Final days (2).
First of all, questions that were asked to me and I thought it would be good to include here, as some people might have the same doubts.
"Will you be on hiatus until after Christmas?"
Answer: No. It's December, everything is crazy as hell, but I will keep writing.
"How many chapters are left before we go back to Terraria?"
Answer: Two. We're on (2), and in (4) Devas returns to Terraria. I had to split this chapter into 4 because it became huge.
Theoretically, this arc ended at the end of the fight against Salem, but this 'post-arc' is a way for me to close most of the loose ends I left.
Finally, as always, if you want to read 3/7 chapters ahead, that's possible with my (P)(A)(T). If not, I still appreciate you reading! Thank you so much!
That said, have a good night and enjoy your reading!
(P)(A)(T)/CalleumArtori
[...]---[...]
POV: Ruby Rose
It was already daylight, and we were well into the afternoon, yet Devas still hadn’t woken up...
Blake’s parents interrogated her, asking for answers she tried her best to give. We did what we could to help.
Dad and Uncle Qrow did the same—though Dad more than Qrow, since the latter already knew Devas for what he was. Still, both had questions. They were clearly exhausted, as were Blake’s parents. The battle had taken its toll, but aside from a brief nap, none of them had really slept.
Somehow, Roman managed to sleep. The thief just asked where he could lie down, and after we handed him a pillow, he threw himself into one of the command room’s chairs, muttering about not wanting to be accused of looting Devas’ ship. Minutes later, he was snoring.
I had no idea how he could act like that...
Neo simply asked where the kitchen was and disappeared after getting her answer. Somehow, Roman woke up just to tell her not to make a mess in someone else’s house or wake up, in his words, “The very tired guy who can apparently kill immortals and eat parts of gods.”
Neo’s response was a thumbs-up. Just a thumb—the rest of her body was nowhere to be seen.
“She won’t even make it past the door if she tries to wake him,” Blake commented beside me.
“The Nightmares won’t let her,” Weiss corrected, crossing her legs. “But yes, she won’t. At most, she’ll grab the ice cream in the fridge—assuming this ship even has one.”
She glanced at her phone, where the stream was still playing. I did the same with mine. Devas was still asleep, barely moving. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was dead, and that thought was terrifying. The only movement in the camera feed—besides the flickering eyes in the shadows watching every corner of the dark room—was the faint rise and fall of his breathing.
...Even that movement was nearly imperceptible in the darkness. If it weren’t for the excellent quality of the stream’s camera and the glowing golden blood dripping from his jaw and right arm resting over his chest, it would’ve been impossible to tell he was breathing.
No one spoke for a few seconds. Dad and Uncle Qrow were a little further away, talking with Ghira and Kali. The four of them were likely discussing where to take the Proto-A or something else, but I wasn’t paying much attention. Yang, Blake, and Weiss were seated in the chairs around me.
The silence was broken by the sound of my Scroll ringing. It was Jaune.
“Ruby, I...” were his first words when I answered the call. I could see Pyrrha, Ren, and Nora behind him. I couldn’t spot anyone from Team CFVY if they were in the room. “I wanted to apologize. We all wanted—”
Yang snatched the Scroll from my hand. If her flaming hair and burning red eyes weren’t enough to betray her anger, the growl escaping her lips certainly was.
“Don’t apologize, Vomit Boy. You didn’t disappoint at all. Cowering before the man who saved the world and treating him like a monster is exactly what we expected from someone as pathetic as you,” she spat with disgust. I saw Jaune flinch at her words. Before anyone on the other end could react, Yang continued:
“But the rest of your team doing the same? That was a surprise. Not that it was completely unexpected; after all, Team JNPR is just a knockoff version of Team RWBY in every way. Pathetic.”
She ended the call and tossed the Scroll back to me as the screen went dark. I caught it midair with ease.
“You didn’t have to be so rude,” I said softly.
“You could’ve dodged if you didn’t want me taking the Scroll,” she retorted, throwing herself back into her chair. Her eyes returned to lilac, and her hair calmed down. “And I wasn’t rude. I just stated facts.”
“And wanting a target for your anger didn’t influence that?” Weiss asked.
“Of course it did.” My sister didn’t deny it. “It was even better that the target deserved it. Or are you going to say otherwise?”
Weiss didn’t refute her. Neither did Blake.
I felt like saying Team JNPR wasn’t entirely to blame for acting that way, but, honestly, I didn’t want to.
He shouldn’t be treated like that. Heroes shouldn’t be treated like that...
‘I’m not a hero...’
My fists tightened around my phone. I returned my attention to watching Devas sleep in silence.
[…]
[12 Days Until the Return to Terraria]
POV: Devas Asura
I’d been awake for some time. I woke up to a stream notification. Curiously, I woke directly in my Spiritual Realm instead of my body. The sound of waves and the gentle sea breeze were pleasant, as were the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the window and touching my form.
I lingered in bed for a few moments before getting up. I didn’t activate the spiritual camera—at least not yet. I wanted a bit of peace and quiet.
Walking calmly through the house, the wood creaked beneath my weight as I made my way outside and toward the beach. I didn’t bother with chairs or beds, nor did I check on my Nightmares or the two golden dragons. I just flopped onto the sand and basked in the sun’s warmth.
