Chapter 18
Quintili Vare Legiones Redde
XXXXX
Ironwood shuddered under the force of the alien words. He could see the entire Atlas formation wince, and it was hardly surprising. The language of Caesar's Legion, Walker had called it Latin, echoed across the battlefield. At once he knew this had been some sort of Semblance, nothing else could be responsible for this short of magic. And the Legion had neither a Relic nor a Maiden. Making this connection, Ironwood grimly realized that this was doubtless a trump card of Caesar's.
His worst fears were quickly realized. A rainbow of colors burst to life across the ranks of the Legion and White Fang. Aura bloomed on them, as bullets that would've been fatal a moment were swallowed up by the new barriers. Three White Fang fighters charged across the unclaimed land between the camp and the Atlas army's position. Two of them fell to concentrated fire, but one of them managed to clear it and swing his knife. One of the frontmost Atlas troopers was decapitated in a single swing. It was not a clean-cut; it was a brutal, jagged rip, and the soldier was only spared from suffering due to the sheer power behind the blow.
Roaring in triumph, the Faunus made to move forward. Eyes narrowing, Ironwood drew his sizable revolver, took aim, and fired. His arm was dead on, the oversized magnum bullet driving directly into the man's skull. A gush of blood splattered out, dotted with pale, white bone fragments, and the man crumpled. It seemed that these newly empowered weren't trained, but they were still much more dangerous than they had been a mere moment ago. This didn't change anything, however, other than the dedication he would need expect from his men.
"Hold your ground!" he barked, speaking into a shortwave radio piece in his ear, standard issue for all deployments. "They're still outmaneuvered and outgunned. This surprise of theirs is an act of desperation! Even with it, they need three of their own to kill a single Atlas soldier! We hold the skies, we have them surrounded, and every one of them that escapes is a threat to every last citizen of Atlas! Stand firm; we're going to stamp this threat out once and for all!"
Switching the frequency on the earpiece, he put himself on the channel used by the technician directing the Paladin and Knights. "Jim, it's Ironwood. Order all our mechanized forces to tighten up. Switch to anti-Aura protocols for all hostiles. Over." As he spoke, he aimed with his free hand. One hostile poked up out of cover, firing an automatic and managing to take the head off of a Knight. Turning, he lined up sights on a second target, a soldier who was firing from behind a tree. Not giving the attacker a chance to claim one of his soldiers, Ironwood emptied his revolver into him, pumping all five rounds into his center mass. Staggering back, a blue Aura shattering, the man was unable to recover before a Knight returned fire and caught him with a burst. The man went down, not moving.
"Copy that," a stern, professional voice replied. "Switching their directives. Feeds aren't showing anything good. Should we deploy more mechanized platoons? Over."
Sliding his empty revolver into its holster and drawing a fresh one. "Yes, everything you can spare! This is a slugfest now. Use my authorization code if anyone tries to stop you. Over and out." Letting his hand fall, he aimed with his fresh revolver. "ED-E, do you have a clear image?"
James's robot companion was at Ironwood's side, blasting madly away with its energy weapon. Not ceasing its fire, it beeped twice, signifying a yes. "What's their active size?" It gave four tightly packed short beeps, followed up by two long beeps with a noticeable space between them. The active enemy force was four-hundred men strong. So, Rumford's claim that the Legion only had a few dozen men had been drastically inaccurate. This also meant he was outnumbered, as he had only brought three-hundred men, counting the Knights. But he still had them encircled. In fact, he could use their new confidence against them.
"Major!" he shouted. The commanding officer of the company he had brought on his mission, who had been aiming her rifle from behind a rock line, at once turned her full attention onto him. "Contact the flanking forces. Order them to start pressing in and hitting the Legion from behind. Coordinate with the Bullheads and have them provide support fire. We can't afford to have them sit and wait for stragglers anymore."
"Right away sir!" the Major replied, relaying orders into her earpiece.
