Hello again, Saint here. Not much to say this time around, except that I'm thankful to everyone that took the time to read and a special thanks to those that took the time to review. I know that a great deal of stigma surrounds OC stories, so I greatly appreciate that you would decide to give my story a read despite that.
I think that should do it for this for this one, though.
Once again, thank you for taking the time to read and or review.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Skoto dreamt he was walking down a rural dirt path. Far above, tree limbs gently swayed to and fro as the wind ambled through them. The tree's were spaced along the trail unevenly, allowing the sun to break through the canopy frequently along the path. Skoto's feet moved without his consent, taking him further and further down the path. A flash of yellow to his right caught his attention, his head rebelliously acting out of his accord as well.
Skoto saw a man with bright blond hair, and dazzling blue eyes. Skoto came up to just below his shoulder, his neck craning to peer closer at his face. Stubble dotted his jawline and the beginnings of a soul patch were forming below his lip. The man stared down at Skoto, worry forming on his features.
"You okay, hon?"
Hon?
"Of course I am, love," the reply came unabated from his lips. His voice was light and airy. "I'm pregnant, not crippled." His other hand came up to his swollen stomach, fondly placing a hand atop.
Pregnant?
Skoto got a clear look at his hands while the man did so, which were small and dainty.
A second, much smaller hand clasped his other hand. Skoto's head swiveled back around, a similar flash of yellow emerging in her-his vision. This time, it was a girl with long blond tresses, put into two pig-tails. She appeared to be young, five or six years old. She had grasped her hand in the ironclad grip children were known for. Skoto felt a smile form on his face, his lips moving once again.
"Your hair looks lovely, little sun. You're taking good care of, right?" the girl smiled toothily at her, a small blush forming on her face.
"Of course!"
Together the three walked downed the path, the occasional birdsong sounding from the canopy above. After what seemed like hours, a cabin developed in the distance. As the three drew closer Skoto made out more of the cabin. Constructed almost entirely of wooden logs, it stood at two stories tall. The house look new; as if someone had just finished hammering the last nail. Two troughs of sunflowers lined each side of the door, the flowers blooming beautifully in the mid-day sun.
A sharp pain in his stomach distracted him from the beauty of the house. With a high pitched gasp Skoto teetered to the side, the blonde man's arms keeping him upright. A horrible pain like no other had assaulted him, like someone had taken a knife to his abdomen and lower back. In the haze of pain Skoto felt liquid dripping down his legs, and voices assaulting his ear.
"Oh shi-! The baby!"
"Momma?! What's going on?!" Tears of confusion had begun to spring from the child's eyes,
"It's okay, little su-" another wave of pain cut off Skoto's words. "Your little sister is on her way."
The man pulled out what Skoto recognized as a scroll, and dialed a number he couldn't see. After a moment, a voice came through, the blond man's eyes sagging with relief. Skoto could not make out the voice, but he heard the man's reply.
"My wife is giving birth!" he nearly shouted. "I need a medical bullhead to my location!"
More quiet murmuring.
"Yes! Please hurry!"
Skoto peered up the blonde man's face, strangely enough Skoto could no longer hear the man's voice; Despite the fact that he felt his own mouth moving, and saw the blonde man's lips moving – no sound fell from their lips. The pain grew in magnitude, however. His abdomen was burning with an intensity he'd never even thought possible to exist. The fire slowly spread from his abdomen to his pelvis, growing in ferocity until all he could focus on was the pain. A wordless scream fell from his throat, causing the man holding him to wince. He placed his hands on his shoulders and peered into his eyes. His lips moved again, and Skoto began to make out the words.
"….e...p"
"…ke...p"
"...wake...up!"
"Skoto!"
Skoto's eyes snapped open. The world around him was blurry, and spun far too quickly for his liking. He reached for his weapon only for his hand to grasp open air. His heart beat violently against his chest, each pulse sending a painful echo throughout his torso. The intense pain he'd felt in his abdomen just moments before lingered on his skin for a moment, before fading rapidly – as if it were never there.
As Skoto's vision became more coherent he saw the outline of Lavi standing above him. His hands were clasped on his shoulder, which were still shaking him rapidly. Upon seeing his open eyes Lavi's eyes shone with relief.
"Skoto," Lavi's voice came out rushed, the words spilling out of his tongue haphazardly. "Something is happening outside, and I'm starting to get really scared."
