I do not own RWBY or Warhammer 40,000, only my original characters.
Return of Faith
Chapter Thirteen: Fury of Faith
For months, the warships of the Atlas military had loomed protectively over the city of Vale, casting great shadows over all below them. For a time, they had been tolerated, even accepted after Atlas' actions in defending the city from threats. Many people simply tried to ignore them, confident that they would leave once the Vytal Festival was over.
Then more warships came, carrying even more soldiers and guns.
The people's trust in Atlas evaporated as rumors about their true intentions spread. Some said they wanted to hunt down anyone they thought was a follower of the outlawed Imperial Creed, like they had in Solitas. Others believed Atlas just wanted to show off their military power and encourage the other Kingdoms to adopt their militaristic ways. But the most worrisome rumor, spread by the paranoid and distrustful, was that Atlas was planning to take over the kingdom of Vale. They already had a massive fleet hanging over their heads, they had argued, and a whole army of soldiers, mechs, and robots while Vale had nothing.
This last rumor, playing to the distrust and fear many held for the northern kingdom, spread quickly through the city, leading to protests and demands by the people for Atlas to remove its armed forces from Vale.
And miraculously, it had worked.
The Atlas fleet no longer held anchor above Vale, moving off to the kingdom's borders and Beacon Academy. With them no longer in sight, the fear many held withered, and a sense of normalcy returned to the great city.
But the skies above Vale did not remain empty for long. Soon after the fleet's reassignment, a new shadow cast itself upon the city. This newcomer was not feared by the people, however. When it arrived, they celebrated, for it was expected and heralded the beginning of the Vytal Festival, the great event for which thousands had flocked to Vale to partake in.
Amity Colosseum, one of the world's greatest technological marvels and an everlasting symbol of peace and unity between the four Kingdoms, had arrived in Vale.
The Colosseum's arrival was broadcasted worldwide. When it moved over the city, thousands upon thousands of fireworks launched into the air, lighting up the sky with dazzling colors and shapes and shaking the air with the collective force of countless explosions. Music boomed through the streets of the city and roads were blocked off as massive block parties erupted in almost every neighborhood or lavish parade floats rode down the avenues. The Council had spent months planning this out, designating where to have music play, where to shoot the fireworks, even banning all air traffic until the Colosseum had made anchor. They had wanted to make this Vytal Festival one to be remembered, and one that made everyone look upon Vale with envy.
But they had not expected the sheer raw enthusiasm with which the people of Vale threw themselves into the celebration. The police were even forced to end several of these parties when they grew out of control, and there had been more than one looted storefront though these were thankfully few.
It was unexpected, but not wholly unwelcomed. News reporters had instantly been on scene, describing everyone's excitement for the Vytal Festival to begin, interviewing passersby for their thoughts, and furthering the image of a kingdom that was prosperous and happy, untroubled by crime or the Grimm.
Ironic, thought Professor Ozpin from within his tower, given it is those very things that cause the people to act as they do.
He looked out from his window, cup of cocoa in hand, at the great Amity Colosseum. It had been anchored just outside of Beacon several days ago, above the northern fork of the Taijitu's Tongue. This great river ran through a good portion of Vale and was where many vessels came to dock and sell their goods, as they had for centuries. Indeed, the trade it brought in had been what turned Vale from a collection of simple villages and trade posts into the metropolis it was today.
It made sense to have the Colosseum hold over the river, another way to display Vale as a wealthy and powerful kingdom, another distraction from the turmoil that had been plaguing the city up until this point.
The fireworks that had lit up the sky in welcome of the Colosseum had gone silent, and clouds of smoke still hung around the lengths of skyscrapers and office buildings. There were still reports of partying however, not that it surprised the old immortal.
After all they had been forced to endure, the bloody reign of the criminal Roman Torchwick, the attacks of the White Fang, and the Grimm attack during the Breach, the people of Vale were desperate for a reason to celebrate.
Ozpin took a sip from his cocoa as he thought this.
In a way, he envied their ignorance. To them, the events of the past year had just been that, events. They didn't know why these things happened, or for what reasons. They simply saw criminals committing crime, or Grimm acting like Grimm. None of them even considered the idea that there was a grand mastermind behind everything that had happened.
Ozpin sighed, "ignorance truly is bliss."
And he had perpetrated that ignorance, nurtured it until it covered all of Remnant within its veil. Ignorance was, after all, the peoples' greatest defense against Salem. The Grimm were a formidable and terrifying force on their own, capable of erasing whole settlements overnight, but they were not intelligent. They were mindless, bloodthirsty monsters, motivated by destruction and without any form of guiding force over them. Even their Alphas and Elder Grimm, old and cunning creatures capable of exerting a degree of control over the lesser Grimm, could not suppress their lesser kin's thirst for violence long enough to put their own cunning to the test against humanity. It made them seem like nothing but dumb, dangerous, animals.
But if they knew the truth, knew that the Grimm actually had a leader, a being capable of devising plans of terrible guile and complexity and possessing ancient arcane power that has all but vanished from the world… and that she couldn't be killed…
There had been times when the truth almost came out, long, long ago. Back when the Church of the God-Emperor was the leading power of the world, and Sanus was a land of superstition and blind faith. Today, the Grimm were regarded as just another part of life, a threat to many or a simple nuisance to others. In the days of the Church, however, the Grimm were seen as downright demonic. The beowolf and Ursa plushies that were so popular today would have been burned to ashes by the Church, along with the toy stores that sold them. The Grimm were an unholy cancer that needed to be purged, not a source of creative inspiration for toymakers and artists.
Only by wiping the Grimm from the face of Remnant did the Church believe humanity could truly know peace in the world, and they had been determined to achieve it. It was a holy thing, to go out and kill Grimm, but rarely ever did it hold a lasting effect. Packs slain and hordes vanquished would return with enough time and negative emotion, and eventually it caused many of the warriors the Church sent to wonder:
Where did the Grimm come from?
Despite his distaste for their organization and the supposed god they worshiped, Ozpin could not deny that, while blind zealots, the High Priests of the Church were far from fools. Many of their scholars and scribes had been set to study the Grimm to better fight them, and many devised theories to where the demons of Remnant came from. These could range from secret breeding caves hidden in the unexplored places of the world, to lakes of darkness hidden underground, even rips in reality leading straight to hell.
Whatever the theory, they were all regarded with equal seriousness by the High Priests. Over the centuries, dozens of crusades would be launched by the Church in order to find and destroy the source of the Grimm. Each one had varied in size and scale, from a company of a few dozen well trained soldiers to legions of fanatical peasants and criminals. These men and women, blinded by their faith and the promise of wealth and glory, would happily march into the wilderness, often never to be seen again.
Though each crusade was impactful in its own way, – discovering ancient ruins, establishing contact with lost tribes, or even stumbling on Dust deposits – none of them ever found the source of the Grimm. Most met their end at the claws and teeth of the monsters they set out to destroy, others merely disbanded over time from lack of progress. One or two even turned brigand, abandoning their holy mission, and plundered countless towns and villages until they were finally put down by kingdom forces.
The fallout of those crusades in particular still left Ozpin filled with regret. He had manipulated events to the best of his abilities to ensure the crusades never reached their goal, but even he could not always predict the outcome his actions would have.
