Well I'm back. Glad so many people decided to write a review on the last chapter. Some people had some good ideas that I unfortunately cannot use because of my vague and stupid, overarching, vision for this fic. Pity that, really. But that's enough of that. Let's get it on with this chapter.
chapter 25: Angel's fall
There was pain. All Pyrrha could feel was pain.
There was pain in her ankle from the broken arrow in it. There was pain in her chest from the shards of glass in it.
There was pain from having those shards pushed around in her as she had been carried, pushed and pulled across Beacon.
He worst pain was the burning. She felt as if her body was on fire, eating away at her from the inside.
She couldn't even scream in pain as it felt like her lungs were ablaze and being boiled away by embers inside of her. She could feel the burning every time her heart beat and touched the shards in her chest.
The pain had spread. As if carried by her bloodstream it was now in all over her body.
But despite the pain she had tried to hold on.
Ever since Ruby had suddenly showed up she had tried to hold on to life. If she died, then Cinder would get all the power. Then everything would be for naught.
She was barely aware of what was going on anymore. The few moments that she opened her eyes all was just a blur.
She thought she recognized Qrow Branwen's voice telling her to hold on.
Next she thought she saw hulking figures with red eyes move about. Most were running away but a few remained with the smaller ones. Were those her friends?
Pyrrha was tired and weak. She was at death's door and had given all she had to give.
Surely, she could let go? If it wasn't for the power, she could let go? Right?
Nora watched as Beacon's physician did what little he could to keep Pyrrha alive.
Whatever the man had injected into her to help with the pain obviously wasn't helping and the man said that giving her more might stop her from breathing.
"Come on Pyrrha, don't give up." the young Valkyrie urged her friend.
"Live on. We'll get through this. Jauney's space-kids are here! Things will be okay. Just don't give up. Live on for us. Live on for your parents. Live for your team. If nothing else live for Jaune!"
Pyrrha didn't respond. She couldn't even hear her friend over the pain coursing through her.
And there was something else. Maybe it was a hallucination from the pain but Pyrrha thought she could her a girl's voice in the back of her mind. If Pyrrha was lucid she might have ventured a guess that it was poor Amber's voice she heard.
The voice was begging for death. It wanted to be free. Free from captivity and free from all the pain. Pyrrha had half a mind to oblige her for the pain was beyond belief.
Pyrrha's breaths became shallower. Her heartbeat grew weaker and she could feel herself fading away. She couldn't find it in herself to resist. The pain was great and in oblivion there would be no looked up with teary eyes. Her friend was dying right before her eyes and there was not a thing she could do about it.
One of the strange crafts that the space marines had come down in was returning to the landing area. One of the warriors got off this time. He was different from the others. His gauntlets were fitted with things that the others didn't have. On his right shoulder guard was a helix, drawn in red.
The warrior seemed to survey the area, looking over the wounded. At least that was what Nora thought he did. He did it so fast.
He all but glanced over the lightly wounded. Perhaps he gave a bit of thought about the once that had required treatment already.
And then he focused on Pyrrha.
Deon, apothecary of the Blood Angels chapter, recognized her from when he and his brothers had first seen their father on the mortals' broadcast. She was the primarch's 'partner'.
The warrior stepped closer as he kept observing Pyrrha.
Nora felt intimidated as the giant came towards them but realized that it was best not to fight the warrior right there and then.
She was spent, he was fresh. She was out of ammo, he wasn't. Her aura was broken, he was armored. If nothing else, the fighting might accidentally injure Pyrrha more.
"PYRRHA! Stay with us!" shouted Ren as his friend stopped breathing. Her heartbeat soon followed suit. Pyrrha's heart was shutting down from the trauma and pain it was going through.
Surgia swore and tried to bring her back, trying to get her breathing again.
Pyrrha didn't know what was happening anymore. She quit feeling altogether. It was like she was sinking into a deep darkness. Her aches were fading as she was sinking into oblivion. She couldn't muster the strength to resist anymore.
Pyrrha Nikos died.
A faint light sprang from her body as she did so. No one around her understood what it was that began to fly towards Beacon, towards the fight between Jaune and Cinder Fall.
No one cared either. Pyrrha might be gone forever.
Surgia didn't even bother to look up at the approaching warrior as he was too focused on trying to bring the girl back to the living.
The giant warrior got down on one knee next to Pyrrha. The thing on his arm was coming alive as he did so.
"Please." said Nora in a whisper. Somehow it seemed like the warrior heard her over the noise of everything else going on.
"Help her."
Ren all but dragged himself to the warrior and his friends. Unlike Nora he had figured that this astartes was a medic of sorts. As Ren pulled himself closer the thing on the astartes stuck something into Pyrrha and soon pulled something out of her and tossed it aside. It made a clicking sound as it hit the ground.
'Was that glass?' wondered Ren. He reached out to grab it but quickly pulled his hand away as the material burned his hand.
"Does the lord primarch cherish this mortal?"
The warrior spoke up suddenly as he kept working, moving to remove the next fragment with haste and purpose.
Ren could tell this medic was skilled in his craft as he avoided damaging Pyrrha's flesh more than absolutely necessary.
"She does." answered Ren.
"They mean the world to each other."
"Then I'll not let her perish." answered apothecary without betraying much, if any, emotion in his voice.
He had treated battle brothers for bio-toxins from tyranids. He had brought warriors back to the battlefield after they had been torn apart by bolt rounds. He had treated wounds that would have killed a space marine several times over.
Bringing this mortal back from these injuries would be no challenge to someone of Deon's skill.
He injected something into Pyrrha and sealed the holed in her chest with a substance Ren had never seen before. He then placed his hand onto her chest and pressed down.
Pyrrha gasped in pain as her lungs filled with air and her heart began to pump blood again.
Deon pinned her down to the ground with only one hand, not letting her worsen her injuries by moving around needlessly.
He injected her with something for the pain. Deon had learned the hard way that if a mortal suffered too severe a pain they would die as their hearts would give in.
"She will live." stated Deon, if only to calm down the mortals around him and to keep them from interfering. He still had a lot of work to do.
He cursed the frailty of mortals. If only this one had the Oolitic Kidney of the astartes, then the matter burning away at her could easily be purged from her system.
The 'dust' was fading from the mortal, losing its potency. Once her 'aura' was restored it should deal with the rest but until then the mortal's life would depend on the healers tending to her.
"You, mortal, assist." said Deon and indicated to the mortal physician what to do.
Soon oxygen was being fed to Pyrrha through a mask to compensate for her damaged lungs.
In the city
Ironwood, Winter and Glynda were fending of droids as they tried to get to Beacon. They had reached the edge of the city and were nearing the road to Beacon.
Ever since Qrow had rushed off to his niece's aid the group had found itself changing direction away from Ironwood's downed ship and were now headed towards Beacon. Without the huntsman to lend a hand the group simply didn't have the strength to safely push on to the ship.
Heading towards Beacon to lend a hand had therefore seemed like a good option.
They could have tried to rejoin the ground forces at the safe zone, but Ironwood's subordinates had that area well under control by now.
An Atlesian paladin had crossed their path and opened fire on them. In their exhausted state they barely manage to topple it, not destroy it.
Before they could move in to disable the downed machine they heard the sound of aircraft headed towards them. The sound of the engines was too loud for it to be a civilian vessel. That meant it had to be a Atlesian one, and probably not under the defenders' control if it was flying that low.
To make matters worse, yet another horde of grimm was headed towards them. They had not yet been spotted but said horde would soon come around the corner and be upon them.
"How many of these things are there?" muttered Winter, her normally pristine uniform worn and torn.
"A lot." answered Ironwood as he checked his ammunition.
He was running dangerously low.
