Chapter Twenty-One
Fortunately, or unfortunately, it took less than a minute of flying before I was back, the cleared space around what was once the glade thrice as big as when I left. The walls, mostly wood, enclosed the central area in a thirty-foot-tall pentagon. They were almost built, complete with battlements, though one corner was still completely open, lacking any kind of gate, door, obstruction, or anything. It seemed like a major design flaw, but, completely out of my element, I had to assume there was a reason for it.
Gliding in, I tried to land gracefully, but stumbled a bit, still feeling weak, if better than I had a few moments ago. It hurt to breath, my entire mouth feeling raw and burned all the way down my neck and into my chest, but the pain, which had made it hard to concentrate on anything, was subsiding, though my thoughts still seemed to slide against each other, not connecting right. Glynda glanced over to me, starting to say something, only to pause, eyes widening, calling out, "Thumbelina!"
Looking around, I noticed that everyone was staring, what I'd just done the opposite of subtle. Professor Peach ran over, looking at me, eyes darting down me, remarking with a pained, "Oh, that looks bad."
Unconsciously, I reached up, touching my lips and winced, as my hand came away bloody, with specks of black. Looking down my white armor was streaked with black and red, and I had to look up as I started to lose my balance. It didn't hurt that much, I thought, touching my lips again. They didn't hurt, not like my throat, just giving me the oddest sense of pressure with the slightest stinging. Small, but strong, gloved hands quickly took hold of my shoulders, even as I was directed to a bit of fallen log, Professor Peach sitting me down.
I could see my teammates looking my way, and tried to say something, but all I could make was an unintelligible wheeze.
Needless to say, that didn't help their concern. And hurt. A lot.
"Sounds like you've burned your vocal chords," Peach noted, slipping a small syringe out from her clipboard and tried to jab me in the neck with it, only for it to bounce off. "You still have Aura? Odd. Lower it, please," she requested, tone clinical, and I hesitated, giving her an unsure look. "It will aid in your healing," she assured, and I had a moment of doubt.
I didn't know her, and the teachers here had been hit or miss. However, with things as bad as they were, I couldn't see the positives of trying something that would screw me over now, so lowered my defenses, both my Aura, and the ones given to me by the Company, to let whatever she was giving me work, fairly certain Body Defense would block any drugs, as, to some extent, all medicines were poisons. Shaking my head to try to clear it, even as something in the back of my mind was telling me to run, that I was vulnerable and needed to go get away from others, I looked at the professor and nodded, trying to focus on my Aura to keep it from activating, and lowering my Defenses.
She pushed the stubby syringe against my neck, piercing my skin, injecting something into me. For a second it felt like my Aura destabilized, going fuzzy and wrong, before tightening around me, and feeling. . . warm. 'What?' I mouthed, unable to speak.
Professor Peach understood, though, answering, "My own concoction. It diverts Aura regeneration solely into its healing aspects, but you're out of the fight, so it doesn't matter. Now, sit back and let the others handle this."
The sound of distant howling rang out, and Glynda's voice carried through the encampment. "If you have ranged capabilities, man the walls. If not protect the gate. As long as the Grimm see a way inside, they will try to take it. Use that to your advantage!"
Well, that explains it, I thought, checking my own scroll. In the time it'd taken to meget back, I'd managed to recover enough Aura that I was at a comfortable thirty two percent, but it stalled there, not increasingly like it should. Standing, if only to see what was going on as the others rushed into position, my body felt heavy.
That said, I could move, and I could fight, my draconic physiology, even in humanoid form, stronger than what the Professor, now dealing with someone else, had likely assumed. However, I felt like I had when I'd first arrived here. I was in great shape by my old standards, yes, but my motions, while smoother because of my training, lacked the sense of power they'd had mere moments ago.
It was Aura, or, more specifically, the lack of it, that I was feeling, if Peach's explanation was to be believed. I still had my fire, though I hesitated even using its normal form. With my throat torn up as it was, and, having exhausted it all a couple of minutes ago, I wasn't even a tenth of the way refilled. I could manage one breath, maybe two, before I'd be tapped again, and I heard the pounding of monstrous feet in the distance, the gunfire starting to pound a staccato beat from above me on the walls.
That brought one fact to the front of my mind: the others were fighting, and I wasn't. Yes, I was burned, but I could still fight, and sitting in the back while my team put themselves in danger rankled me on a deep, deep level. But what could I do?
