Silver W. King
King of Adventures
- Location
- The Nasuverse
Wait, why is Wren injured?
The Other Path [RWBY SI] [AHOIAC AU]
- Thread starter shadenight123
- Start date
- Location
- Italy
He seems to be dying because of OVERWHELMING POWER or something like that. Probably overuse of all the power his ancestry had, ever. Seems doubtful any of them could access ALL of it and know how to use it, after all - They likely didn't use the Relic Of Knowledge.
And so, in one chapter, three of Salem's main pawns are gone, with suitable moments of ending regret. The endgame starts.
This was so much of a curbstomp I don't really know why wren had to use dangerous amounts of power or whatever. Also why there weren't ten other huntsmen with them helping.
LordOfPears12
Cat girl headpatter
- Location
- Land of pizza,pasta and lasagna.
He saw all the suggestions to make Salem a summon waifu. Aka booty call
Now in more serious words he is kinda overloaded with power. He cheated with the relic of knowledge so now he's dying/Hurting?
GrindingV2
Azir is beyond awful holy christ
- Location
- Canada
Well, we gotta put some kind of cap on the power levels.
Also because I think Shade has a thing for the death of a main character, and that quota hasn't been truly filled yet.
Also because I think Shade has a thing for the death of a main character, and that quota hasn't been truly filled yet.
- Location
- Chile
Honestly I'm just hoping that just as Shade is all ready to die from the damage of overusing his semblance and Jaune appears after he pases out and aura heals him.
Then he has to actually deal with all the people he cares about being furious at his lack of selfpreservation.
No escaping it.
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He lived a much healthier lifestyle this time around, training from Hell notwithstanding. He also didn't really consume the relic of knowledge, did he?
Chapter One Hundred and Thirty
- Location
- https://discord.gg/z9tBvbh
Chapter One Hundred and Thirty
The beds in Beacon were the softest I had ever felt.
They were beautiful, and warm. They gave me bliss just as much as the cold shower did.
It was the last night before the end of the world.
It was the night in which those who would live would live, and those who would die wouldn't know of it yet. It was the last moment of respite, the last instant where regrets would pile up, and where unquestionably, nobody truly wanted to be alone.
"You got the pizzas?" I asked offhandedly, watching Gorm give me a serious gaze, before grinning and showcasing precisely what I had asked.
"I've got the snacks," Chez said next, appearing behind him with packets of chips and munching a few herself.
"The drinks," Zhelty added. Soft and hard drinks in hand, she swayed her way inside with a chuckle and then plopped down on the large mattress that was the combination of all the other beds put together. If we were to valiantly fight and die, then one last night of merrymaking wouldn't be remiss.
I had proceeded to steal the massive projector from the main hall. It wasn't like anyone would notice it missing tonight, and if tomorrow somebody was going to ask about it, we'd just claim the mysterious Tree-Stealer had returned for one final theft.
There was a knock at the door a couple of minutes later, and as I opened the door, Pyrrha made her way inside with an awkward grimace on her face. "Are you sure I won't just bother your team?" Pyrrha muttered.
"Come right over here, carrot-top!" Chez said with a wave of her hand, "We killed a bitch together, you're mine now. I've nobly decided to adopt you."
Pyrrha blinked. I shrugged. "Just accept Chez' cat-stereotyping," I muttered with a small grin, "And nobody should be left alone tonight. Especially those who are in the know," I added gently.
Outside, the weather picked up a gentle breeze.
I sighed, and then shuddered briefly. My eyes went to my Scroll. I had no missed calls, which was good. I had a distinct feeling I had missed or forgotten something of importance, but as I looked at my team, plus one, and knew deep down that we weren't really going to sleep the reminder of the night -until we caved in from exhaustion alone- I somehow realized I had dodged a bullet judging by how Chez and Zhelty were sulking in my direction.
I smiled back at them, and then allowed the projector to start the movie.
"Isn't that the main hall's projector?" Pyrrha asked, only to dimly realized I had begun to whistle like a no-good thief being caught in the process of stealing. She giggled, ever so briefly, and then shook her head.
We had food.
We had drinks.
We would die tomorrow.
We also had spicy chips.
It was a good last night on Remnant.
The next morning came with the belated realization that I had fallen asleep, and somehow ended up with Chez on my stomach enjoying the warmth of my chest and Zhelty pretty much using one of my arms as her own pillow. Gorm was rolled up in a corner, a pair of thick earmuffs around his ears, and Pyrrha was asleep nearby, having herself fallen prey to the demon of sleep.
Today was the day.
My stomach lurched and my heart squeezed, and yet I knew what we had to do. Beacon was connected to the city by bullhead, but otherwise rested alongside a cliff. The city of Vale wouldn't be attacked, not with the relics in Beacon themselves.
The huntsmen and the huntresses had been called in a hurry to protect the city, as the greatest migration of Grimm the history of Remnant had ever seen arrived in the middle of the morning, bullheads secretly prepped to evacuate civilians starting early on their work.
Still, the huntsmen were ready, and they would fight to the last like what had happened in Vacuo.
Goliath harrumphed and Nevermores cawed. Even the mountain-top of Mount Glenn began to shake and tremble, the massive Wyvern-Grimm spreading its wings with a raucous scream as an earthquake shook and struck the very foundations of Beacon Academy.
There was no one within the school as a hurricane of lightning struck and destroyed the tower, a rolling wave of power shattering and breaking through every window, every wall, and leaving of the entire academy nothing behind but ruins and broken walls.
Salem appeared then, through the flames and the fire of the destroyed academy. Had she tunneled through? Had she walked inside? Had she perhaps pondered about what she was going to do, or directly flown down from the skies in a comet of lightning and flames?
Whatever the reason, there was no mistaking that her magic was indeed so powerful, that no father would be remiss in shackling her to a tower to keep the rest of the world safe from her.
Yet, standing in front of her wasn't Ozpin. There wasn't James Ironwood, or Glynda Goodwitch. No Qrow Branwen, and no other, powerful huntsman. They were in Vale. They were fighting against hordes of Grimm that would make common hunters balk, and so too were the students helping with the evacuation. The nearby island of Patch would provide shelter for more than a few thousands of them.
Yet none of them could help us in this battle.
Because power would be destroyed.
Because Salem would strike them, and kill them, with the ease a cruel man would snap a little bird's neck.
Because we weren't a threat to her, because she believed us part of a ruse, of a trap, part of some elaborate mind game from Ozpin's side, because of who I was and what I had said...she didn't kill us on the spot. She didn't incinerate us.
"We have...one shot at this," I muttered. "No more than one shot."
And it was the one shot that would save, or break, the world.
No pressure.
"So I see you are fools," Salem mused. "Merely pawns of Ozma's game," she added. "What hope did he inspire in you, I wonder? What madness claimed him? Three relics are out in the open, and only one remains for me to claim..." she chuckled, and then she laughed.
Her brief moment of mirth gave us precious seconds.
Chez disappeared while rushing forward. She didn't have a relic. The Relic of Creation was strapped to Zhelty's back, and even so her Alphonse opened fire in her direction. Gorm had the relic of destruction in hand, the blade shimmering as he rushed for Salem in turn from a different direction.
Salem didn't as much as move from Zhelty's attack. She watched with peculiar amusement Gorm near her, and then nimbly moved her body slightly to the side, avoiding a swing that instead cut the ground itself and the flames behind her. With a hand, she attempted to touch Gorm's shoulder.
The touch would have killed him on the spot had it connected, but Chez' chainsaw came swinging down, halting Salem's attempt and allowing Gorm to move backwards.
Before Salem's attention could turn to Chez, my body moved, and as I spun in mid-air one hand grabbed Chez' collar, sending her backwards and my foot connected with Salem's face. Or at least, that had been the plan.
A stone staff rose from the ground to meet my blow, enhanced with Aura and magic, it didn't as much as crack under the strain of the blow.
"You would hit your own family?" Salem was amused. Amused, and attempting to terrify the likes of me into submission, "Ozma truly taught you poorly."
