Oh boy…. Okay, so, this chapter is either going to piss everyone off or everyone is going to go "yeah, I saw that one coming." I think I've made it clear that this version of Remnant is very, very fucked up. I know that rubbed some people the wrong way, but it was understandable considering someone else was already there before Jolyne and made things worse as a result.

I've alluded to this for a while now, but this chapter is going to show just how fucked up the White Fang are in this version of Remnant. I'm not going to say anything else. You'll see what I mean in this chapter.

But, as always, before we get into the chapter, I have to respond to some Reviews/Comments!

[Response to Reviews/Comments]

(Qoutev) Shine375: Woooo! Mass Murder! Always a treat to see!

(Qoutev) TACO SENSEI: Oh, buddy, Danganronpa is gonna look like a short story compared to what I have planned for Remnant. I'm in this for the long run. That, and I'm not a fan of Time Skips. However, I can't deny that there won't be any.

(Qoutev) Idk is going microwave mode: Please do! I'd love to see some fan art for this story!

(Guest) Reader 451: Love the reference! And don't worry, that's not what's going to happen, I'm not that cruel to my characters.

Kolt999: There will be more of that sooner rather than later. These guys are going to be going through a lot of character development. They're not gonna stay young forever, and I plan to show that as the story goes on.

Aaaaaannnddd… yeah, I mean, I fucking hate Vernal. Like, lowkey, glad she died in canon RWBY. She was a fucking shithead, through and through. Then again, that could just be because I hated the Branwen Tribe, but even still, I feel like I could've gone harder on her. Also, the cult was kind of inspired by TTIGRAAS and how Rimeru won over the goblins in that show.

As for the WW2 metaphors… yeah, that's not an accident. As I've said before, this universe's version of Remnant is fucked up. I don't know how much I can stress that. Canon has been broken long before Jolyne showed up, so pretty much everything I'm doing in this is completely original with the world I'm using as a backdrop, along with the characters. Also, funny you should mention WW2 metaphors….

A-hem, anyways! As for Jaune… yeah, he's gonna be fun to write about in the future. I'm of the opinion that Jaune had no right to even show up at Beacon in Volume 1, however, that doesn't mean I don't like him. You'll see what I mean further down the line.

As always, have a good day, Kolt!

Now, onto the chapter!

xxXXxxXXxx

[Rantaro]

If Rantaro had a nickel for every time he had found himself locked up in a cage, he'd have two nickels. It wasn't a lot, but It was weird that it had happened to him twice. If he could remember correctly, the last time he found himself in this situation was when he had been wrongfully imprisoned by Fenrir for accidentally trespassing on one of their bases.

Honestly, back then he had thought he was going to die. Looking back on it, yeah, he probably should've. But, he was able to explain that he had no idea where he was, who these people were, and how he had even gotten there—which was true, on the account that he had never been to Saudia Arabia before at that date and time—and they believed him.

Oh, don't get it twisted, he had been tortured for some time by them, at least a month before he had been let go, which was probably why he was a bit loopy even to this day. But even so, that didn't change the fact that he couldn't help but feel nostalgia for being in yet another cage. This time, it was out in the open rather than in a dark, damp, insect-infested cave, and unlike the last time, he was next to what appeared to be a make-shift gallows, and sitting across from him was a scared-out-of-her-mind, mostly naked, Monaca.

Now, that rang alarm bells in most sane people's heads—including Rantaro's. Then again he was also mostly naked, and there was… well, perhaps not a good reason for that, but there was a reason for it, one that was completely out of his control.

To set the scene, they had been stripped down to nothing but their underwear, searched for weapons, and thrown into cages. Normally that was where it ended, but wait, there was more. According to one of the guards, Rantaro would've normally been taken to a holding area where a bunch of other humans would be waiting to be shipped off to a group called The White Fang as slaves. But, because he and Monaca were days away from being executed, they decided to go against that and just have them wait by the gallows until further orders.

Honestly, he had no idea why he was going to be executed, or what Monaca had to do with this and why she was here, but it was safe to say that he preferred to not be enslaved. Sure, did it mean that he only got to spend three days in a new universe without exploring? Yeah, but at the same time, he would rather die a free man than a slave.