With that situation in capable hands, he needed to get a feeling for the overall battle. "ED-E, are there any forces that aren't pressing forward?" ED-E paused before letting out two beeps. That wasn't good. Ironwood's plan for catching runners hadn't accounted for this mass awakening. "Their left? Their right? Their rear?" ED-E beeped twice, once for rear, once for right. "Forces for the rear and right?" One short beep then two long beeps, followed by two short beeps and one long beep. A hundred to the rear and twenty to the right. "Major, you get that?" The officer nodded firmly. Ironwood felt a small spark of pride. Firm, efficient professionalism in a high-stress environment. This woman had earned a medal of some kind for this. Everyone here had. "Belay the advance for the respective flankers. Tell them they have incoming hostiles and to bunker up."
Ironwood wasn't even finished speaking before the woman started relaying his orders perfectly. As she did, Ironwood resumed fire. The Legion was making an advance, this one more cautious. A dozen or so men wielding riot shields, all of which had metal plating welded on, had used them to form a wall and were now marching towards Atlas lines. Half the formation had their shields in front, while the other half raised them up high, giving them additional cover from above. Only tiny cracks were visible to Ironwood, through which pistols and rifles quickly began to poke out of. Legionaries and White Fang without shields quickly joined up, aiming from the gaps in the mobile cover and firing.
It was crude, a tactic from ancient times, but with Aura and their reinforced equipment, it had its merits. Indeed, the shield wall was already drawing fire from his soldiers yet yielding little in the way of results. Swarms of bullets from nearly twenty soldiers slammed into the bulwark of steel and flesh, only for nothing to give. The march didn't even slow. Instead, the butts of rifles turned and returned fire. Atlas armor was durable and where soldiers were shot, many of them simply staggered or were blown off their feet to lay moaning on the ground. But here and there, weaknesses were found. Ten or so Knights near the front line were chewed up by, and several soldiers did not rise again after being shot. The rounds had found the few weaknesses in their armor, or the bullets fired had been of a heavy enough caliber to penetrate. He was taking casualties.
Firing his revolver with one hand, his hand went back to his earpiece, switching the frequency. He gave his orders to Jim. The Atlas Paladin, which had spent the entirety of the battle with bullets pinging off of it and looking no worse for wear outside of scratches, turned. Both of its main guns aimed directly at the shield wall. Twin white lances tore from the lumbering behemoth, tearing directly into the center of the array of shields. With a blast of blinding white light, the Legion formation was torn apart.
The shields themselves shattered under the force of the energy volley, and in several cases simply melted into slag. The legionaries that had been in the dead center of the explosion were writhing on the ground in pain, several of them clutching burnt stumps where legs had once been, a pair twitching weakly with bodies covered with burns, and one that simply wasn't moving. Meanwhile, the wings of the formation had fared slightly better, their Aura having protected them from the splash of the explosion. Many of them simply stumbled back, their shields shattered in half or visibly bent from the force. Ironwood could only spot a couple of them who were showing signs of broken Aura. Leveling his revolver, he promptly put a bullet in the chest of one, the man gracelessly blown off his feet, never to rise again.
Part of Ironwood was irritated that the Paladin had not ended the threat of the sortie with a single fell swoop. But it was a minor complication. The mobile barricade the Legion had constructed had been broken, with a wide gap in the middle and two uncoordinated groups of survivors. Both packs of hostels were noticeably disoriented, staggering, and blinking in confusion, not certain what had just happened to them. Ironwood opened his mouth to give the other to fire, but it proved to be an unneeded action. Dozens of Atlas soldiers and Knights had brought their weapons to bear and were riddling the survivors with everything they had.
In less than half a minute, most of them were dead or dying. Aura could take punishment, but not from multiple platoons concentrating their fire. Desperate, the few who had not died from either counter-assault charged, drawing their weapons. It was baffling to watch, even battle-tested and drilled soldiers would fall back to cover after taking so many losses. Most officers wouldn't force their men to fight after taking 25% losses, and even Ironwood himself would be hard-pressed to push on after 50%. So, this was the toxic culture of the Legion that Walker had warned him about, where men would rather charge to their deaths than face the dishonor of retreat. It was a shocking and terrifying display.
Morbidly, it made Ironwood's life much easier. The legionaries fired as they charged, catching one unfortunate Atlas soldier in the neck, but that was all they were able to do. Hailstorms of machine-gun and assault rifle fire swallowed them up, shattering their Aura and shredding their bodies. Whatever zealous dedication to Caesar they had driving them pushed them forward a few more steps, even as blood gushed from their myriad of wounds and they stumbled under the strain of failing muscles. They were about a hundred feet away from the front of the Atlas line before they finally collapsed, immobile.
