Here we are, a fresh chapter. Also, in regards to Xrunner's review from the last chapter, I don't think Raven is able to teleport to anyone she wants on a whim. As from what I've gathered from the wiki, her semblance only works for those she genuinely cares about or respects. And neither Jaune or Hawkins fulfill that criteria. At least not yet... hehehe.
Also, I hope you got on your bus on time, Monsier Mastermind.
"...Hawkins"
The magician scratched his head and blinked his eyes. Laid on his back, Hawkins sat upright to find himself on a road with buildings on either side of him. However, upon closer inspection, the buildings were not modern; their signs declared the trade of ale and medieval weaponry.
"Who's there?" Hawkins answered the voice but received no reply. The last thing he remembered, was falling asleep within the confines of a half-dismantled watchtower.
Seeing no option other than to explore, Hawkins got up on his feet and approached the nearest building. Once he did so, silhouettes that vaguely resembled people manifested, and the magician could hear voices. Yet they were no more than jumbled whispers and incomplete sentences to him.
"This isn't like the usual nightmares... nor like the visions, I've shared with Bastion or while at death's doorstep." Hawkins furrowed his brows as he addressed one of the silhouettes, but as expected his words fell on deaf ears.
"More used to a field of flowers with harmless, puffy, white clouds in the sky?" Came a feminine voice that was rough and stern. "Bastion has spoiled you, and because of that, you don't have the grit to make it in a place like Vacuo."
The magician checked his surroundings and his hand fell on the hilt of his sword. Oddly enough, he'd kept his clothes, weapon, and tarot cards this time around, so he definitely was experiencing something different. That, and the Arc symbol on his chest remained dormant.
"No need to be on high alert... yet." The feminine voice chuckled but returned to its stern tone the next second. "Bastion hasn't notified me of your visit to my kingdom. Though I cannot say that I am disappointed. Tell me, what future do you have planned for your son?"
Hawkins knew better than to trust random voices, and it had taken Bastion years to gain his favor.
"I don't understand what kind of spell you've put me under, but my decisions are mine to make until I've discovered a way to leave this place," Hawkins said as a silhouette passed through his body. It dispersed for a moment, then retook its blurry shape a few steps later.
"It's nice that you assume I'm using magic, but that power hasn't existed since ancient times when man still had potential. I can see it even now, with how the world is shaping itself, the prowess of humanity is withering by the day and with it, so does my strength."
"Bastion said that his influence was also dwindling..." Hawkins kept his guard up, but he didn't sense any malice from the being who spoke to him. Nothing along the lines of the ominous, murky feeling of that strange spirit who helped him cross back into the world of the living.
An ominous chill brushed against the back of his neck, Hawkins flinched at the feeling of a hand clasped on his shoulder.
"Easy, I'm not here to hurt you. If I was, I'd never have allowed you into my domain."
There was an image Hawkins could place the voice on, and it was that of an orange haze of smoke that clustered into what vaguely resembled a person. Or Faunus given that this being had two, large protruding horns atop its head. The spirit also appeared to be feminine, given its curvaceous figure.
"And you are?" Hawkins asked impatiently.
"Giova, that's what you can call me." Replied the orange smoke.
"And how, Giova, are you able to converse with me in the likeness of Bastion?" Hawkins already had a rough idea of how this was possible but felt the need for further elaboration.
"When my comrades and I passed onto the afterlife, the decision to stay and govern what we left behind was given to us as a choice. There were originally seven of us, but only four of us decided to remain. As such, we each govern the champion we selected and brought into this world. It just so happens that you were the one Bastion chose." Giova said and gestured for the magician to walk alongside her.
"...Is this a dream?" Hawkins peered at the silhouettes that were beginning to become more defined. Instead of blurry blobs, most of them had a proper shape and the robes and sacks they wore became apparent. Their faces remained unknown.
