No Hero (New)
No Hero
Twilight yelled incoherently as she fired the laser carbine mounted to her arm. Lavender bolts emerged in a constant crackling stream to strike the flank of the ursa major that straddled Sage’s unmoving form.
Some of the bolts struck the plates of bleached bone that served as armour on the creature’s side, others avoided plates and spurs alike to thud into the black flesh of the beast itself; neither seemed to do the grimm any harm.
But they did attract its attention.
The ursa major turned its enormous head, with those jaws that looked strong enough to snap Twilight in two and large enough to swallow her torso whole, towards her. It let out an angry huff in her direction before rearing up onto its hind legs and turning its whole considerably muscular bulk in her direction.
The wordless shout died in Twilight’s throat. “Okay,” she murmured. “Now I’ve got your attention, aha.”
She took a step back.
A beowolf, perhaps – hopefully – the last one that was still alive from the group that had waylaid them, poked its head out of the bushes.
Twilight yelped in alarm and pointed her arm towards it, lavender laser bolts erupting one after another.
She kept on firing long after the beowolf’s head had been blown clean off by the third bolt. The weapons systems built into her as-yet still nameless armour – and they were all built into her armour, not least so they would all count as one weapon for official purposes – didn’t have triggers as such. Rather, when she put on the armour, a synaptic relay mounted on the collar bit into the nape of Twilight’s neck and connected via electrodes to her spinal column, allowing Twilight to arm and deploy all her weapons just by thinking about them.
Considering that this mess of a battle had started when a beowolf had jumped on her hard enough to throw her to the ground and that she would have almost certainly lost any weapon that she had been able to drop at that point, Twilight felt that her approach was being vindicated right now.
The ursa major growled and began to advance upon her. Each step thudded into the ground.
Twilight raised her right arm towards it and let it have it with another salvo from her built-in carbine. The lavender bolts struck the ursa in the chest and belly but seemingly did no more harm to the grimm than it had when Twilight had been shooting it in the side.
“That weapon does not appear to be having any effect,” Midnight, the on-board Virtual Intelligence mounted into Twilight’s suit, observed dispassionately; what was more annoying was that she did it in what was pretty much Twilight’s own voice.
“I can see that!” Twilight snapped, prompting another growl from the ursa major.
Twilight backed away. Enclosed within her armour as she was, she was acutely aware of the sound of her own breathing, weighted with anxiety.
She wished that Rainbow was here. Or Applejack. Or Ciel. Or Penny. Or Sunset. Anyone, really. She wished that anyone was here with or, indeed, instead of her. But Rainbow, she wished for Rainbow Dash most of all.
She had… she had survived so far. It turned out that one really big advantage of slaving your weapons to your own brain was that it was very easy to fire so blindly in so many directions that you were bound to hit something.
She had survived, but Twilight was under no illusions. She wasn’t able to kill as well as Rainbow could, or any of the others. She bet that none of them would have flinched in the face of just one ursa major.
But they weren’t here right now. She was. She was, and poor Sage was counting on her. He had done well, fought hard, but then that Ursa had got him and shattered his aura, and… and there was blood on the ground, and she didn’t even know if he was still alive.
But if he was alive, if he was alive as she prayed that he was, then he was counting on her.
And she couldn’t let this ursa stand between her and helping him.
Twilight knew that she wasn’t a huntress. She had never had any pretensions to being a huntress. And so, when she had agreed to go out into the field, she had designed a suit that would more than make up for that… deficiency, under the current circumstances. Yes, Shining Armour had given her a few quick lessons in how to stand, how to use a sword and so on, but Twilight had always intended that her main defence should be carrying so many guns that she was a match for anything that she might encounter.
That was the Atlesian way, right? A wall of guns. Victory through superior firepower.
It was clear that her carbine, although it was the same type of laser that was mounted in each one of Penny’s swords, wasn’t up to the job alone.
Fortunately, Twilight had other options.
As fast as thought, driven by Twilight’s thought, a panel mounted behind her right shoulder opened up, and a rotary cannon emerged. It had five barrels each spaced a less than an inch apart, and each barrel was a deal wider than the diameter of her carbine.
Twilight settled the red targeting reticule on her HUD in the centre of the ursa’s chest, then opened fire.
The five barrels of the cannon rotated for a moment, then began to spit laser bolts, each one larger and more powerful than those she had been firing with before, each one larger than the carbine blasts, each one – and Twilight had tested this – strong enough to dent the armour plating used on a Paladin.
Each lavender beam of power flew straight and true, slamming straight into the ursa. Now it felt this for sure. It staggered backwards, it roared in pain, it shook its head wildly back and forth as though it were trying to focus past the pain. It was hurting now, it really was feeling the effects; Twilight could tell.
