The Human (4).
Here is the chapter. It came out earlier than expected, enjoy!
That said, if anyone wants to support me, or just read 3/7 chapters ahead, that is possible on my (P)(A)(T). If not, I still appreciate you reading, thank you very much!
Have a great day and happy reading, everyone!
(P)(A)(T)/CalleumArtori
[...]---[...]
Within Amity's command base.
"Amber is awake," Glynda reported via scroll. Her blonde hair was slightly disheveled, as were her clothes, and she was breathing a little heavily. "Her awakening wasn’t peaceful. She woke up screaming that 'she' — I assume she means Cinder — was coming for her. Dahlia and I managed to calm her down; Winter was away when she woke."
"Are you and the Summer Maiden injured?" Ironwood asked, glancing at the scroll briefly.
"Just a few scratches, and my skirt is a bit singed," Glynda sighed. "Dahlia is fine. She’s talking to Amber right now, insisting that sisters should support each other. I didn’t try to stop her."
The General nodded. "You know what this means, don’t you?"
"Cinder is dead," Glynda replied without hesitation. "Ozpin killed her, which returned the Maiden’s powers to Amber, speeding up her healing."
"Exactly what I thought," he agreed. Both the General and Glynda had seen that when the human joined Salem, Cinder was still alive. By process of elimination, Ozma must have been the one who killed the Half-Maiden.
"How are things over there?"
"Better than I expected, but still bad," he responded with a frown. "If nothing happens at Beacon within the next ten minutes, I want you to gather half the professors and select as many students as you deem strong enough to help in the defense. I expect reinforcements in twenty minutes; bring the Summer Maiden and Amber if you can."
"I’ll be there with them in fifteen," Glynda replied sharply before ending the call.
The General looked at the scroll for a moment before returning to giving orders to everyone.
"Redirect more forces to the west side," he ordered in a commanding, oddly neutral voice. "I want reinforcements from the center; move the Huntsmen and Huntresses in reserve to assist them."
Ironwood’s gaze was locked onto the screens in front of him, unblinking, focused on the monitors, particularly the one displaying Salem and the human’s fight.
"Bombard the center toward the west, use Ice Dust ammunition. Freeze and eliminate as many Grimm as possible and make sure, even if just for a second, that our defense can breathe." He pointed at different people with each order, not pausing for a second. Those receiving the orders didn’t hesitate to carry them out.
No one dared to question the General’s orders, whatever they were. The few who wondered why he wasn’t giving orders for the east side fell silent as they realized the reason.
It wasn’t necessary.
The east side of the wall wasn’t under attack; not a single Grimm was approaching Vale from that direction, and even some from the central area were drawn toward the force responsible for this, visible on the monitor showing the aerial view of that area.
Visibility was poor due to rain and dark clouds covering the moonlight, but even amidst the darkness, at the heart of the black tide of Grimm, a bright green flame could be seen clearly, weaving through thousands of Grimm, unceasingly, relentlessly. A flame that, even under the rain and surrounded, burned intensely, attracting all Grimm nearby and decimating them without pause...
"Ozpin…"
… Ozma.
Ironwood looked at the monitor with a frown and a look of admiration on his face, though his lips were set in a grim line. Not even his Semblance, Mettle, which helped him suppress his emotions and think logically and efficiently, could contain the admiration he felt.
He's holding off a fourth, nearly a third, of the army on his own… — he thought, alternating his gaze between the monitor showing the fight and the one displaying Ozma facing the Grimm army. — If not for the Nightmares and Ozpin, the casualty count would be four times higher… Maybe even more.
To Ironwood, two men were sustaining Vale at that moment. Without the human blocking Salem, the walls would have fallen by now; without the Nightmare army, the center of the defense would be under twice, maybe three times the pressure; without Ozma, the east side would also be overrun by Grimm...
Two men. Even with all the preparation and defenses in place, it was two men truly holding Vale on their shoulders, preventing the army of over three hundred thousand Grimm — a hurried estimate — from attacking the walls in full force.
Just two men...
The fingers of Ironwood’s hand cracked, his Aura glowing around his fist from the force with which his joints were being clenched. — If they weren’t here, could Vale… no, could Atlas withstand this?...
The results and conclusions he reached in his mind didn’t please him at all. He turned his gaze to the window, from which he could see Vale; the city was being struck by lightning, as it would in a storm of this magnitude. What set this storm and these lightning strikes apart was that they were charged with mana.
Normal lightning rods could withstand five, maybe six strikes, before being destroyed from the inside out, melted not only by the lightning’s energy — which, unlike normal lightning, traveled through the metal with less speed, not seeking the fastest path to the ground but instead destroying everything it touched.
Moreover, there was Salem's mana, infused with the destructive essence of the Grimm pools, which was just as, if not more, destructive.
The only reason a considerable part of the kingdom hadn’t been destroyed by the lightning was the presence of the obelisks, dirty silver in color, which the human had positioned throughout the kingdom, in strategic locations, with Jinn’s help.
Most, if not all, of the lightning was being drawn to the obelisks, which absorbed part of the energy contained, channeling it to the Runes and Mystical Symbols before directing the rest to the ground.
Ironwood’s attention was drawn from the window when one of the Ace-Ops burst through the door: Harriet.
"Sir! We’re being invaded!" reported the fastest of the Ace-Ops.
"Grimm or White Fang?" He didn’t look away from the monitors as he asked.
"A mix of both, sir! They came from above, using the darkness as cover and flying on Nevermores. What are your orders?" She explained briefly. Neither Harriet nor Ironwood seemed particularly surprised or bothered by the attack.
It’s a possibility we had considered, even if none of us wanted it to become a reality... — He sighed mentally. — Watts is probably with them as well; he wasn’t with the witch’s other lackeys...
Watts, even though he couldn’t breach Atlas’s defense system — not without the backdoor they’d eradicated days ago, especially after the modifications made with Stark’s help — could still take control from within if he accessed one of the central servers.
Ironwood took less than two seconds to make a decision and turned to Harriet, meeting her eyes. The cold, vacant stare of the man made her flinch for a moment.
"Bring me only the White Fang leader and Watts. Kill the rest." The scowl on the General's face shifted to a neutral, cold mask that seemed carved from stone. "It doesn’t matter if they're Faunus or human, man or woman, child or elder; kill every invader, except Adam Taurus and Arthur Watts..."
Before Harriet could open her mouth — either to follow the order or to ask the question on her mind: "How do you know their leader is Adam, sir?" — her muscles froze, her mind went blank for a moment, and her Aura trembled, as did her soul, in both fear and shock.
Not only her, but everyone around, without exception, had the same reaction. They all froze in horror, instinctively sensing that something terribly wrong had happened, that an unforgivable sin had been committed right at that moment by someone...
