I allow myself to sleep in for the first time in a while, only eventually opening my eyes at the crack of 11:45 when I accidentally roll myself onto the floor. I briefly consider the merits of going back to sleep when-
"Oh, Twin Gods, finally," Arnaut moans, nudging me with an ethereal foot despite it passing through me. "Get up, you lazy degenerate. Half the blasted day's gone already."
"Nuhhh…" I cover my head with my hands, protesting for a few more precious seconds before finally giving in to the reality that I won't be falling back asleep. I clamber my way up and out from underneath the covers, mildly amused by the way Arnaut immediately turns himself around, apparently embarrassed by me being in my underwear.
It takes me a few seconds to swap out for a new compression bra and underwear, throw my least-damaged pants, t-shirt, and socks on, then swing my coat on over it all. Sword over one shoulder, backpack over the other, and I'm ready for another epic day of hiking through badlands and desert while dodging Grimm and trying to ignore Arnaut.
Checking out at a small inn like this consists of tossing your key back behind the desk, so I'm back out on the street by 12:00 sharp. It takes me a few seconds to remember what I had been intending to do, but it comes to me eventually: "Oi, Arnaut, remember when you said I could have free run of your personal bank account?"
"No," he denies, refusing to meet my eyes for several seconds, until- "Fine, yes, I do. I assume you want directions to the bank? Head directly right until 34th Street, then take a left and keep going to when you reach…"
As I stroll along the sidewalk, I keep myself wary, at least for the first few minutes of walking. Part of that means checking my surroundings, so I can't help but note what the news channel on the scrolls of several people around me is currently showing: a warning about possible Grimm inside the city, based on 3 corpses found with wounds inflicted by Grimm claws.
Oops, I think, but let myself smile. If the conclusion really was that a Grimm did it, then I've essentially gotten off scot-free and am unlikely to even have to lay low or anything.
My smile fades when I hear the garbled audio of an interview and turn my eyes across the street through a window to a TV screen in someone's room and see the bouncer from last night talking to a reporter: "I swear, it was this… Grimm… person… thing, with a big sword. It walked right past me, didn't even try to attack me or nothing, even though it had these nasty claws and an absolute monster of a sword."
"Right," the reporter responds. "And what-"
"I swear, the thing had to be like three meters long, at least." The man spreads his arms wide to further reinforce just how large the aforementioned sword really was.
"And what about the person carrying it? You mentioned a humanoid Grimm?"
"Yeah, it was like a person, but with horns? And claws, and scales-"
"So a Faunus?"
"Yeah, but, like, cooler." The Faunus reporter is unamused. "And did I mention the massive fuckin sword?"
I swallow, suddenly quite aware of how soon the sword's going to become a gigantic flashing neon sign broadcasting who I am to everything in the vicinity. Assuming the story just aired, the more time passes the more people who watched it at home or on their scrolls are going to be out and about and, more importantly, recognizing me.
"I should've killed him when I had the chance."
"I…" Arnaut starts to say something, but trails off. A few more minutes of silent walking pass, and then he tries again: "Why do you work as a criminal?"
I snort. "Knew it was coming; doesn't make it any less dumb. Look, you can save the whole 'you'd make a great Huntress, come the light' spiel for someone a lot less cynical than me, alright?"
"You'd make a terrible Huntress," Arnaut corrects.
"Ouch."
"-But you also make a terrible criminal," he continues. "Why would you go out of your way to kill those three men last night?"
"Because you offered me twenty thousand credits for it," I reply, maybe a little bit too quickly. "And in case you haven't noticed, killing people in exchange for money is kind of my whole shtick."
"Hmph." I can tell he isn't convinced, but he lets the matter drop until we arrive at the bank. It's a massive, spacious one, the most annoying type to rob because you can never guard all the exits and keep an eye on everyone at once.
"This is technically my first time actually using a bank the way it's supposed to be used," I admit, pausing just to the side of the door. "Mind explaining what I'm doing here?"
He walks me through using the electronic teller, even giving me the necessary confirmation codes, and watches as I clean out his bank account and pocket the money. I sneak a few glances at him during the process, but he apparently makes no attempt to screw me over, because nothing raises any red flags and I walk out of the bank twenty thousand Lien richer. It's the honor, I realize. He's too proud to break any deals he makes with me, which could be useful later.
"You're lying, by the way," Arnaut notes conversationally as I tread a path towards one of Luskhan's many weapons brokers. I opt not to respond, but he continues regardless: "You were midway through sealing the door when I first offered the money. You didn't kill those men just because of the reward."
"Thanks, detective," I mutter. "Fine. I did it because they saw the sword and ID'd it as yours, which would've meant I'd have to ditch it just in case they told the wrong people. To be honest, I'm kind of attached to Autumn Rapture-"
"Aureum Rupti," Arnaut corrects, irked by my mistake.
"-Whatever it's called, so I'm not getting rid of it just to leave those assholes alive. Happy?"
Arnaut doesn't respond, leaving me feeling strangely uneasy for some reason as I cross the street and enter what appears to be a nondescript clothing store. Appearances can be deceiving. The cashier is doing his best to subtly case me with his eyes, so I flash my scroll with the blazing torch insignia to the him and he nods silently to me.
"What is that? You've shown it to two different people now."
"Use your powers of basic observation and inference, maybe?"
"Humor me. I'm not as… in touch with the criminal underworld as you are."
"It's an insignia for my allegiance," I sigh. "It's… think of it as a guarantee for my good behavior, and that I won't go running my mouth and bring swarms of Huntsmen down on the place."
"Whose guarantee?"
"Roman Torchwick's. Now it's your turn: What kind of ammunition does your cannon take?"
"Thirty millimeter Dust rounds. They come in burst, beam, or energy."
"You have Thirty millimeter Dust rounds?" I ask the cashier, getting another silent nod in return for my trouble. "Preferably beam, but energy works as well." The man disappears beneath the counter, and I whistle quietly as my attention turns back to Arnaut: "Thirty millimeter? Isn't that usually for mounted anti-Grimm cannons? How many can Aardvark Rapper-"
"Aureum Rupti." It was on purpose that time, and I stifle a grin at his annoyance.
"Whatever, how many rounds can it hold at once?"
"One," he responds.
