Chapter 42
Several weeks ago
On Morag, there was no light to be found.
The darkness was heavy, oppressive, almost supernatural. Remnant's broken moon was nowhere to be seen; its luminescent rays were unable to pierce the eternal darkness that prevailed over the landscape. One would be swallowed up by the darkness, so much so that they couldn't see their own two hands in front of them. It was not merely the darkness that came out of the absence of light; in fact, it was something far, far more sinister.
From this eternal darkness, creatures of the unliving rose, the creatures of Grimm. The natural counterpart to humanity, the creatures of Grimm threatened the very existence of the humans. They crawled out of the cesspools of darkness, the black liquid dripping off their dark flesh. Newly born beowolves howled to the moon that they could not see, slowly limping in some direction, towards some unknown goal. Newly born Grimm had no white armor plating, but over time, they would grow more intelligent, and stronger, enough to prey on humanity.
It was a place out of time, disconnected from the rest of the world. Anyone would feel out of place, unnerved, in it. It was cold, uncaring, and bleak.
And yet, it felt right at home.
It thrived in this darkness. Once upon a time, it could remember, it had thrived in the blinding, disgusting light. It had fought against the darkness, resisting it, and attacking it relentlessly. It had wholly opposed the darkness then, but now it had been enlightened. Enlightened by its Mistress, its Maker.
It had embraced the darkness, been molded by it. It was all it had ever known, it was home.
It heard the clacking of heels in front of her and lowered its head submissively to its Maker. Its Maker knew that it could not perceive the world in the way most did, thankfully. Its Maker had liberated her of the organs that allowed vision - vision that sent disgusting, blinding rays into it. It was thankful for its Mistress.
Its Mistress was even considerate enough to let it hear that she was approaching.
"Are you ready, dear? To be my Lower Apostle Four?" the familiar voice of its Maker spoke, echoing throughout the darkness.
Yes! It wanted to please her!
"Yes, Mistress," it replied, smiling. It was finally going to be of use to her! It was going to make its Maker proud! It was grateful for her, for how its Maker had opened its eyes to the darkness. It remembered that its Maker wanted it to be an Apostle, and now it was going to be one of them!
It nodded eagerly. Sometimes, its Mistress had doubts about its memory, but she had improved and worked hard at it to make sure its Maker would never be disappointed again! Parts of its memory were fuzzy, but it only knew that it was once the disgusting, blinding light. The ugly. The despicable.
But darkness was beautiful, ethereal, and never ending. Fire always went out, but darkness was always there. The before, and the after.
It was a part of the endless cycle of life and death. Everyone celebrated the birth, but no one the death. It thought that was a pity.
Everything was inevitable. It was simply a part of life, death, that is.
All Roses bloomed and Wilted, after all.
Present
"It was mentioned in Qrow's report that Cinder Fall and another woman approached your camp," Percy started off, taking a sip of his tea. It made no logical sense for Raven to poison it, and even if she had, he doubted it came even remotely close to the lethality of pit scorpion venom. He had built immunity to almost all poisons, especially with his increasing powers and son of Poseidon heritage.
He was sitting cross legged in Raven's tent, with the bandit queen herself, discussing the plans for tomorrow, when Qrow, Tai, and their group would appear, and when Cinder's group would appear.
They had had a rather turbulent stay at Raven's little bandit camp so far.
"What about it?" Raven replied curtly.
"Who was the other woman?" Percy ignored the hint to stop pushing. He couldn't give two shits about her implied hints, especially from that of a bandit queen.
Raven was silent.
Percy raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. She didn't.
A light breeze blew through the area, causing the tent's flaps to gently crash against one another.
"... someone from my past," she finally chose to answer.
How utterly vague. Befitting of someone who seemed to be hiding from Salem.
Percy sighed loudly. Just as expected, the noise drew Raven's irritated gaze, and she narrowed her red eyes at him.
"Some secrets are meant to be kept for themselves."
Her cold, closed off voice told Percy that she did not want to talk about it. But he didn't care. He could have been more accommodating, empathetic, but he wasn't.
"And some are meant to be displayed so that your allies may have all the information they need at their hands. To build teamwork, camaraderie. It would be a display of trust, Raven," he instead chose to respond carefully.
