Disclaimer : I do not own either RWBY or Dark Souls. They are properties of Messr Cockbites and Senor Hidetaka Miyazaki. I make no money off of this. Not even a single Penny. Or a Pyrrha. or a Priscilla.

Betas : Mr HHH1, SpookyNooodle

"Legends.

Stories scattered through time.

Living in the light for so long,

mankind has forgotten…

that in the end,

fires fade and darkness returns,

reclaiming that dominion that it has long sought."

It all began with the tolling of the bell. Resonant, loud and foreboding...it rang its mournful dirge across the desolate landscape, awakening the slumbering dead from their graves.

She awoke to pain, a burning ache in the back of her throat that threatened to overwhelm her till she gasped, her breath leaving her in ragged pants. Clawing at nothing and grasping desperately for purchase, she scrambled to her knees, her parched throat rasping and coughing with each painful, almost herculean breath that she took. Had she any food in her stomach, she would have regurgitated the contents…but it had been far too long. So, she retched, gagging on the unwelcome sensation of her newly returned life.

Trying to regain her bearings, she looked about, hoping to recognize the landscape or even just her surroundings. She climbed out from the pit that she woke up in and scrambled to her feet, only to trip on a shovel and fall back into the pit.

No, not a pit...a grave?

Undeterred, she climbed out again, careful not to trip on the shovel like she did before.

It was a grave, as she realized to her own dismay. There was no mistaking the image of an empty hole where a body belonged. A hole where a body had once been. Her body, she unpleasantly realized as she glanced at the headstone.

"Pyrrha Nikos"

For it is in passing that we achieve Immortality

Yes...that was her name. Pyrrha. Pyrrha Nikos.

Unbidden, memories began to flash through her mind. Of victories and defeats. Of triumphs...bravery...of embarrassment and of laughter. She remembered being the Invincible Girl...she remembered being the unwilling mascot of a cereal...she remembered coming to the Hunter Academy….Beacon.

She remembered belonging. She remembered warm smiles..and quiet nights on the rooftops...she remembered being part of a team...being part of Juniper…JNPR...? She remembered Jaune.

And with him, she felt a lance of pain go through her.

She remembered him dying.

Atop that broken tower, she had fought the woman in red to a seeming standstill...realizing too late that the woman had only been toying with her. Using her as a practice dummy to get used to her new powers. She had been wounded grievously, her aura nearly broken...and then he entered the fray.

He didn't hesitate, he didn't cower. He put himself between her and the woman in red, sword and shield in hand like he'd used them all his life.

Brave as he was, he stood no chance against the fiery onslaught, reeling under the relentless assault. And yet, something in him just wouldn't give. He persevered, doggedly hounding the woman's steps, till the time came when she finally grew bored with the farce and shot him through.

He didn't even have enough time to scream.

With a cry of horror, she had crawled to his side, tears staining her eyes and her breath coming out in wracked sobs, no longer caring about the murderer who cruelly, gleefully watched their torment. She had cradled his already-cooling body in her arms, begging him to wake up, begging him to return to her…

She didn't notice the fiery arrow that then lanced through her heart, ending her life as well, her last thoughts of Jaune.

Jaune.

Jaune Arc.

Her team's leader who she admired...the man who she respected...and the boy who she loved.

And he was dead for her.

Without even realizing it, a tear fell down her cheeks as she fell to her knees, slumping down against her own tombstone and gazing vacantly at the ground before her. Her despair threatened to overwhelm and crush her, had she not looked to the side and noticed the other grave adjoining hers, nestled in a copse lined with numerous tall and imposing trees.

In the shallow clearing of these dark woods, the two grave-markers stood lonely and aloof, yet together.

Curious, she stumbled over to the gravestone, her body still a little weak and unused to walking. What she saw there made her breath freeze in her throat.

"Jaune Arc"

Dreams do come true...if you sacrifice enough for them.

The faintest spark of hope lit within her. It was him...his grave at least, and if she lived , wouldn't it make sense that he lived as well ?

