AN: Sorry for the hiatus. Had exams lately.
Driving his fists into the tree trunk, Jaune would feel the sharp pain shooting through the tip of his knuckles, splashing them with dried aching blood. He had been at this tree for days now, with every passing minute occasionally hearing the piercing sound of bombs and ammunition firing from across the continent. The sound was unnerving, for he waited there anxiously, waiting for Weiss to return to see what a failure he truly was.
Day after day, the blade on the ground would not budge an inch. He had tried it from every angle, far below, pulling from above. Through sweat and blood and bruises and cuts, the burns that would scorch the surface of his skin, strengthened by the heat of the furious sun. Even after all that, still nothing.
Every morning would start out the same. He woke up, tidied up his sleeping bag, before rolling up his sleeves to attempt the pulling of the blade from the stone. The moment the sun hit noon, he would rest. Punishing himself with one thousand pushups, of which he would only be able to complete about two hundred of them in his current physical condition.
From there, he would punish himself further with the afternoon exercises. Where he took out his sword and began carving away at the nearby trees of the Forever Fall. He would spend hours after hours chipping away at the sturdy wooden trunks, a few hours chopping without his Aura, with the rest of the day pushing himself to his absolute limit.
But through the sweat and blood and bruises and cuts – nothing came of them except the endless tears on his face rolling ever so lightly down his face under the grueling sun far above, searing the day as the seconds passed.
"Why…" he grunted to himself, before shouting, "why must you be so useless?"
One more slice, to tear down the tree before him. This now marked the seventh tree he had chopped down. The blade on his sword was dull, for he had not yet mastered the strengthening of his own Aura, coating it around his steel.
Gripping the handle tightly, he turned around ready to swing at the air in his rage, maybe even tossing it far in the distance.
Only – when he turned, standing before him was a little boy.
The boy was ordinary, sporting plain clothing with a warm fur cap worn over his short green hair. He looked up from where he stood, could not have been older than ten years old, and yet there he stood watching the puzzled young man still gripping at his blade chipped into a hunk of iron.
After a long moment of silence, the boy pointed his finger, simply saying:
"Sword."
Confused, Jaune looked up.
"Uh…" he laid down his weapon, scratching his head. "Yeah… um… yeah, this is a sword. I mean… it's supposed to be anyway. A dull weapon might as well just be a lump of rock."
"Papa told me the exact same thing," the young boy's eyes widened with innocent curiosity.
"Really? Where is your papa now? Matter of fact, where are your parents?"
And with a single finger pointed plainly toward the direction behind where the boy stood, far in the distance and beyond the ground coated with red Forever Fall leaves were these shadowy figures that slowly emerged from the thick fog, from which Jaune was forced to squint to properly see a man and a woman gradually materializing into view.
The one thing that was curious to him, however, was the fact that their shadows were not the only ones being hidden behind the murky fog of this forest. There behind the trees – came many more.
"The first lesson I want you to comprehend," Ironwood's recording echoed on quietly, with Weiss watching intently, "is to cut the atoms. Strike at the subatomic strings."
Weiss stood there with a placeholder rapier in her hand, slashing it around the empty air with vicious precision. Twice on her right hand, then swapping over to her left for a little practice. As a master swordswoman with the dexterity of a godly machine, the action which Ironwood asked of her to carry out was simple.
The trouble was the true purpose to be learned from this 'lesson.'
"Is that it?" Weiss looked over to her father, grimacing. Pietro, of course, immediately realized Weiss' apparent confusion.
"Some of these recordings are very brief, and bizarre to say the least," he said. "I was never fully privy to what James really wanted with many of these. But the wording of this one is interesting. He said this is something he wants you to comprehend. He didn't say he wanted you to learn."
"Makes sense."
"Really? You're saying… you can already cut the atoms?"
"It's not difficult. I can see down to the strings, too. Tearing them apart is simple. But what does he truly want?"
"I'm afraid I can't be of much help in that regard. String theory is all very… well, theoretical. No device on Remnant is as powerful as your eyes, so none of our theories have really been fully tested."
"It's alright, father. Thank you. I will contemplate on this."
And just like that, she floated out of the office and into the wide-open sky.
It's all about the vibration, Weiss thought to herself, it must be. These subatomic strings at the most basic levels were vibrating, each at a different frequency that was difficult to fully grasp if one did not have the eyes to look out for those tiny changes in fluctuations. This vibration must be the key to – everything. The very fundamental building blocks of how the universe worked.
