The Lost Hunter tore into the flesh of a beastman, savouring the taste of roasted meat.
He didn't consider it cannibalism, for they were beasts, and he had eaten beasts before. The Old Hinterlands were long past its glory days, the Renaissance long over, and years of famine had set in. For all he wandered, fields laid fallow, and beasts ran amok - they may had been humans once, but no longer. So now they were food, it was only sensible.
Alas, it simply became another vector for the Scourge to spread. Nevertheless, he did not fear the Scourge, for he was a hunter - an infected. There was no food in the depths here, and thus he must make do with beasts.
Speaking of which, Mt. Glenn was the name of the ruined city, he had found out from questioning the faunus he was now devouring. Gnawing on a finger bone, the hunter pondered his next actions - for he had learned of this 'White Fang's' twisted designs on the City of Vale. Discrimination was nothing new to him, it was quite the norm in the Old Hinterlands, but even then many agree to let bygones be bygones in the face of the Beast Scourge, or worse.
He had never encountered a people filled with so much hatred so as to unleash beasts on their perceived enemies.
The Lost Hunter rose from his place, kicking out the campfire. He has an obligation as a hunter to hunt down beasts, thus if these faunus are attempting to use the Grimm for their own gains - against humans no less, then they are no better than the beasts he was obligated to hunt.
Their sanity must be waning, for them to employ the Grimm so - before long they would lose it entirely. As the protege of the Crow, it was his duty to offer them bloody mercy, before they succumbed to their own beastly blood.
Resolved, the hunter stalked into the shadows of monolithic structures, searching for his first quarry.
"HELP-!"
CRUNCH
He crushed the beast's head under his heel, smearing its bodily paste across the floor. Do not let their cries get to you, the hunter repeated in his head, they are beasts, nothing more. He had encountered more than one beast able to mimic human speech on his travels, he would not fall prey to the same mistake again.
"Hey, did you hear something from over here?
"No… you sure you aren't hearing things, man?"
"I definitely heard a 'help' from somewhere here…"
The hunter jerked at the sound of approaching beasts. He was in an alleyway, and the two beasts would have to turn the corner to face him - that means there was a brief window of time before they could bring their firearms to bear.
He remained still as a statue as the first beast walked in front of the alley, and turned.
"Hey! Who're you-"
The Lost Hunter suppressed a bloody grin through his mask, and raised Evelyn in front of him.
BANG
One beast was shot dead, his head exploding in brain and blood. The hunter rushed from his place before the other beast could react, raising his retracted saw cleaver high.
"Woah! What the hell-"
He brought it down at lightning speeds, carving through the beast's head and tearing open a deep, bloody gash straight down his torso. Spying the beast's still beating heart through the wound, the hunter's hand shot forth, punching through the remaining rib bones and grasping the organ - before wrenching it from the cavity, kicking the body away at the same time.
Crushing it in his hand, the hunter felt the beast's blood echoes pour into his mindscape. Foreign memories swam through his mind's eye, but he shook them away - there was no time to sift through it all.
He dragged the two corpses into the alley, then took off in search of his next prey.
Before him stood what must be the strangest woman he has ever met, and he's met Lady Caryll.
Dressed in the oddest of clothing, with eyes of different hues. Brown and pink, and it appears that the young lady had dyed her hair to match. In her hands was a pink parasol, flimsy in appearance, made of some sort of lace.
Most importantly, she did not look like a beast, nor did she smell like one. What she did smell of, however, was blood. A noble's daughter perhaps, for her effects were of such high quality. Nay, he discarded the thought a mere moment later - the Huntsmen he had met at Lower Cairn wore similarly flamboyant clothing, perhaps she was of Huntsmen stock.
Alas, he watched the beasts running away from him over the young woman's shoulder - she was protecting his quarry from his blade. She was protecting beasts.
And that meant she was a beast of her own.
"Step aside, young miss. I will not ask again."
She did not speak, but offered him the most infuriating smile indeed. The hunter was true to his word, and did not ask again.