I finished twirling, my second foot blocked by her hand with the ease she would stop a feather. She didn't destroy me. She acted as if I were but an amusing toy, and with gentleness threw me away against the ground, my body bouncing off it as I hastily got back on my feet.
The mercy she would extend to the likes of me ended there; everyone else, she would have killed without remorse, nor care.
Zhelty's shield came flying for her, spiraling with the blade at the ready. Rolling her eyes, as if scolding a peculiarly insistent child, she stopped the weapon in mid-air by merely extending a hand.
Chez' form reappeared once more, chainsaw roaring bathed in blue flames for her back. In that instant, from Salem's shadows hundreds of Grimm hands emerged to grasp at her. Gorm came below, slicing with the Blade at them and shattering them into dark ashes.
Yet, for all those that he cut, far more came through.
A dozen blocked his wrists, or attempted to, only for the wind generated by his armor to hold them off while Chez' chainsaw roared and slammed into the hardened white bone of a summoned Grimm's tusk.
A Goliath. A fully fledged, massive Goliath began to emerge from Salem's back. It wasn't that the Grimm Pools had dropped in quantity because they were running out.
It simply was that the majority of it had found another, darker and deeper, container.
I realized it then.
No amount of Aura in the world would be able to remove the Grimm influence from Salem's body. She truly was lost beyond salvation; she truly was nothing more than a demonic creature who sought only the destruction of mankind. Yet, even so, there had to be a small part of her that still lived within that darkened mass.
I slammed my right foot on the ground where the shadows of the summoned Grimm attempted to emerge, and the whiteness soon spread from the point of impact, screams rising in pitch from the hands themselves, from the Goliath's harrumphing trunk, and I felt the massive tidal wave of death and destruction contained within Salem answer my attempt at assuming control...and rejecting it with startled ease.
I was slammed back by the force of a blow I couldn't see, by the strength of a grip I couldn't fight, by the might of a power that had no limit and as I struck the burning ruins of Beacon's walls, I knew that there could be no salvation.
Yet that wouldn't make me stop standing back up.
Courage isn't the absence of fear.
Courage is the mastery over fear itself.
"Is this all?" Salem asked, mockingly. Zhelty had attempted to get her weapon back, and in answer Salem had graciously thrown it at her, impacting against her outstretched hands and forcing her to spin together with the weapon. "Children. Ozpin's plan is to send children at me. Perhaps he expects me to laugh?" she mused, "You are playing with things beyond your ability. It is perhaps time I take things into account."
I watched as she took a single step forward, and the very skies rumbled downwards as thick clouds began to crackle with lightning bolts.
The clouds didn't strike around Gorm, his entire body radiating wind to keep the tempest at bay. Yet it was the eye of the storm itself, and the spot where we all ended up converging.
"I'm not seeing an opening," Gorm muttered.
"Then I guess I'll have to make one," I answered back.
Salem laughed as she disappeared from sight. Yet I could still feel her. Yet I could still sense her.
I took a deep breath, and beneath our feet spread the Schnee Glyph.
"At my signal," I whispered, "Go."
Everyone tensed. Everyone readied. The seconds ticked by.
Then Salem appeared with nonchalance. She appeared between us, amusement dancing on her lips as she felt that we were never going to truly be capable of defeating her. As far as she knew, as far as everyone in the whole world knew, there was nothing to be done against her immortality.
Arrogance.
The sin that will condemn the mighty and the strong, those who believe they are untouchable, and thus beyond reproach or attack.
The Glyph pulsed and shone and then rose upwards. As it did, Salem didn't move. She knew I didn't have the power to transform her. She knew she could easily shatter the Schnee Globe with but the blink of an eye. She knew that, and thus she made her one, and only, mistake.
As everyone ran away, I did not.
As her magic and her winds made to attack, the Globe completed itself. Her winds howled, but they howled back into the globe itself. We were within a flawless, perfect landscape of white, small flakes of snow falling on the ground all around us.
"Welcome," I whispered hoarsely. "To eternity."
Lightning arched across her body. It poured out, the ground of white snow quaking as it shifted, and once the attack impacted, I stood unfazed.
Glyphs burned and shone, pulsed and weaved themselves together for the final and most damning power of the Schnee Semblance. Born of magic, wreathed in the blood of the defeated, and cannibalized to maintain its strength.
The Crown of Choice stood on my head, ice covering it. A mantle flapped on my back, glimmering softly with ethereal paleness. A blade of ice stood in my right hand, Moroz trapped within. Other weapons floated nearby, each one mastered over the course of a lifetime by one member of the Schnee Family.
Each one holding within the power, and the might, of a soul born and raised, nurtured and cared for, all for this singular instant in time.
"One final blade, swung in defiance of fate," I whispered as I lifted Moroz up, aimed at Salem.
Salem tensed.
She was done playing.
I rushed forward as the very winds. The ground shattered and dispersed in a snowstorm as my blade met her stone staff, which gleamed as it morphed into steel, flames starting to spread across the tip. The impact caused an explosion, and for the first time since the beginning of the fight, Salem was pushed back.
I launched myself forward again, and again. Each time the blade would strike, and each time Salem would parry it. Her eyes were now narrow, her soul was now unsure, yet even then, she trusted that nothing would be stronger than the Gods themselves.
Even so, I was still her descendant, and thus without a doubt, I would surprise her.
I threw the blade at her, and as she parried it and let it fly in the air I disappeared from where I had been, reappearing in the place of the sword with a large greataxe in both of my hands. It slammed downwards, not past her guard but as I screamed, the ground caved below her. It caved into an ocean of ice. It caved into an eternity of falling snowflakes.
It caved into the darkness of a human's soul.
I abandoned the greataxe, disappearing as a bow came into my hands, arrows of Glyphs forming and launching at the same time. A wall of snow formed and rose to block them, and through it Salem rushed forward, the flames surrounding her causing explosions from the sheer temperature difference in the air.
White clawed hands emerged from the snow. Beowolves rose by the score as Apathies swarmed from the depths of what was, in its infancy, merely the place where all defeated enemies went to die.
Here they would linger and, inevitably, here they would become the strength upon which a Schnee would rise above and beyond his fellows and his foes.
Yet none of those halted Salem's advance. Not a single Apathy survived her passage and not a single Ursa managed to slow her down. Even the mighty Goliath fell, cleaved in half effortlessly as Salem rushed through all of them, aiming at the likes of me with her staff blazing with the intensity of the sun.
Her swing crushed through a shield made of Glyphs and impacted two gauntlets made of the same material, before shattering my own hidden below. I flew through the ground, snow and ice shattering at my passage. My arms were broken, yet Aura would see them fixed.
My body was in pain, yet Aura would bring the pain away.
Yet even so, Salem stood towering, unbeatable and undefeated.
"This much power," Salem mused. "This much strength-how does it feel, to know it is all for nothing?" she began to walk towards me, even as I got back on my feet. "Any huntsman, any other Grimm-they wouldn't survive this. But to me, this is nothing," she laughed, and her laughter was evil, it was the wickedness of a witch that sought to slam her heel down on the dying child. It was cruelty for cruelty's sake.
"Yet you do not feel crushed," Salem continued, "You feel...pride. Ah, I see," she smiled, "You think you can distract me. You think you can win this final battle-" she laughed, mirthfully locking eyes with me. "You feel regret now that I found out? You feel..."
Her voice slipped.
"Jinn's sacrifice?" her eyes narrowed.
Her breathing hitched ever so briefly as the very ground around her disappeared.
In a split second of shock, in a split second of disbelief, in an instant of eternity frozen within a minuscule fragment of time, things happened. These things were many, and different, but they all happened at the same time.
Salem turned, ready to block the incoming swing of the Blade of Destruction. She believed, erroneously, that my thoughts had been a lie to distract her. Her mind, thus slightly worried, blocked what she felt was a Relic coming for her.
She blocked not the Blade of Destruction, but the Staff of Creation.
