Yang knew she should never have given in to the urge to open her mouth. She should have shoved her fist in it instead. And then the rest of her arm just to make sure. She'd challenged the most fundamental law of the universe; things could always get worse.
The roar didn't feel much like sound. It bypassed her ears directly and instead reverberated in the organs in her chest. But it wasn't the volume that caused Yang's knees to tremble. It was the feeling that accompanied it.
As the Grimm soared skywards ̶ ̶ its outline silhouetted against the sun ̶ ̶ a primal sensation threatened to overpower her. Fear. Pure fear. The fear that her earliest ancestors must have experienced as they realised they were prey.
It would have been conceited in the extreme for Yang to claim she didn't get scared. She did. All the time in fact. Over the past two years she'd been terrified of every imagined scenario that Ruby might have been in. Yang had been scared of exams. Scared of finally giving into temptation and asking someone out. Of what would have happened if her dad's drinking had got out into the open.
In her life, Yang had been scared of many things, but the Grimm had rarely been a source of terror for her. She'd always trusted her own skills. Now, looking at the Grimm above her, the largest Grimm she'd ever seen, her confidence melted. Against that, she was nothing.
The dragon stretched its black and red-veined wings. It dwarfed all the Nevermores in the sky. It dwarfed everything. It was so large that Yang had trouble comprehending just how it was able to stay in the air. Its wingspan might have blocked out the sun, but even so.
"That's… not going to fit on my wall." In the unnatural silence that had followed the roar, Yang could hear Port perfectly. In his lessons he'd always taught that the Goliaths were the largest of the Grimm. Now Yang saw just how wrong he'd been. The dragon's skull was likely the size of his entire house if not larger. If Port had only joined them to get a new decoration, he was going to be sorely disappointed.
The dragon flapped its wings, hovering in place hundreds of feet above them. It unleashed a second roar. One that was somehow even louder than the first and, this time, the Grimm all around them made noise as well. The combination of roars, screeches, and howls almost dropped Yang to her knees. They were surrounded by the pure embodiment of hate.
The roar was the signal that all the Grimm had been waiting for. As the dragon plummeted downwards, the rest of the Grimm charged forward through the mist. Yang gritted her teeth, the pain of her wounds fading to the back of mind. This was it. There were too many Grimm surrounding them and not enough of their expedition remaining to hold them back. The only certainty Yang had was that, when it came to it, she would go down fighting. From the grimace on Blake's face, she thought the same.
Yang could only regret that she had ultimately brought them all to this outcome. It was an idle wish, but she wished she had chosen differently. That she had seen Ruby again. Told her she loved her one last time. The message she had recorded would have to suffice.
It was the strange nature of adrenaline; Yang could contemplate all her poor choices and regrets while the Grimm still closed. Adrenaline didn't actually make time slow down, it just seemed like it did. A Beowolf ran straight at her, plunging through the mist that almost obscured it from sight.
Wait… Yang's brain finally made the connection between the water vapour hanging in the air on a sunny day, and just what it was likely preceding. She threw up an arm. It didn't help. Her flesh only blocked the light from her eyes. It couldn't stop the heat or the impact that slammed into her.
All around them, the mist that had gathered detonated. Seeded with Red Dust, and who knew what else, it erupted into a conflagration hundreds of feet in diameter with a miniscule safe spot in the middle. So hot that the flames almost glowed white. Yang knew that the only reason her skin hadn't been charred black was the protective patch of mist in front of her glowing blue.
The Grimm weren't so lucky. The crackling reverberation of the inferno was so intense that their screams wouldn't have been audible to even Blake. The wall of fire in front of her twitched, then it began to spin and rise upwards.
A tornado formed. A blue-white tornado with them in the very eye. In a fraction of a second they were surrounded by a spinning conflagration, and it didn't stop climbing. The sides arched over them and came together in the middle, forming a dome.
A Grimm roared, somehow making itself heard. It could only have been the dragon. Encased by fire they were protected from its wrath. They might have been shielded from the Grimm, but soon enough their defence would prove its own problem. The small shelter of blue Dust did nothing for the air temperature. It seared down Yang's throat and burned her nose. The fires stripped the air of oxygen, and she could barely drag in enough to function.
