To the guest reviewer last chapter...
;)
"Yang Xiao-Long, stand down!"
Mercury gritted his teeth, breathing deeply and haggardly in pain. Not that he was actually in any pain at all; it was all for show, and he'd disabled the pain receptors before the match. Actually, when Yang had blown his leg out from under him, he had scraped his elbow on the ground. He guessed that hurt a bit.
"Gah! My leg… my leg!" Emerald came rushing across the arena, placing herself between Yang and Mercury and crouched down next to him.
"You alright?" she whispered.
He ignored her. Best not risk anyone catching on. Emerald took the hint and glanced up. "Please, somebody help him!" Out of the corner of his eye, Mercury could see the confusion written on Yang's it had to be her, really. She wasn't half-bad.
Oh well.
Two medics knelt next to him, a stretcher held between him, and he saw Emerald's eyes glaze over a little as she focused her semblance. "Can you do something?" she asked, her voice a little shaky.
He wondered what it was they saw when they looked at his leg. Hopefully it was bad; if it were something small, he'd be expected at the Beacon infirmary rather than a full-blown hospital. Perhaps they saw it twisted and broken. Perhaps they saw a deep wound that, without careful treatment, would require amputation.
Heh.
"We need to get this boy to a hospital. Grab a blanket."
Whatever it was they saw, it was graphic enough that they didn't want the audience to see it. That was good; Emerald would get a break. They carefully lifted him onto the stretcher, then covered his legs with a blanket and carried him away as quickly as they could without jolting him.
"You don't understand; he attacked me!" he heard on the way out.
Sorry, Blondie.
He was carried out into the halls of Amity colosseum, occasionally wincing for effect. Emerald jogged alongside him, lines of false worry creasing on her face.
"Here! We've got an ambulance ready to go."
He was loaded up onto the stolen ambulance, shooting a wink at Neo as he was brought on. It took Cinder another moment talking to the medics—the real medics—before she joined them on the ambulance, and they took off. Mercury's pained expression finally broke into a wicked grin as Emerald slumped alongside him.
"Oh, Doc! Tell me: will I ever walk again?" Emerald smacked him on the arm. "Ow! What's your deal?"
"Ugh…" her eyes rolled back a little, and it seemed she might puke. "Headache. One mind I can handle, but two is a stretch."
"Well, you all performed marvellously, driver included," Cinder praised.
"…so. Do you think it worked?"
/-/
"Lisa Lavender reporting. Coming on the heels of a polarising announcement from Atlesian General and Vytal Head of Security, James Ironwood, a finalist in the tournament was tragically wounded by his opponent after the end of their match."
"Local Huntsmen are stretched thinner than ever before, James!"
"The people deserve to know that Sulyvahn-"
"Not now, of all times. The Vytal Festival promotes peace and harmony, but all you've created is an us-versus-them mentality with the Deep Faithful."
"And you think that Mistral won't seek some form of retribution? Sulyvahn was one thing, but-"
"I am not to blame in this, and neither is Miss Xiao-Long."
"Then who is at fault, Ozpin? This can't be swept under the rug. The council is already considering your removal. Someone has to take the fall for this, and if it's you-"
"I know!" Ozpin snapped. It wasn't just his pride telling him that he couldn't leave this post. There was too much at stake. The relics, the Maidens…
James' scowl deepened. "Move the girl to her dorm for the night. I'll send guards to ensure she stays there."
"James-"
"As Head of Security, I am ordering you to do this, Ozpin. I will speak to her in the morning. Your cooperation will reflect in my report to the council." The General sighed and rubbed at his temples. "I need to meet with the Council of Vale again. I suspect I have a long night ahead of me. For our friendship's sake, I'll keep them from issuing any statements—bold statements—before the end of the tournament. But I can't keep them in line forever." General Ironwood's face flickered from the screen and disappeared.
Ozpin clenched his teeth. "Something's coming," he said, "and I don't know how to stop it."
"You could call off the tournament," suggested Lucatiel. "Business as usual is one thing, but it's going too far now."
"It's too late," said the crowned man with ashen hair. "It's out of his hands. Isn't it?"
Ozpin nodded. At best, he could lobby the International Vytal Commission and the Council of Vale and have it done within… two days? Three days? Not at all, if he couldn't find enough allies. Besides, there were only three nights left anyway.
