G.N. Chapter 52 (Patreon)

Chapter 52 Race and Endure

Three whole Blood Vials.

That was what it took for Jaune to be barely able to scrape himself off the ground.

Jaune arched his back and began to cough and hack until a whole slew of blood and viscera spilled from his mouth and splattered across the cracked bricks where he landed. His first breaths were heaving gasps that inflated his chest and led to even further coughing and a second, shorter burst of gore tearing out of his insides.

Slowly, Jaune rolled onto his back, his hand resting over his freshly healed gut, where his digestive tract had slipped out only moments before. Though powerful as the Blood was, it could not restore his entire body despite the quantity. Jaune had to take several moments to get his breathing right as the collapsed lung inside his chest was one of the things that failed to restore itself.

When his heart slowed, and his breathing straightened out, Jaune could look down and assess his condition.

It was not good.

His right arm was still a dead weight, missing fingers, and though the bone seemed to have mended, Jaune could still feel a deep pain from the injury under his arm. Trying to move it sent a stabbing flurry of hurt into his chest and left him gritting his teeth.

Jaune dragged his fingers over his face, brushing them across his still split lip and the gap where his teeth had been knocked out. Higher up, he reached the sealed flesh where his eye had attempted to heal, but his fingers still felt splinters of wood that had lodged into his flesh.

Jaune reasoned that the bullet from the bearded Hunter’s first shot must have impacted the rickety bridge first and sent the old timber lancing into his face. Jaune moved his fingers to the side and felt his left eye, finding the section swollen nearly shut and a portion of ripped flesh around the actual eyeball.

Jaune chose to stop exploring at that point as he would rather not feel the full extent of damage to his eye.

A lousy cough turned into a gag and a snort as blood and mucus launched from his previously busted nose. Jaune recalled that the Hunter had driven his Saw Spear into it, and now, at least, he knew something in his face had healed besides the wounds clotting.

Jaune returned his hand to the floor and grasped around for his Saw Cleaver, but he failed to find the weapon. At this point, Jaune had to slide his arm under himself and push himself up to look around.

Taking stock of his location, Jaune saw that he wasn’t lying on the usual cobbled ground but instead on a bricked floor now tainted by copious amounts of his blood. It took him a moment to find his Saw Cleaver, which blended into the pool of blood that grew outward from him thanks to its own coating of the substance. Finding it, though, Jaune pulled it to his side, the heavy cutting weapon dragging across the bricks, sending a slosh of blood running toward a random pile of ash.

Jaune transformed his Saw Cleaver, sending a spray of red arching through the air. With the weapon extended to its full length, he wasted no time using it to prop himself up. It was a slow process, but Jaune fought until his legs were back under him.

Despite the Blood Vials, his right leg ached and felt stiff as he shifted his weight, testing the limb. Eventually, though, Jaune was standing on his own two legs… if barely.

“Uooohhhh.”

Jaune looked toward the noise and found a Messenger, Stitch, positioned at the entrance to a doorway. His tiny bulbous eyes stared hypnotically into the darkness within.

“S-Sich?” Jaune got out, failing to pronounce the ‘t’ sound in his friend's name, thanks to the teeth his mouth had lost. A quick second to adjust and Jaune tried again, “Stitch? …What is it?”

The small Messenger glanced back, and upon its wide yellow eyes spotting the sight of him, Jaune was confronted with the knowledge that Stitch’s eyes could grow wider. Concern was an odd expression on Stitch’s unique face, given the Messenger’s bulbous eyes and lack of lips.

“Wuuurrrghhh!”

Jaune tried to smile, but red-tinted drool spilled out of his mauled mouth. “I’m okay, but I think I need to cut my losses; I’ve- I am… I’m nearly at the end of my rope here.”

Stitch, hearing his words, started to nod but stopped, his larger head freezing atop his body as he looked back towards the room he had been staring into. Jaune watched with his only good eye as the Messenger raised one of its thin hands and proceeded to point into the dark room it was before.

“Looouuaa…” Stitch groaned.

Jaune knew Stitch well enough to instantly know what he was trying to communicate.

“… Something in there?” Jaune asked for confirmation, though it wasn’t necessary.

Stitch nodded without his usual enthusiasm.

Jaune limped forward, his Saw Cleaver serving as a walking stick as he approached the near pitch-black room at a crawl. He realised his error as he took his first step onto the short stack of stairs leading into what he had assumed was likely an abandoned house.

A feral snarl from within ripped through the air, and Stitch let out a terrified howl, but Jaune was already responding. Jaune pressed himself into the wall as tightly as he could, just as the Beast inside barrelled out, arms grasping rabidly.

Jaune watched it rush past, his whole body racked with the pain of slamming against the wall, bashing his right arm into the stonework. But despite the pain, the confusion, the surprise… Jaune still brought his Saw Cleaver up above the Beast.

He swung down the cleaver edge of his weapon, splitting through the back of the Beast’s neck and carving out a chunk of flesh and bone. The ambusher collapsed to the ground, one of its legs spasming as blood spread about the shroud it wore over its head.

Jaune turned to a blood-splattered Stitch, “You and I are going to have a comprehensive discussion later concerning appropriate timing.”