Not even five minutes later, I heard footsteps approaching.
The person sat beside me, then lay down on the sand, remaining silent. The sound of the waves filled the air. I looked at the message that had woken me:
[The soul of ‘Ozma’ seeks entry into your Spiritual Realm – Allow/Deny]
I had allowed it.
“You followed the path.”
“Yes... I did.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why follow it? You said you wanted rest.”
“I did.” He sighed. “I felt like I could. That if I didn’t grab onto that thread, I wouldn’t come back... Not this time.”
“So? What made you want to come back?”
Neither of us moved. It took him a while to answer this time.
“You said Terraria is a dangerous place, didn’t you?” He didn’t expect an answer; it was rhetorical. “That it’s more dangerous than Remnant... Maybe I can help... That was one reason.”
“It’s not your duty, nor your responsibility.”
“Nor was it yours. But you helped me.”
“I did what I did because I wanted to,” I replied, raising my right hand to the sky. It ached a little in my real body but far less than before. “I never expected anything in return—a prize or a reward.”
“No, you didn’t... I’m not expecting anything either,” he said before asking, “Would you help a friend in need?”
I scoffed, a laugh escaping my lips. “I’d like to think so.”
“Then that’s all I’m doing. Just helping a friend carry something too heavy for one person to bear.”
He stood, dusting the sand from his body, and extended a hand to me.
He looked different. The outfit was the same—the same black-and-green suit, minus the cane—but his body had changed. He no longer appeared to be a man in his fifties but someone in his twenties. His skin had gained a tan hue, different from the pale white it had been before. His face was slightly different, as were his eyes, nose... everything.
His hair was no longer gray, but dark brown, almost black. His eyes shared a similar hue. They had once been a very dark brown; now they were light brown, almost the same color as my own eyes… which was the only similarity between us.
… Salem must have been going senile.
“Share the name of your rejuvenation products. They seem to work wonders.” I grabbed his hand and pulled myself up. “You look about thirty years younger.”
“And you look ten or twelve,” he shot back, brushing sand off his shoulder. “This is my real appearance, how I was. Ozma, in the flesh… or rather, in spirit.”
He glanced around, not just from side to side, but at everything: the sky, the ground, the trees, the Nightmares flying in the distance, the sea, the beach house, the sun… everything.
“It’s incredible. If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was just another beach in Remnant instead of someone’s soul.”
“Mind and soul,” I corrected. “My Spiritual Realm is kind of a blend of both. An external part that connects the internal ones.”
“Like a bridge? Or maybe a path?” Ozma asked, his gaze falling on the bridge that linked the main island to Nightmare Isle.
“More like a road, actually. Follow me; I want to show you something…” I shrugged and began walking toward the beach house. Ozma followed. I stopped at the door and asked, “What’s the other reason?”
Ozma paused a few steps behind me, his hand brushing against the white wooden railing of the entrance. “I wanted to live.”
He looked toward the sea before continuing:“Even after all this time, all these lives, I want to live. I realized, when faced with real, final death… that it terrified me. Deeply.”
“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” He let out a dry laugh. “I’ve lived so many lives. I’m an old man, tired… so very tired. And yet, when faced with death, I clung to the single thread of hope with all my might to avoid it…”
He turned to me and asked, “What would you call someone like that? Selfish? A hypocrite?”
“Human,” I answered. “And beyond that, alive.” I looked at my right hand, opening and closing my fingers.
“From the bottom of the food chain—the filthiest, most fragile worm, to the most depraved, sinful human—all strive to live. The real question isn’t whether it’s selfish or hypocritical. That’s already the answer. Living is selfish, difficult, painful, many times…”
I blinked, fixing my gaze on Ozma. The honey-brown reflection of my eyes in his light brown ones turned orange for a second.
“… The real question is: living… can you endure it?”
“You know my story. Do I need to answer?” He didn’t blink. I scoffed and looked away. The question already had an obvious answer.
I turned the door handle and walked in, Ozma trailing behind me. I noticed his curious gaze, especially when it landed on the picture of my grandfather, mother, and ‘father,’ whose frame lay face down.
“You can look if you want.” I grabbed the photo and tossed it to him. Ozma caught it with ease, studying it for a few seconds before placing it back in its spot.
I tapped the frame, leaving it facedown again, and we continued walking. I thought he might ask or comment, but he didn’t. Ozma followed me silently to the second floor, where I led him to the master bedroom and opened the door.
The room was larger than my own. On the wall opposite the door was a wide window, open, with beige curtains. To the left stood a large wardrobe with white and light pink doors, next to a door that led to the ensuite bathroom. A brown wooden desk stood nearby, accompanied by a matching chair and scattered papers, with a shelf above it filled with books.
The bed, against the right wall, was a large double bed with a canopy that extended to the ceiling, draped in sheer white curtains. It was a couple’s bedroom, where my mother and ‘father’ stayed whenever they and my grandfather visited the beach house.
The house had been a gift from my grandfather—my mother’s father—to her.
As soon as we entered, Ozma’s gaze went straight to the bed, where, aside from the white pillows with floral-patterned cases, someone lay: a woman.
