"Blake? Bla-ake? Blake?!"

Yang Xiao Long was finding herself increasingly desperate and frustrated as she continued searching for her partner. Where the hell was she? Blake had been out on her own for who knew how long, and every minute that passed made it that much more likely that something bad would happen to her. Yang knew that Blake could take care of herself, of course, but with all the Grimm and White Fang running around, she hated to think what might happen if she and Aspen didn't find her in time. Hopefully, splitting up would prove to be a wise decision.

If the number of faunus terrorists in the area was any indication, though, she seemed to be on the right track. A grunt turned to face her, pistol in hand. I do not have time for this! Charging forward, Yang put the man down with a single, Ember-Celica-backed punch. Despite all of the White Fang she'd encountered so far being nothing more than common mooks, she kept remembering what Aspen had said about there being much more dangerous members out here somewhere. She may not have trusted the strange girl all that much, but something inside Yang told her that it would be foolish not to trust her on this.

"Bla-ake?!" Yang was outside the cafeteria now. At this point, there weren't many places left to look, and the worry was starting to get to her. Another White Fang goon ran toward her with a sword, but a quick punch to the face took care of him. "Blake! Where are you?!" She stopped to take a better look around, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of her partner. There were so many shadows, though, that spotting much of anything was proving to be—

"No!"

Yang whirled around, focusing in on the cry of terror. Blake! As she looked through the broken window, she saw her partner, cowering amidst the rubble on the floor. In front of her was a man, one she recognized from a sketch in Blake's journal, and in front of him was Aspen, his sword through her chest. No…!

Rage filled Yang's mind, kickstarting her Semblance. "Get away from them!" With a scream, she launched herself through the window toward the man who had no doubt threatened Blake and had now killed Aspen. She no longer cared about anything other than making this monster pay for what he had done: not for her own safety, and certainly not for the reason he wasn't pulling his sword from the dead girl's corpse. Flames erupted around Yang's fist as she struck the man. He'd brought his sheath up to take some of the impact, but it wasn't enough to stop him from being sent hurtling through the other side of the building.

"Yang!"

Reigning in her anger, the blonde rushed over to her partner. "Blake! Are you alright?" she asked, kneeling down to look her over. She was a little roughed up, but no worse for wear.

She was clearly still shaken by the whole ordeal though, clutching tightly at Yang's arms as she helped her up. "I'm fine, Yang." There was panic in her voice, and she was looking past her partner. "Aspen…"

Yang shook her head, forcing herself to stay strong for the both of them. "I know. I wish I could have done something to help her, but it's too late. We need to—"

"No, Yang!" Blake gripped her arms tighter, forcing her to turn around. "She's not…" Her voice trailed off again, eyes wide with fear. Yang followed her gaze.

Rather than the corpse she expected, she saw Aspen slumped forward, clearly supporting herself on her hands and knees. "What the hell…?" Spitting blood, Aspen lifted one hand to the hilt of the blood-red sword still protruding from the center of her chest. With an almost deliberate, agonizing slowness, she extracted the blade from her chest. The sight alone was enough to make Yang feel queasy, but the sound… It took all her strength to suppress the urge to vomit as the sword finally came out with a wet schlick.

Was this what Ruby had to go through? Yang wondered as she watched Aspen cough up a massive gob of blood. Slowly, unsteadily, the black-haired girl rose to her feet, crimson sword still in hand. She was practically covered in her own blood from the neck down, though her wound seemed to have sealed with dark, fibrous scabs. Eyes screwed shut in what must have been agonizing pain, she opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn't form any coherent words.

Blake gripped Yang's arm tightly. "We need to go before Adam comes back," she said, her voice a terrified whisper.

The blonde nodded in agreement. She reached out to grab the other girl's arm. "Come on, Aspen. We have to—"

It was through instinct alone that Yang avoided the crimson blade as Aspen swung it at her. She pulled back into a defensive stance, but the immediate threat vanished in an instant as Aspen crumpled back to the ground. She had curled up into a ball, every muscle in her body tense as she opened her mouth to scream, though the sound that actually came out of her throat defied any attempt to label it as a natural sound. Yang and Blake looked down at the fallen girl with a mix of uncertainty and fear. They couldn't leave her there in her current state, alone with this Adam person, but it didn't seem as though they were going to be able to take her with them either. There was a crack of glass on the far side of the cafeteria, and the two girls still standing looked up to see Adam climbing back through the window. They needed to leave now.

Ultimately, Aspen made their decision for them. "Go," she said, voice barely a whisper. It was strained and coarse, but it was evidently the only way she could speak after having her throat cut. Yang opened her mouth to protest, but fell short as the girl convulsed once again with another barely restrained scream. Her head jerked up to look at them, teeth bared and eyes wide. Like they had been at the colosseum, her pupils were dilated to an unnatural size. "Now!"

Yang needed no more convincing, grabbing tightly onto Blake and running out of the cafeteria, away from Aspen. Her mind was racing as fast as her heart as she suddenly realized what the girl had been trying to say when they'd left the others to search: she was losing control like she had before, and gods help anyone who got too close to her.

(- -)

In all of Deirean's years, he had never encountered a structure quite as tall as the tower these havneel had constructed for themselves. The havashae chambers came close in terms of overall scale, but they, like most rephaite architecture, were wider than they were tall. This tower, however, was higher than any cliff Deirean had scaled before. To account for this, the havneel seemed to have created what appeared to be a pulley system that allowed them to lift a small room up and down the tower, but the system had been damaged to the point of inoperability. His target was far above him, however, and with no other apparent means of ascent, he had taken to scaling the cabling and support structures within the shaft.

