Chapter 219: Sixth Interlude - Adam Taurus

DISCLAIMER: This story is NOT MINE IN ANY WAY. That honor has gone to the beautiful bastard Ryuugi. This has been pulled from his Spacebattles publishment at threads/rwby-the-gamer-the-games-we-play-disk-five.341621/. Anyway on with the show...err read.

Sixth Interlude - Adam Taurus

As I landed, the world was filled with blinding light.

I didn't need to look to know what the source was, not that I could have seen it if I wanted to. When I said it was blinding, I meant it literally, with even the moments glimpse I caught of it sending stabbing knives of pain straight into my retinas before I reflexively flinched away and shut my eyes. The following rush of noise was perhaps even more disorienting, loud enough to make the sound of thunder seem like a low rumble. Dust filled the air, along with the chocking smoke left behind by the opening attack, robbing me of my sense of smell and sending currents of strange sensations across my skin. If not for my recent training and what I was sure was the aid of my friend's Elementals, I would have been struggling just to breath.

There wasn't much I could do about that but bear with it. Unlike some people, I didn't have a million kinds of vision. I couldn't see through smoke or steel or skin, I couldn't identify bacteria on sight, and I most certainly couldn't peer across a city or a country or, for all I fucking knew, the goddamn universe. I couldn't see out of the back of my head or grow a million eyes, either; I couldn't even create portals to see something on the other side of the world. I couldn't pick up whispers in the midst of explosions, look into someone's soul, or pull up their profile like they'd accidently posted all their personal information online. On that note, I couldn't wave my hand and rearrange the forces of nature, warp time, heal the sick, or destroy cities, either.

I wasn't like Jaune, who could make a decent argument for being the greatest weapon ever produced by magic or man. I wasn't like Raven, one of the most powerful Huntresses in the last century or even millenia. Really, I wasn't even like Autumn or Gou, who were the result of I didn't even know what, born as something exceptional. I was just a Faunus, one of the thousands of sob stories that Mengerie had churned out who had just happened to get a little bit lucky. I'd found what had pretty damn well seemed like the only person on the continent who cared if I lived or died or about things like right and wrong, and she'd taken me in and made me something more than just a kid with a knife.

Later, and because of that, I'd found other things; a little cat who reminded me a bit of myself, who'd become something between a daughter and a little sister. It seemed a little odd to consider her either of those things, given my age, but hell—I never expected to grow old. I made it to age ten, which had seemed like a minor miracle at the time; everything else just seemed like borrowed time.

I'd found the White Fang, too, an organization I at once loved and hated. When I first joined, it was preaching for peace with a group that had treated us like animals and locked us away, and I'd thought it hopelessly stupid and naïve. Later, it came to understand that—that words alone wouldn't change anything, so circumstances had to. And yet, somehow, that hadn't satisfied me either, even as I applauded the choice.

It was probably Blake's fault. She had always been innocent, however hard she tried to hide it—an endless optimist that tried to be a cynic. I'd had optimism beaten out of me when my mother died and left me in a place full of Grimm and people who'd been reduced to the savages Mankind had wanted us to be, and god but it was hard to say which had been worse. But even after seeing the how things worked, Blake tried to believe. She did her best to hide her high hopes and expectations behind looks of disdain, as if convincing the world she didn't care would keep her from actually doing so. She'd always had big dreams; peace between man and Faunus, happiness and heroes, resolution and hope.

It didn't surprise me in the slightest that she'd become a Huntress; I knew exactly why she'd done it and it didn't make a lick of sense, but that was Blake for you. She probably left with the intention of stamping out inequality and promoting righteousness in its place, undoing years of corruption and hatred and worse. As if being a Huntress would do any of that—being a soldier, sworn to fight and die for battles that most people would never know existed, caught in political games between the kingdoms, bound in a system that would work against her. How she intended to get from 'going to school' to 'creating lasting peace and equality between two groups that had clashed for millennia', God only knows.

Blake wasn't the best at making plans; half the time it seemed like she expected a miracle to occur and handle all the details. If we do the right thing, if we're good people, if we're kind and help others and save the day, they'll see the truth. They'll understand. We'll be loved and accepted and everything will be okay. It'll all work out in the end.