He sighed. Loath as he was to admit it, they did not have the strength left to fight any large groups of grimm anymore. Not to mention a corrupt Atlas aircraft.
"Let's hide for now and wait for them to pass by. "
They settled on a ruined store for a hiding place. It was hardly ideal or befitting of them, but they had no choice. They could either hide and fight later or they could die now and never fight again.
Not wanting to waste precious ammunition or aura they attempted to break down the door by hand. A mistake really. Before they could get in the Grimm were upon them.
"General, I don't want to be in Vale anymore." said Winter weakly but readied her sword, ready to go down fighting.
Then the aircraft came. The trio did not even have time to get a good look at it as its guns began to fire. The grimm that had been approaching were slaughtered, torn to bits by the brutal barrage.
Ironwood looked at the grimms' remains before they faded into nothingness. He had never seen such fire power in his entire life.
"That thing… was not of Atlas make."
Winter looked up after the vessel in awe. It was headed for Beacon along with others like it.
"Does that mean…?"
There was the sound of heavy footsteps and weapons firing from the same direction that the vessels had come from.
The whole trio turned around to see grimm being blown and torn to bits as the saviors rush up the street. Step by step the grimm were being purged from Vale.
The grimm roared and clawed at their armor but to no avail. With savage brutality the warriors tore their way through the black bodies towards Beacon.
Their shoulders were marked by a drop of blood on a saw blade on a field of black.
"Onwards brothers! We will be angels again!" shouted one of the warriors as he ripped the arm of a Beowolf and then used it to smash the head in of another.
Ironwood could do nothing but stare in awe. These warriors were huge, easily towering over him. Their weapons were larger than anything Atlas had for its troops and yet these soldiers wielded them with such ease.
And their armor… dust, there was nothing like it on Remnant.
Ironwood had been a fool for even thinking of fighting these warriors. It would not have been a fight that Atlas could have won. It would have been a one-sided slaughter committed by the astartes.
The paladin that the defenders had managed to topple earlier was getting up again and targeted the new arrivals only to be blasted to bits at a long range by pin-point fire.
Ironwood quickly collected his with. Now was not the time to stand there slack jawed. He stepped forward and hailed the warriors.
"Greetings astartes. I am gen-"
"We know of you, mortal. You are general James Ironwood of the Atlas Military and headmaster of Atlas Academy." said the apparent leader of these astartes as he briefly slowed down to address the huntsmen.
He did not sound happy as his voice came out through a grill on his helmet.
"We also know who the rest of you are. Goodwitch of Beacon Academy and Winter Schnee, specialist of the Atlas military."
Before the general could even say another word the astartes began to move again.
It was a challenge for the mortals to keep pace with these warriors.
'Dust, how do they move so fast in that armor?'
"Astartes, please tell us," said Ironwood as he failed to keep up. "Where are you headed?"
He got no response as the warriors pushed on towards Beacon.
Skoraen of the Flesh Tearers opened a vox-link to one of the Thunderhawks for an update.
The news he got was troubling.
"Make haste brothers! Our primarch is facing the Witch of Grimm!"
The Flesh Tearers began to move even faster, as if they could reach Beacon before the Thunderhawks.
Reborn primarch or not, their father was not even on the level of a fresh neophyte yet.
Skoraen opened another vox-link, this one to the Lamenters that already were at Beacon.
"Lamenter, make haste to our father! The Angel must not fall again!"
Beacon
Cinder felt the power swell up in her.
The old saying 'more than the sum of its parts' rang through her mind but was drowned out by her insane laughter.
The power was hers. her power was finally hers.
She reveled in the feeling of feeling the power swelling up inside of he, empowering her to new heights. It was far greater than she would have thought.
"Bwahahahahaha! It's mine! It's mine! finally the power is mine!"
She turned to the wounded angel with a insane grin on her disfigured face.
"You know what this means right? This means she is dead."
She straightened up and shouted on the top of her lungs for all to hear.
"Pyrrha Nikos is dead! Bwahahaha! But don't feel too bad my angel, you'll be joining her soon enough."
Jaune Arc did not respond. His face was deathly pale and eyes blank. His grip on Crocea Mors tightened.
The smart thing would have been for him to retreat and let the astartes blow Cinder to bits with their bolters. He was wounded and exhausted. His aura was barely even there anymore. He was struggling to even stand up. His wings were soaked with his own blood and hardly moved anymore.
But Jaune was beyond reasoning from his grief. Pyrrha was gone and Cider Fall had killed her.
Grief turned to anger. Anger became rage. The rage found a target: Cinder.
He leaped at her, the arrows burning in his wing be damned! This bitch had to die.
Cinder met his charge with a wall of fire and a hail of dust shards. Even if he saw this coming there was no way for him to block it now.
Jaune Arc did not care about the fire. He just wanted Cinder's head on a stick.
Their weapons clashed. Jaune barely made any efforts to defend himself anymore as he lashed out for the False Maiden.
He tried to smash her face in with his shield but with his damaged hand he couldn't get enough force behind the blow. Cinder caught the blow easily enough with her hand only to send it away with a burst of fire, injuring his shield arm even more in the process.
She tried to stab him in the neck at the same time.
Jaune saw it coming and with a snarl grabbed for her with his now free hand. But he was too slow, the damage he had sustained and his exhaustion was slowing him down. He was met with a wall of fire that sent him backwards into a wall.
With a grunt he pried himself loose. He could feel masonry that had dug into his flesh and the dust shards embedded in his wings burning away at him. It was a challenge to even move them anymore.
He grasped Crocea Mors even tighter so that his knuckles were turning white with effort as he forced himself to move despite the pain he was feeling.
As he tried to lift himself upright did he feel a sharp pain in his right wing.
Cinder had planted her heel on the injured wing and grabbed hold of it with both hands. Jaune could feel her touch burning his feathers and flesh away.
"Tell me, my angel, what hurts more: knowing that your little whore is dead or this?"
With a savage pull she yanked, pulling the wing out of its joints at the middle and was rewarded with the signs of his aura breaking and a disturbing snapping sound.
Jaune howled in pain but did not let go of his weapon. He only needed one good blow to get her off him.
"Or maybe this?" asked Cinder as she grabbed the two now broken arrow shafts in the wing and twisted.
She was mad. The loss of her face combined with her vanity and pride was pushing her on as she kept inflicting pain on her foe. A part of her kept telling her to stop messing around and just kill the Angel but her sadism had gotten the better of her.
Instead of screaming again Jaune defied the pain coursing through him and twisted his broken wing, worsening the injury. But it would be worth it if only to land a single blow on Cinder. With all his might he pushed the tip of Crocea Mors into Cinder's throat.
But Cinder saw it coming at the last possible second and raised what remained of her aura just in time to avoid a fatal injury. But just barely.
Instead of having the blade break skin, she felt her throat being crushed as she let go of her opponent. She tried to scream but there was no sound.
She retreated a few steps on unsteady feet, gasping for breath as she tried to retrieve her latest weapon.
Full power of a maiden or not, her aura was almost spent, and she couldn't conjure much of a weapon with what little she had left.
The boost she had gotten when she had gotten the final piece of the power had not replenished her aura or healed her wounds. The euphoria had just been endorphins in her brain making her forget her fatigue and pain.
She could hear her opponent trying to get up. He wasn't dead yet. Nor was he done with her yet. Cinder needed help. She couldn't be certain that her own strength would prevail on its own any more. The power of the Maiden would not help her if she had no aura to wield it with.
She needed help killing the Angel. She needed help now.
And as if it was a gift from her dark mistress, Cinder saw help coming from below.
Riding a pack of young Nevermores. Mounted on one of the avian grimm and turning up towards her was Emerald, weapons in hand and ready to fire.