“Ough…”

Jaune couldn’t talk further as a series of bestial noises alerted him to the other occupants of the building rapidly approaching. Jaune folded his Saw Cleaver again, sheathed it, then pulled out a Molotov and, without preamble, hurled it into the room.

The glass bottle soared over the first pair of Beasts approaching to crash against the far back wall. Flames erupted, washing over a staircase leading upstairs, and a Beast that had scampered down, hungry for blood.

The approaching cloaked Beasts looked back and watched as another monstrous resident of Old Yharnam collapsed to the ground, writhing in burning agony. Some of the smaller Beasts on the stairs scrambled in retreat, all but crawling back up the stairs away from the new burning barrier.

Jaune, now able to perceive things clearly with the aid of the new blazing light source, charged the distracted monsters, his Saw Cleaver once more in hand. His pain and fatigue were pushed aside for the moment as he was determined to strike first and strike hard.

Jaune bound forward before leaping towards his quarry and landed on the leg of a cloaked Beast that had turned around fully to observe the fire raging behind it. His weight caused the creature's leg to snap, the bone piercing outward through the flesh. The second Beast didn’t even have time to respond to Jaune attacking its ally as he lashed out with his Saw Cleaver.

The serrated edge of his trick weapon tore through the Beast’s stomach, opening its guts and throwing its intestines out like a loose rope. It spun once, falling to the ground, blood racing out of its open stomach as it pawed around on the floor pitifully.

The Beast, whose leg he destroyed, arched back, snapping its jaws at him.

Jaune twisted on the spot, driving his heel down into the break in the Beast's leg. The sudden jolt of pain caused the Beast to lock up and squeal. This bought enough time for Jaune to strike out with his folded Saw Cleaver, the serrated edge driving into the Beast’s skull and splitting its eye in half.

The Beast’s body locked up for half an instant before it went limp as Jaune twisted his folded Saw Cleaver, devastating its brain and cracking open its head, blood exploding out from the wound.

Jaune stepped off the Beast, jerking the weapon free of the corpse as he turned his attention to the Beasts on the stairway.

Breathing heavily as exhaustion was taking its toll on him, Jaune noticed that some of the Beasts were all cowering away from the flames. The smaller, more sickly ones were all halted by the blaze, their arms raised as if shielding their faces from its glow.

Though the cloaked Beast amongst the ranks seemingly bore no such fear.

It leapt off the stairs, vaulting the railing as it descended on Jaune with primal savagery.

Jaune met it with the same ferocity, but his body fought against him, slowing his swipes as the Beast managed to duck under his attacks. In comparison, its own attack landed, its claw raking down his right arm that trailed behind, tearing flesh until it bounced off the Threaded Cane still entwined about the limb.

It followed its slashes with a bite, but Jaune leaned into it, sacrificing his already mauled arm to get in close. The Beast’s fangs, laced with poison, plunged into his flesh but were stopped from causing anything more than superficial damage by the Threaded Cane.

Jaune retaliated, positioning his Saw Cleaver under the Beast before transforming the trick weapon. The blade flicked out with all the mechanical force it was capable of, cleaving through the Beast’s neck, decapitating it completely.

The sudden weight loss sent Jaune backpedalling as he collapsed, dragged down by the Beast’s head that was still clamped around his arm. Jaune looked back towards the stairs and the fire that was starting to die down, the smaller Beasts gaining confidence as the flames dissipated.

Seeing time was of the essence, Jaune wedged his Saw Cleaver in the decapitated Beast’s maw and used his knee to lever it open. The head thumped to the ground as the first Beast courageously rushed through the nearly gone flames. Jaune rushed to get back on his feet, not wanting to be dogpiled by their numbers.

As he clambered to his feet, desperate to buy himself time, Jaune stabbed his weapon into the floorboards, hefted the severed Beast’s head and hurled it at the sickly monster. His aim was spot on as the severed head slammed into the Beast’s face, halting it in its approach.

With his feet back under him, Jaune charged at the closest Beast and shoved it back to the base of the stairs, causing it to trip up the others. Seeing the pile of Beasts, all clumped on top of each other, Jaune knew what he had to do.

Jaune dropped his Saw Cleaver and snatched another Molotov up in the same motion. The roar of the Molotov exploding on the pile of Beasts was deafening in his ears as he watched them all go up in flames.

As the flames raged, Jaune’s whole body slumped, his legs shaking as he struggled to remain standing despite the severe trauma he was currently enduring.

He was unprepared when something lunged through the fire, crashing into him and throwing him to the floor and away from his Saw Cleaver, which was now out of his reach.

Fur still smoking, the sickly thing threw itself onto Jaune, who was unable to avoid its attack. It landed on his midsection, its knees driving into the top of his hips as its claws plunged into his bicep and the space below his diaphragm. It snarled viciously before pulling its head back and opening the vile tainted pit that was its muzzle. The Beast lunged forward and sunk its fangs into his shoulder, the force of its bite splitting flesh as its teeth scraped across the bone.

Jaune screamed in pain as the Beast mauled him, its head shaking as it violently shredded and tore his flesh up, ripping free a hunk of bloody meat.

The Beast reared back with its red-caked trophy clutched in its teeth, Jaune’s blood drooling down its front and painting its neck red with viscera.