With every level that he passed, Deirean felt Decay's signature grow stronger and stronger. His earlier fury returned, and he channeled it into climbing faster. These havneel—these humans—were truly different than those of his time. Their signatures were stronger, even among the weakest, and they possessed unfamiliar magics that allowed them to summon fire and manipulate objects without touching them. Had this been the case in the times of the rephaim, the pech ter'al would never have been released. There wouldn't have been a chance. It was no matter; one way or another, he would set things straight.

Finally, as the fibers in his gloves were beginning to fray, Deirean reached the top level. The doors on this floor had been blasted inward, scorch marks on the warped and twisted metal and the stench of burnt air still lingering. Beyond them was a large, circular room that evidently took up the entirety of the tower's diameter. The walls on the far side were made of glass such that one could look out at the land below and framed in the center stood Decay, standing behind a large metal and glass desk, manipulating some sort of interface.

Deirean pulled himself out of the shaft, drawing Decay's attention in the process. She regarded him with a confident look, reflected in her signature, but it did nothing to hide the brief spike of fear she felt on seeing him. Trailing her fingers along the surface of the desk, she stepped away from the interface. "I must admit, I was expecting the girl." Her eyes flicked over his armor and the blood staining it. "Though it seems as though you've taken care of her yourself."

With a growl, Deirean walked into the room. "If you wish to speak, you would do best to spare me the effort and kill yourself now."

The woman laughed, a horrid chiming sound that cut through the air. "Do you still believe you can kill me?" she asked, lifting her hand away from the desk. Flames lit her eyes, and a ball of fire appeared in the air above her fingers. "I am far more powerful than the last time we met."

Eyeing the fire with disinterest, Deirean snarled. "Then prove it!"

Decay threw the flames as he sprinted toward her, but he easily twisted out of their path. As the heat washed over his back, he swung around, bringing the back of his arm into the woman's body. With a fiery flash, she caught the blow against the palms of her hands before grabbing hold and attempting to throw him over her shoulder. He easily broke her grip, however, and slashed out at her neck. Even with the gloves on, he had no doubt he could have clawed her throat out had she not backed out of his reach. There was a smug look in her eye as she raised one hand up, palm toward him, and Deirean caught a glimpse of a spark in the air before the space between his face and her hand exploded.

The force of the detonation and his own unpreparedness was enough to knock Deirean across the room. He was able to right himself before coming to a stop, though the searing pain across his face and neck and smell of burnt flesh told him he had not emerged unscathed. Opening one eye—the other having been either melted shut or burned out entirely—he witnessed Decay rise up into the air, hand outstretched once more. With a growl, he charged forward once more.

The glass window behind Deirean shattered as a stream of flame from the woman's hand struck the floor just in front of it. Dragging her other hand before her, Decay conjured a wide arc of fire in the air that she sent roaring toward him. He leapt over it, unflinching as she raised her arm again. With one hand, he grabbed her by the wrist and wrenched the limb aside while he wrapped the other around her throat and dragged her out of the air.

Deirean hissed as they landed on the desk, the thick glass shattering under the impact and digging into his side. Twisting out of his grip, Decay rolled off the desk and backed away. She waved her hands through the air again as he came to his own feet, summoning a ring of fireballs in the air behind her. With a grunt, the man gripped he edge of the desk and tipped it onto its side just as Decay thrust her arms forward. Twin streams of flame struck the overturned surface, warping the metal and cracking the glass. Despite the cover, the heat in the air was so intense that Deirean could feel what remained of the hair on his face beginning to burn. It was nothing compared to the shame of cowering behind a piece of furniture, however.

As soon the flames subsided, he took hold of the desk. He was still far from his full strength but, even with the superheated metal burning through his gloves, lifting the desk above his head was a simple task. The action took Decay by surprise, however, her signature shifting from confidence to shock as she gaped dumbly at him. With a heave, he threw the desk directly at her. She vanished behind it as it travelled across the room, only coming to a stop when it struck the far wall. Everything was still for a moment but, through the remains of the desk, Deirean made out an orange glow, rapidly growing in intensity.

He dropped to the floor an instant before the built-up energy exploded outward in a fiery storm and sent the desk crashing through the glass ceiling and into the wall behind him. In the same moment, every window in the room exploded outward, allowing the cold wind to whip through the room. As shards of glass rained down atop them, Decay once again rose into the air, eyes ablaze. Her signature was stronger than before, and yet was faltering with continued use of her powers. She could—she would—be broken, and Deirean knew the way to do it.

Taking hold of a large piece of glass beside him, he flung it at the woman. Predictably, she swatted it aside with her flames. It served its purpose as a distraction for Deirean to close the distance between them, however, with a smaller, more jagged piece of glass clutched in his hand. Decay raised a hand toward him, a ball of fire lancing out from in front of it, but he ignored the flame even as it splashed across his chest. She could burn him all she liked; she would not leave this tower alive.

The woman screamed in pain as the glass pierced her side, beneath her ribs. She may have been protected by her magic, but even the sturdiest of rocks yielded under sufficient force. Screeching in fury and pain, Decay dug her fingers into his chest and ignited the air between them. The resulting detonation wasn't as powerful as the last, however, and didn't send him nearly as far back. In fact, it barely gave her the time to remove the glass from her side before he closed on her again.

