WARNING! This is the direct sequel to my previous fanfic [Fighting Rose], and will contain both immediate spoilers along with confusing crossover terminology and names that has been previously established in the aformentioned first fanfic. It is highly recommended that you read [Fighting Rose] before continuing into [Act 2: Bloom Again]. You have been warned!

I do not own properties such as the Nasuverse/Fate Franchise, Doom, Warhammer 40K, Devil May Cry, Genshin Impact, the Dragon Ball franchise, and any other franchises that I have used in the creation of this fanfiction. This story is rated M for mature themes including violence, racism and other mature themes.

The cover art is made by me! (I literally threw it together in under an hour and it'll be updated with colour... eventually, so don't flame me too hard for it XD)

With all that said... WELCOME BACK AND ENJOY THE SHOW!

Fighting Rose, Bloom Again!

Chapter 1

A whole new world

Salem, the woman who defied the Gods, has returned into the mortal world within the amalgamated corpse of numerous Silver-Eyed warriors, Summer Rose among them. Vale has fallen, now transformed into the realm of Chaos, and the siege against the world has begun as Salem seeks to drain Remnant of its souls and flesh to push her power into greater heights. Worse yet, with the opening of the Great Rift above Vale, the world itself has changed. Old beings, lands of times long past, and ancient powers are being forced into the present. Does this mean that I have the opportunity to reunite with my brothers who are loyal to humanity? Maybe. Will some of them seek to kill me? Most likely.

Yang Xiao Long, her demonic power severed from her, lays in a coma.

Blake Belladonna, seeking answers for the true heritage of the Faunus.

Weiss Schnee, trapped in Atlas at the hands of my Primarch brother, her father.

Ruby Rose, bearer of the Tarnished Silver Eyes, location unknown.

Their companions, team Juniper, are on their way to Mistral itself to try and obtain the Relic of Knowledge, an object that could either turn the tide of the oncoming war or be the nail in the coffin for us all, should it fall into the wrong hands. The World Eaters and are not far behind, seeking the same Relic for their god.

Conclusion: with the return of Salem, now as the Amalgam-God of Blasphemy, and the full might of Chaos organized under her leadership, survival is non-existent. All hope is lost.

I am Alpharius, and this is a lie.

}-Mistral-{

The little village in Mistral was out of the way, but not unaffected by what was happening in the wider world. All large television sets had been smashed and connection to the CCT network was kept extremely sparse, only to occasionally check up on the news and only for a few minutes at a time. There wasn't much that was new in the past month since Beacon fell, though what was there didn't paint a pretty picture, what with the opening stages of the siege on Mistral's shores beginning. Besides, nobody wanted another one of those things popping out of the screens. The last time that had happened had been a week after the fall, with everyone so desperate to try and gather as much information as possible leaving the doorway open for that thing. That thing, some kind of twisted Grimm that nobody had ever seen before, had killed twenty people after it had clawed its way out. It took someone smashing their car into it while whoever else was available (and crazy enough) took whatever weapon they could find to stab, bludgeon and chop apart the thing. Nobody forgot the way it laughed even as its head had been ripped from its body. They'd figured out what had happened afterward pretty quickly when another demon, entirely different from the first one, had begun to claw their way through another TV connected to the network. Whatever they were, scrolls thankfully seemed too small for the demons to get through, but everyone who had one was quick to disconnect from the network entirely.

A few kids of the village, sheltered as they were from the horror of what had happened, did not understand the importance of the no-network and no-TV rule. So three kids managed to find and old TV, hook it up to the network, and were greeted with the smiling face of a pink, tentacle-haired blob of flesh. They had screamed and ran out of the little shack they hung out in, but the Pink Horror was quick, scrabbling out of the TV and chasing after them while randomly lobbing bolts of psychic lightning. One child tripped, his ankle twisted by sheer bad luck, and he could only curl up and scream as the Horror stood over him with a grin, reaching out with a hand wreathed in sparks.