“▂▂▄▄▅▅▃▃▄▄▅▅▂▂▃▄▃▄▄▅▅”
... Then, a horrendous scream echoed from afar.
It was a sickening sound that sent chills down everyone’s spine, a mix of a furious scream, a maniacal laugh, and a macabre whisper. Describing it as a combination of rusty nails scraping against a chalkboard, a cacophony of old instruments, and a choir of asylum patients wouldn’t be inaccurate.
The first to recover from the scream was Ironwood, who turned to the monitor displaying the transmission and swallowed hard at the sight. The sight of golden blood dripping from the human’s jaws and teeth made him feel so uncomfortable that he wanted to vomit; many watching the broadcast across Remnant actually did.
Ironwood was genuinely grateful that the human was their ally, for he was certain — and everyone who heard that scream had the same intuition, that whisper in the back of their minds — that if the human wanted to, ninety-nine percent of all who heard that sound...
... Would be dead before they could even think.
[…]
Salem’s mind went blank with the scream, just before her body began to die. Whether it was her brain, heart, or any other organ, each one simply shut down at the exact moment her ears registered that infernal sound.
She regained consciousness almost five seconds later, with two questions on her mind: — Why am I not being torn apart?... Why am I falling?…
The answer to the first question eluded her; the second, she understood: the Wyvern Grimm holding her aloft was dead, as were all the Grimm around her that she could sense. Everything in Mountain Glenn, except her and the human, was dead.
One scream, and everything and everyone was dead...
Before she hit the ground, the witch twisted her hands and commanded her mana to lift the falling body of the Wyvern, only to realize that what would normally be a simple task required real concentration and made her head throb.
When she managed to stabilize herself mid-air, condensing the Grimm’s corpse into a sphere formed not only of the miasma that leaked from its body as it died but also of ice, warming the interior with her magic, Salem stopped to analyze her situation. She took the opportunity since, for some unknown reason, the human wasn’t attacking her.
Salem reinforced the sphere surrounding her with as much mana as she could muster before beginning a self-examination.
She ignored her body’s bare state, just as she ignored her skin, still white but now a healthy shade, not the sickly, pale tone it had been, and instead focused on her soul. For millennia, Salem had been studying ways to break her curse; a simple act like observing her own soul was something she could do effortlessly.
What she "saw" was the same soul as always, still bound by those same golden chains. Though they seemed darker, as if something had stained or corroded them, they were far fewer than before; those that remained were brittle, especially on the right side.
The main difference she noticed was the presence of hundreds of small cuts on her soul, as well as a missing piece near where her heart would be in her physical body, as if something — someone — had torn it out with their own hands.
He wasn’t only attacking my body but my soul and the divinity of the God of Light? — Salem thought, before reaching a conclusion. — He didn’t just consume the divinity… He took a fraction of my soul... That’s why my magic feels so strange...
Magic stemmed from the soul; this was something Salem had known since she was six, and her own soul, at that moment, was filled with patches and missing a piece. Although not entirely debilitating, she could still use magic, albeit with extra effort and concentration.
The only part that truly worried Salem was the wound at the center of her soul. She was sure the other injuries would heal over time, something she had in abundance, but the part the human had torn out with his own hands didn’t seem to share that fate…
The witch pressed her red lips into a thin line as she made this discovery, brushing aside a strand of golden hair that fell in her eyes and narrowing her gaze as she sensed not just one but several presences flying around her “fortress.”
Wait, golden? — Before she could fully comprehend this line of thought, something struck the sphere that protected her. Then, again. And once more, from all sides. And with each impact, a hiss — or perhaps a whisper — buzzed in her ears.
The witch slammed her hands against the sphere’s inner wall, warping the miasma, with some difficulty, and forming spikes of ice that pierced anything attacking from the outside. With an additional flick of her wrist to aid in controlling her mana, a wave of fire exploded outward, burning her attackers — all but one.
Salem spun her palm swiftly, pulling one of the spikes and whatever it had pierced into the sphere. With a snap of her fingers, she illuminated the space, casting a sphere of soft light.
Salem’s pupils narrowed to needle-thin slits as she saw the corpse of a little girl, around ten, perhaps eleven or twelve, with white hair and light blue eyes. She wore a sky-blue dress, almost the same color as her eyes, but now stained red with the blood leaking from her chest, pierced by a black spike.
"... Winter?..." A horrified, disbelieving murmur escaped the witch’s lips.
“Mo... mother?…” The little girl reached out a trembling hand toward Salem, her voice weak and pained, clearly filled with fear.
Then Salem blinked, and the little girl was replaced by a creature resembling a Grimm, but with a deer mask and soulless, milky white eyes, motionless, clearly dead. This did not stop Salem from conjuring a ball of fire to incinerate the creature’s remains, her breathing quickening.
“How dare he…” She growled, her tone low and cruel. “How. Dare. He!”
Salem’s mana surged outward, dispelling the snowstorm as well as the Nightmares surrounding the black sphere in which she stood. Before the icy winds could even resume their course toward the witch’s construct, Salem twisted the snow — which resisted before yielding to the Queen’s rage — into a massive ice spear, over twenty meters long.
With a downward sweep of her left hand, she set the spear spinning at a speed that whipped up a small cyclone around it. With her right hand, she motioned to the side, creating a window that granted her a view of the outside, completely white, blanketed by the snowstorm attempting to consume Mountain Glenn entirely.
She ignored the roar of the frigid wind and its biting cold, pushing both back with a mana-infused breath that escaped her lips, and looked around, her blue eyes glowing with magic as she searched for the human. Despite the storm obscuring her vision, Salem found him within moments.
The human was still in the same place, at the center of the tarnished silver obelisks surrounding him. The only difference was that he was no longer looking up; his head remained tilted to the side, his jaw partially open, with golden blood dripping from the cracks in his teeth and jaw. Now, however, he was staring downward.
Furthermore, his eyes were shut; Salem could no longer see the orange glow that had once emanated from them. The red-blood markings, symbols, and veins were also fainter, barely shining around his body, as if his Aura was weakened. The glow wavered in intensity, like a campfire being slowly fed, and the purple flame was nowhere to be seen.
His arms, though still holding the Relic of Destruction in his left hand and the Ice Blade in his right, hung at his sides. It was as if the human was asleep standing up, the only sign he wasn’t dead being the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
One thing Salem noticed just before baring her teeth in a snarl and launching the ice spear toward the human—accelerating it with wind and gravity magic to a speed that would make a ballistic missile look like a child tossing a paper ball—was that the entire area was swarming with the same type of creatures that had previously pretended to be her daughter.
The storm concealed their presence, hiding their black bodies but not their eyes, which glowed as if wanting Salem to know they were there amidst the blizzard. As soon as she became aware of the creatures, the whispers in her ears grew louder.
