So it is done: If age only could (Patreon)

Jonathan glanced at the ‘package’ he was supposed to deliver. The file folder filled with documents was not the strangest thing that he had delivered, but it was definitely in the top ten. He couldn’t help but sigh, he really hated his conscience sometimes, at least it wasn’t something heavy.

And so he took a step, before finding himself in a place where, as any sane mind would imagine, he could not and wasn’t supposed to be. He emerged from a silent and invisible teleportation, before putting the documents down where the client wanted it to be planted before disappearing again, returning to his starting position.

At least that was his only delivery for today, so having completed his job, literally, in ten minutes, Jonathan now has nothing to do in his ‘office’ other than stare at the clock nearby. He couldn’t help but yawn, it was nine o'clock in the morning...

He thinks Cinder has just started her classes for today, and Jonathan has already finished with his job for today. Not bad for a day’s work.

Yawning again as he desperately tried to chase off the remnant of his sleepiness, Jonathan pulled on his cloak tighter. Really should have thought about making his teleport point a breezy alley, he grumbled as he tried hiding from the cold morning wind. Seeing his effort fruitless, he hurriedly headed down the almost deserted street, inspecting the rare passing cars.

He really shouldn’t be this ill-prepared for the cold, there was nothing surprising about the fact that even a rather warm place like Mount Glenn had the tendency to get colder as winter approached. Still, it was already the twenty-fifth of September… Jonathan wondered if this Umbral World celebrated Christmas and New Year?

Jonathan shrugged his shoulders before unconsciously focusing his gaze on a low building not far away. A building that is unremarkable and is lost in the background of similarly sized buildings surrounding it. The building really wouldn’t catch his attention if it was not the building that he had just sneaked into to deliver his ‘package’.

Jonathan did not know what the building was supposed to be used for, or at the very least what it says in its official documents. Most likely it was listed as a warehouse rented by a shell company. And, frankly, he was not sure what that place was actually used for too, he didn’t really see the point of snooping around. Though if Jonathan was a betting man, he would bet that the building was most likely the place where they store smuggled stuff. And maybe even an underground drug production workshop.

Jonathan could find out in more detail, but why would he? As he had already decided before, he’s not going to play vigilante. He won’t be personally blowing up warehouses filed with illicit contraband and rescuing illegal workers from sweatshops. Nor would he be leaving cute messages for the police in the style of costumed heroes as he leads them to the criminal mastermind. Besides, he has the real thing that can put anyone in jail, if we talk about official documentation anyway. With what he had, after a week of ‘work’, he could put half of the big officials of this city behind bars.

And he still wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with this compromising material. Although despite the fact that he was involved in Mount Glenn's criminal element, he wasn’t in any way constrained in time or in his actions to consider eliminating Mount Glenn's underworld as his priority.

As long as drug dealers and corrupt officials just use me as an errand boy, and that their product destroys the lives of only other people, I don't care. Yes, you are indeed a good man, Jonathan. You know, you lost your moral compass quite fast. Can’t do a lot worse than murder…

Jonathan shook his head, straightened his cloak, and took a deep breath. It’s not like his dossier will disappear if he doesn’t use it. No matter if he does it tomorrow or ten years from now, his dossier of evidence will continue to lie in his desk drawer until it sees the light one day. But as always, Jonathan had to tell himself that now is not the time.

There will NEVER be a time, Jonathan!

Besides, in general, despite the blackmail, his conditions were not so…  bad.

Since Bor did not hold any significant documentation regarding Jonathan's work, whether for fear of the possibility of the document falling into the wrong hands, or for some other reason, Jonathan was not afraid of being jailed for having ties to criminals. And the chance of the authorities catching him when he’s smuggling neared zero. And besides, the police chief was in on the take, he’s in no danger of being investigated anytime soon.

With no fear of him spending time behind bars, and with how light-handed his ‘clients’ treated him, the situation threatened to become disgustingly... normal.

A person gets used to everything, huh, Jonathan?

As that last terrible thought freezing him in place, Jonathan frowned, trying his best to muffle the thought in his head.

You certainly haven't betrayed the old man's ideals, have you, Jonathan? Just working with crime, right, Jonathan? You don't pull the trigger - you just load the gun, right, Jonathan? Your life is more precious than anything else, isn't it, Jonathan?..