"Tch," Raven scoffed, "Camaraderie? Teamwork? Trust? Don't make me laugh."
It was surprising to Percy how arrogant she was, especially after how he had just defeated her.
"I thought you were Apollyon. A supposed god, revered by all of the sheep that are civilians. There is no need for camaraderie," she sneered, "When all you have to do is fight them off for the tribe, so that the Spring Maiden doesn't fall into Salem's hands. Is that too much for your simple mind to comprehend?"
Percy was unamused.
"Tch. Bullshit," he scoffed, "You, the Spring Maiden, are scared of Salem. And you want my group to fight them off based purely on the incentive of not allowing the relic and/or yourself into her hands. That's hardly enough."
"Oh? I wouldn't be so sure about that," Raven shot him an amused smirk, "You've come here, haven't you?"
"Only because it was enroute to Mistral for me. I acquiesced to Qrow's request because it was interesting, and was of a mild concern to me. Nothing more, nothing less," Percy responded.
"So you're going to leave the Spring Maiden in Salem's hands?" Raven raised an eyebrow, daring him to go further into this game of chicken, this game of bluffing.
"I just might. I'll leave Winter, Weiss, and Penny here to at least give you some defense. If you can't fight off Salem's minions, I see no reason to save you anyway."
With that, he stood up from the cushion, and turned his back to her, leaving the tent. When his hand touched the tent flap, though, she finally called out.
"Where are you going?"
There seemed to be a hint of panic in Raven's voice, but Percy ignored it in favor of answering her question.
"To Mistral with the bullhead and the two assassins. Like I said, you can have the others to defend you."
Out of the corner of his eye, Percy could see Raven bite her lip, a certain uncertainty in her eyes.
He left anyway.
She had to learn to swallow her pride and arrogance sooner or later. Otherwise, she would never be a valuable tool in his arsenal.
The slums of Mistral's lower levels were filled with thugs, criminals, and thieves. Not to mention men who kept trying to grope her ass.
"Fucking faunus bitch, White Fang ass mother fuckers!" someone cheered, "Those good for nothing animals! Get that bitch!"
"Yeah! Filthy animal might just be in heat, ya know what I'm saying!"
Blake grabbed a middle-aged man by the hand, who tried to cop a feel.
A disgusting, perverted expression was present on his face, and Blake noticed that he held a half-empty glass of beer in his other hand. She had had enough, and she needed some outlet for venting.
With a twist of her wrist, there was a sickening crunch of bone.
She had snapped his finger. That was the gap between normal civilians without aura, and a trained huntress.
There was a momentary silence, and an expression of shock upon the drunk's face.
"Fucker had it coming!" a drunk voice hollered.
The tavern erupted in exuberant laughter. Other drinkers and patrons began mocking the guy, apparently having been watching the exchange.
Blake's ears flattened against her head, as she weaved through the boisterous crowd, trying to shrink herself.
The good thing was that the crowd seemed more focused on the man's humiliation than her victory, and it allowed her to slip to the back of the tavern.
"Girl, that was impressive. It was brutal, but the little fucker deserved it. You seem to have potential."
"Are you Lil' Miss Malachite?" Blake cut straight to the chase.
"Indeed girl, I am."
Lil' Miss Malachite was a heavy-set, middle-aged woman, who had light skin and short blonde hair that was kept in a bob haircut. On her left shoulder was a black tattoo of a spider, the signature symbol of the Spider organization, one of the biggest crime gangs and syndicates in Mistral. Next to her stood two rather unimpressive bodyguards. One had a pistol on one hip, and the other held a mace.
From what little information she and Sun had managed to gather, this was the go to place to pay for and get information. Blake was pretty used to dealing with shady people, which was why Pyrrha and Sun had decided that she should be the one to handle this.
"You need information? Are you prepared to pay?"
"I need information on the Covenant of Salem," Blake ignored the rhetorical question.
Blake's faunus senses tingled rapidly.
She ducked, hearing the telltale whoosh of a thrusted blade pass above her head.
Kicking out off her stool, she put distance between herself and her attacker. She batted away another strike, allowing her forearms to parry it. Gambol Shroud was in her other hand in a flash, and she fired away.
Her attacker dove behind a crowd of empty tables and chairs. Smart move, she noted, as it obscured her vision.
