Chapter 11, completed and beta'd. I'd like to thank everyone reviewed, as well as a reviewer in particular who has a story in this same exact fandom: a Dark Souls/RWBY crossover: Archangel Writings. As for a few other reviews, as Reaper6883 asked: I will be joining the Air Force in the spring, assuming all goes well. Another shout out to a reviewer by the user Lone Commentor, who I'm pretty sure has been following around since around the beginning of this story and giving me a lot of good feedback. I appreciate all of you, and, well... here we go.

If there was one thing he could say for certain, it was the Undead, who'd been a thorn in his side ever since the two met, had the single most impressive talent for death and destruction of anyone he had ever seen or met. Really, as he scoured the ruins of the collapsed cave and 'secret' research facility, he was downright impressed!

He would have struggled to bring down a damn cave atop his own head during a fight, but not Sibyl.

While he wasn't too shabby in his own right, his particular brand of death-bringing was precise and clean, not to mention stylish. Death was an art, after all, and Sibyl… Sibyl made some of the ugliest, yet most brutally beautiful art he'd ever seen. He still remembered when the Undead had finished his phantom form off. It had been a close fight, but, well… close wasn't good enough.

He was still rather miffed about that. The fact the bloody Undead had come back to him after that, attempting to purchase some wares? He was either thick in the head or trying to rub it in... He'd bet his souls on the latter. Regardless, he'd continue to sell to him. Souls were souls, after all, and he, like all Undead, were in dire need of them. Not to mention they'd been the only two sane beings in that damnable city, without counting a grieving lover, a mushroom, and a philosophical, blind giant. It sounded like the beginning of a bad joke…

Still, back to Sibyl and the destruction he had brought on Adam's little facility. The Faunus had been doing some dirtythings here – absolutely treacherous things, really. It was enough to even make him feel a bit sick. He was a killer, of course, and one with remarkably low morals, but there were some lines even he wouldn't cross. Adam? Adam had crossed those lines, so more than a small part of him was rather looking forward to what he had been assigned to do.

Still, as he hopped from a large fallen rock to a smaller one, a much larger part of him wished he hadn't been assigned to do this. It was just so… boring. He'd rather be having a nice dinner or watching one of those odd movies which were just ever so enjoyable. This world was truly something incredible.

If there was one thing to be thankful to that Undead for, it was bringing him here.

He had experienced no small number of somethings which had been damn near impossible to imagine until Sibyl inadvertently dragged him here, with that bright flash of white. He'd been tailing the Undead, trying to see how his fight with Manus would go, and preparing to strike when Sibyl was most unprepared for it. That all went up in smokes, yet he was thankful, because this world was a large step up from his previous one.

They had a sense of fashion, for one. And, well… he had found himself quite the lady. Deadly, beautiful, ambitious, and with a quiet, cold fury which brought just a bit of life back to his Undead bones. That was before she made his bones rattle – and that was an experience he'd never tire of! He'd been here for nearly two years, and they were the best two years of his life. The rest of his life was looking up, too, as soon as they completed their mission and took care of their mutual so-called 'master'.

And now, his dear friend had finally decided to reveal himself. Really, the last thing he'd expected was the Undead to be attending Beacon Academy; it seemed fate had saw fit to put them on opposite ends, once again. Sibyl, so idealistic, so… foolish, and then him.

Yes, they'd chosen their sides. Only time would tell if they'd picked right, but the mystery was half the fun.

He paused, straining his ears to listen. He definitely heard something, and it was probably his mark. Adjusting his large crossbow to rest up against his shoulder, he walked until it got louder and louder.

Eventually, he was left looking at a loose rock. Giving it a solid kick with his own Undead-enhanced strength, it rolled off, revealing just the angry, bull-headed Faunus he'd been looking for.

Adam took deep breaths, staring up at him with a snarl. "You! Get me out of here, you little-"

Yawning beneath his mask, the Undead crouched down, tilting his head lightly. Had no one ever taught the poor fool manners? He hadn't even said 'please'!

"You're really feeling the heat now, aren't you?" He sighed, as the over-ambitious Faunus cursed his name, "You really should have thought long and hard before trying to use that Undead for anything other than a quick kill." He stood up and gave the Faunus a swift kick in the head which shut his stupid mouth.

Well, it did more than that. Judging by the crunching sound, he'd broken the fool's jaw. How swell.

"But, it's all the same to me. Cinder doesn't like you, and whatever she doesn't like, I don't like. Really, what you did to those girls in the basement? Simply dreadful," he laughed as he finished speaking, tuning out what most of the Faunus said. It didn't matter what the animal said – he was already dead, even if he still had illusions of grandeur about surviving and getting revenge.

People really were foolish. Every single one of them. Stretching lightly, he adjusted his crossbow from his shoulder, so it was pointing at the head which stuck out from the ground. Taking aim down the sights, he saw realization finally dawning in Adam's eyes. "Not to worry. We'll make good use of your soldiers," he informed, finally discharging his bolt and watching as it penetrated right between the Faunus's eyes at the bridge of his nose.

He loved the sound it made as it entered. There was nothing like it,and he licked his lips beneath the mask as the schlicking of his bolt firing and penetrating his foe's skull sounded.

"Marvelous."

Whistling, he reached down, pulling the bolt out from Adam's skull and returning it to his quiver at his backside. "I love this land," he whispered, giving Adam's head one last kick with his foot, before laughing hysterically.

