The rapid pounding of bone boots on the flagstones drowned out the sounds of battle around her as she sprinted for the medical building. Her heart hammered away in her chest, abnormally high compared to her usual combat rate. Then again, this combat was abnormal as well compared to "normal." Her mind was pulled back to the those moments where she had, quite literally, bashed the Ursa Major's skull in. Black chunks of flesh knitted to white bone still clung to the spikes on her gauntlets, now stained black with the Grimm's blood. Small wisps of smoke curled up from the chunks and blood, they would dissolve in time, she wouldn't even need to clean her hands.

It was all very surreal, she'd never killed a Grimm with her bare hands before, and certainly never so brutally. Fear dribbled its way through her mind, and the brutality of her kill was not the reason. It was the fact that she had enjoyed it. She had always been neutral about killing Grimm, it was something that needed to be done; was her job as a huntress. To leave any Grimm alive was to at some point doom some poor human to death at its hands later in time; after all, their sole purpose was to exterminate humanity, wasn't it? That said, she had never found joy in the killing of Grimm, but nor did she find any distaste at all for the action. It was her duty, and she would see it done. But back there, it had felt so good. She was almost close to laughing involuntarily in joy at the way the flesh tore and the bones shattered by her hand. It wasn't just that it was pent up rage and frustration, and the joy of finally being able to be in combat again. It was something...more within her, and she was terrified. Just how deeply had the darkness tainted her? How could she still be human at all?

Her mind spiraled through endless cycles of questions as she drew closer to the medical building. Dashing through the open door, she found the nearest Doctor, an older man with ashen hair and a look of authority, and marched up to him, offering him the Faunus in her arms. But when the man turned all he could do was stare, his jaw went slack and his eyes went wider than his mouth. The look of authority melted from his face, replaced with one of pure shock.

That was probably understandable, all things considered, she thought. Patiently she stood there trying as hard as she could to get the man's eyes off of her and towards the injured friend in her arms. She was practically shoving the girl in the man's face, and still he simply stood there and said nothing, though his face was now completely drained of color.

"I have a broken leg." Oh thank Dust for Velvet. The faunus' voice made the man jump, his head snapping to the source before his mind processed the words and changed the object of his focus to the girl's twisted leg. The man seemed to regain some composure, his focus narrowing exclusively to the patient before him.

"Follow me to the Light Casualties Room." He ordered briskly, avoiding eye contact with the creature carrying the injured Faunus. The man led them inside a room ten feet behind him and on the left, crammed with as many beds from across the Industrial District, it held a total of nineteen injured hunters. The wounds varied, but all seemed equal in severity, broken bones, torn muscles, and deep gashes. All dangerous, but none with the possibility of being immediately fatal. She could feel their eyes on her, but she would not meet their gaze. She couldn't bear to see the hate she presumed was there.

"Here," the man gestured to an empty bed near the left wall of the room. She set Velvet down as carefully as she could on the bleached white sheets, and as soon as she was out of her grasp the doctor descended upon her, asking her questions rapid fire as he poked softly at the leg. It was clear she was no longer needed. She stepped back as quietly as one could in armor and made for the door. Glancing back she locked eyes with Velvet, and a genuine smile adorned the faunus' face for the first time she could remember.

She closed the door behind her, and turned back towards the front door, only to be buffeted to the wall as eight or ten hunters and huntresses sprinted full tilt down the hall. She stuck to the wall as they barreled through the hallways, shouting warnings and sprinting towards the stairs. Many of them eyed her warily as they passed, gripping their weapons tighter in their hands, but none made any moves to attack her, so at least there was that. It was only when the last one passed her that she realized all of them were wielding some form of ranged weapon. The roof, she thought, they'd all be heading there, where their weapons would give them the greatest advantage possible in this situation. But then how many were outside?

She made her way briskly towards the double doors leading out, one was held open by a boy with a large mace and close cropped brown hair. Winchester, she realized, as he opened his mouth to bellow out to the courtyard.