As Salem cast the ice spear at the human, all the airborne Nightmares flew toward her, while those on the ground ran like hallucinations conjured by a fevered mind, vanishing into the storm.
The witch regarded the creatures with a disgust reflected in her blue eyes and clapped her hands, amplifying the shockwave with mana to create an even larger blast that repelled them, along with the winds and snow of the storm.
She didn’t take her eyes off the human who, even as the target of her attack, remained unmoving. Then, she waved her hand forward, condensing gravity above him. The strain caused her brow to furrow in pain as her left eye squeezed shut from the muscle tension.
My injuries are worse than I thought, my magic is sluggish; I need to concentrate even for such simple spells... — Salem placed her hand on her head, and a low growl escaped her lips. Her eyes widened upon feeling her gravitational spell vanish.
Just before being crushed by Salem’s gravitational spell, the human’s eyes opened, glowing orange amidst the snowstorm, and the red marks on his Aura flared even more intensely. At the same time, the Relic of Destruction in his left hand glowed purple, dissipating all the mana above his head, as well as the witch’s spell.
Without any movement or verbal command, a massive black hand emerged from the snowstorm and caught the ice spear. The eight hands of the Bone Helm, fused into one and enhanced by the abundant nightmare energy in the atmosphere, courtesy of the Hallucination Storm, held the spear in mid-air, halting it effortlessly while the ice shattered.
“Rude of you to pull me out of my head like that.” The human's voice was slow, perhaps due to his dislocated jaw, and seemed to come from all directions, as if the storm not only carried his voice but was part of it.
Salem had no time to respond to that statement. The air around her body vanished as if it had never existed, and the sudden drop in pressure caused her eardrums to rupture with a painful pop. Part of her felt relieved not to hear the whispers from the storm anymore.
The veins in her eyes burst, staining her vision red, while her lungs expanded uncontrollably before collapsing in on themselves. The pressure in her brain froze her thoughts with pain, until her body, struck by an ice wave from the Ice Blade wielded by the human’s right hand, was entirely frozen.
The Relic of Destruction couldn’t destroy Salem’s body or soul, much less the divinity within her, but that didn’t stop the human from thinking creatively. Salem, like him, was still human and was becoming more human with each passing second of this battle.
The witch’s freezing lasted only about three seconds. That was the time it took for the Nightmares to reach Salem and tear her apart, followed by the eight hands of the Bone Helm doing the same, all while the human stood motionless.
One hand grabbed her right shoulder, tearing down to the left side of her waist. Another mirrored this on the left shoulder, ripping down just above her right thigh. Repeated, coordinated motions, all returning to Salem’s chest, aiming directly at her heart.
By this point, Salem was already familiar with the pattern that the human insisted upon to slice, tear, and shred her body. She seized the first opportunity that presented itself.
Thus, the moment her consciousness returned as her body regenerated—a process Salem noted was becoming slower—she unleashed her mana in all directions, like a hurricane, repelling everything around her before surrounding herself with ice and remnants of the Wyvern Grimm’s miasma, reinforcing everything with as much mana as she could muster.
He has great vitality, but he isn’t immortal — Salem thought. She had seen some strands of the human’s hair, once black, now tinged gray. — That’s why he didn’t destroy the Wyvern or the sphere earlier. He only uses the sword when strictly necessary.
Yet, even with this conclusion, Salem couldn’t help but feel impressed. She had a vague understanding of how the Relic of Destruction worked, having seen Ozma use it a few times, so she had an estimate of the amount of vitality the sword drained from its wielder.
He must have lost at least five hundred years since the start of the battle. If not more, due to all the mana he’s destroyed with the relic... Even so, his hair appears only slightly gray... — She frowned at the thought. — What a monster...
Before her thoughts finished, Salem was already moving her hands along with her mana. On the outer side of her cocoon, dozens of fireballs appeared, followed by a gust of air that propelled the fire, temporarily dispelling the biting cold of the storm.
She extended her hand toward the sky as she sensed the Bone Helm’s black hands tearing at the outer layer of her sphere, commanding the remaining mana in the clouds to spread, reclaiming part of the sky for herself and unleashing bolts of lightning to rain down around her.
The witch snapped her fingers, directing the lightning bolts and already-cast spells. At the same time, she moved her left hand alongside her body and conjured hundreds more attacks: fire, ice, lightning — settling for the basics due to the wounds on her soul — and dragged her hand downward, as if grabbing the earth itself. All the attacks, along with the ground beneath, surged toward the human in a powerful wave.
Pinpointing the human through mana was challenging due to the Hallucination Storm and the nightmare energy within it. This energy seemed to erase almost all traces of the human’s presence and mana. But Salem noticed something…
You can’t move, can you?… — A cruel smile crossed the Queen’s face. — That's why you haven’t attacked me directly, why you’ve stayed still… Absorbing the God of Light’s divinity has affected you somehow, hasn’t it? Devas…
… The human hadn’t moved since he let out that horrible scream, creating this storm.
The human narrowed his eyes at the rain of attacks, his orange glow sharpening like the beams of a lighthouse piercing the night. He drove the Relic of Destruction into the ground beside him, raised his left hand to the sky, and swept his arm across.
The storm twisted with his movement, following his arm like a cat chases the dancing light of a firefly. The winds extinguished and froze the witch’s fire spells, the snow absorbed the lightning’s energy, and the ice slowed on its own, seemingly reluctant to strike him. The Bone Helm pulsed in a deep purple hue.
Simultaneously, he wielded the Ice Blade and lifted his left foot, kicking at the incoming wave of earth. His kick sent a wave of ice from the blade, heading straight for Salem’s protective sphere. The ice collided with her ice, chipping a piece of the sphere away before it shattered.
When his foot touched the ground, an almost identical wave of earth rose beneath his sole, forming only once it left the obelisk area until the two waves collided and canceled each other out. The impact shook the mountain, forcing him to reinforce the ground beneath and brace it with the Bone Helm's hands.
Without moving, he pulled the Relic of Destruction back into the VoidBag and summoned it into his semi-closed left hand, neutralizing Salem’s mana above him, which threatened him with increased gravity. His gray hair grew even grayer. He poured the contents of another potion into his stomach and channeled even more mana into the ring on his finger.
The human’s right arm blurred as he struck again with the Ice Blade, then a third, fourth, and fifth time, sending waves of ice clashing against the witch’s hideout. She defended herself by casting more spells in his direction, simultaneously breaking the ice waves with lightning bolts raining down from the sky, covering her location — the only place untouched by the insanity that engulfed the mountain.
The human continued swinging his right arm, his body otherwise uncomfortably still, except for his head — which tilted again, this time to the left. He extended his tongue, slowly licking the golden blood trickling through the cracks in his teeth and fissures in his lips.
