A/N: Holy God-Emperor and the Thousand Saints of Terra! 500+ reviews! I... wow! I love you guys so much! There's a lot more where this came from, so buckle up and get ready to rock and roll! :D

Book Two: Corruption's End

Chapter 27: The Fire Dancer and The Painter

"His glory is wrought in flickering fire, and His fire is everlasting will. Rejoice, for His will is salvation made flesh." - Ranshan Yǒng

Yang could see their confusion from here. Warriors from the darkest pit of the warp, stunned into silence by the flickering incarnation of fire before them. She took advantage of their hesitation to give them a once-over. Two carried twisted bolters, and one carried a heavy flamer in his feathered arms. The tallest among them carried an ornate staff, and his armor was decorated in pulsing, nauseating runes. No doubt about it, he's their leader, Yang thought with a smirk. What Weiss had told her on Jala Prime was true. The rest of their armor was a dark blue, and a black bird emblem writhed on their shoulders.

Josephus' best, no doubt. Giving them a feral smirk, she dashed forward and retrieved her power sword. Oh yeah. They'll do nicely. Their leader barked an order, and a storm of bolt shells filled the street, banshee screams that called for her death.

Pumping aura into her legs, she was a golden blur that tore through the burning debris blocking her path. Never before had she been so fast. Behind her, a chorus of impacts shredded the crumbling city apart with a deafening roar, filling the air with clouds of vaporized rock and wood. One round clipped her shoulder, but her momentum was too great - it didn't even slow her. Her semblance gave a throaty bellow, filling her with power as she burst through a pile of Yǒng-lo dead.

Almost there. She surged forward, crumbling debris and flames licking at her heels. Shrapnel licked at her aura, but it may as well have been spit first traitor was only a few yards in front of her, his death just moments away. His bolter lowered, but it was too slow. She weaved around a bolt shell that flew towards her, relishing its killing power as it missed her by inches.

By then, it was too late for the towering freak. Her sword flashed, a blue streak of blinding speed and uncaring power. It slashed him from shoulder to groin, splitting him in two. His bolter came apart as well, screeching metal giving way to the crackling burst of ignited shells. Yang dove away from the explosions, rolling and skidding to a stop on the back of her heel. Three left.

"Is that really all you got?"

In response, his comrade brandished his heavy flamer, swinging it around to meet her. An inferno filled her vision, swallowing her whole in burning promethium. When the traitor marine let the stream die a few seconds later, she yawned. Her semblance roared even brighter, now a searing golden-white. Flicking a bit of burning promethium off her charred armor, she flashed her new friends a wide smile.

"Wow you guys are dumb. Look at this," she said, grabbing a fistful of molten gold hair. "My hair literally sprouted fire, and you think more's gonna help you?" Roaring an incomprehensible battle-cry, the man with the flamer brought forth a wicked, twisted sword. It shined like obsidian, black as burnt wood and bearing a monomolecular edge. I love these guys, she thought. They were ruled by brute force, but Yang Xiao Long ruled brute force.

The sword came faster than she expected. She threw herself to the side, dancing around the stream of bolter fire that licked at her heels. Grinning, she bounded over one of them, throwing an aura-enhanced foot into his face. Cursing, he stumbled and fell, spitting blue blood from the gaps in his twisted, gnarled helmet. She whipped around to face the rest of the squad.

Once more, she dashed forward, power sword crackling with glee. This time, they were prepared, and a bolt punched her in the gut. She careened into a wrecked stall, its burnt timbers crumbling on top of her. Her semblance ate up the pain, and her eyes turned as red as Ranshu's moons. Standing, she spat out the embers that filled her mouth.

"Nice try." She readied herself, but the three remaining marines didn't make a move. Not yet. Their leader stepped forward, his upraised hand reining in his comrades' palpable fury.

"What manner of being are you?" He asked, his voice like a knife scraping bone. With each word, the glyphs on his armor pulsed an angry, nauseating blue. Bracing his staff, he stepped forward. "My brothers and I wish to know before we kill you."