Without warning or any indication of sound, a chair was thrown over the mini barricade, and Blake high kicked it away.
Casting a glance at Malachite, Blake noticed she seemed... amused, almost. The woman leaned her cheek on one fist, swirling her cup of wine. The guards behind her, in contrast, were tense.
The barrel of a gun stuck out from behind the barricade, and another round of bullets were sprayed at her, causing Blake to drop and duck behind tables of her own. She grit her teeth. This person, whoever they were, fought like trained White Fang. They fought like a hit and run assassin.
She threw a table upwards and over at her opponent. The point wasn't to hit them, though.
Blake vaulted over her table, throwing a chair at the barricade. The assassin peeked and unleashed another volley of shots.
But she was ready this time.
Using Gambol Shroud, she deflected the bullets, closing the distance. Her opponent dropped the gun, letting it hit the ground, and drew a knife instead. Her attacker was hooded, unfortunately, so Blake couldn't glean any information on them.
They lunged, and Blake immediately saw an opening.
Like a cat, she pounced on it. Her right knee came up, preparing to slam into the person's ribcage.
But it was a trap.
The attacker twisted themselves to the side, and the knife glanced off her side. Blake winced reflexively, and the assassin grabbed her ankle.
They slammed the wind out of her, and she was flipped onto her back and onto the ground.
Blake rolled, avoiding the knife that embedded itself into the wooden floorboard. Had that connected, it would have pierced her jugular. Aura or no aura, that was painful.
She kicked out, connecting the sharp heel of her boot with the stomach of the attacker.
She flipped herself upwards, immediately slashing with Gambol Shroud. However, her opponent just grabbed the blade with their hand. Gambol Shroud dug into the flesh of the palm, but Blake couldn't tell if they winced or not.
With their other hand, they thrust the jagged edge of the knife at her.
Blake tried to duck, but the firm grip on her sword hindered her movement, and the knife glanced off her shoulder, taking more aura from her.
"Damnatio Memoriae, Belladonna. Only death awaits for non-believers."
The voice was soft, but not inherently feminine or masculine. It was androgenous. On top of that, their height was around Blake's height, revealing almost no information about the attacker.
Blake had to avoid another thrust, but it was a feint. A boot struck her head twice in quick succession and she was on the floor. She was dazed and confused. Her vision was hazy.
By the time she came to, the assassin was gone.
"Blake, Blake, are you okay!? I came as quick as I could, I swear!" a voice said.
"...augh..." Blake let out a groan. A moment later, she looked up at Sun Wukong, who stood over her with a worried expression on his face.
Despite her appearance, her mind was running at a thousand miles an hour.
The attacker had fought her with a knife. They were obviously huntsman trained. But they didn't use mecha shift weapons, which were recognizable.
Anyone could use a knife brutally, and anyone could pull the trigger on a gun, was what the White Fang had taught her. That told Blake this was an attempted assassination, based on her affiliation with Percy.
The tavern was empty.
Blake noticed that there was a brown strand of hair on the floor. Crouching down, she picked it up, examining it. She decided to collect it for safekeeping.
Once Percy met with them, she would relay what had happened to him.
He most likely had a plan. He always did. She trusted him.
"More Emerald, more!"
Cinder screamed at her, still unsatisfied.
Emerald squeezed her eyes shut. She reached her hands out, fingers trembling.
Cinder watched, watched as Emerald kept trying to draw upon her semblance. She smiled, satisfied.
It was good. Progress was always good.
Her abilities were getting better every time they trained.
Instead of just a useless, grateful, but lost puppy that followed Cinder around, Emerald could now cast hallucinations on multiple people. The development of her semblance had by no means required a simple token effort, but Cinder could confidently say that it had paid off.
Combat prowess, semblance, and strategy; it all mattered in a fight. Cinder was pleased to say that Emerald had improved, and by so much that she found herself beginning to stop regretting picking Emerald up from the streets. Saying that Emerald Sustrai had grown from a lost puppy to a guard dog would be a rather appropriate analogy.
Bit by bit, Emerald was making herself useful. In the beginning, she was just an annoying brat who'd attached herself to Cinder. But now?
Now she just might be useful with that unique semblance of hers.
"Brother Hazel, are you ready to attack Shion and that little Branwen bandit tribe?"
