Here we go

Cover Art: GWBrex

Chapter 40

Weiss nodded her head left and right, and the Malachites slowly spread out, taking short steps to flank the man who claimed to be the Dark Lord himself. It was not the first such claim. There had been reincarnations in the past who had played up the angle, claimed Ozma's rebirth, and been proven charlatans at the time of their capture. There had even been those who didn't have magic at all and pretended to for one reason or another. That obviously wasn't the case here, and Weiss watched the three glowing orbs above and around the man's head warily. He was calm – too calm for a man facing three huntresses. It had to be a bluff. It had to be.

Even so, he didn't move, letting Miltia and Melanie get all the way behind him. He stood the centre of a triangle, with Weiss ahead and the twins standing a short distance away from each shoulder. She grasped the handle of Myrtenaster tightly, eyes narrowing at the man who continued to look at her and only her with such a calm and passive expression.

"For the goddess," whispered Weiss. Her aura slammed into place, a glyph formed beneath her feet, and she rocketed forward. Impossible acceleration and speed with her rapier lancing out for his right shoulder in a debilitating but not fatal strike. Take out his sword arm and they could capture him easily and deliver him to Salem.

The tip of her rapier sailed over his shoulder.

Impossible! Weiss had been moving inhumanly fast due to her glyphs and she hadn't even seen him dodge. She was so unprepared for it that she had no way of slowing herself down and would have slammed right into him had he not stepped aside. Their faces brushed past one another as she flew by, hers shocked, his placid. As momentum bled, she came to a stumbling halt on the grass, then panicked as she realised her back was to him and summoned a second glyph to hurl herself recklessly away. The fact he didn't even try to take advantage of the opening, even to send one or all of those burning orbs at her, made the action look panicky and pointless. Breathing heavily, Weiss found herself standing between the twins again, all but negating the point of flanking him in the first place.

"He's fast," said Weiss, half warning, half dumbfounded statement.

The twins answered by charging in, splitting wide again, and looping inward to attack from his left and right at once. Melanie kicked high while Miltia swept her claws low. The man didn't panic at all. His left hand came up and caught Melanie's foot, caught it right at the blade Weiss had seen cut through an Ursa's neck in one swing. His right foot similarly rose, presenting the sole of his boot to block one of Miltia's claws. Before she could recover or strike with the other, he twirled, ripping Melanie off her feet, and bringing her around like a club to strike Miltia and send them both away.

A glyph appeared beneath them to soften their fall, and Weiss was already lunging in again, this time more cautiously. Several white glyphs appeared in the air around the man to restrict his movement and keep him hemmed in. He still had his sword point to the ground, but he brought his left hand up, fingers extended, and he gently pushed her first thrust away with those fingers on the side of her blade, then caught it again on her next thrust and pushed her high. Weiss growled and dragged Myrtenaster back, then thrust at his throat. He was too dangerous now, and they couldn't afford to play around. The man only smiled, and Weiss caught shimmering white on the edge of her vision a mere fraction of a second before her rapier struck something solid in the air. A white glyph – her own; the snowflake emblem and all – had blocked her attack. The tip of her weapon skittered over its surface.

"Impossible," whispered Weiss. You couldn't just take control of someone else's magic. Mimic it, perhaps, but the glyphs were a Schnee family secret and had taken her years to learn.

"You will find, Miss Schnee, that the impossible is merely the improbable. Magic is magic. Did you think yours unique?"

Weiss hauled herself back and cancelled her glyphs – or she tried to. They remained in the air, outside her control, and worse still they rose above the man and linked together. Four formed a square, with another four connecting to the front of it like a long tube. Weiss watched, uncertain and then worried, as one of the glowing white orbs was placed in the back of it. Her glyphs lit up, shook, and the orb began to vibrate. Speed, she noted. The glyphs she'd used to accelerate and move herself faster. But why-?

The answer clicked.

"MOVE!"