Still, it had been necessary. He could not allow the world to learn of Salem's existence, no matter the cost. If they had learned the Grimm did in fact have a master, and that that master was an immortal witch from before the time the moon broke, there would mass chaos. Many would likely even try and side with Salem, after all, how could they hope to even have a chance against something like her?
No, he had to do it. The crusades would have brought about humanity's doom if they had succeeded. In truth, the Church itself posed a threat to humanity, simply for the fact that the god they followed was not real. When Ozpin had first learned of this new religion and its popularity thousands of years ago, he had been beyond shocked. That shock quickly turned to horrified realization when he discovered just how widespread this new religion had become, uniting groups that before would have had nothing to do with one another.
Indeed, it had come close to uniting humanity on Remnant, but not in the way the Brothers would want. Ozpin knew that if they had returned to Remnant to find it unified beneath the idol of a false god, the Brother Gods would have done as they did millennia before and wiped Remnant clean of human life, only this time, they would not try again.
And Ozpin could not allow that to happen.
He turned from the window then, agitated to where his thoughts had drifted. The headmaster sat down at his desk with a heavy sigh and called up the holographic screen projector built into his desk. It sprung to life in front of him, the symbol of Beacon Academy briefly showing before it shifted to display the press box of the Amity Colosseum and the two familiar figures within.
"-welcome everyone, to the 40th Vytal Festival Tournament!" Proclaimed the boisterous Professor Peter Port with a grand wave of his hand. "I hope you are all as excited as I am for today's opening fights! It's bound to be a truly spectacular experience, wouldn't you agree, Professor?"
"Doctor," his co-host, the caffeine addict Bartholomew Oobleck, snapped before turning to the camera, "and yes! Everyone is eager to prove themselves and their schools in this year's games! But which school will take home the gold, Peter?"
"It could be anyone, but I'm betting on Beacon myself," Port announced proudly, and Ozpin couldn't help but smile. "But before we get to see some fighting, let's give everyone at home a refresher on the rules."
Ozpin watched and listened as the two men recited rules, he himself had set down nearly eighty years ago. And though he knew them all by heart, even those that had been added long after his last death, it was still oddly relaxing to listen to them.
Ozpin found himself leaning back in his chair and taking another sip from his mug. He had time to watch the first couple of matches, not like there was anything else going on at the moment.
~o0o~
Yole entered the Cross Continental Transmit tower without a single issue. Granted, the place was practically empty at the moment due to the local festival going on and he didn't exactly look like someone in need of keeping an eye on, – at least by this world's standards.
He approached an empty desk, cuing a hololithic simulacrum of a human woman to appear. The shade smiled at him with programed warmth. He scowled at it.
"Hello, sir," The image greeted in a sickeningly human voice, "may I know the reason for your-"
But Yole was already walking past it. Once he was outside the view of its sensors, the hololithic image died and the desk was empty once more.
Yole bit back a curse. Why this planet was so found of hololiths, he couldn't understand. They used them for practically everything from streetlights to keyboards. Did they not think power failure was possible with their Dust? Perhaps Orbeck might understand this fascination of theirs, he had been very eager to join the twins planetside. The Inquisitor denied his request of course, reminding the tech priest that his appearance would garner far too much attention from the populace, which it would.
Of course, if the city was in the middle of an invasion, very few people would have time stare at the red-robed machine man interfacing with their cogitators.
That was why Yole was here. After he and his sister had completed their inspection of the kingdom's boarder defenses and sent in a report to that General Ironwood, they had received a Vox Hail from Kress. It had been expected. Since his return to the system, they had been providing him with semi regular reports regarding their progress in Vale. He likely knew about the border defenses already from the Black Lions, but then again, since when has an Inquisitor trusted the word of anyone they could not directly control? After their report, he gave them their new orders, and Yole had been more than ready to carry them out.
Things were finally going to get fun on this rock.
He saw a man wearing a maintenance uniform working at one of the kiosk stations. The man was fairly unremarkable, except for his clashing dark skin and bright yellow and green hair. Whether it was dyed or not, Yole couldn't tell. He went over to the man, keeping a watch on the few people sharing the space with them. Thankfully, no one else was paying attention.
Yole leaned against the corner of the kiosk station. The man hadn't seen him yet. "Having trouble there," he asked casually.
"Yeah," the man grunted just as he ducked under the station to try and find the problem. "This one's projector always wonks out on people. I keep telling them we need to replace it."
"I'm sure you have," Yole nodded, "I'm also sure you agree that there is more that needs replacing than just a faulty cogitator."
The yellow and green haired man froze. He pulled himself out from under the station and stared at Yole, who regarded him with an amused, knowing smile. "You know," Yole began, keeping an eye on the others in the building with them, "I know a thing or two about these kinds of machines. Maybe I could help you."
The man's name, according to Viole, was Terry Green. He was a member of her flock, and a rather unremarkable man, save for the fact he worked as an enginseer at Vale's CCT tower. It fell to him to maintain the planet's only reliable long range communication network, and as such, he knew a great deal about the CCT and the things one could do on it.
Which was why Yole had sought the man out.
Green stared him for a moment, stunned. Then, his eyes went wide, and he opened his mouth to speak, "Are you the one they-" he began, only for Yole to lean down and press his finger to the tech's lips, making him blush in surprise.
"Not so loud, Terry Green, this isn't something everyone needs to hear," Yole said, his voice low and harsh, carrying a clear tone of threat. "So why don't we take this conversation somewhere private, hm?"
Green could only nod, staring up at Yole with wide, slightly terrified, eyes. "Y-yeah…" he stammered out, getting to his feet. "Follow me," he then turned, heading off to a maintenance door on the far side of the chamber. Yole followed after him, keeping his pace casual and unworried as to not arouse suspicion. His guide moved much faster, excitement clear in his gait and body language.
No one batted an eye to them as Green opened the door that led to the inner workings of the tower, nor did they look up from their screens when Yole went inside. They were all looking at their screens, eagerly watching as their great tournament began.
Yole couldn't help chuckling.
They'd have something much more interesting to watch soon…
~o0o~
"Tai, that's going too far," Her Uncle Qrow said with an exasperated, tired voice.
"How is it 'too far'?" Her father challenged, his voice firm and angry. "We're going to be wanted criminals either way after this. I would have thought you'd jump at the idea."
"We can't just steal a bullhead and fly it right up to Jimmy's ship. They'd shoot us down before we even got close to the hangar."
"Then how else do you suggest we get up there?! Ask them nicely to let us in?!" Her father snapped, fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to keep his anger in check.
"I'm thinking, alright," Uncle Qrow replied, stepping back and rubbing the back of neck with his hand. He looked back over at Tai Yang, his features softening. "We're gonna get her back, Tai."
Her father made a growling sound before turning to leave the hotel room. Yang was sitting on one of the two beds, legs crossed, and a pillow held to her chest in the perfect image of a guilty child awaiting punishment. She had been watching the opening ceremony for the Vytal Festival on the TV or had been trying to. Her attention kept being stolen by her arguing parental figures. When her father passed her, he gave her the barest of glances before swinging the door open and stepping outside, slamming it shut behind him. Yang couldn't help but wince, and her uncle just let out a defeated sigh before reaching for his flask at his belt and taking a swig.