"You are unconscious in the material world, so I suppose this could be described as a dream. At least by mortal standards." Giova hummed and strolled to the left where a tower of reddish brick stood over the town with the banner of Vacuo hitched to its large wooden doors.
"This sigil is different." Hawkins pointed to the single sword which had two outstretch wings designed on the hilt. "There were three blades on the dust boxes my partner purchased. I'm assuming this change means something?"
Giova nodded. "Vacuo's history is laced with the desire to survive. Those blessed in Vale and Mistral with abundant fertile fields don't know the meaning of discomfort, and the snobs who live in the snowy regions of Mantle boast about how they conquered their environment, which is an absolute lie by the way. After all, the whole reason Mantle was able to establish its territory was because of Vacuo's assistance, but you won't hear much about that part of history."
"Are Mantlesian folk really that ignorant?" Hawkins scratched his forehead. The only people he knew about in Mantle were the Happy Huntresses, and they seemed like an inclusive bunch.
"By the way," Giova opened the tower's door and walked inside, "there's something I'd like you to see before our time here is up. Would you accompany me, Basil Hawkins?"
The magician hesitated, and he pulled out his tarot cards for good measure. Giova didn't seem to mind watching him shuffle while he mumbled to himself, and after a brief moment, Hawkins followed her inside the tower with his hand on his sword.
/-/
"My goddess, Hawkins, how long are you going to sleep?" Tyrion scratched his head at the slumbering magician who hadn't made a sound since falling asleep last night.
His weapons were covered in Grimm's guts, and a young Nevermore corpse lay in the background with only its feathers and bones left over.
"Hm? What's this?" Tyrion loomed over Hawkins and narrowed his golden eyes on the faint light that emanated from his companion's chest. The symbol wasn't there a moment ago, and the longer he stared at it, it felt somewhat familiar.
"Drat, what was that useless history that Ms. Rumpole tried to drill into my brain?" Tyrion grumbled. Unable to define the symbol's significance, Tyrion took a photo with his scroll and left it at that.
"We've arrived at the ruins!"
Tyrion's ears piqued at the group of voices that yelled below him. He peeked over the walls of the half-destroyed tower and cupped his chin at the clusters of people that occupied the area. There were some without Faunus traits, but the majority of them had blonde hair and monkey tails.
"Wait a minute... no, that can't be him... can it?" Tyrion's visage vexed as a familiar tyke came into view.
"Hmm... I'm going to take a closer look. So you keep an eye on the magician, alright?" Tyrion turned and looked down on the girl who quietly nibbled her bread bun. The scorpion Fanuus could've killed her and not given a second thought about it, then again Hawkins had shown slight concern about the girl's whereabouts, thus Tyrion decided that it was Hawkins' problem to decide what became of the girl.
Red eyes with a tuft of messy green hair over a palette of dark skin, Emerald didn't intend on following Hawkins after he'd given her a reprieve at the hotel, but when she saw the same slave traders prowling the streets, she knew that Hawkins was the best chance that she had at freedom.
That, and she couldn't find Madame Shyarly anywhere. Perhaps the shark Faunus had found another place of safe refuge?
"Well? Are you going to do as I say?" Tyrion leaned over with his hands on his hips and smirked as Emerald back peddled in fear.
"I'll take that as a yes." Tyrion cackled and hopped down the tower with nimble accuracy.
"W-What am I supposed to do when he wakes up?" Emerald shivered at the idea of having to defend herself. She'd stolen Hawkins' pocket knife when Tyrion wasn't looking, as his longsword would be too large for her to wield. Yet even now she wasn't sure if she could take a life.
"Urgh!"
Emerald yelped as Hawkins' body jerked to stand, however, the magician's eyes remained closed.
"U-Um... are you okay?" Emerald scarfed down the rest of her bread bun and took out her pocket knife.
Hawkins took a few steps forward, then made a left. He was precariously moving along the edges of the tower, but Emerald figured a strong man like Hawkins wouldn't... Oh dear Oum he really was going to walk off the edge, wasn't he?
