Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen
Panic and terror made people do mad things. There was a reason some Androids remained behind to shepherd the people in slowly; many would give in to their basic instincts and stampede, crushing many more. The glowering hard-light Dust that acted as hard walls forced neat lines to appear amidst the people who wished to be saved. Groups of children were brought in first, gathered by Eyebots floating across the crowd.
I sighed as I directed the children inside, a few Androids coordinating the efforts. Many were scared, many more wondered when their parents would join them, and amidst the sniffling and the crying, it was pretty much a miracle we didn't have Grimm pouring in for them. Well, we actually did. It was a whole city filled with Grimm, after all.
Some had gone to the Grimm shelters, and those I hoped would survive even without us.
"I'm not letting him go alone!" a woman's voice caught my attention. She was holding a child of three in her arms, and the kid himself looked pretty much terrified of the situation.
"We can brooch no compromise," the Android answered back. "By our calculations, we may not safeguard all lives hereby present. Children and pregnant women take priority."
"I-I am exp-" the Android buzzed once, and the Eyebot by his side blinked.
"No, you are not," he remarked calmly.
The ruckus should have died there. It didn't, because humans were naturally emotional creatures. That was the reason I was standing there, after all. I walked towards them, watching the cries heat up, and then quietly snapped my fingers.
A small Dust-Glyph exploded in the air, silence settling in the premises. "If you do not wish to separate from your child, then wait at the end of the line. If there is still space, then you can attempt to embark. Priority will be given to those parents who have children aboard, however. Either gamble on embarking last, but together, or embark your son now, and you may see him again later. There is no compromise to be had. Obey, or be removed." One of the nearby Androids nodded, swiftly lowering his crackling glaive. "There are other people here who are willing to save their children more than you, so make way for them. We don't have the luxury of time."
"You-" a man near her, one who seemed keenly aware of how the situation was going, simply put a hand on the woman's shoulder and squeezed. She turned towards him, and then whimpered as he pulled their son away from her arms and into those of the Android nearby. The child cried, but another Android took the place of the first and as the parents were pushed back, more children came to the fore.
The lines proceeded with a few more accidents, but they were all silenced or hastily removed. There could be no argument, no pacification attempts, and diplomacy had to be short, and quick. The first of the ships was fully loaded within two hours. There were enough children and women on it that it felt like one of those sickening Hope-Crossings from the roaring ages of misery and despair.
The other ships were reaching capacity too. The sad thing was that it was like a drop in an ocean. Though the words was that the ship would return for a second rescue attempt, it was highly impossible. Even at their full speed, it would take them at least a couple of days to reach Atlas. The only reason the ship rescue was even possible was the chance of a bullhead bridge of supplies, but if the number of Grimm kept powering through -even without Salem's intervention- then there was simply no way to hold the position for longer than the battery life of the Paladins.
The harrumphing noises that grew ever-closer told me that indeed, the hammer was coming for the walls.
Perhaps the knowledge that we were nearly done with the evacuation of the weakest elements had spurred Salem to act. Or maybe it was simply because the Grimm had sensed the departure of delicious misery and negativity, and wanted a bite.
Whatever the reason, ammunition wasn't low, morale was a non-existing problem, battery life was at half, and the Goliaths stampede sounded like the most horrible joke of them all.
"They must have broken through the walls," Glynda Goodwitch was standing by my side. Was it the cane, perhaps? Did people with canes end up with bespectacled assistants? I mean, I wasn't complaining.
The tanks that had been rampaging across the streets of Vale met them first. Explosions tore the white tusks of the Grimm masks, rattling guns doing little to nothing to the thickened hides. That was nonsense. Utter bullshit. Fifty caliber guns should gut elephant hides with ease, hardened Grimm flesh shouldn't be harder than their real-life counterparts, no? And yet, as a tank ended up spun on itself by a Goliath's flexing of the trunk and tusks, it thudded against the ground and skidded to a halt upside-down.
There was a small moment of puzzled silence from the behemoth of steel at its unfortunate condition.