And yet, still Velvet poured more heat into the flames. More Dust. She must have had a special supply because, although Velvet had terrified Yang time and time again, this was by far the most impressive things she had ever witnessed. With an effort of will, her friend had stopped a horde of the Grimm dead, but then again she wasn't alone.
Cinder stood next to her, both glowing with the light of Dust, their hair whipping around their heads in the winds they'd created. Both looked imperious, but Cinder more so. Her skin shone bright white and her eyes were aflame. She brought her hands together over her head, and the dome responded.
At its very top, the fires began combining. They began to take on the appearance of something that was almost solid. The curtain of fire lifted from the melted ground and the entirety of it was absorbed into the shape that started to emerge. Made of white and blue flames, it was a shape that Yang recalled from the festival in Vale. Directly above her, a dragon spread its fiery wings. It was an exact replica of the Grimm one, so much so that Yang was certain that Cinder had based her creation on it.
The two dragons collided in a flurry of flashing claws and fangs. The fact they could collide at all proved the density of the flames. Her dragon wasn't just an image, it had substance to it. The pair of them twirled in the sky, latching on and kicking with their clawed legs, attempting to disembowel each other.
It was the natural instinct from the Grimm, but it wouldn't serve any purpose. Cinder's creation had no flesh to rend, no guts to expose to air. Where the Grimm's claws pierced, it only succeeded in gouging out chunk of almost solid flame, the wounds were quickly filled. The Grimm seemed to be the strongest of the pair. Its wings directed their tussle, but it was simply unable to hurt something that had no nerves. With a push, it kicked its opponent away into a Nevermore that had strayed too close to the fight. The bird burned ̶ ̶ its feathers turning to ash just from the proximity ̶ ̶ and it tumbled from the sky.
The Grimm dragon used the brief respite to think. No Grimm could have grown to that size without having been alive for who knew how long, and with age came intelligence. It realised it couldn't win in a fight against a beast that didn't really exist, and it managed to connect the dots between the other dragon and the two glowing figures on the ground.
It roared, and all the Grimm that had been brought to a standstill by the initial formation of the fire received their purpose again. Across the melted rock and past the blackened corpses of those that had been caught in the inferno, they charged at the small group in the centre.
There weren't as many Grimm as there had been. The fastest and most eager had been incinerated, but that only meant the approaching Grimm were some of the largest, or those that had been clever enough to hang back.
Bracing herself, Yang longed for another eruption of fire. It wouldn't come. Velvet and Cinder were entirely occupied dealing with the largest threat. With the dragon free to attack, it would likely kill them in moments. In comparison, the rest of the Grimm should be easy.
Yang leapt aside from the rolling attack of a Boarbatusk Matriarch. Despite its size and the razor-sharp tusks, Boarbatusks were among the easiest Grimm to deal with. In the act of dodging, Yang dealt a light blow to one knee. Its legs got tangled up and it slammed to the ground, sliding across the rock. Blake pounced on the Grimm before it stopped, sinking her blade into its vulnerable stomach; it keened piteously as she gutted it.
Leaving Blake to the gruesome task, Yang turned away just in time to see the claw of a Deathstalker crunch into the chest of a soldier. He dropped as though he were a puppet whose strings had been cut. The soldiers just weren't prepared for this. Nor had they been capable in the first place. They should never have been brought. Without melee weapons or strong Auras, they were just too vulnerable. The hunters could at least cope. All the soldiers had done was make up the numbers and leave a string of corpses behind them.
A Deathstalker larger than any she'd seen before ploughed into their formation, sending figures flying. One of the figures wore black and red.
"Mum!" Yang wasn't conscious of the scream leaving her mouth. She wasn't conscious of anything, apart from the fact Raven was in danger.
Firing at the ground behind her to gain some momentum, Yang flew at the Grimm. She landed a two-punch combo into the Deathstalker; her attack didn't do any real damage, but she didn't expect it to. All she wanted was to distract the Grimm from the person who'd burrowed further into her heart than she cared to admit.