Jonathan closed his eyes as his conscience bombarded his mind. Perhaps if he breathed out hard enough, he would be able to dispel all his thoughts at once. In vain, he pulled his cloak tighter, as if he were freezing.

He… did not betray the old man's ideals. He was still Jonathan Goodman, a worthy son of the Order of Hermes. He was still doing the right thing. He was still a good man.

Jonathan's eyes fell on the polished glass of the shop window. The glass, so clean that it reflected the street, rare passers-by and...

Himself.

Really?

Jonathan froze for a second before closing his eyes and turning away, hurrying down the street as if to escape his reflection.

The reflection in the mirror grinned at him at the last second, before winking like a conspiratorial friend, supporting his choice. Jonathan didn't even want to risk looking in a mirror at this moment, so he headed down the street, looking at his feet.

Compromising evidence is, of course, good. But you can't keep a raised sword forever, Jonathan. If you do not swing it, then it will only fall out of your weakened hands. And you don't want to stand under the falling blade, Jonathan. Nobody wants to. Neither you nor those who stand next to you.

Looking up at the sky, Jonathan shrugged. The weather forecast promised a long week of rain. In support of their words, Jonathan was able to see a slowly creeping dark cloud hovering on Mount Glenn.

And, like the rest of Mount Glenn, a dark cloud slowly covered Jonathan's thoughts.

There was very little time left before the rain would start and thunder would strike.

***

Olivia preferred to be serious in her life. Not as serious, dry and seemingly unconscious as pretty much all officials in any kingdom in the world were. And perhaps not as serious as Professor Cameleon, who taught Advanced Tactical Training at Beacon. But between Roman's pompous foolishness, Night's easy-going nature and the least to be said about Gretchen’s Vacuoan Prickly Pear-like nature the better. Is it any surprise that Olivia preferred to keep her head on top of the general frivolity of her team?

She was the guiding light that is responsible for leading them in the right direction. Now, if she could only do that without losing her head. And preferably while not succumbing to her teammates' persuasion attempts to skip a few lessons or get out at night to a bar in Vale all the while ignoring the upcoming exam the next day.

She was not completely heartless, or without a sense of fun as Roman would likely exclaim, so her team managed to make Olivia participate in their adventures a couple of times. And while she wants her team to treat all their outings seriously, Olivia could understand and appreciate the jokes and joyful tomfoolery of her team…  But if anyone else were to see her expression now, they would probably agree with the rumors that she knew Roman had spread. Right now there was no trace of levity in her expression.

"Could you… " Olivia swallowed nervously, looking at Night. "Could you have made a mistake in scouting?"

“I could,”  Night did not press his claim before looking at Olivia, “There were too many of them to count without possibility of error… but I counted twice. The Sectoral and density estimates…  the results speak for themselves.”

Olivia closed her eyes at these words, frozen. Roman and Gretchen, sitting on either side of her, also froze, not daring to interrupt Olivia's thoughts.

Magnolia Woodstock’s Tactics of Countering the Grimm Horde, Chapter 2, The Mechanism for Grimm Horde Formation…

Olivia never suspected that she would one day regret her good memory...

Clusters of Grimm would only be something that attracts the attention of Hunters if the horde of one hundred or more Grimms. Clusters smaller in number were generally unstable and, usually, disintegrated long before they could somehow unite into a single larger horde. Hordes of Grimm less than a hundred were a small danger to any significant settlement on Remnant. Even one hundred or two hundred were considered very low risk clusters.

And, although such numbers were still somewhat dangerous, they rarely attracted the attention of hunters. That is of course, unless they were forming near unprotected settlements or near points of strategic importance like the transmitting towers of the Global Communication System or dust mines.

The reason why team ORNG was sent to Mount Glenn in the first place was to monitor the movement of the eight hundred Grimm clustering around the settlement. Still, when compared to how large and well defended of a settlement Mount Glenn is, such a number only posed a medium-level risk. Even so, there was still a significant amount of Grimm, so according to the protocol, the team was instructed to monitor the accumulation of Grimm and their movement.

