Chapter 2: Oobleck's Prize

"Professor, are you okay?"

Doctor Oobleck broke out of the trance and returned to his classroom. He felt the weight of the sleepless nights on his shoulders. He shook his head slightly, and turned to the source of the voice.

"Oh, I am fine. Thank you for asking Miss Rose."

That was when Ruby Rose knew her teacher was, in fact, not fine at all. If his slowed down speaking pace wasn't a clear sign, his response was. Doctor Oobleck wasn't a prideful man, but he deserved the respect he earned, for example, his doctorate. He didn't even try to correct her.

"Do you need a rest?" She asked him once again, concern began to seep into her words. But the doctor paid no mind.

"Rest? Nonsense! Your final exam is coming, we don't have time to rest. Now, open page 132, Mister Winchester, tell me what happened on September the fifth…"

The class continued, but if he could be honest to Ruby, he would tell her that he, indeed, needed a rest. It had been two days since the last time he had a proper rest, and three since he returned to his home. He spent two nights under the staff floor, working with what Ozpin had trusted him in.

'This is it, Doctor Oobleck, the truth you wanted to see.'

He entered the numbers and waited for the elevator to descend. The headmaster's words echoed in his mind.

'This is what we are trying to hide. The world is not yet ready for it. So please, this is just between you and me.'

And he wasn't. Not in a thousand years had he ever thought of what he saw. He had seen many artifacts, heard many conspiracies about ancient civilization. But looking at it with his very eyes was something else entirely. The doctor turned on the light, and returned to his workbench. In the middle of the chamber, covered in the small hum of machineries, was the sarcophagus.

If he would describe it, the only fitting words would be 'out of this world'. It was something that shouldn't exist, yet there it was, like a bad joke manifesting itself into reality just to mock him and every historian alive. He had seen gold engravings, and on ceremonial objects they weren't scarce. But those one the sarcophagus weren't merely decoration, they felt like they had some form of purpose. Numbers, symbols, even the shape itself suggested that it was more than just making something look regal. Then there were the higher technologies at play. At first, he felt the cold exterior and thought it was just the metal plating. But when he inspected the glass, he felt something else, a chilling sensation, as if he was touching ice. This was no mere sarcophagus, it was a cryotic pod, or something of similar fashion. Putting his ear closer, he could hear a low hum, barely audible. Riveting, plating, glasswork, perfect engravings, all of them spoke of a high technological society. He doubted that even Atlas can make machinery that elegant, the sarcophagus was a piece of art, with a mystical technology flair. If there was an even more advanced civilization than they were, where had they disappeared to? Did they vanish? Did the grimm end them like many others? Why haven't they found more evidence of this civilization? He shuddered to think of what could have happened.

'But there is more, doctor. The sarcophagus wasn't the only thing they unearthed that day.'

A set of dual scythes, too unwieldy for one hand, just enough to be used with a hand and a half. The fact that they came in a set of two suggested that they were supposed to be used at the same time, like how a swordsman would dual wield their blades. But in the case of a professional huntsman, even the best dual wielder would opt for lighter and disparate weapons, like a short sword and a longsword, or sickles. The weapons were ornate, with intricate golden details similar to those on the coffin, with a ring of unknown function at the connection between the handle and the blade. The blade itself was sharp, strangely so. Whatever material used to create it didn't rust or became dull. Even with negligible preservation conditions, their current status was still top notch. The design suggested that it might not be a practical weapon, but still a good one. So either it was used in ceremonials, or it was an item of status, like the Mistralian katana.

The armaments had a strong Mistralian feel to them, unlike that of the highlander Valean. Came with the scythes was a longbow, shaped like a soft M. The bow reminded him of the greatbow once used by the Mistralian during the early stage of the Great War, especially the regal purple, even though the design seemed less than conventional. Whoever made it didn't intend to use it in battle, he guessed so. Too many decorative details, he even found something similar to a handguard on it which he found no use for. The bow was also incredibly heavy, the drawing weight nearly made him exhausted himself. It wasn't practical by any means. With the bow was a quiver, heavy and rather cumbersome to wear. When he knocked on it, there were vibrations on the hard material, maybe some kind of metal was used. Inside the quiver were only one arrow, made purely out of metal or a hard material, the fletching was made from a softer material with the same purple dye. He couldn't pull it out, however, the arrow felt like it was stuck in, or locked in more like. But why would someone lock an arrow in place?

