Chapter Thirty-Eight: Empty
Lithuania slammed into the hood of a car and the metal frame crumpled under his body. The alarm wailed as the lights flicked on and off but he ignored it, pushing himself up out of the dent with a wince. He rolled aside and a giant paw landed on the car, crushing it completely.
The paw lifted to reveal the thin metal pancake the vehicle had become. Lithuania had no time to ponder the grisly fate he had scarcely avoided. He fired into the swarm of Grimm prowling through the streets and clapped a hand to his communicator.
"I need backup!"
"Join the club." Denmark grunted. "This thing is huge! What's near you? I have the right hind paw."
Lithuania grimaced at the paw as it rose above him, leaving drops of black ooze in its wake. "I have the left front paw. We need air support."
"Are you sure your name isn't Captain Obvious?" Switzerland snapped. "I have the right front paw."
Lithuania heard the sound of gunfire through the comm but did not bother to reply. He refrained from shooting at the gigantic Cerberus Spawner above him, knowing his shots would hardly be felt by the beast.
The Cerberus was much larger than the Fox. In fact, it made the previous Spawner Grimm look like a baby by comparison. The monster loomed over the buildings it tore through like a mountain, hulking and dark with matted black fur and bulking muscles under its rippling hide. Each of its three heads was grotesque and feral, red eyes glinting with cruel intelligence and lips pulled back to reveal teeth almost as long as two grown men standing on top of each other.
If it decided to stoop down and eat one of the humans that kept up with it on foot or in military vehicles, Lithuania doubted it would even notice it had swallowed them. Unlike the Fox, ooze dripped from the Cerberus's fur, like its entire body was made from ink. It would be more accurate to say there was a river in its wake than puddles, every single one spawning Grimm.
If the Grimm were not so dedicated to staying with their originator, Lithuania might despair. The monster was too big for their team to handle. They could only track it, stay with it, and try to pick off the smaller Grimm it spawned until help arrived. Specifically tanks and the heavy artillery.
Fortunately, the Grimm did not seem to care about killing the tiny humans running around it.
Unfortunately, it and its brethren were intent on reaching their target: Washington DC.
Lithuania ran beneath the Cerberus, shooting smaller Grimm as he went. Beowolves, Boarbatusks, Deathstalkers, and Ursa all fell before him, but the horde hardly seemed to care. Like the lesser Grimm it likely controlled, all three heads of the Spawner ignored Lithuania. The nations and the men they brought did not matter, only their goal.
Lithuania gritted his teeth and stayed under the Cerberus's dripping belly, searching for a weakness. All he could see was white armor and black ooze. Lithuania was not one to curse much, but he could not deny the desire to now. He hoped the other teams were faring better.
XXXXXXX
"FIRE!"
China cringed as the soldiers around him fired into the blackened sky. Japan, Spain, Romania, Sweden, and Korea fired as well, but their bullets proved as ineffective as the soldiers. It was not until China raised his weapon and fired an artificially-created Fire Dust bullet at the beast that the Spawner finally took note of the humans on the ground.
As an ancient nation, China had been exposed to many strange things during his years on this world. He had heard of myths and legends, folk tales and stories, both from his country and others as well. He admitted he was a superstitious nation more willing to wonder about the mythical than some, and so he tried to learn as much as he could about certain cryptids. Not only out of curiosity, but possible preservation. As such, as soon as his eyes fell upon the Spawner Grimm his unit sought, he could not help but wonder if some of those myths were more fact than fiction.
The Ulama— commonly known as the "Devil Bird"— may be a disproven myth on Earth, but on Remnant something comparable to it appeared to be very real.
The owl-like Spawner Grimm was larger than a commercial airline plane. In fact, a plane like that could land comfortably on one of its wings and have some room to slow to a stop. The giant beast blocked out the sky with its enormous wingspan, covering the lonely field they had caught up to it in in shadows, and China had to wonder where it managed to hide until now.
There was no time to ponder the possibilities as the bird twisted in the air and hovered over the humans. It studied them with its monochrome red eyes and opened it's sharp beak wide as it gave a bloodcurdling shriek.
The air rippled from the Ulama's scream and China's legs buckled. Around him, men and women slumped to the ground, weapons clattering from their hands as their limbs went limp. China lurched to the closest man and felt his neck. A steady beat pulsed under his fingers and he released a shaky breath. He put a hand to his ear.
"This is Yao. Target can knock people unconscious with its scream. I repeat, target can knock people unconscious with its scream."
The agent on the other end cursed and shouted to someone else. "Send backup with upgraded ear protection. Yao, can you get them out of there?"
China grimaced at the dozens of unconscious soldiers and looked up at the Ulama. It flapped its wings, hovering in place, and its red gaze locked with his. Seeing the intelligence there, he had the feeling he'd been recognized despite the mask he wore. Confirming his suspicions, the Ulama hissed. China was not surprised. He already knew that Salem was— as they say— a 'sore loser'. He twirled his tonfas and flicked them down at his sides, clicking new cartridges of ammunition into place.
"It may be wiser if I serve as a distraction." he said calmly.
Japan's gaze snapped to him. "You can't—"
China was already moving, firing at the Ulama. His bullets— courtesy of Tony— set its feathers alight and it shrieked in annoyance. China stumbled but kept running through the open field, heading away from the soldiers and towards the slightly-better shelter the forest provided. Behind him, he heard the hisses and snarls of Grimm as they emerged from black pools of ooze. Human footsteps caught up to him and he glowered at Japan.