Jaune saw this. He saw the monster above him; this Beast triumphantly poised above him with a piece of himself bleeding in its jaws…

And something snapped.

“Get off me!” Jaune roared, ignoring the claws piercing his bicep and slamming his fist into the Beast. His knuckles rammed into its ribs, snapping the bones as his fist dug into its thoracic cavity.

The small Beast crumbled from the blow, slumping down, and Jaune lost in the throes of his pain and fury, rampaged.

Jaune shot up, driving his forehead into its face. The crunch of its unprotected anatomy yielding beneath his forehead was lost to the ringing in his ears. Jaune, bereft of his arms and enraged beyond reason, attacked with all that was left.

Jaune snapped his jaws shut on the Beast’s throat.

The thing squealed in pain, the noise distorted as Jaune bit down harder, his teeth breaking skin as blood began to fill his mouth. The Beast squirmed and writhed, trying to pull away, and Jaune managed to push off with his good arm, forcing the Beast down to the ground.

Now, on top, Jaune didn’t relent. He was so far gone that, if anything, he redoubled his efforts, slamming his fist into the Beast’s face as he bit down again, his teeth meeting further resistance.

The Beast thrashed and bucked, fighting desperately for its life as Jaune continued to brutalise its face as he mauled the creature.

The Beast slams its hands into his front, desperately trying to dislodge him, but Jaune only bites down harder.

Then he felt the crack.

Something in the Beast’s neck succumbed to his attack, and the Beast’s noises went from panicked squeals to gagging, choked gasps.

Jaune ceased his punches, driving the heel of his palm into the Beast’s face as he shoved its head away at the same time as he let out a roar of exertion, the noise muffled by the Beast’s fur-covered meat and the volumes of blood filling his mouth.

The same wet crack from before occurred again, but it was far grander this time as Jaune’s mouth shut nearly completely. The Beast’s desperate shoves stuttered, the fight leaving it almost entirely as more blood began to gush from the savaged throat.

Jaune reared back, pressing down on its brutalised face as he forced his blood-caked jaws back, pulling and tearing out a mixture of meat and cartilage as the Beast’s body slowly yielded. At last, the monster's neck gave in, and Jaune’s head snapped upright, the prize of his savagery clenched between his teeth in a show of gory retribution.

The Beast lay there spasming, its exposed windpipe pumping out spurts of deep, bubbly crimson as its lifeblood spurted out of its body's new opening.

Jaune spat the hairy flesh from his mouth, the hunk of meat splattering on the floor along with a spray of dislodged spit and blood. Staggering to his feet as blood, both his own and the Beast’s, ran down him in streaks, Jaune fought stubbornly against a wave of nausea.

Jaune looked down at what he had wrought, the Beast slowly bleeding out onto the floor through the missing chunk of its neck, its eyes unfocused and wide, blinking back.

Jaune had seen enough.

With such haste that it nearly caused him to stumble and trip, Jaune brought his boot above the beaten Beast’s head.

Crunch

He stomped down with such force that the insides of the Beast’s skull launched out in a red spray as its bloodstained grey matter spread across the floor like spilt mince. Jaune’s booted foot lodged in the floor due to the force of his stomp required earnest effort to pry free, causing the remaining contents of the Beast's skull to slide out in a slosh of gore.

The act of doing so left Jaune spent as he fell to his hand and knees, feeling dizzy and overwhelmed. Jaune did his best to spit out some of the blood in his mouth but realised his efforts were almost wholly redundant as there was little chance he would be able to be rid of all of it.

So, instead, he expelled a fraction of what remained boiling in his mind.

“Ahh!” Jaune screamed with everything that he had, his nails digging into the floorboard as a gut-wrenching cry ripped out of his throat. On and on, the noise went, bouncing around the now-empty building he had made into a tomb.

But eventually… his lung ran out of air, the noise dying off as he was left panting and still.

When he moved, it was slow. His whole body protested every movement, even breathing, resulting in a persistent ache. But indeed, he rose, standing once more.

Jaune reached for his belt, going for where he usually slotted his Blood Vials.

But they were gone.

Jaune looked down, and instead of the Blood Vials he desperately needed, his finger dragged across something sharp.

Jaune looked down and felt all the exhaustion from before returning with a vengeance.

The vials were broken.

He had no Blood Vials.

Jaune was left at a loss for what to do.

“Huagh!”

Jaune looked toward the familiar groan and saw Stitch waving at him desperately from across the room. Jaune began to make his way over, his stiff legs carrying him over one lethargic step at a time. With each step, a fresh spread of blood dribbled down his fingers to splatter on the floor, leaving a trail of droplets in his wake.

Reaching Stitch, Jaune found the Messenger adjacent to a human's corpse, a handful of Blood Vials resting in his arms. Jaune collapsed to his knees, a fresh spray of blood flecking off him as his knees impacted the ground. Jaune reached for the Blood Vials, taking all of them and jamming them into his thigh.

Jaune kneeled there, letting the Old Blood course through his system until, at last, the many wounds over his body sealed once more, and his blood loss tapered to a halt. Once more, he was pulled back from the brink of death, but it was not nearly enough, in Jaune’s opinion.

