3-X: Expectations

Night fell.

Winter frowned at her progress, flashing another glance towards the quiet sky. As always, the broken moon shone down at the world, bathing the woods around her in a dull glow. Useful for people with low-light vision, but a hindrance to all others.

Of course, her equipment meant that she belonged to the first category, as she bore the first of many experimental tools provided to Atlesian operatives. But, no matter how she tried to justify it, the huntress did not feel comfortable wearing glasses, even if they gave her rudimentary night vision. Or perhaps it was just these glasses that bothered her? At the same time, just because she found aesthetic differences between her equipment and her preferences did not mean she refused to use them.

The mission came first, especially when she was dealing with a mission as anomalous as this one.

And both the video briefing she had received, as well as the mission documents that were sent to her scroll informed the Atlesian specialist that this mission was the strangest that her superior had ever seen in his entire career.

But that observation did not deter her outlook on the mission. All she needed to do was to follow her superior's order.

So, the moment it was assigned to her, the Atlesian operative accepted it without question, trusting the man's intuition and decision implicitly... A choice that she later found was in minority among her peers. According to one of her associates, this investigation of a simple meteor had been promoted to a critical mission through a convoluted means, an unorthodox method that caused no small amount of tension within the military structure. Perhaps this sudden state of conflict between Colonel Ironwood and the other commanding officers within the military was the reason that she had been chosen in the first place—after all, she was not the most experienced operative by any means.

But the more pragmatic side of her quickly reasoned that her candidacy in the mission was cemented because of her namesake; it as an issue of politics, but not internal politics. Which made sense since, in spite of its officers' pride, Atlas was far more disciplined than other nations. And their chain of command was not so inefficient to accidentally assign such an important mission to someone like herself, who had only been an official specialist for less than two years.

The fact that she even considered it as a possibility told her how much she disliked being... handed this opportunity. She had earned her position in the Atlesian military just as soundly as she had earned her gradua-.

The Operative shook those thoughts from her head. She was getting distracted, which worried her greatly, since she recognized this kind of distraction; it was as though she was back at the Academy, running through controlled regions of wilderness as she and her team hunted the creatures of grimm. Even now, she could remember the atmosphere of the grimm-infested regions, the lighter tone a far cry from the missions she had been on as of late. Were she less experienced, she would've blamed it on her intuition being immature.

But her intuition was one of her greatest assets, and every ounce of her being told her that this sector was devoid of anything but grimm. This single fact was the reason why she had been frowning in the first place: Her progress had been too good.

That's not to say that large concentrations of grimm weren't a problem, but skirmishes with grimm had been factored into her estimates for her scouting mission and deemed less important—After all, mere beasts were nothing a trained huntress like herself couldn't bypass or neutralize. Instead, she had expected that the greatest difficulty for her reconnaissance mission were not grimm, but the Faunus that hid in these woods. She had no illusions about the security of White Fang strongholds, and the information she had received from the Rhinestone Base commander was more than enough for her to make an educated prediction on the level of resistance she'd face.

And her predictions told her that she should've encountered the first scouting group ten minutes ago. Instead, she had stumbled onto more grimm, encroaching on the land as though nothing else was in the area.

Both her observations and intuition told her that there were no White Fang outposts in the area.

This made no sense to the Schnee, and she redoubled her movements, making her way towards the reported location of the White Fang base. After all, the only reason White Fang would not be present at a White Fang controlled region was that they had left the area. And if they did, she'd have to find out where they had left to.

There was no way she would be leaving that meteor, or that mysterious weapon, in the hands of criminals like them. Without wasting another moment, Winter advanced, invoking her semblance as she drew out an array of glyphs, using them as a foothold to launch her through the woods.

And in her haste, she failed to take note of a small creature, hovering in a nearby tree. And thought it may have seemed alien, this creature was still one that could've been mistaken for grimm, with its pitch-black body and ivory front-plate, capped with a single red eye. However, both the metallic skin and perfectly formed structure dispelled any notions of natural origins, as the deliberate design of this insect could not be anything but artificial.

The Noxine whirred as it watched the human disappear into the trees.