Unlike hers, his grave was still covered in earth and laid undisturbed. If he was down there, he would be alone and in pain...unable to breath.

Her gaze fell to her hands, still shaking, though whether it was from the lingering shock of coming back from the dead, the pain of reliving the last moments of her life, or something else, she didn't know.

All she knew was that she HAD to get him out.

Like a woman possessed , she labored relentlessly, digging with fervor as she used the shovel she found propped against her own grave. And when the rusted, rotting implement gave away, she resorted to clawing the last remaining inches of earth, till she finally uncovered his coffin.

It was a simple thing really. Plain , yet sturdy and strong...much like Jaune himself. The coffin was made of dark willow wood. It was scratched and worn with age...something that surprised her greatly.

Just how long had it been ? The coffin was lined with metallic fastenings , ones that had been silver in the past, yet now were just rusty and decomposing, falling away in strips from mere exposure to air.

With trembling fingers, she fumbled for the clasps that kept the sarcophagus sealed shut.

Contrary to her fears and hopes...there was no lingering smell of rot, no musty odor, when she opened the casket. His body laid there silently, nestled in the faded red velvet, pristine and untouched, as if he were merely asleep.

And yet, he didn't stir. She couldn't detect any movement of the burial suit that he wore, meaning that he wasn't breathing. He wasn't alive.

With gentle fingers , she traced his jawline...remembering the way his lips would twist into a grin, or into a shy smile...sometimes even a sheepish chuckle. He was the same as she remembered, yet he wasn't. The spark of fire that made him alive...that had long since burned out, leaving nothing but ash behind.

She forgot something, though. Ash always sought embers, to smolder anew.

The kiss was only meant as a farewell...something she did on impulse, much like their first kiss. Unthinking, unplanned and certainly not how she dreamed of it. Yet it was this kiss that sparked the embers that lay smoldering within him.

She didn't notice when his skin began to feel warm to the touch. She didn't notice when his fingers twitched or when his chest began to rise and fall steadily...but she did notice when he pushed her away and sat up, gasping for breath.

"Jaune…?" she whispered, not trusting in what she was seeing, "...is that really you?..b-but how? I..you...you were dead!"

For his part, Jaune was unable to respond in favor of regaining his bearings and gasping for breath. He looked, for lack of a better word, lost, like he hadn't even the slightest idea what was happening.

Understanding, seeing how he was going through the same things that she had, she hastened to give him space...give him the time and space to regain a semblance of normalcy.

Before long, his coughing fits subsided and he sat back, looking up at Pyrrha with the same lopsided smile that she remembered and treasured. Almost like nothing bad had ever happened, however much she knew that it was anything but.

"I thought I was gone for sure. Did you beat that woman in red then ? Where are we ...where is everyone?" he asked cheerily, his good humor diminishing on seeing the barely-suppressed grief on her face. "Wait...what's wrong? What's going on?"

"J-Jaune," she stammered, hesitant in putting words to her thoughts, "you...well, you died. I saw you die. I held you as you died...and even now, we're sitting in your coffin." She pointed out, much to his wide-eyed shock.

If the situation were any less dire, she would have laughed at his yelp, followed by a mad scrambling to leave the cold sarcophagus. He made an even louder yelp as he read the epitaph on his own tombstone. As it was, she covered her mouth with the back of her hand, hiding a smile.

Knowing that he needed her support, her reassurance, she instinctively sat down on a clump of grass beside him, awkwardly wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

She felt him stiffen in response, though with time he relaxed his stance, slowly, gradually leaning into her supportive huddle, clasping his hand around her wrist.

So there they sat, two forlorn souls united by whimsy, both unsure of their place in this new world.

So many questions abounded in her mind. Why were they alive? Where were they? When were they?

How did this even happen?

In the end, though, they were alive and they were together. For her, that was all that mattered.

~oOOo~

It was interesting how the things that mattered most seemed to lose their importance with the passage of time. But it was time itself that seemed to have lost all meaning in this strange new world they found themselves in.

