Short and early because I'm going to hospital for visiting hours for my mother. Tomorrow's chapter will also be impacted (or even skipped) as no one else can get time off to visit her tomorrow, so I might go and spend all day there keeping her distracted.


Cover Art: Kirire

Chapter 93


The tunnels had suddenly become more lived-in, with clear signs of inhabitation in the form of disturbed dust and discarded items. Scraps of cloth, empty food wrappers and even the occasional spent ammo casing. There were markers here and there, grooves scratched into the walls to indicate paths. Sergeant Miller was a paranoid and jumpy man who kept talking to them to take comfort in his own voice. When they reached what she assumed was a safer area, he calmed down and became much more lucid.

"Settlement ahoy!" he called ahead. "Sergeant Miller returning with a huntsman and huntress from the surface!"

Candles flickered to life ahead and gaunt faces were illuminated. Two people, clutching carbines aimed their way with cold fingers. They didn't relax even when they had confirmed Miller's identity.

"Spill blood," one of them rasped. "No closer."

Miller drew a knife and cut his hand, showing the wound, and Jaune did the same. Blake slid the knife across her palm but allowed her aura to protect her, then showed them the shimmering glow of it.

"Huntress," one whispered, lowering his rifle. "Have our prayers been answered?"

"That's for the Brigadier-General to decide," said Miller.

"—and the high priest—"

"Religious matters don't influence military, Joel. You know the rules. Can one of you run ahead and tell the command staff? I don't want to go through this whole song and dance again with them."

The other agreed to do it and jogged off while they waited at the entrance. The other, Joel, slid close to her and begged to see her aura again, then shivered and bowed low to her when she showed it. The reverence was uncomfortable. Religion existed on Remnant, but it was sporadic and very niche. There were some who worshipped nature and some who invented pantheons, but most people were quite happy without it. There were certainly none that worshipped huntsmen and huntresses.

"Keep watch, Joel. You're crowding her." Miller shooed the man back to his post and slid close to her and Jaune. A little less creepily, he waved Jaune close, then leaned in to whisper to the both of them. "Don't mention the fact you have supplies. The people in here are starving, and they're like as to rush you if they know you have food. Everything we eat has to be rationed, and that means watering it down."

"How have you survived for so long down here?" asked Jaune. "Have you been able to farm?"

"Food appears out in the tunnels. And yes, we're aware of how suspicious that is – we think it's the monster finding the food and laying it out as bait for us. It takes one or two of us, we get to bring food back to just about keep everyone alive. Treats us like cattle, but it's not like we can let innocent people starve."

It really did sound like rearing animals for slaughter. The people were the pantry to some beast, and it was keeping its pantry stocked. Again, though, was this an anomaly inside an ordinary set of tunnels, or was the bunker itself anomalous? They couldn't know until they found the creature. And given their reverence of her aura, Blake had a feeling they were going to expect her to hunt it down.

The first man returned and told them to go ahead. "Command has been notified and is expecting you. You should be able to reach the Brigadier-General without being held up by anyone." He saluted, and Sergeant Miller returned it. "Welcome home, sir."

"Good to be back, private. Come on, you two, and stay close. You can't get lost in here, but you can sure as hell get buried by inquisitive people."

Following further down the corridor, Blake spotted a few more encampments of soldiers ready to defend the one way in. Many of them were secluded in darkness, aiming weapons at the tunnel lit by candles while staying hidden themselves. Her faunus eyes picked them out. Passing by them, they crossed into a wider room – one far larger than anything she or Jaune had seen on the upper levels, breaking apart the idea of every floor being identical.

This one was about a hundred metres by a hundred metres, and far too many people were crammed into it. They huddled shoulder to shoulder like sardines in a tin, with small openings where people circled around pots of stew bubbling softly away. Faces peered at them from the gloom, gaunt and sunken with beady eyes. They looked inhuman, but the truth was they were just starving. The children looked far worse, skin hanging from their bones and their motions so lethargic.

It was a wonder these people were alive at all.

"Keep your quests for the Brigadier-General," whispered Miller.

Eventually, they reached another doorway into a smaller ammunition storage room. Two soldiers guarded the entrance but nodded to them, having been warned. "The Brigadier-General is looking forward to speaking with you," said one. "Go on in."

The room was spartan. There was no furniture, but a few carpets and sleeping rolls laid out and being used as seating on the floor. In the centre of the room, spent ammo casings and some new formed a rudimentary map, and they were using other items like empty cups and even just pebbles to mark pathways and points of interest.

There were several soldiers in the room, and they looked a little better fed. Favouritism or practicality? If these people were risking their lives to find food against a monster, they needed to be fit. It might also have been opportunism. Those out finding food wouldn't be able to resist eating some of it then and there.