Its hand was sliced off at the wrist and it shrieked in pain, stumbling back and looking at its sizzling stump in fear as its appendage refused to heal. Its gaze shot in time to see a blur shoot past the crying child and towards it, diving out of the way as the figure stabbed a masterfully made cane into the ground where it stood. It was a boy, no older than fourteen. Tanned skin, freckles on a young face with emerald eyes framed my short, messy black hair. Nothing extraordinary. And yet…

The boy's gaze strayed slightly off to the side, as if he was listening to something in his ear before nodding imperceptibly and sprinting towards the Horror, far faster than an any child his age should move, faster even than Pre-Academy trainees. The Horror was unable to react as the boy pierced the cane through its skull, the cane transforming into a golden-hilted greatsword for a split second and lighting the daemon aflame. It tried to split into two smaller Blue Horrors, only for those to be consumed by the golden fire as well, their essences utterly erased as they turned to ash. The boy looked over his shoulder to the awed gaze of the child, the other two running back to get him having also witnessed the whole ordeal. He simply raised a finger to his mouth, a 'shh' barely audible before he disappeared. He reappeared inside of his room and immediately collapsed onto the floor, muscles burning from psychic exhaustion.

'That wasn't as subtle as I would've preferred,' Ozpin chuckled.

"Shut up," Oscar Pine groaned. "Besides, I don't think he'll talk."

The village was calling him the 'Star-Child' within the next three days after word had spread from an 'unknown source,' unsurprisingly.

}-{

Other villages and towns weren't as lucky, and none were worse off than those at the shores of Anima. Its costal and waterborne defences were the strongest of Remnant's four kingdoms, given the amount of large bodies of water within the landmass, not to mention surrounding and within the kingdom itself. Since the incident at Beacon, the alliance between the two most powerful Council-members of Mistral had already been preparing new and reinforcing existing military defensive structures across the continent. It seemed to have changed next to nothing when the World Eaters and the White Fang members attached to them began their assault. The waters on the edge of Anima had turned to blood, the first and only warning its people received. A day later, a giant, brutal warship rippling with decorative chains and bristling with weapons burst straight up through the bloody sea like a breaching whale, even though the waters were far too shallow for such a warship to hide under the surface. The turrets and mortars failed to make even a dent on the brutal warship before it began lobbing what at first looked like comically large payloads of teardrop-shaped bombs, only for them to crash into the beach and open up like flowers.

And the first one to step out was an Astartes in blood-red and brass-trimmed armour, his helm crested by two flat horns decorated with the effigies of screaming faces, a dozen human (and some not-so-human) skulls chained to his waist. Where one arm was fully armoured and bore an archaic plasma-pistol, his left was entirely bare and rippling with unnatural muscle, chains wrapped around his wrists. His bare hand gripped the chainaxe known as Gorechild, far too large for even an Astartes to wield properly, yet he held it as if it was as light as an ordinary short-sword. He observed the beach and its defenders, silent. 'Hazel,' he was nicknamed by his patron deity thanks to the gentle colour of his eyes. The name was something of a joke, for he was not a gentle man.

"Blood for the Blood God," He said, his voice booming from the speaker in his chestplate and helmet's grill-mouth, "SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!"

Code-name: Hazel

Kharn the Betrayer

Other World Eaters and the Fang-members attached to them sprinted out of their drop-pods, each bearing an assortment of chainblades, axes, oversized gauntlets, some Faunus already in their Devil Trigger and making use of their ascended forms, though none reached the walls faster than Kharn himself. He was the first to reach the wall, his huge frame far too fast as he easily dodged around mortar-strikes, smashed clean through the concrete wall and kept going until he was on the other side. The Mistralese soldiers, the Millelith, were armed in fine black-iron armour, rifles, white-tassel spears and traditional straight-swords, all of them fine combatants in their own right. They were butchered like animals. A single swing from Gorechild tore through eight of them without pause, armour and all. A blast of plasma from Kharn's pistol incinerated another eight. A squad of them had begun aiming their rifles at him, only for the Betrayer to look over her shoulder and close the ten-meter gap in the blink of an eye, stowing his plasma pistol on his hip and punching the solider in the middle so hard that his torso exploded into a bloody paste. He swung his axe one-handed and cleaved through the other seven before they could even register what had happened.

All eyes were on him now, exactly what he wanted. The nails lodged into his skull bit deep and he gave into their call with ease, his body pushed to even greater acts of raw violence as each kill flooded his brain with adrenaline, the cycle repeating itself over and over. His consciousness came back to him for a moment and he found himself on the walls, his body moving on its own as he tore through one man after the next, attacks that were lucky enough to land doing next to nothing as they bounced off him. His gaze homed in on a massive las-cannon that was turned his way, its barrel glowing red as its crew aimed and fired at him. There was no time to think, nor did he bother, gripping Gorechild with both hands and grunting as swung at the perfect time. The las-beam the size of a car smashed into the grinding teeth of the chainaxe and was flung back to whence it came, breaking apart like laser-buckshot and spraying the defenders with lances of light that punched through armour, stone and flesh alike, all within fifty meters of Kharn's unorthodox manoeuvre. He kissed his teeth, preferring to have done the killing himself.