He couldn’t use much of his mana, as it was fueling the Shadowflame, which was partially disabled, responsible for regenerating his Aura — used as fuel for his Semblance, which he was using to consume the God of Light’s divinity.
His spiritual energy was similarly taxed, a portion of it dedicated, like his mana, to maintaining Sun Breathing, while the majority balanced his Spiritual Realm. The Nightmare island grew in size as the battle raged along the Valley walls, with the death of Grimms and negative emotions from the populace endlessly feeding the sludge lake.
The only energy he truly had in surplus, given that even his vitality was being used as fuel for the Relic of Destruction, was his nightmare energy…
“… Which is more than enough,” the human whispered to himself.
… More than enough.
“You know, Salem… Have you noticed no Nightmare has been attacking you?…” the witch heard the human’s voice whisper through the walls of her cocoon. The drawling, delirious voice sounded distant, even as it echoed right beside her.
Salem’s lips parted slightly in shock as she felt the presence of something colossal flying toward her before the sphere surrounding her body was crushed in the creature's jaws. The lightning bolts raining upon the being, along with the witch’s spells, barely slowed it down.
The massive Nightmare Wyvern sliced Salem’s body in half with its teeth, swallowing the lower half and spitting the upper half toward the human, who wore a crooked smile, his right arm stretched to the side, hand shaped like a spear.
Their gazes locked; the orange lunged forward, aimed at the heart of the blue. There was no way for the latter to defend…
“… You should have let that lizard sleep.”
… And then Salem’s body was engulfed in the golden light of a divinity, desperate to survive.
[...]
Ruby fired Crescent Rose nonstop. Each shot, each Grimm wounded or killed, could mean a saved life down below, and she knew it.
Aim, fire, aim, fire. — Aim, fire, aim, fire — her thoughts synced with her actions. Her trigger finger had trembled with the first few shots; no longer. Ruby wouldn’t let it, not after seeing the first Huntsman fall.
I could’ve saved him… — One shot, a Nevermore’s wing torn off. — It could’ve been one of those soldiers… — Another shot, a Beowolf down. — Could’ve been Dad… — Another shot, an Ursa lost a leg. — It could’ve been Uncle Qrow… — Another shot, a Death Stalker lost its stinger.
One shot... two... three…
Ruby’s silver eyes were utterly focused; her breathing was a bit uneven, but still, she hadn’t missed a single target. Her heart raced, and a cold sweat clung to her skin, though she didn’t tremble. Not anymore. She wouldn’t let herself...
Aim, fire, aim, fire — “Click!” Her thoughts paused, as did her shooting rhythm. — Out of bullets.
Before she could reach for her spare rounds, Weiss was already helping her reload Crescent Rose. She cast Ruby a glance, their eyes meeting in silence before Weiss spoke.
"Focus on shooting; I'll reload whenever needed."
"You’re using your Semblance to fire too," Ruby noted, returning her gaze to Crescent Rose’s scope, focusing again on the battlefield. A shot, a Beringel down. "One thing at a time; I can reload by myself."
Weiss’s Semblance glyphs glowed along the outer walls, each spinning with varied colors: some green, others red or blue. But all of them, without exception, fired continuously toward the Grimm army.
"Don’t worry. It doesn’t take much focus; I just have to watch my Aura and check if the Dust reservoirs on the walls are running low," Weiss replied.
Using Dust with her glyphs greatly reduced her Aura expenditure, and each glyph sat atop an internal Dust reservoir in the walls, initially intended for recharging the wall’s artillery.
She diverted her gaze from Ruby and returned it to the battlefield, murmuring, "Devas managed his own summons before I did... If only I could…” Weiss closed her eyes in frustration, shoving away the dark thoughts creeping into her mind.
“None of the more dangerous types made it past the first defensive line since that Goliath,” she commented after a few seconds, while the only sounds around were bullets, Grimm screams, and explosions.
“They’re the primary target of the aircraft!” Blake yelled in response. She and Yang were handling two nearby machine guns, unable to attack long-distance on their own. “I spotted some Lancers. Anyone see their queen?!”
“I’m pretty sure she’s being sliced to death by Devas right now! Either that or getting frozen!” Yang shouted back, firing at the sky, where a group of Nevermores was attacking an Atlas ship. Blake caught her cue and pointed her machine gun in the same direction.
Ruby kept firing at the ground forces. — Aim, fire, aim, fire — one shot… two… three…
“Feeling better, Xiao Long?!” Weiss yelled at Ruby’s sister, moving Myrtenaster like a conductor’s baton, directing her glyphs’ shots to match her teammates. “You’re even making jokes now?!”
“Don’t be fooled, I’m still pissed!” Yang yelled, her lilac eyes flashing red for a moment. “The difference is, now my anger has plenty of targets!”
“Shooting Grimm as therapy…” Weiss sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before shouting, “You really think you could help down there?! The best of the best are down there, and they’re barely holding the line!”
“We’re the best, too!” Blake defended.
“Only in our age group!” Weiss retorted. She narrowed her eyes, directing her glyphs skyward toward a Griffon that flew too close to the wall. Its wings froze before artillery took it down. “You’re comparing us to professional Huntsmen and Huntresses?! And I’m the one called arrogant!”
“I’m not mad because they didn’t let me fight, Weisscream!” Yang stopped shooting as the machine gun ran dry. She paused to reload, replying, “I’m mad because I know I couldn’t fight! I’m mad because I feel useless!”
“We’re doing our part—”
“I know we are!” she interrupted Weiss. “But I wanted to do more! I wanted to help Dad and Uncle fight down there! I wanted to help Devas!”
Yang bit her lower lip hard enough that, if not for her Aura, it would’ve bled. Her eyes shimmered with faint, furious tears as her pupils turned an even deeper red, her rage directed inward.
She pointed to the inner wall on the other side of the corridor, where all four of their phones projected a hologram of the battle between the human and the Queen in Mountain Glenn. The storm didn’t interfere with the transmission; the stream allowed everyone to watch without issue.
“He’s fighting her ALONE!” Yang growled. “He shouldn’t be! He shouldn’t be fighting this immortal witch from OUR world alone!”
“He shouldn’t, but he is!” Ruby yelled, without looking up. One shot, a Lancer down. Her vision blurred; she growled and stopped shooting. “You think you’re the only one who feels this way?! How do you think I feel?!”
Ruby slammed her free hand against the ground and stood, turning to face Yang, small tears trickling down her cheeks to her chin, falling like the rain outside beside the Relic of Knowledge and Lucy. The axe had been silent since the human began fighting.
“He came to our world because of me!” She pointed at herself with two fingers, then at her own eyes, stomping. Her hands and voice shook. “Tyrian hunted me down on Salem’s orders because of my eyes! Devas came to Remnant to save me! It’s my fault he’s here!”