Everything is permitted.
Her other hand moved to block what she knew had to be Blade thus, because it couldn't clearly be anything else.
Nothing is true.
And instead it was the Crown of Choice, held in one hand by my invisible, nimble-handed teammate.
I wasn't learning how to live with Jinn.
The Blade of Destruction sunk into the chest of Salem, both of her hands away from her body as her Aura outright disappeared. As the snow and the ice sunk the temperature to near-zero degrees, stiffening her limbs for precious instants, I rushed forward with a bellowing scream born of the entirety of my desires.
Hands pushed me further forward, hands ghastly and ethereal, and yet each holding within a sentiment I had learned, through the centuries, to make my own.
My hand sunk into the other side of the blade, and my soul burned through it as my Aura disappeared together with the frozen world around us.
I was learning how to die.
There was silence.
Salem stood there, looking puzzled. She looked down at her body, and then looked at me. It was the silence of a realm beyond that of the living. There was no darkness within her. There was no curse of the Gods. There was nothing but her, and as she opened her mouth to speak, she then grew quiet.
Her eyes widened. Her hand went to her chest, where her heart was. Her eyes began to grow mystified, and a scream rose from the confines of her throat. The scream became tears. The tears became sorrowful sobs. Her whole being shook and trembled like a leaf carried by a hurricane. Her hands went to her cheeks, and then dug into her hair.
An eternity of evil, forgotten. An eternity of sorrow, hidden. An eternity of all that was bad and sad left to rot and fester into a human soul, bottled up and never released.
And then my arms engulfed her in a gentle hug, and I sighed.
"It's going to be all right," I whispered. "It's fine, grandmother. It's fine."
Her wretched sobs didn't abate. Her face pressed against my chest, her arms surrounded my body as her laments kept going onward into the silent void that surrounded us.
It might have been days. It might have been months or even years.
It was eternity, and we had all the time in the world.
"Did...did I even deserve to be saved?" Salem whispered. "Humanity-all those that died because of me-"
"Every human deserves to be saved," I muttered back. "From those that would enforce their will upon them. What are you, if not a victim in your own right?" I gave her a small smile.
"But-But you're..." Salem shook her head, "You're dead. Because of me."
"If I were a human, born of the soul of the God of Creation, then yes," I answered back with a sigh. "But I am not their human. I...I guess my soul works in mysterious ways?" I added with a grin. I looked around. "I have no idea where we are, but...I don't think this is the heaven meant for the people of Remnant."
"You're...what are you, then?" Salem asked, puzzled. We began to walk. There was darkness everywhere around us, and yet we could perfectly see one another.
"Human," I said with a shrug. "For what is a human, if not the sum of the tales they tell of themselves?" I remarked cheekily, glancing as the darkness disappeared to reveal a fragment of an image, a fragment of a place, nothing but the afterimage of an event where I had heard such a sentence.
"What is a man but the sum of his memories, we are the stories we live, the tales we tell our selves," thus spoke a man on an island to another man.
Salem furrowed her brows. Even to my eyes, that memory looked quite real. "That-That is not you."
"Why not?" I asked back, humming as I extended my arm, and she linked with it. "What defines us? Our past, or the choices we make in the present?"
"You are too concerned with what was and what will be. There is a saying: Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present." It was a humanoid tortoise that said it, but it still was meaningful, and thus still carried worth.
"That...That can't be Remnant," Salem whispered again, before looking up at me. "You're...You're not of this world."
I gave her a gentle smile and a nod. "Jinn went a bit mad trying to figure it all out, and then just accepted it." We came to a halt in front of a door.
It wasn't a door I expected there to be, but it was there all the same.
Salem recognized it, even though I didn't. Her fingers tightened the grip on my arm, and then she quietly let go of it, nearing the door in question and gently bringing her knuckles to knock on it.
There was a bit of a rustling sound, and then the door slid open.
On the other side was a woman.
Her hair was blond and in curls, and her eyes a dark brown. She was wearing a light blue dress, and as her eyes stared into Salem's, the similarities in their lineaments were clear to see.
"I-" Salem opened her mouth, and then closed it with an audible click. "I'm..."
"I know," Wyntr whispered back. She slowly opened the door fully. Beyond the door, there were more faces, more people, and amidst them I could even see a jolly old fellow with a red suit and a big bushy white beard. "Just...come in, mom," she said with a small smile, "we were waiting for you."
Salem stared ever so briefly, and then tears began to fall from her eyes. "But the Gods-"
"Who cares?" Wyntr answered, "We're not their puppets. They can suck a-"
"Language!" another voice spoke, and the grey-haired Babhdan -seriously, what kind of name was Babhdan - appeared from the door. Wyntr stuck her tongue out in his direction, and as I dimly realized he had a dark mask covering the lower half of his face, and a leather eye-path to cover one eye, a snicker left my throat.
Wyntr extended a hand towards Salem, and that was all that was needed. Salem took it, and gently walked inside.
"What about you?" Wyntr asked next, "You coming inside?"
I shook my head. "I better head on back," I said, jabbing my thumb towards the darkness that surrounded us. "My teammates are probably crying their hearts out thinking I'm dead or something."
Wyntr smiled, "You know...your soul might not have been technically a Schnee, but you're all right as a person. So...consider yourself adopted."
I smiled at that, "Thank you."
Wyntr winked, and then made to close the door.
"Hug my Willow for me!" was the last thing I heard before opening my eyes to the bright sky overhead.
I groaned at the ringing I heard within my head.
My body shook and trembled from pain, from agony, from the feeling of the very air being hot and scorching. Even as my teeth chattered, I could feel my surroundings come into focus.
I was alive.
I was without Aura, but I was alive.
My teammates-they had to be nearby.
I-I had to find them before they did something stupid without my supervision.
The Relics were no more, destroyed by my very soul...
...but my teammates-they had to be somewhere nearby, no?
The beds in Beacon were the softest I had ever felt.
They were beautiful, and warm. They gave me bliss just as much as the cold shower did.
It was the last night before the end of the world.
It was the night in which those who would live would live, and those who would die wouldn't know of it yet. It was the last moment of respite, the last instant where regrets would pile up, and where unquestionably, nobody truly wanted to be alone.
"You got the pizzas?" I asked offhandedly, watching Gorm give me a serious gaze, before grinning and showcasing precisely what I had asked.
"I've got the snacks," Chez said next, appearing behind him with packets of chips and munching a few herself.
"The drinks," Zhelty added. Soft and hard drinks in hand, she swayed her way inside with a chuckle and then plopped down on the large mattress that was the combination of all the other beds put together. If we were to valiantly fight and die, then one last night of merrymaking wouldn't be remiss.
I had proceeded to steal the massive projector from the main hall. It wasn't like anyone would notice it missing tonight, and if tomorrow somebody was going to ask about it, we'd just claim the mysterious Tree-Stealer had returned for one final theft.
There was a knock at the door a couple of minutes later, and as I opened the door, Pyrrha made her way inside with an awkward grimace on her face. "Are you sure I won't just bother your team?" Pyrrha muttered.
"Come right over here, carrot-top!" Chez said with a wave of her hand, "We killed a bitch together, you're mine now. I've nobly decided to adopt you."
Pyrrha blinked. I shrugged. "Just accept Chez' cat-stereotyping," I muttered with a small grin, "And nobody should be left alone tonight. Especially those who are in the know," I added gently.
Outside, the weather picked up a gentle breeze.
I sighed, and then shuddered briefly. My eyes went to my Scroll. I had no missed calls, which was good. I had a distinct feeling I had missed or forgotten something of importance, but as I looked at my team, plus one, and knew deep down that we weren't really going to sleep the reminder of the night -until we caved in from exhaustion alone- I somehow realized I had dodged a bullet judging by how Chez and Zhelty were sulking in my direction.
I smiled back at them, and then allowed the projector to start the movie.