It was dark. Everything around him was dark. A darkness which left him feeling so very, very cold. He had never liked the dark, always preferring the light and its welcoming rays. Yet the warmth of the sun was a long way from him now, and as he tried to look around, all he could see was black. It went on forever and everywhere, from beneath him, above him, to all around.

He felt as if he was drowning. As if he stood in a river, the water slowly rising and battering his body until, eventually, he took too much of a beating and sunk neck deep. It was hard – nae, impossible to breathe. He couldn't breathe. Why couldn't he breathe?

Where was he? He… he couldn't remember anything.

Him and Blake had been captured, and he should have finally killed that bastard Adam, and then he was… here. What had he missed?

"Oho!" A familiar voice sounded from behind him, and he blinked, slowly turning to look. It was Siegemeyer. His dear, dear friend was here, and that was the first good news he had received in forever. "It seems like we've found ourselves backed into another dangerous corner, hmm, friend?" The older knight chuckled, adjusting his blade against his shoulder. "Not to worry. I'll think up a plan to get us out of here in no time at all."

Sibyl nodded, smiling at his friend's words. It was simply nice to not be alone. He had never liked being alone, and he never would. It reminded him too much of his earlier days, trapped in that asylum, wondering how long until he cracked and began slamming his Hollowed head into the walls.

Still, even if Siegemeyer was here, Sibyl couldn't speak or move. Perhaps his friend would be able to free him? The Onion Knight slowly maneuvered over, striking his blade into the Abyss and allowing it to rest there as he crossed his arms, humming while he stared at Sibyl's predicament.

"Hmm, perhaps if I were to cut around you – no, no, that won't work," he murmured under his breath, but Sibyl blinked at seeing his friend was… getting shorter? He glanced his eyes down – and just his eyes, because his head refused to move. He glanced down, and Siegemeyer wasn't getting shorter. He was sinking, and he didn't even realize it!

Sibyl opened his mouth to say something, but the force against his jaw kept it hinged shut. Even as he tried to scream… beg his friend to pay attention, no noise was made. Eventually, Siegemeyer was dragged completely under the Abyss – and Sibyl screamed even more quietly as his body was ripped apart beneath the Abyss surface, until eventually, nothing remained but the same, black darkness which both bound and surrounded him.

"Tis' a shame," the voice of Gough suddenly echoed around him, the usually joyful giant sounding depressed. Sibyl quickly tore his eyes up from the Abyss beneath him. "To suffer the same fate as Artorias…"

What? Siegemeyer wasn't immediately important – mostly because Gough's words had made him realize what this was. It was the Abyss trying to corrupt his mind and his soul.

But no, he wasn't corrupted. He would know if that was the case, and certainly, it wasn't. Shaking his head, Sibyl opened his mouth to speak when he felt something pull on his feet. Glancing down, he saw the Abyss had begun to work its way up his legs- no, no. He was falling deeper into it. The Abyss wasn't moving; he was falling into the darkness, just like had happened to Siegemeyer?

Well, he wasn't going to get ripped apart.

He struggled. He had to get out; he was going to get out. He would get out of this. He would not become another Artorias. He would survive, and he would return to Lordran. The Chosen Undead had a destiny to fulfill; failing here was not an option.

Yet, as he tried to pull his feet out from the Abyss, he simply sank deeper and deeper, until eventually, he couldn't move. He felt as if he was both drowning and buried alive; his throat burned as he tried to scream, yet nothing came out. Eventually, the Abyss tightened around him so closely he couldn't even wiggle, much less flail and struggle from his bindings.

All was silent for a few moments, and it was deafening. Then, a moment thereafter, voices began to murmur. Slowly, more and more were added to the mix, until eventually, they were so loud and jumbled Sibyl was struggling to make out more than a few words. He longed to plug his ears with his fingers, but he couldn't move. His arms remained at his side as he struggled, flailing but not even moving a muscle at the same time.

They accused him.

"Murderer!"

"I thought we were brothers, yet you didn't even hesitate-"

"I only wanted to protect my sick sister, and then you-"

"Couldn't even bother to guide me to Quelana, could you? You killed me," Laurentius hissed into his ears, and he tried to tune the words out.

They were lies. This was all lies! There had been no way to know how things would turn out. He had only ever done the best he could!

Why couldn't they understand that?! He was eighteen; he was a boy! He wanted to die, but it was impossible! Everyone else got what he craved, and in doing so, they left him more and more alone. Yet… and only now did he realize this, he took their souls. He had his friends' souls within him, and he had even used their souls for… what, exactly? To strengthen himself? What good was strength when he had no one to protect!? Gods, what was wrong with him?! He hadn't even hesitated to strike Solaire down when that bug drove him mad.

He blamed instinct, but that was no real excuse.

"And to think," Lautrec taunted, "you thought of me as the monster."

Sibyl shook his head, trying to take a deep breath, but he was still choking. Still, he managed to force a few words out.

"Lies! All of it!" It was all lies. None of these words were real. It was the work of the Abyss, trying to weaken his resolve. It had to be.

"Your lies never cease," Rhea informed, and he flinched. He, despite the force against them, slammed his eyes shut and refused to look. She haunted him the worst of all. "You promised to protect me! Instead, Sir Petrus-" He tried to shut the voices up, tried to reach a hand up to cover his ears. Yet he couldn't move, and he was forced to listen. Eventually, his eyes were made to open, and he gasped.