She had no idea if the Malachites heard her or not, but Weiss was thankful she'd thrown herself to the left when the orb burst from the glyphs like a shooting star. It was so sudden that the air around it exploded, and a loud bang sounded in her ears. Heat radiated across her body, sucking the air from her lungs, and then it struck the ground behind her. Weiss expected it to explode, but the orb burned through soil and mud and rock and continued unimpeded, cutting a hole into the world with a hiss.

If that hit me, I'd have a fist-sized hole through my body, thought Weiss.

Horrifying.

And he had two more.

"Close in!" shouted Melanie. "Keep him busy!"

Who was in charge here? Technically, Weiss. She followed the order even so, more focused on victory than propriety. Weiss flicked her rapier at his face, feinted and stabbed for his left leg even as Miltia and Melanie attacked from his right and his rear at the same time. The man grunted and hefted his sword at last, stabbed back with the pommel to strike Miltia in the gut, brought it forward to smash Myrtenaster away with an almighty crash, but there was no way for him to stop Melanie. The huntress brought her bladed boots down on his neck with a mighty crash, in a move that would surely cut his head from his body. Their orders had been to take him alive, but the goddess would surely understand.

Or she wouldn't have to, for Melanie's blades scraped across the man's jugular with a sound like metal on solid rock. Sparks flew and blinded Weiss, and the man didn't even budge. He simply tilted his head to Melanie, narrowed his eyes and pushed his free hand into her stomach while she was in the air and unable to move. A sound like air striking air tore through Weiss' ears, and Melanie was sent flying back – literally flying. The huntress spun end over end, limbs flailing, and carried on at least thirty metres before slamming with a nasty crunch into the lodge's wooden walls. The Chosen slumped to the base of the wall and didn't move.

Just like that. One of them had been taken away just like that.

"That's what I get for playing games," said the man – no, said the Dark Lord. Weiss looked up in horror as he ran his hand over his neck, which had not even a graze. "It's been so long since I had the sense of mind, let alone the freedom, and I let it go to my head." He chuckled. "How very amateur. I apologise, Jaune. I'll wrap this up now."

Weiss' eyes bulged out. She made to shout – what, she wasn't sure; a warning, maybe? – but there was no time. The two remaining orbs speared out and assaulted Miltia, circling her and smashing into both her claws. The metal exploded, melted in places and just vaporised in others. As she reeled back in shock, the dark lord appeared before her and delivered a devastating kick to her chest. Miltia's aura shattered on impact, literally going from full to empty, and she was thrown back to crumple on the floor, still and silent.

There was no time to think or plan. Only act. Weiss lunged for his back while he was turned away, only for him to swing his sword behind him without looking and parry her rapier away. He turned with it, idly batting a close-range glyph out the air before it had even fully formed. The white symbols shattered like mist. He looked down on her, and Weiss felt fear – raw and ugly – for the first time in so long. In her panic, she stabbed at his chest, forgetting for a moment his aura. Her rapier pushed against the impenetrable barrier and bent downward, like the foils she used in training would when hitting an opponent. They were made to be willowy and flexible, but the dark lord was immovable, and she had attacked too brazenly. Myrtenaster bent, flexed, and then snapped with a horrible sound and a vision of whirling silver. Followed by pain, bright lights, and red across her vision. Weiss felt, screaming, clutching at her left eye, and feeling blood run between her fingers.

"Passable," said the monster above her, walking toward her body. Weiss kicked with her legs and tried to crawl away, but his long strides brought him over her. His right hand came down, glowing faintly and simmering with heat. "You have talent, Miss Schnee, but Salem was never one to share power. Your education has been stunted."

"No!" cried Weiss. "Please!"

"Worry not. This will hurt for only a moment."

Weiss sobbed blood as fear overwhelmed her, robbing her of consciousness a mere second before his flaming fingers touched her face, and skin bubbled and burned. It was, she thought in her last moment, probably a mercy.

/-/

Jaune watched, distantly, as his body was used to trace a finger over the girl's face and cauterise the wound down through her left eye. It was bloody and raw, and darker now for being burned shut, potentially saving her life. He was surprised, not only at how easy the fight had been, but at the fact Ozma hadn't chosen to kill her.

