Chapter 66

Roman Torchwick had done the sensible thing when Beacon had fallen: Exactly what was required of him before bunkering down and waiting it out. The only reason he was even aware that Nebo Aldric had even died was because Qrow Branwen had managed to get word to him through the phones the spy had handed out before the Battle for Beacon. He'd had to spend quite a bit of time consoling his companion once the realization that that titan had actually died had dawned on her. It almost made him think she genuinely cared for the kid, instead of just lusting after the guy who'd survived against her despite having no fighting experience. Oh the things little Aldric would have seen had he lived. Torchwick would have felt sorry for him, in another world.

Regardless, hearing of Aldric's death had basically sounded the death knell for the world, in Torchwick's eyes, especially since the lack of contact from Cinder had basically confirmed to him that she had zero use or desire for his services after Beacon.

Fortunately, he'd had a plan: The Garden.

The four kingdoms' various Gardens were perhaps the single greatest bastions and bunkers one could ask for in the event of a Grimm-pocalypse. They had fully equipped hydroponics facilities, medical supplies to last for decades and the ability to make more, enough weapons and ammunition to outfit several large villages, and some of the most efficient and powerful assassins and fallen huntsmen on Remnant. With the amount of coins Torchwick had, he could weather any storm until his dying day, and live in comfort while doing so, and in the off chance that the Grimm somehow managed to get inside? Well, it had many different avenues for escape built right in. Torchwick's personal favorite was the 'fully outfitted Atlesian Airship'.

It had the best coffee.

And so it had been, Torchwick had spent the last several months technically hiding from the wars raging above, taking in information from anyone who came down and would be willing to talk. He remembered laughing - actually laughing - when he'd heard Vacuo had tried to fight the Terrans head on, but he'd grown quite silent indeed when rumors of a 'Human Grimm' had sprouted up as an explanation for Mistral's destruction. That was a game changer, and not one Torchwick had ever even really considered the possibility of. It made him reconsider a couple things, because if Salem could turn people into Grimm, suddenly dying wasn't his worst problem. At least if he died all of his problems were suddenly not his anymore, but if Salem were seeking to turn people to Grimm - well, suffice to say, Torchwick certainly didn't want that. That was changing the terms of the deal her little helper had arranged however long ago, and even if that had been a lie to begin with, as he'd suspected, the fact remained that any goal that wasn't what had been advertised was almost instantly not nearly as attractive. As much as Torchwick liked to upset the established order, he didn't want it completely gone.

He'd spent some time after this considering exit strategies. Earth was obviously the place to be now, but how difficult would it be to strike up a deal with Earth's governments? He was pretty sure they'd love some Remnant technology, and they'd definitely covet as much Dust as they could get their hands on, and it just so happened that he knew where he could get enough Dust to supply an entire country.

The question would be actually getting there. He didn't need to have some people on the other side to know that the Terrans had both ends of the portals to Earth blockaded to hell and back. The closer one got to those portals, the more they had to fight for every meter they crossed, and if they actually made it over they'd be bombed and shot and blasted with enough munitions to level a kingdom. The Terrans didn't mess around in any respect, every time he got word back from his people on Earth he just heard more and more about how titanic their capacity for war was.

It was as he was considering these exit strategies that something he hadn't thought about in a long time returned to his attention. When it rang, both he and Neo stopped what they were doing, heads slowly turning to the corner of his suite, eyebrows arced. His little assassin in shock, him with surprise and interest. Once they'd confirmed Aldric's death, they'd more or less written his 'Watchmen' off as dead in the water and everybody for themselves. That had certainly been what it looked like, when Qrow cut all contact and Adam Taurus had retreated to Menagerie to spread his militancy and prepare Remnant's faunus for what would likely be their first and last war.

If Salem ever even went there. Torchwick thought amusedly, as he crossed over to the corner of his suite and opened up the drawer in the wooden nightstand.

Sure enough, inside was the phone Aldric had given him, a little green light flashing to let him know he had a message.