Jaune pulled the spent Vials from his leg and let them clatter to the floor. Jaune dragged his hand across his face and up through his hair. Naturally, this was the exact moment he realised he was missing his hat and, upon further consideration, realised he had lost the damn thing when he’d lost his left eye.  

Jaune let out a guttural sigh as he rolled his head to look at a very apologetic-looking Messenger. “Stitch…” Jaune whispered, spitting out another globule of sickening blood to the side.

“Uhhghh…”

“Direct me… to whatever it is… you wanted me to find,” Jaune instructed, “Quickly.”

Stitch nodded their head furiously before submerging back into the mist, only to reappear elsewhere in the room. Jaune followed as Stitch guided, grabbing a few trinkets of interest from the ground floor and retrieving his Saw Cleaver… but then came the challenging part.

Jaune was exhausted. He was being held together solely by the power of the Old Blood, and for all its capabilities, Jaune was waning. So when Stitch began leading him upstairs, Jaune had to truly consider the worth of what Stitch was leading him to.

Down a lung, carrying the dead weight of an arm that was utterly covered in freshly sealed wounds, his entire body stiff and aching… each step was far more draining than it had any right to be. But despite this, Jaune reached the treasure Stitch had been leading him to.

“Oh… damn,” Jaune muttered, slowly making his way over to yet another dead Hunter.

“Hoooughh,” Stitch groaned, his small, luminous body next to the corpse in question, one of his hands resting on what Jaune assumed to be the Hunter’s weapon.

Jaune slowly dipped into a kneel, careful not to jostle his mauled arm as he sunk to the floor. The Hunter was leaning against the wall. Like many of the other Hunter corpses Jaune had found, the corpse was in surprisingly good condition.

Jaune was starting to suspect that the reason for this was that all the ones that weren’t in good condition weren’t precisely identifiable.

Jaune looked at the corpse, but besides their weapon, there didn’t seem to be anything else of note. He reached out to grasp the strange polearm, but before taking it, he pulled the Hunter’s tricorn down some more, concealing the deceased’s face.

Jaune had to use the polearm to pull himself back to his feet, but as soon as he was standing, he immediately set to inspecting the new weapon.

It was undoubtedly a spear of some sort, boasting a long haft with the obvious mechanisms that would make it some kind of trick weapon, including a lever and what appeared to be hinged. The spear's head was also lengthy and possessed two wings towards the base, bringing Jaune to the conclusion that while indeed a piercing weapon, it would likely still be able to serve should he be required to slash at his enemies.

It took some manoeuvring, but eventually, Jaune settled for simply hugging the weapon to brace it against his body as he tried to activate the mechanism. With the familiar sound of a latch shifting, the spearhead was thrust upward before it slotted to the side of the weapon’s shaft.

“… Curious…” Jaune sniffed, shifting the weapon to let his hold move up under where the head now rested. Inspecting the area around the head and the mechanism that moved it, Jaune discovered a few more components he wasn’t as familiar with.

Then he found the top of the shaft had a deep opening.

“Huh… well, now that’s different,” Jaune muttered. “Right, Stitch… take this back to the workshop and leave it on the bench; I’ll check it out when I return… I’m in no state to try and learn how to use a new weapon presently.”

Stitch nodded and called out, “Ugh!”

After a few seconds, Anima and Mort appeared from their mist pools.

“Guah-ooh!”

“Wagh!”

“Yes, I know… I’m just gathering some things; then I will be heading back, I promise,” Jaune declared, trying to calm the two Messengers, who were both distressed at the sight of him.

Mort went so far as to grab his pants leg, looking up with genuine worry. Anima was sterner in expressing her displeasure about Jaune’s present state, her little groans sounding more like growls.

“… It's not all my blood,” Jaune tried.

“Gruagh!”

“Yeah, I didn’t think that would work,” Jaune mumbled to himself, “Here, the sooner you take this back, the sooner I can get myself patched up.” Jaune passed the new weapon to Anima, hoping it would block most of her animosity.

Anima accepted the weapon, practically snatching it from Jaune’s hand, forcing Stitch and Mort to quickly latch onto the lengthy weapon to help support it.

“Ouagh!” Stitch groaned, taking one of his hands and pointing back up the stairs.

“… Wait, there’s more?” Jaune questioned.

Stitch managed to nod once before Anima gave a harsh reprimand, causing Stitch to freeze. Before Jaune could ask more questions, all three Messengers disappeared, taking the new weapon with them.

Jaune looked at yet another set of stairs and took a not-nearly-deep enough breath as he began to stride over to them slowly, doing his best to focus on his footing.

As Jaune got to the top of the stairs, he was well and truly ready to leave.

“Huaghn…”

“Stitch… just give me a- Hugo?” Jaune uttered breathlessly, fighting against the constricting feeling in his chest as he looked to the left and saw the Messenger about halfway down the hall.

“Ugh…”

“You… What are you doing here, pal?” Jaune huffed, approaching the Messenger.

Hugo, rather than respond, brought his hands down to rest in front of him, his head cocked to the side as he looked down on what Jaune soon realised could only be some written piece. Jaune groaned as he sunk to a single knee to be closer to Hugo and see what he was looking at.

“… I know you can somehow see even with your whole… eye situation, buddy… but in pitch black, I can’t read something like this,” Jaune informed the Messenger, picking up the sheet of paper that had so enraptured Hugo.