"Help the soldiers."
Japan shook his head. "I'm not leaving you alone."
China did not have time to retort before a shadow fell over Japan. He yanked the nation aside and the Griffon's open jaws snapped shut on air instead of Japan. China shot it but when it fell, ten more Grimm took its place. As Sweden and Romania struggled to get the unconscious soldiers into a truck and Korea shouted for China, China's back slammed into Japan's.
Around them, the green field filled to the brim with a sea of living darkness.
XXXXXXX
Oscar was not ashamed to admit that he had intended to stay close to Taiyang. He was not the most tactical person, but sticking with a professional Huntsman in this situation was a sound idea. Too bad when Team CRDL ran off on their own, Oscar unwittingly followed and lost Taiyang in the swarm of civilians, Huntsmen, and Grimm.
A Nevermore passed over him with something large in its talons and he jumped under an overhang. A King Taijitu landed in the street, half its body over the awning Oscar crouched beneath. The thin metal that held the thin awning up creaked ominously under the weight of the Grimm and Oscar ducked into the doorway.
The awning snapped and the King Taijitu's gigantic body fell in front of the doorway, covering it with its black, scaly hide. The scales slid sideways and a glowing red eye peered through the doorway. Oscar stabbed it directly through its slitted pupil. The Grimm jerked back with a pained howl and Oscar dashed into the open.
Team CRDL had engaged the King Taijitu's white head. It grabbed Cardin's mace and ripped it from his hand. Glancing back at its unmoving black head, it threw the mace off into the distance. Dove beheaded the beast a second later. There was no time to celebrate.
The Nevermore passed over again and Cardin backed up nervously, weaponless and face white. The Nevermore flapped its wings and blade-like feathers rained down on them. Oscar stepped in front of Cardin and blocked the fletchettes with his cane. They impaled the road around them. The Nevermore screeched in anger and dove. Oscar flicked the cane into a horizontal position and fired, hitting the Nevermore between the eyes. It slammed into the roof of the building and went limp.
"Nice shot." Russel complimented.
Oscar looked to Cardin. "Are you okay?"
Cardin nodded mutely. His breathing was harsh, and his eyes were oddly glazed. Before Oscar could ask him if he was sure, Cardin glanced past him and his jaw went slack. Oscar whirled to see a horde of Grimm prowling towards them. There had to be hundreds. Thousands. Oscar raised his cane but his fingers felt cold. It was not fear for himself that chilled him, but for the people fighting or running from the Grimm.
We're going to lose the city… Oscar shook those pessimistic thoughts away and turned to Ozpin. Any advice?
It took a second for Ozpin to respond. "I need to keep my distance."
What?
A familiar chill gripped Oscar's soul and his breathing caught in his chest like a lump of ice.
Ozpin's gasp was low and sharp. "I'll hold it off as long as I can. I'm sorry."
He hastily retreated from Oscar's mind as much as he could. The realization of what was happening was there, but Oscar had no time to think about it.
Glass shattered as a Beringel smashed through a window and climbed inside. Screams tore through the air but before Oscar could move, they cut off. The Beringel exited the building through the same window and landed in the street. Red eyes landed on the weaponless teen and he backed up, empty hands raised.
Oscar blinked and the Beringel was upon Cardin. Large claws tore through armor and flesh, and Cardin Winchester fell in a spray of blood.
"Cardin!" Russel screamed.
He beheaded the Beringel and shoved its body away from his leader. He rolled Cardin onto his back, revealing the gashes on his chest, and Oscar had to look away so he did not see a black-haired girl in his place. Dove stared blankly at his teammate as he tried and failed to resuscitate their leader, and his sword trembled before its tip lowered towards the ground.
"We can't win." he whispered.
Dove's arm went limp at his side and a Griffon swallowed him whole.
XXXXXXX
If the outside of Beacon looked desolate, the inside looked worse. Ruby's steps crunched on stone and glass as she hurried past the destroyed entrance to Beacon, stepping over part of the doorway that had collapsed into broken stone. The entire entrance hall— once one and whole— was now a field of shattered glass, with spiderweb-like cracks scarring the walls, floor, and ceiling.
Beacon looked less like her school and more like the ruins out in the woods. Damaged, broken, abandoned. Never able to be fixed. As she passed over the broken marble floor, tears dripped from Ruby's eye. A feeling of emptiness tore through her and she repressed a sob. Weiss halted beside her and touched her arm, eyes widening as the dripping tears became a steady stream.
"Ruby? What's wrong?"
"I don't know." Ruby choked. "Something's gone." She reached up and pressed a hand to her chest. "I feel… empty."
Visible in the dull light from outside, Arthur's face drained of color. He ran to the elevator and shoved the doors. It creaked lowly until France came to help and the metal shifted aside, revealing an empty shaft. Arthur jumped down the shaft and vanished into the darkness, leaving the rest of them to follow. Ruby shoved the emptiness away— Focus on the mission the mission the mission.— and fell unflinchingly. She used Crescent Rose to slow her ascent, leaving a trail of sparking metal in her wake. She landed and emerged from the shaft with Crescent Rose deployed.
The Vault stretched ominously in front of her, lit only by the light from Arthur's staff. Weiss flicked her weapon but the flames failed to light the torches lined along the walls. Ruby glanced at the countless halls that went off to the side and bit her lip.
"Which way do we go?"