Torchwick deftly turned on the phone and pulled up the message, his previously ever-present resting smile deteriorating to a pensive frown as he read it.

AVENGERS ASSEMBLE

REMNANT

90 N, 135 W.

Torchwick stared long and hard at the message. This had been exactly what the boy had told them to expect and react to if he found Salem's location. This was his calling card, his clarion, his battle cry - if they read this, they had to muster everyone and everything they had to the location provided and prepare for a fight.

But Aldric was dead, so if this message came after Aldric died, that meant this was the place Aldric wanted people to go in case he died. If it was a place he wanted people to go in case he died, that meant it had to be a part of some kind of plan of his. Torchwick knew enough about maps to know that these coordinates were pointing at nothing. Or rather, to ordinary people, they would be pointing at nothing. To someone like Torchwick however, Mt. Cerise looked much instead like something someone would hide things in. Something that big offered a lot of space for things to be squirreled away, and knowing young Aldric like he did, Torchwick's thoughts soon began whirling around a vault of little goodies and treasures, those weapons and miracles Aldric was so keen to often pull out of his books.

So if this was a part of a plan of his, that meant it had to have all those things he was too scared - or too smart - to carry on his person at all times, and if it had that, that meant this was his contingency: To bring everyone he could to one spot, arm them with the most wondrous things ever conceived, and set them loose on an enemy that seemed indomitable. He intended to outfit an army.

And every army needed a damn good infrastructure to move its weapons and supplies around.

He knew he'd be burning through quite a few coins in these next few weeks, but the coins he'd make back, the favors, the connections...

Torchwick's frown turned to a wide sneer.

Though he didn't know it, Adam Taurus had been the first person outside of Ozpin's immediate influence to learn of Nebo Aldric's death. Almost immediately after Qrow Branwen and the others had fled with Ruby Rose, and after the Grimm had evacuated Cinder Fall, one of Taurus' scouts had gone into Beacon to see if there was anything that could shed light on why the dragon froze up like it did. They found Aldric and Ozpin's corpses and reported it to Taurus, who saw the writing on the wall almost immediately: The world, if it wasn't going to end, going to be changed, perhaps irreparably. Worse was that Taurus knew the Watchmen wouldn't survive Nebo Aldric's death, he was the one who had one foot in both sides - the light and the dark - and without him gluing him and Torchwick to Ozpin and Qrow, they'd never be able to work together.

With all this in mind, Taurus concluded that the best chance to survive was to prepare, and to do so immediately. So, after playing his role as the reformed terrorist, and once Vale had its situation under control, he took his White Fang to Menagerie before the Terrans shut down Remnant air traffic. He made it there, and was given part hero's welcome, part desperate plea for information, as he was their only source of anything up to date since the CCT went down.

He let his soldiers disseminate among their people and their family, they would provide the news, his goal was to find Sienna Khan. Of every faunus alive, only she, Ghira Belladonna, and he himself could galvanize their species, and Belladonna would come in time, first he had to secure the White Fang. He argued to Khan, with Menagerie not a target of interest to anyone - Salem, the Terrans, and what few Kingdoms still existed - they were almost an oasis of safety and breathing room, but that time was limited, and they needed to use it wisely: Militarizing everyone. They had weapons, they had dust, there were quite a few aura-users out there retiring in Menagerie proper, and they had the time - all they needed was the numbers, and if they used their time, they could get their numbers.

Fortunately, arguing such a thing came far easier than it would have in perhaps any other situation. The Terrans, the Grimm, Taurus' own growing reputation, the news streaming in of the other kingdoms' fates, and even the distant sight of Terran warships making directly for Menagerie were all mounting evidence for why it was time for the White Fang's militarization to not just be a pipe dream, but an outright active pursuit.

It only took a day to convince her.

From there they approached Ghira Belladonna, who though he once disagreed with the militarization of the Fang, preferring instead the old ways of peaceful protests and lobbying, even he wasn't naive enough to be blind to the writing on the wall. It took him and Khan several days to finally break him down, but break down he did after being told that they didn't know if his daughter was alive, and if she was, what she was even doing in the first place. From there the argument turned to one of it being that, if Menagerie was a safe haven, given time to fortify and train itself, it would be far, far more likely for her to flock to it alongside other survivors as more and more kingdoms fell.

