The door of the office was thrown open as Artyom and Neitra strutted into the busy room dressed in their assigned military uniforms. Filled with more than just the usual few pencil pushers, the chaotic crowd of bureaucrats and soldiers turned to look at the duo as they walked up to the front desk and Artyom slapped his palm forcefully onto the counter’s surface.

“Miss Yarrow, could you please inform me as to why the soldiers aren’t preparing for their attack today?” asked Artyom, his brow furrowed in worry. When he and Neitra went out to join them on their daily assault on the Dark Lord, they were shocked to see the dirt field where they normally gathered to be completely deserted. Not a single soldier was present. And if their plan was to succeed, they needed an immediate answer to the question of what was going on.

“Well, they started their attack early today, actually,” replied the attendant, the same older woman from the day before. “You just missed them!”

“And why did they choose to go out so far ahead of schedule?” asked Artyom, starting to grow tense. The others in the room were starting to eye him. He knew something was wrong, but was starting to suspect it had something to do with him.

“Because the man we’ve been waiting for finally arrived and took everyone on an early assault. He’s going to make sure we win once and for all against the Sworn Enemy!” Despite Yarrow sounding so excited, her eyes narrowed sharply.

“...who?”

“The real General Samphire,” she replied in a deadpan. “This is the man I was talking about, everyone!”

Oh…

Immediately, the soldiers in the room pulled out their swords and began to surround the two. Neitra reached for her dagger, but Artyom raised a pacifying hand. He sighed as his mind went into overdrive to better understand the situation and how to get out of it.

“Really, how could you fool us?” asked Yarrow. “Unlike you, he’s a real general! He showed up without an assistant or anyone else, and he immediately took charge of the troops! He’s attacking with not just our main soldiers, but the reserve defense forces as well! We’re sure to win with his help now!”

Artyom considered Yarrow’s gloating at her discovery and his eyes widened when he realized something sounded very strange about it. “Hold on, he took everyone, like everyone everyone? Aren’t there any soldiers left to defend the fortress?”

“Why would there need to be when we’re about to put such a hurt on the Sworn Enemy?” she asked rhetorically. Artyom could hear her voice waver ever so slightly, however.

“And he showed up on his own, despite him supposedly travelling with his army?” asked Artyom again. “And he’s attacking immediately, without getting to know his troops first?”

“Yes, he’s just that good of a general of course! And even you showed up without the army! Wait, what are you saying? Are you just trying to confuse me? He said you’d try to do something like that.”

Artyom closed his eyes and sighed. He began to tsk while slowly shaking his head and looking back up. With Artyom’s cover looking like it was about to be blown, there was only one good solution available; double down on the bullshit.

“Miss Yarrow, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. All of you are,” said Artyom, looking around the room with a somber expression. “The man you presently believe to be General Samphire, is in fact, the imposter.”

“Wh… what?!” stuttered Yarrow. “I knew it, you are trying to trick me!”

“No I’m not, Miss Yarrow,” replied Artyom with sincere eyes. Underneath it, he was subtly focusing an aura of confusion onto the crowd around him. It would do well for him if his audience felt what he wanted them to feel in response to his words. “Think about it, does this other man’s actions really strike you as something befitting a general?”

“Of course!” she responded in a huff, trying to muster up all of her confidence. Artyom found her resolution unsound.

“What kind of general would take command of troops without any sort of training exercise to get to know their capabilities or ability to synergize with his own tactics?” continued Artyom, switching his aura to that of fear. “And why would he leave the entirety of Ironheart Fortress undefended?! If we were attacked now by an ambush force, they’d kill everyone here! No general is that stupid to leave the people they’re sworn to protect undefended!”

“He… he wouldn’t do anything like that!” exclaimed Yarrow, trying to control her rising dread.

“No, the real General Samphire would never do something like that! An imposter on the other hand…” Artyom left the implication hand in the air. The entire room collectively took a dry gulp. Artyom figured it was time to bring this home, and bathed his audience in an aura of confidence. “I think for the sake of Ironheart Fortress and the Kingdom, you should tell me where everyone is, please. I’ll take care of this, I promise.”

Yarrow was frozen in place as she stared into Artyom’s kind eyes, but he knew he had won when the soldiers surrounding them lowered their weapons.

“They left for no man’s land half an hour ago,” she finally said softly. “They’re far, and you won’t be able to make it to them in time at the rate they march unless you can keep up a dead sprint for over an hour or two.”

