6-X: Declaration

The realm of the gods stood silent.

Not one of deities dared to speak, their eyes fixed firmly at the center of the room as they tried to make sense of what had just-... No. What was still transpiring. Xelor had done something, that much was certain, but none of the gods present could even hope to figure out what it was. How could they, when they could scarcely recognize the energy that had surrounded the Keeper of Time?

None could explain how the flow of Wakfu surged from the God of Time, tines of light striking the empty air between the robed deity and the mirror as it slowly gathered into a single shimmering vortex. At first, the pantheon had thought that it was the Xelor who had woven it this way, but all it took was a single glance to dispel that thought; they had been gods for long enough to recognize the Wakfu that had been gathered was completely unbounded.

Nothing seemed to direct the energies of creation but the energy itself. And for what seemed like an eternity, the Wakfu continued to burn, bathing the rest of the celestial hall in its light as the gods simply stared.

"To think I'd see it again..." The first to break the silence was a voice no one had expected to hear. The two impulsive deities, Sacrier and Eniripsa, immediately turned to the source of the noise, while the mischievous gods Ecaflip and Sram merely exchanged a curious glance.

"Well well... If it isn't Osamodas?" The God of the Shadows chose to take the initiative, an impassive expression fixed on his skull as he turned to face the other god proper. Normally, he'd be more enthusiastic about unexpected developments, but between the strange Wakfu and the cryptic words, Sram had found it hard to maintain his usual sarcastic appearance. "It's a surprise to see you here. Didn't you say you had some pets to take care of?"

"I could say the same for the rest of you."

Rest of them? Sram's brow furrowed as he stared at the God of Beasts. Osamodas was rarely this obtuse—that was Xelor's whole gimmick—so the God of Mischeif had half a mind to question his choice of words. The only reason it was 'half' was because his thoughts were broken by the sudden sound of an awkward cough, echoing from his right. Which was weird, since everyone was either in front of him or to his left. With a start, the god turned around, his eye sockets widening with surprise as he caught sight of the rest of the active pantheon.

When had they managed to show up?

"This is not the time for that Sram, Osamodas." Cra chastised the two gods, her tone neutral as her gaze shifted between the God of Beasts and God of Shadows, before finally settling back to the maelstrom of Wakfu that had cemented itself in the center of the room. "As for our presence... Whatever that phenomenon is takes priority over our usual duties."

"Especially if it's dangerous." The Goddess of Protection added, following up on her fellow goddess's words as Feca threw a deliberate stare at the odd cluster of Wakfu. This didn't last long, however, as the woman quickly settled her sights back on Osamodas, with suspicion wrought on her face. "And it seems like you know something about it."

Feca's gaze was soon joined by the rest of the gods, as eyes of suspicion, worry and curiosity fixed themselves on the God of Beasts. There was a brief pall of silence as the horned god returned their stares, his eyes locking with each of his peers for a few short moments before drifting to the next. It wasn't until his focus fell on Xelor, the only god not participating in their little discussion, that Osamodas finally chose to speak.

"Yes. I do." He took in a deep, his voice low as it echoed through the celestial hall. The god's eyes shifted to the planet below, staring at the World of Twelve as it slowly drifted along the Krosmoz. His gaze only lingered for a few moments, before settling on the two newest additions to their pantheon. "Sacrier. Pandawa. You two understand how this world came to be, yes?"

While Sacrier had simply nodded at the question, Pandawa, the Goddess of Festivities, had chosen to voice her answer in a much louder form.

"Of course! Don't forget that I was already a minor god around that time! You just didn't acknowledge me until I got enough followers, remember?" Her last sentence was directed less to Osamodas and more to the gods as a whole, pulling the stick of bamboo from her mouth as she casually gestured to the rest of the pantheon. She stopped, however, when her eyes returned to Xelor and the mirror. "But how does that relate to anything?"

Osamodas's own gaze followed, though it stopped at the growing storm of Wakfu rather than the god or mirror. "The reason why this world came to be... The reason my Dragons and I had chosen to drift here in the first place? It was because that had led me here."

