Blake crushed her ears against her hair. It didn't help. A whimper escaped her lips as the artillery pieces shook the ground again. It wasn't noise. It couldn't be described as mere noise. She could have coped with that. Instead an assault was unleashed on her senses every ten seconds.
A pure, physical battering. The shockwaves pounded against ears that could pick up a falling pin at a dozen paces. It was relentless. She was wearing earplugs. They didn't make a difference. Nothing could. Even the walls of the barracks couldn't help her.
She wasn't meant to be inside. She was meant to be out there, next to the field guns, waiting for the assault that would follow immediately after the creeping barrage. A single volley had been enough for her to break ranks. It had just been too much. It didn't help that others were with her.
It must have been worse for Velvet. Orders of magnitude worse. With her curled up into a ball on the floor, Blake made sure to keep a hand on her shoulder even through the pain. She knew what it was like to suffer alone.
Yang tried to help. She couldn't really. Not when she wasn't able to understand what they were going through. She could empathise, but she couldn't know; not when to her they were just loud noises.
Blake's stomach muscles tensed as the silent countdown in her head reached one. She screwed up her eyes and ground her teeth together in anticipation and dread. Blake waited, and waited, and waited. No boom followed. No rending shake. Only a high-pitched ringing in her ears.
Yang's mouth was moving. She was saying something. Blake couldn't hear a word. She dug a small foam cylinder out of the canal of her human ear with a fingernail.
"…over, we should be good." Blake was only just able to make out what Yang was saying by reading her lips. It did seem like it was over. Surely they would have fired again by now. She squeezed Velvet's shoulder.
The both of them were used to the sounds of combat, gunshots and explosions, but there was a big difference between that and the repetitive barrage of artillery. A world of difference. The normal earplugs she'd worn had done nothing.
The barracks didn't have a door, only a curtain, and Taiyang pushed it aside. He paused as he took in the two Faunus in the room.
"What's going on?" Yang asked.
"We're moving in," Taiyang paused for a moment. "Maybe you should stay here, look after those two."
Blake knew what he was doing. He was doing what any father would do when heading into a dangerous situation. He was trying to protect his daughter, giving her a good reason to stay away. His heart was in the right place, but his head most definitely wasn't.
"Not a chance." It was only after she'd spoken that Yang looked back to check Blake's opinion. She needn't have bothered. In this they were of one mind. Neither would allow others to go into danger in their stead.
Velvet felt the same. She pushed herself to her knees. Though her skin was pallid and her ears drooped down over her face, her body showed nothing but resolve. This was a battle Taiyang knew he wouldn't win ̶ ̶ not when faced with those who were at least as stubborn as he was.
"Fine, but you're going to have to hurry."
Blake helped Velvet to her feet. Both of them were still a little unsteady ̶ ̶ Blake's head still rang ̶ ̶ but they forced themselves outside into the bright light of the morning. There was no sense in giving the Grimm any advantage when it came to the time of their assault.
The captured smoke within the compound's walls stung her eyes and seared her nostrils. It was barely possible to see the piles of brass cartridges near the artillery pieces. Blake noted their technicians at least had proper ear protection, a requirement that had been overlooked for the rest of them. Not that it would have helped her or Velvet anyway.
Raven knelt near the far wall, her hand outstretched and quivering. The largest portal that Blake had ever seen her create hung immobile nearby. It must have been thirty feet high and a dozen wide; it was large enough for even the mechs to pass through it abreast. They were doing just that. Gradually almost all the forces they'd collected here were deploying.
Taiyang led them back to their abandoned positions near the tracks of the vehicle carrying the bomb. They were to protect it at all costs. It was a mark of just how important a task Cinder rated it in that she'd assigned herself to the duty as well.
She wasn't alone, nor perhaps in charge anymore. The king of Vacuo had arrived with her a couple of hours ago. He might have been older than most here, but Blake had no doubts that he knew his way around a battlefield. There was no trace of fear in him as waited for his turn to pass through the portal.
He looked much like the warrior-kings of old. His armour was practical, but it didn't try to obscure the fact of who he was; the gilding on the chest piece bore his coat of arms. He hadn't bothered with a helmet either. Instead a slender circlet encased his greying hair. Both he and Cinder exuded auras of complete authority; Blake didn't want to see what would happen if they clashed.