It’s working. It’s working! Oh my goodness, I’m really doing this!
The ursa howled and bellowed in its rage and pain, dropping to all fours, its claws digging into the earth beneath its feet. Twilight adjusted her aim, the rotary cannon bolts striking the ursa square on the head, but the skull of the grimm was all bone, and thick bone at that, and though it still roared in anger, it no longer seemed so badly affected by the constant hammering upon its head.
Certainly, the rotary cannon didn’t stop it from charging on all fours straight at Twilight, growling all the while.
“Might I suggest deploying the big gun?” Midnight suggested.
“Yes, I know, thank you!” Twilight yelled and did what she hadn’t needed Midnight to suggest to her in the first place.
Literally, the cannon that emerged to sit above her left shoulder was as large as the rotary cannon – perhaps a little bigger – but it was entirely one barrel.
One very large barrel. A barrel, in fact, that was roughly equivalent to the laser cannon mounted on a Skydart airship.
If this doesn’t work, then, well… I’m pretty screwed, aren’t I?
The targeting reticule for the anti-armour cannon was green and blinked twice when Twilight lined it up on her target.
The ursa leapt.
The cannon, commanded by Twilight’s thoughts, fired a beam of lavender light as broad as one of Pinkie’s pies.
It struck the ursa major mid-leap, and by the time the light cleared, there was no more ursa major left, just ashes and smoke gradually dispersing in front of Twilight’s eyes.
She didn’t have time to congratulate herself. She didn’t have time to be elated. Twilight started running towards Sage, and as she ran, she swiped her right hand over the vambrace on her left arm, bringing up a holographic menu and keypad on which she began to type furiously.
When Twilight had said that she didn’t carry any weapons with her that she could drop, she hadn’t been entirely accurate.
As her fingers flew, her commands were transmitted to the large box which she had been wearing on her back when the ambush began, and which she had detached off her back soon after being knocked down by that first beowolf.
Now, obedient to her instructions, the box opened, unfolding itself to reveal a swarm of drones within which whirred to life, their blades spinning as they rose into the air like a swarm of angry wasps.
Twilight reached Sage’s side. He had been savaged, his muscular body scarred and scratched in many places, deep gashes rent in his chest, bite marks on his neck and left shoulder. Blood was starting to pool around him, reaching the pommel of his fallen sword. The armour of Twilight’s right gauntlet receded a little so that she could check his pulse with her fingers, placing them gently against his neck. He was alive. He was alive!
“Oh, thank goodness,” Twilight gasped. “Aloysius, here! Stabilisation protocol, now!”
Aloysius, the eldest, largest, and most faithful of her drones – if one could describe a drone as being faithful – let out a two-tone beep of acknowledgement and flew swiftly through the air, covering the distance separating him from Twilight and Sage in mere moments. It hovered overhead, a few feet over Sage's prone body. Twilight leaned back as a fountain of coagulant particles erupted from out of the bottom of the drone of fall like rain upon Sage’s unmoving form. The particles would enter into his wounds, causing his blood to clot and the bleeding to cease before he bled out completely.
“Thank you, Aloysius.” Twilight’s helmet retracted, exposing her head and face to view as she tapped one of the pouches on her right thigh. It, too, retracted, leaving a large roll of plaster to drop into Twilight’s hand. “Drones,” she said, “form defensive pattern Fluttershy.” The five basic patterns for deployment of her drones were named after her friends; pattern Rainbow Dash was aggressive, a pursuit pattern for an enemy on the run; pattern Pinkie Pie was a search pattern that basically sent the drones haring off in random directions with which Twilight could interfere if she wished; pattern Fluttershy was a sentry pattern, designed to provide early warning of the approach of any grimm. “Midnight, keep monitoring the sensors; let me know if you sense anything.”
“And I was hoping to curl up with a good book.”
“Remind me to tweak your personality settings when this is over,” Twilight observed, tapping another pouch on her left thigh this time, revealing a portable shield generator about one and a half times the size of a tennis ball. Twilight set it down upon the ground and activated it, generating a bubble of hard light with a light blue glow, enveloping both herself and Sage with its protective barrier.
Not very heroic, hiding behind a shield while her drones, who had all buzzed into the surrounding undergrowth, kept watch for her, but then, she wasn’t a hero by any means, and it wasn’t as though she could move Sage in his condition.
Twilight tore away a piece of plaster from the roll with her teeth and applied it to one of the bite marks on Sage’s neck, covering it with beige plaster which, unfortunately, didn’t quite blend into his skin tone the way it might have on some other people.