She covered her tear-streaked face with her hand, screaming as loud as her lungs and throat allowed. The sound was sorrowful, sharp, and utterly frustrated; muffled by her palms, but the pain in her voice was unmistakable. The pressure of the situation finally hit her…
Weiss approached her partner hesitantly, offering a cloth to wipe her tears, which Ruby refused. Her silver eyes peered out from behind the tears before she spoke again, her voice watery and mournful.
“… And now, the best I can do is stand here while Dad and Uncle Qrow are fighting down there, and Devas is out there fighting alone…” She sniffed, pressing her hands to her eyes again, breathing hard through clenched teeth.
“Fighting alone in a storm, again! Why does it always rain?! Why does it always snow?!” She growled and screamed, rubbing her eyes hard with her palms. “I hate the rain! I hate the snow! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!!”
Before anyone could react, Ruby’s eyes glowed silver, the light seeping through her palms and between her fingers, illuminating the surroundings. Even at a distance, the light momentarily distracted the Grimm, who turned to look at her location in fear.
Jinn chose this moment to emerge from the relic, hovering without touching the ground, making her way to Ruby. Her blue fingers gently squeezed the Silver-Eyed Warrior’s shoulder, using her mana to guide Ruby’s mana in the gentlest way possible, helping her regain control.
Without turning around, Jinn mentally commanded something to emerge from the Relic of Knowledge: Purification Powder, which the human had given her a while ago, in case it was needed. With a quick use of wind magic, the powder spread across the area.
The effect on everyone was immediate; Ruby felt she could breathe more easily, and her eyes’ mana calmed, as did her emotions. Yang’s anger lessened significantly, and her eyes returned to their usual lilac color. Weiss’s thoughts stopped racing toward negative possibilities, and Blake’s concern for the events quieted. All their muscles relaxed for a moment.
Ruby nearly stumbled backward as the tension left her body, held up only by Jinn’s steadying hand. The relic spirit looked at Ruby for a moment before glancing down toward the palm-shaped mark on her thigh.
The mark pulsed like a heartbeat, darker in color, with the eye at its center fully open. The orange pupil rotated slowly, casting a gentle glow that barely made it through the white fabric of Jinn’s dress.
If before the mark resembled a well-crafted tattoo, now it seemed almost alive.
“Strange…” Jinn murmured.
Weiss was the first to notice Jinn’s gaze, and after a moment, an idea formed in her mind. She asked, “Is it… could his nightmare energy be amplifying our negative feelings?” Her eyes drifted to the Nightmares on the battlefield and then toward the horizon, where the rain had begun turning to snow.
Mountain Glenn wasn’t close to Vale, yet the storm covering it was colossal, swirling around the mountain like a gray hurricane. Weiss still vividly remembered that unnervingly familiar scream she’d heard. All of them did. For a moment, she thought the Deerclops had somehow come back to life and was in Remnant.
… Learning that the horrid, torturous sound had been caused by the human and not the stag didn’t completely ease her worries.
Two answers came instantly to Weiss's question.
“No,” Jinn denied.
“Never!” Ruby wiped her face with her cloak. “Devas would never hurt us.”
Not intentionally — Blake wanted to say, but she held back. As if reading her thoughts, which, given their proximity, she likely could, Jinn turned toward the faunus.
“His nightmare energy isn’t affecting anyone here.” The veins around Jinn’s eyes darkened, and the mark on her thigh glowed brighter as she spoke.
She regarded Blake a moment longer, then shifted her gaze to Yang, Weiss, and finally, the battlefield below. Her blue irises softened briefly at the sight of the fallen. Despite all she had witnessed—or perhaps because of it—she despised conflict, despised war.
“Not even those down below are affected. Devas’s nightmare energy is part of him; instinctively, it won’t impact anyone he cares about, especially not you all, whom he holds so dear.”
Jinn looked at the bright green light on the eastern side of the battlefield, then toward Mountain Glenn, and finally, to the hologram showing the live transmission. She took a few seconds, watching the human battle the witch, spell against spell.
“In fact, it’s quite the opposite,” she said, blinking as her eyes returned to normal, and the mark settled down. “Devas’s nightmare energy is absorbing everyone’s negative emotions around him. Without it, I fear the civilians in the kingdom would be far less calm…”
Yang, worriedly glancing at her sister, asked, “We’re feeling this way even with his energy doing that?”
“You’re inexperienced—less so than your peers, but still inexperienced,” Jinn replied, seeing the protest rise on Yang’s face and adding, “Not everyone can face the pressure of a battlefield at this scale without being affected at all.”
Hearing the words “battlefield,” Ruby’s eyes widened, still wet and slightly swollen from crying, and she turned toward Crescent Rose, only to be stopped by Jinn.
“Rest for now. Your thoughts aren’t in order,” the relic guardian advised. “All of you, take a few minutes to breathe deeply, drink water, and steady yourselves.”
“I need to help!” Ruby argued, wiping her face on her cloak. “One shot, even a single shot more, might save someone.”
“I’m already doing that.” Jinn nodded toward Crescent Rose, which appeared to be firing on its own. “The Runes and Mystic Symbols on your weapon give me more freedom.”
“Aren’t you bound to the relic?” Blake asked, noticing the machine guns had paused. “Is it because of the Mystic Symbols and Runes?”
“Yes, but it’s also thanks to the Nightmares,” Jinn explained, gesturing toward the battlefield with her free hand. “I can attack any Grimm that’s targeting a Nightmare. I can’t do much beyond that, but I’ve been assisting in the battle for a while.”
After the explanation, she turned back to Ruby and spoke gently, “I know you were all trained for this and want to help—”
Ruby interrupted. “Just because you’re covering for us doesn’t mean we can’t help too.”
Weiss agreed with her partner. “Five people helping is better than four, and certainly better than just one. You yourself said we’re trained for this; we’re Huntresses, so don’t treat us like children.”
While Weiss spoke, Yang and Blake had already started moving, reloading the machine guns. Jinn sighed, a faint, exasperated smile crossing her face.
“I’m not treating you like children,” the relic guardian replied, though she didn’t stop them. “I’m saying you have a bit of breathing room. You don’t need to move as if you carry the world on your shoulders…”
After her words, the area returned to silence—at least in terms of conversation. The sounds of rain, thunder, bullets, and the screams of both humans and faunus and Grimms were still loud.
Ruby broke that silence, pulling her hand away from Jinn’s and pointing at the hologram of the transmission.
“But he does. Devas does. I can’t help him; I can’t help those down there… But at the very least, I can shoot.” She walked over to Crescent Rose, while Weiss resumed firing with her glyphs, and Yang and Blake reloaded the machine guns.
