Summary: Mysterious creatures are responsible for the strange behaviour of the creatures of Grimm.
What does their green glow mean?
More is revealed about the mysterious kidnappings and Malik the Sunderer.
Cardin is at the end of his rope.
Adam is hurt and Pyrrha has to protect him.
"
1
Thy soul shall find itself alone
'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone –
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy:
2
Be silent in that solitude
Which is not loneliness – for then
The spirits of the dead who stood
In life before thee are again
In death around thee – and their will
Shall then overshadow thee: be still
"
-Edgar Allan Poe
Ω
Ice-cold water.
It filled his lungs.
It pushed out the air in them and gripped his heart with an unrelenting gelid grasp.
It pressed him down and consumed him.
He wanted to be free of it, but it didn't let him go.
I don't want to go, he said to himself in agony. He didn't want to go, he wanted to stay, he wanted to live.
He waited for Weiss to pull him out.
She was nowhere to be found.
It was over.
He knew it.
He felt relief.
It wasn't the salutary relief of a man who had found an oasis after days of searching in the desert. It was cold and resentful relief one felt when, after tireless treks and searching, his legs gave way under him and he collapsed. It was the painful and sardonic relief of the cynic who, with a snarl of a smile, said: "You see? I was right all along", while he wished with all he had and in every second that he hadn't been right.
Cardin had wanted with all he had to be wrong; he wanted to live. Vengeance, power, friendship, pleasure. All these motivations failed him one by one, they couldn't stop him from his downward trajectory, they couldn't pull him out of the frigid waters. Even the cold flash of those haunting blue eyes failed to stir him; he looked at the pair of oneiric and ominous oculi with a passive gaze that belied the fact that they had been the subject and substance of his sorrowful slumbers.
Push off, he said this internally with a gaze that seemed to be looking at everything except his enemy, and for Cardin who had been obsessed with those eyes, to look elsewhere was to look at nothing.
It was inevitable, fighting was futile.
When Cardin opened his eyes he knew.
It was over for him.
He was exhausted.
He hated waking up.
It had come sooner than he thought though.
He took pride in his ability as a warrior and had expected to be able to hang on longer.
Wishful thinking I guess.
He walked out of the room and caught sight of his teammates along with the familiar face of Lug Tawn to which he gave a sarcastic smile before walking past.
Ω
"Are you sure about this?" Shouter asked the question to his former Partner, the mysterious Lug Tawn.
The pair were seated across from each other, Shouter's eyes piercing into the others with no small measure of anger.
"He said it has to be that way."
"The 'Augur'?"
"Yes."
"Do you know why?"
"No."
"Do you even know who he is?"
"No."
"What do you know?"
"That I can trust him. With my life, I can trust him."
"With my life too apparently," he said angrily, "it was because of one of his stupid fortunes you abandoned me right?"
"It was," he admitted, no shame or regret detectable in his voice as he did, "he said it would be good for you."
"I can assure you it hasn't."
"You've gotten stronger haven't you?"
"I would have gotten stronger in Beacon."
"Fair enough," he said, raising his hands in surrender although his neutral expression remained, "I don't know the end of the prophecy or even the details. I just know he's always right."
"I've been in situations that should have spelled certain death for a street rat like me and came out not only safe, but victorious. I know he's right on this."
"I hope so."
Lug had arrived back in Vacuo not long ago. According to him, he knew how to crack the case of the kidnappings but essential to the plan was Team CARS, including Cardin.
This obviously rubbed Shouter the wrong way, but he still consented to his former friend's request. He was truly invested in the unravelling of this mystery.
Shouter made no secret of the fact that he hated this Kingdom of sand, that was why he left for Beacon the first chance he got. He was here again though, despite his most desperate wishes not to be and because he was here, he could hardly help than to be invested in the mystery of the crown-shaped birthmark.
Jaune hadn't been able to understand it, but anyone who had been born here would have.
Vacuo was decaying.
All the courage of the admirable Theodore couldn't hide it. You could see it in the shadow of concern when the men chatted over their cheap drinks after a long shift at work. In the edge of a mother's eyes as she watched her little ones play. It was almost written on their faces.
Malik the Sunderer was someone who had changed the tide in his day.
He had turned the whole world upside down and created the land known today as Vacuo. It was believed that his descendants had, for better or worse, the same potential to sunder. That was why everyone, from the most naive idealists to the most bitter cynics, waited with bated breaths for the return of the King.
Shouter had reason to believe that Lug was an important part of this fulfilment of that legend. The one legend that all in the land believed on some level.
