Shirou grunted. Everything hurt.
His fingers felt like they were spasming and there was a burning pain in his chest with every breath he took, but regardless, bronze-coloured eyes began to assess the situation. A field of light was enveloping the Mt. Glenn settlement keeping the Grimm at bay, the Huntsman, Huntresses, and citizens all looking towards the lone figure of a boy straining to keep a single flag held up high. The boy's teeth were gritted, face flushed red, and knees wobbling. A large part of what kept from falling were his large Aura reserves. The boy was an untapped wellspring of energy of the soul.
The coddled baby of the Arc family was now the final lynch pin of the settlement, and his family members could only watch on as their naïve brother struggled alone.
Unseen to all, but keeping the flag active was a thread of divinity tied to Shirou's person. The flag called for purpose, unity, and protection from the God who would stand by the side of his people. There were no longer any Gods in Remnant, but that didn't mean that the faith of new ones couldn't take root.
The pain in Shirou's body had hardly dissipated, but basked in the glow of the banner of the Maid of Orleans, his wounds stopped bleeding. This was enough for him simply because he would no longer have to focus on his own injuries. He'd been careless.
Naturally, Heroic Spirits had resistance to modern weaponry and the like. Things such as guns and bullets would either just bounce off of him or phase through him in spiritual form. However, Dust based attacks were different as the only source of magic in Remnant stored in mineral cashes monopolized by the SDC.
His injuries were going to take a while to heal, but there was no more time to rest and recuperate. Right now, was when he was needed most.
He was just barely conscious. His body was in no state to pull off anything grand. To muster the concentration to synthesize his seven steps of creation would be to redirect his magical energy away from shielding his Spirit Origin. The wounds may have stopped bleeding, but just like any recently healed wound, strain would simply re-open it.
The focus and energy required to materialize and wield a Noble Phantasm of his own choosing would surely push his body back to a point of incapability. Was it a risk that he was really willing to take?
Grunting, he placed his hands beneath him and pushed off of them as leverage to flip himself onto his back where he stared up into the sky where a Dragon loomed over the city. From the Dragon spilled forth a countless number of Grimm blotting out the horizon like rain.
The situation had turned from bad to worse in the time he'd rested.
What was he to do when his options were limited? Unless…
Resolve formed over his features while a plan formed in mind.
His pupils darted back and forth, assessing the closest people near him. Of course, Jaune Arc was the closest in proximity, but he would be of much use preoccupied with wielding the Saint's war banner. Who did this leave?
His gaze scanned over to his right where he noticed a familiar group.
Lisa Lavender and her camera crew were groggily moaning while reorientating themselves. Some were still blinking back drowsiness while others like Lisa were rubbing at their temples. Like him, they'd probably just woken up as a result of Jaune actualizing the power of the banner in his hands. Moreover, there was the added durability of those that had awakened their Aura.
So, they were here too.
It was likely that they'd been found unconscious at the underground tunnels and brought near Jaune as a precaution to treat their injuries. When they noticed him, they likely thought he was brought along just like them.
A plan began to form while watching them. Success wasn't guaranteed with the aid of others, but trying was better than not.
"Help me up," he called out to them.
Lisa who was the first to recover in her group frowned, but sensing a story, she was the first to offer her assistance and prop him up into a seated position. The fact that she was panting for breath afterwards just to get him into a seated position revealed her lack of physical training. Was this really going to be okay?
Doubts began to form in Shirou's mind, yet there was no turning back at this point. Soon enough, Lisa's camera crew came over to offer their support as well which relieved Lisa of much of the burden of supporting him.
"Mr. Archer," Lisa huffed in her exertion. "Do you know what's happening?" She tilted her head up and gawked. "There's a light barrier and a Dragon in the sky- take that down! Film it!" She called out to her crew before coughing and turning her attention back onto him. "Excuse me. I got distracted there, you were explaining?"
Was he explaining? This woman was good. She almost fooled him into thinking he was doing an interview in the middle of this chaos.
In response, Shirou stared at Lisa in deadpan, causing her to scratch her cheek nervously in embarrassment at being pointed out. He sighed.
"I'm going to need your help," he changed the subject, something she seemed thankful for.
"Of course," she nodded her head enthusiastically before raising a speculative brow. "What do you intend for me to do, exactly?"
Lisa followed the direction of Shirou's gaze to the Dragon in the sky, and then back down to Shirou. "Y-You can't be serious?" She shuddered. "I'm all for a good story, but I'm not one to enjoy tragedies especially if they may involve me."