Though of course she knew. The king might have been surrounded by half a dozen of his own guards—ceremonially armed and armoured, though without a doubt deadly—but they were still men. Cinder could have killed them all with barely a thought.
The engines in the truck rattled to life, a subsurface thrum emanating from them. Slowly the machine began to crawl forward. Their deployment onto the island wasn't a massed charge. Even ignoring that Raven's portal was too small, there was no need. It would have only added unnecessary chaos to the danger. The artillery bombardment should have given them the necessary breathing room to re-form on the other side.
Cinder broke off from her conversation with the king to glance over at them. "Velvet, I trust that you are recovered."
Blake doubted that Velvet could hear at all, but she must have been reading Cinder's lips. Her reply was louder than it should have been. "Umm… yes."
"Then stay close to me." It wasn't much of a surprise that Cinder wanted her ̶ ̶ the only other Dust user who even began to approach her level ̶ ̶ nearby.
The front end of the truck passed into the portal, its roof almost scraping the swirling border of black and red. Blake clenched her stomach and stepped through. The familiar rending sensation assaulted her momentarily before her boots crunched onto the beach. Crunched, because the heat of bombardment had turned the sand into shards of glass. For hundreds of metres the ground was pockmarked by a steadily expanding ring of craters and corpses. The smell of Dust was even stronger here, and the unpleasant stench was not helped by how it intermingled with blood.
Blake kept moving. Prepared for the ordeal of passing through Raven's portals, she was doing a lot better than most of the troops. To be fair, the majority had remained on their feet, but some were being dragged upright by their superiors.
Even without the craters and corpses, there was no way Blake would have mistaken the beach for being anywhere apart from Menagerie. Anywhere else she would have expected white or yellow sand, here it was black. Her eyes told her enough, but it was her gut that told her the real truth. The sense of foreboding that seemed to permeate the very air was an order of magnitude stronger here. She, they, were nothing more than intruders on an island that didn't want them.
The truth of the matter came a moment later. The creeping barrage might have driven back all the Grimm that had been gathering on the beach, but now it had ceased. Red eyes appeared in the splintered and dead forests up ahead. A lot of them. An awful lot. Enough that it made Blake's heart pause.
With an unconscious, almost symbiotic signal, they erupted from their hiding places at the same time. Beowolves took the lead, springing ahead on their long legs, barking and howling as they tore towards their prey. Ursas followed in their wake. The larger Grimm, the Deathstalkers, the King Taijitus, skittered and slithered right behind. Nevermores and Griffons rose from their perches, joining the wave of black fur and white teeth surged towards them.
They knew to expect this. The few who had been to Menagerie before had warned them of the huge numbers of Grimm. Still, hearing was one thing, seeing was entirely another. Blake ripped Gambol Shroud from her back. Normally her mind was clear in combat, here she just didn't know which out of the hundreds of Grimm in front of her she should target. Anything would just be a spit in the ocean.
"Brace!" Someone shouted and the cry was taken up by others.
Blake followed the example of everyone else and ducked down. A whistling reached her ears a heartbeat before fires erupted in the midst of the swarm. Already ranged and calibrated, the artillery pieces had conducted a danger-close fire-mission with minimal risk to the friendly forces.
Minimal, because even if being near the guns while they were being fired was bad, being downrange was an awful lot worse. Grimm were tossed into the air as if they were dolls, their bodies shredded and rent by the Dust-filled shells.
The coalesced shockwave of the half-dozen explosions turned the sand of the beach into missiles themselves. The fine grains ripped at Blake's skin as the noise struck her. The combined explosions were so intense her vision whited out for a moment as her nerves overloaded.
Though, just because she was in pain, it didn't mean the world had stopped. That had been a truth she'd learnt the hard way. In the wake of the explosions gunfire erupted. The final artillery barrage had disrupted the charge of the Grimm, but it hadn't killed them all, not even by a fraction.
As the Grimm adjusted to the assault, tripping and sprawling over the prone fallen forms, the soldiers opened fire. The fastest line of Beowolves that had raced under the shells entirely were halted as if they'd run into a wall, dozens of bullets striking each of them.
