Author's note: All right. We're back with the first decent length chapter in a while. Well, I don't want to give too much away, or say too much. But I will say: it's an honour and privilege to be able to create a world and characters that people are invested in. This is a fanfiction, so I am working with stuff others created. But to be able to write a new story with them, to be able to put a little of my self into them, and to be able to add my own characters, worlds and ideas to it all, and to have people care about it, is awesome. So thank you all.

I don't want to spoil much, but I do think I have a lot more ideas now for what I want to do with the story. So I'm going to end this AN with two things. First: after this chapter, I don't want to hear anyone complain about the RWBY characters not being absolute badasses in this fic. And second, just a question:

What if I said I have enough ideas for this fic to last another several arcs?

Chapter 36: The Man of Iron

Beacon:

Happenings on Remnant had been unusual lately. And by unusual, really, we mean apocalyptic. Events that could change the face of the world, if not destroy it altogether, had seemingly become everyday occurrences. Needless to say, maintaining order in a world full of chaos wasn't easy. The one known as Ozpin knew this well. Over the centuries, he had become good at knowing how to pacify civilizations, how to convince them to exist peacefully, and follow the path he had carefully mapped out for them. It had been made easier, paradoxically, by the existence of the Grimm. A threat to humanity, but a great enough threat to wipe them humanity out overnight. They were the perfect enemy for mankind to unite against, the perfect enemy to carefully herd humanity into settlements, while keeping them far and away from knowledge of what the planet had once been.

And then, demons came.

Demons, who were not only a threat to humanity, but very much could wipe out the entire human race overnight. Or really, in seconds, if they truly felt like it. How was the boogeyman supposed to be scary when someone had come along who could crush him under foot without even noticing it? The very structure on which Remnant was built had been altered. Normally, beings on the level of deities coming to a world and changing its very geography with their actions would be cause for fear and panic. Except, not all demons had proven antagonistic. In fact, the most notable ones so far had all claimed they would protect humans. And that wasn't even counting the fact that possibly the most beloved and well known hunter in Vale had turned out to be a demon, and continued to do exactly what he had always done.

Demons were a threat. There was no other way to think of beings who could casually change the face of the planet with their smallest actions.

But not just that. They were also deities other than the ones Ozpin had to serve.

The twins were the ones who had created Remnant. They were the ones who had brought forth humanity, given life to it in this world. Ozpin had to believe that they alone knew what was right for them. And past experiences had taught him that rebellion or refusal to follow their orders never ended well. Yet, now there were demons, who, in truth, were gods themselves. Stuck between the gods he knew, and those he didn't. Who was to say what the right answer was?

All Ozpin could do was put his trust in those he knew.

And make sure he didn't fail.

"Sir, deployment has failed. I… don't know how to say this, but…"

"Just say it, officer."

"... The Compound Dust bomb was sent back into the sky."

Ozpin pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Of course it was. Were you able to find out how?"

The man behind the monitors hesitated. Sometimes, the truth can be so absurd, that even knowing it is true, one feels ridiculous saying it aloud. Nevertheless, he had been asked a question, and it was somewhere in his job description that he had to answer.

"... It was hit back upwards on the way down. With a sword. A really big one. Sort of like a baseball swing. Hmm… actually, the technique might have been a bit more like golf-"

"Thank you, officer. I get the picture."

Ozpin took a deep breath. He didn't even need to ask who on Remnant could baseball-swing a two thousand ton bomb into the sky.

The surveillance officer waited a moment, just in case the headmaster had anything more to say, before continuing.

"Also, damage reports have come in from the settlements. As it turns out, following the initial tremors, the seismic disturbances stopped immediately. We've yet to confirm the exact cause of this, but our geo teams theorise that some kind of opposing force must have neutralised the original cause."

So the most expensive bomb on Remnant had been deployed, and detonated, without eliminating a single target, and all for nothing. Ozpin took a sip of coffee. When dealing with forces beyond one's control, the least one could do was not overthink things not going to plan.

"Understood. The impact compensation mechanisms held up?"

"They did. Luckily, they only had to take one hit before whatever it was stopped that earthquake. Somehow, no one died."

"Small victories. Or would this qualify as a large one?" Ozpin muttered.