"H-Hey!" Emerald snagged the hem of the magician's cloak and pulled back with all her might. She didn't want to be left alone with Tyrion, as Hawkins seemed to be the more reasonable of the two, and she doubted she could make a run for it with how good a tracker Tyrion was.
"W-What's gotten into you?" Emerald whined as Hawkins changed paths. Only to strut towards another precarious overhang.
"Be careful! You'll hurt yourself or die if you fall from this height!"
Hawkins unsheathed his sword and raised it toward the sky. Sweat poured down his face and tears had developed beneath his lids. Whatever the case, Hawkins' mind was not in the now or the world of the living, thus he remained unaware of his physical actions.
"Waaah! Don't hurt me!" Emerald screamed and ducked an incoming swing of steel. She released Hawkins' cloak to cover her head and bit her lip as the magician tumbled over the tower's edge.
The magician, now among Tyrion and those of the Wukong tribe, did not see a pair of cerulean eyes widened to their maximum radius along with a goofy smile that would make any loving parent's heart melt.
"Dad?!" Jaune jumped for joy and ran to his father with tears of happiness streaming down his face, but found his movements impeded when a brown scorpion tail coiled around his waist.
"Uncle Tyrion? Why did you stop me?" Jaune said in a voice full of innocent dismay.
"Hawkins?" Tyrion yelled.
The magician gave no verbal reply and stepped forward. His sword still raised, the orange symbol on his chest transitioned to a hazy purple, then went completely black and transitioned to the shape of a Beowolf skull. When the magician opened his eyes, instead of holding their crimson complexion, they were now black pits devoid of color.
"Those of the Wukong tribe," Tyrion shrugged and presented his weapons, "you might want to flee while you still can. Unless you have some people you'd like to get rid of that is."
"U-Uncle Tyrion, what's going on? Is there something wrong with my dad?" Jaune asked.
"Jaune," Tyrion's voice lacked its usual psychotic enthusiasm. "Be a good lad and seek shelter with the Wukong tribe members will you? Or better yet, find yourself a strong man to hide behind in case you need a meat shield."
"W-What are you-" Jaune didn't get a chance to finish as his father made a sudden leap forward.
His long saber raised, Hawkins would have cut his son in half if it weren't for Tyrion's quick thinking.
"W-Why?!" Jaune bawled and reached out his hands for his father.
/-/
"With prideful swords, we defend our land, from both Grimm and man alike." Hawkins read the inscriptions on the mural slowly.
"That's a promise to the vile beasts and our brethren who dare to spite their fellow people." Giova nodded and crossed her arms. "A shame that this saying has fallen out of favor, as I rarely hear the words recited except from a few individuals. Say, do you have any words you go by?"
Hawkins sighed. "May fortune guide me."
Giova laughed. "Simple and to the point, but I can't say I favor the saying. Fortune favors the bold. That's a better saying isn't it?"
Hawkins rolled his eyes. His gaze focused on the endless halls ahead, he asked where Giova was leading him, and the spirit laughed in response.
"I'm going to give you a peek into what you really need to see-"
A loud thud, echoing from the pathway from which Hawkins came, the magician narrowed his eyes and withdrew his sword.
"Hawkins," Giova's tone lost any semblance of happiness and became the epitome of stern. "Put your sword away, and keep quiet. We need to make it to the end of the hallway, and there's still quite a ways to go."
"Thoom! Thoom! Thoom!"
Whatever was moving in the shadows, was gaining ground and closing the distance. A bead of sweat trickled down the magician's forehead, his heart skipped a beat and his senses were stressed to their peak.
"Hawkins! Run!" Giova yelled and dispersed into a cloud of smoke that flew down the hallway at a breakneck pace.
Hawkins wasted no time and pursued his guide, but as his eyes were focused ahead of him, the tremors and smashing of stone remained audible and were also growing in volume. Nothing, Hawkins could see nothing as the torches on the walls grew dim and the hallways themselves seemed to be shrinking.