In a normal flow of events, the horde of Grimm were expected to increase no more than two percent in the seven days period of observation. Of course, ideally speaking, it would be preferred if they decrease altogether. If, on the other hand, the horde grew by ten percent or more in two weeks, then it would be flagged as a serious matter, indicating that it was ill-advised to leave the horde uncontrolled as it would only grow in size the more time passes.

The horde of Grimm team ORNG was supposed to be monitoring? It has doubled in size in a week.

Grimm gathered in such numbers so quickly only on two occasions. One, it was a spontaneous horde, either generated by the simultaneous burst of a large amount of negative energy by a widespread localized catastrophe or by an ongoing battle between armies. Second, and a possibility that was much worse, a centralized horde created around a beacon of attraction, a strong High-Class Grimm.

Such Grimm were able to independently form hordes around themselves, using their rudimentary intellect, the natural negative energy they exuded, their rudimentary understanding of social hierarchy and whatever other factors. What’s important though is that such a Grimm attracted other Grimms to themselves. Grimms which, after joining the nascent horde, increased the level of negative energy created by the High-Class Grimm, causing more and more Grimm to join the horde. As a result of which the number of Grimm grew uncontrollably and exponentially.

Such an event was extremely rare with only eight official cases documented. So rare in fact that the phenomenon did not have an official term, but among researchers there was a nickname for it…

“It’s a Super-horde.” Night voiced the word with trepidation, naming the worst fear of all Hunters present.

A Super-horde, the worst possible event possible in regard to the Grimm, the biggest catastrophe possible in Remnant. It was an uncontrollable horde formed from the coincidence of many smallest factors, superimposed on each other. Worst of all, its Five Special Danger Factors meant that the disaster can no longer be stopped.

The first and obvious one is its rapid growth, once the ball gets rolling a Super-horde can grow fivefold in a week.

Which would naturally lead to the second Danger Factor, older Grimms. A large horde of Grimm naturally attracts old and extremely strong Grimm. Grimms possessing a rudimentary sense of intelligence and therefore capable of creating a semblance of tactics for the Grimm.

The third is the High-Class Grimm that started the Horde in the first place. It would be a Grimm of at least the eighth danger class and possibly even higher. A disaster in of itself even without the large horde.

The fourth is the fear such a large horde of Grimm would elicit. The uncontrolled horde, the very fact of its existence caused panic among the population which only strengthened the horde. Which in turn, would only cause an uncontrollable spiral of panic, strengthening the horde more and more.

Fifth and worst of all, there is no chance of the natural disappearance of a Super-horde. The Super-horde always attacks settlements in the end. Each case of a Super-horde appearing leaves entire cities bare of all human life.

Of the eight cases of the appearance of a Super-horde, only once did it not end with the destruction of the settlement. So much so that it is entered into the history books, The Great Invasion, repelled by the Last King of Vale.

In all other cases, the Super-horde has always achieved its goal.

Each of those present froze in indecision. Olivia took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She then took a look at Night, hoping that he would break out into a smile right now and say that it was all just a stupid joke.

Alas, Night did not, she only received a hard look back.

Olivia rose from her seat. "I will notify Mr. Creek of the information we’ve gathered. Night, try to contact Headmaster Ozpin…  Or at least Deputy Cameleon. Roman and Gretchen...”

Olivia paused for a second before making a decision and nodding. “Go to your positions, try to count the Grimm and establish observation from…  half a kilometer. Do it for six hours, and report their movement every fifteen minutes.”

Olivia waited for the grim nod from each of her teammates before exhaling grimly.

A Super-horde…  Pursing her lips, she readied herself and ignored the questions bubbling in her head.

What attracted them?

When will they hit?

And the most important thing… What Grimm could have created this Super-horde?

A pitch black thundercloud slowly covered Mount Glenn…

***

"Hmm?" Bor was distracted from his ‘work’ by his ringing scroll, glancing at the number on his scroll. "Creek?"

His old friend, Creek, rarely called Bor, preferring to meet face to face instead. It was so rare in fact that Bor could count on his fingers the number of times Bor had spoken to him on a scroll. What do they need to do that for?