Hugo, though not to be denied, gave out a Groan not dissimilar to the one that Stitch had given to summon Anima and Mort.

Jaune could have done without having to feel his one good eye burn as Stitch appeared holding a lit torch. “Argh… dammit guys, some consideration for the half-dead Hunter here would be nice,” Jaune badgered the two Messengers.

Stitch might have attempted an apology, but if so, it was lost as Hugo shoved the paper towards Jaune with a demanding moan.

“All right, all of you are getting a talk as soon as I am back in the dream,” Jaune threatened, taking the paper and holding it to face the torch.

He had to reread it twice just to be sure of what he was reading, and both times, the words… unsettled him.

“… The red moon hangs low, and Beasts rule the streets.” Jaune began, his eyes darting to Hugo, who was almost statue still. Stitch, in comparison, was crooning as he sunk somewhat lower into his pool of mist.

“Are we left with no other choice, than to burn it all to cinders?” Jaune finished reading, his eyes narrowing at the paper. “Is that what happened here? Was it all too much, so they just… they burnt it all?”

Hugo and Stitch were both silent and Jaune was left with complicated emotions as he handed the note back to Hugo. “I dread to think of how close this night is to the one that saw this entire town burn…”

Hugo let out a low soothing sound as he bowed, disappearing soon after with the paper, leaving Jaune with the torch-bearing Stitch.

“…Somehow, I doubt that paper was what you wanted me to see,” Jaune uttered sarcastically.

In response, Stitch Just pointed outward, directing Jaune to proceed along the current floor, to which Jaune sighed. It was hard to argue with Stitch, given that the little one had just directed him towards a new addition to his arsenal.

Proceeding down the hall, Jaune took careful, measured steps. The old, derelict floor was littered with fallen pieces of timber and scattered bricks. Jaune had little doubt that the ceiling had likely suffered severe damage during the fire that ravaged the district.

Jaune eventually reached a bend. Looking to the right, he found a door to the outside, which left him feeling wary, as he now had to be cautious of possible threats that could enter.

The idea of fighting another foe… did not sit well with Jaune.

When Jaune looked to the left, back into the dark interior of the building, it was impossible to miss Stitch, the little one sitting on the floor in the dark, still holding the same torch. Jaune began to make his way to his friend but was sure to keep his attention to the rear.

In his current state, even a weaker Beast could kill him if it got the drop on him.

As Jaune made his way forward, though, he found his feet freezing in place and realised that, once again, Stitch had led him to a corpse. This, in and of itself, was not a strange occurrence in Yharnam, as there was a period when Stitch managed to lead him to five separate corpses back to back.

It was a harsh reality that Yharnam's bounty mainly resided in its many victims' cold, dead grasp.

But this was different.

Jaune encountered a myriad of dead from all walks of life and all states… but among them, Hunters were the rarest. This is why Jaune immediately knew something was different when he saw the corpse of yet another Hunter but with very different attire.

“Stitch… hand me that,” Jaune breathed, taking the torch from his small friend and holding it over the dead Hunter so he could inspect it better.

“… Well now… you look an awful lot like the Saw Spear-wielding bastard who left me in this state,” Jaune observed aloud, looking over the Hunter’s attire.

The corpse’s Hunter attire was markedly similar to what Jaune was wearing, but Jaune noticed a few things of interest. For one, the collar was slightly more flared with a wider brim, the cape seemed to appear as if wet, and Jaune could smell the scent of singed blood despite the corpse looking wholly unburnt.

Otherwise… the armour looked like a rougher, more dishevelled version of his own, boasting a looser fit and a lack of uniformity between the pieces… but that could be the lack of dye work done to the leather.

“Was this… was this the Hunter’s attire before Old Yharnam was burned? Or perhaps armour made specifically for the area?” Jaune pondered, handing the torch back to Stitch as he curiously felt around the armoured pieces. Jaune’s hunch seemed correct as he found the section of boiled leather and armoured segments hidden in the coat. They were roughly where the armoured section of his own Hunter’s attire was.

The gloves were another big giveaway. They featured additional armour segments covering the fingers and tapering them into claw-like points. The metal bore striking detail, with it being shaped and engraved far over.

His own was a far more simplified version featuring only the metallic vambrace rather than the additional armour covering the fingers, with far less pomp to the metalwork.

“… Well, doesn’t this just open up a whole bunch of questions,” Jaune thought out loud, casting a cursory glance back over his shoulder to ensure nothing foul was approaching him from behind.

“Uhhmmghh.”

“… Yeah… put it on the workbench as well; I think this might be very helpful,” Jaune instructed, rising back up. “With that though, I think we  are done, so how ab-“

A wet, nasally snarl had Jaune twisting about to see a pair of Beasts crawling in through the open doorway that led to the outside world.

“No, thank you,” Jaune proclaimed, his hand darting into his Jacket to take hold of his Bold Hunter’s Mark. He had no intention of fighting the pair and was ready to make off like a bandit after his very successful run of looting.

But there was no mark.

Jaune looked down and found only slashed fabric gripped between his fingers, his eyes widening as the reality of the situation latched on.

 Jaune did the only thing he could.

“Stitch help!”