Giving them her widest grin, she waved him off. "I'm just a human." Yang said, once more running a hand through her voluminous hair as ghost-flame danced around her fingertips. She wore a feral grin. "And this is my semblance. Handy little thing." With that, she lunged forward, plunging her sword through a traitor's chest before he could react. She twisted the weapon, and electric-blue ichor sprayed her face, reeking of the warp.

"How's it feel to die, assholes?!" She bellowed. The last two turned on him in a moment, chewing his body apart with bolter shells in an attempt to reach her. Tearing her sword free, she stormed forward, straight into a howling salvo of bolts. They whickered off her, red-hot streaks of light that danced and burst behind her. "You'll need to try harder than that!"

The swordsman sprung forward. He was fast. Fast enough to make a decent Hunter. But Yang was not a 'decent' Hunter, she was in another class entirely. The sword glided off her own, shooting sparks across the street. The weapon screamed, a sound like the howling of lost souls. Yang brought Ember Celica across his face, staggering the titanic man and denting his helmet with a burst of pellets.

"Funny thing about it. You hit me, and it only makes me stronger. So go on. Hit me," she crooned, dodging an enraged swipe of the sword. "C'mon. Do it!" Roaring, the astartes brought his sword around. She met it with her own, and they struggled against each other, locked in combat. Mechanical pops and groans whined inside his armor, straining to best her. They couldn't. Disengaging, she ducked under his follow-up strikes, playing with him as he screamed in wordless frustration. "Do it!" She bellowed with a snarling, open smile. "Hit me! Here," she said, spreading her arms wide, "I'll give ya a free one."

He brought the wailing sword around. She swatted it aside, an ancient, twisted power weapon little better than a child's toy. Burning as bright as a forge bellows, her semblance illuminated the entire street in a staggering, blinding light. His death was at hand. With a flick of her wrist, she made to split him in two. He blocked the strike, but could not batter her sword away. Raising her blade with both hands, she readied another attack. This one was beyond him, as her furious blow stripped him of his sword, sending it clattering away into the night. Laughing, Yang pounced. He twisted to avoid his death, but his arm left his body with a vicious hum of her sword, crumpling to the floor in a pool of blood.

His remaining fist smashed into her face, knocking her back and splitting her lip. They just. Didn't. Learn. Spitting blood onto the street, she wiped her mouth as the wound sealed itself with a glob of ghost-flame. Better that than my hair.

"Yeah. Like that," she growled. The wounded traitor brought up a bolt pistol, but Yang was too fast. Bowling him over, she pinned his arm down with her boot, standing proud atop his sickening armor. Her power sword plunged, screeching as it punched through his armor. Wrenching it free, she stabbed him again, burying the weapon up to its hilt. He wailed in a black tongue, his blood choking the gutters. Another swipe, and his head left his body, bouncing off the cobblestone and rolling to a halt. One left.

He stood in the center of the street, illuminated by the blazing inferno that was her hair. His staff rang against the street, struck in time to his demented chanting. The words… they hurt. Sent blood leaking from her nostrils.

"Hey!" Yang bellowed, marching forward. "What? You think praying to your masters is gonna save you?" Her power sword steamed, cooking off the blood that coated it. "You didn't wanna help your friend, huh?" He didn't answer her.

His prayer ended, and he tore his helmet off, revealing his eyes. They spilled blue flames, lazy spirals that licked at empty sockets. Well fuck me, Yang thought. Lightning burst forward from his outstretched fingertips, bringing her blood to a brutal boil. She screamed in agony, and not even her semblance could shut the pain away. She collapsed to her knees, panting. Her shoulder ignited with pain, and her hair roiled in protest. Smoke spilled from the cracks in her armor, and it reeked of ozone.

"Arrogant bitch!" The traitor spat, fingers crackling with power. "You'll pay for this!" He slammed his foot down in an attempt to crush her, but she rolled away, the impact throwing her to her feet. Yang stumbled, screaming as she threw a wild slash at her opponent. He dodged it, throwing a sparking fist into her stomach. It bypassed her aura, and something broke. The air left her lungs, and her lips blubbered as they tried to suck in breath.