Before she could repeat the process, a nevermore flew overhead. It showed no sign of wanting to disturb Twilight, but its cry made her look upwards nevertheless, and as she looked up, she saw another of the great avian grimm passing high above.
There goes the idea of maybe using the drones to get him out.
Professor Port was right; this is a tough exercise.
I’m so sorry, Sage; if you’d had a real partner, then maybe…
“Midnight,” she began, about to ask her VI to try and call Blake or one of the others.
But then she heard the gunshots, gunshots that sounded a lot like Gambol Shroud.
Perhaps calling anybody wasn’t the best idea right now.
She should just wait and hope that the others were having better luck than she was.
“That,” Jaune said, “was a lot of beowolves.”
No matter what ProfessorPort had said, past excursions into the Emerald Forest had not led Jaune to expect that quite that many beowolves would show up in one place, all at the same time.
There had been so many beowolves that they had, not to put too fine a point on it, run. Or, if you wanted to make it sound a little less afraid, they had retreated off the path to a slight incline that rose up above the forest. Atop the hill, there were some ruins, maybe the remains of an old watchtower or something, because Jaune couldn’t imagine why else you would build what was otherwise a pretty square, small structure on top of a hill in the middle of the forest. A pair of crumbling stone horses sat on north crest of the hill, looking down at the last remains of a path that had led down that slope, but time and weather had worn away at them just as they had worn away at the tower itself; only one floor remained above ground level, with little beyond the walls that supported said floor left standing, but it did have only one way up – the staircase – and so if the beowolves followed them here, then they could always retreat up there and try to hold the grimm off in the bottleneck.
They stood a better chance here than they had on the path, with the grimm assailing them on all sides.
Here, they could make a stand.
But why did they have to make a stand anywhere? This was a school exercise for crying out loud; they weren’t graduated huntsman. Yes, this was dangerous, and sometimes people died, and most of the people on the wall at Benni Havens’ were probably dead by now, but that should apply to students taking a test within sight of the Beacon Cliffs!
Or at least, Jaune didn’t think it should.
Maybe he was just showing his naïveté again.
Flash sighed. “I know. I wouldn’t have thought… do you think someone screwed up?”
“How do you mean?”
“Like, do you think that they set too many lures and drew in more grimm than they meant to?”
“I admit that Professor Port’s stories are boring, but I don’t think that he’s that incompetent,” Jaune replied.
“Well, something went wrong,” Flash insisted.
“Or we just suck at this,” Jaune muttered.
“She would have,” Flash said.
“What?”
“The question that you’re asking yourself,” Flash informed him. “Pyrrha would have run too.”
Jaune snorted. “How did you know that was what I was thinking?”
“Cause it’s obvious,” Flash said. “And because I’m asking myself the exact same thing. Only about Weiss, not Pyrrha. You got that, right?”
“Yeah, I got it,” Jaune assured him. He fell silent then, and at the right time too, as once again, the sound of Gambol Shroud blazing away at targets unseen could be heard.
“I don’t hear Crescent Rose any more,” Jaune whispered.
“Huh?” Flash asked.
“The noise,” Jaune said quickly. “That’s Gambol Shroud, but I don’t hear Crescent Rose.”
“You can tell them apart?”
“You can’t?”
“It’s not my team,” Flash explained.
“No,” Jaune said. “It isn’t.”
Flash hesitated for a moment. “She’s probably just using the scythe instead of the gun.”
“Maybe,” Jaune murmured. “I hope so.”
Flash pursed his lips; it was about the only thing that Jaune could easily see him doing with his face, what with the way that his helmet obscured everything except his lips and his eyes.
“If you’re worried,” he said, “you can check her aura on your scroll.”
“My scroll! Right! Damn, I’m such an idiot!” Jaune sheathed his sword within his shield and pulled out his scroll, bringing up the aura levels of himself – the largest icon of the four – and his three teammates. Weirdly, Pyrrha’s aura was just below full, which was odd, because she wasn’t here, so what had she done to bring her aura down at all? Sunset’s aura was in the yellow, and Ruby…
Jaune stared down at the scroll in his hands. His trembling hands.
No. Not again, not where I can’t reach her.
“Jaune?” Flash asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Her aura’s gone,” Jaune said.
“What?”
“Her aura’s down!” Jaune cried. “There’s nothing left, Ruby…”
More shots from Gambol Shroud disturbed the air.
Flash walked quickly towards him. “That sound, that’s Blake, right?”
Jaune nodded.
“And Blake… if she’s still fighting, then she’s protecting Ruby, isn’t she? I mean, that’s what she’d do, right?”
Jaune took a deep breath. “Right. With her life.”
