1-1. Fall

"Alright boys and girls. Any questions?"

It was a gruff voice, one laced with equal parts experience and chain-smoker. The voice's owner had a sour expression on his face, and the dim lights of the Bullhead was not enough to hide the passive glare that the man gave. He wore an armoured jumpsuit, a dull blue garb completely devoid of any distinguishable features besides rough armour plating, and a single prominent logo.

Rhinestone Industries. Nice and fancy, complete with an embossed generic gem in the background.

His gaze fell on the rest of his companions. There were over a dozen men and women in front of him, each wearing a jumpsuit identical to his own, all strapped into the seats of the aircraft. Half of them wore listless expressions that bounced between irritated and tired, while the other half were outright sleeping. This group of youngsters were supposed to be the best the company had to offer?

Of course not. They were a scout team, meant to survey points of interest in the areas surrounding Vale. Who decided these points of interest were far beyond the man's pay grade, and he honestly could not care less. Rather than think about why he was about to leave for some grimm-infested forest, however, his thoughts were on the people before him. Sure, the group he had to babysit might've worried him, but he knew full well that these men and women were all capable scouts with adequate combat and survival training.

Which translated to 'they could keep grimm busy enough for the security droids to mop them up properly'.

Hell, this wasn't the first batch of trainees he'd received this week, and based on their performance so far, they wouldn't be the last. Just as he was about to contemplate whether he should bother learning their names this time around, an annoyed voice answered his question.

"Yeah. What the hell are we doing up this early?" This came from some blue-haired brat, whose expression leaned more to the annoyed spectrum than his peers. A few more of the personnel grunted in approval of the young man's question, before the veteran's gaze silenced them all.

"As I'm sure you know, sparky, there was a big blue meteor in the sky about half an hour ago." The veteran's eyes fell on the brat, staring him down with mild irritation as he let out a sigh. "Since the damned thing could be seen from Patch, the higher ups figure it's a large enough chunk to be worth inspecting. And since you've all signed up for the glorious private security forces of Rhinestone Industries," He brought a hand up to his chest in mock salute, his voice growing nasally and sarcastic, "The leading competitor in minerals acquisition, you're legally obligated to join the survey team. They ran the thing through a few computers, and figured it'll fall somewhere in the southern wilds."

"But why this early?" It seemed that that answer wasn't good enough for 'sparky', who continued his incessant complaints. "And why so much tech if we're just doing a survey? We must've loaded up four or five bullheads."

"Because the wildlands are about two hours away. Get comfortable, princess." The veteran drew out another sigh, his hand searching through his outfit for something to smoke. Of course, he had nothing because of some policy or another, but it was an old habit he frequently reverted to whenever he had to deal with idiots. "And the gear's because of rumours that some undesirables are camped out in the wilderness. Security precautions. You know how it is."

"You mean the White Fang?" The voice that asked this question came from some red-haired girl. A bit taller than sparky, and a lot more mature. At least she seemed to know a bit more than the blue-haired moron.

"Yeah. They've been getting a bit rowdy with their 'protests' lately, and since they already hate our guts, the guys up top figure we should be prepared for, and I quote, 'any unexpected conflicts'." It was no secret that Rhinestone Industries was one of the more controversial companies in the market, and even if titans like the Schnee Dust Company took the brunt of the media fallout, Rhinestone Industries was no saint. Given how important they made this meteor sound, it was likely that the pockets behind Rhinestone weren't the only ones interested in it.

"Any other questions?"

""No sir.""

"Good, now get comfortable. Don't want you kids falling asleep while you're wrestling a beowolf."

Without giving them another glance, the veteran turned his attention back to his Scroll, sending a few messages to his benefactor as the Bullhead began its take-off.

The creatures of grimm are monsters beyond comprehension. Far more intelligent than the common beast, these monsters have ravaged the world of Remnant since time immemorial. They were the enemies of ancient people, and that constant remains true to this day, as time and evolution groomed these creatures into beasts of pure destruction.

Yet, as intelligent as they may be, it would be a mistake to label them as sapient. Perhaps the eldest of grimm, those who have survived longer than the civilizations of old, could exhibit this property, if they dared to show themselves. However, the younger generations, the ones who do not have the skill nor experience to survive beyond a century, could never hope to achieve the level intelligence required to be considered more than beasts.

No. The young ones follow a simple task, a primal instinct that is undeniable in both its brevity and execution: Find people, kill people.

What do the creatures of grimm classify as people? Human and Faunus, of course; in spite of all the distinctions that these groups make for one another, the creatures of grimm treat both as prey. As sport.

These monsters seek out nothing else, for they will not hunt animals, nor will hunt for the sake of survival and sustenance. It is the instinct of grimm to kill people, for the sake of killing people.

And so, they hunt. Quite easily, really, since people always congregate where negative emotions gather, if they themselves are not the source. Whether it is through conventional senses, or through feeling these negative emotions, the grimm will always seek out people to kill. If they can kill these people, then they have succeeded, but if they don't, then it is because something repelled them. The ones that live gain something valuable called 'experience', and live to try and kill once more.