Gone from Decay's signature was her former confidence, replaced by fear and anger as Deirean threw her down onto the glass-covered floor. Impressively, she was able to recover as she slid along it, hand drawing a molten furrow to mark her path. Rising to her feet, she lifted her hand and thrust it toward him. Rather than conjure flames in the air, the action caused the superheated debris she had touched to rise from the floor and shoot toward him. She cast them in a wide pattern, ensuring he would be caught no matter which direction he moved. Recognizing this, Deirean didn't even try to avoid the attack, instead turning to the side and allowing the debris to strike him. Several of the larger pieces pierced his arm and leg, but the rest left only superficial scratches as they passed.

The attack seemed to have drained the woman as she offered little resistance to his approach. Still with one side to her, he lifted one leg to deliver a roundhouse kick into the wound on her side. She recovered enough to catch it with her arm, though doing so only aggravated the injury and yielded the same result. Decay's knees buckled, but she managed to stay on her feet, even lifting her hand to summon another ball of fire.

Grabbing her wrist, Deirean pulled one of the shards of debris from his arm and stabbed it into the palm of her hand. She screamed as the fire died and he released her, clutching at her bloody hand. Scowling at the pitiful sight, Deirean struck her with the back of his hand, a blow that knocked her to the edge of the tower. He stalked over to the woman's weak and broken form and lifted her up by the neck. Her signature was nothing but fear now, a deep and piercing feeling that struck deep within Deirean's core. A predatory growl escaped his throat.

Evidently, Decay had removed the debris from her palm, as when she raised her hands to weakly grab at his arm, she succeeded only in smearing her own blood on his armor. "P-Please…" she choked out, struggling for air. "… mercy…"

"Mercy?" Deirean snarled as he brought her face close to his. "You would beg for mercy?" He tightened his grip on her neck. "This is your end. Embrace it." There was a flash of desperation in the woman's eyes and she pulled her good hand from his arm to point at his head. Deirean swiftly wrenched it aside and, with a twist of his other hand, he snapped her neck

The rephaite's eyes fell shut as the ecstasy of the kill settled over him. It had been long—oh, so long—since he had truly taken a life. The pech ter'al he had been forced to kill had given him no pleasure, and the men he had killed to acquire his armor had been weak. This woman had been powerful, however, moreso than any havneel he had killed in his long, long life. His koravah was sated.

When he opened his eyes, Deirean was met with a curious sight. A fiery cloud of yellow light hung in the air before him, as though it had come loose from the woman's body. Impossibly, he felt a signature coming from it, unlike any he had felt before. It hovered there for a moment, as if in thought, then rushed away from him before vanishing in the night. Derean narrowed his eyes. More sorcery. Briefly drawing the lifeless corpse toward him, he flung it out into the darkness, off the tower.

Decay was dead, and that was the end of it.

(- -)

Laurel had seen her fair share of evacuations in her time as a huntress. There were the good ones, where everyone managed to get out alive. On that rare occasion where there was sufficient warning and everything went perfectly, maybe they even did it without any injuries. There were also not-so-good ones. Grimm broke through defensive lines, prioritizing civilians lives became… tricky, and even some hunters didn't make it back.

Then there were the extremely-very-bad-and-definitely-not-good evacuations that were doomed before they even began. Maybe the Grimm appeared out of nowhere and wiped out half the population before any hunters even got there. Maybe there wasn't enough equipment to get everyone out or enough manpower to protect them and impossible decisions had to be made. Maybe some huntsman had a really bad day and decided that the people of the village he was in weren't worth it. Whatever happened, those types of evacuations descended into chaos, and not nearly enough people made it out alive.

If she had to place it, Laurel would probably say the Beacon evacuation fell somewhere between not-so-good and extremely-very-bad-and-definitely-not-good. The attack had started in the middle of the tournament finals, so there weren't many people on the ground to begin with and casualties were therefore relatively low. It also helped that there was a literal army providing security for the event, but when three-quarters of that army suddenly turned hostile, things had nearly broken down entirely. They were lucky that whatever general was in charge had managed to pull things together enough so, at the very least, they didn't have to worry about the rogue mechs anymore. Not that it really made a difference at that point.

The Atlesian forces on the ground had set up an evacuation point at the Beacon docks and, despite how long it had been since the nightmare had started, it was still pretty crowded. Students, military, and civilians alike had grouped together, though there were mercifully few in the last group. Those who could still fight stood watch for any threats, while those who couldn't waited for the next airship or helped out where possible.

Oliver's arm slipped from Laurel's shoulders as she passed him off to a medic, only for the hunter to protest. "I'll be fine," he said, attempting to mask the pain in his voice. "Focus on the kids and the civilians who need it."

Laurel glared at him, then turned to the medic. "He took a hard fall. Bruised ribs on the right side, at the least, and definitely a sprained knee. His shoulder was dislocated, but we were able to reset that."

The medic shook his head in wonder as he eased Oliver to the ground. "What'd you fall off of to manage that?" he asked.

No longer trying to put on a brave face, the hunter grimaced as he laid down. "Goliath."

"Well, hero," the medic said with a chuckle, "the next shuttle should be here soon. We'll see what we can do about getting you on it."

Trusting that her partner was in good hands, Laurel turned away to have another look at everyone who had gathered. Around a dozen or so were students, most of whom she assumed had come down from the colosseum to help protect the school. Among them she spotted the team that Aspen had been assigned to standing watch, only Aspen wasn't with them. The all-too familiar sinking feeling of apprehension deep in her stomach returned, and she rushed over to them. "Hey! Aspen! Where is she?"

Carmine, leaning heavily against a lamppost, glanced at her but didn't otherwise react, and Rhys, looking away, didn't react at all. Ilex on the other hand, jumped at the sound of her voice and spun around with a look of alarm. I was a little aggressive, wasn't I? Well, this is important. "Where's Aspen?" Laurel repeated, focusing in the on the white-haired teen.