Cinder reached out with the power she had been granted over the grimm by her Mistress and directed the Nevermores at her assailant. She doubted they would be the ones to kill the Angel, but they would buy her time.
She hunched as she turned to face her opponent for a final time. This would be their last act together.
She hid her hand behind her back and began to pour the last of her aura into a weapon. For what she had planned she would only need one good hit.
Deon looked up from his new charge, Pyrrha Nikos.
She was as stable as he could make her with what he had at hand. She would not die yet but without the systems of astartes power armor to compensate for her failing body and the mortal medic's limited tools her recovery would be a slow and painful one.
He looked up towards the schola's buildings.
His Primarch, his reborn primarch, had chased after the Witch of Grimm to the building that was facing him. Some of his battle brothers were already on their way to assist but these accursed grimm had proven themselves just as numerous and just as reckless to die as any greenskin horde.
Deon knew of all that was going on. The constant feeds from his battle-brothers and the vessels in the air kept him informed.
It made him want to rush out to join his brothers. The rage had began to take a hold of him, but he was keeping it in check unlike some of the others who were currently tearing their way deeper and deeper into Forever Fall with abandon.
Their Primarch was injured and enraged beyond recognition. The astartes were making effort to reach him but they were blocked at every turn by these grimm. They wanted to bring him to safety but he was determined to face this witch. The apparent loss of his partner had hurt him badly.
If the words of this woman dying angered him so then Deon figured he had made the right choice in staying by her and keeping her alive.
Unfortunately, they had no way for their words to reach their father and tell him that she lived. That might have brought him out of his rage.
Deon had refrained from asking why this mortal mattered so much to his father.
He had simply looked over her and deemed her to be a warrior of notable skill but untested by true war and conflict, just like the rest of this planet. Her lack off armor over her heart was proof enough of that.
Then Deon saw them.
A pack of winged Grimm were flying towards his primarch. One of the beasts were carrying a mortal. Apothecary recognized her as Emerald Sustrai, one of the traitors that had put all of this into motion. She was holding her weapons, ready to fire.
The astartes tactical mind did not take long to figure out what was going to happen or towards who the traitor was headed. He would not permit that.
Deon raised his bolter and fired. Even at this distance it was an easy shot for him as he was constantly fed live data for a targeting solution trough his armor.
But the traitor seemed to have the Arch-traitor's own luck.
The nevermore she was riding suddenly pulled up just as the bolt was about to hit its mark. The bolt round that had been intended for the green headed one instead hit her mount, killing it but leaving its rider unharmed.
The girl fell from her dead steed but her grip on her weapons remained steady.
Emerald Sustrai fired and hit her mark.
Cinder ducked down and began to form her last weapon for the night.
It had to be long and sharp. It would not be meant for slashing or hacking. No, it was meant for thrusting and stabbing.
A stiletto, that's what Cinder was forging with her dwindling reserves of aura. And into it she poured as much power and malice she could muster.
Emerald was on her way and she would know what to do. Cinder got ready as Arc forced his way towards her despite the Grimm harassing him, clawing, biting and spilling his blood.
He did not stop to fight the grimm. He barely dodged them as he charged towards her, sword held with both hands.
His broken wing was hanging limply from his back, the white feathers dragging in the dirt.
He was slow but determined. He raised his sword over his head, ready to land the final blow.
There was a sound of a explosion from where Cinder thought Emerald should be. It sounded like the blast that had blown on of her arrows out of the air before.
Cinder did not have time to wonder what the blast was as she saw Arc recoil backwards. He didn't draw breath and his eyes were wide. He didn't fall over but he was grievously wounded, his weakened armor pierced by a pair of bullets around his abdomen and the left side of his chest.
Cinder lunged forward, putting all she had into this one thrust. The thin blade of the stiletto went through the bullet hole in his armor and continued through his heart.
Cinder smiled as she looked up to see life leave the angel's eyes. She forced the blade further into him until she felt it coming through the back of his armor.
Life was leaving Jaune's eyes, but it was not gone yet. With the last of his strength he brought Crocea Mors down.
The blade cleaved through Cinder's extended arm and sliced a wound over her thigh.
Cinder's remaining eye widened with horror as she saw her arm, still holding her blade, leaving her body.
Then she felt the pain at her bleeding stump.
Cinder leapt back and tried to scream in pain but her throat was still marred by Crocea Mors. All that came out were pained hisses and weak grunts.
Emerald caught her and pulled her away and onto a Griffon.
They had to run away. They had to flee before the warriors came for them instead of Jaune Arc.
As if on command all the grimm in the skies above Beacon and Vale gathered and flocked around their wounded handler. They swarmed around her so densely that one could not see Cinder under all the black bodies.
The defenders of Beacon rejoiced. the Witch of Grimm had been driven back. She was fleeing.
But not all cheered. Augustus Arc, having hauled himself from the fighting in the city to aid his son looked up to the rooftops worriedly.
Now he stood by the astartes who had brought Pyrrha back from the brink of death.
Augustus tried to get a good view of what was going on. Had his boy won? Was he alright?
What he saw broke his heart. His son was wounded with a blade sticking out from his chest. Jaune didn't seem to move a muscle. His face was pale and his eyes seemed glossy.
Jaune's knees gave way and he fell, landing on his broken and twisted wing on the tilted part of the roof. He didn't move as his body began to slide down the roof, leaving a red smear of blood as he went down.
He reached the end of the roof and seemed to come to a stop at the edge. A gust of wind gave the bloodied form a final push.
The Angel fell.
Augustus Arc stood frozen in horror as he saw his son fall.
"MY BABY BOY!"
His son soon fell out of his view but Augustus could still see the one who had done the deed.
Cinder Fall was fleeing, surrounded by a murder of Nevermores.
The huntsman snapped around to the astartes who was getting ready for something.
Emboldened by anger Augustus Arc stepped forward and grabbed the mighty weapon resting on the space marine's waist.
The massive bolter came into his hands and he turned around to his target. Empowered by his aura he hefted the weapon and opened fire into the night sky. He didn't know if he hit anything. He only knew that he had to try.
Sargent Furion of the Lamenters was pushing hard to reach his primarch. Joining them was a small group of Blood Angels led by the librarian Amaretto.
Furion and his battle brothers could feel the rage seeping from their gene sire, stoking their own inherent rage.
But even now, Furion could feel a kinship with his father. He was fighting to the bitter end for his partner, one he apparently cherished.
Indeed, as a Lamenter, Furion could identify with that.
Furion pushed those thoughts aside. They had to reach him. Even now it was clear that their father was in mortal peril. The voice of the Blood Angels apothecary was practically screaming at them to retrieve him over the vox.
He led his squad trough burning buildings, making sure to avoid the trashing Wyvern that had crashed to the ground because their father had ruined one of its wings. Facing it now would simply cost them time, time they didn't have.
Furion looked up to where the fight was going on and saw a massive swarm of grimm fly overhead, away from Beacon and taking the witch with them. In the distance he could hear the mortals cheering, but it was too early for the astartes to cheer.
Over the vox apothecary Deon spoke of what had happened to their father. He may have driven the witch off, but he had paid dearly for it.
Furion tossed his blade aside and stretched out his arms to catch the falling Angel. The librarian Amaretto already had his hand out as he was tapping into the energies of the warp, trying to slow the primarch's fall.
The instant Furion felt the broken form on his hands he got down on one knee, trying to reduce the impact of the Angel and prevent further harm to come to him.
The space marine noticed the blade sticking out of the primarch's chest.
'Throne, no!' thought Furion.
"Apothecary, make ready to treat our father!" barked the Sargent over the vox.
"Where is that forsaken Thunderhawk? We need to get him to safety!" shouted Furion.
He feared for his father's life. Not just because of his injuries but because of the astartes.
