Wraith

Chapter Forty

Beta: Smithrooks

Service and Sacrifice

Vale, present day…

It was a subtle thing.

The change was quiet, almost unnoticeable even.

But Nihilus saw it, he saw the little shift within the broken Betrayer's soul. Where before there was a lack of direction and a distinct sense of nothing, now there was… purpose.

What that purpose was Nihilus didn't know, for how could he understand one who would cast aside their family for strangers? No, the Betrayer was a mystery to him.

Even now Nihilus couldn't divine what drove the boy - what purpose did he have in coming into Vale during a day when he was meant to have lessons? Not that Nihilus himself cared much for the empty teachings, but it was out of character for the Betrayer. To act, to cause something himself rather than merely react wasn't normal for the little wretch.

It was just very… odd.

"What are you doing, Betrayer?" Nihilus queried as the boy walked down the sunlit streets. Vale was a terribly uninteresting place, even in the 'rougher' parts that Betrayer strolled through.

"Tell me, what ever happened to your father? To your sisters?"

Oh? Now that was interesting. The Betrayer actually speaking to him? Acknowledging his presence with anything beyond a hateful glare was a novelty. What had caused this? And to open with such a question? Ooh, the little Betrayer was fishing for something. Like the little rat could glean some understanding from such a question. Such a fool.

"You saw it Betrayer, you saw what became of Dorme. The ash, the utter destruction."

Nihilus had been… hurt? That was odd, he couldn't quite remember. But he'd taken the Betrayer and the not-Pyrrha to the miserable little hole he wallowed in for nearly three years, they saw what became of Dorme. They saw the destruction, the utter devastation. It was a dead place, something ruined and tainted in the eyes of society. A boneyard.

"That doesn't answer my question."

The Betrayer didn't slow down his walk, nor did he even look at Nihilus' ghostly form as he spoke. It was rather disconcerting. The wretched boy just kept walking, unheeding to those around him as he pushed into the… red light district?

But no, Nihilus didn't answer his question. Funny that. Some things were meant to be experienced - especially for one as vile and traitorous as the Betrayer. He wanted to know what became of them? What became of eight people he would burn down the world to see again? That little slime hadn't earnt the right. He was a wretched and shallow thing, a paradox of ruination that still pretended to be real.

But Nihilus knew that was a lie. The Betrayer was wrong. He was wrong and broken and stained by his piddling little hardships. No doubt misery dominated the mind of the pathetic creature. Anything else was inconceivable and impossible.

This one was just like all the others. He only thought about himself, he was as selfish as ever. For money, for power, for validation or just for the sense of being justified. It was all the same. Everyone was greedy, and the Betrayer was just like every other sentient ever to live.

"Hello. You're Junior? I hear you know things."

Nihilus' attention shifted back towards the Betrayer - had he really just lost himself to thought that much? Pathetic. No no, he had to focus!

And what was this cesspool that the Betrayer found himself in now? A club of some kind. Perhaps it may be impressive to the eyes of a mortal, but to Nihilus it was as filthy and decrepit as the rest of this vile world. The tall bearded fool the Betrayer spoke too reeked of greed almost as badly as the Betrayer himself.

"I may know things, depending on how much you're willing to pay for it kid."

Ooh, Nihilus liked that. This weakling didn't bother trying to hide his avarice, he was an honest soul - something Nihilus could appreciate.

"I like this one, Betrayer. It would be a shame to see him burn."

And burn he would, apparently.

"Good. I'm looking for a hunter, a guy called John Arc. He's from a village called Dorme - it was destroyed recently."

That was enlightening. What ever had become of little old John and the girls of this world?

Ah.

Ah.

Well, one little look across Vale certainly painted a picture there. Heh, the thought of the Betrayer arriving to see that was certainly going to be a fun experience. Nihilus couldn't wait to behold the agony the wretch would feel.

"Dorme, huh? I've heard of it. And maybe I heard of some of the hunters that escaped too. I can't quite seem to remember, maybe something will jog my memory."