Perhaps even the key to glimpse into the true nature of gravity.
If one had the correct precision to manipulate the frequencies these strings were vibrating at, surely then – one could essentially control the very fabric of time and space, of Reality.
By the foot of Mt. Glenn were various old and abandoned towns that had been long ravaged by the colors of steel and gunpowder. These were places that should've been rebuilt by the powers of the kingdoms if not for the dispute on who truly were the owners of these lands. The memories of various nomadic tribes that once inhabited the ruins here were implanted deep into the soil, as the footsteps of the Atlesian soldiers inched closer into the heart of the land.
It was important for the troops to establish a strong foothold here at the bottom of the mountain before they could advance further into the West. The Valeans would have no doubt prepared powerful defenses and traps to ward off potential invaders.
"Be thorough with your search, men," Ghost waved to the soldiers as they braved the ruins of these torn towns. Through the rubble and the crumbling walls weathered by hail, sunlight, and the weight of gravity.
Oliver carried on his shoulders large boulders of these broken buildings, nonchalantly tossing them aside to reveal potential secrets beneath the dirt. Behind him, Lisa would similarly break down the tough exterior of the stone with a couple of simple jabs, shattering the hard surface at blinding speed. She was, of course, not satisfied with just a single boulder. So dashing around faster than the soldiers could even see, she would be able to cover large portions of the terrain before running back to Ghost to report in.
"No signs of life," she said. "I'm going to let the boys clean this up before commencing our move into the mountain."
"Just be sure you're thorough," Ghost nodded, before reaching for his earpiece. "Diamond, come in. Any readings on the sensors?"
She answered back immediately:
"Negative. Proceed with caution. Magick can fool our equipment, over."
"Alright men," Ghost pointed his finger, "I want the perimeter secured. Bring the Knights and start deploying the Paladins. I want tight patrols. Sound the alert for anything that seems off."
"GHOST!"
Oliver's booming voice interrupted the commands, catching the men's attention. With both Ghost and Lisa dashing over to where Oliver was standing, there on top of a mountain of what seemed like simple debris of stone and wrecked steel, the three of them stood there staring down the small mound – and lying at the bottom far below was a hatch.
"What's down there?" Ghost asked, before commanding, "Open it."
"That's the thing…" Oliver replied, showing him his bruised palms, "I can't get it to budge."
"What?"
Soaring through the sky and deep into the stratosphere, Weiss flew high far above before looking down to the entirety of Remnant far below. She was the Guardian of the North Sea, so flying high to witness the majesty and beauty of this planet was nothing new. But now with Ironwood's new words soaking deep in her mind, she was now beginning to wonder if there was more to this world that he actually wanted her to see.
A hidden lesson buried somewhere beneath the horizon.
Staring down at the rapier she carried with her, she could see her own reflection in the deep steel forged from the fires of Atlesian smiths, deep in the hearts of the cold frozen north. And from there, Weiss gripped tight the blade – and her palm began to vibrate.
Slowly, initially, but surely, she would firmly pick up the pace. First at the speed of sound, then several times that, before comfortably bordering the speed of light. Of course, she would not stop there – for she was trying to push it even further beyond.
Two times, a hundred times, twenty million times, a billion times, twenty quadrillion times, one septillion times.
With eyes that could see further than any on the planet, she zoomed down to the tiny subatomic world beyond worlds that lied beyond the reach of any mortal, beyond the sight of science.
"What do you want to show me?" She muttered under her breath.
In her hand, she gripped tightly the handle of the steel and on the very millisecond her eyes caught sight of the slightest hint of those vibrating strings – she would proceed to extend back her stance before striking forth at the precise location her eyes had locked on to.
The fierce vibration of the steel in her grip would clash violently against the miniscule vibrational energies of the strings on these planes far below. Within milliseconds, exploding into a bizarre cloud of cosmic mist that sprayed in all directions.
From the hidden depths of this mist – came forth these monstrous claws rising from the nothingness.
The boney fingers of this furious gigantic creature grabbed straight onto Weiss' neck, catching her off guard as its demonic rageful strength dragged her downward to the gravity of the planet, flinging the rapier she held away from her hand.
The creature growled on in the silence of space, all the way until they began entering the outer rings of the planet's atmosphere and catching fire. From there, she would be able to hear its slobbering foul odor emanating from those long grotesque jaws of a crocodile-like beast. Its reptilian eyes sparkled with evil hatred of an inner desire to devour and destroy.