Relief coursed through Ironwood. Every Atlas death was a tragedy, but the dead of the Legion were heavily outnumbering theirs, even with this secret Semblance empowering their troops. It was a simple principle that any first-year student of history would be able to spot, but Atlas had two major edges over the Legion, even in battles where the Legion had numbers on their side. Ironclad discipline, and a superior industrial base. Even now, Bullheads were circling overhead, strafing the enemy encampment with their main guns, and the Paladin was holding its position, firing its complement of missiles. They spiraled through the air and engulfed a makeshift barricade of stacked crates, earning a chorus of panicked screams.
One man popped up and aimed a tube at the Paladin, firing as he did. The telltale thump of a grenade launcher sounded, hitting the mecha dead on. But even as a ball of fire consumed the war machine, it didn't even slow down. Turning to face its attacker, another lance of white energy arced through the air, the warrior with the grenade launcher's body coming apart as the blast hit him dead on.
At the end of the day, his enemies were terrorists and the army of a petty warlord from a broken world. Neither were prepared for a frontal assault against a professionally trained and equipped army. The White Fang had managed to survive a year of active aggression by hiding in the shadows and acting as a guerilla force when they did engage professional forces. The Legion, however, had dragged them out of their preferred battlefield. Both were in the midst of learning a harsh lesson about the true might of Atlas.
XXXXX
Five minutes had passed since the words of raw power had echoed across the battlefield. Creeping dread had slipped into Blake when she had heard it but was even worse was the follow-up. Nothing. Even with explosions, gunfire, and screaming echoing across the tundra, Team RWBY and their Atlas support forces remained unmolested. They had landed with no complications, and after they had disembarked their Bullhead had taken off to join the main fight. Darkness falling all around them, the main fight a mile away, they were left alone with their thoughts.
Blake almost wished that they had been attacked the second they had landed. At least then they would be facing the threat, they would have a chance to fight back. But she knew the second the raging conflict spilled towards them, she would long for the quiet peace of nothingness. She glanced at her team. Ruby had the look of someone who was doing everything she could to suppress her nerves, Weiss had both eyes locked onto her sword as she held it in front of her, and Yang was, well, Yang. As opposed to the rest of them, Yang had a wide grin on her face. Bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, cracking her knuckles, she looked as if she couldn't wait for the fight to start.
Blake had no idea how she was doing it. Courage seemed to just naturally flow out of her, or maybe fear was just sliding off of her. Either way, her giant, toothy smile was contagious. Blake felt just a tiny bit braver looking at her. Catching Blake looking, Yang flashed her a wink, mouthing, "We got this." A smile of her own spread across Blake's face without conscious thought.
"I imagine you think this is going to be fun," Weiss said, looking warily at the bubbly blonde.
"Aw, Weiss," Yang said with a faux tone of offense. "What do you take me for?"
Blake could see Weiss fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "You don't want me to answer that question."
"I think I-" Yang began in a sing-song tone, only to be loudly shushed by Ruby. "But-" she began, only for Ruby to shush her louder, a finger pressed against her lips. Yang sulked while Weiss glanced at her with an ever so smug look. Relief spilled into Blake. Her team. Her friends. They were here with her. They were here to help make things better. They always were.
"Word just came in, we got twenty hostiles heading our way," the sergeant said. "Whatever that noise was, it turned on the Aura of everyone in that camp. Dig in, this is gonna be messy." Two squads worth of infantry spread out, fanning through the few thin trees and scant rock outcrops. There was very limited cover, Blake saw groups of two and three soldiers cramming themselves behind the same scant outcrop or thin tree. Impressively, they managed to do it while only leaving thin outlines of their armor exposed. Realistically, it was the best they could manage in a less than ideal situation.
"All right!" Ruby cried out, somehow still chipper. "You know the drill!" With well-honed speed and precision, Team RWBY fanned out ahead of the Atlas soldiers. Blake flung Gambol Shroud forward, hooking it onto a low hanging tree branch and pulling herself up onto it. Landing neatly with a soft thud, showering the ground below her with a dusting of snow, she pressed her back against the trunk. Gambol Shroud shifted into its gun form as she did. Pressing her back to the tree and peeking around, eyed the area.