What seemed like hours had passed, yet there was still daylight, faint as it was. Darkness loomed from the black clouds dotting the skies, but behind them, the golden disk of the sun still glimmered, its radiant glow illuminating the fallow fields in front of them before being swallowed by the dark once more.

Still, it sufficed for their current needs. Once they got their bearings and felt enough of their old strength return to walk and run again, they left the decrepit sepulchres in search for civilization, wherever it was. They were hungry, cold, defenceless, yet most of all, they lacked information. They needed it if they wanted to make the most of their unexpected resurrection. Perhaps, she noted faintly, if they were to even stay alive.

At least now, though, they had a destination in mind. It was fortuitous that they had stumbled on a unusually well-maintained path, which stood in stark contrast to the overgrown field in which their graves were erected. Such pointed to someone deliberately clearing the dead leaves and brambles, the smoothly trodden dirt path also indicating regular visits. To them, it could lead the way to some answers.

Or, as a cautious mind would say, the way to a trap. They certainly had no reason to believe it couldn't be. Then again...they had no reason to believe it was, either, and it didn't look like they were going to have any other potential leads anytime soon. Everywhere they looked, they saw nothing but rolling, decrepit fields, not an end in sight.

Thus, caution lost here, and the two of them marked a steady path down the old dirt road, hoping that it would take them to maybe a small village or town, or failing that, a place to rest for awhile.

It was not to be, as the path led them through the dense woods and into a clearing overlooking a valley. Near the edge, a small stone monument stood by its lonesome, pristine and untouched by time. Interestingly enough, it looked freshly swept and lovingly tended to, perhaps by some diligent caretaker nearby. At the foot of the grave-marker, a bouquet of fresh red roses sat, nestled in between a few blossoms of pink carnations and incongruously bright sunflowers.

Curious, they approached closer till they could read the inscription on the gravestone. It belonged to Summer Rose, a name that Jaune recognized immediately.

"P-Pyrrha...I think I know where we are" He spoke in a confused whisper, his paling face contrasting with the bewilderment apparent in his expression.

On her questioning gaze, he elaborated, "well...you remember the time when Blake ran away for the whole weekend?" on her acquiescing nod, he continued, "After the whole thing settled down, Ruby and me...we got to talking, I suppose. She was pretty upset over Blake leaving, she felt like it was her fault. Felt that it was her own immaturity that caused Blake to never confide in her. One thing led to another, and we got to talking about families."

With a heavy sigh, he continued, "She lost her mom young...and unless I'm totally wrong here, this is her grave. Summer Rose..." his voice trailed off slightly before voicing the question that was in her mind too, "but if we're in Patch, where Ruby lives, why were our graves here? Why weren't we buried closer to home?"

Pyrrha shook her head. "I don't know, Jaune. At least, if this is truly Ruby's mother's grave...then her house should be nearby, too." she eyed the headstone, noting how carefully maintained it was, "This place looks too well-kept and the flowers are fresh. Someone was here recently."

"How will we even find her house? We barely made our way here, and we got lucky, at that."

Pyrrha only smirked, grinning and pointing down to the clear footprints on the soft ground which led inwards, much to his sheepish embarrassment.

"Or we can do that. Yeah." he sighed, rubbing the back of his head, comically downcast.

~oOOo~

The trail was easier to follow than they had expected. It soon joined up with the path they had stumbled on earlier, and this time they followed it further down, leading them deeper into the woods. With the overcast sky and the thick foliage, the dull orange glow of the sun cast an eerie light that filtered wanly in small, faint patches through the tree-cover.

Hesitantly, Jaune and Pyrrha walked down the path, wary of being ambushed by Grimm and keenly aware of their lack of weaponry at the moment. The absence of light combined with the ample cover of the trees certainly made that possibility all the more likely. Maybe, maybe they could handle a Beowolf or two if it came to that, but anything more was likely out of the question.

Even as they stalked through the forest, the cold wind chilled them to their bones, making the duo dearly miss their warm, comfortable armor. While the clothes that they wore were well-made, they were made more for form than function. Pyrrha was clad in a long gown that reached down to her ankles, the lacey train tripping her up till she got used to it. The gown, now yellowed with age, left her shoulders and arms bare while also possessing a distressingly low neckline, forcing her to clasp the gown shut even as they rushed through the trees, making the whole thing more uncomfortable than it should have been.