How long has it been since he'd left the southern wildlands? Honestly, the Lieutenant-turned-Captain had no clue, having paid far less attention to the world around him as he buried his senses completely in work.

That was a blatant lie, of course; He couldn't afford to be irresponsible now, when he was responsible for so much more than he had ever expected. Still, his work was a welcome distraction, as the tedious tasks of having to sort through scout reports, troop movements, and supply manifests were almost therapeutic compared to tragedy that had occured at the old Fort.

And he certainly needed something to distract him from that event... Even if the events that followed were relatively less strained.

After he had made his report to the White Fang Elite, Vermont was formally transferred to the outpost, given a temporary command position of the nearby White Fang. As a result, his first day back inside a White Fang camp was filled with administrative duties, quickly thrust into his new position as Captain as he worked the arduous task of sorting through the survivors.

While the White Fang was not a formal organization, they had needed a headcount at a bare minimum, and the sobering experience of tallying up the faunus who had survived was left to Vermont. The first group he had to process were those who were still considered able-bodied... the ones who were still physically adept enough to participate in their duties at the wildlands. Once processed, these brave men and women were absorbed into the nearby camps, reinforcing the various outposts as they joined their brethren.

It was not these survivors that had hurt the jackal-faunus, but the ones who no longer had the ability or will to fight.

Loss was a fact of life in the grimmlands, but emotions in people were a stronger constant, so it was little wonder that the fall of the old Fort weighed heavily on the survivors. While all were still loyal to the cause, many had received wounds that were either physical and mental. Some had bodies too broken to fight, unable to act as soldiers and defenders for their fellow brethren. Others were wracked with grief and doubt, shaken by the sheer ferocity of the grimm that had attacked, of the number of lives that had been lost.

Still, Vermont had no doubt that, given time, they would eventually recover, so long as they persevered. Those unwilling or unable to fight in the grimmlands would be sent back to safer lands, to help their less fortunate brothers and sisters from within the Kingdoms.

While those precedings left a mark on the new Captain's mind, they themselves had been processed within a day.

Three days had passed since the initial fort incident, and the jackal-faunus had long moved from that particular White Fang outpost, having been assigned to somewhere far more suited to his particular skillset. After all, his talents lay in organization and training just as much as it did in actual combat, so the leaders of his White Fang cell allocated him as necessary.

No longer was he in the edge of the wildlands, guarding their scant strongholds and villages from grimm and miscreants. Instead, he had been transferred to a place closer to the Kingdom of Vale, a mining village hidden away from prying eyes, straddling the line between wildlands and Valean outskirts. The village itself no longer had a name, having lost it in some tragedy years ago, the last testament to some upstart profit seeker whose shortsightedness doomed him and his company.

However, the White Fang saw its location as an advantage, and quickly moved in amongst the fallen buildings, gradually replacing them with their own facilities as they claimed the home, carving it deeper into the mountainside.

Now, this mining village was less a source of profit for greedy humans, and more of a refuge for like-minded individuals. The hidden sanctuary was self-sufficient, making use of the old mine to draw enough resources to sustain itself. The lands around the village were also rich in nature, guarded only by minor nests of grimm. All it took was willful determination from brave soldiers to tame the land, and this old site of profit had been transformed to a place where faunus gathered to assist the cause. Violently.

Faunus such as the young men and women gathered before him.

Vermont's eyes finally shifted back to the task at hand, forcing his thoughts away from the village as he watched the sun begin to set. No longer could he afford to idle, as more of the youths gathered around him, their eager figures slowly gathering together in a loose formation. It only took the Captain a few seconds count the number of recruits, nearly a hundred faunus ready to fight for the cause, all gathered before him in the yard behind the local barracks.

His eyes fell on the group of faunus before him, a frown spreading beneath his mask as he took in the sights. Of course, he was no stranger to the change in leadership, and knew full well that they needed to prepare for the future. Grimm incursions were a constant fact of life; this, coupled with rising tensions between Kingdoms and a growing sense of doubt within the cities themselves left little wonder as to why more people joined the White Fang everyday.

Safety. Acceptance. Strength. Power.

