Is it hubris to not question the capability of an adversary? Undoubtedly, it is, but is it not a lack of ability that governs such a fallacy? In the first place, if that hubris was not misplaced, but justified by unwavering confidence in one's self and experience, wouldn't that weigh out foolish contradictions such that 'hubris' became 'certainty?'
Winter liked to think so.
She was not one to belittle an opponent, but it didn't mean she'd belittle herself and ignore her own strength.
The masked man before her struck an imposing image to the common man or woman, but Winter still recalled the masked faces of the White Fang prior to Vermillion. The contrasting differences eventually superimposed over Cursed Arm and helped ease Winter of her doubts.
"Step aside, Penny," Winter called again, this time physically placing the air-headed friend behind her while keeping Cursed Arm in sight.
Specialist Standard procedure in civilian evacuation mandated that Winter not engage in full-fledged combat until after the civilian was escorted to safety.
Tilting her head, Penny ran programs through her mind that recognized what Winter was doing before moving her body to hide in an area clear of the immediate battlefield.
Winter nodded to herself, somewhat perturbed that Cursed Arm had yet to act. Most villains would have attacked before Penny could clear the area, but Cursed Arm appeared to consciously wait. Did he have a soft spot for children and adolescents?
If so, it was remarkably human.
'All Champions of Dark were once heroes.'
The words Qrow and Raven had shared in the detailed reports came to mind, causing Winter to frown.
Winter did not know what story Cursed Arm had, nor did she have the leisure to care. All Cursed Arm was right now was a terrorist siding with the Grimm, intent on treating mankind as an enemy.
…And enemies were to be put down. That was all.
Letting out a breath, the cartridges around the elegant handle of her rapier revolved and revealed the handle of a secondary blade. This would not be a normal operation, as she'd been warned enough about Cursed Arm's supposed danger. From the start, she would go full throttle with permission for lethal force.
Glyphs formed around Winter. Frost and white vapor poured out into thick mist that chilled the skin. Other glyphs crackled with lightning, acting in tandem with water to conduct the electricity through a medium. Beneath her, the ice crawled over her feet, forming blades that resembled skates that reduced the friction of her movements.
With a deft movement, she pulled out the hilt of her secondary sword and was soon armed with dual sabers, her demeanor shifting into a duelist of the highest caliber.
"En garde," Winter muttered under her breath before dashing forward at breakneck speeds, forward leaning sword poised into a model thrust.
The strike missed, deftly dodged by a minute shift to the right, and angling the body to the side, reducing the striking area.
A vicious counter came afterwards, aimed at her jugular.
Winter tilted her neck back, the blade barely passing over her dilated pupils.
Strands of white hair fell to the ground. Winter, reacting immediately, kicked off with her feet into a backflip. The blades of ice on her soles aimed at the soft underside of Cursed Arm's chin, but that missed too, forcing her to retreat backwards into a gliding halt on her skates.
Narrowing her eyes, Winter quickly danced and weaved like a world class figure skater through a shower of thrown blades.
'Don't get touched by the long arm.' Winter reminded herself while weaving between the sharp steel. The daggers she couldn't avoid, she parried with her sabers.
Cursed Arm's reaction speed was near instantaneous. At the very least, Winter concluded that his reaction speed exceeded hers by a fair margin. If so-
Winter raised a glyph and began rapidly cooling the temperature of the area until vapor condensed into a thick mist. Both their sight would be obscured, but there was an advantage Winter was certain she had over Cursed Arm.
Glyphs formed platforms in the air which she deftly leaped towards, her eyes scanning the mist for where vapor twisted and bent in relation to movement.
There!
Winter steadied herself on a floating glyph, bent her legs like a spring, and aimed a thrust into the mist. Lighting coursed over the metal of her blade as she infused a lightning glyph into the edge.
Most adversaries fighting in fog would expect an attack on either side, but few if any could react to a strike from the sky.
Winter heightened her focus. She would prove the capability of a Specialist here and now. Clearly, she was more than able to handle Cursed Arm on her own. She supposed she had to give merit to Qrow, Raven, and Ozpin as she knew exactly what to watch out for, but all the rest was her and her alone.