Rhea stood before him, her white robes covered in blood and in tatters, and he could see visible bruises over her bare skin and breast. He knew what Petrus had done to her – the same thing which had nearly happened to Blake. He swallowed as she slowly walked up closer, leaning in with those dead, cold eyes which were once quite beautiful.

"I didn't-"

She reached a hand for his throat and began to choke him, and it burned. His throat burned as if someone had shoved a fireball directly into his throat! His eyes glanced down, and he noticed her hand was black like, the Abyss. "Would you pray with me?" She asked, the Abyss on her arm continuing to crawl more and more up her arm.

Eventually, she loosened one of her Abyssal hands and moved it up to cover his Abyssal eye. He screamed, reaching a hand forward and grasping-

Yang. Why was Yang here? He stared at her with wide eyes, breathing heavily and trying to get himself under control.

"Fireball?" She asked, and he nodded. That was her nickname for him: Fireball. He quite liked it. He liked Yang. She was funny, adventurous, and strong. A great pyromancer in the making, too. But why was she here? Why was she here in his mental battle with the Abyss?

Her hand slowly moved from his face to cupping his chin and cheek. "It's Yang. You're… you're gonna' be okay, alright?"

No, she didn't get it. How could she? They had no idea what he was, what he could become. He was a freak, and they didn't understand that. He shook his head at her insistence that he'd be okay. She was wrong.

"Artorias… I'll be like Artorias," he muttered, turning to look at Yang-

She laid on the ground, her body cut in half and her beautiful face burnt into something unrecognizable. He stood over her, body covered in darkness, and kept stabbing her body. Blood gushed out of the wound, slapping up against his face and into his eyes, yet the stabbings did not stop. Why wouldn't he stop!? Why couldn't he stop!?

Sibyls screamed, doing anything he could to stop stabbing her. He had to. Why was he doing this?! He threw himself onto his back, slamming his head into the ground with the hope it would crack his damn skull and finally end his life. It didn't work, because the ground was far too soft-

His eyes widened further when the Abyss began to creep over his body as it laid down, clamping around his legs, shoulders, and head with a dark imitation of hands.

Glancing, he saw what was holding him down. Abyssal sprites which masqueraded as people. Well, he wouldn't have it – he would not find himself ended here to the Abyss. He was going to fight, and he was going to tear these things apart with his bare hands if he had to!

And so, he fought against their grip. But it was a firm grip, as firm as the Iron Giant who stood atop Sen's Fortress. And slowly, they began to reach across his body, tying some sort of… thing around his neck?! He wanted to rip it off; it hurt! It burned him terribly, and he knew instantly it was a device of the Abyss meant to finalize his corruption.

One of the Abyssal human-imitators reached forward, grabbing the device and squeezing. His body screamed in protest and-

Sibyl gasped, suddenly able to see if only for a moment. He glanced around, and it was a great sight – his friends, surrounding him. Glynda, Yang, Pyrrha and even Sun. And, if he squinted, their image overlapped with his friends of old. Quelana, Solaire, Laurentius, and especially the Darkmoon Knightress. Yet… yet that was impossible. Half of those people were dead or gone, not to mention he had felt that damn Abyssal device expel upon his body. It had to have been his final transformation. This was just an illusion: it was all lies. Or… or perhaps he did see them, and he had ended them in his madness.

No, he refused to believe that…

But Artorias, moments before his death, had proclaimed aloud to have seen his dearest friends. He… he must be sharing the same fate.

"It's all lies! Quit taunting me, damnable Abyss! I am nothing more than a husk, just like Artorias!"

He had failed. He had failed on his mission, just as he had failed his friends. And… and if he truly was corrupted, then he must have killed Blake. She was dead by his hand.

Reaching a hand up to his face, he clutched the dark eye which had started his journey to the end. "Please, no…" he whispered, and it was with those final words that he fell unconscious. His dreams were haunted once more.

It wasn't natural. That was what Weiss decided as she watched Sibyl's sleeping face contort with pain, fear, and who knows what else. Sibyl, her teacher, dear friend, and someone she, just maybe, even admired on a deeper level. The guy who beat everyone in combat class with ease…. when he decided to show up, though he had yet to fight with Pyrrha.

He was the guy teaching her and Yang amazing things. Things which should have been impossible, and yet, they weren't. The guy who, despite everything he had endured, was stronger than anyone she knew, mentally and physically.

The boy who wowed them with stories, who showed off drawings of his dead, lost friends not with a frown, but with a smile as he reminisced. That kind boy laid on the bed, shaking with the passing of so many different, terrible emotions. His usually strong body was left looking so weak and meek. So yes, it wasn't natural, because Sibyl wasn't supposed to ever look so defeated. He was so proud and confident, with the strength to back it up.

He wasn't… this.

Weiss frowned as she stared at him and the few tubes connected to him, not to mention the many different bandages and wrappings. Sighing softly and glancing to Yang and Blake, both of whom sat asleep in separate chairs, her frown only deepened. Ruby had left to get them some coffee, because they were all taking shifts to see when Sibyl would wake up. It had been two days since they got back, and he still just… laid there.

All the while, Weiss continued to feel her guilt grow. It built up every time she saw Blake, and most certainly every time she glanced at Sibyl's comatose state. Her… grievances with the White Fang and refusal to hear Blake out had led to all of this.

Sibyl crying out in his sleep was her fault.

Blake nearly being raped was her fault.