Fuck. FUCK! She tried to stand, but he slammed his boot into her stomach, pressing her into the cobbling. Blood trailed from her mouth as she struggled breathlessly against the powered armor. Now, the unusual edge her aura bore since her arrival in the Imperium made itself known. Yellow lightning lanced up her arms, fed by her rage, fueled by her overclocked semblance. He brought a bolt pistol forward, ready to paint her brains across Shao-la. She screamed with effort as she prepared to hurl him aside.

Thunder sounded in Shao-la, a crushing, teeth-rattling gale. The traitor marine fell apart, bursting into an electric-blue blood piñata. His armor split and sundered, showering her in red-hot shards of ceramite. The remnants of his body fell away from her, splashing into puddles of bright blue ichor. Wheezing, she stood, clutching her stomach. That's gonna bruise, she thought with a weak chuckle. Too close. Her aura and semblance were near their limits, pushed to the brink by the fallen astartes. With a long sigh, her hair fell about her shoulders, her eyes fading into their usual violet. It's been too long since I've fought like that. Too much fun. How the remaining one died still puzzled her, however. Standing and scouring the street, she found her answer.

Atop a roof behind her stood a single figure, a long shoulder cloak rippling in the smoke-laden wind. It shifted as it moved, its colors changing to keep its owner shrouded in invisibility. At his hip smoked an enormous rifle, one almost as tall as he was. She gave him a wave. He hesitated before returning it. She waved him down, beckoning with her sword and a toothy grin. As she shuffled forward, he obeyed, landing with cat-like grace.

"Thanks for the save, man," she said, limping forward. "I totally had 'im though." Appraising the stranger, she realized he was assuredly not Woadian. He was tall, clad in an onyx skin-tight suit, one that hid nothing of the corded swimmer's physique underneath it. His face hid behind a mask; its edges bone white, its visor a brilliant red.

"I…" He struggled with the words, seemingly unaccustomed to speech. "You're welcome." His sound was like ripples on a cairn, smooth and shaded. Yang snapped her fingers, realizing.

"You're one of Weiss' spooks, aren't ya?" She winced in pain as the words escaped her. Maybe it's a little worse than I thought.

"Are you wounded?" He asked, ignoring her question.

"I'm fine. Probably just a few broken ribs." He cocked his head.

"Just a few broken ribs?"

"You should see the other guy." She said, trying to smile.

"I… I think I'm standing in him." The man replied. True enough, his feet were stained with the electric-blue ichor that coated the whole street. Yang snorted with laughter, causing her to flinch in pain.

"Damn it," she said, sheathing her sword and continuing her limping march. "You got a map or something? I could use a little help getting back to my unit. Up for a little babysitting?" Hefting his rifle to a carrying position, the man nodded. I hope everyone's still alive, she thought. This whole city's F.U.B.A.R.

"I'll do my best," he said. Throwing him a thumbs-up, she grinned.

"Thanks man. Give me a sec though, gotta take care of something." Scanning the street, she found what she was looking for. The severed head she made sat in the street, leaning on a broken horn that protruded from its helm. Scooping it up, she shook the fleshy bits out. The helmet's black eyes showed her reflection. She was filthy and coated in blue ichor, but she was grinning. I bet Sarge'll get a kick out of this. Can't have them thinking I just ran away either.

A flicker in the visor caught her attention. It looked like something moved behind her. Turning to face it, she found nothing but a dying city. What was left of her aura remained passive, unaware of any danger. Shaking her head, she clipped the traitor's helm to her belt, and gestured to the stranger.

"Alright, let's go." Shrugging, he nodded towards a winding, steep street.

"This way. It should lead us straight to the Citadel." Nodding, she limped forward, joining him at a corner. "Though I admit, I don't think you need my help."

"This place is a maze, dude. I should be fine if I find any Yǒng-lo, but I'll get lost in a second."

"Fair enough, Trooper." They started off, making their way over corpses of heretics and the gutted remains of a shop. Her new companion looked up at the Citadel, his strides silent and purposeful. Yang cocked her head at him.

"What's up?"

"Hm?"

"You look like you have something to say," she said, prodding him with a grin. He chuckled at that.

"You're perceptive. I was going to comment on your work with those traitors. It was quite something."

"You saw me kill them?" She asked, eyes narrowing.