Nihilus felt it as clearly as though it were his own soul - possibly because it was once. The ring wrapped around the Betrayer's finger was formerly part of himself of course. The swell of emotion, the unending and unyielding rage that could outlast a star. Nihilus felt it as the power of fire and the will to use it rose up within the boy.

"That's odd. You seem to think I'm asking? No. Tell me now or I'll burn your club to the ground."

Such spirit, such vigour. It was almost novel. Where had this drive come from? This passion? The Betrayer was such because he chose to side against his family, and yet here he was perfectly willing to torch this place and all within it just to find his father and sisters?

Something had changed.

"Do it, Betrayer. You know you want to. Burn them. What do they matter compared to the ones you love? Why should they be happy when you are not?"

"You think you can threaten me, kid? You think just because you're some hotshot trainee hunter you can barge in here and act like you own the place? Girls! Come deal with this fool!"

"Hm."

Nihilus revelled in it. The single moment, the single action the Betrayer took was pure anguish to others but bliss to him.

A single snap of his fingers, a surge of rage that Nihilus felt pull at his own soul. It was glorious.

Nihilus shivered in delight as two girls erupted in flame, their screams of sudden pain practically a lullaby to the dead lord.

A 'battle' ensued, but Nihilus didn't care for it. The Betrayer had power enough to burn down a city if he really let loose, and these cretins were practically nothing to him even when outnumbering the Betrayer.

They burnt, the club burnt, everything burnt. It was delightful to watch as the Betrayer's self-control slipped and his rage overtook him. Nameless swine joined in their assault of the wretched Betrayer, some of the fools not even having their aura unlocked. It was a slaughter.

And the Betrayer revelled in it.

Murderous rage was truly a thing to behold, and for the Betrayer to let it all out in such a fashion? Gorgeous.

"Tell me! Tell me where John Arc is!"

Oh? The Betrayer wasn't completely out of control? That was a surprise - he was angry enough to torch uninvolved people just because they came in to work and yet he was still in control? How… hypocritical.

The bearded man, the delightly forthright one, screamed in agony as his hair burnt. Well, he wasn't bearded anymore really. But Nihilus still found that amusing.

"Alright! I give! Just stop it! Stop burning my club!"

Like that would make a difference now. The place was smoking something fierce. This building was a lost cause - like humanity.

"Tell me and I'll put the fire out."

Ooh, that was good. Nihilus knew the Betrayer was callous, that he was ruthless and beyond cruel. But this was a good example of his hard nature first hand! He could feel it - he could see what the Betrayer was about to do, what he was about to say. It was fantastic!

"Okay! John Arc and a bunch of others are holed up down in the refugee district of the city! I heard that he practically attacked the hospital a couple days ago, he should be in one of the temp-houses! That's all I know, I swear!"

All that was true, but it was rather lacking in the juicy details. But oh well, the Betrayer would get to the good part soon enough.

"Thank you."

Here was the good part. The part that made Nihilus laugh even despite the fact that only the Betrayer could see it.

"W-will you put out the fire?"

How would he say it? What delivery was the Betrayer going to use?

"No. I don't think I will. It was nice meeting you, Junior."

And how many people was that now? Two-dozen in this club alone at least. What a good little murderer the Betrayer was becoming.

But that wasn't even the best part.

All this death, all this suffering for what? Family? The Betrayer may find it smaller than he remembers.


Vale, many years ago…

Two years, eleven months and one week after the Fall of Amity.

Ozpin liked to consider himself robust for his age.

It was the crack of… noon… and he was only on his sixth cup of coffee. For a man who was easily several thousand years old he was more spry than one might imagine, though his current body was getting old. Tired in the bones, weak in the muscles. It was a rare thing for him, to live a life to the point where he could actually experience old age. Most of the time he had the pleasure of dying young and alone in a muddy ditch.

Salem seemed particularly fond of dealing with him that way.

But that was just how things were. The concept of death was rather odd to one such as he; for him it was just another failure, another attempt to right his wrongs against Salem ending poorly. For Ozpin, death had no real meaning. It was a setback, a temporary diversion.

But what was death for others? It was unfathomable to him, the concept of finally leaving the world and joining the Gods in their eternity.

