The structure is colossal, like the remnants of an ancient city lost to time. The sheer scale of it is overwhelming—making it clear that this project must have demanded the labor of hundreds if not thousands to raise its towering pillars and flying bridges.

The main tower looms above us, at least ten stories tall, a testament to human ambition long since reclaimed by nature. Dust lanterns embedded in the stone provide the only hint of lingering human presence. Their glow—soft hues of blue and orange—casts faint, shifting light against the weathered walls, the large crystals within them humming faintly with lingering energy.

Everything else is a victim of time. Moss and vines crawl across the crumbling masonry, and erosion has worn away the sharp edges of stone into smooth, uneven shapes. It gives the impression that one strong push in the right spot could bring the whole thing tumbling down, and I don't like our odds of surviving the impact.

"Team One," Glynda's voice crackles from my scroll. I pull it out quickly. "We've confirmed your arrival at the designated area. I can see that you had no problems with your landing strategy. Ten points have been awarded. Proceed forward."

Once again, as in on cue, the moment the transmission dies, a distant, haunting howl echoes through the ruins. Grimm.

"Two dozen Beowolves, more on the way. What's the plan?" Pyrrha asks, keeping pace beside me.

"Everyone! We make a run for the main tower before the Nevermore swings back for seconds. If anything moves, shoot it. If it keeps moving, call Pyrrha."

With the plan set, I draw my new handgun. The grip feels solid, reassuring. I fire it toward the tower and teleport straight into the snarling jaws of a Beowolf.

The creature is a monstrous blend of fur, claws, and exposed bone, standing eight feet tall and radiating primal menace. In any other story, this would be a horror scene—a desperate fight for survival as we push through the horde.

Here? I smash my boot into its skull with enough force to snap its head to the side, a sharp crack marking its end. Not even pausing, I glance back to check on the others.

Rain and Pyrrha are tearing through these smaller Grimm with ease, their movements smooth and deadly as they carve a path toward the tower. Maroon, on the other hand, is struggling to find her footing—her attacks are shy, more evasive than offensive, as she pirouettes away while remaining at the center of the group, hidden behind the others.

Confident they can hold their own for now, I push forward, trying to get the attention of anything that stands directly in our way.

The next Beowolf I face is a grotesque sight, with half its flesh rotted away, exposing a skeletal frame and one massive arm made entirely of bone. Intrigued, I let it charge. Its claws swipe toward me, but I parry the blow, gripping its forearm before it can land a hit.

Two quick shots to its skull put it down for good.

The impact feels like being hit by a toddler with a wooden plank—awkward and clumsy, but still capable of bruising if you're careless. The claws, though, are a different story: they're like nails at the end of that plank. Doesn't matter if my opponent isn't strong; getting stabbed still hurts.

Another Grimm leaps at me, and I throw one of my axes straight at its chest. We swap places in an instant, and before it can process what's happened, I execute it from behind.

Soon enough, after what feels like a quick warm-up, we're standing inside the main tower. A few Beowolves attempt to give chase, but most of the pack retreats. They're smart enough to realize that four enhanced humans are more than they can handle.

In the center of the circular chamber stands a pillar of soft light. It catches the drifting specks of dust, pulling them upward through a jagged hole in the ceiling. Rain steps forward first, casually shoving her hand into the light and watching her arm drift upward.

"Is that... an elevator?" I ask, genuinely surprised.

"Bit slow," Rain mumbles, unimpressed.

"It's probably what they used to transport stones to the top back in the day," Pyrrha adds.

Maroon kneels beside the stark-white disk at the beam's base, running her fingers across it thoughtfully. "Mm-mm, but... ain't it supposed to be as broken as everything else?"

"That's probably Glynda's Semblance," I answer, stepping closer. The light hums faintly as I study it. "Give me a second. I want to try something."

Technically, as long as my weapons don't touch anything, they're still considered projectiles.

With that in mind, I flip one of my tomahawks into the beam. It's effortlessly caught and carried upward by the gravity-dust-like effect. Once I'm confident enough time has passed, I flip my second tomahawk toward the high ceiling as an anchor point, then teleport to the first.

I'm instantly engulfed by darkness.

What looked like a simple ten-floor structure from the outside is something far stranger inside: five or so cavernous levels, each shrouded in oppressive silence. The elevator beam cuts through them all, a beacon of light in this forsaken tomb.

Squinting, I try to adjust to the gloom. That's when I see it.

Something shifts in the shadows.

It's dark and massive, its body striped with jagged streaks of green.

It moves fast. Too fast. Jaws split open wide, mandibles snapping toward my head like pincers as it leaps across the air, aiming to bite my head off.