Still... Even knowing what he knew about the world, from human cruelty to savage grimm, training children to fight never sat right with him. Unfortunately, that little doubt was pure idealism in his part, and Vermont knew full well that the alternative was for them to run into wildlands with no training whatsoever. That's all it took for the jackal-faunus to accept his task, refusing to utter a complain even to himself. He vowed that, if he must teach these children to fight, he would teach them to survive first.

And... As long as he did that... his old Captain wouldn't disapprove of this, right?

The man shook his away those thoughts, and settled his eyes on the aspiring White Fang members. This time, he looked at each individual, rather than the group as a whole, taking in their features and motivations as Vermont's eyes drifted from faunus to faunus. There were many teenagers in the group, some boundless with energy while others stood at disciplined attention, but were all eager to prove themselves as they returned his gaze... Especially that one redhead who seemed to scowl at everyone around him.

Just as common were younger ones, adolescents who looked to be closer to 11 than anything else. Unlike the hormonal ones, there was a greater range of emotions in these ones, reaching all the way from broken children with nothing to lose, to the thoughtful ones that tried to be more reserved, no doubt undecided on the sudden shift in ideals.

... Perhaps it was unfair to group them all like that. Many more youths stood behind those at the front, and Vermont was not foolish enough to believe that he could gauge their characters and aspirations from a single impromptu meeting. So, he didn't bother to try, no longer willing to spend the energy required for pointless guesswork.

Ather all, trivial things like history didn't matter to him; they were all students who had to survive somehow... so he had resolved to train them.

"I've been told that I'm supposed to teach you all. My name is Captain Vermont, and starting today, you will all learn what it means to live in the wilds..."

And so began the Captain's first true task.

"... Noxie can cook?"

Eniripsa was the first to voice her confusion, fluttering about the Wakfu mirror as her gaze settled on the figures within. Sure, she could've commented on the fact that the Xelor had built a massive clockwork installation, or that he had been conducting experiments on the strange minerals of that world. A part of her even wanted to join Feca's questions as to why Nox had begun... pitting his prisoners in gladiatorial combat.

But all those silly questions gave way to something far more important, and the little Miracle Fairy simply had to know. Her eyes darted away from the mirror, turning towards her godly peers, only to find each of them wearing an expression of confusion.

"What? We were all thinking it!" Eniripsa, the Fairy Goddess of Healing, threw an exaggerated pout at her associates. She knew they were all as confused about Nox's weird talent as she was, since the Xelor had shown no signs of needing to eat during his time on the World of Twelve. Or sleep. Or do much of anything, really. So, naturally, she was curious about it, and the Fairy soon turned this curiosity towards one of the Gods. "What do you think, Ossaman?"

There was a silence in the starlit air as the rest of the gods turned to Osamodas, three pairs eyes bearing down on the Celestial Tamer, the God of Beasts.

Well, the rest of the gods save Xelor, as the Keeper of Time kept his eternal Vigil, staring off into the Krosmoz. That was another thing Eniripsa didn't get; Just what was he looking at? The fairy goddess squinted, gazing off into the sorta-same direction that Xelor was, trying to find an answer. Unfortunately, the only thing she saw was the distant plane of Wakfu, immeasurably far, swirling as it acted like... Wakfu.

So, with a shrug, the fairy turned her attention back to Osamodas.

"... Why are you asking me?" The god tilted his head as he regarded the Fairy, his tone a mixture of mild irritation and confusion as he watched her lapse in attention. He chose not to comment on it, keeping himself still as he merely waited for her response, the God of Beast's horned figure towering over the rest of the other gods present.

"Because you know this stuff, right?" Eniripsa waved off the question, fluttering through the air once more as she floated around the larger deity. A wave of sparkles followed her trail, doing a great job of transforming Osamodas's expression from one of deadpan neutrality to furrowed annoyance.

"And what makes you say that?" The white eyes of the god bore into the Miracle Fairy, staring her down as he watched the diminutive goddess flutter in the air. On the best of days, he was at odds with the energetic fairy, so it took Osamodas a fair amount of effort to keep himself quiet, his gaze not leaving the little deity's form as she stared back at him.

"...I dunno."

