Blake idly counted five hours passing since Archer and Yang's departure, and by now, the tension in the forest was clearing. She eased the constant grip that she'd been keeping on her weapon of choice, Gambol Shroud, a katana-like sword with multi-functions, and sucked in a calming breath while shutting her eyes.
It was fine. Everything was fine.
Blake blinked, and once more found herself clutching onto the grip of Gambol Shroud.
No, everything wasn't fine.
Blake observed the scenery around her and paled, her cat ears atop her head drooping down in her caution. Much like her father and every other Faunus in the area, she was huddled near them with their backs facing each other as a defensive measure. Around their vicinity and peaking through the underbrush of the forest, were all manner of Grimm.
They growled, huffed, and howled, their claws scrapping dirt off the ground and leaving gouged holes, but they remained at a constant perimeter. The snapping of twigs and the toppling of trees indicated the presence of towering Grimm that could crush a man with a single strike. Further away were behemoth-like Grimm the size of buildings that shook the ground with every step.
At first, there had only been standard Grimm such as Beowulf and Boarbatusk, but admittedly, the presence of fear acted as the strongest of lures. Blake knew that she was beginning to despair at the sheer number of adversaries. She just hid it better than most of the Faunus in her group openly cowering as Adam and Sienna encouraged them to stand strong.
Not wanting to show her weakness, Blake gripped tighter onto Gambol Shroud to obscure the trembling of her hands. Wind began to blow, the sudden chill causing her to shudder before she shifted her attention towards the red spear stabbed deep into the ground nearby.
It was the weapon that Archer had used previously to save everyone.
Prior to leaving, Blake had overheard Archer saying "not to worry about Grimm," to her father, Ghira. After seeing Archer's capabilities, her father had decided to trust in Archer's words and here they were now.
As the hours had passed, more and more Grimm had collected; however, none had drawn near.
"It's safe. They won't come," Ghira finally gave the call for everyone to relax.
Blake knew that no matter how much trust her father had put into Archer's words, caution was still key. This was why he'd ordered everyone to gather up in a defensive formation as a 'wait and see approach,' when the first few Grimm arrived.
Blake carefully put away Gambol Shroud, a layer of intrigue making its way into her amber eyes.
Like Archer had said, the Grimm would not presently be an issue, and Blake knew why. The perimeter the Grimm were keeping was not in precaution to Blake and her group, but towards a single weapon radiating with an oppressive intensity.
Blake's gaze returned to staring at the crimson spear erected over the ground. Just like the knife she'd wrestled with Yang over, the spear must have had some sort of unexplainable property. There was no Dust or Semblance involved. As a person who hand-crafted her weapon like many aspiring Huntsman and Huntresses, she was certain that the spear possessed no hidden mechanisms.
Blake did not have much faith or belief to put into fabricated stories, but as an avid reader and someone who'd previously experienced the impossible, she now approached the situation with an open mind.
Apparently, she wasn't the only one.
After Ghira had given the go ahead for everyone to relax and step out of a defensive stance, Adam took no caution in approaching the spear that had the ability to ward away Grimm. If anyone in the current group could have a grasp of Archer's character and abilities, it was Adam.
Adam and Archer had gone on a scouting mission with each other, so Blake thought her assumption correct. Besides, there was something about Adam's demeanor that felt off, almost like he was contemplating over an issue or suspicion.
Humming to herself, Blake didn't immediately approach Adam and instead helped comfort some of the younger Faunus still cowering at the sight of Grimm in the distance. Although the tension had faded, Ghira still made it a priority to have someone keep watch in case the Grimm decided to attack.
"It's alright, little one," Blake crouched down and patted the head of a child with racoon-like dark markings across his eyes. "It's safe. That goes for all of you as well." She gave a pointed stare at all the other young teenagers and children protected behind their parents and elder siblings.
"Really?" The young child asked.
"Yes," Blake put aside her doubts and answered strongly, earning herself a nervous nod from the boy.