"Damnit…" Uncle Qrow muttered as he finished and put the flask back in his pocket. He looked over to Yang, who quickly averted her gaze from his. She heard him let out a sigh, then felt him sit down next to her on the bed.
"I'm as much to blame for this as you are, Yang," he said after a long silence, "probably more than you."
Yang looked over to her uncle. His shoulders were slouched and leaned forward with his arms on his legs, head bowed. He looked as miserable as she felt. "I was stupid," he admitted, "I thought I could get her to quit that emperor crap when I started training her. 'Promise me you won't pray to the emperor, and I'll train you,'" he let out a dry chuckle, completely devoid of humor. "Should have realized it wouldn't be that simple."
Yang didn't say anything. She remembered when Qrow took Ruby under his wing. He had made it a point to get both of them to stop following the Imperial Creed, telling the two girls all sorts of stories about them when their father wasn't around to hear. Yang had believed them, there was plenty of evidence to show he was telling the truth, but Ruby had stubbornly ignored his warnings, even going so far as to tell their father one time after Qrow told them how church used to burn innocent people alive for having different beliefs.
Qrow hadn't been welcomed in their house that much after that.
He would have been driven off completely by their father if Yang didn't insist on him being allowed to visit or when Ruby, to everyone's surprise, begged their alcoholic uncle to train her in wielding a scythe. However, outside of training Ruby at Signal, Uncle Qrow's visits became fewer and fewer as the years went on and Yang mostly saw him at school, where he taught combat class.
She missed having him around the house, back when Summer was still alive.
Her death… changed everything.
"Are you really going to try and steal a bullhead," she asked, and her uncle gave a snort.
"No. No, I don't think so. Tai's a lot of things, but he's not an idiot," he raised his head and gave her a weak, false smile that quickly fell. "He's scared, Yang. Really scared. I know he's angry too, but deep down, Tai's scared out of his damn mind." Qrow looked down at the gray carpet floor, "to tell you the truth, I am too."
The knot of guilt in her chest twisted tighter and Yang had to swallow a sob before it passed her lips. Instead, she brought a fist up to her face to quickly rub away the tears forming in her eyes. "I shouldn't have followed her," She admitted, her voice shaky and holding none of her usual confidence. "If I had just let her be, Ruby and Jaune would be fine, and everything would be back to normal."
"Hey!" Her uncle's sharp tone made her look up. He stared at her with hard eyes. "You didn't blow the whistle on Ruby, Yang, that's on that Schnee brat," he spat Weiss' family name like it was a curse, "she's the one that sicced Ironwood's dogs on Ruby, not you."
"But I egged everyone into following them to their meeting!" Yang shot back; eyes red with emotion as tears dripped down her cheeks. "I was the one who came up with the idea to follow them. All just because I wanted to prove they were dating!" She hugged the pillow closer to her chest. "We had every chance to leave them alone, to stop following them and just leave, but I kept pushing everyone on. Even when I realized… when I saw…"
Before she could bury her face into the pillow and cry her heart out, Yang felt herself being pulled into a hug by her uncle. He held her close, her chin resting on his shoulder. He smelled like booze.
"Better you find her than someone else, Yang," he muttered to her, "otherwise, things could have been a lot worse."
Yang couldn't help but start crying again, clinging to her uncle as he held her. He didn't say anything, just sat there and listened to her sobbing out her guilt and shame, giving her a literal shoulder to cry on.
He was sure Yang would like the pun once she calmed down enough to enjoy it.
So caught up in consoling his niece, neither noticed at first when the hotel room's video screen started to glitch out, then change entirely. Neither noticed when it turned from the arena stage of the Amity Colosseum, displaying the dozens of students chosen to participate in the tournament, to the dark, semi-lit interior of a gunship filled with Atlesian war robots.
But they noticed what accompanied the video. There was no way they couldn't.
"People of Vale! You have been deceived!"
~o0o~
The words echoed out across the planet from the mouths of a million speakers, delivered with a certainty and zeal that was captivating. Confusion filled the minds of every soul listening and watching, fixed upon their screens as what had been supposed to be the beginning of their world's greatest celebration turned into something else.
"Eighty years ago, we ended the greatest conflict history has ever known. We had ensured freedom of expression for every man, woman, and child on Remnant, the very thing that makes us human! It was a time for peace and brotherhood, but instead, it became a time of betrayal."
From civilian grade holoscreens to portable Scrolls and computer screens, the people of Remnant watched as the gunship's troop bay doors yawned open, bleeding light into the once dimly lit space. A wall of words and numbers sped across the screen as the machine soldiers held within activated and advanced toward the light, stepping out and falling to the earth several dozen yards below.
"Innocent people were hunted down for their beliefs by the very kingdoms they had fought for. Noble orders of chivalry dissolved, and their members arrested, glorious works of art censored, entire communities of people taken prisoner or killed, centuries of culture and history destroyed. All on the orders of those they had served faithfully."
Confusion bloomed anew, laced with apprehension, when it was shown the knights had landed in what looked like a makeshift courtyard where a mass of raggedy and dishevel people stood, all of whom stared at the machines with terror.
In Atlas, a brilliant scientist froze in his work, stunned horror gripping his mind as he watched the automata he had helped create, the machines designed to protect mankind, aim their guns at the group of people.
Miles below him, in the shadowed city of Mantle, a rising revolutionary went slack jawed at the sight, before clenching her hands into fists as her followers reacted with similar disbelief as their leader.
"For what reason were these people persecuted? What crime did they commit that was so egregious that genocide and exile were justified? The Councils tell you that they started the Great War. They tell you that they were ones to fire the first shot, seeking an excuse to start a holy war of conquest to wipe out any that did not follow their religion. But the truth is worse."
Targeting squares traveled across the group of huddled people, taking in every face. Men, women, human, faunus. There were even children, infants held close by their mothers or toddlers clutching at their parent's legs in fear. Some of the men and women had weapons, but most were entirely unarmed. All had been highlighted in red.
"They feared them! Feared their power! Feared their god, for He is the one True God! They were jealous of the influence they possessed. They did not wish for their faith to have a place in the world order to come. And so, goaded and guided by the Heretic King, may he forever burn for his betrayal, they made pariahs of His Faithful. They became the kingdoms' scapegoat, the causers of the Great War, the focus for all blame. Nowhere was this more apparent in Mantle, where the few remaining Faithful were rounded up and executed."
At the word, the machines opened fire on the group. Screams and cries of shock and horror rang out across the world as everyone bore witness to the cold slaughter taking place in front of them. The wife of Menagerie's chieftain gasped and brought her hands to her mouth while her husband stared in muted shock at the carnage playing out. In Vacuo, the gloved headmaster could not tear his eyes off the scene, a tornado of emotions swirling in his mind while rage boiled in the hearts of his kingdom's defiant people.
"Even now, after so many years, they still murder these innocent souls, terrified of them, butchering them like animals. The other kingdoms are no better! In Mistral and Vale, the Faithful are forced to abandon their faith, tortured and lobotomized in their 'rehabilitation centers'. Turned into empty drooling husks."
