Chapter One Hundred and Two

"How bad was it?" I questioned, as I stepped out of the elevator, though I paused, as I could feel the magic running through the chamber, the gearwork hanging over our heads a vibrant green as it thrummed with power, casting everything in a faint emerald glow that barely overpowered the sunlight streaming in from the room's large windows.

"Well, it certainly wasn't good," the Wizard noted, conversationally, standing at the far end of his office, gazing out floor-to-ceiling windows, looking upon the still-burning city, a map of Remnant floating above his desk, showing dozens of red dots spread out across the multiple continents, about dozen of them, though Menagerie was suspiciously clean of crimson indicators.

"Are all of these Grimm Tides?" I questioned, looking them over, Atlas hit, as was Vacuo's capitol, but Mistral's was untouched.

Oz turned around, making his way to his desk, cane clicking on the stone floor. "Thankfully, no. However, they all represent Grimm attacks that displayed aberrant behavior. Here," he poked a red dot, south of Beacon, "was Ms. Rose's interaction with a Tide that waited for her team. This one," a gesture towards a small coastal Vacuo town, "retreated, as those in Gabbro did, though without the regimented nature of the ones you faced. And here," a dot in Mistral, away from any city, was indicated, "was where a Grimm Killin, aBehemoth, challenged the Huntsman Mentor guiding his Haven Academy student team, to single combat, slew him, then took the rest of the Tide that was with it and left."

"I take it they're not known for doing so?" I questioned. "You said they're intelligent."

"Not in that way," the Wizard replied, frowning. "They possess a bestial cunning, their greater mental faculties always turned in pursuit of the killing of Humans and Faunus. Some may rant about a noble nature, but it is always a lie, in the end, a childish, malevolent justification for the slaughter. To have one do so, to eliminate the greatest threat to their revelry, and promise safety to drop the guard of the caravan, only to pounce upon it that night, that would be in line with their nature. To not only allow them free passage, but to actively remove other Grimm from their path…"

I could see the issue immediately. "It almost seems noble. Like they can be dealt with fairly."

With a sharp nod, the Immortal King of Vale agreed, "Yes, quite. When the truth is that they are nothing but Darkness and destruction incarnate."

"And this hasn't happened before?" I questioned, poking another dot, which opened up into a report where a small farming town was pressed, taking losses, until the greater populace stopped hiding and started fighting as well, at which point the Grimm left, leaving a very confused group of civilians.

"If it has, it was in parts of Remnant where I was not active," the ancient man stated. "The CCT has… shrunk the world, a great deal, and, while there have always been tales of intelligent Grimm, sometimes to engender fear, sometimes to make a retelling of one's victory more grandiose, and many times to aid in the formation of Cults, who mistook their own peacefulness in the face of such monsters, causing the creatures to overlook them, as a type of blessing. All were false when investigated, the last almost always leading to disastrous results."

"Well, we didn't really give them a chance to talk," I mused, frowning. "But, from what it sounds like, Ruby's team was just jumped without warning. Did Vale get any sort of ultimatum?"

"If they did, I was not made aware of it," the white-haired man stated, bringing up a video feed, the camera watching the capital city from across the lake, before the attack. "Observe."

All was peaceful for several seconds, before a small explosion went off near the center of Vale, and, from it, a swirling black funnel reached up into the sky, like twister in reverse, before it started to 'overflow', spilling down into the city in black fluid-like wave, that spread down every street, poured into open windows, through doors, slamming into windows that quickly broke, barely recognizable as thousands upon thousands upon thousands of Nevermores.

"How would you even fight that?" I frowned. "Well, I'd be fine, probably, and so would Pyrrha, probably, but…"

"Most did not," the Wizard noted. "Though locking oneself in a closet or similar space was enough for the survivors. A few Huntsman and Huntresses were able to use their Semblances, or Dustcasting to create zones of safety for themselves and those around them, but… I am very much thankful that the students doing their assignments in Vale were assigned to the walls, or were in buildings, such as the Capitol Building, or Police Headquarters, that had the functioning defenses I strove to implement, though, in some places, they failed due to lack of maintenance. After all," the ancient reincarnator questioned dryly, "what use would there be for anti-Grimm defenses inside the city? I suppose I should be grateful that their use as anti-riot protections saw most of them preserved in a functional state."