"I got the last one, unless you've forgotten. But that was child's play compared to… that." He said, visor turning towards her unsheathed sword. "Many would say you're blessed." Yang snorted at that. Though in truth, she was relieved. The coil of panic that had tightened in her chest unwound. One more person she didn't have to restrain herself in front of.

"I'm the farthest thing from blessed, my friend," she said with a small smile. They stepped over a pile of corpses. She couldn't tell if they were Woadian or Ranshan. "Although, you're not… curious about what you saw?"

"Oh," he said, shaking his head, "I wouldn't say that. Quite the opposite really." She could hear the smile, even if it was hidden from her. "I know you're a psyker. I'm just…" he searched for the right word. "Fascinated with the way your powers manifested."

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to cut loose," Yang replied. Jerking her thumb at the carnage behind them, she flashed him a brilliant smile. "This is how I fight. This is how I like to fight." She shook her head. "Imagine holding that under the surface. It just feels… wrong. Unnatural."

"I don't think I've ever had to restrain myself from fighting a squad of traitor marines in hand-to-hand combat," he said. She snorted again.

"You should try it sometime," she teased. "It's a lot of fun." He looked at her hand, which gripped at her stomach's purpling skin. "I think you're raising an eyebrow at me, but I can't be sure." He appraised her.

"A good guess, Trooper Yang."

"You know my name?" He pointed to the name-plate on her flak armor. It was charred and melted, but still readable. "Oh. Well in that case, why don't you tell me yours? Don't think I caught it," she said. "Only fair, you know."

"My… name is…" He struggled again. "I am Cognomen-Designate Amat." Yang looked him over again.

"Cognomen-Designate? What's that?"

"It means it's my name… kinda." Yang's brows scrunched in confusion.

"Kinda?"

"I am… from an organization that prides itself on secrecy. Secrets are better kept if they can't be named." Yang shook her head, grinning.

"That's the cheesiest line I've heard in a long time. Come on, the sexy skin-tight get-up? The huge sniper rifle? It all screams assassin."

"I… this is standard equipment," he countered. "But the cameleoline cape was a precious gift from our Lady." The aforementioned garment fluttered in the heated breeze, rendering the right side of his body a shimmering haze. It was getting in the way of the view, but it was cool in its own right.

"Well, Amat, don't even try to deny it." He turned his head to reply, but Yang held her hand up, silencing him. The remnants of her aura rang like a bell. Danger prowled its way through the ruined streets.

"Baddies," she said. He cocked his head.

"Where?"

"Twenty men, two streets ahead of us." She drew her power sword, pointing to the alley that snaked away into a collapsed residential district. Around fifty yards away. Likely more Yǒng-lo, she thought, pillagers. Looking over to Amat, he gestured towards an abandoned store. A hiding place. She clucked her tongue.

"I'll let you off 'cause you just met me." Yang whispered, beaming as she activated her power sword. "But remember: I never run from a fight."

"In that case," he said, "would you mind if I borrowed your lasgun? The ammunition for my rifle is more limited." His muscles coiled, his fingers stretching. He's like a tiger, Yang thought, Just as lithe and twice as built. She tossed him the weapon.

"I'm not so great with it anyway," she said. "That's my last cell though, so be careful." He nodded, adjusting the power setting above the lasgun's hilt. Turning to face the incoming enemy, she brandished her sword. "OI!" She bellowed. A heretic's head snapped around, where a crimson lasbolt met it. His arms flailed and he crashed to the street, his charred face belching smoke.

Yang darted forward, ignoring the slicing ache that cut through her chest every time her feet fell. Amat's supporting fire rained around her, a salvo of red death. She felt each one pass by her, boiling the air and missing by inches. It was surreal, like standing in a downpour and staying dry.

Roaring, she bowled into the remaining soldiers, hacking away with her sword. They fell apart as they always did, screaming as the flashing blue blade carved them into steaming slop. When the last one died, she let herself feel pain again, and it returned with a vengeance.

"Fuck," she hissed. "Ow."

"Impressive work, Trooper Yang."

"Ah, just call me Yang. It's weird since you're not Sarge. Oh, and cut the bullshit," she said with a grin as she looked over the pile of corpses, "I only managed six of 'em." The rest had fell to Amat, each one bearing the same wound: a burnt-black hole where their right eyes should be, boiling blood seeping from their noses.