The Janissaries had positioned themselves front and centre in the formation and bore the brunt of the assault. As before, they concentrated on the larger Grimm, the ones that wouldn't be brought down by small arms. Rockets slewed out from the protrusions on their shoulders and, in comparison to the artillery, blossomed into pinpricks of fire.
The AA systems and the soldiers who'd been equipped with shoulder-mounted systems launched missiles at the Grimm that plunged from above. Feathers and blood rained down.
The combined efforts of the troops and the heavier weaponry managed to slow down the charge. That was the reason they'd spent days on the island off the coast. This way the fight was on their terms, in an open space, while they were in formation and with heavier weapons supporting them. From this position of strength they could move forward, dealing with the Grimm as they appeared, without running the risk of being surrounded and overwhelmed.
The troops might have slowed the charge, but they couldn't stop it. The Grimm were just too resistant to bullets. That was why, no matter the advances in weapons technology, hunters always preferred to trust their own strength.
Blake leapt through the line of kneeling soldiers, Gambol Shroud tracing a line up an Ursa's side. The Grimm broke off its charge, swiping a paw at her. Its claws met only her Shadow. Yang struck it from the other side just in time for Blake to reappear at its head. Her two-handed attack bounced from the bone of its snout and carved a chunk of flesh away. Between the two of them they managed to cripple the Ursa quickly, but they had no other option. More Grimm arrived every second.
Blake dived out of the way as she picked up the fluttering of feathers directly above her. A Griffon collided with the air where her back had been not a second before, its hind legs gouging into the sand. She couldn't waste any time. She jumped in—blades in both hands—and stabbed out.
It had been a long time since she'd fought Griffons. In Vacuo she'd had to pay more attention to what was under the ground than in the air. She'd forgotten just how quick Griffons could be. It danced aside from her attack, and returned it in kind, its beak clamped down on her sheath.
She should have let go. All her training, her instincts, told her to let go and not to let her adversary dictate her movements. But her brain told her to hang on. That if she released her grip in the midst of the melee she'd likely never see her weapon again.
The momentary hesitation cost her. The Griffon yanked her off balance and straight into its hind claws. The next instant Blake was blinking up from the ground, her arm burning but still clutching her sheath. The Griffon raised its leg. Blake rolled, and rolled, dodging attack after attack, and never quite managing to buy enough time or gain enough purchase to get out of danger entirely. The weapons she'd clung on to were proving nothing more than hindrances.
The Griffon was getting impatient too. It took off and gained a couple of feet before locking eyes with her and plunging downwards. Blake gritted her teeth and buried her blades in the sand, their points straight up.
The Grimm's side blossomed with fire. The concussive force knocked it sideways and slammed it into the ground next to her. The Grimm lay motionless save its twitching feathers as they burned. It would have been too easy to question what had happened. Instead Blake counted her blessings and jumped to her feet. With the Griffon carcass somewhat shielding her, she had a few moments to look around.
Yang and a group of soldiers were busy dealing with a Deathstalker that had got too close. No wonder she hadn't come to Blake's aid. The soldiers nearest to her had likely tried to, but there were just too many Grimm. What had been well-organised lines were barely holding. Only the centre and the bomb seemed untouched.
Velvet saw her looking and gave her a thumbs up. Blake nodded her thanks, the assist now making sense. Someone had been looking out for her. In fact, Velvet seemed to be trying to look out for everyone. Whenever she saw someone in trouble the elements came to their rescue. It was impressive but, in comparison to what Blake knew she could do, Velvet seemed to be saving herself for something.
Cinder certainly was. She still walked next to king, and both appeared as if they could have been on a diplomatic stroll, not in the middle of a battle. The king's guards had spread out around him, intent on ensuring he never got even remotely close to danger.
All up and down the formation, people fought the horde. The only saving grace was that their expedition wasn't unprepared. The wave of Grimm would have been too much for nearly any force as small as theirs. As it was, the Grimm encountered dozens of hunters, some with decades of fighting behind them. With the unique telepathy that only experience could provide they began to carve their way through the swarm. Qrow, Taiyang, Port, and Oobleck were right at the very tip of the wedge.
Blake linked back up with Yang. All of them had them same mantra, to keep moving forwards, not to stop. Now that they'd absorbed the initial charge, things became a little easier. Without the weight of momentum behind them, only so many Grimm could reach them at once.