I sigh. "Do you see how there might be a problem if you have to fully reload your gun after every single shot?"
"How many guns can blast an Ursa out of existence with that one shot?"
The cashier stands back up and finally speaks- "We've got energy and burst."
"I'll take energy."
"Lightning, Burn, Gravity, Ice, or Sonic?"
"Give me… I don't know, three of each? And throw in a bag for me to keep them in."
The cashier finally gives me a reaction- a raised eyebrow. "Five hundred Lien."
I pay him without another word, take the bag of rounds and shove them into my backpack, then leave the store, heading to another one nearby. This one's just a regular old convenience store, and I buy six sealed meal packs and shove them into my backpack without even needing to say a word.
That's the money, ammunition, and food taken care of, I count off on my fingers, Which leaves… right, how could I forget.
It's another decently long walk to the next place on my mental list, and midway there, Arnaut breaks his silence once more: "You left the bartender, Spider, and bouncer at the bar alive."
"Your point?"
"You said you killed Clint and his comrades because they knew about the sword. So did the barkeep, the Spider, and the bouncer, but you let them live." Arnaut's entirely too smug about this. "That's another lie, then."
"Fine. I killed Clint because he insulted me and it hurt my pride," I spit. "He pissed me off, so I killed him- that's how criminals work, no?"
Arnaut doesn't reply.
Eventually I reach my destination- an actual clothing store, Roman's favorite spot in Vacuo for outfit-related purposes. I've been here three times before (one for each of the three times Roman went after jobs in Vacuo and took me with him) and each time I was the… I guess third wheel would be the best term to describe how I may as well not have been there compared to how well Roman and Neo got along with the shopowner. They practically live and breath clothing and appearances, myself… not so much.
Nevertheless, my memories of the place and its owner are all positive, and a few of the warmer ones come back to me as I step under the shop's awning (which reads Stingers and Stitches), open the door, and wave to the proprietor, a friendly old scorpion Faunus. "Long time no see, Sekhma."
"Dragon girl?" She shuffles forward, squinting at me. "It is you. Still wearing that old coat, hmm?" Her accent suggests she's from eastern Mistral, but I don't have a clue why she's set up in this dark little corner of Vacuo. Never asked.
"Yep," I answer, leaning back up against the counter as she comes around it to look me over. "How's Luskhan been treating you?"
"No culture," she sighs. "Your boss and little girlfriend are the only customers I've had since moving here with even the faintest appreciation for good tailoring. Yourself included," she adds, gesturing vaguely from my feet to my head. "You do not wear a grey coat with grey hair, girl, and certainly not dark grey pants and a light grey shirt underneath. And-" she makes a noise of disgust- "You break from awful grey theme, only to add on brown boots? Terrible."
"The coat's non-negotiable," I say firmly. "The rest… I don't know, I guess I'll defer to your superior fashion sense."
"Ah," she says, a glint in her purple eyes. "You're replacing it all?"
"No, I just want it repaired…" I trail off at the uncompromising look in her eyes. "Fine, I guess I could probably use some new clothes."
"And the boots?" She eyes them with a nearly feral expression.
"Sure, the boots too," I sigh. "I'm going to be here all day, aren't I?"
"Tut tut, sacrifices must be made in name of not looking like a hobo," Sekhma chides, lightly pushing me repeatedly until I step back and drop onto a stool at the center of her shop. She hesitates briefly. "The coat. I can patch it up, yes?"
I bite my lip, then look down at where the sleeve has a hole torn in it. "…Alright. Just…"
She looks at me, understanding in a way most people don't. "Don't worry, girl, the soul will remain." The tip of her tail pushes up against a spot in the forearm where the cloth has frayed to the point of showing my scales underneath. "The holes will not."
And then she whisks off in a whirlwind of rulers, threads, and questions, using her tail as a third limb to help her work faster. With the coat off, she measures my width in seven different ways and my height in nine, always with a comment- "You need to eat more, dragon girl" about whatever it is she's looking at. She even checks the texture on my scales- "Hmm, not too rough"- and measures both my tail and my horns.
I check on Arnaut with a quick glance, finding him conked out in one of the armchairs, but get dragged back into Sekhma's storm of measurements and questions. "Still playing with fire, dragon girl?"
"Yeah. Plus lightning, ice, and gravity. Oh, and sound now, too," I respond, remembering the rounds I just bought.
"Hmm." She purses her lips, then suggests "You'd look dashing in gold. Like elder of the twin dragons, gods of light and darkness." She gestures towards my head of messy, unkempt grey hair, which is neither particularly light nor dark. "Would match the streak of dye."
"Excuse me?"
Sekhma frowns. "The gold streak in your hair, girl."
"I have no clue what you're talking about," I respond, but already have a sinking feeling in my gut. That feeling is promoted to full-on horror when she snatches a mirror and shows me the single lock just above my right eye that's gone a bright golden color, just... like...
No way Arnaut fucked up my hair, too, I think, snapping my gaze over to him. Did he not tell me about this for days to spite me, or...?
Fuck it. I shake my head and turn my attention back to Sekhma: "No, thank you. Is there another choice?"
"So picky," she sighs. "If you insist on ignoring the best choice, then white, red and black are only other choices that do not induce nausea when seen with grey. Grey, of all colors, why?" The last bit is muttered under her breath before she turns to face me. "Well?"
"Red and black are fine."
After a few more questions she disappears into the back of the shop, so I wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
I despise being left alone with my thoughts like this. When I'm traveling at least I feel like I'm in motion, getting something done, but at times where there's nothing to think about, nothing to distract, inevitably I find my attention drifting to the memories I'd rather I didn't even have.
So instead, I grab one of the mannequins placed along the back wall of the shop, tow it out to around the center of the room, and practice kicks. I start out easy- simple side kicks, alternating my left and right legs, always stopping myself just before the moment of impact. Once I really work up a pace, the wind from my blows is enough to slightly rattle the wooden mannequin in its place.
When my legs get tired, I move on to hands, and when my hands get tired, I move back to legs. Roundhouse kicks, standing kicks, sweep kicks, uppercuts, jabs, haymakers, I run through it all and then back again, thinking of the lessons Roman ran me through, and then when he had nothing more for me in hand-to-hand, the lessons I learned from hours spent watching Huntsman duels and combat footage.