Ilex took a step back, hands lifted defensively as she advanced on him. "I don't know!" he spat out, looking toward his fellow faunus, who had only just noticed Laurel. "We split up a while ago. Rhys said she went to go look for someone." Laurel turned her gaze toward the younger boy, but he just shrugged. "I think he said they were on Ruby's team. She might know where Aspen went."

"Ruby's the little girl with the scythe, right? Do you know where she is?"

Ilex hesitated before looking over the woman's shoulder. "No, but some of her friends are over there. They might know."

Looking to where Ilex had indicated, Laurel saw another group of teens, including a black-haired boy, an orange-haired girl, and a blond boy watching over them. With a sigh of frustration, she made her way over to them. The blond boy, a monkey faunus, noticed her heading their way and moved to meet her. "Hey, are you trying to find someone?" he asked, clearly tired but still trying to be helpful.

"Ruby… I don't remember her last name. Do you know where I can find her?"

The orange-haired girl sat up with some difficulty. "She and Weiss went back out to find the rest of our team," she explained, gesturing to the black-haired boy beside.

Laurel cursed under her breath, causing the blond to turn back to her. "Why are you looking for Ruby?"

The woman shook her head. "Not her, another girl. Black hair, red eyes, goes by Aspen. I was told she went out looking for someone on Ruby's team."

"Blake," the black-haired teen said, wincing as he grabbed his ribs. "Aspen and Yang, Blake's partner, went out looking for her about a half hour ago."

"Great," Laurel muttered, cursing again. "I don't suppose you've heard anything from them since?"

The black-haired boy shook his head and the blond faunus opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he had to say was interrupted as the orange-haired girl pointed out toward the school. "There!"

Looking up, Laurel saw a pair of girls staggering toward the evacuation area, one with yellow hair and the other with black. For a moment, the huntress hoped it was Aspen, but it was immediately apparent, on further inspection, that it wasn't her. "Blake!" the blond boy called out before running toward the pair. Laurel followed after him, feeling increasingly agitated. She was beginning to feel like she was being jerked around so, for their sake, she hoped the girls could tell her exactly where Aspen was.

The boy reached them first and immediately began to worry over Blake, but the black-haired girl gently brushed him off. "I'm fine, Sun. Please, just…" Her protests trailed off as she gripped his arm and took a shaky breath.

"It's alright, Blake," Yang said, hugging her partner with the arm she was using to support her. "Everything's going to be alright."

The three teens began to walk back to the evac area, but Laurel placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder to stop her. The other two stopped with her, but she just nodded for them to go along without her. "Aspen. Where is she?" Laurel asked once she had the girl's attention.

Yang hesitated, biting her lip. "The cafeteria." Laurel immediately turned to go find the building, but the girl grabbed her arm. "She… She stayed behind to cover us. There was a guy there, with the White Fang. He… killed her, but she just got up again. I think she was losing control of herself."

Laurel frowned. "Thanks for the warning," she said, reaching around her back to pull Timekeeper out.

The blonde let go of her and took a step back in apparent horror. "That's not what I…" She shook her head. "Look, I just don't know what you're going to find when you get there, is all."

Pursing her lips, Laurel nodded and sprinted back out into Beacon. Aspen, losing control… This was exactly the type of scenario she'd been trying to warn Oliver about since they'd found her.

Sometimes, she really hated being right.

(- -)

Monsters.

That was how humans saw the White Fang, a threat to the power they'd held over the faunus for so long. So deeply ingrained was this fear that even some faunus believed that they were monsters. They were cowards who had contented themselves with subservience. The White Fang would show them the true path, but they were not the monsters.

No, this girl was the true monster.

Adam backed away from her, avoiding the wild slashes of her blades. She should have been dead twice over, if not from having her throat cut, then from being stabbed through the heart. Instead of dying, however, she had removed his sword from her own chest and attacked him with it. If devils were real, she was one of them. She was a fury, eyes black and hair wild as she lashed out at him in a lethal storm of metal. Adam knew he held no equal when it came to swordsmanship but, despite her complete lack of form, it was all he could do to keep up with this girl's relentless attack.

It wasn't often that Adam fought with his rifle alone but, until he could retrieve Wilt from the girl, he had no choice but to rely on Blush to hold her off. It disgusted him to see his weapon in the hands of a human, especially used so recklessly. She swung it blindly, alternating her attacks with her own sword. From the look of that other sword, however—a silver and dark gray blade with green and gold accents—he suspected she had stolen it as well.

Rolling over a table, Adam kicked it toward the girl, only for it to fall to pieces as she cut through the wood with ease. Metal flashed in front of her as he fired several shots at her with Blush, her swords blocking all but one of his bullets. The one that she missed cut a bloody mark along the surface of her cheek. The small wound seemed to only enrage her further and, with a muted roar, she threw herself at him once again.

With a smirk, the White Fang leader twisted to the side at the last moment, Blush aimed downward. For however powerful and unkillable this girl may have seemed, her Aura didn't protect her. She relied on the swords to do that, but if she was using them to attack, she couldn't use them for defense.

Adam's bullet found its mark, boring through the girl's leg with ease. Despite suffering what should have been a debilitating injury, her only reaction was to drop to one knee before quickly rising again to snarl at him. As much as he would have relished hearing it, she didn't even cry out in pain. Adrenaline blocking out any feeling, the man reasoned, tightening his focus. This will be fun.

The girl snapped forward when Adam lifted Blush again, barely hindered by the hole in her leg. Her first slash caught empty air, and the second was intercepted by Blush. Firing over his shoulder, Adam pressed the opening and struck the girl in the chest with the butt of his rifle, staggering her despite her failure to register any pain. He continued to exploit the gaps he was creating in her defense, dashing erratically around her in a wide circle and raining fire down upon her.