"What, sir?"

"Never mind. What about the other operation?"

"I've received signals from Atlas, Vacuo and Mistral. They're ready to go when you are."

Well, that was one pleasant surprise, at least.

Ozpin had suspected for a while that the other schools (besides Atlas) had been compromised by Salem's spies. He'd been prepared for a struggle in moving the Relics. He would gladly accept something going smoothly for a change though.

"Give the order. General Ironwood should be ready on his end. Initiate the transfer right away."

"That would be ideal."

Ozpin turned around. He knew that voice. It had been over a thousand years since he had first heard it, but he remembered nonetheless. He swallowed. Standing behind him were two figures he had both wanted and dreaded to see again.

"You… but how… the Relics…"

"We come and go when we choose," said Dark. "And we could not ignore the state of this world."

"Nevertheless, the Relics are important. Gather them. Bring them here."

Ozpin reeled. Looking around, the world seemed to have frozen. The surveillance officer wasn't moving, neither was anything else. The computers, the tools, even the air was still. Time itself had been stopped.

"But you're here already! Why would we need the Relics anymore?" He shook his head. "The world is in danger. Demons run amok."

"The Relics have much more than the ability to call us," said Dark.

"There is power in them. Power which is needed to remove the intruders from this world", said Light. "Things are changing. The natural order is being violated. But it is not too late."

"You can still do what you were tasked to. But you must be swift. And failure is not an option."

Ozpin clenched his fists. "I… I understand. The Relics will be brought here soon. Until then-"

"Good," said Dark, not letting him finish. "We will return once you have them."

Before the headmaster could say another word, the two were gone. The air moved once more, and he could hear the thumping of the officer's fingers on the keyboard. The hand Ozpin had subconsciously raised slowly dropped down by his side again.

Until then, please, you must confront the demons. You must protect your people. You must protect this world.

That was what he had wanted to say.

He shook his head. He had a job to do.

"Give the order, officer. And tell them to hurry."

Hoperow:

Dante held up the enormous golden blade. While he wasn't really into jewellery, his job had brought him into contact with enough artefacts that he knew right away it wasn't actually made of gold. Like his own namesake sword, it appeared to be made from some metal native to the Demon World. Again, like the Devil Sword, this blade was heavy, carrying far more mass than it appeared to. He estimated it weighed around the same as Cavaliere when he connected both halves of it.

Adjusting his grip on the handle, he rolled his wrist and spun the blade around to his right, then again on his left. The balance felt good. The length was greater than what he was used to, even longer than Rebellion had been, but his innate abilities compensated for that easily. All martial arts were designed around the same principles, and all techniques were simply variations of the same moves, adjusted to suit different users and requirements. Thus, even though his general sword style was built around using what was essentially a heavier, larger claymore, his body immediately knew how to wield this weapon, which was very different.

He closed his eyes and nodded, a slight smile on his face.

Twenty feet away, Valkyrie watched intently. While she did not doubt the Son of Sparda, she couldn't help but be slightly sceptical. Being a demon herself, she too possessed the innate kinesthetic awareness that allowed all demons to be naturally excellent fighters. Yet, it had taken her entire centuries to truly become proficient with the swords she had been born with. Dante's sword, which she had caught a glimpse of, was different from hers, and she was certain that he would have similarly crafted a personal style that was best suited to it. No matter how skilled he was, he shouldn't be able to adjust right away to a completely different weapon.

Not unless he used his magic.

While she hadn't mentioned this when he had requested a chance to swing her sword, she had placed a powerful seal on the weapon before handing it to him. It wouldn't be enough to stop Dante if he really wanted to pour his magic into it, but it would resist, and that would let her know.

What kind of man are you, Dante?

Her eyes were locked as she waited for the answer.

Next to her were the four young girls who had studied under the very same man for the past several months. Each of them were proficient enough at combat that they knew all of the issues to do with an unfamiliar weapon. Yet, they also knew that Dante was… well, Dante. In their own way, they were just as curious as Valkyrie to see how he would solve this problem.

The answer, when it came, was one they all immediately recognised, though it was one that none of them expected.