Pausing for a moment, he added, "Though, I must admit, an attack like this is… new. And that, Jaune, is the issue. There have been Semblances that afford one a certain degree of control over nearby Grimm before, though the people that utilize them were almost universally of low character, and, more often than not, their control was not as strong as they believed, killed by their own 'servants' when the Beowulf slipped the leash, in so many words."

"Oz, I warned you about this weeks ago," I stated, trying not to be accusatory, but watching the slaughter… while my Draconic nature was such that my feelings were muted, it was still… a lot.

It was one thing to see the grisly aftermath, another to distantly watch men, women, children, running, screaming, the feed thankfully soundless, overtaken by the black wave of monstrous avians, knowing that what I'd seen wasn't just 'gore', but…

I looked away, "What happened?"

"I do not know," The Wizard stated, sounding only the slightest bit regretful, like one would be over a burnt roast. "I dispatched a team to investigate, one of no small skill. To be honest, even if they encountered a Grimm of unusual power, they should have survived. That fact that they are not responding to my attempts to contact them, however, suggests the worst."

And that was something that he took worse than the carnage still on display over his desk, which, ironically, the Dragon in me understood, as they were His, while Vale was, very loudly, not.

"I also, given the obvious connection between the two locales, suggested that work be done to further fortify the Vale-end of the tunnel connecting them to Mountain Glenn, and was told they would take things under advisement, though, without hard proof, my word alone was not sufficient cause," Oz sighed, waving a hand. "But please, I would appreciate your insight into the other events that have occurred the last few days."

When I hesitated, the ancient reincarnator sadly smiled. "Ah, you are unused to such. That is a commendable reaction, Mr. Arc, and one you should not be ashamed of," Oz stated, for some reason, as I wasn't. Continuing commiserating, he advised, "While dealing with such things will never become painless, with repetition it becomes far easier to look past the personal and into the, shall we say, practical.

Closing the video of the still unfolding carnage, Bullheads just starting to take off from Beacon and head across the water, I looked over the names, dates, and times over each trouble spot, and noted, "These all happened within a few days of each other. Was, was there anything through the CCT that could indicate…"

Shaking his head, Oz informed me, "The CCT is an open pathway, not one with regular checks, and there are any number of ways this could be organized. But by who is the issue."

"You don't have any ideas?" I questioned, knowing of at least one possible source.

Salem.

"No," the Headmaster frowned. "There are some that could do something similar, in a handful of locations, but… this is not how they function, it's too… obvious. And they would never work together to do this. And that," he gestured towards Vale, "would likely be beyond any of them. It is most fortunate that I was able to strengthen the wards to the point they could serve as a barrier, and that the attackers were, individually, so weak."

Glancing outwards myself, I questioned, "So a Behemoth…?"

"Would break through, yes, though not easily, and not without cost," the Wizard informed me. "However, for this event, they were quite sufficient, though they, in turn, created a new problem."

When he went silent, I prodded, "Which would be…?"

"Why, Vale is demanding to know why I have not furnished them with such protections, of course?" the man smiled, dryly amused. "Informing them that, as they have informed me multiple times, that Beacon is not part of Vale proper, and thus I have in no say how it is run, was not taken particularly well. A few even thought it appropriate to attempt to threaten me into 'compliance'," he chuckled.

"Is that going to be an issue?" I asked, not wanting to go to war with Vale, but-

"No, for reasons that I believe you will understand in a few weeks," he deferred. "Please, look over the other attacks. I would like your perspective."

Nodding, clicking through them, a Behemoth Grimm Centipede apparently tried to have a go at Mantle, the several hundred-foot-long creature busting up right outside the walls, and rearing back, it prepared to spew a river of acid into the seemingly helpless city…

Only to get its shit absolutely fucking wrecked by several dozen flying battleships, Hard-Light Dust lasers slamming down into it, forcing it back, the high-pressure green stream of caustic fluid going wide and hitting the tundra outside, the barrage only intensifying until its white armor broke and tore, the Grimmflesh tearing apart in unnatural red chunks until it was laid out, its back end still partially buried.