Ruby’s silver irises glowed softly, more contained and focused than before, like a gentle flame at the corner of her eyes. Crescent Rose’s Runes glowed briefly in silver, while the Mystic Symbols took on a soft pink hue, like rose petals.
Ruby spoke once more, not even glancing away from the battlefield. Not blinking.
“… One more shot… Just one… I can’t carry the world, but a single stone, that much I can.”
One shot… Two… Three…
[...]
The battle continued on the walls of Vale, leaning toward the humans and faunus.
Ozma was holding his ground — decimating the Grimm on the eastern side, while the center and west side held their own with greater ease after two significant events.
The first was the human’s scream. Even from a distance, and with his focus mainly on Salem, his scream stunned the Grimm, injuring some and even killing those already weakened.
… The Grimm weren’t human, and that was their luck, because if they had been, not a single one would have remained.
The second event was the arrival of reinforcements from Beacon. Glynda was not a second late of the fifteen minutes she’d promised Ironwood.
She arrived alongside Dahlia and Amber, who, even in a state of recovery and having just awakened, joined Beacon's professors and a handful of students Glynda handpicked from the first and second years. The third- and fourth-years had already been assisting in the battle for a while. All together, they tilted the balance further toward those who bled red.
Dahlia and Glynda practically tore the battlefield in two the moment they arrived. The Summer Maiden froze the Grimm with each flick of her wrist, using the rain to her advantage, before making the earth swallow them into pits of fire and thorns, with winds tearing them apart.
Glynda, despite not being a Maiden, wasn’t far behind. Her Semblance, Telekinesis, acted like a grinder. With precision, she controlled dozens of thin spears, like needles, aiming at the creatures’ eyes and weak points. The Grimm who survived were quickly crushed to a pulp or sliced in half with a flick of her whip.
Amber assisted from a distance due to her lack of practice and lingering injuries. The Fall Maiden was still confused by various events, especially the broadcast from the Vale News Network showing the human fighting what she knew to be Salem, the witch Ozma had informed her would pursue her for her powers.
So it was him who healed me?… — was the first question she asked herself. — What is he? Is he really human? — was the second.
Dahlia had briefed her on some things, but not everything. They hadn’t had much time to talk, and the little time they did was spent calming her down.
Amber had been hesitant to believe the Summer Maiden’s words about the human, but, given what she was witnessing, the phrase "Devas is probably a divine being" no longer seemed so unbelievable.
The Fall Maiden knew that even if she used everything she had, she wouldn’t survive the barrage of Salem’s spells, let alone counterattack and force her to retreat into a small cocoon, something the human was managing without even moving.
To her, although she didn’t believe the human was a god, he certainly didn’t seem human…
Team JNPR was the only first-year team, besides team RWBY, and, like them, was stationed on the walls, providing artillery support. None of them had the confidence or permission to go down to the battlefield.
Dahlia’s caravan also helped where they could, especially Havi, an excellent marksman, and the elder Nuak, who, despite his advanced age, could still fight, particularly with his Semblance: Prince of Sands.
“I may be old and far from my desert, but you know something?...” Nuak chuckled to himself, a dangerous glint in his eyes as sand floated around him before shooting toward the Grimm army. The rain did little to hinder the attack. “… Wet sand is still sand.”
He was far from the battlefield, next to Havi on the walls, but even at that distance, his precision was remarkable, with the sand weaving between the Huntsmen and Huntresses without harming or even touching them, only shredding the Grimm.
“Isn’t wet sand just mud?...” Jaune murmured next to Ren, both firing machine guns. Nora was further off, blasting a cannon, while Pyrrha guided bombs and grenades toward the Grimm with her Semblance.
“That’s what caught your attention?” Ren looked at Jaune incredulously. “Not the elderly man — very elderly man — controlling sand and shredding Grimm?”
JNPR’s team leader shrugged, both seeming calm only due to Ren’s Semblance: Tranquility, a major reason Glynda allowed them to come. Without it, the carnage on the battlefield would have nearly debilitated them, even more so than team RWBY.
Still, Jaune looked a bit green and on the verge of vomiting, while Ren frowned intensely. Nora, usually the loudest, was unusually quiet, blasting the wall-mounted cannon without a word.
Pyrrha seemed the least affected, but only outwardly, as years of experience taught her to keep her emotions in check before cameras. With every tournament victory, her thoughts were as tumultuous, if not more, than any of her teammates.
“Is no one going to mention him?!”
Coco shouted from a few meters away, firing her minigun. Her Semblance, Hype, enhanced the Dust in her bullets, making them fly faster and cause more damage to the Grimm in her sights.
“Who?!” Jaune dared to ask.
“Our professor who has a flame from hell!” Coco shouted back, her voice dripping with enough sarcasm to kill a Grimm or two. “You know, the one who’s tearing apart the supposedly immortal witch and who, I’m sure, devoured a part of a god like it was a fucking jellybean!”
Coco wasn’t the only one certain of this; all humans and faunus of Remnant who witnessed the event shared the same thought. A primordial part of them, ancient and coded into both body and soul, screamed that what the human had consumed was part of their creator.
“Oh, yeah… Him… Devas.” Jaune made a sheepish face and shrank back. “I’m kind of just leaving everything for later, not looking to lose my mind, you know? One thing at a time. How about we deal with the endless Grimm army first, then talk about magic, gods, immortals, and insanely powerful professors?”
“Are you talking about Devas or Ozpin?!” Yatsuhashi yelled while firing the machine gun he was on. “You know, our headmaster who’s shredding the Grimm army right over there!”
“Ignore the giant!” Fox shouted. The blind teammate was the only one not firing, instead helping to reload the artillery. “I’m with Jaune: let’s deal with one insanity at a time!”
Velvet nodded quickly in agreement with her teammate, not pausing in firing a copy of Coco’s weapon, which, thanks to their proximity, also had her leader’s Semblance enhancing her bullets.
“Alright!” Coco huffed. “I’m questioning team RWBY later; there’s no way they didn’t know about this!”
The battle continued, both on Vale’s walls and in Mountain Glenn.
The first to notice the strangeness in the battle between the witch and the human was, of all people, the leader of team JNPR.
Ren’s Semblance really was useful, as it was thanks to him that Jaune, who glanced at the broadcast whenever he could, both out of curiosity and to ease his view of the battlefield, didn’t faint when he saw Salem, split in half, engulfed in a golden light… right before transforming into what looked like an angel.
[...]
The moment the human realized what was happening, his orange eyes widened, and his body moved on its own, ignoring the pain he felt. Instinctively, he kicked off the ground, hurling himself as far back from the witch as he could.
A second later, the entire area around Salem was engulfed by a golden light that banished not only the storm but also all surrounding energies—whether mana, spiritual energy, or nightmare energy. Nothing within a hundred meters of the witch was spared from the light, including the Nightmares spawned by the storm, which were shredded to pieces.