Feeling their gene sire fall like this had awoken the Black Rage in them. Even now Furion could feel it within himself. He could not trust them not to attack their father in this state.
A Thunderhawk got to them. It was a Lamenters vessel. That was good. That meant that the astartes manning it would be less likely to succumb to the Rage as they moved the primarch.
Furion moved the Angel to the vessel as gently and quickly as he could with the assistance of the librarian.
Amaretto boarded the craft and signaled the pilot to take off. He didn't even bother to ask if Furion would join him. For he knew just in what state the Lamenter's mind was in.
Even now Furion was picking up his weapon and looked for a suitable foe to use it on.
The craft took off and not a moment too soon as the warriors on the ground let out a roar of savage fury.
The roar was answered by the Wyvern, having recovered from its crash and being pulled to the negative emotions of the warriors. Crashing through the wall of the schola it set its eyes on the escaping vessel and stretched its wings to set after it.
The astartes formed up to protect the vessel, blades ready.
The grimm looked at the figured in front of it with a look that could have passed for amusement. Even grounded it was still mighty and was spawning grimm by the dozens to take part in the killing.
It threw itself at the warriors, trusting in its size to crush its foes easily.
The Wyvern had expected an easy victory over a bunch of weak humans. What it got was the fight of its life against the enraged sons of Sanguinius.
The Black Rage burned in them and the Red Thirst drove them onward as they met the monster with chainswords and chainaxes in hand, grabbing hold of it and tearing it apart with a fury matching that of Nassir Amit, the original Flesh Tearer.
The Wyvern screeched and trashed as it tried to shake of its foes, but it only enraged them further. Soon they were cutting into the grimm with abandon and tearing its flesh of its very bones. The membranes of its wings were shredded and it found itself grounded.
The Wyvern pushed its head up to keep the warriors from reaching its eyes. They were at it like ants on a snake, ripping it apart piece by bloody piece as while it still lived.
It spotted one of the warriors, clad in yellow armor and weapon roaring, running towards it. It was a challenge that the grimm couldn't ignore even if it meant risking getting more wounded by these other creatures. Slaying this champion might scare the others away.
It lurched forward, jaws open to devour the approaching foe.
"fOR THOSE WE CHERISH…"
Furion didn't slow down but rather quickened his pace. He revved his chainaxe and jumped into the beasts open maw.
"WE DIE IN GLORY!"
The grimm closed its teeth and swallowed. It let out a roar of triumph to show the other tiny creatures that it was the mightiest around.
Its roar was cut short and soon it was replaced with a screech of pain as the Lamenter began cutting his way out of the grimm through its back, severing its spine in the process.
The grimm trashed futilely and soon it was swarmed by the other figures, enforced by others arriving from the city. It saw red, black and yellow armors swarming it until its eyes were gouged or ripped out by power-armored hands.
Its wings, strong and capable of unleashing winds strong as hurricanes, were ripped from its body.
Blind and grounded the Wyvern felt something that few grimm ever did: fear.
That was the last thing it felt before it perished at the hands of the angels of death.
Still simmering with rage the space marines looked for other foes to slay. The death of the Wyvern had made many of the grimm to turn tail and flee into Forever Fall.
Some of the astartes gave chase, mostly the Blood Angels.
The Lamenters focused on the few machines still moving while the Flesh Tearers hunted down what few White Fang still remained.
Furion had noticed Skoraen hear screams coming from a building, supposedly a mess hall for the huntsmen schola.
With post human speed the Flesh Tearer moved towards the sound. Furion let him go for he had other prey.
Blake tried to looked up at the White Fang that was pinning her down. She tried pleading with him but the white mask on the faunus face betrayed no emotion except for malicious glee in his eyes.
"Please, don't do this." her voice was weak. She had been wounded. Badly at that.
Adam's sword to her gut had only been the first wound of many. As Adam had cut off Yang's arm, Blake had tried to escape and take her partner away to safety. She had managed to slip past Adam with the help of her semblance, leaving her former ally occupied with a grimm Creeper.
Escape had seemed possible until their path was blocked by more White Fang, ruthless fanatics that followed Adam for his promise of human blood.
They had seized Blake and Yang, dragged them back to the burning cafeteria where they could do what they wanted undisturbed. They had beaten Blake down to the point of her aura breaking, keeping her from using he semblance again.
"Please, she hasn't done anything to the faunus." pleaded Blake only to have her forehead smashed against the floor tiles.
"Silence, traitor!"
Blake's head has pulled back up so that she could see what the White Fang were doing to Yang. Ever since they had dragged her back they had not relented in their cruelty to the human. Yang's face was a bloody smear and her clothes had been torn off to give the deranged faunus more skin to harm. Cuts and lacerations covered the brawler's body. The only reason Yang had not bled out yet was the glowing piece of steel that rested in a fire close to her. Every cut the faunus made was seared in order to inflict more pain and to keep her alive so that they could take their time with her.
It had been Adam who had told the faunus to do it. He claimed it was to make the human feel the pain that he and the rest of the faunus had felt at the hands of the humans.
It was also Adam who had come up with the idea of forcing Blake to watch. That would be Blake's punishment for betraying the White Fang he had said. And her punishment for hurting him.
Blake had screamed and begged for Adam to stop and to leave Yang out of it. This was between Blake and Adam. But Adam disagreed. He had promised that he would destroy everything she loved, slowly and painfully, and Yang had simply happened to be the first in line.
That had been minutes ago and now Adam was no longer there with them. He had left some time ago to see what the situation was outside.
Something was happening. Blake had caught some of her captors saying that Beacon Tower had been destroyed. Another said that Pyrrha was dead. But Blake couldn't care about those things, not now. She just kept looking for a way to get away and save Yang. The White Fang were getting more and more cruel and depraved.
One faunus, a woman, was taking her time cutting the hair of Yang's head. She did it with a heavy hand and a blade not meant for the task. Blake could see red blood stain Yang's golden locks as the faunus kept cutting into the skin. Yang barely twisted or even tried to resist. She was powerless, weak from losing a limb and blood loss. She was not even conscious anymore.
There was a series of savage roars from outside. The White Fang paused what they were doing, their instincts telling them to run.
"What was that?" asked the one holding Blake down.
"It was nothing." said the one who was cutting off Yang's hair.
There was a screech that sounded like the massive grimm that had been circling Beacon Tower. It soon faded into nothingness.
"You call that nothing!?"
"If you are so worried, go look. I'm not going anywhere until I'm done with this one."
The faunus woman grabbed another fist full of hair and kept cutting.
The one holding Blake didn't move. Instead he looked at one of his fellows and sent him in his stead. He kept forcing Blake to watch as Yang was being mutilated.
As the blade severed another lock of Yang's hair there was a scream outside. There was a scream of fear mixed with one of pain. It had been from the faunus who had gone out to see what was going on.
The faunus could have sworn they heard a chainsaw along with the scream.
The faunus dropped what they were doing and grabbed their weapons. They released their holds on Blake and Yang but not before one of them drove the butt of his weapon into Blake's knee, preventing her from escaping. She weakly crawled towards Yang, reaching out to her with her hand.
Yang was already passed out and was not going anywhere.
*Crash*
The upper half of a dead White Fang was hurled trough the window, chattering it, with such force that it made it across the hall. The faunus raised their weapons and cobbled together, seeking strength in numbers. But as they were cobbled together, they were also easy to hit wit a single shot.
Was it a huntsman outside? Hadn't Leader Adam said that all the huntsmen would be elsewhere, away from Beacon?
Whatever it was it moved fast, inhumanly so. They caught a glimpse of it. It was tall and broad and its eyes shone ruby red as it passed the window.
They stepped backwards, away from the opening in the wall that the figure was headed towards. They aimed their weapons at the opening. Whatever was outside would have to pass by there to get to them.
