Chapter Eighty-Four
Winter kept her word. She kept her word in a way I couldn't even imagine she could. I used my fingers to attempt once more, and futilely at that, to let my neck breathe from the constricting collar of a pristine uniform that seemed like a mocking imitation of hers. Her arms crossed behind her back and her head permanently fixed in an upwardly smug position, she walked with a rhythmic gait with the rest of my team following behind.
Chez was looking positively miserable, while Zhelty seemed to instead like the idea of wearing the Specialist's uniform, if nothing else because there were a couple of inches of heels in the female version to make her look slightly taller.
Gorm simply looked like somebody had stuffed him and left him to just walk around trying his best not to appear like a man who had foolishly decided to put armor beneath the uniform, rather than atop it.
"The Specialists are a group loyal to the needs of Atlas and its people," Winter explained. "While huntsmen graduate from the Academy and are free to pursue missions in all parts of Remnant, the Specialists receive a fixed stipend and are primarily charged with ensuring the safety of the Kingdom and of its settlements, and to patrol its borders from the threats outside and within its borders."
We were walking through a hangar filled with Bullheads and robots carrying crates in their hands. "To fulfill such purpose, the Specialists are equipped with state of the art modern equipment, vehicles and support-" the hangar left the place to a room with a few monitors and people eagerly tapping away upon strings of data, "countless are those who work in the background of our most delicate operations to ensure the survival of all humans on Remnant."
We stepped into another room, which seemed to hold a cafeteria of sorts. "There are balanced nutritional packages available for consumption," Winter said, and we were soon in another room filled with offices, "Personal offices," another room yet, this time a top-of-the-art Gym, "Gym equipment free for use," and as the tour went on and on, I actually wondered if anyone ever heard the word operational security.
I mean, yes, if somebody attempted to infiltrate the place I was relatively sure that the cameras would stop them, but if someone got hired to work in here as a spy, then the level of security hops he'd have to go through would be pretty much nil. We were there as guests on a very important mission, and judging by how everyone around us was giving us a sad, sorrowful look, and a few people were actually commiserating us, I was starting to have a bad feeling lurking within me.
"And this is our mission archive!" Winter said, showing us the final room of our tour. The incredibly large, incredibly dusty, incredibly abandoned room with a large set of lights overhead and plenty of metallic drawers that probably dated to before the Great War. There were papers everywhere. Reports hastily thrown in piles, and it seemed clear that people simply opened the door, threw the papers of their reports inside the room, and then walked out without arranging them in the slightest.
Chez growled like a tiger, gone was the playful kitten and in her place now stood a furious tiger who was shedding tears of blood.
Zhelty's eyes were both twitching, but she kept muttering something under her breath, while Gorm simply looked unfazed by it all.
I knew what this was. I knew it the moment Winter turned towards us with a smile on her face. "Well, the old lady in charge of the archives disappeared one day without giving notice, and while some think she simply forgot to render her resignation, some of the jokers suggested she died down here and her body was swallowed by the archives' paper-monster. Or something of the sorts," Winter acquiesced.
I stared at the paper-mountains around us, and then back at Winter. "This-"
"While Wren deals with the archives," Winter continued, "I have found equally profitable jobs for each of you in different sectors accordingly with your preferences and career paths."
Gorm raised an eyebrow.
I watched the rest of my team viciously betray me and leave me alone into the archives' rooms, with Winter cheerfully promising to swing by in half an hour or so and see my progress.
I had no reason to doubt her, but at the same time I had no reason to stay inside a dusty archive for years to come.
There was only one solution to paperwork, as a cheerful blond-haired ninja would say.
The only problem was that I didn't have a technique for creating clones, since-
"Now wait a minute," I muttered, glancing at myself. I glanced at the pile of papers. I turned thoughtful. I rubbed my chin. "No, that's not-but technically-" I began to walk amidst the papers, "It would make...little sense. I mean, yes, there's pushing against one's limits, but-come on, really?" I was talking to myself, my brain refusing to compute the fact that I had to deal with papers once more. This wasn't what suited me at all. I was more suited for fighting Grimm, or patrolling borders.