Shirou ignored Lisa's unease. If she really thought he was going to ask her to bring down the Dragon alone in a suicide mission, then she mustn't have fully woken up yet.
"We're going to shoot it down," he clarified for Lisa's sake and for her camera crew.
Rather than reassure Lisa with his words though, they seemed to have an opposite effect as she then scrutinized him closer when she noticed blood on her hands.
"Mr. Archer, you aren't making much sense," Lisa shifted her gaze from her hand, to the injury on Shirou's chest that she must have brushed up against when she helped prop him up. Abruptly, she stiffened. "…You have a hole through your chest."
To anyone else, they may find the injury suspicious, but for Lisa and her crew who had been unconscious for a majority of the siege, there was no connection to be made. Instead, blatant concern could be seen on their features. "You should be resting, and you-" she suddenly pointed to one of her camera men. "Shift the cameras a bit! Blood and injury warning, viewer discretion is advised."
Was this really the time. The guts on this woman and her priorities.
No. Stop. Just focus.
Still, he could understand Lisa's concerns. How was he supposed to do anything in his current state? It was questionable if his wound wouldn't immediately open up the moment that he notched an arrow. Which is why he simply wouldn't do it himself.
"Just trust me," he urged without waiting for a response.
He raised his left hand ahead of him, thunder-like magical energy arcing from his palm. Intermittent flashes of light soon formed an outline of the very same black bow Lisa and the others had seen prior. The action was done absently, but the light it generated had drawn the very first inklings of attention.
The injured within the barrier created by the Saint's war banner began to turn their heads, and even one of Lisa's cameramen who was filming the Grimm Dragon from another angle shifted the camera to face him.
"Help me draw the string back," he instructed to Lisa who fumbled at the request.
Nervous, Lisa's cheeks reddened at being put on the spot. "I-I'm not very strong," she admitted mortified. "But I'll try."
She moved to pull on his black bow's string while he steadied the frame with his left arm. However, Lisa immediately grew flustered when she couldn't even get the bowstring to budge more than a centimeter. The thing was, Lisa was stronger than the average human on Remnant right now because she'd unlocked her Aura here in Mt. Glenn like many others.
The fact that she could hardly pull back the bowstring was primarily attributed to the monstrous strength required. This was a bow that launched legendary Noble Phantasms at speeds beyond human limitation. Regardless, it wasn't as if Lisa and everyone watching would know that.
"A-Am I really this weak? I go to the gym routinely." Lisa mumbled aghast before she noticed a hand on her shoulder.
"Here, let us help," a Huntsman offered.
Neither Shirou or Lisa declined. With Jaune being the center of a healing field, the number of Huntsman and Huntresses around was substantial. This being the case, a majority were too injured to move with only a few recovered enough to be of much help like these few Huntsman and Huntresses that appeared now.
There were three that came: Two Huntsmen and one Huntress.
At first, a single Huntsman had tried to draw back the bowstring, but just like Lisa, his attempt proved futile. Nodding at each other, they all linked hands one over the other, and pulled.
It was an odd sight indeed. With Lisa included, there were four people pulling on the string of a bow longer than an average man was tall secured by the single arm of a masked man in a seated position aiming at the sky.
It was madness, but in the end, the bowstring was pulled entirely taut.
"Steady and hold," Shirou whispered for his helpers to hear. Traces of blood were beginning to spill from his wounds, but this was the part he needed to concentrate most. He bore with it while predicting the hovering path of the Dragon above.
In Archery, he'd never missed and he wasn't going to let that record fail now.
"Mr. Archer, what now?" Lisa called out, sweat matting her brows from her exertion.
Now? Now he would begin to tell a tale as his Spirit Origin began to thrum.
"Ms. Lavender, have you ever heard of the stories of Dragon Slayers?" He inquired in order to narrowed his thoughts and seek out a certain sword. A bead of perspiration trickled down his cheek.
"Mr. Archer, what are you saying. You're not making any sense." Lisa groaned while straining to keep the bow in a taut position with everyone else. "What do childhood fairy tales have to do with anything just because we're facing a Dragon?"
"It's because we're facing a Dragon." He grunted as teal coloured circuit patterns flared over his body. In the exposed sections of his skin, a dim blue began to shine. Due to the exertion Lisa and the Huntsmen and Huntress were exerting, they failed to notice the glow.