"Wait, what?" The Fairy Goddess was the first to protest... Though it was less of a protest and more of general confusion as she fluttered up to the God of beasts. "I thought you were just out for a walk, since you were upset at something Iop did. Or said? I don't remember, but it was definitely one of those two, and not because of ominous glowing lights! Old me said so!"

"I assure you, your predecessor was hardly the most reliable source of information." Her words were rewarded with a dismissive wave as Osamodas brought his hand upwards, shooing the tiny fairy away. This earned the god an annoyed look, but he chose to ignore that as he stared at the tiny fairy. "With that said, I'm not talking about the reasons why I had chosen to walk, but rather, why my little excursion had taken me here."

To accentuate his words, the god gestured at the space around them, giving a slight pause as his eyes lingered on the glow that had consumed the center of the room. It didn't take long for the rest of the gods to follow his gaze.

"Are you suggesting that-"

It wasn't clear which god had tried to voice their concern, but honestly, it didn't matter. Whether by virtue of chance or fate, the cluster of Wakfu could no longer remain inert. A fork of light shot from the God of Time to the vortex, a deafening sound rippling through the nonexistent air as it crystallized the collection of Wakfu into a sphere of pure azure energy. This in itself was alarming, as it exceeded all understanding the gods had with Wakfu... But what was truly surprising was what followed after.

Once more, a fork of light shot into the vortex. However, this light originated not from Xelor, but from the mirror itself. And unlike the bolt of light from before, which was merely Wakfu in a foreign form, this particular arc of light was completely alien in nature.

Yet, none of the gods had the time to register that fact; the moment that second light bridged the sphere and the mirror, everything collapsed. Wakfu surged and exploded outwards, engulfing the entire room in a blinding sheen of colour, as the brilliant blue of Wakfu mixed something else entirely.

"Good. The most important part of this exercise is maintaining your form."

All he received in return was a collection of affirmative grunts.

The Jackal-faunus smiled, his eyes slowly drifting from recruit to recruit, watching them closely as they held their aura. Like every batch, there were hopefuls and there were stragglers, but the man had vowed to ensure that everyone understood this first step. Even if it was technically one of the later things you'd normally learn. After all, his own instructor had refused to teach him until he had drilled the technique into his mind, so it was only fair that he do the same to the next generation.

Generation, huh? Usually, it'd imply kids, but there were plenty of recruits here from all ages. Whether they were orphaned children, frustrated teens, or displaced adults, everyone before him was considered the next 'generation'. And it was his duty to make sure they had a future. Speaking of duty...

"What do you think you're doing, Aurum? You've still got another two minutes left." As the instructor, it was his responsibility to get on everyone's case, even the ones that were doing perfectly well. Gotta curb those egos, after all. Of course, interruptions like this often gave way to more, and the faint sound of numerous chuckles erupted near the back of the room. The instructor spoke out once more, this time pointing a deliberate finger at a group of teenage faunus. "And don't think I don't hear you all back there. Just for that, you five get to keep it up for another half hour."

"What? C'mon! That's not fair!"

The group immediately protested, which only caused another chorus of laughs to sound out from the ordeal. And just as quickly as those laughs came, they disappeared, since the Jackal-Faunus believed in equal opportunity for all people who interrupted. Another assignment later, the instructor allowed himself a chuckle of his own, one which grew a bit too loud when he noticed the moment his students had finally noticed exercise regime extension.

They'll thank him for it later.

With a smile, the faunus turned his attention away from the recruits, leaving the rest of the work to his assistant instructors, finally giving them a chance to do their job as he stepped to the back of the room. He had to admit it... he'd grown used to the environment.

Nearly a week had passed since the incident at the old Fort, and the White Fang Lieutenant-turned-Captain had finally managed to come to terms with what had happened. Part of him still grieved, of course, but at that was always the case with loss. At least here he had company in misery, as nearly everyone in the White Fang has experienced some sort of hardship. And he was no different; all that changed was that he had people to help him by.