A few hours pass, but I keep going, more and more focused on the attacks. It's been a while since I really got to hard training, so my legs and arms go from simple lactic acid burning to a hollow soreness that slows me down, until I finally stop, panting hard and bending over at the waist.
"Aww, are you finished already?" I turn to see Arnaut fully conscious and watching me- When did he wake up?
"Too sore," I say between breaths, collapsing back into a chair.
"Pain is just weakness leaving the body," Arnaut recites, probably just to spite me. "You can't have worked that hard, you're not even sweating." He frowns. "Do you even sweat? Do the scales make you cold-blooded, or…?"
I shrug. "Don't know about the cold-blooded thing, but I've never been able to sweat."
"Huh. I've been meaning to ask: what kind of Faunus are you?" Arnaut gestures vaguely at my body. "What animal has horns and scales?"
"Some from mom, some from dad." I don't know that for a fact, but it's what I've assumed, and I'm not willing to spend time thinking about my parents. Doing so would require me to go trawling through some memories that the whole point of my workout was to avoid.
Out of options, I decide to take out my scroll and check the local news. And by local news, I suppose I mean the only news now that long-distance communications are down.
To my delight, it appears that my triple homicide is no longer being talked about. All it took was a few hours for the city's anchors to go right along back to their personality pieces and feel-good stories (despite those being few and far between in Luskhan). In fact, there's almost nothing of substance for them to talk about at all, because with each region relatively isolated, Grimm attacks being too common to really report on, and the major dueling leagues shut down, there's nothing left to present to people. The boring, stretched-out opinion pieces and articles are honestly less interesting than the wall behind me, so I turn my scroll off and pocket it once more.
With a heavy sigh, I roll my shoulders and opt to just informally stretch my arms and neck in my seat instead of getting out of it to do the proper exercises. It'll mean more soreness tomorrow, but the way I look at it, that's future me's problem. And future me is an asshole, she deserves it.
There's another silent stretch as I pull first my right arm across my chest, then the left, until-
"You don't have pride or honor," Arnaut finally says to me, reopening the conversation he's been bringing up all day. "You let this Sekhma woman talk down to you, you pretended to be a Shade dropout in order to kill me, and you've already lied to me several times today."
"I don't see where you're going with this."
"I've known people, friends and enemies both, with pride- occasionally too much-"
I interrupt him with a cough and an extremely pointed look.
"-Myself perhaps included, but that's beside the point. If you had a warrior's pride, you wouldn't stoop to lying and cheating your way through fights, and you certainly wouldn't feign weakness or allow people to casually talk down to you. You did not kill Clint simply because he insulted you."
"Your powers of deduction never cease to amaze," I sigh, feigning boredom and disinterest in the conversation. "So how about this, detective: why don't you tell me why I do the things I do, if you've got me so figured out. Hit me with it, why did I kill Clint?"
Arnaut tilts his head. "I have no idea."
"Well if that isn't the most productive conversation I've ever had," I respond, clapping my hands together in front of me to effectively close the line of inquiry for good. "If you're going to give me any more speeches in the future, I'd prefer they actually have a point to them."
Arnaut is saved from responding to that by the door slamming open to reveal Sekhma walking back through it, her tail wrapped around the handle of a cart that contains all the clothing she's come up with over the last several hours. She pauses for a few seconds, staring at me, and I sheepishly rise from my seat to pull her mannequins back to their starting positions, then slink back to the stool.
Her tail spins the cart and pulls it around her body until it's directly in front of me, folded shirts, skirts, and my coat all placed delicately on top. "Tops and skirts are all fitted the same. Pick two and get yourself out of those… rags," she orders.
I nod, take the nearest two options- a dark reddish shortsleeve top and black pleated skirt- and step into a changing room to throw them on. They're a near-perfect fit, despite showing more of my midriff than I'm entirely comfortable with. Before I can step back out, I feel two balled pieces of cloth bounce off my head with perfect accuracy, followed by Sekhma's voice: "Leggings as well, girl."
I begrudgingly oblige, rolling the black things up past my knees. When I step back out, Sekhma grins wide and turns her finger in a circle, so I oblige and rotate for her.
"…Acceptable," she finally decrees, but her eyes hold a far more positive sparkle than her voice. "You are satisfied, yes?"
"Yeah."
"Good." In the blink of an eye she snatches the old grey clothes out of my hands with her tail and the rest of my old clothing out from my bag with her hands, holding it as far from her body as she can while rushing to her workroom. Before I can gather my wits enough to say anything, a flare of red-orange light and the sound of Burn Dust trail out from the doorway. When she exits the room, her hands are empty and there's a tiny bit of ash on her shoes.
"Did you just…"
"Burn the abominations? Yes."
I open my mouth to deliver an outraged response but close it just as quickly. Eh, I reason, I was planning on getting rid of them anyway. Trekking through the Vacuo desert with only a backpack means prioritizing space, and three sets of clothes is pretty much the maximum.
Sekhma has already moved on to the new boots, dark grey with black buckles along the front. There's a plate of lighter grey polymer covering the bottom of the boot, and two more in front of my toes and heel, which appear to be connected at a circular hinge of some sort. "What's-"
"Roman told me of your Semblance, dragon girl," Sekhma answers before I can ask. "Press button on the inside of your leg."
I see the thing she's mentioning and activate it, only to see the boot widen slightly and the polymer plates rotating back and up to open up gaps at the front and back of the shoe. I realize what it's for- when I go too far into the Grimm, my claws can lengthen and tear up the fronts and backs of my shoes. This is to prevent that.
When I slip them on, I can feel my Aura run through them and grin- I've gone through too many pairs of shoes because they can't handle the wear and tear of Aura-amplified activity. These are like Huntsman weapons, a conduit for my Aura, so they should actually get stronger when I send my Aura to my feet. "For your arms as well," she adds, presenting me with a pair of fingerless gloves that have plates of the same polymer on the back of the hands. I pull them on one after another and if possible my grin widens further- more Aura conduits.
"Thanks, Sekhma."
She takes a second or two to preen before moving on to the coat. I throw it on slower than the rest, but once I finish and take a look in the mirror, the slight dread fades away. It's the same coat that's been with me even longer than Roman has, but now the sleeves and waist that were getting too tight for me have been lengthened and widened, the extra area made up for by thin red lines of new fabric running up the sides of my body and arms. Where it had ended at just below my thighs before, now it falls to just past my knees, opening in an upside-down V in both front and back.