Dante's feet slid apart wider, but his torso remained upright, more so than was usual for him. Instead of his usual one-handed grip, he used both hands. His fingers nearly seemed to crush the handle, the corded muscles on his forearms rippling as he braced himself firmly. What followed was not his usual nimble slices, but a brutal double handed horizontal swing, meant to break through any sort of defence an opponent could put up.

Immediately and without any sort of loss of balance, Dante followed through, using the momentum of the first swing to rotate into a second, a devastating backhanded slice. This time, he let go with one hand, using the single arm swing's wider arc to generate even more distance and power.

Without stopping the movement of the blade, he instead changed its course, swinging it up and around before reversing its course. The tremendous unbroken momentum of the two previous swings was transferred into a wrist spin that turned the sword into a wheel of death. Any opponent who had survived thus far would soon find their guard shattered and the front of their body sliced into ribbons as he advanced forward, blade spinning with such force, it was as if Dante had a helicopter attached to his arms.

Yang had seen this kind of thing enough times by now that she knew she shouldn't be surprised by it. Yet, it never failed to amaze her.

"Hey… berserker lady. You're seeing this, right? That fighting style…"

Valkyrie did not reply.

The seal on her weapon had remained unbroken. Meaning, Dante had not used any of his Demon Magic to alter the physics of the sword, or absorb the memories within it.

No, through his own strength and skill as a warrior, he had immediately learnt it.

The very fighting style Valkyrie herself had developed over thousands of years.

It was as if she was watching a vision of herself. In his human form, Dante stood around two feet shorter than her. Yet, as he wielded the sword, it felt as though his stature was the same as hers.

"Not bad at all!" said Dante, clear exhilaration in his voice. He completed the spin, allowing the sword to slow down rather than stopping it suddenly. Hefting it over one shoulder, he walked over and handed it to Valkyrie. "Not a bad sword at all. Suits you well, methinks. You wouldn't mind sparring someday, would you?"

The demoness accepted her sword back as she replied. "Perhaps I should be the one asking you that. It appears I need much more training."

She had mixed feelings. On the one hand, it felt good to know that they had put their trust in the right person. On the other, the warrior in her could not accept being outdone, even if it was by the future Demon King.

"Eh, really? I think you're plenty strong already," Dante said, much to her surprise. "But I suspect you feel like you have something to prove. So whenever we do it, don't hold back."

"Hmph. If I had known this was how you felt, I would not have gone to such lengths to stop Cu Chulainn from seeking you out."

"The big guy… well, you did a good job knocking some sense into him. Anyway, I'm going to go take a shower. I'll see you lot later."

He looked at RWBY.

"It's hard, but try not to get in any more trouble right away. Give it a few more days, at least."

"Hey, it's not like we try to get in trouble!" protested Ruby. "Mostly, anyway."

Dante waved off the explanation as he walked away.

The group watched him go.

"Is it me or does he seem even more carefree than usual?" asked Ruby.

"Well, he's certainly putting on the act," replied Yang.

"A warrior's burden," commented Valkyrie. "He must be strong at all times, so that those he protects can depend on him."

"That's not good," countered Ruby. "You can't just bottle it all inside. You have to be able to trust others. He… doesn't need to do it all by himself."

"This whole Demon King business has him rattled," Yang pointed out. At first, she had put it down to simply not wanting to deal with the hassle of it, but she had a feeling it was more than that. He had gone to great lengths to assure the Five that they had "their heads up their asses" (his words, not hers), and that they needed to "relax and get a beer or something". She sighed. Somehow, it was typically Dante to crack wise while the fate of the world seemed to be in the balance.

"He… realises that he can't put this off forever, right?" asked Weiss. The former heiress knew that there was a lot here she wasn't aware of. Too much for her to know what the right choice was. No, perhaps she couldn't know what the right choice was, at all. Perhaps it was only Dante who could decide. But Weiss couldn't deny that there was far too much at stake here. One way or another, he'd have to give a proper answer soon.

"It's… hard not to run away. To stay and face one's difficulties," admitted Blake. She knew all too well how hard that could be. It was thanks to her teammates, and Dante himself, that she had found the strength within herself to do that. And she'd made a start. But she knew that there was a battle she had run away from. One that she would have to return to, back in Menagerie.