"Isn't that the main hall's projector?" Pyrrha asked, only to dimly realized I had begun to whistle like a no-good thief being caught in the process of stealing. She giggled, ever so briefly, and then shook her head.
We had food.
We had drinks.
We would die tomorrow.
We also had spicy chips.
It was a good last night on Remnant.
The next morning came with the belated realization that I had fallen asleep, and somehow ended up with Chez on my stomach enjoying the warmth of my chest and Zhelty pretty much using one of my arms as her own pillow. Gorm was rolled up in a corner, a pair of thick earmuffs around his ears, and Pyrrha was asleep nearby, having herself fallen prey to the demon of sleep.
Today was the day.
My stomach lurched and my heart squeezed, and yet I knew what we had to do. Beacon was connected to the city by bullhead, but otherwise rested alongside a cliff. The city of Vale wouldn't be attacked, not with the relics in Beacon themselves.
The huntsmen and the huntresses had been called in a hurry to protect the city, as the greatest migration of Grimm the history of Remnant had ever seen arrived in the middle of the morning, bullheads secretly prepped to evacuate civilians starting early on their work.
Still, the huntsmen were ready, and they would fight to the last like what had happened in Vacuo.
Goliath harrumphed and Nevermores cawed. Even the mountain-top of Mount Glenn began to shake and tremble, the massive Wyvern-Grimm spreading its wings with a raucous scream as an earthquake shook and struck the very foundations of Beacon Academy.
There was no one within the school as a hurricane of lightning struck and destroyed the tower, a rolling wave of power shattering and breaking through every window, every wall, and leaving of the entire academy nothing behind but ruins and broken walls.
Salem appeared then, through the flames and the fire of the destroyed academy. Had she tunneled through? Had she walked inside? Had she perhaps pondered about what she was going to do, or directly flown down from the skies in a comet of lightning and flames?
Whatever the reason, there was no mistaking that her magic was indeed so powerful, that no father would be remiss in shackling her to a tower to keep the rest of the world safe from her.
Yet, standing in front of her wasn't Ozpin. There wasn't James Ironwood, or Glynda Goodwitch. No Qrow Branwen, and no other, powerful huntsman. They were in Vale. They were fighting against hordes of Grimm that would make common hunters balk, and so too were the students helping with the evacuation. The nearby island of Patch would provide shelter for more than a few thousands of them.
Yet none of them could help us in this battle.
Because power would be destroyed.
Because Salem would strike them, and kill them, with the ease a cruel man would snap a little bird's neck.
Because we weren't a threat to her, because she believed us part of a ruse, of a trap, part of some elaborate mind game from Ozpin's side, because of who I was and what I had said...she didn't kill us on the spot. She didn't incinerate us.
"We have...one shot at this," I muttered. "No more than one shot."
And it was the one shot that would save, or break, the world.
No pressure.
"So I see you are fools," Salem mused. "Merely pawns of Ozma's game," she added. "What hope did he inspire in you, I wonder? What madness claimed him? Three relics are out in the open, and only one remains for me to claim..." she chuckled, and then she laughed.
Her brief moment of mirth gave us precious seconds.
Chez disappeared while rushing forward. She didn't have a relic. The Relic of Creation was strapped to Zhelty's back, and even so her Alphonse opened fire in her direction. Gorm had the relic of destruction in hand, the blade shimmering as he rushed for Salem in turn from a different direction.
Salem didn't as much as move from Zhelty's attack. She watched with peculiar amusement Gorm near her, and then nimbly moved her body slightly to the side, avoiding a swing that instead cut the ground itself and the flames behind her. With a hand, she attempted to touch Gorm's shoulder.
The touch would have killed him on the spot had it connected, but Chez' chainsaw came swinging down, halting Salem's attempt and allowing Gorm to move backwards.
Before Salem's attention could turn to Chez, my body moved, and as I spun in mid-air one hand grabbed Chez' collar, sending her backwards and my foot connected with Salem's face. Or at least, that had been the plan.
A stone staff rose from the ground to meet my blow, enhanced with Aura and magic, it didn't as much as crack under the strain of the blow.
"You would hit your own family?" Salem was amused. Amused, and attempting to terrify the likes of me into submission, "Ozma truly taught you poorly."
I finished twirling, my second foot blocked by her hand with the ease she would stop a feather. She didn't destroy me. She acted as if I were but an amusing toy, and with gentleness threw me away against the ground, my body bouncing off it as I hastily got back on my feet.
The mercy she would extend to the likes of me ended there; everyone else, she would have killed without remorse, nor care.
Zhelty's shield came flying for her, spiraling with the blade at the ready. Rolling her eyes, as if scolding a peculiarly insistent child, she stopped the weapon in mid-air by merely extending a hand.
Chez' form reappeared once more, chainsaw roaring bathed in blue flames for her back. In that instant, from Salem's shadows hundreds of Grimm hands emerged to grasp at her. Gorm came below, slicing with the Blade at them and shattering them into dark ashes.
Yet, for all those that he cut, far more came through.
A dozen blocked his wrists, or attempted to, only for the wind generated by his armor to hold them off while Chez' chainsaw roared and slammed into the hardened white bone of a summoned Grimm's tusk.
A Goliath. A fully fledged, massive Goliath began to emerge from Salem's back. It wasn't that the Grimm Pools had dropped in quantity because they were running out.
It simply was that the majority of it had found another, darker and deeper, container.
I realized it then.
No amount of Aura in the world would be able to remove the Grimm influence from Salem's body. She truly was lost beyond salvation; she truly was nothing more than a demonic creature who sought only the destruction of mankind. Yet, even so, there had to be a small part of her that still lived within that darkened mass.
I slammed my right foot on the ground where the shadows of the summoned Grimm attempted to emerge, and the whiteness soon spread from the point of impact, screams rising in pitch from the hands themselves, from the Goliath's harrumphing trunk, and I felt the massive tidal wave of death and destruction contained within Salem answer my attempt at assuming control...and rejecting it with startled ease.
I was slammed back by the force of a blow I couldn't see, by the strength of a grip I couldn't fight, by the might of a power that had no limit and as I struck the burning ruins of Beacon's walls, I knew that there could be no salvation.
Yet that wouldn't make me stop standing back up.
Courage isn't the absence of fear.
Courage is the mastery over fear itself.
"Is this all?" Salem asked, mockingly. Zhelty had attempted to get her weapon back, and in answer Salem had graciously thrown it at her, impacting against her outstretched hands and forcing her to spin together with the weapon. "Children. Ozpin's plan is to send children at me. Perhaps he expects me to laugh?" she mused, "You are playing with things beyond your ability. It is perhaps time I take things into account."
I watched as she took a single step forward, and the very skies rumbled downwards as thick clouds began to crackle with lightning bolts.
The clouds didn't strike around Gorm, his entire body radiating wind to keep the tempest at bay. Yet it was the eye of the storm itself, and the spot where we all ended up converging.
"I'm not seeing an opening," Gorm muttered.
"Then I guess I'll have to make one," I answered back.
Salem laughed as she disappeared from sight. Yet I could still feel her. Yet I could still sense her.
I took a deep breath, and beneath our feet spread the Schnee Glyph.
"At my signal," I whispered, "Go."
Everyone tensed. Everyone readied. The seconds ticked by.
Then Salem appeared with nonchalance. She appeared between us, amusement dancing on her lips as she felt that we were never going to truly be capable of defeating her. As far as she knew, as far as everyone in the whole world knew, there was nothing to be done against her immortality.
Arrogance.
The sin that will condemn the mighty and the strong, those who believe they are untouchable, and thus beyond reproach or attack.
The Glyph pulsed and shone and then rose upwards. As it did, Salem didn't move. She knew I didn't have the power to transform her. She knew she could easily shatter the Schnee Globe with but the blink of an eye. She knew that, and thus she made her one, and only, mistake.
As everyone ran away, I did not.
As her magic and her winds made to attack, the Globe completed itself. Her winds howled, but they howled back into the globe itself. We were within a flawless, perfect landscape of white, small flakes of snow falling on the ground all around us.