"I believe we should proceed past the Aura Transfer machine." Penny said. "Based on previously acquired data, the Relic of Choice's Vault should be near there."
She did not explain herself further before she ran down the hall, feet clacking on the marble floor. Ruby followed and glanced at the shadows warily, but no red eyes gleamed from the darkness. An uneasy feeling replaced the lingering emptiness in her chest and she struggled to hold back tears. What was wrong with her?
A soft glow caught her eye and she halted next to Penny, blanching when she saw what had caught the robotic girl's attention. In front of them were two pods— the Aura transfer machine. In one of them lay a skeleton. Ruby forced both her gaze and mind away from its presence— and how it could already be just a skeleton— and glanced around. She spotted something glinting on the floor and ran to them, scooping up a familiar pair of glasses. They were Matthew's.
"This way!"
Arthur grabbed the glasses from her, glancing at them briefly. He took off at a run down the hall, Penny and Francis at his sides. A green-tinged glow pierced the darkness and Ruby spotted the wide-open doorway to Vale's Vault. Despite her expectations of such an outcome, her skin still felt cold. It felt even colder when she noticed a large stain on the floor.
Outside the doorway was a huge puddle of blood. For a moment, Ruby's mind refused to comprehend that it was indeed blood, because no one could lose that much and survive. Arthur barely spared the puddle a glance as he passed through the open doorway. He immediately halted with a curse.
"That bastard. Ozpin could have mentioned there was a maze."
Ruby entered the doorway as well and saw Arthur was right. Three paths were in front of them, one heading left, another right, and one forward. Looking down the forward path, Ruby could already spot four separate ones ahead.
"I cannot believe he did not tell us how to get through." Arthur ranted.
"It might not have helped. He might not know the way. Look." Francis pointed at the scuff marks and gouges on the floor. "The maze can change."
Feliciano shot the walls a nervous look. "Hopefully it doesn't change while we're in here."
"In which direction shall we proceed?" Penny interrupted.
Arthur hesitated.
Francis did not. "Left."
They ran down the left path, passing between tall green walls that reminded Ruby of gigantic, unnatural hedges. She heard a soft humming sound and thought she saw a slight glow coming from the walls.
Arthur briefly glanced her way. "Don't touch the walls. There's a spell on them. It likely won't be friendly."
Ruby gulped and quickened her steps to run next to Arthur. "Arthur, do you have anything to beat Salem?"
He hesitated a beat too long. "I might have something to contain her until we have a more permanent solution. However, casting the sealing ritual will be difficult."
"What about that sleeping spell?" Weiss asked.
"It could fell her long enough for me to seal her…" He did not sound very confident about that but he shook himself. "Ruby, I need your talisman."
Ruby blanched, gripping the talisman at her throat. "What? You're going to seal Salem in this?"
Arthur grimaced. "It is not ideal, but it is all we have."
Ruby reluctantly set the talisman into his waiting palm.
A Boarbatusk lunged from the shadows and tried to stab her in the throat. She bashed the Grimm into the wall and it disintegrated on impact with a high-pitched squeal. She looked into the shadows and dozens of red eyes stared back.
"There are Grimm in here." Ruby said.
"Oh, are there?" Arthur snapped sarcastically.
He blasted the corridor, illuminating the space with crimson light, and the Grimm howled, fading into smoke. More immediately took their place, filling every corridor except the way back.
Arthur raised his staff as Weiss raised Myrtenaster, and the magical light was caught in her glyph. It rippled, glowing red, and exploded outward like a laser beam, tearing a path through the Grimm. Ruby did not need to be ordered to run, nor did she ask which way they were going. They could only move, and hope they got somewhere without reaching a dead end.
She kept pace with Francis as she heard Penny's swords lock into their shield form behind her, accompanied by the rattle of projectiles striking metal. A particularly loud thud made Ruby look back to see a Boarbatusk's tusks had pierced the shield of swords. Penny stabbed the Grimm with one of her detached swords and it turned to smoke.
Francis gasped and skidded to a halt and Ruby nearly ran into him. She looked past him to see they had reached three new paths. Each one was filled to the brim with darkness and red eyes. But they were not the only monsters there.
Mercury Black stood casually at the crossroads in the maze, stance unbothered despite the Grimm that surrounded him. He looked perfectly at ease, without a hint of remorse or uncertainty, and Ruby could only think of what he had done to Alfred. Her lip curled but she exhaled hastily, reminding herself there was no talisman around her neck anymore. Something must have shown on her face because Mercury took one look at her and laughed.
"Surprised to see me down here?" He crossed his arms and cocked his head arrogantly, completely unconcerned with who he faced. Surrounded by so many Grimm as he was, Ruby could see why he was cocky. "Watts and I were outside but we decided it would be better to stand guard in here. I think that was a good choice."
Mercury smirked mockingly at them, and Ruby's breath caught in her throat. Was he implying Salem had the Relic of Choice already? Or was there some other horrible thing— that likely spelled misfortune for Alfred and Matthew— that he was implying? Unlike her, Arthur was unimpressed. He stared stonily at the boy who stood between him and his brothers, and Ruby saw his fingers tighten around his staff.
Violet light pulsed from his skin, passing harmlessly over his allies and striking only Mercury. He staggered in place, clutching at his chest like he was having a heart attack. The proud assassin fell to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks as his shoulders wracked with sobs.
"W-What is this?" he whimpered. "What did you do to me?!"
