Empyrean 18 - What Is A God?

Empyrean 18 - What Is A God?

WIllow Schnee POV

They came for her, as she’d predicted. 

She’d known of Jacques’ hidden army as long as it’d existed. She’d helped train them when it was still a grassroots operation, back when a job for Atlas was more desirable than serving the Schnee.

Then, as word of how well they were paid spread, suddenly, trainers became easy to obtain. WIth good trainers came better recruits, and over time, her value as a trainer diminished, and with her marital troubles, so did her willingness to help in the affairs of the company.

The first set of recruits were the most loyal, and it was them who would be sent to take her out, she was sure of that. She had never been the kindest teacher, and they had personal grudges that were curtailed by the fact that she was still their employer’s wife. Now? There was nothing stopping them.

They all assaulted her house, they all came for her in force, thirteen of them, the originals, and one by one, they fell, without her having to raise so much as a hand against them.

She’d known that she would be getting a quality guard, what with his name being semi-legendary in status. Even with that knowledge, she wasn’t sure he would be enough, despite the fact that Jaune himself had vouched for the man.

He was good company too. Handsome, charming, flirtatious. The few days he’d spent in her company had been enjoyable, reminiscent of her early days with Jacques. Better, considering the elder Arc had the kind of physique that Jacques couldn’t match even with a lifetime of gym and training.

He was also a force of nature, Cyan Arc, and that in its own way was scintillatingly attractive.

She watched as he hewed through another one of Jacques’ forces. Denis, she remembered the man, she remembered the glares he used to give her, as well as the lecherous looks he gave her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

His head flew high, bouncing twice as it came to rest next to her foot, his lifeless gaze looking up at her, affixed in a rictus of terror.

Yet, she couldn’t get herself to muster the slightest bit of sympathy for the man, because she knew just how many people he’d killed at Jacques’ behest.

Such was the fate of the first squad. The first to spill blood for the Schnee, and to meet their ends at the hands of a man who they could never hope to surmount.

“There’s blood on your face, Willow.” 

She was brought out of her reverie by Cyan Arc’s worried voice. Oh, the hunk of a man was worried about her, after having taken down over a dozen of her husband’s finest with the kind of impunity one would expect from a bear killing a rat. 

He was on one knee in front of her, face-level with her, dabbing at her cheek with a handkerchief that was a pristine white, at complete odds with his blood-dyed white and silver armor. One good look around was enough for her to find what little remained of her assailants. Splattered against walls, painted on the ceiling. 

For shame, it would take quite a bit of cleaning to get the stench of blood out of her room.

It felt slightly surreal that the man who had eviscerated an entire squad of high-rated huntsmen was now attending to her with such care. The way he was, kneeling on one knee in front of her, also painted a rather flattering picture, if not for the blood and entrails that littered the room.

Cute, yet quintessentially Arc-like.

“Say, when all of this is over.” Willow spoke, gently putting her slender palm on his cheek. “Would I be able to persuade you to stay by my side?”

The way his face went red at her action almost made Willow chuckle. Oh, the great warrior, turning into putty in the hands of a woman. She could see where Jaune got it from. That, and the looks.

“As much as I’d like to, and believe me, I really want to. I’ve kind of pledged myself to Jaune.” He spoke, standing up with a sheepish smile on his face. She could see it, the man was smitten. Yet, that wasn’t the most surprising thing.

The way his smile made her heart skip a beat, they way she could genuinely feel care in his actions. When was the last time someone made her this way?

When was the last time someone made her feel wanted.

“Oh, believe me, I’m something of a master at persuading people.” Willow smirked. “I’m sure I could convince Jaune to lend me your services.”

“Services, huh?” Cyan smirked, again, her heart skipped a bit. Gods be damned, this man was dangerous. “Is that how we’re spinning it?”

“Why of course. As the new chairwoman of the SDC, I’ll need a trustworthy guard to go to cafes with, visit the best restaurants Atlas has to offer, you know, someone I can trust.” She spoke, moving closer to him. 

“Does that include protecting you when you sleep?” Cyan smirked back. “Because I believe that would have to be part of my contract.”

“Why of course. I wonder how I would ever feel safe in my bed without some strong arms around me. Atlas gets very cold, you know?” She chuckled, and even he couldn’t stop himself from it.

“I’m down for that. For now? Let’s weather this storm. I still have to keep you safe, you know?” Cyan replied.

Willow shook her head. “No, these will be all the men that come for me.”

“How can you be so sure?” Cyan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s the men who came to kill me. I know them all.” Willow replied, “It means that targets were chosen among the men themselves, not assigned by Jacques.”