Blake still being violated was her fault, and every single drop of blood they'd found on both Sibyl and Blake when they first encountered the both of them was also her fault. It didn't matter if it was White Fang blood or their own; neither should have ever been put into a position where they had to kill someone or be injured so gravely.

Sibyl shouldn't have been put into a position for that… thing to grow. It stretched out from his eye to his jaw and didn't seem to be receding. She slowly walked forward, tracing one of the lines which split off from his eye socket and traveled around to the back of his neck, going right beneath his ear.

It was her fault.

It didn't matter if Ruby, Yang, and Blake herself all insisted otherwise. The truth was the truth, and she faced it with a flinch and mumbled whispers of how sorry she was.

Blake had shared the details yesterday, and Weiss remembered it all with a clenched fist.

"It was everywhere," Blake whispered, slowing moving her hand up her forearm and towards her face. "The blood was warm. Really warm, and I never even had a chance to wash it away. It just… dried all over me, but that was nothing compared to Sibyl. He practically bathed in it." The cat Faunus took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "When the darkness spread… I think he liked it," she added, unable to stop from choking fully.

Every drop of blood was her fault.

Every life Sibyl took was her fault.

Every uncomfortable feeling Blake now had to deal with was her fault.

Sibyl losing himself to whatever the hell that darkness which stained his usually good-looking face was her fault.

"We made it to the basement, and he was still limping. I-It was after we found our gear. What we found down there…" Blake shuddered, rubbing her own palm briefly. "He knew what they were. Fire Keepers. Or, well, that was what they were supposed to be." She paused, staring ahead blankly. "They didn't even look like people. They weren't people by the time we found them. They… they looked like standing slugs, with blue tendrils coming out of their heads! And… and Sibyl, he killed them all. One of them was half transformed, and he held her, he told her everything was going to be okay as he looked into her one good eye – then he shoved his sword through her chest. Not because he wanted to, but because it was the only thing he could do."

She had forced Sibyl to do that. To take a life he didn't want to… to take responsibility for whatever that absolute bastard had done to turn those poor women into… whatever Blake was describing. It certainly didn't sound pleasant. But Sibyl took responsibility – apparently it was his teacher's fault, yet still, he blamed himself.

He should have blamed her. They all should have blamed her – her teammates should be ostracizing her, not trying to comfort her! Didn't they get it? Sibyl may never recover, and it was her damn fault! Blake was going to be haunted by the memory of what almost happened forever, both her near-violation and near-transformation into those things, all because Weiss was ignorant, stupid, and hateful.

It was all her fault, and that was the truth.

Weiss blinked as Blake wrapped her in a hug, doing her best to ignore the stench of dried blood entering her nostrils and the sound of the Faunus's choked cry. "I'm so sorry," Blake mumbled through the embrace, and Weiss was forced to blink again.

Blake had apologized to her the moment they saw each other. Weiss had expected a slap, some harsh words, maybe even the cold shoulder, but not… that. It made no sense! Everything was her fault! Why didn't they get that!? Why couldn't they understand?

"Weiss?" Ruby suddenly spoke, and the Schnee heiress slowly turned around, trying to stop the shaking of her hand and the tears forming in her eyes as she grasped the cup of coffee her partner had brought. She took a deep breath, composing herself and nodding in thanks as she stopped her shaking.

"Yes, Ruby?" She answered, finally, doing the best she could to keep her voice stable and normal. It only half-worked.

"…do you think things will go back to normal once Sibyl wakes up?" Her leader asked softly as she stared into her own coffee.

Weiss sighed just as softly, running a hand through her own hair as her gaze turned back to Sibyl. "No. I don't think so."

Things were silent for a few moments after she finished speaking, and Weiss almost apologized off instinct for not being more positive. Then, Ruby spoke.

"Yeah. I didn't think so, either." Ruby paused, taking a deep breath before speaking so rapidly Weiss only barely heard her. "Do you think he will wake up?"

It was a tough question to answer, and so she didn't. Then again, that might have been enough of an answer in and of itself.

Yang was suddenly awoken, and it was to the sight of Ruby shaking her awake.

"Something's happening with Sibyl!"

The blonde blinked, the words her sister had hissed taking a few moments to register. When they did, she sat up very quickly, practically jumping out of her seat.

"W-What's happening?" She asked, and Ruby gave a panicked shrug while gesturing towards her teacher. Following the outstretched arm, Yang quickly moved past Blake and Weiss, coming to Sibyl's side and… what was she looking at?

He looked like a burn victim, mixed with a thinning corpse! He didn't seem to be in pain, at least, as he was still breathing softly. Giving a helpless glance to those around her, she noticed only Blake didn't seem too alarmed.

It was the only thing which stopped her from completely losing her shit.

"He's shown me this before," the Faunus murmured, and Yang waited for her to elaborate. The bow-wearing girl shook her head, turning to look at those around. "He's shown me this before. He said he was cursed, then he touched something on his neck and this happened. He… changed."

Yang didn't say anything when Blake slowly inched forward, reaching with her hand around Sibyl's neck and shoulder and touching something-

Sibyl suddenly, without warning and with a jerk, sat up in the bed, breathing heavy and attempting to straighten his back. He stayed like that for only a few moments, glancing around. "…Yang, Ruby?" He mumbled, squinting briefly before tentatively reaching a hand up to his face.

He slowly felt around, and his hand stilled upon feeling the Abyssal line which went from his eye socket to his upper lip. Sighing softly, he removed his hand – but blinked upon seeing the wrinkled and dead-looking palm. "I'm Undead," he mumbled, repeating it again for good measure before his eyes suddenly widened.