Amity Coliseum echoed with the horrified wails of the onlookers, even after the machines stopped firing. Bodies were strewn about the displayed courtyard, their blood pooling thick and dark around them. Of the dozens butchered, there was one man still alive.
He was kneeling on the ground, surrounded by the dead. His body was clad in a simple brown robe, and he wore a necklace or red beads around his neck. He had round, soft features and was completely devoid of any hair. He stared out at the machines, unknowingly meeting the eyes of those now watching him, before he brought the pistol he was holding to his head.
"It is better to die for the Emperor than to live for yourself!"
Then he pulled the trigger. As his body slumped to the ground, joining the others, the voice continued.
"Mere days ago, a purge was carried out on the descendants of these persecuted people, a purge carried out by the barbarians of the north and pardoned by your own Councilors. A purge that saw dozens of men, women, and children shot dead on the spot, their only crime being the faith they followed. There was only one survivor."
Static overcame the display for a moment, during which, the general of the Atlas forces in Vale shouted orders into his Scroll while others frantically tried to abort the transmission. When the static cleared, it revealed the speaker. It was an old man, clad in priestly robes, his eyes a milky white, but firm in their conviction. Standing next to him, was a young boy, no older than eight, marked as a faunus by the drooping dog ears atop his head. In his arms, he clutched a book nearly as big as he was. A two-headed eagle adorned its cover.
"This boy, this brave young soul," The old man began again, his voice firm and clear despite his age, "is the last member of Father Carmine's flock. A child, forced to flee the only home he has ever known as those who dare to call themselves protectors butchered his family and loved ones! All in the name of ignorance and persecution. But no more!"
A change began to ripple through the watching crowds, a shift in demeanor. Some clenched fists in silent agreement with the man's statement while others hurled all caution to the wind and openly shouted their thoughts, shocking those around them. Many removed coats and jackets to reveal shirts bearing the same mark as the book carried by the young faunus boy. In the media box, the two Huntsmen professors grabbed their weapons and joined their peers, anticipating they would be needed in quelling the riot about to unfold.
"For eighty years, we have been forced into hiding. For eighty years we have been hunted by the 'protectors' of humanity. No more! The children of the God Emperor will hide no longer! Rise up, my brothers and sisters! Rise up against the oppressors and tyrants! Rise up against the liars and hypocrites! Rise up, in the name of the Master of Mankind!"
The shouting grew louder, the screams became drowned out. Inside the Colosseum, hands shot up, palms pressed together in the symbol of their hidden faith. Confusion reigned as dozens of the students on stage did the same, shouting praise to their suppressed god. The old man stretched his arms out and raised them, as if to catch something. The boy beside him clutched the book harder.
"And rejoice! For He sends His great Angels unto us once more!"
And with that ending statement, the feed cut out, replaced with a wave of static. Those revealed Faithful moved to band together, forcing their way through the crowds, attacking any who sought to stop them. On the stage below, a tense standoff between the students was formed, as those who had shown their true colors held their weapons ready at those who were not of their faith.
The Huntsmen and Huntresses of Beacon Academy moved to quell the brewing riot before it could take root, utilizing their weapons and Semblances to deter the Faithful from violence.
Then, the Grimm sirens started wailing, shifting all attention. The warships sent to patrol the borders of the Kingdom turned about to face the incoming swarm of Grimm, even as Vale's defenses opened up with their own volleys. Gunships dueled with nevermores and gryphons, doing all they could to keep the Grimm away from the city. It wasn't enough, the Atlas forces were too widely spread out to effectively repel the threat. One broke through, then another, and another. Soon, defensive positions were overwhelmed as the Grimm barreled toward Vale.
Only for pods of black steel to crash into them from the sky, crushing Grimm beneath them before their sides fell open to reveal massive chainguns and missile launchers. The automated systems within the pods opened fire, scouring everything in their sight and halting the horde for a time. Confused and stalled by this unexpected assault, the monsters of Remnant were soon faced with another threat from the heavens.
In the wake of the pods' descent came ships, each one was half the size of an Atlesian warship but carrying three times the amount of weaponry and with double the armor plating. The undersides of their hulls still glowed red with the heat of atmospheric entry as they activated retro thrusters and began their landings. Each massive transport spat death upon the horde as they touched down, slaying scores of Grimm in hails of bolt, las, and missile.
Embarkation ramps slammed open as the ships touched down, unleashing their true cargo. Soldiers, clad in armored suits of black and red ran out to meet the foe with guns raised. The air lit up with the blue light of lasgun fire as Grimm fell and faded against the hail of energy falling upon them.
All over the planet, similar scenes played out. Massive ships landing outside the borders of Kingdom capital cities, disgorging soldiers to hold back the Grimm hordes. Local militia forces would watch in stunned amazement as these newcomers held the line, their dropships becoming like fortresses that continued to add their own fury to the fight. On other worlds, in other times, these native fighters may have questioned these newcomers, or even fired upon them. On Remnant however, Grimm took priority over suspicion, and the defenders quickly moved to join their fire with these strangers.
Only Atlas, floating high above the land and defended by a fleet of its own did not receive aid from the newcomers. Indeed, Atlas was by far the least affected by the broadcast. They had no secret cults to worry about like the other kingdoms, they had purged their city of them long ago. Nor too did they need to fear significant Grimm assault, protected as they were by their city's defense fleet and hardlight shield, not to mention the fact it floated hundreds of feet above the earth. No, Atlas did not receive aid from the newcomers.
Instead, Atlas received fire.
The first shell detonated against the city's defensive shield with the force of the end of the world. The shield cracked and buckled from the impact, just barely managing to withstand its might. Warships patrolling outside the shield that had too close to the blast were incinerated and their fighter escorts either vaporized or smashed to pieces by the shockwave of the explosion. The surviving captains didn't even have time to register what had happened before the second shell came down.
Barley able to deflect the first shell, the Atlas shield could do nothing to repel a second impact. The building sized shell smashed through the shield without detonating, the sheer force of its descent enough to shatter the hardlight barrier as if it were made of thin glass. It slammed into Atlas, pushed several dozen yards into the floating island's crust before detonating. In an eyeblink, twenty city blocks, and thousands of lives disappeared in a plume of smoke and fire that stretched high into the sky and bloated out the sun.
A second plume joined it a moment later, and another. Building sized chunks of rock, earth, and metal rained down from Atlas's underside as five bombardment canon shells smashed into it. The debris crashed into Mantle and the Dust quarry, crushing buildings, collapsing mineshafts, setting off Dust explosions and more.
In the span of only a handful of seconds, the great city of Atlas, the center of technological advancement and military might on Remnant, had been reduced to barely a third of its size.
Stunned. Dazed. These words could not capture the true state of mind each and every one of the survivors felt. They did not even have time to start processing what had happened to them, when what looked another barrage of shells came hurtling down toward them.
Only it wasn't another barrage of cannon shells, and it wasn't only over Atlas that they fell.
~o0o~
The drop pod shook as it cut through the layers of the planet's atmosphere and were it not for their magnetic boots or the restraint cradles locking them in place, the marines of assault squad Aedor would have been thrown from their feet.