Evidently he was not fighting alone anymore, his frontal assault and distraction of the defences had given the rest of the warband enough time to cross the beach and clean up. The hair on the back of his neck raised and he swung a backfist on instinct, his knuckles brushing past the Nelo Angelo's face as it weaved under the blow and danced away, a cheeky smile on its dark iron face. He grumbled, resisting the nails screaming at him to decapitate the Angelo. He did not like working with it on account of its strange humour and lackadaisical attitude, but he had to admit that its combat prowess was impressive, on par with himself no doubt. He turned back to observe the carnage, pushing aside his bloodlust urging him to join in the slaughter, but there were more important things to take care of.

"Take stock of the Fang members under your command Angelo," He rumbled, "We'll strip this place of supplies and take other Faunus to better bolster your numbers, create rifts for the Qliphoth-roots to take hold and let Lotara start bringing the ship in."

The Angelo nodded and leapt down, doing exactly as ordered. Kharn looked out towards the warship known as The Conqueror, huffing out a gravelly laugh as it fired giant spikes into a fleeing Mistralese battleship, dragging it in and blasting it to shrapnel in moments. Lotara always loved using the Ursus Claws, and there would be ample opportunities to use them as they ravaged their way towards Mistral.

}-South Mistralese Sea-{

The ship rocked and Blake had to stop herself from flinching. They were in safter, shallow waters, and it would only be another day or two until they reached Menagerie. She looked at the unconscious form of Yang, still sleeping peacefully after Raven had cut off her arm. It was odd: she'd lost a little weight and muscle-mass from her month in a coma, but nowhere near as much as Blake had expected. Stranger was the fact that she produced no waste even as she was drip-fed nutrients meant for high calorie-burning combatants, as if her body was absorbing everything it could get to stay in shape. Blake gently caressed Yang's hair, which always seemed to be softly glowing nowadays.

She remembered the look Taiyang gave her when she broke the news to him about Yang and Ruby. She remembered the wall of rage that threatened to knock her down before he calmed, his face stony but eyes filled with tears as he checked on Yang personally.

'…Go to Menagerie,' He had told her. 'Bring Yang with you. I can see that a Devil has awakened inside both of you. Your home has the answers to questions you've yet to ask yourself, and opportunities to prepare for what's to come. If Ruby managed to survive, she will need all the help she can get. Besides, it's no longer safe for Faunus just about anywhere besides Menagerie now.'

'Is Ruby alive…?' Blake thought to herself. She couldn't help but let doubt cloud her judgement. The blow that Ruby took from the literal God of evil seemed to hit her so hard that she'd disintegrated. Yang was in a coma, Weiss was trapped in Atlas and here she was, deadweight as usual, waiting for life to push her in whatever direction it desired.

There was a rhythmic knock on the door and Blake smiled a bit, opening it. Sun stepped in carrying two trays of food. He wore a thick cloak to hide his features and clothing, but she'd never mistake that aura of his. In any other circumstance, she'd be on guard in the presence of the 'Legendary Super Saiyan,' but he was the only friend she could rely on right now. That, and he was a good friend. With the rest of his team having been killed and Ruby gone, he had pretty much nowhere to go aside from sticking with Blake, also seeking potential clues about his power in Menagerie with the path to Vacuo cut off. It hurt to see his eyes so dull, more so when he did his best to cover it up for her sake like right now.

"Got lucky," He chuckled, "The crew managed to reel in a few yellowfin tunas earlier in the day, so this is about as fresh as it gets."

"Thank you, Sun," Blake nodded, her mouth watering at the sight of the sashimi and rice drizzled with sweet soy sauce, the steamed vegetables on a side a nice touch. She looked over and stifled a chuckle at the contents of his plate. "You don't seem that hungry."

Three fist-sized tuna-steaks piled on top of each other, mashed potatoes and gravy with a thermos-sized bowl full of pea soup.

"Been eating light for a while, yeah," He grinned back before digging in, sans his usual gusto. He gestured with his fork towards Yang. "Any changes?"