"You've weathered worse storms," said the man with ashen hair.
"This is Lisa Lavender with the Vale Weather Report," Lucatiel quipped. "We have no idea how bad the storm is going to be."
"Over to you, Ozpin," said the man. He and Lucatiel shared a glance, then they both began to laugh, one a hearty chuckle and the other a non-committal snort.
Ozpin almost chuckled himself before realising how ridiculous it would be. An aging man alone in his office laughing with the ghosts that kept him company. How odd indeed.
This was new, though. They'd been at odds with him before. They'd mocked him before. But they'd never invited him to join in. They were getting comfortable in his head. Or maybe he was getting comfortable with them. Wasn't that supposed to be a bad thing?
"You're both awfully mean today," he said.
Neither of them responded; they'd both disappeared.
Nevermind the company, then, he thought to himself.
/-/
"Ah! Too tight!" Mercury jolted away from Emerald, reaching for the screwdriver in his leg, fixing her with a baleful eye.
"Enough." That alone commanded his attention, and he angled himself to look at Cinder. "Our Mercury put on a wonderful show. He was quite brave," Cinder teased.
"These things aren't exactly cheap, you know." Neo drew up a chair next to him and tried to poke at the leg; he batted her hand away, and she poked her tongue out at him.
"So… what's next?" Emerald asked.
"We wait. At least until-" she was cut off by a loud clanking sound as the door to the warehouse began to open. "Ah. He's on time."
"Who?"
A cloaked figure strode out of the darkness, his steps heavy. There was a large duffel bag in his right hand, and a misshapen lump under his cloak indicated a weapon that was too large to be entirely hidden.
Or he could be a hunchback, Mercury thought. A really tall hunchback.
The duffel bag was placed on the floor—though not softly enough to disguise the clank of metal—and the man removed his cloak. There was a familiar sword on his back, and the dagger on his belt was stained with blood.
"Oh. Hey Raime."
Raime eyed Mercury strangely. "Who are you again?"
"Really? This is the recognition I get for my crippling, tragic-"
"-staged-" Emerald added.
"-injury?"
Raime raised an eyebrow, then his eyes widened in realisation. "You're Marcus Black's son."
"…is that a problem?"
"I was wondering why you seemed familiar."
"I mean, we did meet once."
"Your father's work was very impressive. His passing was unfortunate."
Mercury's eyes darted between Emerald and Cinder. "Yeah… about that-"
"That will do," Cinder said. "I called you here for a reason, Raime."
Raime's eyes lingered on Mercury for a second longer before he turned to Cinder. "Allow me a moment more to rest. I have had a stressful week."
"Diddums," Emerald drawled.
"This place is safe, no? Between Ozpin's servants and Sulyvahn, I feel I have earned some respite."
"Unless you have compromised us, yes," Cinder said. "It is safe. Take your…" she seemed to taste the word in her mouth. "…respite." To Mercury's ears it came out as a mockery, one that Raime either didn't pick up on or didn't care enough to refute.
/-/
"Mercury didn't come through here for like, first aid or something, did he?" It was the morning after Yang and Mercury's fight, and Artorias was in the infirmary once more.
"Hmm? No." The doctor was focused more on removing Artorias' stitches than answering the question, but he doubted she'd forget something like that anyway. "That's probably one of the stupidest questions I've ever been asked, to be honest. Actually… second stupidest."
Well, she was paying attention, as it turned out.
"I'll have to try harder," Artorias shrugged. She scowled as his arm shifted.
"First aid. Like I can't give full treatment. Just because I almost always have the patient's aura as a 'crutch' or whatever…" She shook her head. "Nevermind. Why? What kind of question was that? As if first aid wouldn't be administered in transit." She rolled her eyes. "They still have a first aid course at… did you go to Sunlight?"
"Flare, and yes, they do. Don't you have my medical records?"
"You think that has your entire resume on it?"
"I've seen it, and it does say I attended Flare. Well, that my physical for Shade was conducted by the head honcho over at Flare. Same thing, right?"
The doctor raised an eyebrow. "I'm impressed. Most people don't have any idea what's on their medical records. You don't have any interest in medicine, do you? I'd be horrified."
