Atlesian military base: training room
Cole's body was battered, blood staining his shirt, and his opponent's knuckles drenched in crimson. Each strike had taken a toll on him, and the spatters of fresh blood created a gruesome tableau on the floor. He was on the verge of exhaustion, his breaths heavy, as he defiantly stood his ground. "You're running low on fighters, robo-cuck!" he yelled in defiance, a glob of blood expelled as he spat out the words.
The G'Imm arm he had lost and replaced was a double-edged sword, capable of powerful lightning attacks but prone to overheating. He had been pitted against specialists from Vacuo, Mistral, Vale, and Atlas, one after the other, in a grueling test of his endurance. The indomitable spirit that defined Cole was still unwavering, but his physical form was succumbing to the relentless assault.
In the midst of his battle-worn state, he noticed a deliberate manipulation of the training room's environment. Storm clouds had been conjured, and they crackled with energy, providing just enough voltage to partially recharge his depleted reserves. Cole's lips curled into a smirk, recognizing the calculated intent. His brief reprieve came when the room's ceiling opened to release a bolt of lightning, knitting his wounds but barely restoring his energy. Ironwood's cold statement left no room for comfort as he informed Cole about one more opponent.
The double doors swung open, revealing a feminine figure clad in armor that Cole recognized from his days at Beacon. His surprise manifested in an exclamation, "What the hell is this, Ironwood? Your new android model?" As he prepared for battle, a veil of uncertainty surrounded him.
The womanly armor bore similarities to Cole's own design, adjusted to fit the curves of a female form. While he wore Ruby's body armor and a torn cloak, and brandished a single gauntlet suited for a red-bladed sword, he understood that this fight was likely to be his most arduous yet. The womanly android presented a pair of scythes that bore a haunting familiarity.
With the woman's sudden rush, the room buzzed with tension. Cole felt the scythe's blunt end connect with his arms, safeguarding his head. It was a clash of forces, both physical and metaphorical. Black-tipped red petals swirled around them as their attacks and defenses intermingled. Frustration bubbled within him as he zapped her left shoulder, then her right arm as she tried to parry his strikes.
In a moment of clever maneuvering, he seized her shoulders, pulling her back and driving a knee into her back, causing her to stumble forward. Her helmet was jarred loose and fell to the ground, unveiling a head of vivid red and black hair. The sight of her, despite the chaos of battle, managed to soften the lines of Cole's face.
"You just couldn't resist, could you?" she teased, testing the limits of her immobile arms, her familiar smile warming the arena.
In response, Cole's sarcasm rippled through his voice as he squared his shoulders, ready for the impending confrontation. "Oh sure," he began, "I could have never guessed. Your semblance and weapons were a dead giveaway." His playful smirk emerged as he nimbly dodged her incoming attack, responding with a wave of power that sent her tumbling backward.
She retaliated with a whirlwind of roses, but Cole's uncanny abilities seemed to make him vanish within the melee. Confusion painted her expression as she called out, "What, you finally run away from me?" Her question was met with the laughter of the unseen crowd that surrounded her.
Then, in a blink, Cole appeared behind her, his playful gesture of ruffling her hair leaving a carefree imprint. Irritated, she lashed out, clipping his chest, but there was a glint of affection in her eyes beneath the façade of their skirmish.
As she transformed her scythes into a staff, Cole prepared for her razor-wheel assault, silver and red spinning around him. Each attack was executed with deadly precision and speed, forcing Cole to unleash his abilities and engage in a dynamic dance of combat.
The battle continued, an intricate interplay of strikes, dodges, and retaliations, as the two warriors fought with a familiarity that belied the chaos around them. Cole's moves were calculated, yet his heart carried an underlying fondness for his opponent.
In a brief pause, Ruby unveiled a victory move, connecting the scythes together into a staff. With her semblance, she morphed into a razor wheel of silver and red, attacking Cole from all directions. His defenses held, but it was a thrilling challenge.
Retaliation came in the form of a shot to her left thigh, yet Ruby's agile form allowed her to evade it, crashing into crates and barrels in the process. She quipped, "Something to work on, little Branwen." Cole responded with a two-handed swing, igniting the pile of crates and barrels. The fire raged as she retreated to the safety of the shadows.
As the smoke and embers billowed, Ruby's scowl turned into her signature smile as she reemerged, triumphant in her own way. Her helmet was knocked off in the skirmish, revealing her fiery red and black hair.
Shaking off the disorientation, she turned to face Cole, her warm smile piercing through the haze of battle. Her words, teasing and affectionate, settled the atmosphere, if only for a moment. "You just couldn't resist, could you?" she remarked, her familiarity with Cole evident in her tone and actions.
Their battle was not just a test of strength but a testament to the bond they shared, an unspoken connection between warriors who knew each other better than anyone else ever could. As the adrenaline of combat faded, they shared a quiet moment of mutual understanding, their eyes meeting, conveying a depth of trust and camaraderie that needed no words.