"Ack!" Hawkins grunted as his forehead scraped against the ceiling. Were the walls really shrinking?!
Posture hunched and steps shortened, Hawkins refused to glance behind him and only cared for the freedom that lay ahead.
"THOOM! THOOM! THOOM!"
A light, faint but there, glimmered in the distance as the walls closed in. Hawkins could feel it, it was as if the shadows were trying to latch onto him, to slow him down and drag him to wherever death was promised.
Hawkins would not allow this, he squeezed himself through the now narrow path, caring not for the bruises on his arms and shoulders, and when he'd finally reached the light, he held out to it. The light flickered, it sparked in every direction, but would not heed Hawkins' desperation.
The light vanished, and as the darkness encircled him, the noise of dread had now reached its prey.
"Hello."
There was no warmth in the breath that ghosted against the back of Hawkins' neck. Nor was there any heat in the pale hand that rested on his shoulder. Wait-
"There's no need to draw your steel. There isn't much logic in it anyway, for the place you've found yourself in, is now my domain."
The voice that spoke, sounded calm and feminine. It had a refined tune about it, but even though it was clear, it sounded hollow, as if the person speaking wasn't breathing when they talked.
"What happened to Giova?" Hawkins asked. He tried to crane his neck to meet the one who addressed him, but his body felt frozen. Whether this was out of fear or due to some unnatural force was up to debate.
"Why are you worried? Do I frighten you? Do you feel threatened?"
Hawkins shivered at the cold words that were whispered into his ear.
"So much trembling! Are you truly afraid?"
Was Hawkins trembling? If he was he wasn't aware of it. He called forth his devil fruit powers, but the devil within had been chained and rendered useless.
"Let's try a different approach, shall we?"
A sinking feeling worked up from the bottom of Hawkins' boots and when he looked down, he realized that his legs had been submerged in darkness and soon his waist was as well. He tried to free himself, to draw his blade and hack at the shadows that tried to consume him, but this was for naught; for every time that Hawkins's blade swung through the darkness, it cut nothing only moving wisps of blackened haze that had taken the form of lanky ghosts with no face.
"Do you feel your heart beating?"
Hawkins opened his mouth to yell. He called for Giova, but the spirit had long since withered into nothingness.
"Has the despair of your situation finally dawned on you?"
He called for Bastion, but the Arc's voice remained hidden. Tyrion was an option, though the Faunus' raucous laughter was nowhere to be found.
"Stop fighting and embrace the destiny that all mortals must obey."
His vision blurred, Hawkins' senses were leaving him. His swings were careless and wide, and soon he could barely hold up his sword. The darkness had crawled up to his chest, and all he could do was suffer in silence.
"Yes... that's a good boy. Just let me handle the rest and things will be so much better..."
Then it happened. Hawkins didn't know how or why this came to be, but before his ears had gone deaf, a scream pierced the hungry dark depths and lit a flame in his breast.
"STOP IT DAD YOU'RE SCARING ME!"
It happened so fast, too fast for Hawkins to register. The light at the end of the hallway that had been extinguished had rekindled itself with those words. It burned away the darkness and the hand on Hawkins' shoulder and the one who controlled it were forced to retreat.
"Don't think you've gotten rid of me just yet." The voice said coolly, though there were traces of anger as it spoke. "Because no mortal can escape death."
"Haagh!" Hawkins gasped as the light swallowed him. Brought back to the world of the living, his body felt heavy and weak and his mind felt as if it had been put through a blender at high speed. Sweat soaked his face and clothes... as well as... blood?
"Dad! You don't have to hurt these people, they haven't done anything wrong!"
That voice... there was only one boy who had that voice.
"J-Jaune?" Hawkins trembled. He was shaking all over now, and his eyes welled up with tears as he felt his teeth clench. There standing no more than a foot away from him, was his son who stood strong despite his worried visage.