"I had to fill it in for detention. That and every other students'," he admitted, muttering the last part.
"Disperse your aura for me, please."
Artorias blinked in surprise. He'd felt a little jolt of pain in his arm, but hadn't realised that he'd focused his aura to compensate. "Sorry."
"Everyone does it occasionally. Where was I?"
"I was asking stupid questions. What's the most stupid, might I ask?"
"Ah, first aid. You know that usually first aid is administered where the incident occurs, right? Or, at the very least, on the way to a medical facility. Not at one."
"…that makes sense." He didn't mention that he'd slept through most of the course.
"You don't even need to have taken a class to know that."
"…I mean, technically first aid is just the earliest aid provided to a casualty, right?"
"Semantics."
"But I'm technically correct?"
She didn't respond, working in silence for a time. Artorias resisted the urge to fidget with impatience. He intended to seek out Yang as soon as he was done here. He needed to know what had happened.
"I hesitate to ask why you're asking for Mercury Black."
"Hesitate?" Artorias asked.
"I can only imagine it's for an incredibly stupid reason."
Artorias winced. "That's harsh."
"You've done a good job of being stupid so far."
"That's fair." He shrugged, rolling his eyes as she scowled at his left arm's movement. "He's a decent sort. I was just hoping he's doing alright."
"Last I heard, he was on his way back to Mistral to be with his family, so he can't be too poorly."
"Oh. Good."
After another minute or so, the doctor was finished. "Hey, so, maybe this is rude, but I looked for a name and couldn't see one-"
"Doctor Yulva, at your service."
"Well, thanks, Doc. I'll see you around."
"I hope not, Mr Nym."
He exited the infirmary, and once he was out in the corridor glanced down at his arm. The scar that marred it was an ugly pink against his pale skin. He frowned, and idly wished his shirt had longer sleeves to cover it a little.
"Ah. You've recovered?" He glanced up to see Winter approaching. Heavy bags hung beneath her eyes, though she still managed to carry herself with her usual grace and decorum.
"Mm-hmm. Ciaran filled me in. Not like I could miss the city-wide manhunt. Were you looking for me?"
She nodded, then beckoned for him to follow her. "General Ironwood has been given jurisdiction over all crimes beyond petty theft in Vale. The Council wants Sulyvahn in custody—badly. As you can imagine-"
"The General's making good use of this authority?"
"And working everybody to the bone. I have case files stacking up on my desk, and-"
"Hold up. You're not drafting me into doing paperwork, are you?"
"That's exactly what I'm doing, yes."
Artorias halted; Winter continued for a few more paces before glancing back at him. "I promise I'll help out," he said, "but I need to talk to somebody first."
"Oh. Of course, go right ahead. But I'll hold you to that promise."
/-/
Yang couldn't really muster the will to move from her bed. She'd been sitting there alone ever since her team had departed to—as they'd put it—give her some space. She appreciated the sentiment, but she wasn't really sure it was what she wanted.
Well, she knew what she wanted. For none of this to have ever happened.
"Hey there, firecracker."
She hadn't heard him come in. She considered that his presence should have startled her, but she couldn't really make the effort. "Hey, Qrow."
"Hm. So, why'd you do it?"
Blunt and to the point—Qrow's usual style, Yang thought. The less reasonable half of her felt accused. "You know why."
"All I know is that you attacked a helpless kid. So either you're lying, or you're crazy."
Her eyes narrowed, and she turned to glare at him. "I'm not lying."
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Crazy. Got it." He kicked off from the wall he was leaning against to slowly pace around the room.
Yang sighed. "Who knows?" she asked. "Maybe I am."
"And here I thought your dark-haired friend was the emo one." Blake. Yang didn't really want to talk about her. After all they'd been through, she wouldn't give her the benefit of the doubt?
Yang knew Blake had a troubled past. That trust didn't come easily to her. Yang should have cared—normally would have cared—but right now she was the one in need of, and as much as she wanted to, it was hard to look past Blake's early distrust.
It felt like a betrayal. It hurt.
"Sensitive subject?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Qrow shrugged again. "Fair enough." He sighed. "Y'know how we dealt with dark-haired emos when I was in school?"
"No."
There was a knock at the door.
"Maybe that's an angry mob," Qrow suggested.