"Give thanks to the Emperor, my brothers," Aedor said over the squad's shared vox net, "for it is by His hand that we are chosen to be among the first to set foot upon this world and cleanse it of sin! Let not one heretic live. Spare no Traitor!"
"Spare no Traitor!" They chorused, voices filled with zeal and hate.
Aedor smiled beneath his red corvus pattern helmet. Each marine's armor had been cleansed and blessed prior to entering their drop pod. Armor that had been dented, chipped, and torn at the claws of the Deepwood Beasts was now restored and pristine. Purity seals decorated their armored forms, each on listing oaths of moment yet to be fulfilled. Verses of faith and praise to the Emperor and the Nameless Saint were acid etched into the very ceramite, each word shining like a silver star against the black armor.
The sergeant's own suit had been restored as well, and then some. He resisted the urge to raise his right arm and admire the ash-gray paint it now bore. The Ashen Arm was a mark of honor in the Black Lions, a symbol of martial skill, piety, and heroism. He had earned it on Ikander-IV in the campaign against the false children of the Emperor. He had led his squad through enemy lines, enduring punishing fire, to reach the commander of the forward heretic forces. Aedor had slain the dark champion himself, cutting his head from his corrupted body and routing his mortal slave soldiers, hastening Imperial victory on the world.
It had been, Aedor recalled with pride, a good day.
He was pulled from his relocation when the pod's interior suddenly lit up with red alert lumens. A moment later, the propulsion engine died, and dampening thruster ignited, arresting their descent for the barest fraction of a second. When they hit the earth a moment later, the impact was so powerful, that it was only thanks to their transhuman physiology, and the restraint harnesses clamped about their forms that they were even alive. It left Aedor dazed, but only for an eyeblink. By the time the pod's doors fell open and the restraint harnesses disengaged, the sergeant was battle ready.
The ten Black Lions charged out of the pod with pistols raised and chainswords revving. In the span it took a human to suck in a breath, they took in their surroundings. They had dropped onto the edge of a small park area that had been converted into a trading hub for the planet's Vytal Festival. Stalls filled the park, those closest to the squad's dropsite had collapsed and their contents sprawled across the grass. Shouts and screams of panic filtered through their audio receptors as the human populace reacted to their sudden arrival.
Many ran, not even bothering to see what had crashed into their midst, too afraid to even look. Others stared in slack-jawed silence, unable to comprehend the black teardrop shaped insertion craft or the ten warriors it had discouraged onto their world. Some recognized Aedor and his brothers for what they were, and fell to their knees, hands held high over their heads in the sign of the Aquila.
These ones Aedor focused on. Unlike the rest of the humans, the sergeant noted each supplicant wore an Aquila somewhere on their person. Most had armbands or bandanas, some even had the Emperor's symbol stitched onto the fronts of their shirts. He noticed that several of those still standing also wore the Aquila.
The Faithful, he realized.
"I-I-impossible…"
The word made Aedor turn his head. His helm's targeting systems locked onto the face of a mortal woman, highlighting her features within the white outline of a crosshair rune. She was clad in a simple but revealing outfit of yellow and blue and her hair sporting streaks of both colors in it as well. She stared at them with terror and disbelief, holding out a shaking hand to point accusatorily at the ten Space Marines.
"You… You're supposed to be a myth…"
A quick sweep of his helm's targeting system revealed she did not wear the mark of His Faithful.
Aedor raised his bolt pistol and pulled the trigger. The heretic's head crunched in on itself before detonating, sending shards of bone and bits of brain matter flying everywhere. She collapsed onto the ground, her bleeding stump of a neck showering those around her in crimson blood. Her death snapped the rest out of their shocked state, but by then the rest of the squad had raised their pistols as well.
Screams and the sound of bolter fire filled the air as Squad Aedor cut down as many heretics as they could. Some turned to run while others fell to their knees and begged for mercy. Each received a bolt in the head or back for their actions. Some of the Faithful bolted as well, fearing they too would be met with the Emperor's retribution, but the marines held their fire, letting them flee.
They had come to punish heretics, not the faithful of the Emperor's flock.
When Aedor gave the order to cease fire, each of his brothers were reaching for spare magazines to reload their bolt pistols. The dead littered the fairground in gory heaps of obliterated meat and bone, while the living stayed hunched over on their hands and knees, muttering prayers of forgiveness and mercy as fear gripped them.
"Rise," he said, the word twisted into an angry growl by his helm's vox grill. None did. "Rise," he said, louder this time. Several of the mortals stood up, their legs shaking as they looked up at the Astartes with fear and awe. "Be at peace, we have not come to slay you, loyal followers of the God-Emperor. Our wrath is saved for those who have turned away from His Light."
The mortals looked between one another, unsure of what to say in response. Aedor didn't wait to hear their reply, however. As soon as he had made his declaration, the assault sergeant turned away from them and left, his squad following after him. He thought he heard one of the mortals call out after them, but he tuned the words out as the ten marines ran through the streets of Vale toward their main objective.
All while the familiar sounds of war began to echo through the city as more of their brothers joined the fight.
~o0o~
Battle-Brother Temic watched the bolt detonate inside the enforcer's stomach, dismantling him in a burst of blood and bone. His remains splashed against his comrades, who fell over or stared on, stunned by the brutal efficiency with which their comrade had been slain, foolishly leaving themselves open to meet the same fate as his brothers opened fire.
"Move out," Sergeant Demrick ordered before the final body even hit the ground. The squad obeyed, breaking into a run through the packed streets of Mistral, unheeding of the civilians in there way. Some managed to overcome their dread of the giant super humans and jump out of the way, others were simply slammed aside or crushed under the unrelenting tread of the Astartes.
Temic raised his bolter and fired into the crowd, felling several heretics before his Sergeant's voice crackled into life over the voc.
"Brother Temic, cease fire!" Demrick ordered in a rough but firm voice. "You are wasting ammunition on these wretches."
"Yes, brother sergeant," Temic replied, accepting the chastisement with grace. Lowering his bolter, he instead raised a fist to cave in the skull of a fleeing woman. He shook his gauntlet free of the blood and gray matter sticking to it. He heard his brothers chuckling over the vox.
He grunted, uncaring of their amusement. They had come to this world to purge it of heretics, had they not? And did the chapter not teach that the heretic and the traitor were to be abhorred above all Mankind's foes, save the wretched demons of the Warp? He only did as he had been trained.
Temic banished such thoughts from his mind as soon as they manifested, they were foul and unbecoming of a Black Lion. Zeal and fanaticism were fine traits in a warrior, but only when tempered by discipline and pragmatism. Besides, there was little glory in slaying these wretches. This was but the first hour of the planetary assault, he would have plenty of chances to earn glory and bring the Emperor's retribution.
He would do penance for his lapse in thought, he promised himself. When they returned to the Nameless Lady in orbit, he would submit himself for flagellation. That always helped clear his mind.
"This is Sergeant Bolvar," A voice announced over the squad's vox network. "We have the capital building in our sights and are moving to engage. Encountering minimal resistance thus far."
"Acknowledged, Brother," Demrick replied, "My squad and I are enroute to your position. We will secure the perimeter while you hunt down the council members."
"Spare no traitor, Brothers," Bolvar said in response, Demrick repeated the motto back to his fellow sergeant.