Ruby sighed. "It seems like only a few days ago, the biggest thing we had to worry about was the Grimm."

"Speaking of," said Blake. "Where is our witch anyway?"

"Probably just chilling somewhere in town. I'd probably like some company as well if I spent the last who knows how many years with only Grimm around," said Yang.

"So what, we just let her stay here? Are we going to ignore the fact that she killed possibly thousands of people, if not more?" demanded Blake.

"Hey, I don't like it any more than you do," said Yang. "But right now, I think we have bigger fish to fry."

That was certainly true. Cu Chulainn hadn't spoken much since the battle and Dante's return, but he had revealed one crucial fact.

"I was approached by two beings before I came here. They were not human, and their power was similar to gods I've met before."

"What did they look like?" Salem had demanded sharply.

"A small dark figure, and a larger light one. They tested my patience, but I spared them."

"Damn it all. They're back. That's them. The Twins."

Going by what they had learnt, those two would be the biggest problem in the days to come.

"Hey, we sure witch lady isn't plotting something in town? She does have a bone to pick with those Twins," said Yang.

"She has reason to," agreed Ruby. Based on what Dante had revealed, she definitely had plenty of reason. "But… I don't know. She didn't seem like she's out for vengeance. Not anymore anyway."

"Letting go of grudges…", said Valkyrie softly. "Perhaps that is the only way forward."

She turned to the four huntresses.

"Nevertheless, war is coming. Be sure that you are prepared."

With that, she walked away.

"So… is it like a demon thing to always exit with a cool line?" Ruby asked.

"Beats me," said Yang. "But she did have a point. Those Twins… they're bad news."

"I thought you didn't buy the whole weaponised faith thing."

"I don't. But I've seen enough to know that cruel beings with godlike power exist. So big demon lady's right: we need to be training."

The group fell silent. Training. They'd done it all their lives. And Dante's arrival had only taken it to the next level. Recently, they'd faced threats beyond anything they had imagined possible. And they'd survived. Yet, that had only shown them how much stronger they needed to be. None of the four said aloud what they all knew.

Conventional hunter training could take them no further.

Ahead of them lay unfamiliar territory, and each of them would need to find their own way to step forward in it.

On Remnant's Broken Moon:

Lucifer leaned back, enjoying the view.

"Not bad. Not bad at all. The Relics host the collected faith of generations of humans. Absorbing that should provide quite the boost in power to those cretins."

He got to his feet.

"But something's missing. More family drama? I suppose I could find a way to bring Vergil here again."

He thought about it for a moment, but ultimately discarded the idea. Ultimately, the elder Son of Sparda had suffered quite a bit in his life, and the thought of putting him through even more of it didn't quite feel right. Besides, slice-of-life was just as enjoyable a genre as action, and when he wasn't watching the happenings on Remnant, Lucifer was just as entertained by Vergil slowly building a life with his son's family on Earth.

"No, no, I suppose not. Besides, this story has plenty of interesting players already. What I need is a way to get them all involved."

He walked across the broken moon fragment he was on. One of the other fragments was close enough that he could reach up from where he was and touch it. Stretching out one hand, he lightly flicked his finger. The mountain-sized piece of space rock shot forward like a pool ball hit by a pro player, colliding with another fragment and causing both to shatter into smithereens.

"Hmm. Destruction. Creation. Chaos. Order. There must be both. Only that way can the story be truly great."

That was it.

He performed a pulling gesture with his hand, and the moon fragments he had just shattered began to gather together, along with all the others, including the one he had been standing on. In seconds, the entire mass of the moon had been gathered. But they did not come together to become once more what they had once been.

Instead, Lucifer's power, which could rewrite reality itself, coursed through them, transforming the very atoms that composed them into different atoms, all the while infusing them with Demonic energy. Stone turned into metal, and that metal flowed and twisted as the Lightbringer shaped it. Within a few seconds, he crafted what humanity would not have been able to even if it had been given a million years.

The metallic suit gleamed in the light of the sun. It was humanoid in shape. Its surface was silver-grey, and at its heart was an azure gem.

"You will do fine. Serve your wearer well, won't you?"

At his words, blue light shone from within the helmet, which moved, nodding.