Hazel Rainart grunted at the speaker, Tyrian Callows, who let out a maniacal cackle upon hearing it. Callows jumped on the wooden dinner table, and grinned wildly.
"Your enthusiasm overwhelms me, brother! Let us rejoice tonight, and tomorrow, we will claim the Spring Maiden in the honor of our Goddess!"
Tyrian took another long drink of his red wine, which, in hindsight, Hazel severely regretted giving to him.
"Lilith, Cinder, Emerald, and Discordia will check if Branwen obliged first. If not, then we can execute our attack."
"How splendid!" Tyrian clapped his hands together, softly at first, then loudly, as if Hazel had just put on a play for him.
His facial expression shifted in half a second. It was a frightening display.
"All of those who desecrate the Goddess' name deserve to die!" he snarled violently, raking his nails across his face.
"Don't you agree, Brother Rainart?"
"... Yes."
There was nothing to say here, other than oblige and indulge in Tyrian's madness and insanity. Callows was the Lower Apostle Two, above Hazel, for a reason.
Though Hazel would have liked to say that he would put up a good fight, he couldn't. Simply because of Callows' semblance, which was the ability to penetrate through aura.
He was a tank, but Callows was the perfect counter to his aura, his armor, his walls.
As such, Hazel Rainart had no choice but to take part in Tyrian's insanity, or risk being killed in one of Tyrian's tantrums.
This was going to be a long night...
Yang stared up at the night sky. She had tossed and turned in her sleeping bag for hours, unable to get a wink of sleep.
Around her, she could hear the quiet chirping of the crickets, and the content snoring of the others. A quiet exhale came from her nose, as she folded her forearms behind her head.
"You're still awake?" a quiet whisper came from her left, so quiet that Yang thought for a moment that she had imagined it.
"Yeah..." she breathed, glancing at who was on her left. It was Nora.
"Are you worried about tomorrow?"
"I... well- yeah..." she admitted reluctantly.
"Is it 'cause of your mom... the bandit leader I mean?"
"Who told you that? How do you know?" Yang whispered back aggressively.
"Oh I just kinda overheard the other day... so-rry..."
So, she had just overheard... Yang realized her fists had been clenched. She forced herself to uncleach them and to exhale. Deep breaths.
Not everyone was an enemy, she had to remind herself.
It was okay. Nora had just overheard them talking; it wasn't her fault.
"Y-Yeah..." she breathed out.
"Wanna talk about it?" Nora offered.
"Not here," Yang replied curtly. She didn't want anyone else to hear.
They quietly got up from their sleeping bags, and Yang followed Nora into the forest, Nora leading the way to another clearing. There was a moment of silence, in which neither of them spoke.
"So, what's up?" Nora finally decided to ask, broaching the topic.
"I..." Yang bit her bottom lip, "I... my mom, she left me at a young age. Ruby and I, we're technically half-sisters. After she left, Ruby's mom, came into the picture. She was a super mom, baker of great cookies, and slayer of giant monsters. I loved her more than I could ever love my biological mom. But..."
"One day, she went on a mission, and never came back. I had to pick up the pieces. Ruby didn't get it at the time. Dad and I would always say Mom was on a big mission, so it would take a while until she came back. Ruby would pout and demand her cookies like the little cookie monster she was," Yang cracked a half-hearted grin.
"Must've been hard."
Yang huffed in amusement, exhaling, "Yeah. After Ruby found out the truth, after the shock and crying, she wanted to become a huntress. At first, Dad didn't want to let her, but she insisted. She wanted to be just like her mom. So I became a huntress too. To protect her, and because, well, look at me! I couldn't settle for some cashier job nine to five, I mean, that would be really weird of me..."
They both let out quiet chuckles at that.
"Ya know... Ren and I were just orphans after... Kuroyuri."
"Kuroyuri?" Yang asked, not knowing what that was.
"Kuroyuri," she repeated, "Another failed settlement outside of Mistral's walls. Think of it like... a smaller Mountain Glenn, except even less successful. I was always an orphan, and Ren became an orphan after what happened."
"Overrun by Grimm?"
"Not just any Grimm, though. A single Grimm. A Grimm which had a horse, and a rider. It was terrifying, its screams were terrifying. It destroyed our home, an entire town."