However, he also knew that this wasn't going to be their penultimate fate. So much so that he had mentioned to the guards that they pretty much sealed their own fates by kidnapping him and Monaca. Of course, they just laughed at him and told him what was happening at Styx, to which he gave no reaction and just sat in silence for a bit, making them think that it had been more than enough to shut him up.

The truth of the situation had been that he was trying to figure out how stupid these people were. Oh, don't get him wrong, he knew that these guys, compared to him, were probably more powerful enough to kick his ass and that his magic—healing magic—wouldn't do enough harm fast enough to stop them from impaling him and killing them. You know, on the account that they had to be fully healed before he started to overload their cells and turn those cells cancerous. And some of these people looked like they had been thrown into a meat grinder and lived. So, needless to say, all he'd be doing would be helping these people more than hindering them.

That aside though, Rantaro wondered why the guard had told him that. If that was meant to scare him, then it was a pretty laughable attempt. Although, it did scare Monaca to the point of tears, which was a crime in itself. Aside from that, he knew Jolyne had most likely already defeated all the bandits that were sent to destroy Styx. He put his faith in Jolyne for a reason, and he knew that at any moment, she would be here to liberate them.

Don't get him wrong, he still didn't fully trust Jolyne, especially after the revelation that she was supposed to be a demi-god and that she had kept that aspect hidden from them, but he knew her heart was in the right place. And he knew that she wasn't going to take two of her "people" being kidnapped so lightly. Call it a sixth sense, but Rantaro knew that, without a shadow of a doubt, Jolyne would be here soon. He would try contacting her through the mental link—which he had already tried—but the signal was still being blocked by whatever unknown thing was blocking it.

He had no idea why that was the case, but right now, he didn't care. Because he already knew she was on the way. It was an instinct of his, and his instincts haven't failed him, ever. So, while Monaca was scared out of her mind, worried that the next few days were going to be her last, Rantaro was as chill as an ice cube.

Honestly, he didn't know why Monaca was so terrified. She should've known by now that Jolyne didn't fuck around when it came to saving and or avenging those she cared about. She had seen how powerful she was against that dragon boss in the PTD.

Maybe it was a response to the trauma she experienced. PTSD of some kind? Or did she truly not believe in Jolyne?

No, there was probably something else to it that Rantaro wasn't understanding.

"So…" Rantaro began, as he looked over to Monaca, who had huddled herself into a ball against one of the cell walls. On the pair were chains connected to her ankles and wrists, as well as her neck, all of which were linked up to a ball in the center of the room, permanently connecting them for the time being. Rantaro had the same setup, and while it was uncomfortable it didn't stop him from relaxing against the cell wall. "What are we going to do once we get out of here? I mean, I'm surprised you haven't used that Hermit Purple thing to snap these chains. I've seen you toss whole bloated zombies with it before, chains like these should be light work," Rantaro said as Monaca narrowed her eyes at him.

"Monaca is not stupid. Monaca won't risk that. Monaca knows that those guards can kill us faster than I could react. Hermit Purple is more or less good for one on one enemies, not pairs, or groups for that matter," Monaca stated bluntly. "That, and we are going to die. It will take forever for Jolyne-san to find us, anyway. There's also the issue of transportation. Monaca knows that either way, we are going to die. Why waste energy and time when we are going to die."

Rantaro frowned. "Oh, come now. That's a bit of a dreary outlook on the situation, don't you think? This is Jolyne we're talking about here. She killed that Izuru guy with no problem, and he was considered to be a God amongst men. If she could take him down, then a couple of no-life bandits shouldn't be an issue."

Rantaro felt something jab him in the back of his head as he fell face-first into the steel ground of the cage. The teen groaned as she got himself to his knees, before looking over his shoulder and seeing the edge of a blade pointing at him from the bars of the cage. The blade was a brilliant cyan colour, and when Rantaro saw the distinct cherry red eyes of the user of the blade, Rantaro scoffed. "Oops, did I offend you?"