Bor and Creek dined in the same place every day and were always able to discuss all pressing matters during a pleasant meeting full of quality food and high-quality alcohol. Furthermore, urgent events that required immediate resolution rarely occurred in Mount Glenn thanks to the patronage of Bor's many friends. In fact, the last time Creek called him on his scroll was about six years ago when he broke his leg on the doorstep of Bor's house…

In other words, Bor should have been surprised and perhaps even feeling some amount of panic by such an unusual event. That is, of course, if not for the fact that no significant events had happened in Mount Glenn for the last six years. And therefore it can’t be anything serious.

Perhaps Creek wanted to share with him the joyful news that his wife is pregnant? That would be good news indeed.

Bor was no stranger to sentimentality, and he could not imagine any other reason for the call from Creek. Therefore, opening the scroll, he just smiled, as he looked into the face of his old friend. “How are you, Otto?”

“There’s a Super-horde forming near Mount Glenn.” Creek's voice was short, dry, and with no small amount of trepidation.

Bor was frozen in fear for a second, before immediately calming down and frowning at the poor joke, "I never thought you were a fan of such bad jokes… "

“A Super-horde.” Creek repeated, looking at Bor through the scroll screen with all seriousness he could muster. “Six kilometers to the east, their number has grown at least twofold in the last week.”

This time Bor indeed froze in fear, Creek just glanced at him with his heavy gaze through the scroll screen. He then started speaking again, very clearly and with heavy pressure, "We need Vale's support."

Bor blinked as Creek’s words slowly sank into his psyche. Such a rapidly changing situation did not fit into his worldview. The jarring nature of such an event causes his brain to be unable to determine an answer to Creek's words.

A Super-horde... Ha, a Super-horde… “Why the fuck you just sitting there, and not fucking these fucking Grimm with your fucking army?!” Bor literally jumped in a fit of panic and anger. “QUICKLY LIFT YOUR ASS AND…”

“Without Vale’s army, there’s no chance,” Creek replied sharply, for the first time in the last few years letting his voice grow a little louder than usual. “Call all your ‘acquaintances’, and then call Vale!”

Bor paused, trying to understand what was being said, to make out word by word of Creek's sentence. Acquaintances? Vale?

“No, no, no!” Bor immediately denied unequivocally, feeling a surge of anger in response, “For thirty years I have sought the independence of Mount Glenn from Vale, not to bend under them at the first sign of danger! Asking for help from Vale is not possible, absolutely not!”

Although Bor was not the most influential politician, he was an extremely influential person - and at the same time an extremely greedy person. Bor was one of the people who moved to Mount Glenn when it was first founded, thirty-two long years ago. He was among the people hoping to start their political career in a new place, hoping to succeed and climb to the top.

And although his original plan to enter the most important seats of Government failed, he never gave up on his plans for the future. For thirty years Bor accumulated his resources, his ‘acquaintances’. Just like bankers hoard lien, so did Bor hoard Power in the hope of ​​returning to big politics someday. For thirty years he methodically, through dozens of his acquaintances, supported the independence of Mount Glenn in the hope of one day being on the top again…

Thirty years of work could not just be wasted simply because of some horde of Grimm!

“Absolutely out of the question!” Bor shook his head indignantly. “Why don’t you get your ass up and bomb the fuck out of that damn horde before it gets even bigger!”

Creek just stared at Bor like he was looking at some kind of strange creature, then closed his eyes, trying to exhale slowly to control his anger. He failed. He glanced back up sharply at Bor and looked at him with such hatred that Bor had to exert all his strength in order not to recoil in fear.

“LISTEN HERE, YOU SHIT-FUCKING SON OF A WHORE AND A GOAT-FUCKING FAUNUS! MOVE YOUR FAT ASS AND START CALLING! IF YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND THE DANGER WE’RE IN, LET ME SIMPLIFY IT FOR YOU! WITHOUT VALE THERE WOULD BE NO MORE MOUNT GLENN!” For the first time in his acquaintance with Bor Creek swore, and in such a severe manner too.

Bor took a step back away from the scroll and the seething face on the screen… Slowly, he felt anger begin to boil in his soul.