Arthur did not spare him an explanation. He brushed past Mercury and the Grimm around them— who were not so interested in Salem's enemies anymore. Ruby forced herself to follow and not look back as the Grimm closed in, even as Mercury shrieked. They raced around a corner and chose the path on the right. Behind them, Mercury's screams cut off.
"One enemy has been terminated." Penny murmured. "Adam Taurus is above. Remaining known enemies that may be in the area: Arthur Watts, Hazel Rainart, Emerald Sustrai, Roman Torchwick, and Salem."
Ruby could not muster a response. She heard approaching footsteps and they raised their weapons, ready for anything. Out of the sixth path that branched off to the right stepped a single figure, unaccompanied by Grimm. They stood waiting patiently at the end of the corridor for them, and the first thing Ruby noticed was their skin was white and vein-covered like Salem's.
It was not Salem.
It was not Watts that stood waiting for them.
It was not Hazel, or Adam, or Emerald, or even Roman.
Instead a tall, familiar blond-haired figure blocked their path.
"Matthieu?" Francis whispered.
Ruby barely recognized the twin. His skin was as white as snow, covered in red-tinged black veins that spread out from his chest like spider webs. His eyes looked more like Yang's at her angriest than his own— the red barely tinted with the smallest hint of violet. His pupils were thin and slit-like, like a snake's. Only his blond hair was unchanged, but even it was stained red with blood. Yet what caught Ruby's gaze was the thick line of black across his throat, reminding her of a shadow-like scar.
Matthew did not respond to Francis's horrified whisper. He did not appear to even hear it. Instead he stared unblinkingly at the group with the disinterest of someone faced with a group of strangers. His right arm bobbed slightly, and Ruby noticed he had a long, golden sword in his hand.
Seeing it, Ruby immediately knew it was the Relic of Destruction. The fact that Salem no longer had all of the Relics was the last thing on her mind— Or didn't she, because Matthew did not look right and wasn't acting right and was just standing there, staring at them—
Francis gave a low, sorrowful sound and stepped forward, hands outstretched. "Oh, Matthieu. What did they do to you?"
Ruby blinked, and Matthew's fist slammed into Francis's stomach. Francis's mouth opened in a breathless scream as his deep blue Aura vanished in a flash. His legs buckled and he crumpled limply to the ground.
Matthew twisted and grabbed Arthur's staff, yanking it aside so the red light gathering at its tip struck the wall, and headbutted his brother with an audible crack. Again, Aura flared— but did not break— and Matthew grabbed Arthur's head, smashing it into the wall. Energy flashed, rippling over Arthur's frame, and his green eyes rolled back as his body lurched like he was being electrocuted. Matthew released him and he fell as well—
And suddenly Matthew was directly in front of Ruby.
She gasped, flinching back, and Matthew's fist struck a familiar glyph, shattering it but failing to reach her. Matthew shook his hand slightly and tipped his head, glancing sidelong at Weiss. His lips twitched and twisted into a snarl. He dodged Penny's swords— which sprang for him but hit the ground instead of stabbing his limbs— and flipped with surprising deftness, landing lightly in a crouch. Ruby noticed his hands never even twitched towards the Relic of Destruction.
If Weiss noticed the same, she gave no sign. She gripped Myrtenaster and pointed it at Matthew.
"Matthew, snap out of this at once." she commanded.
Seeing no reaction from Matthew, Ruby tried to reach him as well.
"It's us." she called, and unnatural red eyes snapped to her. She shoved away the slither of unease that tried to claim her breath and smiled, reaching out to him with her palm turned slightly up, showing there was no weapon in her hand. "It's your friends."
For a moment, Ruby thought he heard her. Matthew stood still, red eyes flicking to each of them, and he slowly rose from his crouch. Even his posture was wrong. Rather than firm but slightly hesitant, like he was prepared to fall back so no one would get hurt if they walked into him, Matthew's stance was tense and aggressive, like a predator preparing to pounce. His head tipped as he studied Ruby and his nostrils flared. His noticeably dry and cracked lips moved.
"P̶̳͗r̴͉̍o̶̼̕ṱ̴̓ẻ̸̻c̷̙̀ẗ̷̟́.̴͍̀ ̸͍͒Y̴̆͜o̵̟̒u̵̡͝.̷̧́"
Ruby could barely decipher the words among the guttural growl that defiled Matthew's soft voice. Matthew vanished and appeared in front of her, too quickly for even her to react, and he slammed her head into the wall. A shock of electricity-like pain jolted through her and although her Aura did not flare, her vision blurred and her hair stood on end. Matthew yanked her away from the humming wall and let her slump to the ground.
Weiss ignored him and ran to her side, shouting her name.
By the time Ruby's head stopped swimming, Matthew had vanished into the maze.
XXXXXXX
Kill them.
Kill them.
Kill them.
He could smell them. The people he left behind. He knew them from somewhere, but could not recall where. All he knew was he needed to get away from them and their— aggravating, disgusting, shut them up make them end-kill them— emotions before it was too late.
The sounds of their heartbeats pounded in his ears— Silence them— and the alluring— frustrating— scent of their fear tickled his nose. He ignored the temptation to snuff out those aggravating smells and sounds and continued forward, not backwards towards those who would not stand a chance once he erased the memories— Did he smile when he cut off Emerald's head? He could not recall.— that told them that they were in danger
A part of him wondered if killing them would be a mercy compared to what waited for them.