The edges of her lips curled upward as she gathered her Aura and never felt so invigorated. Even the use of her glyphs had been seamless, causing her to recall reports that Semblances are enhanced in locations of high magic energy. Considering that the energy of Vermillion's sun permeated the entire space, Winter could only imagine how it would have felt for those fighting with the Huntsman of Red in Mt. Glenn and that towering sword of light.
Getting her wits about her, her Aura peaked to full intensity before she attacked.
Gravity, timing, and power were all on her side.
Hubris was not.
In an instant, an unimaginable wave of magic energy cleared the mist like it was a joke. Aura wrapped around the body when released, but magic energy permeated.
Cursed Arm was covered in a wave of iridescent black and red energy.
Winter felt a chill when she realized that even through the mist, his gaze had already been trained upward.
When realization settled in, it was already too late to withdraw her attack. Right now she was committed, and observing that Cursed Arm wasn't moving, she had no choice but to take this gamble. Surely, he would suffer for his arrogance.
Hardening her expression, Winter streamlined her descent and accelerated.
Within a fraction of a second, she'd have his throat, but the miniscule gap of a mere inch couldn't be crossed.
Buffeting wind exploded with Winter and Cursed Arm at the center, blowing back loose pieces of rubble and debris from the impact.
Winter's sword arm shook, the blade rattling as sparks grated from a palm that had caught the base of her sword.
Stomach sinking, Winter shuddered, noting that her attack had only managed to depress Cursed Arm's ankles into the ground. He neither budged nor strained.
W-With just one hand?
Winter felt her balance tilt as Cursed Arm's grip tightened around her forward sword and pulled her in. The long arm reached for her throat.
Pursing her lips, she raised her other sword in a desperate bid to avoid contact with her body. Qrow called Cursed Arm's hand a curse, but it may as well have been an unorthodox Semblance.
Even a touch would mean having her heart ripped out.
Panicking, she swung, wedging her other sword in between the outstretched fingers of Cursed Arm's right hand, and pushing with all her strength.
Sweat dripped down her brow, the intensity of sparks increasing as her swords tried to buy leverage over Cursed Arm's sheer strength.
What was his skin made of?!
It was like reinforced steel.
Winter's face reddened as veins popped over her skin. Inch by inch, the long arm made its way to her throat.
Thinking quickly, Winter glanced at the sword caught by Cursed Arm's left hand and reeling her in. She bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood, and grudgingly let go of her primary weapon.
Free of Cursed Arm's pulling force, she used the moment of destabilization to put more weight against Cursed Arm's right hand. If she could just get out of the right arm's reach, she wouldn't have to worry about losing her heart-
Her eyes widened, spittle flying out of her mouth as she retched and dry heaved from a sudden blow to her stomach, her Aura shattering on impact.
Focused on the right arm, Winter had been unable to perceive the abrupt knee to the gut.
Strength left her arms, the shadow of a hand moving to clasp over her face. Barely, just barely, she managed to wedge her sword between her and the hand.
Another blow to the stomach had her weak, her knees wobbling.
"N-Nngh," Winter whined, trying to back away but finding the feat impossible when a leg sweep had her sprawled over the ground.
It wasn't simply the arm she had to be wary of. The man was a monster fully capable of taking her down without it.
Back to the ground, it was all too easy for Cursed Arm to apply force from his right arm towards Winter.
"No…stop…" Winter strained through clenched teeth, the eerily red hand inching closer and closer as she lost ground with her sword. "I…Won't…Die…HERE!"
"Gh," Winter craned her neck back, Cursed Arms fingers getting dangerously close as she kicked and bucked, trying to maneuver a futile escape.
A finger touched her forehead, a chilling sensation traveling down her very core.
"Zabaniya."
The word in an unknown language echoed in her ear, her complexion paling rapidly as the thumping of her heart shifted into an audible beating.
Right before her eyes, a bloody heart was pumping, the fingers reaching towards it invoking a primal fear that had Winter quivering.
'You still have a chance even if he takes your heart. So long as it's still beating.'