Idly, Skoto heard a cacophony of shouts coming from outside. Wordlessly rising from his bed, Skoto took note of his two brothers who were stirring in their sleep; the shouts the likely culprit.
Skoto's bare feet padded against the wooden floor as he made his way to the window. Skoto's eyes widened as he opening the shutters and peered down below at the source of the shouting.
A crowd of people had gathered on the dirt road outside of the orphanage, with Maddie stood at the ajar door, body sticking out of the doorway. All of them were garbed in the same outfit, a white sleeveless jacket, a sleeveless black hood and black pants. The most prominent feature of the outfit was the white mask that covered the eyes and forehead of the wearer.
The White Fang, a once peaceful protest group turned violent. Skoto knew of them through overheard conversations between Maddie and Khai. Supposedly a recent change in leadership around two years ago had allowed for more coercive attitude to form in the group. Skoto had thought the group would have chosen to more densely populated towns and cities, where they could effect the most people. Though, part of him wasn't completely surprised. The general mood of the town had changed in the past weeks. The majority of the town, small thought it was, was faunus trying to escape discrimination in cities. With news of the White Fang spreading, it's no surprise some townsfolk had become sympathetic with their cause. Skoto recognized some faunus in the crowd, their features showing through their outfit.
The small mob was comprised of around two dozen people, who were armed with various spears and blades, and at the head of the crowd stood a large man with graying hair, two ears to the likeness of a bear sprouting from his head. A spear, which was folded in two, was strapped to his back, Spittle flew from his lips as he lead the shouting.
"We know you are in there, Khai! Come out and answer for your crimes!"
"He has done nothing!" Maddie's voice screeched back. "He protects you – all of you!"
"Shut up, stupid girl!" The man snarled, stepping forward. "You don't know what he is!"
Maddie made to retort, but a hand settled itself on her shoulder before the words came.
"It's okay, Maddie." Khai's form stepped out the door. "We're just gonna talk for a bit. Say, these folk might have woke up the kids with all this ruckus. Why don't you go check on them?"
"But-" Khai fixed her with a hard look. She sighed and back into the orphanage. Khai strode out leisurely to the leader, stopping a few feet from in front of him. Khai's eyes stared into the blank mask, an aloof look in his eyes.
"You wanted me, you got me."
The leader stared at Khai through the mask for a moment. Then, words came grinding past his lips.
"I can't believe I lived so close to such a devil." His tone was somewhat awed and suddenly subdued.
A look of frustration passed over Khai's face. "Look buddy, I'm not sure what you're talking abou-"
"I know who you are, Khai the Crimson Thorn."
Khai's eyes widened at that. The large man smirked, before continuing.
"Oh yes, that's right. I know you very well. You've aged well, murderer."
Khai's face contorted in confusion, before a horrific look of realization crossed his face.
"I doubt you even remember me. I certainly didn't remember what you looked like, for a very long time. Last memory I ever had of you was a little blurry, on account of this nice little shiner you left me." He pulled down the collar of shirt to reveal a grisly scar that began at the base of his neck, continuing on diagonally towards his chest. "When they found me I was paler than bone. Doctor's said I'd lost thirty-five percent of my blood volume, that I was lucky to be alive." Another bitter chuckle tore from his throat, emotion flooding his voice. "I certainly didn't feel all that lucky. Everyone and everything I'd ever known had been ripped from me, all those innocent villagers in that little hovel. Not a single one of us had any steel to our names, but that didn't stop you, did it?" His fists clenched at his sides, shaking in anger. After a few trembling breaths, he continued. "I drifted for years; eventually ending up here. For a very long time, you became a bad dream I tried so very hard to forget. Eventually I did forgot, eventually I found strength to move forward." His voice grew to a snarl, intensity building in his words. "Till I saw you training those fuckin boys of yours behind your orphanage. I'd recognize those damn thorns anywhere. They were only wrapped around the throats of everyone I've ever loved."
Khai ran a hand through his hair, revealing his stress marks for all to see. His eyes were sullen with dark bags dangling underneath.
"I have one question for you," the mob leader spat. "How do you look so young? You're older than I am."
"...My semblance," Khai answered in a weary and broken voice. "For a long time all I thought I had was the thorns. Then when I turned sixty without a single gray hair to my name I went and got looked at again. They used a bunch of fancy words and equipment to tell me every ten years that went by my body only aged one year, couldn't tell me why for the life of them." Khai exhaled, his shoulders shrugged with the movement. "I turned one hundred a few weeks ago – my body is only twenty-eight years old."