"Offence has nothing to do with it, brat," the woman spat as she withdrew and resheathed her blade. The woman in question had dark black, bushy hair that went down to the center of her back, with a pale complexion and the aforementioned cherry red eyes. Her hair was done in a messy ponytail of sorts, kept together by a red bandana of all things. If Rantaro didn't know any better, her hair almost reminded him of the feathers of a corvid. Another thing about her hair was that her bangs kinda looked like a cowlick, which was probably why she wore that stupid white and red mask he had seen her wear when she had kidnapped both himself and Monaca.

As for her outfit, it was actually kinda cool. It was a black and red v-neck wrap-style top, reminiscent of a Kimono in some odd way—probably because of the obi-sash that kept the thing in place, but that wasn't really a talking point. Around her wrap-style top was a red tasset that wrapped around her waist, which was presumably used to protect her from stomach blows—the worst kind of attacks, he would know, she hit him with one. She was also wearing a pleated skirt with long black leggings, and around her neck were a few red beaded necklaces.

On her forearms were a pair of red armoured gauntlets with spiked elbows. She also had a pair of black fingerless gloves on, which… honestly, Rantaro had no idea why anyone would wear fingerless gloves, as that kind of defeated the purpose of wearing gloves. Finally, she wore knee-high combat boots with what appeared to be a blood-splatter pattern.

This, was Raven Branwen, and from the conversations he had overheard, she was the leader of The Branwen Tribe. Which, honestly, made sense considering Branwen was in the name.

"Well then, what do you want? Or are you here to try and get more information out of me about my friend? Because I'll tell you right now, that information won't serve you any good for much longer," Rantaro replied, his tone filled with nonchalance as Raven's eyes narrowed.

"Do you have any idea who you are talking to, boy?" Raven replied, a scowl on her face as Rantaro sighed. If he could stand up, he would, but the cage was small and compact, so he couldn't stand up. The best he could do was rise on his knees, and try and maintain eye contact with the black-haired bandit… queen? Leader? Rantaro didn't quite care what her title was, the point of this conversation wasn't exactly to garner what her title was.

"Well, if you really want my opinion, I think I'm talking to a dead woman walking. Because the moment my friend finds this place, which knowing them won't take long, everyone that isn't named Rantaro Amami and Monaca Towa will be smouldering corpses, or worse, there won't be a corpse left," Rantaro replied as Raven's scowl deepened.

"What makes you think your friend will survive the raid on Styx? I know she wiped out the southern battalion that was heading for Styx, but anyone would be tired after taking down 3000 bandits armed to the teeth, save one. She's probably dead. Face it, your life is over, and so is this so-called friend of yours," Raven spat as Rantaro… laughed.

He laughed, because of how stupid that sounded. Raven could only stare in annoyance at seeing Rantaro laughing, as the boy composed himself. "O-Oh, oh my god, I haven't laughed that hard in a long time…." Rantaro said, clearing his throat. "Lady… I don't think you know just exactly who it is I am talking about. While I didn't bear witness to that massacre that was what happened at the southern border of Styx, I was able to see the giant thunderbolt that caused it. And that isn't even mentioning the big-ass black and boney dog wolf thing she came back with. The thing was massive, at least 12 feet tall, and it was dripping in blood. She called it "Tyrone" or something to that effect."

That made Raven raise an eyebrow. It was the first thing that wasn't anger or annoyance that the green-haired teen had seen since he had met Raven. Rantaro saw curiosity, then, a moment of thought, before her expression gained a hint of shock and concern. "Did you just say that this friend of yours… this "she" came back riding… a Beowulf?" Raven questioned as Rantaro shrugged.

"If that's what they're called, then yeah. It was loyal to her too. Listening to every order and word that fell out of her face. And she's on her way here, so here's a neat little suggestion, if you want to prevent the massacre of this twisted little family you have here, you would be wise to let us go," Rantaro replied as Raven huffed.

"I refuse to believe that this friend of yours, by how you described it, tamed a Beowulf. Those monsters only know one thing, and that's to destroy. So if you were trying to scare me, it failed. That, and no one, not even myself, is powerful enough to wipe out an entire army using one attack. If that were the case, I would've already inducted them into The Tribe. There is strength, and then there is fantasy," Raven spat as she turned away from the cage.