Then the tank actually got angry. Its Dust-Gravity reserves burned, its weight drastically decreased, and as it slammed its turret downwards it ended up backflipping back onto its threads with a satisfied engine spluttering. It opened fire. The shot cracked the Goliath's mask, but the Grimm didn't appear defeated by so little.
The two engaged one another into a match of strength. Tank tracks pushing for purchase against the ruined ground and the elephant-like monster attempting the same.
As the two enemies faced one another in the contest, all thoughts on their surrounding lost, a Paladin jumped atop the tank's back, slammed its hardlight blade through the Grimm's eye, and then landed with a graceful thud past it. The creature of Grimm turned to ashes, and the tank roared its triumph.
I watched, trying my best to keep a cool and serious face, as the Paladin extended a metallic fist for the tank to bump back with the tip of its cannon.
I massaged my face muttering soft curses under my breath.
Then the ground broke beneath the feet of the Paladin, and a King Taijitu emerged to bat the Paladin aside. My eyes narrowed at the point where the Grimm had emerged. "Sewer team," I tapped my earpiece. "Gas them."
Behind the wall, a large container of sickly green gas had been placed near the manholes, and at my command, the tubes began to pump the mutagen within. The plumes of green soon departed across the city, the gas expanding rapidly as screams and cries echoed like the most beautiful of melodies.
"Professor Goodwitch!" a student called for Glynda's attention, the figure of a third year holding himself up thanks to an underclassmen by his side. "We're all here-there's no one left at Beacon." No one but the dead, but that went unspoken.
My heart was ice. I wasn't seeing Weiss among them. I wasn't seeing team RWBY. Had they all died? I could see team JNPR fighting, the invincible girl using her semblance to slam empty containers into upcoming hordes, providing support where needed together with the rest of them.
Yet team RWBY was absent, and that froze my heart more than it should have.
The first ships were already leaving the docks. Arabica could open a portal, but each person that passed through required aura. Hooked up to Salvatrix, using her own magical energy, I didn't doubt she might manage to let thousands of people through. Still, they wouldn't be enough.
There were dozens of thousands of people still left behind. Many were tightly packed, compressed even, at the far end of the docks to let the defenders work. Fallen buildings acted like natural walls, maned by huntsmen and Androids that were either tiring, or starting to run low on battery power.
The ships had the recharging platforms, but the night was still long and they'd need electricity to pick up the pace and leave Vale behind.
Yet Salem wasn't showing up.
Beacon had fallen, but she wasn't showing up. If she just walked to where we were, in that precise moment, then it would be the mother of all slaughters. She wasn't, however, coming forth. She was staying exactly where she was, wherever it was.
It unnerved me greatly.
"We need to start planning our own evacuation," I muttered. "The shelters might hold for a few more days, but they'll be jam packed right now, or destroyed. It's time to make a choice."
Glynda glanced at the carnage of Vale. "What do you suggest?" she asked in the end.
"Miss Goodwitch," I muttered, "You know the enemy we are facing. I suspect Ozpin told you of me, or you wouldn't be here right now."
"He said to follow your instructions until a time where we would meet again," Glynda acquiesced.
"You know that if the enemy were to come here, then there would be no hope for any of us. It wouldn't matter the skill-there would only be death," I continued in a whisper. "She cannot be dealt with conventionally."
Glynda remained standing by my side, her expression ever-so slightly harder than before. "If that is so...then what is the choice ahead of us?"
"I can have a portal created, but the number of people it can allow passage for isn't numerous," I pointed out. "Which is why, I would rather give precedence to the huntsmen rather than the civilians."
Glynda's eyes turned towards me with fury, quite unquestionable fury, as if I had just proposed the death of countless innocents. I had. I definitely had. "I cannot believe I am hearing this-"
"You better believe it," I retorted, heat rising in my voice. "If they stay here, they will die. All of them. The experienced huntsmen, the students-they will die doing their duty and achieving nothing, or they can evacuate and fight another day. My children can easily sacrifice their hardware, new bodies will be given to them. The same cannot be said for the skilled hunters of Vale. If they die, their experience is lost."
"And you would have them abandon the people they are sworn to protect? You would have them spit on what it means for them to be a Hunter? Do you really think they would accept it?" Glynda asked, her voice hard.