“What a surprise… Did I scare you that much?” the human muttered to himself in a slow voice. No one replied, but the answer was obvious: yes.
His actions—devouring nearly half of the divinity within Salem—not only startled the remaining half but utterly terrified it. The Light God's divinity had no awareness, no instincts; it was merely something that existed with a purpose… until that moment.
The human had not only instilled terror into something inert, mindless, and instinctless, but he had also caused it to alter its very purpose: imprisoning Salem. The moment the divinity realized it might suffer the same fate as its other half, all chains sealing Salem’s soul vanished.
One by one, so rapidly it seemed to happen all at once, every golden chain binding the witch's soul simply disappeared. In the next instant, Salem’s soul rose on its own, her Aura now unleashed and covering her body, something she and Ozma had tried to achieve before but found impossible due to the chains binding her.
The ancient, immense Aura of the witch engulfed the surroundings like a golden tide, as did the divinity enshrouding her, directly opposing the Hallucination Storm and momentarily gaining ground. But soon, the storm seemed to rage and whirled around Salem, reclaiming its domain and leaving her at the eye of a three-meter-wide hurricane.
It took her a few moments to process what had happened and understand the sensations she was feeling. For the first time in a very, very long time, Salem felt… alive. Her body no longer hurt, no longer torn apart from within by the destructive miasma of the Grimm Pool. Her thoughts were crystal clear, free from the constant rage and hatred that flooded them.
At peace; that was the only and exact word to describe what Salem felt in that moment.
The Queen looked nothing like she had before. Her long blonde hair cascaded around her naked body down to her thighs, like a golden waterfall. Her skin had returned to its original state: white, not in a sickly way but healthy and so smooth it would make polished jewels seem dull.
Her eyes opened only halfway; her mind was overwhelmed by sensations, making her lashes flutter and revealing part of her clouded sky-blue irises, dazed by the feelings she experienced. Her red lips parted, releasing a soft, melodic sigh, like the chime of a distant bell, sounding almost too perfect.
To all appearances, many watching the transmission saw Salem, the Queen, as the epitome of beauty—perfect—a woman whose appearance would make even the splendor of angels seem pale by comparison, if she herself weren’t…
… Then, the serene, beautiful, and delicate face of the angel twisted into a terrified expression as a predatory presence pressed against her—human—part.
It lasted a second, a blink of an eye, just long enough for the human to cross the entire distance he had put between them and strike forward with his left arm, his hand in a spear-like shape, aiming for her heart.
Not one but several parts of Salem screamed for her to evade. Her body instinctively knew it would not regenerate from that blow—not anymore. Her instincts, long dormant until now, screamed for her to run from that hand, covered in markings, symbols, and red veins.
Her newly freed soul trembled the moment the human drew near, instinctively knowing that the creature before her was the one who had shredded her, as a cat would a toy, and devoured a part of her very being.
The divinity that enveloped her body, healing not only a great portion of her soul's wounds—except for the missing piece in her center—but also her flesh, was as fearful as she was. She was light; that hand was her antithesis, something she knew she could not confront.
Salem reacted swiftly, as quickly as she could, and jumped backward. Not only that, but with a thought, the wind around her propelled her away, while great golden wings made of Aura and divinity sprouted from her back, aiding her escape.
By all accounts, Salem should have managed to flee. No matter how fast and fierce the human was, his hand shouldn't have reached her. All she needed was an instant to distance herself from him; then she would have the choice to fight or flee…
Salem’s Aura should have covered the time necessary for her to make that choice—even with the human being strong, a monster in her eyes and senses. The Queen knew her massive amount of Aura could sustain that fleeting moment she needed.
Even if her impossibly vast Aura shattered under the force of the blow, it would only send her flying away, providing the opportunity she required… Then, an eye with a purple pupil opened on the back of the human's hand, and his hand glowed with a painfully cruel purple aura and flame, as purple as the aura itself.
Salem recognized both the eye and the purple aura along with the flame that intrigued her so much. She had seen Tyrian use his Semblance many times; she had even studied it, given the abnormality of a Semblance born to ignore Aura. Salem recognized the aura created by Tyrian’s Semblance, as well as the purple flame that made the aura, now also purple, even more menacing.
Salem recognized all three, which is why she knew she wouldn’t be able to seize the one instant she needed.
Her massive Aura was ignored by the Semblance of the Nightmare Faunus.
The divinity that reinforced her Aura and body was torn apart by the Shadowflame and the [Divine Anathema].
The Queen’s skin, flesh, bones, fat, and muscles were destroyed like paper by the force of the blow bolstered by the [Echo Humanitatis].
“You shouldn’t have sent him after her…” the human whispered sickly, demonically, insane and delirious, into Salem’s ear.
Then, with a swift motion of his arm, he hurled her away like a rag doll.
Her body flew at a speed that shattered the sound around her like glass before colliding with the mountain wall, creating an immense crater. Her Aura absorbed the impact, her body emerging intact… except for one part…
“You turned her completely human again…” the human whispered to the heart beating in his right hand, covered by the Shadowflame. To the divinity within the fragment of the soul that resided in the heart. “Not only that… but you covered her with divinity… You cloaked the Evil Queen, now human, in divinity…”
The human laughed, a guttural, raspy sound that made golden blood drip even more from the cracks in his teeth, lips, and jaw, splattering to the sides before the tiny drops were consumed by the Shadowflame, even before they hit the ground.
The laughter made the entire storm tremble, as if the very abnormal weather phenomenon were laughing alongside the human. Not only that, but the Nightmares around began to laugh in unison, mirroring their creator’s amusement, with the divinity trapped between his fingers.
The scene resembled a dark painting: a woman, as beautiful as an angel, with the wings of one, lying in a crater—with arms outstretched and heart torn out—amid the snow of the dark storm that covered the sky, surrounded by shadowy creatures, all wearing deer masks over their faces, while a human laughed in the distance.
This human did not appear human; he was merely a silhouette amidst a cloud of darkness, both from nightmare energy and the miasma that had previously infested Salem's body. The only reason his figure could be distinguished within the darkness was due to four factors.
First: the marks, symbols, and red veins that covered his Aura entirely, glowing in the darkness.
Second: his abnormally sharp and white teeth, which seemed to gleam with the purple light emanating from the flame in his palm.
Third: the purple flame in his right palm, covering a still-beating heart, illuminating part of his figure.
And finally: his orange eyes, which gazed at the heart in his hand with an almost sadistic glint, staring directly at the divinity attempting to break free from his grasp at any cost.
The human brought the heart inches from his face, his head tilting to the side for a moment as his jaw opened slightly, falling askew, just before his tongue flicked across his teeth. He looked at the heart for a full second before finally pulling it away from his face and squeezing.