Hearing his plea, the little one groaned loudly and hurled the torch at his feet before disappearing.

Jaune felt his gut drop at the sight of the Messenger disappearing but didn’t have time to think any more as he pulled out his Saw Cleaver and backed up. The two beasts were of the more minor variation, bloody bandages hanging off their wiry frames as they crept forward. Jaune continued to back up behind the corpse and into some random junk, his Saw Cleaver held in front of him warily.

The Beasts approached, their yellowed eyes illuminated by the bouncing light of the flames in the dark… until they reached the torch.

Jaune watched as both Beasts paused, stalling at the fire. He recalled the same response from the ground floor when he used the Molotovs.

Stitch had been helping.

“Oh, you clever little-“

One of the Beasts pounced over the fire, and Jaune swung, catching it across the face with his Saw Cleaver and tearing open its snout.

But that didn’t stop its momentum.

The Beast crashed into Jaune, and it took all he had to remain standing as it thrashed against him, throwing a fresh spray of flecked crimson across his face.

But it also blocked his view of the other Beast.

Jaune roared as he felt a set of jaws snap shut around his knee, the bone straining against the bite force as he lost his balance and fell back.

He lashed out with his other leg, kicking with his unimpeded foot while holding the other Beast at bay with his Saw Cleaver, but it wasn’t enough.

He felt his patella crack, but he didn’t even have air enough to scream as he saw stars, and the pain skyrocketed.

“Hungh!”

Jaune looked back with agonised eyes and saw Anima with Stitch, her tiny hands outstretched towards him.

In them was a Bold Hunter’s Mark.

Jaune, breathing rapidly, pinned by the two Beasts, felt his mind race as he tried to devise a way to reach the Messengers.

Feeling his knee get ripped out stopped all higher thought as pain, fear, and a bloodthirst that bordered on the inhuman drowned his mind in primal madness.

Jaune screamed breathlessly as he stomped his remaining leg down with all his might and thrust up, the Beast he had been holding back with his Saw Cleaver being dislodged for the briefest instants.

Enough time for Jaune to drop his weapon.

Jaune managed a half roll, reaching back for the Mark with his now free hand, but his injuries hampered him, and the Beast’s claws found their way to his face.

Jaune was blinded as its claws pierced into his remaining eye. Jaune screamed silently; his last sight was the claw and sea of red.

He couldn’t see, but he reached.

He felt Jaws snap shut on his other leg, but he reached.

His throat opened, and blood flooded his airway, but he reached.

He reached until he felt the parchment between his fingers.

There was no hesitation as he snatched the parchment, slammed it against his forehead, and let the symbol etched on its surface suffuse in his mind.

…

When Jaune awoke next to the Lantern at the entrance to Old Yharnam, he didn’t speak, move, or acknowledge the worried little ones hovering about his head.

He lay there as he processed the agony that still echoed in his person until all that was left was the memories.

Then he moved.

He merely reached for the Lantern, his hand wrapping about the post as he let himself drift.

Drif off to the Dream.

YVYVYVYVY

The southwestern district of Bastion was almost utterly devoid of life, as its many residents had fled with haste, hidden away while praying for salvation, or perished to the merciless Grimm. This left the monstrous tide of Grimm to be drawn to the veritable beacon of the northernmost inner wall, where the city's Huntsman and Home Guard had centred their defences.

With the occurrence of the second wave, the Grimm were flowing through the city in vast numbers, pumping in through the Breach and racing within, moving to the final stage of the Breach Pattern.

Incursion.

In this stage, the city had only one course of action: to withstand the coming tide and break the invading Grimm, causing them to enter a dispersal stage. To do so, they would meet the coming horde with everything they had, leaving them devastated at the base of their inner walls.

If the Grimm broke through the city's defences and entered another district, Bastion’s chances of survival would plummet dramatically.

Being in the middle of the second wave was the stuff of nightmares. Grimm swarmed and charged all around, lured to the tantalising negativity rife where the fighting was thickest. An average person caught up in the deluge of murderous monstrosities would find their lives coming to a swift and brutal end.

Even Huntsman and Huntresses avoid such scenarios as being so utterly inundated by Grimm is a surefire way to wind up devoid of Aura and mauled to death. Those that could endure such numbers were few and far between, as it was not uncommon for multiple teams of Huntsman to be called on to defeat Hordes.

However, there existed amongst the ranks of Huntsmen and Huntresses, specific individuals who possessed the ability and talent to survive amid the ravaging horde and shatter it. Those few warriors of such profound durability and destructive potential were the stuff legends were built upon in times gone by.

In modernity, they were regarded with awe and no small amount of fear as they stood like titans, defiant against the worst the Grimm could summon forth. Talked about in the same breath as Elder Slayers, they were a rarity of the truly exceptional.

This was why more than a few people currently racing through the city, both within and atop a particular fire truck, were praying for one to appear.

The fire truck laden with desperate survivors raced along a freeway, swerving around abandoned vehicles and Grimm. Their way was lit only by their headlights, the few surviving street lights, and the occasional burning wrecks of vehicles they passed in a blur.

Standing atop the vehicle, two figures descended on any Grimm that managed to catch them, ensuring their success was met with a swift end. But despite the fallen, even more would pursue, racing behind the truck with unnatural endurance.