*Crash*
The other half of the dead White Fang was hurled at them trough another window, knocking them over.
They got up shakily, covered in their comrade's blood, and looked at the hole in the wall. They saw the thing that had slayed their comrade walking towards them with purpose. It looked like a man but was too tall to be human, too broad as well.
The figure looked at them, at the bloodied blades they carried and at wounded mortals behind them. Behind his helmet he snarled.
Skoraen of the Flesh Tearers revved his chainaxe, letting the weapon roar as his voice was heard amplified by his vox grill.
"Show me what passes for fury among your misbegotten kind!"
The faunus opened fire but shaken as they were their shots went wild, barely gracing the space marine.
Skoraen rushed forward, splitting the head of one of them with ease. The others kept firing wildly but his power armor was more than enough to protect him from the few meager bullets that hit him.
Another died, his head smashed in by his armored fist.
"Mercy! I surrender!" shouted one one of them, not moving as she was frozen with fear.
Skoraen recognized it as post-human dread. It did not save the White Fang.
"No prisoners!"
His chainaxe cut deep into the faunus, splattering blood over his armor as the teeth kept tearing tendons, snapping bones and spilling blood of these enemies of mankind.
Realizing she had no chance of winning the White Fang who had been cutting off Yang's hair tried to run.
Blake tried to point her out for the astartes but there was no need for he knew of her actions thanks to his armor's sensors. The warrior spun around, hefting his bolter, and fired.
"Eat bolt gun!"
The last Blake saw before she passed out was the dead bodies of the White Fang that had tried to kill her partner.
Apothecary Deon was getting ready to treat the primarch. Many of his battle brothers were rushing deeper and deeper into the forest, leaving a bloody trail in their wake. Come morning, and there would not be a single grimm around for miles.
He noticed a mortal, very similar to his primarch's appearance, approach him and grabbing at his bolter. Deon didn't bother with the mortal as the man's purpose was obvious: killing the witch Cinder Fall.
Deon unlocked the weapon from his armor with a command through his black carapace and to Deon's surprise did the mortal manage to hit some of the grimm around the witch.
Deon kept his focus on the battle and the situation of his primarch.
Several battle-brothers had already broken off from the fighting and had formed several lines of defense around where they were. They were all ready to repel any grimm that dared to get close but also any battle brother that had fallen to the Black Rage or the Red Thirst.
The mortals were kept at a distance, but they form ranks of their own and stood guard as well. They had done so the instant they had learned of the primarch's wounding. They did not however think he would survive. Their line was probably going to be their way of paying their respects to the one who gave them a fighting chance in this battle.
The Thunderhawk touched down and the primarch was lifted through the air by Amaretto and his psychic powers.
Deon stepped forward and swiftly began treating his lord, having gotten an account of the injuries over vox from his battle-brothers as they moved.
The wounds were grievous. To an astartes they would have been severe. To a mortal they would be fatal and the Angel was very much a mortal.
The reborn primarch had a punctured lung, a hole in his abdomen, lacerations all over his whole body and face. His left hand had suffered extensive burns up above the elbow.
His right wing was broken, shattered and dislocated and at two places one could see bone as the flesh has been burned away. Both of his wings had been maimed and were marked by streaks of blood.
Deon noted his patient's loss of blood as he injected more Larraman serum. It helped but would it be enough? The blood wasn't clothing properly. Faster than a mortal's blood for sure, but not like an astartes' blood should be doing. The only reason he hadn't bled out already was the burns he had sustained as they had seared many of his wounds closed.
Throughout his body dust-shards were causing the same sort of damage as Deon had noticed with Nikos. These dust crystals had been spread throughout the body via blood and was now attacking organs without discretion.
But unlike the shards that had been embedded in Nikos, all of these fragments were too small for Deon to remove with the tools he had at hand. Deon would have to keep his father alive until his aura began to recover. That seemed to be the only way to deal with this dust for now.
But the biggest issue was the primarch's heart. A dust-made sword had gone through his main heart and left lung. The blade had pierced it smoothly and without tearing any tissue but had effectively stopped it from beating.
And the secondary heart wasn't compensating for this. The secondary heart was barely beating at all due to its underdevelopment, just like the rest of his organs.
If blood flow wasn't restored soon then the successors of the IX legion would lose their lord again.
"Brother librarian!"
Deon's voice was heard by all his battle brothers over the vox.
The librarian stepped forward and listened to what the apothecary had to say. Deon explained as he was removing the armor and clothing from the wounded one.
"We have to remove the blade from his heart. Supposedly this 'dust' responds to these mortals' 'aura'. Do you believe you can do the same with your gifts?"
"Yes."
Amaretto had given that matter a fair bit of thought ever since the astartes had begun to monitor this world. Aura seemed to behave like the energies of the warp to a certain extent, only a lot less wildly and less chaotic.
"What of the rest of the dust in his body? Shall I remove that as well?"
Deon readied his narthecium and selected a special compound not typically used on the battlefield.
Once the blade left the primary heart there would be nothing to stop it from beating – and tearing itself apart. This was supposed to deal with that.
"No, leave it for now. Removing that might cause it to tear apart more tissue. Focus on the blade. Once it is out you will have to work at his secondary heart and keep it pumping. Meanwhile I'll keep his primary from tearing itself apart."
Amaretto nodded and focused. He had never done something like this, but he had little choice.
Deon pushed a needle into the young primarch's heart, letting the chemicals in the injection stop the heart, and Amaretto began his work with the dust-blade.
The material responded easily enough to his will and grew thinner and thinner as it was pulled from the heart without tearing any of the flesh.
The librarian discarded the material once it was out and focused on the secondary heart. Deon was keeping the primary one from damaging itself and now it was up to Amaretto to keep the secondary one pumping.
It was so small. Part of him doubted it would manage.
With his psychic powers Amaretto worked the secondary heart like a puppet and made it beat blood around despite not being ready. Deon had to tell him to reduce the pace lest they make it give up completely.
As the astartes worked to save their liege Deon ordered a transport to be made ready. The apothecary had done what he could at the moment and had kept his lord from dying once again. But they couldn't stay where they were. He needed better tools to work with.
Deon frowned. The best tools were at their ships but there was a chance that his lord would not survive the journey there in his current state, not with this mortal body of his. It just wasn't strong or durable enough.
"Brothers, move him to the Thunderhawk. We are taking him to one of the mortals medicae-facilities."
He pointed at the mortal healer and Pyrrha Nikos. "We are taking them with us as well."
Deon was not going to let Nikos die after his father almost had died for her.
As for Surgia, Deon would soon have use of the mortal's smaller hands soon enough.
The day after the Battle of Beacon.
The City of Vale was in mourning.
The City of Vale had held but Beacon Academy had suffered greatly. Many of its buildings was in ruins and fires were still burning all around.
But even in its last hours it had stood defiant against the darkness.
Beacon had acted when the call was heard and done its duty to the people with all the valor becoming of heroes. Beacon had driven off the Witch of Grimm even if it had been at great cost.
The school had fallen and its headmaster was missing in action, assumed dead in its defense.
Some of Beacon's brightest and bravest had been gravely wounded and some were feared dead.
The Tower of Beacon had fallen, destroyed by the grimm dragon that had been slain by the astartes.
On the day after the battle three heroes were named for their deeds and sacrifice:
Pyrrha Nikos, Ruby Rose and Jaune Sanguinius Arc.
Pyrrha Nikos, the Champion of Mistral, was recognized for her courageous attempt to face the witch Cinder Fall and her grimm Wyvern on her own. Her valor had bought her compatriots valuable time and kept Cinder Fall occupied for long enough for them to arrive in time.
