A/N: I know I don't really do author's notes or comment on reviews, so I'd first like to apologize for the lack of interaction between me and the readers. I certainly do take the time to read reviews, though, which brings me to why I'm writing this particular note.

In a review, I was asked by reality deviant why I tagged this story as tragedy, and I just wanted to address it, since I don't want people to think that this is a story where everybody dies. The reason I consider this a tragedy is because I view tragedy as a form of drama that revolves around suffering. In this case, it's about Nox's suffering, and the journey he goes through won't necessarily be a happy one.

With that said, I realize that things haven't actually been tragic, so I've taken the liberty to change the tag to Drama instead. Thinking on that, it seems far more appropriate.

1-4. Reaction

It had been a while since Noxemilien Coxen had felt physical pain.

A contradictory statement, since Nox's last waking moments before his demise, before he was tossed into this foreign world, was a battle between him and the World of Twelve. Sure, not the entire World, but it was a conflict that consumed the efforts of an entire race, as well as the Eliatrope named Yugo and his dragon brother.

And even before that, he faced off against the ancient dragon Grougaloragran, a bitter loss that left him bruised and drained of resources. The Xelor was no stranger to conflict, and considering he had ultimately failed in his goals, it might seem remiss to say that Noxemilien had not felt physical pain in quite a while.

But that's just it. That instance where energy met energy was the first time Noxemilien Coxen, the man beneath the Xelor, had truly felt physical pain. A flash of sharpness that shot through his being, the moment that azure glow arced into him. And it burned.

No... it wasn't just a sensation of heat now. At that point of contact, when the strange energy met with Nox's suit, something else coursed through him. It was electrifying, both in the painful sense, as well as another, dissolving through his body as phantom nerves flared to life, threatening to burn out moments later in a dying flare. The foreign energy within him twisted and lashed out against the Stasis that filled his figurative veins, the machine around his bandaged body heating up as the metal grew painfully unbearable.

But the Xelor ignored the pain, because something far more important had occurred: For a split second, when this mysterious energy made contact with the man... The Stasis within him fluctuated.

Were he not a tinkerer of over two centuries, Nox might've missed that instant. Yet, he was fully aware as he felt the Stasis within him rise for a just moment, before exploding away, consumed alongside the foreign energy. It was an instantaneous thrum, and one that quickly gave way to a new sense of pain, but Nox didn't care; That singular moment was enough to give the Xelor a starting point. After all, that single spark represented something far greater than the Xelor could hope for, and that was well worth the pain.

He had merely been trying to find a replacement for his energy reserves, but that single twist of Stasis and something else meant one thing for Nox: In some unknown circumstance, the mysterious energies of this world was capable of intersecting with the very forces of creation and destruction. It was capable off interacting with Wakfu and Stasis.

And this interaction birthed something very close to the energies of the Krosmoz. Even if it burned away immediately afterwards.

Where Xelor once had a vague goal, he now found a defined purpose. His attention immediately turned to the young woman before him, sprawled unconscious on the tiled floor. She would be important for Nox's experiments, which meant that the Xelor would have to guarantee her survival, both from the elements, and from the shadow beasts outside.

As if sensing his thoughts, the wall shattered, as one such beast made its entrance.

A large boar-like monstrosity stood before the Xelor, its ivory mask drenched with blood, as crimson eyes bore down on him. A single shake of its head cleared the creature of debris, tossing aside a corpse and some rubble as it let out an ominous snort. The creature's size rivaled the entire room, and the bone weapons that were attached to its snout looked less like tusks and more like cleaving blades of a massive axe, all ready to charge down the Xelor at a moment's notice.

Yet, like all the other beasts of darkness, this one ignored him, giving the man a momentary glance before turning to the fallen woman behind him. The beast reared itself on its hind legs, ready to bring the full weight of itself to bear, fully intent on crushing the fragile person before it.

"No no no. We can't have that, can we?" For the first time that night, Nox spoke, a tinny voice laced with an airy tone, almost chastising the monster before him. "Even Igole didn't misbehave that badly. Poor Igole... But he was a loyal pet who properly learned his lessons." Then, the air chilled, the grimm beast pausing for just a moment as it caught a change in the Xelor's tone. "I wonder if you'll learn yours?"

A purple light, mixed with something else, consumed the boar utterly.

The battle was not going well.

The Captain, through his own strength and will, managed to take down one of the two Deathstalkers that had broken through the outer walls. A group led by his subordinate was enough to hold them off until he could join up to assist, his bardiche gleaming with an orange light, dust fueling the weapon as he helped the men and women under his command deal with the second of the greater grimm.