In contrast, Jaune's burial finery was much like his prom clothes, only more sombre and less festive. Certainly better suited for movement than her gown, but still, for someone like the blond knight, the ensemble looked rather disagreeable and confining.

Idly, Pyrrha noted that had it not been for their decidedly unromantic surroundings, they looked much like a young married couple, eloping to a new life together.

'And all it took was dying', she thought bitterly, surprised at her own uncharacteristically morbid thoughts.

Still, it wasn't all bad. So long as they lived, they could hope and they could dream. Their last stand, on top of the broken tower had taught her a valuable lesson; that while last stands made for wonderful inspirational stories, they were entirely too final for the people involved. This was an alien line of thought for Pyrrha, who had always lived for others than herself, but it was a thought that had begun slowly worming its way into her thoughts.

Each time she thought of saving others, of serving others...her mind would think back to Jaune lying lifelessly in her arms, and to the absolute despair of awakening in a world with him dead.

She couldn't bear that again.

For her, her focus had already started shifting from saving everyone to saving Jaune, and she didn't even notice it. She did wonder, was this how Jaune felt too? It seemed that Jaune already placed her safety foremost over everyone else, including himself.

There was a reason that he had returned to that broken tower against all odds, after all.

These meandering thoughts weighing heavily on their minds, they didn't notice the obvious signs of recent conflict like the broken branches strewed on the cratered ground and dried blood sprayed over clumps of green grass and brambles. Pyrrha herself was oblivious to her surroundings, before she was suddenly shocked out from her reverie by Jaune's panicked shout.

"Pyrrha! Duck!" he yelled, throwing himself down on the ground even as a sword sailed past where his head had been moments ago and buried itself with a dull 'thunk' in a treetrunk.

Unexpectedly, the sword retracted, giving Jaune a glimpse into the whip like mechanism of the weapon before it lashed out again, the sharp point sparking with electricity as it reached ever closer...only to come to a screeching halt mere inches away from his heart.

Pyrrha, her face set in a fierce scowl and her arms outstretched, wrestled with the metal weapon using her polarity, arresting its motion for the moment. Yet the strain of this feat was obvious in the beads of sweat that gathered on her forehead.

Not wasting the opportunity, Jaune rolled away to relative safety, regrouping beside Pyrrha as she released the whip sword momentarily before exerting her semblance on it again, the action seeming to throw their enemy off balance.

With unspoken familiarity, Jaune and Pyrrha ran ahead towards their unseen enemy's location, each approaching from a side to flank whoever it was, dodging the razor point of the blade that lashed out with a cobra's lethality, precise and dangerous. While their enemy was still hidden from sight, his general location was not, and that sufficed to evade any debilitating strikes.

"Pyrrha, that tree up ahead! He's attacking from up there!" Jaune shouted out, even as he ducked and ran low to the ground, strafing away, "The weapon goes in a straight line! Keep running diagonally and approach from behind, I'll run up from ahead!" he advised hastily, breathing heavily from the sudden exertion. Lacking any weapons themselves, all they had on hand were their wits and their strength.

In this desperate situation, that would have to do.

"NO!" Pyrrha's vehement refusal surprised even her in how harsh it sounded. However, she continued adamantly, inserting logic in her heart's wish. "Jaune, you aren't as acrobatic as I am, and you're better than me at ambushes. You hit him from behind, I'll keep him busy."

Finding no better alternative and unable to find any flaws in her reasoning, he just nodded grimly. "Alright, just be safe. Don't take any risks."

Sharing a final, beseeching look, they took off. Their enemy struck at a fleeing Jaune's back, but Pyrrha was prepared this time and deflected it easily, holding it at bay till Jaune disappeared into the dense foliage. Knowing that he was probably already circling around, Pyrrha jumped upwards, hastily swinging on a branch and propelling herself up even more, feeling the soft whoosh of the retractable sword missing her by scant inches. It was very difficult to move about in the trailing gown which flapped uncomfortably as Pyrrha took to air, but it was an easily surmountable difficulty for a seasoned athlete like her.