Qrow's harrowed words in the briefing came to mind, goosebumps running down her skin as she released the grip on her sword and tried to secure the ether heart before Cursed Arm could wrap his fingers around it. Her unexpected struggle managed to beat the heart out of reach, but the impact sent the most acute pain through Winter's chest that she'd ever felt.
She spasmed, hands clutching at her chest while tears formed over her eyes. She didn't dare succumb to the agony, her focus was on the heart that had fallen to the floor and Cursed Arm who languidly watched her silent struggle.
"Give up." Cursed Arm spoke for the first time, his voice sounding almost tired. "When you wake next, you will find your peace."
Winter breathed hoarsely, unable to even hear Cursed Arm as she crawled towards the fake heart she'd beaten away.
As if to crush her hopes, Cursed Arm sought to end it all by stomping down on the beating organ, however, intervention came in the most unexpected of places.
Are machines living beings?
The answer was obscure, but a machine's presence was rather difficult to detect.
A stream of magic fire engulfed Cursed Arm, the heat of the sun warming Winter's blank face as a girl with glowing green eyes appeared in front of her.
"P-Penny?" Winter murmured, as she struggled to maintain consciousness.
Penny did not answer, her primary systems focused intently on detecting Cursed Arm, but finding nothing in the blaze. The Polendina Project centered around harnessing the power of Vermillion's sun and storing it within a sealed container.
That container was Penny herself.
"Circuits overloading…" Penny's eyes glazed over as fire continued to spew from metal blades that opened up on her back and aimed forward.
Standing rooted, Penny continued to emit the sun's flames before finally sputtering out.
The glow over her eyes faded as smoke and the acrid smell of burning tar permeated in the air.
Winter coughed, only growing relieved when Cursed Arm appeared to have vanished from sight. As further evidence, the fake heart had vanished in motes of gold sand, the pressure in her chest fading.
Penny went limp, bending down to her knees and sitting like a doll. "Shifting into recovery mode."
Winter started while panting for breath. Eventually, she mustered the strength to turn herself over onto her back and groaned, smoke wafting into the air around her.
She didn't know how long she laid there, but there was no way the sounds of her confrontation with Cursed Arm went unheard.
Hurried footsteps echoed before a face loomed over hers, half disappointed, half admonishing, and half relieved.
"Wow, you're alive?" Qrow muttered.
"Oh, fuck you." Winter hissed before passing out.
Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Archer separated himself from the Grim shadow that comprised his disguise as Cursed Arm.
Remnants of Galatine's flame had managed to singe the Grimm shadow, forcing Archer to flee out of sight or risk his disguise failing. Putting out the flames, it wasn't long before the shadow began to repair itself.
However, the time wasted was long enough to negate his lead. Qrow, Raven, and the others would have likely made their way towards Excalibur Galatine by now, and were likely guarding it.
Frowning, Archer used his wits in his favor. He wasn't the smartest, but his battlefield awareness honed through experience would not easily fail him.
Nodding, he beckoned to the Grimm Shadow to assume Cursed Arm's form without him, and then used Reinforcement to upgrade the double's durability. Movement would be clunky, or otherwise uniform, but the overall impression remained the same.
In a heartbeat, Archer willed the Grimm Shadow in Cursed Arm's guise to ready itself before Archer moved towards Excalibur Galatine's location.
Archer let out a sigh, doing his best to stop the trembling of his hands. Even if the cause was for a good purpose, the means were rather difficult to swallow.
In the end, he'd reach a happy ending.
For everyone.
Archer stared off across from Qrow, Raven and Adam, and soon made his way towards them. Expectedly, they were zealously guarding Excalibur Galatine and the miniature sun that shone above its hilt.
"Archer, you made it in time." Qrow was the first to reach out to him, showing relief at another capable ally. "Snow Bitch made a scene even though she should have stayed with us, but she managed to survive."
"Unfortunate," Adam scoffed from the side. Inwardly he indulged in the idea of sending Sienna or the Albain brother's to Winter, but he put it off. Sienna and the others were needed in Vermillion to help quell public unrest until communications could get back online.
Raven was more straightforward with Archer.
"Spear." She pressed.
"No," Archer gave the same answer. "Once you get it, you won't give it back."