“What did you call me?” Bor deceptively calmly asked his old friend, “A shit-fucking son of a whore and a goat-fucking faunus? Really original, Creek, I never even suspected such creativity lurks in you…”

“Bor,” At such a reply Creek just exhaled and looked at his old friend, “Without Vale, Mount Glenn will not survive, every second counts. We've known each other for fifteen years, and you should know that I appreciate our friendship. But if you refuse to contact Vale…”

Bor froze, staring into Creek's cold eyes, waiting for the ultimatum, "You’ll do, what?"

“I will call out a national disaster warning and declare martial law,” Creek replied primly, - “You have one hour.”

“One hour?” Bor blinked in surprise and looked at Creek severely. “Are you... Threatening me?”

“I’m simply doing what is necessary,” Creek took a last glance at Bor before the connection was cut, leaving Bor alone in the office again.

Bor blinked. Fifteen years…  for fifteen years they’ve known each other. They talked together, they celebrated the New Year and the Winter Solstice together, they wished each other happy birthdays and had lunch every day. Fifteen years.

And it all was to be broken in one instance?

An hour. Creek gave him one hour.

Bor suddenly couldn't help but start laughing.

Fifteen years. Creek gave him one hour...

Bor clutched the scroll in his hands, so tightly it began creaking.

Fifteen years. Six of which Bor spent dragging Creek into the position as the leader of the Self-Defense Forces. And now Creek has given Bor an hour...

CREEK.

DARED TO.

THREATEN.

HIM, HIM.

CREEK?

JUST.

WHAT.
THE.
FUCK.

DID.

HE.

THOUGHT,
OF.
HIMSELF?!

Bor slammed the table with such force that his fist imprinted into it before immediately turning his attention back to the scroll in his other hand.

Fifteen years. FOR FIFTEEN YEARS DID HE CONSIDER, ACTUALLY CONSIDER HIM A FRIEND?! AND THIS IS HOW HE PAID HIM BACK?!

To piss himself out of fear at the sight of a couple of GRIMM?!

BOR HAS MADE CREEK THE PERSON HE WAS TODAY. AND CREEK NOW DARE TO THREATEN HIM?!

A quick dial of the number to one of Bor's many friends was quickly answered, and a face was displayed on the scroll’ screen. The face of an unremarkable person with watery, soulless blue eyes, in which you could barely discern a hint of emotion. It was an expression which looked completely alien on a smiling face, but so suitable for the thin hair the person on the other side had on his head, combed forward.

“Zoen,” Bor smiled as he looked into the face of one of his friends, “You owe me a lot.”

At these words, Zoen only smiled, although no shadow of an emotion flashed in the completely empty eyes of another old friend of his, “Of course, I owe you a lot. And if you need something, just tell me.”

Bor stared into Zoen's empty eyes and felt a surge of anger as he remembered the event that had happened not a minute ago, before allowing himself a wicked grin.

“It seems that Creek has forgotten, thanks to whom he was in his position.” Bor took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes. “Open the archives, Creek needs to be arrested. Immediately.”

“Of course,” Zoen just nodded without asking questions, “Six cars will be ready in twenty minutes.”

“Okay”, - Bor nodded, and then, a moment later, the screen of his scroll blanked again, fading into a black mirror.

Bor narrowed his eyes. He had known Creek for fifteen years, but he had dreamed of climbing to the top of Mount Glenn politics for thirty years.

The difference was obvious. Which he would sacrifice was just as obvious.

The slow black cloud outside the window seemed to slowly devour Mount Glenn. The web, which Bor was so proud of, slowly swayed under the onslaught of the ever-rising wind of the inexorably approaching storm.

***

“Greetings,” Ozpin sat down on his chair, making sure that his terminal was connected to the terminals of all the Advisors of Vale. “I apologize for such an abrupt meeting.”

“Ozpin,” A sigh from one of the screens, it was the young Finance Advisor, sounded reproachful. “If you had called an emergency council, I would like to hope that you had a good reason for it.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Ozpin, contrary to his custom, did not start the conference by pouring a mug of coffee or with a long and lengthy greeting, causing the advisors to frown at the breach of normality. If Ozpin had called an emergency meeting and acted like he meant business, perhaps it was a really serious occasion. “We had detected the formation of a Super-horde.”