In an impressive display of agility, she kicked off from the branch she was balancing herself on - barely escaping another vicious strike - and shimmied down another tree, not standing still for even a second. This deadly game of cat and mouse continued on for a few minutes, with Pyrrha displaying her clear dominance. Not a single movement was wasted, and every dodge was planned, moving with a preternatural grace that lived up to her epithet of "The Invincible Girl"

Before she could close in on the vantage point of the tallest tree in the clearing, Jaune finally climbed up behind their attacker's position. To his consternation, there was no one there, till he caught the sparking glint of the sword being swung seemingly on it's own.

'An invisibility semblance?' he thought to himself, wondering at the sight before him before shrugging mentally and securing his foothold on the tree trunk, wrapping an arm securely around it then reaching up with his other hand to where the invisible attacker's legs would have been. He let out a slight cheer when his fingers closed in around what seemed like an ankle. Not giving a moment's pause, he pulled down hard, throwing the aggressor off balance. He pulled again with all the strength he could muster, the action flinging his prey from the tree and towards the hard ground below.

With a feminine shriek, their attacker fell, breaking through the smaller branches and landing with a heavy thump on the ground below from whence she did not stir.

Clumsily, Jaune slid down the tree and stumbled to his feet, barely keeping his balance.

"Man, she wasn't easy to spot at all. Probably an invisibility semblance or something." he guessed as Pyrrha approached their attacker, face down in the dirt and probably out-cold from the fall. He kneeled against the tree and breathed in deeply to calm his racing heart as the adrenaline began leaving his system. "Are you okay? She didn't hit you, right?"

His worry wasn't unfounded. Her burial gown wasn't built for the kind of acrobatics that she put it through. The flimsy garment was fraying at the edges already and was torn and cut from the needles and brambles. There was a distinct tear on the upper left shoulder, because of which the strap kept slipping down her arm, much to her embarrassed chagrin.

"I'm fine Jaune, she didn't even manage a scratch. That armor, though...it looks like White Fang…" Pyrrha commented ominously, adjusting her gown to cover herself before getting down on a knee to inspect the woman's clothes, and flipping her body over to reveal a Grimm mask, much as she suspected. Something else about her caught Pyrrha's eye, the way her chest didn't rise or fall, the way she...no.

No, no, no.

"The White Fang? Here?" he kicked off the tree he'd been kneeling against and to his feet. "We need to get to Ruby's home NOW, Pyrrha! If they have gotten this close, and if she is here...she might be in danger!" he said urgently, not even noticing how Pyrrha had gone deathly quiet, looking at the White Fang member's body with a troubled expression.

"Jaune…" Pyrrha murmured, her voice a quiet, shaky whisper.

"What, Pyrrha? We need to get going right-!"

"Jaune!" she pointed to the White Fang soldier's motionless body. "She's not moving!"

Jaune looked down for a moment, then back at Pyrrha. "So? It was a hard fall. She's probably knocked out or something. Just tie her up or-"

"Jaune, she's dead!" Pyrrha interrupted with finality, looking troubled as she gazed up to Jaune, who quickly went slack-jawed at her declaration.

"D-Dead? How can she be dead? I-It wasn't that big a fall!" he stuttered, color draining from his face as he stared at the bod- the corpse, aghast.

For what seemed like forever, he just...stood there, his eyes boring holes in the White Fang member's unmoving form. No, not in them...through them, like he'd stared at it so hard, so long that he was looking through it, not at it. There was disbelief in his eyes, mixed together with shock and, if she wasn't mistaken, pain.

"Jaune…?" she whispered, trying to get something, anything out of him. He didn't oblige her.

If anything, he looked lost, more like a scared little boy than the shining knight she'd always known.

The very sight of it made her heart twist in her chest.

She didn't know what came over her in that moment. She didn't know why she felt the sudden urge to hold him close and tell him everything would be alright. She didn't know why her heart raced when he held her just as tightly, like she was his lifeline. She didn't know why she softly stroked his hair like a mother would her child.