Then came the controversial parts: the guns, or more precisely, the pistols. Like the scythes, it came in pairs. Like the rest, it didn't look practical at all. Its design irked him a little. Normally, the magazine would be put in the handle, put in their cases, the magazines were put at the front, right under the 'barrel'. The shape itself was strange enough, it was rather rounded, and somewhat bulky. It was decorated with gold, vine-like sculpture adorned on its barrel, hammer and created a guard in front of its magazine. There was also a lever-like part protruded from its 'center' glowing 'eye', where an ejection port should be. He should be surprised to see guns from something that supposedly predates the Great War itself, yet, after the sarcophagus, it felt like the most normal development ever. It felt like everything found in there was all used for the ceremony of this person's passing.

From what he found, and the notes from previous individuals who were entrusted by Beacon to research these objects, he concluded that what they found was a burial site of an important figure, likely a general or a high ranking military officer. The civilization they belonged to possibly had high technology, rival that of Atlas, and valued traditional elements, evidently from the bow and scythes, although this could also be a long time tradition. But that was all they could get from outside observation. All of the weapons, save for the scythes, weren't functional. They couldn't pull the bow all the way, nor could they fire the pistol, so their uses could only be categorized into ceremonial purposes for the time being. Another note indicated that some noticed the hum from within the sarcophagus and the chilling mist behind the glass, but none ever thought that it would mean anything other than a strange natural phenomenon or the use of ice dust to preserve the corpse inside.

"Never thought that sci-fi movies can practically open one's insight." He mused and continued to examine the sarcophagus.

The headmaster gave him a fund. It had its limit, but Ozpin assured him that he would supply Oobleck with whatever he needed, as long as it brought results. Result was what they both wanted after all. The research notes Ozpin gave him also had all of the methods used by his predecessors, what failed, what was promising. None of them could crack that thing open, yet.

He spent another night trying to figure out the mechanic used to lock the sarcophagus. It couldn't be stuck, if that was the case, it would only take a certain amount of force to tore it open without harming the content. It was locked, by mechanism outside of their observation, which Oobleck tried to uncover…

Another sleepless night, another night without any progress.

Oobleck stood in his classroom, eyes on the clock. It tick, and tick, and tick. The thermos in his hand was filled to the brim with strong coffee, one with a fragrant so strong it haunted his clothing. He felt his eyes trying to close shut, and the tired mind drifted into a trance.

A voice from the back startled him.

"Doctor, are you okay?"

Behind him was Jaune Arc, clearly confused and concerned at the same time. Oobleck fixed his glass and tried his best to keep the yawn from getting out.

"I am… fine. Mister Arc, how about you?"

"I am fine… too? Are you sure that you are fine, doctor?"

"Oh, oh yes. Absolutely. Certainly. As fine as a good horse. No need to worry about me."

Next to Jaune was the rest of his team, which Oobleck secretly hoped he wouldn't have to deal with. Pyrrha Nikos and Lie Ren were fine, they weren't as touchy or easily excited, Nora Valkyrie however was the polar opposite.

"Wow, you have baggy eyes, d-" Ren quickly intervened and held Nora back before she could jump on the miserable doctor. Pyrrha gave him a concerned smile.

"Doctor, Nora is right. You don't seem to have enough sleep."

"I do, trust me. Just a little overworked, that's all." He forced an enthusiastic look, one that would be his natural face, had he not exhausted himself empty. "The semester is going to end soon, and the next is coming. Work during the transitioning period tends to pile up, that's all."

They seemed to believe it. After all, that was true. One of the reasons why he hadn't slept yet was because he had to maintain both his job at the school and his research. Even with Port taking some portion of it for him (hope the best for that cheerful old man), he still had more than he could handle. The street was clear in his eyes.

"Maybe you should listen to a podcast!" Nora chimed in, even when Ren coughed to interrupt her. She paid no mind to it. "They are pretty relaxing, and good for your sleep! Ren often play it for us before we went to bed"

"But, aren't you the one falling asleep as soon as he turns the radio on?" Jaune, too honest for his own good, commented. Nora put a finger on his lips.

"Hush… You should try it, doc."

"I will put that in mind. Thank you, Miss Valkyrie."

He amused them for a little longer, before making his way back to the chamber. All thought it had only been three days, it felt almost like a routine to him. On his way, however, was an unexpected road block.

"Doctor, I hope you are having a fine day." Headmaster Ozpin stood between him and the elevator.