"Excellent. Now let's find that wearer for you. I always did like human figures of speech. My favourite one is 'deal with the Devil'. It's such an understatement."

Atlas, Remnant:

"... Yes, I've seen it, Oz. Yes, it's the moon for crying out loud. Impossible to miss it when it just disappears."

Ironwood paused as the voice on the other end of the line spoke.

"Yes, I received the signal. My troops are moving the Relic as we speak."

The general paused again. This was a bad idea. Somewhere inside, he knew it. The existence and power of Demons was a threat, and Ironwood generally favoured quick and decisive action against threats. But this… this was the wrong move. He was aware to some extent of the power of the Relics. He knew what the Staff could do. But there were the others too. Was Ozpin planning on using them as weapons against the Demons?

Something about that didn't add up.

Open war was the last thing Ozpin wanted to resort to.

But now, he was rushing. It was uncharacteristically hasty of the man.

Forces were at work that he had no idea of. He was in the dark. He knew Ozpin kept secrets. And above all, Ironwood hated not knowing.

The call had disconnected. He lowered the Scroll.

"Damn it all. Am I to be a pawn to the end then?"

"Not necessarily," answered an unfamiliar voice.

James Ironwood knew exactly how he felt about unfamiliar voices and undetected intruders suddenly revealing himself. He knew those feelings related to him pointing a gun at them and pulling the trigger. What he did not expect that he would hear a stranger's voice speaking in his private quarters, and find that voice musical.

It alarmed him.

Turning around, he drew his gun and shot with all the speed and accuracy of a veteran soldier.

The bullets never reached their target.

The tall, silver haired man across the room had a slight smile on his face. It wasn't malevolent, or even mocking. No, it was completely genuine. In front of him, suspended in mid-air, were the five Dust bullets Ironwood had fired.

Ironwood's eyes widened. All of the combat expertise gained through harsh training, all of the natural fighting instinct, harnessed and honed through effort, sharpened through countless battles, was not enough. He stood frozen, unable to think, unable to move. He did not know what to be more surprised by: the fact that his shots had not even reached the figure in front of him… or the fact that against every rational thought in his brain, against his very Semblance, he found said figure beautiful.

He was no human. Ironwood knew this just from looking. Unmistakable masculine, he was tall and slender, yet muscular. Wiry and graceful though his frame was, a single glance told the general that it possessed unbelievable, incalculable strength. He was clothed in simple white robes that left most of his upper body bare. Long, silver hair hung all the way down past his hips. His face could not be correctly described by any words Ironwood knew. It was more beautiful than the very concept of humanity itself, let alone any human Ironwood had ever seen.

"Well met, General. You'll forgive me for not knocking."

"You're a Demon," Ironwood managed to whisper.

The figure smiled and waved his hand slightly. The bullets that had been frozen in mid-air disappeared. A moment later, the gun in Ironwood's hand felt just a little heavier.

Impossible.

"Let us speak honestly, General. And if we can, with some degree of openness. Formalities can be tiring, and I've had to deal with some… insincerity recently."

For the barest fraction of a second, the thought appeared in Ironwood's head to rush for the alarm at his desk, and alert his entire base. No sooner had said thought occurred than it was followed by a vision more certain than stone. It was hard to put the vision in words, but it could be summed up.

Simply put, all of Remnant combined could go up against the silver-haired figure, and all of Remnant combined would fail, miserably.

With that vision came the knowledge that no amount of planning or preparation, nothing he or anyone else on Remnant could do would even come close to bridging the power gap between the entire planet and the single Demon standing before him at the moment.

Knowing this, and knowing for certain that the Demon would turn him into a thin paste of brain matter and metal dust on the ground with a thought, Ironwood stood his ground, and looked him in the eyes.

"What do you want?" he asked.

The Demon's red eyes glinted, as though with approval, and his smile grew.

"I'll get to the point, General. You are aware that my descendants have made their way to your world."

Ironwood shook his head, absorbing this information. It took a moment for it to fall into place.

"Wait, Demons are your-" his eyes widened mid-sentence as he fully grasped what the being had said. "All Demons are your descendants."

"Absolutely. Though I think you'll agree, some apples fall fairly far from the tree."

The figure walked around, glancing at the room.