Ozpin was an old soul, but his faith had not waned - he knew that once it was all over, once Salem had finally been laid to rest, that he would finally be in the embrace of his Gods. He could finally go and join with his friends and family from all those years ago. Finally just… rest.

A sudden jarring noise from his scroll jerked Ozpin out of his thoughts, the device buzzing angrily from its position on his desk. It was an unknown caller, but the number seemed vaguely familiar.

He really wasn't expecting any calls, and he was a busy man. But Ozpin would always spare a moment for anyone who needed him. With small sip of his coffee, Ozpin accepted the call.

"Ozpin!" It was a young woman's face that appeared on the screen, it was familiar but not intensly so. A former student perhaps? She seemed to know him, if the way her blue eyes lit in recognition was anything to go by. "Ozpin! It's an emergency!"

Ozpin set his coffee down on his desk, "What's happening?" he asked calmly, "Tell me so I can help."

"It's-" A thunderous roar tore through whatever the woman was going to say, the screen jerking and shuddering.

"Hello?" Ozpin clutched at the edges of his desk, this seemed bad. "Can you still hear me?"

A distant wail of agony alongside the frantic sounds of battle seeped through the scroll. Ozpin felt his heart beat a little faster, what was happening?

After a moment the screen came back into clarity; the woman from before reappearing, but this time with a bloody gash across her forehead. "I'm in Magnis, a frontier village on the outer rim of Vale!" as she spoke a high pitched death scream came through, "Magnis is under attack from the Grimm! We need help now!"

Magnis? A relatively new town, but no less valuable for it. It was one of the many little hamlets that were linked to Vale through larger settlements - in this case Dorme. It should be well guarded however, with many hunters hired to keep the Grimm at bay and to ensure that supplies from Dorme arrived safely. What host of Grimm could threaten such a place? Possibly a migration of large numbers, or maybe a group of Goliaths were somehow provoked?

"Okay," Ozpin said as soothingly as possible. "I will send reinforcements immediately. How many Grimm are there? I need to know how many hunters to send."

"Send them all!"

The voice cracked like a whip through the scroll.

"All?" Ozpin questioned, dumbfounded and a little shocked. "What do you mean? I can't just-"

The woman on the other side screamed in agony and a spray of blood smeared across the device on the other side, leaving only half the screen viewable.

Something was terribly wrong. This shouldn't be happening, what army of Grimm could possibly do this? Magnis should be well protected with at least ten to twenty hunters, there was no way they could be losing this badly and this quickly - it just wasn't normally feasible. Something must be terribly wrong.

"Just… one…" the huntress moaned weakly from the other side. Ozpin couldn't see an injury, but it was obvious that she was dying. "Only one-" she coughed violently. "Only one Grimm. Heading- heading towards Dorme."

A… single Grimm? No, no… that… Salem was making a move here. Such Grimm existed of course, but they were only used for specific purposes. These were the civilization enders and the society crushers. Beasts of legend that were powerful enough to threaten kingdoms with just their existence. Beasts such as Beowolves and Ursai simply didn't compare. These were the monsters that Salem had used to wipe away society when she felt humanity was due for another near-extinction cataclysm.

"Please, I need to know more!" Ozpin begged the woman to hold on just a little longer. With his free hand Ozpin tapped at his computer, alerting Glynda of an emergency. "Tell me what Grimm did this!"

The huntress gurgled wetly. "I- I never believed they really existed. Its eyes… Oh God, its eyes…"

She was fading fast. But as callous as it was, Ozpin needed her last moments to help him prepare for the threat. "What was it? Tell me!"

She wasn't even looking at the scroll anymore, her eyes distant and unfocused. "I'll t-take pride in knowing it took the legendary Gleam-Eyes to kill me…"

Her final breath was a quiet thing, almost as though she were simply… letting go.

But with her dying words, Ozpin found himself in a panic.

A Gleam-Eyes was a monster among monsters. He would know, having been killed by one before. If this was true, and a Gleam-Eyes really was blowing through Magnis and heading towards Dorme… then the real target was obviously Vale. Perhaps Salem had decided once again to crush her age-old enemy, or perhaps this was another one of her games. But regardless of that Ozpin could not allow the beast anywhere near Vale. Not even close.