"Welcome," I whispered hoarsely. "To eternity."
Lightning arched across her body. It poured out, the ground of white snow quaking as it shifted, and once the attack impacted, I stood unfazed.
Glyphs burned and shone, pulsed and weaved themselves together for the final and most damning power of the Schnee Semblance. Born of magic, wreathed in the blood of the defeated, and cannibalized to maintain its strength.
The Crown of Choice stood on my head, ice covering it. A mantle flapped on my back, glimmering softly with ethereal paleness. A blade of ice stood in my right hand, Moroz trapped within. Other weapons floated nearby, each one mastered over the course of a lifetime by one member of the Schnee Family.
Each one holding within the power, and the might, of a soul born and raised, nurtured and cared for, all for this singular instant in time.
"One final blade, swung in defiance of fate," I whispered as I lifted Moroz up, aimed at Salem.
Salem tensed.
She was done playing.
I rushed forward as the very winds. The ground shattered and dispersed in a snowstorm as my blade met her stone staff, which gleamed as it morphed into steel, flames starting to spread across the tip. The impact caused an explosion, and for the first time since the beginning of the fight, Salem was pushed back.
I launched myself forward again, and again. Each time the blade would strike, and each time Salem would parry it. Her eyes were now narrow, her soul was now unsure, yet even then, she trusted that nothing would be stronger than the Gods themselves.
Even so, I was still her descendant, and thus without a doubt, I would surprise her.
I threw the blade at her, and as she parried it and let it fly in the air I disappeared from where I had been, reappearing in the place of the sword with a large greataxe in both of my hands. It slammed downwards, not past her guard but as I screamed, the ground caved below her. It caved into an ocean of ice. It caved into an eternity of falling snowflakes.
It caved into the darkness of a human's soul.
I abandoned the greataxe, disappearing as a bow came into my hands, arrows of Glyphs forming and launching at the same time. A wall of snow formed and rose to block them, and through it Salem rushed forward, the flames surrounding her causing explosions from the sheer temperature difference in the air.
White clawed hands emerged from the snow. Beowolves rose by the score as Apathies swarmed from the depths of what was, in its infancy, merely the place where all defeated enemies went to die.
Here they would linger and, inevitably, here they would become the strength upon which a Schnee would rise above and beyond his fellows and his foes.
Yet none of those halted Salem's advance. Not a single Apathy survived her passage and not a single Ursa managed to slow her down. Even the mighty Goliath fell, cleaved in half effortlessly as Salem rushed through all of them, aiming at the likes of me with her staff blazing with the intensity of the sun.
Her swing crushed through a shield made of Glyphs and impacted two gauntlets made of the same material, before shattering my own hidden below. I flew through the ground, snow and ice shattering at my passage. My arms were broken, yet Aura would see them fixed.
My body was in pain, yet Aura would bring the pain away.
Yet even so, Salem stood towering, unbeatable and undefeated.
"This much power," Salem mused. "This much strength-how does it feel, to know it is all for nothing?" she began to walk towards me, even as I got back on my feet. "Any huntsman, any other Grimm-they wouldn't survive this. But to me, this is nothing," she laughed, and her laughter was evil, it was the wickedness of a witch that sought to slam her heel down on the dying child. It was cruelty for cruelty's sake.
"Yet you do not feel crushed," Salem continued, "You feel...pride. Ah, I see," she smiled, "You think you can distract me. You think you can win this final battle-" she laughed, mirthfully locking eyes with me. "You feel regret now that I found out? You feel..."
Her voice slipped.
"Jinn's sacrifice?" her eyes narrowed.
Her breathing hitched ever so briefly as the very ground around her disappeared.
In a split second of shock, in a split second of disbelief, in an instant of eternity frozen within a minuscule fragment of time, things happened. These things were many, and different, but they all happened at the same time.
Salem turned, ready to block the incoming swing of the Blade of Destruction. She believed, erroneously, that my thoughts had been a lie to distract her. Her mind, thus slightly worried, blocked what she felt was a Relic coming for her.
She blocked not the Blade of Destruction, but the Staff of Creation.
Everything is permitted.
Her other hand moved to block what she knew had to be Blade thus, because it couldn't clearly be anything else.
Nothing is true.
And instead it was the Crown of Choice, held in one hand by my invisible, nimble-handed teammate.
I wasn't learning how to live with Jinn.
The Blade of Destruction sunk into the chest of Salem, both of her hands away from her body as her Aura outright disappeared. As the snow and the ice sunk the temperature to near-zero degrees, stiffening her limbs for precious instants, I rushed forward with a bellowing scream born of the entirety of my desires.
Hands pushed me further forward, hands ghastly and ethereal, and yet each holding within a sentiment I had learned, through the centuries, to make my own.
My hand sunk into the other side of the blade, and my soul burned through it as my Aura disappeared together with the frozen world around us.
I was learning how to die.
There was silence.
Salem stood there, looking puzzled. She looked down at her body, and then looked at me. It was the silence of a realm beyond that of the living. There was no darkness within her. There was no curse of the Gods. There was nothing but her, and as she opened her mouth to speak, she then grew quiet.
Her eyes widened. Her hand went to her chest, where her heart was. Her eyes began to grow mystified, and a scream rose from the confines of her throat. The scream became tears. The tears became sorrowful sobs. Her whole being shook and trembled like a leaf carried by a hurricane. Her hands went to her cheeks, and then dug into her hair.
An eternity of evil, forgotten. An eternity of sorrow, hidden. An eternity of all that was bad and sad left to rot and fester into a human soul, bottled up and never released.
And then my arms engulfed her in a gentle hug, and I sighed.
"It's going to be all right," I whispered. "It's fine, grandmother. It's fine."
Her wretched sobs didn't abate. Her face pressed against my chest, her arms surrounded my body as her laments kept going onward into the silent void that surrounded us.
It might have been days. It might have been months or even years.
It was eternity, and we had all the time in the world.
"Did...did I even deserve to be saved?" Salem whispered. "Humanity-all those that died because of me-"
"Every human deserves to be saved," I muttered back. "From those that would enforce their will upon them. What are you, if not a victim in your own right?" I gave her a small smile.
"But-But you're..." Salem shook her head, "You're dead. Because of me."
"If I were a human, born of the soul of the God of Creation, then yes," I answered back with a sigh. "But I am not their human. I...I guess my soul works in mysterious ways?" I added with a grin. I looked around. "I have no idea where we are, but...I don't think this is the heaven meant for the people of Remnant."
"You're...what are you, then?" Salem asked, puzzled. We began to walk. There was darkness everywhere around us, and yet we could perfectly see one another.
"Human," I said with a shrug. "For what is a human, if not the sum of the tales they tell of themselves?" I remarked cheekily, glancing as the darkness disappeared to reveal a fragment of an image, a fragment of a place, nothing but the afterimage of an event where I had heard such a sentence.
"What is a man but the sum of his memories, we are the stories we live, the tales we tell our selves," thus spoke a man on an island to another man.
Salem furrowed her brows. Even to my eyes, that memory looked quite real. "That-That is not you."
"Why not?" I asked back, humming as I extended my arm, and she linked with it. "What defines us? Our past, or the choices we make in the present?"
"You are too concerned with what was and what will be. There is a saying: Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present." It was a humanoid tortoise that said it, but it still was meaningful, and thus still carried worth.
"That...That can't be Remnant," Salem whispered again, before looking up at me. "You're...You're not of this world."
I gave her a gentle smile and a nod. "Jinn went a bit mad trying to figure it all out, and then just accepted it." We came to a halt in front of a door.
It wasn't a door I expected there to be, but it was there all the same.
Salem recognized it, even though I didn't. Her fingers tightened the grip on my arm, and then she quietly let go of it, nearing the door in question and gently bringing her knuckles to knock on it.
There was a bit of a rustling sound, and then the door slid open.
On the other side was a woman.