“Then… then that’s where we head,” Flash said. “The exercise… something has obviously gone wrong with the exercise, there’s no sign of any help arriving; saving a life has to be our priority.”
“Right,” Jaune said, but then hesitated. “What about the beowolves?” He didn’t want to lead the grimm right to Ruby.
“Good point,” Flash murmured. He bowed his head for a moment. “If they come after us, if they pick up our trail, then I’ll hold them off.”
“'Hold them off'? Are you nuts, that’s-”
“The right thing to do,” Flash said. “If it comes to that. Don’t get me wrong, I hope it doesn’t, but… if it does, then I’ll do it. You’re right; we can’t bring the grimm down on an injured comrade.”
“There has to be another way,” Jaune said.
“I’m not saying my way will be necessary; hopefully, it won’t,” Flash declared. “I’m just saying, if it is, then… don’t look back and don’t worry about me.”
Jaune looked into his eyes, a hard blue like sapphires. “Are you-?”
“Let’s not argue any more over hypotheticals, okay?” Flash insisted. “We’d best get moving. Ruby’s waiting for you, isn’t she?”
“Yeah,” Jaune agreed. “At least… I hope she is.”
“Alert!” Midnight cried. “Hostile approaching from the north-east!”
“'Hostile'?” Twilight asked, looking up and around – stupid, yes, because there wouldn’t be much point in sensors or drones if the grimm could sneak up on her like that, would there? She just couldn’t help herself. “You mean there’s only one.”
Midnight’s voice was calm as she said, “I am only registering one contact. Recommend switching to deployment Applejack.”
“Negative,” Twilight replied. Applejack was a concentrated deployment, bringing maximum force to bear upon a single point – the same way that Applejack always put everything that she had into the task in front of her. But she wasn’t quite ready to take that step just yet. Grimm were pretty smart, after all, or some of them were at least, and this might be a feint to get her to draw all of her drones away and create a gap in the net elsewhere that others could slip through. “Maintain the current formation.” After all, all she knew at this point was that a single grimm was approaching. That didn’t – necessarily – mean that it was a particularly dangerous grimm. It might be a single beowolf, and even a few of her drones deployed in supporting distance of one another ought to be able to handle that easily.
She raised her helmet, enclosing her head and face once more within her armour. Once more encased, Twilight glanced at the bottom left corner of her HUD; since going on that mission with Blake and Team TTSS, she had installed her motion tracker directly into the suit’s mainframe, and she could see the red icon indicating the single hostile moving in a straight line towards her – and towards the yellow icons indicating her drones where they made slight adjustments to their positions relative to one another.
Gunfire began to echo through this part of the forest. The rapid fire of her drones letting fly with their armaments; some of her drones were equipped with machine pistols or the equivalent, admittedly small calibre ammunition but with an impressive rate of fire, and with the combination of drum magazines and an auto-loader system that she had designed, they each carried plenty of ammunition. Other drones were equipped with more powerful weapons: miniature fire dust rockets or armour piercing rifle ammunition. Twilight, who had a pretty good ear for these things as a result of spending so much time amongst huntsmen and soldiers, could make out all three kinds of weapons blazing away at the target.
Which kept on advancing. Some of the yellow blips of her drones began to move around it, circling like wolves around a bison, moving to keep on-
One of the yellow blips representing a drone blinked out.
Twilight frowned. “Midnight, bring up the status of all drones.”
A list of miniature drone images filled the left-hand side of her HUD; one of the images was red, indicating that that drone had been rendered inoperable. As Twilight looked, another image flashed red, and then another.
The wreckage of one such drone was flung through the trees, hitting the ground and bouncing along before hitting the trunk of another tree not far from Twilight. The wreck sparked and fizzled for a moment before falling deathly silent.
The roar of the grimm, a sound almost like the hooting of a distorted foghorn, echoed through the trees. Whatever it was, it was definitely not a beowolf.
“Initiate deployment pattern Applejack,” Twilight declared. “All drones, engage target!”
The drones deployed on the far side whirred overhead as they emerged, briefly, from the trees on one side only to disappear again into the woods on the other. Twilight watched all the yellow dots in motion, all converging upon the single red dot, swarming it like ants swarming a termite queen during the storming of a nest, circling around it as the fire of the guns and the rockets rose to a crescendo.
Once more, the grimm, that single grimm, roared forth its anger, and Twilight could feel the earth begin to shake now, trembling at the tread of this single grimm, as one by one, the images of her drones turned red. One after another fell before the power of this grimm, the sound of gunfire gradually lessening solely due to the fact that there fewer and fewer drones left to shoot. One by one, they fell, the gunfire from the remainder slackening off until it ceased completely.
Because there were no more drones left to engage.