From the top of his forehead to the bottom of his navel, Jaune had suffered a cut that was nearly as deep as the three scars he'd received from his Grimm encounter on Patch.
Hawkins blinked. His eyes back to their radiant crimson, they glanced to the saber in his right hand and followed the droplets of blood that dribbled off its sharp tip. "W-Why...?" Jaune's legs buckled and he fell to his knees. Sight downcast, Jaune continued to cry and his bottled emotions burst in a woeful flood.
"Jaune..." Hawkins dropped his sword and reached out a quivering hand. His heart broke when Jaune flinched away but he continued his pursuit until he had both his arms wrapped around his son.
"Jaune... I'm so sorry... please forgive this foolish idiot of a father..." Hawkins wept and tightened his grip around Jaune until the boy's head was pressed against his grieving chest.
"A-Are you okay now?" Jaune lifted his head and tried to force a smile.
"One-hundred percent."
The two blondes exchanged smiles, and all sadness disappeared when Jaune witnessed the pearly whites of the man he called dad. His father's smile, while it felt a little out of place given the face it was set on was always set in a stoic fashion, was a beautiful smile that was full of warmth and love.
"JARARARARA!"
Hawkins snapped his head to the half-dismantled tower he'd fallen from.
"Well, looks like we've found ourselves quite the bounty boys! And look, most of these suckers have already been put down for us!"
One by one, bandits of the Branwen tribe popped over the ruins with smug faces and loaded weaponry.
"Mad Treasure?" Tyrion grumbled and wiped the blood off his shoulder. He'd suffered the most when Hawkins had broken into a mindless frenzy, but he could still fight if need be. "What is he doing here? Didn't our Goddess give him orders to not leave the southern parts of Vacuo?"
"Let me go!" Came a scream as Mad Treasure continued to laugh.
Hawkins veered his attention to a woman with midnight locks and pale white skin. Her clothes torn and skin bruised, Raven's legs and wrists were coiled in chains with Brick and Vernal sharing her fate.
"Easy now, Raven, otherwise I'll be tempted to kill you. It was a nasty thing you did, running away and all, but I might be willing to forgive you since you've led us to many potential slaves." Mad treasure smirked at the members of the Wukong tribe. He held Raven by her collar and shook her violently.
"Wukongs, to arms!" Doron yelled and reloaded his spear's dust chamber. He'd suffered a few blows to the head, but his mind was still aware enough for an all-out brawl.
"Marcus, make sure to round up the stragglers and load them into wagons. I'll deal with the main threats, so keep an eye on Raven, alright?" Mad Treasure said and dropped Raven on her back.
Mad Treasure jumped down from the tower and landed on the ground level in a heap of dust. Hawkins took up arms immediately and felt his devil fruit manifesting as well. He glanced at Jaune, who gripped his left leg with all his strength.
"I'm not going to lose my son twice..." Hawkins snarled under his breath and ordered Jaune to join his uncle Tyrion.
"Hoh? Do you plan to take me on all by yourself?" Mad Treasure sneered.
Hawkins said nothing and simply stepped forward. Straw sprouting from his limbs, he was soon nearly twelve feet tall with black iron nails for fingers.
"That doesn't look like a regular semblance..." Mad Treasure pondered. "Don't tell me... are you that Hawkins that Monet doesn't shut up about?"
"Tsk, so Ms. Yuki has a bigger mouth than I assumed." Hawkins lamented.
"Jararara! This day couldn't get any better! Not only do I have Raven's semblance to deliver, but I'm sure to get a mountain of gold for offering that snobby hag a devil fruit!" Mad Treasure jeered as chains emerged from his palms and surrounded his entire body.
"I'm taking my son and I'm bringing him home!" Hawkins roared.
"You'll make a wonderful slave, magician!" Mad Treasure cackled.
"Demon face!"
"Mad chain, Gigantea!"