Taurus kept his ear to the ground over the next several weeks to months. He only got trickles of news when faunus would flee falling kingdoms and go to the only safe haven they could think of. He didn't hear about Vacuo's ill fated attack and subsequent defeat until Mistral's fall was mere days away, and he'd only heard about that after a month of nothing. He, Khan, and Belladonna took in these wayward faunus with open arms, giving them jobs that would benefit their growing military, which was already finding itself tasked with fighting he Grimm pressing at Menagerie's new walls. They'd had a brief scare some days ago when they had seen a Terran airship flying over the island, but nothing came of it.

And all the while, his legend was only growing. It wasn't a secret at all that the reason they were safe and they had the time they did to protect themselves was because of Adam Taurus, just as it soon became common knowledge the things he'd been up to over the last year. Fighting the Terrans when no one else in Vale would, practically single-handedly keeping Vale from falling after Beacon's fall, he was becoming a hero to these people. Once he even witnessed Khan herself deferring to his judgement in the face of popular opinion, and that made him smile inwardly with pride. In another time, another place, perhaps he could have used this, but in this time, in this place, the only goal he had was to keep his people safe, be it indefinitely, or for as long as possible.

It was as Taurus was finally allowing himself to grow comfortable with his new role, new routine and ever-growing army, that things finally changed.

A phone he'd kept on accident and had never bothered to throw away, a hunk of alien technology given to him for a long-lost goal from a long-dead human, suddenly became active, chiming with a notification. Taurus hadn't even been in the same room as it when it had happened, he'd only been notified because a guard had been passing by and heard it go off, and had investigated, worried it could have been something explosive. When Taurus realized what it was, he assured the guard it was nothing to worry about, closed himself off in his room, and opened it up.

AVENGERS ASSEMBLE

REMNANT

90 N, 135 W.

Taurus had to pull out a map to figure out where the message was telling him. It was off by a bit, but it was close enough to Mt. Cerise that Taurus could make the right conclusion. He didn't even need long to reason out what the message was or what its purpose was. Yes, it was Aldric's 'signal', the phrase he'd given to the other Watchmen to let them know he'd found Salem and to bring everything and everyone they could for a final battle, but as Aldric was dead, this had to mean its purpose had changed. Considering the coordinates, and the man he was dealing with, Taurus felt confident in saying that this was Aldric's last resort. Of course the man who had figured out in seconds how to set up a parley between them had some kind of doomsday plan in place.

And considering the metal covering the blade hanging from Taurus' hip, he was willing to bet everything that this doomsday plan was an armory, filled to the brim with things that made his new sword look like a butter knife in comparison. The Gods only knew what was inside there, but what Taurus knew was that no one, not Remnant, not Earth, and certainly not the Faunus, would stand even the most remote chance of surviving without that armory.

Even in death, Aldric had a plan.

Now Taurus had to figure out how to move tens of thousands of people across the entire planet.

He looked at the phone, frowning.

Could it be that easy?

Earth hadn't been spared the 'Grand Plan', as so few who knew had come to call it. As opposed to when it had been contained to just Los Angeles, now there were Grimm everywhere, and not a single country wasn't drafting its fighting-age citizens to help fight them. Some countries fared better than others, especially those with seats on the UN's security council, who had been made privy to Nebo Aldric and his dealings on Remnant. They'd activated their reserves, began shifting to a war footing, and had even started drafting and training in the months leading up to Vytal. With their defenses in place and their soldiers ready, all of the UN-SC's countries had survived with minor to moderate damage to the affected cities, and were now bastions of hope to the countries that hadn't been as prepared. Some countries were holding on by threads, while others found themselves fallen and destroyed in weeks, now festering hives of alien demons multiplying with impunity. These countries, these ones who had fallen in their entirety, while few in number, were unfortunately perfectly placed, be it through luck, coincidence, or design, to act as staging areas for attacks into more developed, more defendable countries. Some were fortunate enough to be quarantined fast enough that attacks were contained to defensive lines, others, unfortunately, weren't so lucky, and had Grimm cross borders before said borders could be closed by tanks.