Silence descended amongst the crowd. Skoto idly realized that all of his brothers had awoke, though he was too engrossed with the conversation to tell when they had joined in, and now stood beside him with looks of astonishment etched onto their faces as well.
Then the mob leader began to laugh. A hollow, twisted laughter that had the man doubling over, hands on his knees.
"What a fucking joke," he wheezed after a moment. "That someone that has ended so many innocent lives, gets to live ten times as long as anyone else. It's almost poetic, don't you think?" The man unfolded the spear from his back, a metallic clank resounding as the two parts attached firmly. Slowly, the entire crowd unsheathed their weaponry. The man leveled his spear at Khai, his stance aggressive. Khai's eyes hardened, before they widened in sudden fearful realization.
"Wait! We all need to calm down! All of this neg-"
"Enough talk!" the man suddenly screamed, his body surging forward with the spear facing outward. Khai swiveled his head back and forth, evading the spear by a mere inches. The rest of the mob followed shortly, rushing on Khai's position. Khai reached to his side, unsheathing his knife from his scabbard and in the same motion deflected the man's charge.
The four boys all shared a wordless glance, before nodding as one. Each boy dashed to their bedside and brandished a weapon.
Alva fingered the grip of his bow, whilst simultaneously hoisting the quiver full of arrows onto his back; clasping the straps closed on his shoulders. The bow in question was alabaster in color, and reached about four feet in length from upper to lower limb. The limbs themselves were elegantly simple, and appeared to have bladed edges on the side facing the user.
Ekri clasped a large war hammer, despite it's full length a substantial deal taller than Ekri himself, and hoisted it onto his shoulder. The handle was a fiery red; and roughly five feet in length. The head of the hammer was roughly the size of a basketball, and was composed of heavy black iron. One end of the head led to a flat surface, the other tapered off to a curved spike.
Lavi twirled a set of blades, one marginally longer than the other. The smaller sword, more of a dagger really, was about a foot in length. The handle of the dagger was deep black, while the blade was bright steel. The longer blade was around two feet long, the handle a bright white color, while the blade was a dark gray – a direct contrast to the dagger. The dagger's scabbard hung from his right hip, the sword's from his left.
Skoto grasped the handle of a large glaive. The pole was comprised of a simple black metal about six feet long, one end leading to a sharpened pommel while the other end lead to curved double-edged blade. Upon the surface of the blade, thin metal lines interlined the surface of the blade.
A sudden knocking at the door drew the boy's attention away from their weapons. A few moments after the knocking was heard, Maddie's voice sounded through the door.
"Boys? Are you awake in there?"
"Window?" Lavi asked, his eyes meeting with Skoto's briefly.
"Window." Skoto answered.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Khai heard the sound of shattering glass, followed by four sets of boots hitting the ground. Equal parts despair and pride filled him. Despair, for they certainly had overheard the conversation he'd had with the leader of the White Fang troop a few moments ago. Pride, because they'd so quickly responded to a violent situation, opting out of door usage entirely. A brief annoyance passed through him as he realized that was his window they'd just jumped through – but pride held strong. This might even be a good learning experience for them, their first live combat situation against human foes that weren't Khai.
"Try to disarm them, boys." Khai called out whilst sidestepping a stab aimed at his torso. "And be careful! Their auras aren't activated!"
"Got it!" The boys called out as one.
Lavi quickly dashed into the fray with a whoop escaping from his lips, rolling under a swing of one blade, while using his sword to parry the slash another. The two blades met with a clang, but Gleam streaked through the air quickly after and cut the fingers of the man, who grunted in pain – his sword clattered to the ground as his sword arm became neutralized. Lavi took a few deep, stabilizing breaths before engaging another rioter – whose skill with a blade was marginally greater, as was his size. The man waved his large sword skillfully, the strikes sending painful vibrations up and down Lavi's arms despite his careful deflections. The man raised his sword high, and with a mighty heave brought it down on Lavi's guard, the boy falling to his knees in an attempt to mitigate the might of the blow. Lavi grunted as he rose slightly, using his legs to bear the weight of the blade, before a vicious kick caught him square in the torso. His aura flared against the man's foot as he rolled away, using the momentum from the kick to tuck and roll into a crouched position.
"Alright big guy," Lavi huffed, spittle spilling down his chin. "Let's see how you like this."
