Artyom returned back to camp before long. The party had finished setting up and was gathered around the campfire eating dinner. The half-day long trek to the next mcguffin had gone interestingly, with Artyom having a chance to see the team’s internal interactions for himself. To him, it felt like something out of a TV show, with sappy dialogue between the rainbow-haired women and the Great Hero, along with unimaginative bullying between the supermodel tsundere and the average rogue. Something deep within Artyom urged him to interfere with the latter interaction, and he hoped it didn’t alienate him too much from the others.

“There you are!” exclaimed Tommy, looking up from his company. “We’ve got some food left, but it’s mostly the burnt stuff.”

“Sorry, we claimed the best pieces for ourselves,” said Daisy, in a mockingly apologetic tone. She pointed towards a long wooden skewer with a mostly charred piece of wild game stuck to it.

“That’s fine, I brought my own rations along, those should make up for it,” Artyom replied.

“And you didn’t think to share?” retorted Daisy.

“Don’t worry, Daisy,” replied Tommy. “We’re not even done with our own meals, and I definitely have the appetite for whatever Artyom brought along!”

Daisy pouted for a moment before sighing. “Oh, alright.”

Artyom took a seat at the campfire between Neitra and Ecole while grabbing the skewer and his own rations from his bag. His array of detection spells told him it was safe to eat. He considered spiting Daisy even further by handing out TOAL’s ration bar, but decided against it. He was fine with standing up to her, but feeding that dirt rectangle to anyone would be an open act of war. Instead, he took out some of the rations he’d purchased at Brimhaven and handed them around.

Just like the hero, Artyom had a taste for good food, and purchased the best long-lasting biscuits he could find along with a small jar of cherry preserves, from one of the last shipments out of Freeacres. One last remembrance. Everyone seemed to enjoy it, especially the Hero. The other ladies tried to hide their enjoyment, but Artyom could see through their facades. He just hoped this would help smooth things over with them, especially Daisy.

“So, what’s the watch order tonight?” asked Artyom, realizing that nobody had filled him in on that pertinent piece of information yet.

“Watch order?” asked Xerica.

“Yeah,” replied Artyom, hesitantly. “We’re in the middle of a forest with the Dark Lord’s army out and about. It’s pretty dangerous for all of us to just fall asleep at once without someone keeping watch. What if something happens?”

“Do you expect someone to just stay up all night?” asked Ecole. “I doubt even you could do that.”

“That’s why we take turns,” replied Artyom, slightly annoyed. “With seven of us, we just need to take one hour out of the night to get up and keep watch, before switching out with somebody else.”

“It’s a pretty good idea,” said Neitra. The Dark Lord definitely has to have heard about the progress we’ve been making. He could come looking for us if he thinks we’re too dangerous to him.”

“Well I don’t care,” scoffed Daisy. “We haven’t been attacked so far, and I doubt we will be tonight. There’s no way the Dark Lord knows where here, anyway.”

“And I don’t want to be out alone,” said Lensa, quite a bit of worry in her voice as she hugged the Great Hero.

“Well it’s obvious this isn’t something we need to worry about,” concluded Xerica. “If you two want to guard us against nothing, that’s fine by me. But the rest of us aren’t getting involved.”

Ecole nodded in support. She was out too. Tommy hesitantly looked between everyone and took into account the glares around him.

“Sorry guys,” he finally replied. “I’m going to sleep. Besides, we’ll all need our energy for tomorrow!” His attempt at cheering up Artyom and Neitra failed, both of them looking at him only with disappointment in their eyes.

The naysayers crawled into their tents after dinner, with Artyom laying out his sleeping bag before talking to Neitra.

“So I guess it’s just the two of us. So do you want to split it into two 4-hour shifts each? Tomorrow’s going to be a pain, but it’s better than being killed.”

“Actually, there’s something you should know. The hero usually sleeps in.”

“Huh, so that should make it 4 and a half-hour shifts instead?”

“For 12 hours.”

“Twelve hours?!” exclaimed Artyom. That explained why they met him that morning at noon of all times. The Great Hero was probably asleep until then! Still, that provided them with 6 hour shifts, and that meant 6 hours of sleep. It wouldn’t be perfect, but during a quest like this, Artyom considered that much time a luxury.

“In that case,” began Artyom. “I’ll take the first shift and you can cover the second. Does that sound good to you?”

Neitra nodded, and crawled into her own tent, ready to make the most of her sleep before her shift.