Eniripsa chose to shrug her answer, much to the ire of her conversational partner as she spotted an angry frown form on the God's face. But, like always, she paid no attention to it, quickly losing interest as she fluttered back towards the mirror. It wasn't until she had settled down on top of the mirror, sitting on the constructed pane of the Wakfu's border, that she decided to explain her reasoning. "I just wanted to include you in the conversation because you're being all quiet about things, and I got bored of listening to Feca."

Feca coughed a bit as she heard that answer, the goddess shooting a glare at the fairy atop the mirror, only to find the fairy goddess childishly kicking her feet in the air. And as the Goddess of Protection watched her associate ignore the issue entirely, Feca's mood deflated from angry to vague exasperation. You know, that sort of vague exasperation where you had a half-hearted to club a fairy with a bear-sized shield. But unfortunately, she had to be the mature one. "... Excuse me?"

That didn't mean she couldn't glare, though.

"Sorry!" And surprising no one, Eniripsa did not look sorry in the slightest. "But you were going on and on and on about how he shouldn't be capturing people and throwing them into pits of robot crocodiles!"

"That's because he shouldn't. His actions have not been to the best interest of the denizens of that world. I understand if he is pursuing knowledge, as that is a trait I encourage in my followers, but not at the expense of others." As if to make a point, Feca turned her gaze back to the mirror, gesturing idly at the massive arena that the prisoners were locked within. "There's also the fact that he's chosen to rebuild his clockwork monstrosity."

"Yeah... but it's not like there's anything we can do about it..." The Fairy's voice was softer this time, following her fellow goddess's gaze as she too rested her sight on the mirror. "And he hasn't hurt any of them yet, right?"

"For now! But who's to say that that won't change?! And have you not taken notice of his other creations? If he's willing to recreate his Noxines, then he's willing to drain that world of Wakfu!" Feca was far less moderate on this little discussion than Eniripsa, and this difference showed when she crossed her arms and let out a tired sigh. But, in spite of her protests, the rest of the gods knew she had a point. After all... Just because the world does not have Wakfu does not mean it's devoid of other energies. "He's a dangerous person... And it was a mistake to exile him. No amount of borders or boundaries can change who that man was."

"B-But! He's already changed! See?" At those words, Eniripsa pointed at the Wakfu mirror once again, the image showing them the sight of four prisoners, each seated on some chair as clockwork armatures brought in more food. "He's learning to cook and everything! Or he's stealing food from some weird mystery store we don't know about... But it's still important, right Sacchi?"

"What? ... Oh, yeah..." It was not the first time that Eniripsa had noticed her friend losing focus, the Lady of Compassion's voice stilted as she tried to answer. So, rather than accept that answer, the Fairy Goddess rose up from the mirror, finding a spot in Sacrier's hair as she sat right back down. "... What are you doing?"

"Well, Sacchi, if you were paying attention, you might've heard the greatest question of all! But since you missed out, you won't get a chance to test your knowledge against it! Bwa ha ha!" The Eniripca was nothing if not energetic, and this was clearly conveyed to Sacrier as she slowly rose to her feet. Granted, the lady of compassion wasn't necessarily too concerned about the question, but she knew that answering now would've been far more preferable to later.

So she folded, turning her gaze up to the Fairy Goddess. "... So what was the question?"

"You're no fun." Once more, Eniripsa pouted, her over-the-top expression having absolutely no effect on anyone present. "... Fine! Well, you know how the magic camera showed him suddenly pulling out a pile of food? I was wondering how long he's been able to cook! Also why. Since, you know, he doesn't actually eat! You wouldn't happen to know, would you?"

Sacrier did indeed have a guess.

However, she knew she did not have the willpower to mention it without her voice cracking, especially since it was an aspect of the twisted Xelor's life that time itself had apparently forgotten. So, rather than answer the fairy, the lady of compassion sat back down on the ground, giving her friend a neutral shrug before wrapping her arms around her knees once again, her focus turning back to the Wakfu mirror.

There, her eyes fell on the Xelor once again, watching him as the Wakfu viewport followed Nox through his clockwork maze, before finally arriving at his makeshift forges. And as Nox settled down on a workbench, one thought came to Sacrier's mind.