Reaching for the back of his neck in a rapid motion, he pressed two fingers in the same area Blake had done so, and immediately upon doing so, his body began to get more… livelier. His wrinkles disappeared, his skin tone returned to normal, and he stopped looking like a corpse and returned to appearing alive.

Yang blinked, and as Sibyl exhaled softly while his body continued to finish changing, she decided to speak while inching forward, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. He didn't pull away from her touch, but he also didn't return it.

"Fireball? Are you okay?"

He sighed softly, turning to look away from his palm and over at her.

"I'm unsure. Unsure if you're real – unsure if I am anything but a corrupted husk. Unsure if I killed all of you." He paused, trying to keep eye contact but failing, instead turning his gaze to the ground.

Yang, though, had bigger concerns than his failure to keep eye contact.

"You're alive, Sibyl. We're all alive – and whatever was happening to you, that pendant Glynda knew about stopped it," Blake explained, and the infected warrior nodded.

"Possible, I suppose. Still… no, this feels too real. Far too real. Is… is it real?" He wondered aloud, voice soft and afraid.

Yang slowly inched forward, pulling him into a hug which was one-sided, because he certainly didn't return it.

Still, she felt the muscles in his shoulder lose their stiffness, and so she was glad she had decided to give him a hug. "This is real, Fireball. We were all so worried about you – I was worried about you," she added, slowly removing him from her firm grasp.

"…I appreciate the sentiment," he mumbled, and she noticed he couldn't meet her eyes and kept flinching every time he looked at any of them. "You all have questions, correct?" He whispered softly, turning his head and scanning through their gazes – or, well, doing his best. Yang nodded, and so too did he. "I will answer them. I will answer them all, no more lies. Please, gather Glynda, Pyrrha, and her team. Until then, I would like to be left alone to think."

"What? You just woke up! We need to make sure you're okay-" Yang began, but Sibyl held up a hand to stop her. She begrudgingly did so.

"Please. I need to shift through my mind to cleanse the… less–than-pleasant memories your faces beckons."

She blinked at that, unsure why Sibyl wouldn't be happy to see them and their faces. Had they done something? Was he mad it had taken them so long to find him-

"…did you hallucinate?" Blake asked softly, and Sibyl hummed before giving a hollow chuckle.

"By the gods, I do hope so, Blake. Otherwise…" he paused, taking a deep breath and blinking a few times in a sign he was trying not to cry. "Please, just… give me a few minutes."

Blake nodded, but Yang wasn't so sure that was a good idea. He'd just woken up, and they were all so excited to see him, and he just wanted them to leave him alone?

"We can do that," Weiss declared, interrupting Yang's train of thought. "We're just glad to see you're safe," The heiress finished, grabbing Yang by the upper arm and pulling her away.

The three were left in the hallway, as Ruby had already left to get Pyrrha and the others. Things were silent for a few moments, before Weiss tried to speak. "Well, he's awake. That's good," she mumbled, staring at the door they had been kicked out from.

"He's… upset," Blake said, brows furrowing lightly. Yang raised an eyebrow, because that much was obvious. "I can hear him," the cat Faunus whispered, and then Yang realized why Blake had said it aloud. While they were all concerned for Sibyl, only one of them had yet to leave his side, and that was Blake. It made sense, given she was only alive thanksto him.

Yang hadn't really left much either, but she had returned to her dorm to get a few things. Blake refused to even do that.

"It's natural. Given the… nature of what we heard and saw, it's safe to assume his hallucinations weren't pleasant," Weiss explained, and the three were left in silence after that.

Yang slowly caught up with the train of thought, and her mind settled on what Sibyl had been talking about.

The… hallucinations. They couldn't have been that bad, could they have? Yet, he had refused to even look at them. He flinched every single time they tried to meet eyes, and he had to stop himself from crying. Sibyl didn't cry, even if Yang thought it'd be good for him to do so.

There was also what he had told Blake. It was a lot to take in, and her free time didn't last long enough for her to do so, however, as an eager Ruby was very fast, and had retrieved everyone who Sibyl wanted in on this little 'meeting'.

Glynda, for the first time in a while, had a relieved look on her face. Jaune, Nora, and Ren were confused, yet happy, while Pyrrha herself had a wide smile. Yang idly wondered how long all those different expressions of relief and joy would last. She didn't think it would be long.

They had all been so happy to see him awake. Even Jaune, whose relationship could be described as… distant, at best, had been beyond relieved to see Sibyl was awake and alive. Well, as close to alive as he could get, anyways. It should have been heartwarming and pleasant. He wished that was what he had felt, but it wasn't.

Everyone around him was relieved beyond belief, but him? He was terrified. Terrified to look at any of them. Terrified that any second, all of them might fade and he'd be left in the darkness alone. He could barely stare at a single one of them – well, that wasn't so much true for Nora, Ren, and Jaune. He could stare at them without much care, but if his eyes so much as flickered towards one of Glynda, Ruby, Pyrrha, Yang, Blake, or Weiss, his body would stiffen and his breathing started to get heavier and heavier.