“Salem…” he murmured.
… Salem.
She was lying with her eyes closed, her long blonde hair spread beneath her like a golden towel, contrasting with the white sheets. The Queen wore a white summer dress with light blue polka dots.
“I had Tyrian dress her. She appeared on the beach naked.” I walked to the side of the bed. Ozma remained frozen at the door. “The dress is my mother’s; it was in the wardrobe.”
It wasn’t a perfect fit. The dress was noticeably small for Salem’s ‘body,’ especially around the chest and waist. The woman was significantly taller than my mother; Salem stood around six foot one, while my mother, based on photos and my grandfather’s stories, had been about five foot three.
“How?... Why?” He managed to ask, stepping into the room and walking to the bed, standing beside me as he looked at Salem. “I felt her death. How is she here?”
“… I’m not entirely sure,” I replied. I thought for a few seconds before continuing, “But I have a theory… It’s crazy, but I think this is her afterlife.”
Ozma whipped his head toward me so quickly that the motion caused the canopy’s curtains to sway slightly.
“That makes no sense. How could this—your Spiritual Realm…” He gestured around before pointing at the bed. “… possibly be Salem’s afterlife?”
“Too many coincidences and bad luck?”
“Your title negates bad luck.”
“Honestly, I’m starting to think I got scammed on that part.” I sighed. “Do you know how I killed Salem?”
“Only what you told me you’d do.” His reply came without hesitation. “You said you’d try to rip the divinity that cursed her out by force. Is this what brought her here? You consuming the Light God’s divinity?”
“Of course, you know that too...” I shook my head. Here came the seventh person… “Partly, yes. When I tore the Light God’s divinity out of Salem, I also tore out part of her soul along with it.”
“Which you ate as well, I presume.”
“I couldn’t afford to in the middle of the battle!” I threw my hands in the air. Damn it, I hadn’t wanted to, but Salem could have seriously injured or killed me if I’d let her catch her breath. “But yes, I did eat part of her soul… twice.”
Pulling back the canopy curtains, I pointed at Salem. She was injured; small cuts covered her ‘body.’ They didn’t bleed but were visibly healing, observable to the naked eye. I pointed to an area above her right breast, where her skin looked… off.
It was still her skin, but something was wrong. It was subtle but noticeable upon closer inspection. If the rest of her ‘body’ seemed normal, human, that area appeared… artificial. Like an extremely well-made CGI animation that still clashed with reality.
“The cuts were made by my swords. That ‘false skin,’ so to speak, is where I tore the divinity out of her with my hand.” I raised my right hand into the air.
I could feel the question forming, so I explained before Ozma could ask:
“For context: when she first appeared here, Tyrian said she had a massive hole in her chest, which closed after a few minutes with that ‘false skin.’ As far as I can tell, that ‘false skin’ is what’s left of her soul—the part I devoured—that returned to her along with my spiritual energy. It’s healing her, slowly but surely.”
I stared at Salem for a moment before lowering my hand and continuing to explain my theory:
“When I tore the divinity out of Salem, I couldn’t remove all of it.” Not on the first try, thanks to that giant lizard, and not on the second, thanks to the divinity scattering through her body and soul as a desperate measure. “It was almost one hundred percent. I’d say about ninety-eight percent. But there was still a trace of divinity left in her when Salem died.”
"And the divinity you consumed, along with that piece of her soul, acted as a bridge." Ozma quickly grasped what I was implying. "...The smaller part followed the larger... But her soul..."
"It wasn’t the smaller part, yes. I had the smaller piece; she had the larger one."
"The divinity dragged her here?" he guessed, his eyes darting between Salem and me.
I shook my head. "No, nothing can enter here without my permission." Or so I hoped. I really didn’t want to find out otherwise.
"Then how?"
My gaze clouded for a moment as my memory drifted back to the end of the battle.
"Could you... kill me?...""It hurts... I... never got used to... the pain... even after... so many years... could you... make it stop?... please..."
"Salem asked me to kill her... She gave me permission for it..." I sighed. Damn it! There were too many 'ifs' for this to have happened! "Not only that, but I killed her with Shadowflame."
Murphy was such a bastard! I'll make a point of pissing on his grave in every world he exists in!
Ozma’s eyes widened.
"The hellfire…" he murmured.
"The hellfire, which purifies and punishes souls, sending them wherever they are supposed to go... In this case, that soul ended up here," I added, pointing to the woman lying on the bed. "Salem basically asked for my permission to enter, and I agreed without realizing it... Her afterlife changed because of that."
This was the best theory I could come up with in the short time I'd had to truly reflect on the situation. I had no idea if it could be replicated. Even if I wanted to, I wasn’t sure I could pull it off again.
I could bring someone’s mind here—I had done it before with Tyrian, and Jinn too—but that was just it: the mind, not the soul...
"And now?" Ozma’s words pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked at him, confused. "What will you do?"
"With Salem?" I asked. He nodded. I glanced at the woman sleeping on the bed. Salem had a peaceful expression on her face. "...I’m not sure..."
I walked over to the bed and sat at its edge.