The grimm, this single grimm, had destroyed them all.
Only then, only when it had stripped all of Twilight’s shields away, did the grimm show itself.
It was a cyclops, twenty feet tall by Twilight’s estimate and perhaps eight feet wide in the shoulders, with cloven hooves at the base of legs that had knees facing backwards instead of forwards, more like a goat than a man. It was bulky, what would have been called muscular in a man or a beast, and it was covered almost completely in plates of bone armour; no wonder Twilight’s drones, even her rockets had failed to make a dent in it; it was protected everywhere but the joints, and there, the gaps between the armour plates were slight and hard to pinpoint. A single eye burned in the centre of a bone mask, burning red and raw, and above the eye, a horn, curving slightly, rose out of the grimm’s forehead.
In one hand, it bore a great hammer, a heavy thing all fashioned out of metal with a head that was several feet wide. Twilight shivered to look at it. Grimm didn’t work in metal; although cyclopes practically alone of all grimm were known to craft primitive weapons like wooden clubs, they did not build forges nor mine for iron.
The cyclops had taken this weapon from a huntsman it had killed.
It had killed a huntsman. What chance, then, did Twilight have?
No chance. Twilight glanced down at Sage. No chance and no choice. If she did nothing, if she cowered within this shield, then Sage would be put at greater risk.
The cyclops hooted in derision, hefting its hammer up in one hand.
Twilight reached out and deactivated the shield that was protecting both herself and Sage. Holding the spherical generator in one hand, she stepped away from the unconscious but stabilised student, then threw the generator back onto the ground next to him, where the hard-light barrier flared to life once more, protecting Sage but not Twilight.
It didn’t look as though there was any immediate help coming.
Which meant Twilight would have to do the best she could.
She thought of her friends: brave Rainbow Dash; faithful Applejack; kind Fluttershy; Rarity, gentle and generous; Pinkie Pie, with her heart so large and so open.
Help me be brave. All of you, please, help me be brave.
“H-hey!” Twilight shouted. “Over here!” And then she let the cyclops have it with every gun that she possessed. The carbine mounted on her arm, the rotary cannon on her right shoulder, the anti-armour cannon on her left shoulder, all blazed away with full force, lavender lasers leaping from Twilight’s barrels, flying across the distance to splash across the surface of the cyclops’ armour.
And as she fired, as laser after laser erupted from her cannons, Twilight backed away from the cyclops and from Sage. With luck, the next group to enter the forest would find him.
She backed away; the cyclops pursued. It didn’t seem to be harmed. Not even her heaviest cannon, the one that had evaporated an ursa major, was penetrating its armour. The cyclops advanced, dragging its hammer along the ground, roaring that hooting, foghorn roar as it came, seeming more irritated than anything else.
Twilight kept firing. She kept retreating, and she kept on firing. Maybe if she just kept shooting, then maybe-
A crack appeared in one of the plates of bone armour covering the cyclops, where it was struck repeatedly by Twilight’s big gun. There! If she concentrated her fire, then maybe-
The cyclops quickened its pace, running down, its cloven hooves pounding the soil of the path. Twilight tried to quicken her retreat, but she stumbled over a rock sticking up out of the soil and nearly fell, and in that moment, the cyclops was on her, swinging its enormous hammer.
Twilight raised her left hand, a lavender shield projecting from her vambrace.
The hammer, propelled by the cyclops’ hideous strength, shattered her shield in a single blow, striking Twilight in the midriff and hurling her twenty feet backwards down the path, tossing her along the ground like a doll. The world spun in front of Twilight as she hit the ground head first, back first, front first, then on her head again, before finally rolling to a stop upon her belly.
The edge of her HUD flashed red in alarm.
“Alert!” Midnight said. “Rotary cannon damaged. Recommend that you cease use until repairs have been completed.”
“Not really the time, Midnight,” Twilight groaned, as she tried to get up. Rainbow Dash makes this look so easy.
“Alert!” Midnight said. “Grimm-”
She was cut off, but Twilight got a sense of what she was about to say when she felt the cyclops’ grip close around her helmet, squeezing her and squeezing Twilight’s aura too as it picked her up off the ground only to slam her back down again, face up this time, facing it.
Twilight raised her arm, her carbine firing, but the cyclops brought one cloven hoof down on her arm, hammering it into the ground; it stamped upon her arm again, and Twilight howled as the pain was transmitted through her aura, which was now dropping dangerously close to the red.
The cyclops let out a gruff, husky laugh as it planted its hoof on Twilight’s chest, exerting its weight upon her, crushing her slowly underneath it.