The main battle echoed in the distance, a dull red hue glowing on the horizon. Dozens if not hundreds of people were dying there. In some ways, Blake was glad that she had been spared from a front-row seat of her former allies dying. At the same time, it felt like she had run away from another situation she couldn't handle. Guilt pricked at her, but she pushed it away. There wasn't any time for that. Tightening her grip on her weapon, she focused her attention.
Her Faunus eyes meant the darkness didn't cloud her vision as it did to her human friends. Naturally, she was ahead of the others acting as their eyes and ears. Slowly, time ticked by as she methodically swept her gaze back and forth over the tundra. Twenty men could hardly sneak past them with this little cover. And they would be moving fast unless they felt confident enough to take their time when there was a battle raging behind them. Blake doubted that. So where were they?
The answer came to her, as sudden as it was unwanted. Movement ahead of them, coming in from an angle. It was hard to get a precise count at this distance, but there were five men at the minimum. At once, she signed to both Ruby and the Atlas sergeant. They were approaching at one o'clock. No sooner had she received the sign from Ruby acting as confirmation that the message had been received, a bang echoed out in the direction of the approaching men. For a moment, Blake thought a simply mundane firearm had been used. Then, an all too familiar curved red sword shot past her, only a few meters between it and the tree she was taking cover in. Its color was hard to make out in the dark, even Faunus struggled there, but even dulled that glint was unmistakable. A thunk echoed from where the Atlas soldiers had taken cover, and a blur chased after the sword.
He was here. Oh no, he was here. Her breathing quickened and her heart hammered in her chest.
As terror gripped her angry roars and the thundering of feet filled her ears. Over a dozen men charged past her tree, most of them with bizarre mohawks and a mixture of old, rusty looking weapons and those shiny, white, tubelike guns that shot beams of energy. The majority of them had gauntlets of various kinds strapped to their hands, in addition to their weapons. "Praetorians! To arms!'' one of them shouted, earning a chorus of battle cries, and they began to fire as they ran. Tracer bullets, evidently equipped to mark targets in the dark, and beams of energy arched through the air, peppering Atlas defensive positions. In response, Atlas weapons roared to life, intermixed with a horrific cry of pain and the soul-crushing sound of flesh being torn apart. Adam had claimed another innocent life.
For a moment, Blake had been frozen with fear. Adam, all of his cruelty and all of the carnage he wrought, had rooted her to where she stood. Part of her, the true coward part of herself that she wished she could cut out like a tumor, screamed to run. To skulk away into the dark and survive like she always did. Another part of her, a much louder one, screamed at her. It screamed to think of her friends and what Adam would do to them. He would kill Ruby and Yang. He would kill every last Atlas soldier that had come here to help them. But worst of all would be what he would do to Weiss. Imagines, unbidden and unwanted, floated into her mind. She remembered everything she had seen Adam's followers descend to since they had allied with the Legion, and she remembered what Caesar's Legion did to women.
No. Not to her friend. Not to anyone else. Not another single person, whoever they were, to his forsaken spite.
Riding on more raw adrenaline than anything resembling bravery, Blake opened fire on the charging mob. Her spray of bullets earned a yelp from one of the warriors in the rear, who flailed about, looking with wild eyes in a desperate attempt to find his attacker. Eventually, undoubtedly seeing her illuminated by her weapon's muzzle flash, his gaze locked onto her. Breaking away from the pack, which seemed blissfully unaware of her existence, he threw himself at the base of the tree and began climbing up as best he could. As he did, he leveled a boxy gun at her face, squeezing the trigger.
Blake did two things in rapid succession. First, she gripped the far end of Gambol Shroud cable and tossed it, aiming at the man's neck. Second, she jumped down, ensuring that the branch she had been standing on stayed between her and him. Gambol Shroud, thrown with a sharp curve, looped around the man's throat and went taught. He gagged, involuntarily firing an automatic stream into the air as he was pulled forward, Blake acting as a counterweight.