Ozpin slammed his hand down on his desk. He hated this, every time. When choices like this came and slammed into him like a hammer - worse still because there were no good options. No route for a true victory to be achieved. People were going to die. Not by the dozens, not even by the hundreds.

Thousands.

A Gleam-Eyes was a Grimm that could smite entire teams of hunters with just the barest moment of focused attention, but against civilians? They didn't even register as a threat.

So either Ozpin met it before it got the city - probably at Dorme, with all the force Vale could muster, or he allowed the beast to crush the heart of the Kingdom.

There was no real choice there.

Dorme would be shattered. But what was one town compared to a city? Compared to a Kingdom?

But it would require numbers…

The entire military would face the beast. All the hunters would face the beast. And… all of Beacon would face the beast.

He could only pray it would be enough.


Dorme, many years ago…

Two years, eleven months and one week after the Fall of Amity.

John Arc was a brave man.

He was a slayer of humans, faunus and Grimm.

He had faced down hordes of ravenous opponents.

And John Arc was afraid.

Dorme was going mad, people were terrified and their fear betrayed them. It hadn't even started yet…

John, as well as the few other hunter-trained individuals within the village, had gotten word less than an hour before that something was heading their way. The entire town had already begun the evacuation procedures, but John wasn't a fool and he knew how these things went. When people heard tell of Grimm coming the fear ate away at them, and more fear meant more Grimm, more Grimm meant more fear…

Apparently Magnis had already been utterly annihilated by the threat, the entire town just swallowed up and turned to ruin in less time than it took to make lunch.

And that was all it took.

The entire military, every available hunter, every student even, was coming to Dorme.

People ran to and fro like the world was ending - and for many it may as well be. Civilians were either being forced to evacuate, or they were being ordered to hand over anything that may help with the defence then told to evacuate.

It wasn't that Dorme was particularly important to the kingdom, or that there was someone important living here - that they knew about anyway - it was because of the nature of the threat. If Dorme fell and the Grimm continued onwards to Vale then the entire Kingdom would be at risk of utter collapse and destruction.

At first John had wondered what host of Grimm could possibly warrant this? What horde could be so large to draw this much attention from Vale?

But it wasn't.

It was a single Grimm.

Such a terrible beast wasn't of Sanus, the main continent of Vale and Vacuo. No, the creature was something of the far shores called the Grimmlands - the dragon continent. A beast of such stature, such power that a single specimen could exterminate an entire society.

A Gleam-Eyes.

A beast of legend.

They weren't meant to be real. They were fiction, or at least any sane man would pray that they were. A Gleam-Eyes was a titan, a legendary Grimm that people still whispered about in the older corners of the world. They all said different things, but the consensus was the same.

A Gleam-Eyes was death.

And apparently they had less than half an hour before it came stomping into the village to kill them all.

...John Arc was terrified.

He was a man familiar with death in a way that not many were, familiar in a way that he would wish upon no one.

John Arc was afraid of dying.

But more than that, John Arc was afraid of those he loved dying.

"You're all going to leave in less than two minutes. Take only what you cannot live without!"

There wasn't any chorus of protest, nor was there any dispute amongst the daughters of the Arc family. They grew up on John's horror stories about the nightmarish Grimm, they knew - if distantly - that a Grimm of such magnitude was not something to be taken lightly.

They also knew that he wasn't going with them.

Quiet tears and sobs filled the house as six of the seven girls gathered their most prized possessions. They knew that pretending to be brave was lost on each other, so they just let themselves cry as they prepared to leave their home.

All except Violet.

"Dad," she whispered into his ear, her hand tightly holding him close. "What about Jaune? He'll know something is up. We need to get him out of there."

John winced. That was another kettle of fish altogether. Unbidden, his eyes strayed in the direction of his bedroom, where the book Jaune had given him was kept. Such an odd thing… but beautiful, in a terribly sad way. Rather like Jaune himself, in that respect. "I know," he muttered quietly so the other girls didn't hear. "He can't evacuate with the rest of you. The hunters and the military would go crazy if they knew he was here."