"First squad in and on their way up, Professor!" His voice was solid and calm, though it carried clearly across the din of battle, a leader's voice.

"Good Mr. Winchester, now please round up the second squad and send them up." The shouted response of Goodwitch drifted to her ears over the roars and steel of battle. The boy in front of her hefted his mace and charged back out through the door he had held open, unwittingly followed by herself. The scene outside had changed, where before there had been no cohesive formation or battle plan there now was an organized defense. A line of hunters brandishing melee weapons stretched in a semicircle fifty or so feet from the open doors of the medical building. Shots rang out from the windows behind her as civilians and lightly wounded hunters alike provided fire support from the safety of the medical building.

The dramatic show of adaptability in a dire situation was nothing short of incredible. Hunters really were a different breed.

Forest green pupils surrounded by red roamed the backs of the hunters that formed the last line of defense to the medical building, scanning for any weak spots where she could be of use. All the professors were present on the ground, along with a mix of veteran hunters and younger ex-hunters-in-training. A steady stream of eight or so hunters backed out of the line every so often as Winchester tapped their backs and spoke, sprinting back towards the medical building as quickly as possible. Each one was armed with a ranged weapon. Her alabaster skin and ivory mask roamed again along the line once more.

Forty-two hunters held the line. Her hands tensed at her side. That wasn't enough, she thought as she dashed forwards, towards a young man with a trimmed mohawk and dual wielded daggers.

He had just rolled under a beowulf's horizontal swipe, and didn't see the Boarbatusk charging from his right.

Her boots pounded on the flagstones as she rushed to intercept the creature. Ten feet. A boisterous and jolly laugh resounded from somewhere on her left, punctuated by the howls of dying Grimm. Five feet. An Ursa Major surrounded by a purple hue shot fifteen feet in the air before being rended apart by an invisible force, each spike and spine and fragment of bone rocketing towards separate Grimm skulls as they were pierced with a crack. The boy was too involved with the pack in front of him still, his flank completely undefended as he opened up a Beowulf's chest. The Boarbatusk shrieked in triumph as it closed upon its target, then grunted in surprise as her shoulder slammed into its unprotected side and sent it flying straight into the face of an Ursa behind it.

The impromptu pair slammed against the flagstones in a cacophony of wails and shrieks before she descended upon the still recovering Boarbatusk. She kicked it solidly in its underbelly, the pointed ends of her boots tearing through the things hide. It shrieked in surprise and pain as she delivered a second kick, then a third and a fourth. She turned her gaze to its two beady left eyes and pounded her spiked fist into them, removing the glaring orbs with a pop as they clung to the spikes buried within them. She stomped on the things' front left tusk and broke it off, using her foot as a source of leverage.

That darker part of her emerged again, forcing a garish grin on her face as it -she - reveled in the sanguinary dismantling of the monster. With a beastial cry of triumph she braced her hands at the base of the tusk and shoved it up the Boarbatusk's unprotected lower jaw, through its skull, and straight into its brain. All this happened in the span of seven seconds at most, though it seemed like an eternity to her. Combat did that to you.

With a grunt she hefted it and threw the thing's limp corpse off the struggling Ursa below it, her ghastly grin adorning her black-blood speckled face and ivory mask was the first thing it saw. She hefted her foot and poured all her weight and strength into a stomp on the prone Ursa's windpipe, with a snapping of cartilage and a final forced exhalation of breath it collapsed. But her boot continued, crashing against the monster's spine. Again she lifted and again she stomped, over and over, a gleeful laugh forcing itself from her lips. It terrified her, but it also brought her such ecstasy. Why shouldn't I enjoy it? A voice nibbled at the back of her mind, it's pure evil, after everything they've done to me and humanity I deserve to relish in their torture, don't I?

The pounding of flagstones tore her mind back to reality. Her foot was no longer pounding any flesh, in fact, she had decapitated the thing so that all she stomped was the pavement. Burning eyes registered bristling black fur in front of her and body instinctiually reacted. One hand shot forth, fingers locked together in a spear of bone as they pierced the pelt. A grunt of surprise spread sickly warm breath across the back of her neck before her leg swiped forward. Sharpened and thick bone met black hide. The bone won. Black ichor spilled over her leg and splattered across the flagstones. The Beowulf, as its tumbling form now revealed it to be, splayed across the pavement from its sudden lack of leg. She finished it with a stomp to the skull.