The night was calm. A silver waxing moon shone overhead and the sounds of chirping cicadas filled the air. The temperature was pleasant enough that Artyom didn’t even need to wear a coat despite there being no sun. It was enough to put someone to sleep, but Artyom was experienced enough to not let the serenity affect him that way. Worst case scenario, he could munch on some tea leaves he purchased back in town for some extra energy.

Plenty of time had passed and it was nearing the witching hour where he would change shifts. Artyom was winding down and letting himself relax, seeing as nothing had gone wrong so far. It didn’t last long however, as he heard a noise that caused him to perk up. He looked around camp suspiciously, trying to identify its source, when he saw the hero’s tent shake slightly. Was someone sneaking around their camp, gunning for the hero?

Suspicion turned to fear as he looked around, which quickly turned to relief once he saw scuffs in the dirt that led back to Xerica’s open and empty tent. Wait, what was…

Artyom heard a long, drawn out moan come from Tommy’s tent. It was slightly muffled by the tent’s fabric and an attempt to keep silent, but was still audible amongst the sounds of the forest and the rustling that came with it.

Relief morphed into disbelief, and finally settled on utter indignation. It was enough that they blew off his concerns and left the night watch just to him and Neitra. But here they were in the middle of a forest, deep in possible enemy territory, and they were boinking?! Artyom lightly cringed when he remembered how Skeya tried the same thing. At least with her, they were right next to town in a low leveled area with the only threat for miles long dead by their hands.

“Calm down, Artyom,” he thought to himself. “Maybe just be happy for him that he gets to experience all of this instead of hell? But even I’ve never met anyone dumb enough to flirt with danger like this. Literally! What if this so-called Dark Lord ambushes us right now? You’d all be sitting ducks, and more than you already are, you’d be completely fu-”

Midway through his internal raging monologue, Artyom tilted his head to the side as a speeding arrow flew past it. Eyes wide, he didn’t let the sudden shock stop him. He quickly turned around in a roundhouse kick, sending his speeding foot into a figure clad in a red-rimmed black ninja-yoroi right behind him. They held onto their dagger as they went flying backwards and onto the ground.

“Everyone, get up! We’re under attack! Help!” shouted Artyom, trying to rouse the party to action.

When Artyom went for a walk to scout the camp’s surroundings, he’d laid various wards and detection spells that would alert him of any motion within the area. Whoever these people were, they were able to get past the weaker level spells placed on the outskirts, with the dagger wielding assassin only unable to bypass Artyom’s strongest wards at the front of the camp. As for the archer, he only shielded himself from detection, but not his arrow. When Artyom felt an incredibly fast-moving entity headed right for him, he rightfully assumed it was a projectile and dodged out of the way.

Artyom cast D-U Dermal Armor and Sonic Waverider as he ran towards the assassin on the ground. He attempted to kick the dagger out of their hand, but with an inhuman speed and agility they moved their arm out of the way and pushed themselves back to their feet. Artyom swore he heard them whisper a Skill, some variation of “[Dodge].” Artyom attempted to hit the assassin again, but they were able to keep their distance by expending additional skills which Artyom wasn’t able to make out at all this time.

Several seconds into the altercation, Neitra ran towards the two armed with a dagger of her own.

“Neitra, they have an archer too,” said Artyom. “Do you think you can take this guy on? I’ll try and find the other one.”

She nodded in affirmation before engaging the darkly clad figure in front of her. They circled each other slowly, daggers drawn and ready to shed blood. Without warning, the assassin jumped at Neitra, who expertly parried their blows while nicking them with scratches of her own. Unsatisfied at facing down prey that could bite back, the shadowy death dealer began calling forth his Skills. He suddenly appeared behind her, in the form of a whirling vortex, pulling out a second dagger and assailing Neitra with a flurry of blows.

“[Blade Tempest], [Double Parry]” whispered Neitra, countering the attack with her own slashes, each thrust of hers blocking two of the assassin’s. She was keeping them on their toes, forcing to adapt to her own abilities or get hurt even more.

Satisfied with Neitra’s capacity for combat, Artyom ran off to find the archer. As soon as he began a magically fortified mad dash towards where the arrow came from, he felt his target reappear on his wards moving away from him, probably having dropped their magical stealth for speed. The assassin made it to the edge of Artyom’s wards, but not before the magical marathon sprinter caught up. Artyom got a good look at the archer, who was dressed similarly to the one who infiltrated the camp, except that his robes were lined with blue as opposed to the other’s red. On further inspection, the robe itself was only similar to what a ninja would wear in that it was black and covered everything but the eyes. Artyom noticed an intimidating symbol stitched onto the gloves that looked like a pair of evil eyes above an arm holding a bloody sword.