According to the report, it managed to get a single word off, everyone hearing it telepathically roar "You-" before it got cut off. And apart.

"So… are we still pretending that Behemoths aren't a thing?" I questioned, waving to the report. "Because…"

"We are," the Wizard informed me. "The explanation is, as you used on your mission, that they are merely… ancient Alphas, who have awoken, for some reason. In a way, it's even true, as the best deceptions have a core of veracity to them."

"And the telepathic speech?" I pointed out.

"Clearly, they misheard its screech," the white-haired reincarnator stated blandly.

I blinked. "Ohhh-kaaaay. You'd know more about what works on these people than I do."

Across all of Solitas, only three incidents happened, the first being the Behemoth-Centipede. The second was a remote scientific outpost that was hit in waves, one type of Grimm at a time, each pulled back after killing a single person, before leaving entirely, a third of those present still alive. And the last was the strangest, as it wasn't technically combat at all, but a mass-migration of Grimm that went around an, understandably, terrified caravan, only the Grimm that the Huntsman Guards attacked directly fighting them, but the other several hundred creatures slowly making their way further north, despite the fact that there wasnothing in that direction, almost seeming to be… sleepwalking, the pain of combat appearing to snap them awake.

Very clearly something was happening.

But… what?"

"Where are these headed?" I questioned, indicating the 'march'.

"We do not know. They moved into a heavy blizzard, and seemed to have vanished," Oz stated. "Without a trace."

"Grimm Tunnels?" I proposed, only to receive a shrug. "Do they normally go back down them?"

"Normally, no," the Headmaster noted. "But I think you would agree, Jaune, this situation is anything but normal."

Poking through others, Pyrrha's hometown hit, but, as it was a pseudo-Atlesian outpost, they blew the fuck out of them in a giant mecha of all things. However, scanning the entries, none of them had regimented marching like had been displayed at Gabbro, but all of them showed… oddities. It wasn't that they were going easy on the towns they attacked, in some cases they went far harder than a normal Tide would, the report shared by the few that ran, and survived, possibly being allowed to survive, possibly actually just escaping.

But…

"There's a purpose," I finally declared. "It's not a unified purpose, in some cases it seems to be working at cross-purposes, this Tide backing off when the civilians fought, while this one seemingly left the civilians alone because they didn't fight, but, but these aren't animalistic. Or, at least, they don't seem animalistic. These are Behemoths, I'd have to guess, but… is this normal for Behemoths?"

"That is the question," Oz sighed.

After a moment of silence, I added, "Yes. That is what I am asking. So?"

"In truth? I am not sure," the reincarnator admitted. "The Behemoths I have dealt with over my lifetimes, well over a hundred, were never terribly interested in deep conversation. Rantings about my Patron, declarations that all of my men were merely animals compared to its might, to be hunted, much like what you recounted yourself. Some were content to live in their caves, their valleys, the ruins of the civilizations they destroyed, for a time, but they would inevitably become restless, and seek to begin the slaughter anew."

Flipping his cane upright, shifting his grip on it, a flicker of energy outlined a shining green lance, he smiled, "For one lifetime, in what would eventually become Vacuo, I was known as Saint Oziraha, the Dragon slayer."

Stamping on my instinctual reaction, I still couldn't hold back the frown, nor the embers of Flame on my breath, causing him to chuckle. "Have no fear, Jaune, it was merely that I made my appearance killing a draconic-seeming Behemoth that had infested a mountain range, which had developed a taste for young maidens, for reasons that are still beyond me. It would grab them, bring them back to its lair, and torture them, to savor their fear, their pain, and their despair. I was able to save its latest victim, and, in so doing, received my own barony in the Kingdom of…"

He trailed off, his rigid, regal bearing softening. "Was it Salamanse? Atranzia? Dunstirque? No, not the last one, that was the business with the fish…"

Shaking his head, the cane negligently flipped back down, and he turned to me, smiling, "So many lives, so many experiences. It was a time, long, long ago, in a civilization that has since passed into memory, then myth, then merely the subject of academic interest for those like our good Dr. Oobleck. Why, I believe you and Ms. Rose knocked down a watchtower I'd built around that period, give or take a few centuries, during your initiation. Surprised it stood that long, to be honest, given how destructive Huntsman Students can be, but, then again, your foes were nearly as exceptional as you, so it was to be expected. Regardless, where was I?"