Jaune caught a Beowolf mid-pounce, an arm going around its neck as he moved with its momentum, pulling it around and releasing it. The Grimm flew from the truck, snarling and flailing, to crash into one of the burning wrecks, sending the flames a flutter.

There was no time to admire his work, though.

He moved to Arrastra’s side, going low, catching a Nevermore mid-swoop, and slamming the smaller Grimm into the truck's roof. He then pounced on it and began to bludgeon its skull into a paste with the head of his repurposed firehose.

Arrastra was by no means lagging as every swing of Windlass reduced some piece of Grimm to a pulp. Limbs and snatching maws were splattered as she held back the pursuing monsters that snapped at their heels.

A Creep that managed to clamber up the truck’s side was yanked onto the roof and on its back, courtesy of Arrastra. It didn’t even have time to realise this, though, as the Huntress stomped down on its vulnerable underside and raked her clawed foot down its guts, disembowelling the two-legged thing.

Together, Arrastra and Jaune were a terrible sight to behold. Both were caked in such viscous amounts of Grimm viscera that it dripped off them quicker than it disintegrated. But of the two, it was clear who was faring worse, as only one didn’t possess Aura, and it showed.

Jaune was covered in nearly as many cuts as he had tattoos, his body a tapestry of pain and endurance. The cuts ranged from claw marks to superficial nicks, abrasions to actual impalement, as feathers stuck out from his body, which he had been unable to dodge.

But he fought on matching Arrastra’s pace and eclipsing her in ferocity.

“Where the hell are we going!” Tara screamed out the window as she focused solely on keeping their ride ahead of the Grimm and on the road.

“Why don’t you know?” Salmon shouted back as he swung a billhook at a Creep, causing it to hop back to avoid his attack. The Creep disappeared as it plummeted off the edge of the speeding fire truck, allowing Salmon to focus solely on the conversation with Tara.

“You’ve lived here longer than me; why don’t you-“

“The streets look a little different when they are filled with flaming wrecks and fucking monsters!” Tara screamed back, her voice cracking towards the end as the truck rammed into a low-flying Nevermore, reducing it to a feathered pulp.

“Mum!”

The whole truck swerved as Tara heeded her daughter's callout and swerved to avoid another wreck. Salmon, who had been forced to dive prone to remain atop the vehicle, took a long calming breath as he realised the danger of pissing their driver off.

“We need to get off the freeway!” Salmon shouted down far more calmly.

Whatever Tara said in response was lost to a piercing set of screams as, from above, a pack of oily bodies fell from an overpass right onto their vehicle. Several of them missed utterly, their shadowy shapes splatting into the road directly, the smaller ones turning into grisly puddles while the larger ones recovered and gave pursuit.

Others succeeded in landing on the vehicle.

Salmon quickly hops to his feet, his billhook in hand, as he charges at the closest Grimm, intent on removing it. He stood on top of the cabin, looking down on a Creep that was doing its best to cling to the vehicle with its legs.

Salmon was about to swing down on the soulless monster when a loud thump from behind and Teak shouting his name in warning alerted him to the new danger. Salmon responded, twisting and swinging the billhook, hoping to react in time.

The improvised weapon slammed against the brow of the Beowolf that had landed on the truck directly behind him. Although Salmon reacted as fast as he could, his poor swing only scraped across the top of its bone-white mask.

Despite his weak attack, the Beowolf didn’t lunge forward and tear out his throat; it couldn’t because Jade had slashed a glowing blade through its hamstrings.

Spared from a mauling, Salmon quickly capitalised on the young Arc’s assistance as he brought the billhook down on the base of the Grimm’s neck. The hooked implement sunk deep into the monstrous meat, and the abomination stilled, but they were far from out of danger.

“Thanks!” Salmon shouted at the younger blonde, who was looking around to see where the next closest threat was.

“No worries-“

Jade was cut off abruptly as a black mass slammed into her upper torso, and with a winded silent scream, she was sent hurtling back before Salmon’s terrified eyes. Her being flung wasn’t missed, though, as she was plucked from the air by a long, tattooed arm.

“Jade!” Jaune snarled loud enough for the whole truck to hear as he pulled his younger sister into his chest and halted in his efforts to keep the back of the fire truck clear to check on her.

“Is she all right?” Arrastra called over as she dislodged another clinging Grimm from the side of the vehicle.

Jade managed a cough as her breathing returned to normal, and she gave the Huntress and her brother a thumbs-up.

Arrastra gave a distracted smile, but it was cut short as she was forced to swat some lethal feathers out of the air. “Get her back up front and tell that driver that she needs to get us off the freeway, or we’re all dead!”

Jaune didn’t bother replying; he merely marched towards the truck's cabin with Jade held in one arm whilst the other swatted another Nevermore aside. Jade took a moment to appreciate that her brother didn’t even slow his stride as he marched across the top of a speeding vehicle.

It was impossible for her not to feel secure in his arms as he strolled along without pause, as neither the perilous surface nor the Grimm could hinder him.

Jaune was gentle when he placed her next to Sky. "Are you both good?” he shouted over the rushing wind. Only once he had received positive responses from both did he continue to the cabin's roof.