"They've caused quite a bit of chaos in this world. Very entertaining, of course. I do like that they all turned out lively."

"All of this… is entertainment for you?" Ironwood growled. "There are lives at stake here."

"Innocent lives, yes," said the being. "But you and Atlas know a thing or two about sacrificing those, don't you?"

"I-" Whatever argument the general would have made died in his throat. He could lie to his soldiers. He could lie to Ozpin even, if the situation demanded it. And at times, he could even lie to himself. But here and now, there was no lying to the one before him.

All of his actions, all of the actions the Kingdoms had taken, which he was privy to by way of being part of Ozpin's circle: all were laid bare in his own mind. His Semblance, which might have protected him from them, did not. Whether he had turned it off by his own volition, or the strange figure had somehow done so, he did not know. But the guilt, anger and honesty that were all kept suppressed were now free to speak.

"We did what we could, what we had to!" he roared. "You don't understand. Your kind could never understand. How could you? With that kind of power… you'll never understand what it's like to be weak. To have to make sacrifices…"

The Demon walked towards him.

"What about you, General? What would you do if you had power? Power beyond anything you've dreamed of."

"If I had the power of you Demons…"

"Do you want it?"

The Demon's eyes gleamed, brighter than the very sun.

"Demonic power. Do you want it?"

Ironwood gulped. He knew these weren't just empty words. This was an offer.

"What do you want?" he asked again.

"I admire humans, General. And most of all, I admire brave humans. Even with all odds stacked against you, you struggle, with your imperfect power, to do the best you can."

The figure walked over to the desk, running a finger along its surface. As he did so, the wood turned to diamond.

"I wish to see, what you would do, if you were to have the power to do all you ever wanted to, and more."

"You'd give power to an enemy of your descendents?"

"Why not? I'm no nepotist. Besides…"

He looked into Ironwood's eyes.

"I have a feeling that not all your enemies are Demons."

Ironwood gulped again. Perhaps if his Semblance had been active, he would have chosen otherwise. But here and now, there was no protection from his own deepest desires.

"And if I were to accept this power… what would I have to give you in return?"

"Simply follow your desires. Do as your heart tells you. I do like a good show."

Do as my heart tells me…

My heart…

He touched his chest, where that organ should have been. He had lost it long ago.

Heart. It was a misleading term. Made no sense biologically. It was just an organ that pumped blood through the body. It wasn't some mystical storehouse of emotion and compassion, like people made it out to be.

Yet, he couldn't wonder.

Somewhere along the way, had he lost that part of him?

The ability to feel?

More than anything, that scared him.

"Be free, James," the voice whispered. "The only way to know if you have a heart… is to see for yourself."

[OST: Tokyo Ghoul- Unravel]

Ironwood met those crimson eyes, and nodded.

The Demon's smile grew. Throughout it all, that smile remained kind. Even as Ironwood's body was shattered, and his very brain was torn apart, metal pieces and grey matter flying everywhere as his very soul was extracted from his physical body.

Sight faded, and his world turned to black as he no longer had eyes to see with. Yet, Ironwood's consciousness and intelligence did not die.

A moment later, his sight returned to him. Instinctively, he tried moving. Fingers, hands and arms responded to his will. He would feel them. Yet, they were not the same he had once had.

Looking down, he found a body he did not know.

It was made of metal, shining so bright it may well have been glowing from within. Despite its composition, the shape resembled the human form: he could see and even feel musculature that flexed as he moved. He had almost forgotten what actual muscles felt like. He took a step forward. He looked down at the room from a greater height than before. It was a body he was unfamiliar with. He should have tripped on his own feet. And yet, he could move as easily and naturally as if he had had this form for years, as if he had grown into it from the time of his birth, as though this were his own body.

He walked over to the desk the Demon had transformed. Slowly, he reached down, and gripped it, before lifting it clean off the floor. It felt weightless in his hands. With one smooth movement, he hurled it at the wall with such force that the entire room shook. The metal wall, built to withstand Dust weaponry, was bent outward from the impact.

Ironwood looked down at his own hands.

"Be free, James," the figure said.

As Ironwood turned to him, he rose into the air.

"Wait!", the general cried out. "Your name…!"

"Names are powerful, General. But you can call me Lucifer."