6-2: Tools
"... So you're saying our bandaged friend back there had some weird kind of semblance that involves dust machines, and you somehow managed to steal from him?"
His voice was a mixture between doubt and confusion. At first, Qrow had thought that his companion finally managed to put some of that ridiculous Atlas training to good use, but when he heard her explanation... Well, some weird machine semblance might've explained a few of the things he'd seen here, but the huntsman wasn't convinced that a mysterious machine was responsible for all that had happened so far.
Or was it? The mummy had been wearing a bunch of metal parts he didn't recognize, and he definitely felt something within them. Maybe those things were weird machines as well... And he had seen a few of the bigger grimm wearing fancy-looking leashes or stuff, too. Then there's the fact that everything seemed to be powered with dust and something else. Were they really fighting against someone with technology as a semblance?
Damnit, it's like drunken Jimmy all over again.
Still, if that's the case, and if what Winter said was accurate, then their best best would be to just steal everything back, right? Especially if it gets results like this. After all, if someone goes through the trouble of making a giant robotic deathtrap, only to forget about security, then he's just making a weapon for you to use and subvert. They were perfectly justified in 'borrowing' these tools, especially if it's to stop some rampaging mummy from building a giant murderous army of grimm.
Qrow frowned. Was it really that easy to steal something so dangerous? No security is one thing. Simply touching it with your aura and getting full control was another thing entirely.
No. That can't be all there was to it.
"... It's an awfully convenient point of failure, don't you think? You sure there isn't more to it than that?"
He could see the frown forming on the huntress's face, her eyes widening for a brief moment before they turned downwards, a slight frown curling at the corner of her lips. That, in turn, caused Qrow to frown; did she really not notice that little detail? If so, then either she didn't think about the issue at all, or she was too wrapped up in whatever had happened there to consider it... With that said, he didn't actually doubt that the latter was a possibility.
The huntsman couldn't help let out a sigh at that, his eyes turning away from his scroll. There were too many things that didn't make sense; Sure, semblances were unique, but to the point of controlling grimm? He was all but certain that there was something bigger going on, and if this was just an elaborate trap or something, then he'd keep an eye out, and make sure that he'll be ready for it when it finally happens.
For now, though, he had other things to do. Since Ice Queen was the lucky winner of their little search, he had two options: He could either run back to where ever she was and take a look at the device himself, or he could help out with the Council's sanctioned invasion... Ha! Finding his answer almost immediately, Qrow turned around, one hand gripping his scroll as-
As the wall exploded, a sudden spike of purple energy shooting outwards. Thankfully, he was nowhere near the blast, but the effects of the attack were more than enough to snap the huntsman from his thoughts. Stopping in his tracks, Qrow turned himself around, settling his sights on the source only to find two new openings in the once-closed corridor. Had the mummy caught up with him?
He fastened his Scroll to his side, leaving the device on as the huntsman drew his weapon once more. With a single lunge, he closed the distance between himself and the new entrances, ready to fend off against whatever attack came his way.
So imagine his surprise when Qrow had found that, instead of revealing a murderous mummy, the blast had given him a path outside the compound. Sure, he was fairly certain the mummy still caused it, but a quick glance beyond the destroyed walls told him how extensive the blast was. That purple thing had cleanly carved through multiple rooms, and now he had a clear path to the courtyard.
There was the slight problem of the courtyard being filled with Security Droids, rampaging robo-grimm, rampaging normal-grimm, and four White Fang people, but Qrow was certain that-
"Waitwhat?" His mind stopped itself as he threw another look towards the courtyard. Yep. He wasn't mistaken... In the distance, beyond the melee of robots and murderous grimm, were four White Fang members slipping away to some ruined tower. "Damnit! Winter!"
"What's wrong?!" The usual irritation that carried the Atlesian operative's voice was absent, as Qrow pulled up his scroll once more. "Are you being att-"
"Not right now. I just saw some White Fang in the courtyard. They probably know more about what the hell's been going on than anyone else. I'm going to..." Whatever it was that Qrow had intended to say was abruptly cut short. A hollow laugh echoed through the halls, tinny and mirthless as it sounded from the other hole in the wall. There was little doubt who that voice belonged to, and a grim expression fell on the huntsman's face. "... I'm going to delay our friend back there. You go capture them."
It was clear that Winter knew who owned that voice as well, as her face instantly shifted to one of shock. "What? You can't be serious! You need to fall back! We've already neutralized the main source of our problems, so all we need to do now is support our allies in-"
"That's exactly what I'm doing. Our crazy hospital patient's still got enough kick left to level a gunship with a single attack, and laugh about it afterwards." To prove his point, Qrow turned the scroll to the lack-of-walls in the Hallway, giving the Huntress a second or two to understand the gravity of the situation. "Like I said, I'll distract him. You go grab our White Fang friends who're hiding out by the only damned sentry tower that's still standing in this place."