Stooping low, Lavi darted towards the much larger man; his dagger poised in front of him in a reverse grip, his sword trailing behind. When Lavi was close, he feinted with his sword arm before thrusting his dagger forward towards the mans face. However, the dagger did not reach – and the man knew it. So he simply allowed the dagger to linger in the air in front of his face, a smirk on his face.
Then he saw white.
With a yelp the man's hands came up to cover the eye-holes of his mask, Lavi grinned victoriously as his eyes blinked open.
"By dustthat is awesome," he breathed, disarming the man with a few slashes along his forearm and bicep. With a press of a button, spent cartridge ejected itself from the hilt of the dagger, Lavi reloading another quickly. "Note to self – never underestimate light dust ever."
Alva hung back, setting himself down on one knee whilst notching an arrow. He took aim at a man skirting on the outside of Lavi's vision, before loosing the arrow. The string let loose with a quiet snap, the arrow gliding effortlessly through the air – into the palm of the grunt, who cried out in pain whilst releasing his weapon. Alva notched and loosed three more arrows in the same way, each arrow carefully placed to allow his foes survival. One was shot in the calf, another the arrow bit deep into his shoulder, the third through his bicep. The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps was the only warning Alva received, who quickly rolled to left, only to receive a glancing blow on his shoulder; the spear sinking deep into the earth. The spear-user clicked his teeth in annoyance, wrenching his weapon from the ground. Alva took a moment to analyze his opponent, a man of medium build with short, light blond hair. The man scoffed as he saw Alva tighten the grip on his bow.
"Just try to draw it, boy," the man snarled mockingly. "I'll gut you before you notch an arrow."
"I won't need too," Alva replied, channeling aura through his bow. The bowstring retracted into the limb of the bow; whilst the two limbs of the bow folded towards each other with a metallic clank, locking together a moment later forming a double-edged blade about three feet in length. The grip of the boy jutted out, allowing Alva to use it as a handle for the blade, the original grip of the bow serving as the cross guard for the blade. Palming the blade with both hands, Alva simply stared at the man before he smiled mockingly.
"Well? Weren't you going to gut me?"
The man growled and charged, his spear held at chest height. Alva sidestepped the charge, and brought the pommel down on the man's shoulder as he passed, leading into slash on the back of his tricep. The man grunted in pain, but brought his free arm around in savagely; aimed at Alva's temple. Alva ducked under his fist, swinging his sword in an arc as he rose, catching the man on his other tricep. The blonde haired man screamed in agony as his spear clattered to the ground, arms limp at his sides.
"Attack their arms first," Alva muttered quietly under his breath. "If you sever a tendon, they can't use their arms. If they can't use their arms they, more often than not, lose the fight." With a final desperate yell the man charged forward, intent on slamming his body against Alva's. With a sudden spin and show of flexibility, Alva brought his leg around in a round-house kick that caught the man mid-charge on his temple. The strike landed viciously, the man sent spinning to the dirt. With a final moan of pain his body listlessly collapsed.
Ekri laughed as he ducked under a horizontal slash from a man wielding a saber, quickly leading into a shoulder bash. The man grunted as he was thrown off balance, before crying out in pain as Ekri's hammer found purchase in his ribs. The man was launched away with a crack, his body spiraling into dense shrubbery.
"Non-lethal Ekri!" Yelled Khai, watching the man fly away with a worried grimace on his face.
"I know what I'm doing!" Ekri cried back, deflecting a strike with the pole of hammer. "He's totally fine!"
In his distraction, a woman wielding a rapier landed a spinning strike on his forearms; causing him to hiss in pain for a moment as he felt the force behind the blow. He held his defense more rigidly, the constant flurry of blows from the woman putting him on the defensive. Ekri growled in frustration, before abandoning his guard completely. The woman's rapier collided against his side, and she smirked victoriously as Ekri grunted against the force of her blow. The smirk died a moment later, as she felt an ironclad grip form around her sword hand forearm. Ekri lifted her off the ground, her legs dangling uselessly as she was hoisted into the air. Ekri grinned maliciously at the woman, who clawed at his arm and kicked at his chest. Then, in one fluid motion, Ekri slammed the lithe woman down on the ground like a rag doll, her head slapping against the ground painfully as unconsciousness settled over her.
"See?" Ekri whispered petulantly to no one. "Completely non-lethal."