He had successfully turned the tables on the girl, forcing her to remain in place and protect herself rather than launch a counter attack. She did well tracking him considering his speed, blocking shot after shot, but she couldn't stop all of them. Splits and holes appeared in her clothes where she failed to stop his bullets and, over the course of a minute, Adam gradually wore her down. He stopped behind her and she turned to face him, too slow.

The double crack of Blush firing was swallowed by the ruined building as crimson and silver blades cut through the air in a vain attempt to intercept the projectile. Adam's bullets struck true, however, puncturing the girl's abdomen with bursts of red against the white of her shirt. Dual sword tips bit into the ground as she collapsed forward, drops of blood dripping from her mouth.

With a satisfied smirk, Adam closed the distance between them and delivered a swift kick that knocked her away. Wilt's crimson blade flicked through the air as he retrieved it before it could fall away with the other sword, and a cursory examination revealed that its surface had been marred by numerous nicks and dings from where it had intercepted bullets. As incensed as it made him to see it in such a condition, there was also something about it that seemed wrong. It took only one look at the fallen girl to realize what it was. There was no blood… not on Wilt… and not on her chest. It pooled around her hand where she clutched her freshest wounds, but there was no trace that he had stabbed her aside from the hole in her shirt. How is this possible? Blood didn't just vanish without a trace. The only things that did that were—

Adam took a step back as the girl rolled over and rose to her feet. "What the hell are you?" he whispered, tightening his grip on Wilt. The girl didn't respond, instead grimacing as she clutched at her stomach. Wilt slid into its sheath as Adam prepared to attack. Humankind and their Academies were a blight on Remnant and they deserved every curse that came their way, but this… this thing… He could not allow it to live. Coiling his legs, he snapped forward with the intent to decapitate the monster before him.

The clash of metal rang out through the air as Adam passed her. Resheathing Wilt, he turned around with a scowl as the girl fell back to the ground. Somehow, despite already being off-balance, she had managed to block his attack. Pointless. She was just delaying the inevitable. Stepping over to her, Adam spared her one last look before drawing his weapon in a flash. Once again, however, the blade was stopped before it could draw blood. In the fraction of a second it had taken for him to attack, the girl had risen to one knee from being on all fours. She still was still holding her abdomen, meaning she had stopped Wilt in its tracks with a single hand.

With a gravelly, bloody-toothed snarl, the girl rose to her feet, bring her sword up with her. She moved just as quickly as she had before he'd shot her—if not more so—and yet her hand never left her wound. Her ferocity hadn't faded in the slightest, either, and, even with his Semblance, every clash of their blades sent shocks up Adam's arms that left them feeling numb. The girl would give him no quarter, and neither would he give her any. For every cut and thrust he struck her with, however, she returned with a powerful slash or kick of her own. His Aura protected him from any damage, but it wouldn't last forever.

Adam leapt back, sheathing Wilt back at his side. As the girl followed after him, he drew it again, only for her to dip below the blade. He'd expected the maneuver, however, and angled Blush to fire at her chest. Her sword flashed across to intercept the bullet, leaving her unable to stop his foot from connecting with a deep cut on her shoulder. While she had ignored every injury up to that point, it seemed her resistance to pain was flagging. With a hiss of pain, she staggered to the side, giving Adam the opportunity to move behind her and slice through her hamstring.

The girl momentarily lost her balance as her leg gave way, but she recovered quickly enough to twist around and stop him from delivering another, more fatal blow. She stood again and made to advance on him, but not even she could ignore a severed muscle. Adam smirked as the girl snarled and still attempted to cut him down with an overhead strike. Partially drawing his blade, he absorbed the energy of the attack with his Semblance before spinning around behind her, tucking Blush underneath her arm in the same movement. With a jerk of the weapon, Adam dislocated the girl's sword arm, and a kick sent her tumbling across the room, sword falling from her grip.

Savoring his hard-fought moment of victory, Adam made his way over to the girl, pausing only to recover her blade and throw it across the room. He may have defeated her, but this wouldn't be over until she was dead, and that was proving to be more of a task than he would have thought. As he approached her, he could see that she was having difficulty pushing herself up to her knees. Her clothes were in tatters and stained with blood, though now he could see the thin black cloud around her as it evaporated.

When she did manage to prop herself up, she finally removed her hand from her stomach, only to lift the other into its place. Then, with only a grimace to indicate her pain, she raised her hand and popped her shoulder back into place. She began to stand, but was knocked down by the back of Adam's hand. He gripped his sword as he looked down at her. "Are you ready to die, monster?" he asked, readying his Semblance. He would make sure she didn't get up again.

The girl's only response was a long hiss that seared through her teeth as she bucked forward. When she rose up to her knees again, Adam was caught off guard to see her eyes had returned to a normal size. The crimson orbs burned up at him, then dropped downward. Against his better judgement, Adam followed her gaze to her hand. She pulled it away from her abdomen, and cradled within her palm were the two bullets he had shot her with. "Monster…" The whispered word caused Adam to look back up at the girl's face in alarm, but she was still looking at her hand. Slowly, she let it turn over, and the two slugs clinked onto the floor.

Adam drew his sword…

… but was stopped before he could fully draw it from its sheath. The girl rose to her feet, tightening her grip on his wrist. A spike of fear shot through him as he tried to pull away but found her hold was too secure for him to break free of. Reaching up to grab him by the hair, the girl wrenched his head down into her knee. Adam instinctively let go of his weapons as his mask shattered and dug into the skin above his eyes. He reeled back in shock. Through the blood obscuring his vision, he saw that the girl had taken Wilt and was spinning around to slash at him, and foolishly raised his arm to defend himself.