"Nothing," Blake shook her head, "I'm still curious about how Yang just seems to keep… absorbing everything we give her. It doesn't seem to be doing her any harm, but still…"

"We know that it's probably her Semblance," Sun mused, "But do you think if she gets a big-enough jolt, she'll wake up when her Semblance flares up in response?"

"…What, like… hit her?" Blake gave Sun an incredulous look.

"Pretty much, yeah," He shrugged, smoothly weaving out of the way as she threw a pillow at his head.

"Your humour needs work," She snorted.

"You're smiling, can't be that much work," He said with a grin. She laughed at that, grateful again that she wasn't dealing with this alone.

"So," He started as soon as he'd finished, "What do you think's on Menagerie?"

"I've got some ideas," She said, taking out a simple notebook, "Given everything that's happening, I'm guessing it's got something to do with Faunus and their relation to this 'Devil Trigger' that we all innately seem to have. Granted, your 'Super Saiyan' seems to be something altogether different."

"Yeah, I feel what you mean," Sun agreed, "Something about my Saiyan power seems more primal. Devil Triggers feel more… spiritual? I dunno how to describe it fully. Maybe Menagerie's got a better chance of explaining things given how screwed the world is, unlocked some secrets and whatnot."

"…I don't have a lot of hope finding anything there," Blake admitted, "Ruby was on the mark when she said spiritualism was dying out for most Faunus in place of tech and Faunus rights. But like you said, given everything that's happening now…"

"So we're in agreement," Blake sighed. "I just hope that things haven't been turned too upside-down back home."

"There's still regular communications," Sun reminded her, "And even if there's not a lot of info passing through, it's still something."

"…You're right," Blake nodded, "Thank you Sun."

"Don't worry about it," Sun grinned before the light in his eyes seemed to die out, "…I just think Ruby would've appreciated it if I helped you out."

}-Atlas-{

'Please let them all rush him and beat him to death,' Weiss prayed, harder than she'd ever thought possible, 'Please let them riot and rebel against him. Let Atlas be thrown into chaos so I can get out of here.'

Today would be the day that her father revealed himself to Atlas, a nation that was already on the brink of collapse thanks to the fall of Beacon and the reveal of Chaos. A handful of Faunus spontaneously transforming into demons didn't exactly help either. Weiss's eyes caught a flicker of movement from between two buildings, instinctively looking at before averting her gaze as she tasted bile in her throat: the sight of Faunus executions had become a common occurrence nowadays, but the sight of it always made her stomach turn. The people of Atlas were very creative when it came it executing 'heretics' and 'abhumans,' now more than ever. Even sitting in the exit bay, something that reminded her of her time in Beacon, wasn't much comfort.

The commoners below the Government's custom airship were throwing bottles and trash up at it, Weiss staring unflinchingly through a window as she tried to focus on the face of each and every one of them. She wondered idly what her father was going to do in this situation. He'd mentioned to her with a smirk that he had something very special planned, something that would win over most of the kingdom in one fell swoop before they'd boarded the airship. She hoped that it would fail and that someone would be lucky enough to throw a bottle down his throat where he'd choke on it and die. The airship lowered and stopped, hovering over the Sisyphean Memorial, a city-block large square dedicated to those brave Atlan Guardsman who had fallen during Beacon.

The was crowded everywhere except under the airship, the Atlan people screaming at what they thought was a ship being commandeered by the Councilmembers, demanding that they give answers to what was happening, roaring for the complete eradication of the Faunus threat in the kingdom, and begging for solace from those who had lost loved ones in Beacon. Some were praying. The speaker on the ships crackled, and Weiss rolled her eyes as she heard her father clear is throat, something he always did when preparing to deliver some memorised line or speech.

"Citizens of Atlas," His voice boomed. They fell quiet quickly: the vast majority of people had never heard his voice before, much less on such a large scale before. "You have suffered long enough."

Weiss heard heavy footsteps approaching the doors to the exit-bay. Three Astartes, no surprise there given that Jacques always travelled with a handful of them as his entourage. She wondered what the strange, metallic tinkling-sound was though. The doors to the exit-bay and her stomach dropped as she found out what it was: all councilmembers, save Ironwood, were dragged through the room bound in chains, beaten and limbs broken. She watched in open-mouthed horror as the Astartes handled them like they were sacks of potatoes, the doors to the bay opening up to the inbuilt balcony outside. The people first gasped at the sight of the Astartes, the literal angels of Atlan religion in the flesh, before roaring in approval as the battered figures of the council were dragged into view. As far as they were concerned, it was the council's inaction and their complete silence that had devastated so many lives.