Ozpin's words had the effect of a bomb exploding. At first the whole council froze for a second, before each started screaming questions, in panic, or in denial. Each of their voices drowned out by each other, turning into an indistinguishable noise.

“Quiet!” Ozpin immediately tried to call the council to order, to some success. “The situation is urgent, so it would be best for us not to waste time on meaningless screaming. Yes, Mr. Knight?”

“Where is it forming exactly?” The first to ask a question was the head of Vale's self-defense force. Something which was to be expected from him really.

“About six kilometers from Mount Glenn.” Ozpin answered calmly, but clearly. “At the moment it doesn’t seem to be moving anywhere specific, but it can change at any moment.”

“Mount Glenn?” The incredulous voice of the Counselor on Domestic Policy and Law Making, made Ozpin grimace inwardly. “We did not receive any information from them…”

“So, you will get it later.” Ozpin answered clearly, shifting his gaze to the Councilman in charge of the Army. “It is necessary to assemble an army as soon as possible and…”

“Wait!” The grating voice of the Foreign Policy Councilwoman made Ozpin breathe an irritated sigh inwardly, they really don’t have the time to play twenty questions. “Who brought this information?”

“A team of hunters-in-training from Beacon was sent to Mount Glenn to perform a training mission, to observe a small cluster of Grimm nearby. I can’t imagine the surprise they must have felt to spot a Super-horde instead.” Ozpin looked at the councilwoman. “They brought this information to me.”

“Hmm…” - the voice of the Economic councilman caught Ozpin's attention, - “Who can confirm this information?”

“What?” Ozpin blinked in confusion. “The information was confirmed by hunters, specialists in detecting and evaluating hordes of Grimm…”

“In-training, Ozpin. Hunters-in-training.” The counselor hastened to correct Ozpin, - “Where is the official request for help from Mount Glenn?”

“Surely it is being prepared at the moment.” Ozpin looked intently at the Army counselor. “It is imperative that we prepare all the available armed forces in case…”

“Wait, you want to send the military?!” The Economic counselor immediately jumped into the dialogue, interrupting any possible response from the Army counselor. “Without a request from Mount Glenn’s government?!”

“According to the agreement ‘On granting a wide degree of autonomy to the settlement of Mount Glenn within the Kingdom of Vale’,“ The voice of the Domestic Policy counselor sounded surprisingly calm. “We have no right to bring more than a hundred soldiers closer than ten kilometers to Mount Glenn without an official request from their government. We don't need another ‘forest incident’ on our hands.”

Ozpin winced at the mention of the event that was like an aching toothache. That damn Grimm incident... All the problems with Mount Glenn began with that Grimm incident and the resulting treaty. The fact that Mount Glenn’s government was already prepared with their demands simply didn’t ring any alarm bells to the government of Vale that wanted to sweep the incident under the rug.

“The situation at hand is extraordinary, and not something one expect to happen.” Ozpin tried to defend his point of view. “Most likely the request is being prepared at the moment and…”

“And we can act when it is ready and delivered.” The Economic counselor interrupted before Ozpin could finish. “If we want to remain a state ruled by the law, and one that respects our own treaties, we will not be sending troops into the territory of Mount Glenn until that moment.”

“Especially if the only reason for these actions are the words of the hunters-apprentices”, - The counselor for Internal Policy added snidely, forcing Ozpin to blink at first in incredulity before looking into the eyes of the counselors. Career politicians who’ve never encountered a Grimm gainsaying the report of a Hunter. He wonders if it’s a bad call to call them blithering idiots.

“You do not believe me,” Ozpin concluded calmly as he looked at the counselors, - “Me and my students.”

“There is always a probability of error,” The Foreign Policy counselor commiserated, simply confirming Ozpin’s observation. “And therefore we would prefer to err on the safe side as much as possible in such a delicate matter…”

“You can't just shrug off such a large threat,” Ozpin said calmly, but intently, looking into the Counselor’s eyes for a battle of wills, forcing her to accept a contest in which the Counselor didn’t stand a chance.

"We will immediately send a request for confirmation to Mount Glenn’s government about the information provided to us." The councilwoman compromised, looking away.

Ozpin froze at the lackluster response, before exhaling, - “It looks like that... this is the best I could have hoped for in these conditions.”