He felt the pain first in his elbow, then it vanished and reappeared in the right side of his chest, more intense than anything he'd felt in his life. An agonized cry escaped his throat as he fell back and hit the ground. Blindly, he grasped at the source of the pain, only to find it soaked with blood. My arm…! When he opened his eyes, he was greeted by the stump of his right arm, the rest lying somewhere nearby. The girl stood over him, Wilt still held aloft and a fierce look on her face, fixated on him. Blood dripped slowly from the blade. His blood. Overcome by immense fear, Adam struggled to push himself away from the girl with just his legs, only to see her lower the sword to her side rather than move to finish him off.

The roar of gunfire cut through the near-quiet, the bullets tearing through the space above Adam. The girl staggered forward, her brow seeming to furrow in confusion, before her feet slipped out from underneath her and she fell to the ground. As Adam freed his legs from beneath her body, several White Fang soldiers ran up to him, including his lieutenant. "Sir! You're hurt!" the burly man said, reaching down to help him to his feet.

Adam accepted the assistance, if only because he had no choice. "I'll live," he growled. Looking down at the fallen girl with a scowl, he delivered a swift kick to her ribs. She didn't move. "Sound the retreat," he ordered, stepping over the girl. "All forces are to pull out and rendezvous at the Forever Fall camp. You." He looked at the nearest grunt. "Retrieve my weapon." The man immediately scrambled to pick up the fallen sword and rifle, while the rest stood at attention. "The rest of you, stay here. If she moves," he said, gesturing toward the girl's body, "kill her again." The men shuffled nervously, clearly confused, but they knew better than to question his orders. Clutching the stump of his arm, Adam allowed his lieutenant to lead him out of the ruins of the building. Damn Cinder Fall, and damn Roman Torchwick! If they had survived this hell of a night, he would be sure to—

Any thoughts of revenge on the humans who had put the White Fang in this situation were interrupted by the sound of gunfire behind him. Adam turned his head to see what was happening behind him, but he only caught a glimpse of the ensuing carnage before his lieutenant grabbed hold of him and forced him to run out into the darkness. The White Fang leader let loose a roar—a mix of fury, pain and fear. The Humans can have their monster!

Damn them all!

(- -)

"Ruby! Behind you!"

The red-cloaked girl spun around, neatly splitting a Beowolf that had gotten too close. "Got 'em!" Twirling Crescent Rose about, she slammed the point down into the ground and quickly shot another pair of Beowolves that Weiss had frozen into place. The creatures were obliterated by the high-caliber rounds, their remains vanishing into smoke.

As the immediate area fell into silence, the two girls took a moment to regain their composure. Ruby gripped her scythe with worry as she looked around for any sign of Jaune and Pyrrha. She and Weiss were close to Beacon Tower now, which was the last place anyone could remember seeing them. The problem was that it was such a large area to search, and they kept having to stop to fight off Grimm stragglers. It would be a lot easier if they could just call Jaune or Pyrrha and ask where they were.

Duh! "Weiss!"

The white-haired girl turned to look at her but, before Ruby could make her suggestion, her scroll rang. Pulling the device out, Weiss looked at the screen. "It's Jaune!" She didn't hesitate to answer. "Where are you?"

Jaune's voice came through the speaker. -/Weiss! Please, you have to stop her!/- Ruby felt a pang of fear in her heart; she'd never heard him sound so desperate before.

Weiss looked at her in confusion, as though she might know what he was talking about. "What?"

-/Pyrrha! She's going after that woman at the top of the tower! She doesn't stand a chance!/-

Instinctively looking up at the tower, Ruby was just able to make out flashes of light near the very top. Pyrrha's… up there?

"Jaune, what are you talking about?!" Weiss continued. "Where are you?"

The heiress flinched away from her scroll as Jaune shouted, -/Don't worry about me!/- There was a brief pause in his words, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter and filled with pain and desperation. -/Please, you have to save Pyrrha./-

Ruby and Weiss shared a look and the younger girl nodded. "We will," she promised. "Are you okay?" Jaune didn't answer, not with words. They made out an anguished scream through the scroll's speaker before it was cut off by a loud cracking noise. "Jaune? Jaune!" Despite Weiss's efforts, however, there was only silence from the scroll.

Ruby looked up at the tower again just in time to see what looked to be an explosion blow out all of the windows in Ozpin's office. She gasped, grabbing onto Weiss's arm for support. No, no, no! "Weiss!"

"Ruby…"

"We need to get up there!"

Weiss pulled her back and repeated herself, more insistently. "Ruby!" The girl lowered her gaze to her partner, only to see that Weiss wasn't looking at the top of the tower, but the bottom. She raised one hand to point. "Look!"

Ruby followed Weiss's arm and quickly found what she was indicating. Through the open doors of the main entrance, Ruby caught a glimpse of bright red and gold. "Pyrrha!" Forgetting all about the lights at the top of the tower, the girl sprinted toward the entrance, Weiss right behind her.

When she got there, however, she froze, overcome by the scene. Pyrrha… lying in a pool of blood, unmoving… with her own sword sticking up from her stomach. Ruby's chest constricted painfully, and she was only vaguely aware of Weiss rushing past her as she was flooded with memories of Aspen impaled on her scythe. This can't be happening… Not… not again… She hadn't been here. She hadn't been fast enough, and now another person close to her was… was…

"She's still alive!"