Ω
The quivers increased in intensity and all the members of the group prepared their weapons for the incoming attack.
"What's incoming?"
"I don't know," Port responded with a twisted brow to his friend.
With this, he signalled the group to conceal themselves in a crevice and wait to see if the cause of the quaking would make itself known.
If it was a Grimm, then Port knew it. If it wasn't then it was something that would be best for them to wait and see to find out. From the increasing quakes, it couldn't be anything good.
Suddenly, a chill ran through the group collectively.
It wasn't the type of chill that left gooseflesh but instead a pervasive chill that put all of them in physical pain.
The sounds ceased for a second.
The hall they were in was then bathed in a dull green light.
Then a cold draft that felt as though it was piercing their skins through their active auras assaulted them. They had to literally bite down on their lips to stop themselves from exclaiming.
It was amazing that Ren was able to maintain Tranquility in these circumstances, making sure that if the cause was truly a creature of Grimm then they would be hidden.
The culprit made itself clear shortly after, a scaly paw making itself visible to them in their hiding place.
It was a creature of Grimm, a Basilisk to be precise.
The Basilisk was a reptilian dark creature just larger than a crocodile with a paralysing venom that, although not unheard of in Vale, was much more common in the Kingdom of Mistral.
There were a few things off about this particular one though. For one, it glowed green. Grimm generally did not glow green.
Secondly, and this is just a very small note that you need not pay too much attention to, it was about a metre and a half tall. Some Creatures of Grimm like the Glutton had no known cap on their growth capacity but most did and the Basilisk should have never grown into the leviathan before them.
What in Inuwa's name is going on?
Ω
Adam and Pyrrha were running through the russet fields, their flash of red, black and bronze mixing perfectly into the terrain from time to time.
They had received a communication that a small group of Grimm were headed to a nearby village and since helping civilians fell into the purview of their mission, they rushed in. The village had taken an assault the previous night successfully but another attack, although small, would put an inordinate strain on their resources.
Ω
Do you think you're some sort of hero?
The words came into his ears after his red flash of aura had cleaved a Nevermore in two. It hadn't been part of the original group but had joined amidst the short fray.
Adam looked back and saw that Miruwa remained on his back, but this time, growing off the scarred yet dainty flesh of her forearm was another face.
Part of a face at least; it had been caved in so that it was quite impossible for Adam, the man whose imagination was producing these illusions, to recognise who it had been. Despite not being able to tell the face though, he had an instinct that he knew the voice. He was just imagining that he recognized it though, and with that his imagination grew to the most grotesque scene possible.
Adam gave it an ugly look before sheathing his blade and looking away.
Pyrrha noticed the look and asked if he was hurt.
He turned down his eyes at the question.
He seemed afraid to even look at her.
She walked up to him.
Cool wind blew in from the ravine that was next to them.
He took a step back.
"I've had enough of this," she said forcefully, "don't pull away!"
She took a step forward, locking her eyes on him as she did, not releasing his figure from the invisible cage that was her vision as she walked back so that he found it difficult to move back.
She walked so that they were just a step from each other.
He squirmed as though in physical pain from her proximity, he felt her breath on him and goosebumps broke out all along his skin as though he were in the presence of something terrible.
"Am I that loathsome to you?" she asked the question seriously, tears at the edges of her perfect emerald eyes.
They broke him.
He tried to speak.
The ghostly hand tightened around his neck, still not enough to make him feel pain but enough to remind him.
He stared with his mouth open painfully, looking at her with a pale face, pleading her not to come any closer with his eyes.
She was confused.
"Adam," she whispered, her voice was sweet in its sadness. It was a melody that I can hear now as I write this down my dear reader. He had never given great thought to his name, but at this moment, hearing the stirring susurration of it on her lips he felt as though it was the best word ever made.
Men had given all other bliss, and all their wordly worth for this, to waste their hearts in one kiss upon her perfect lips.
That one kiss was what she offered.
With a stony glare – her beauty not in any measure diminished because of it – she said:
"You have two options: stay still or speak. If you try to move back, Inuwa help me I will break your arm."
She meant every word.
She leaned up to him, intending to give him a kiss. He had to speak. He couldn't move back and he felt that if those lips touched him he'd melt.
"Can't you see?"
The question made her stay still, she looked at him intensely, seeing his pain.
"My hands," he said, using them to cover his now teary face before dropping them and staring in horror.
"They're unclean."
She looked at him with real worry.
"I'm scared to look at you let alone touch you. I am an evil man. How could I dare to touch with these hands?"