Huh. She's added a hood to it, which I experimentally pull over my head and delightedly realize has gaps fitting my horns.
I've never been one to care about appearances, but something about having my ratty old coat revitalized like this has me a bit mesmerized. It's a decent while before Sekhma finally breaks me out of my reverie with a nudge from her tail: "Two more things, dragon girl." I turn to see her holding Arnaut's sheath.
Before I can ask why or how she modified it, she picks up Arnaut's sword and lowers it directly down onto the sheath. Before the two touch, the sheath clicks and then the side facing outward splits apart, opening like a door to allow the sword to be laid within before closing down onto it. "Was obviously made for Golden Guardian- his arms are longer."
I've always had fairly long limbs for my height, but Arnaut's still a foot taller than me. His everything is bigger. Trying to get the five-foot blade into the sheath in the conventional way has been an absolute chore both times I've had to do it so far, so Sekhma's favor has helped me more than she'll know. "Thanks." A thought occurs- "Wait, you know that I killed-"
Sekhma gives me a dry look, and tilts her head to the painfully obvious sword. "I will not mourn such a crime against fashion, though you should be careful. He was greatly beloved here." She then reaches behind herself. "Finally, these as well, dragon girl," she says, tossing me a pair of grey polymer headphones.
I catch them and frown- on the rounds sides of the earpieces, a symbol is emblazoned- a maw of sharp grey teeth opened wide, tips stained red. It's my symbol in the Syndicate. "How did-"
"That is your emblem, no?" Sekhma asks. "Every Huntress needs one."
"I'm not-"
"I know you are not," she snaps. "I am old, not stupid, dragon girl. But Sound Dust will ruin your ears without those, and to have a simple circle of plastic would look hideous. So, I improvise."
Right. I accept them and place them around my neck, inside the lowered hood, taking one last glance into the mirror while only paying half-attention to my question: "So… how much?"
"One thousand Lien," she replies smoothly. So smoothly that it's a few seconds before the number actually registers in my head and I whip my gaze over to her.
"What?"
"One thousand Lien," she repeats, the picture of smiling sincerity.
A normal outfit of used clothing is ten Lien. "That's highway robbery."
"Nine hundred and eighty," she amends. "Two percent discount for a returning customer."
"But…"
"My outfits were usually around five hundred," Arnaut adds.
"That's because they had more gold than the Atlas national treasury," I reply, drawing a confused look from Sekhma. "Sorry, sorry. I…" From the job and Arnaut's bank account, I'm sitting on a ridiculous pile of cash right now, so I'm inclined to just pay up. But at the same time, I've never shaken the habits of avoiding frivolous spending that early life on the streets taught me, so the thought of blowing that much cash on clothing is painful to me.
I look once again in the mirror and reconsider. When I put what she's done in context- fixing issues I've run across with ammo storage, breaking my clothing, and pre-emptively solving problems I might have with Sound Dust- I can think about it more as an investment in quality of life. Yeah, that's… better. So despite my internal screaming at throwing away this much money on clothes, I hand over what she's asked and shove my hands in the new outside pockets of my coat. "Alright. One more time: thanks, Sekhma, really."
"You do not need to thank someone you've paid, dragon girl," she says with a grin. "But… it was a pleasure. Do come again soon, and bring Roman and ice cream girl next time."
I step out the shop door and check the time on my scroll. 8:17. Looking at my map, the next destination I can reach is a city- well, calling it a city is generous, it's more of a… pit stop. It's the last real bastion of "civilization" (although that's a pretty loose term in Vacuo) before the desert gives way to the badlands that stretch over a good third of the continent of Sanus. If I really burn it, I can probably cover the distance by 1:00, which would mean-
My scroll buzzes and I pull it out to see 'Breaking News: Arnaut 'The Golden Guardian' Silvas Confirmed Dead in Terrawyrm Attack.'
Well, fuck. I'd hoped the lack of city-to-city communications would keep the story from following me, but someone evidently brought the news here. I need to get out of the city soon- I don't know how Luskhan as a whole will react to Arnaut's death, but I'm not willing to bet that they're going to be friendly to the guy carrying his sword. Just in case it helps, I activate the button near the hilt that folds the handle back in two places to turn it into a stock.
Great, now I'm just carrying a suspiciously large, sword-shaped rifle. Nothing to see here.
If I leave the city quickly enough, I can maybe-
The howl of a siren splits the air and I groan, slumping back against the nearest wall. Grimm attack, I moan in my head, now of all times? Luskhan's already a magnet for Grimm, and I guess the news about Arnaut was enough to tip it over the edge.
It doesn't much matter why the attack's coming, because I'm now trapped in the city until it ends. At which point I'll probably have to deal with at least a few gung-ho types who've seen the triple homicide story, heard about Arnaut, and put two and two together when they see me. Son of a bitch.
I blast Aura through my new boots and vault up onto a rooftop, taking a look around to observe the phenomenon I'd noticed the last time I waited out a Grimm attack in Luskhan- criminals, citizens, guardsmen and the occasional Huntsman alike all rushing to the walls in order to defend their city. The massive ten-meter gates slowly close with the straining of hydraulics while Dust Cannons warm up on the wall, people taking positions in the aiming consoles.
"Are you planning to help?" Arnaut asks from behind me.
I hadn't been planning to, but… "Sure, why not," I say with a grin. If I'm at the wall when the Grimm attack ends, I'm set up to leave immediately and can probably avoid unwanted attention that way. Plus, this is a good way to see how Sekhma's work fares in a real fight.
The way up the wall is staircases set into it every hundred meters or so. I pick the closest one and sprint towards it, quickly getting lost in the throng of people running both towards and away from the danger, up past a floor of guard barracks, a floor of weapon storage, then three floors of passages that are gradually being filled with people brandishing a variety of rifles, pistols, and whatever else they can use to blast the Grimm through small slits carved into the wall.
Then I'm out on top of the wall itself, taking a brief moment to scan and see that it's mostly Huntsmen and guardsmen at this height; people trained to deal with Grimm specifically.