It was the best shooting she'd seen in a long time. Ruby didn't shoot like that until their second year at Beacon, and it made Caolin's 'marksmanship' look like baby-town frolics. Yang toed a heretic's face, watching as steaming brains poured out from his ruined eye socket.

"What power did you set it at," she asked as Amat rejoined her.

"The lowest it would go without making it a stun gun," he replied, handing the weapon to her stock-first. Checking the cell, she saw he'd only depleted about a tenth of the remaining power, which she would have spent in three shots.

"You know," she said, "why don't you hold onto it for now?" She rammed the cell home and tossed him the weapon, which he caught with an expert hand. "I can see why Weiss keeps you around."

"...Indeed." Damnit. I keep using her name. Amat didn't seem to notice, so she decided to let the matter drop for now.

"Let me guess… super secret training from your 'organization'?" She nudged him as they continued their ascent towards the Citadel. After a few seconds, he turned to face her.

"Do I get to deny this one?" Yang laughed, wincing as she did so.

"Ah. Gotta stop making me do that. Been awhile since I've broken anything." Two and a half years, actually. Physical pain outside of her frequent headaches wasn't something she was accustomed to.

The roar of the vanguard's battle had faded since their scuffle, and now only the occasional cannon-bellow echoed through the streets of Shao-la. It looks like the Yǒng-lo are regrouping before another push.

"We better pick it up," Amat said, noticing the relative quiet as well. "You good?" Yang nodded, sheathing her sword. They started a slow jog up the road. Each step was a needle-knife that plunged into her lungs, but she soldiered on. Ros needed protecting, and she'd be damned if she didn't do what she could to keep Shao-la safe. Her aura was trying to heal her, but closing superficial cuts was different than mending bones. It would a while before she was whole, and walking on it didn't help things either.

"Were you hunting those guys," she asked as they turned a corner. Besides broken shops and smoldering refuse, the street was empty.

"The traitors?"

"Yeah. Big blue bastards." He was quiet for a moment, pondering his answer. "Come on, don't play the 'it's classified' game," she teased. "We both know I'm the biggest secret Weiss has got." Amat considered that, his visor scanning the street for the third time in as many minutes.

"If you insist, I was on the look out for powerful members of the arch-foe. By the time I found some, you'd done most of my work. It's good we stopped them there. If we hadn't, they might have crippled the vanguard."

"You're welcome," she said, smirking.

"Said the woman with broken ribs," he replied. She waved him off, a gesture that sent pinprick pains coursing through her flank.

"Ah, I totally had 'im," she reminded him. "He got a lucky hit in. Or lightning. Or whatever." He chuckled as his lasgun swept the streets, checking each abandoned alley they passed. One contained a dog that was more bones than flesh, tearing at something Yang didn't want to think about.

"Most would consider seeing a traitor marine and surviving miraculous. You killed three of them." He paused. "With a sword." She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah. I wish Ember Celica was more powerful," she said, glancing at her precious gauntlets. "I'm better with these, but they can't get past their over-sized armor."

"Where'd you get them?" Amat asked. Yang beamed again, meeting his hidden gaze. She cocked Ember Celica, and the weapon expanded into its fullest form.

"I made 'em."

"Trooper-" She cut him off with a stare. "Yang. I am privy to some of the most advanced technology the Imperium has to offer," he said. Her eyes parsed the man's sniper rifle. It was well beyond anything she'd seen in the armory. "And I can't say I've seen something like that."

"I'm just full of mysteries." She threw him a wink. "Same as you, assassin-man. What's under that mask anyway?"

"Sorry, that's classified." He said, returning his stare to the road ahead of him. She huffed.

"Alright, how's this? I'll answer your questions as honestly as I can, and you'll do the same in return. Once you run out of questions, you take the mask off." She bit her lip as her ribs set her torso on fire once more. "Then we're even."

"Even?"

"Oh come on Amat, don't play games. You're curious. And that's honestly pretty refreshing," she said with a sigh. The Imperium can choke on its willful ignorance. This man's mind was open. Sharp, lithe, and focused, but open all the same.