The situation, while bad, was at least tenable, and with every passing day, more tanks, more jets, and more soldiers were rushing out to contain the Grimm and try to push them back, inch by bloody inch.

Remnant, however, was a different story. The entire plan there was not to fight them, but to look like they were fighting them. The UN fired if fired upon, like what had happened with Vale and Atlas, and conquered only when opportunities to do so with minimal loss of life presented themselves, like with Vacuo. This performance act, designed to trick the woman who led the Grimm, was draining resources and manpower at an alarming rate, especially when Atlas had had the brilliant idea to turn their airships into mobile, airborne mortar cannons, and subsequently took down two entire Carrier Battle Groups before the UN could do anything about it.

More than once, the man known only by a codename had been approached - nay, demanded - to unleash the proverbial dogs of war, and let the military do what it did best and just start fighting. This blockade was only a stopgap measure, they needed to hit the kingdoms where they hurt and shut down their areas of agriculture, literally starve them instead of doing so figuratively through a lack of resource flow. But, Zed argued them each day, stating that due to facts they were unaware of, such an act was, at the moment, not advised at best, and stupid at worse, and both for one reason:

Nebo Aldric had died.

Their ace in the hole, their man on the inside, their spy, their double agent, he'd died.

A Spetsnaz team sent in to scout the aftermath of 'Goud Etiolate's' last battle had confirmed it. Any number of things could have done it, the excessive levels of oxycodone - of all things - in his blood, the severed femoral artery, the whiplash, broken ribs, burn injuries, any or all of it could have finally brought the kid down, but regardless of the how, the fact was he'd died; and so had the Spetsnaz, once a dozen Grimm had come back to recover Aldric's body. At first, Zed hadn't thought anything of it - especially when they tracked those Grimm via satellite and saw them, as well as one of the Seer Grimm, bury him where 636 had crashed.

But then, in these last few weeks, they started getting reports. Scattered at first, strange, but all with similar notes: A Human Grimm, matching Nebo Aldric's description, who had torn the living hell out of Mistral so fast that one day they'd had perfect, idyllic images to look at from satellites, and the next day, half of the city was flattened and on fire, the rest were crawling with Grimm, and Haven Tower had been brought down.

This changed things.

At first, Zed and his counterparts had simply been discussing whether or not Remnant was a lost cause. The planet, not its people. If Aldric's death and the loss of their man meant that the Grand Plan was no longer tenable, and if they should make a universal retreat to Earth, focus their efforts on clearing the Grimm, and then defend the wormholes until Remnant either fell entirely, or stabilized enough that they'd start sending scouts to figure out why Earth had just abandoned the war. But now, with Aldric apparently resurrected and as a Grimm, the conversation had changed to whether or not the war should be abandoned, the veil lifted, and Remnant evacuated such that Earth could become their fortress among the stars, and use every nuclear weapon ever conceived to wipe Remnant out of existence. This would have the benefit of killing a great number of Grimm, limiting Salem's capacity to fight, and perhaps even killing Cinder Fall - thus sending the various Maiden's souls back out into limbo and denying Salem any more of the Brother Gods' Relics.

They were split down the middle on this decision. Some wanted to go the whole nine yards - evacuate Remnant and its people to Earth and then trigger the apocalypse - while others just wanted to abandon Remnant to its own devices, but still nuke it to kingdom come. Zed was the only one who hadn't cast his vote, and it all came down to one reason:

He'd been the one chosen to replace 'Coulson' as Aldric's handler, and as such, he'd been given access to the copy of The Record. Reading Aldric's journal, Zed had learned one thing above all: Aldric always had a plan, and moreso than any General, Commander in Chief, or spy, Aldric had the most experience with planning ahead when it came to Salem and the Grimm. Zed wanted to see what that plan was, and that had stayed his hand this entire time. That had spared Remnant of his gut-instinct: To abandon it, glass it, and fortify Earth as best they could. To trust that tens of thousands of nuclear munitions could kill one woman and give them the time and chance they needed to settle in for the long haul.