However, the night was far from over, and the moment the scorpion fell, more foul monsters joined the fray.

Without warning, three more Elder Boarbatusks charged in, demolishing what little remained of the outer walls. Most of the sentinels had fallen by now, and there were few soldiers remaining, none of which could've warned their peers. Instead, the massive Boarbatusks entered unopposed, screeching out their dominance as their concerted cry echoed through the air, only to be joined by the howls and roars of the lesser grimm. An intense pressure filled the camp, and even the Captain stood still, the full weight of the conflict bearing down on him.

But he was the Captain, and this fort was his responsibility. His moment of weakness was just that; a moment. Immediately after the twisted howls, the Tiger-Faunus gave a roaring cry of his own, his voice hoarse and filled with determination as he bellowed above the cries of grimm. He aimed his weapon high, firing off another bolt of electric flame from the polearm, gathering the attention of his friends and enemies once again. And what followed that rallying cry were new orders.

"Vermont!"

The Jackal-Faunus immediately stopped, his warhammer wound tightly in his grasp as he stood beside the Captain. He gave his superior an affirming glance, before turning his head back to the growing tide of grimm. The lieutenant knew that the Captain wouldn't be a match for three of those boars, so he would readily stake his life to help his friend. All he needed was-

"Lead the recruits to the motor pool. We're evacuating!"

What?

Before the Jackal-Faunus could question the Captain's orders, the Elder Boarbatusks charged forth, the ground quaking beneath their steps as two made their way towards them. The third seemed content to rampage haphazardly, finding a target in the form of an abandoned sentry tower, as it turned the wooden fortification into mere splinters and rubble.

Meeting the two boars was the Captain's bardiche, exploding out in a crackling orb of fire, warding off their charge for just a moment. The Captain gave a firm stare to Vermont, and the lieutenant knew what he had been entrusted with. There was no time for hesitation, nor could the Jackal-Faunus question his orders, as he turned his attention back to the squads of White Fang soldiers. It took a few simple orders for them to follow the lieutenant out, leaving the Captain behind.

But the Captain was not done. Even as he charged forward, intent on striking his first target, his voice boomed through the air once again. "Iris!"

Deep in the grimm lines stood the lieutenant, who wielded the emerald Cestuses with reckless fury. She had heard the previous orders, and worry filled the Ferret-Faunus's heart when her name was called. The woman quickly stopped her assault, hopping away from her latest quarry, as she nodded at the Captain's voice. It was a faint acknowledgement, one that most people wouldn't expect to carry through the battlefield, but she knew her Captain had spotted her.

"Make your way to the communication tower! Tell them we've been overrun!"

She gritted her teeth, but followed through with her orders, ducking out of the way of an Ursa's feral strike. Her fist met the bear's arm, a loud crack filling the air as she shattered the joint, before withdrawing further from the battle. Her eyes turned to the center of the camp, plotting a pathway through the sea of grimm, and it only took a few moments before the lieutenant was off. It was frustrating, to say the least, that they'd have to abandon years of effort in a single bloody night.

But effort was cheap, and something anyone could make given enough time. What was important was the lives behind the effort. The Ferret-Faunus would certainly do her best to protect those lives, and neither Creeps nor Beowolves could stop her as she made her way to the radio tower.

Content with his subordinates' resolve, the Captain he returned his attention to the battlefield, staring down his opponent. The first Boarbatusk had been winded by his strike, slowly steadying itself as it tried to clamour back up to its feet. However, the second beast had managed to cover its brethren, and the Captain was unable to capitalize on the opportunity. He'd need more help, and he knew just the woman to assist him.

"Finally, I need-"

But before he could finish his sentence, a violet light exploded out from the armory, mixed with the death throes of the third Elder Boarbatusk, and a familiar colour.

The Captain froze, as did his two bestial opponents, as three sets of eyes turned their attention to the shattered armoury. There, etched in the concrete of the structure, was a massive hole that was completely devoid of rubble, utterly annihilated by the unknown flash. The air was filled with the remnants of purple light, as well as ghostly wisps of another dying colour.

Azure wisps, that were the last vestiges of his subordinate's aura.

Circumstance decreed that he assume the worst, for the Captain had to consider the lives of the entire fort, and he bit back the feeling of despair that had wormed its way into his chest. Instead, he gave out one final order, steeling himself for the battle ahead, his last words echoing throughout the entire encampment.

"... I leave Vermont in command. Do what you must to bring our brothers and sisters to safety."

