Another chapter, after quite some time. Now, as we near the finale, the typical episodic chapters I have been writing will cease to be. Episodes ran in Vol.3 will sometimes be summarized within the confines of Darren's thoughts, other's occurring entirely off-scene. Trust that inevitable events will continue to occur, but I wish to now focus on Darren's POV and his final preparations. With that said, enjoy.

I left the Lockbox behind, my work having been finished. Neo insisted we share a drink to celebrate hard work finished, and a toast to the work yet to be done. I did not deny her, and for a moment even thought she might have somehow come to fancy me, but it became clear she was infatuated with another as we 'spoke'. Mostly, I showcased a rather rudimentary form of telepathy, which lubricated our conversation.

One of my final projects to complete was showcasing the Crocea Armis to Jaune. The suit had not responded to me in the slightest, and I could find no reasonable way to put it on nor to properly test its durability. But it took to Jaune with haste, unclasping and folding itself inwards to allow a suit-up time of barely a minute. The boy, no, the man in front of me nearly glowed with a surge of aura as he wore it. The suit adding nearly three inches to his already impressive height had him towering above his teammates.

More than that, he looked imposing. I knew the durability of his sword and shield, a small fragment of old world craftmanship, and the armor was no different. I knew that when the time came Jaune would be an exhilarating foe. And if his later duos fight was anything to go off, the armor seemed to give immense maneuverability and actually seemed to enhance his every movement.

Our own duos round when amazingly, with an immaculate performance from Ruby and Yang. They did not take the easier route against their impressive foes, using Ruby's greater speed to deal with the swift cat-girl and using Yang's durability to counter the ranged fighter. Instead, almost as if trying to challenge themselves, they worked in opposite to that.

Yang's fighting prowess had gone from an unadulterated slugfest into a simple yet perfected boxing move set. Combining that with her staggering offensive ability and a defense that her lightweight opponent could not hope to pierce, Yang dominated their battle. Ruby closed distances between her and the ranged fighter despite his every attempt to prevent that from occurring. Her swiftness and long melee reach kept her at a constant advantage. She never even needed to utilize her Velocity state in order to achieve victory. In every sense, the fight was a shutout, and we moved to the Singles round, occurring in three days.

So, with naught much left to do, and little appearances left to be kept up, I properly lounged. I will admit, inactivity felt a waste of time to me, but I was aware of everything needing to be done in due time. I neglected to go and kill civilians, knowing that a perfect morale fell all the further when crushed completely. I did not challenge my team, all of our training having given me all the scope of their abilities that I could get without fighting them to death.

I did keep some tabs on Pyrrha, he perplexing state of constant Focality still tumbling around in my mind. Any fear she once had for me having been eliminated entirely, and in fact she almost seemed friendly to me, like I was some great beast she had tamed and could now handle as she saw fit. It did irk me, but I left the issue to itself.

Once again, I met with Cinder to go over our plan for the final time. I was to participate in the singles tournament against Penny Polendina, fighting the battle until I was called as the victor, and then I simply needed to finish things. Cinder was right to assume I had no qualms about taking lives, especially at the end of things. And she was correct. But I was also jumping towards the idea because I wondered if I would be able to collect the machine's soul, somehow repair it, and reap it properly. As it stood, reaping her now would destroy her soul in the process, something that I vowed to avoid since my rise to the control of Death.

Then, Cinder would hijack the announcement systems, weaving discourse in the form of a speech that would open eyes to the failures of their guardians, their incompetency. She would create fear, distress, emotions that would bring in tides of Grimm already waiting at the border.

It was there that I changed her plan. Forget the speech, forget the hijack. All she needed to do was keep the camera's rolling, and I could handle the rest. She did attempt to dissuade me, telling me she wanted to send a proper message to the kingdoms and all their inhabitants. I could tell the thought of failing this somehow frightened her, as if the orders came from higher up some chain of command I wasn't privy to.

I reminded her of two things. Firstly, I had the power to make her entire scheme fail if I so chose. Secondly, I was a much bigger threat than whoever her boss was, and I was sitting across the table from her. I would get my own message out, and she would keep her mouth shut. Without an alternative or any way to resist me, she complied.

Finally, she revealed to me that the chaos and flood of negative emotions would wake the beast under Mt Glenn. A Grimm Dragon, long sleeping and in the flesh. She would attempt to tame it while the hacked sentinels and knights, all computer controlled, would deal with any ground forces that would oppose her goals. I agreed to the rest of these terms, quite intrigued to see a Grimm Dragon after so many centuries.

The next day was the day before the tournament. I did a final and meticulous check over everything I had prepared. A remote-operated railgun to take out the spearhead of the Atlesian fleet. The bomb placed in the center of Vale. A memorization of fleet and soldier patrols. The locations of prominent targets such as RWBY, JNPR, and Ironwood. Ozpin would be the one I left for last. Even if it was slow and agonizing, I intended to reap him permanently.

On the day of the tournament I awoke, stretched, toured Beacon's halls for the final time. I endured a final lunch with my team as they questioned my tactics and received no answers. They had each seen pieces of my fighting styles throughout our time at Beacon, and my only assurance to them was that they would soon be able to take note of every trick I had in my book.

Lunch finished, I toured Amity Arena. A flying arena of such magnitude was certainly an accomplishment, and one that I didn't believe humans would ever be able to make. They had certainly come a long way since I walked among them. Much further than sticks and stones. From this high, the whole world smelled of metal and dust. It smelled like life and effort. It smelled like hard work and dreams yet to be made into reality. But most of all, it smelled of storms.