"Fighting Behemoths," I suggested, not sure what to say. Was this a Senior Moment? Could he have a Senior Moment? "Not particularly chatty."

"Ah, yes," the millennia old, at least, man nodded in thanks. "While they possess the self-control to not go straight for the throat, such behavior is… unusual. But not impossible, I suppose." Looking out over the map, he added, "though, given they have always acted alone, in my experience, perhaps this is natural, a bit like how some predators can coordinate, despite being rivals when it comes to hunting their prey."

Looking at the map, I felt compelled to point out, "But there's nearly fifty of these."

"And these are the only ones that we're aware of," Oz agreed. "In that, I believe we should be thankful that they are acting in such an odd manner, as having that many rampaging at once would be… catastrophic. Even during the Great War, when the world itself was in the throws of tyrannical madness, there were only a dozen. Actually, four did combine their Tides, during the Grimm Tide that caused the fighting to pause, so I suppose it is not beyond the realm of possibility."

"But, fifty Behemoths," Is stressed.

"Forty-Nine, now," the Wizard quipped. At my serious look he reassured me, "Your confrontation underneath Patch was not a normal encounter, Jaune, as you clashed with it in the seat of its power, in circumstances that favored it, surrounded by its personal Tide. Behemoths are territorial things, but a foe that I have fought for longer than the existence of every major nation combined. While trying to face one alone would be a truly heroic feat, we are not alone, and, had you the backing of your team, perhaps now, perhaps by the time you graduate in a few short years, I have faith that you could handle them, if not with ease, than with only a modicum of danger."

Holding up a hand, a green line dot appeared, extending into a spinning line, a rotating square, a spinning cube, and finally a shifting tesseract. "After all, while to the average citizen, they are undefeatable enemies, for Hutnsman, they are mortal foes, but for mages like us?"

The shape collapsed upon itself, forming interlocking gears, and, from one moment to the next, he was gone, but I could tell without looking, as he'd teleported, back to the window overlooking the city, which, turning to see, he was once more gazing down upon.

"They're merely an obstacle to be overcome."

DR

"That bad?" Pyrrha had questioned, for the first time, as soon as I returned to my team's room, grabbing the attention of everyone, except for Weiss, who was absent, likely still sleeping.

Seeing the concern, I'd rattled off, "Atlas is fine, Argus fought off their Tide without issue, and Patch, Mistral City, and Vacuo City were unaffected. Hell, all of Menagarie seemed to be untouched, and our encounters were on the worse end, though not the weirdest, by far."

Blake, Ruby, Yang, and my lover all had relaxed at the news.

"Then, then what was it?" Ruby had questioned tiredly, no longer exhausted, but still clearly fatigued.

"Looks like Behemoths," I'd shrugged.

Yang had sat up straight, "Wait, you mean like that spider-thing you fought before? But, but we didn't see anything like that!"

"Something blocked Jaune's attack," Blake had pointed out. "And Ruby, you said the Grimm ran. Grimm don't do that."

"They did last time," Nora had shrugged, then paused. "Though, like, the upperclassman were pretty weirded out by it. I thought they were just in awe of my glory, which, ya know, I get," Valkyrie had remarked smugly, standing in a hero pose, hands on her hips.

"I'm sure that's it, Nora," Ren had nodded, still slightly tense, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards, but otherwise expressionless.

Ruby had frowned. "But, but there wasn't anything big like that in Vale. Just… birds."

I'd shrugged, "Maybe it was hiding in the tunnel, maybe it was high above, maybe it was something else entirely. Most of the incidents didn't involve the spotting of them at all, only the fact that Grimm were acting, well, un-Grimm-like. Oh, and tell Weiss, when she wakes up, that the Atlesian Navy took out one in, like, forty-five seconds. In the meantime… I'm gonna go make dinner. I think we could all do with a good meal."

"I'll join you!" Pyrrha had pronounced, standing to follow. "Yang, Blake, would you mind keeping Ruby and the others company? I believe they'd appreciate it."