Then my attention is all but ripped from them by the unearthly sound streaming from my right- a cacophony of howls, chitters, hisses, along with the the sand being pounded into by thousands of creatures as they rush at the wall.
When I see them emerging from the dark desert night, I almost bolt then and there. The Grimm are like a wave of black, blotting out my vision of the sand itself as they sweep forward as a horde. The fastest and smallest are out front, Beowolves, Creeps, and a few especially speedy Griffons, but those can be dealt with relatively easily. The real threat is behind them- Deathstalkers, Ursi, Nevermores, and some other massive elephant things I've never seen before. Slower than the harbingers, but far, far more deadly.
I hear the muted but intense thrum of a Dust Cannon firing to my left and watch as a beam of red energy vaporizes the furthest-forward Ursa entirely. That seems to break the unspoken hesitancy to fire for the defenders, because the first shot is followed by a sequence of other Dust Cannons firing and a massive barrage of smaller-arms fire from all across the wall. The quickest (read: furthest-forward) Beowolves and Creeps are obliterated by focused fire ripping them to shreds, but with the outliers eliminated and the main body of Grimm approaching one massive black mass, target selection goes out the window.
At these distances, without concentrating on single targets, most of the Dust rounds don't inflict enough damage to harm even the smaller Grimm, much less their larger brethren. I'm honestly feeling extremely useless at the moment, given that I've never been one to carry ranged weapons- a decision I'm coming to regret. As much time as I've spent training in martial arts, I'm useless with a rifle, which is why I didn't bother grabbing one out of the armory as I ascended to the wall's top.
Thankfully, that will be irrelevant in a moment, because the airborne Grimm are about to make it to the wall. The Griffons crash against the defenders and we're now on our own, as the Dust Cannons can't rotate far enough to target things next to them and the riflemen in the lower floors obviously can't shoot straight up through the roof. I quickly understand the game here- it's the Huntsmen's job to defend the Dust Cannons, which are our only hope to take out the larger Grimm rapidly approaching.
I watch a Huntsman beside me wielding a halberd turn it and fire the tip like a harpoon, hitting a Griffon and reeling it down into melee range where the the axe portion is used to decapitate it. Another older Huntsman is perched atop the Dust Cannon and dual-wields two hand cannons that fire burst Dust rounds. Griffon seem to especially target him, maybe because of the turret, but the shotgun nature of the burst rounds causes any that get too close to be blasted into oblivion.
My attention is yanked back to my own task at hand when a Griffon trains its beady eyes on me and goes into a dive with talons outstretched. I've never specifically trained to fight Grimm, but a side effect of watching combat footage from professional Huntsmen in action to study their moves is knowing how most of the more common Grimm operate. From what I've seen the best strategy against Griffons is to…
Right. I wait until the last possible moment, then dive forward, under the Griffon's talons and beak, immediately rising to my feet and bringing a clawed hand up to swipe into its underbelly. It miscalculates its momentum, overshoots the ledge, and, now injured, falls fifty meters straight down and explodes into dust upon impact. Ouch.
I'm not afforded time to celebrate my minor victory because where one of the Griffons falls, there are two more to take its place. A beak comes snapping down towards me and nearly rips into my arm, but I swing it out of the way as windup for an Aura-enhanced punch directly to the center of its skull. Holy shit, these gloves are beautiful, I think, as the blow I'd merely intended to stun the beast sends a spiderweb of cracks through its skull and then shatters it.
The battle becomes a blur of opponents, Griffon after Griffon swarming the wall and landing only to be reduced to ashes one after the other. The Dust Cannons keep firing into the swarming Grimm at the foot of the wall, some of which begin climbing upwards only to be knocked off by blasts from people within the wall itself.
As the stream of Griffon tapers, I look up expecting expecting a new opponent only to find the space on the wall before me empty. A few heartbeats pass where I wonder if maybe we've beaten them back-
"Dodge!"
I obey Arnaut's command and dash to the side, just in time to avoid the three-meter feather that impales itself in the concrete where I'd stood. A Nevermore swoops by overhead, flapping forwards into the city, but a Huntress that had been manning the wall launches through the air and up onto its back. Two more approaching Nevermores are blasted out of the sky by concentrated bursts of Dust energy, but one dodges and runs beak-first directly into the Dust Cannon, which promptly explodes in a shockwave of flame and lightning.
My eyes catch a blur of motion down on the sands as some kind of pig Grimm with huge tusks tears forward and spins itself into a ball of black and white that streaks out of my line of sight. A loud metal impact makes me realize that it's trying to break through the gate, but I can't give any more thought to it as the first of the climbing Grimm begin to crest the top of the wall.
Dealing with them is significantly easier than the airborne Griffons and Nevermores, at least for me. As a Beowolf's head comes over the lip, I swing a foot around and nail it right in the chin, hard enough to launch it right off the wall and send it tumbling down to its death. Two more Beowolves rise, but one I dispatch in a similar way while the other manages to get its upper body up and over- only to be blasted directly in the face by the dual-wielding burst gunslinger Huntsman, who shoots me a cocky grin.
"Wish they paid by the kill, huh?" He asks, shooting two more climbing Grimm off the wall without even looking. A third actually makes it up onto the wall, but he effortlessly catches its clumsy swipe on his forearm and shoves the muzzle of his gun directly between its eyes, dispatching it with one pull of the trigger.
I opt to avoid responding, instead darting over to deal with one of the straggling Griffons that's made it to one of the Dust Cannons. It's too focused on trying to tear through the glass gunner's compartment and get to the terrified guard inside to notice my approach- a fact that I turn to my advantage, flaring my Aura through my new boots and surprising even myself by cracking the wall's surface and launching myself forward with blinding speed.
Even I can barely react in time to suddenly landing from my leap underneath the Grimm's jaw, so it doesn't even have a chance before I've hooked my fingers around the flared back of its skull and slammed its head against the ground. Its beady red eyes swivel back up to me just in time to watch me send the heel of my foot axing down towards its head, denting the skull and knocking it out of commission. Two more stomps on the dent completely shatter the bone, and it dissolves to ash.
A screech from the left of me heralds the arrival of another Nevermore, which swings upward and draws back its wings, indicating it's about to send a barrage of feathers flying my way. Dodging a bunch of them sent specifically at me is going to be difficult-
Then a beam of Lightning Dust carves a crackling path through the air right next to me and explodes into a wide sphere of electrical plasma, bright enough that I shield my eyes. When I look again, all that's left of the Nevermore are a few singed tailfeathers and the bottom parts of its legs that managed to escape the blast radius, but even those are nothing but dark ash by the time they hit the ground.