It was so hard to look at them. He tried to do so, briefly, with Ruby-

He had beheaded her with one smooth slice, and the words, "Please, Sibyl! This isn't yo-" had been cut off about halfway through. His eyes refused to shut as blood flickered against them, staining his unblinking eyes and he could do little more but scream silently as he heard her head hit the ground with a squishing sound-

Sibyl barely stopped himself from gasping, and he did that purely because he was not alone. His friends would have grown concerned or fearful for him. Him! He was the Chosen Undead, slayer of Gods, demons, and men alike. He was not to show fear or other such emotions. He was above them.

He still wasn't sure if any of this was real, but it just… felt so much more real. Each passing moment his fears of those around him would fade to darkness – or be torn apart by it – weakened more and more. It was only now he realized the sensations he had felt amidst the darkness weren't as real as he had thought.

The Undead decided to cut himself a littlebit of slack for that. His senses had been clouded and overwhelmed. It had been easy to overlook such things.

As Nora finished explaining how happy she was to see him awake and alive, and that they should "totally go eat pancakes to celebrate", he offered her a broken smile before clearing his throat. Those around him took it as their cue to quiet down. He tried to stay calm as they all began waiting for him to speak. Eventually, he found the will to do so.

"…I am not who you think I am," the Undead admitted. It was an understatement – they knew nothing about him. Not his Undead curse, not his heritage being from another world, nor his… character. He was a killer, and only Blake well and truly realized that now.

"I have lied to all of you since they day I've arrived, one way or another," he added, staring at Glynda as he did so-

She was strong. She was so very strong, but he was stronger. A crystal soul spear slammed through her attempted defense. The only noise louder than the cracking of her sternum when the spell had slammed against her body was when her glasses finally hit the ground, shattering. They were sounds he'd never forget-

"…I am not from the Badlands," he admitted. He was from some bad lands, certainly, but not where they thought. "I am from so far away, we do not even share the same moon or stars," he added, and he saw Weiss huff lightly.

"That's impossible," she began to interrupt, but he was tired of hearing that word. Going centuries into the past was supposed to be impossible, yet he had done that. Going to another world was supposed to be impossible, yet here he was! Him making it as far as he had in his journey was supposed to be damn near impossible, and he had done that, too. The world impossible only had meaning if one allowed it to, and to be frank, he was done giving it power.

"Do not tell me what is and isn't possible, Weiss," he hissed, unaware the Abyss around his eye was glowing lightly. "Impossible, you say? Was sorcery not impossible until I taught you it? Was pyromancy not an impossibility until I brought it to this land!?"

The heiress was already trying to deny his words, and damn it all, that pissed him off.

"Quiet! I am not from these lands… Don't you get it?! I am an impossibility; I will prove it!" He reached a hand around his neck, following an Abyssal vein which seemed as if it had been trying to reach around his neck and to the storage sign of his humanity: his Darksign.

He shifted to an Undead near instantly, and outside of those who had already seen the transformation, everyone gasped. "W-What?" Glynda wondered aloud, squinting at him in closer scrutiny. He didn't bother changing back to his human masquerade. He wanted them to understand what he was. What a threat he was.

"This is what I really am. A cursed being who one day will crack and become a Hollow. Little more than a frothing corpse willing to kill any and all whom come across me, former friends or not."

Those around stayed silent after his words, and he took a deep breath. "Given my relative strength, such a prospect has always left me fearful. Not for myself – no, I… sometimes, I long for it," he admitted, and he saw Yang open her mouth to protest or comfort, so he continued, "Doubly so since I've arrived here, keeping my curse a secret."

"Curse? What the hell do you mean by a curse?" Yang uttered, and he didn't blame her. It was hard to explain, even after transforming back to his Undead form. Despite that, he would do his best to explain his fate. She deserved that much, at least.

"I am an Undead, Yang. A being unfit for both death and life." She didn't seem to believe him, so he laughed quietly. "The scars upon my body? They are from fights – fights I told you about, even, but they are not what you think." His hand unconsciously moved to where Ornstein had impaled him upon the stomach. "These scars? They are the final blow upon my body which killed me. All of them."

"N-No way," Jaune uttered, and Sibyl shook his head.

"Look at these scars. How would I have survived even just this one," he gestured to the most visible scar on his stomach, "much less all of them?"

Everyone was silent at his explanation, likely realizing how true that was.

"I never wanted to come here. It was an accident," he admitted, feeling slightly bad about the expressions of those around him. He enjoyed it here – he really did – but it had never been his intention to come here. He wouldn't have ever been able to even comprehend a world as incredible as this one.

"I awoke as the boy you see me as now. I don't remember a childhood, a family, friends, or anything, prior to awakening in that damnable Asylum." He clenched his fists, staring at the sheets covering his lower body. He didn't need anything other than what Lordran had offered. If he had a family, they clearly hadn't really wanted him.

His friends? They must haven't been good ones if they allowed him to get shipped off to the Norther Undead Aslyum. Whatever life he had before Lordran? He didn't want it, and he didn't care about it.

"Sibyl," Yang muttered, trying to inch closer to him in comfort. He shooed her back with his hand, and no, there certainly weren't tears in his eyes.

"I don't need such memories, Yang. I'm better without them – whoever abandoned me, good riddance to them! I never needed them, and I don't need them now. I don't need anything but myself. I am Sibyl of Lordran, the Chosen Undead, a Warrior of Sunlight! Everything I am, everything I became is thanks to Lordran. That land both gave me everything and took it all back. Lordran birthed me, not whatever despicable two beings decided to abandon me to my Hollowing and death."