"I-I'm sorry..." Yang whispered, not knowing what else to say.
"No, don't be. Don't apologize for something you didn't do, it wasn't your fault," Nora shook her head, "The town was overrun. By a single Grimm. The strangest thing was, nothing had happened. It wasn't a super sad or super scary day before that. The Grimm just... showed up. Like something had brought it there."
"You got any theories?"
Nora shrugged helplessly, "Maybe bastard just wanted us gone. Who knows?"
"From there, we roamed Anima, using Ren's passivity semblance to hide and cloak ourselves from the Grimm. Eventually, we stumbled upon a retired huntsman in a housekeeping inn in a small town, which was really a stopping place for travelers. And he taught us combat, free of charge."
"He took it upon himself to teach us about combat. Even got us our first weapons, a pair of blades for Ren and a basic hammer for me. We got lodging, food, and training, and we just helped him help out around the lodge, chopping wood for the fireplace and running odd errands here and there for him," Nora smiled, "It was because of this training that we, even after we parted ways with the guy, continued to survive in the wilderness. The huntsman, Shiro, that is, gave us direction, towards the combat schools in Mistral.
"Without him, we never would have made it to Beacon Academy! But we made it," Nora smiled, apparently satisfied.
Yang smiled back at her. She and Ren had really been through a lot, huh? Fighting for their lives in the wilderness...
"Hope that little story made you feel better about yourself," Nora said, flashing her a grin.
"Yeah... yeah, it did. Thanks Nora."
"No problem. Any time. That's what friends are for."
Mercury was the first to step out the bullhead, followed by Neo, and finally the boss, Percy. It had taken them a few hours to go from Shion to Mistral.
Apparently the Branwen tribe leader had had some sorta conflict with Percy, which was why they'd left the other three with the tribe, while them three had taken the bullhead to Mistral.
"Now, obviously I'm not gonna leave them forever, since that's just begging for Salem to take advantage of them, including Weiss, Winter, and Penny" a hooded Percy said, "But for now, I want you two to perform some reconnaissance in Mistral. Gather intelligence, gossip, everything you can find."
"Come back alive though. Don't get yourselves killed doing some intelligence gathering. Despite appearances, I do care about you guys, ya know?"
Mercury and Neo smirked in unison with each other.
"Yeah, yeah, we got it man. This stuff ain't that new for the two of us," he responded casually, with Neo nodding along enthusiastically.
The boss cared about them. It was kind of surprising, in a way. Also sort of reassuring.
Since they'd defected from Salem's side, he'd been pretty nice to him and Neo. Letting them go out unmonitored in Atlas was pretty bold of him. They could have escaped or defected to Salem at any point there. He must really trust them.
Neo tilted her head, her heterochromatic eyes sparkling, which Mercury found kind of cute.
"No murdering, Neo. No torturing either," Neo pouted cutely, "Unless its some Salem hybrid, then its fine."
Neo jumped for joy, practically skipping.
"That goes for you too, Mercury. I don't want to have to get you out of jail because you killed some random civilian.
"Of course, hundred percent boss. I wouldn't do that. You got it," Mercury sent him a thumbs up.
"Even if I did, I wouldn't get caught anyway," Mercury whispered to Neo, who firmly nodded.
"What was that?" Percy sent them a glare, and Neo responded with a cheeky wink. Mercury let out a snort of laughter.
Perce was the first guy to ever treat him well. Not with the luxurious pampering like that of a bratty princess, but with genuine kindness, and mutual respect. Mercury was his subordinate, but for the first time... he didn't mind it. Better than his abusive fucktard of a dad, better than Salem, better than Cinder. No hidden tricks or acts. He was just genuinely that nice.
Mercury was glad to be on his side.
"Come on Neo," he gestured, smirking as she began skipping with him towards the impressive mountain upon which Mistral sat. Thankfully, they didn't have a crowd to fight through; Perce had hooded himself, the genius that he was.
"Let's go do some spying for the big boss."
Percy watched the backs of Mercury and Neo as they approached the mountain of Mistral.
Soon enough, Neo's semblance activated, and they turned into an inconspicuous couple, who had features similar to Percy's. Neo's semblance was truly a work of art; the features were similar enough that they could truly be taken for Mistralian natives.
