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Cerulean left the axe in the Grimm's chitinous head as it fell and staggered back, clutching his bloodied side. His aching, bruised back found a tree behind and he slid down it, sucking in shallow, quick breaths and leaning his head back to stare up at the rolling leaves. The sound of wind in the leaves was quiet in his ears, drowned out by the roar of blood and his own panting. For a moment, that's all there was - fire in his lungs, an aching back, blood roaring in his ears, and a bloodied side.

Then, Guiding Light appeared, "Tsk, you went and ruined all my good work again, Guardian."

"Not-" He grimaced, "Not my fault."

"Oh, of course not. It's never a Guardian's fault when they break something." Guiding Light chuckled, hovering close and running streaks of bright Light along his side. In a heartbeat, the pain had all but vanished. And in another, it had gone completely, and the Ghost moved on to his shoulder and neck. After barely a few moments, he felt his strength return to him in a rush, and sighed.

"That's better…"

"Light." Guiding Light hummed brightly, "It's wonderful, you know."

"Mhm." He trailed off and watched as, finally, the last arachnid corpse began to sort of… Disintegrate of its own volition.

It fell to pieces, coming away in clumps of almost sticky black smoke that drifted up and vanished in the leaves of the trees. It took minutes for the smoke to clear, lingering in the leaves and tree branches like smog, barely ten feet above his head, before light began to finally break through it and speckle the ground. A few more minutes, and the smoke had gone entirely, leaving behind only the forest; its beautiful, gentle sounds slowly, but certainly, returning in the peace and quiet he had left behind.

When a distant bird began to chime, Cerulean smiled warmly.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"I am, yeah."

"Well, give me but a moment and I'll be happy to leave you to it." Guiding Light hummed as he repaired Cerulean's clothing and bobbed back, tilting side to side to check his work until he was satisfied. Floating up and turning away, he said, "I'm going to make sure we didn't miss any, for whatever silly reason that might be."

"Is that safe?"

"I'll be cloaked." Guiding Light answered, "Nothing should be able to so much as detect me, much less hurt me."

"If you're certain…"

"I am." Guiding Light hummed, "You rest. You just had quite the first fight after all! And against arachnids, too… Yuck. Anyway, back in a bit!"

Cerulean watched him shoot off, vanishing as he went, and chuckled as he let his head fall back against the tree and closed his eyes.

In all honesty, he wasn't very tired at all. Or even sore. Guiding Light had healed him up completely. And he was no more tired than the walk here from the house had made him. A far cry from how tired he was sure he should have been after thirty minutes of some order of pitched fighting, dying, and coming back to keep fighting.

It was amazing, what the Light let him do…

But even now, he wasn't sure about the trade off.

He'd give anything to remember just a little of his past life…

But he couldn't, so he pushed it out of mind before it could sour his mood. More importantly, Philipa and her home would be safe from the Grimm now. Her town, too, though that rang a bit more hollow that he'd expected it to. Maybe because he knew Philipa, but didn't know anyone in the town? It was hard to say, really.

But the most important part was that they were all safe, regardless of everything else.

"Guardian!" He flinched and shot to his feet at the shrill, shocked, but wholly unafraid, voice of his Ghost calling. "Come!"

Grunting, he scooped to retrieve his axe and did as he was told, slipping it home in his belt and laying the rifle against his shoulder, his hand holding tightly onto the stock.

He found the Ghost floating about ten minutes of walking away, hovering over a little… Mound wrapped around the base of a tree. As Cerulean got closer, he recognized them for what they were.

Bodies… Most of them were wearing light body armor, military vests and the like, and dark green and brown clothes. A few still had knives in their belts, or slime and ooze caked guns holstered on their thighs. They'd been crushed and bent, wrapped into tight clumps between each other like rope, and twined around the old oak. One wore chainmail, too, her flesh trotting and pushed through the links of mail like meat through a grinder.

And Light, the smell… He gagged, grit his teeth, and held a hand over his mouth.

"The missing mercenaries." Guiding Light murmured lowly, "Poor creatures… To die like this."

"They didn't die before?"

"Some did." Guiding Light murmured, "But two died after. During… This."

"How can you tell?"

"Look, here." He hovered down, face lighting up, exuding a ray of powerful light. It landed on the armored woman's hand, wrapped tightly around the broken grip of something. "Her hand gripped this tight, as she died. Her joints and muscles locked as a result."

"Couldn't be from fighting?"