Bullshit. The world didn't work the way she wanted it to and hopes and prayers wouldn't change that. That was why I'd always dreamed of things that were more realistic.

But honestly…unrealistic as they were, even now, I liked Blake's dreams better than my own. Somehow, by doing exactly what I would have done, what I knew was right, what I accepted and understood—by doing that, it almost felt as if the White Fang had let me down, which was stupid as all hell. But I guess I just didn't want a world full of people like me, even if it would make things simpler. But I'd gone along with it, because I'd known it was the right thing to do, moral and idealistic quandaries aside.

And then, pretty much by pure fucking chance, I'd met Jaune, and ended up as part of the ongoing clusterfuck that was his life. The guy was like entropy incarnate; all you had to do was introduce him to a system and then it was just a matter of watching as things progressed towards maximum chaos. System in this case referring to things like 'Reality,' 'Society,' and 'My Life.' Sometimes I thought that the guy couldn't go out and buy milk without messing something up. Things just seemed to break down around him.

Including my beliefs.

Jaune was like Blake in some ways. A bit like me in others. Honestly, as the little terrified kid who didn't know how to fucking drive grew up into a terrifying guy who still didn't know how to fucking drive, he seemed to take in everything from around him, learning from the people he met. But that's children, I guess, though I'd never seen anyone grow up quite as fast as he did. And for all the bits and pieces he took in, there were parts of him that were just him, if you knew where to look, if you'd been around long enough to see them. Stupid parts, chaotic parts, and crazy parts, mostly—and ones that somehow managed to believe. He didn't talk about it the way Blake did, but he believed things would work out, too. That we'd save the world and sort everything out and fix things somehow.

And somehow, he managed to make me believe stuff like that, too.

I guess it was because he was my best friend.

I knew it better than anyone—I had no place here. I'd been fairly strong since I was a kid, but I was no ancient reincarnating super weapon or legendary Huntsman. I wasn't someone who's soul had managed to cling to this godforsaken world for years just to protect her daughter, reborn now in a super plant thing or a dog turned walking myth. I'd been taught by one of the best, but I hadn't been one of them myself. I'd known and accepted that; everyone wants to be the best, but how many succeed? There are a bunch of factors that decide it; how skilled you are, how smart you are, the Semblance you're born with, the strength of your spirit, physical ability, and countless other things. I didn't come from an ancient line of super warriors and I hadn't been trained to fight since I was old enough to walk. Even if I was strong in my own way, I knew my limits. Way I saw it, it was probably for the best; if I'd been born with godlike powers, it would have been bad news for a lot of people.

The point being, I knew I didn't really have any place being on the team chosen to save the world. Raven? Sure. Autumn and Gou? Sure. Jaune? That was just fucking obvious. But me? I didn't belong here. I probably didn't even really need to be here. A part of me thought that if I walked away, it wouldn't make any difference.

But I chose to be here anyway. Even if I didn't belong here—in Jericho Falls, the place where heroes went to die, specifically and just in general—it didn't matter. I could have walked away, sure, but my best friend wasn't leaving until this was done.

And I wasn't leaving without him. That's kind of how best friends worked. He'd keep throwing himself in danger until the day was saved, and I'd keep following him into it. Odds are, that might get me killed someday. Maybe even today. But like I say, since the day Raven found me and saved me from the hell of Menagerie, I'd been living on borrowed time—and right now I didn't mind. I didn't mind living on borrowed time if it meant buying time, even if just for a little while. I'd thrown myself into training alongside him, reducing my nights to endless battles, to sweat and blood and both physical and mental exhaustion, not because I was trying to catch up, but simply because I was trying to stay close. Close enough to at least watch his back.

Across the battlefield, Jaune clashed with a beast out of legends and nightmares, trying to find the key to save the world—and for the first time in a long while, I couldn't rely on Jaune to support me in a fight, to heal all of my wounds or restory my power as quickly as I spent it. Right now, he was relying on me to support him; to keep what was left of a horde of monsters of his back while he fought.