Looking around, at the others who were laid up, healing, I spotted one of my classmates, lying down, unconscious. His weapon was a combination spear/sniper, like Pyrrha's blade but worse, and it laid on the ground next to him. Grabbing it, I hefted the weapon, reaching down and grabbing the extra clip the boy had on his belt, noting that he'd already gone through four, by the empty slots. Without Aura, the weapon was weighty, but manageable, and I flapped upwards, to join the others on the wall, not liking what I saw.
The two groups of Grimm had met up, and poured out of the woods, Creeps and Beowulfs leading. I frowned, knowing the Deathstalkers could move faster, but they seemed to be hanging back slightly. I didn't know what that meant, only that it wasn't good.
Nevertheless, I twisted the haft on the spear, shifting it to its rifle configuration, trigger assembly, scope, and grip unfolding as I squatted down, resting the rifle on the edge of the wall to steady my aim. The others all around me were firing with seeming abandon, but their shots were hitting weak points in the Grimm more often than not, and I, lining up my shot, missed completely, not hitting a Beowulf in the eye, but taking the Creep behind it in the leg.
The spear butt slammed against my shoulder, hard, in the space between breastplate and pauldron with bruising force as it and rocked me back. Grimacing, then flinching as the expression sent a spike of pain through me in a way it hadn't a moment ago. I assumed the healing was letting me feel again, which I supposed was good, but distracting. Pushing past it, I tried to line up another shot, something a bit more reasonable, hitting a roaring Beowulf in the chest, knocking it back enough for it to fall under the charging tide of the others, an Ursa trampling it flat.
Once again, the spear slammed against my unarmored collarbone, but I could take the hits to keep fighting. Watching the students around me firing, and trying my best to match what they were doing, I could practically feel myself getting better with every shot. However, with each shot not only did my chest hurt more as it was slammed over and over again, but the pain I was feeling grew, whatever the 'healing' I was experiencing seeming to set my throat ablaze.
After only a dozen, my hands were shaking, and my vision was shuddering, but by that point they were right on top of us, the walls vibrating from the force of the Grimm slamming into it. Some of the creatures tried to scrabble up the defenses, but most were running past the walls in either direction rather than crowding in and trying to climb over each other.
Hoping the others could handle it, I tried to focus, firing shot after shot down into the masses, trigger clicking several times, the clip empty, before I realized what I was out. Fumbling, feeling almost drunk, the pain in my shoulder and throat mixing together horribly, it took me precious seconds to figure out how to pop the clip, slotting in the next one, and emptying that as well, finding it hard to tell if I was hitting anything as my eyes teared up, the pain getting worse and worse.
"Brucha!" someone yelled, and I looked up, to see what looked like a hundred spears flying through the air towards us, black with bone-white tips. I wasn't sure what to do, hoping what Aura I had would help me, and, looking around, saw Ruby, Pyrrha, and Weiss on the wall. I turned, ready to fly, when my legs gave out, pitching me over the inside rail, and it was all I could do to flare my wings to stop my fall, hitting the ground of the clearing with a graceless roll, unable to spring to my feet.
Twisting face up on the dirt, the rain of spears was almost on us when a purple shimmer sprung up over the top of the wall, the hail of death bouncing off, projectiles spinning off into the Grimm all around us. I tried to stand, only for something to grab me around the waist and drag me away from the wall.
A very unhappy looking Peach practically slammed me down on the log she'd left me, the sniper I was holding falling away as I gasped, the wind knocked out of me, a motion which caused my vision to start to gray from the pain.
"I said let the others fight!" she practically hissed. "Now stay or I'll tie you to the tree."
I tried to reply, the action automatic, but it hurt, my eyes tearing up, and I nodded weakly instead.
Peach looked past me, a blood-red tentacle whipping out at the fighting at the front, continuing, in a more conversational tone, but not the cheer she'd showed before, "You haven't had your Aura for long have you."
I blinked, but, as it was more statement than question. I just nodded again, the pain I'd been feeling starting to recede.
"When you're hurt, your Aura dulls it. For a last moment victory, it's quite useful, but it also drains your Aura to do so," she remarked with a half-smile, continuing to support the front-line fighters from behind, like I couldn't. "With your Aura shifted to maximize healing, the effect is disrupted. If you stayed resting, it would last, but you didn't. Now sit."