"I thought about throwing her out. Simple enough to do. Or just killing her soul, destroying it, ending it all." I hummed as I spoke. "You know the difference between you and Salem? I mean, here in my Spiritual Realm."
Not waiting for Ozma to answer, I continued:
"You’re a guest. Salem is a tenant."
"And the difference is?"
"The difference is that you’re like Jinn when her mind was here, whereas Salem is more like my Nightmares."
Four individuals had entered my Spiritual Realm since I arrived in Remnant: Tyrian, Jinn, Salem, and Ozma—in that order.
Tyrian came with only his mind; his body and soul remained outside. What made him who he was—the fragment of his soul tied to his mind—was later extracted when I turned him into a Nightmare.
Jinn also brought just her mind, leaving her body and soul out. The subsequent connection existed because Jinn was more 'spiritual' than 'physical.'
Salem and Ozma were different. Both were present with their minds and souls, fully intact. But Ozma was external, like Jinn, while Salem wasn’t… She was more akin to Tyrian, post-transformation.
"You’re a separate soul, something that resides here as a guest. I can’t dictate what you do, just like I couldn’t with Jinn. You have autonomy, free will. Your soul passively resists mine at all times. My Nightmares don’t… Neither does Salem. I can command them at will," I explained.
As I spoke, I adjusted Salem's body, placing her hands over her stomach, one atop the other, like someone in a casket. Then I covered her with a light blanket and stood.
"I said this is Salem’s afterlife because I can control her. Despite being something apart, her situation is different. Just as I have complete control over my Nightmares, I have complete control over Salem." I looked at Ozma, who was silently listening, his expression serious. I pointed to Salem.
"She’s asleep because I put her to sleep. She won’t wake unless I will it, just as she won’t dream unless I permit it…"
"You could make her have nightmares…" Ozma murmured, realizing the implication. His face became troubled, mirroring his emotions. "An eternal nightmare, from which she could never awaken… Infinite torment."
"I’ve considered that possibility. If anyone in Remnant deserves it, it’s Salem," I murmured. How many deaths had she caused? Millions? Billions?
...She had started as a victim, but that was no longer the case.
I extended my right hand, summoning the Shadowflame into my palm. The flame judged that eternal nightmares were a fair punishment for Salem. Whether that conclusion came from my thoughts or the flame itself, I couldn’t say...
I sighed and closed my hand, extinguishing the flame.
"...But what right do I have to do that?" I whispered to myself, though I knew Ozma had heard.
Taking a life was one thing; killing someone was one thing. But judging someone’s soul, deciding their fate, their punishment after death?… What precedent would that set?
What I’d done with Tyrian was one thing, but here I drew the line. What right did I have to act this way… like a god?
...None.
I walked to the room’s window, shut and locked it, pulling down the blinds before heading to the door. I paused at the threshold, turning to Ozma, who remained motionless.
"I told Salem she could rest… I don’t like going back on my word..."
I gestured for him to leave. Ozma cast one last glance at Salem before exiting the room. Once he was gone, I hit the switch, turning off the light.
I forged a key with my spiritual energy and locked the room. Just as I had molded the key, I dissolved it into nothingness. No one could enter this room without my permission. It wasn’t just the door that was locked, but the very space itself…
"I’ll let her sleep in this room. No dreams, no nightmares… Nothing. An empty rest in a dark room…"
Maybe she deserved to suffer, in eternal nightmares. Maybe she deserved peace, in endless dreams… Maybe...
"...Let Salem rest."
That was still a form of judgment, but I had told her she could rest. She had asked me to kill her, to end her pain. So be it...
...For all intents and purposes, this was death.
[...]
My reception when I "woke up" was as expected: many questions about the fight, my health, the stream—especially from Roman, Neo, Taiyang, Kali, and Ghira, who weren’t fully aware of its existence—both from the people of Remnant and the (CHAT). And hugs. Ruby, apparently, liked them, as did Yang. Weiss and Blake, not so much, but I could tell they were glad I was okay. I probably looked like a disaster yesterday.
"The cracks are closing, and the bleeding is stopping… Does it hurt?" Ruby asked, glancing at my arm and jaw.
The cracks on them were slowly sealing. The golden blood was "coagulating," barely dripping now. At this point, it looked more like glowing tattoos than wounds.
"It hurts, but less than before." I shrugged. The spasms had stopped at some point while I was asleep. "Pain is pain. As long as I don’t die, I can bear it."
That was a philosophy I carried from Earth. As long as it didn’t kill me, I’d try, and I could endure it. As long as there’s life, there’s hope...
"On a scale from one to ten, how much do I look like Qrow?" I asked, pulling out a mirror.
“Do you think I won’t try to beat you up just because you’re strong?!” Qrow shouted from the other side of the cockpit. He was adjusting the autopilot since he was the only one who knew how to fly a ship.
The Proto-A wasn’t a Bullhead, but he said he could improvise, so I trusted him. If all went wrong and we were about to crash, I could always store the ship in the VoidBag and catch everyone mid-air.
“You’re better than before, yes,” Weiss replied with a faint smile. “Your hair is returning to its normal color, and your wrinkles are fading… Are you keeping the beard?”
I felt four of the ten pairs of eyes watching me sharpen at Weiss’s question. I scratched my chin, feeling the stubble that had grown there.