Raven couldn't even deny it, but she still opened her mouth to reason that it wasn't the time to bicker about what's mine or yours.
"Exactly," Archer said, suddenly leveling his gaze to the entrance of the open-air stadium. "He's here."
Everyone was tense, the sound of each footstep reverberating in their ears.
A cloaked figure appeared; the gleam of a white bone mask eerie under the light of the sun.
There were no shadows present, Galatine's light illuminating the entire space as if it were daybreak. Perhaps that was why the way Cursed Arm was moving was so visible to all. He had an odd gait, and his limbs appeared to wilt, his unnaturally slouched.
"He looks sluggish," Raven verbalized her observation.
"Sienna reported an aversion to the light of Vermillion's sun." Adam divulged, aiming a Dust round from his weapon, Wilt and Blush. Blush was the rifle-sheathe component while Wilt was the red blade.
"So right now…he's weak?" Qrow tightened his grip over his sword, murder apparent in his eyes. Wasn't this an opportunity?
The Branwen siblings glanced at each other. Even without saying it, they both grew able to discern the threat level of others. Right now, it was telling them that compared to their confrontation in Forever Fall, Cursed Arm was far far weaker in presence and demeanor.
Champion of Dark or not, if it bleeds…
Qrow pulled out Durendal, a ten-foot blade of light spreading out while he held Harbinger in his other hand.
Raven twitched at the sight of Qrow wielding a magic weapon and shot a glance at Archer, but the action was met with wide eyes.
"Hey, what are you-?!"
While everyone was getting ready to engage, Archer moved in the opposite direction towards the overloaded Excalibur Galatine. Presently, he was already right next to it, a hand placed over the fragmented metal held together by tangible sunlight.
"Archer, what are you doing?" Adam warned lowly.
Prepared for the doubts, Archer gave an answer.
"Trying to reactivate the sword," he said.
Everyone froze at the words, recalling the scene of Vermillion's founding, and what it would mean to harness Excalibur Galatine as a weapon.
Adam wet his lips, while Qrow and Raven figured that Ozpin would have a field day.
"Hold him off for a moment." Archer asked, tone growing cold. "If it goes well, we can end Cursed Arm here."
The words were enough motivation.
Buried sentiments of revenge were spurred.
Qrow dashed forward immediately, Raven following on his left while Adam trailed on the back, having never fought Cursed Arm before. All Adam had were recounts from Sienna, and Sienna never looked so cautious when talking about an enemy.
Slashing forward, Qrow swiped Cursed Arm overhead and watched Cursed Arm dodge. Lifting Harbinger, Qrow fired a Dust Round, landing a direct hit to the chest.
Cursed Arm staggered, the sound of grating metal reverberating through a cloud of smoke.
"…He is weaker." Qrow muttered, venom in his hardened expression. "Watch out for the arm."
"You think me a fool?" Raven sailed over head, leaping over Qrow and thrusting her weapon forward.
Cursed Arm raised a dagger and deflected the blow, sparks grating before he reached out with his long arm. The fiery red like blood colour of the arm was a stark reminder that death would follow that hand's touch.
Qrow and Raven backtracked immediately, focusing their attacks on the left, and holding off the long arm with well aimed and concentrated fire.
"There!" Raven saw an opening and swiped to cut off an arm, but was met with durability and resistance stronger than steel.
"It isn't even Aura." She gritted her teeth. "Qrow!"
Durendal's blade came next, but Cursed Arm did not dare meet it, and amateurishly threw himself at Qrow.
The action was so uncharacteristic of nimble Assassin that Qrow failed to react before he was tackled, and forced into a wrestling match he did not dare commit to. The left side was fine, but once Cursed Arm secured a grip on Durendal's hilt, Qrow could not risk trying to pry it back with the risk of contacting the red arm.
"Shit!" Qrow cursed, letting go of Durendal to avoid the right arm.
"Dammit Qrow, you let go of the only weapon that was working!" Raven grimaced, Cursed Arm not even bothering to dodge her flurry of strikes. It was like he was utterly reinforced with several layers of concrete.
"I didn't let it go, the bastard knew!" Qrow gnashed his teeth and shifted Harbinger into scythe form.