"Maybe."
"Yang?" came the muffled voice through the door. "It's Artorias. You alright?"
Qrow turned to her. "Want me to shoo him away?"
Yang considered it for a moment before shaking her head. He couldn't be worse at offering comfort than Qrow, surely. "Come in," she called.
"I'll get out of your hair," Qrow said. "Call me if you need me. I'll be close by." He sauntered past Artorias on the way out.
Yang sighed. "Come to make a joke out of this too?" That wasn't entirely fair of her. She usually enjoyed Artorias' sense of humour. But she wasn't feeling particularly humorous right now.
"I could if you wanted to."
"Don't."
"Sure thing." He sat down on the bed across from her, his hands in his pockets. "So," he said, "how're you feeling?"
"You believe me?"
He shrugged. "Well, yeah. You and Mercury got on like a house on fire." Yang winced at that. It was bad enough that she'd hurt an innocent. She'd also hurt a friend.
"I feel like hell."
"Figures." He sighed. "In the heat of battle, we all do stupid shit sometimes."
"We?"
"Well… I can't speak for everyone, but I do." He shrugged. "Justify your actions to yourself. It sucks, but there's no guarantee that anybody else—that Mercury—will forgive you, so forgiving yourself is the best you can do."
"I know he attacked me-"
"Then why mope about it? You made a mistake. A costly mistake, but it could have been worse. Somebody could have died. And at least it was a mistake." He fidgeted with the ring on his right hand. She supposed he was right, but it was a small comfort.
"Can I borrow your scroll? Mine's probably being monitored," she said.
"Hmm? Sure." He fished it out of his pocket and tossed it to her. "I'll, uh, give you some privacy?"
"Thanks, Art."
He ducked out into the hallway. As the door closed, she saw him poking the helmet of one of the Atlesian Knights stationed outside her room.
She opened up his scroll and went to his contacts list. Mercury Black.
It didn't ring for long before somebody picked up, and though she'd tried a video call they'd only responded with audio.
"Emerald here, this is Mercury's scroll."
"Um… hi, Emerald. It's Yang."
There was a pregnant pause. "I don't think he wants to-"
"Could you tell him I'm sorry?"
Emerald sighed loudly. "I will." She hung up a moment later.
It was something. It was a start to making amends.
/-/
Pyrrha was shaken softly from her thoughts by the rustling of trees in the wind, and of an autumn leaf floating down in front of her.
Of all things…
"Hey!"
She jolted upright, startled, and glanced upwards. Jaune stood there, looking down at her. "You disappeared for a while, there. You alr- oh, you want to be alone. Right. That makes sense." He glanced left and right sheepishly. "Uh, I'll just-"
"Stay," she said. "Please."
He sat down next to her, and for a while comfortable silence reigned. It was nice not to be alone, though it was true that she'd sought solitude. Jaune was an exception. She felt safe.
"I'm only at Beacon because of you," he said at last. She turned to face him, her eyes wide. "When I told my parents I was going to Beacon, they told me not to worry if I ended up having to move back home. And I almost did, you know. After Cardin. But… you extended a hand. Even knowing that I have no right to be here, you gave me a chance." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm just trying to say that… you've always been there, even when I didn't deserve it. And I can tell that there's something on your mind, so… I don't know, how can I help?"
Pyrrha took a risk.
She sidled closer and laid her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. She felt at home here. He smelled like rain. It was soothing to her.
She felt him shift of course—perhaps in surprise, or fear, or confusion—but, after a moment, he relaxed and laid his hand atop hers. She didn't let it get her hopes up. He hadn't brought up her little declaration from the dance since the Breach. But she appreciated the gesture, the desire to comfort a friend.
"I don't want this to end," she murmured.
He tensed. "What? The Vytal Festival?" He dodged the subject, as was his wont. But yes. She didn't want that to end. She didn't want to have to decide between her destiny and her friends. Between her destiny and Jaune.
But if she didn't take Ozpin's offer, they'd ask another. Could she live with herself if she shifted that burden onto somebody else?
"Jaune," she said, pushing herself upright once more, "do you believe in destiny?"
He shrugged. "I dunno. I guess that depends on how you view it."
"When I think of destiny, I don't think of a predetermined fate you can't escape, but rather some sort of final goal. Something you work towards your entire life."