Drowning in his own blood. His vision fading, his fingers going numb. He couldn't breathe—
A smaller, quieter part of him acknowledged he once would be terrified he could even wonder that.
Now he thought about it almost absently, as if he were considering which type of bread to buy.
Kill them, his instincts urged.
He did not think "No."
He did not refuse.
He merely kept— forced himself to keep— moving forward through the maze. The Grimm ignored him and he them. They recognized him as one of their kind. That might have disturbed him once upon a time. Now, they were an afterthought that could not function as a distraction from the infuriating presences he left behind.
Kill them.
Kill them.
Kill them.
Kill them all.
Spill their blood.
Make their suffering end.
Don't turn around.
He ran through the Grimm without fear or any emotion, just another shadow within shadows. A predator among predators. He could smell his prey behind him but did not turn around— because if he did, he would tear them apart. Why did he not want that?
Instead he moved forward, only forward, and ignored the passages that would let him loop back towards his potential prey. It was easier to ignore his bloodlust than he liked. Not because a part of him strained against the desire to go back and silence the frothing, ugly fear and horror of those he had attacked, but because the instinct to move forward was stronger. He could feel the darkness. It called to him like it held the end of the leash around his throat—
His throat was so coldcoldcold. It was filled with gelatinous ice, clogging his airways. It burned. He burned. He couldn't breathe—
The darkness's call was not gentle or warm, but harsh, angry, and commanding— Obey, obey, obey. His desire to ignore or fight it was small—Their fear was so irritating, like wasps and spiders crawling under his skin— completely swamped by the animalistic urge to find the darkness.
The waves of agony, grief, and madness that flitted near the darkness only drew him in faster.
He knew, once he found the source he would…
He would…
Tear it apart.
Silence it.
End the pain.
He couldn't breathe—
He would have its blood.
XXXXXXX
"I found him."
Yang felt a shiver up her spine at Jett's words. They broke through the dull haze that tried to swallow her— making her feel alive once more— and she shook herself, punching a Boarbatusk through a window. Romano's Semblance rippled through the air, knocking out the Grimm, and she ran past, killing them as she went.
"Where?" she demanded.
"Two streets over." Jett reported. His eyes flicked towards her. "I'm not sure I should tell you exactly where."
Yang's teeth clenched hard enough she heard them scrape against each other. She fought the emptiness in her chest— Focus on the anger. "Adam needs to be stopped. If he dies, the White Fang will fall apart."
Jett shot her an unimpressed look. "That may be the case, but don't you think you're being a bit single-minded?"
"He needs to be stopped." Yang repeated.
Jett's lips pinched and he exhaled in an annoyed gust. "Why are you being so—?" He faltered, eyes going round as he stared at Yang. His expression shifted, as if he were seeing her clearly for the first time. "Oh, crap. Yang, you're not thinking clearly. Salem is enhancing your—"
Yang was already gone. She destroyed anything that got in her way— White Fang or Grimm— tearing through them all as if they were nothing more than tissue paper. She passed by burning buildings and vehicles, ran through broken streets and throngs of fleeing people, and skidded around a corner, slowing to a halt as her gaze rested on yet another war-torn street. This one was filled with Grimm and White Fang, but they ignored her in favor of killing everyone else— helpless civilians who had little chance to defend themselves.
Among the band of remorseless murderers was her target.
Adam caustically killed the civilian trapped beneath his boot and stepped away from the unmoving body, flicking the blood from his sword. He looked up at Yang and his mouth twisted into a scowl.
"You."
"Me." Yang spat. Her eyes flicked to the fallen civilian and her fists trembled. "I can't believe she used to look up to you. You're a monster."
Adam did not flinch. "Says the human she died for."
Sorrow slashed through the anger gripping her mind but she forced it away, shifting into a stable stance. "I'm going to stop you."
Adam was unconcerned. "Even if you do, it will not matter. Salem will win soon. Then humanity will die, and the Faunus will never be hurt again."
Yang glared at him, stomach churning in disgust. How can someone so terrible represent Blake's country? "Do you really think the Faunus want that? Genocide and a broken world in exchange for so-called 'peace and prosperity'?"
"It is the only way." Adam stated. He paused, and the harsh snarl etched into his face twisted into something that was almost miserable. "Blake would understand."
Yang ignored the lance of pain at her name and scoffed. "If that's what you think, you didn't know Blake at all."
Adam tensed. He almost seemed to hesitate, shoulders stiffening as if he were bracing himself for something unbearable. Then his red-lined mask stared at her, reflecting the light of the flames around them. "Neither did you. Blake was with the White Fang for years. Before that day on the train, she willing enough to attack and murder supposed 'innocents'."
Yang threw herself at him with a scream. Adam's glowing sword slashed— but his blow went off to Yang's side as Jett slammed into him. Adam staggered and Jett kicked him in the face. Adam swiped at him and backed off, expression slipping into a neutral look.
"Who are you?"
Jett did not answer. He stepped back until he stood beside Yang. "I heard about last time. Didn't you learn anything?"
"I was going to dodge." Yang said tersely.
"Right."
Yang gritted her teeth. "Stay out of this. He's mine."
Jett glared back at her. "Don't be an idiot. I'm not letting you face him alone."
Yang's eyes burned. She could not tell whether it was from anger or tears. "You don't have any claim in this."
Jett's features were hard. "He hurt my friends. That's claim enough. Besides..." His eyes flicked to the Grimm and White Fang that were closing around them. "We have more to worry about than just him..."