"My enemy is Salem," said Ozma, hearing his thoughts in their head. "You humans have always been… victims of a sort. Innocents dragged into our conflict. How can I hate someone who has been taught their whole lives to see me as evil? Courage is courage, even if it must stand against me. I am giving you back control now. I advise you retreat."

Jaune felt his mind seep back into his limbs and breathed out harshly. The suddenness of having weight, and having to hold himself up, made him stumble a little, but he caught himself on his sword. The air was cold, still, and the lodge was silent. There were Corps on the walls, but they didn't dare come out. The Chosen had been bested, and they knew they had no hope of defeating him. Or Ozma, anyway.

"Jaune?" called Nora. There was an uncertain quality to her voice that wasn't misplaced. "Is that you?"

"It's me." He stepped away from Weiss Schnee's body and toward Nora, sheathing his sword as he went. "Is Ren-?"

"Alive. Unconscious, but alive." She looked past him. "Is the Schnee-?"

"The same."

Nora bit her lip.

Jaune beat her to it. "We're not killing her."

"But Ren-"

"It was Ren's obsession for harming her that led him to this. He's lucky to be alive. Killing her won't change or fix anything, and I'm not going to reinforce the idea in Ren's head that this was a good idea." He paused. "Are you?"

"I guess not." Nora sighed and hooked her arms under his shoulders. Sun was loping up, having found his confidence now the Chosen were dealt with. He took Ren's legs, and between the two of them they carried him away.

Jaune looked back one last time, to the quiet soldiers, the lodge and the three Chosen of Salem that lay strewn across the battlefield. He hadn't taken down the walls as planned, but he imagined this would be message enough to the people of Mistral.

"Worse," said Ozma. "It is proof enough you are waging war on Salem. I am sorry, Jaune."

It wasn't even his fault this time. Ren had run in, and Jaune had wanted to save him, and everything Ozma did after that was measured and even diplomatic by comparison. He could have used his freedom to slaughter the huntresses and kill everyone in the Lodge. He had a feeling it wouldn't make a difference from the point of view of the Church of Salem. He had chosen his side, and he had fought it. Everything else would be history repeating itself. Like it or not, he was the Dark Lord now, and Salem would hunt him to the ends of Remnant.

/-/

Neptune had been in a foul mood once they got back, and Sun explained the situation. He was angriest at Ren for having put his people in danger, but unable to take that anger out on someone unconscious and who had their eyes cut through, so he defaulted to Nora and Jaune instead, telling them to "stick to the plan" next time and not risk people's lives for personal feelings. Jaune accepted it even if he wasn't truly at fault, and Nora looked even more chastened.

Naturally, a ship out on the open ocean for days or weeks at a time needed its own doctor, and the ship's doctor was able to look at Ren and clean his eyes, then peel them open. He hissed when he did, cleaning them again an applying bandages about the man's face. Nora looked haggard, watching from a seat with her face in her hands as if it were all somehow her fault.

"How bad is it?" asked Jaune.

"He will never be able to see again," said the doctor. Jaune winced, and Nora choked off a sob. "The blade cut right across his face and through both eyes. Even had I better tools, I doubt there is anything I could do to save his sight. He will be blind."

"Oh Renny," whispered Nora.

"It's not your fault." He meant it as a kindness, and hoped it came out as such, but to even say it was to make clear this was Ren's own fault, and that felt even crueller. He turned back to the doctor. "Will he sleep for a while?"

"I will keep him under. You should both rest. I expect he will not be in his right mind when he does wake, and he will need familiar people with him." Under his breath, the man muttered, "An Ren is going to be livid. What was the boy thinking, charging a huntress like that?"

He was thinking he could end the war, which wasn't going to happen. Even had he killed the girl, it was her mother and her family who ruled Mistral. All he'd do was make them crack down twice as hard.

"Rage blinds men," said Ozma. "Which I realise is a poor choice of words in the given situation."

Jaune withheld his macabre smile; it would only upset Nora. His own sense of humour must have been getting darker, or perhaps it was just that kind of mood he was in. What were they going to do with Ren, however? The best he could think of would be to leave him on the ship and continue as normal.

"There may yet be an option."

Oh?