"Don't you know how precious you are?" he asked the question with despair, wondering how it was possible that she did not see what he did.
"Can't you see that you're... you're an angel. How could I dare to put my hands on you?"
After his manic rant, he fell on his knees before her. The action scared her, but she kept her eyes on him. She felt that he'd run away or vanish if she didn't keep him in her sights.
It was the fact that her eyes were squarely on him and his eyes were on everything except her that he noticed the threat first.
A small green thing emerged from the red forest floor and made for her foot.
He jumped forward and blocked it with his hand.
He took a deep breath in from his teeth, before crumbling downwards. Despite the fact that his Aura was active, he felt excruciating pain from the creature's sting. Pyrrha bent over him in surprise, checking to see what the issue was.
As she did, she noticed something on the ground close to him.
It was an insectoid Grimm known as a Scurrier. They were small and poisonous Grimm that most combat Academies used to train their youngest intakes.
There were only a few differences in this case; the creature was several times larger than the usual one and gave off a forbidding green light. Pyrrha knew instantly that this thing was bad news and she picked up her teammate on her shoulders and made ready to run away.
Her instinct was solid as the very next second, the field was covered in the creatures, casting a sick green light all upon the red turf.
The creatures were emerging from the ground and all exits were covered save the ravine and Pyrrha jumped in with him.
The strangest thing happened as she whistled downwards, her Aura, which she had activated and concentrated on her lower body in order to take the impact of the descent, was draining rapidly without explanation. She wasn't one to panic though as instead she thrust Milo into the side of the ravine, arresting their fall before casting them into the river. Her intention was to be carried away by the current that led towards the Umbra Sound, the location of the bullhead.
It was usually ported in the forest itself, but with the recent strange Grimm activity, the more distant beach was the safest place to park it.
Pyrrha was grateful for this and tried to call her teammates and Professors to warn them of this strange phenomenon.
They were maintaining radio silence because the mission required it though and she was unable to reach them as a result.
Suddenly, the man in her arms broke into a fit of convulsions.
His eyes, which had been shut since his sting opened suddenly, and he took in the scene with an alarm that seemed foreign and forbidding on so stoic a face.
A bout of shivers ran through his body and he closed his eyes, this time it wasn't out of pain but because he wanted to concentrate.
Aura was a special thing that wasn't only useful for activating Dust and protecting from physical injuries, but in building immunities and resistance. People who had unlocked their Aura were able to resist the effects of drugs, poisons and other substances more than the regular people. This ability was a double-edged sword because although it made it more difficult to be intoxicated, it made it more difficult to be intoxicated. Those who wanted to get drunk for instance would have to drink a lot more than the regular person, this went for those that went under anaesthesia or used painkillers too. Except the infamous Branwen Black Brew – Qrow's preferred poison – and similar substances, the only drugs that had the same ability across those with Aura and those without were those synthesized with the drug apathy.
Apathy, perhaps because it was synthesized from the mysterious Grimm creature, ignored Aura and was as a result used increasingly in the medical field proving it wasn't just a notorious substance.
Ignoring the tangent though, what Adam was trying to was stimulate the action of his Aura through his bloodstream and locate and push out the poison. It was a difficult process that only veterans and geniuses could generally do and it was more cost-effective than simply activating your Aura and wearing the poison out.
Suddenly though, Adam started coughing.
That wasn't meant to happen.
The coughing didn't end though, and his frame was rocked by the violence of it and he made an attempt with loose fingers to cover his mouth as he did, but still a black mucous seeped out from between them.
Pyrrha was shocked; she couldn't fully look at him because his arm was across her shoulders as she tried to manoeuvre the current safely. The fact that his shaking didn't abate after several moments made her freshly worried.
Before she could make whatever adjustments she'd need to give him a once over while being conveyed by the current, a black figure came at her in the opposite direction of the stream with a vicious aim and even more vicious speed. She struck out with Milo using her unencumbered arm and sent the creature the other way. To her surprise though, she felt some pain shoot through her arm from the force of the blow.
She turned her face to the attacker and saw that burning orange eyes of a creature of Grimm.
A Celophax? She asked the question with some surprise because, having studied it already in Grimm Studies, she knew it couldn't possibly be strong enough to cause that pain of recoil from blocking its attack.
She wondered if it beast was under the same influence of the Scurriers that had led them down this alluvial conveyor belt but the absence of the green glow and just the lady's instincts made her doubt it.
Mutant or not, she thought, our fight isn't optional.
Ω
"What was that?"