Yang went back-to-back with Jett, fists raised and eyes red. The White Fang and Grimm around them collapsed, and Yang almost had to smile. It vanished when she saw Adam still stood. He ignored them, teeth visibly clenched, and his gaze snapped to the shadows by a building.
He sprang like a tiger spotting prey and Lovino fell in a spray of blood. Yang froze in place as an echo of Blake fell with him. Unlike Blake, the injury was not fatal. He gasped and clutched at his bleeding shoulder as his teeth clenched in pain. Adam stood over the fallen nation and flicked the blood from his sword.
"Sorry." he said coldly. "But your Semblance won't work on me."
XXXXXXX
Blue flames and lightning devoured everything in their path, and America had no desire to stop them. He was not fighting. He was not surviving. He was not even sure he was still alive. He was not a person, but a storm of pain, letting out all the grief in an uncontrolled frenzy of lightning and flames. He distantly noticed the color— blue the shade of the sky— and he could not stop the howl that tore his throat, leaving it pained and raw as he wailed in mindless sorrow.
Mattie was dead, killed by Emerald.
Vale was dead, sacrificing herself to save him.
Yet in his state of grief-filled oblivion, America could only comprehend the emptiness where Vale once resided and the creeping realization that both his twin and closest companion were gone forever.
But even now— lost in the pain he could scarcely feel— a part of America clung to himself, keeping himself from drifting away into nothingness. A part of him realized the full extent of what Vale had done— of what she had been doing to protect him while he was being tortured. Not protection from Salem or Roman, but the Relic of Choice itself.
He could feel the Relic inside him, its weight settled heavily from his chest to abdomen like molten, living gold. Its power beckoned to him, warm and comforting as it whispered for him to let go of his last bit of humanity and open himself up to it. But America knew if he slipped from the ledge he clung to and allowed that power to overwhelm him, he would be lost. His already cracking mind would shatter to pieces and they could never be put back together again. He could not let himself fall apart now.
The Relic pulsed like a heartbeat, thrumming with energy, and amidst the storm that left America ripping at the seams, his gorge rose. He could feel the Relic trying to fill the empty void Vale left, but its presence was inhuman and wrong, like an iron maiden instead of a comforting hug. Apparently America's choice to protect the Relic from Salem until he died was stronger than his desire to want the thing gone for it did not tear itself out of him and free him of its unwanted touch. Or maybe a part of him wanted it there, because with its unearthly presence he could almost pretend he was not alone.
Aches and pains— ones not caused by the Relic— lanced through his body. Most originated in his chest. America ignored— denied— what that might mean since Vale was dea— Wasn't around anymore. He needed more reasons to keep on going, not more reasons to let death take him too. The fire kept burning yet it did not devour the stone. Was it magic that prevented the chamber's destruction or something else? America did not know or care to know. The inferno seemed to keep Salem back and that was all that mattered—
A cane appeared out from the blue inferno, striking America directly in the throat. He choked and swung blindly but Roman ducked beneath his blow, grabbing his arm. The criminal twitched, glancing nervously at their hands, yet America's flames did not eat through his Aura to devour him. America shoved him away but his vision wavered and suddenly he was on the floor with Roman looming over him.
"Looks like you don't want to hurt me, Blue." Roman mocked. "Even better, you're choosing not to hurt me. Still have feelings for your old pal?" He grinned with too many teeth and kicked America in the side.
America slid along the stone floor with a grunt and smacked into something. He peered up the staircase he was laying against and frowned. He did not recall coming down here. When did he come here? The Relic pulsed and he curled up, fingernails digging into his side. He took a gasping breath and tried to rise, but Roman pinned him down, arm across his throat. America tried to kick him off but only succeeded in sticking his leg out. The stone below him was very cold and Roman was warm but the Relic was burning.
America was beginning to wonder if his insides had melted. Something was definitely wrong, and that something was the Relic of Choice. Was it reacting to his grief? Or had he been in too much pain before to notice how much it hurt? The pain became so intense that he barely felt the sharp kiss of Roman's knife against his throat.
He froze in place but grabbed Roman's arm, trying to shove the blade away from his neck. He had to fight— both Roman and the Relic— no matter how much it hurt. Otherwise he would fall, and Canada and Vale's deaths would be for nothing.
America tried to strengthen his resolve, tried to gather the will to push past his grief, but he knew he failed. Because although the flames kept burning— where was Salem among them?— Roman remained unscathed. The inferno may as well be air for all the harm it did to him. Roman burst out laughing, and the flickering light of the flames danced on his face, making his scar appear even more grotesque. He leaned over, breath tickling America's ear, and he felt his face drain of color.
"Salem is right." Roman whispered to him. "You want this to happen. You want me to hurt you. You want to die."
America's resolve wavered.
Something foreign jabbed at his consciousness, forcing his lucid thoughts away as it pushed into his conscious mind. The Relic wiped his thoughts with its golden light, filling every crevice of his being with its power. His mind splintered into pieces, giving him flashes of everything and nothing, and he lost sight of everything except the possibilities. The choices. Infinite, insurmountable, limitless, unattainable—
If America were human, he would have broken then, his mind shattered by the vastness he could barely comprehend. But he was a nation. He was used to his mind splitting to see the minds of his people. So instead of breaking into pieces, something inside him cracked and he snapped back into his body.
America looked at Roman, and saw him clearly for the first time. He saw a boy who chose to run away from a simple but loving home, who chose to become a pickpocket because it was fun, who chose to become a criminal and blew up airships with glee. He saw every choice Roman made laid out before him like a map, leading up to this exact moment of his life.