"What is that even supposed to mean?!" Lisa questioned doubtfully while adjusting her grip and gritting her teeth. "They're just stories!"
Rather than reply, Shirou sucked in a deep breath to focus. In the first place, his plan didn't rely on consciously Tracing a desired weapon but 'coaxing' it out instead to mitigate the strain it would have on his body.
The process was akin to resonance found in the crystalized legends of Noble Phantasms. A setting had to be created, and the events and characters placed upon an appropriate stage parrel to the one in their myth.
At this moment, the prerequisites were met and Shirou began to feel a certain pull from deep within him. Weak at first, it required a stronger incentive.
"Do you really think that they are just stories?" He said softly, prompting Lisa to give him a probing expression from a side-eyed glance. It would seem that Remnant's citizens no longer considered the achievements and feats of past warriors with any truth.
Ignoring all else, he focused within himself in order to bring about the actualization of a legend. His Spirit Origin began to stir as he willed the energy within him to react and forge a connection: a beckoning call in which his words would flow and weave a tale.
His mouth opened, his unoccupied right hand pulling back in the motion of notching an arrow.
["In the beginning, man was weak and besieged by monsters far greater in strength than their own."]
Something was happening. The air itself was changing as it became charged with a latent energy known as mystery derived from words. These words carried an allure, a promise from an era of heroes.
Dust and debris began to circle and float over the ground, rising ever higher while the taut pressure of the bow heavily increased. Veins popped from the Huntsmen and Huntress holding onto the bowstring while Lisa gasped at the sudden spike in resistance even as the words continued.
["Hundreds died and thousands more would follow in wake of tragedy after tragedy until one day, the Hero Siegfried was born."]
The admission altered everything. The pull from deep within Shirou grew stronger and stronger. One of the most common aspect of his Tracing was the ability to sympathize with a weapon's make and history.
The tale of Siegfried began to shine and envelop his person.
["Selfless, kind, yet lacking his own self motivations and wishes, his earnest desire to seek purpose led him to wield his sword and stand against injustice to slay that which was Evil."]
A soft keening turned into a hurricane of wind stemming with Shirou, Lisa, and her crewmen at its center, stunning them all and banishing all doubts.
Right before everyone's eyes, Shirou was telling a story.
"Write this down! Write this down!" Lisa suddenly started yelling to whoever.
In Shirou's right hand, the jeweled pommel of a sword began to manifest as he glared up at the sky.
Tendrils of writhing magical energy gave way to reveal the silhouette of a large cross-guarded claymore shining in azure light. The sight couldn't be ignored for it was happening right in the heart of Mt. Glenn. One head turned, followed by hundreds more who began to sense a distinct presence making itself known within a barrier of light. Yet to Shirou, this still wasn't enough to set the stage.
Mt. Glenn, the hopes of the people, a desperate situation…most prerequisites were set. So, what was left to achieve full resonance? A glint formed over Shirou's eyes as he suddenly understood: The Adversary.
["Its teeth are swords, its scales are of iron, and its wings a storm!"]
The volume of his voice reached its zenith, the words transmitting throughout the battlefield and silencing all.
["A Great lizard! A Mighty lizard! The greatest symbol of power and destruction!"]
Suddenly, the silhouette of the sword in Shirou's hand began to thrum in approval, actualizing the basis of its legend.
["O treasured sword of the Nibelungens, sing the song of your saga!"]
Speak its name, and give life to this fable nearly left forgotten in history by the common masses.
["A Dragon lays before you!"]
The words were spoken with undeniable finality; a swirl of potent magical energy stored within the sword's jeweled pommel forming a roaring black dragon's maw.
Suddenly, the silhouette of the sword in Shirou's hand thrummed and materialized from the base up. It was a stunning sight to all for it reminded the spectators of a single entity, and yet it was different. Where pure light seemed to surround the Huntsman of Red, the energy consolidated around this sword appeared malefic in nature.
This sword was a sword that determined its attribute of Holy or Demonic based on the wielder, and in this case, the answer was clear.
Shirou sucked in a deep breath while altering the sword into an 'arrow' and notching it over the bow where Lisa and the others had pulled back the bowstring.
Light up a beacon for a better tomorrow.
A certain energy began to writhe in excitement at his intentions.
If not by light, then by dark.
He let the dark energy accumulated from slaying numerous Grimm flow freely towards his sword. Rather than let it affect him in the future, if he could expel it from himself all at once, then all the better. Whether or not this was a mistake, he wasn't thinking about it because the energy itself was reacting on its own.