Skoto met the blade of a grunt with the pole of glaive, the two metals sounding off like bells as the blade collided with the metal pole. A serene expression was etched onto Skoto's face as he dipped low, sweeping the legs of his foe out from underneath him before following up with a strike from the blunt side of his blade. With a dull thud the man was knocked into unconsciousness. Skoto let out a hum of content, scanning for another opponent in the fray. His eyes met with a shorter man with a tail similar to that of a rat. In his right hand he held a curved dagger, in his off hand a small pistol. With a wicked grin the man pointed the gun at Skoto, firing frantically. Anticipating the fire, Skoto leapt high into the air, twisting his body in an attempt to dodge the hail of gun-fire. He was unsuccessful, a few rounds clipping his arm as he brought his glaive down towards the man. With a cackle, the man swerved to the side of the blade, before springing up into a leap of his, both legs poised at Skoto's head. Just as his boots were about to collide, Skoto dipped low allowing the man to fly over his head. He landed in a crouch, swiveling around to grin at Skoto.
"Ahhh, there's nothing quite like closing the distance on a pole arm user." He cackled with glee, "You're so good at range, but you are horrendous up close and personal, aren't you?"
"One would think so," Skoto replied, his tone serene. A sheen of aura coated his arm, and the glaive's pole compressed from the normal six feet to three. The thin lines on the surface of the blade broke apart, allowing the blade to fold outward into a concave shape. Skoto spun his glaive turned scythe backwards into a reverse grip, the pointed edge turned towards the ground facing ahead. "I like to think there's a bit more to me, however."
Eyeing the eerie weapon, the man couldn't help but wet his now dry lips staring at the razor thin edge. However, he seemingly swallowed his fear a moment later, starting a charge at Skoto. Skoto responded by bringing his scythe up in a diagonal swing, which the man narrowly avoided by leaning back. However, this left the sharpened pommel pointed directly at him, a realization made seconds late by grunt. Skoto stabbed forward, cutting into the top of his shoulder as the rat-faunus back pedaled to safety. Skoto followed quickly after, this time allowed his scythe to arc downwards towards the fleeing foe. The Fang lackey valiantly attempted to jump backwards to avoid the curved blade, but the feeling of cold metal pressing upon his back told him he'd failed. White hot agony lanced across his back as Skoto raked the scythe along his back, leaving a fairly large laceration on his back. The man fell to the ground a moment later, shock setting in quickly. Skoto let out a long, calm breath before scanning for more opponents.
However, his eyes scanned the entirety of the makeshift battlefield, only a single White Fang member remained standing. The leader from before, his spear discarded, was sluggishly swinging his clawed-fists at Khai; his breath heavy and short wheezes. Khai simply moved slowly, avoiding the tired slashes easily. The man collapsed to his knees a moment later, his tired gasps turning to quiet sobs. His hands clutched at the earth, while his head hung low.
"Why?" He eventually choked out. His head rose, and the man violently tore off the mask covering his face – revealing his weathered face. His hair was thin and gray, and matted with sweat. His eyes were bloodshot, though one could make out a dark brown in his iris. His skin sagged, and was like wrinkled leather. Tears streamed down his face, an anguished grimace carved onto his face. They boys recognized this man. He lived on the outskirts of town in a small hut. They didn't know him well for certain – though that could be said for most residents of the town.
Khai stared for a moment, before quietly answering.
"...That question never has an answer you want to hear, old timer." Khai whispered back.
"You owe it to me," he hissed. "You owe it to me, and you owe it to them. You killed them all without showing even a single ounce of mercy! Why?!"
Khai hands dropped listlessly to his sides, his eyes closed as he took a hard breath in his eyes opening as he let out the breath.
"I was born into a noble family," he began. "Back when that still meant something, when the four continents were ruled by kings, not councils. My father was made a vassal to the king of Vale, and was granted a generous amount of land – they called it a 'duchy' back then. My father took that duchy and cultivated the soil, eventually creating one of the largest source of agricultural the kingdom had ever seen. One that made my father, and the king, a great deal of lien. My father used this lien to purchase more and more land from neighboring dukes, until he owned all of the farmland in Vale."
"All of that farmland – my father couldn't afford to hire all of the people he needed to work the fields. So he turned to the greatest source of cheap, mass labor we had back then, Faunus."