All she knew was, Jaune was in pain and seeing him like this tore at her own heart.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders in a warm embrace, her hand going through his blonde hair in small, gentle strokes. She could feel him shaking, trembling at her touch.

For a moment, they just stood there, the two of them. All was quiet, nothing to disturb them, nothing to break them away.

Pyrrha knew they should get going, that every moment they spent here was a moment wasted elsewhere. But this time, she didn't care. She would have this moment, this one good thing, and all the world couldn't stop her.

Alas, as it was with all good things, it wasn't meant to last.

~~oOOo~~

The din of clashing weapons echoed through stillness of the deathly quiet forest, the fearsome clash of metal striking metal echoing off the tall trees.

It put Pyrrha on edge.

Not only was she nervous from the sounds of battle themselves, she was equally concerned about how many there seemed to be. The frequency of it suggested at least a small skirmish, perhaps between a handful of combatants. Considering the trouble they had gone through to beat just one of the White Fang...

Kill, not beat, she amended mentally. They had killed the White Fang faunus. Intentionally or not, the corpse was right there in front of them, and nothing could change that. If Jaune's pale, haggard face was anything to go by, that fact weighed heavily on him. Pyrrha didn't much like the thought of it either.

It was all too much for them to process. Not a scant few hours after they'd returned to life, they had already taken the life of another...and worse, to plunder the corpse out of desperation.

And that led to the other thing.

It's not like they had any other choices. Pyrrha's dress had almost given way during combat, and had their situation been any less dire, she would have been more embarrassed about her modesty.

As it was, after their hug was interrupted from the loud sounds in the distance, he had taken one look at her and immediately looked away. Then, with his face somewhat red and his eyes still pointedly avoiding her gaze, he had taken off the jacket of his suit and given it to her.

That would have been the end of that, had she not thought hard about them heading into a potential combat situation.

They stood no chance, unarmed and defenseless as they were. Distasteful as it was for both of them, they needed the White Fang woman's armaments.

Giving her some privacy, Jaune had moved a little ways away, turning his back on her and keeping watch while Pyrrha went to work on divesting the corpse of her armor. She had pulled on the leggings and found it a reasonable, albeit a tight fit, yet it would have to do. The chestplate was too narrow and tight for her to wear comfortably, but it might be a better fit for Jaune. Putting it aside for him to try on later, she rifled through the pouch hanging off the woman's belt, and was rather pleased to find a few grenades and rounds of several varieties of dust, probably as ammunition to be loaded in the chambers of her whip-like sword.

After salvaging all she could from the dead woman, she had muttered a few words of prayer, commending the woman's soul to the afterlife. The thought of having taken a life, albeit in self defense, weighed heavily on her, but now wasn't the time or the place to break down, so swallowing her rising bile, she stood up and closed the woman's eyes before gathering up the newly acquired provisions and walking up to where Jaune stood, gazing blankly towards the forest depths.

He had started at her approach, getting into a defensive position before relaxing and giving her a shaky smile.

Again, she had to resist the desperate need to hold him, for both their sakes, and instead contented herself by resting a comforting palm on his shoulder, her other hand holding the chestplate she'd taken off the dead woman earlier.

He looked at it and, after a few seconds, sighed and hurriedly put the chestplate on, fumbling a little with the straps and harnesses as the sounds of the battle rose in intensity once more. They were out of time.

Jaune took the grenades, saying she should use the sword. For a moment, she wanted to protest, say that he should have it. He'd used a sword more than she did, after all. He could defend himself better with it. That would mean he'd be at less risk in a fight. Less risk of...no, she wouldn't think of that. Not again.

Before she could, however, as if he knew she would say something like that, he shook his head. "You're better with weapons in general, and your semblance should help you use the weapon even more."

There was logic in that, something she couldn't argue with, as much as she may have wanted to. With a small sigh, she nodded and took the sword, trying to feel out the weight of the weapon in her hand. Then they took off again, feeling just a little more confident now that they had weapons and armor, borrowed and ill-fitting as they may have been.