And with that, he turned off the scroll, ignoring the rest of his companion's protests. Sure, Winter probably wanted to argue a bit more, but Qrow didn't have the time anymore. That crazy mummy was drawing closer, his heavy steps echoing through the hall with every passing moment.
Taking up an ambush point, Qrow tightened his grip on his blade. The hallway itself was fairly spacious, and with the new paths, he had more room to maneuver. Coupled with his usual fighting style, the huntsman decided to extend it back to its heavier scythe form, the comfortable weight and profile of his weapon shifting in his arms as he waited for his opponent to approach.
He didn't need wait long.
The mummy entered the room without a single word, carrying only its demented chuckles. Qrow was about to strike, to lash out at the enemy without a second thought, but... Something stopped him.
It began to speak. Not to him, perhaps, and he certainly couldn't recognize the language, but the mummy still began to speak for whatever reason. Did it not notice him? If so... then he might be able to learn something about their opponent.
A simple touch of his Scroll was all the huntsman needed to start recording the mummy's words. With any luck, Ozpin would be able to find out what the hell language their friend was using. All Qrow could figure out from the other person's words were its... tone.
Qrow paused. He sure as hell didn't recognize the words, but something about the person's tone was familiar to him. Not directly familiar, since he didn't actually recognize a voice or anything, but rather... he could recognize parts of the underlying emotion beneath the man's voice.
So, with silence, the huntsman listened.
"Are you sure this is the right way?"
Her Captain's voice was full of doubt, and the Sentry couldn't help but laugh at the tiger-faunus's tone. Just who did he think she was? She had been serving in the fort's garrison for years, and even if it was mostly in ruins now, Lyra knew full well what the layout of the establishment was. That also meant that she knew where all the secret hidden supply caches were. Heck, she was the one who planted half of them! "Of course I'm sure! Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because we've passed by this scrap ursa three times now?"
Her captain gestured to the pile of metallic rubble to the side. Sure enough, there was the remains of a mechanical Ursa, one of the many crazy things that their jailer had built up for some weird reason. However, it was obvious that this one was different from the last two they had seen, since this particular piece of debris still had three of its limbs intact.
She was not amused, and the glare she threw to the Captain told him of this fact.
"Ha ha!" He laughed all the same, of course. If it wasn't for the fact that she was the one leading the group, she might've punched him in the side or something. However, she couldn't afford to do that, so she gave out two short coughs; one of the others punched him instead. "Ow! Okay, okay, I get it! Lyra's leading, so we listen to her. No back talk."
He was being surprisingly lighthearted about the issue, but no one in the group complained, least of all Lyra. The deer-faunus knew that they weren't exactly in the best position, so any moment of levity was appreciated. Still, it'd be nice if her Captain stopped asking stupid questions for a few moments. There were... far more important questions that needed answering.
As if to prove her point, another explosion sounded off in the distance, followed by a blood-curdling roar. The four faunus flinched at the sound, eyes darting over their surroundings as they made their way to the nearest piece of cover. This time, they had safety of hiding behind the charred remains of a supply truck, solid enough to provide visual cover from the wandering grimm.
That in itself was comforting. Despite their progress, and the few encounters they've had so far, Lyra was doubtful that they could fend off against whatever the hell had made that roar. Sure, they were trained, and could easily deal with a wayward pack of beowolves or a lone Ursa without too much difficulty... But even that was time consuming. And the Sentry was fairly certain they wouldn't be able to fend off against anything larger than an Ursa major with their current weapons.
Weapons... Right.
The Deer-faunus kept the thought to herself, but honestly, she was surprised that they had reached this point without any major injuries. Their weapons were nothing more than salvaged pieces of junk that they could use without hurting themselves. The two White Fang Lieutenants were carrying makeshift daggers they had fashioned from the remains of a destroyed robotic crocodile, while the Captain was currently wielding a mechanical Ursa limb with a resolute expression. Not that she was any better, since her own weapon consisted of a broken metal pipe.
All in all, poor odds when the thing they were fighting was enough to withstand the gunships above. And those gunships were another worry entirely.
"What... do you think they're fighting?"
Iris spoke out, worry clear in the ferret-faunus's eyes as she furrowed her brow. Her gaze shifted from their little group to the skies above, where a dozen bullheads slowly circled around some distant part of the fort. Every so often, a rain of missiles would descend, filling the air with noise. And each time that happened, a terrible roar would follow, no doubt originating from whatever it was the missiles had attempted to destroy. Those roars, in turn, were followed by massive bone spikes that shot into the air, each burning with fiery embers as they attempted to skewer the airships.
None of that spelt good news for the four White Fang members.