I swap back.

The next thing I know, I'm on the floor, gasping for air. My heart pounds against my ribs like it's trying to escape.

Pyrrha drops to her knees beside me, her hand steady on my shoulder. "Vesper?! Are you okay? What did you see?"

I try to find the words, but they fail me. Whatever that thing was, it wasn't like any animal, or any Grimm I've ever seen before.

It was death—raw, jagged, and painful death.

"There's… something up there, something bad. We should probably stick to the stairs, and… try to be silent."

I don't know if it is because of the look on my face or the cold sweat running down my neck, but the girls all look at each other and then just silently agree to follow, clearly not interested in sharing my experience.

"L-Let's move, then," Phyrra says, helping me back on my feet. "I'm sure we'll be fine as long as we're together."

[Additional Objective] Kill the Horror.

Slowly, we ascend through the damp, mold-ridden corridors, the air thick with decay. And honestly? The absence of Grimm may be the worst part of all.

When you're fighting them, there's a twisted kind of comfort in their mindless aggression. As long as you can see them, you can strategize, react. Victory or defeat comes down to fighting skill and timing—a battle of action, not thought.

But here, in this silence, with shadows pressing in on every side? There's nothing but our own thoughts and fears. And those are far harder to fight.

Rain leads the way, her eyes cutting through the gloom with an uncanny ease none of us can match. The faint, flickering light from dust lanterns is barely enough to mark the walls on this floor, let alone the path ahead. She knows exactly where she's going.

At the turn of a corner, she freezes mid-step, her head tilting toward something beyond our sight. Slowly, she glances back at me, her eyes gleaming in the faint light.

"Grimm," she whispers.

I take a peek around the corner. In the distance, barely illuminated by the faint glow of a broken crystal, stands a figure. Humanoid, but… off. Its posture is rigid and void of breath, making it look almost like a plant, as if it had simply grown out of the bricks to stand guard there forever.

"Let's keep this quiet," I murmur. "Smooth and silent."

I push forward, every step careful, my breath held as though even the sound of exhaling could shatter this fragile, tense peace. The creature doesn't move as I approach, absorbed in its watch. With a swift motion, I grab it by the chin and slice its flimsy throat. The Grimm crumbles silently into mist, its presence erased as though it had never existed.

But as the dust clears, I see what lies beyond, and my stomach twists.

The corridor stretches into darkness, lined with figures. Six? A dozen? No—too many to count. Skeleton-like forms like the one I just killed cling to the walls, bound in patches of cocoon-like fluid. Their heads move in strange, petal-like motions, each one folding and unfolding around a single massive eye. The sound they make is soft but repellent—wet, organic.

I nearly jump out of my skin when Rain's hand grips my shoulder.

"Keep going," she insists.

"T-Through there?" Maroon's trembles.

Rain doesn't even hesitate. "Captured. Safe. Not moving."

Maroon looks at me, then Pyrrha, her wide eyes begging for reassurance. Pyrrha takes her arm, offering a faint smile. "Don't worry. We'll get through this."

As we press forward, the shadows around us twitch and shift, skeletal limbs reaching weakly toward us. Rain stays in the lead, her movements disturbingly efficient. Every time a clawed hand stretches too closely, she grabs is almost gently and severs the limb with a single, silent stroke of her dagger. The Grimm barely react, numbed, their paralyzed forms incapable of resistance.

It's unsettling, glancing left and right after every step and seeing nothing but agonizing corpses. Even if they're Grimm—creatures of death themselves—the sight of their twisted remains dissolving into the stone feels wrong. Like the temple itself is swallowing them, feeding on their existence.

And then we reach an open intersection.

Rain freezes mid-step.

My instincts flare, and I almost whisper her name, but before I can utter a syllable, her hand snaps back and clamps over the side of my head. The gesture is rough, urgent. The message couldn't be clearer: Don't. Move.

The air grows colder, as if something unseen has crept into the room with us. Seconds crawl by, stretching endlessly, each one bringing a new wave of icy dread trickling down my spine.

And then I hear it.

A sound, faint at first, rising steadily—a rapid, jittering noise, like claws scratching stone in frantic bursts. It's chaotic, disjointed, like the hurried movements of something that doesn't quite know where it's going but is desperate to get there.

It's getting closer.

The sound rushes toward us, faster than I can process. It circles, looping around us in erratic patterns, impossibly quick. My heart pounds in time with its frenetic pace, my breath catching in my throat as I try to see what's out there.

But there's nothing.

Just darkness.

And then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the noise stops.

The silence rushes back in, almost deafening. For the first time, I hear Rain take a deep breath. Her entire frame expanding for a second as she carefully adjusts her posture.