Dr. Oobleck asked the question between exhausted gasps and breaths as he checked on his two students who were in worse condition than he was.
The only one who was almost composed was the veteran Professor Port who looked out alertly should any new dangers surface.
Dr. Oobleck could only see his friend's back, but he could read his meaning fully; the world-renowned Grimm Hunter was going on the hunt again. Knowing that it was futile to argue with him and he prioritizing the students' safety, he simply whispered a short prayer and supported the dazed Ren out of the ruins.
Don't get yourself killed.
Ω
"The King's Court," began Lug as he rolled out a piece of paper that seemed to be the battle plan. All the group except Shouter looked at him strangely; with Remnant's level of advancement, it was weird to see someone using paper this much. Lug had picked up the habit from the Augur who passed messages almost exclusively through the chartaceous medium.
"They're a cult that has been increasingly active in Vacuo. Unlike most of the Underworld that keeps busy with robbery, arms-dealing and the like, these guys have taken up the much riskier business of kidnapping and they follow it rather religiously. According to my info, they end up selling their captives but only after a period of tests and mysterious rituals."
This time, all of the team gave an odd look except the leader who heard it without flinching although the statement meant that had he not been saved by Xanthe that would have been his fate.
Lug, who really disliked the Winchester heir, had worded the information in that exact way in order to get under his skin. Seeing the lack of reaction however, he was truly disappointed and even more, thoroughly disturbed; he seemed to see some hint of a smile from the impassive and pale face.
Psycho, he thought, before repeating his thought that he trusted the Augur and trusted that it would end up well.
"They identify themselves by a brand mark in the shape of a crown. Yes, the girl you guys arrested was branded. It wasn't the legendary birthmark."
Shouter's face twisted in disappointment, but he just heaved a large breath.
"We will be taking this group down this evening."
Sky looked at the lad pointedly before aiming another look at Cardin who seemed to understand what was meant by it.
"How do we know that you aren't conspiring with them?"
Cardin asked the question slowly and drily, almost as though neither the question nor the answer it was meant to elicit were of great interest to him.
"We know that you're part of the Vacuoan Underworld, and we know you insisted that I had to be here. I was the Court's last target, maybe they hired an old buddy of Shouter's to... help them along."
"Besides," Jaune said, his hand on his sword hilt once he heard the mention of the dog faunus being part of the Underworld, "Shouter mentioned knowing someone who had the mark and was close to him. If, as you say, that mark is held by members and you're the 'close friend', then that would prove that you are a mole."
Lug smiled helplessly as he saw Shouter, Jaune and Sky pull out their weapons in preparation for a skirmish. Again, Cardin remained unmoved by the words and stared ahead. It was another look from his friend that made him brandish Executioner casually.
"I do admit to having the mark," he said, raising his arms and revealing the selfsame mark that Shouter had seen on the woman's body on the inside of his wrist, "but it's not what it looks like."
Jaune rushed forward first, feeling that questions could be asked after they were sure that there was no danger to fear from the canine conspirator.
Sky followed just at his back with Feather's Edge, the pair having very good synergy from their many missions and exercises as partners. In a single smooth move, he shrugged off his brown cape and blocked the first downward swing with his five-pronged spear.
A flurry of thrusts from the silent student's halberd was then redirected by a flourish of the selfsame cape, he heard a low whistle from above his head as Executioner traced a path that would crush his skull at the end of its trip.
Rather than panic at the great weight of the mace coming at him, he gave a slight smile and whispered.
"Stop."
All the actions of those around him were paused, from the charging students to the fly in the corner of the room.
"This is the Semblance that is given to descendants of King Malik," he said, looking each person in the eyes as he did, "along with my weapon, they are evidence that I am his true descendant."
After looking around and seeing that their tempers were sufficiently cooled, he waved his hand and all of them regained freedom of their limbs.
"The Semblance is called Holy Oath," he said mildly from the seat he had taken comfortably, his tattered cloak managing to give him that easy air of royalty as he spoke, "it's a powerful magical Semblance."
Semblances were basically understood to be of two sorts; rudimentary and magical/mystic. The former referred to Semblances that were easy to account for without magic such as super speed, Aura transfer etc. but Semblances that could not be explained thus such as the Schnee Glyphs, that were able to dilate time and even summon the dead, were called magical Semblances. The most learned voices of the age disliked the term though they were unable to get the masses to adopt other more agnostic terms for it though.
"Legend has it that together with the spear in my hands, he earned the title of Sunderer. I am his successor, and I have come for the Crown."