It worked. A stinger whipped towards her face. She spun to the side, throwing her fist at one of the vulnerable poison sacks. The shock reverberated up her arm as the flesh gave way. Ichor spurted out. There weren't many vulnerable points on a Deathstalker, but that was one of them. Yang could only be thankful that she'd had so much practice in the deserts.
Still, a Deathstalker, especially one this size, was a two-man job. She had to give ground beneath a flurry of blows from its claws. She couldn't block, not really, only retreat. At this point Blake would normally make use of the distraction, but she was nowhere to be seen, and Raven still hadn't risen. With her fists up in a boxer's guard, Yang kept the Grimm's attention, dashing in and out.
The soldiers around tried to help, shooting where they could, but their rounds just ricocheted into the sky. A grey-black blur arrived. Qrow's scythe ripped straight into the appendage that held the stinger and out the other side. The Deathstalker recoiled in pain, and Yang hammered hits to its eyes, cracking the armour. Qrow took off a leg, then a claw just before it struck her. Yang concentrated on her task, getting closer and closer to its tiny brain. Blood spurted. The Grimm twitched, and then it went still.
The moment it wasn't a danger any longer, they both darted towards Raven. Seeing her go down, Yang had expected the worst. For nothing more than a broken husk to be on the ground. For her to have the lost the person she had been so slowly reconnecting with. Raven would never replace Summer. She didn't deserve to. But she was still special to Yang.
Her racing heart froze in an instant. Raven's form was still. Qrow slid to a stop beside her. Yang didn't. Even in the middle of a furious battle, she couldn't move. Not until Raven coughed and spat did the captured breath escaped from her lungs. Raven didn't look good as she staggered to her feet, but at least she was still able to rise. And, judging by the look on her face, to fight.
She nodded her thanks to Yang, smiling in her direction, and then she and Qrow took off to engage the next target. Yang should have done the same as well, but her fear-fuelled exertions had left her lungs empty and her stomach burning. The Cheshire's claw marks stung like fire. The bandages that had been hastily wrapped around her stomach were crimson. It hurt enough that she wanted to cry—every movement was agony—but in the midst of all this, she couldn't give in to her self-pity. Every moment she spent complaining of her wounds was one where someone else was dying because of it.
She turned back to the battle. Though it barely felt like they'd been fighting for more than a few seconds, but the ground was littered with bodies. Unlike in the forest or the beach, there were as many black corpses as those of other colours.
The only reason Blake hadn't come to her aid was because she'd been busy dealing with a King Taijitu. Taiyang filled in as her partner. Even when they took it down, it wouldn't be enough. The Grimm were everywhere and all intent on doing one thing.
An Ursa slipped through their broken lines and lunged towards Cinder and Velvet. Mercury met it with a flying leap, his shotgun-enhanced kick diverting it from its course. Emerald arrived a moment later.
A Cheshire pounced upon Neptune, growling and hissing, trapping his weapon between their bodies. Neptune desperately tried to keep its teeth from his face. It was a losing battle. Little by little, the Grimm overpowered him. Yang was too far away to help, and so were his teammates.
Seeing one of his old students in danger, Port shoulder charged an Ursa out of the way, and crunched his axe into the Cheshire's side. It wasn't enough. Enraged, out of control, the Grimm ignored the light wound. Port tried again. The armoured plate cracked, but it didn't give.
He threw aside his weapon and wrapped his arms around the Grimm. With a slow and steady pressure, he pulled the Grimm away. It snapped its jaws at Neptune's face. So close, and yet so far. Port hauled it off Neptune entirely, but didn't let go. He couldn't. The Grimm writhed in his grasp, its tail whipping out, its legs flashing. The muscles in his arms bulged, showing a definition that hadn't been lost because of his age.
Neptune faced the same problem that Port had moments before. With the Cheshire in a bear hug, he couldn't attack without risking his saviour. Port began to shout, to roar. The tendons in his neck straining, beating at the surface of his skin. The Cheshire must have weighed at least five hundred pounds, and he held it in the air, crushing it against his body.