“So these were the guys who had something against you?” He asked.

“Some wanted me dead, some wanted worse.” She replied, kicking Denis’ head away from its place next to her foot. “Suffice to say, they didn’t get either, thanks to you, my dear knight.”

“Glad I could be of some use.” Cyan replied solemnly, but the disgust in his gaze, which followed Denis’ head as it rolled across the floor, was telling.

“I owe you my life, my dear knight.” Willow spoke, wrapping her arms around the warrior, who, stunned by the sudden intrusion into his personal space, stiffened. For a second, Willow almost panicked. Had she moved too fast? Was she in the wrong?

Thankfully, that moment passed, and she found Cyan’s arms encircling her slender body, and for the first time since she could remember, she felt safe.

“If the danger has passed, we should hunker down.” Cyan spoke, leaning into her embrace. “Those were Jaune and the General’s orders.”

They were smart orders. Everyone who could possibly be a target was spread out across Atlas and protected. It was the best way to divide Jacques’ forces, all the while Jaune went up against the bulk of his forces.

Just the mere thought of one teenage boy fighting an army made her mind want to shut down. Yet, the teenage boy in question was Jaune Arc, and the boy had a knack for making the impossible possible.

He’d freed her from herself, after all.

“You know, we could be productive with this free time.” Willow spoke, a playful smirk on her face. “You’ve shown me how effective a bodyguard you are in the streets.”

“Mind showing me how effective you are in the sheets as well?” She asked, enjoying as his face went red, “As your prospective employer, I do like being thorough.”

“You know, if you wanted to fuck, you could just say it outright.” Cyan replied, scratching the back of his head. “I’d be an idiot if I were to refuse something that I want.”

“There’s some enjoyment to be had in the theater of it all.” Willow answered with a giggle. “Plus, I already knew you wouldn’t refuse. Mama’s still got it, after all.”

Cyan chuckled. “Be that as it may, I have one request that I think you’ll agree to.”

“Go on, I’m nothing but magnanimous.” Willow replied.

“Let’s… go to a different room before we bump uglies.” he spoke, scratching the back of his head, and Willow realized that in her desperation as a woman who hadn’t gotten laid for the better part of a year, she’d forgotten just where we were. 

“Noted.” She spoke with a nod of her head, her eyes bounding between the multiple pools of viscera seeping through the carpeting on the floor.

“Thankfully, part of being rich is that my house has more than one bed.” She continued. “Just in case one is out of order.” 

“So don’t you dare be gentle.”

LB

Winter POV

He was here.

There were too many of them to begin with. That should have tipped her off. The numbers they were facing were unprecedented. 

When they’d surrounded the facility, she was sure she’d counted at least a hundred of them. Faces hidden in the blizzard, she still knew who they were, and why they’d chosen her as a target.

Father’s greatest platoon. The shades, had decided that she was a greater target than General Ironwood, and she knew exactly why.

“Why do you run, darling? You know I’ll find you either way.”

It was him. The second strongest warrior in Father’s employ. The hero of her batch from Atlas. A man who was projected to surpass even the heroes of the war.

She dodged an arrow as her summoned alpha Beowulf cut through the Aura of another one of the platoon’s faceless members. The woman barely had time to scream before her jugular was pierced and ripped out in one fluid motion.

She staggered back as a beam of pure energy ripped through the wall in front of her. The smell of burnt flesh assaulted her senses for a fraction of a second, before the light  faded and Penny stepped through the destroyed wall, her blades suspended around her on razor-thin wires, all connected to the backpack on her back. Jaune hadn’t lied. Penny was definitely up to the task.

But she wasn’t prepared for what was coming.

“Penny! I need you to find Glynda and Weiss and get out of here.” She yelled, surprising Penny.

“But that goes against my directives.” She retorted. “According to Jaune, your protection comes before anyone else’s.”

She hissed under her breath. Of course Jaune would turn something like that into an order, that overprotective, lovable buffoon. It was admirable, but as it stood, all it did was cause more issues.

“I’m overriding that order. Anyone who stays here will die!.” Winter explained. “You have no idea what’s coming, and none of us are equipped to fight it.”

“Miss. Winter, in that case, by established battle protocol, we should regroup and fight as a team.” Penny tried to rationalize, confusion in her tone.

“Number do not matter to him. Trust me, Penny, I know him better than anyone here.” Winter countered.

“Then are you trying to play the role of ‘bait’?” She asked, “Unacceptable. I am more suited to the task.”