I turn to see the gunner guard I rescued give me a nod, which I return before immediately rushing back to my portion of the wall, now occupied by several Beowolves. One dashes towards me and swipes with a claw, but I step within the swing and catch its arm, spinning it around me by rotating on one foot and launching it back towards the others. It slams into one and then both tumble into a third, landing in a pile, but before I can press the advantage a fourth is launched through the air to land atop the stack, followed by some sort of glowing projectile.
The glow flares into an explosion of Burn Dust that consumes all the Beowolves in the inferno, and the fire fades away to reveal the shotgun Huntsman grinning at me- "Thanks for the assist, kid!"
I sense movement behind me and turn to see the Huntress who originally left to deal with the Nevermore come swinging up seemingly out of nowhere, landing gracefully on the balls of her feet while drawing two long, curved hunting knives out of crossed sheathes on her lower back. For the first time since the start of the battle, I start to feel like the defenders have some control.
Then a huge hand reaches up and slams into the corner of the wall. It's followed by another, a few meters to the side, and then a massive Grimm skull rises between them, sunken eyes burning in their sockets, staring directly at me. It's oddly humanoid, but with a massive overbite and gnarled tombstone teeth, as well as arms far longer than they should be relative to its body.
"Arnaut," I hiss nervously, "What the fuck is this?"
"A Beringel."
The beast swipes a hand across the top of the wall and forces me to launch myself backwards, nearly having a heart attack when the edge of my heel feels open air instead of solid surface. I can't go any further backwards, which means I feel the stirrings of fear begin to spark in my mind as I watch the massive Beringel creature lift itself fully up onto the walltop and affix me with another glare.
"Can I fight it?"
"Maybe," Arnaut responds unhelpfully, but I don't have time to snap at him or even ask for more details because I'm jumping over another wide sweep of the Beringel's arm-
And I'm immediately swatted out of the air by the other arm and knocked flying to the side, bouncing twice before rolling to a halt ten meters from where I'd been. My Aura flickers uncertainly, down nearly a quarter from that attack alone.
"How?" I ask, hoping Arnaut gets the general idea.
"Dodge the attacks and get in close enough to pierce the hide."
"Well, I can do the first half," I mutter as I launch myself back towards the monster, this time keeping an eye on both arms. When it tries the same trick again, sweeping one arm low and the other high a half second later, I properly dodge back from the initial attack and then move inside the length of its bottom arm. When it reaches over with the top one I launch myself forward with a flare of Aura, using the new speed Sekhma's boots have given me to tear right past the grasping hand, and end up behind it.
The Beringel roars with frustration and leans back to beat its chest, so I take the opportunity to think. Arnaut said pierce the hide, but I doubt my claws are enough to get through all that bone plating. I carry a few knives, but none of them are designed as Aura conduits and will break easier than my hand if I tried to use them. Taking out Arnaut's sword is also not an option- I've never trained with it and it would slow me down far too much. Using my Semblance might end up with one of these Huntsmen getting the wrong idea, and the risk of losing control is too great anyway.
I'm going to regret this tomorrow, I think as I roll up my right sleeve, reach between clasps on my coat, and grab a little fragment of Burn Dust, preparing to press it into my hand. Sekhma even thought to add a small gap in the palm of my new gloves for me to slide my fingers back through in order to press the Dust right up against my skin. When I break the skin and cry out in pain through gritted teeth as a wildfire runs up my veins, the Beringel seems to be briefly confused, which is nice because it gives me enough time to dissolve the full shard into my bloodstream.
"What are you…"
The Burn Dust causes flames to flicker to life all along my right arm, brightest and most intense at my fist. I feel only a muted heat, slightly too much for comfort, and my gloves and coat, conduits for my Aura, remain unscathed as the fire fades out to flickering embers by the time it reaches my upper arm. By now I've gathered myself enough to begin focusing my Aura into my feet, building it up more and more as the Beringel slows its chest-pounding and focuses hateful eyes directly on me.
"Holy shit," Arnaut breathes, "Do you know how bad that is for you?"
I'd respond if I was confident that I could unclench my teeth without screaming, so instead I just watch as the Beringel lowers its arms to the ground. The instant its knuckles make contact, I release all the stored Aura in my boots and tear forward faster than I've ever gone before.
It reacts far too slowly, hands snatching at the air I occupied crucial milliseconds earlier as I'm already within its reach and slamming a fist coated in white-hot flames directly into its chest. The armored plating resists for a half-second and then gives in, at which point I flare my Aura through the hand and send a blast of flaming energy directly into the Grimm's chest.
The wave of fire and heat rips through it and explodes out the back, and the Beringel turns to dust around my hand that blows away in the wind.
"Well that's a neat trick," Arnaut mutters.
"I can only… ngh… do it once per fight," I respond, my arm screaming at me in protest. Using the Gravity Dust a day or two ago was bad enough, but injecting another round this soon is going to leave me in pain for days.
Another loud impact on metal sounds out down below, but the gates seem to be holding against the assault. The numbers of Grimm trying to climb up the wall also seem to be decreasing, which means that the Dust Cannons are free to concentrate fire on the masses of Grimm built up before the closed entrance. A few that I don't recognize are attempting to burrow through the wall but none make it deep enough before being vaporized by concentrated blasts from rifles and pistols wielded by defenders.
I allow myself to stumble back a few steps and drop my arm, which is rapidly cooling as the small injection of Dust runs its course. The real effects usually only last twenty to thirty seconds, after which the surge of power trickles away into nothing over a few minutes.
That's when the ground starts rumbling with something I recognize from only a day ago. No fucking way… but as the rumbling intensifies, I have little doubt that it's exactly what I fear. "Arnaut, aren't these things supposed to be rare?"
"Yes."
"Can the city hold against it?"
His silence says enough, and my heart sinks.