"Doubtful." He answered, "It's an aluminium rod. The kind you use for camping hammers. To drive rods into earth, to brace the tent. See, look here." He dipped down and highlighted a small, dull grey hammer head a few inches from her in the mud. "She was most likely knocked unconscious, awoke here, and tried to fight. The spiders beat her and broke it, or the hammer simply broke on its own accord. The aluminium wouldn't hold for a swing hard enough to hurt something."

"By the Light…" He murmured. It was a gruesome thing to picture, to be sure. But he could see it going that way. And Guiding Light was perceptive. If he said this happened, then it did. More importantly, "Why would the Grimm do this?"

"I don't know…" Guiding Light answered, "Terror, perhaps? Some instinct to frighten? That is known to lure the Grimm in, after all."

"So, what?" He asked, kneeling and looking the dead woman over with a frown. "They're Grimm baiters?"

"Perhaps." Guiding Light hummed, floating back and away a bit and sighing. "We can't really know, in all honesty."

"Right…" Cerulean sighed and stood, "We should get back."

"We should." His Ghost answered, "But what about them?"

"What about them?"

"We should do something." Guiding Light answered, "Shouldn't we?"

"We'll tell Philipa." He said, "She'll get someone out here to bury them."

"Indeed." Guiding Light hummed, bobbing low over the bodies and adding, gently. "May your songs, oh silences they may be, one day find their way to return to me. Through life, bring death. Through death, bring life. In both - find peace, lost one."

As the Ghost drifted up and back, Cerulean asked, "What was that?"

"A prayer for the deceased, from a former Eurasian tribe known to work as mercenaries and gatherers for whoever can provide for them." He answered quietly, "They are all dead now. Died in a battle fought over fields near to the Last City some time ago. But, given these are mercenaries…"

"It fits?"

"The Hatti tribe believed that in life, all things kill." His Guiding Light answered almost mechanically, "Animals and plants die to feed us. People die trying to take what is ours. On and on it goes. A cycle of killing. Only when we die do we create life. Plants and animals take from us. The world goes on."

"It's rather dark." Cerulean murmured, "Isn't it?"

"They were a dark people. Savage. Destructive. Beautiful and vibrant too, though. Ah, the art they used to paint on the ruin walls…" He answered, turning to Cerulean suddenly and going on much more brightly. "Anyways! We should get back, hm? Unless you want me to try and salvage something from them."

For a moment, he considered it. They had a lot of metal and cloth, and he'd seen what the Ghost could do with both. But his clothes had already changed a lot, and he didn't want to have to answer more uncomfortable questions than he needed to. What he had could easily be excused as repairs - and a bit of looting from dead mercenaries - but more? Not likely to be as easily ignored.

And besides…

"It would feel wrong." He grunted, "To take from the dead."

You sort of are 'the dead'..."

"Even so." He frowned, "I'd prefer to avoid disrespecting them. I don't know why, I just… It feels wrong."

"You don't have to explain yourself. We're partners, after all." His Ghost chuckled, "Come on, let's get back. Philipa will be happy to see us, I'm certain."

"Yeah." He smiled, "Let's go."

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At his suggestion, as the sun finally began to cast the world in long, warm shadows, his Guardian found a nice, tight but spacious enough, copse of trees and settled in to make their by now traditional camp-fire. As he cooked the food Philipa had given him, his Guardian finally relaxed properly And then, he started to hum. It was the same tune Guiding Light had caught him humming before they'd met the old woman. The same mysterious, unexplained tune.

That tune and the colour red. All the memories his Guardian had…

So much more than so many Guardians kept with them. And yet, so little. A flash of useless insight. The tune was basic, and could be from anywhere. He could name a dozen similar to it from old Earth records he had found in his travels. And even one from one of the aliens he had evaded to get to the planet where he had ultimately met his new partner. And red? Trillions of things were red.

"I should just let it go…" He murmured, so low that, floating high up in the trees, he was certain Cerulean couldn't hear him. "But it seems to bother him, when he thinks about it."

And, in turn, that bothered Guiding Light.

"This 'partners' thing isn't just the ups, I suppose." He sighed, "I'm finding plenty of downs already."

But he'd still never trade it. Finally having a Guardian after so long? It was wonderful.

Now if only this planet had a stellar travel station of any variety. Even the half-buried, half blown up, all rust type would have been something. Something to go off of. Navigational data on some old, winking terminal. A dozen different starships broken down into rusted giblets for him to catalogue, study and attempt to recreate in the decades - maybe centuries, judging by some of this world's technology - to recreate.

Of course, after that would come finding some way back to Earth. But-

"Guiding Light."

"Hm?" He turned, looking down at the fire as his Guardian banked it ever so slightly to keep it in control over-night. "Oh, are you turning in?"