“Why are we still on the freeway?” Jaune asked Salmon, marching right up to the bear Faunus and driving his heel down into the head of the Creep latched to the front of the truck.

Salmon blinked a few times at how casually the tall blond had dispatched the Grimm before managing to get his answer out. “It's somewhat hard to navigate!”

Salmon tried not to let it show how much Jaune’s frown affected him, but he was pretty sure he failed.

“Get to the back and assist Arrastra,” Jaune ordered as he casually dropped off the roof to land on the ledge next to the driver's side door.

Tara did three double-takes at Jaune's appearance next to her before she uttered even a single word. Making a pointed effort not to make eye contact with the blond, she squeezed out a stressed “What?”

“We need to get off the freeway, or we are dead!” Jaune shouted, sparing a glance into the back of the compartment and seeing the state of those in the back.

He chose to keep that another had died to himself.

“How’s everyone… U-up top?” Egg managed to get out.

“No moving,” the firefighter with the broken arm scolded Egg as she directed him to sit back slowly.

Jaune looked at the whiskered Faunus, noting that he was tougher than he had initially estimated, seeing as he was still holding on. “They’re holding on… for now.”

“Where am I going then, huh?” Tara snapped.

Jaune’s frown deepened, and the firefighter in the next seat flinched as she caught sight of his look.

“… Towards the most smoke,” Jaune answered, pointing out to the south, where the city was decorated with a smattering of scattered smoke plumes, but none that compared to the largest one, which was also the furthest back.

It was matched only by the pillars to the north that were closer to the inner walls.

“That’s great, but what exit? What turnoff? Any streets you want to suggest-“

Jaune’s hand snapped inside the cabin and clutched the wheel, steering the vehicle around an Ursa that would have tested the durability of the fire truck. Tara’s knuckles were white as she kept her eyes solely focused on the road, her entire complexion now paler following the near disaster.

The others inside the truck didn’t fare better, as those still drawing breath cringed or groaned from their wounds being exacerbated. Those up top were equally displeased, shouting down at him, but Jaune ignored it as he stared at Tara pointedly.

“… Get us off the freeway and head towards the Breach, or your daughter and everyone else is going to die,” Jaune warned, releasing his grip on the wheel.

“I’m trying!” Tara shouted, her voice wavering as she kept her eyes on the road, but her arms shook despite her ironclad grip on the wheel. “Half the ramps are clogged with wrecks, and some aren’t even standing, dammit!”

“Oi Jaune!” Arrastra shouted from the rear of the truck.

Jaune leaned back to spot the blue-haired Huntress, who was making eye contact as she leaned over the side of the truck. “Ten o’clock and up!”

Jaune followed the directions, but what he saw left him speechless.

But only for a moment.

“There!” Jaune shouted, getting Tara to look at the same thing he was.

“What the fuck is that?” Tara exclaimed, clearly confused.

“Some kind of convoy! That’s how you are getting off the freeway; get in behind them!”

“How do you know they are even going the same way we are?” Tara shouted, her head darting between the roaring convoy on a different stretch of freeway and the cluttered road ahead.

“I don’t, but they can't stay on the freeway indefinitely, and neither can we, so let them clear the way for us!” Jaune instructed as he climbed back onto the roof of the speeding truck, ending the conversation. “We’re going to get in behind them!” Jaune hollered to Arrastra.

“Sounds good!” The blue-haired huntress nodded, tapping Salmon’s shoulder and directing him back toward the front of the vehicle. The Bear Faunus looked less than pleased by the instruction but began to carefully make his way back towards where he was initially, his every step difficult.

“Look out!” Teak screamed. The Faunus, pointing up at the sky, had been the only one lying on his back; hence, he was the only one who saw the incoming danger, but his warning elicited an immediate response from everyone. With no idea what was coming, everyone standing hit the deck, even Arrastra, who did not wish to risk losing her remaining Aura reserves.

No sooner had the three standing dove into prone positions than a massive gust of wind so heavy that it buffeted the fire truck swept over them. The wind clawed at everyone not inside the truck, the gust tugging at them and attempting to lift them from the roof they clung to dearly.

When the wind died down, Jaune rolled onto his back, hoping to catch a glimpse of this new danger.

It was an Alpha Nevermore.

Jaune was unsure if it was the same one that had been harrying them all night, but that didn’t matter as much as the fact that it was after them now. The monster was giant enough that if it got the opportunity, it could likely lift the whole fire truck, and that would be a death sentence for those on board.

The threat wasn’t just felt by those on the fire truck as the convoy they were trying to tail began to open fire. The rip of automatic weapons was audible as they began to fire up at the swooping giant. Jaune felt envious as their group was almost wholly out of firearms, save Arrastra’s crossbow and a few remaining bolts.

Jaune glanced at the hose head he had been using to bludgeon the Grimm and decided it was time for a change of pace.

Then he recalled what he had seen on the side of the truck when they had been trying to repair the garage-like doors on the sides. Wrapping his hose around his waist, he made his way to the side of the truck, intent on finding something with some more lethality.

Jaune once more cursed that he lacked his weapons as he leaned over the side of the truck and began to rummage, ignoring the others' scared warnings.

His searching paid off as his hand wrapped around something that, despite everything around them… put a smile on his face.