"Spare no traitor, Brother." The link went dead and Demrick adjusted the vox to address the squad. "Make haste!" The sergeant ordered, and all ten Marines broke into a sprint as they made for their objective.
An explosion in the sky caused Temic to look up just in time to watch an airship plummet into the city, its stylized wooden hull wreathed in flame and black smoke. A heartbeat later, he saw a xiphon interceptor shoot past, its black and red hull clear against the bright blue of the sky.
Temic raised a fist in salute to the pilot as he flew over the squad, wishing him good hunting.
"Even their machines are fragile," Andros huffed, "they break as if they are made of glass. How such a people managed to survive here, let alone thrive, is something I cannot understand."
"Nor I, Brother," Oren agreed, "I relish they opportunity to punish this heretical scum, but I pray their fabled Huntsmen live up to what the reports described. There is little glory in killing fleeing chattel."
"The God-Emperor rewards the faithful and the patient," Demrick told them. "For now, we focus on reaching the objective - hold!" The sergeant raised a clenched fist and came to a halt. The squad did as order, coming to a stop alongside their brother and turning to see what had gained his attention.
At the end of the road there was a building, set apart from the rest. It bore the same style of architecture as the rest of the structures in the city, but it was far grander in appearance. Dozens of strange idols dotted the approach to the building, leading up to a lavishly decorated archway of red and gold that framed the entrance way. Atop this arch stood four wooden statutes, carved and painted to resemble four young maidens.
The marines clutched their weapons tighter as they saw the building for what it was. Without a word, the ten brothers advanced on the temple, shattering the clay idols under their boots and wrenching open the heavy oaken door like it was made of straw.
They stepped inside, and beheld a mass of terrified mortals, humans and abhumans alike, huddled together at the far end of the temple. When the marines entered, the mortals huddled closer, begging for mercy or muttering feeble prayers to false deities. The squad regarded them through the cold blue of their eye lenses. Temic's eyes fell upon on man, clad in orange robes and holding a string of prayer beads in his hands. His lips moved but his words were a whisper, and it was only thanks to his transhuman biology that Temic could hear him.
"Oh, Brothers of Light and Dark, protect us from this evil. Shield us against the monsters that would seek to bring mankind low and remove all beauty from the world. Let the colors-"
Temic ended his prayer with a bolt round to the head. The mortals screamed in horror as the lifeless corpse slumped to the floor, orange robes now stained red.
"Oden," Demrick said, his growling voice booming through the space, cowing the shrieking mortals, "purify this place."
"Aye, Brother-Sergeant," Oden stepped forward and leveled his flamer at the crowd. Finally realizing what was about to happen, they tried to run, but it was too late. The flamer roared as it spat burning promethium over the mass of heretics, incinerating them in seconds. As they burned, Oden panned the flamer left and right, engulfing the rest of the temple in holy fire and consigning all that had been stored within it to oblivion.
They did not stay to watch the temple burn. Once the sergeant was satisfied, he ordered Oden to cease and for the others to move out. They strode from the burning building, never once looking back to see the steadily rising inferno and resumed their sprint to their objective.
"YOU BASTARDS!"
They turn as one at the voice, bolters raised and firing. A woman, clad in orange and white leather clothing charged at them with a large, polearm like weapon. She moved with impossible speed, dodging every shot fired at her, or deflecting them with her weapon. When she was no more than six yards away from them, she leapt into the air, weapon raised high above her head. As she reached the peak of her jump, a trio of jets ignited just beneath the back of the blade, propelling it down with enough speed and force to cleave open the head of the closest marine.
Temic barely had time to dodge the attack, even with his transhuman reflexes. The polearm's blade scrapped against his blessed ceramite as he stepped out of the blow, desecrating the holy Aquila on his chest. The woman stared at him for a moment, eyes wide with shock. Had she been surprised he had managed to dodge it? Temic blink-clicked the warning runes on his retinal display away, – the damage they reported was minor anyway – and unsheathed his combat knife.
Before she could react, the Black Lion lunged at her with his own blade. She tried to evade the attack, to leap back out of reach, but her shock had robbed her of precious seconds. The combat knife, large enough to be considered a sword in the hands of a mortal and honed to a monomolecular edge, slammed into the woman's chest point first. The strength of the blow should have sent the blade out her back, instead however, it merely sent her reeling, stunned but otherwise unharmed from what should have been a mortal blow.
As she tried to steady herself, a faint shimmer caught Temic's eye. A dim field of orange light flickered across the woman's body, enveloping her. It reminded the Black Lion of a void shield after sustaining heavy bombardment. He realized instantly that this was the witchery that the locals referred to as 'Aura'.
The woman steadied herself and glared over at Temic. The marine noticed she had tears trailing down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak, but whatever she was about to say was silenced by the staccato thunderstorm of ten bolters firing on full auto. The Aura field around her body was blown to pieces as the bolt rounds tore her body to shreds. When she collapsed to the ground, Gelman and Andros advanced on the corpse, bolters aimed and ready, just in case. The mangled wreckage did not stir.
Andros turned to the others, "dead," he said in a voice that stated the obvious. "But there is a likelihood there will be more on their way."
"Agreed," Demrick said, then activated the wider vox network. "Squad Demrick has made contact with enemy combatant matching the description of 'Huntress'. Enemy has been terminated. No casualties suffered."
"Acknowledged Squad Demrick," The voice of their captain replied. "Other squads are reporting similar encounters throughout the city. Current casualties are low, but it may not remain so for long. Remain alert and continue toward your objective."
"Yes, my lord," Demrick looked to the others and gestured for them to continue. They stormed back down the street, leaving the burning temple and the ruined remains of the Huntress behind.
~o0o~
As the other three kingdoms struggled to react to the brutal swiftness of the Astartes assault, the kingdom of Vacuo welcomed their invaders with celebration and open arms. Infamous for its tolerance of the Imperial Faith following the Great War, much of its population were vindicated by the broadcast, their devotion strengthened from seeing the hypocrisy of Atlas laid bare for all.
They wore their symbols of faith openly, proudly waving flags bearing the Imperial Aquila and singing hymns in the streets, along with the more traditional forms of celebration. Those few that sought to break up this revelry were or chased off or beaten, with some ending up hanging limply from streetlamps with signs reading 'heretic' dangling from around their necks.
When the black gunships flew down over the revelers, Theodore could have sworn every soul in the city had cheered, such was the volume of the noise he heard, even from his office.
The Headmaster of Shade Academy watched the gunships with narrowed eyes. There were two of them, each black as a Grimm's hide and heading straight for the Academy. He couldn't make out many details at first, but as they drew closer, he was able to pick some things out. Firstly, they reminded him of bricks with their rectangular bodes and blunt noses. He was honestly amazed something so blunt was even capable of flight, let alone the speed at which they were moving.
The second thing he noticed was the giant cannon each of them carried. The thing was massive, looking capable of killing a goliath with a single shot, and that was without any aid from the missiles tucked under their wings or the machine gun sponsons near their prow.
They were brutal and ugly in Theodore's mind, though not without some barbaric charm to them. They radiated strength. These were not elegant Mistralian airships, nor streamlined Atlesian warships. They were not designed to protect a world at peace.