It was good that the bullhead docks were empty today. Otherwise, they might have had questions about why a random bullhead from Atlas was flying into Mistral.
But Neo's semblance had been effective enough to disguise the Atlesian bullhead as a Mistralian one, and the Mistralian air traffic officers were none the wiser.
Truly, the weak security surprised him. He would revamp that once he announced his arrival to Mistral, he supposed. Being a god-king came with some benefits.
Percy had reassured them that he wanted them back alive, and it was true.
But that was the only condition, really. They couldn't be of use to him if they were dead.
With that little comment, he had successfully gained their trust. They thought he genuinely cared for them and had placed his trust in them, and they, in turn, implicitly placed their trust in him and cared for him.
As two assassins, Percy was willing to bet that they had never experienced a shred of kindness in their lives; what else would motivate one to turn to killing for a living?
In the end, it didn't matter. They were two of the same pieces. Perfect bishops for him to move on the board, with extended vision.
He remembered that Ruby had silver eyes that still needed unlocking. The showdown at Shion would be perfect for that.
Chess was war, but there was a difference in real life.
In chess, both players had perfect information, at all times. But Salem was the one with perfect information here, and not him. That would not do, not at all.
Percy meant to either build a spy network in Mistral or take the widest information network by force. He would submit them.
He would kill Salem, and her cabal. Salem would fall. But the first step, was to activate those silver eyes of Ruby's.
Mistral will be mine.
Sharp, violent, and brutal gusts of wind blew through his jet black hair. His dark cloak billowed freely in the wind. Dark clouds, pregnant with malice and hatred, coalesced rapidly overhead, churning and rolling, with a sudden downpouring of heavy rain. The ground was becoming muddy, and wet.
Salem will fall. Whatever it takes.
His sea green eyes grew turbulent and dark, flickering with raw, untapped power which befit that of the gods that had come before him. The primal power which befit that of the god Apollyon.
The rain turned unnaturally sharp, coming down like an onslaught of heavy nails, as straight and silvery like a punishment of steel rods which sought to bend to its will all in its path.
It doesn't matter what needs to be sacrificed.
Between the clouds up above, branched lightning lit up the dark, Stygian sky, flashing and trembling with the anger of a thousand wrathful suns. It was escorted by deafening rumbles of thunder, like sonic shockwaves that ripped the eardrums of mortals.
History is written by the victors.
The flashes of lightning lit up his face, though only the lower half. Hints of stormy, sea green eyes could be seen through his pitch black bangs which covered them.
In this world, winning is everything.
The tenebrous clouds blotted out the sun, stretching as far as the naked eye could see, covering the heavens. A stray bolt of white, dangerous lightning hurtled down from the tempestuous sky, guided by his own divine hand, curving, and striking.
So long as I win in the end...
The thunderbolt struck the ground next to him with reckless abandon, illuminating his shadow in an eerie, foreboding light against the backdrop of the uncannily black soil of the ground.
That's all that matters.
Welcome to the Kingdom of Mistral.
End: Book I – Beginnings
Begin: Book II – The King's Dilemma
Preview: Book II – The King's Dilemma
"Throughout the Heavens and Remnant, I alone am the honored one."
"You must not fear." His gaze bored deep into her. "Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the congregation , the menagerie of little-deaths that bring destruction, that bring chaos, obliteration."
"What am I, a god?" "Yes."
"I know the look of a doomed man. I must warn you. If you take this path... they will despise you."
"It's a sad truth that those who shine brightest often burn fastest."
"Save the world? What a joke. You can't even save yourself!"
"Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster... for when you gaze long into the abyss...
The abyss gazes also into you."
AN: Well, that's the end of this book, Book I – Beginnings. Book II – The King's Dilemma, will still be contained in this book, Never Change; I'm just dividing these into sections within Never Change for better organization.
I will go on an indefinite hiatus due to me running out of pre-written chapters and piling lifely concerns. Worry not, I will be back eventually, and might write intermittently for some holidays here and there, but it will be far from consistent.
Just consider Book I – Beginnings, as the first in a series. Much like any good show or series of books, you must wait for each new release, just as you will have to wait for Book II – The King's Dilemma (although you might consider it far from production quality).
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Thank you all for this journey!
Until next time!
-thann3