But that was not all America saw when he looked at Roman. Strands of light flickered around the criminal, some bright and some dim, each floating like an aura of living tendrils that stretched into the beyond. In them, America saw every choice the criminal considered at the present. He could choose to kill America. He could continue to torture him. He could pretend to reconsider his path and release him, giving America a glimmer of hope, only to trap him again and crush his body and spirit.
Yet there were also choices Roman did not consider, or perhaps did not allow himself think of. He could run away and leave Salem behind. He could release America and join up with him, fighting her together and ensuring Roman's survival. He could use the Relic and "choose" to keep it safe from Salem, ensuring its protection extended to him. But Roman did not see those options— he did not think of those possible choices— so they flickered like dying candlelight and soon faded away.
Seeing all those possibilities was intriguing.
It was fascinating.
It was maddening.
America's lips might have twitched. "I know your choices." he murmured. "You can pretend the world forced you to become a criminal. You can pretend to be forced to work for Salem all you like, but you're enjoying this. You enjoy the opportunities she gave you. You desire the power she promised you. You're choosing to work with her because you believe you'll be rewarded..."
Roman did not speak a word, only staring at him with ashen skin. America almost felt pleased by his fear, and might have if he weren't on the edge of snapping into pieces.
America chuckled. "Little selfish Roman, always looking out for Number One. Betraying everyone that knows him just to keep on surviving. You've killed so many people. You escaped prison, and death, but that is alright. Now I can choose your judgment." America put a hand on Roman's chest. "I choose death."
Roman burst into flames. The criminal shrieked and rolled off of America, clawing at his coat as blue flames devoured it. The flames tore over his body— incinerating his trademark hat— and his arms went limp. His burning body toppled to the floor of the chamber, no longer recognizable as anything but charred remains.
Rather than feel satisfaction, America felt… floaty. Like his soul was not fully attached to his body anymore and if he let it drift, he would float away. He fought against his aversion to the pain and clung stubbornly to his body because he had to live he had to live he had to live.
A dark figure rose from his flames like a demon straight out of hell, and America almost laughed. Oh, look. Salem was back. He studied her with detached curiosity as she approached, ignoring the flames that left black streaks on her skin. Well, more black streaks. Was that what Salem's vein-thingies were? Burns? No, they weren't burns. They were Grimm-essence-vein-thingies.
...What was he doing again? His mind stretched out, seeking the presence of living souls so he could latch onto them and see their choices—
Oh, right. Bad guy. He should focus.
It was hard to focus when his brain was filled with so many things that were not his thoughts. His thoughts were stretchy and gooey like gum, getting all twisty and turny and wrong as the Relic forced its presence through the cracks—
Salem stopped ten feet from him, as regal and cold as ever. America could not see her choices like he had Roman's. Was it because she was not human, or was he subconsciously shying away from the Relic's power so his cracking mind did not shatter further?
He hummed thoughtfully to himself and threw a barrage of blue lightning at the Queen of the Grimm. She dodged a few but took the rest head on. They did little more than shove her back. Salem straightened and studied him curiously but soon inclined her head, as if something she suspected had been confirmed.
"I see. The Relic is burning you from within. Even a personification like you cannot withstand using a Relic like you are. You are losing your mind, but your choice to protect the ones you love fuels the Relic. It might just have enough power to use your body as a puppet. Like a revenant." Her lips curled. "Your mind is so damaged I cannot sense your emotions."
America smiled serenely, the grin as fragile as shattered glass. "It's breaking all the broken pieces. What's left when they're gone? I'm not sure I want me to be there." He burst out laughing so he would not scream as his insides twisted and melted.
Salem gracefully reached out to him. "Give me the Relic and your pain will end. You can die with your soul intact."
America did not even consider it. "Nah."
He threw a blue fireball at her face— and ignored the tearing sensation in his gut. She took it head on but staggered back a step. America laughed— so he would not scream in agony. He flicked his hand and watched his lightning shatter the stone at Salem's feet as she dodged. Why did she dodge if she could not be killed? Was it a conscious choice, or an unconscious instinct? He could not read her so he did not know.
The Relic of Choice shifted inside him, burning and boiling and devouring and hurting and he smiled as tears streamed down his face. He could feel the Relic grabbing his soul and stamping on it to snuff it out— like Vale did. He was definitely dying. That sucked. If he died, Vale's sacrifice would be for nothing.
Salem's shadows glanced harmlessly off his skin and the ache in his torso grew worse. If someone cut him open and began removing his organs, it would be less painful than this. Of course the Relic had a mind of its own. Of course it was stronger than him. It was created by the Gods, and as much as it loved showing and giving choices, it adored taking those choices away.
Why would something created by the Gods ever be 'moral' by human standards? Why would it not pursue what it considered the best 'choice'? America wanted to protect his loved ones, so he chose to defend the Relic from Salem until his dying breath. But he was weakening, dying, fading— he wanted to join those who had passed on— so the Relic may as well continue his choice and defend itself.
...Why was America resisting its power anyway? America considered it as he blacked out and suddenly found himself at the bottom of the staircase of the chamber with no knowledge of how he got there. Maybe he should let go. The Relic of Choice would be much stronger without his pesky mind in the way. If it took over, he could finally rest. He could finally be free.