She landed on the ground at the same time as he began to clear the branch. Knowing her window was brief, she pivoted on the spot and swung forward with the taught cable. The man screamed in terror as he arched over her head, Gambol Shroud still firmly locked around his throat. Straightening out, Blake was treated to a front-row seat as the man smashed head first into a person-sized rock. Aura shattered before her, accompanied by the sound of a loud crack, and the legionary collapsed to the ground, unmoving.
Coming about, Blake searched for a new target. The majority of the mob hadn't noticed her and was closing in on the Atlas position. She could hear the familiar sounds of her friends' weapons being fired, joining the symphony of Atlas and Legion weapons. All eyes were on the clashing of lines in the distance. But one of them had stopped, looking at her. The man wore White Fang armor but had a hood made out of a skinned dog covering his head and black goggles adorned his eyes. His face, even through everything obscuring it, heavily resembled the sketch Blake had seen of Vulpes Inculta. The Legion spymaster.
Blake started forward, but as she did, the man-made eye contact with her. The second those obscured eyes stared into hers, something horrible stirred inside Blake. Fear, fear flowed through her every thought, every aspect of her being, there was nothing inside her except fear. It all came crashing down on her at once, magnified a hundred times: her fear of Adam, her fear of losing her friends, her fear that this was all her fault. Every last instinct in her was screaming that she had to run, had to get as far away from here as possible, or she would suffer as she had never suffered before.
Somehow, despite all of this, she stood her ground. Her legs were trembling, Gambol Shroud shook in her hands, but she couldn't bring herself to run. Ruby, Weiss, and Yang were all here. If she abandoned them, they would share the same fate she was so terrified of. But what was she supposed to do? What was happening? Adam had always scared her, but never this badly, not to the point where she could barely function. Something was wrong.
As she stood there, quivering, Vulpes cocked his head and made a noise of mild interest. Whatever was in that gesture, it sparked a realization in Blake, putting two and two together. "Y-you're doing this!" she said, her voice shaking just as badly as the rest of her.
A self-satisfied smirk bloomed on Vulpes's face. "You realized much quicker than most. Even your beloved Adam still hasn't realized the truth. Most likely, he doesn't want to. I can increase the intensity of emotions, but I can't create them. Only nurture what's already there. He's become too addicted to having his ego satiated." He gave a dismissive scoff. "Worthless indulgence, the same all profligates engage in. Chemicals produced by the body are just as destructive in excess as any narcotic. They both have their roots in a weakness of the mind and a lack of will." Disgust flitted across his features, but they left as soon as they came. "Still. He has his uses."
"You're using the White Fang," Blake said, trying to make her voice into a growl but failing spectacularly. The sound of gunfire, blades clashing, and battle cries echoed in her ears. The rest of her team and the Atlas soldiers who were still holding their ground were fighting not far from here. "They're supposed to be a symbol of freedom, of equality!"
"Did I ever deny this?" Vulpes said, sounding annoyed. "What other use does it have? Your Adam is a mad dog, hungry for flesh wherever it can be found. Your Selina Khan is too cowardly to take the steps needed. And they both failed. They reflect your world." Vulpes's smile truly faded away, replaced by disgust. "It's sickening. Remnant is blessed in a way Earth never could be. You wield power that a year ago we could have only dreamed of, and you take it for granted. You only use it to fight overgrown animals, squandering your gifts. So many of you refuse to act with these abilities, and those that do are petty, self-serving, and weak-willed. You let worthless, spineless men in suits dictate your world instead of the worthy. A world of champions and you are all lesser to Jacques Schnee and his ilk. An entire nation turned from an oasis to a desert because of businessmen. Pathetic."
Vulpes shook his head. "I thought the Legion had truly met its match when we first found Remnant. A world of the superhuman. For a moment, I was truly afraid. I feared our strength would collapse to those who had evolved beyond the limitations of the human body. Then I learned your true nature. Complacent. Squabbling. Undermined from within by tiny forces. Content to let machines fight for you while the people grow bloated and soft. A group of less than a dozen has your nations quaking in fear." His teeth grit in barely suppressed rage.
"Tell me. Did Barca-did Walker ever tell you about the fate of the old world? How they gorged themselves to death on excess and destroyed themselves? Because they had a power they were not fit to wield and were more concerned with simplistic gains? They were small-minded men, who did not have the vision that Caesar does. And Remnant shares the flaws of the old world. You have no idea what powers you have stored away that your leaders refuse to use. Because they fear greatness and are content to stew in both petty squabbles and hedonism. They will meet the same fate as the old world."