One of the men was older, with a heavy moustache and beard that had been out of fashion on military figures for hundreds of years. Their uniforms were drab green and grey, not camouflage but thick and pleated with insignias of rank on their shoulders and an emblem of some army or kingdom she didn't recognise. Other dimensional or temporal? Or maybe just a lost kingdom. Every detail brought more questions.

"Sergeant Miller reporting, sir! This is Blake Belladonna, huntress of ARC Corp, and Jaune Arc, her assistant!"

Blake shifted, a little awkward, but Jaune simply smiles and let the misunderstanding pass. It didn't really change anything in the grand scheme of things.

"At ease, soldier, and good work." The old man rose. "I am Brigadier-General Pyke. You can call me Pyke since you're not in my chain of command. Welcome to Home. Not yours, maybe, but ours. And, if you're unlucky, it might now be yours as well. I'm the commander of this rag-tag bunch of survivors by virtue of being the highest ranked officer alive."

"A pleasure to meet you," said Jaune. "Do you mind if we ask a few questions?"

He seemed surprised Jaune would speak before her but recovered quickly enough. "You can, but, before that, we need to—"

"Is it true?" demanded a woman, barging into the room. The two soldiers at the entrance were trying to pull her back but obviously didn't want to harm her, so she was able to wrestle her way into the doorway. "Has the Mother answered our prayers and sent one of her angels to deliver us at last?"

"Of course they'd find out," grumbled Pyke. He cleared his throat. "Sister Angela, this is a private meeting, and you know you're not supposed to interrupt."

"How could I not when one of Her angels stands before me?" The woman, garbed in mottled robes, got down onto her knees, forcing the men trying to drag her away to let go. "You hath come at last!" she cried, holding her hands out to Blake with such rapture that Blake took a step back. "You who wield the holy power of the Mother, I beseech thee forgive these men their impiety. They do not believe, but they are innocent souls. Ignorant. Your faithful flock have long awaited your arrival. Let us worship thee."

Blake took a step back, behind Jaune. "That isn't necess—"

"If you want to worship her then maybe you should be of aid," Pyke interrupted. "The… Angel," he at least sounded sceptical, "—is going to need somewhere to stay. Her and her companion both. Perhaps the faithful of your church could gather up a sleeping bag and a change of clothes for them, sister Angela."

The woman looked like she didn't want to leave and stared longingly at Blake.

"We could use those things," Blake said, taking Pyke's cue and wanting this strange woman to stop staring at her. "It'd be a great help if—"

"Say no more, divine one! This humble servant will not let you down!" The woman stood, robes fluttering, and hurried outside with wild zeal. The two soldiers shrugged and went back to their positions by the entrance.

"What was that?" asked Jaune.

"The Church of the Holy Mother," said Pyke, sighing heavily. "Too much time alone and in the dark does things to people. We didn't stop their formation because the people needed hope, and who are we to say what they can and can't believe in? As much as they're a back in our backside, they keep the people in decent spirits. You have to hold onto something down here, and if believing in some nonsense deity made up on the spot helps… well…" He shrugged. "What can we do? Some men turn to drink, others to sex, and some turn to religion. Better we have the option than not."

"Will they be a problem?"

"They shouldn't be. They worship huntresses as angelic figures. Me, I remember being on the surface and fighting alongside them. I remember them as people, who live and breathe and die as easily as any other. Some down here were born in the dark, however. They've never known the sun and the world above. Angela is one of them. Poor girl."

"How long have you been down here?" asked Jaune.

"We've no concrete idea. Can't judge time by the passing of the sun or the days, and we had to break down clocks years ago for parts and dust. I couldn't even tell you the date we came down here. It's been a long damn time, though. I can tell you that. I've seen kids born, grow and die in the tunnels searching for food. We'd have a whole generation crop up like Angela who have lived their whole lives down here. But beyond that? Twenty, thirty, forty years? I was nineteen when the war began, but I couldn't tell you how old I am now. I may look in my fifties, but I feel like I'm over a hundred. Given the stress, though." He sighed. "Who can bloody well say?"

"Who was the war above between?"

"I don't know." He raised his hands in a placating gesture at their shocked reaction. "I'm telling the truth here. No one remembers. We know we were fighting for our homeland, and many of us remember being drafted, but the details have faded over the years. Too much top focus on in the here and now, from staying alive to managing all these civilians. The people are forever starving, on the verge of riots, and every now and then we have outbreaks of cannibalism. Things are bad enough without remembering how it all started."

"Speaking of food, we have some supplies of our own." Jaune slung his backpack around. "It won't be much given how many people you have, but it should take the edge off. We have food, snacks and dust."

"Anything will be a godsend in this damn place." Pyke waved to another man. "My quartermaster will take and process them. We'll need to ration them, and that's harsh enough. One meal by your standards will be boiled down to feed a thousand people."