"No, I'm fi…" the other team lead had started to argue, falling silent under the gladiatrix's smiling, unforgiving gaze. "I'm not fine."

Feeling a pang of regret, I'd stepped over to the girl and gave her another hug, which she leaned into. "You survived, Ruby, and made sure the rest of your team did too," I'd told her, as warmly as I could. "That means, while you're not fine now, you did what you needed to, and you will be fine later. Okay? I just need some time to clear my own head too. I just like to do so on my own, but wanted to make sure you all knew your homes were alright."

"But, what about your home, Jaune?" she'd questioned.

"Beacon is untouched," I'd reminded her, the girl not responding, and, when I let go, while it took her a moment, she did too, allowing me to head to the kitchen, Pyrrha following, and open a portal Home, my partner quickly following.

"That bad?" she questioned, for the second time.

"Yes," I informed her, heading up the stairs, to the kitchen, wanting to do something, make something, and, well, a good meal would actually help. "How many Behemoths do you think we're dealing with?"

"I would have said a dozen," she stated slowly. "More?"

I nodded grimly. "Try Fifty."

The gladiatrix paused mid-step. "…oh."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Though one did get blown apart by the Atlesian Navy. Some centipede thing. Seemed kind of surprised 'bout the entire thing."

"Ah, a Centinel," the Mistralian native nodded, as if that made sense. "They're blind, and target people via the vibrations. Given Atlas' flying ships…"

I couldn't help but snort. "It probably didn't even know they were there. Nice. That said, I can't help but think this is somehow my fault."

"Because of the other Remnant you saw?" Pyrrha questioned. "The same one where Beacon was destroyed in a few months?"

"Yes," I agreed, "Though, given that it'd apparently take a Behemoth to break the wards now, which didn't exist before, that might go better than it originally did. But if they're so useful, why didn't he use them before?"

It was a rhetorical question, but my partner responded easily, "Because this life now matters." At my confused look, she gave me an indulgent smile. "Jaune, do you think I use every technique I have, pushing myself to the limit, in every fight I had when I participated in tournaments?"

"Well, no, if only because the fight would be over before you could get through them all," I replied.

Laughing, the red-haired woman patted my shoulder, "Thank you, Jaune, but what I mean is that, if I were to tire myself out early on in an event, if I were to show my hand, I could very well, by the time the final match arrived, have very little left in me."

"And you think he's treating this like a tournament?" I questioned.

"Nothing so simple, Jaune," she disagreed. "I think The Wizard, if he is as old as you think he is, sees this life as just another day in a long journey. There was no need to use his more esoteric abilities, just as there would be no reason for me to use my full Semblance in my own matches. In that, you are correct in that this could be said to be your fault."

I frowned, having said that, but to hear her say it, it was stupid, but it hurt a little-

"Your fault that The Wizard now cares," she stated, derailing my thoughts.

"I, what?"

"Your… vision, it only goes forward a few years, doesn't it?" Pyrrha questioned, and I slowly nodded, the series having progressed, but I'd not really followed it past it being 'not good'. "Then, if I had to guess, I would say this would have happened regardless. And it is not your actions that ultimately set things in motion, it was the Headmaster's."

Frowning, that didn't seem right, but… but I was aware there were things I very much missed. "Are you sure?"

"Not entirely," the gladiatrix hedged, "however most of what you do is contained to this place, separate from Remnant. Everything that Ozpin does happens there. And, as we've seen today, his workings are much greater than what you have chosen to do, though I don't doubt, should you display your full form, that you would make quite the impression, Jaune," she smiled.

That… helped.

A lot.

It was only after dinner, everyone, exhausted, turning in early, that I realized how much had changed, and, while I brought it up, suggested that we weren't just doing things early, but going off in an entirely new direction.

Because the Gate had a 'World Divergence Meter', which, according to the manual, tracked how far this dimension pulled away from the original, and, the further it split apart, the closer I came to being able to travel to an entirely new world altogether.

Before we'd left for Gabbro, it'd been at twenty-four percent.

Now?

77%

AN: Congratulations, Jauncifer, you've changed things! Not necessarily for the Better, but it's definitely Different!