"O sword, let thee be filled."
True Ether from the Age of the Gods began to congregate into a pointed vortex, swaths of pitch-black energy swirling in from all around.
The ground cracked and shattered. Jaune's startled face along with many others nearby broke into a panic as the cracks travelled down the wall and threatened to collapse it.
More than anything, the growing darkness forming the phantom image of an ancient black dragon with an azure sigil over its chest gave rise to an unexpected effect.
The Grimm around Mt. Glenn faltered, seemingly in confusion, some even lowering their heads, and that's when it happened.
Thick swaths of shadows began to flicker and dance, and right before the eyes of all, the Grimm began to dissipate, leaving none left but the Dragon.
It's common knowledge that when a Grimm died, they deteriorated into black mots, but in this case, the black mots travelled through the air and funneled on a single location.
"Let the world reach its twilight."
Lisa and the others could suddenly feel their fingers straining to hold onto the bowstring, but Shirou's urging for them to hold steady was pushing them to their limits. Noticing this, Shirou hurried to adjust his mind to the hovering Grimm Dragon's trajectory even as the wall caved in beneath them.
One chance existed, but only one.
As the ground destabilized and everyone began to fall from the castle wall, Shirou's eyes never left his target even as Lisa shrieked and the other Huntsmen and Huntress loosened their grips.
A second passed, then two before Shirou suddenly angled his left hand, the grips of Lisa and the others failing at this moment and releasing the arrow.
Everyone's breaths hitched in anxiety. Too much was riding on this single shot for it carried more than just a decisive blow, but Mt. Glenn's hopes as well.
…Which was all the more reason Shirou was determined not to have missed.
Take those dreams and hopes, and keep them close, for they are the origin of miracles.
"BRING IT DOOOWN!" A single yell echoed out amidst the falling rubble of where Shirou and everyone else had once been before being launched away by the recoil.
Legends, myth, and reality converged into one.
An arrow of black soared through the sky, leaving a trail of stardust forming a conical tip with an open maw set directly towards the Grimm Dragon.
"BALMUNG!"
The name was accompanied by a primal roar of dominance. One Dragon swallowed the other in a black streak of light that disappeared far into the horizon.
The black bow dissipated in the ensuing silence as all simply stared.
The battle was over, or so it would seem, but there were some things occurring in the background that no one would have ever expected. This was true for the common person, but less true for the natural capabilities of a Heroic Spirit.
Shirou noticed something at the corner of his eye while free falling from the wall's collapse. Abruptly, he cursed under his breath knowing that there was now no time to care about his wound.
By the time the dust and rubble settled and everyone's gazes began to search for him, he was already gone, leaving behind only a faint trail of blood.
Elsewhere, Qrow didn't share in the excitement and whoop of joy Ruby was displaying at the sight of what had occurred near the Mt. Glenn settlement. Instead, he'd grown wary when the Grimm had all disappeared and a dark presence took root at the settlement.
After all, at the moment this was happening and the power of darkness began to pervade, a change had occurred in Summer. Her eyes had begun to flicker into a deep inexplicable shade of red that he was finding all too familiar.
He wet his lips and swallowed down the dryness in his throat.
"Summer?" He called out to her.
It was just after the Grimm Dragon had been dealt with that Qrow had rendezvoused with Summer and Ruby who had been staring at each awkwardly like mother and daughter. Antisocial, the both of them. However, while Ruby couldn't see it while staring furtively at the ground, Summer had frozen up and began cradling her head.
At his call, Ruby finally glanced up at Summer and noticed that something was wrong.
"M-Mom?" Ruby followed up tentatively, a trace of unease in her tone.
Summer had crouched down on her feet, her head shaking from side to side as if she was trying to steady her vision.
Qrow could see the way Ruby's expression began to shift from joy to concern in almost the blink of an eye. Then again, he was likely the same. Before he even knew it, he and Ruby were already approaching Summer who perked up at the sound of their steps and flustered.
"No, wait! Stay back." Her tone of voice…it was almost panicked. Suddenly she clutched onto her head and nearly collapsed.
"Hey! Easy now!" Qrow called out before catching her in his grip and steadying her. Ruby wasn't that far behind, her head peaking over Qrow's shoulder as she nibbled on her lower lip.
"I-It hurts," Summer mumbled softly.
"You're head?" Qrow inquired, gaze firmly locked onto the alternating colour of her eyes. Silver then red. Silver then red. "I'm going to need to take off the mask. You might have a head injury."