“Thank you, Miss Yarrow. I’ll take care of closing the distance.”

The duo left the office at a brisk pace, realizing that their own plans had a monkey wrench thrown into them rather than the other way around. Once they were out of the building and away from any would-be eavesdroppers, Neitra let out a nervous laugh.

“Nice job with that quick thinking,” she said with a smile, playfully nudging Artyom with her elbow. “I mean, accusing the real general of being a traitor convinced them all! But I feel bad for him, since he’s just doing his job.”

Artyom looked over to her with raised brows. “That wasn’t a lie…”

Neitra paled.

Rather than reply, Artyom took out his replacement phone and called up the impromptu war room for this mission. Gus, Prithvi, and Captain Michaels all picked up within two rings.

“We’ve got a bit of a problem, everyone. The army headed out half an hour ago led by what I can only assume is one of the goddess’ agents. He’s dragging every soldier from Ironheart Fortress with him, leaving it defenseless. Enemy or not, we need a way to catch up to him and take control of the army. Can we requisition a bike or something?”

“Of course something goes wrong right towards the end,” grumbled Captain Michaels.

“I’m ready to sign off on a cycle,” replied Prithvi.

“It’s going to be hard to pass as ‘the real General’ if you ride in on something so foreign,” added Gus.

“I can just say it’s a new invention from back in the capital,” retorted Artyom. “And we’re at the point where we don’t have much of a choice, unless you have a teleport beacon set up in no man’s land?”

“No, we don’t,” replied Gus. “But we’ll have to get Foxtrot and Charlie some cycles to make time… and I’ll admit the situation’s dire enough to get you one too. Head over to the main gate and I’ll have some of the remaining agents pass it over to you.”

“Hold on, I’m going to guess that their plan is to destroy the army and then march on an unprotected Ironheart Fortress?” asked Captain Michaels. “We can do a quick sweep of the surrounding area for any ambushes, and if there aren’t any, we can send out our troops to you as planned.”

“Thanks everyone, once again you’re all lifesavers,” said Artyom, ending the call.

“So what now?” asked Neitra.

“Now? We’re going to get ourselves a ride, and then an army.”

Soon after, Artyom and Neitra made their way to the northern gates and were met with a pair of TOAL agents holding onto a gleaming bronze machine. The device consisted of a golden brown metal frame with large tires on the front and back end that went up to their waists, and several glass cylinders embedded in its frame towards the rear with various pipes leading in and out of them. The new duo waved with gleaming smiles when they saw Artyom and Neitra, beckoning them over with better news.

“There you two are!” began the first of the machine’s escorts. He wore an undyed set of gray, quicksteel armor, akin to what Artyom was sent earlier. The color was a complete mismatch for his bright blond hair and personality. “We’ve got everything ready for you!”

“Yeah, we convinced the people in charge of the gate that a couple of soldiers got left behind by the army, and they totally bought it!” exclaimed the other. He was similarly dressed, but with black hair and a light scar on his cheek. “Just jump on the bike and start riding, and they’ll open it up for you. We convinced them that it’s some experimental gear from the capital that you got delayed in getting set up.”

“That’s perfect, you two!” replied Artyom with a wide grin. “Gotta be thankful that everyone here is apparently gullible.”

“They’re just trying to be helpful to others,” rebutted Neitra with a slight pout. “Even if the taint makes them that way, they’re still good people.”

“Oh, definitely,” replied Artyom, looking over to her. “But them being gullible is only helpful to them in this situation, since we’re using it to help them.”

“I know, and it felt nice to use it earlier, but it’s starting to not feel right,” she said with a frown. “With taking advantage of everyone so much.”

Artyom responded with a solemn nod. “It’s not. I don’t even trust my friends and I to keep doing so without eventually using it for something selfish. Let’s just hope that our upcoming war with this goddess won’t last long so we won’t have to do it for much longer.”

Neitra replied with silence accompanied by a stoic expression. Eventually, she nodded and changed the subject. “So this is the ride? I can see it has wheels, but nothing that can push it. It kind of looks like an oversized children’s toy.”

“Children’s toy?!” asked Artyom in a fit of mild outrage. “This happens to be state-of-the-art magitech! Can’t you see the craftsmanship put into this beauty?”

Neitra simply shook her head.