America halted in place and spun in a lazy half-circle, avoiding Salem's barrage of darkness. He swayed unsteadily, like a marionette with half its strings cut off. Was he even fully in control of his body anymore? Was he acting on instinct to avoid Salem's attacks or was the Relic slowly overcoming him? He was not entirely certain.
Salem landed at the base of the staircase, expression twisted with annoyance. She met America's gaze and paused. Her lips curled mockingly. She did not speak a word, but her red eyes flicked to the doorway. America instinctively followed her gaze and all thoughts of the Queen of the Grimm fled his mind.
Canada stood in the stone archway of the chamber, eyes a boiling red and skin as pale as snow. Dried blood stained his chest, originating from the thick black streak across his throat. No gold tendrils of choice flickered around him. He also had the Relic of Destruction on his back but America did not care about that. Only Canada mattered. His twin's nostrils flared and his crimson gaze snapped up to meet America's. He stepped forward, but America was already moving towards him.
"Mattie!"
America collided with his twin and hugged him tightly. Canada recoiled and did not hug him back, hands twitching as his fingers flexed. He stood stiffly, every muscle tense and quivering like a taut bowstring. America shut his eyes and listened to his brother's breathing. His breath and skin were very cold, but it did not matter. Mattie was here. He was here, so everything was okay. Except… Mattie was dead.
America's fractured mind managed to put the pieces together and he frowned, more perplexed than sad. "Am I dead?" The thought was rather disappointing, but in a distant way, like he'd aimed to get an A-plus on a test but got an A. "Sorry. I did not mean to die yet."
Canada blinked and America thought he saw a flicker of violet in those red eyes. It was gone before he could be sure. He hummed to himself and clung to his twin, laying his head on his shoulder. Pain lanced through his stomach and chest and he shivered.
"It hurts, Mattie. Why does it still hurt if I'm dead?" His brow furrowed. "I'm dead. And you're dead. And Vale's dead." America released his brother and swayed on his feet as he looked around in a circle. "Is Vale here too? She died for me like you did." Grief slashed at his consciousness like a lash from a whip and he trembled, looking to his brother with watery eyes. "Why did she do that?"
Canada stared at him. His crimson eyes did not blink.
America registered the sound of laughter and squinted at Salem. A part of mind screamed at him to react but that part was with the parts that hurt and were sharp and were more horrible than the Relic's numbing haze. Salem kept chuckling, smile cold and sharp like a shark's, and her eyes glowed.
"Kill him."
Canada's eyes glowed crimson.
His hands jerked up, and ice-cold fingers wrapped around America's throat.
XXXXXXX
Norway raced through the entrance of America's mansion, not bothering to remove his shoes or coat as he ran. He brushed past Sealand as the micronation shouted questions at him and ignored Uni as she stepped out of the living room with a soft, confused sound. He even jumped over Americat, who meowed an annoyed complaint at being so casually dismissed.
There was no time to be polite. Tony had ignored all of his attempts to contact him, and Norway had the sinking feeling he knew why. That was why he left the Taskforce and headed straight back to the mansion as quickly as he could. He ran into the alien in the hallway— literally. Tony staggered slightly from the collision but barely faltered, continuing towards his lab.
Norway blocked his path. "Tony—"
"Do not attempt to delay me." Tony growled, shoving past him. "The Grimm are going for America's heart. I won't let them." He hurried down the hall, talking rapidly as he went. "Based on the data I have gathered, the Grimm are not naturally-born creatures that follow the rules of real living species. They come from a specific source— likely Grimm pools— and rely on those pools to survive. It is why they do not need to eat, and fade away when killed. If those pools are destroyed, I predict a majority of the Grimm will die or fade away since the source of their existence will be eradicated."
Norway realized what he had suspected was in fact true. "Tony, you can't. The weapon hasn't been tested—"
"That is why I am not using it here." Tony growled. "And do not tell me what to do. They're trying to kill America."
Norway faltered.
"Norway?" Iceland peered out from a doorway, looking between Norway and Tony and watching as the alien continued down the hall. "I heard your footsteps. You're in a rush. What's going on?"
"The Grimm are attacking. Large-scale." Norway said bluntly. "Tony and I have a way to stop them."
Iceland paled. "W-What?"
Norway turned to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "You know that ritual England used to get to Remnant?" At Iceland's nod, he continued. "We've adjusted the ritual so it will go to the place with the greatest concentration of Grimm."
Iceland's eyes went round. "But that's on Remnant."
"Yes." Norway said quietly. He hesitated. "While we're down there preparing, I need you to free Copper— the Remnant soldier— and defend the mansion, okay? If the Grimm figure out what we're doing, they'll try to stop us. In fact, they might already be on their way here."
Iceland swallowed. "O-Okay."
Norway wished he had the time to comfort his brother, but he did not. He hugged Iceland— who did not pull away— and let him hurry off before running after Tony. The alien could move surprisingly quickly when he wanted to.
"Are we sure we should do this?" he questioned. "What if we miss?"
Tony shrugged. "I am a scientist. I always build more than one."
Norway shot him a disapproving look. "That is not what I meant."
Tony eyed him and snorted. "If it hits a human city they will be fine. The weapon causes minimal damage and only kills Grimm."
Seeing the neutral look on Tony's face, Norway was not sure he believed him. "What if it does not stop them?"
Tony's red eyes were cold. "Then we keep fighting."
XXXXXXX
A/N: This is just over 9,000 words long. Wow, that's long.
Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, followed, etc!
See you next Friday.