Despite losing, her title as The Invincible Girl was not disputed. The Witch of grimm had not only called the Wyvern to her aid, fought with weapons banned since the Great war and finally used magic. Against such overwhelming power the title of 'Invincible' mattered not.
The second hero to be named was Ruby Rose, the youngest student at Beacon of her generation and thwarter of Roman Torchwick had come to Pyrrha Nikos' aid against Cinder Fall. She had weakened Cinder Fall and delayed her for long enough for the final hero to arrive.
She had to be carried away from the battle, having given her all.
The final hero to be named was Jaune Sanguinius Arc. Not only had the Angel of Beacon delivered the final blow that had driven Cinder Fall back but he had also revealed her machinations to the world.
Thanks to him the world knew to be vary of Cinder Fall and her cohorts now.
It was he who had rallied the defense of the city, it was he whom had called forth the mighty warriors that descended from the sky to defend Beacon and Vale and it was he who had given everyone hope in their darkest hour.
Alas, only one of the three heroes were confirmed to the public to have survived: Ruby Rose.
Pyrrha Nikos had been declared dead by Cinder Fall herself and all of Vale had seen Jaune Arc fall motionless.
The only ones who knew the truth were the ones that had been at Beacon. The rest of the world however, remained ignorant and would remain so until the CCT had been restored.
Times were grim. But there was a silver lining.
The terror of the darkness had been held back by the mighty warriors from the havens. Their existence could not be denied for all throughout Vale the traces of their combat were still fresh and the saved townsfolk still spoke in awe of the giants in armor who had torn the grimm to pieces and had faced down the rouge Atlesian droids and grimm alike without hesitation.
Where there once had been uncertainty, the astartes had brought light. For Vale had lived to see another day.
Where there once had been doubt, the Angel and his sons had sown faith. The people knew that they were not alone or without defenders.
Where the people once had been ashamed of having believed Cinder Fall's words, he had called for atonement. Even now, people were working hard to restore what had been broken.
Where the mighty warriors of the space marines had been enraged, their course had led them to Remnant's enemies.
Vale would carry on. The light of Beacon would shine once more.
Vale Hospital
Amaretto, Furion and Skoraen were watching Deon and the mortal medicae work over their wounded primarch. They three had decided to form the honor guard around their primarch.
They had moved him to the mortal hospital in the now secured city.
The building was crapped and small by the standards of the astartes and many doorways had been broken down to allow them easy access.
Under normal circumstances they would have never have brought their primarch to such a place but apothecary Deon had insisted that taking their primarch up to their vessels in the void would be too dangerous.
The healers, astartes and mortal alike, had finally been able to mend the damaged heart after hours worth of surgery. Deon had found himself requiring the mortals smaller hands for part of the surgery as the primarch's body was so small and often more akin to that or a mortal than an astartes. Besides, the mortal seemed to have some knowledge of the primarch's physiology.
A signal came from a machine connected to the wounded primarch and the healers were quick to administer something into his bloodstream.
"He is waking up!" said Deon as he tried to prevent it. If the primarch awoke now he might worsen his injuries by moving.
Alas, all the compounds he had at his disposal had little to no effect.
Out of all the organs Jaune had developed, the Oolitic Kidney was the most progressed. It kept purging the xenobiotics from his body.
Deon would have expected this to render his father unconscious as the Oolitic Kidney would do with his battle brothers, but no, Jaune Sanguinius Arc was waking up.
Realizing that he was trying to prevent the inevitable Deon stopped his efforts to keep his patient asleep and decided to simply observe and stand ready.
Jaune opened his eyes and looked around, at the mortal hospital, at the helms of the astartes and the mortal physician in the room. He must still be on Remnant. He smiled as he recognized the heraldry of his legion on one of their armors.
"My sons…"
His voice was weak but filled with pride.
"I cannot thank you enough for what you have done. This world and me owe you and your brothers a debt of gratitude for coming to our aid."
"Father, it was nothing. We merely did our duty." hastened Amaretto to say.
"You gave us an order and it was our duty to fulfill it."
The primarch nodded, eyes closed. He did not nod because he agreed with his son, but because he was proud of what his son had said.
"You found that your duty was to follow the order of a runt that has yet to even develop his catalepsean node properly? Truly I could not ask for more loyal sons."
The space marines didn't respond as they did not know how to take their father's words. For a brief moment the room was dead quiet.
"That was an attempt at humor." said Jaune weakly, breaking the silence. "But I'll admit it was in poor taste. Please, be at ease."
The space marine did as they were told but one could still see a certain tension in their posture. They were eagerly waiting for his next words.
"Remove your helms. I wish to see your faces."
The warriors obeyed and mag-locked their helmets to their armors.
Jaune looked at them and smiled but when he spoke his voice revealed a hint of curiosity. He gestured to the Blood Angel.
"I can see my features in all of you and I see the heraldry of my legion on your shoulder."
With weak fingers he pointed at the Flesh Tearer and the Lamenter.
"You two bear my features as well but I do not recognize your heraldry."
Skoraen stepped forward and saluted with his fist to his chest.
"I am Skoraen of the Flesh Tearers, a second founding chapter of the IX legion."
"Flesh Tearers? You mean you follow Amit? He yet lives? But what of this second founding and these Successor chapter you speak of?"
Jaune furrowed his brow. He did not know what to make of what he was hearing. Was Amit actually still alive?
Skoraen shook his head.
"Nassir Amit served as my chapter's first chapter master. He perished after establishing our fortress monastery on Cretacia."
Skoraen almost hesitated to speak those words.
"After the Horus Heresy, your brother, Roboute Guilliman, ripped the heart from the legions with law and edict and split them into chapters. What the arch-traitor had sought to do with a hammerblow, Guilliman the butcher did with a duelist's blade.
The new chapter was a sundering to all that had come before. Stripped of honor and tithe, of history and deed, we were all of us undone.
Bastards of war and victory, we were Angels no more."
Skoraen all but echoed the ancient words of Nassir Amit. His primarch seemed taken aback.
"Rather blunt words. That does indeed sound like something Amit would say."
Jaune swallowed the sadness of knowing that the outspoken and brutally honest captain of his legion's 5th company was dead. Still, it was inevitable, he supposed.
He turned to the warrior clad in yellow armor who seemed a bit on edge.
"And you?"
"Furion of the Lamenters, 21st founding."
The space marine took a deep breath.
"Also called the cursed founding. Our chapter was made from genestock from the IX legion. It was hoped that the flaws in your son's gene-"
"You mean in my geno-type." Jaune's words were blunt and direct.
"It stems from me and my sons are ailing from it. Now tell me, did it work?"
Furion shook his head.
"No, my lord. Despite much was done to cure the flaws, and our chapter seeming to have been successful, we still carry the red Thirst within us. As well as the Black Rage."
"So you altered my genes to rid yourselves of a part of me?"
"Yes. Yet we still deem you to be our father. I hope you can forgive us for that overste-"
"Quiet." Jaune cut the Lamenter off.
"Do not speak as if you're not my sons. I sought for a way to rid my sons of my flaw. I will not reject you for doing the same."
He gestured to Skoraen and Furion to listen closely as he spoke.
"And you and your brothers are indeed angels and my sons. If not in name then in your deeds to the people of this world. I would proudly have had you in my legion in the days of old."
Pride all but radiated from the astartes as they heard these words. They were proud sons of a proud father.
And indeed he was proud of them. They had come to Vale's defence on his order despite him obviously not being a proper primarch. The fact that they had honored his request for aid to Vale despite this made their acts even nobler.
"Father." Amaretto spoke up.
"What about you? Do you know how you came to be as you are now?"
Jaune shook his head weakly.
He explained to his sons how he had been born on Remnant as a mortal and how the unlocking of his aura at the hands of Pyrrha Nikos had awoken his memories as Sanguinius. And how it had made his body begin to change.