"How is that possible?" Blake asked, curious to see if an anomaly was at work. "Is there something special down here that allows that?"

Pyke smiled grimly. "It's through the magic of watering shit down and making up the deficit with sawdust and fungus grown off the walls. Nothing nice here, I'm afraid. Water is about the only thing we have in any quantity, so every meal is about 99% liquid. It feels filling even if it isn't."

"Sergeant Miller said you find food in the tunnels."

"Aye. We think the beast lays them out. It's never enough for everyone, hence why we have to send more people out."

"You know, the exit to the bunker is only a little over a kilometre away," said Jaune. "We mapped the route and could try and lead your people out."

Pyke shook his head. "I'd love to take you up on that but there are too many people down here to move without having a clear path. We have children, elderly, sick, wounded. If it were just my forces, I'd order us to try and fight our way out, but it isn't. We can't abandon them, and men I've sent to try and find the way out have never returned. And I don't think it's because they got out safely and deserted."

"It's not. Sienna hasn't found anyone leaving this place."

"Sienna. Hm. The others told me about her." Pyke tapped his chin. "Others from your surface that came down… well, I'm not sure how long ago it was. You'll be wanting to talk to them, I expect. Those that are left."

Blake stilled. "Left…? What happened…?"

"Some of them thought they could make it back. They left and told us they'd alert the White Fang and rescue us. Good men and women. A few stayed, injured at the time and needing help. A few more have joined the expedition forces searching for food and perished. I believe ten came down and met us the first time, and maybe two live."

It was better than either of them expected. She and Jaune had fully believed they would all be dead, so this was surprising news.

"We'd like to talk to them," said Jaune.

"I'll have you brought to them. However, before that…" He leaned forward. "I think we need to talk about the big question. She's a huntress, and you're obviously involved in her work. This monster may not be Grimm, but it's still a beast. Will you be helping us in dealing with it?"

Jaune nodded.

Pyke's eyes were on her.

"We came here to kill it," she said, and the man let out a long breath, sinking back with pure relief. "So, yes, we'll be hunting down and killing this creature."

"Thank you. Thank you so bloody much. You can't understand how good it feels to hear you say that. After all this time…" His voice broke off. "Forgive me, I'm remembering those that fell. Miller, take them to Sister Angela and the Church of the Holy Mother, but make sure they know not to get too rowdy."

"Is it a good idea to have them stay there, sir?"

"Honestly? No. But it's an even worse idea to deny those fanatics a chance to meet their angel. They'll only start a riot otherwise. Once you have them there, go and find the survivors of the White Fang and bring them to the church as well. If any of those idiots cause you trouble, tell them it's the angel's request to meet with the faunus. That ought to get them moving."

"Sir." Miller saluted. "I'll see it done."

/-/

Being worshipped was exhausting. Blake collapsed on the pile of cushions that had been provided for her in an enclosed storage room somehow granted to the two of them alone. It was somehow both a dark, cramped and dingy place, and also a level of luxury far beyond what anyone else here received. Their own room, cushions, and a bowl of gruel so thin that Blake couldn't tell if there was any food in it at all. Jaune wouldn't even touch his, and she donated her own to the "flock" earning a wave of praise and adulation.

"They're insane," she said, once she was away from grasping hands and people swooning when her eyes met theirs. "They're absolutely bonkers."

"I think they know it too," he replied. "But isn't it better to be insane but have hope than to know how doomed you are down here?"

Maybe. Ignorance was bliss or, in this case, insanity was protection. The sane mind would unravel when you dealt with the anomalous, so convincing yourself of some made-up religion at least gave you something to cling to. The world wasn't insane, it was just some deity testing you, and you'd be rewarded in the next life if you did well.

Give people a goal, a focus, and a purpose. And now she'd come down, an angel from the heavens that she'd come to realise was literally just the surface world – because Kuo Kuana might as well be heaven compared to this.

"I just don't like misleading them."

"We won't be. We're going to hunt the anomaly down and kill it, and that's what they want from us." Jaune chuckled. "Though it's amusing seeing that even Pyke is subconsciously influenced by the religion. He sees it as a hoax, but he still can't believe I'd be your boss."

A robed figure appeared at the door. "Oh divine one, we have brought the anointed messengers from the holy realm."

Blake looked to Jaune for a translation.

"Do you mean you've brought the White Fang members?" he asked.

"Those who come from the heavens, yes. Though only one remains. Forgive us our sins."

"You're forgiven," Blake said. "Get them in here so I can find out what the hell is—"

A figure entered, saw Blake, and froze.

Blake choked on her own breath.

"Blake…?"

"Ilia!?"

The chameleon faunus sniffed once, then flung herself forward with tears streaking down her face. "Blaaaakkkkkeeee!"


Next Chapter: 11th March

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