“I will keep the entire Council informed of any development.” The Domestic Policy counselor confirmed Ozpin’s words before nodding. “If no one is against it, I’m afraid I have to go.”

A second later, there were equally empty words of support from the rest of the counselors, before the Emergency Council ended as quickly as it began.

Ozpin was now alone in his office, staring at the screen of his projector, which had changed to rows of tables of income and expenses of the school.

Slowly, Ozpin squeezed his hand, and raised it in exasperation and anger. Before exhaling powerlessly and, opening his fist, slowly lowered his hand to the table.

All that was left for him to do at the moment…  is to hope that team ORNG failed the class for ‘Mechanism of Grimm Horde Formation’ and just made a mistake.

Ozpin hoped so.

***

“D-Doctor!” An out of breath scientist burst into Dr. Merlot’s office. As usual, the doctor ignored the sputtering scientist and continued to draw a new blueprint for his device.

“An accident! One of the scientists is injured! Sample twenty-one went out of control and attacked an employee!”

“Have you gotten rid of the sample?” Without taking his eyes off his drawing, Dr. Merlot moved his hands, measuring an appropriate length with a ruler.

“Yes, the security service managed to shoot it!” Trying to catch his breath, the young scientist leaned against the door. “But Phoenix is heavily ​​wounded! He’s in critical condition, we called an ambulance immediately, but it might be too late…”

“That's unfortunate.” Dr. Merlot remarked blandly as he drew another line on his blueprint, then sighed.“His sacrifice in the name of science will not be forgotten. I will give his family the due I owe them, surely.”

For a second, faced with such an indifferent reaction, the scientist was frozen in shock before sharply straightening up. “The Beowulf attacked the scientist! Sample twenty-one, the suppressor failed! After two days, it stopped working and the Beowulf again showed aggressiveness! The suppressors can't even cope with a Beowulf, but we've already given the order to start experiments on an Ursa Minor and an Ursa Major!”

“Yes, I know,” Merlot sighed as he regarded the scientist as an idiot. “I personally instructed the one responsible for the samples to double the initial control level.”

“Sample twenty-one had a triple dose!” Having finally caught his breath, the scientist took a step towards Merlot, finding himself next to his desk filled with blueprints. Before putting his hand on the Doctor’s shoulder and looking into the Doctor's face, “Cancel the experiment immediately! An urgent study of the suppressors is needed…”

At these words, Merlot only sighed and looked into the eyes of the young scientist. “The Suppressors were created with a significant leeway…”

“And it's still not enough!” The scientist took a step back, shocked by just how much the Doctor is blind to the danger. “You have no right! These dangerous experiments must be stopped immediately!”

At his exclamation, Dr. Merlot only sighed and returned to his blueprint. “If that’s all, I suggest you return to work.”

“Not a fucking single chance!” - Tearing off his lab coat with a sharp jerk, causing several buttons to fly off, the young scientist started walking away.  “I'm going straight to the police!”

“I don’t think so.” Merlot just remarked quite nonchalantly.

Ignoring Merlot's words, the scientist walked away with a brisk pace, but instead of doing anything else, Merlot himself only took out his scroll. A moment later, the scroll connected to one of his new friend.

“Bor,” Merlot looked into the man's face, he looked like just ate a lemon. “I need you to deal with a problem…”

These young and idiotic employees… they should be ashamed of calling themselves scientists! With the way they constantly mishandled his equipment, suppressors that were designed by himself! And then to dare complain when they themselves were the one to blame. What utter rubbish!

Merlot grimaced inwardly, continuing to inform Bor that seemed strangely angry, about the looks of the young scientist. The problem.

Why was it that Merlot always had to deal with illiterate idiots and weaklings !? Naive idiots who did not understand the scale and importance of their own work?!

How could they demand to stop their experiments right now? When Merlot - no, the whole Remnant! have managed to reach the threshold of a new scientific discovery?! A scientific breakthrough comparable in importance only to the discovery of dust?!

Merlot, after parting with Bor, rolled his eyes.

No stops! No indulgences! Only development! Only progress! Only forward! For the good of all Remnant!

And so the dark cloud that had blanketed Mount Glenn darkened more and more...