She looked around, searching for more prey before realizing she couldn't see the other hunters anymore, only black fur and ivory masks. Her head shot from side to side before the truth dawned on her: she was entirely surrounded by Grimm. She raised her fists in a protective stance, waiting for an attack that never came.

The Grimm cast her sidelong glances, but none attacked; they all flowed around her like she was a rock in a river. Attack me, she wanted to scream, attack me, attack me, attack me! She roared and launched herself at the nearest Grimm, a smaller Beowulf. Digging her sharpened gauntlets into its throat as she tore away at the the flesh, she desperately removed one hand and hammered the unyielding gauntlet into its snout again and again. She roared in rage at it, her voice a bellowing and hoarse rasp, screaming incomprehensibly at it in a way only she could understand. Attack me, attack me, attack me! It's skull finally collapsed under the hammer blows and she rounded herself on a new target: a Creep that wasn't facing her. She bellowed in pain and rage and the dark ecstasy that burned within her, throwing the remnants of the Beowulf's skull at the creature in an effort to antagonize it. It didn't respond.

She charged it, her mind repeating the same desperate chorus as her voice and mouth struggled to do the same. She slid past it and swept her feet in a wide arc, she had meant only to knock its legs out from under it, but the razor sharp edges of her greaves and the power of the blow ripped through the tendons, muscle, and bone of the the creatures ankles. It shrieked in pain as it fell helplessly to the ground, but still it made no hostile move towards her; no biting or swiping or roaring characteristic of even injured Grimm, only a blank stare. She hated it. She hated herself.

She grabbed the thing's leg and pulled upward with all her might, pushing off with her feet, she kicked and swiped at the tendons and flesh that connected the Creep's leg to its body, slicing off chunk after chunk. Finally, with a sickening crunch and a victorious cry from herself, it yielded and came loose. Black blood sprayed over her armor as the artery suddenly lost its connection. Her vision was blurred and she could taste salt in her mouth. The Creep cried out in pain but still made no move to attack. The small island of logic in the emotional storm that was her mind told her that it probably couldn't if it wanted to. It was ignored.

She hammered down with the creatures own leg as a club, smashing it against it's face as it died. The world narrowed as she slammed the bleeding stump into its former owner, there was nothing, not even the Creep really; just the raging turmoil in her mind. Her limbs moved unconsciously, without input, still hammering away at where the Creep had last been.

She was dimly aware of the ground shaking underneath her feet and the Grimm parting around her, the sounds of battle ceasing, but her mind refused to register the information; it only cared about its tunnel vision. There wasn't even much coherent thought, simply wave after wave of rage, pain, fear, and sadness.

A mighty trumpeting sound and simultaneous voice broke through the storm of her emotions, shattering her tunnel vision, and letting the world around her flood back in. The broken pieces of the Creep's head were smoking as they began to dissolve, as was the now very broken stump she held. The battle around her had ceased, the Grimm pulling back thirty feet to the fountain from the battered semicircle of hunters that now stood less than ten feet from the door to the medical center. She stood in the no man's land between the two forces, between the light and the dark.

At the head of the roiling mass of Grimm, and directly in front of her, a gargantuan Goliath towered over the plaza. Its tusks were long and scarred, one broken at the tip, the parts of its hide that weren't covered in white plate were coated in their own armor of almost complete scar tissue. Gouges and cracks coated the mask of the Goliath before her, marks from a thousand battles, and a thousand victories. Its eyes were large and burning red as if lit by actual fires, and they glimmered as much from intellect as they did from fury. Another trumpeting from the Goliath and another simultaneous voice, though this time she processed it.

New One, the voice spoke, ending when the trumpeting did. It took her mind half a second to figure out what was happening: the Goliath was speaking to her, and she could understand it.