Simple.

So why was this situation not simple at all?

"Rrrh..." A hoarse growl came from the Alpha Beowolf. It and its pack was the closest to the impact site, where the clot of despair fell. Instinct directed its motions, and neither rock nor river nor trees could stop its advance. It, alongside its countless brethren, slowly converged on the open plains where the hunt awaited. For surely, with a cloud as thick as this, the prey would be numerous.

So why was this not the case?

The plains contained no fire of aura, nor the sight of people. Rather than prey, corralled and herded by fear, the land contained a single humanoid doll.

Not a sound echoed from this doll, for the Beowolf could not hear the telltale pumps of blood or breath. It tried to catch a scent in the air, but neither blood nor sweat clung to the figure. Instead of the scent of life, there was only metal and dust—not the blazing Dust used by prey or their toys, but the dust that's left when no quarry remains. And where sound and scent failed, so too did sight, for the doll looked more like a prop than a person. Its only distinguishable feature was a mask of faded metal, a dull blue gleaming from two circular holes, mechanically watching the Beowolf while creature examined it.

The grimm's instinct fared no better, for monster could sense no blaze of aura. Sure, the ground had the dull seep of light, as did the critters and plants that dot the landscape, but these were not flames. The humanoid doll held nothing of the sort, not faint wisps of warmth that once belonged to the land, nor the twisted Dust nerves of the toys built by people.

Instead, there was a dull hue of... something. Something that was like aura, yet so unmistakably different, it simply could not be. A light that gradually flickered, slowly twisting and dimming into something else. Over the course of a few minutes, this glint gradually shifted into a dark glow, something far closer to grimm than aura, with the Beowolf unable to do anything but watch. And yet, the mysterious glow remained alien all the same, as different from the nature of grimm now, as it was from aura a few moments ago.

To the monsters of grimm, there was only one conclusion: this was not prey.

And the Alpha Beowolf was not the only creature to realize this. Another pack arrived, watching and gathering around the thing. An Ursa approached, as did a flock of lesser Nevermore soon after.

Each creature was led by the unmistakable stench of emotion, yet their only action was to idle like the first.

They were intelligent beasts, but beasts all the same, and the creatures of destruction were unable to do anything but sit and watch as the doll's purple eyes thrummed listlessly, as more and more grimm mindlessly gathered around the unspoken emotions.

Not far from the impact site was a certain encampment, hidden away from the prying eyes of civilization. Built from the ruins of a forgotten frontier town, this little encampment was filled with people who could not accept the world as it was. And so, they came here, to live in the wilderness away from judgement and oppression. Not under the dominion of any Kingdom, this fort stood as a testament against the world, defiant against the rest of the world and all of its dangers, right in the den of monsters.

There were hundreds of people in this base, and their efforts had long restored the ruins into something usable. Though they were off the map, the place had survived grimm assaults for well over a year, and the faunus that dwelt within were emboldened by this fact.

"Hey, is the captain in?" The voice belonged to one of the sentries, a deer faunus who had been on night watch. The woman was a long-standing resident of this base, having watched over its walls since the day it had been rebuilt. Atop the stone walls, she had seen everything, from the moment this town's welcome sign had been rebuilt, to the countless new faces belonging to recruits who constantly joined every month. "I have some news about the meteor that I think he'll be interested in."

The man she was talking to, a bear faunus of considerable build, shook his head in response. "Nope, sorry. He's currently at the barracks, briefing people on our new supplies."

This caused the deer faunus to raise an eyebrow, though the gesture itself was hidden by their group's signature mask. "But I thought our supplies were only there in case of emergencies. Why would he need to brief everyone at the barracks?" Call it instinct or age, but the woman had a bad feeling about this...

And it was immediately proven true the moment her companion spoke. "You didn't hear? Leadership finally changed a few moments ago, and now they want all groups to start preparing. The old ways are no longer enough, and with the Kingdoms pressing more and more of our people into subservience, we need to defend ourselves. In fact, could you call over the rest of the sentries? There's some new things you guys need to get acquainted with, as well."

"Changed...?" This was surprising in more ways than one. Sure, there had been plenty of murmurings of unrest among the organization, with a growing number of people pushing for action rather than passive protesting. Yet, even if a change occurred, shouldn't it have taken more than a few moments? White Fang was not a small organization, so the fact that new orders would come so soon after a shift was almost unthinkable. The woman had no idea how to approach this, and she couldn't even consider the next part of the guard's words until he cleared his throat. "Oh, right... Do you need all the sentries, though?"

"Yep, 'fraid so. There's a lot of new tech we've got that need to be installed on the walls, so he wants to make sure you're all familiar with it. I'll send some guys up to keep watch in the mean time, but the captain said that you full-time sentries need to be present for this." It was a simple order, a statement of finality mixed with a bit of excitement in the bear faunus's words, as he urged his comrade on. "I mean, have you seen the stuff? Some of those cannons could crack a fortress, and we've got enough AA batteries to drive off a small fleet."