And people who he, in turn could help. He spent just as much time getting help as he did giving it, whether it was listening to the worries of his peers, teaching his students, or simply playing a game with his co-workers during their breaks.

Yeah. He was doing some good. Accepting a permanent posting here was definitely the right ch-

"Hey Vermont!"

A familiar voice called out to him, and the Jackal-faunus quickly snapped himself out of his thoughts. The White Fang Captain quickly shifted his attention to the source of the voice, smiling as he spotted his closest friend approach.

"Tukson! Aren't you supposed to be on duty at the moment?" He was honestly surprised to see the other man here. Not that their schedules were particularly strict or anything; the Jackal-faunus merely assumed that his good friend would've still been stewing over some sort of revenge ploy. Still, Vermont smirked at the other man as he approached, a cocky expression plastered firmly on his face. "Or did they let you out early so you could lose to me at cards again?"

"Cards? Really? Now I know you lucked out; You don't even remember the game name." Tukson returned his smirk, crossing his arms as he stared at the once-Lieutenant. However, the tone soon shifted from light-hearted to something a bit more worrisome, as the faunus fixed his eyes on Vermont. "But no, not that. You wouldn't happen to have friends in high places, would you?"

"... What do you mean?" Okay, very worrisome. The term 'friends in high places' meant something very different when dealing with White Fang Cells, and the Captain had absolutely no idea what could possibly be going on.

"Well, you know how one of the region's specialists arrived a few minutes ago?" No, no he didn't. The Jackal-faunus furrowed his brow, an action that was mirrored by his associate. Unannounced visits from those kinds of people were rarely good news. "Yeah, exactly. Well, as it turns out, he went to have a little chat with the base commander. Five minutes later, they get the closest person on guard duty at the time to retrieve you of all people. Guess who got that unlucky job?"

The more he heard about this, the worse he felt. Just what was going on? But before he could dwell on it further, a firm hand brought itself down on his shoulder, trying in vain to give him a reassuring pat.

"Sorry pal..."

Vermont could do little but nod. It certainly wasn't Tukson's fault that this was happening... But he still had no idea why they were calling for him. There wasn't any major issues with his performance that the Jackal-faunus could think of, nor were there any major conflicts he could recall. About the only one who might know what this was about was his friend, so the Captain slowly turned his eyes up to face the other faunus. "Any... Any idea why they might be calling me?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you this, but... what the heck. You'll need it." Tukson took in a single deep breath, before setting his eyes back on the White Fang Captain. There was a momentary pause as the faunus considered his words, before finally breaking the silence with a low, solemn tone.

"They wanted to interrogate you about Fort Stratum."

He had a migraine. Well, that wasn't quite accurate; he simply made the appropriate gestures for a migraine, slowly bringing a hand up to his head as he tried to massage his temple.

This... was much worse than a migraine, and no amount of tea, coffee, or medicine would be enough to deal with the fallout. The Headmaster of Beacon slowly shifted his gaze away from the window, slowly settling on his holographic display as he stared at the flickering video call.

Yes. Video call.

Were this any other circumstances, Ozpin wouldn't never considered such a direct and vulnerable method of communication. However, the matter was simply too urgent to discuss any other way, and the headmaster needed to see the full extent of what had transpired. Qrow's descriptions alone were worrying, as they bordered on the realm of impossibility. At the same time, he knew full well that the black-haired huntsman would never joke about such things, which meant that Ozpin needed to assess how bad things were with his own eyes.

"You there, Oz?" Despite the sound of battle in the background, Qrow's voice was still clearly audible through the Scroll connection. It was a bit muffled between the volleys of distant gunship fire, and the howls of grimm certainly contributed to the overall noise levels, but that was merely the nature of the location. A location that was, evidently, very much in turmoil.

Ozpin gave the huntsman a simple nod in response, his gaze not leaving the red-eyed scythe-wielder.