In separate stalls, they changed into their normal clothes. Ruby sported her typical outfit, vibrant and characteristic of her personality. Her red t-shirt, black tights, and the Atlesian military hat that Cole had chosen for her created a charming contrast. Cole, on the other hand, donned his Atlesian military coat with "C-013" emblazoned on the back, a symbol of his new identity as -he felt it was- property to be handled.
Amidst the process of getting changed, Cole's eye caught a gleam of steel as he retrieved the new dagger Ruby had prepared for him, Haiiro no Shi, a testament to her thoughtfulness. The words "the music of life cut from a short chord" on his broken sword had resonated with him. He chuckled as he read the note, "I found your old sword and repurposed it as a dagger, and since you broke it, it would make a big difference if you lost Crestfallen; the dagger is called Haiiro no Shi, it means 'grey death' in Mistralian. -Your friend, Ruby Branwen
With a hint of appreciation and a smile, he tucked the note away, a silent acknowledgment of the sentiment behind her gesture. They were more than just combat partners; they were friends, and that was something Cole cherished deeply.
Outside the stalls, the clamor of a crowd surrounded Ruby, questions and attention threatening to overwhelm her. Concerned for his partner, Cole decided to step in. He swiftly grabbed an H P30L pistol from a guard's hip, the cold metal feeling heavy in his grip. He fired a deafening round into the air, causing a scattering of specialists and militants. In response, they aimed their weapons at him, readiness for confrontation clear.
"Put your weapons down and back away from her!" Cole's voice was firm, and he charged his arms with a crackling energy, holding them out to his sides. "You really wanna test me? Go ahead give me an excuse" The tension in the air was palpable as the armed individuals hesitantly put their weapons away, adopting stiff, at-attention stances, and saluting.
As the standoff dissipated, Cole turned around to find General Ironwood, flanked by six black-armored guards and five council members. One of the councilmen inquired with a tone of condescension, "And you said that woman is his…leash holder?"
Ironwood's response was accompanied by a knowing smirk, suggesting an understanding that delved deeper than mere appearances, further fueling Cole's disdain for the general. There was a mutual awareness that unspoken truths were concealed beneath the surface.
An arrogant councilwoman then approached Cole, her eyes radiating entitlement and disdain. She declared that they would be under constant surveillance. Ruby started to protest, but Cole swiftly intervened, taking control of the situation with a confidence that left her speechless. "You got creepier with every second that sentence came out of your mouth, and worse of all, you thought it wasn't disgusting and inappropriate. Two friends that travel together are all we are, so I suggest you leave us to our business and shut your mouth…I can smell past nights promotion on your breath" The councilwoman stood there in shock, and Ruby remained momentarily speechless at Cole's assertiveness. It was a reminder that they were not to be trifled with and that they would protect their privacy and autonomy fiercely.
The Faunus council member attempted to assert authority, but Cole's display of power was swift, using his electrical abilities to create a concussion wave that silenced her. "Just shut your Atlesian hole and be glad I'm not like the White Fang," he retorted. His words conveyed a powerful message: they would not be subject to anyone's control, and they would stand their ground.
Turning his attention to the remaining council members, he addressed them with unwavering confidence. "As far as Remnant is concerned, Cole was only guilty of beating his classmates in an all-out altercation in a training arena, ditching school, and destroying Atlas military property. I doubt those crimes equate to imprisonment or enslavement as penance… If anything, he was redeemed when he uncovered that Haven's headmaster was a traitor, and I feel that is enough to let him go… under the pretenses of serving Remnant's best interest at heart."
With a handshake between Cole and Ironwood, the message was clear: Cole was no longer a wanted man. The council members were left to grapple with their decisions as Cole and Ruby walked away, climbing onto a vehicle and driving off. The parting message was that they were the masters of their own destinies, and they would not be controlled by anyone, no matter how powerful or influential.
Hidden in the thick jungle near the Mistralian base, the White Fang members prepared to launch their assault. They had flown in under the cover of the night, utilizing stolen airships and bullheads to maintain their element of surprise. Their approach was swift and stealthy, with no knowledge of their arrival on the horizon.
Amid the dense foliage, the White Fang members gathered around their makeshift camp, their expressions determined and their voices hushed. The mission was clear in their minds: to eliminate those who had aligned with Cole and purge their ranks of any perceived traitors.
One of the leaders among them, a charismatic Faunus, spoke in a low, fervent tone. "Brothers and sisters, we've been entrusted with a mission of utmost importance. Tonight, we reclaim the purity of our cause and rid ourselves of the traitors who have strayed from our path.
"Another White Fang member, their loyalty unwavering, chimed in. "They may be unaware of our arrival, but we must strike swiftly and decisively. Our cause depends on it.
