- INTERMISSION -

The cavern was barely standing, what else could he expect after so many of Ozpin's pawns had ran rampant through it's labyrinthian depths. He approached the altar, the pedastal was empty, the heart missing. His smile grew wide and he began to laugh. It was only a matter of time, soon the sleeper shall awake. The ground began to rumble, a roar echoed through the halls. He felt a wave of warmth cross his body. The sleeper begins to stir, soon nothing can prevent the inevitable.

He drew his blade, the blood has dried upon it's length. He sniffed it hungrily. She was a worthy sacrifice, even if she survived the ritual. He ran his tongue along the blade. He could taste her aura, her semblance, remnants of her soul bound to her blood. It was sweet like honey.

He was entering the deepest room, a boiling pool of molten metal lay beneath the path of which he tread, the bubbling mass popping in violent splatters around him. He dropped the knife. The room echoed. The molten pool began to part, a skull rose high. The heavy ashen scales began to churn. The eyes darted beneath their lids, smoke rose from it's nose. He ran his hand along the boiling surface of it's scales and stroked it. His hand burned in pain but he did not notice, for he was in the presence of something mightier than himself. Not a mindless beast, nor a fumbling man. It was a god, a god in living flesh.

Soon across vale people will stir from their dulled lives and gather for the festival. Students from across the kingdoms would compete in a tournament of skill. They would have a moment of celebration. Not all of them will survive what follows.