t presently inhaling some kind of chemical weapon. On the other hand, the abrupt destruction of an item in my pocket dimension raised strange questions about how, exactly, that space reacted to inputs.

[Gambeson withdrawn.]

That wasn’t something I was in a position to experiment with, however, so I contented myself with merely bringing out my Gambeson, which I definitely hadn’t forgotten about until this point, and returning my attention to the battle. Small holes were opening up in the fog elsewhere as well; I could spot Harvey, doing the same as me with his own storage, while three of the archers proved similarly blessed. The fog fought back, surging forward to cover the space we emptied, but its resources were not infinite, and in committing to close the gap, it paradoxically opened up our sight further ahead.

[Wolf - Level 1]

The first enemies to charge at us were not particularly threatening. Big grey wolves, the kind with taxidermies displayed in the British Museum, from back before our noble ancestors hunted them all to extinction. Supposedly, a conservation effort was looking to reintroduce them in the North, but as I never ventured further than Watford myself, I’d not concerned myself with those reports, beyond mild amusement at the idea. So, wolves: pack hunters with large, sharp teeth and surprisingly sophisticated small group tactics. Dangerous to the common man, perhaps, but against several fire teams of Archers, who had by now regained at least limited line of sight? It was a bit of a turkey shoot, in all honesty.

I wasn’t sure what level any of them were, given that we were all wearing Blackened Bracelets, but the proficiency they were showing put olympic athletes back home to shame. There were no immobile targets here, only wolves running for us as fast as their long legs could carry them, but every shot found its mark without fail. In just a single volley, a third of the aggressors were out of commission, and after three, none yet stood to threaten us, having been culled one and all before ever reaching the defensive stakes, let alone my position. Boring? Yes, but also very efficient.

[Water (300 oz)]

I’d added yet more water to my storage, which still showed no sign of rebuking my actions. I knew there had to be a limit; I’d tried storing the carriage I was riding on, in a moment of travel induced boredom, and it didn't work. That time, I got a definite sensation from the System, telling me to stop: not an error message or anything like that, but more a hunch that I was wasting my time. Was it not an absolute restriction, perhaps? Maybe I’d be able to accomplish it once I reached a higher level. The fog was beginning to fade, as the three gifted Archers returned to defog duty, supplementing Harvey and myself once more, now that their bows aren’t required up front.

[Water (400 oz)]

Once the last of it was gone, shortly after another benchmark in my storage, we were left staring out at an empty field again, no more enemies, just endless grassy plains stretching all the way to the horizon.

“That was far too easy,” Harvey remarked, feeling the same disquiet as I was.

“Who created the fog?” Was my addendum to the conversation. “None of the wolves showed any off any magic, and it still hung around for a while after they dropped. Either it was running off of fumes from them, or-”

Pumpkin hissed, sat up ramrod straight, and slapped his long, short-furred tail on the ground next to me. The impromptu tantrum would have been amusing to witness, if he didn’t leave a dent the size of my head in the process, and if that hadn’t drawn a painful scream, coming from directly below us. Ah, I remember thinking at the time, so that’s how the other shoe drops.