"Then what?" Violet pinched him hard, "We can't just leave him!"

No, they couldn't. The old mines were sturdy enough to be traversed relatively safely, but there was no telling what kind of damage the battle against the Gleam-Eyes could cause. It was easily possible that the entire mine could collapse from all the shockwaves and fighting. Jaune would die either by suffocation or by being crushed by tonnes of rock.

John wasn't willing to let that happen. Terrible things he may have done, but Jaune was still his son. Never again would he allow his family to die on his watch, not when something could be done. Not when they could be saved.

But Jaune had a difficult road ahead of him; it was impossible for him to leave with the others, so he'd have to take another path out. He would have to walk. And that, in and of itself, was almost as dangerous as the Gleam-Eyes.

John loved his son like nothing else in the world, but he was a realist. Jaune's control of his semblance was… wanting. He could hold it for hours if he focussed - but there was a distinct difference to completely focussing on something with absolutely nothing to distract you compared to trying to focus while fleeing for your life.

John loved his son, but… he didn't know how safe it was.

"Dad?"

John shook his head. It didn't matter how safe it was for Jaune to escape on foot - John would burn down a Kingdom before he let his children come to harm, and he'd let Jaune do the same if it meant survival. It didn't matter who died so long as they lived.

"Okay Violet," quietly, he pulled his eldest daughter into following him. His other children didn't know about Jaune, so they absolutely mustn't hear of what he was planning. "Listen to me. There isn't much time before the Grimm arrives. Twenty minutes if we're lucky."

It went unsaid that they weren't lucky.

"I'm meant to be leading part of the defence, so they'll notice if I disappear - but not if you do." Violet knew what that meant. The others may not, but she did. He could see it in her eyes, the despair and the understanding of the fight to come. It wasn't a fight that John would win. It wasn't even one he would survive. "Run to Jaune. Escape together. Meet back up with the other girls when you can, look after them…"

Because he couldn't.

He was a failure as a hunter, because he let his team die. He was a failure as a husband, because he let his wife die. If he let his children get hurt, even just one of them, then he would be a failure of a father too.

And for once in his life John Arc would like to be a winner.

Just once.

Violet sobbed and clutched him tightly in a hug. "Don't do this. Don't leave us! Come with me. You, Jaune and I can meet with the others in Vale and we can all make it out of this!"

It was funny, wasn't it? Violet was a grown woman. She was as old as Jane and he were when they started their little family… and yet to him she was still his daughter. Daughters always stayed five years old with scraped knees, at least in the eyes of their fathers.

"No, Violet," he gently pulled her off of him. He had a death to get to, and she had a brother to go and save. "Let me have this. Go to Jaune, warn him. Don't leave him alone, or he'll end up like me."

A failure.

"Dad, please…"

Something roared in the distance.

"Go!" John pushed his daughter away. "Go now! Girls! You're leaving! NOW!"

It was for the best.


Beacon, present day…

Weiss didn't feel like getting out of bed today.

Part of her was disgusted by the mere notion of such a thing. A Schnee must always present themselves as the epitome of refined elegance. Not… laze about in bed.

Weiss Schnee wanted to rise and act like nothing had changed.

Weiss didn't want to do anything.

The others had been concerned of course, Ruby in particular had hovered around and tried to keep Weiss company. But Weiss had sent her away - the voices and foreign emotions that the girl stirred was sickening, and not what Weiss needed right now. Not after last night. Not after the dreams.

Violet.

She'd had a nightmare, as was the norm lately… but then someone was there. They chased away the… something. It was all hazy, but it had felt like she was being attacked. Not physically perhaps - but rather by something altogether more painful and wounding. It had hurt, as words were wont to do at times.

The dream itself was hazy, but he was not. Were Weiss a more poetic person then she might liken him to an angel, something to cut away the darker aspects of her mind and let her live in the light. But it was more than that. For some reason he seemed impossibly tall - or perhaps she had merely been impossibly small? And upon first looking at him she felt a deep sense of familiarity, like she had seen him before.