Their formation became tighter, pressing themselves almost shoulder to shoulder. The mechs providing a solid brace every dozen feet. They weren't as effective as the foot soldiers armed with swords and shields like troops of the past, but they presented a solid wall to the Grimm. Only the hunters ranged beyond the line of rifles, pulling back when they'd created a pocket of space.
Despite the tactics and their skill, this was a battle unlike any other Blake had seen. Perhaps Vale had had more participants, but here, on an entirely too creepy island in the middle of the ocean, the Grimm seemed almost endless. The weight of numbers was beginning to take its toll. They had to keep moving. They didn't have a choice. To stop was to die. Blake knew that. They all knew that. It didn't make it any easier to leave those who went down though. At least their deaths were quick.
War against the Grimm had always been one of attrition. Though the beach behind them was carpeted with black bodies, there were people intermingled with them. Every so often, when she had a moment to breathe, Blake glanced around, checking that all her friends were still there. They were, but they continually had more and more to do to sustain the formation.
A screeching bellow erupted from the trees. The mech nearest the source of the noise crashed to the ground under a swirling frenzy of black and red chitin. The Mogwai hammered at its armour, crushing the pilot within. With one swipe its scythe-like claws ripped two men in half, their guts streaming through the air behind them like a banner.
The Mogwai surged through the hole it had torn in their lines and headed straight towards the group of people in the centre. Cinder raised her hand, ready to unleash hell upon it. No primal explosion came. The Mogwai barrelled over the royal guard that leapt to intercept it, its weight pressing his breastplate flat. A kick sent another tumbling away, and the king was left exposed.
He dived away from the first attack, springing to his feet with an agility that belied his years. In a smooth motion he drew a black sword from both ends of the single sheath strapped to his back.
Badr sidestepped from the next strike, and spun on his heel, his swords lashing out. The instant before they bounced from the chitin, the midnight swords flared into the brightest day. Their white edges sliced through the armour without resistance, severing the Mogwai's leg. Badr didn't let up, in a flurry of white and black he carved the Grimm to pieces. It took him only a couple of seconds to dispatch one of the most feared Grimm on the planet.
Blake found herself momentarily stunned. She wasn't the only one. Even the royal guards stared open-mouthed as if they didn't believe their eyes. Blake didn't blame them. Badr had attacked with a swiftness and skill that shouldn't have been possible for someone seemingly as old as him. It was as if the battle had brought him back to his youth.
Of course, it had helped that he had such a pair of fabulous weapons. They were Erashan's swords, she had no doubt; she'd been too intimately familiar with them too recently not to recognize them... In any other scenario Blake would have pondered just over how the king of Vacuo had obtained them. Were they an elaborate gift, or had he gained them through a method more sinister? But here, in the middle of a running battle, she didn't have the time. Badr sheathed his weapons with a flourish, and ordered his three remaining guards back to position before glaring at Cinder. She only raised her eyebrow in response. She still hadn't joined the fray.
One of the Janissaries broke off from the combat long enough to drag the corpse of the Mogwai from the path of the truck carrying the bomb. In the midst of the dead forest, their progress was slower. Those up front not only had to deal with the Grimm, but find a path that their formation could pass through otherwise unimpeded.
Away from the beach, they had at least weathered the initial swarm. The Grimm no longer attempted to overwhelm them through force of numbers, but instead, just like the Mogwai had, they lay in wait and ambushed them. It was proving more effective. With the cover of the forest the long-range weapons of the Janissaries and soldiers were useless. The hunters had to pick up even more of the slack. The attacking Grimm were now bigger, older, smarter. They'd known the fallacy of attacking over open ground. They'd bided their time, and it was paying off.
Yang went down under the pounce of Cheshire. Blake lost the ability to think. In desperation she used her Semblance twice in quick succession, and reappeared in the middle of a double-legged kick. The impact pistoned her knees into her chest, but it achieved her aim of throwing the Grimm off of Yang. Blake landed on top of her, but neither had time to recover. Yang almost bench-pressed Blake off of her before leaping up.
Yang ignored the angry red lines across her stomach left by the Cheshire's hind claws, and jumped straight back into the fight. A pair of Sun's clones joined her a moment later. With the Grimm distracted by the glowing figures, Yang threw a Semblance-enhanced combo at its ribs. Bones broke, but it wouldn't go down so easily.