To say the female sentry was worried would be an understatement. Sure, they were a sizable base, but why would they need things of that caliber? Though the deer faunus was in a hurry, she had to ask. "Isn't that excessive? Do we really need that much?"

"Guess you really haven't seen our supplies, huh? We're being converted to an arms depot, since we're one of the more fortified points in the area. Didn't you see the crates of dust that came with the last convoy?"

""WHAT?!""

It wasn't just the deer faunus who was surprised by this new information. As chance would have it, the Captain of the garrison had unveiled this little tidbit of information at the exact same time as the guard did, so a great deal of the White Fang let out a similar cry. The collective feeling of alarm was soon replaced by doubt and confusion; What did this mean for the future? Were they really going to go through with this? Are they going to far? Or was it not far enough? Was this really the right thing to do, or was this something they should've done long ago?

Either way, tension and unease filled the air.

So it was no surprise that the creatures of grimm, nearly half of the tide that was drawn in by the azure meteor from before, had found themselves some prey.

Nox watched. There was nothing else he could do.

He had no drive for anything else, as the last few... minutes? hours? Days? repeated in his mind. He couldn't even ask himself where it went wrong. There was absolutely no desire to question whether his mistake was due to something he missed, or something his opponents had done, or something the dragon had change. He couldn't even bring up the effort to consider the Eliacube again.

And that's because it didn't matter anymore. It's over, one way or another. Those twenty minutes marked the final failure of Noximilien Coxen. Two hundred years of ... effort? No, it was more than that. Effort may not always be directed, and is sometimes wasted. No, what Nox had done for those two hundred years was something far more than mundane effort. For he truly believed that, whatever happened in those two hundred years, it could all be undone at the end.

Yet, he had failed, and had been cast aside by fates and Gods alike. It was with those thoughts that his form was finally returned to dust, finally leaving the World of Twelve, finally dying beside the last things that Noximilien Coxen held dear.

Even then, death was not the end, and the spirit of Nox continued. He briefly recalled the faint buzzes that had been an argument of deities, the hums having barely registered in his memory. Equally unimportant to him was his disembodied form, the very representation of his soul, somehow appearing as the mummified and encased armour of the Xelor Nox, rather than the ancient watchmaker Noximilien.

He cared for nothing that happened in that timeless span of moments. There was no reason to, after all, and he had merely watched with silence as the Gods came to their verdict. The Xelor paid no mind as the gods began some involved incantation, gazing with disinterest as Wakfu tore through space, directed by the Gods as it made something completely new. And he cared little when the gods began filling the Xelor's own spirit with this same power.

Perhaps this Wakfu was some final form of mockery, of telling him that, no matter what he could've tried, his aspirations and goals lay somewhere far beyond his reach. The amount they had forced on him far surpassed what he could've gathered, even if he had somehow managed to acquired the dragon.

But none of that mattered now, and the Xelor ignored the unexplained boon as the gods sent him through the unknown tear.

Just as quickly as the Wakfu came, it was stripped away, cast apart by the emptiness of space, dwindling and burning in a streak of blue. Energies of creation faded out of existence, and Nox knew that he had left the very Krosmoz itself. Soon his vision replaced by nothing, the sense of sight completely robbed from him as he traveled through that empty place. The void stretched onwards, continuing for who knows how long, until sight suddenly returned to the Xelor.

Again he could see, and the first sight that greeted Nox was a broken moon as it passed him by, gazing back at him as the dredges of a watchmaker began to fall. The moon's broken light held the same listless apathy that had filled the Xelor's mind the moment those fateful twenty minutes had ended.

After all, Noximilien Coxen had no more place in the world. Whether it was the World of Twelve, or wherever he was now, Noximilien simply had no place anywhere anymore.

That fact finally hit him.

A blue light tore through the night sky, Wakfu fading away to nothingness, dying in a brilliant blaze as Noximilien Coxen cried for the last time. The gout of despair was silent, deaf to all who could not hear it, but shrill everything that could. And, as Nox descended, it stopped.

It didn't matter anymore. Little energy remained inside the Xelor's suit when it finally made landfall, and the powers that had fueled it were mostly expended. The Xelor had landed in some plains somewhere, completely different from the world before. The final sparks of energy inside Nox's suit gradually began to stagnate, isolated in a world not built from the Krosmoz.

Standing silent, the figure made no movement, even as a beast of black and bone emerged from the underbrush. Crimson eyes fell on Nox, yet the Xelor made no movements. Who knows how long the beast stood still, observing the broken man as more shadows and more shadows emerged. Neither side, not the clockwork corpse nor the beasts of shadow, made an effort to do anything. The masked monsters were content to just settle in front of the Xelor.

So Nox watched. There was nothing else it could do.