Weiss's voice cut through the fog that Ruby had been frozen in. Still… alive? The full weight of the words struck Ruby all at once and jarred her into motion. Rushing over to where Weiss was frantically attending to Pyrrha, she knelt down in hopes that she might be useful. "What do we do?"

"I… I'm not sure," Weiss stammered. "It looks like her Aura's keeping her stable for now, but she's lost a lot of blood and she'll only lose more if we remove the sword." She looked up at Ruby with a pained expression. "I think we're going to have to try to move her."

The younger girl swallowed, pushing through the lump in her throat. "R-Right." How do we do that with the sword still—She shook her head at the worry. They didn't have time to address every little complication. They would just have to make do with whatever they could. Standing, she reached up to her shoulders to undo the pins holding her cloak to her blouse. "We'll make a stretcher. I'll go find something to use for a frame, and then we can use my cloak to—"

She cut off as a loud thud echoed through the room. Scrambling to lift Crescent Rose as Weiss stood up beside her, Ruby turned to face the elevator. For a moment, there was no sign of movement save for the eerie creaking and groaning of metal, but then something dropped through a hole in the top of the cab. It wasn't until he stood up that Ruby realized it was a man, and once again she was stricken by fear.

The man was… well, grotesque seemed like an appropriate word, but she wouldn't dare say it out loud. It almost looked as if he'd been set on fire, with parts of his armor melted and scorched and more than half of his face blackened beyond recognition. Ruby would have felt bad for being afraid of him were it not for the blood smeared and spattered across his armor… and the bits of debris sticking out from his arm and leg that apparently didn't cause him any discomfort as he walked slowly out of the elevator… and the single, burning red eye that stared straight into her soul. It looked just like Aspen's.

"W-who are you?" the scythe-wielder stammer-demanded, pointing her weapon at the man.

The man's mouth cracked open and a rasp escaped his throat, almost like laughter. It wasn't the reaction Ruby was expecting. "Are all havneel children as foolish as you?" The unburned half of his face twisted into a sneer. Lazily lifting his arm, he pointed down at Pyrrha's unmoving form. "If you truly wish to know who I am, ask her." He laughed again, though with much more cruelty this time. "Assuming she survives, that is."

The implication was clear. "You did this to her?" Weiss asked, also holding ready to fight. "Why?"

The man turned his eye to her, and Ruby caught the way her partner tensed up. "She was in my way, as you are now." He took a step forward, but the two girls raised their weapons higher and he snarled. "I have no desire to kill you. My koravah is sated—my mission complete—but I will not hesitate to end your lives and finish off your friend if you do not move aside now." Ruby gripped Crescent Rose tighter and glanced toward Weiss. The older girl returned the look and nodded. They weren't going to let this man get away with hurting Pyrrha.

Before they could get a chance to attack, however, a large sword was suddenly separating them, angled toward the burned man's throat. "Don't."

It took Ruby a second to process what was going on. The sword… The voice… "Uncle Qrow?"

Sure enough, the man who had trained her had joined them in the room. Ruby felt a huge confidence boost at seeing him on their side but, for some reason, he was giving her and Weiss a warning look. "Girls, get out of the way."

Ruby's grip on Crescent Rose slackened. "W-what? But we—"

"Don't," he said again, harshly enough that Ruby backed off with no more questions. She still kept her weapon ready just in case, and Weiss did the same. Qrow turned his gaze to the unidentified man. "Get out of here."

Cocking his head to look at Qrow, the man flared his nostrils. "A wise decision."

Ruby didn't understand the next thing he said—something in a different language, she guessed—but whatever it was made her uncle narrow his eyes. Then, with a smirk, he said something back in the same, weird language, which seemed to catch the burned man off guard. His red eye widened in surprise, but his expression quickly turned to anger and he spat at Qrow. He said something else, and Ruby thought she heard the word "havneel" again, but that didn't do anything to help her understand what had been said. The two men glared at each other for a few seconds before the burned man turned to leave. He paused briefly to scowl at Ruby, but passed without incident.

The moment he was gone, Ruby turned to look at her uncle. "What was that?! Why did you let him go?"

Qrow seemed to ignore her question, walking over to kneel down beside Pyrrha. "Your friend won't last long out here. We need to get her to a hospital." Looking up at Ruby, he held out his sword to her. When she hesitated to take it, he rolled his eyes. "Look, I'll explain things as best I can later, but right now I need you to make a stretcher for the girl." Relenting, Ruby took the sword and got to work. As she pulled her cloak off and began to lash it to her and her uncle's weapons, she listened to his conversation with Weiss. "How much Ice Dust do you have?"

"Not much. About a third of a vial."

"That'll do. Give it to me. Burn?"

"Here. Are you going to take the sword out?"

"No, but it's too long for us to carry her safely." Ruby looked up at her uncle as he grumbled to himself. With one hand full of Weiss's Ice Dust and the other Burn, he cupped them over Pyrrha's sword, just above her body. "Ah, this is going to hurt."

Ruby gasped as he channeled his Aura directly into the Ice Dust. A cold glow shone out from where his fingers pressed against the metal and a layer of frost began to form over the surface. After a moment, he activated the Burn Dust. The sword creaked under the sudden temperature change and then, with a twist of his hands, Qrow snapped the weapon in two. Casting what was left of it aside, he rubbed his hands together to equalize their temperature. "Well," he drawled, pain in his voice, "I wasn't sure that was going to work. Ruby, how's that stretcher coming?"

"Ah, a-almost done." The girl turned back to finish tying her cloak to Crescent Rose. "There."