Blake yanked Yang back out of the way again in the nick of time. Her swords flashed as shining claws met them. The Cheshire was faster than her, much faster. It was the fastest opponent Blake had ever fought, except perhaps Ruby. The only reason she was able to avoid its claws was because it was outnumbered. Alone it would have gutted her in short order.
The three of them ̶ ̶ plus Sun's clones which were destroyed almost as quickly as they were created ̶ ̶ attacked it from all sides. Blake's thoughts couldn't even keep up with her body's instincts. She cut, dodged, and parried while barely seeing what she was reacting to. The Cheshire was nothing more than a blur to her senses.
A paw caught her on the wrist. Something popped. Pain erupted. Her hand spasmed open and her sheath sailed into the air. She barely managed to turn Gambol Shroud to catch the follow up attack, but her one-handed grip didn't have the strength. The hit slammed the back of her own blade into her face. The Cheshire bellowed.
Blake ended up on the floor again. She lashed out with her sword, but her blow lacked any real power. Only Sun and Yang's continued attacks were able to bring her a brief respite. Pushing the discomfort and pain to the back of her mind, she focused on the more primal part of her brain. The part that said to fight now, and lick her wounds later.
Their skirmish with Cheshire had carried them deeper into the forest. The main formation was still in sight, but they were in real danger of being left behind, or surrounded. Blake pulled the secondary trigger on Gambol Shroud and let loose a burst of fire that managed to momentarily secure one part of their flank.
Her left arm hung numb and useless at her side. Even so, Yang and Sun were struggling. Blake waded back in. The three of them could probably have handled a Cheshire with a little bit of prep, but they hadn't had it. Instead they'd been fighting for what felt like hours since landing on the beach. They'd hurt the cat, but that had only succeeded in enraging it further.
A portal ripped into existence next to them and Raven leapt through it. Wearing her Grimm mask and headdress, she appeared every bit as terrifying as the first time Blake had seen her. Raven wasted no time. Her odachi brightened the forest as the Dust blade ignited on the Cheshire's hind leg; either she'd gotten lucky or her experience showed through. The Cheshire screamed in agony and abandoned its attack on the rest of them to concentrate on Raven. It was what she'd wanted. She drew it away.
An arm stopped Yang rushing to her aid. "Get through the portal!" Oobleck shouted.
"Fuck off!" Yang tried to buck from his grip.
"I'll help her. You're wounded. Go!" He pushed her towards the portal, before sprinting off after Raven.
Oobleck was right. Yang's shorts and legs had been drenched by blood running from the slashes on her exposed stomach. Blake couldn't feel her left arm at all, and Sun was favouring one side. None of them were in the condition to fight, and while Raven left the portal open to them, she wouldn't be able to use any to combat the Cheshire.
Blake only had one option. It wasn't the noble one, but it was the smart one. She bundled Yang though the portal before she had a chance to fight back. Sun must have come to the same conclusions, and the moment that he stepped through the gateway vanished.
"What the fuck!" Yang pushed away from her, turning back the way they'd come to find only empty air.
They'd reappeared in the middle of the formation alongside some of the other walking wounded. A few medics were attempting to patch them up while on the move and get them back into the fight. Even with their efforts, Blake estimated they must have lost thirty percent of the force they'd started out with. Their lines were beginning to become stretched.
"You're hurt." Blake tried to sheath Gambol Shroud only to realise that she couldn't. The sheath that she'd laboured over for weeks was lost somewhere in the forest around them. It would be a miracle if it was ever found again. All hunters were attached to their weapons ̶ ̶ it was only natural when they relied on them to save their lives ̶ ̶ and though she would mourn its loss, she had at least managed to hang onto Gambol Shroud.
"I'm not."
It was such a poor lie that Blake almost laughed. "Look at yourself." Now that she'd a chance to examine the wounds up close, they looked even worse. The torn flesh of Yang's abdomen was ragged and deep. Her Aura might have started to at least limit the blood flow, but it was a miracle that Yang was still standing. Or knowing Yang maybe not. She was too stubborn for her own good.
Yang did glance down then. From the widening of her eyes it appeared that she hadn't even been aware of her injuries. She dragged in a deep breath as she probed them with a finger. "It's nothing."