The organ exploded in blood; the soul and divinity within it did not. Both attempted to resist as the Shadowflame, along with the human's Semblance, activated in his hand, began to devour them, as if it were a mouth and his fingers were teeth.
The first to yield was the fragment of Salem’s soul, which vanished almost instantly. The divinity of the Light God resisted longer, as did her other half—perhaps even more than her other half—before finally collapsing in on itself, due to the ‘teeth’ and the heat of the flame.
At the instant the divinity was devoured, all the human's fingers, as well as his hand and wrist, down to half of his forearm just below the elbow, cracked like volcanic rock. However, instead of lava beginning to seep from the cracks, golden blood dripped, slowly trickling down before being incinerated by the Shadowflame before even touching the ground.
The human's right arm hung limply toward the ground the moment the cracks appeared, like a puppet with its strings cut, occasionally spasming.
“That was as bad as before…” he murmured, ignoring the pain as he turned to Salem.
The Queen was still in the crater where the human had thrown her, trying and failing to rise, as the same predatory presence pressed her toward the ground, locking her muscles. Even without the heart, with a hole in the center of her chest, she still resisted, still trying to get up.
Not again… Not again… — Her thoughts were sluggish. Salem forced her body upward as much as she could, but her muscles felt like they were made of dough; her magic no longer obeyed her. — I won’t just lie down… and die… I won’t be judged like this again…
Before she could react or realize his presence, the human knelt beside her and helped her rise with his only good hand. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, lifting her alongside him, steadying her body on her feet, never touching her inappropriately. The miasma covering him did not affect her in any way; he wouldn’t allow it.
The Queen's blue eyes locked onto the human's orange ones. She made no attempt to attack him, let alone pull away from her sustenance, unsure if she could stand on her own. She simply asked one question: "Why?"
"Because you wanted to get up." The human replied, his voice dragging. "Because a Queen doesn't die on her knees."
"Have you been mocking me all this time?..." Salem stared at him without blinking. Her voice sounded slow, weary. "Is your hatred for me really that great?..."
"I don't mock you, just as I didn't mock you before." The human sighed wearily, just like the Queen. "And I already said, I don't hate you. Anger? Yes, but not hatred. You don't deserve my hatred."
His head tilted slightly to the side, his eyes briefly drawn to the golden blood oozing from the cracks in his arm. Salem followed his gaze before sighing, just as he had before.
"You say that... but what about that illusion from before?" She lifted her head.
"Illusion?..."
"One of your creatures... took on the appearance of one of my daughters for a brief moment." The Queen explained, as if she understood his confusion. Her speech was interrupted by a cough, blood trickling from her lips, before she continued: "My eldest daughter, Winter. One of your shadows took her form."
Her voice grew stronger with her last sentence, refusing to tremble or falter as she spoke of her firstborn.
The human's eyes widened slightly beneath the Bone Helm, something Salem noticed by how the orange shone brighter in the darkness.
"You didn't know." She stated. "You didn't do it on purpose."
"No, I didn't." Came the reply. "My energy, one of them, can create hallucinations, but I don't choose which or how. It changes from person to person."
The Queen looked around. The storm was calm, as calm as it could be, and the Nightmares, in silence, their white and red eyes flickering amid the blizzard, were still and made no noise.
"I imagine the same energy that created this domain... is dark and cold... How disturbing..." She murmured in a voice already weaker. "I don't have much time left... Devas..."
"It’s impressive that you resisted as long as you did with these wounds..." The human replied in a low tone. "Your last words, Salem?"
"Two... two things..." She murmured, almost as a whisper, and fell forward, resting her forehead against the human's chest. "One piece of advice... and one request... advice from a Queen and a request... from a girl... trapped in a tower..."
The human stood still as death with her words, for a second, even the golden blood dripping from his jaw and right arm seemed to stop flowing.
"... Say them. I will heed your advice and try to grant your request."
The Queen smiled faintly at the response and said, without rising, too weak to do so, yet still on her feet.
"My advice is... stay... away from the gods..." Even in her weakened state, the anger in her voice was as clear as a sunny day. Her hatred and resentment were palpable: "... You are strong... but not strong enough..."
The human nodded, even though he knew the woman in his arms could not see his actions. He did not argue with her advice, nor did he deny it; he simply asked: "And your request?"
The girl in the tower surprised him.
"Could you... kill me?..." Her voice came out as a whisper, so low that for anyone other than the human, it would have been impossible to hear. "It hurts... I... never got used to... the pain... even after... so many years... could you... make it stop?... please..."
The human closed his eyes, hiding the orange glint in them, and took a deep breath. When he opened them, the color of his irises was honey-brown. With a simple mental command, the Shadowflame enveloped their bodies. He ignored the sudden spike of pain in his jaw and right arm.
In an instant so brief it could hardly be considered, her body was consumed by the flames, incinerated to nothing, before her brain could even comprehend what happened.
Yet somehow, the girl in the tower could hear the human's last words.
"You can rest now."
[End of the Remnant arc (RWBY)]
[...]---[...]
First, before anything else, I need to ask a question: what do you all understand about Devas’ character so far? I think this chapter does a good job of showing who he is and what he represents.
...
Well, with that question out of the way, I have to say: this chapter was a hell of a lot of work! Juggling so many characters, personalities, and emotions was exhausting, even though it was also fun at the same time.
I think I managed to tie up most of the loose ends, at least for now. There’s still the POV chapter (CHAT) and the time skip, where I’ll work on some additional points that I want to address that were left out.
Regarding the chapter, well... Ozma and Salem are two characters I've decided to delve deeper into, as well as Deerclops himself. The deer has a significant presence even in the current chapters, doesn’t he?
I’ve always liked both characters, even though, in my opinion, the original show didn’t give them the attention they deserved. The focus on Team RWBY and JNPR was so strong that they forgot about characters that were rich in narrative. I was really pissed when Ozma (Ozpin) was taken out off-screen by Cinder.
Roman also didn’t deserve to die like that. Beacon deserved more focus before its fall; Team RWBY didn’t deserve to become that pit of bitterness and hatred. I adjusted as much as I could in this arc, trying to keep the characters as alive as I could. I’m not sure if I did a good job, but I hope so.
Finally, since I’ve rambled on enough in this note, I have a comment, or rather, a question about the end of this chapter regarding Devas' dialogue: why isn’t the dialogue in italics? Because that same line, when he said it to Ozma chapters ago, also wasn’t in italics or even bold?
There’s a reason; I don’t know if anyone noticed...
Oh, and one last question... Why is the chapter called The Human?
Well, I think that’s it. Have a good day, everyone, and happy reading!
PS: Any general theories?
PPS: Any theories about who might join the (CHAT) because of this fight?