"I bring before you the members of the Atlesian Council," Jacques said, his voice neutral, "And I have come to understand that it is their incompetence which has cost the New Imperium the lives of so many brave soldiers during the fall of Beacon. I ask you… what will you have me do with them?"

The crowd's roar was unanimous in its intent.

"KILL THEM! HERETICS! TRAITORS!"

"The people have spoken," He said.

Without hesitation, the Astartes hoisted them up and tossed them over the balcony into the crowd. One was lucky enough to break their neck on impact. The other two, not so much. She lost her breakfast all over the floor as they were hung alive on the nearest lightpoles. A handkerchief was suddenly held in front of her, Weiss looking up to see an Astartes with a beaked helmet holding it out to her, gold and bronze trim on his armour, an Ursa pelt draping one of his pauldrons.

"Th-thank you, First Captain Seigward," She nodded, gratefully taking the kerchief and wiping her mouth.

He bowed politely.

"Of course, honoured sister," He said, his voice always tinged with a jovial heft to it that never failed to calm her nerves, at least partially. He seemed to glance over his shoulder at something before he held a finger up to where his mouth would be. She nodded and quickly created a glyph, the pyro-dust in her earrings activating as she incinerated her returned breakfast and stood straight.

The doors to the bay opened and in strode Jacques, dressed in ceremonial warplate meant to draw the eye, the metal tinged the same white-blue of ice and rimmed in gold, his own grimmfur cloak billowing around his shoulders as he strode forward. He sniffed and spared her a glance, amusement gleaming in his eyes as he tapped his nose. Weiss felt her face heat with shame and rage. She prayed again that someone would somehow, by some miracle, manage to accidentally kill him in the most embarrassing way possible. Seigward joined the Primarch's side, the two of them striding out to the starstruck silence of the crowd as Jacques finally revealed himself to the Atlan people.

"The doors to hell have opened and the armies of Chaos will come, of that there is no doubt. But the time for squabbling among ourselves is over. Look upon me and know the truth of who I am."

He threw his hands open, eyes glowing frost-blue.

"I am the UBERMENSCH," His voice boomed, "Son of the Emperor, Scion of the Imperium of old! My father has sent me unto you, to guide you through the oncoming storm and restore Atlas, what was once the seat of Imperial power, back to its former glory!"

The crowd was already roaring, Jacques revelling in the spotlight and raising his voice even louder in response, fervently striding across the edge of the balcony as he pointed out everyone in the crowd with a wave.

"Each and every single faithful child of the Imperium deserves more than being confined to this single Kingdom: the Imperium should be the only kingdom, is that not right!?"

Everyone roared in approval, some falling to their knees and prostrating themselves.

"Rise up and prove your faith! Bring the mongrel abhumans to me in chains, where they will be put to their knees like the dogs they are! Soon we will strike out against those who stand against us and retake the world in the name of our Imperium! FOR THAT IS THE GOLDEN PATH TO THE FUTURE!"

In the matter of mere minutes, the crowd had been whipped up into religious fervour unlike anything that had been seen in millennia. He waved, beaming to the crowd as he became their hero with a single speech before dramatically turning around and walking back into the bay, his cloak billowing behind him as his Astartes followed behind their master. Weiss stood there, trembling at the monster that approached her, a satisfied look on his face as she caught his gaze. They stared at each other, Weiss continuing to tremble. Not out of fear, though she was certainly afraid of him, but out of pure rage.

"…the Atlan Councilmembers…" She ground out, "…you're the reason they've been silent for over a month, aren't you?"

He smiled, eyes glowing as he placed a heavy hand on her head and tousled her hair.

"Smart girl."

It was then and there that Weiss vowed after she got out of Atlas and reunited with her team, that she'd find a way to kill her father with her own hands.

...TWBY Continued...

To anyone who ignored the initial warning, I bet you're pretty confused, huh? XD. While I know it's not much of an outright 'recap chapter,' I think this serves as a nice introduction as to where our main girls are at right (most of them anyways) about now as well as peeking into the state of the world. As always, let me know what you guys think, and see you soon! Peace out!