"Okay. Yeah. I can see that, sure."
"Well, what would you do if something came along that you never expected. Something that had the potential to stand between you and your destiny."
"Like what?"
"Or what if you could suddenly fulfil your destiny in an instant, but at the cost of who you were?"
Jaune pursed his lips. "Pyrrha, you're not making any sense."
"None of it makes sense!" She lurched to her feet, taking a few steps forward. She didn't turn around; she wanted to hide. She didn't want him to see how distraught she was. He'd probably notice anyway. "This isn't how things were supposed to happen."
"I'm sorry- please, I'm just trying to understand what's wrong."
She breathed deeply. "I've always felt as though I was destined to become a Huntress—to protect the world. And it's become increasingly clear to me that my feelings were right. But I don't know if I can do it."
Jaune was silent for a moment. "I don't know about destiny," he said. "I just wanted to be a hero. Like my great-great-grandfather. That's my goal, I guess. Or it was." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I believe in you, though. If you really believe that it's your destiny to save the world, you can't let anything stand in your way."
Pyrrha supposed it should have strengthened her resolve. But all she felt was weak. She felt as though her legs were about to give out from under her.
"Pyrrha?"
"Stop," she whispered. This wasn't what she wanted to hear. It was the truth, but the truth hurt.
"Did I say something wrong?"
"Stop!" in a burst of anger, and fear, and confusion, her semblance blasted away everything it could. There was a loud clank, and it took her a moment to realise that she'd thrown Jaune against the wall. "Jaune!" She released him, her hands shaking. "I'm… I'm sorry."
She turned and fled.
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Artorias browsed through a police report detailing a homicide at the port of Vale. The victim was identified as Gerold Smith, a ticket-puncher for the ferry between Patch and Vale. His throat had been slit, and he'd been hidden in a dumpster for at least ten hours before somebody found him.
"And these are all from the past two days?" Artorias asked, eyeing the pile of reports on Winter's desk.
"Mm-hmm."
Well. Crime was worse in Vale than he thought.
"Alright, it's now time to begin the randomisation process for our next fight!" he heard from his scroll. He had it open on the desk, playing the broadcast from the tournament, and he took a quick break from the report to watch.
Penny's name came up first.
Then Gilderoy's.
"This ought to be interesting," he said.
"Don't get distracted," Winter said. He rolled his eyes and went back to reading the report. Forensics had tried to identify the murder weapon by the wounds; their mock-up appeared suspiciously similar to his own dagger, lost to the Fume Knight.
A red glow illuminated the page. "What the…" he glanced upwards again; it was coming from Winter's terminal, now displaying a red screen with a black chess piece.
Winter frowned and began to type, though nothing seemed to happen. After a few seconds, the screen faded, and it instead showed feed from a camera pointed at the sky. The faint sounds of cars could be heard in the background. Winter kept typing, but it seemed she couldn't control it.
The camera turned, and a man's face came into view, unnaturally pasty and pale, with skin stretched tightly across his skull.
"This is Raime Marabel," said the man. "Please respond."
Winter jolted upright and scrambled for her scroll. "Artorias Nym here," he said, knowing that the microphone would pick him up. "How did you get-"
Winter pointed to her scroll. Suspects (Fume Knight): Alexander Throne. Nostrum Throne. Raime Marabel.
"Oh shit."
"A fair response," said the Fume Knight. "Never mind the how of it. You're going to want to see this."
"Where are you?" Winter asked.
The Fume Knight did not respond. He shifted a little, and the hilt of his sword could be seen protruding into the frame. He put his helmet on, then grabbed the camera and turned it. It jerked a little, then his arms could be seen at the edges of the frame—he must have fixed it to the front of his breastplate.
He was in some non-descript alleyway. Artorias certainly didn't recognise it. The Fume Knight set off towards a wider street, then turned left. Ahead of him was the Church of Many Faiths.
"Let's go," Winter said. She grabbed her sabre and rushed for the door, but Artorias was still watching the screen.
Raime burst through the doors. "Sulyvahn!" he roared, his voice echoing throughout the church. The great organ at loomed over the rows of pews. The Deep Faithful holding vigil for the Pontiff cried out in fright, cowering before the Fume Knight as he marched up the aisle. "I know you are here, Sulyvahn!"