Still, Pyrrha's nervousness never quite faded from her mind, even with the comforting weight of the sword in her hands and the armor over her legs. Given dire circumstances like this, that was more than understandable.

Nothing could have prepared them for what they saw upon finally reaching the source of the battle sounds near the end of the dirt-path.

The treeline had thinned away, revealing a large, empty patch of farmland, a vast, rolling plain of grass that seemed to be aflame in the setting sun. In the distance, a homely looking cottage was visible, complete with a white picket fence and a chimney that billowed smoke, hinting at the cheerful and welcoming fire that surely burned within.

All in all, it was an idyllic, pastoral scene...had it not been for the sheer number of corpses that lined the fallow fields, as if a pitched battle had been fought between two armies here. Yet, it seemed to be winding down, with a handful of the White Fang soldiers ganging up on a tall, well-muscled man.

Well, trying to gang up on him, anyways.

Before they could think, even make a decision about joining the fray or not, the man leaped into action. Deflecting a sword strike on a vambrace, he ducked under another soldier's slash, and grasping the arm wielding a wicked sword, he plunged it deep into another soldier's chest. Not wasting a moment, he twisted away, sweeping the legs of a burly masked soldier from under him and crushing his windpipe underfoot, all the while breaking the ribs of another with powerful, heavy punches.

The last soldier remaining alive roared in pain and anger, incoherent utterances bursting from his lips as he charged, his mace held aloft. The man only grinned bloodily, catching the blow on his shoulderpad, and as soon as the soldier with the menacing Grimm mask presented an opening, he reached up with a lightning quick strike, grasped the man's head and twisted, breaking his neck in an instant. Evidently not satisfied with that, to complete his brutal work, the man punched through the soldier's armor - not just into it, through it - and buried his fist all the way up to his elbow in the unfortunate soul's chest.

In the sudden silence that followed, the man looked up, his blonde hair streaked with congealing blood. On catching Jaune and Pyrrha's eye, he pulled his fist out from the chest of the White Fang trooper with a wet squelch and grinned, waving his arms in cheerful gesture, one that was somewhat offset by the fact that he still had pieces of heart and other assorted flesh stuck on his knuckles, some of them still dripping blood.

"Haven't gone hollow like these lot, have you? I would hate to put down such nice-looking kids." The man spoke with a loud, boisterous voice that would have been almost warm and soothing had they not seen the speaker commit such vicious brutality moments ago, "It's been a long time since anyone's visited me."

The man wiped off his bloody knuckles on his shirt and gestured almost pleasantly towards the cottage they had seen earlier. "Oh, where are my manners? Name's Taiyang Xiao Long, and I welcome you to my home, kids!"

A/N: So here it is. My long brewing fic, and my return to fanfiction in general. To anyone interested, I have finally recovered (mostly), from my accident and am quite excited to make a return to the fanfic community as a whole. For my previous two fics, I probably will upload my outline for the story, so anyone still hanging around , waiting for it to be resolved, get some closure on it.

This is a fusion of Dark Souls and Remnant...not a direct crossover, but there are elements borrowed from that rich, tragic universe...and subsequently molded within the RWBY universe. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Also, this time to avoid dropping off the map, I have enlisted the help of two wonderful Betas, SpookyNooodle and HHH1, who are along to make sure that I update and write regularly and deliver the best possible product to you, my readers. Also, unlike previous times, I have the whole story mapped out in depth, and am already a chapter ahead from what I have published, so if for whatever reason, I cannot write something someday, I will still have enough material to update biweekly.

and yes, updates will be every 15 days. Sooner, if drive and excitement spur me on.

Till then, enjoy the story. I look forward to seeing your reviews.

Warren.

Beta Notes(Spooky): Warren has a flair for the poetic, and I feel it definitely shows here. Sometimes things are grammatically "incorrect", but the description is so cool, and the meaning is clear enough that it doesn't really bother me. We've had pretty much the entire discord server look over this, so if there are any typos...We all done goofed.