No response.
When Qrow looked at Summer's face again, it was to notice that her eye colour had stopped on red. An ominous feeling swelled from deep within him, especially with how defenceless Ruby was acting at the moment. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
For a moment, a flash of silver bled through the red of Summer's irises.
"Get away from me!" Summer shoved Qrow and Ruby back and bolted into the distance.
"Wait damnit!" Qrow yelled in frustration before taking off after her. "Summer you made a promise!"
Ruby in comparison took longer to follow. A trace of hurt flickered over her features at what she just assumed to be a rejection. Still, she swallowed and chased after. "M-Mom!"
As it would turn out, catching up to Summer was fairly simple as she didn't seem to care about what was in front of her and just bulldozed through trees and shrubs. She was acting crazy. There was no other way to explain it, and the longer it went, the more frightened Qrow became on his teammate's behalf.
With one final stride, Qrow lunged and tackled Summer to the ground.
She thrashed and growled as if she were a wild animal, clawing at him with her nails which didn't do much to penetrate his Aura.
"Will you stop already!" He grimaced, annoyed.
When he looked into Summer's masked face, not a trace of silver was left in her pupils. A low snarl was escaping her lips, and now that he looked closely, bone like protrusions had formed claws over her fingers.
A trace of blood trickled down his arm, making him fully aware that Summer was finally swiping at him hard enough to pierce through his Aura.
"What is this?" Qrow asked baffled before Summer abruptly planted a foot on his sternum and shoved him off with inhuman strength.
Tumbling through the foliage and hard rock, he groaned from the impact before seeing a blur of red roses just now arrive on scene.
"Wait Ruby! Don't approach her!" He yelled in warning.
Summer had grabbed her by the neck as if holding a chicken, causing Ruby to gasp and flail as her cheeks turned blue.
"M-Mom," Ruby whined, her eyes glistening in her confusion and horror.
"Summer what the fuck!" Qrow bolted back onto his feet and rushed forward. He had both Durandal and Harbinger on hand, but he couldn't bring himself to use either of them in this situation.
However, with the prospect of Ruby in danger, there was someone who reacted far faster than Qrow.
Qrow watched as a familiar masked mercenary trailing blood from behind him grabbed Summer in a tackle and hauled her up from the waist before Summer could react. It was that Archer bastard.
"Sorry, but I'll be taking it from here," Archer said solemnly, not waiting for a reply before he did the unimaginable. He jumped and disappeared from over the foliage in a single bound in a remarkable display of inhuman capability.
Qrow didn't think about any of that though. Far from impressed, he was incensed. "You, bastard wait!" He hopped into the air and turned into a crow for an arial view, but there was nothing that could be seen. The speed Archer displayed seemed even faster than Ruby's.
Speaking of which, his eyes bugged out as sweat began perspiring over his skin.
Wait…where did Ruby go?
"You bastard, you took both of them!"
Qrow began to circle in a desperate bid to find his target. He was a Branwen, a former bandit. No city dwelling greenhorn should be able to get the best of him outside the kingdoms.
His pride and ego were going to be sorely disappointed on this day.
As the matter of Mt. Glenn came to a close from the video cameras from reporters stationed at the settlement, Ozpin carefully processed everything that he'd just seen. His hands were shaking while clasped in front of him. In all the years that he's lived, this would be the first time he'd have to admit that he was moved from a simple story spoken from the mouth of a lone Archer.
Those words and those actions reflected the merits and honours of a time long since passed. It was nostalgic, yet ominous. Sweet yet bitter. A part of him wondered what the witch in the Grimmlands would be thinking right about now.
The game had changed ever since the appearance of Vermillion and the Huntsman of Red. Shameful as it was to admit, he'd taken advantage of the situation and made it seem as if these new pieces on the board were on his side despite never meeting them once. What mattered was that the enemy believed that these were hidden trump cards.
Still, one thing was unmistakable to Ozpin during the battle of Mt. Glenn: It was the presence of divinity accompanied by tranquil light then oppressive dark.
One of Light, one of Dark, and both existed at the same period of time?
Was this a sign of the end times?
Was the presence of the Gods returning to this abandoned world even without the relics?
"You're thoughts, Ozpin?" A gruff voice snapped him out of his stupor.
Ah yes. He had been in the middle of a meeting with James Ironwood of Atlas before trouble broke out in the Mt. Glenn settlement. He unclasped his hands and glanced up to the image of his colleague projected on a screen.