“You don’t understand! His target is me!” Winter explained, exasperated. “None of us can take him. His semblance has never been beaten!”

“I understand!” Penny spoke with a nod. “You are trying to minimize casualties by offering yourself up as a sacrifice!”

“Yes!” Winter growled. Her best case scenario was a war of attrition. She’d spent four years with the guy. She knew him better than anyone else. If anyone had a shot of beating his semblance, it had to be her.

She had been too reliant on Jaune, she had assumed the shades would be part of the fight at Mantle. She’d underestimated her father.

He wasn’t just after control, he was trying to send a message, trying to use the battle at Mantle as cover while he eliminated those who had crossed him, and she was at the top of that list.

Were it any normal platoon, any normal squad, even Father’s personal guards, she was sure that with Penny and Glynda by her side, she could have taken them on.

But him?

A rock moving faster than a bullet zipped past her, grazing her cheek. Even through her Aura, she felt the heat. She didn’t even get the time to yell out a warning as it collided with Penny.

Yet, she seemed to have underestimated Penny, as her blades shot out, creating a defensive barrier that the rock collided into.

The rock practically disintegrated, but not before cracking the blade it collided with. The force behind it was enough to send Penny skidding backwards.

And then, she heard his footsteps.

He walked slowly. The rhythmic tapping of his leather boots echoed down the hall as Penny’s blades retracted. 

“So nice of you to wait up for me, darling.”

He was unmasked, his black hair unkempt, yet stylishly long, framing his innocent-looking handsome face. He was still slender, carrying his two curved swords as pieces of debris circled around him like a defensive barrier.

The expression on his face could only be described as ‘orgasmic’.

“Neru Ghent.” Winter acknowledged him. Her closest confidante in Atlas, her friend, her rival, and the only person who could have possibly been a lover to her.

“You’ve been naughty, Winter.” He spoke, an expression of faux-hurt on his face. “Daddy Schnee’s very angry at you.”

“So he sent you to kill me?” She growled.

“Oh, yeah! That’s what he wanted me to do.” Neru answered with a chuckle. “I couldn’t believe he’d say that to me! Could you believe it? I almost killed him on the spot!”

“Would have done us all a favor.” Winter stated bluntly. She had foreseen that her father would cause trouble for them, but her naive hope of seeing him tried in front of a body of law, as well as what little love remained in her for him had forced Jaune to deal with this diplomatically.

She was regretting her decision, even though she knew full well that with or without Jacques Schnee, his army would still exist, and they would still lash out.

Neru would have found her, but now, without Jaune, her chances of surviving this were slim to none.

“Now now, don’t be that way, my dear.” Neru spoke, raising his sword. “He’s going to bless us once I drag you back to him. Then things can go back to how they used to be. Just like back in Atlas.”

“You killed any chances of fixing things between us when you chose to work for father.” Winter spoke, taking a combat-ready stance. Her center of gravity lowered, ready to stab forward.

Only for three swords to fly past her.

An attack like that wouldn’t even have fazed Neru, but his attention was solely dedicated to Winter, so the blades made it within half a foot from him, before the debris around him moved, almost like they had a mind of their own, to protect him.

They protected him from being instantly skewered, but the force of the collision sent him flying backwards.

He regained his balance midair, flipping and landing on his feet with a skid. A flash of abject rage flashed over his face, a break in his usual cruelly playful demeanour, but it passed as soon as it came.

“Ah, so you have backup.” he spoke, walking forward as Penny walked up to stand next to Winter. He didn’t even bother to size him up, just giving her a passing, unimpressed glance.

“Do you really think that will change anything, dear?” he asked, as rocks shot out from the ground, blowing through the sonic barrier as they flew at Penny.

Only for Penny to move faster. Her blades compacted behind her back, creating a shockwave that threw her forward. She flew low, ducking under the shower of rocks, and then kicked off the ground, her blades following her body in an upward arc.

“NO!” Winter shouted, and before she could even blink, Penny was sent flying through the wall, out of the compound, and into the snowy outdoors.

Her strike had been perfect, and had it been against anyone else, it would have done some real damage, if not finished the battle outright. Against Neru? It was absolutely useless.

After all, this motherfucking sadist had won the Semblance lottery.

“Feisty one, that girl.” He spoke, shrugging casually, like he hadn’t just sent the strongest combatant in their group flying with a casual wave. Then again, with a semblance as powerful and versatile as ‘momentum conversion’, there wasn’t anything normal that could pose a threat to him.

Winter could attest, she’d only seen him take damage once, and the circumstances of that scenario were not reproducible by her.