"They weren't certainly weren't slaves, but they weren't paid as well or protected by laws like non-faunus were. You could employ five faunus laborers for the same pay that one human made. You could force a Faunus laborer to work twelve hours a day to get a base paycheck. When they didn't make ends meet on whatever product you were producing, you were allowed to...punish them accordingly. My father didn't start like that, my mother wasn't a fan of how Faunus were treated – a rarity in those days. But he began making more money than he ever had. To this day, he remains among the top ten wealthiest families in the world – surpassed only by big names like Schnee Dust Company."
"My father eventually became twelve percent of the profit that Vale made. It was around this time, that I was born. That was," Khai put a hand to his chin in thought. "...a hundred years ago, twenty years before the Great War started."
"My birth killed my mother in the process, and my father was, supposedly, never the same after that. Money became the only thing he really ever cared about, and he I could never get along because of it. He was near fanatic about his income. How he make more, how he could spend less, every investment had to end up in profit for him otherwise he wouldn't make it. And with my mother no longer in the picture, he became more...harsh with his employee's."
"I grew up watching my father treat faunus like they were property. It became normal for me to see a Faunus whipped, called horrible names, and walked over like they were trash. It became normal, so I started doing it too."
Khai chuckled bitterly, "For a very, very long time I thought of faunus as nothing but trash beneath my feet, to be walked on or discarded as I pleased. It was all I had ever known them to be. That didn't make it right, I just couldn't understand that it was wrong."
"Then the Great War came around, and as an acting vassal for the king, I was called to serve. Things were different then, there weren't 'huntsmen' and Vale had a military. I went off to serve when I came of age at sixteen, and I saw the war through to it's end in Vacuo as a twenty year old."
"The war made me realize things about myself. I saw so many fathers thinking of their sons, and I was jealous of that. I was so upset and mad that my father consistently, and constantly chose money over his own son. I wanted him to be proud of me, at the very least. I kept telling myself that, when the war ended I would go home and try to make things right with him – we'd had a falling out when I left to serve."
A hollow look passed over Khai's face, his body sagging as a sort of unseen weight pressed down on his shoulders.
"The minute I arrived back in Vale, I received word that my father had been murdered in his sleep by one of his workers; stealing away into the night after killing him."
"I was crushed. I screamed and cried, because now I was alone in the world. My mother died when I was born, my friends all died in the war, my father died when I returned. I swore I'd find the faunus responsible, and do unto him what had been done to me. I spent years searching. All I had to go off was this: the man had a birthmark on his palm and his faunus trait – bear. I spent months chasing after every single bear faunus my father had ever employed. Eventually I found him in a small hamlet on the outskirts of Vacuo. Only about twenty people in the Hamlet. He'd settled down there with his wife, who'd given him a son. A young man that had his big, brown eyes, just like this father. I...you know what happened next."
"I left the hamlet, and used the last of my lien to pay off the local militia into labeling it as another casualty of the grimm. Though the great war had ended, many people still weren't fond of-"
"Stop."
Maddie's voice resounded throughout the clearing. She stood behind the four boys, who quickly separated; clearing a path as she walked through them. Khai's eyes widened once more, as if he'd forgotten about her. His head hung low to his chest as he saw the look on her face, staring at him.
Disgust.
"Just...just stop, Khai; you've said enough."
"Maddie….I-"
"I'm sorry?" she seethed. "Is that what you were going to say? I'm sorry?"
With a growl she seized the collar of his jacket. "You don't get to be sorry. Those people were innocent, Khai. This man, was innocent; his mother was innocent. You took those people's lives into your hands and crushed them for no reason!"
She angrily brought her hand against the side of his face, her nails biting into his cheek viciously. Khai's aura did not defend him, and blood dripped down the side of his face as he stared regretfully into her furious orbs; which had begun to water in angry tears.
"I thought I could trust you, Khai...I defended you against these people..."
A terrible silence descended, weighing on each person there. Skoto, for the first time in his short life, was at an honest loss for words. He would have never imagined Khai to be capable of something so...heinous. Of course, he had his reasons for doing so...but even so, this was...unthinkable. Skoto opened his mouth to say something, anything, but no words came.
The silence was broken, however. Deep, menacing growls sounded from the forestry behind the orphanage. Like a sinister orchestra, deep bellows and barks blared from within the darkness of the forest. Crimson eyes peered ominously from the shadows, the unmistakable bone-white armor plating standing out against the inky darkness of the forest.
Like moths to a flame, the grimm had come.