The tiny island of logic inside the storm of her mind reeled from the realization, spitting question after question out in a doomed attempt to rectify what was happening with what it thought was possible. But the fact that this was happening at all reignited the tempest of her emotions with the fear that had struck her during the fight, yet it quickly had to contend with other vortexes as her feelings spiraled into collapse. It's not attacking, was the first coherent thought she had.

In a rage she bellowed at the ancient beast before her, a monstrous sound, but she figured if she could understand it, it could understand her. Attack me!

The Goliath did not respond. Again she bellowed, snapping the Creep leg over her own and crunching the remains of the Creep skull beneath her boot. Attack me! No response. Infuriated, scared, and trembling, she threw the two halves of the leg at the creature's face where they deflected off its mask harmlessly, leaving only black smears behind. Her throat came to life unconsciously, rasping and bellowing at the monster: why won't any of you attack me?! She asked, a question she already knew the answer to, but couldn't face. The Goliath's head tilted downwards, its eyes meeting her own.

Because you are Grimm, New One, the voice sounded over the gruff trumpeting of the beast.

A part of her wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, to shut out the world and sob and curse at the unfairness, the cruelty, of it all. That was not the part of her that took control of her body though. The part that took control was sweating with anger and indignation, it wanted to make something hurt because none of this was fair. She may not be human anymore, but she certainly wasn't Grimm.

Her body went rigid as every muscle flexed simultaneously in rage. Her shoulders heaved as her breaths came out slowly, her fists clenched at her sides, and she locked eyes with the Goliath again. She wanted to kill it, the darkness within her feeding the fires of her rage. She charged. Her roar wasn't one of speech, but one of raw emotion.

Her brain fell back into the comfortable routine of assessment and exploitation. The monster before her was gargantuan, easily above forty feet in height, so logic told her it should be slow. Its hide would be incredibly thick and tough, but still weaker than the plates that adorned its body. Her mind figured that the weakest spot would be behind the knees: hamstring it and it couldn't move, then the hunters behind her could finish it off easily, well, easier. She pushed off from the ground and barreled towards the creature, but it made no move, nor did it speak, it only glared at her, assessing the child that had challenged it. That only infuriated her more, kicking her right leg out to the side she springboarded off its left shin and up towards the opposite knee, reaching her arm out to catch the bone knee plate.

Latching onto the top of the plate she used her newest anchor point as a pivot, letting her momentum swing her around so she was facing the behemoth's unprotected hide. She screamed and slashed at the hide with her bladed forearm, drawing a thin amount of blood. But the beast's hide was thick and, as such, the cut was shallow. She sliced again, drawing more blood, and the behemoth grunted in annoyance and stomped the foot she clung to. The flagstones cracked and the ground shook, but her grip held firm.

She sliced twice more before the thing's left front leg lashed out. She twirled around to the other side of the leg, slicing as she went, before what sounded like the cracking of a whip filled her ears. A force wrapped itself around her torso, pressing her left arm against her body. The trunk, she realized, as she suddenly found herself hurtling across the plaza. Her mind instinctively attempted to use her semblance to redirect her momentum, but nothing came of it. The ground was rushing towards her face, and she just managed to tuck into a ball and roll as her back hit the ground. Her armor softened the blow immensely, and her rolling lessened it even further, but it still hurt. She rolled three times before springing out and taut on the last rotation, leaping to her feet and turning to face the behemoth again. Tiny black globs of blood oozed from the cut she had made, but the creature's stance indicated that it felt no pain when putting all of its weight on the injured leg.

She roared and charged again at the creature, rolling to avoid the spined trunk that whipped towards her before vaulting out of the roll and onto the creature's left knee. She didn't have a plan, not really. Her mind was clouded with darkness and hate, only having enough cognizant thought to work out the base tactics: get to the face, and cause it pain. She clambered up the creature's leg and onto its flank, she dug her pointed gauntlets as deep into its flesh as she could go before leaping up onto its spine to dodge the trunk that came to swat her. She began to sprint along the ridged black flesh before it shifted beneath her feet. The black mountain of muscle rippling under her as it reared upwards at a right angle, her feet suddenly finding themselves with nothing to stand on. She dug her claws into the flesh, clawing for a handhold, but none came. Instead, she raked four shallow cuts down the beast's back, cursing mentally as her fingers reached the end of the flesh.