If Jaune had to guess he would say that the memories and mannerisms of Sanguinius were bleeding into Jaune Arc.
Right now, his body and mind was at best a middle thing between mortal and primarch. But the mortal aspects were predominant for now. In time, maybe the mortal would recede and the primarch would emerge.
"But I believe that is still a long time away."
The space marines were listening intently. They turned to Deon, the one with the best understanding of the biology of things in this matter. The apothecary shrugged.
A primarch was as different from a space marine as a space marine was different from a mortal.
But for now, their father's description seemed to hold true.
"My lord, what is your order?" asked Skoraen, eager to serve.
"For now, all I ask is that you safeguard Vale. Keep the people safe. Even with your intervention they have suffered greatly. I do not doubt that the grimm will be drawn to the feelings of negativity."
He sighed. His eyelids were growing heavy and he felt tired.
"Is that all, my lord? We expected more."
Jaune contemplated for a moment. Thinking was becoming harder and harder as he got more and more tired.
"If you would, tell my mortal family that I live. They must be worried about me."
"I will see to it that." said Surgia, interrupting the astartes and earning angry glares from them. He did not care. He knew he had favor with their father so they would not touch him for it.
Jaune smiled.
"Good. It might still be too soon for my mother to meet with her 'grandsons' yet. But when that time comes my sons, you had best be on your best behavior." he joked.
He closed his eyes, getting ready for sleep.
"Before I rest, what of Pyrrha, my partner?"
Deon spoke up.
"She lives and is recovering as we speak. Her heart stopped for but a moment but I was able to intervene in time to save her."
"Good. I would be heartbroken without her. You have my thanks, my son..."
His voice trailed off and he fell asleep.
The apothecary and the mortal medic stepped forward to check his injuries.
Meanwhile the other three were discussing on how to proceed. They would carry out their father's request. But there were some matters that required their attention before that. The rest of the chapters would have to be informed that their father lived again.
Skoraen activated his comm-bead.
"Summon the one called Ironwood."
Livia Arc was lamenting the fate of her son as she was sitting surrounded by her daughters. Her husband had told her of how the astartes had carried him off to the hospital after he had been wounded. She had not known of this until this morning. She and her daughters had been stuck in the safe zone in the city until dawn.
Once the sun had risen Augustus had come and told them of what he had seen. Livia and the girls had made its way to the hospital. Augustus had chosen to stay and assist in the relief effort, to make him think of something else than his wounded son. At least he could do something to help out in the field. Unlike at a hospital. They arrived only to find the hospital crowded and guarded by astartes.
They had learned that Jaune was being held in a separate wing and the space marines were letting no one in without invitation.
Many of the people protested this and said that others needed access to the hospital wing. Their protests ended once the astartes raised their bolters. There was to be no argument with these warriors as they would not let anyone close to their primarch unless said person was summoned.
The Arcs had spotted some of team CRDL in the crowd, checking if all were who they claimed they were and trying to act as extra security for the primarch.
They feared the presence of Emerald Sustrai or Torchwick's missing partner. These two had semblances that had fooled the world and the Atlas military with ease. It did not take a big stretch of the imagination to see how they could try to infiltrate the hospital to murder the lord primarch. How CRDL had planned to counter the illusion-based semblances no one knew for sure.
Livia Arc barely reacted as her girls were talking. The girls had been looking around, trying to figure out what had happened to everyone. It had not been pleasant.
Ren and Nora were still out of it. Their fight against the Atlas paladins had taken a lot out of them. They would recover but for now they simply were exhausted.
Blake and Yang were far worse off.
Blake had been found with Yang in the burning cafeteria by an astartes. Yang was missing an arm and had been savaged by some White Fang before an astartes had driven them off. Well, more like brutally butchered, but hey, details.
Bake had been stabbed in the gut and kneecapped been forced to watch as Yang got maimed. She still hadn't spoken to anyone. Instead she seemed to retreat into herself. If anyone asked her about Yang she began to cry.
Ruby was still unconscious from whatever she had done above Beacon Tower. The doctors were not worried about her as she would wake up at some point. But with so many wounded there was talk among the hospital's administrators to have her moved out to free up more room for other patients.
"What about Pyrrha? Wasn't she taken here along with Jaune?" asked one of Jaune's sisters.
The other sisters nodded. Jaune and Pyrrha had essentially been given an entire wing of the hospital as the astartes are taking no risks with their safety.
The Arcs turned their heads as they saw Arzet Surgia step out from Jaune's hospital wing. The man was exhausted and simply slumped into the seat he was offered.
Before they could even ask him anything he spoke.
"Jaune will live. Same goes for Nikos. Their auras have begun to replenish and the dust is being forced out of their systems. But until then we're keeping them both drugged off their asses."
"Drugged?"
Surgia nodded.
"Chemically-induced comas. To keep them from feeling any pain while they recover. And to prevent them from causing any more harm to themselves. Your son woke up a while ago. He spoke to the astartes before he had to get back to sleep. Self important bastard, he almost ruined hours worth of surgery just to give these brutes some orders."
Surgia told them of what he had seen and learned. He did however not disclose the full extent of Jaune's injuries to the Arcs. Best not to make the boy's mother fret over them. Jaune and Pyrrha would remain asleep until their bodies had healed, regardless of how long that might take. Weeks perhaps. Maybe even months with the damage the dust had caused them.
In the background Surgia could see general Ironwood head towards the medical wing held by the astartes. The man looked mighty nervous.
Later - at Ironwood's flagship
Ironwood, Goodwitch and Qrow Branwen were meeting in the ruins of Ironwoods crashed flagship. The fires had been put out and the robots deactivated. Not all that remained was a wreck stinking of smoke.
The ship was being prepared to be removed from Vale by Atlas personnel. It would not do to leave it as it was.
However, much of the military hardware had been scavenged from it before its rightful owners had gotten to it. Guns had been stripped of it and carried off and put to use by the huntsmen of Vale. The guns were being incorporated into a growing defensive line manned by Vale's huntsmen. Even with the astartes defending the city these men and women were not just going to put down their arms.
Ironwood did not bother himself too much with that. He had other problems to deal with. But even had he cared there would have been precious little he could have done about it. The astartes were overseeing the creation of the defensive line, apparently approving of the 'mortal's' undertaking.
Ironwood was sitting down and was swallowing several painkillers with a glass of water. His head ached for he had just gotten from a meeting with the astartes at Vale Hospital.
The space marines had taken charge of the situation in Vale as their primarch had told them to protect it. They had given Ironwood and his forces a choice: either to serve under the command of the astartes or leave Vale. The presence of the Atlas vessels, not to mention their robotized military, was causing unease and that was drawing more grimm to the city.
Ironwood had relented and now almost all of Atlas' personnel was getting ready to depart. The process of gathering their scrapped machines and crashed ships was taking some time though.
"What do we do now?" asked Goodwitch worriedly.
Ozpin was dead. Cinder Fall had apparently escaped with the Fall Maiden's power and Vale was under the martial law of the astartes. Sure, the grimm were being held off, the people were safe and Beacon was still theirs but what would happen after this? Would the astartes keep control even after this crisis had passed?
"I still say we should have told them off. This is Remnant. These astartes have no authority here!" said the general as he massaged his temples.
He was tired and not thinking clearly. The astartes had him on an edge he had never experienced before. Part of him wanted no trouble but the Atlesian in him was too stubborn to back down.
"James, enough." Qrow spoke up. "Quit being stupid. It's not helping."
The others looked at him oddly. It was not often that Qrow was the calm, reasonable or wise one of the group.
