Phoenix Squad woke at first light, their temporary camp doing well to keep them out of sight from any wandering Chaos forces and giving them some much-needed rest.
The camp was packed up quickly, and the trek back to allied lines began.
After roughly an hour of walking the squad was halted by Jaune's raised fist as he took up a crouched position and withdrew his binoculars from his kit, a frown quickly adorning his lips.
"Heretic patrol at Zero Three Three," Jaune paused, "I count six unarmored Cultists armed with improvised weapons, one armored with an auto pistol, they have no clue we're here."
Jaune pointed at Jaks and Aeris, "You two take cover to the left, Val and I will take the right, we'll ambush them here."
Everyone chimed in with a 'Copy' and took their positions behind thick trees and outcroppings of vegetation, all of them keeping their heads low and an eye on their targets.
Jaune keyed his vox, his voice crackling in his squad's ears, "Heads on a swivel, I don't want any surprises."
Three clicks of acknowledgment followed, and so the waiting game began.
Jaune focused on the silence.
Now that he thought about it, the silence was almost unnaturally so, no birds chirping, not even the whistle of the wind.
A knot formed in the blond Sergeant's stomach, a heavy feeling of unease resting heavily upon his shoulder. Jaune whipped his head around, his eyes searching the woodland for anything out of the ordinary, but nothing stood out to him. Yet the feeling persisted, so he continued searching, eyes roving over tree after tree, bush after bush.
That was, until he spotted something, just barely visible as it slipped into cover behind a large fallen tree.
Jaune blinked twice and rubbed his eyes before focusing on the spot he'd seen what he thought to be a boot, but now, clear as day, a man stood.
Then another, and another, and another.
Jaune's head began to pound as distant whispers began to assault his mind, promising him power beyond his wildest dreams. Promises he knew would bring him nothing but a long, agonizing death.
"CONTACT REAR!" Jaune cried before diving in between Val and the incoming fire, round after round pinging off against his Aura and protecting both himself and his charge.
Jaune yanked Val to her feet and dragged her behind a solid looking tree, propping her up and slapping the top of her helmet before leaning from cover and pouring three lasbolts into the chest of a lightly armored cultist, his chest cavity exploding open, boiling remnants of organ and bone spilling to the forest floor.
The blond Arc quickly ducked back into cover as round after heretical round relentlessly hammered at his somewhat fragile cover, each burst of fire throwing chunks of wood and dirt into the air.
Before he knew it, the rounds stopped flying, and both Jaune and Val peaked from cover, lasguns letting out great cracks as beams of ruby-red light took down another three Cultists, their scavenged armor doing little to stem the tide of high power lasbolts.
A trio of explosive booms and a cacophony of screams could be heard from behind the two blond guardsmen, it seemed their comrades had encountered the enemy as well, and by the sound of it they sure as hell weren't pulling any punches.
Jaune quickly peaked out of cover, they were closing in now, and as they closed in, they grouped up, giving him the opportunity to do what he did best.
The blond took a deep breath, unsheathed Crocea Mors, and awaited the lull in the hail of lead yet again.
After a few seconds, that lull came, and Jaune bounded out from behind his cover, a war cry slipped between his lips as he charged the surprised and bewildered Cultists, the few of them not reloading hastily were taking shots at Jaune's running form, none of their heretical rounds found purchase, but his aura paid the price.
Jaune bellowed, and with a final bounding step, he was among the heretics.
Ancestral sword meet supple heretical flesh as the blade of Crocea Mors sliced through the man like a hot knife through butter. Looking past the man, Jaune saw only three other cultists, each smiling wickedly as they abandoned their empty rifles and brandished their own assortment of improvised weapons, a crowbar caked in gore, a wicked machete covered in heretical symbols, and a rusty bayonet.
Before either side could make a move, a trio of lasbolts sailed by Jaune's head, hitting the man with the crowbar, head to exploding in a violent display of gore, boiling blood and brain matter splattered his allies, disorientating them and giving the Jaune the perfect opening to strike.
Crocea Mors was not but a blur of silver, red, and gold as the blade quickly disemboweled the machete-wielding cultist. By then the final cultist had regained his bearings and was in a loose fighting stance, his bayonet held in a rear grip, an unnatural set of pointed red-stained teeth peeking between smiling lips.