Every day Zed wrestled with his decision - or lack thereof - and every day he had to argue his stance to his six counterparts. Every day they made more and more convincing arguments, backed by the sheer number of people dying on Earth and Remnant. The millions rapidly growing to the tens, to the dozens. Of the countries who had fallen, of the nuclear reactors that had melted down and plagued their dead countries with radiation. Of the people scared of their rapidly changing world, of the children wondering why the Army wasn't saving them, of the soldiers wondering what progress, what difference, they were making, if any.

Zed would only admit to himself, and maybe his husband, that his walls were being broken down. That he was approaching taking a side, especially now, watching the satellite footage of the titanic battle taking place outside of Argus, where both a nuclear submarine and an aircraft carrier were mere minutes from intervening, if they were told to. Seeing the scant thousand people who had survived Vacuo, and the trip north from there, now fighting for their lives alongside Argus' own defenders against endless waves of Grimm, Zed's heart went out to them, knowing that Atlas, the only kingdom left standing, wasn't long for a similar fate.

Should they just end it, he wondered? Atlas was the only stable government and sizeable population left, and without Ozpin to act as a mediator, there was no way in hell they'd take the UN's help. Should they just leave the planet and put its people out of their misery? Take what little technology they'd scavenged and stolen and try to use it to increase Earth's longevity? Did that kid really have a plan, or was he just believing in heroes?

His cell phone rang, as he watched one of Argus' airships arrive to their border wall and begin firing wildly out into the crowds of Grimm. From as high up as the satellite was, it looked like an ant firing sand at microbes, and while he was certain the ship was making some kind of difference, he couldn't see it from there, he had to change to the drone feed, the lone Predator flying hundreds of kilometers high and watching with its cold, emotionless eye. Only from it could he see crowds of Grimm balloon outwards and explode, could he see hundreds of Huntsmen holding the line while civilians fled inside the gates and soldiers took up positions on the walls. Only from the drone could he see the seas of gunfire, could he see the people dying.

And the people who would die.

He sighed, knowing that his six counterparts were also watching. If Mistral was where the tone would be set, Argus was where the decision would be made, they all knew it.

Damn it... Zed thought, reaching for his phone, his heart heavy with the decision he was about to make. God... Damn it. He turned the screen on.

A message notification greeted him, one text message from a random number.

Zed frowned, dark brown eyes narrowing at the screen. There were only six people alive, not including himself, that had this number, and moreover he wasn't even on Earth, so a scam-bot shouldn't be able to dial him randomly.

He put his ten digit code into the phone and unlocked it.

Opening the message, he froze, beholding two words he hadn't expected to see, not anymore.

AVENGERS ASSEMBLE

REMNANT

90 N, 135 W.

Feeling his heart begin to race, he pulled up a GPS map of Remnant. There weren't even a half dozen GPS satellites in orbit of their sister planet, but there had been enough, for long enough, to get a somewhat decent picture of the world, sans wherever the hell Salem could be, of course. Putting in the coordinates, he found a huge white continent, which he immediately recognized as Solitas, the continent that held Remnant's sole remaining organized government.

His phone buzzed again - someone had just gotten the same message. He ignored it for the moment, frowning at the screen.

This message was supposed to be Aldric's signal to all of the Watchmen that he'd found Salem and could lead them to her, but he was dead, and aside from a mountain almost as big as Olympus Mons, there wasn't anything up there. More confusing was what could have sent this message. Roman Torchwick's phone was, like him, holed up in Vale's Garden, weathering out their battles against the Grimm coming from Beacon. Adam Taurus' was alongside him in Menagerie, rallying most of the planet's faunus and trying like hell to fortify the landmass before the Grimm came to them. Qrow Branwen's had left Vacuo alongside him and was now in the thick of the battle in front of Argus, and the one that Grimm Aldric had unintentionally been taking for a ride the last month had gone offline in Vacuo, and none of them had been anywhere near Mt Cerise, ever.