Her hair was blond and in curls, and her eyes a dark brown. She was wearing a light blue dress, and as her eyes stared into Salem's, the similarities in their lineaments were clear to see.
"I-" Salem opened her mouth, and then closed it with an audible click. "I'm..."
"I know," Wyntr whispered back. She slowly opened the door fully. Beyond the door, there were more faces, more people, and amidst them I could even see a jolly old fellow with a red suit and a big bushy white beard. "Just...come in, mom," she said with a small smile, "we were waiting for you."
Salem stared ever so briefly, and then tears began to fall from her eyes. "But the Gods-"
"Who cares?" Wyntr answered, "We're not their puppets. They can suck a-"
"Language!" another voice spoke, and the grey-haired Babhdan -seriously, what kind of name was Babhdan - appeared from the door. Wyntr stuck her tongue out in his direction, and as I dimly realized he had a dark mask covering the lower half of his face, and a leather eye-path to cover one eye, a snicker left my throat.
Wyntr extended a hand towards Salem, and that was all that was needed. Salem took it, and gently walked inside.
"What about you?" Wyntr asked next, "You coming inside?"
I shook my head. "I better head on back," I said, jabbing my thumb towards the darkness that surrounded us. "My teammates are probably crying their hearts out thinking I'm dead or something."
Wyntr smiled, "You know...your soul might not have been technically a Schnee, but you're all right as a person. So...consider yourself adopted."
I smiled at that, "Thank you."
Wyntr winked, and then made to close the door.
"Hug my Willow for me!" was the last thing I heard before opening my eyes to the bright sky overhead.
I groaned at the ringing I heard within my head.
My body shook and trembled from pain, from agony, from the feeling of the very air being hot and scorching. Even as my teeth chattered, I could feel my surroundings come into focus.
I was alive.
I was without Aura, but I was alive.
My teammates-they had to be nearby.
I-I had to find them before they did something stupid without my supervision.
The Relics were no more, destroyed by my very soul...
...but my teammates-they had to be somewhere nearby, no?
TimeLordLucario
The Oncoming Aura Storm
- Location
- Australia
You're going to crash your own funeral, aren't you?
AzraelvonGruber
probably should put something here...
- Location
- somewhere in France
like the best cool-aid man ever
Sir Gawain
Down Bad for RPK16
- Location
- elmendorf texas
Go on shade and joestar your funeral
It is a time honored tradition. He must take care to look appropriately badass
GrindingV2
Azir is beyond awful holy christ
- Location
- Canada
Zhelty can probably make a brace of some sort to help with that.
AnonymousRabbit
Rabbit Faced
That would be a swerve if he does it Joseph Joestar style. Showing up with a different waifu that isn't Zhelty or Chez. Gorm's betting pool will be destroyed in a heartbeat.
- Location
- Belgium
If your hips survive to tell that tale then this is no snu-snu.
Fragnostic
Cheshire
- Location
- Neko City
LordOfPears12
Cat girl headpatter
- Location
- Land of pizza,pasta and lasagna.
Did he respawn I call hacks.
I swear to god he probably just teleported in an AU highscholl verse. With him being the transfer student it would be hilarious.
I swear to god he probably just teleported in an AU highscholl verse. With him being the transfer student it would be hilarious.
Last edited:
- Location
- Italy
I like how both Wren and Salem bait people into thinking negative thoughts so they can mind-read them. Like grandson like grandmother?
Epilogue Part One
- Location
- https://discord.gg/z9tBvbh
Epilogue Part One
Vale burned that day. It burned as the buildings collapsed and the Grimm attacked with a frenzy that wasn't the norm. Even the Goliath, normally so keen on surviving, launched themselves without regards against the walls of Vale, against the huntsmen trained and ready for them, in suicidal charges that held no previously known logic.
They threw their bodies into the grinder, and their masses shattered even as they managed to break through. It was a swarm of desperation, a swarm of hatred, a violence that saw both elder and young Grimm throw themselves in the thick of battle, overpowering and killing many an experienced huntsmen.
The sun itself was blotted by the swarms of Nevermore and flying Grimm. The mountain near Vale was no more; the Wyvern flew through the air headed for the thick of the city center, and even so, even then-huntsmen fought.
Ozpin had seen carnage, and destruction, more often than not. A small part of him wondered why he was attempting this. A bigger part knew the truth; it didn't matter. With one Relic destroyed, the Gods would forever be beyond Salem's grasp. Humanity had won. Mankind would survive her, and even if she went mad, even if she destroyed all of humanity with her magic, it would come back again and again, and her magic would soon end.
And he'd be there to stop her, every time. Perhaps, in time, the folly of her ways would finally leave the place to a modicum of sanity. Perhaps, even if Wren's plan failed, even if the creature that inhabited the young man's body failed, there could still be a bright future for the world.
Thus, he fought in the streets of Vale. Grimm fell to his cane with the same practiced ease that only centuries of fighting could bring. Yet, as he turned and delivered one swing, he was there no longer.
He looked around, puzzled.
His breathing evened out, and he knew it was done.
A chuckle left his lips. The chuckle grew to become laughter, and the laughter echoed in the vast expanse of pure white that was what he vaguely remembered of life after death. He let himself go, and closed his eyes with the most satisfied of smiles.
Everything was over now.
He could finally rest.
Mankind was safe. Mankind would survive.
-
The Grimm left the city of Vale in a hurry, just as they had arrived in a hurry. The elders left first, and the younger ones still struggled to understand they were beaten. Many huntsmen gave their lives in the fight, many more would survive with grievous injuries. From Patch, all the help that was possible had been sent already, and as Team RWBY fought street by street, they caught their breath by the city square, where the CCTS was being heavily protected by the best that Atlas could offer.
"Friend Ruby!" the cheerful voice of Penny caught Ruby's attention, the android-girl waving happily in their direction. "The Grimm are retreating! We have won the day!"
"Penny!" Ruby said excitedly, before squeaking as Penny's arms engulfed her friend in a tight hug, shaking the little red-haired girl right and left. "Gah! Air! Penny! I need air!"
"Of course Ruby!" Penny answered with a bright smile, letting her go. She then looked at the rest of team RWBY, and smiled brighter yet. "You all look combat-ready and without injuries."
"Duh," Yang said, making a show of striking a pose and letting her blond hair flutter in the air, "We're pretty much the best." As she struck her pose, winds rose to make her hair flutter a bit more.
"Show-off," Weiss said with a roll of her eyes.
"We heard an explosion," Blake said next, "But we were in the thick of it, so-what blew up, something in the industrial sector?"
"Ah, no," Penny answered, her face chagrined. "It was Beacon Academy."
Four pair of eyes widened. "There were no victims however! It was safely evacuated earlier this morning!" Penny added hastily next. There were a set of collective sighs of relief. "We have the Aura level of everyone involved monitored through the local CCTS," Penny's voice turned sad, "And while many are no longer responding...I hope they've just broken their Scrolls."
Ruby nodded at that, "Yeah, lots of people are clumsy with their Scrolls-" she mumbled.
Penny's chagrined smile remained there. "The situation looks bad, but not that bad," Yang mused soon after, attempting to change the argument. "Looks like the Grimm are retreating, so maybe the migration wasn't that intentional on their part?"
"Or maybe they got what they wanted," Weiss mumbled, before shaking her head.
"Weiss!" a cold, familiar voice called out to them. Weiss turned and furrowed her brows.
"Winter?" Weiss muttered, "Winter, weren't you in Mistral? We-"
Winter shook her head as she came to a halt near the rest of Team RWBY. "This was more important. General Ironwood recalled all active and able-bodied huntsmen he could get to come here. That crow drunkard is somewhere around too." She took a small breath. "I just received confirmation that the battle is over, and that team Sizzling Sunrise is returning from Beacon. They...did something."
Weiss blinked at that information, and then sighed in relief.
"What was Wren's team doing in Beacon that warranted an explosion?" Ruby asked, puzzled. "Not that I'm against explosions, but-it's our school!"