Thinking back on the previous night when she'd listened in on Archer telling Yang stories of Heroes, Blake couldn't help but grow curious. Of the red spears she recalled Archer detailing, the both of them seemed to have come from a fallen Kingdom called Ireland?
From the way Archer spoke, it was clear that to him, Ireland was indeed a place that existed. So, then why wasn't it in the history Blake had read about in Remnant's official timeline? Then again, much of history itself had been lost in the battle against Grimm.
The Kingdom of Ireland was perhaps another casualty along with the Kingdoms of Britain, America, Europe, Japan, China, and all the rest Archer had mentioned.
The information made Blake realize just how much civilization had lost in wake of the disaster the Grimm had wrought on the world.
Sighing, Blake stepped away from the children she'd comforted and then back towards the object of her curiosity: the red spear.
With careful observation she noted the vein-like patterns over the spear's shaft seemingly pulsing with a ferocious energy unlike Aura which she was used to seeing. It was barbed at the tip, causing Blake to frown.
Grimm don't bleed.
Upon death, Grimm merely evaporated away and left nothing behind. For a weapon that must have slain a lot of Grimm, the red spear seemed to possess many unnecessary features.
Mulling to herself, Blake suddenly faltered when she watched Adam boldly step up to the spear in order to inspect it. The bloodlust radiating from off it was enough to scare away even her from drawing near it, but all Blake could see in Adam's gaze was morbid fascination. This all abruptly ended when Adam decided to grab onto the spear in order to inspect it better.
For a lack of better words, he wilted. His body went ramrod straight before he collapsed onto his butt and began crawling backwards on his hands. He was shivering, his hands flying towards the left of his chest over his heart as if to make sure it was still there.
Blake couldn't understand what had happened to him. One moment he was inspecting the red spear warding away the presence of Grimm, and now he was panting over his knees on the ground.
"Adam?" She called out in concern, running over with post haste. "What happened?"
He was short of breath, his shoulders shuddering with every exhale. His hands were balled into such tights fists that the whites of his knuckles were showing.
"I'm fine. Don't worry about it," Adam brushed Blake's concern off, almost like he was angry at himself. However, he quickly realized what he was doing and shook his head. He wasn't so far gone that he'd lost his empathy and emotions. He'd not yet killed anyone, and after what he'd just experienced, he didn't know if he'd ever be able to do the deed at all.
In the span of a couple seconds that had felt like an eternity, Adam had felt death's cold embrace itself and came to a realization.
Faunus or Human, everything was the same in death.
Revenge, idealism, retribution, Adam understood now that it all meant nothing. The man that he'd seen upon a bloody plain, a killer of thousands, looked nothing like the image of a Hero protecting his people. Instead, the man looked dead tired, the thrill of battle snuffed out in wake of killing enemies far beneath him in skill. It wasn't a battle: it was a slaughter.
Was that the sort of goal Adam was going for? He didn't know, nor did he want to think about it at the moment. Instead, he stared up at Blake who looked put out with his earlier response and kicked himself in the foot for making her wear such an expression.
"Thanks for asking. I'm a bit a tense right now," Adam said, causing Blake's frown to soften, the creases on her forehead fading quickly as she offered him a hand up.
Adam took Blake's hand and hoisted himself up. Afterwards, Blake's attention fell back onto the red spear.
"J-Just don't touch it," Adam gave Blake a warning.
Him saying that only made Blake want to touch it more, but she wouldn't do so right after he'd warned her. Therefore, she waited until Adam composed himself and walked off to cool his head somewhere while whispering under his breath.
Blake could have sworn she heard him mutter the word 'monster,' but it could have just been her imagination.
Looking back and forth between Adam, her father, and then at the red spear, Blake waited when no one was looking to draw close to the spear. With curiosity gleaming over her features overriding her sense of danger, she followed Adam's example and gripped the spear's shaft.
Then and only then did she comprehend just why Adam had been so shaken.
Where was she?