“One of the finest feats of the fusion of modern Earth engineering with magic sits in front of you. The RDV-3 Vulcan is made with a magnalium alloy frame coated in magic-resistant beryllium bronze, uses a specialty alchemical energy source more akin to jet fuel than gasoline, is equipped with a pair of hyper-vulcanized king slime rubber tires, and has seating for two. I guarantee you, nothing in this World is faster than this craft, and this should get us where we need to go well before the real battle starts.”

Neitra looked at Artyom in a daze in response to his technobabble. “There are a lot of things you said that I don’t think are really things, at least in the Kingdom. But I did understand ‘seating for two’ and that it’s fast.”

Artyom looked back at her with a warm smile. “Damn right, it is! Here, put this on your head and take a seat behind me. And remember to hold on tight.” He handed her a helmet while taking a seat at the controls. Gripping the handlebars and revving the engine to try it out, Artyom let out a wild laugh as Neitra took her own seat behind him and put her arms around his stomach.

“Are there no other things to hold onto?” asked Neitra.

“Sorry, that’s just how motorbikes are made,” replied the first of the bike’s escorts. “Bad for wind resistance and all that.”

“That’s too bad,” said Neitra with a mischievous pout. “I might end up crushing Artyom in half if we go too fast.”

“Haha! We’ll see about that!” shouted Artyom as he put the bike into drive and twisted the throttle. The duo flew forward with a pair of wild screams, as they accelerated towards the gate.

Just as the two escorts had said, the leviathan doors set into the white stone walls began to open as soon as the roar of the engines eached the guards’ ears. The bike slipped through the gap between the walls and alacritously sped into the badlands.

“It’s been an hour since we started, where’s the army?” shouted Neitra through the roar of the cycle’s engine. “They were only 30 minutes out when we left, right?”

“That’s what we were told. Maybe this new general has some high-leveled marching Skill? That means less time for us to take control of the army and the other squads to get into position.”

“Yeah…”

Neitra’s thoughts were interrupted by Artyom’s phone. Rather than having to take it out of his pocket, the device automatically connected to a microphone and speaker in both of the riders’ helmets.

“What’s up?” asked the bike’s driver.

“It’s Prithvi,” replied a familiar feminine voice marred by occasional static.

“Hey Prithvi! The bike’s amazing, by the way, but we haven’t caught up to the army yet.”

“Well, there’s something you might want to hear first,” she replied worriedly. “Squad Echo bugged Tommy’s room while he was out, and apparently his other party members are currently breaking the news about how the Dark Lord’s forces have crushed Ironheart Fortress’ army…”

Artyom’s heart caught in his chest.

“...and are currently laying waste to Ironheart Fortress itself,” she finished.

His heart began to return to a normal beat as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Wait, what the fuck?” was all he could say.

“Hey, there they are! Just ahead of us in the distance!” exclaimed Neitra, interrupting everyone’s already disoriented thoughts.

As the duo flew out of a small valley, they spotted Ironheart Fortress’ army who were marching at a much more rapid pace than they were yesterday.

“Hey, uh… Miss Prithvi, we’ve found the army and they don’t look crushed, I think.”

“Just Prithvi is fine,” she replied from the speakers. “And our remaining scouts back in the fortress say the same about the place. No death or destruction in sight.”

“So what’s the point, then?” asked Artyom, too busy focusing on the army in front of him to come up with a logical explanation.

“Hmm… Tommy is talking about heading here now to try and stop the trouble, but his harem’s putting their foot down, saying that it’s too late and that there’s no point.”

“Wait, you all said that the goddess is trying to give Tommy an adventure, right?” asked Neitra. “I remember a lot of stories have something tragic happen in the middle that makes the hero super angry and gives them more of a reason to fight. Maybe that’s what’s happening here?”

“Wow, Artyom,” chuckled Prithvi. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, I think she’s figured it out!”

“Really?” asked the duo simultaneously.

“Yeah, it fits! I’ve read your reports, and Tommy’s journey’s been pretty lackluster so far, nobody with a lick of taste would read it if it were a book, and this goddess is probably trying to make up for it by spicing up his story a little. The rest of his party’s probably stalling until the enemy army actually does everything they’re saying. You know, to build up tension?”

“And that confirms that this supposedly fake general really is a fraud, and that means he’s going to get the soldiers killed for the story!” all but shouted Neitra. “Artyom-”

“Already on it,” he said back as he made his way around the left of the expeditious battalion and gunned the throttle. He slowly made his way past the neat column of soldiers as he steadily made ground towards the front of the group. Eventually, he cleared the final soldier and saw the man leading them, the false general.