He took a deep breath. "It doesn't bother me, and it never will." That was the absolute truth. "I was not guided by people, or even family, really. I was guided by a prophecy, given by the man who freed me from my cell. He died shortly thereafter, but I like to think he lives through me, one way or another. For he imparted me with a purpose: his prior purpose.

"Thou who art Undead, art chosen. In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords. When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead, thou shalt know."

He paused, chuckling lightly. "It… it never got much clearer from there…"

Sibyl had told them a lot, maybe even more than they deserved to know, but Blake knew it wasn't everything. Still, he had told them a lot. Things so otherworldly, so outlandish, so… dark that Blake wanted to tell him he was insane. She wanted him to be insane; she wanted everything he had said to be lies.

Yet, it was hard to imagine an insane liar coming up with a story which he could personally back up, via scars, magic, and weapons. It also helped explain a few things which previously, she had questioned.

"When I made it to the end of the long bridge, I came across a girl," Sibyl explained, closing his eyes lightly and giving a sorrowful smile. "She was tall as a statue, with pale skin and a white gown of fur. She held a scythe which was just as large as the rest of her. And she asked me, kindly, to leave. She told me the painted world I had fallen into was meant for outcasts and abominations.

"It had made no sense at the time, for she seemed perfect to me, like a modern angel. She was there due to being half-dragon. Scales showed on her neck and all over. She, since being a girl, had been trapped in a world with no company. No friends, and she had learned to care for the abominations which rested within. She saw herself as one, too…"

While previously she'd spent a lot of time wondering why he had reacted so harshly to Cardin's bully of Velvet, now it made perfect sense. It also made her respect for him grow even further, because as he had recalled the memory, he seemed so angry that Priscilla, the half-dragon Faunus, saw herself as a freak while he saw an angel.

Trapped alone in a painted world, abandoned by her parents, whoever they might have been, because she was the only Faunus of her kind in his land. She shuddered just thinking about it… but it wasn't even the worst of his stories.

"I didn't know at the time – how could I? But Quelaag wasn't there to protect the bell. She used it as a bait, killing and taking the humanity from whoever came to try and ring it. It seems cruel, yet I discovered her sick sister… a Fire Keeper, at that, who cared for those infected with the bug parasite which marked her as well. Quelaag was giving her humanity, to attempt and cure her sickness.

"The worst part is, I held Quelaag's soul, and eventually came across a ring which allowed me to understand her sister. Her blind sister thought I was Quelaag. She told me I worked too hard, and that she loved me… because I had killed her sister. I never had the heart to tell her otherwise…"

Yang and Ruby had both tensed at that moment, perhaps wondering if, in a similar situation, they would have trapped and killed people to heal the other. It was a tough question to answer, as well as an impossible one for Blake, so she didn't try. It wasn't her business; it was between the two sisters.

There was a story that had an effect on everyone, Blake found. Even Glynda had been stunned into silence when he talked about his late pyromancy teacher request that he go and kill what transformed demons remained of her sisters and brother. Still, while everyone was effected, Sibyl seemed to have been expecting… more.

"So, now you know," Sibyl concluded, meeting their gazes with only a slight flinch. "My journey. My… deeds. The list of sins I carry. You know the risk of my Hollowing, of the Abyss infection spreading until I lose my mind."

They all remained silent for a few moments before Yang finally spoke up.

"It doesn't matter," she declared, moving forward and plopping down right next to Sibyl. "So you're a bit… different. Really different – we all knew that already. You having some curse doesn't change anything."

Blake agreed on that. They all agreed… except for Sibyl.

"You don't get it. None of you do, and I fear by the time you do, it'll be too late, because I will have killed you."

Glynda stepped forward, clearing her throat. "You're stronger than you think, Sibyl. I have faith you'll be able to contain the Abyss, as well as avoid Hollowing."

He shook his head, gripping the sheets at his side. "None of you get it, but very well. If you don't understand, then I need a promise from all of you. Glynda already gave it, but I need all of you to do so." Blake nodded lightly, waiting for whatever Sibyl was going to ask of them. "If I lose myself, either to the Abyss or to Hollowing… you will kill me."

Protests left mouths instantly, and Sibyl quieted them with a yell. "If I do not get this promise, I will leave!" No sound could be heard except Sibyl's harsh breathing. "I refuse to allow myself to tear any of you apart, and that will happen if you try to foolishly save me from my madness opposed to mercifully ending my life."

Slowly, one by one, they all gave the promise… even if Blake doubted she'd ever be able to follow through with it.

"Thank you. Your reactions… they haven't been what I expected. I would… I would like some time alone, and I think the rest of you should, too."

They had all left after that, mostly by themselves but a few in groups. Ruby and Yang, at least, had gone together. It was fitting, as equally fitting as Glynda going off by herself to think. Blake had left by herself, too. She immediately had set off to Sibyl's room with the intent to go through his bottomless box.

He had claimed to have proof of damn near everything in the way of weapons and objects, not to mention his scars. She had wanted to see that proof, see that Sibyl wasn't insane. If he had the objects he claimed to, then it was valid thathe really was from another world. Damn near impossible, but she couldn't call him a liar. Not anymore, not after what she had seen and what he saved her from.

He had the helmet of his best friend, Solaire. It was what she had found him staring at a few times. He had the spear which he claimed pierced his stomach. When she had pulled it out, she realized that… yes, it would have been very painful to have pierce one's stomach. That was something of a given.