Her eyes darted back and forth, her breath hitching. Everything in her view just seemed to change as a feeling of vertigo struck her in place.
She was standing upon a hill overlooking an open plain littered with bloodied corpses. The revelation almost caused her to gag if she hadn't already been used to seeing dead bodies from the work of Grimm. Different from Grimm however, each corpse shared a single characteristic behind their steel or leather armours: a bloody hole stabbed through their hearts and exiting out the other side.
A northern breeze began to blow, causing the hairs at the back of her neck to raise as she heard the rustling of leaves in the tall grass. The reeds began to sway, shifting from left to right while the sensation of danger became suffocating.
If this were a dream or hallucination, then why was it so vivid?
Blake huddled in on herself, her guard raising as her grip instinctively reached for the hilt of Gambol Shroud, yet found nothing of her weapon that should have been secured around her waist. Her pupils dilated in panic, her arms shooting up in preparation for anything.
Hiding. Prowling. Hunting.
Her ears could detect movement, swift, and faster than she'd ever thought possible without a Semblance. It was impossible to keep track of.
Left, no right; no center.
The presence continually shifted to the point where it was possible to say it was everywhere at once. It was then that she saw it; the figure of a man holding the very same spear she'd been trying to inspect.
Crimson energy exuded from the spear's shaft, menacing and more terrifying than any Grimm Blake had ever faced.
"Gae Bolg. The spear who's tip never misses. When thrown, it shatters armies, when wielded, it rewrites the laws of cause and effect."
The words Blake had heard Archer say in a story were suddenly ingrained in her mind. She'd already seen what Gae Bolg's army breaking capabilities, but could she really believe it's second power?
Surely it had to be a lie? There was no way that the laws of the world itself could bend to the whims of a mere weapon especially cause and effect. If the sequence of battle changed from 'he stabs, he hits,' to 'he hits, therefore he must have stabbed,' didn't that mean there's was no escape?
Blake froze only a for a moment before her instincts kicked in. She watched as the man lowered his stance, the crimson energy over Gae Bolg growing sharply in intensity as the man cocked the weapon back.
Move. Move.
Blake needed no further prompting and was instantly leaping off of her feet and as far away from the man as she could go. It mattered little. Therefore, when the man thrust out his spear, she kept a careful eye on the trajectory and moved accordingly to swerve out of the way, only to freeze.
She'd dodged; she was sure of it; she'd even used a shadow clone as a substitute.
So why?
She watched in morbid fascination and horror as the thrusted spear bent and twisted, and a hole appeared through her chest.
There was no escape.
No. No this can't be happening. Blake staggered, her body falling to her knees before she collapsed on her side.
There was a spear running straight through her heart. The gurgling onset of blood rushing up her throat felt so real that her throat constricted in terror as numbness spread through her. She tried to force the spear out in her desperation. She clawed at her chest, fully knowing that she'd die even if she pulled the spear out. It was just that the numbness of death and the shooting pain from the barbs were driving her crazy.
She was dying, and all that she could see in front of her were a pair of crimson eyes and a blue body-suit.
There and then, Blake suddenly understood the purpose of the spear's barbs was never intended for Grimm.
The man walked closer.
"N-No, get away," Blake choked out, squirming on the ground.
The man did not listen, and all at once, Blake saw red as the spear was forcibly pulled out of her and her own blood obscured her vision. She blacked out, and when she could see again, it was to find herself hyperventilating on the ground an arm's length away from Gae Bolg.
Instantly, she followed in Adam's prior example and began feeling for the hole that she was sure was punched straight through her chest.
"I-I'm alive?" She gasped out, only to stiffen when a shadow appeared beside her.
"You shouldn't touch things that you don't understand," Archer's calm voice entered her ears. "The bloodlust will overcome you if you're unprepared."
Was that what happened? A hallucination?
But it was too real. She pursed her lips and unsteadily got up onto her feet.