As Raven disappeared into a building in the distance, all the boy could do was smirk.

Well, she couldn't say he didn't warn her.

[?]

Chains. It wasn't really something that she was all too fond of, but then again, more than anything else in the world, it was the one thing that she had known since she was… what? 9-years-old. For 8 years, she had hoped and prayed that one day, maybe someone would come to find her and save her from this nightmare, but she quickly grew despondent to that idea after a few months of being held prisoner.

In that short amount of time, she had seen it all. She had heard it all. She had experienced it all. Beaten, verbally assaulted, forced to slave away in horrible working conditions with no pay, made a mockery of… the only thing that her captors refused to do was assault her sexually. If there was anything that she could respect them for, it would be that.

In the time that she had been held captive and made to do menial work, alongside hundreds of other human slaves, she had gone around the world, constantly on the move, avoiding authorities, hunters, and huntresses alike.

She was taken to base camp after base camp, hideout after hideout, and bunker after bunker. And while her location changed, the mentality of her and her other slaves did not. They wanted to be free, they wanted to see their families again—in her case, not so much, but that was beside the point. Aside from that, there was only one other thing that she could conclusively understand about the people that she was surrounded by, with maybe the exception of the other slaves.

Everyone hated her.

She had no idea what it was she did to the people around her to make them hate her, let alone if she even deserved any of this. But she reasoned it had something to do with her family name. She had been told countless times that this was "payback" for what her "father" did. And that this was "retribution" for all the horrible things "she did."

But, what exactly had she done? Even to this day, she didn't understand that. She had no idea what it was she could've done to deserve such ire. From the day she was kidnapped and enslaved to the present, there was nothing that she could've possibly done to deserve this, other than have shared a name with her father—even though he wasn't a part of the family at birth, he married into the family.

But, she guessed that didn't matter. After all, as the quote went: Justice is neither blind nor peaceful, but absolute.

But where was the justice in all of this? Oh, there was plenty of injustice, that she could firmly see. How in any way, was any of this justice? How as her cockroach-infested, mouldy, barely habitable cell, justice? Justice for who? Justice for what.

She had done nothing wrong.

Or maybe, it was because she had done nothing?

At this point, she would settle for any sort of answer. Anything at all. Some sort of justification to become a slave.

But, she found nothing. There was no answer. There was no justification. Eight painful, horrible, disgusting years of nothing but back-breaking labour, and for what? Someone's sick kicks and no more was that represented than her current state of living.

She had nothing. She was stripped of her dignity years ago. All she had to call her own were some rags that these… jackasses called clothes, one meal a day which consisted of barely nutritional soup, a hard-as-a-rock bed, no pillow, and only a thin sheet to call a blanket. Mix that with a rank, almost toxic-smelling cell that reeked of nothing but death, and you could probably guess just what kind of life Weiss led from the time she was 9 years old, all the way to now.

And the worst part? Weiss knew that it was never, ever going to end.

She had no family that wanted to come for her. Her father abandoned her, her sister didn't even so much as try to come to look for her—and if she did she was doing a shitty job at it. Her mother and younger brother were killed in the raid of the Schnee Manor conducted by the White Fang 8 years ago. And with how powerful the White Fang had become over the course of the last 8 years, there was no way that she was ever going to be freed.

Truly, Weiss had nothing and no one.

That, and she wanted to make one thing clear. Weiss was not a Schnee. She firmly removed that name from herself on the first year she had been held captive, and made to do menial labour around these stupid, godforsaken bases that The White Fang had all across every continent, except for the Vacuo half of Sanus.

She had been to every continent, Anima, Sanus, Solitas, and Menagerie, and right now, she was back on Anima for some reason or another. Perhaps it was because The White Fang always needed to be on the move, or perhaps it was because there was something here that The White Fang wanted. Either way, Weiss didn't care. It didn't really matter to her where they were because she would never leave this base camp for any reason, namely because she didn't have a say in the matter.