"No idea. Do you think it's something the mummy made? Or maybe an old grimm?" Iris offered her own response, but it was just guesswork at this point. It was probably related to their captor in some way, though, since the roaring didn't start until that last bell chime had rung out. Oddly enough, that was also about that time when the normal grimm had started going crazy, suddenly attacking the mechanical grimm without provocation.
Which, honestly, had been helpful, since the sudden conflict was what allowed them to scrounge up their weapons. Not only that, it also distracted the grimm from their presence, allowing them to move around without much difficulty. With that said...
"Looks like the path's clear. Let's get going."
They were getting closer to their destination now. A soft smile appeared on Lyra's face as they crossed under the shadow of another ruined building. In a few moments, they would reach the supply cache. With luck, the hatch to the cache would be undamaged enough for them to enter quietly, and they'd be able to retrieve whatever supplies they needed before leaving this place. If not, well, they could still open it forcibly, but that'd draw more attention.
"Hey Lyra?" It was Sienna's turn to speak up, as the other White Fang Lieutenant's voice chirp up in between motions. The Sentry gave a curious 'hmm?', but stayed silent, her eyes slowly scanning the horizon as they darted through the rubble. "I was just wondering... Didn't you say you guys made a bunch of supply caches? Why did we have to go for the one furthest out?"
Lyra's smile widened, the deer-faunus practically humming to herself as she heard her friend's question. It's true that there were closer supply caches, but they didn't have what she needed. After all, the ones closer to the compound were biased towards rations and medical supplies, due to them being deeper inside the fort. The ones near the edge, at the towers with vantage points? Well...
"We need weapons, right?" She turned to flash a playful smile to her group.
There was a moment of silence as they heard her words, her expression clearly throwing them off. Yet, all it took was a few seconds for them to recover, and her Captain was the first to eek out a response.
"What... what the hell have you been storing in those caches?" The tiger-faunus's eyes were wide as he stared at her. Which was amusing, since Owen usually kept himself composed, especially in situations like this. Perhaps she had gone too far?
Well, they can afford to wait a little while longer for the surprise. After all, the tower was just around this corner... But if they had to break in, they'd probably be pestering her while she fiddled with the hatch. Yeah, might as well drop them a little hint.
"Oh, you know. Things for a rainy day."
The moment of confusion was over, and anger quickly replaced the Xelor's thoughts.
The Wakfu in his dial was gone? That was ludicrous! Wakfu doesn't simply disappear. Nox had worked with it for over two centuries, and between his experiments and the Eliacube, the man had learned enough about Wakfu to know how impossible it was to destroy. One could certainly deplete it as a resource, or change it state so it may appear gone, but utter annihilation of the energy wasn't possible.
Which meant that the Wakfu in his dial wasn't gone; it was just changed. And that was impossible.
Even in the World of Twelve, Nox was the only one capable of changing Wakfu to such a degree. Sure, some of the lesser minds might've created rudimentary toys or trinkets, but Nox was the only one who had truly used Wakfu to its full potential. In the World of Twelve, he was the only one with enough knowledge and experience to have converted Wakfu to such a degree.
He certainly didn't change it. And he was in some desolate world that didn't even know what Wakfu was, so there was no way that some local had the technical skills needed to subvert his Dial like that. He seriously doubted that the shadow beasts had suddenly gained enough intelligence to learn from and betray him. That, in turn, could only mean one thing.
And that one thing was why the Xelor's mind was filled with anger.
"Rraaagh!"
His voice pierced through the room, drawing attention from he didn't care as he lashed out. Without warning, he brought up his palm, fury coursing through him, spurring the stasis in his body as he unleashed it. In a single moment, a blast of violet energy tore through the room, striking at an unoffending wall, utterly annihilating the pointless barrier. The Xelor didn't know what he was aiming for, and quite frankly, he didn't particularly care. There was only one group of people who could possibly know about his plans, and only one group of people who dare try to ruin them.
Of course they would. After all, the Gods have made it abundantly clear to Noximilien that they cared nothing about his plight.
That's the whole reason why they sent him away, right? Why, rather than just ending him, they had decided to send him off some unknown world, completely devoid of Wakfu. After casting aside everything he had worked up for, after rendering his entire life meaningless... After completely throwing away 200 years of effort, sacrifices, and... mistakes.
How dare they step in now?
And for what? To stop his plans? Why do they even care? His plans were his own, and the Xelor honestly had no idea why the gods would suddenly take interest in them, when they had remained silent for so long prior. What do they care that he was learning about this planet's elemental powder, or of the mysterious energy carried by the locals? They had no vested interest, and they certainly shouldn't mind if he had use that power to...
To...
As quickly as it came, Nox's anger faded away.