"They don't need to accept it. They can curse my name once it is done and they live. I will take the blame of the world on my shoulders anyway," I glanced at the ruins of Vale ahead of me. More buildings collapsed under the strain of the battle at hand. "I know that heroes prefer to save the innocent over themselves, but the problem with such a mentality is that once a hero dies, a new one takes years to form. And in the meantime, evil flourishes." I glanced at her. "If their sacrifices achieved purpose, I would gladly let them die a thousand times over. But we both know that dying here, now, will merely make the enemy stronger."
"That is what the council of Vale said when they sealed the tunnels of Mountain Glenn," Glynda replied frostily. "For some of them, the weight of what they had done was too much to bear. Even if it is fruitless, I will stay right where I am."
"And what of the students then?" I mused. "Will they not choose to stay too? If you give the example, they will follow it. The problem with heroes," I mused with a hint of a bitter smile, "Is that they always accrue a following. It will be glorious, I suspect. One last charge over the walls, one last whistle being blown-and perhaps, decades from now, they might even remember your names. Or the weakness brought from your defeat will have inevitably condemned mankind to its death. Atlas could use reinforcements. Mistral could use huntsmen. If the hunters of Vale die here, if they die now-then the rest may just as well follow."
"You don't want heroes by your side, Mister Schnee," Glynda muttered. "You want soldiers."
"Soldiers obey orders and know when to cut their losses," I answered. "The world that is to come will have no heroes, and perhaps it will be all the brighter because of it." I glanced at her. "Die a hero, Miss Goodwitch, but look into the eyes of your students before you do and think if that's the destiny they chose, or the one you imposed on their shoulders."
I turned my attention away from the city, and towards the sea. The last of the ships left the docks, the remaining citizens of Vale looking with a mixture of grief and yet bitter acceptance at their inevitable fate.
"Even if the child may scream or fight it, sometimes a father must do what is best for him, and not what is pleasant," I tightened the grip on my Dust-Cane. "Deep down, humanity has a seed. It is not a seed of love, or of friendship." I glanced as the people were muttering among themselves. "It is a seed of hatred," a few crates were brought to the center of the docks. They were opened. Rifles and ammunition stood within. "A seed of violence."
The survivors were positively awkward with the rifles, but holding one was better than holding none. And those that didn't have one held the ammunition for their neighbor.
"They'll be slaughtered," Glynda muttered, aghast.
"Yes," I answered nonchalantly. "But they will die fighting. They will die thinking they had a chance, rather than clutching their dolls and crying out for a hero in the night to come save them." I looked straight at Glynda's eyes, and she held her breath. "Today, the old world dies. Funny, isn't it?" I chuckled. "I realized it just now." I extended my free hand in front of me, encompassing the ruins of the city and the docks themselves. "If every living being of Vale knew how to wield a gun, then perhaps the Grimm could have been fought back. But they chose complacency. They chose to be weak in a world that devoured weakness. They chose to pile their problems on the back of the heroes, of the lonely figures. They chose to let others shed tears of blood, and sweat." I wasn't even talking to her any longer.
I was looking at the masses of people. At those that were afraid, refusing the rifles and the chance to fight for their lives, expecting others to protect them out of kindness. I was looking at the weak, and at the frail.
Weiss was dead because of them.
Winter was dead-or she'd be here already, wouldn't she?
Two members of my family were dead.
It didn't matter that they had chosen their life. It didn't matter that they had made a choice, and had gone through with it. A stupid choice is still stupid. Any choice that involves dying is stupid.
A loud harrumphing told me that the Goliaths were charging once more.
"I will have the portal prepared inside the medical tent," I said. "Send the huntsmen in for some quick Aura check-ups in small groups. The line won't collapse that way. If you prefer to stay and die together with them, feel free," I added. "But remember that your sacrifice won't change a damn thing, while your life may as well save many more in the future."
I marched away with a deep, bubbling emotion in my chest.
It was an ugly feeling.
It was a disgusting feeling.
It was the only thing that I could do to keep the bile from rising to my throat.
I had saved as many people as possible.
Many more would die, but those I could save, I had.
There wasn't another way.
Or perhaps there had been, and I had been too blind to see it?