"Good. Hope you're ready for this."

Qrow shifted the Scroll in his grasp, and the man's presence was soon replaced by the sight of a massive Ursa in the background... Only, there was no way that this monster was a simple Ursa. Plated in crystal and towering over the nearby buildings, the beast of grimm was more akin to a rampaging Goliath more than anything else, and looked far more deadly. The air rippled with each roar the creature made, and despite a constant barrage of explosives and ordinance, the monster showed no signs of slowing its attacks. For all the damage made to its crystalline shell, for all the chips and breaks and fractures, it was hard to view its wounds as anything but superficial.

But for all of its wrath and fury, the expeditionary army had refused defeat.

Each of the monster's roars were matched by the roar of gunfire, blooming from columns of combat mechs as they steadily streamed towards the oversized grimm, their guns the loudest as they tried to divert the beast's attention away from the more fragile soldiers. Bipedal walkers marched in lockstep with quadruped weapons platforms, launching fiery bolts of dust and metal up to the blazing Ursa, not giving it a chance to turn away as artillery thundered in the background.

Matching the distant howitzers and cannons were dozens of gunships, circling above the battlefield with unwavering resolve as they fired salvo after salvo of explosive ordinance down at the massive grimm. The metallic airships danced among each other, trying to weave out of sight between volleys as each of their attacks were answered by the beast's own strikes, missiles and spears of burning crystal firing endlessly into the night sky. Every so often, a bullhead would be forced downwards to join its brethren, adding to the countless vehicles that been grounded or outright destroyed.

And even Ozpin was alarmed by how many vehicles had already fallen.

No single stretch of land was completely free of debris, scrap metal and discarded crystals continuously littering the ground as the battle raged on. Pockets of human soldiers fought against clusters of grimm, firing on smaller packs of beowolves or creeps as the creatures clamoured over the wrecks. Those same wrecks, as well as the lesser monsters around them, were crushed underfoot by larger grimm as they wrestled with the sturdier robots. These encounters between Ursai and mechanical constructs were just as deadly as the missiles overhead, as the grimm and mechs threw each other into through the ranks of their lesser counterparts.

The headmaster's attention was focused on one such battle, his brow furrowing as he watched an Ursa Major grapple with a particularly large robot. Honestly, it was odd to see any sort of mechanical construct deployed to fight against the massive grimm. Most of the models he knew of were large for the sake of carrying higher ordinance, and specialized in fire support rather than direct confrontation; They simply didn't have the resources or manufacturing capabilities to create expendable machines for such direct confrontations.

And yet, rather than shattering outright as he had originally expected, the robot returned the Ursa's assault in kind, somehow able to resist the grimm's overwhelming pressure with its own. The robot's motions were almost organic as it deflected one of the Ursa Major's swipe, twisting away from the razor-sharp claws before throwing its weight into a deliberate counterattack.

"Qrow." The headmaster's voice was short and abrupt as he watched the Ursa twist away from the robot's attacks. While the attack itself was ineffectual, the sheer fact that the construct was capable of fighting this fluidly was... concerning. "Those large mechs don't seem familiar. Who made them?"

Ozpin's worry only deepened when he saw the expression that the huntsman had made.

"It's complicated." The man brought a hand up to his head, running his fingers through his hair as he let out a heavy sigh. Qrow seemed to stare at some spot outside of the camera's view, shaking his head for a moment before turning back to face the headmaster. "You know that mummy I told you about? Well, he's the one who made them, but Ice Queen apparently did something to 'em to bring them over on our side."

"Did something?" Ozpin raised an eyebrow at those words. There were few times that Qrow would use such ambiguous language, and their current predicament wasn't one that warranted such use. "What do you mean?"

Rather than Qrow, it was Winter herself who answered, taking the Scroll from the huntsman's grasp as she turned the display towards her. In contrast to the scythe-wielder's worried expression throughout the conversation, the huntress seemed to carry a look of suspicion, her eyes staring directly at the headmaster as she deliberately spoke out. "Will you be relaying this report to Colonel Ironwood as well?"