"Professor Ozpin, I hope the same to you." He stopped, evaluated the situation.

"On your way to your research, I assume?" Oobleck answered with a nod. "What is your current opinion on it?"

The doctor took the cue. Of course, they didn't need to be discreet, as long as no one had any idea what they were talking about. "Utterly bizarre, professor. Honestly, I am starting to think it isn't something of this world."

"Any other noteworthy finds?"

"No, at least not yet. I am working on a way to open it first. There is a locking mechanism, there must be a way to open it from the outside."

The headmaster didn't reply, for a moment or two. Instead, he observed the doctor, taking notes from him.

"You need to rest."

"I am well rested, professor." That was a blatant lie.

"I am glad that you are enthusiastic about the project. But that doesn't mean you can't have time for yourself." Ozpin passed him a cup of warm cacao. "Oobleck, you need to rest too. And caffeine isn't a solution, you know it."

The doctor looked at the cup of cacao. He couldn't see his reflection in it, but he could guess. Oobleck wasn't a buff man by any means, if anything he could boast that he was fit, or lean, but most would agree that he was rather thin. The last three days did enough damage to him that he could feel all the wrongs in his body. His face properly looked like a ghoul, considering all of his student's concerns.

"I will return to my home today. But I need to look into it one more time first."

Ozpin patted his back, and stepped out of his way. The doctor descended, and began to brainstorm a lie to the headmaster about why he would still be in the facility late at night.

And thus, he stayed another night in the chamber. He could make it back to his home with the first bullhead at dawn, and since he would have no class the next day, he could use it to take some rest. And he knew he needed it, by a lot. He could barely distinguish the screwdriver from his pen. Still, he tried to focus on his work. With his screwdriver, he tried to find a larger seam on the lid. He had taken some consideration, and risk. If he still couldn't find a crack on it, he would try to order one of those hard-light dust surgeon knives to slowly cut away the locking mechanism. Of course, that would be the last option.

"Should have requested a scanner…" He murmured. "Why haven't I thought of that before? Atlas has all kinds of scanners with them. Who knows, maybe they would have one that can make out whatever is inside of this thing…"

Another yawn escaped from his lips. He needed to rest. He began to regret not taking that last flight back to Vale. Lucky for him, there was a couch in the room, properly used by his predecessor in their own tired nights.

"Sleep, wake up, come home, wash, prepare for my next lecture…" He murmured and laid down. But sleep didn't come to him, at least not easily. He turned and turned, questions swirled in his head, refusing to leave him alone. His own curiosity haunted him.

With nothing better to do, he opened his scroll. After a second or two looking at its digital screen, he felt a headache. "Great… What did Nora tell me to do again? Listening to a podcast or something like that?"

It wasn't the first time he heard such advice, though the more common one would be classical music, instrumental songs or the sound of nature. He turned the radio on picking up the first frequency. Late night talk for the ladies, old song collections for the old people, some kind of rock music nearly split his head into two. He changed from channel to channel, and began to think it was pointless.

[- - -... .-.. . -.-. -.-]

Another static station, it seemed. Not that surprising, people rarely listen to the radio anymore. Not all stations could keep up with the time, and new forms of entertainment came. The same old story, the new replaces the old.

[- - -... .-.. . -.-. -.-]

He could hardly care anymore. He put the scroll on the table next to him and tried to shut his eyes.

[- - -... .-.. . -.-. -.-]

The sound was irritating. He turned over to close his scroll. In a split of a second, he saw something. A glimmer, a speckle of light, from the being inside of the sarcophagus. It was barely visible behind all of the mist, hiding in an angle one wouldn't normally look at.

[- - -... .-.. . -.-. -.-]

Immediately, he jumped up, and examined the object. One of his hands was still holding the scroll. The other touched the glass surface, as his face came closer to see what the light was.

[- - -... .-.. . -.-. -.-]

His eyes widened, momentarily all of his exhaustion was pushed out of his body. Sweat ran on his neck, his palm felt cold. The small light flickered. It wasn't random, but a frequency. A frequency matching that of the sound echoing from his scroll. Then, the frequency changed.

[-.-. .- -. / -.- - ..- / ... . .- .-. / - . ..-..]

"Blip once if you can hear me." He said with a shaking voice. All of the stress he put on himself must have made him delirious. That couldn't be…

A single blip came from his scroll.

He really needed to take a real rest.