[AsuraLady]Keep the beard! You look better that way!(Emote of a zombie lion with a pink mane and a goofy smile)
Saya’s comment floated in front of me before bursting into a cloud of pink hearts, a kiss emerging from the cloud and vanishing into the air. This was one of the many upgrades to the stream since I hit ten thousand viewers.
-//-
[Chat, Comments, Comment!]
Function: Randomly, comments float into the "Streamer’s" vision.
Settings:
Disabled: Turns off the "CCC" function.Random: Comments appear without a pattern, possibly in any available configuration.Comedy: Highlights funny or ironic comments with exaggerated animations, bouncing balloons, or comic fonts.Drama: Emotional or controversial comments take center stage, appearing in intense tones (red, purple) with dramatic effects like shadowing.Motivation: Only positive or encouraging comments appear, with soft fonts and inspiring animations like rays of light or floating hearts.Chaos: Focused on chaos, for chaos, by chaos. Random fonts, random effects, chaotic chaos!Retro Gaming: Comments appear in a pixelated style with 8-bit sounds, simulating retro game messages.Horror: Comments materialize slowly with distorted, eerie fonts, accompanied by unsettling sounds like whispers or static.Meme Mode: Highlights comments that partially or fully convert into visual memes.Thematic - Best!: Comments reflect the current stream theme, such as bottle messages for pirate settings or holograms in space. Each viewer can have a unique theme based on the message.
-//-
I left only the (CHAT-FATE) comments active to avoid cluttering the screen with a flood of messages that would appear if all (CHATS) were turned on simultaneously. I might try leaving everything on someday...
For now, I had set it to [Thematic - Best!]. Apparently, the stream interpreted the current theme as something romantic or close to it… This update was cool, but I could already foresee the chaos it would cause.
“I’ll keep the beard for now but shave it later. I don’t want the hassle of maintaining it,” I answered, opting for a middle ground. I’d never been a fan of beards. Mine took forever to grow, and grooming it was a pain.
A cloud of smoke and explosions, like a rock concert, appeared in front of me before a message popped up:
[(MOD)GeniusBillionairePlayboy]Whipped... ¯\_(ツ)/¯
...I am not paid enough for this. Not even close.
Shortly before I ordered everyone to get some rest — since they all looked utterly exhausted — Roman shouted, catching everyone’s attention and pointing at the screen in front of him.
“Hey, is Tin Man giving an interview?” Tin Man... Ah, James.
“That took long enough...” I muttered. I thought he would’ve done this interview yesterday, right after the battle, but it seems he waited for things to settle down a bit.
With a few quick taps, the central monitor in the command room switched to James’s interview. The Proto-A was close to Patch, within CCT range, but even without that, I was sure we could just connect a phone to the panel to give the ship signal across the planet… Speaking of which, I needed to get my phone back from Penny.
“He looks exhausted,” Taiyang commented from the side, still standing.
“You all do. Why didn’t you sleep?” I asked. I felt Taiyang tense up at my tone before relaxing and turning toward me.
“Too much to think about, too much adrenaline... I’ll sleep after the interview,” he said, yawning at the end.
“Same here.” Qrow agreed and tried to take a swig from his flask, but it was empty. “Damn it— You’re a pal, friend,” he said gratefully after I pulled a bottle of whiskey from my inventory and placed it in front of him.
I did something similar for everyone, pulling various foods and drinks from my inventory and spreading them across the tables. As far as I knew, no one had eaten since yesterday, and as expected, everyone grabbed something, especially sweets.
A message floated into my vision, surrounded by party balloons and candy:
[MagicalGirlSera-Tan]Nothing for me? I’d take a banana with cream... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
I slapped the message, making it explode into confetti. No way was I buying that the stream genuinely thought this was about candy and parties. Even the emote she used was suspicious...
I ignored the stream’s antics and focused on the interview. James looked exhausted, but his face was entirely blank.
(“His semblance is really useful in situations like this,”) a masculine voice in my head commented.
I had made peace with the schizophrenia long ago.
When James stepped onto the stage, the press conference erupted into a cacophony of voices and camera flashes. The uproar only quieted when he spoke into the microphone, using what I was sure was his “general’s voice”:
“First of all, I demand order. We are people — humans and faunus — not Grimm, so stop acting like savages!” His voice rose at the end. The crowd quickly fell silent, with only a few murmurs. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
To avoid further commotion, James pointed to one of the reporters. It wasn’t Lisa, and it was clear they weren’t planted by Atlas either. It was a random selection — a woman in a black suit with a pencil skirt. She had white leopard ears atop her head, nestled between her gray hair, and small spots, like freckles, on her face. A snow leopard faunus, probably.
“I’ll be choosing reporters at random for questions,” James announced, leaving no room for argument. “You, ask your question. One question at a time. Try asking two, and I’ll have you escorted out.”
“Jimmy’s got zero patience,” Qrow quipped to Taiyang in the corner of my vision.
“With the chaos that must’ve landed on his plate... I don’t blame him,” Kali sighed. “I don’t even want to think about how Menagerie’s handling things.”
