The colossal ruins of Marcia stood a few yards away, bringing a sense of humbleness to the ever changing sands. The ruinous structure was rumored to be the resting place of Thomas the Herald, the last recorded holder of the Tesseract. But now, just like everything in this valley, it has been entombed within the gray sand. The Tesseract, perhaps lost forever for all eons, beyond the hands of mankind. The journey beyond the Artemis ring would be worth it if the artifact could be found. However,

“Three bullets left…”

Just like John hunted for the artifact, another hunter searched for his prey. John became aware that he was being followed. Not long ago, after crossing the dying river of Tartarus, he became aware of an ever elusive shadow manifesting itself in the sand. In this world there were no angels or demons, but the unnatural shadow that crept ever closer was difficult to ignore as it slowly closed the distance little by little. Minutes ago, the shadow was fifty yards away, now it was a mere thirty. This threat was no longer possible to ignore. Whoever was casting that shadow was cloaked with a spell of invisibility, or a really high level of stealth.

“Clare, I summon you.”

The familiar wasted no time. Within a second, the shinny knight made her appearance. “Hey John, what’s in the menu today?”

John was not in the mood. Binding Clare’s soul into a physical form devoured a crippling cheer amount of mana. Among all the familiars available, John just had to get the blonde-stupid lawful-evil knight.

“Child, make it quick.”

“Tch. Fine,” With one swing of her sword, the whispers of the wind came to a halt. The ensuring sand storm lifted the cursed sand and along with it, the secrecy of the shadow.

“Blyat! Don’t shoot,” The Man who a few seconds ago enjoyed the luxury of invisibility, began to squat and wave his arms left and right as his existence was revealed. He was definitely a player, another scavenger?

“So, John. Do I slash him up?”

John shook his head. Running into other players this far away from the Artemis ring was rare. John repeated the silly crab-like dance, inviting the other player to approach him.

However, once the distance was closed, his named popped out;

Mikhail ‘The Bomb-thrower’ - Level 21

His name was tainted in an angry red. This man had at least murdered another three players without provocation. Trusting him was foolish, but even a player-killer like Mikhail would know that killing a summoner this far away from the ring was murder-suicide.

“Bro!” Mikhail yelled. “That’s some sweet companion you have there.”

“Keep moving,” John replied, making no attempt to entertain a small talk until they entered the charcoal-black ruins of Marcia.

The place was filled with low-level infestation of goblins, which Clare was way too happy to take care of. The group separated in two, with John taking Clare through the structure, while Mikhail looked for ways to entertain himself.

“No matter how many times you kill these little shits, you’ll keep running into them. They reproduce faster than rats,” Clare said.

“You still seem rather happy about it.”

“What can I say, I’ll take what I can, maybe you should summon me more often,” She said.

While the two argued like father and child, a gruesome scream echoed across the walls of the room.

“Mikhail?”

Clare only made eye contact once, before she stormed out, sword in hand. Naturally, John took a bit longer to reach the source of the screams. When he arrived at the scene, it was just in time to see Clare stomp a goblin’s neck, which swiftly exploded. If Angels were real, Clare for sure would be a Demon.

Mikhail’s smile gave away everything that just had happened. John’s eastern European companion was having fun torturing the goblin with a torch, while Clare watched it happen until her master arrive. Had John not arrived, Clare likely would’ve just observed as the atrocity happened.

“The two of you make me sick,” John said. His poker face unchanged.

Clare only laughed. “It was just a goblin, Dad.”

“Yeah John, diz little shitt sliced my jacket, it was only fair,” Mikhail replied with a heavy accent. When this did not elicit the response that he wanted, he raised his shoulders to indicate what was done was done. “Let it go man, let’s justz eat.”

Which is what the group did. The goblins had left a cauldron on top of a fireplace which the humans but to good use, the three of them began to roast goblin meat. Seeing Mikhail and John munch away without hesitation didn’t help Clare in the least. She kept staring down at her piece of goblin meat, like a deer about to be hit by a car.

“It tastes like spicy chicken,” Mikhail said. “Is not that bad.”

Mikhail was a good liar. When Clare bit into the meat, it did not taste like chicken. As she coughed her lungs out like a kid with tuberculosis, the two players spoke about business.

“You were from the Russian server, weren’t you?” John asked. Mikhail responded by shaking his head as he devoured the crispy green meat.

“Polish,” He said.

“I don’t see your lot often.”

“Want some?” Mikhail asked, pulling a flask of liquid and offering a drink.

It had a strong smell. “Vodka?” John asked after sniffing the container and declining a sip.

“The Polish server-r wasn’t as lucky as to spawn within the Artemis ring.” Mikhail said. “But no, I hate Vodka, life is too bitter and too short.”

“I call dibs,” Clare said, attempting to snatch liquor from a man who has been mistreated by life. Clare inevitably ended spilling the liquor all over Mikhail and then landed on the floor. Her armor slammed against the floor when she fell on her butt, making a really loud metallic sound.

Mikhail was about to apologize, when a voice began to shout from underneath his clothes.

“Mikhail! are you ok!? Can you hear me? You’ve gone dark, we are coming in!” The voice said. It was a radio.

“You are a fucking scout!?” John yelled. When John grabbed his gun, a shot was fired.