The Grimm twisted in his grasp, trying to sink its teeth into his skull. He ran out of breath shouting wordlessly again, putting all of his exertions into the cry. The unceasing pressure took its toll. With one final heave, the Cheshire's spine snapped as if it were an overstrung bow. Its lower half went limp, and Port let it drop. He stood, his eyes glazed, staring at the sky, a smile forming on his lips. A content smile. Dark grey coils of intestines slipped from beneath his rent shirt, sliding down his legs. He remained standing for a moment longer, before he fell atop the Grimm that had killed him.
Witnessing the death of one of her old teachers should have shocked Yang. It didn't. She'd seen so much. Seen so much death. Port was just another name on the list of those she would mourn if a miracle happened and they ever got out of this. Or another she would see soon if they didn't.
Port hadn't seemed upset at the end. Yang could never have imagined him dying in bed. Not with all the stories he'd told. The thrill of battle was what he'd lived for. He'd made the choice to save one last person in a life spent helping people. It had cost him his own but, somehow, Yang knew he would have thought it worth it.
All around her people were making similar sacrifices. Putting their own lives in danger to help others. Yang saw acts of the deepest heroism time and time again. She was surrounded by heroes locked in a desperate struggle against the Grimm; but as bad as it was, the battle below was nothing in scale compared to the one above.
The Grimm dragon and Cinder's creation still tussled in the sky. Two bodies larger than buildings crashing together time and time again. The Grimm had the advantage in the positional sense; it was free to roam while Cinder's dragon had to stay near to guard her. But it couldn't hurt something made entirely of flame, and that's where it was relying on its brethren.
One of the Goliaths neared in its slow, plodding gait, getting ever closer. No one on the ground had the firepower to take one down. Some of the soldiers tried, directing the last of their grenades at its head. The explosions and shrapnel had no effect on one of the oldest Grimm in existence. Everyone realised any resistance was ultimately futile. The Goliaths would smash their formation without even attacking. They could just walk over them. Even so, no one suggested giving up. They'd fight until the moment they no longer could.
Cinder realised this and realised the danger they were all in. Her dragon leapt upwards, going for the other's throat. It backed off, sending billows of foul air downwards as it flapped its wings. The feint gave Cinder the opening she needed.
Her dragon twisted and plummeted to earth. It swooped low enough over their formation that the temperature skyrocketed and the heat ripped the air from Yang's lungs. The core of its body had to have been several thousand degrees at least. With outstretched talons it struck the head of the nearest Goliath. A titanic force met an immovable object. The force won.
The Goliaths were big, huge even—they were several stories tall and dwarfed everything around—but the dragon was colossal. Blue-white claws plunged through hardened flesh. Such was the momentum of its sweeping attack that it pulled the Goliath onto its hind legs and then toppled it over backwards. The ground trembled as it landed, its face in smouldering ruins. In a fraction of a heartbeat, Cinder and Velvet had managed to kill one the most deadly Grimm around.
But it had come at a price. Realising it had been tricked, the Grimm dragon had turned tail and leapt to attack. As Cinder's raced to intercept, it altered its course and opened its maw. It might have been a dragon, but fire didn't erupt. Instead darkness spewed forth. A darkness that embodied the very concept of the Grimm.
The thick, foul liquid, sprayed over a swathe of the combatants. They died. Horribly. The vitriol clung to their armour, to their skin, and ate through it. Men and Grimm screamed in absolute agony. Clawing at their faces, ripping their skin off to spare themselves the pain, but only succeeding on spreading it to their hands. The last remaining Janissary collapsed, the plate metal armour proving no match for the acid. Even the solid rock beneath belched forth smoke and gas. In just a few seconds nothing recognisable as living tissue remained, and at least a quarter of Yang's comrades had been snuffed out. Soldiers or hunters, it hadn't mattered. Not before the power of the Grimm.
The people nearest stumbled backwards, forgetting they were in the middle of a fight, intent on just getting away from the horror that had been unleashed. The lines ̶ ̶ which had barely resembled such any more ̶ ̶ collapsed and the Grimm rushed in.
Yang raced to reinforce them, thrilled to see Blake fall into step next to her. In the fight she'd committed the cardinal sin and had lost track of her partner. They arrived together, and struck three times as hard because of it.