Twilight’s cannon fired once, twice – but before it could fire a third time, the cyclops had placed its three meaty fingers around it and casually ripped the weapon off of Twilight’s suit, idly throwing it away into the forest.
The cyclops placed its hand over Twilight’s face, so that she could see nothing but black flesh and white bone.
Then she saw fire. The cyclops’ hand began to burn; it glowed red and yellow, and Twilight felt the heat through her armour and through her diminishing aura. Sweat beaded upon her brow, her breathing became more laboured not only by the oppressive heat but by the rapidly dropping level of her aura as it got lower and lower before her eyes, burning away in the heat of the cyclops’ fire. Once it broke, her armour would offer her some protection still, but this grimm was so strong that it would probably be able to turn her to a pulp inside her armoured suit just by slamming her into the ground often enough, and that was if it didn’t burn her first.
Trapped, cooking inside her armour, Twilight whimpered. She didn’t want to die, not like this, not anything like this. She wasn’t a hero, she was just Twilight Sparkle, and she wanted to survive. She just couldn’t see a way how.
The cyclops howled and released Twilight, its hand pulling away before Twilight’s aura shattered.
Twilight looked up to see Pyrrha’s javelin buried in the crack in the cyclops’ armour.
Pyrrha ran forward, legs pounding, hair flying out behind her in a glorious stream of red. She leapt, and as her leap carried her upwards and onwards, over Twilight and towards the cyclops that threatened her, Pyrrha threw her shield like a discus aimed straight at the cyclops large single eye.
The cyclops flinched, turning its head away from the flying metal disc, which struck the armoured side of its head to little harm, but while the grimm was turned away, it wasn’t looking as Pyrrha grasped her Miló and pulled it free, kicking off the cyclops’ chest and flipping over in mid-air as she landed on the ground between the cyclops, staggering backwards, and Twilight Sparkle.
She held out her left arm, and Akoúo̱ flew towards it, taking its proper place upon her armour vambraces.
Cinder emerged out of the woods behind the cyclops, the light glinting off her glass scimitars as she slashed at its hamstrings, her obsidian blades seeking out the gaps between the armour plates as she struck first at one leg and then the other.
The cyclops roared in anger, lashing out with one cloven hoof, catching Cinder with its kick and knocking her to the ground. The grimm glared balefully down at her as it raised that hoof to stamp down upon her.
Miló switched from spear to rifle in Pyrrha’s hands as she fired two shots – her last two shots; she had used the other three getting here – at the cyclops’ head. They ricocheted harmlessly off its armour, but they seemed to put all thoughts of Cinder out of the grimm’s head as it turned its attention once more to Pyrrha.
“Twilight,” Pyrrha said, gently but firmly as Miló shifted back into a spear. “If you wouldn’t mind clearing the path please.”
“R-right,” Twilight said, scrambling off the path and into the somewhat safety of the woods on either side.
The cyclops growled as it advanced upon her, hefting its enormous hammer in one hand.
Its metal hammer.
The weapon which it had taken from some valiant warrior and, in the taking, doomed itself.
It simply didn’t know that yet.
Pyrrha charged towards the cyclops, and as she charged, she reached behind her and placed Miló upon her back, holding it fast against her cuirass, leaving her right hand empty and free, bearing no weapon but Akoúo̱ as she approached the grimm at a flat run.
The cyclops quickened its own step in response, shaking the earth as its hooves pounded the path ever more swiftly.
The cyclops swung its hammer at her, one-handed, a swiping blow which would have knocked her sideways and maybe shattered her aura with a single hit.
If it had made contact.
As the hammer swung down and towards her, Pyrrha spun, her hair flying around her as she pirouetted gracefully as any ballerina might, reaching out with her free right hand even as she ducked beneath the oncoming hammer.
The hammer passed harmlessly overhead, but as it did so, Pyrrha reached out and touched it, her gloved fingers brushing against the metal as she applied sufficient of her semblance to rip it out of the cyclops’ hand and send it flying.
The cyclops hooted in shocked disbelief, but Pyrrha was already moving, running towards the hammer, outpacing the grimm as she slung Akoúo̱ across her back just as she had Miló before it.
She had a feeling that she would need both hands for this. The hammer was truly enormous; it made Nora’s Magnhild look like a child’s plaything by comparison. Whoever wielded it – whoever had fallen wielding it against the cyclops – must have been a mighty warrior indeed.
Were it not for her semblance, Pyrrha would not even have attempted to lift it; fortunately, her semblance made that ‘were it not’ redundant.
The cyclops closed in behind her, but Pyrrha had already laid her hands upon the hammer’s shaft, and with polarity, she was able to lift what her muscles never could have as she turned, swinging the hammer in a wide arc to slam with a crunch into the cyclops’ leg.