"You dolt," Weiss grumbled, "Whatever it was, it was clearly warranted. I think we might have to finish our education in Atlas then," she added next, turning thoughtful. "It will be strange returning home, but of course, we'll be capable students and-"
"Oh," Penny blinked. Her eyes turned downcast. Oil began to fall from her eyes.
"Penny?" Ruby blinked, eyes wide, "Penny, is everything all right? You're leaking!"
"Friend Ruby," Penny muttered, "I'm...I'm not leaking." She stammered the last part out. "I-" she hiccuped. "A Scroll must have just recently malfunctioned. I am sure everything is fine."
Winter's eyebrow arched upwards, and then she turned towards the Huntsmen's Board just outside the CCTS, which was updated with the latest Aura-Reading for the Huntsmen within range of the tower itself. At the very top stood the latest fallen in battle.
Her right hand tightened. "That-That stupid-" her voice cracked.
It was the cracking that made Weiss' heart plummet. For the briefest of instants, she didn't want to raise her own eyes to see. She didn't want to have confirmation. She didn't, and yet, she desperately needed to think that perhaps-perhaps it wasn't him.
Yet she raised her eyes all the same, and there at the very top stood the smiling, serene face of her brother.
And his Aura was gone.
He had no heartbeat.
He was...
He probably broke his Scroll.
He had to-why did the dust have to get into her eyes right then, why did-
"Weiss-" Ruby's hands grabbed hold of hers. "His Scroll must have broken. We need to check-Beacon Academy-"
"I'll commandeer a Bullhead," Winter said, her voice shaky, before steeling herself. "Proper care of one's Scroll should be essential-seriously-" her voice was weak, and even then, it was uncertainty that moved her first few steps. Then she found her gait, and there was little that the huntsmen from Vale could do to stop her from getting exactly what she had wanted.
That stupid little brother of hers-he hadn't told her anything. He had just-he was going-She was going to punish him so hard, he'd be grounded his whole life. He had to be.
-
"Damn that hurt like hell," Gorm muttered. His back was against the ground. His entire body ached. He was alive, but being alive and staying alive weren't normally the same thing. "Bitch-lady?" he added in the air, as if attempting to see if he'd be the next one to die or not. "Wren?" he asked next.
He was on his feet in a second.
He wasn't the only one who was getting back up. Chez was getting on her feet, and looking around with her eyes wide and her ears perked right up. Her breathing was erratic.
Zhelty was looking around, her weapon in hand and a clearly visible limp to her walk. She was looking around too.
He dimly remembered the stabbing. He vaguely saw Wren rush for the blade. He knew he had managed.
And then his heart plummeted.
"Shit, no, shit, no, no no no no no shit no!" he mouthed as his eyes widened. "Don't do this to me," he added. "You promised. You promised you wouldn't do this to me-" his body ached, but it didn't matter. He had someone to find.
"Wren?!" Zhelty yelled out in the end. "Psycho-bitch-lady?! I'll take you on!" she snarled that out, "Come on! We're still here! Hey! Don't-Don't tell me you're gone-" her voice began to crack. "Please don't tell me you're gone."
Gorm came to a halt near a circle of perfect snow. The Schnee Glyph was pretty much emblazoned within the very stones. It was all that remained of the point where the relics had met with Wren. It was all that remained of the battle that had happened.
And just like snow, it soon melted away and disappeared, leaving no trace behind.
"Gorm," Chez voice spoke up, but it really wasn't the chipper, friendly voice of Chez. "Where's Wren, Gorm?" her eyes were empty, "Did you see where he went? Gorm?"
Gorm swallowed. His fists tightened. "He-He must still be around, somewhere," he hoarsely whispered. "We-I think...we should find him."
"Uh-uh," Chez mumbled, her eyes squinted. "Maybe he ended in the ruins of Beacon?" she added, a brief note of hope in her tone. "Maybe he's unconscious in there-we need to hurry."
"Let's-let's do that," Zhelty added. "That good for nothing bastard-making us worry like this-"
"Let's not waste time," Gorm said, taking a deep breath.
He'd be fine.
Wren would be fine.
What was the point in betting and winning money in order to share it in four, if you didn't have three friends to share the wealth with? And he didn't want to recalculate the earnings.
He didn't want to.
He-He'd rather have his friend, his brother, back.
So, if the Gods wanted a bet, he'd gladly give all of his money on the off-chance he'd still be alive. He'd lose it all, and he wouldn't care. Just-Just as long as everything was solved and everyone was happy-he'd take that.
But they didn't find him.
And when a bullhead landed, and team RWBY descended accompanied by Wren's older sister, he knew that deep in his heart, his friend had left him the hardest and most unfair of trials.
Why.
Why did this burden have to go to him.
"Where's my big-Where's my foolish-" both sisters said pretty much at the same time, but it just made it all the more harder. Then again, he didn't have to say it. He didn't need to say it.
He wouldn't say it. He refused to say it.
They understood.
His silence was damnation enough.
But-but if he said nothing, then...would they even understand what they had done? Would they even comprehend the greatness of his heroic, last achievement? He had a duty to his friend.
He had a horrible, unquestionable, final duty to his friend.
"Wren-he gave...he sacrificed..." he tried to say more, but found that he couldn't. To choke on his own words. Seriously. He was being pitiful. Was this how Wren would want to be remembered? Who cared!? He was d-he was de-he wasn't there.
He wasn't there.
"Salem is...she's no more," he said in the end.
"Brother-" Weiss' voice was a simple whisper. It was a simple whisper, born of a broken heart.
And his heart was broken too.
And yet he had to be there, and weather the storm.
Wren truly was a bastard.
He had been-he was his friend, but he was also a bastard.
Please make the pain stop...
...please just come back.
Vale burned that day. It burned as the buildings collapsed and the Grimm attacked with a frenzy that wasn't the norm. Even the Goliath, normally so keen on surviving, launched themselves without regards against the walls of Vale, against the huntsmen trained and ready for them, in suicidal charges that held no previously known logic.
They threw their bodies into the grinder, and their masses shattered even as they managed to break through. It was a swarm of desperation, a swarm of hatred, a violence that saw both elder and young Grimm throw themselves in the thick of battle, overpowering and killing many an experienced huntsmen.
The sun itself was blotted by the swarms of Nevermore and flying Grimm. The mountain near Vale was no more; the Wyvern flew through the air headed for the thick of the city center, and even so, even then-huntsmen fought.
Ozpin had seen carnage, and destruction, more often than not. A small part of him wondered why he was attempting this. A bigger part knew the truth; it didn't matter. With one Relic destroyed, the Gods would forever be beyond Salem's grasp. Humanity had won. Mankind would survive her, and even if she went mad, even if she destroyed all of humanity with her magic, it would come back again and again, and her magic would soon end.
And he'd be there to stop her, every time. Perhaps, in time, the folly of her ways would finally leave the place to a modicum of sanity. Perhaps, even if Wren's plan failed, even if the creature that inhabited the young man's body failed, there could still be a bright future for the world.
Thus, he fought in the streets of Vale. Grimm fell to his cane with the same practiced ease that only centuries of fighting could bring. Yet, as he turned and delivered one swing, he was there no longer.
He looked around, puzzled.
His breathing evened out, and he knew it was done.
A chuckle left his lips. The chuckle grew to become laughter, and the laughter echoed in the vast expanse of pure white that was what he vaguely remembered of life after death. He let himself go, and closed his eyes with the most satisfied of smiles.
Everything was over now.
He could finally rest.
Mankind was safe. Mankind would survive.
-
The Grimm left the city of Vale in a hurry, just as they had arrived in a hurry. The elders left first, and the younger ones still struggled to understand they were beaten. Many huntsmen gave their lives in the fight, many more would survive with grievous injuries. From Patch, all the help that was possible had been sent already, and as Team RWBY fought street by street, they caught their breath by the city square, where the CCTS was being heavily protected by the best that Atlas could offer.