"The jungle was shrouded in darkness, and the moon cast eerie shadows among the trees. In their minds, the White Fang members were the righteous enforcers of their beliefs, and the consequences of their actions were secondary to their unwavering commitment.
As they prepared to move closer to the Mistralian base, the sense of anticipation and resolve among them was palpable. The clash between ideologies and the impending showdown between the White Fang and those who had aligned with Cole and Ruby were about to unfold in the depths of the jungle.
Still unaware that they were not the only faction operating in the shadows. Adam and Ilia's sect, separate from the main White Fang group, had been alerted to the impending threat and had chosen to intervene to protect Cole.
The members of Adam's sect, clad in their characteristic black attire with red masks, moved silently through the underbrush, expertly blending with their surroundings. Ilia, her chameleon Faunus abilities enhancing her stealth, led the way.
One of Adam's trusted followers, his voice a barely audible whisper, spoke to Ilia. "We can't let them harm Cole. He may be a stranger to you all, but he deserves protection."
Ilia nodded in agreement, her amber eyes reflecting their determination. "Our ideals may differ from the White Fang's, but we can't allow them to succeed in their attack."
As the members of Adam and Ilia's sect approached the perimeter of the Mistralian base, they watched the White Fang members in the distance. They knew the clash between these two factions was inevitable, and the outcome would shape the fate of Remnant. Meanwhile, back at the base, Ruby and Cole remained unaware of the converging forces in the jungle. The tension in the air was palpable, the calm before the storm, as multiple factions with different motives closed in on the same location, each ready to make their stand for their own vision of the future.
In the dimly lit interior of the bullheads, Crimson and Rayla sat in tense anticipation. The sound of the engines drowned out their conversations, but their expressions spoke of the gravity of the situation. Crimson, a stern and battle-hardened leader, was focused on the task ahead, while Rayla, her trusted and agile second-in-command, kept a vigilant eye on the jungle below.
Meanwhile, deep in the jungle, members of Crimson's group, known as the "Saviors," were on a mission of their own. They had set up an extensive network of missile launchers, hidden among the foliage, waiting to unleash a storm of destruction upon the Mistralian base. The missile launchers were camouflaged expertly, making them nearly invisible in the dense jungle.
Crimson's face was etched with determination as he spoke to Rayla. "We can't afford to let the White Fang or anyone else harm Cole. He's the key to our cause, and we'll protect him at all costs."
Rayla nodded in agreement, her eyes sharp as she scanned the horizon. "Our mission is to ensure his safety and maintain the secrecy of our group. The missiles will only be our last resort."
As the bullheads approached their destination, the tense atmosphere within the aircraft seemed almost suffocating. Crimson's stern expression remained unchanged as he turned to Rayla, who had voiced her reservations about using the missiles.
"Crimson," she said, her voice wavering slightly, "we should only use the missiles if absolutely necessary. We can't risk-"Crimson cut her off, his voice low and gruff, "Rayla, we've come too far to back down now. Those in the Mistralian base won't take chances with Cole. We're launching everything at that damn base."
Rayla nodded reluctantly, understanding the weight of the situation. She knew that Crimson was unyielding in his resolve, and now was not the time to question his decisions. The bullheads continued on their path, the rumble of the engines drowning out any further discussion.
Crimson's command was a stark reminder of the ruthless determination of the Saviors. They were prepared to unleash their full force upon the Mistralian base, and the impending clash in the jungle would reveal just how far they were willing to go to protect their cause, even if it meant echoing the brutal resolve of tyrant kings 10,000 years ago.
As they ventured deeper into the Mistralian jungle, Geralt's persistent unease only intensified. Ciri couldn't help but notice his restlessness, and her concern grew.
"Geralt," she finally voiced her worry, "you've never been this uneasy before. Is something bothering you?"
Geralt came to a halt, his gaze fixed on an overgrown trail ahead. He turned to Ciri, his rugged face reflecting the weight of his intuition. "Ciri, it's not something specific. It's this feeling I have, like a sixth sense. I can't explain it, but it's urging me to follow this particular route."
Ciri regarded him, her amethyst eyes filled with trust and curiosity. "A sixth sense? Witcher's intuition?"
Geralt nodded, his eyes never leaving the path. "Exactly. After years of living and fighting, I've learned to trust it. Sometimes, it leads me to the answers I seek, even when I can't quite explain why."
Ciri nodded, accepting his words with a subtle smile. She knew better than to question Geralt's instincts. With an unspoken trust between them, they continued on the chosen path, their journey through the jungle guided by Geralt's enigmatic intuition, a force they had come to rely on in times of uncertainty.
Hey there,
I just wanted to say a big thanks for picking up this book. It means a lot to me. I hope you find it entertaining, maybe even thought-provoking. Writing it was a lot of fun, and I hope you have as much fun reading it.If you ever want to chat about the book or anything else, you can find me on social media. Your support and feedback mean a bunch.
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Happy if yall enjoyed the read!
Criticism is appreciated