He quickened forwards, body turning to mist without the need for the Old Hunter's Bone. Aye, he had re-familiarised himself in the art of Quickening, and no could do it without need for an aid. On the slippery, slimy wooden decks of the many vessels of the Mission Fleet, poor usage of Quickening could lead to fatal mistakes - he once even tumbled overboard. After that, he stopped Quickening whatsoever, unwilling to repeat the experience.
But now, he could practice the lost art all he wished.
The hunter brought down the saw cleaver unto the still unmoving lady, but when it made contact with her exposed neck - the image shattered.
His eyes widened in surprise, and feeling the rush of air behind him he spun around with Evelyn bared forwards.
BANG
Bloody lead was pumped into the young lady who attempted to stab him in the back, but instead of any severe wound, the blood bullet impacted a faint shimmering layer of light right above her skin. Nevertheless, the woman seemed surprised by the counterattack, and backstepped a few.
He did as well, distancing himself to indulge in his thoughts. The hunter had seen the light before at Lower Cairn, just before Lady Velvet voluntarily injured herself with his blood vial. Perhaps it was some sort of arcane art, a supplementary layer of shielding practised by all Huntsmen.
It was sensible, against the more armoured beasts of Grimm, armour was a necessity for the less skilled - and a great boon for the more skilled, if its apparent lack of mass or bulkiness was true. What caught his attention the most, however, was the illusion of herself she had created.
Clearly, it was some manner of illusory arcane art. A terrifying skill, especially when used against men - for beasts would rely more on instinct than sight.
Alas, unfortunately for this young lady, he was an entirely different kind of human.
The Lost Hunter closed two eyes, and opened a thousand - and he saw. Aye, did he see it all - the faint pink aura surrounding the woman, the layers of light above her skin as well. With the eyes of the Madman, he saw through the firmament of time, and before him was revealed her future actions and her past.
"Come, my Lady Vanille," the young lady's eyes widened in shock, flinching backwards in surprise, "Bring your might to bear!"
Evelyn roared, shattering the illusion - and he swung his saw cleaver to the right, smashing it into the woman's gut and sending her flying.
"I see you, Lady Vanille!" He laughed, "You cannot run from me, you cannot hide!"
As she struggled to raise herself to her feet, the hunter went on the attack once more. Even if the young lady was able to create illusions, she still had to obey the laws of reality, even in a Dream. As long as he gave her no time to breathe, she couldn't get very far from the images she leaves behind.
He shattered another illusion, but managed to catch the fleeing girl in the same swing - knocking her over once more. This was no longer a fight, but a hunt, and he was a hunter.
The hunter kicked the young lady in the ribs while she was still down, unfeeling, uncaring. Through the thin veneer of the observable world, he saw her light-shield growing fainter with every hit.
He extended his saw cleaver, and brought it down in a decapitating blow, but the lady rolled away in time. As she rose to her legs, the young lady seemed to realise that her tricks would not work on him, and thus readied her parasol - a trick weapon, he assumed.
Leaping forwards, the hunter brought down the saw cleaver - for the woman to block it with her parasol, which was more durable than he expected, to be able to halt the heavy steel of the saw cleaver. Furthermore, the woman herself was stronger than he thought, alas, the hunter was a hunter, a beast blood ran in his veins.
She could not stop his strike, instead dashing backwards to avoid the cleaver from amputating her. The woman conducted a flurry of lightning quick attacks then, making full use of her body, with kicks and punches as well as her trick weapon.
He was not so fast, he dodged some, parried others, and took most of the hits straight on. Her small stature did not bely her strength, and his bones were broken more than once. But bones and bruises could be fixed, with a bit of healing blood - all he needed was one opportunity to end it.
"Neo!"
The young lady, Neo, swivelled her head around to face the speaker. It would be a fatal mistake in any ordinary fight, but in this case she had actually ran towards the voice - the person who turned her head away from him was merely an image.
Perhaps it was a habit, for he had made clear her illusory arts did not work on him - she would pay dearly for her mistake.
BANG
Evelyn sang, and bloody lead was pumped into the back of the fleeing woman, her light-shield shattered.