“They’re fine, dear. We left capable people in charge,” Ghira reassured her, placing a calming hand on her shoulder.
The faunus woman on the screen hesitated for a moment before clearing her throat and pulling the microphone closer:
“I’m Xue from ValeReports. First of all, I want to thank everyone for their efforts in defending Vale — all the Huntsmen and Huntresses, as well as Atlas soldiers.”
“First, butter everyone up. Classic,” Roman scoffed, grabbing a chocolate bar. “But I’ll take it. I’m among those Huntsmen who saved Vale.”
James merely nodded at her comment. The woman wasted no time with her question:
“I’d like to ask about what happened yesterday. Could the General give us a brief explanation?”
[WiseWizardGleam]A general question to set the stage for others. Good move. (Emote of an old wizard nodding sagely)
I ignored the message surrounded by magical symbols and books and focused on the screen. James provided a very concise explanation of who Salem was and her motivations — or at least what he believed them to be. He didn’t directly mention who Ozma or I were, only referencing us in passing.
(“He wants someone to ask directly. James is trying to minimize the chaos. It’s better to release the information bit by bit,”) Ozma commented in my mind.
I had left the Mental Microphone off for now. I was waiting to announce that Ozma was alive later. Maybe it was stupid, but I wanted to make it into some kind of surprise—or maybe a prank. I hadn’t decided yet.
James pointed again, this time to a man—human, with blond hair, brown eyes, a slim build, and a serious look on his face, wearing a dark blue suit.
"My fellow reporter already thanked everyone on our behalf, so I won’t waste time: regarding The One known as the Deer Huntsman, what can you tell us about him?"
"And here comes the question everyone was expecting," Yang muttered, sitting a chair to my left. Ruby was to my right, Weiss on the left, followed by Yang, and then Blake.
James didn’t respond immediately, allowing the room to plunge into ten long seconds of silence before giving a short answer: “Devas is an ally and a friend to all of Remnant.”
The statement clearly didn’t sit well with many, but no one dared demand more details. The presence of Atlas soldiers in the room, along with James’ firm tone, ensured there was no uproar. He then pointed to another reporter: a Faunus with snake-like eyes and green hair.
“The Deer Huntsman—is he human, a Faunus, or… something else?” The man seemed eager for an answer.
“Wasn’t this interview supposed to clarify what happened yesterday? Doesn’t anyone want to know about the stream, Salem, the gods… What the hell is this?!” Qrow grumbled, pouring a drink for Taiyang and tossing another to Roman.
“When did the broadcast to Remnant get cut off?” I asked aloud.
A response appeared in midair, emerging from an illusory blue-smoke lamp:
[(MOD) JinnOfTheLamp]It stopped shortly after you went to sleep. I’m wrapping things up here and should arrive in a little over an hour.(Chibi Jinn with a pocket watch emoji)
“Thanks for the update.” I gestured, swiping the message away. It dissipated into the air as I turned my attention back to the interview.
“Devas is human,” James stated. “Not a Faunus or a demigod, as some have speculated, and certainly not a god. Just human.”
Neo nudged me, chuckling. “No one’s going to believe him.” She then vanished, using her Semblance, and resumed skipping around the room, enjoying her ice cream.
Curiously, I could see her now. It was like a semi-transparent mirage, but I could clearly make out her figure without using my mana or VoidBag.
As the sociopath had predicted, almost no one seemed to believe him. I didn’t even need to look at their faces to notice it; I could vaguely sense it. My nightmare energy still lingered over Vale and its surroundings, allowing me to faintly perceive their emotions. It was a hazy and confusing sensation, but that was the gist of it.
The next questions followed a similar pattern, with slight variations:“How does the Deer Huntsman use magic?”“Is magic real?”“Are the gods real?”“Can that man control Grimm?”“What else is real besides magic?”“Is the legend of the Maidens real?”“Is the Deer Huntsman the wizard from the Maidens' tale?”
And so on. I had long noticed no one used my name, only the title I’d been given upon arriving in Remnant.
I chuckled, amused. Did they think I was Voldemort? And this thing about me being the wizard from the Maidens’ tale? That story’s been around for five or six millennia, and I’m barely over twenty!
(“But they don’t know that. To them, having just discovered magic, immortality seems perfectly plausible. And technically, they’re correct—you are immortal, just a young one.”)
(“I know, I just think it’s funny.”) I replied to Ozma mentally.
Then, one question visibly irritated James. Not just him but several others in the Proto-A’s command room—and many in the (CHAT).
“The Thing in the Storm… do you have contingencies in case that monstrous abomination attacks one of the kingdoms?” The question came from a human man with an arrogant expression.
... Thing in the Storm? That title was actually kind of cool. Was that what some people were calling me now?
“Devas is not our enemy and will not attack any of the kingdoms. I will not tolerate further insults toward him. Consider yourself warned.” James fixed his gaze on the man who had asked the question.
I could feel what seemed like hesitation and fear—maybe even dread—in the reporter, quickly replaced by overwhelming greed. He had been paid to stir up trouble, hadn’t he?
... James didn’t filter who entered this damn conference?!