Something spiked and whip-like slapped against her left side, sending her flying to the right, straight towards the awaiting claws of an Ursa Major. She crossed her forearms in front of her, guarding her body and absorbing most of the raw impact of the horizontal swipe it used to send her skipping across the flagstones and back into no-man's-land.

Her body ached from the blows she had taken, but it was not debilitating, and she would not let it stop her. Her sharp, gauntleted fingers scraped against the flagstones as she shakily pushed herself to her feet, stumbling slightly as she did so. She raised her head to glare at the ancient Goliath, matching its hate filled gaze with one of her own. She sneered and charged again, but was forced to her knees when pain exploded in her ears. She screwed her eyes shut and clamped her hands over her ears to shut out the incredible trumpeting that the creature before her made. The voice in her mind translated, roaring "Enough!" through her skull. The trumpeting ceased and she blinked slowly, the hate that had clouded her mind retreating.

More trumpeting, not nearly as shrill and painful this time, filled her ears. You are as annoying as you are young, New One. She rose groggily to her feet glaring at the beast before her. She managed a rasping roar in response: I'll kill you!

A glimmer of amusement flickered in the beast's eyes before it grunted and trumpeted again. No, you will not. You will come with us. An instant snarl was her response as she bared her teeth at the beast. I will die first, monster. It snorted loudly through its trunk. A tempting offer, but no. You will come with us, or the humans will die.

The snarl vanished from her face, replaced by a look of panic. She turned around and scanned the faces of the surviving Hunters on the ground, the ones lining the rooftop, and a few civilian support staff faces pressed against the window. They were shocked, and it took her a few seconds to understand why. They were shocked because they were witnessing what appeared to be two Grimm conversing. Negotiating, talking. She'd never heard of that happening before. She glanced back at the faces behind her, she only recognized three: her professors. All three faces were a study in cautious perplexment. Port gripped his Axe with both hands, looking deceptively calm and disinterested save for the deep furrowing of his eyebrows and mustache. Goodwitch's eyes flicked back and forth between herself and the Goliath, full of intensity; she gripped her riding crop defensively in one hand, tendons perched on the edge of making a move. Oobleck seemed to all the world transfixed by their conversation, but his legs were slightly bent and his muscles taut and ready for combat. She turned back to the monster before her and met its gaze. She growled; why would you let them live even if I came with you? The Grimm's massive ears flourished outwards as it shifted its head. One by one it made eye contact with every Hunter on the ground before letting its baleful gaze rove among the faces on the rooftop. Some flinched, others sneered, but most just looked perplexed, as if not sure how to react to such an event. Slowly, its gaze fell back on her, and it trumpeted and snorted once again. I wouldn't, but it is not my place to make such a decision. I serve. As will you, New One. She looked back at the faces behind her, sixty or so total combat ready humans of varying skill and size, against them stood a horde of Grimm that stretched endlessly down the city streets, repaving them in ebony fur. Could they win this? Could they survive? All the faces of ex-students and transfers on the roof, how many would die? She didn't know. What she did know was that any who died would die because of her, her pride. Take the offered out and let them all live, or gamble with their lives because she couldn't bear to go with the Grimm.

She knew the right choice, the heroic choice. Just like she knew the right and heroic choices when offered with the fall maidens powers, or facing down the raven-haired woman on the tower, and just like those she wished she could muster the selfishness within her to do what she wanted to. But she could not.

"Miss Nikos," the voice broke through her thoughts that she'd been lost in and forced her back to reality. She was staring at the Professors, the Goliath behind her snorting impatiently as it awaited her decision on the fate of the humans, the friends, around her. She turned to face the source, and found herself looking into the soft face of Doctor Oobleck.