"I wouldn't necessarily call it a report, Miss Schnee." He gave the woman a slight smile, taking a sip from his cup as he watched the huntress's expression. It was obvious that the Winter was worried about something, considering she brought up Ironwood's name, but the headmaster wasn't quite sure whether that worry stemmed from the possibility that he'd tell his friend, or that he wouldn't; Both had very different, but equally troubling connotations. "Would you prefer it if I did?"

"Yes."

"Then I shall inform James the moment you two finish with your... joint report, I suppose." He gave a curious look to Qrow, but said nothing else, shifting his attention back to the two specialists and the conflict behind them. They had a great deal to explain, from the dust-infused Ursa to the robotic constructs to this mysterious mummy, and Ozpin suspected that they were running out of time. "Let's continue where we left off, then. What did you do to bring those constructs under your control?"

There was a slight pause from the huntress as she stared at the screen, the corner of her lips curling downwards for a moment before she finally spoke out. "They're not under my control. From what I can tell, they're merely assisting us."

Ozpin could only frown at an answer like that. After all, that little admission only brought up more questions.

No one was sure how much time had passed.

The Celestial Hall where the gods gathered stood above the World of Twelve, and while it was still subject to the same rules of time as the rest of the Krosmoz, there was simply no way to tell. Eventually, however, the blinding glow began to fade, and the realm of the gods was no longer wreathed in that mysterious light. After a few agonizing moments, the Gods could see once again.

And they were not prepared for what they saw.

In the center of the room stood Xelor, no longer locked in whatever trance had taken him. Instead, the Keeper of Time had finally acknowledged the rest of the pantheon, his shadowed gaze slowly drifting from god to god with utter silence. The other deities stood silent, waiting for Xelor to speak, watching with concern as the Great Timekeeper slowly brought up his arm. But rather than words, the God of Time offered his peers a gesture, pointing towards the aftermath of what had just transpired.

"Wait a minute. Is that...?" Eniripsa's voice was muted, the Fairy Goddess's tone far quieter than usual as she echoed the thoughts of the rest of the gods. All eyes followed the Xelor's hand, pointed squarely at the center of the room. And all eyes stood confused, quickly turning to one another as each of the gods searched for answers, only to shift back to the odd sight. "Why are there two mirrors?"

Xelor, for all his contributions to the entire fiasco, was silent as he made his way back to the edge of the celestial hall, sparing the rest of the gods a single momentary glance before returning to his devices. A few gods, Sadida especially, tried to voice their concerns at the sudden appearance of the second artifact, but the Fairy Goddess of Healing ignored the rest of the room as she made her way to the second mirror.

The mirror in question was... almost identical to the first. Born from Wakfu, the mysterious artifact seemed act as a window to the foreign world where they had exiled Nox to, providing the gods with another view. And just like the first, Eniripsa could find no way to control the second mirror, unable to even understand how the Wakfu had formed itself into such a tool.

In fact, the from what she could tell, there were only two major differences between this mirror the first. One major difference was that the first mirror no longer seemed to be focused on Nox, as the image displayed in the older artifact seemed content to remain on the Xelor's Dial. Every so often, the picture to gradually switch to a different angle, catching sight of the some humans fighting against shadow beasts, or those two oddly-dressed humans talking on some black device, but for the most part, the mirror was static.

And the other difference? The Fairy Goddess furrowed her brow as her gaze returned to the newer mirror. Or maybe the older mirror? Either way, it was the second mirror, and she had no clue what to make of it. Against all logic, the second mirror was cracked, visible fractures running through the otherwise pristine pane. The fissures were minute in size, barely noticeable save for their pure-white light, but the implications of such a thing were disturbing. Neither she nor any of the gods could understand how that could happen, let alone the consequences.

But the mirror did not let them think on this matter. Instead, it flickered, and the image returned to Noximilien. All eyes were watching the Xelor nor, unsure of how or when he had left his... facility. Yet, left he had, and the gods could do little but watch as he slowly trudged his way through the forested underbrush, his gait slow as he shambled beneath the night sky.