Winter bit her lip. "Stay here," she said. "Watch the feed and alert me if he moves."
"This is clearly a trap. You need backup."
"I'll call the General. If Sulyvahn really is there, I don't want you involved."
Artorias nodded, and she set off into the corridor, dialling a number into her scroll.
/-/
"I know you are here, Sulyvahn!"
Raime strode up the aisle, scowling every time the scroll mounted on his breastplate clanked against it. He understood the point of Cinder's plan. He just didn't entirely agree with the execution.
Civilians scattered before him. He trailed his hand against the pews, waiting for a jolt in his aura. Something, anything to indicate the existence of a hidden switch. Nothing happened. He scowled beneath his helmet. Cinder's contact had better not be lying…
"Please, we've done nothing wrong," somebody whimpered. He ignored them.
He came to the altar at the front of the church, and rested his hand against it. Again, there was nothing. "Sulyvahn!" he shouted again. "You!" He pointed to a civilian. "Is there a cellar? A basement? A-"
"Stop, Raime."
Raime whirled around. On the little balcony that housed the organ's keyboard stood Sulyvahn, sword in hand. He reached behind him and played four notes of a melody; faintly, Raime heard the sound of stone grinding against stone somewhere up in the choir stalls. "How did you find me?" Sulyvan asked.
Raime smiled. "Cinder sends her regards." He tore the scroll from his breastplate and threw it against the ground, stomping on it. His job was done.
And now all he needed was for Cinder to deliver on her promise and take control of the airship.
/-/
"Alright, it's now time to begin the randomisation process for our next fight!"
"Could you suppress your aura for me?" Doctor Polendina asked.
Lautrec obliged, rolling his eyes. The doctor grabbed a scalpel and pushed gently on the subject's palm, observing as the second purple soul tried to reach out and prevent the skin from slicing open.
"It looks like our first contender is… Penny Polendina from Atlas!"
Doctor Polendina looked up at the screen in surprise. Penny… "We're done for the evening," he said, setting the scalpel down. Lautrec's aura surged back in to heal the cut. He pushed a button at his desk, and the door slid open. "Return Lautrec to his cell," he called.
/-/
Ruby Rose entered the hallways of Amity. Emerald was in Mistral, right? That's what she'd heard, anyway. The entire team had gone home after Mercury's injury.
"Alright, it's now time to begin the randomisation process for our next fight!"
She kept walking. There was something strange going on, that much was for sure. First Coco, now Yang, and Emerald wasn't where she was supposed to be.
Something was very, very odd.
She heard footsteps ahead of her. Mercury Black stepped into the hallway and blocked her path. His legs seemed perfectly functional.
"Mercury?"
"It looks like our first contender is… Penny Polendina from Atlas!"
Mercury was silent.
"What are you doing?"
"And her opponent will be… Gilderoy Ornstein from Shade!"
Mercury looked at her, a smirk on his face, like that was supposed to mean something… "No!"
"Ooh, electricity and a robot?" He winced. "Sounds like a blown fuse to me."
/-/
The other finalists departed from the arena, and the central platform began to raise. Penny offered Gilderoy a bright smile. "I hope this doesn't put a damper on our friendship, friend Gilderoy."
He grinned back. "Good luck," he said.
A series of swords emerged from her backpack, floating behind her. Gilderoy drew his bident. Blessed was Ornstein…
When Port roared begin and the crowd began to cheer, Gilderoy charged, golden lightning sparking in his wake. Penny met him halfway. Her blades formed a fan before her, blocking his initial strike, and yet more swords struck from the sides, forcing him to duck and parry and dodge and block. He'd never realised just how fast she was. With so many swords, it was almost like fighting a dozen foes at once.
He murmured his mantra under his breath over and over again, pushing his semblance to his limit. The world blurred around him as he leapt almost parallel to the ground to dodge a fan of blades, rolling mid-air into a slightly off-balance landing. It afforded him a brief opening, and he capitalised, stumbling through a hole in her guard to strike. Having finally closed to melee range, he unleashed a rapid flurry of stabs. His mantra changed: the king braved the horde alone.