They were designed for war.
One of the gunships broke off, changing course and making for City Hall. After the Council, Theodore guessed. The other one stayed on course for Shade Academy. It slowed once it reached the courtyard, hovered in place for a moment, and then landed. The front embarkation ramp fell down, and Theodore watched as ten black-armored giants strode out of the gunship.
He watched through the Academy's security cameras as they marched down the main path toward the school proper. Several students gawked at them, some tried to approach them only to be pulled back by their teammates. None of them drew a weapon, for which Theodore was grateful.
In fact, no one drew a weapon on the giants. The security systems remained inactive, and the faculty stepped aside when the giants came their way. Some of the teachers, Theo noted, even fell to their knees and started praying. It didn't surprise him. The Faith was more prevalent in Vacuo than he often let Ozpin know, not that he practiced it himself of course.
Unlike Ozpin, he saw the benefits the Faith brought to Vacuo and its people. It gave them purpose and hope in an otherwise bleak and harsh land. It wasn't just the Huntsmen and the Grimm Watch that kept Vacuo safe from the Grimm, but their faith in a god that, until very recently, Theo had believed to be a myth.
Did he disagree with the more extreme elements of it? Absolutely. Was he foolish enough to try and enforce an unpopular ban on a people notorious for their hatred of government? Hell no. In the time he had become Shade's Headmaster, Theo had developed a working relationship with the hidden Faithful of the city.
They don't cause trouble for him; he won't cause trouble for them.
"Sir! Sir!" The voice coming from his office intercom was familiar and drew the headmaster away from the security feeds. He turned to the screen showing the face of his right-hand woman, Xanthe Rumpole.
"What is it, Xanthe?" He asked calmly, or as calm as he could manage in their situation.
Xanthe took a moment to catch her breath. Theo raised an eyebrow. He had never seen her so… frazzled. "T-they're coming, Professor. I just saw them. Throne of the Emperor, they were incredible! They are heading straight for your office!"
Like many in Vacuo, Xanthe was a member of the Faith, though she never let that get in the way of her job. Theo appreciated that, as he appreciated the warning. "Thank you for the heads up, Xanthe," he thanked her, then asked, "have they harmed anyone?"
"No," She said, her voice distracted, "I told everyone to let them pass and not to get in their way. The students are staying in their rooms, or just watching-"
"Wonderful to hear, Xanthe," Theodore said, and he meant it. The fact that none of his students had been harmed by the invaders erased some of the doubt he felt for what he was about to do. Not all of it, of course, but enough. "Going to have call you back now though. I need to make myself presentable."
He cut the link before she could respond and slumped back in his chair with a sigh. "Gods damn you, Ozpin." He sat there for a moment, then rose, walked to stand in front of his desk, faced the door to his office, and waited.
He didn't have to wait long. Three minutes later and the door exploded inward as a ceramite clad boot kicked it off its hinges. The ten giants he had watched move through his school barged into his office, their massive brutish guns all pointed at him.
They each wore black armor with red pauldrons and trimmed with gold. Passages of holy script adorned their armor, either on prayer scrolls affixed with wax seals or etched into the metal itself. Some bore the Aquila on their chestplates, others had winged skulls, roaring lion heads, or veiled women. Some had helmets that reminded the headmaster of fairy tale knights, others had helms with snarling grills and glaring blue eye lenses.
One stood out to Theodore. His helmet was painted bright red instead of black, and he carried a large axe and a strange pistol in place of the bulky guns the others carried. Both weapons, he noticed, were chained to his wrists with heavy iron links.
Knowing a leader when he saw one, Theodore made his address to the red helmed giant. When he spoke, he kept his voice level and calm, betraying none of the dread he felt at being in the presence of mythology made real.
"I'm Professor Theodore Dorthy, Headmaster of Shade Academy," He met that cold glare of the giant's blue eye lenses. "And on behalf of my kingdom, my academy, and the students under my care, I surrender myself to you."
~o0o~
"Come on!" Blake shouted to Weiss as the two of them made through the mob of people trying to escape the colosseum. Weiss was actually right behind the faunus, but there was so much noise and chaos around them that shouting was the only way either one of them could hear each other.
They weaved through the crowd, using their training and Aura enhanced agility to get through the sea of humanity and reach the airdock on the colosseum's lower levels. There were still some sky ferries taking on passengers, and the two Beacon students made a beeline for the closest one.
"Wait for us!" Blake called out. The man at the ferry's ramp must have heard her because he turned their way. Blake could see the fear and adrenaline in his eyes and half expected him to ignore her and signal for the pilot to take off. He didn't. The pair ran inside the ferry with another group of students before the man closed the ramp behind them.
As the airship took off, Weiss pressed her back against the metal wall of the ferry's interior, arms wrapped around herself as she tried to process what had happened. Blake was next to her, internally telling herself over and over again that they had made the right call.
When the broadcast ended, the whole arena had gone crazy. Civilians wearing the two headed eagle of the imperial faith started attacking people, causing the already on edge crowds to descend into an outright panicked frenzy. The Huntsmen and Huntresses on site tried to stop them, only for some of their own to turn on them as well, revealing themselves to be members of that damned religion. Even some of the teams joined the cultists, attacking their comrades and teachers.
What could the two of them had done? They didn't have their weapons with them, and even if they did, there were too many people for them to use them safely. No, they made the right choice in retreating. Once they got back to campus, they'd call their lockers, grab their weapons, and do their duty as Huntresses and protect Vale from this… this… insanity.
"This doesn't make any sense," Weiss said, earning Blake's attention. "It has to be fake. It has to be. There's no way the Atlas military would do something like… like that! It's fake, it has to be." Weiss looked over at Blake. The desperation in the heiress' eyes took the faunus back. "Right?"
Blake didn't say anything for a moment, then nodded. "It was fake," she agreed. She opened her mouth to say more, but then closed it, unable to further the lie she had told her distressed friend.
It wasn't fake. When she had still been with them, the White Fang sometimes posted videos of faunus being murdered by humans. They would show homes being burned or children chased into the wilds to be eaten by Grimm. They had all been staged however, acted out by spiteful volunteers in the hopes it would inspire more faunus to rise up against humanity.
It had been a deceitful tactic, one that Blake had hated from the beginning, as had many others. What had been shown in the Colosseum hadn't been staged. Those had been real Atlas Knights, killing real people who had no way of fighting back.
Blake had no love for the imperial faith. It was a dogmatic religion that promoted human supremacy over everything, especially the faunus. But seeing Atlesian war machines open fire on unarmed civilians, all because of their faith…
It struck a little closer than Blake would like to admit.
Ignorant of her friend's inner turmoil, Weiss nodded. Hearing that seemed to help the heiress a little. She wasn't rocking back and forth anymore, at least. Blake turned from Weiss when she heard sobbing and whispering behind her.
In the wake of the rioting, people had flooded to get onto the ferries and get off the floating Colosseum, resulting in the interiors being cramped and crowded. Dozens of civilians and Huntsmen Academy students filled the space, huddled together in shock, fear and confusion. Some cried, others muttered to themselves, more just kept quiet, unable to fully process what had just happened.