And with that, the Captain let out one last cry, his voice echoing into the night as he charged straight at the accursed humanoid grimm.

"What the hell was that?"

The Veteran was the first to break the silence. Of course, neither he nor the pilots had an answer, and they could do little but watch the distant conflict with wary eyes. Each of the men shared a quick look with each other, as if to confirm what they just saw. Yet, the incredulous look on their faces only meant one thing: they definitely saw it.

Those three men, and likely the rest of the pilots of this survey team, definitely saw the flock of grimm freeze in midair. Sure, it had only lasted for ten seconds or so, but... This held terrible implications. Was that a semblance? Some unknown hunter who could completely stop grimm?

Or maybe the White Fang had gotten hold of some fancy new tech? There have been murmurings of the faunus group attacking Schnee Dust transports, after all. Hell, the growing number of raids were part of the reason why Rhinestone survey teams were required to have security personnel and assault droids. Still, maybe they managed to swipe an experimental deterrence system or something? It was no secret that SDC had signed something with Atlas, and that meant all sorts of potentially new tech.

But... For some reason, the Veteran doubted it.

And his doubts were vindicated the moment he spotted a sudden flash of purple light, shooting forth from the distant fort. Neither he nor anyone else knew what that light was, but no one could miss the grimm's reaction, as the distant cloud of monsters turned their full attention to the encampment. The Veteran was fairly certain that a deterrence system was supposed to shoo the grimm away, not draw them closer.

A few more flashes shot out from the camp.

He had no idea what was going on, and the Veteran was unsure if he even had the resources to find an appropriate answer. They were less than fifteen minutes away from their destination now, but something in him told the man that they should turn around. It didn't take a genius tactician to see that their minuscule security team, cobbled together over the span of half an hour, wouldn't be enough for that fortified White Fang base and its mysterious weapon. And that didn't even factor in the sheer amount of grimm that were in the area.

So he let his gut make the call. The Veteran leaned in to the cockpit, activating the craft's communicator as he spoke into the radio.

"Alright kids, this is Grandpa Burgundy. We're turning around and heading home, since one of you forgot to pack enough toys for the trip." The Veteran's solemn face was in stark contrast to the informal tone that he had just put on, cheerfully informing the rest of the Bullheads that they were cancelling the survey mission. If it wasn't for the fact that all pilots present had seen the skies above the distant base, they might've questioned his choice of words. But the order was relayed successfully, and the Veteran soon stepped out of the cockpit.

With that little announcement out of the way, the Veteran decided to make the most of his time, since he had another hour and a half of pointless flight. Maybe he'd try to beat his old record on the Scroll game, once he sent another message to his boss.

Before he could settle himself back on his Scroll, however, another voice decided to pipe up, and the man turned his attention to the source.

"... How bad is it, boss?"

Sparky had the bright idea of speaking out. Surely the kid saw his superior's sour face when he stepped out from the cockpit, right? So why did he even bother to ask? Well, the Veteran still made a mental note to give the brat a single point for calling him boss, but that was something to sort out later. For now, they had to deal with something far worse.

"Bad enough that we're turning around to get more guns."

That little sentence was enough to wake the group. The security team gave the Veteran a confused glance, but before anyone else could prod for further information, the man shook his head.

"That's all. You'll get a proper debriefing later, once we're back. Then you can content yourselves on three hours of sleep before we drag you all out here again." And of course they'd be back. After all, they still had to survey the mysterious meteor.

They just had a little bit more motivation, in the form of White Fang's new secret weapon.

Nox watched with curiosity as the masked man charged at him with reckless abandon. He could feel the anger in the guy's voice, and the Xelor had no idea why. Weren't they in conflict with these shadow beasts? Surely, the cessation of one more masked boar, accidental it may be, would've helped the odd person. And yet, here he was, charging at him with some primitive weapon.

No, that's not right. The Xelor's attention was fixed firmly on the new man's weapon, and even he could tell at a glance that this weapon was anything but primitive. It was more than just a simple sheet of melted metal, as the entire metallic shaft shone with energy. Perhaps this was related to the strange vials of energy earlier? It was being processed in a different way to the previous woman's blade, and Nox couldn't help but wonder how else the strange substance could be used.

But that was a thought for later. For now, he was being assaulted by a man in an elaborately silly mask. And while the Xelor may not have use of his teleportation, he wouldn't need it for a simple creature like the one before him.

The masked man's bardiche came down in an overhead swing, cleaving through the air as sparks of fire emerged from the blade. An interesting use of the powder, no doubt, and Nox took the time to examine the phenomenon as he stretched his hand out, blocking the attack effortlessly with an ephemeral shell of Stasis. He couldn't see the man's face, but Nox had been around the unpleasant company of masked minions long enough to read body language, and the Xelor could tell that the masked man was not deterred by the sudden defense.