“You should come quietly. You know I don’t want to hurt you.” Neru spoke. His words did not match the creepy grin on his face.

“You’ll forgive me for not believing that.” Winter spoke, as her glyphs starters to form behind her back.

Instead of being intimidated or worried in the slightest, Neru’s grin grew to maniacal proportions. “Ah, I still can’t lie to you. I’ve got to fix that.”

Winter didn’t reply as a massive Ursa and an Alpha Beowolf shot out of the glyphs, both making a mad dash for Neru. The approach was staggered, forcing his concentration in two directions, something Winter knew he had trouble with, considering his semblance was only capable of moving in straight vectors.

That didn’t stand true for his swords though, as the Ursa was pierced through by another pebble, while his swords found purchase in the ethereal flesh of the Beowulf.

She’d predicted as much, which was why she was mid-lunge, inches away from planting her sword into his neck.

Only to find that his gaze was firmly locked on her.

A rock shot out from the ground next to his feet, knocking her sword off-course. His curved blades came up in a two-handed upward slash, and Winter knew that she’d been had.

Thankfully, Penny had other ideas.

A searing green beam of energy ripped through the wall next to her, enveloping Neru in emerald light. It was precise beyond measure, passing so close to winter that she could feel it singe her hair.

As the light faded, Neru stood stock still, and for a second, Winter allowed herself some hope. There was no way that Neru redirected all of that. Yet, as her eyes recovered from the blinding light, she realized that there wasn’t even a single scuff on Neru.

He’d grown.

Penny floated in the air, suspended by her swords, looking down at Neru, and for the first time, Winter saw curiosity in her assailant’s eyes. 

“You were holding out on me, huh?” He asked, for the first time facing away from Winter to gaze at Penny. Her Aura had held out against Neru’s first redirection, but it was flickering, lowered below what could be accepted as ‘safe’

Yet there she was, still combat ready, like she had promised.

“I am Penny Polendina, strategic resource of Atlas.” She spoke.

“And my directives do not accept ‘acceptable casualties’ as a possible outcome.” She spoke, her gaze locking with Winter.

Like it or not, she was going to fight till the bitter end, and Winter would support her. After all, she wasn’t the one in charge of this operation.

“Good.” Neru spoke, a challenging grin on his face. “Why, that’s very good!”

“Then you will be the first to die by my hand tonight, Penny Polendina.”

LB

Specter POV

This was a purge.

There was no other way to describe it. ‘Murder’ was too undignified, and ‘Massacre’ implied that they didn’t deserve it. No. Specter knew well enough that there was no good cause behind the mission that Jacques had given them. Success or failure, it would leave the world in a worse place.

So, what Jaune Arc was doing to them could be considered nothing less than purging the wicked.

He coughed up blood. He’d been hit early on. A rogue spike of ice had pierced right through his abdomen at the start of the battle, before he could even utilize his Aura. There had been no grand fight, no great stand against an enemy beyond human comprehension, just a lapse in concentration.

And here he was, kneeling on the ground, bleeding out as men and women he had known his entire life were dying in the hundreds around him.

He’d catch a glimpse of Jaune Arc every now and then. He was a vision of perfection. Every move he made was too fast for the eye to see, too fast for the blood of his victims to even touch him. Even as the battle drew ragged, not a drop of blood stained that resplendent armor of his.

Throughout it all, he found himself wondering, just what expression a man so young would wear on his face? His mask was featureless, adding a feeling of indifference to his actions. It was an insult to injury, to not even be able to see the face of his killer.

So he knelt there, waiting for death to take him. A stray bullet, any of Jaune’s elemental effects, a Grimm that decided it would rather have him as a snack than go after a monster that far surpassed it. 

Yet, it didn’t come. The ice in his wounds refused to melt, so he bled there, slowly, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

When the sounds of battle began to dull, when the last screams of terror subsided into moans of pain, and then into nothing but silence, was when he realized that his continued existence was not up to happenstance.

Yet, it wasn’t till the world stood silent that Jaune Arc stood in front of him, unblemished, that Specter found certainty that he’d been kept alive for a reason.

There wasn’t even a drop of blood on that radiant sword of his, and Specter had personally seen it behead half a dozen men in front of him. His eyes weren't visible, but his body language was enough for Specter to understand why he was kept alive.

“I assume… you want answers.” Specter breathed out. His time was running out, the pathetic death of a nobody was coming for him, and with these lasts gasps, Jaune Arc wanted him to lay his soul bare.