'Why does Nox know how to cook? Simple... Because Noximelien Coxen was a father in the past.'

This line of thought soon faded, replaced by something more forlorn as Sacrier watched the Xelor work. She saw the mummy ignore the rest of the world around him, choosing to bury himself in whatever research he was currently conducting. It was a familiar sight.

One that caused a frown to form on the Angel of Compassion's lips as she watched the Xelor move like clockwork. After all... These motions had been the same as the ones that an ancient watchmaker had made, two centuries ago, when he had found the Eliacube.

...Though Noximelien Coxen may have been a father, the Nox that the world knows is simply... Nox.

For all of Sacrier's musings, her thoughts lay silent to all but herself, and Eniripsa noticed this. How couldn't she? Her friend just shrugs at her, then sits down in a ball while looking back at the mirror? But the Miracle Fairy couldn't pry without feeling extra-bad... So rather than attempt to decipher Sacrier's vague silence, Eniripsa decided to ask someone else. Again.

"Okay, since that didn't help at all... What do you think, Xelor?"

The Fairy's gaze shifted back to the ever-silent Keeper of Time, trying to gauge his reactions as she stared at him. Unfortunately, just as before, Xelor ignored her, leaving the air silent and empty. All it took was three seconds for her to realize that her question had failed spectacularly, as she watched the God of Time gaze into the distance, ignoring the rest of the world around him.

"... Final question, then. Why is Xelor looking at nothing?"

As Eniripsa asked this question, Sacrier turned her gaze away from the mirror, sending a single glance at Keeper of Time.

And for some reason, the Lady of Compassion was all but certain that the God of Time was definitely looking at something.

Nox had long chosen to ignore the ceaseless babbling of his Test Subjects.

To be sure, their reaction to the sudden display of a hot meal had been entertaining to watch, but the novelty of it quickly wore off as they began asking him questions. Or asking each other questions? He wasn't too sure, but the fact that they could not communicate meant that it was pointless for the Xelor to pay them any heed.

Instead, he had returned to his workshops, content on simply leaving a few Noxines in the testing room to watch over the Test Subjects.

The Xelor had far more important things to consider, after all. One part of his attention was dedicated to fabricating that leash for Igole, if only as a reward for the shadow wolf. Whether it was directly or indirectly, Igole had helped push the armoured mummy in the right direction, as the shadow beast had prompted him search the world around him.

The results he found were promising to say the least, as it opened up a completely new avenue of research. If the mysterious energy he had noticed was in everything, then... was it analogous to Wakfu, in that it was a single unified energy that flowed through everything? Or rather, everything but the shadow beasts?

Nox's mask clicked at that hypothesis, dismissing it for now. After all, the energy was distinctly independent from the shadow beasts, whereas Wakfu truly existed in everything. Additionally, while the energy had reacted violently to a discharge of Stasis, the burst of Wakfu he had initially used to subdue Subject #4 had a similar effect. There was simply not enough of a basis to consider it as Wakfu.

... Then again... Didn't that energy interaction cause his Stasis levels to Fluctuate, back when he first interacted with Subject #1?

Yes, but that merely implies that there is some commonality between Wakfu and this mysterious energy, not that they are necessarily related. And until he could find some way to communicate with his test subjects on the nature of this energy, he coul-

Nox's attention was wrenched from his thoughts.

The final part of his awareness had focused on exploring the world through his Noxines, forcing himself to maintain some semblance of attention on his creations as they extended out into the world beyond. And it was that final part of his awareness had just made a very interesting discovery.

One of the Noxines, situated at the woods north of his base, had stumbled upon another local.

And based on this particular local's attire, she was unaffiliated with with the Subjects he currently had in custody, as she carried neither the mask nor the uniform that his current batch of prisoners had. As expected, the local also had access to the mysterious energy that permeated the world, and as expected, she used it in a completely different way from the rest of his subjects—A slow, methodical... observable pattern that seemed to influence far more than anything else he had seen. This was, once again, another phenomenon he needed to study.

So it was truly convenient for the Xelor that this particular local was heading straight for his humble abode.