Blake had to turn away from it. As a former White Fang member and an aspiring Huntress, she had experience with frightened people, knew how to best help them and ensure they didn't do anything foolish in their fear, but this was different from all that. They hadn't been attacked by the Grimm, or bandits, or the White Fang. They'd been attacked by their neighbors, their friends and family. That fact alone spread a type of despair that Blake didn't have the stomach to face. So, she went to look out one of the ferry's windows.
Just in time to watch dozens of black objects stream down into the city.
A scream went out inside the ferry. Seems some of the civilians had been looking out the windows as well and seen the objects. Panic surged through the crowd as frightful mutterings about a Grimm attack echoed in the confined space. The ferry sped up after that. Maybe in response to the fear of the passengers or simply because the pilot was also terrified and wanted to get out of the air. It was hard to tell.
"What is it?"
Blake actually jumped at Weiss' voice. She turned to the heiress, seeing the worry and hidden fear in her features.
"I don't know," Blake said truthfully, turning back to the window and trying to spot where the objects had landed. "But it can't be anything good."
"It's the Angels!"
Both girls turned to the speaker. A bald man stood near one of the windows, hands held against his head as if trying to alleviate a painful headache. "It's the Emperor's Angels! They're here to punish us and send us to hell!"
He seemed to be speaking mostly to himself, but his voice was so loud it was heard throughout the cabin and intensified the panicking. Blake narrowed her eyes and went over to the man.
She reached out to grab his arm when he rounded on her. He grabbed her by her arms and looked into her eyes. A madness born of fear stared at her through his eyes, and she knew this man had clearly lost his mind.
"We brought this on ourselves! We all blamed the priests and now we're paying for it! Its judgement day!"
"Let go of me!" Blake said, trying to get out of his grip. He just squeezed her arms tighter.
"We need to repent! Need to show them we are sorry for what happened! Otherwise, we'll all di-" His words were cut off when a glowing white glyph appeared under his feet and flung him against the wall, pulling him off the raven-haired faunus. He hit the metal wall with a thud and slumped to the ground, unconscious and hopefully unharmed.
Blake winced and rubbed her arms as Weiss ran over to her. "Are you alright?"
Blake nodded, "yeah. Thanks."
Weiss nodded and turned to the rest of the ferry, who were all staring at them now. Blake blushed a little, having forgotten they were there for a moment.
"We need to stay calm," Weiss told everyone in a stately and commanding voice. "We are all shaken by what's going on right now, but we cannot allow ourselves to start panicking. The Grimm will be on their way now, and if we panic it will only attract more of them."
Everyone muttered and looked around at each other, a few nodded in agreement. Weiss went on, "most of you are Huntsmen Academy students, like me. You have been trained to fight Grimm. Some of you aren't Academy students though and have no idea what to do if you come face to face with a beowolf. When we land, my fellow students and I will escort you all to the nearest shelter and protect you from any Grimm that might try to harm you. We just need to stay calm."
The speech had the desired effect. A number of the civilians looked calmer and less frightened than before, realizing who they flew with. Some of the other students also seemed to remember themselves and nodded in agreement with the Schnee Heiress.
Blake just looked at Weiss, as surprised by her words as she was by the fact Weiss had looked to be on the brink of a mental break down a few minutes ago.
But then Blake saw how her teammate's hands were trembling and knew that she wasn't fully recovered, merely hiding it for the benefit of the others. Blake placed a hand on Weiss' shoulder and the platinum haired beauty turned to her and gave a grateful nod.
The rest of the flight was relatively uneventful, thank goodness. Some of the people kept looking out the windows, watching as Vale was consumed by chaos and conflict. Others huddled close together for safety and reassurance. Blake and Weiss spoke with some of the other Academy students, formulating plans on what to do after they got the civilians to safety.
Soon, a light chime sounded through the cabin, alerting everyone that they were about to dock. Blake took in a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Despite everything she had seen and been through before, this felt different. There was a strange weight to this attack, one that weighed on the faunus' mind and refused to relent.
"We've been trained to handle this sort of thing, Blake," Weiss told her as she stood beside the former terrorist, both of them watching the main door with expectation. "Remember, it's our job to protect these people."
Blake didn't say anything. She couldn't bring herself to voice her doubts, how they would likely be fighting people as well as Grimm. A part of her, a loud, frightened part of her, wanted to scream that they hadn't been trained for this, that they should just run. But she pushed that piece of her down, refusing to listen to it even though every fiber of her being was telling her to get as far away from Vale as she could.
So, she stayed quiet, not trusting her own tongue and stood with Weiss as the ferry doors opened out and the two Huntresses and their classmates called down their weapon lockers.
Blake was just reaching for Gambol Shroud, when the ground suddenly began to shake.
~o0o~
Miles from the City of Vale, past the all the fighting and the bloodshed, Mountain Glenn shook.
Stirred by the sudden rush of so much anger and fear, the great beast that slumbered beneath the mountain awoke from its long sleep to find itself trapped within a prison of stone. It roared defiantly and began to shake itself free.
Every movement sent ripples through the mountain, causing boulders to slip free from its face and the earth to quiver. Almost everyone stopped fighting as they felt the ground beneath them shake, even the black clad giants, though they recovered quickly and resumed fighting before the others had a chance to question what was going on.
Then it broke free. Erupting out of the mountain top soared a massive draconian Grimm. It shrieked with joy at finally being free, spreading its massive wings wide before swooping down and over the ruins of Mountain Glenn.
The other Grimm heard its call and rallied, redoubling their assault with renewed vigor and ferocity as the massive draconic Grimm flew toward the source of all this negative emotion, its massive eyes gleaming with malicious hunger.
Far away, in a place where mankind has never dared to tread, Salem opened her eyes.
"They've returned…"
~o0o~
Author's Note: HOLY SHIT! WOOOO! I FINISHED IT YES! ITS FINALLY HAPPENING FOLKS!
This took so long for me to do, mostly cus I wasn't sure how to structure it. I wanted to show just how much of the world was getting affected by this and I think I did a good job. We will be seeing more clip scenes like this for a bit, but not for everything. At most the next two chapters. After that it will be a bit more focused.
And yeah, Atlas got nuked. Now, not the whole city was destroyed, just two thirds of it. I wanted to show just how much the Black Lions abhor traitors and I thought of no better way than having them bombard the kingdom that started the fad with SEVEN BOMBARDMENT CANNON SHELLS. Please let me know if I was correct regarding their yield, I wasn't sure if I made them too powerful or too weak.
Also, on the subject of the Huntress that was killed. Yes, she was killed fast, but that was for multiple reasons. One: She was angry and wasn't thinking when she charged them. Two: ONE Huntress against TEN space marines is not going to end well. Three: she had never fought something like a space marine before and was caught off guard by how fast he was for his size.
Also, as for why Theodore surrendered, you don't become the pseudo leader of kingdom by pissing off the local religions. Plus, he always puts his students first, and he realized pretty fast that this wasn't a fight he could win without most of his students dying.
Furthermore, I have decided to change the weapon of the Chapter Master, mostly cus I felt it was a bit too silly for him to have a guardian spear as a weapon. It will be changed to a power flail instead. Why? Cus they badass, thats why!
But anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it!
As always, please fav, follow, and review! Thank You!
DeadRich18 Out!