"Come off it." They didn't have time to argue. Not with what was happening around them. The only reason they were able to was because of people fighting in their stead. There would be no bystanders here. They needed to get back into the fight as quickly as possible.
Sun thrust a medic at Yang, daring her to try and turn down the aid. Thankfully she didn't, even if she didn't look happy about it. Blake was able to turn her attention to her own arm. It hung entirely limp at her side. She touched it and swore internally.
"Dislocated?" Sun asked. He at least still appeared mostly in one piece. Blake nodded. It could have been worse, but it could have been a whole lot better. Even with Aura she wouldn't be using the arm properly for days. "Do you want me to?" Sun mimed a wrenching motion.
Blake closed her eyes. There wasn't any way around it. She nodded. She didn't feel anything at all when Sun's fingers closed on her arm, but she felt when he moved it. Her shoulder flared into agony. He held her still as he made a few final checks.
At least it was over quickly. A single effort from him, using her straightened arm as leverage, popped her shoulder back into its socket. The pain would have dropped her to her knees if he hadn't been holding her upright. It was orders of magnitudes worse than when it had been dislocated in the first place. Still, at least her arm moved now. She directed her Aura into her shoulder. "Thanks," her voice was hoarse from where she'd bitten back her scream, but she was sincere. "What about you?"
"It's nothing. I twisted my ankle on a root. It's fine now."
Blake wasn't too sure whether or not to believe him, but he did seem to be moving better than earlier, and at least he wasn't spilling blood to the ground as Yang had been. She herself impatiently waited with her arms above her head as the medic wrapped bandages around her stomach. If Yang was in pain, she didn't let it show.
A portal opened. Oobleck and Raven jumped through it. They both appeared worse for wear, drenched in blood and gore, but no doubt they'd come out of the fight better than the Cheshire. Raven gave Yang a once over, nodded at Blake, then ran back into the fray.
She was needed. Those seeking treatment in the centre of their formation numbered a significant fraction compared to those trying to hold it. The king of Vacuo had seen how much his troops had been straining. He'd abandoned his position of safety and had moved into the front lines. Where he fought, his soldiers stood strong. Inspired by pride and the desire to protect him. It was heroic. The actions of a ruler who led by example.
Given that display, despite the pain the three of them must have been in, they only needed to share one glance before they joined the fight once more. It was hard going. Blake could only fight one-handed, Yang grimaced every time she had to overstretch herself, and despite their best efforts they were unable to protect all those around them. Their comrades fell. Every injury, every death, was one more they could not afford.
The soldiers who had joined them were some of the best that Vacuo had to offer, but they weren't hunters. They didn't have Auras capable of shrugging off an attack or giving them a second chance. It was all Blake could do to keep the Grimm away from them, but she couldn't be everywhere at once. If she made a mistake others died.
A Deathstalker scattered figures on the opposite side of the loose square. Neptune leapt upon it, his trident arcing with electricity and dripping molten metal from its overuse. He plunged it down at the Deathstalkers eyes. In its crazed spasms its stinger smashed into Neptune ribs, he crumpled under the impact. Qrow and one of the few surviving Janissaries arrived moments later.
Blake didn't have time to see what happened next. Her own section came under renewed assault. All she knew was that the Deathstalker must have been dealt with for they kept moving. It happened time and time again. Their lines were breached, all seeming lost, only for them to rally and repulse the Grimm.
It was relentless. Utterly relentless. Blake had hit the physical limits of her body. She was at the point where pain and exhaustion told her she couldn't go on, where her body told her to give up, to lie down. But then she looked around at all those struggling to survive. The soldiers who were outmatched. Her friends. At Yang whose wounds had leaked through her bandages, but fought on with a grimace on her face. Blake looked at all those whom could only be described as her family and, in that knowledge, she found a way to not let them down.
The forest, the shadowy dominion that had almost proved their demise, finally tapered out. They'd battled their way through it, leaving a trail of bodies behind them. The soft ground that had allowed the trees to grow transitioned to solid sheets of rock. The thousand spires rose into the sky, so close that they could almost touch them. Towers as black as midnight and seemingly without rhyme or reason, the legacy of aberrant volcanic activity.