“Michaels confirmed that there aren’t any other enemy troops closing in. Squads Foxtrot and Charlie will take another hour to get into position,” added Prithvi as a final note. “Good luck, Artyom. And let’s save some lives.” The call disconnected as the duo focused on the task at hand.

Artyom leaned right as the bike turned to intercept the imposter. After revving the engines and making it within close proximity, the fake Samphire finally took notice of the two and their vehicle. Caught by surprise, he was forced to jump back to the ground behind him in order to not be run over by the magitech device, forcing the rest of the army to slow themselves to a halt at risk of trampling their commanding officer. And as they stopped, the effects of the marching Skill faded, and they all remained at a standstill.

“What in the name of the goddess was that?!” shouted the faux-general. “Wait, you two are soldiers! What are you doing on that thing instead of marching with us? You two look like neonates by your uniforms, so get to the front with the others!”

The duo looked at the stationary army whose soldiers were now all staring at them. At the front were several familiar faces, including Dill, who was waving excitedly at them.

“He put all of the newbies at the front,” noted Neitra.

“So he could get them killed quickly and justify a retreat,” Artyom replied, as he began to walk towards the false general.

“I believe I said for you two to take your places,” said the man in front of them with an imperious attitude. Upon closer inspection, the duo saw he was wearing similar armor to the other soldiers but covered in a gold trim and bedecked with medals. His pale head was utterly devoid of hair, with even his eyebrows being nonexistent. He glared at the two with slit-shaped pupils, as if expecting them to immediately cower and return to their posts.

Applying his suite of combat spells, Artyom began to walk towards the imposter. “No,” he said confidently, taking a deep breath and realizing exactly why their foe was so confident.

“No?!” he almost hissed, his eyes widening. “I said go!”

Artyom felt a wave of willpower wash over him, it wasn’t his own. Neitra took half a step back but was otherwise unfazed either. That was why he was so sure of himself. Artyom could recognize another high-tier aura user, and replied the best way he knew how.

As he let out the air from his lungs, the half-asian man unleashed a wellspring of power from deep within him. Aura, just like most other standard spells, was powered by the magical energy present in the caster’s body and the air surrounding them. But unlike those other spells, the strength of an aura had a second component to it; willpower.

A metaphorical fire began to burn in Artyom’s heart, as it grew on his passion. His rage against everything the goddess put him through, fear for what she would do to Tommy if she continued to have her way, and the sheer determination to never let it happen. He was always dealing with few, powerful enemies and never the large groups he was specialized against. It was time he showed the goddess what he was truly capable of. The wellspring of willpower within him finally erupted as his aura screamed to life, covering the entire army in its vibrancy. A mix of courage and paranoia befell the soldiers as they looked on silently.

“I said no! You fraud, you phony! You’ve taken the place of the real general and now lead the sole hope of the Kingdom to their ruin!” shouted Artyom, letting passion mix into his words, turning them into impromptu poetry. He had a second reason to speak like that; to sway an audience. The other soldiers.

“What are you talking about?!” shouted the man in front of him, beginning to realize who he was really up against. “You’re going to get disciplined once we get back, but for now, get back in position!!!”

Artyom frowned as he felt the false general redouble the effort put into his own aura, sending a pacifying combination of fear and deference at the two. Artyom and Neitra brushed off the effects with their own will, the latter better than before now that she was used to it.

“What I’m saying is… that I’m the real General Samphire!” shouted Artyom, lifting his hand into the air in a dramatic flourish. “What kind of general puts all of the newbies out in front?”

“To get them experience, of course!” he replied with wide eyes, now realizing what Artyom was doing. He stopped trying to influence his combatants and instead focused his efforts onto maintaining his now-crumbling hold on the troops. His face began to roil, and something beneath it slipped along beneath his skin. “And how dare you say I’m not the real general!”

Artyom’s face scrunched in confusion at the false general’s response. Perhaps he was solely specialized in auras and never expected to do anything other than control and lead the troops to their demise? That would explain his less than convincing retorts. But with the battle of auras taking place, Artyom had to focus all of his attention on fighting against his control, lest he command them to attack. If he’d killed him earlier, the army would’ve just attacked him anyway. He quickly glanced at Netira, hoping that she would understand what to do, especially seeing as how their enemy clearly wasn’t human, but all that met him was her blank stare. Damn, he just had to wait until he got the upper hand.