I nodded, not sure what else to do, the burning, piercing pain from my throat having already faded to manageable levels. Professor Peach smiled broadly, then leapt over me, heading into the thick of the fighting, while I had to sit, feeling useless, turning to watch the others battle for their lives.
It wasn't going well.
Almost every single one of my classmates fought as individuals, with occasional pairs, not that I was any better, but to hold a line against this kind of battle, it wasn't enough. While they were killing the Grimm as fast as they attacked, Glynda and Peach eviscerating most before they hit the line of students, the ones that got through didn't take their time before attacking, pressing forward in a clawing, biting, snarling horde, a situation not helped by the fact that everyone was already tired, and only getting more-so. Most people, in the few minutes between attacks, had probably gotten barely a fifth of their Aura back, and that was a reserve that, from the hits everyone was taking, was likely to run out soon.
Worse, they still were only dealing with the Creeps and Beowulfs, the first Ursa only now rounding the corner, charging the line only for it to get picked up by a purple glow and thrown back out the gates at speed, but a second quickly took its place.
Screams of pain and terror came from the wall facing the oncoming horde, and an enormous spider, body fat and distended, but covered with white armor, lifted itself up over the walls, white armor-clad legs holding firm against the defender's attacks.
Goodwitch took it down with a thrown wooden log, one end sharpened to a point, a stack of which sat next to her, but there were only six of them left. The creature shrieked as it fell back, but without her to help the students, the Grimm charging in seemed to redouble their efforts, someone falling back as their Aura flared, breaking, barely missing another claw as they scrambled away.
Another hail of spears rained down on us, followed by another couple spiders, one spitting black webs that sizzled as they hit the ground, missing me by several feet.
Checking my scroll, trying to do something, Pyrrha was down to the seventies, Blake in the twenties, and Yang in fifties. I had to assume Ruby and the others were in a similar state, Ren and Nora doing their best to hold back the Grimm Tide, the boy ducking around his partner to protect her between massive swings, but they were tiring as well. The girl swung, and Ren cut a Creep down as it jumped from her, but from her other side a Beowulf slashed, striking true, her Aura breaking as she cried out in pain.
Staggering to my feet, needing to do something, even if it was just block a blow with my remaining Aura, I rushed toward my teammates. My inner fire had barely refilled, but I hoped it would be enough. Ren took the Beowulf's next blow, blocking it an inch away from his hand with nothing but Aura, before stabbing his blade through its skull, but more closed on him, without Nora to watch his back.
The pain, which had faded, started to return, but I could do at least this much, as I mentally focused, trying to form the 'nozzle' I needed. Pulling my shield, I raised my it, catching a blow that was coming in for Ren, who glanced at me, nodding in thanks, even as my knees felt like buckling from the pressure of an attack I should've deflected with ease.
More Shelobs crested the wall, as a large Deathstalker forced its way through the gate, though not as large as the one we'd fought before, but more than I could handle right now. Peach leapt up to stop one of the spiders, leaving the field clear, and I took a deep breath before allowing more of my flame to flow, spraying it out in a column of red-tinted prismatic incandescence that melted the lesser Grimm, slamming into the Deathstalker, its armor starting to deform under the waves of draconic fire, the heat of the flames oppressive and forcing the Grimm and Students away from each other.
Back and forth I spread it, covering the field, the pain in my chest spiking as my legs gave out, two pairs of hand grabbing me and pulling me backwards even as the Grimm screamed in agony. Focusing on the flames, I fed the last of my reserves into them, causing them to burst into an inferno, clearing the field and giving the others a moment of respite.
My vision was waving, but I could practically feel the Deathstalker as it tried to force its way through, but, weakened as it was, a single stone spike was able to crash through its armor, killing it.
But more came.
I could feel my flames diminish, smothered in a tide of darkness, only now the heavy footsteps of the Triclops starting to draw near.
"We've got this," Ren told me, putting me down on something, but his voice didn't have its normal calmness, and I could tell he didn't believe what he was saying.
Enough. I thought, fumbling, reaching into my pocket to grab my phone, as I saw the lead Grimm, head and shoulders easily above the wall, reach us, calmly walking around the same way the others had instead of striking out at the defenders that were riddling its hide with bullets, to no effect.
We weren't going to win this.