I want to ask her what she saw—what it was—but she simply moves on.

By the time we reach the fourth level, we finally allow ourselves to pause. For the first time in what feels like hours, we're able to just… exist, without worrying about every sound, every flicker of movement in the dark.

The space here is different. Brighter. The crystals embedded in the walls are more intact, their soft glow illuminating the chamber. The light banishes the decay, washing away the oppressive darkness with a faint shimmer of magic and wonder.

It feels fragile, though. Like it could vanish in an instant.

"Hey, Rain," I call out, pulling her attention back to the group. She turns, but her gaze is distant, her mind clearly somewhere else. "Are we close?"

She raises her chin, sniffing the stale, stagnant air. "Very close," she says simply. "Almost there. Take time, fun soon."

Fun.

I blink at her, momentarily thrown. Normally, I'm used to Rain's strange way of speaking, but this time... I can't even begin to imagine what she's talking about.

"What, you think they've got something special planned for us?" I ask, forcing a casual tone, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Yes," she replies. "Pork's here."

"Pork?" Pyrrha gets up, her grip tightening on her spear. The lack of action has clearly been wearing on her. "Like dinner?"

Rain shakes her head slowly, giving us all a look like we've lost our minds. "C'mon."

She moves ahead without another word, her cat ears twitching at sounds only she can hear.

The final chamber feels like stepping into another world, an ethereal sanctuary within the decayed tower. The room is birdcage-like, impossibly tall, its surfaces gleaming as they catch and refract the deep-blue light. The glow dances across the walls, creating an almost tangible radiance that feels as though you could reach out and hold it in your hands.

But the illusion of perfection is marred by reality—gaping holes puncture the floor, leading into shadows that seem to breathe below. It's a reminder that, despite its beauty, this place is as deadly as the rest of the tower.

At the center of the chamber, the pillar of light pierces upward, vanishing into the distant ceiling. Suspended within its brilliance floats Professor Ozpin. He hangs there, still and silent, his eyes closed and hands bound together, as though caught in a moment between life and death.

A voice cuts through the awe.

"Oh? Do I hear the sound of eager adventurers?"

From the opposite side of the room, Professor Port emerges, his presence larger than life as he rides atop a massive, grotesque Boarbatusk—a boar-like Grimm of monstrous proportions.

"I must admit," he continues with theatrical flair, "I find myself terribly impressed by your performance! Making it this far, unscathed… truly remarkable. But alas, such fortune cannot last!"

"Pork," Rain says flatly, pointing toward them. For a moment, I'm unsure if she means the professor or the Grimm.

With an exaggerated spin and an unnecessarily dramatic flourish, Port dismounts, his boots landing on the gleaming floor with a confident thud. He gestures grandly toward the beast, which lets out a guttural roar.

"Come, challengers! Prove yourselves in this final trial and claim your worthiness for Beacon Academy!"

The Boarbatusk doesn't wait for permission. It curls into a massive, spiked ball and barrels toward us, the ground trembling beneath its weight.

"Pyrrha, yours!" I shout.

Pyrrha is already in motion. With a fierce cry, she steps forward, planting her shield like a barrier of unyielding steel. Her Semblance activates, reinforcing her stance, and the Grimm's charge halts with a deafening crash. Sparks fly as the beast pushes against her, the impact forcing a pained groan from her lips.

"Maroon!"

"On it, baby!"

Twin metal disks fly from her hands, ricocheting off the walls before striking the Grimm's flanks. Each disk bursts into a cloud of shimmering purple mist, quickly turning the chamber into a haze of purple fumes.

I take a sharp breath, feeling the caustic cocktail burn as it fills my lungs. Warmth spreads through my chest, my senses sharpening. Through the haze, Maroon's laughter rings out inside my mind, a chaotic harmony with the Grimm's enraged howls.

"Rain!"

Rain nods sharply as she scrapes her palms together, sparks flaring to life and catching in the thick, moist air. The glow flickers like fireflies as her Semblance ignites, casting a brief, electric glow across her face.

Without hesitation, we dive as one, a blur of steel and fury. Daggers and axes find their mark, carving into the beast's tough hide with brutal precision. The Boarbatusk roars as it uncurls and staggers back.

The noxious haze clings to the beast, seeping into every heavy breath it takes. It coughs violently, choking on the intoxicating air, the mist itself moving back and forth as the creature chugs on it. But that doesn't stop it.

Suddenly, its massive frame arches unnaturally, fur bristling and bones cracking audibly as its body contorts. Then comes the wail. Spikes erupt from its back in a deadly torrent, launching skyward before raining down like jagged, bone-white arrows that dive blindly into the smoke.