Another message followed a second, a third, and a fourth, and soon, all six had texted him. Everyone was picking up on it and was trying to figure out what it could mean, and he was the only one who could tell them.

So if it couldn't be anyone who had access to a satellite phone, then that meant only one thing: Someone, somewhere, knew the numbers to dial, and had done just that, to broadcast their location to everyone who mattered. A huge, neon green sign saying 'COME HERE!'.

And Zed knew only one person who could have even remotely done such a thing. With that knowledge came a realization: Somewhere in his Record, Aldric had mentioned spending time building 'something' on Remnant, something he called his 'secret project'. This was what Aldric had intended, and considering what Zed knew about the kid, this place was one of two things: An armory, containing all those little things Aldric had been too scared to call upon on a daily basis, or an escape pod, meant to be used in the case of Remnant having gone or about to go belly-up.

Aldric wanted to get everyone he could in one spot, and get them off Remnant. No doubt they'd receive instructions when they got there.

Whatever this place was, this was it.

This was his plan.

And, his faith rewarded, Zed would be damned if he didn't deliver.

He picked up the phone, and soon everyone was connected.

"It's him." He said, bluntly. "Are we in agreemant?"

There wasn't a single 'no' spoken, and soon after, they all hung up, and were sending orders down the chain.

Zed picked up a second phone, this one a line hooked into his wall, where a man far more powerful than him, and yet still beholden to his word, picked up. "Commence Operation Ardennes, I want every asset we have moving to Ninety North, One-Thirty-Five west and setting up a defensive perimeter. Get ahold of the Eisenhower and tell them to do everything they can in Argus.

"Remnant isn't our enemy anymore, Admiral."

Argus was one of the biggest non-capital cities on Remnant. It boasted walls few but Kingdoms could replicate, enough soldiers to stave off whole invasions, and even a few airships bought from Atlas. Where kingdoms like Vale and Vacuo tried and failed to establish and protect extensions to their borders, Argus was the lone bastion of success in humans and faunus leaving the safe walls of their kingdoms and taking back their planet, piece by piece.

And now, Argus was the site of the single largest Grimm attack in history. Even the siege of Vale and the fall of Beacon paled in comparison to the numbers being thrown at Argus' walls this late winter night. Tens of thousands of Grimm, from the tiniest beowolves to the mightiest nevermore, were charging Argus with reckless abandon, and its defenders were throwing everything they had and the kitchen sink right back at them in a desperate bid to hold the line.

And Jaune Arc was at the forefront of all of it.

He'd been at the front of the entire thing, even.

The exodus from Mistral had taken with them thousands of its people, and it they had managed to go some days before their grief and sadness attracted a Grimm attack. Dozens of them had tried to take the Mistrali survivors to task, but their soldiers and what few Huntsmen were still alive had taken the fight to them, and it was there, with his magical blade in hand, smiting Grimm left and right, that people began to look to the young Arc with curiosity. Here was this random kid, technically not even a huntsman, taking the fight to the hordes and meeting them head on. This didn't magically make Jaune any stronger or more skilled than he had been before, and once all was said and done he collapsed from bloodloss, but when he woke up, he found people regarding him differently. Even Ozpin was giving him a look that bordered on pride.

When the next attack came mere days later, and he had to do it all again, this time he found himself able to stand after the fight, and afterwards he found people coming to him for advice. It was big, to say the least, seeing so many huntsmen, soldiers, and regular people asking him what he thought of things. Initially it was simple - where should we hunt, mister Huntsman? Where are we going, mister Huntsman? - but as time, and the attacks, went on, and the body counts grew, Jaune got slammed with worse and worse questions - will we survive, mister Huntsman? Will we be okay? Is the world ending? - question after question for the young man who had barely the time to cope with the sheer number of people who had died on him already, let alone all of the ones continuing to die every attack.