Most peculiarly, however, was the fact that the beast did not have any legs, instead only a torso with two absurdly long arms and what looked to be a scaly tail wagging from behind. This monster was bizarre – but its colors and behavior were absolutely unmistakable.
This was a Grimm.
Where did this creature even come from? Weiss thought to herself as the Grimm's claw tried to dig into her invincible skin. She had never seen anything like this before in her life. Of course, there were numerous crocodilian species of Grimm on Remnant, even ones of Kaiju status. But none of them had a biology like the beast here before her.
No time to question, she told herself while simultaneously extending her hand toward the rapier floating away into deep space. With the power of her overwhelming gravitational field, Weiss would pull the metallic blade back into her palm before swiftly stabbing the Grimm straight into its two eye sockets in one swift motion, instantly rupturing its brain and skewering its eyeballs.
Throwing the carcass into space, she wiped off the black goo from her uniform before her ears began picking up loud shouting noises of her Atlesian soldiers far down below.
They were coming from the direction of Ghost's platoon.
"OPEN FIRE!"
All around the soldiers, tiny portals began bursting open from thin air, emerging out of the nothingness that was hidden behind the rubble of the ruins all around them. From behind the broken doors and walls and behind the shadows of the mountain came forth massive beasts of Grimm, many of which the soldiers had never seen before in their life.
Everything ranging from tall wolves slithering with their snake-like bodies to large Grimm spiders darting about using massive bat wings. The soldiers readied their rifles and shot down as many as they could, but the size of these creatures was unlike any of the Grimm they had ever faced before. Their skins were much sturdier, soaking in several massive rounds before they would collapse on the ground, with a couple of bullets even bouncing off as if they were made of metal.
Several giant crow-like Grimm soared far into the sky before swooping in to attack the Atlesian warships head on using their hard single curved horn on top of their skulls, stabbing clean through the sheets of metal protecting the ships.
"Maintain formation!" Ghost ordered before pressing on his earpiece, "Lieutenant General Sky, deploy the Paladins, now. Over."
"Roger that. ETA one minute, over."
"ON YOUR LEFT, GHOST!"
With a swift diving punch, Oliver came in gouging out the brain of a multilegged bear Grimm, instantly disintegrating it into a bloody pulp from his vibrating cyclone fist. Not wasting an opportunity for a big smile at his teammate, winking mischievously.
"It's no fun when you're not trying," said Oliver.
Looking at the brute standing on the mountain of corpses and bones flexing, Ghost would roll his eyes so hard his eyeballs might as well have fallen out of his head. Amplifying his hand with his golden Aura, he threw forth a sharp motion – instantly shooting out a moon-shaped disc to obliterate a whole line of Grimm approaching from afar. The Aura was so sharp it cracked the very ground they were standing on, slicing the dirt and stones beneath in a clean straight line.
"Clear out the Grimm," he ordered, "we need to find the source of these portals, and seal them up. Fast."
Coming in from the distance was Lisa, sliding down stylishly with her fiery mechanical boots, and her boxing tapes soaked in Grimm's blood.
"More Grimm pouring in from the eastern side," she said, "but their number seems finite. We're not getting any more portals."
Without warning, Diamond joined in the conversation from their earpieces:
"Strategic attack. Valeans. Possibly the mark of General Goodwitch. She is powerful, but she understands guerilla warfare. Over."
"Yeah, yeah, you can talk strategies all day long," said Oliver, "but the real question is where did they get the Grimm? And where are they even hiding? How are they creating these portals?"
"Could this… be Ozymandias' Semblance?" Ghost pondered.
Before the four of them could finish their conversation, a blinding flash of white light would swoop past them all, flying from far above in the highest of highs beyond the stratosphere. Like that of a holy angel descending from forces on high to declare judgement upon the demons far below.
She sped by so fast, the four of them would immediately realize that all the Grimm forces had already been vaporized before they could even blink. Smashed to a pulp by an inhuman strength of a divine guardian standing watch, feet firmly above the ground.
"He's hiding in a different dimension," Weiss crossed her arms, scanning about. "Hiding alongside his inner circle perhaps? This must be what the General wanted to show me."
"Chancellor?" Ghost approached from behind.
Weiss glanced back, pointing her finger:
"Secure the area. Set up a perimeter and establish camp."
"But Chancellor," said Lisa, "what about the portals?"
"This was a scouting group, nothing more," she answered. "They won't be back, for now. In order to even open a single portal requires an extraordinary amount of energy that is not easy to come by. Go! I'm going back to the Valley."