The runes in his coat blazed with light. Some strikes were blocked by the Penny's weapons. Some made it through. He certainly felt he got the better of the exchange, though he didn't dare check their aura levels, even as Penny leapt away.
It was good he didn't too, for she was charging once more, this time leaping skywards in a burst of green energy. "The thunder rolled like waves on black seas." Explosive force gathered in his legs, and he leapt up to meet her mid-air. She swatted away his bident with her swords, but a shotgun blast sent him flying past her, dragging the edge of his weapon across her legs. His eyes widened, and he twisted as he fell back to the ground so that the incoming swords only sliced his shoulders and neck rather than his face.
His landing was rough, and he grunted in pain as he rolled to his feet. By the time he was upright, Penny's swords were upon him again, even as she stood back at a safe distance.
Blessed was Ornstein, swiftest of knights. Lockhart's child lit the night with song. Blessed was Ornstein…
He backed away, leaping and dancing between the storm of swords. What he couldn't dodge, he swatted away with his bident, and when he couldn't do that even, he weathered the blow. With every step, lightning sparked from his feet. But he could feel himself tiring already, both from the physical demand and the tax his semblance took on his aura, yet Penny was showing no signs of weariness. He needed to end the fight soon.
His feet found purchase on one of her swords. Lightning sparked up the string connecting it to her backpack, causing her to flinch; he threw himself high in the air, raising his bident over his head like a hammer. He brought it crashing down on a circle of blades, and again lightning crackled along them. It still was not enough to break through her guard, but it forced her onto her back foot, retreating across the arena as he pursued her.
Penny flipped backwards onto her hands then pushed off, flying backwards towards the arena's edge. A blade spun, protecting her from a shotgun blast, and when she landed they all backed away to float behind her. Green energy crackled at their points, and blasts of plasma came screaming across the arena towards him. He spun his bident before him, catching the green bolts, then dove to the side to avoid the fan of blades that came crashing down from above.
Thunder like black waves was as far as he got before seeing an opportunity. A blast of gravity dust propelled him forwards, and he flipped his bident around before he reached Penny to stab at her midriff. Green aura sparked angrily to block the blow, and Penny was thrown backwards off the arena's edge.
It's over.
Penny came flying back into view, jets of green energy spurting from her backpack. She leapt once more into the air, then angled herself into a rocket-powered kick; Gilderoy dodged at the very last second, shuddering as she left a great dent in the arena floor. He sliced at her leg, caught a blade on his pauldron, ate another to his torso, then, with a pained grunt, flipped his bident around and fired off another grav-dust round, sending the butt of the weapon flying into Penny's chin. She was blown backwards, landing some ten metres away.
Gilderoy looked down and breathed deeply. He was already exhausted. All he could hear was the blood pounding in his head.
He looked up.
There was a wall of swords arrayed behind Penny. A vicious grin marked her face as more and more them floated up from her backpack.
And then they came for him.
"Blessed was Ornstein, swiftest of knights," he whispered, feeling the dust spark against his skin once more.
There! An opening! A path to take, to strike, to win.
His voice picked up in volume as he charged, and it felt as though it would carry to the heavens themselves. "The knight slew thirty 'ere he crossed the bridge!"
The bident's blades sparked and crackled violently with power. He'd never pushed his semblance this far. The runes on his coat were blinding, even to him.
"The executioner cried out to his victim, I am yours!"
He spun, narrowly dodging a blade. His right arm was cocked back, gripping the haft of the bident. The other held his weapon by the crossguard.
He thrust forwards and upwards, driving the bident towards Penny's chest.
No aura halted the blow.
I didn't expect to enjoy writing Doctor Yulva as much as I did. It made for a nice calm-before-the-storm moment, I think. Yulva is only referenced in one item in the first Dark Souls. She's one of the sealers of New Londo, but her corpse is found in Blighttown.
Qrow and Yang's scene is supposed to be a reminder that Raven hasn't given Yang her one free save yet. When's it coming? Who knows? (I know)
The idea for Raime's part in Cinder's plan sounded better in my head than it's (so far) turning out in execution. The threeway fight of Sulyvahn v Raime v Winter + backup is going to be fun, though.
Next chapter - December 22nd.
There's so much that I'm excited for next chapter. I'm so excited that it might even come a few days early. Don't hold me to that, though.