The reporter pressed on before James could call on someone else:“You have no contingencies because you can’t stop him! Admit it!” He shouted, trying to incite the crowd. “We’re at the mercy of a monster’s whims! He destroyed and devoured something sacred, killed a chosen of light, and we can’t even protect ourselves if he decides to attack our families!”
“I love people like this. They always make things more entertaining.” I commented, tossing some popcorn into my mouth. “How much do you think he was paid to pull this?”
“For his sake, enough to hire a good lawyer,” Weiss growled. “And I doubt it was—I’ll personally ensure he faces consequences.”
(“Salem would die laughing hearing someone call her a chosen of light.”) Ozma’s laughter echoed in my mind.
“Remove him and place him under arrest for contempt of authority,” James ordered firmly. The soldiers moved swiftly. The man didn’t resist or shout, letting himself be taken, but the damage was already done.
The conference descended into uneasy murmurs. Even the soldiers began showing signs of doubt and unease. The emotions in the room grew murky: fear, stress, anxiety over the possibility of me doing exactly what the reporter had suggested.
Then, Jinn appeared. She walked calmly to James’ side, and no one tried to stop her.
“Miss Jinn, didn’t you say you were leaving?” James asked as she approached. Her presence didn’t seem to ease the crowd but at least held them in check, driven by curiosity. Jinn was known to always appear at my side, so her presence here had to mean something.
“I was. Glynda and I finished what we needed to do, and she returned to Beacon. With Ozpin’s death, the role of headmaster has fallen on her shoulders.” She explained before turning to the crowd. “I must say, even after all I’ve seen—which is a lot—I still find myself disappointed.”
Then, she turned to James: “May I take over, General?”
“Be my guest. You’ll handle this better than I can.” He stepped aside, relieved—or maybe just exhausted.
Jinn tapped the desk twice before directing her gaze to the nearest camera, ignoring the crowd.
“Devas, are you still watching?” The tension in the room spiked when she mentioned my name. “Could you activate the game board, please—thank you.”
(“Tell her not to mention me. I don’t want every man whose name starts with Oz or Os cursed due to collective paranoia. If she must reference me, let her be vague.”) Ozma quickly advised.
Before Jinn could continue, I focused. We were ridiculously far from Vale, making it nearly impossible to transmit my voice there. I could barely sense the kingdom, except through my nightmare energy… but I had a connection with Jinn.
In seconds, I located her through the mark on her thigh and, using it as a sort of terminal, I shaped my mana and nightmare energy around Jinn. Then I spoke, ensuring only she and the stream could hear me:
["Jinn, Ozma asked you not to mention him and, if you must, to keep it vague. Yes, he’s alive. Sorry for the spoiler."]
The blue woman chuckled softly, nodding slightly before regaining her composure and adopting a serious expression.
With the issue resolved and no restrictions left thanks to the game room, Jinn turned to the crowd.
"I’m going to flip things around here. Now I’ll be the one asking questions." She scanned the audience for a few seconds, her gaze sweeping across every face, before pointing to Xue, the first reporter James had chosen.
"You. How old do you think Salem was?"
The woman hesitated, clearly at a loss, before hazarding a guess: "Forty? No more than fifty… I think?"
"Thirteen thousand five hundred and two years." Jinn pronounced each number slowly. "That was Salem’s age. A millennia-old witch who commanded the Grimm since before any of the current kingdoms existed."
[AdvocateOfGenderEquality]And she didn’t even look forty... Total mommy vibes, I’d let her boss me around and step on me if she wanted...
[AdvocateOfGenderEquality]Crap! How do I delete this? That wasn’t supposed to show up on-screen!
[AdvocateOfGenderEquality](╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻
"Pff— Damn it!" I slapped my chest twice, nearly choking on popcorn at the sequence of messages. Was Kazuma’s life set to comedy mode or something? Because seriously…
The reaction to Salem’s age was almost unanimous: shock and disbelief. Not only in the conference room but also aboard Proto-A. Even those who knew Salem and, consequently, Ozpin were old had no idea how old.
... Even I had been surprised when I first learned it.
"That was the enemy Devas faced. Someone who, for a long time, was only held back by the efforts of countless people, generation after generation, guided by a leader whose role was passed down handpicked…" Jinn scanned the crowd, as if reading their thoughts. And come to think of it, she probably could."He didn’t have to. Devas didn’t have to fight. If he wanted, he could have taken the people he cared about and fled, and Salem would never have found him..."
Salem wouldn’t have even been in Vale if not for my presence, but that’s a detail better left unsaid...
Jinn pointed to another woman.
"You, Lisa Lavender. You’ve met Devas personally, spoken to him, interacted with him. What’s your opinion of the man?"
Lisa seemed momentarily lost before regaining her composure and responding: "...He’s calm, almost too much so in my opinion, and approaches things with a certain lightness and laziness. He’s also perceptive."
"I’ll take that as a compliment."
"Knowing that shark, it wasn’t," Roman muttered. Neo gave me a thumbs-up, as if agreeing with him.
"A valid description—neither entirely accurate nor entirely wrong." Jinn chuckled softly before continuing. "You have a question, don’t you? Go ahead, ask it; I’ll continue afterward."