The cultist dove forward, stabbing wildly at Jaune, and right into the blonds awaiting blade before sliding himself to the hilt, laughing maniacally, before continuing to stab wildly.
Jaune struggled against the assault, Exhaustion compounded with a rapidly dropping aura, and the reckless stabs of a madman became too much for the blond.
The cultist took advantage of this sudden weakness by pushing all of his weight into Jaune, causing the blond to fall backward, aura shattering upon impact with the hard forest floor. All Jaune could feel after that was agonizing pain in his face, the knife slicing over his cheek, lips, and chin.
With the coppery taste of blood and the pulsing pain of his open wound, Jaune summoned every ounce of strength left in his body and grabbed hold of the cultists head, and with little other options left, Jaune's thumbs found the crazed man's eyes and squeezed.
The heretic let out something between a laugh and a scream, the bayonet falling from his grip as he tried and failed to dislodge the pair of digits crushing his eyeballs. Before long, the man fell from his position atop Jaune, giving the exhausted and injured guardsman the chance to draw his own bayonet and plunge it deep into the cultist's neck, finally ending the crazed man's screams with a gurgle.
With a pained and tired sigh, Jaune fell off the now dead cultist, and fell to the ground, chest heaving, and a long wicked slice pulsing with pain across his face, a small river of blood flowing down his chin and coating his flak armor in blood.
Jaune focused on the silence of the forest yet again, his tired mind taking solace in the chirping of birds, and the rustling of the trees above him swaying in the cool breeze before slipping into unconsciousness.
-=Remnant - JNPR's Dorm=-
Pyrrha jolted awake, her eyes wide with fear as she tried to move her limbs to no avail, she was defenseless. Even the fact that she knew she was still in her dream didn't help stem the flow of fear, she'd been having this same dream for the past three days, even trying to stay up for as long as possible to avoid them, but the moment she succumbed she was in her bed, unable to move.
An icy tendril of fear worked it's way up her spine when she caught the glimpse of a shadow moving just outside of her peripheral vision, then another, and another.
Yet she knew it wouldn't end there, the shadows were only the beginning.
As if on queue, the shadows stopped moving, and her vision went black, her eyes were open, but everything before here was pitch black, not even a sliver of light giving to give her any hope of escaping this hell scape of a dream.
"Our proposal still stands champion! ~" A voice whispered to Pyrrha, the voice sounded feminine but unnatural at the same time, it was more like an amalgamation of whispering voices all compiled into one chilling voice "We can bring you that which you desire. ~"
Images of Jaune flooded Pyrrha's mind, playing out like a movie, but not for her, no, it was for 'it'.
"A very fine specimen indeed! ~" 'It' hissed, Pyrrha could have sworn she felt something brush against her ears, but couldn't be sure in her dream state. "Be my Champion, and you shall be given eternity with your love, you shall finally hold him by your side! ~"
Pyrrha scoffed at the thought, Jaune was his own man, with goals and aspirations, she couldn't force him to stay with her, no matter how much she wished it.
"And yet those aspirations where precisely the reason he was lost to you in the first place! ~" 'it' responded, "You need to protect him! Yes! ~ Protect him from himself! ~"
Pyrrha's mind was moving a mile a minute, in a strange way, it was right, Jaune's desire to become a Huntsman and protect people had been his ultimate downfall, and she hadn't been able to do a damn thing about it, a fact she was ashamed of day after day.
"I shall give you but one week to make your decision. ~" The entity whispered, Pyrrha swore she could feel something wet run over her face, but the sensation disappeared as quickly as it came. "You shall know peace until then, my Champion. ~"
The Champion woke with a start, her muscles taut and eyes whipping wildly around the room in search of 'it', but she found nothing, team JNPR's dorm was just as she'd left it, four beds, and three people.
As much as she'd condemned the thought, Pyrrha had much to consider.
A/N
What's this? A chapter update within a vaguely normal amount of time?
I spoil you so!
In all seriousness, I'm really trying to get back into writing, so you'll be seeing more updates for this story quite a bit more often, I still don't have a schedule set up, but It's in the works.
If you enjoyed the chapter, or if you didn't, leave a review and tell me what you think, it helps me to keep me inspired, and I do love seeing how people feel about this story.
Until next time.