She needed to tell them, had to, but not for their sake. She needed them to know she wasn't a monster leaving with her rescuers, she refused to be. She thrust her right hand outward towards the Doctor, making a writing motion with her left. The man grasped the meaning immediately and retrieved his scroll from within the confines of his forest-green jacket. She took the scroll from his hand and began to type, before holding it out for them to read.

The Goliath says that if I leave with them, the horde will not attack. I won't let anyone die for me, I'm the reason they're here, and I can make them leave you all alone.

Oobleck eyed her, "Miss Nikos-"

She growled. She actually growled at him and shook her head. No, this was not up for discussion. She hated it, despised the very notion of accompanying Grimm away from people she knew to be friends. But she'd hate herself more if even one died because she was too proud to leave.

She lifted the scroll again and typed a short message. Goodbye, and thank you. She held the scroll out for Oobleck to take again, but he made no move to do so. Instead he lowered his glasses and gave her his best teacher-glare. "I expect you to return Miss Nikos and so much more. After all," a slow smile crept across the man's face, "you are a Huntress."

"And a fine one at that, Barty," Professor Port said, slamming his hand on Oobleck's back with a tremendous thump before leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper. "Who else could trick the Grimm so cleverly?"

"When you get back we are going to have a very serious discussion, Miss Nikos." Goodwitch said as she narrowed her eyes and lowered her glasses.

"That's our Glynda," Port bellowed with a hearty laugh, "ever the disciplinarian." For once the blond didn't make the effort to glare at the mustachioed man with delusions of wit. No, she wouldn't take her eyes off the creature before her.

Pyrrha only nodded curtly in return, she didn't trust herself to not break down if she tried anything more. She let her eyes drift among the faces on the ground, desperate for more images of humanity for her memory to store, no matter how downtrodden and beaten. She saw hate, confusion, indignation, fear, and that was only from the ones whose eyes she could actually meet.

She turned away.

The dull thud of her bone boots colliding against the flagstone echoed through the still night air. Labored breaths and restrained snarls peppered her ears from both sides as the two mortal enemies eyed each other. Each step brought her closer to the Goliath, and each step tore her heart apart. But none of that seemed to matter, not as long as these people survived.

Without realizing it she found herself standing before the Goliath, the thick logs of muscle and bone that formed its legs locked stock still as it observed her. It snorted once and a voice filled her mind: Follow. It raised its monstrous legs and slowly turned back towards the streets leading out of the plaza, Grimm parted before it, cutting a swath of empty land through the ebony horde. She made to follow, but stopped. Her legs locked in place of their own accord as her torso twisted back to once more observe the humans behind her. Green-red orbs found blue as Oobleck's mouth spread into a sad smile. Her mind shot back to Velvet and her hand raised unconsciously beside her head, spread wide as she gave a final wave of farewell.

Her view was cut off as an Ursa and its pack shifted in front of her, black fur and ivory spines replaced the kind eyes and sad smile of Doctor Oobleck. All she could see now were the Grimm.


A/N: Annnnnnd cut! That's the end of our first arc people, so glad to have you along for the ride! Fun fact: I was going to include a portion where the Goliath orders all the Grimm to attack the humans anyway, but I just couldn't really make it fit, and the current chapter end I really like.

Man, this week has been busy. I wanted to make the battle more drawn out and awesome, and I did end up adding about three paragraphs to the original, but I just didn't have the time for anything more if I wanted to get it out on time which sucks.

A huuuuge thank you to MrWizard70, who has volunteered to help me out with spitballing ideas, plot points, and just general review stuff. He even beta-d this chapter, so give him a huge round of applause!

Um, news, yes, news! Don't worry, just because this is the end of our first arc doesn't mean there won't be an update next week, in fact I've already planned to upload Chapter 10 next Monday/Sunday. WHICH will also be our first non-Pyrrha POV! No hints other than that though, except that according to MrWizard70 it breaks some out feels and is somewhat bittersweet.

That's all for today folks, have a good one and stay safe!