Reaching up, Vulpes pulled his goggles down, letting them hang around his neck. Hatred like Blake had only ever seen from Adam burned like a raging inferno in his eyes. "Your world will burn. You will do it to yourselves. Perhaps you will stave it off for a hundred years, but your selfishness will be your destruction. And I welcome it. Not even Caesar can save this wretched thing, only after cleansing fire will there be any hope for it. Perhaps then the Legion's strength and Caesar's wisdom can salvage what's left."
"Wisdom?" Blake found herself talking despite the trembling. "What wisdom? You're not wise! All you want to do is destroy and control everything that isn't yours! And strength? James told us all about you. We know you went to war twice and lost both times. You've been bested over and over again by a man that spits on your twisted values! And ever since you came here, you've been running! Running! If you're so strong, why are you hiding? Are Caesar's mighty armies afraid?" As she spoke, she vaguely recalled James saying something about how Caesar was pronounced. Vulpes had been pronouncing it as ki-zar, which James had said was the correct, respectful way to say it. James, however, always said it as see-sar, and out of habit, Blake had used James's pronunciation. Vulpes's eyes widened in anger. Blake didn't care.
"The only strength you have is cruelty! Hurting people who can't fight back! It's a coward's strength!" The fear had never left her, but she found herself taking a step forward in spite of it. Vulpes's Semblance still had a firm grip on her, she was more scared than she ever remembered being scared in her life. But she didn't have a choice. "When was the last time you ever fought someone stronger than you? Willingly?"
"Well. Certainly not now," Vulpes said. "I'm honestly insulted. I set your dog on a trio of towns, crucify your profligate citizens, marshal hundreds of men in a crossing of the sea, and this is all they send? Children? Atlas is the mightiest nation on Remnant, and they need students from Vale to assist them? How utterly infantile." For a moment, he continued to glare. Then a cruel smirk played across his face. "Though I can at least understand you. Your old friends have told me so much about you. Blake Belladonna."
Her name. He knew her name. Something primal in her stirred at that moment. Logically, it wasn't too surprising. Ghira Belladonna had been the old head of the White Fang, every member knew it, and most of them had followed Selina Khan instead of him. The radicals who followed Adam would hate her father more than anyone else, and in turn, hate her for abandoning them. Of course, they would've told their new allies. But to hear this invader, this cruel and vicious man from another dimension refer to her so casually cloaked her mind in a deep, dark fear. Everything about it felt wrong, an invasion of privacy. What else did he know about her? How much did the man who slowly and painfully executed innocent civilians know about her personal life?
"A coward who comes from a family of cowards. A father who was a pacifist?" When Vulpes said the word pacifist, his eyes narrowed in contempt. "Is there a man more blind to the ways of the world? Lacking in the will to truly act? Content to merely sit down and whine like a mutt, hoping that will be enough. You clearly inherited his lack of stomach." The worst part about all of this was that it wasn't anything that Blake hadn't thought at one point. She had thought that her father was a bootlicker when he refused to take more hardline action in the name of Faunus equality. And she couldn't remember the last time where she hadn't thought of herself as a coward. It cut deep, and the fear squeezed her tight, threatening to crush her.
"But the truly sad thing is that you have no idea what you left behind," Vulpes continued. "And I don't just mean your dog, howling and desperate to rut. But others as well." His smirk widened. Cruelty reflected in it, it was the look of a man who was savoring the moment before he hurt someone. "Did you tell Illia that you were going to leave?" That hit harder than anything he had done up until this point. Illia? Illia was with Adam? Had things spiraled so deeply out of control that she had been radicalized along with the rest of Adam's splinter faction?
Guilt carved into her like a knife, shredding at her insides to the point where it verged on physical pain. She wanted to fall to her knees, to bury her face in her hands. She wanted to scream and cry. Something, anything, to get this horrible maelstrom inside of her out. Part of her screamed that this wasn't her, that it was Vulpes. The rest of her, however, knew that the core of her guilt and fear had been something that had been inside her for a year. Vulpes was simply bringing it all out at once.