Tauntingly, Durendal was held by Cursed Arm, the light of the sword shifting black.
"Well, fuck me." Qrow was not having it, right now.
Meanwhile, Archer secretly began extracting Galatine's magic energy and began funneling it into himself. His objective was to pilfer energy from the start, and right now he could feel that he'd absorbed enough to finally dematerialize at will. All that was left was to-
"Archer!"
Archer glanced up, stunned at what he was seeing. Salem had said the Shadow Grim was autonomous, but where did it go so wrong?
In a bid to reclaim Durendal, Qrow and Raven chose not to strike at the Shadow Grimm's reinforced body, but at Durendal's hilt instead. The result of a three-way clash with the Shadow Grimm who didn't have Archer to properly manage it, was dislodging Durendal and sending it careening through the air at breakneck speed.
Of course, aimed right at Archer.
Durendal was the peerless sword. It would never break, never bend, and never dull. It was a sword that would never fail to penetrate and cut when used.
Glancing from the incoming Durendal, and the energy he'd just extracted from Excalibur Galatine, Archer had seconds to make a choice. If he moved now, he would have only gotten half of Galatine's energy, but if he didn't move, he was going to get skewered.
The choice was obvious, he dodged, distancing himself from Galatine.
"Dammit, now what?!" Raven seethed.
Qrow wanted to get Durendal back, but Cursed Arm wasn't going to let him, or anyone draw near it. Hope lied with Archer reactivating Excalibur Galatine, but the process was seemingly disrupted.
No other weapons would work.
It was someone else's actions now that changed everything.
Adam suddenly stabbed his sword into Galatine's sun in act of blasphemy that would have gotten him yelled at by the researchers.
Moonslice, Adam's unique Semblance allowed him to absorb and amplify energy he could then emit and deploy into red crescent waves. Adam had seen that ordinary means were futile. This was his answer.
The sun's energy funneled into him.
Suffused in Galatine's light, Adam did not shine red, but reflected the light of the sun itself through patterns over his coat and weapon.
Adam had never felt so powerful.
Silence stretched, even Archer humming in thought.
Chambering his sword into a quick draw, Adam glared at Cursed Arm.
"Get out of my kingdom."
The sword was swung, blinding light in the shape of a half circle moving instantaneously.
A howl ripped through the air, fire bathing the area, as a black shadow dashed into the cover of darkness.
Cursed Arm had lost.
"We did it."
The words almost sounded disbelieving, but reality painted a different picture with Cursed Arm's retreat, the area smothered in crimson flames.
"Right," Archer echoed, grunting as he realized he'd have to search for the damaged Shadow Grimm's whereabouts afterwards.
Regardless, Qrow, Raven, and Archer looked at Adam, watching the sunlight seep out of him.
Bathed in ambient magic energy, Adam's Semblance had evolved to store the energy absorbed for prolonged lengths of time. However, that didn't mean his body could handle that energy easily.
Adam's knees buckled, his feet staggering beneath him.
Qrow caught him. Adam was not appreciative and grimaced.
"Do not touch me." Adam grumbled, forcing his feet to work. "I need no help from you humans."
"Should I just drop you?" Qrow would really do it. He gave no shits, and part of that attitude made Adam recall his mockery of Winter Schnee.
Adam thought deeply, and reluctantly conceded.
"At least you're tolerable."
"See, he does care." Qrow barked out a laugh, but not everyone shared a lighter mood.
"What are you all happy about?" Raven wet her lips, adrenaline still coursing through her veins. "We didn't kill him. This was our chance while he was weak! Now he's still out there!"
"I don't think he'll come back." Archer spoke up, knowing his words were certainty. "He must have suffered an injury from the fire. The next time he comes may be in Vale."
"Vale?" Adam recalled that Blake had gone to Beacon Academy in a less than thought out plan to flaunt Vermillion's status in the Vytal Festival.
"The Vytal festival," Qrow murmured, recalling the things Summer had warned.
For the time being though.
"Mission success." Qrow's spirits lifted at the reality that Cursed Arm could be beaten.
Gods they needed this win.
Thanks for reading!
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