"Good." Still rubbing his hands together, he stood up and nodded down at Pyrrha. "Alright. Get her loaded up and we'll carry her out of here." Ruby and Weiss did as instructed, lifting their friend as gently as they could and then setting her back down on the red cloak. Weiss made to help Ruby lift the makeshift stretcher, but Qrow brushed her aside. "I got it."

Weiss backed away, though not without protest. "But your hands…!"

"They'll be fine," he said, crouching down to take hold of the stretcher. "Besides, you're the only one with a weapon now."

As she coordinated with her uncle to lift and carry Pyrrha out, questions swarmed through Ruby's mind. Who was that man, and where did he come from? What was the "mission" he talked about? Did he fight the woman Jaune mentioned? What did Qrow have to do with all of this? Why did that man try to kill Pyrrha, and why did Qrow let him go? Ruby looked down at her friend, swaying in the stretcher as she and her uncle ran out of the tower, and all of the questions faded away. Her questions weren't important. What mattered now was getting Pyrrha to safety. She just hoped they wouldn't be too late.

(- -)

Cafeteria… Cafeteria… Gads damn it, where's the cafeteria?!

Laurel's heart pounded in her chest as she frantically searched for the right building. She'd been there a couple of times, but that had been when the school was intact, and it wasn't as though she'd memorized the campus layout before then. All she could hope for was that she saw a landmark she recognized or, if she was lucky, she just stumbled across it.

What was she going to do when she got there? It wasn't exactly something she had put thought into before she left, but she supposed it depended on whatever she found when she got there. A part of her hoped that whatever had been going down with Aspen and the White Fang soldier Yang mentioned had been resolved, but she knew that would mean that one—or both—of them were dead. No, the best case scenario would be if they were still fighting. At least then she would have the chance to subdue them both. Somehow.

Slowing to a near-stop, the woman took stock of her surroundings. If I'm here, the cafeteria should be… there! Like the rest of Beacon, the cafeteria was in ruins, with sections of the wall and even parts of the ceiling having collapsed over the course of the night. As she approached it, Laurel could see fires burning within, but there were no signs or sounds of continuing battle. Her legs pumped faster. "Aspen? Aspen?!"

Laurel didn't see the girl at first but, when she did, she couldn't bring herself to look away. The only light came from the fire, and it lit a ghastly scene. She stood alone near one of the outer walls, shoulders heaving with every breath. Dozens of bullet holes and splits made tatters of her clothes, and the blackened scarring underneath revealed that she had not emerged from this fight unscathed. Her matted hair clung to her back, but it wasn't from sweat; it was blood. She was covered in it, down to the short, machete-like sword she held in her hand, and Laurel knew in an instant that very little—if any—was Aspen's.

Her hand rose to cover her mouth in horror, and queasiness roiled within the woman's stomach, one that brought back memories of her third year at Shade and a family mutilated by Grimm. Surrounding Aspen were the remains of what must have been several White Fang soldiers, just as soaked in blood as she was. Limbs severed, bodies slashed and carved beyond recognition, a partial decapitation… She couldn't even tell how many of them there were to begin with.

"Aspen…?"

Slowly, almost agonizingly so, the girl turned her head to look at Laurel. The woman wasn't sure what she expected to see on Aspen's face—blind rage, perhaps—but it certainly hadn't been shock. Aspen's eyes were wide and her mouth hung open dumbly. As she looked back down at the carnage around her, her breathing became more erratic, more labored. She moved her mouth, but nothing audible came out, and the sword slipped from her hand.

Laurel had no idea what to do. For years, she had tried to be as pragmatic as possible, if just to balance out Oliver's sometimes-reckless optimism, but this… This went far beyond anything she could have feared. Oliver. What would Oliver…?

Against her better judgement, Laurel holstered her weapon and walked forward, stepping over the rubble that was strewn about the floor. As she got closer to the girl, the stench of blood and the slickness beneath her feet nearly made her stop, but she continued regardless. Aspen didn't react to her approach until Laurel reached out to touch her and, once again, the woman was surprised by what she saw when the girl turned to look at her. Her expression hadn't changed, but tears had unmistakably begun to form in her eyes. "I… I didn't…" she whispered.

Laurel wrapped her arms around the girl as best she could, cutting her off. She grimaced as her skin and clothes were smeared with ichor but, despite being taller than her, the blood-soaked girl in her arms suddenly felt much, much smaller. "I know," she said softly. Aspen hadn't exactly returned the embrace, but Laurel could feel the way she was shaking nonetheless. Oh, gods. Lifting a hand, she awkwardly stroked the girl's hair. "It's alright, Aspen. Everything's going to be alright."

Things were definitely not going to be alright.


Man, every time I go through this chapter, I just feel breathless at the end. To date, this is the longest chapter I've ever written for anything at almost 9500 words, and I hope you enjoyed it. We've officially wrapped up the Battle of Beacon story arc or, as I call it, "Aspen and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Night." She tried so hard…

On the other side of things, Deirean's gotten his revenge on Cinder as promised and, with Adam now out of the picture as well, has established himself as the primary antagonist of this story. If I'm being honest, though, that was the real purpose of Pyrrha's scene in the last chapter. For as imposing as Deirean is, he hadn't actually done anything villainous. I won't apologize for it, though, because Pyrrha's not dead, as some of you thought, and Deirean told her some very interesting things.

Breaking away from the chapter, I have a bit of an announcement to make. I've done this a few times with this story, but I've got to take another hiatus from writing. My last semester of college is coming up and I've put some stuff off that I now need to focus my attention on. I'll try to not make it too long of a break but, for now, au revoir!

P.S. If you're into RWBY's music, there's a lowkey "I Burn" reference in this chapter that I'm pretty proud of.