He charged at the would-be assassin at breakneck speeds, ready to kill or disable him with his next blow. The darkly clad figure had other plans however, and dropped a gray pellet onto the ground, creating a large cloud of smoke to conceal his presence. Artyom wasn’t about to let that stop him and cast Detect Life. He charged into the smoke cloud, ready to lash out at any shade of red that might appear, but only heard the words, “[Concealed Disappearance].” The smoke eventually cleared as Artyom frantically searched through and around it. The assassin was gone, as if they’d completely vanished without a trace.

“Damn overpowered System Skills,” muttered Artyom to himself as he arrived back at camp a minute later. Neitra was alone with her dagger out, the others in the camp finally making their way out of their tents.

“He got away,” she reported as soon as she saw Artyom.

“Same here,” he replied. He assumed that this one used the same smokescreen disappearing act, judging by the wisps of smoke still hanging around the camp.

“The one I was fighting shrugged off my poisons,” she added. “They must be rogues or assassins as well for them to have that kind of a Skill.”

“What’s going on?” asked Lensa, a streak of worry running across her face.

“Regrettably, what I warned you all about,” replied Artyom. “We got ambushed by assassins.”

“Well, where are they?” asked Ecole quizzically, her brow furrowed. “I don’t see any now.”

“They got away,” replied Neitra. “Their gloves had the Dark Lord’s insignia on them, he must have sent them.”

As she said that, the Great Hero arrived just in time to join the conversation, along with Xerica and Daisy, each dressed in a mishmash of pajamas and armor. The hero’s pants were on the wrong way.

“Of course they did,” replied Ecole, sarcastically.

“There weren’t any assassins attacking us until tonight,” added Daisy, her hair a tumbled mess. “And when did you just so happen to join us, Artyom?”

“You know, I think Daisy has a point,” started Xerica. “If assassins are going to be coming after us because of Artyom, maybe he isn’t someone we should have along?”

All eyes were on Artyom as soon as Xerica dropped the bombshell. He looked around at everyone’s expressions. Neitra was worried about the sudden escalating conflict, and Lensa looked scared as well, but of Artyom rather than the quarrel. Ecole and Daisy were pouting, the latter with more of a sneer, and finally there was Tommy. The hero looked similarly worried like Neitra, but more about being put on the spot as the team’s leader and wielder of the final say. He looked at the others, and finally rested his eyes on Artyom, who himself held a calming, neutral expression.

“If the Dark Lord’s assassins are going after Artyom,” the hero began. “Then there must be a pretty good reason.”

The other ladies looked at him with anticipation, awaiting his verdict. Artyom’s expression didn’t change beyond making eye contact with him.

“And that reason has to be that they’re either scared of him or absolutely hate his guts if they’re willing to be so cowardly. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and you, Artyom, are a good person and my friend. I’ve sworn to the Goddess to protect this kingdom and its people from the Dark Lord, and I’m not about to forego that promise just because of some assassins!”

“But he’s not-” began Daisy, before cutting herself off. The other members of her clique glared at her wickedly.

“Wait, do they know?” thought Artyom. “How much, though? It’s more likely they think I’m not from the kingdom, but it could be more. If so, then how?” Artyom took a long inhale. “Calm down, she might’ve just been trying to bring up when I talked back to her earlier. And everyone realized I could counter that by bringing up the bullying going on.” He exhaled his held breath, letting the air flow out a gap between his lips. “Either way, I have to be careful about elucidating my motives around them. Any discussions about Earth with the hero will have to be in private. I can’t risk them finding out.”

“Artyom’s staying in the party, and that’s final,” concluded the Great Hero.

The supermodel posse looked slightly dejected, but nodded.

“You know, you really are a good person to protect him, Tommy,” replied Xerica, putting a hand around his shoulder. “That’s why you’re the hero.”

Everyone went back to their respective tents after the conversation, including Artyom who settled into his sleeping bag. It was time to switch off, and Neitra took her place to watch over the others.

Artyom couldn’t help but feel like it was a close call just now. It looked like these ladies were going to be an even bigger hurdle in his path to get some answers. They might swoon over Tommy and shower him with praise, but Artyom was certain something was up with them. He might be tearing a page out of Gus’ book with his current level of paranoia, but he didn’t care. Tommy was probably from Earth, and until and after he confirms it, it was his duty to protect him, whether he knows it or not. Artyom powered off his Aura of Camaraderie and Aura of Courage, ready to go to bed. Neitra might’ve seemed very competent compared to the others, but Artyom kept his wards active just in case. He went to bed with a feeling of self-righteousness, a buzzing radio silence carrying him off to a dreamless slumber.