The Xelor's shoulders slacked, no longer carrying his previous tension as his arms fell to his side. There was a light clatter on the ground as he loosened his grip, the forgotten sword in his hand falling harmlessly to the ground Some of the shadow beasts turned towards him, likely drawn to the sudden sound of metal meeting the the floor... Or, perhaps they were distracted by the faint light of Wakfu that had emerged when his weapon lost cohesion. Or was it that fact that it the Wakfu returned to the Xelor without word or warning?
He didn't care. What did it matter? Those animals were the least of his concern, and Nox had no shortage of his concerns. After all, the Xelor had come to the startling realization that... he had no idea what his plans were. Let alone how some stupid energy from some foreign world would help him achieve it.
Nox began walking. Not for a particular or anything; he could've just as easily stayed still, standing rigid in that empty room, as shadow beasts fought with his machines. Perhaps he just wanted some quiet to think... Or perhaps he just didn't care. Either way, there no little point in dwelling on it. Without giving it another thought, the Xelor cast his gaze downwards, staring blankly on the featureless floors, numbly bringing forward foot after foot as he stepped through the smoldering hole in the wall.
What did he even plan to do with the energy?
With Wakfu, he had a goal. He had a purpose, something to strive towards. Decades and centuries were spent towards it, as he slowly built himself up in the World of Twelve, all to fulfill a goal that... That...
That was the joke, wasn't it? His entire life had been nothing more than a pointless joke. From the Eliacube, to Ogrest's Chaos. From the sleepless nights of study, to the mindless days of slaughter. 200 years of pursuing his goals, all for 20 useless minutes of failure. It was almost comical, when he looked at it like that.
So he laughed.
The mirthless voice of Nox filled the air, a dry chuckle tinged with the metallic echo of his mask as he stepped over another pile of loose rubble. From the corner of his vision, the Xelor noticed some inconsequential movement, a flitting shadow or shape that reacted to his chuckle. A shadow beast, then... One that apparently had chosen to remain idle in whatever room he now stood in.
How far had he walked? Not that it mattered, of course. Few things did, now that he had realized his position. With a heavy sigh, Nox took in a single deep breath, bringing himself to a stop, his eyes falling to his palm.
"It's a funny thing, isn't it Igole?" He... decided to address the shape directly. Of course, he knew that the shape wasn't Igole.
Igole was dead.
Nor was it the shadow wolf that he had often found accompanying him for some unknown reason... Or maybe it was? They all looked the same, and the vague shadow certainly stood tall enough to be a wolf. He didn't care, and none of it mattered as he kept his gaze fixed on his hands.
"How things just fall apart, no matter what you try to do about it?" His voice was... clear. Choked back, and halting at times as he tried to pick out words from his thoughts, but somehow remaining clear at the same time. "First was Ogrest's Chaos; you remember that, don't you boy? So many places and people, flooded and destroyed in a single night."
There was a slight pause. Not that he expected the shadow beast to react. Kind of like how Igole stayed silent.
"No... I suppose you don't remember. Time, and the Cube made sure of it. And... Well, you weren't the smartest Bow Wow of your litter, you know?" He allowed himself another chuckle, an empty sound to contrast the dull tone that had carried the rest of his words. That too ceased, and a heavy sigh escaped the Xelor as he idly examined his single metallic glove, the only one that still remained. Cracked, shattered, and worn.
"I suppose it's for the best, really. Unlike me, you didn't need to remember everything. Because..." He paused at that. There was a reason, and it was something that he had long forgotten. Until now, in his little lucid bout of self-reflection. Funny, isn't it? How it all comes back now, when it mattered the least? "Because I was supposed to fix everything. From the Cube, I knew I could turn it all back. I had just needed... needed..."
His voice fell, recollection flashing in the lens of his mask. What he had needed, he simply took. Those first three years were the start of his plans, and the most lucid to him. But they were also irrelevant now. The man shook his head, pushing those thoughts from his mind.
"It doesn't matter now. Two centuries of what I needed, of what I gathered... All of it fell apart. And whatever it was I thought I could do, it clearly wasn't enough for the Gods." Nox pulled his attention away from his hands, ignoring the sparks of stasis that lingered in his palm. Instead, the Xelor settled his gaze on the shadowy figure that had been listening to his pointless monologue from the start. "Now, after they've shown me how much I've wasted my life, wasted... everything... They've thrown me into some useless world beyond the Krozmos."
"They're probably laughing, you know? Laughing at the little watchmaker who thought he could change things. Laughing at the man who they decided to leave alone, so they could see how badly he fell at the end." The purple glow from Nox's mask focus completely on the figure, finally identifying the thing that dwelt in the shadows.
"And now they're laughing at the empty little puppet as he talks to his dead Bow Wow, with some red-eyed local listening in the background."