Her train of thought was broken by a blood-curdling screech. Instinct taking hold, her head snapped in the direction of it. The two forces had met and the battle had devolved into an incomprehensible collection of blurred motion, muzzle flares, and flashes of Aura. Already, several bodies littered the ground; Blake couldn't make out which side they belonged to at this distance. What she could make out, however, was a legionary in White Fang armor holding up an Atlas soldier by the throat. Blake blinked, horror beginning to replace the guilt consuming her. For a horrible moment, she thought her eyes had been playing tricks on her. But no, the appalling sight in front of her was all too real.
The man's body was shriveling up, starting from where he was being choked and spreading outward. Skin was turning black and peeling away in flakes by the handful, armor was rusting and crumbling like dust, even the man's teeth were starting to fall out, yellow and riddled with holes. Everywhere the decay spiderwebbed out, the man's body went limp, reduced from a healthy young man to a barely mobile husk. He was rotting in a matter of seconds before her very eyes, transitioning from man to corpse even as he screamed in horror.
There was a bang and the flash of a burning star soaring through the air. It tore into the legionary's side, forcing him to drop his victim as he slid to the side, teeth grit. Yang was on him, her fists a blur of gold peppered with sparks as her gauntlets fired a barrage. The Atlas soldier hit the ground and continued to roar, the rotted parts of his body still breaking apart as if it had never been meant to be one piece. And now Yang was fighting that man.
"Lucius's gifts are quite spectacular, aren't they? Perhaps you'll be able to experience them first hand." Vulpes had already crossed half of the gap between them, a chainsaw knife in his hand. Reeling back, she brought Gambol Shroud up to block it just in time, sparks flying as blade met blade. With his free hand, Vulpes leveled a pistol at her face. It was a small-caliber pistol, but the weapon itself was intricately decorated. Detailed, elaborate engravings coated the barrel, the trigger shone with what looked like gold, and a shining pearl grip glinted in the dim light. A mural of a woman with her hands pressed together was just barely visible on said grip, her hands pressed together and a bright light painted around her.
Pain blossomed in Blake's face as a bullet slammed into it, Aura being the only thing separating her from eternal oblivion. Staggering back, her vision swam. Blinking through it, she could just barely make out Vulpes charging at her again. Eyes wide with glee, he swung down. His blade found its mark, ripping into Blake's throat. Or rather, ripping into the throat of the duplicate she had left behind. She stepped to the side as her copy melted into shadow, earning a blink of surprise from Vulpes. Adam had to have told him about her Semblance, apparently he had simply thought she would be too worked up to use it properly.
It was a small comfort though. Even with this small victory over Vulpes, everything about him, about his people, felt awful. They had already killed so many for whatever petty, selfish reasons they had. And right now, she was stuck facing the one who had masterminded it all. In that moment, forcing herself forward against him, Blake Belladonna felt very small.
XXXXX
Author's Note: Part one of the plan, have shorter chapters. Part two of the plan, have some sections be more compact. Part three of the plan, use both to update more often. Well I got one and two done but I'm struggling something fierce with part three. I could get a job at Valve. Thank you for being patient, I've just had a lot of trouble sitting down and getting myself to write lately. I'll try and update faster, but between my work and the general political climate, plus obligations with friends, I've just not been in many creative moods lately. I promise I'll try to fix that, but all I can do is try. Again, thank you for your patience. I was tempted to make this chapter longer, but forcing myself to write a longer chapter when I'm already feeling drained and you guys have been waiting over a month would've been courting disaster.
I hope you enjoy what I've got and I hope you enjoyed finally getting to see how exactly Vulpes has been keeping Adam under his arm. I know at least one commenter asked if Vulpes had a mind control Semblance. My mind did go there in the initial planning section, but I decided one thing I liked for coming up with Semblances is that they should compliment the user's pre-existing skill set, not replace it. So I gave Vulpes a Semblance that heavily plays into his manipulation abilities. Same with Lucius and a Semblance that requires touch to work.
I would like to thank my legacy Patrons, SuperFeatherYoshi, xXNanamiXx, RaptorusMaximus, Davis Swinney, Mackenzie Buckle, Ryan Van Schaack, ChaosSpartan575, and LordofNaught for their amazing support.