The enormous Grimm strode up to the gates, reaching out with two gigantic hands, gripped the sides of the opening, and pulled. With a torturous sound, the wood splintered, turning the narrow gateway into an open channel, through which Grimm poured in. Glynda threw her last projectile at the alpha Grimm, who, with surprising speed, lifted one arm, blocking it with black, rugged flesh, only the hint of underlying red exposed, barely injured.
Opening a portal Home, I tried to call out to the others, to tell them to evacuate, only to be able to do nothing but wheeze, and realized the problem instantly. The portal was set so that it was unnoticeable, which was normally useful, but now, without me able to talk or draw attention to it to try to counter that, I had no idea how to make this work, how to save anyone.
Semblances fired, as every single student seemed to use their last reserves, and while the Grimm around it were destroyed, the forty-foot-tall monster raised one arm to cover its face, and barely seemed harmed, the attacks trailing off, the last of my fire blocking the Grimm from getting to us, but it would be seconds before that ran out too.
Fingers shaking, I tried to find an option, a toggle, something that would allow me to make the escape route noticeable. If I had to, I'd throw people through the damn thing, as it hung in the air next to me, but there'd be no way I'd be able to get everyone out that way.
The Triclops looked down, staring directly at me, and roared, starting to move forward, picking up speed, charging with unstoppable force.
Grabbing Ren, finding the boy rooted to the ground, standing between me and the enormous Grimm, I started to try to pull him to safety. However, no matter how hard I tried, I was unable to so much as budge him, but an odd sound carried itself across the battlefield.
"OH HO HO HO!"
From over the walls a dark red missile flew, slamming into the Triclops even as it tried to raise an arm to block, causing the massive beast to stumble backwards mid-run. As its arms went wide, none other than Professor Port, skin nearly as red as his suit, was shown to be holding onto the Grimm, with his stupid, stupid axe buried to its stock deep into its chest.
Gripping onto the spikes that studied its body, the teacher yanked his weapon out, and hurled himself upward, towards the creature's head, as the Triclops tried to slam its hands down to crush the huntsman. The Triclops missed, axe-head catching the creature under the jaw with enough force to yank it off its feet, the giant Grimm slamming head-first into the ground, Port riding it down, laughing carefree, like he was recounting one of his stories.
Gunfire rang out behind us, as three bullheads came over the battlements, each one armed, all three firing their gatling canons into the mass of Grimm outside of our walls. One turned, opening, and Ozpin stood there, waiting, watching as older students streamed past him falling down into the fray, taking up where we left off, gunshots, explosions, fire, lasers, lightning, ice, and everything else going off as they took over the lines and pushed the Grimm Tide back.
Closing the portal, and letting go of Ren, I saw as Amakuni and Professor Oobleck dropped down into the fight as well.
I'd barely seen any of the professor's fight before, but here. . . I realized I was outclassed, that any of us, save maybe Pyrrha, were hopelessly outmatched, and my partner still was, when it came to this. One versus one, in a duel, she might win, but the staff of Beacon Academy, like Ren and Nora, didn't specialize in fighting duels, they specialized in killing Grimm.
Oobleck blurred across the battlefield, setting lesser Grimm alight and clearing out a wide swath behind the Triclops, which flailed and tried to tear Port off as, still laughing, still with blood red skin, and seeming to steam, the fat man almost negligently slapped the giant's car-sized hand away and started to hack at its head with his blunderbuss-axe. With only a few blows, each one seeming to cause the ground to vibrate, he cracked through meter-thick armor, and killed the beast that had shrugged off everything else thrown against it.
Upperclassman continued to spread out, our freshman class ferried to the center of what had once been a forest glade, where one of the other Bullheads came down to land, crushing some dissolving Grimm corpses, more students carrying gurneys rushing out of it to the worst injured, loading them up quickly but carefully.
One boy, in a white outfit with purple piping, hurried over to me, not saying anything, just physically picking me up in a fireman's carry and starting to run with me to the bullhead. I felt something bounce off my defenses, and, when I was put onto a medical bed, the student looked at me oddly before running over to someone else, who seemed to pass out as soon as he picked them up.
Ozpin, observing this all, stepped calmly from the first bullhead, still fifty feet in the air, landing on the ground without breaking stride and approaching Goodwitch. "You were almost late," the vice principal snapped at him, the sound barely audible over the fighting. "What happened?"
The Wizard, however, shrugged slightly, commenting blandly, "I do believe I arrived precisely when I needed to. And as to what happened." He turned his head, and he stared directly at me. "I have some theories."