Remarkable they were, but they didn't capture Blake's attention. As she looked upon them, the sense of wrongness that she'd been living with for weeks pulsated. She might have been imagining it, but she didn't think so. The instinct that had always warned her of the presence of the Grimm ̶ ̶ the oily, sickly cloak that settled over shoulders ̶ ̶ was infinitely more intense. But not because of the monsters all around her. This was something else. Something more.
The ripple of unease spread through everyone still standing, still capable of feeling, and even the Grimm were affected. They broke off their relentless attack and withdrew until they formed a ring. The truck transporting the bomb ground to a halt.
An uneasy quiet fell, everyone making best use of the respite even if they were unsure as to the reason for it. Deathstalkers, King Taijitus, Ursas, Mogwais, Beowolves, Cheshires, Goliaths, every Grimm Blake could name, and several she couldn't, waited. Even those in the air didn't attack.
Yang edged her way closer and whispered. "What's going on?"
Blake could shake her head. "I don't know." The Grimm weren't motionless, but they didn't follow their instincts and attack either. Some communal impulse kept them in check. It didn't matter. Eventually this truce would break and the Grimm would fall upon them. Surrounded by a solid ring of black, with the stench of the Grimm billowing over them, they wouldn't stand a chance.
"We're boned aren't we?" Somehow Yang made it sound like a joke. Blake could only thank her best friend in the entire world for the effort. Despite the situation she found her lips curling into a smile. Yang's eyes glittered. They'd never looked more beautiful than in this very moment.
"Yeah."
Blake watched her death approach. It wasn't the first time she'd thought that, but all the other times she'd managed to wriggle her way out of it. There would be no escape from this.
Strangely, the thought didn't upset her. Well it did, but not in the usual way, not in the way it always had before. Despite what Yang and Weiss had said, she'd never sought death. At least not how they'd thought she did. And perhaps there had been some truth in that she hadn't quite seen herself from their perspective either.
In the past she'd always thrown herself into the most dangerous scenarios, because she felt it right. The only way to make amends. She had set a low value on her life, simply because that was how she saw herself.
The crimes she'd committed in the White Fang could never be undone. Not one of the people she harmed returned to life. Even with the support of her friends, that had been a hard pill to swallow. One she hadn't. If she could have given her life to save one of those people, she would have done so. But it was impossible. In lieu of that, she'd been forced to settle for the next best thing. To make amends. Somehow.
She'd tried. She really had. Becoming a noble huntress had only been the first step. But despite how many people she saved, it had never been enough. It couldn't have been when she'd never forgiven herself. She'd never been able to. She'd always thought she would have taken her overwhelming guilt to her grave.
Yang had never been able to understand that, but Weiss had. The White Fang had caused Weiss untold misery. Blake had caused Weiss untold misery. And Weiss had forgiven her. Completely. Utterly. She'd absolved Blake of all the crimes that haunted her every night. And not only that, but even Erashan had as well. Perhaps not as gracefully, but he had. They'd both forgiven her and, in doing so, had lifted the burden she'd borne for years. Borne willingly as a penance for something she could never correct.
It was in those moments, confronted by the truth, that Blake had been forced to see herself in the mirror for the first time. See what she'd done to herself. What she'd put herself through for nothing. The past was gone. It was in the past. She could never change what she'd done, but she realised she didn't have to let it control her anymore. She just had to concentrate on the person who she wanted to be.
Perhaps she hadn't had the chance to be that person quite yet. The person who carried on her parents' work in their memory. Who made the lives of Faunus better by means they would have approved of. That had been a lofty ideal. Too lofty.
Instead, as death stood around her, she concentrated on what she had done. She'd made friends, she'd fallen in love. She even had a family. She might not have improved the lives of all Faunus, but she'd improved the lives of the people who knew her. It wasn't a lofty goal but, for the first time in her life, Blake could admit it was enough. In reality, it was all that was needed from anyone.
She looked at Yang, at the person she loved, and she joined in as Yang actually had the audacity to laugh at their situation. Trust Yang to look on the bright side. She grinned as she spoke.
"Well at least it can't get any wors ̶ ̶ "
An ear-shattering roar broke the tranquillity and, from the midst of the spires, a colossal shape took to the sky.
A/N: Yang shouldn't have said anything. Anyway I hope you enjoyed. Please let me know if you did.