"Friend Ruby!" the cheerful voice of Penny caught Ruby's attention, the android-girl waving happily in their direction. "The Grimm are retreating! We have won the day!"
"Penny!" Ruby said excitedly, before squeaking as Penny's arms engulfed her friend in a tight hug, shaking the little red-haired girl right and left. "Gah! Air! Penny! I need air!"
"Of course Ruby!" Penny answered with a bright smile, letting her go. She then looked at the rest of team RWBY, and smiled brighter yet. "You all look combat-ready and without injuries."
"Duh," Yang said, making a show of striking a pose and letting her blond hair flutter in the air, "We're pretty much the best." As she struck her pose, winds rose to make her hair flutter a bit more.
"Show-off," Weiss said with a roll of her eyes.
"We heard an explosion," Blake said next, "But we were in the thick of it, so-what blew up, something in the industrial sector?"
"Ah, no," Penny answered, her face chagrined. "It was Beacon Academy."
Four pair of eyes widened. "There were no victims however! It was safely evacuated earlier this morning!" Penny added hastily next. There were a set of collective sighs of relief. "We have the Aura level of everyone involved monitored through the local CCTS," Penny's voice turned sad, "And while many are no longer responding...I hope they've just broken their Scrolls."
Ruby nodded at that, "Yeah, lots of people are clumsy with their Scrolls-" she mumbled.
Penny's chagrined smile remained there. "The situation looks bad, but not that bad," Yang mused soon after, attempting to change the argument. "Looks like the Grimm are retreating, so maybe the migration wasn't that intentional on their part?"
"Or maybe they got what they wanted," Weiss mumbled, before shaking her head.
"Weiss!" a cold, familiar voice called out to them. Weiss turned and furrowed her brows.
"Winter?" Weiss muttered, "Winter, weren't you in Mistral? We-"
Winter shook her head as she came to a halt near the rest of Team RWBY. "This was more important. General Ironwood recalled all active and able-bodied huntsmen he could get to come here. That crow drunkard is somewhere around too." She took a small breath. "I just received confirmation that the battle is over, and that team Sizzling Sunrise is returning from Beacon. They...did something."
Weiss blinked at that information, and then sighed in relief.
"What was Wren's team doing in Beacon that warranted an explosion?" Ruby asked, puzzled. "Not that I'm against explosions, but-it's our school!"
"You dolt," Weiss grumbled, "Whatever it was, it was clearly warranted. I think we might have to finish our education in Atlas then," she added next, turning thoughtful. "It will be strange returning home, but of course, we'll be capable students and-"
"Oh," Penny blinked. Her eyes turned downcast. Oil began to fall from her eyes.
"Penny?" Ruby blinked, eyes wide, "Penny, is everything all right? You're leaking!"
"Friend Ruby," Penny muttered, "I'm...I'm not leaking." She stammered the last part out. "I-" she hiccuped. "A Scroll must have just recently malfunctioned. I am sure everything is fine."
Winter's eyebrow arched upwards, and then she turned towards the Huntsmen's Board just outside the CCTS, which was updated with the latest Aura-Reading for the Huntsmen within range of the tower itself. At the very top stood the latest fallen in battle.
Her right hand tightened. "That-That stupid-" her voice cracked.
It was the cracking that made Weiss' heart plummet. For the briefest of instants, she didn't want to raise her own eyes to see. She didn't want to have confirmation. She didn't, and yet, she desperately needed to think that perhaps-perhaps it wasn't him.
Yet she raised her eyes all the same, and there at the very top stood the smiling, serene face of her brother.
And his Aura was gone.
He had no heartbeat.
He was...
He probably broke his Scroll.
He had to-why did the dust have to get into her eyes right then, why did-
"Weiss-" Ruby's hands grabbed hold of hers. "His Scroll must have broken. We need to check-Beacon Academy-"
"I'll commandeer a Bullhead," Winter said, her voice shaky, before steeling herself. "Proper care of one's Scroll should be essential-seriously-" her voice was weak, and even then, it was uncertainty that moved her first few steps. Then she found her gait, and there was little that the huntsmen from Vale could do to stop her from getting exactly what she had wanted.
That stupid little brother of hers-he hadn't told her anything. He had just-he was going-She was going to punish him so hard, he'd be grounded his whole life. He had to be.
-
"Damn that hurt like hell," Gorm muttered. His back was against the ground. His entire body ached. He was alive, but being alive and staying alive weren't normally the same thing. "Bitch-lady?" he added in the air, as if attempting to see if he'd be the next one to die or not. "Wren?" he asked next.
He was on his feet in a second.
He wasn't the only one who was getting back up. Chez was getting on her feet, and looking around with her eyes wide and her ears perked right up. Her breathing was erratic.
Zhelty was looking around, her weapon in hand and a clearly visible limp to her walk. She was looking around too.
He dimly remembered the stabbing. He vaguely saw Wren rush for the blade. He knew he had managed.
And then his heart plummeted.
"Shit, no, shit, no, no no no no no shit no!" he mouthed as his eyes widened. "Don't do this to me," he added. "You promised. You promised you wouldn't do this to me-" his body ached, but it didn't matter. He had someone to find.
"Wren?!" Zhelty yelled out in the end. "Psycho-bitch-lady?! I'll take you on!" she snarled that out, "Come on! We're still here! Hey! Don't-Don't tell me you're gone-" her voice began to crack. "Please don't tell me you're gone."
Gorm came to a halt near a circle of perfect snow. The Schnee Glyph was pretty much emblazoned within the very stones. It was all that remained of the point where the relics had met with Wren. It was all that remained of the battle that had happened.
And just like snow, it soon melted away and disappeared, leaving no trace behind.
"Gorm," Chez voice spoke up, but it really wasn't the chipper, friendly voice of Chez. "Where's Wren, Gorm?" her eyes were empty, "Did you see where he went? Gorm?"
Gorm swallowed. His fists tightened. "He-He must still be around, somewhere," he hoarsely whispered. "We-I think...we should find him."
"Uh-uh," Chez mumbled, her eyes squinted. "Maybe he ended in the ruins of Beacon?" she added, a brief note of hope in her tone. "Maybe he's unconscious in there-we need to hurry."
"Let's-let's do that," Zhelty added. "That good for nothing bastard-making us worry like this-"
"Let's not waste time," Gorm said, taking a deep breath.
He'd be fine.
Wren would be fine.
What was the point in betting and winning money in order to share it in four, if you didn't have three friends to share the wealth with? And he didn't want to recalculate the earnings.
He didn't want to.
He-He'd rather have his friend, his brother, back.
So, if the Gods wanted a bet, he'd gladly give all of his money on the off-chance he'd still be alive. He'd lose it all, and he wouldn't care. Just-Just as long as everything was solved and everyone was happy-he'd take that.
But they didn't find him.
And when a bullhead landed, and team RWBY descended accompanied by Wren's older sister, he knew that deep in his heart, his friend had left him the hardest and most unfair of trials.
Why.
Why did this burden have to go to him.
"Where's my big-Where's my foolish-" both sisters said pretty much at the same time, but it just made it all the more harder. Then again, he didn't have to say it. He didn't need to say it.
He wouldn't say it. He refused to say it.
They understood.
His silence was damnation enough.
But-but if he said nothing, then...would they even understand what they had done? Would they even comprehend the greatness of his heroic, last achievement? He had a duty to his friend.
He had a horrible, unquestionable, final duty to his friend.
"Wren-he gave...he sacrificed..." he tried to say more, but found that he couldn't. To choke on his own words. Seriously. He was being pitiful. Was this how Wren would want to be remembered? Who cared!? He was d-he was de-he wasn't there.
He wasn't there.
"Salem is...she's no more," he said in the end.
"Brother-" Weiss' voice was a simple whisper. It was a simple whisper, born of a broken heart.
And his heart was broken too.
And yet he had to be there, and weather the storm.
Wren truly was a bastard.
He had been-he was his friend, but he was also a bastard.
Please make the pain stop...
...please just come back.