The sand a few hundred meters out from the wall explodes to reveal a Terrawyrm, a bit smaller than the one from yesterday but still easily four meters wide at the mouth, punching out through the desert to gnash at open air before plunging back underground. Dust Cannons retarget towards the exposed arch of Terrawyrm hide but their shots are not potent enough from this distance to mortally wound it. The rumbling continues and I curse under my breath, experimentally flexing my right arm and wincing. It still isn't good to go yet.
It exits the ground once more, closer to the wall this time, but still not close enough for the wide-area-oriented Dust Cannons to have enough concentrated punch to pierce its hide. I measure in my head and realize that the next time it comes out, it'll be just inside the wall-
"Dreki, you have to go down into the city!" Arnaut is shouting at me, shaking me out of my stupor. "Dreki! Go!"
"But I-"
"Now!"
In the heat of the moment, I forget all the antagonism and do as he says, vaulting out over the edge of the wall and slamming my right hand's claws against the sheer concrete. They're still hot enough to melt grooves into the wall, but I can feel my Aura being drained as I use it to prevent my fingers from breaking due to stress. When I finally take an Aura-enhanced leap off of the wall's face and land on a rooftop, I'm down to twenty percent.
I hop from rooftop to rooftop towards the general center of the city at Arnaut's suggestion, but curiosity begins to outweigh my instinct to obey. "Why am I-"
"The Dust Cannons can't aim inside the city," Arnaut explains in hurried, desperate tones. "Everyone's out defending the wall, so there's nobody inside to protect it, especially against something as tough to kill as a Terrawyrm."
"I don't like where you're going with this."
"You need to take Aureum Rupti and-"
"No…"
Arnaut talks right over me. "-when the Terrawyrm comes out, cut it open on the side. Then, later, you need to hit the same place again to open it up-"
"No."
"- enough so that you can eventually fire through the armor, directly into the weaker insides. Four or five cuts on the same spot should be enough to open a gap wide enough to hit on it while it's moving, so-"
"No-"
"-you need to dodge its attacks when it exits the ground, then spin and attack with the sword in the same motion. You'll-"
"No!" I finally seem to cut off his rapid-fire instructions with that shout, and seize the opportunity to work with his attention while I still can. "I have not used your sword a single time in my entire life, and you want me to execute advanced moves to take down a city-busting Grimm with it?"
"You have to." Arnaut stands before me, so righteous and sure in himself that it makes me want to vomit.
"Make me," I spit, turning away from him just as the rumbling underneath my feet intensifies to a strength I haven't felt before.
"I can't," Arnaut says, taking a step back, "But it will. I would advise dodging to the left immediately."
I throw myself to the side he suggested just as the Terrawyrm gnaws its way up through the building, reducing the circle of rooftop where I'd been standing to splinters. "You son of a bitch," I hiss, "What did you do?"
"You should run away. Now that the Terrawyrm's seen you, it isn't going to stop the chase."
"You piece of shit-" I'm cut off as the monster in question comes back down at me, forcing me to dash to the side once more and avoid the wide circular maw. The tall arch made by its body between the entry and exit points shrinks down and crushes the building underneath it, sending me tumbling to the ground in a broken pile of wood. "I cannot fucking believe you've done this to me."
"That breath would be better spent running," Arnaut offers. It gnaws at me to listen to him like this, but I know he's right and take off, sending Aura to reinforce my legs as I hurtle down a deserted street. "Now, remember: step aside, spin the motion into a slash with Aurem Rupti."
"Fuck off," I seethe, recognizing the rumble beneath my feet and increasing my pace substantially, making the assumption that I can probably just run out of the death zone by the time it breaks the surface.
I'm at least partially right- the wailing screech it makes constantly sounds out behind me, but the sound of grinding stone does not stop like it has the last few times the thing has surfaced, so I dare not slow down or even look behind me. "Arnaut, is the worm chasing me along the street right now?"
"Yes," he states, keeping up with me easily despite turning to run backwards for a stretch for a better look at the Terrawyrm. "In this case, I believe feinting a turn and transitioning that into a redirect in the opposite direction would be appropriate."
I have neither the breath nor the attention span at the moment to unleash the thousands of scathing insults welling up in me, so instead I just partially do what he says- I veer to the left, moving from the center of the street to the far side in three quick strides, but then jump to land against a building's wall with my two feet pressed against it. I gather my Aura once more, glance up to see the Terrawyrm almost on top of me, and then release it in a jump that shatters the wall but sends me flying past the Grimm far quicker than it can hope to track.
"You might want to actually unsheathe Aureum Rupti," Arnaut notes as I roll off my landing and keep sprinting off down a new street. "It's difficult to turn a dodge into a slash when you don't even have the sword out."
"Why… the fuck… is this fucking thing… chasing me?" I pant out as the ground beneath me starts shaking excessively again, wearily preparing myself for yet another dodge on legs that are beginning to protest louder and louder.
"The Terrawyrm, despite its size, is actually just an evolved form of the Blind Worm, similar to the relationship between Beowolves and Beowolf Alphas. This evolution occurs as a result of both successful feeding on humans, and naturally as the Grimm lives longer it grows toucher and larger. While the Terrawyrm loses some of its versatility when it evolves, it maintains the Blind Worm's sensory weaknesses and the tendencies that accompany them. As a result, it…"
"Give me the fucking short versio-" I barely manage to dodge this time as the Terrawyrm rips through the street behind me. My jump occurred as it was eating away the concrete, so I pushed off against less resistance than I should have and sprawl out an awkward landing on my back as a result- but I have no time to think about the pained landing, because the monster's maw is arcing around and back down towards me.
I kick off against some rubble with my legs, launching myself out of the danger zone but slamming into the wall and losing even more Aura. I'm at my last dregs now, less than ten percent, and running out of energy as well.
"It's just a really old, really big, evolved version of a smaller Grimm that locks on to and chases individuals tenaciously to compensate for being blind," Arnaut says patiently. I have never wished more that I could punch him than right now. "It's now locked on to you, as you were the only person left in its surfacing point, so it will hunt you down regardless of how you attempt to flee."
"You've killed me," I say out loud as the realization comes to me.
"If you do die, then at least it's in service of buying time for the people in the evacuation shelters to flee the city."
The moment those words leave his mouth, I alter course directly towards the west gate, which shows no sign of Grimm attack and is probably where the evacuation will take place. I remember the events of yesterday, and how the Terrawyrm chased Arnaut for twenty minutes until it found a better target in the little boy I rescued.