Violet.

A face cut in twain by three grisly scars, eyes as blank and dull as a corpse, and a frayed black robe. He looked almost as bad as the demons that had haunted her.

But it was his feel that made him different. She didn't remember, but he had shouted at her? Something about having a daughter. But for as fearsome as his visage may have been, there was something about him that told her that he was just… hurt.

Words didn't describe it.

Violet.

So maybe it was empathy that drove Weiss not to get out of bed. Or maybe it was the name - and it was a name - that kept slipping into her thoughts. It wasn't like the other voices; they were intrusive and blunt. This was like oil over water, just slipping at the edge of perception and slipping away just as easily.

And for some reason it made her feel guilty.

Like someone was twisting a knife in her gut.

Violet. Violet. Violet. It was just a word, just a name. And yet it stung like nothing ever had before. It was a deep kind of hurt, the kind of pain that ached on such a deep level everything else seemed to lose meaning.

Violet.

But what was it? The dream had something to do with it, of that Weiss was sure. The dream, the man and the name. It wasn't his name, but… connected to him somehow? She wasn't sure, but that just seemed… apparent to her. Like it was obvious. Like it was something indisputable.

He was sad, and Violet was the cause of his sorrow.

"Violet…. Violet please… please don't leave me alone in this world. I can't bear it. Don't leave Daddy alone…"

Weiss shivered as she felt the cold settle around her, the words whispering in her ears from nowhere. The voice was familiar - the man from her dream, but… younger.

Something was wrong with her eyes.

With a small jerk, Weiss realised she was crying.

"No. No… please. Why? Why do this to me? I just- she was my daughter. My wife, my daughter…"

"I don't understand," Weiss whispered to the empty room around her. "Please, I don't know…"

"You wanted to win so desperately?"

All at once it was like lightning passed through Weiss' body, her back arching and her mouth opening in a silent scream. It was painful, but not on a level that she had ever understood before. Like her aura - her soul - had suddenly turned against her and was tearing away at her core. Something had changed, the words had gone from utterly defeated to profoundly angry in an instant. Like looking at two different moment's in the same person's life.

"You wanted my power so desperately?"

It hurt. It was as though every inch of her was filled with red-hot lava and she was being burnt alive.

"You crushed my sole remaining wish... and you… you feel no shame at all?!"

Violet. Blonde hair, purple eyes. Blood-stained snow, chains strong enough to bind a god.

It hurt.

"I will never forgive you... I will never forgive any of you! You inhuman monsters who have ruined the honour of a hunter, let my blood taint your dreams! Let my power be cursed! Let the strength it grants you bring disaster! And when you fall into the pits of hell... remember the rage of the Arcs! Remember Violet!"

Weiss gagged and vomited, bile and foulness spilling onto her pristine bed as her nose bled and her eyes wept.

That voice. That pain. It was so raw, so real… it was unimaginable. But worse - she knew who it was.

Because that was the voice of Jaune.


893


A/N

So Jaune is on the warpath, Weiss is starting to piece things together, and Nihilus is still a stalker.

Oh and shit is about to go down hill real fast for young Nihilus.

Fun.

Anyway, after much procrastination (shamelessly) I have finally gotten around to watching Sword Art Online - the anime I apparently reference often. I suppose I can see the similarities, but if anyone is expecting the Gleam Eyes from SAO to appear in this story you'll be disappointed. The Gleam Eyes coming in the next chapter is much, much worse.

On a happier note, I watched SAO abridged and that is much better. Very funny.

Reviews (all two of them):

DeWatermelonGod:

Thanks for reviewing.

Thank you. Wraith as a whole is the story of Nihilus, and I enjoy writing his history the most - Nihilus is the main character really. As for his 'Noble Phantasm' (yes I have seen the anime), he won't be getting any stronger than he currently is. Bear in mind that Nihilus is already strong enough to smite all life from the face of Remnant - there is a pinnacle, and Nihilus is there.

Shaded Azure:

Thanks for reviewing.

That would be an accurate summation I would say.


Thanks for reading (those who have gotten this far anyway…), and remember to leave a review!