That was why I was here.

And that was why I wasn't holding anything back.

I felt the power I'd gathered in my sword preparing to break loose—and drew my blade, relying on my Aura to guide me in the darkness.

We all had our jobs to do.

It should go without saying that I hadn't come to this battle unprepared. I was ready, on a number of levels. Raven had always taught me that every battle begins in the mind, with preparation and control. Things like hesitation, fear, and uncertainty could kill you even before the first blade was drawn, slowing you and undercutting your strength. Because of that, the first step to victory starts with the self—with knowing what could happen, understanding it, and facing it. That was true in any real battle and even more so in this one, for two simple reasons.

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The first was the nature of our enemies. The Grimm were creatures that preyed on the darkness within the hearts of Man, and they could doubt, pain, fear, and anger as easily as I could see light. Losing control was always a dangerous proposition in battle, but against the Grimm it could put you at an even more notable disadvantage—and this dark, uncertain battlefield could turn against me in a moment if I allowed it. If I let myself come undone, the Grimm in these dark clouds with me would smell it like sharks could smell blood in the water, and then I'd be torn apart. I didn't have a lot of advantages; I couldn't afford to make my position any worse.

The other reason was me. I was, however informally, a Huntsman. At the end of the day, my greatest weapon wasn't my sword, but my spirit—my soul, my heat, my will, my Aura. Whatever you wanted to call it, if I faltered, so would it, and in a very literally sense. All else being equal, in a fight between Hunters, the one who allows himself to be shaken will lose. I don't think anyone really knows all the factors that go into determining the strength of one's Aura, but the strength of will attached to it was an undeniable factor.

I wasn't like Jaune. I didn't have anything like the Gamer's Mind or some ancient meditative technique to draw on. All I had to keep control of myself was my own will and the experience I'd gained from countless battles—from being trained by Raven Branwen and from training alongside Jaune Arc.

It was enough. It'd be enough. Right now, my spirit was as sharp as the blade I was swinging through the air—and it spilled out into the world in its wake. In that moment, as the earth and sky were washed in my colors, I felt everything around me; Jaune, shedding power like the sun shed light as he fought against a creature I could only recognize by the void its presence put in my awareness. Both above and around me, Gou was living up to the name of the Tiangou, feet like skyscrapers trampling the broken ground. Raven fluttered in and out of my awareness, here one moment, there the next. Above us all, Autumn was still waiting for her chance, holding back for the time being as she prepared.

But I pushed all of that aside to focus on the task at hand, reducing the world my power had made to nothing but me and the Grimm, picking my target and deciding quite simply that I was going to kill it. That's a surprisingly big part of training oneself to fight, actually; making that decision. It was easy when it came to inhuman monsters, but when you found yourself fighting another person and seeing the terror in their eyes—well, that was something else. But Jaune's power had, for the longest time, labeled me as 'the Beast' and there was a reason for that. I wasn't one to shy away from the nastier parts of the world; I'd killed the man who'd taken my mother away before I was anything more than a punk kid and I sent dozens screaming after him before Raven found me. In comparison, killing the Grimm was nothing but a way to lighten up my day, and a few months with Jaune had made sure my mental image of them was firmly 'walking bags of experience and loot.'

Which led us to the second part of winning fights. As I said, all else being equal—that is, in a fair fight—a Hunter's spirit would be what made the difference and it was important to remember that. It did not, however, mean you should ever fight fair. When you fight with your life on the line, by definition you die if you lose, which meant you should make damn sure you don't lose. After preparing the mind came preparing the body. A lot of the time, that meant training like your life depended on it, which was easy, because it did.

Other times, it just meant carrying a really big stick. Sure, a real Hunter was more dangerous with chopsticks then thugs were with swords and machineguns, but they were more dangerous with swords and machineguns then they were with chopsticks, generally speaking. And needless to say, when it came time to venture into the jaws of death, I made sure to come dressed for the occasion. The swords at my sides were part of that. One was the magical sword that Jaune had given me a few weeks ago, all but humming with its desire to unleash the power it contained.