Next, she retrieved a broken pendant which felt so wrong in her hand. She slowly allowed it to fall out of her hand and back into the chest. She watched as it disappeared into a bottomless box. Sibyl's bottomless box. He wasn't lying, was he?

She needed to do something to help him. But how could she help him, when she couldn't even help herself?

Pyrrha stared at the moon above from the roof she and Jaune liked to train on. It was an especially clear night, yet she'd never felt more confused as she gazed the sky and stars. Sibyl claimed the place hewas from had a full moon. Not a shattered one, this only one she had ever known.

He also claimed to have died more times than she wanted to count. When they had first retrieved him, and she had seen the scars which populated his body more than his skin, her first thought had been there was no way anyone could survive any of those, much less all of them. It was almost relieving to know her senses weren't off. It wasn't relieving to know Sibyl really had died so many times.

She didn't want to call him a liar, and she wasn't going to. Even if she thought it was outlandish, he deserved her belief in him. Besides… he had a bottomless box in his dorm. He had introduced them all to the concept of magic, and he had turned into a corpse in front of her very eyes.

So, the redhead decided to believe him. With the belief in his words instilled, she didn't sleep very well that night. Her mind wouldn't stop imagining what it would feel like to be thrown off a fortress, impaled on a spear, and burnt alive by black flames.

Glynda was supposed to meet with Ozpin after speaking with Sibyl in more depth. Ozpin had been very curious on his condition, on what he could tell them about what had happened, and mostly, about what he might reveal about himself. She had been more concerned about his well-being, of course, but that was natural. Sibyl was a dear friend of hers at this point, and she cared for him as much as she did damn near anyone she knew.

It was a good thing she did, because he certainly didn't care for himself. He was suicidal, at best. Calling him guilt-ridden was an understatement, and to say he had suffered was akin to saying Qrow liked the occasional drink. Sibyl was a broken, broken child, and that hurt her, because if he ever found out what Ozpin was holding back – what she was holding back from him… he might finally crack.

She was really damn tempted to just tell him what they had about Lordran, but after she had heard from him about that place? Sure, she had spoken to him about it before, but he had never been so… honest about it. About the pain and despair which perpetuated it, which had found him and taken what little joy he did have. The land which had, slowly and one by one, taken and killed all of his friends. He wanted to return there, and for what? To fulfill a prophecy he didn't even believe in?

As his teacher, student, and friend, she couldn't send him back there. It wasn't fair for anyone if he did, and so she wouldn't. As for Ozpin and his meeting…

She decided it could wait.

Yang wouldn't talk to her about it. Ruby sorta' understood why; Sibyl had laid a lot on them. A lot they weren't prepared for, and a lot of things Ruby didn't think it was possible to be prepared for! She didn't even want to think about what he had told them, because it was so bad and painful.

She refused to think about it. Not then, and maybe not tomorrow. Maybe never. What she was going to do tonight was scoot closer to Yang on the bed they were sharing. Snatching her sister by the arm, she leaned closer into her, her breath steadying over time. Yang returned the contact, but did it half-heartedly.

Ruby sighed, closing her eyes and speaking words which were almost always at the front of her mind. "I miss Mom," she whispered, and her older sister nodded.

Weiss found herself sitting on the same bench she had been at when Sibyl had offered to teach her sorcery. It wasn't a terribly comfortable bench, but she couldn't think of a place better to go and think at.

Her catalyst – no, Logan's catalyst – was in her lap. Sibyl deserved so much better than what he had been given. Slowly, she set the catalyst down next to her, blinking rapidly and reaching a hand up to wipe away her tears. Sibyl was just as prideful as her. He wouldn't want her tears, so she wouldn't give them.

Sibyl had said it himself. He was proud to be from Lordran. It had shaped him, forged him, and sharpened him into what he was. And, while she was so terribly sorry for what he had gone through, she couldn't deny it had turned Sibyl into what he was. She very much enjoyed everything about the cursed boy, so she wouldn't pity him.

Perhaps she could do something else for him, though?

Fireball was way stronger than Yang could have ever thought. He was stronger than her, than her uncle, than god-damned Ozpin. He was the strongest person she knew, and with that came all the 'macho man' stuff which Sibyl perpetuated, even if he didn't realize it or mean to. She wanted to say it was just how he was raised, but he didn't have anyone to raise him. No one he remembered, anyways.

No, according to him, what raised him was a damn abandoned land which hated his guts, and the guts of everyone within it, too. Even the people who had founded the damn thing. Hell, the land had killed him more times than she cared to count, and he still had some sort of respect for it.

God, she still couldn't believe it. All those 'scars' she had told him about hadn't just left him gasping in pain. They had actually killed him. Each and every one, from the big impalement on his stomach to the deep teeth marks along his chest. It made her so upset, and she knew he was too prideful to cry. She could be the same way sometimes, but if there was anyone she could cry for, it was him.

Sibyl deserved her tears. Blinking a few times, Yang rested her head against Ruby's own, which laid in the crook of her neck. Weiss still hadn't come back, and neither had Blake. It was just her and her sister in their dorm. Ruby had fallen asleep some time ago, too, but that was fine. Yang was just happy to have her near.

…would she have killed people if it meant healing and keeping her sister from dying? Sibyl had sounded so guilty for simply surviving the encounter, for just defending himself! And, as she glanced at her sleeping sister, Yang decided she would have felt guilty in his shoes, too.

She pulled Ruby closer, but she wouldn't be joining her sister in sleep anytime soon.