"Actually, I have two questions. May I?" With Jinn’s confirmation, Lisa asked:"First, who or what are you really? I don’t want to assume, but with all these revelations..."
"I’m not human or Faunus, if that’s what you’re asking. As for what I truly am, you could consider me a spirit—not a ghost, but a spirit, a different race from yours." She explained, carefully avoiding any mention of the relics.
Jinn was smart; bringing up the relics would only cause problems for Atlas, given that this was the only relic I didn’t intend to take with me. I’d need to ask Ozma where in the ocean he threw that damn crown...
"Just to be clear, I wouldn’t be here if not for Devas." Jinn nodded at Lisa. "Your second question, before we continue."
"In Mistral, was Devas..." She paused when she said my name. "...the shadow that protected the kingdom when Leonardo Lionheart died?"
A message appeared in front of me, surrounded by yellow flames:
[YellowHuntressLive]He also killed him since he was a traitor, but let’s leave that out.(Emote of a yellow bear whistling nonchalantly)
"It worked!" Yang punched the air beside me.
"Why that question?" Ruby ignored her sister and asked.
Roman answered: "The shark’s in contact with Lil' Miss Malachite. She’s the one who told her to ask that. Her main base is in Mistral, after all."
I had a theory that Jinn had specifically pointed to Lisa for this reason...
"He was. Leonardo Lionheart’s death was unforeseen. Ozpin and Devas were going to discuss something important with him, but he was already under Tyrian’s control, who killed him before attempting to flee, only to be killed by Devas shortly after." Jinn lied effortlessly, using the story Ozma and I had crafted for the Mistral press.
"Devas patrolled the kingdom, fearing that the headmaster’s death would cause chaos and attract more Grimm, resulting in countless deaths… But none occurred."
Jinn paused briefly, letting her words sink in, before continuing: "Devas didn’t have to do that either. Just as he didn’t have to stop Salem, didn’t have to provide medicine to the injured, didn’t have to ask me to heal them. And yet, you treat him as if he were a monster..."
"He devoured something sacred!" Someone stood up and shouted.
Jinn raised her hand, stopping the soldiers from detaining the man. "I don’t deny that he’s a hero who saved many lives, but that action he took... Something within me deeply abhors it."
Nearly everyone at the conference nodded instinctively in agreement.
"If you think that... how do you think Devas feels?" Jinn slammed her palm on the lectern. "If you’re disgusted just by knowing what he did, how do you think he feels?! How do you think he slept last night?!"
"Tired and in pain but with a perfectly clear conscience." Jinn was making me jealous—I couldn’t improvise and talk nonsense as well as she could.
Everyone around me turned to look. I raised my hands.
"What? I’m telling the truth. Aside from the crap taste of that Light God divinity, it didn’t affect me at all."
"It hurt you; you’re still hurt." Ruby pointed at my arm and jaw in turn, her face scrunched with concern. "How can you say it didn’t affect you?"
"Mentally, it didn’t affect me mentally," I clarified. It had given me a headache, but that was minor. "I’m not from Remnant. The God of Light didn’t create me like he did the humans and Faunus of this planet. What I did was as unsettling as eating a piece of cake."
... The cake would’ve tasted better.
[TohsakaHeiress]That comparison is only slightly less insane than the person who made it. Your common sense is utterly warped, isn’t it, Devas?(Emote of a chibi Rin sighing exasperatedly)
She called me insane? Her? The one who went to school during the Holy Grail War called me insane? … Alright then.
Jinn’s voice echoed again in the command room.
"I want you all to think about that. I want you to think about what it took for a man like him—kind and calm—to do what he did, only to be treated like a monster and still smile, handing out medicine to the wounded and accepting it all alone..."
"I might even start blushing if she keeps going." I spoke aloud, amusing those around me.
Jinn fell silent after those statements, grumbled as if considering saying more, but ultimately nodded at James and began to walk away.
"I’ll be leaving now, General Ironwood."
James nodded, and Jinn left without another word. As soon as she was off-camera, a magical lamp appeared in my vision, and a message emerged from it.
[(MOD) JinnOfTheLamp]You know the best part? I didn’t lie about anything when I talked about you... Hehe. (~˘▾˘)~
Jinn appeared atop Proto-A about half an hour later, carrying Zwei in her arms. Ruby screamed, saying she knew she’d forgotten something, before rushing to hug the dog and apologize profusely.
Jinn took command of the ship as soon as she arrived and changed course for Mistral. I kicked everyone out of the command room and told them to get some rest. Aside from a few grumbles, no one protested.
We arrived at Lake Matsu ten hours later, around four in the morning.
[...]---[...]
One of the stream updates. This is something that was supposed to exist some time ago, but I held off to make it part of the 10k viewers update. With this, communication with the viewers becomes much easier and constant, since it’s not Devas who reads the (CHAT), but the (CHAT) that flies in his face.
The regular reading mode will still happen in the story; this is just to add a bit more consistency, as many mentioned they wanted more presence from the (CHAT).
Good night and happy reading!
PS: Devas got 2 elders!
PPS: I used those text emojis because I read a Chinese novel that used them, and I laughed so much, so I thought it would be fun to include them. I'll also use the regular ones and the stream emotes. Let me know what you think, if possible.