"Of course." An irritated growl echoed out as Sadida, the God of Nature, caught sight of the Xelor. His focus shifted between the two mirrors, scoffing at the contrasting image of a serene forest and the battle-torn ruins. "He destroys nearly everything with his machinations and plots, and what does he do to make up for it? He does the same to another world, after we gave him another chance, then acts completely unrepentant about it as he strolls through the damned forests!"

The room was silent, save for the light sounds of battle that echoed from the unbroken mirror. No one seemed to disagree with the Masked God, which only spurred him onwards as he turned his body towards a certain Angel of Compassion.

"Nothing to say, Sacrier?" Sadida crossed his arms, his miniature dolls mirroring his gesture as he stared down at the Goddess of Sacrifice. "Weren't you the one who thought this would be a good idea?"

"That's enough, Sadida." Rather than the Goddess, it was Enutrof who answered, the irritation in his voice rising as the dragon stared at his fellow god. The Golden Dragon of Wealth carried no identifiable expression on his face, a simple gout of flame erupting from his nostrils as he let out a sharp breath, gazing at the God of Masks with a disinterested look in his eye. "You would do well to remember your position. I am certain you have not forgotten what Sacrier's station was; it is unbecoming to fault a fellow god for her nature."

"And what about my nature?" But God of Masks stood defiant, fists clenched as he stared back up at the Golden Dragon.

"My worries have been vindicated thrice over now! We have seen enough reasons to condemn Nox to the realm of demon's, to toss his soul for the Shushus to clean up, and yet we still do nothing but watch! I admit that I may have overstepped my bounds, but you would too if this maniac-" A loud crack was heard as Sadida slammed his finger against the broken mirror, fixed firmly on the image of Nox. "-nearly killed all your followers."

"You do not need to vent your frustrations on Sacrier, Sadida." Feca stepped forward, resting herself in the space between the God of Masks and the God of Wealth, trying to placate both sides as her gaze shifted between the two gods. "But I understand your position, and I agree entirely. Noximilien Coxen has shown no indication of attempting to repent, and I believe that, if we continue to do nothing, he will be a threat to that world as well."

Once more, silence fell in the realm of the gods.

Only to be broken by a single, solemn voice.

"I don't know what gods lived in this world, nor do I care. Their sky, their toy, their silly little mural is shattered. That alone is enough. I promise you this."

From the broken mirror came a single voice of conviction, and one that drew the attention of all in the room. Even Xelor turned his attention away from the void, shifting from the distant stars to the broken window that connected two alien realms. And from that distant world stood Noximilien Coxen, staring back at them through the mirror.

"Everything that happened, happened because the gods allowed it."

A crack echoed into the air, a single fracture forming on the God of Nature's mask. Beneath the painted exterior, Sadida clenched his teeth, feeling the heat boil in his veins.

"The past. The Cube. Ogrest."

The heat faded.

"The Lie. The Harvest. The Dragon."

As if to tease them, the Mirror flickered, one of the broken sections shifting its image away from the distant world, to match the history that had already carved itself into the World of Twelve.

"The Plan. The Child. The Clock."

With each passing image, the Gods' worries grew. Even now, they couldn't figure out why the mirror was behaved the way it did. No visible source seemed to twist the Wakfu, and they could hardly see the strings of the puppet, let alone the puppeteer of their entire predicament. Instead, all they saw was more of the past, flashing before them in traceless flickers.

"The End. The Void."

The images ceased. Once more, the cracked mirror showed the distant world, showed the single baleful eyes of the crazed Xelor.

"But this? This alone will be something I achieve by my hand. So long as I live..."

But as the gods stared at the impassive visage, a single thought echoed in the silent halls.

"... And I can see that goal, I promise you this..."

A single, lingering doubt that no one could truly push away.

"This will be the day your legend scatters."

... Just how mad was Nox?