As he considered her proposal, she took the time to slow her breathing. Aura recovery was not a simple matter, and she'd need every ounce of it for the fights ahead. It was hard to focus, however. Every sip of air she took tasted like burning. At least it didn't smell like the Yǒng-lo.

"I accept," Amat said. "But the mask will stay on." Yang huffed.

"Taking advantage of my wounded state, I see."

"Don't pretend, Yang. Even as you are, I have no doubts you could try to kill me." She stopped walking, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Try?"

"Well… yes. Try." He said, cocking his head in confusion.

"Terra, if we weren't in the middle of a war zone, I'd show you just how wrong you are. I'd destroy you, assassin-man."

"Then it's a good thing we're in the middle of a war zone," he said, deflecting her challenge. She huffed, watching him take point. Well, she watched his ass. Probably goes to the same leather store as Weiss. "And as you said, you're wounded." His visor peered over his shoulder, catching the fire in its red-patterned visage. "Wouldn't be fair."

"You're a sniper, I'm sure 'fair' is the last thing on your mind." Amat stopped walking, lasgun braced against his shoulder. A heartbeat later, Yang's aura twinged. Her hand shot to the hit of her sword, the other bracing Ember Celica.

A heretic bellowed at them, rotting teeth braced with glee at discovering more 'victims'. He was on a roof above them, one of the few buildings that remained intact. Amat shot him through the eye, and he fell to the road with a meaty crunch. Two of his comrades ran into the street like dogs, scrambling on four infected limbs. Wood-stocked rifles were slung across their chest, scraping the road as they scurried into firing positions.

Yang unleashed Ember Celica, and the pellets tore into one, rending skin and muscle but failing to kill him. His head dipped in confusion.

"Aw fuck," Yang said. More of these guys. Amat fired, frying her target's head. He went down, tumbling as his bony knees scraped and skidded across the pavement. Another lasbolt caught his buddy in the chest, escaping from one of the more intact buildings. It stumbled him, and he snarled in anger turning to face the alley it'd come from.

Mael was too fast, however. The mute barreled out of the alleyway, knocking the man-creature to the ground. Mael's steel-toed boot fell again and again, grinding the heretic's face and chest into splintered bone. He screamed in his incoherent muteness.

"Mael?!" Yang asked. Her friend's head snapped around, and a wide grin replaced the furious berserker's grimace.

"Ng!" He said, waving. Amat's rifle lowered.

"You're okay, buddy!" She cried, running forward as her ribs screamed in protest. Embracing him, she stepped back, finding a rictus of pain writ on Mael's face.

"Ooh… sorry about that." He waved her off, but Soo was less forgiving. She dashed forward from the same alley, yellow eyes wide and ragged nurse's garb flapping. She hollered something in Ranshan, glaring at Yang. She checked the bandages that wrapped around Mael's torso. They were bloodstained, but holding.

"Shu yur que na?!" Soo said, shaking her finger at Yang. "Fu-cheen ju woe!" Yang looked at Amat, shrugging. Mael rubbed the back of his shaggy head, looking sheepish. From the alley, a crowd of wretched civilians slithered forth, all filthy, all wrapped in bandages. Towards the front was the old nurse she'd met at the gatehouse.

"What's going on?" Yang asked.

"Hospital nightmare." The old woman spat. "Infection. Horrible. All brave soldiers die." She muttered something in Ranshan. "All die of infection. 'Cept muscles here," she added, nodding at Mael. Wrapping Soo up in his arms, he did his best to reassure her. He patted her hair, the long black locks bound at the shoulders with a golden bow.

"There are fifty-two survivors." Amat said, drawing her attention to the rest of the civilians. A few had lasguns, but it was obvious they didn't know how to operate them. The only place they were clean of soot was the tear trails that marked each one. At least twenty of them were children. Amat looked at her, and she returned his stare. They have to come too. The words were not spoken, but he nodded regardless. His cloak swished, and he scanned the streets as the old woman continued her explanation.

"Muscles got everyone on hurry-up once… badness started," she said. Yang didn't need to speak Ranshan to know she was referring to the daemon. The fear in her voice was proof enough. "We make for Citadel."