But the blade I drew was mine. Wilt and Blush, the weapons I'd made years ago, under Raven's watchful eye. The weapons I'd trained with for endless days and nights, even before Jaune's inhuman training regime led to restless nights of practice and combat. It bore the scars of it, too, and I'd had to reforge it more than once, sometimes with Raven's help and sometimes on my own. I didn't consider that a mark against it, but a matter of pride; maybe the sword I wielded now wasn't the same as the one I'd first picked up years ago, but I wasn't the same, either. We'd both changed. We'd both gotten stronger. That was life for you.

And their most recent change was something I was especially proud of. Part of it was a gift from Raven, supposedly a graduation present of sorts. Part of it was Jaune's inability to do things by halves when it came to anything he thought was important. And a good chunk of it was just me, remaking my weapon with the people I cared about for the sake of protecting and helping them.

This was the result.

What cut through the air was something like a ripple in space, if ripples could cut. I lashed out towards my target with a blade that gleamed even in the darkness, the Dust alloy granting shape to the power I unleashed, drawing it into alignment with its own nature as well as my own. And when it hit the most damaged Humbaba…the creature began to fall apart. The wound that was carved into its chest when the ripple splashed over it glowed searing red and began to both deepen and spread, the edges of the would coming apart in the form of falling rose petal.

The Humbaba let loose an inhuman sound, something glowing purple-white within the depths of its tangled face. I could see it even through the walls of smoke and ash, but I didn't flinch even as aimed towards me, refusing to let myself falter as I resheathed my sword and began clicking the turning mechanism.

I wasn't afraid. I was eager.

And when, moments later, the walls of smoke were cut through my a column of light that could have carved a line of destruction through a city, I was all too happy to show it why—to prove that I could give as good as I got. I caught the blast of destructive power on my blade and felt my Aura rise up in response. The power flowed into me like I was trying to swallow a river, setting my blood on fire and my nerves alight as it did. I opened myself up to it, drawing it in, and felt my Aura burn brighter by the moment, glowing through my skin. It flickered like a flame, pulsing in tune with my heart, but I kept it up, holding steady against the power coming my way.

A part of me marveled at what I was doing now—holding back the power of a Humbaba, one of the Grimm that most would consider it a death sentence to meet, let alone fight. But it was a small part now, because this was nothing new to me anymore; you stay around Jaune long enough and all sorts of shit becomes flat-out pedestrian. I'd seen Humbaba and worse. Even this thing, a creature strong enough to survive everything that Jaune had thrown at it, wasn't enough to make me back down.

I faced it head on, took its most powerful attack, and made its power my own. And when the blast of its power tapered off and faded back into the darkness…I held onto it. It wasn't something I'd always been able to do, wasn't even something I'd been able to do for very long. I could draw in down from external sources, but it was hard to hold onto them for long; usually, I released it as quickly as I could, using it to counterattack before I lost control. But I'd been spending a lot of time practicing my control, lately, making sure I could hold my power within my blade for extended periods of time—and if I could do it there, why not within my own body?

This was my Semblance. My power. For all that I'd relied it for years, my sword wasn't a required part of the equation. And as I held on to that power and converted it, I felt my power, my Aura, swell in response, strengthening me over and over again.

I'd always been able to hit a bit outside my weight class, given the chance to gather power. Now…well, now I had.

Without hesitating for a moment, my finger pulled the trigger on Blush, but I didn't lash out with a wave of power this time. I didn't have to, anymore.

This power was my own.

The moment I pulled the trigger, I came apart, space bending around me and through me. I didn't so much cut through my target as I intersected everything in my path, and when I stopped the Humbaba was to my back and Wilt was in my hand. I flicked it once and then rested it on my shoulder.

"Too bad," I told it, looking back. "Next time, you should choose your opponents more wisely. Well, but…I guess it's too late for that now."

I sheathed my sword as the ancient Grimm came apart into the wilting petals of a rose.

A quite click and I'd chosen my next blade—a moment's thought and I'd picked my next target.

We all had our jobs to do.

And this one was mine.

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