With those final words, she took off into the sky – and the ground beneath rumbled from her divine strength.
But far in the distance, behind the dust of the rubble and in the crowd of soldiers and Knights – Blake Belladonna would quietly slip into the shadows, behind a tall brick wall, and there she spoke into her earpiece:
"Watts – did you catch that?"
"… Yes, I heard. This is an interesting development. We can use this. Return to the Academy, my friend. We may have just leveled the playing field."
"What about the hair sample?"
"Forget about that. New plan. I think I may have what we need to kill her now. Be careful when you get back. My tech is good, but her hearing range is absurd. Try not to make a sound."
Back at Professor Watts' office, deep in the silent dark halls of the cold infrastructure, there came a peculiar guest from lands far away visiting the aging Atlesian man. Almost as if two old friends were reuniting for old times' sake.
"How is your lady?" Watts asked, pouring from a glass bottle his old Mistralian Whiskey, a treasure he dared only bust out on special occasions.
Because sitting before him was none other than the esteemed Tyrian Callows. Founder and CEO of CalVis Corporation, the largest conglomerate in the entire kingdom of Mistral, in charge of a huge section of its industries – most notable in the production of bizarre experimental war machines.
The man sat there on Watts' couch in his sleek purple suit, crossing his legs as he graciously received the old Whiskey, downing it all in one gulp while also proceeding to lick the bottom of his glass. He grinned a devilish smile at the professor, wiping his lips, before slicking back his smooth dark hair draping over those killer purple eyes.
"This is some good stuff, Watts," he said, almost cackling. "My wife never lets me near any of these when we have dinner. Can you imagine that? Queen of Mistral, and it's me we're talking about. I use my money as toilet paper. And the hag is still stingy as fuck."
"Tale as old as time then," said Watts.
"It'll all be worth it in the end when I find that mountain."
"Yes, speaking of which. We just had word of Ozymandias' whereabouts…"
"See? What did I tell you? I've been telling you about all these old books and myths, but all you wanted to do was stick your nose in science and crap. Now you know I was right all along. Thank you, Tyrian. You're welcome, you old fart."
"Yes, yes. You are the best, no one can compare. Now shut your peasant mouth up and focus up. Because I'm going to kill the Superman."
With that, Tyrian spat out his second glass. Before glancing behind his back, as if to make sure they weren't being listened in.
"My technology can make our voices hard to pinpoint," Watts reassured him. "We ought to be careful, but these machines are powerful. You can relax – for now at least."
"You're talking crazy, old boy. You can't kill the unkillable. But I like that, I like a little crazy. Just… with good timing. That's what people don't get. We all gotta pick our fight, but more importantly is picking our time."
"It's no less crazy than the idea of a mountain of Giants."
"Giants are recorded in myths, myths are known. We know about the Seasons, the concepts. But that flying – thing. We know very little about what that thing actually is."
"I know exactly what she is."
"You do?"
"I do, but I am only human. If we are going to do things only gods can do, we need to work together. All of us, even those unaware. Like Ozymandias."
"You want to involve him in our plan?"
"No, I merely want to use what he's given us. He's hiding in an alternate universe. How he's doing that is irrelevant. What we know now is that the multiverse exists. It's not just a theory anymore. It's real!"
"I must admit, Oz is one crazy son of a bitch."
"We can use this. There are an infinite number of worlds out there. So many possibilities, brimming with hidden cosmic potential."
"Blah, blah, blah, come on, Watts. Give me something good. What's in it for me?"
"I'll give you the technology you need to open a portal to the mountain."
"No strings attached?" He glared while tossing his glass behind his back.
"None. I could not care less what you want out of the Seasons."
"I want to fight them."
"There we go. What happened to Mister 'can't-kill-the-unkillable?'"
"The Superman has no weakness. So there's no point in trying, it's boring," Tyrian took another glass out of Watts' cupboard, before downing even more of the Whiskey. "Plus have you seen her talk? You watch her on TV and you'd think you were listening to a block of ice. No, thank you. If you wanna do something boring, knock yourself out. The Seasons, on the other hand, ho-ho. Now that's going to be fun. That Rose kid especially."
"Whatever you say."
"Don't brush me off, Watts. You and I aren't so different. Just a couple of guys trying to reach into the worlds of Heaven. Biting off way more than we can ever chew. But that's living."
"Hmm… well, it is getting late, so please – send my regards to the Queen."