"We're meeting up with First Company." Yang said, calling to Mael. He turned to smile at her with a pained grimace. Nodding, he shouldered his lasgun and put Soo behind him. He waved everyone forward. They approached unwillingly at first, casting hasty glances around to make sure the danger had passed. Once they saw Yang, hissed whispers flitted among them. She gave them a hearty smile and a small wave. A little girl returned the gesture. Others watched Amat with open mouths and wide-eyed stares. It must have been a sight, since half of his body was hidden away by the cameleoline. The little girl waved at him too before hiding away in her father's robes. Amat didn't know how to respond at first, so he decided on a small bow before gesturing the group forward. Yang smiled.

"To the Citadel people, let's go," she cried. Everything hurt. Her chest felt like a pincushion (well, more like a sword-cushion), and each breath was more painful than the last. But damn it all, seeing Mael alive and well made it easy to forget everything smelled like death. Having Amat along for the ride was also reassuring. Whoever he was, he was a talented man. Still gonna kick his ass though…

"'Try', he says... hmph."

A/N: This is probably my most-edited chapter since Chapter 11. It's gone through a lot of revisions, but I'm happy with where it ended up. While I'm sorry the fight didn't last longer, I couldn't expand it without it sounding wrong or artificial. That being said, I had a total blast writing it, and highly recommend reading it while listening to the 'I Burn" remix! XD

Any other thoughts? I'd love to hear them! Every review I get makes me super happy! :3

Review Replies: Holy shit you guys, this chapter got more reviews than the Weiss reveal chapter. I'm super grateful! Also, your tears about the cliffhanger are as potato chips: salty and delicious! :D

reality deviant: Hope it delivered!

The Walrus of Eden: It smells like burnt traitor marine!

Draconic Kaiser: Thanks, man! So yeah, I don't think you were expecting an answer to the hospital thing so quick, but I hoped it satisfied.

Nemris: They'll never bring enough! XD

Skepsis Forever: I hope this answered your questions!

doorp: Too bad, cause I thought it was hilarious.

Coolname222: Oh wow! Thanks so much for enjoying it! I'm having so much fun writing it.

DanAbnettFan1997: I might be stretching it a bit, but she's more powerful in the Imperium than she was on Remnant.

blaiseingfire: Heresy begets retribution.

OBSERVER01: Hahahaha well I hope this chapter satisfied!

Destrark: Hahaha my thoughts exactly!

Hypothetical Spiritual Entity: You called it pretty much exactly! Nice job, dude!

snoogenz: Badass enough?

Guest: Soz, bro.

soupie13941: Well I'm glad you think so highly of my story. And no matter what happens in RWBY, I'm going to keep plugging away at this.

DoomLich: Huh, I wonder... :D

Mintskittle: Some interesting thoughts you have there. Also, your scribe-fic continues to be kick-ass. Never get tired of reading it. Ever.

Guest: From the Congo? Jesus dude! Talk about the power of the Internet! You called Amat's intervention by the way, nice job!

shadow2777: Thanks!

Sigurd: Well, there was just the one. But damn nice job calling it! XD

HD-spartan: They're a splinter group, but yeah, nice call on the semblance!

Dom380: I hope you enjoyed it! I'm glad you enjoy Amat as well. He's grown on me quite a bit!

Galm: Sorry/not sorry. :3

Gafgar: Haha yeah, she wiped the floor with them.

Redcollector: Berserk barely cuts it!

Dayanne Rockstar: Ooh, nice call!

RED Roman Pyro: They are very nice and killy.

Enuncia: The Eldar are coming, have no fear! I'm pleased you enjoy them so much, as I was very worried about how I tackled them. Also, don't worry about it, dude! I'm really glad I helped out BatB! It's one of my favorites! Thanks so much for being so cool! :D

Yoshtar: It was grating on me too... which is why she went ham on these guys. Thanks so much for your kind words!

HampsterPig: I like how you thought all that up and she grabs her sword in the second paragraph. XD

ZalrockCSoulDeath: Hey, welcome to the show! Thanks for your review!

I... whew. My fingers hurt. THEY HURT SO GOOD. You guys just make my day. Thanks so much for your reviews, each and every one. Keep 'em coming, guys! :D