Arnaut slowly realizes what I'm doing, but once he pieces it together he snaps his gaze over to me and barks "No! Absolutely not, you will not use the innocents of this city as bait for your escape!"
"You were gonna fucking use me as bait for them-" I sense the rising rumble beneath my feat and decide to just keep running rather than dodge, and once again the Terrawyrm begins to chase me along the ground rather than punch straight up through it. With my limbs beginning to slow down despite my best efforts and my Aura dwindling, I'm not sure if I can even make it to the evacuating people.
"The boy from yesterday is among them," Arnaut says. "Can you sacrifice him? All the others like him? Children who have done nothing wrong but-"
"Shut up," I interrupt him, pouring on the speed as the Terrawyrm continues behind me. I think I barely have enough Aura left for one more amplified jump, but the trick I used last time took two of them to work. "I…" The kid's downcast face won't leave my mind, no matter how many times I try to blink it away, and I… "Damn it. I can't fucking do it."
Arnaut responds immediately. "I knew you weren't a monster-"
"No, I mean I can't make it across the city before the fucking Terrawyrm eats me, moron." I reach back over my shoulder and grab the folded stock of Arnaut's sword, drawing it out of the sheathe. "You said it's weaker on the inside, right?"
"Right, but it takes several…" Arnaut trails off as he realizes what I'm planning. "Oh."
I tilt the sheathe in order to pull the sword out over my shoulder, snagging my fingers onto the Cannon grip, and then nestle the makeshift stock back against my shoulder, wrapping my pointer finger around the trigger. "Point and shoot?"
"Point and shoot," Arnaut confirms.
I load what's left of my Aura into my foot as it comes down and unleash it, launching myself forward in a burst of speed while turning in the air to face the Terrawyrm chasing me. It's only five meters away from me and closing fast as I lose momentum, but I wait and move the sword just a bit to the side, and then… "Gotcha."
The thrum of the Dust energy being released from the barrel is quieter than I'd expect, but the beam that emerges from between the two blades and goes directly down the Terrawyrm's is nearly as bright as the ones from the wall-mounted cannons. I watch a bright orange burst of raw heat energy blossom outwards from inside the creature's throat and spread outwards, reducing everything it touches to ash.
The spinning teeth are only a meter away from shredding my legs when they're incinerated, and then I'm caught by the shockwave and sent flying back down the street, rolling to a stop and this time feeling each impact as my Aura's completely gone. I eventually end up sprawled out flat on my back, groaning quietly and staring up into the sky. Everything hurts.
I lay there for a while, too tired to make myself move, when an incredibly bright flash lights up the horizon itself back by where the wall is being assaulted. A half-second later, I hear an eardrum-rattling krakoom and feel the ground beneath me shake violently-
"What the hell?" I murmur.
"Hmm. They opted to use a Warhead," Arnaut says, seemingly half to himself. I don't have the energy to prod him further, but he seems to realize what I'm asking and continues on his own: "It's a Dust explosive designed for disaster situations where the wall is in danger of being breached- it uses an extreme amount of Burn and Lightning Dust to essentially vaporize a wide area around its detonation, but only release heat and electrical energy, not concussive, so it doesn't damage the wall."
I understand it now. They group the Grimm all at one gate, and lay into them with the Cannons, but if the gate's in danger of breaking they wipe the Grimm all out at once with the bomb. Handy.
Despite the fact that the sirens have now shut off and the sounds of battle have mostly faded, Arnaut is worried. "Atlas has announced a Dust embargo, so now more than ever cities are trying to conserve Dust weaponry. They can't have more than two or three Warheads left, and it doesn't look like we'll be in a position to replace them any time soon."
For the moment at least, that doesn't seem to matter at all compared to the growing urge to just go to sleep in the middle of the road. I'm bone-tired and maybe just taking a quick nap wouldn't-
"Hey, miss." I crack my eyes open to see a little Faunus girl with fox ears leaning over me, eyes flashing to the sword- Fuck, the sword- and then back to my face. "Who are you?"
"Any chance you could…" I pant a few times as I consider that I'm going to have to move soon. This girl can't be the only evacuee returning to wherever she lives in the city. "Could just forget you saw me?"
"Are you a ghost?" she whispers, eyes wide.
"…Sure," I respond. Whatever gets her to just leave me alone.
"But..." she frowns. "I thought you used to be a grown-up man, right?"
"Oh," I breathe, suddenly aware what she's thinking. "Oh, no, I'm not Arnaut-"
"I get it," the girl suddenly interrupts. "You're pretending to be somebody else."
I'm too tired to argue this, and just sigh. "Yeah, kind of, sure." It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if a rumor spreads about someone... I don't know, cosplaying Arnaut, right?"
"Wow. I knew it!" The girl starts smiling and I suddenly get a bad feeling for some reason. "I knew the Golden Guardian wouldn't just leave us, not when the Grimm are getting worse…"
"No, wait," I protest quietly, lifting myself up into a kneeling position. "Hold on just a second, I swear I'm actually not-"
"Oh, I see," she says, eyes twinkling. "It's a secret." And before I can get another word in, she dances off, probably to go tell every single one of her friends about this conversation.
"I blame… ngh… you for this," I manage, rising to my feet by using Arnaut's sword as a prop before straining to lift it into the sheathe.
"You have to admit," Arnaut grins, "It's at least a little bit funny."
I'm too tired to continue the back-and-forth, so instead I just stalk off towards the western gate, seeing a few other people but managing to avoid any interaction until I step out between massive metal double doors.
I make it one hour into the desert before I collapse, moving my backpack to use as a pillow. "Arnaut, can you… can you watch?" I ask, betting on him not letting me die to a Grimm in my sleep. If I were more conscious, I might be horrified by the trust I'm giving him, but at this point I'm far too tired and sore and bruised to care.
"Yes," he promises, the last thing I see or hear before I slip off into dreams.
(A/N) Sekhma alludes to Serkhet, the Egyptian goddess of scorpions and poison. The similarities will go past just the tail when she comes back into the narrative a bit down the line. Her primary color and Aura are royal purple, hex #7851a9.
I thought up Terrawyrms before I read about Blind Worms in After the Fall. Once I realized that they're basically just massive Blind Worms, I decided that they'd work better as an evolved form of them.