For the Gods' sake, he'd found one guy half merged with a tree, partially skinned!

The Grimm were stepping up their game, the further north and the deeper into the wilderness they went. Jaune had seen this happen before, when the Grimm at Beacon had used the dragon to increase their intelligence. It made him worry that there may be another dragon wandering about, or, worse, that the Grimm Aldric was hot on their heels. It all culminated when, after a month of travel and hundreds of deaths, the survivors from Mistral made it to Argus, with a horde of Grimm right on their tails.

This had been the situation for the last two hours. Argus was scrambling to get all of the civilians inside, while the few dozen huntsmen that lived within its walls desperately rushed outside of them, and their soldiers alongside Mistral's took up positions on the wall, underneath the few airships rushing into position. In any other time, it would have been a perfect defense - it had worked before and it had worked well - but this time, it would prove desperately too little, desperately too late, almost entirely due to the numbers involved.

So great was the horde's numbers that in the trees that marked the end of the clearing carved by Argus in front of its walls shook and shifted with the Grimm running and crashing through them, with some falling entirely. The ground was practically a squirming, writhing mass of oily black demons and their unnaturally white exoskeletons, to the point where the soldiers in the walls and the sailors in the airships above could barely even see the huntsmen fighting on the front lines, they could only see the veritable line in the sand they had drawn and were refusing to allow the Grimm to pass.

But as much as they drew their line, the Grimm did not stop. In any other circumstance they would have given up after the hours upon hours of time they had spent throwing themselves at the humans, but here, not so much. It was almost as if they were being forced to endlessly attack, or, worse, were scared to stop. They kept this up so long that the sun began to set, and it was only then that they began to finally pull back.

So tired and weary that his vision swam in his skull and his aura was threatening to break out of sheer exhaustion, Jaune didn't realize initially that the Grimm were pulling back, he only knew that he was being granted the slightest reprieve from the violence. Bloodied and bruised, the Arc collapsed to his knees while the other huntsmen rushed forward, chasing the Grimm and drawing their line in the sand at his flanks.

"Are they finally giving up?" One had asked, as Jaune felt another press some water into his hands.

The exhausted Arc took it with aplomb and gulped it down like a man stranded in the desert.

"No..." One said, "no, they're... Regrouping."

Jaune felt his heart go from hammering in his chest to a dead stop. He choked on the water, coughing and sputtering. He didn't even have the wherewithall to wipe the water from his chin, as he struggled to his knees and looked south at the Grimm horde retreating, regrouping around a central figure. It was tiny compared to the behemoth animals around it, almost looking like -

Like a human.

Jaune's shoulders fell as he felt a small hand fall on his shoulder.

"Now is not the time to lose hope, Mister Arc." Said the young voice of the reincarnated Professor Ozpin. "As long as we live -"

"Kid... Shut up." Gasped one of the Huntsmen, as Weiss and Blake reached the proverbial line in the sand, followed rapidly by the rest of the Huntsmen who had survived this long."It's the fuckin' apocalypse, just shut up."

Ozpin bit his tongue, looking away from the huntsmen in question, lips pursed and jaw clenched, as he regarded Aldric at the head of the horde of Grimm.

"Have faith, young man... Please." He said, as Aldric continued stalking forward, the thousands of Grimm following behind him, refusing to take even a single step ahead of him. "We have not lost... And we will not lose. We need only buy Argus time to load its people -

"Young man?!" The Huntsman parroted back, "I'm three times your fuckin' age, kid!"

Ozpin sighed, either from exasperation, or resignation, Jaune couldn't tell. Nor could he tell what the musical chime was that came from Ozpin's pocket, his attention was focused squarely on Aldric. He had donned the mask again, shrouding his bleached face behind its black and red visage, though that appeared to be all he had done to clean himself up, as his mail suit, the damaged pants, and his coat were all still caked in dried blood, gore, and grime. He held the hilt to his indomitable blade in his right hand as he approached, at a slow, leisurely pace.