The only time she could expect to be no longer within the base camp, bunker, or hideout was in a ditch, dead with a bullet through the head, just like all the other slaves. She had seen it. Dozens of humans, men, women, and children, were taken from the hideouts, base camps, and bunkers with a couple of White Fang guards, only for the guards to come back and for the humans to be gone.

Weiss could only assume that they were killed and left as food for the animals.

Weiss learned from a young age to never get attached to people. Because those around her would die constantly. The older men and women she met and became somewhat friends with were murdered before her eyes. The other children were corralled and gunned down without any sort of remorse the moment they were no longer useful or refused to work.

Weiss learned to be obedient, no matter what. If she just listened, if she just did the work, she would get to live. She would get to eat another bowl of soup, and she'd get to sleep and wake up for another day.

If she just kept being useful… her life would continue to go on.

However, there was just one problem with that. She knew she was reaching her body's breaking point. There was only so much her broken body could do, and at this rate, she had been moved to the "expected to die soon" cells, which was the one that she was currently in.

Because that was the case. And if anyone looked at her, they would soon understand why.

Weiss had long, unkempt, knee-length hair, pale blue eyes, sickly white skin, and was practically all skin and bones. There was nothing to suggest that Weiss was even so much as alive other than her raspy breathing. At the age of 17 years old, she had barely any weight on her body. If she had to guess, she was around 22 kilograms, if not a little bit lower.

She was lucky she could still stand…

The loud sound of something banging on the bars of her cage startled her, making her cover her ears. She looked up and didn't so much as even react to the familiar face of Adam Taurus. His red hair and stupid white-ish tan mask were burned into her memory for the rest of her, most likely short, life. He had two short, bull-like horns poking out of his head, and considering he was a bull-faunus, that wasn't all too shocking.

He was wearing his usual outfit, that being of an asymmetrical black, long-sleeved, double-breasted stylized high-collared blazer. It had slit sleeves along with red thorn sigils, adorned with a white crest that lined up on his left shoulder. From what she could see of him, his suit jacket had a crimson lining, and underneath his blazer was a crimson shirt. Also, he wore a pair of long black dress pants, black shoes, and black gloves with red sigils. He also wore a black belt with what appeared to be domino markings.

On his hip was a scabbard—Blush—that held his sword, that being named Wilt. She had only ever seen it once, and even though it was used by a repulsive, lower-than-trash individual, she couldn't deny that it was a beautiful weapon. The blade was a crimson red, and it was capable of leaving behind trails of fire with the use of its red-dust-infused blade.

"You're awake," Adam's voice infiltrated her ears as she shivered. Before, she used to be able to glare at him, but after years of being beaten and treated like a lesser person, she learned that glaring at one's captor only makes those beatings last longer. "Get up. You have work to do."

Silently, Weiss stood up, the metal collar around her neck tugging on her throat as she gagged. The chain was extremely short, keeping her to the wall and on her knees. Adam smirked, shaking his head, before opening the door to her cage and approaching. She dared not look him in the eye as he unchained her, because that would insinuate that they were equal.

If she did that… he'd beat her again.

She was still recovering from the last beating. Her ribs were still broken after that one…

He kicked her down to the ground, making her groan in pain. She quickly scrambled to her feet before Adam could say anything, and when she did, he huffed, pushing her forward. Every day, Adam would personally fetch her. She reasoned it was out of some form of catharsis for him. She had been told by him on numerous occasions that it was so satisfying to see the daughter of his slaver in chains.

It made her more and more sickened to have shared blood with Jacques.

Funnily enough, she didn't hate Adam Taurus. Oh, don't get her wrong, the moment she got the chance to slit his fucking throat, she would in a heartbeat. But she could understand him. Understand what it's like being chained up. Understand what it's like to be a slave. If this was what the Faunus went through every day, then they had her sympathies.

They walked down the musty, diseased hallway. A dozen or so fellow human slaves were behind bars. She could tell that a few were dead. At this point, she was so used to it that she was unfazed by seeing the corpses.

Because one day… she would be just like them.

Adam led her to what appeared to be a weapon polishing area, which was just a few feet away from the cell room that she had been in, and there she was met with a familiar set of black hair, and a mask that if she looked under, would contain golden-yellow eyes. "Blake, she's yours for the day. Go nuts," Adam said as the cat faunus nodded.