“Yes.” Jaune spoke, emotionless. Void of even the slightest of tonal inflections. He didn’t ask anything else, neither did he need to.

“And what’s in it for me?” Specter asked, trying to muster a smirk, only to fail as pain wracked his body. 

“A quick death.” Jaune replied.

“You’re… you’re a horrible negotiator.” Specter chuckled, though the sound that came out resembled more a death rattle than anything mirthful.

“I’m giving you a chance to earn a painless death, as opposed to bleeding out in the snow.” Jaune countered. “Schnee would have offered worse.”

Specter could not deny that. The entire reason this operation had happened was because Jacques wanted those that had slighted him dead. The goal was to send a message first, then prioritize any gains that could be made. 

Jaune had seen to it that their plans of starving Atlas by taking over Mantle were completely dashed. At this point, the best deal he could truly get was a quick death. So, he decided to take it.

“Considering… you came here alone, you knew… this wasn’t our only target.” He spoke.

“Your other attacks will fail as well.” Jaune spoke, finally some irritation colored his voice. Even that emotion felt like a relief. As godlike as their opponent was, he was still susceptible to emotion.

“You are… too sure of yourself.” Specter spoke.

“The Winter maiden no longer exists.” Jaune began. “Willow Schnee is protected by someone that men like you cannot hope to overcome, and I’d like to see your remaining forces try and raid Military HQ, with General Ironwood and the Ace Ops protecting it.”

“You’re… forgetting one.” Specter coughed out blood. He wasn’t long for this world.

“Two of the most capable huntresses I know are protecting Winter Schnee, not to speak of her own prowess. One doesn’t just join Ace Ops without being a peerless huntsman.” Arc shot back.

“Doesn’t matter.” Specter coughed. “We got to choose who took on what mission. Considering the depraved monster that chose to go after Winter? I wonder if she’s still ali-”

The world froze.

It wasn’t a physical phenomenon. Snow still fell, his blood still dripped, but he found himself unable to move. The sounds of the wind, of his own ragged breath seemed to disappear as Specter found himself at the receiving end of an emotion he had not thought Jaune Arc capable of.

Rage, it washed over him, paralyzing him. The already difficult task of breaking became much, much harder as visions of a thousand gruesome deaths flashed in front of his eyes. There was no getting used to this, there was no overcoming it, and its mere existence made one thing clear to Specter.

Had Jaune felt hatred against them when the battle started, he could have driven people mad with just the very projection of his feelings. 

Any illusion to the fact that Jaune Arc was a god were gone by now. Such might was not a mortal concept.

“Why?” Was all he asked, and even through the pain, through the difficulty in breathing, Specter was compelled to answer.

“For vengeance.” He spoke, taking half a dozen shallow breaths before being able to continue.

“Jacques knew that the moment his empire fell, he was done for. Under other circumstances, he could have worked something out. His contingencies rarely fail, and when they do, there’s always a contingency for a contingency.” He answered.

“But against you, any plans he could come up with were always doomed to fail.” Specter continued. “Had you not played this game of politics and simply lopped off his head the moment he came into your crosshairs, all of this could have been avoided.”

“You would have still marched to your doom.” Jaune retorted.

“Some of us, the old guard, would have.” He answered. “But our goals would have been different. As much as vengeance drives us, vengeance wouldn’t fill our coffers.”

“Jacques? All he wants is to see the people who did this to him burn.” He stated, and for once, he could imagine the expression on Jaune’s face. Abject rage, mixed with the dawning realization.

“He was never planning to aid Salem.” Jaune realized, prompting a chuckle out of Specter.

“No, the moment his life’s work was taken from him, he already knew he was dead. ” Specter explained. “Even now, he’s probably still waiting for one of you lot to come and blow his head right off.”

“His bravado? That was only to convince his army that there was an end goal, that there was a way back into power and wealth. No. He just wanted those who took his world from him to burn.” Specter finished.

“So go now, Empyrean. Save who you can.” Specter barked out. “When you are done, you will find Jacques waiting.”

“As for me? I’ll meet him in hell.” Specter finished.

“That you will.”

He didn’t even hear the swing of the sword, he didn’t even feel the cut till his head was falling. 

He didn’t even know he was dead till his head hit the floor, staring lifelessly at where Jaune had stood mere moments ago.

What a terrible way to go.

LB

This is chapter 3/4. Final chapter is taking a while because it's supposed to tie this entire arc together. Expect it to be 2k words or so longer than my usual.

As always, join the discord for more shenanigans. Link is https://discord.com/invite/AP8nG65RmA