"I'm sorry to say James, but we'll have to cut this meeting short here, and I'm sure you understand why." Ozpin adjusted his glasses and leisurely leaned his back onto his office chair. "Don't think I don't know you haven't already started petitions to offer the Arc boy scholarships into Atlas."
The image of James grunted neither in approval or frustration.
"I won't apologize." James crossed his arms. "It's bad enough that Qrow of all people is in possession of that sword. It would be too much of a loss if you get the Arc boy too."
Indeed, it would be a loss for Atlas, but think of it this way. The flag in Jaune Arc's hands had the ability to passively unlock the Aura of people nearby. It was unimaginably useful, especially due to its protective and healing properties. Would it really be for the best to have such a resource bound to Atlas and its council?
"We should let the boy decide for himself and not entice him. You got into contact with the Schnee's didn't you? How much of a bursary are they offering after what everyone has just seen on the news?"
James coughed awkwardly and changed the topic. "This meeting is over, yes?"
"Ah yes, speaking of which James, your proposition in harnessing the light energy from the Nightless city is fascinating, so do tell Dr. Polendina that Beacon is willing to help in sponsoring development."
James nodded while straightening out his posture and assuming the air of a General. "I will convey your intentions." He nodded, moving a finger to end the call before pausing as he thought of something. "Please notify me if you have anymore 'findings' outside of public knowledge to discus for the security of Remnant. Also, tell Glynda I said hi."
"Of course," Ozpin replied before the transmission with James ended.
Ozpin sighed almost immediately, slumping into his chair. On the surface, he may seem collected, but inwardly, he was far from calm. With the events that had already transpired, people have already started questioning the nature of the weapons broadcasted. The secret of magic will surely fall into doubt eventually which was just another headache to deal with.
Then there the myths and stories he'd neglected to care about since they'd always been so obscure even in his original time period. 'Siegfried the Dragon Slayer.' That tale had been around since Salam's era along with many others used to incite the curiosity and bravery of children.
If there truly was truth in those myths as he'd just seen, then what of the most recent one Tai Xiaolong had asked him to look into?
'The Sword of Remnant.'
It didn't exist. At the very least, Ozpin couldn't find any known sources even through the networks of all his contacts which frustrated more than he let on. He was old, and there weren't many things that he didn't know the answer to, and this was clearly one of them.
While pondering over Remnant's most recent changes, his scroll began to sound with Qrow's number flashing on the screen.
Recalling where Qrow was and the scenes observed in Mt. Glenn, Ozpin answered without hesitation.
"I need to get into contact with Archer." Qrow's voice didn't sound happy, but rather pressured and Ozpin felt just as pressured on the opening topic.
"Now why would you need to do that?" He skirted over the issue trying to play it down. "He's a very busy man."
This time though, Qrow was in no mood. One can only use the same excuse or behaviour over and over again before suspicions begin to fester.
The line was silent for a long moment until Ozpin heard Qrow inhale deeply then exhale.
"Ozpin, you don't really know him, do you?" Qrow sounded resigned, and as much as Ozpin felt the need to continue the charade, he recognized urgency when he heard it. There was no point lying here.
Ozpin gently placed his cup of coffee down in front of him. "Would you blame for not saying anything after we finally have the chance to obtain your sister's willing cooperation?"
It wasn't a direct answer, but it was blatant admission.
"Fuck," Qrow cussed, but it wasn't as if he didn't understand.
"Now, Qrow, what's happened?" Ozpin inquired.
Rather than respond, Qrow sent a picture he'd taken in his time searching through Mt. Glenn before the attack.
A blurred image came to the screen due to how zoomed in it was, but a few clicks could have the image properly rendered. Still, it was hard to make out.
The image on the scroll enlarged further and further until only a portrait of a masked face remained.
"This doesn't look like the Archer from the broadcast," Ozpin noted.
"…Ozpin." Qrow called out impatiently. "Take a closer look."
Ozpin hummed in thought, noticing the tell-tale signs of agitation Qrow was showing. Alright fine then. He leaned forward and brought his scroll closer to his face.
The height, the hair, the demeanor, they truly were familiar, a deep scarlet and a petite frame. Then his gaze focused on the eyes.
Suddenly, he was sitting up, paperwork pushed aside as he understood what Qrow was hinting at and to whom her identity may be.
She had silver eyes.
Thanks for reading!
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