Adam spared her a glance, to which Weiss looked away. The bull faunus spat on her, before walking away. Blake grabbed her harshly by the wrist and dragged her into the tent. Weiss didn't so much as react, let alone make a noise. Once she got inside the tent, she stood in the center of the room for around about 30 seconds, surrounded by already polished weaponry, a plate with two sandwiches on it, and then, Blake sighed.

"So. Have you considered my offer?" Blake questioned, her tone hushed as Weiss coughed. She was getting sick, and that was the one thing that she feared. With how frail her body had become, the common cold would be more than enough to do her in.

"I'm sick… malnourished… probably diseased… and I'm dying. Even if you were to smuggle me out of this place, I doubt I'd live long after…." Weiss rasped, snagging one of the sandwiches greedily as Blake shook her head, crossing her arms.

"I'm sure there is someone that can help. I didn't take a bullhead from Sanus to Anima for no reason, Weiss. Keep in mind that the only reason why I was moved back to this place so abruptly was that Adam wanted me to watch you die because he knows you are on your last legs. But I didn't come for that, and you know that. I promised you I'd get you out of this hellhole, I'm not about to give up just because you're in worse shape than you had been when this whole plot to spring you out of here began," Blake replied as Weiss frowned.

The black-haired cat faunus was right about that. Two years ago, Blake Belladonna, daughter of the Chieftan of Menagerie, and second lieutenant of The White Fang was probably the only person that she had met outside of the other slaves that were willing to give her a chance.

Two years ago, Blake had offered her a sandwich after one particularly brutal beating at the hands of Adam, which he only stopped when Blake stepped up and told him enough was enough. She was pretty sure Adam only stopped because he was about to kill his favourite toy, and he couldn't have that.

Two years ago, Blake Belladonna vowed to help her escape the clutches of The White Fang after realizing that she had been a victim in all of this, just like they had been.

Two years ago, Blake admitted to being willing to risk her life to get her out of the situation she was in. Weiss had no idea why she would do that, considering up until that point, Blake had hated her with the same fervour that Adam did. Maybe she had grown a heart? Or maybe it was out of pity. Honestly, Weiss didn't care why, she was just glad that she finally had someone to fall back on after 8 years of having no one.

Weiss took another bite out of the sandwich—a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to be exact—before swallowing. "That's fair enough," Weiss began, stopping to cough. "But how are you going to get me out of here? You can't do it alone, can you?"

Blake nodded. "Correct, I cannot. But that's where your sickly state actually benefits us," Blake stated as she motioned for someone to step forth. He was a panther faunus, with claw marks over his dilated eyes, meaning he was blind. He was wearing the White Fang uniform, which consisted of a Grimm-style mask, a white sleeveless shirt, large shoulder pads, lower arm guards, shin and knee guards, and a pair of black pants.

"Hello, Missus Weiss," the man greeted as the white-haired teen stared at him with a measured amount of concern and distrust.

"Who're you?" Weiss asked, her voice strained as the man smiled in her direction.

"My name is Major Ura Rainer. Lieutenant Belladonna has expressed to me that you wish to escape, and as someone who believes that Adam has taken things too far, I'm here to help you in this endeavour," as Ura said that, he reached his hand out and pressed it against her sternum. And then, something pulsed within her body. Suddenly, she wasn't breathing, and suddenly, she felt extremely cold. Yet, she was still alive.

"What… did you do to me?" Weiss questioned as Ura grinned, showing his teeth.

"I used my Semblance. I've dubbed it "Ghost." It allows me to shut down my and others' vital systems, but keep the person alive. It has a limit of a day, or until I run out of aura. Adam believes I can only use it on myself. And I've kept it that way. Now, quickly, lay on the floor and don't move an inch. Once Adam believes you dead, Blake can escort you out of here."