"Archer," Blake refocused herself, but she couldn't quite shake off the trembling in her hands. She promptly hid them in her pockets, but failed to realize that the unhealthy pallor of her complexion was still noticeable.
"Who are you, really?" She asked.
What sort of man or mercenary could carry and wield such a cursed spear? Could it be?
"C-Cu Chulainn?" She mouthed out a name that had Archer stiffening in place, his own hands subconsciously reaching for the location of his heart.
Archer shook his head as if reliving a memory. "No. No I'm not him. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to talk with Mr. Belladonna."
"Uhm, ugh, sure," Blake fumbled for words. She'd always been fairly eloquent, but not right now.
She watched as Archer moved to speak with her father about taking up the task of escorting everyone safely to Vermillion. Meanwhile, she tried desperately to ease the rapid beating of her heart. The terror had yet to fully leave her.
"Is everything alright, Blake?" A voice called out. Blake turned to look and saw her mother approach her, a hand coming to rest over Blake's shoulder. "You're looking quite pale."
"I-I'm fine. Everything's fine, just a little rattled from the Grimm is all," Blake hastily made up an excuse, unwilling to share she'd just experienced what death felt like to her mother.
Her mother frowned, but didn't press the issue. "If you're sure Blake, but remember, your father and I will be here to listen in case you ever need it."
"Thanks mom," Blake was being earnest. She wrapped her arms around her mother and hugged her tightly. Kali Belladonna reciprocated the gesture.
A moment later, and Blake watched as Archer returned and picked up Gae Bolg without even flinching. The bloodlust surrounding the weapon seemed to evaporate to controllable levels in his grasp.
"Come. I will lead the way," Archer said curtly.
Lead the way? Blake mulled over Archer's choice of words. It was like he knew exactly where the way to Vermillion was. They were out in the middle of the woods with no reception for their Scrolls. How could he possibly know the direction of Vermillion without checking the paper maps they'd brought?
Blake would have raised this point up if not for the ease in which Shirou appeared to be directing everyone. Even Adam was complying without complaint which showed a certain level of acknowledgment.
Where Archer went with the spear in hand, the Grimm parted. Although it was true that Gao Bolg was a cursed spear that murdered thousands, it was also the very same spear wielded by the guardian of the Land of Shadows: A land of the dead. It had anti-demonic properties which the Grimm clearly fell under.
The Grimm followed the group, but never ventured too close. Eventually, many just gave up, and the larger Grimm decided to lumber elsewhere much to everyone's astonishment.
Blake overheard her father debating with her mother over the prospect of Archer lending the spear out for use during hunting or expeditions, and she quickly paled. She shook her head vehemently in view of her mother who managed to convince Ghira not to ask when Archer was already doing them a favour.
Blake sighed in relief, but once again found her gaze drifting towards Archer.
He was an anomaly, and evidently, far stronger than Yang had boasted about. It made her start thinking.
How and where had Archer been able to keep his weapons?
Archer didn't carry a single pouch or weapon holster. It was almost like he created them on a whim. Blake felt like she was getting onto something, but when she considered just where she'd heard of an individual who could make weapons out of thin air, she balked.
No way. That wasn't possible.
She immediately tossed the notion out the window. There was no way that Archer who could wield such a cursed spear could ever be the Hero idolized by every Faunus that heard of his tale.
'The Protector of Vermillion. The Prophet of the Sun.'
The Huntsman of Red.
Once the idea appeared in Blake's mind, it began to fester. She'd read enough novels to realize that what seemed unlikely could potentially be likely. It was a cliché that she was experienced with.
In the course of the journey to Vermillion, Blake constantly scrutinized Archer's every action, but failed to come to any conclusion.
Only Adam seemed to stare at Archer for longer than necessary.
Blake made a note in her mind to ask if Adam knew anything.
Never underestimate a cat's senses.
Regardless, with Archer's escort, they'd arrived:
Vermillion, Kingdom of Faunus and a new start from Menagerie, and just like the Huntsman of Red, 'Archer' disappeared as if he'd never existed.