A far cry from his useless Grambos, really.

With that thought in mind, Nox gave the man a curious stare, his own empty mask boring into the other man's, waiting for his assailant's next move. It came quickly enough, as his opponent quickly withdrew his polearm, bringing it back to his side before... gathering energy? Now this was something to observe.

Now that Nox knew what he was looking for, the Xelor didn't need to stop time to observe the phenomenon, as a familiar energy began resonating within his opponent. Just as before, thin wisps of something crawled along the man's palms, but rather than snake into his weapon, the masked man seemed to utilize it differently, as the energy began gathering into his mouth.

Nox redoubled his shell, prepared for some energy attack that would undoubtedly shoot forth, and the Xelor watched with rapt attention as the wisps dissipated. Then, moments later, the attack came.

At least, it should've come. Instead, rather than some attack, the man before him spoke. Maybe it was a bit louder? But besides that, the gathered energy disappeared into nothing more than simple words. If the Xelor was capable of feeling disappointment, he would be groaning with annoyance at the moment. Instead, he merely cataloged the event, mentally noting that the unknown energy truly had a wide range of applications.

But that still left the Xelor curious when he saw the man's posture change once more. Another shift in body language, this much more positive and self-assured. However, that still meant nothing to Nox, and after a simple shrug, he resumed watching the man.

A few minutes passed, and neither party did anything. The masked man was content to watch him, while the Xelor merely stood there waiting for some other action. Yet, when nothing came, Nox decided he had had enough, and turned his attention away from the polearm wielder.

Which surprised the masked man for reasons Nox couldn't comprehend. Surely he hadn't expected him to engage the person in conflict, had he? The Shadow of Noxemilien had better things to do, especially since he finally found a curious field of study. He simply didn't have time to play around with the locals of wherever-this-was, whether they're person-shaped or shadow-monster-shaped.

Instead, the Xelor turned back to the fallen masked woman, hefted her up over his shoulder, and made his way to-

... Now what is it?

Nox turned back to the masked man, who was screaming about something or another, brandishing his blade once more. This was getting tiresome, and Nox would rather deal with his research than the ramblings of some random person. Even if the person was glowing again, and... Actually. No, this was a good thing.

The Xelor turned to face the man, shifting his posture as he held the unconscious woman in both arms. The masked aggressor was wary, but didn't dare attack, lest he damage the masked woman. This action alone was enough to confirm the casual relationship between these two people, and Nox smiled inwardly as he stretched his arms outwards, offering the unconscious body to the man.

Confusion fueled the other's steps, as he seemed to wrestle internally with himself. Yet, seeing no other motions from the Xelor, he finally relented, collapsing his Bardiche into a shoulder-plate as he took the woman. And just as Nox handed over test subject #1, he activated his suit, burning away yet more Stasis as the air around him came to life. An arc of purple lightning shot out from his hand, aimed directly at the man's stomach.

And now, it was the Captain's turn to fall. He didn't know what to expect, and he mentally berated himself for being so naive. Yet, how was he to know that the humanoid grimm would pull something so... deceitful?

That was a good question, actually. The Grimm were creatures of destruction; They didn't do deceit. Yet, the soulless monster in front of him performed exactly that, just as convincingly as any other person might've. Everything from the supposed gesture of mercy and goodwill, down to the empty glare of satisfaction that he could almost feel from the metal mask when it finally betrayed him.

Yes... The Tiger-Faunus had no more doubts about this matter. This was not a humanoid grimm, but rather, something else entirely. Something that might've once been a person, but was nothing more than a soulless husk, wielding some unknown power. And this power seemed to be the antithesis of aura, as the burst of purple lightning shot through the Captain's body, draining him of his reserves in one electrifying swoop.

A dark pain shot through the man, something born of the purple lightning and his aura, and already, he could feel his consciousness begin to fade. There was pain, but there was also a drastic sensation of... loss. He didn't know what or why, but he suddenly felt tired, and the Captain slowly fell to his knees. The sudden appearance of the floor did little to stem his confusions, and his mind was left asking questions as his vision faded.

Yet, he did not lose hope. His only saving grace was the fact that he had relayed his orders to his loyal Lieutenants. In a matter of moments, the remaining supply trucks, packed with dust and munitions, would be detonated, providing the perfect cover for his comrades' escape.

And a chance to bury the remaining monsters in a pile of rubble.