The cyclops bellowed as it crashed to the ground, arms flailing, throwing up dust from the impact.
Its eye looked up towards the sky until Cinder appeared to block out the sun.
Her swords of glass had transformed into a bow, which she drew back and loosed a single obsidian shaft straight into the creature’s single eye.
The cyclops howled, thrashing its arms wildly, groping blindly for Cinder above its face, and as it groped, Pyrrha swung the hammer down a second time – upon the cyclops’ armoured chest.
Further cracks began to spread across the plates of bone. The cyclops blindly reached for her, but Cinder turned her bow to swords once more and slashed at the cyclops hands and fingers, making the grimm flinch back each time it got close with another pained and moaning cry.
Pyrrha swung the hammer again, and again, and with each dolorous blow that landed upon the cyclops with so heavy a thud, more cracks across the armour spread until she had shattered the bony plates that warded it completely, exposing the oily black flesh beneath.
Pyrrha brought the hammer down one final time, stoving in the cyclops chest. The cyclops did not roar now; rather, it let out a sort of gasping sound as its torso collapsed, and then it made no further sound at all as its body began to smoke.
In a little while, it would be nought but ashes.
The corner of Cinder’s lip quirked upwards. “Not bad,” she said, “We make a pretty good team, you and I.”
“Hmm,” Pyrrha murmured, without committing to anything. “Twilight, are you alright?”
Twilight emerged from out of the woods, retracting her helmet so that they could see her face. “I’m okay,” she said, “but Sage…” She gestured to the unconscious figure lying on the ground beneath the shield. “I daren’t move him, not with his injuries. What’s going on, are you with the second wave?”
Cinder snorted. “The second wave? Do you think that the exercise is still going on?”
“It… isn’t?” Twilight asked.
Cinder’s right eyebrow rose. “You have no idea how bad things have gotten, do you?”
“Weren’t they supposed to get this bad?” Twilight asked.
“Unfortunately not,” Pyrrha murmured. “The sheer number of grimm were not anticipated, and with so many nevermores in the skies… it is unlikely that Professor Ozpin will risk any Bullheads here. Cinder and I had to descend via the cliff.”
“But… but what about the Atlesian airships?” Twilight asked. “General Ironwood’s squadrons could-”
“Don’t put so much faith in your technological toys,” Cinder suggested. “The ability to fire a few missiles or make a gun fly is as nothing compared to the primal ferocity of the grimm.”
“If that were so, Atlas and all its territories would have fallen long ago,” Twilight declared. “We are protected because of our technological toys and the edge they give to the brave people who wield and pilot them. There’s no way that the General would be scared off by a few nevermores.”
“And yet, above us fly the nevermores, and where is your gallant General?” Cinder demanded. “Why, I do believe he is elsewhere, scared perhaps.”
“Cinder, please,” Pyrrha said sharply. “That will do.”
Cinder snorted. “You think you can invent your way to omnipotence,” she spat. “But where did that get you? Helpless.”
She turned away, and walked away. Pyrrha watched her for a moment before returning her attention to Twilight. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I… don’t know what that’s about.”
“It’s fine; you don’t need to apologise for her,” Twilight said. “And she’s not wrong, about me. Thank you, for saving my life.”
“Any time,” Pyrrha said. “But… I’m afraid that I’m going to have to leave you with Cinder now; Ruby… her aura’s broken, I need to get to her.”
“Of course,” Twilight said. “Go. Now. Good luck.”
“Thank you,” Pyrrha said, and now it was her turn to turn away, dashing off into the woods and out of sight.
“Good luck,” Twilight murmured again, as Pyrrha disappeared into the woods, leaving her alone with the unconscious Sage, and Cinder.
Not her first choice of company, she had to admit.
I’m probably not her first choice either, to be fair.
Nevertheless, accepting that fact didn’t help Twilight come up with anything to say while they both… while they waited? Waited for what? Waited for help that wasn’t coming? Waited for General Ironwood to send in his airships? Waited for the grimm to get bored and go away?
Would that even happen?
If it did, that would be… very convenient. Which was partly why Twilight doubted it would actually happen.
Cinder kicked at the remains of one of Twilight’s drones with her foot. “What was this?” she asked.
“A drone,” Twilight said softly.
“I see,” Cinder murmured. “More broken toys?”
“What do you have against technology?” Twilight asked.
“Nothing,” Cinder said. “I have nothing against technology; I merely have something against those who are so arrogant as to presume that technology can make them master or mistress of the world. It is a power that is… wholly unearned, and yet, you act as though possessing it makes you deserving, as though the technology that has elevated your city has likewise elevated you in virtue above all others. Your power is nothing but good fortune, and yet you act as though you are entitled to be the masters.”