“I’ve led soldiers for years, and I know what you’re doing will only get these brave men and women killed! The new generation is the most important part of the army, as they’ll take over for the veterans once they retire.”

Not-Samphire didn’t respond, instead trying to force his aura even harder onto the troops despite being stonewalled by Artyom. What he didn’t realize was that this kind of a battle was two-fold. Auras could do a lot, but charged words could make them moot, especially if they brought about a strong enough epiphany.

Artyom turned to face the soldiers and opened his arms while making his plea. “Please, this fraud is planning to get you all killed! He’s obviously a plant sent by the Sworn Enemy! Why else would he take charge of you all without even getting to know any of you and go against the doctrine that’s kept Ironheart Fortress standing for so long?!”

“I’ve heard enough! Soldiers, attack this traitor!”

The army stood still, hesitant on how to act. Artyom had destabilized the imposter’s control enough that they didn’t know who to believe. Gripped by hesitation as they considered the words of both of the aura wielders, they all stared ahead hoping for some kind of external force to decide for them, desperate for proper guidance. And they got exactly what they wanted.

Neitra immediately appeared behind the false general and sank her dagger into the man’s neck. Rather than blood, a viscous black bile discharged from the wound which the rogue barely dodged in time. The skin around the injury began to tear as if being ripped in twain at an invisible seam. Underneath was a scaled creature, roughly the same size as its disguise and looking more like a bipedal snake built on a human frame than any actual man.

Everyone stared at Neitra as she appreciated her handiwork. When she noticed the eyes on her, she looked back at them. “What?” she asked innocently. “I saw something wiggling underneath his skin like he was some kind of monster, so it wasn’t like him doing… whatever he just did… wasn’t obvious.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Neitra!” exclaimed Artyom with a sigh of relief. “I probably could’ve kept that up for another 5 minutes before I ran out of juice, and I don’t know if he could’ve done the same. But how did you just appear like that? I thought I saw you right behind me… oh.”

“[Noticed Presence]!” she said with a cheer. “It really is handy when you’ve already been caught. Nobody expects an ambush from someone right in front of them!”

“Yeah, that’s true. Even I didn’t expect a move like that! So now, where were we?”

Artyom turned to face the army in front of him, who were looking upon their dead general and his killers with a look of fear and trepidation. The TOAL captain took a deep breath and began to focus his inner fire into one of serenity and hope. He regarded the soldiers and bathed them all in his aura and began his mission in earnest.

“Some of you may recognize me from yesterday. I was just some neonate soldier joining in on his first attack on the Sworn Enemy. I’m sorry to say, but that was not quite accurate. I am known as General Samphire, and as I said earlier, the creature leading you into battle today is… was nothing more than an enemy spy.”

The audience looked on with curiosity-filled eyes brought about by the comforting blanket of Artyom’s aura. They were safe now, everything would be fine, so they had the luxury to learn what was really going on.

“My lieutenant and I disguised ourselves as neonates to learn more about how the illustrious army of Ironheart Fortress operates, and I’m proud of you for how much you value potential over immediate gains. Now that I’m in charge, I plan to lead you to victory today. Not just in the upcoming battle, but against the Sworn Enemy himself, once and for all!”

The army continued to look on, some of the members mumbling to themselves. Artyom had their curiosity, and now their fully undivided attention. He shifted his aura to one of confidence, feeling it flow over the front of the battalion and slowly trickle into the back. No longer fighting for control, he could sustain his power much longer, long enough for the upcoming battle. For Artyom, spread was much easier to accomplish over intensity, and for an entire army, the emotions of every soldier added and compounded into a tremendous force.

“Sergeants!” he continued with a shout. “Report to me each of your divisions’ strengths and makeups, and I’ll get you all into a much better formation, the likes of which you’ve never seen before! With so many soldiers here today, now is the day we truly stop the darkness plaguing the Kingdom- no, the World- once and for all! For the Kingdom!”

The entire army, overtaken by hope and courage, screamed with their fists raised into the air. They had an hour before backup would be in place, and judging from the timetables of the day before, only half that time to get the troops here ready before the Dark Lord’s army arrived themselves. They were meant to win this fight, so they would be much stronger than normal. If that were the case, Ironheart Fortress’ troops needed as much of an advantage as they could get, and Artyom was ready to give them just that.