I wasn't suited for paperwork.
Still, my idea had merit.
Santa Claus had to be everywhere on a single night. It would make logical sense for a Semblance of an hereditary nature to work like that, but at the same time, Grandfather had never been able to do it, or he wouldn't have needed to leave the company in the hands of someone else.
But just because he hadn't been able to didn't mean I wouldn't be able to. Neither Winter nor Weiss had achieved fusion, for example. Winter was probably training for it after knowing it was possible, but again, just because something hadn't been done before didn't mean it couldn't be done.
"The final enemy that must be defeated isn't death, it's doubt," I grumbled as I realized I had gotten lost somewhere between trudging through the empty drawers. "This...this is stretching what the family Semblance is supposed to do." I clenched my fists, "But I am going to attempt it all the same."
I took a deep breath, and sat down at the far end of the room. My back placed neatly against the wall, I extended a hand in front of me. The Schnee Glyph pulsed in front of me on the ground and I felt the typical drain of my Aura for the summoning. Only, I didn't want to summon a Grimm, a creature bound to my will and my desires. I wanted to summon...myself.
I hissed.
There was the latching sensation of pain. There was the feeling of muscles and bones creaking. I gasped for air, stopping abruptly as I felt something within me lurch and my entire body spasm and tremble. I crumbled on the ground, clutching my stomach and trying my hardest to let the pain pass me through.
This had been stupid.
This had been incredibly stupid.
The pain flashed through my brain and past it, riddling my spine and my extremities. It was horrible. Through shaky breaths, I recovered a semblance of normality. Something had happened. Whatever that something had been, though, it hadn't been pleasant. It hadn't been pleasant at all.
I took one last deep breath, and then settled my back against the wall once more.
I shouldn't try with me.
Maybe an object would be safer. Maybe-wait a minute.
Objects.
A Gheist possessing a suit of armor with annexed sword would allow a Schnee to summon the sword by itself, if one so wished. Yet one couldn't defeat a sword. One couldn't defeat a piece of rock, but yet destroying a Gheist that possessed rubble would allow to summon the rubble itself.
I hesitated.
Santa Claus had a big bag full of toys and gifts.
He wouldn't be able to keep them all on his sled now, would he?
The Schnee Glyph pulsed. I felt no pain, but I did feel my Aura drain. Then, from the Glyph itself, a perfect copy of my Gauntlets appeared. They didn't have dust, of course. Yet they had the rest of the mechanisms perfectly recreated. I looked at them, opened them for their inner mechanisms, felt the drain intensify and yet, through it all, they stayed solid as if they were the real thing.
I...I placed my Gauntlets on the ground, and concentrated. One Glyph appeared under them, and another appeared a short distance away from them. Both of my hands were tense, and sweat was pouring down my brow. Slowly, I felt pain stab into my brain, the familiar burning of when the foolishness of a Schnee attempted something beyond his weight-level, and yet soldiered on. The pain was that brought the Fusion together, and had been familiar to me since the times of my first Grimm summoning.
It meant I was on the right way. Summoned Grimm could move through two Glyphs. Why were objects any different?
There was a flash of light, and on the other Glyph my gauntlets appeared as pristine as ever, Dust present within them and my Aura drained noticeably as if I had been fighting for an hour straight.
I could-
This was-no. But then, with living beings-
"Should I, for purely scientific purposes, buy a pet rat?" I muttered under my breath. The silence of the archives didn't answer me.
Maybe the Glyph wasn't meant to create a copy of someone. Maybe it could just be used with objects. Maybe I could actually do Portals-
I wore my gauntlets once more, and took a deep breath.
Then I sneezed, because the dust had begun piling up around me.
Perhaps working in the archives wouldn't be that bad of a thing.
"Wren!? Wren Schnee! You should have already started!" my older sister's voice came from further ahead. "I swear if you've disappeared-"
I sighed, and then got back up.
My traitorous teammates would be dealt with in the future.
Now, it was time to buckle in for a chance of a lifetime.
Spend time with my older sister...
...and attempt not to traumatize her further!