"His eyes cannot be replaced or repaired but he might learn to compensate for them in other ways."

Did he mean through hearing? Jaune had heard of disabled people who adapted in other ways, but he'd never been sure if that was a real skill or if they just weren't learning to pay more attention to their other senses after losing one.

"I don't refer to natural senses. It is possible, with training, to see the world through magical energies. It is not easy, but it is possible."

That was all well and good if it was him who was blinded, but it was Ren. He didn't have aura, nor magic. It was only in women, and only in those who had it showing naturally, and who were picked up by the Chosen for education and training.

Ozma chuckled inside his head. "Not entirely true. Salem has allowed that falsehood to perpetuate because I only ever reincarnate into male hosts. Therefore, convincing the world that men cannot use magic makes it easier for them to hunt me down."

Jaune stilled. Men could learn to use aura as well?

"Anyone can. It is not limited to those who show a natural inclination for the skill. They will simply grasp it easier and often have greater amounts of aura. In truth, aura is a muscle that can be trained just like any other. Salem prefers that humanity be weak, however, which is why the Church only cares for those who would begin to show it with or without their instruction. Naturally, any men who should show instinctive aura are hunted down as possible incarnations of me and kept locked away. That is why you do not hear of more cases."

He could train Ren in aura, then? Jaune posed the question.

"I could, given time, but the question is whether I should. The investment on my part is not insignificant, and utilising it requires further training that will take time to master. In the past, before I was driven mad, I only taught those who would swear their loyalty to me. I gave them magic and the knowledge to use it; in return, they assisted and served me. A fair exchange of services. I might be tempted to offer him the same, but not for nothing. Investing in someone who will leave us at the first opportunity to pursue his own vengeance would be… unwise… both for us, and for him. Simply having aura will not help him face enemies of their calibre." He chuckled, and added, "Do not look at how easily I dealt with those three and believe that representative of their strength. They would have bested anyone else."

He believed it. Those three had been fast and deadly, and even he'd struggled to keep up with the speeds Ozma moved his body – or the ways he used aura to strengthen limbs to hit harder, react quicker and take what should have been lethal damage. Jaune had thought he was learning fast but seeing that showed him just how much further he had to go. It would be the same for Ren, making the training pointless if he didn't stay with them to complete it.

Would Ren agree to swear himself to them instead of the rebellion, however? He probably wouldn't have before, but if Jaune and Ozma were staying to see it through then after the fact, in theory, Ren would be free to pursue his own goals. Nora, too. If Ozma could train a man to use aura, then he should have no problem training a woman.

But having them swear loyalty to him felt like he was stepping further and further toward building an army. It was less running away and hiding, and more building forces and preparing. Ozma could make that as subtle as he liked, but Jaune wasn't stupid.

"I have never thought you as such. But, and I mean this kindly, you may not have a choice. Salem will not simply let us go and the Church has our scent now. We have fought their Chosen, attacked their fortifications and – as far as they will see it – declared war on their people. You may not want war, and you may not care for taking the fight to Salem, but she will bring it to you regardless of your wishes. It is better, surely, to be prepared…"

He would say that, wouldn't he? He would make it sound so reasonable, so obvious, when it fit his purposes fully. Jaune looked down on Ren, as the doctor worked on his ruined eyes, and closed his own. Manipulation or not, there really wasn't any arguing with what Ozma had said. He was hunted, and that wasn't going to change. He could pretend all he liked, but this was a war, and he was on the opposite side to most everyone on Remnant. Pretending, running away, hiding…

None of it would change the fact.

"Tell me when Ren wakes," said Jaune, turning away. He knew Nora wouldn't leave his side. "Tell him I may have a way to save his eyesight, but that he should rest and eat before talking to me. I'll be in my cabin."

Bit shorter as I am little busy today. It was fireworks night last night, and there are a bunch of discarded fireworks in the horse's fields that I need to go clean up. Most of the horses are used to it all, but there's a foal who was losing his shit last night. Meanwhile, my dog didn't even seem to notice. Her ears didn't even perk up when fireworks went off.

Next Chapter: 13th November

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