"Look, the astartes were quite clear on this: we messed up, alright. They know it just as we know it. Everything from not keeping Amber safe to us asking Nikos to become the Fall Maiden. We have been screwing up time and time again. Heck, if we had listened to Arc's warnings in the first place a lot of this wouldn't have happened."
The remains of Ozpin's inner circle had not told the astartes about the Maidens and all that concerned them. Ironwood was still too worried about them to allow that. If he had to talk about it then he would prefer to do it directly to Jaune Arc as the boy might be more agreeable.
Goodwitch had agreed to this but Qrow was skeptical. Qrow was a bit skeptical. Out of all the ones in the group he was the one most inclined to telling Arc of what was really going on. But he wanted to keep an eye on matters for a while longer, just to be sure.
"What do you propose we do then?" asked Ironwood.
"Simple. You James, are going to get Atlas' military here in Vale up and running again. Once that's done, get it out of Vale. The astartes might be keeping the grimm away but those machines of yours are still making people feel pretty nervous. Oh, and while you're at it, fix the bug in their system and do not do anything too stupid again."
Qrow turned over to Goodwitch.
"And you better get out there and start patching up the school. Not to mention the town. Get the people to trust the academy again. Even with the kids putting up one hell of a fight against the grimm we still need to put ourselves out there."
"And what about you?"
"I've got field work to do. Ozpin left me some directives in case he died."
Ironwood nodded. That's something Ozpin would have done.
"Alright then, this will be our second chance. Best not blow it." said Qrow and had a drink before turning around to an open window and flying off in his bird form.
For now all of them had some form of clean-up to do while the city patched itself up.
Qrow himself would be busy himself. Taiyang had said to Qrow that he wanted to get Ruby and Yang to Patch so that they could recover. Qrow had agreed to help despite pointing out that letting them rest in Vale, guarded by astartes, would be safer. But Tai had always been stubborn when it came to family and Qrow had been forced to relent.
But before that, Qrow had to make a trip into the smoldering ruins of Beacon to fetch something. He would be needing it for the upcoming trip. Maybe he would try to bury Amber's body as well if he could?
Doctor Arthur Watt's audio journal - part I
My mistress has told me to prepare for the arrival of the arrogant girl. Apparently her little attack on Beacon did not do as planned. Supposedly she ended up on the receiving end of the metaphorical beating-stick.
I wonder, did she fail to acquire the rest of the Fall Maiden's power?
The situation is not clear. We have only gotten in touch with Cinder's lackey, Emerald and she appears to be quite hysteric about Cinder's wounds. Clearly she is overreacting. Why did Cinder have to pick such over-emotional retainers?
It matters not. My lady has ordered me to prepare and I shall do so.
Doctor Arthur Watt's audio journal - Part II
I have had to take a break. I had Hazel put on some coffee and get me something, anything, to eat. All we have in this damned castle is these damn ration bars. But there is no time to get anything else.
I admit that I underestimated Cinder's injuries. The Emerald-girl wasn't exaggerating when she tried to describe them.
I cannot understand how she is even alive anymore, even less that she survived the trip here. My Lady claims it to be a testament to the Maiden's power and the girl's will to live but I feel like there is something she is not telling me. No matter, if I needed to know she would tell me like always.
Damn Cinder, that fool girl. For her death would be a mercy.
I have managed to stabilize her for until I can get to the serious surgery. The girl has dealt with the bleeding on her own - by having the power cauterize her injuries. It might have saved her in case of some of the injuries but it also ensured that any recovery will be difficult. There are burns on her internal injuries as well.
The left side of her skull has been mangled.
When she was brought to me, part of her brain seemed to be visible as pieces of her skull appeared to be missing.
Her left eye is gone, the eye globe ripped to pieces. There are concrete shards embedded into the bone around the eye socket. The flesh that's supposed to be over the skull - gone, torn away.
Her left arm has been severed. It is not a neat cut. If I had to guess she must have twisted to avoid an bladed attack only to fail and instead made what would have been a clean cut into a horrible mess.
I have done what I can to save the bone and to stay off infection. But with the condition of the surrounding flesh and skin I can't seal it without cutting away more of her. She may have survived this long but I fear any blow could end her.
Lady Salem has said that she will deal with the missing arm. My task is to make sure there will be something left to put a new arm to.
I will not ask how she will do it. I know better than that.
As for the girl's voice, it's shot. I suppose it will return in time once her aura has been restored but that will take quite some time. I'll not lie, I'm going to enjoy the quiet.
My break runs short. I must return to the operating table.
Doctor Arthur Watt's audio journal - Part III
I have had to enlist Hazel to assist me, to be my second pair of hands. I cannot trust Tyrian with this for he is too unstable for this kind of task.
Dust, I'm tired. It has been over twelve hours since I last had something else than stim-shots to keep me going.
What manner of foe did this girl piss off and how badly did she do it to get mangled like this?
What god did she piss in the eye to deserve this level of punishment?
I never believed in gods before but after seeing this I believe. For only a god could see fit to deliver this level of pain onto a person. This kind of punishment could only be fit for the most base and vile heresy.
Whatever god it is that wants this girl dead, I will have to defy it.
I have patched up her skull as best I can.
Damn girl, damn aura and damn that Power! They keep patching her up and I have to break her again and again in order to get it right!
First I had to dig out the bits and pieces out of the bone before I could readjust and enforce what was left of it.
The girl has been trying to mend herself, not knowing what she has done. The bone was set completely wrong! I've had to rebreak her skull again and again before we could get the plates in place!
Sigh.
That is not to mention the work I had to do to the inside of her head…
Dust, my hands are shaking. It's been twelve hours and I have only had stim-shots. I swear I could feel lady Salem's eyes burn through my back as I worked. I can't not afford any mistake. If Cinder dies on my table, I will not be long after her.
I have to get back. Only one more effort and then I can rest.
Doctor Arthur Watt's audio journal - Part IV
It is done. The girl is stable and as patched up as I can.
She is resting now and will need looking after soon but now I'll have half an hour's worth of rest.
Finally some rest.
Well, this was arguably not one of my better chapters. No need to point that out people, I am quite aware of it.
I could have split this one into two: one battle and one post-battle part, but seeing as most of you seem to prefer longer chapters I kept it undivided.
And for those of you that wanted Cinder dead by now: Zip it. I've got plans for her, I think.
And for those of you that have been nagging about my railroading: Zip it as well. I will be starting to deviate from the RWBY story more now, slowly and carefully. This will make thing a bit more difficult for me as 1) I am not an experienced writer and I had not really expected to get even this far in the story (I do have an idea of what to write, not to worry). 2) I will have to actually "create" story rather than modify and twist an already existing one. Or maybe I'll just have to twist a lot harder, food for thought.
But while we're on the subject of twisting what already exits, I am reminded of the works of Tolkien and what he wrote of the making of the orcs and the trolls.
"Trolls are only counterfeits, made by the Enemy in the Great Darkness, in mockery of Ents, as Orcs were of Elves." (The Two Towers)
and
"The Shadow that bred them can only mock, it cannot make: not real new things of its own. I don't think it gave life to Orcs, it only ruined them and twisted them ..." (The Return of the King)
Not going to get too philosophical about that with you. Just some food for thought.
Anyhow, this chapter was intended to serve as a end to the Battle of Beacon and to give you all some idea of the battle's aftermath for both sides. There will be more of that later though.
On a side note: it was first during my final edit of this chapter that I decided to have the astartes tear the Wyvern apart and have a Flesh Tearer save Blake and Yang. I realized that the two of them unaccounted for and then realized I had a bunch of space marines on hand. Lesson learned: you never know when you'll get an idea.
And that is quite enough of my ramblings for now. Take care. I better go work on the next chapter and figure out how the ruinous powers will deal with this situation. And there will be xenos at some point. Be patient.