She stumbled.
He quickened.
She instinctively moved to the side, attempting to dodge the impending strike.
He plunged his arm into her lower back, punching through the flesh and bone. Alas, her skill was admirable, and he missed the heart - and instead grabbed a different organ. Undeterred, he grasped it anyway and wrenched it out, kicking her forwards - into the arms of another man.
Lady Neo released a wordless scream, face twisted in a rictus of agony.
The man who held her, a well-dressed orange haired man in a bowler hat, stared at the lady's back - then at the kidney in the hunter's right hand. Fury rose in his eyes, the hunter could see.
"You, get Neo to the medic, if she dies I will have your head!" The man roared, "The rest of you, kill him!"
The well-dressed man pointed a cane at him, one with a hole in the bottom of it. A trick weapon, the hunter surmised, a firearm disguised as a cane, how ingenious. He couldn't admire the weapon for long, however, because the man pulled its trigger.
Instinctively, he knocked the projectile away with the flat side of his saw cleaver, sending the bullet careening off course. A mighty explosion then occurred in the back - Dust bullets, he deducted, with their payloads activated via fuse rather than contact.
Oh aye, he had spent some time with the Powder Kegs, back in the day.
Not that it helped much, because it was his turn to be pumped full of lead soon after. Only then did he realise the orange-haired man was surrounded by several dozen beasts - their leader, perhaps, though he looked human.
Nevertheless, this was not a fight he could win - not with all the firearms pointed at him.
The hunter stabbed a blood vial into his thigh, and took off, using a thousand eyes to see in funeral pace. Making good use of Quickening, the hunter managed to find a secluded corner to take a breath.
He then opened two eyes, and closed a thousand. Using most of his Insight drained him, and ate away at his sanity, to boot. This was the first time he opened his inner eyes since his fight with the Chorus Whale aboard the Cornucopia. He shan't use the power so recklessly again, the hunter resolved.
"Hey, he's over here!"
The Lost Hunter cursed beneath his breath, and looked for means of escape.
In the shadow of the cavern wall, he noticed a small cave located at its base, too small to walk inside. He would have to crawl. Deciding there was no better option, the hunter decided to go for it.
Sparks flew around him as bullets missed his person and impacted stone, while dodging most of them, he took one to the shoulder and he slid into the inlet feet first.
"He's escaping!"
"Should we follow him?"
"Nah, God knows what's down there. Grimm probably."
The tunnel began to incline downwards - widening, but also turning into a slide. Seeing no other option, the hunter followed through with his decision.
After several moments of pitch black darkness, the hunter heard the telltale sound of flowing water - and then emerged in another cavern.
There was a rumble, as if the entire cave was breathing.
He slowly looked up, to see six glowing red eyes staring back at him. His vision adjusting to the newfound darkness, he saw two red, leathery wings - translucent in nature. He saw two powerful hind legs, and a long reptilian tail - fixed with a claw at the end of it. On the creature's torso were its visible rib cage, and fixed on its head was a horned mask of bone.
"▂▂▃▃▅▅▇█▇▆▅██▇▅███▇█▇▆▅▇██!"
The earth shook violently as the creature released a deafening howl - and terrifyingly, the hunter realised its teeth-filled maw extended down its serpentine neck.
He sucked in a breath to calm himself. A Darkbeast, perhaps - no, it was not rotted through, nor did it have any bolts crackling across its skin. A dragon, then? He had heard of them, never seen one before, however, thus he could not be sure.
As he wondered the prospects of climbing back up the tunnel he arrived in, he saw it in his mind's eye - only one of them would be alive at the end of this.
"Oh…" The Lost Hunter uttered, meeting the gaze of the beast, "Sweet Flora preserve me."
Dragonheir Arraleith, the Entombed Tyrant
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Author's Note:
I intended for this to be a 4k word chapter instead of 2k - extending it all the way to the Lost Hunter meeting Ozpin in Vale, but then I realised this would be more fun. Next chapter would be 4k words though, promise. And yes, this is the same dragon that attacked Vale and Beacon in Vol. 3.