Her fists batted aside the swipe of a Beowolf and delivered a bone-crunching blow to its jaw. Blake parried an attack to her right and struck back. The pair of them held their ground, an island of fortitude in an ocean of turmoil, but the Grimm were just too many and the defenders too few. In the melee the only way Yang could find the room to swing her fists was to take one step back, and then another, and another. Every time she swore to herself she wouldn't cede any more ground, but before long her back was pressed up against the tracks of the truck.
Under the weight of the Grimm, their defensive formation had dissolved entirely. Only a handful of the soldiers remained. The hunters left standing formed a ring around the bomb, Cinder, and Velvet, desperately trying to hold on.
They were holding, just. The soldiers and the other hunters who'd fallen had done so because, for the most part, they'd found themselves lacking. Those remaining were the strongest, the most experienced. But even skill could only carry a person so far.
They'd been fighting for what felt like days. Every time Yang managed to defeat one Grimm another jumped into the gap. She struggled to find the energy to carry on. The muscles in her arms shook, strained and stretched. Her punches lacked power. Her legs were weak, stained with the blood from the open wounds on her stomach, her head spun. The solid rock of the ground was unsteady beneath her.
Blake was hardly any better. There were numerous cuts and gashes littering her body, her clothes in ruins. Qrow's face was pale, a broken arm held tight against his torso, but still he fought, wielding his scythe with a single hand. No one had come out of the fight unscathed. Everyone was wounded just like her, and yet, no one had given in. They all fought on regardless of the severity of their wounds. They knew to give in to the pain was to give up on life. To leave their comrades vulnerable. Some people might have tried to save themselves at another's expense, but no one became a hunter out of selfish reasons. At this moment, everyone would have preferred to die than to let down a friend, and that was exactly what gave Yang the energy to fight on.
Above them, Cinder's dragon pursued the Grimm, opening its own jaws. Even the sun dimmed as a cone of impossibly hot substance shot forth. It turned the very air to plasma. The Grimm dodged aside, and in doing so strayed too close. Jaws of fire clamped down on its tail.
The Grimm screamed in pain, the cry as shrill as a sword being drawn over metal. It beat its wings, attempting to throw Cinder's beast loose. It didn't work. Locked in battle, they twisted and dived. It was a strange dance, each striking out with claws, with fangs, with their wings. They rose higher until they were but specs in the sky.
The Grimm only wanted to get away from the burning heat. It couldn't. The tail of Cinder's dragon wrapped around both their bodies, pinning them together. In the embrace of the inferno, the Grimm went mad. They fought in a terrible silence, save for the impacts they dealt each other. From point-blank range they unleashed the power of their breaths. Utter darkness and unbearable light coalesced, a curtain of fire and acid raining down upon the island of Menagerie.
The Grimm dragon might have been terrible, it might have been the most powerful being in existence and the bane of civilization, but it was still a creature of flesh and blood. It still lived. Its adversary didn't. The acid may have ripped away at chunks of its body, but they were soon renewed. The fire it belched forth did far more damage.
As the Grimm recoiled, Cinder's dragon latched on to the back of its neck. Its molten fangs dug in deep, and it wrapped its wings around the pair of them. Entwined, they plummeted. Growing larger and larger with every heartbeat, the Grimm's actions became frantic as it tried to fight free. Cinder's didn't let it. Her dragon rode it ever downwards.
Blazing as they were, they were like a meteor the size of districts. The crash of the impact sent tremors racing through the solid rock. The ground shook violently. Not one person or beast managed to keep their footing in the earthquake.
The noise rolled over them a moment later. A deep boom accompanied by a cloud of stinging dust that gouged its way into eyes. Yang didn't want to climb to her feet. Now that she was on the soft rock, all she wanted to do was sleep, but she forced herself up. The desperate battle had been stilled by the impact of the two dragons, even the Grimm had paused.
A shape emerged from the crater. A shape whose light shone through the clouds of particles. Whose burning incandescence banished the darkness of the Grimm. Cinder's dragon stood upon its fallen foe and, with the crackling of the hottest furnace, roared its triumph to the heavens.
