One Batch, Two Batch, Penny and Dime.
Another Beowulf fell to his Mace, its dying shudder a hymn to Cardin's ears as the Executioner rose and fell in a deadly rhythm, causing frightful havoc through the Horde.
"Reinforce the right flank!" He screamed to his subordinate hunters, of which only two remained. Two, when there were once a dozen. Cold logic implied retreat. Reality, harsh and unforgiving, established long since that there was nowhere else to go.
Salem's Final Offensive had overwhelmed the world, and one by one the Kingdoms of Remnant fell. The last Humans and Faunus retreated to the wilds, the once great civilizations of Man reduced to scattered tribes hunted endlessly by the Grimm Queen's Hordes. The Hunters, defiant to the end, fought back with a vengeance as magnificent as it was deadly, but it was not enough. Most died in the first days of the War. By sheer luck, or perhaps misfortune, Cardin was one of the few survivors, falling in with a large group of civilians and surviving Hunters twenty years ago.
Russel, Dove, and Sky were all dead, three more ghosts that haunted Cardin every waking moment.
One Batch, Two Batch, Penny and Dime.
Cardin smashed his way through a wave of Ursa, the explosive charge of the Executioner's fire dust crystal tearing great swathes through their ranks as their assault disintegrated. His subordinate hunters, little more than frightened trainees, accompanied him, picking off what survivors he left in his wake.
More Grimm came. They always did; a great black tide that consumed the world whole.
An Alpha Beowulf disemboweled the bow wielding trainee, her dying screams chilling Cardin to the bone as he crushed its skull in retaliation. Another failure. Another ghost.
An Elder Deathstalker's pincer snapped, and the axeman fell in two pieces, his cries of pain little more than wet choking as his guts spilled out onto the ground. Mercy came in the form of explosive annihilation as Cardin's fire dust crystal let loose its baleful fury onto the deathstalker, wiping both beings from the world. Yet another failure, yet another ghost.
His semblance took over then, power surging in tandem with the rage in his heart, and his Fury seemed endless now as he sought to avenge his fallen charges. Grimm fell by the score to his wrath, yet ten more took the place of every one he slew, and Cardin's aura fell bit by bit as the Horde wore him down.
As he fell to his knees amidst a sea of slaughtered monsters, staring defiantly at the King Nuckelavee whose claws pierced his chest, he couldn't help but feel a sense of long forgotten peace.
No more failures. No more ghosts.
—-
"Mr. Winchester! Mr. Winchester!"
He awoke to a voice he hadn't heard in years, paired with the sight of a man he hadn't seen in years.
"B-Bart?"
The Professor of History raised his eyebrow at the sound of his name. "It's Dr. Oobleck to you Mr. Winchester. Now, if you could do me the favor of answering my question?"
Cardin just stared, mouth agape. He had watched this man die eighteen years ago, swarmed by deathstalkers in an effort to rescue a group of civilians. Now he was alive, and Cardin had no idea what to think.
"Any day now, Mr. Winchester."
"I-I-I-"
Another voice spoke up. "Cardin, you alright?"
No. Impossible. It couldn't be.
Russel, Sky, and Dove sat next to him, looks of concern on their faces.
"Dude, what's going on?"
Cardin passed out.
—
As he watched his student be carted off to the nurses office, Bartholomew Oobleck could tell something was off about Cardin Winchester.
In the short time he had known the young man, he had found him to be prideful and arrogant to a fault; common traits in bullies, a role which Mr. Winchester seemed to be embracing in stride, if his interactions with young Mr. Arc were any indication. His decision to sleep during the history of the Faunus War only served to reinforce the Doctor's opinion on the young teenager.
Now, however, Oobleck didn't know what to think. The fact that Cardin had known Bart's name and spoke it in a tone that implied familiarity beyond a teacher-student relationship was one point of interest, as was but what unsettled Bartholomew most was the eyes of young Cardin.
They were the eyes of a hardened veteran, one that had lived through countless horrific battles as well as the deaths of many friends, not the eyes of an 18-year-old starting his first year at a Huntsman Academy. Oobleck had seen such eyes on veterans of the Great War and the Revolution.
The fact that his student possessed such eyes disturbed him greatly.
Opening his scroll, Oobleck called the Headmaster.
"Oz? Could you do me a favor and keep an eye on Cardin Winchester after he leaves the infirmary? I have some concerns…"
Trying something different than the usual RWBY fic.