“We don’t pretend to be the masters of anything,” Twilight said. “Or anyone. But you’re wrong about General Ironwood; he’s not afraid. Not of some nevermores, not of anything.”
“All men are afraid of something,” Cinder insisted. “Even the most powerful of men, for he fears losing his power if he fears nothing else.” She chuckled. “We saw an Atlesian warship, Pyrrha and I,” she said. “It took up station over Beacon, but as you can see, it has made no move to progress further and take the battle to the grimm. That speaks to something, don’t you think?”
“Something,” Twilight replied. “Not fear. Caution. Perhaps. Whatever the General is doing, whatever our forces are doing, there is a good reason for it.”
“Yes, and I’m sure there’s a good reason your teammates are standing around back at the school with their thumbs up their rear-ends,” Cinder muttered. “I’m sure that nobody has written us off, oh no.”
“If you think this is hopeless, then what are you doing here?”
Cinder was silent for a moment. “Why do we do anything, Twilight Sparkle, except because it seemed like a good idea at the time?”
Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “So… how does this end?”
“That depends on how it started,” Cinder replied. She smiled. “But fear not. Although Altas may have abandoned you, you will not die.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“You’re with me,” Cinder explained. “I was not fashioned for a mean and unremarked ending such as this, in such a place as this, by claw or jaw of some common grimm. I am made for greater things by far, protected by my fate. And while you are with me, that fate, that destiny, will protect you also.”
“Really?” Twilight asked sceptically.
“A fire consumed my home,” Cinder said. “My father and my mother perished.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Twilight murmured.
“I do not tell you for your sympathies,” Cinder replied sharply. “The fire… it did not touch me. It crept into my room, it roared into my face, it licked at me like an affectionate dog, but…” She spread her arms out wide on either side of her. “Do you see a burn on me? Do you see so much as a single mark? No. I did not suffer the flames. My family was devoured by them, but I endured. I was protected. As I will be protected.” She fell silent for a moment. “I’m going to take a look around,” she declared and walked away, moving silently into the trees, scouting perhaps or doing something that Twilight knew not.
Well, that makes me feel a lot better.
“Twilight,” Midnight said. “You have an incoming transmission.”
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Well, that was interesting.
I really think than cinder deserve a chapter (or part of one) focus on her pov before the revelation of her true colors, it's not like we didn't knew her true loyalty, and i really want to see what she think here.
I know that Cinder likely only took the hit here because she's intentionally limiting herself for the element of surprise later, but I cannot help but feel like this is the exact kind of Grimm that would be able to challenge her outright in a one on one fight. Sure, it might not win... but it's the sort of foe that if you slipped up even once, there is a very real chance you won't be alive to have a worry about a second mistake.
10774247
Well, as Pyrrha said, a hit of this one could had broke her aura, so yes, while Cinder is probably stronger even without the magic, she probably isn't far, and it is likely then a hit would do as much damage ,also because Cinder doesn't wear a armor.
A little hard to remember Cinder's a villain at times like this. Also a little funny she's protecting Twilight given... Well there may be readers that have not already read past the rewritten chapters so I'll say no more.
Ah, Cinder, Lord of the Sith does have a nice ring to it, but I do wonder if the Nightsister Creed is not more her style. Also Twilight as Iron Man (or in this case Iron Man with War Machine's suit) is a pleasure to see fully fleshed out. You can be a huntress Twily, you just have to accept that chaos is a part of the battle, especially once the script gets thrown out the window. Character interactions were great and I cannot wait to see how it unfold once everyone converges on Ruby.
I don’t think that Ambrosius of the Staff will like your attitude towards tools and technology, Cinder.
Alright, Darth Cinder.
The last chapter disgusted me so much that I can't quite appreciate this one.
It would have taken just added more Grimm and would have given a real reason not to help but there.
Sorry but the inaction of Professional just got me out of the story.
I want to kick Cinder in the face for her remark about technology. Undeserved? As if technological progress did not take any effort! As if the commodities she enjoys every day were a gift from the gods! As is she HERSELF had never relied in technology, or as if she had never taken the Maiden powers that she did not earn.
Also, Scipio, you better give us a good reason for the inaction of the adult hunters.
10897745
The explanation why Ozpin and Port (the only adult huntsmen in the area) didn't go in was explained in a post, but I don't remember if it was made explicit later in the story itself.
It boils down to retrieval. The cliffs are too steep, the only way of getting out of there is by air so, unless you clear the air (something a pair of Huntsmen are not enough to do), then anyone who goes there to help is just going to be another casualty.
I understand that reference!