As Ura explained his semblance and what it did, Weiss began to feel light-headed. She tried to say something in the form of gratitude but felt her throat close up on her. She coughed as an automatic response, as droplets of blood splattered all over the floor, causing Blake's eyes to widen. "Weiss! Are you—" Blake stopped mid-sentence as she looked over to Ura, who narrowed his eyes, a sneer forming on his face. "No… Ura, I—"

Ura punched Blake across the face, knocking her to the floor. "Did you really think that I would just up and betray our glorious leader? You're funny, Belladonna, but I always knew you were a spy, or at the very least a traitor." As Ura said that, he grabbed the knife from his pocket, unsheathed it, and walked over to Weiss, who stumbled against the wall.

"For the White Fang, and for Faunus' rights to be truly realized, bloodlines like your own need to be extinguished," Ura stated as he planted a boot down on Weiss's ankle, making the white-haired slave cry out in pain and frustration. "It's a shame that we couldn't kill your father on that day, but it's about time that we got rid of you. You can barely stand up, let alone talk. Adam should've killed you months ago," Ura spat, before rearing back his blade and lunging for Weiss's throat.

In a bid to do something, Weiss, still having a hard time breathing, reached for one of the swords behind her and grabbed the hilt of the weapon. It was heavy—extremely so, but she had to do something. Using every ounce of energy she had, Weiss swung the massive greatsword and whacked the man with the side of the weapon, his aura flashing up to protect his body. However, that didn't necessarily matter, as he was sent careening into a wall, the impact of which knocked him unconscious.

Weiss fumbled with the weapon, the blade falling to the floor as she struggled to breathe. Blake looked at Weiss, shock in her eyes as the cat faunus stared at the white-haired teen. Unfortunately, just before Blake could open her mouth to say something, the flaps to the tent were thrown out of the way as Adam stomped into the room. "What in the name of the brother gods is happening in here!?" Adam demanded as Blake shook her head, slowly sitting up. The bull-faunus saw the unconscious form of Ura, before glaring at Weiss, grabbing her by the throat and lifting her against the wall as he narrowed his eyes, hatred wafting off of him as he growled. "You! You—"

"Adam! Stop!" Blake yelled as the bull faunus snapped his attention to Blake. "It was Ura. He went rogue and attacked us while the slave was polishing the blade. He disobeyed your orders, the slave didn't do anything wrong this time. In fact, she defended me from him. He was going to slit my throat," Blake said as Adam dropped Weiss to the floor, as she began to hack up blood, drawing Adam's attention.

"What's wrong with her?" Adam spat as Blake cleared her throat.

"Someone must have poisoned her soup last night. I noticed it the moment she stepped into the room. That's when I called Ura in, and then Ura attacked me," Blake explained as she slowly stood up. "Let me take her to the Branwen Tribe that's a mile or so away from here. Remember what you told me? You wanted to keep her alive until her body gives out. Someone's sabotaging that, and I think it all has to do with Ura. Otherwise, why else would he attack me and the slave?"

Adam narrowed his eyes at Weiss, then looked over his shoulder to blake. The red-haired bull faunus sighed, before shaking his head. "Alright. I trust you enough for you to take her. Besides, we've already made allies with The Branwen Tribe. I doubt they'd try and do something stupid," Adam stated as he began to walk out of the tent. Before he did, however, he unsheathed Wilt, before stabbing it through the back of Ura's neck. "Fuckin' traitor…." Adam murmured, before resheathing his sword.

The moment Ura died, Weiss felt whatever Ura's true ability had been—most likely a masking ability for stealth reasons—wear off as she was able to hear her own heartbeat again, even if it was slower than usual.

Adam looked over to Weiss, scathing hatred burning beyond his mask, as he sneered. "You… I hate to admit it, but you saved my fiancee. But do not think for even a second I'm going to reward you. This expedition to get your illnesses cured is reward enough for what you did. Do not think anything has changed." And with that statement, Adam left the tent, leaving behind Blake and Weiss.

Weiss looked over to Blake as the cat Faunus scrambled to her feet, and picked her up off of the ground bridal style, leaving the tent with a quickened pace—one that Weiss had never seen Blake run at before, not even when someone had broken into the camps. As they left, Weiss felt her consciousness fade away, with the last thing that she heard being Blake telling her to "hang on."

And hang on she would. She was so close to freedom. If she died here, then it would all be for nothing.

-To Be Continued-