"Yeah." He said, "Good night."

"Indeed." He answered, "Good night. I will keep a watch as ever. Rest assured, if anything comes-"

"You'll concuss it." He laughed, stretching out on the forest floor with his head on a convenient root and his rifle across his chest. "I know. Good night."

"Good night." He chuckled, "Sleep well."

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"Cerulean!" Philipa practically shouted as he stepped out of the woods behind her house and found her, cutting wood on a little stump a few feet behind it. She buried the axe in the wood, turned, and smiled warmly. "I was worried! Did you find the Grimm?"

"I did." He nodded, moving forward and gently nudging her out of the way. When he held his rifle out to her, he said, "If you wouldn't mind?"

"S-Sure…" She took it, blinked, and said, "This doesn't look like what I gave you…"

"I had to… Do some repairs." He said, stooping to pick up the wood-axe and a log. The length of log split with one easy swing. Easier than Grimm plating had, at any rate. So easily, the axe-head buried in the stump and Cerulean had to plant his foot beside it for leverage to get it back out. Reaching for another pile, he said, "I killed the Grimm. Found the mercenaries."

"Oh?"

"Dead." He said, "Wrapped around a tree. Tied together like… Webbing. Or rope."

"By the Old Gods…" She murmured, putting a hand over her mouth as if to hide a smile - or a gag, he supposed. Shaking her head, she said, "You're sure you got them all?"

"I am." He nodded, "They came from far and wide. Lured in by the fight. Six more than you said."

"Sorry…"

"Don't be." He grunted as he brought the axe down and then reached for another log from the pile. "Couldn't have known."

"Still," she sighed, "I'm sorry I couldn't send you off with better information."

He shrugged and grunted through a swing, "Someone should go and get them. Bury them. The right way."

"Yeah, I can head in and tell the Greybacks 'bout it. They'll wanna send someone off to clear 'em out proper, 'fore loggers head out there and catch a fright. Bring more of the bastards on in." Philipa nodded, circling around in front of him with the rifle in her hands. She pursed her lips and gave him a look, "How the buggering hell did you do this out in the bloomin' woods?"

"With my hands?"

"Hah, I bet…" She sighed and shook her head, then shrugged. "Well, t'ain't no concern o' mine. That's 'nough logs ny, by t'way. Cut 'em and leave 'em too long, they'll start rottin' out 'fore you can burn 'em."

"Right." He grunted as he parted the last log he'd set up and then straightened, resting the broad axe-head against his shoulder. "I hate to ask, and sound like a brute, but-"

"Mayor Greyback down in Greyback Kingdom'll pay ya a bounty, if the woodsman he'll send to check things out comes on back and says there ain't nothin' mean out there." Philipa nodded and smirked, "And ain't nothin' wrong with askin' bout pay for a job, Cerulean. Ye did the work, ye earned the pay."

"Mhm." He nodded, "Should I come with you?"

"Nah." She shook her head, "Was gonna head in for a few things anyway. I'll stop off. You've had a rough run. You can rest up here, I'll fetch yer pay and be back by mornin'."

"Alright."

"I can trust ye in my house, right?"

"Of course." He frowned, "What would I do in your house?"

"Throw a wild ass party?"

"I… Who would I even invite?" He asked, confused in a way he hadn't been since he'd woken up. "And what even is an 'ass party'?"

"Oh, good lord, boy, where did you grow up?"

"I can't remember."

"Yeah, yeah." She rolled her eyes and chuckled, turning for her door. "C'mon. I'll pull out stuff for you to cook while I'm out. Then I'm off."

"Alright…" He sighed, leaving the axe just inside her door as he followed her in. "And thank you. The woods are nice, but…"

"Nothin' beats real walls?"

"Yeah." He chuckled, "Nothin' beats four walls."

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So, a wind down chapter from last time.

Hope ya liked it!

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DinoGuy2000 :

Yeah, writing fight scenes for people that don't SUPER DUPER mind dying is… Surprisingly hard, actually. Like, most fights are about protecting yourself from damage, and managing wounds and aches during a fight. But Guardians don't care.

Is an interesting thing to deal with.

MM Browsing :

Jaune got suspicious because of how quiet it was. It made him feel uneasy. Nothing supernatural here - aside from, uh, the magical space zombie - just instincts.

The bullets are Dust propelled. If one can make gunpowder, plasma, and all the other nonsense Guardians fire, they can make Dust, lol.

And no, I don't think the Ghost could store Grimm. I have no context of them storing similar, living entities.

Slim a Lou Prime :

Glad ya like it!