"Thank gods..." He heard Ozpin whisper, from what felt like a million miles away.

Jaune saw the air begin to warp around Aldric moments before he felt gale force winds begin to beat at him and Argus' defensive line, and yet he wasn't scared. Much the opposite, Jaune felt at peace, as he forced himself to his feet. The pain and exhaustion on his face faded away with one long sigh. If he was going to die here - and he was going to die here, he knew it - then he'd at least try to take the Grimm Aldric with him. He may as well believe that the sword could still work, that it had been mere chance that it hadn't before.

"My friends..." Ozpin said, just as Jaune lurched forward, causing the Arc to stumble before he could begin his charge. "Help -" Scores of Grimm exploded in huge detonations, "has arrived." Jaune's eyes shot up to the sky as he saw three Terran airships zoom past them, each accompanied by a sonic boom.

He looked back to the Grimm hordes to see them being riddled with bullets, all coming from high above and far behind him. Jaune turned around and saw dozens of Terran rotorwing craft hurtling towards the battle, machine guns roaring the death song of a thousand Grimm and a million men, before missiles joined them, streaking through the sky and ramming into the Grimm line.

Jaune was stunned. What was happening?

As he gawked at the Terrans suddenly coming in to help, he felt a huge gust of wind begin ripping at his back. Turning around, he saw one of the helicopters coming in for a landing, and a Terran in a suit and tie, chest covered by a ballistic vest and head covered by a thick helmet, rushing over, one hand keeping his helmet steady on his head.

"Ozpin!" He called out, zeroing in on Ozpin.

How did he recognize him? Jaune blinked. Who is he?

"Ozpin, we've got to go, now!" He yelled.

"Is it true? Is it him?!" Ozpin called out, briefly looking back to the waylaid Grimm horde, as more Terran airships zoomed by overhead, blasting them with more explosives.

Jaune saw one of the jets suddenly stop on a dime, its engine still trying to push it forward but it appearing as though it were pushing against a brick wall. It then fell out of the sky, like a fly hit by a swatter; the airship smashed into the ground and exploded, and out of the fireball casually strolled the Terran Grimm, his burning blade alight.

Then, after him, came charging the Grimm.

Jaune heard the end of the conversation between Ozpin and the Terran, with the latter calling out, "- ut we can't save everyone! We need every single one of you there for whatever it is he has planned!"

Jaune whirled around to see Ozpin bite back a curse, briefly looking away from the Terran, before shaking his head. "You take them, then!" He indicated Jaune and the other Huntsmen, "I need to go to Atlas. Ironwood must know, he must help us if this is to be our last stand!" And then like that, he vanished.

Jaune blinked. Ozpin could teleport? Why didn't he just warp them all to Argus, then?! Why did so many of them have to die if he could just -

"Snap out of it, kid, we're out of time!" The Terran called out, shoving Jaune in the shoulders. "Congratulations you just became my new VIP, now get in the helicopter, we need to go!" He called out, as the other rotorwings tried desperately to keep the Grimm from advancing too fast.

Jaune's head was spinning, how could this guy expect him to trust them after everything the Terrans had done?

As he felt all eyes alternate from him to the approaching Grimm, he also felt a hand grasp his arm. Turning to face it, he saw Weiss, bleeding and battle scarred, nodding once.

He let out an exhausted sigh, "come on!" He hoarsely called out. "Come on, we need to go! Everyone on board!"

It was done.

It was sent.

Aldric's final message, his call to action, his signal flare, his clarion, it was sent to all corners of the world.

Cinder Fall felt the weight of said world - and of its twin - fall onto her shoulders as she fell back a step from the giant computer looming above her. Was this what he always felt like? This weight, this pressure, the anxiety pooling up in the pit of her stomach? She felt like she wanted to throw up, as she realized that no doubt Salem and the Terran Grimm would notice the global movement to Cerise, to the Batcave.

Now, all she could do was prepare, because for better or worse, the final battle was coming.

She just had one thing she had to do before that time came.