For that, we have no defense.

"Close the gap!" I shout, hurling one of my tomahawks toward its paws. The blade strikes true, and I teleport to it in an instant, sliding beneath the Grimm's thrashing form. My gun roars, the sharp bursts of fire lighting up the dark as I unload into its exposed underbelly. The recoil propels me across the slick floor, safe from the downpour

From my vantage point, I catch glimpses of the others.

Rain is a streak of motion, weaving through the storm with fluid movements. Her blades flash in the dim light as she deflects the deadly spears, each strike fueling the crackling fire of her Semblance that sparks, and sparks, then flares as she struggles forward.

Pyrrha jumps ahead with force, her shield raised, spikes shatter loudly against its surface as she closes the distance. She doesn't care—her spear becomes a missile in her hands, flying straight with the sound of a gunshot, embedding itself deep between the Grimm's glaring eyes, forcing it to scream.

And Maroon? With her judgment gone by her own concoction, she dances through the chaos as if nothing could touch her, as if unaware of the battle—the very picture of careless confidence. She snatches her blades from the ground mid-spin, a grin on her face, before diving to join our assault.

The Grimm roars, its focus finally shifting to me. It tires of the endless sting of my bullets peppering its exposed underside and turns its full weight downward, aiming to crush me beneath its massive frame. But I've already laid my trap. With so many anchored points for my Semblance, its sheer size is irrelevant—I'm in control.

It crashes down, but I'm faster, shifting my position to land on its back. My tomahawk slams into its flesh once more, but before I can do any real damage, it twists violently. Rolling into another desperate charge, it launches the last remnants of its bone armor in every direction, deadly shards whistling through the air.

Now stripped of its heavy plating, the creature is unbound—an erratic storm of speed and fury. It thrashes against the chamber's edges, bouncing off walls in wild, unpredictable patterns. Too fast. Too erratic. None of us can risk stepping in its path.

"We need to pin it down!"

"I'll take care of it!" Pyrrha's voice is loud but steady.

Summoning her Semblance, she wrenches her spear from where it's embedded, a spray of dark, viscous blood trailing after it like a sinister comet.

"Rain, give her an opening!"

Rain does not think twice. With her Semblance fully ignited, blue streaks of flame coil around her arms. She charges toward the nearest wall, slamming her fists into the ornate stone. The surface buckles under her strength, cracks spiderwebbing outward in an instant. Then, she pulls her weapons out, ripping the structure apart.

An avalanche of debris rains down, forcing us all to retreat a few steps as the opulent masonry collapses in on itself. The Grimm reels, whipped along its massive back by the falling rubble. The sudden weight and impact slows its frenzied movements just enough.

Pyrrha's battle cry is fierce, a moment of pure determination. Her spear plunges deep into the creature's side. With a grunt of effort, she drives it further, pressing forward until the weapon bursts through the other side. The spear embeds itself into the ground beneath, pinning the writhing beast in place. The Grimm lets out a final, guttural roar, its monstrous frame trembling violently before sagging in defeat, its energy draining away into stillness.

"Bravo! Bravo!" A booming voice cuts through the smoky aftermath.

Professor Port emerges from the haze, his robust figure silhouetted against the ethereal blue light of the chamber. He's coughing heavily, swatting ineffectively at the lingering dust and smoke. His jovial tone carries an air of theatrical flair, though his watery eyes betray the strain of trying to find anything in the middle of this chaos.

"Such valor! Such ingenuity!" he exclaims, stumbling slightly as he approaches. "A masterful display of teamwork and skill! If only—"

Just as the man is walking toward us, something leaps out of one of the gaps in the floor and snatches him away, his entire upper-half immediately swallowed to the point where there's no scream as he disappears into the darkness below.

This chapter felt extremely long for some reason.

I had to rewrite it because my original vision just wasn't landing. Initially, it was supposed to be a PvP encounter between our team and RWBY, with Vesper facing Ruby, but no matter how I adjusted it, something felt off.

There are so many moving parts—characters stronger than others, people who don't really want to fight—and it was tough to create a satisfying conclusion, even when I leaned toward Pyrrha being the carry.

Speaking of carries, let's talk about Rain's Semblance:

[Combo Breaker]

Each successful dodge or attack powers up the Semblance, progressing from sparks to red fire to blue fire, while racking up an offensive power bonus.

Taking a direct hit either halves or completely depletes the combo, while blocking a hit keeps it neutral.

This was my attempt at giving the dexterity-based character a way to handle larger opponents who wouldn't normally go down from small bullets.