The steel barrel of Ironwood's handgun rested against the armored skull of a Griffon as it gave its last thrashes of life. He pulled the trigger, the Grimm's head muffling the weapon's bark. A spout of thick, dark fluid erupted out the back of the beast's neck, splattering the floor. The monster, now lifeless at the General's feet, began to evaporate.

The bridge of the Ironclad writhed with battle, as more and more Griffons poured through the gash in the bulkhead. Point-defense plasma fire scythed above them in a futile attempt to stem the tide. Yet, even as the brave crewmen killed dozens upon dozens of the invading beasts, each downed Griffon was replaced by two more.

"Hangar Bay 3 has been overrun!" a panicked voice screamed over the General's earpiece. "Repeat, we've lost Hangar Ba- ARRGH!" The transmission ended as abruptly as it began.

"Damage report!" Ironwood shouted over the clamor of claws, plasma, and metal. A colonel turned to look at a beeping console, his rifle shouldered.

"Hangars 2 through 6 are gone, reactors 1, 3, and 4 have been compromised, and Gravity Dust generators are failing!" the soldier listed, darting his eyes around the display. As he read, the creases of his forehead hardened in fury. By his graying hair and sunken cheeks, the General reckoned he was old enough to have served in the Faunus War, making him one of the more useful crewmen on the ship. If a lifetime of military career taught him anything, it was that experienced soldiers went a long way.

A private on the General's left spoke up, startled by the colonel's readout of the ship's condition. "Uhh… sir? That doesn't sound too good. W-we gotta get off this ship!" he stuttered.

"Like hell we will," Ironwood returned, shooting a Griffon at point blank as it attempted to charge him.

"But… sir, the sh-ship, it's gonna-"

"You heard me, private. No one on this damned ship leaves until we have it rid of this filth, even if we go down with it! Am I right, men?" the General shouted at the marines below him, fending off the waves of Griffons. A grin spread across the colonel's face as he nodded in agreement.

"AYE AYE, SIR!" the soldiers shouted back, their barrage on the Grimm unbroken.

The General then heard his earpiece crackle with radio static, before clarifying to the horrifying buzz of a minigun. As soon as the connection was established, a stream of tracers strafed the bulkhead from above, eviscerating a Griffon before it could charge in.

"Ironclad, this is Amethyst-4," the pilot stammered in his guttural North Atlesian accent. "We're holding 'em off, but not for much longer. Requesting reinforcements, over!"

Distracted by the hail, Ironwood almost missed a second Griffon flying directly towards him from the opening. He thrust his right hand forward, intercepted the beast mid flight, and held its jaw shut. It growled and thrashed as the General flipped it over, hefting the creature with his robotic arm as if it were ten times smaller. Ironwood took aim, and once again, his handgun recoiled in his hand, drilling a hole straight through its beak and skull.

"General Ironwood, sir!" a petty officer called out from behind. "We're receiving hails from Vale Air Force HQ. They're sending a squadron of Bullheads our way!"

Ironwood grinned and brought his hand to his earpiece, activating the receiver. "Roger that, pilot. You got a squadron of Bullheads en route to your position. Hold out until they arrive."

"Jawohl, sir!" the pilot replied, briefly lapsing back into his native tongue.

The General returned his attention to the battle in the bridge. Even though the Griffons had yet to pierce the front line, the slumped corpses of many marines and officers littered the deck, deep crimson pooling around them. Some beasts took eager pecks at the carcasses, only to be shredded by plasma fire.

Yet, as the tide began to die down, another trio of Griffons, much larger than the rest, flew through the opening above them. They towered over the men at their feet, with intricate patterns adorning the bony plates protecting their flesh. Their eyes, red and hollow, glowed with bloodlust and hatred the likes of which Ironwood had never seen.

Had he still been a private of the Atlas Army, his bowels would have run free. However, hardened by decades of military service, he stared right back, readying his handgun. The towering creatures noticed his defiance, and released an ear-piercing screech before lunging forward, right over the marines and officers defending the bridge.

Once more, Ironwood stood still, letting the Grimm charge straight at him. His old drill sergeant back in Atlas would have beat him to a pulp for daring to fight a Grimm head-on, yet he had learned quickly that his robotic limbs gave him the edge he needed to ignore his teachings.

The three beasts closed the distance, leaping over the holographic display with jaws open and talons extended. They all pecked and swung, yet their blows were parried by Ironwood's right arm, perfectly timed to intercept their attacks. One of them clamped down on it, and growled in frustration as it was unable to tear the hardened metal.

The General raised his pistol, zeroing his sights onto the head of the second Griffon, pulling the trigger as the monster rushed in. It staggered and collapsed, a smoking hole between its two pairs of eyes. He swiftly adjusted his aim to the one holding him down, firing into the side of its head. Like its comrade, it fell to the ground as its hold went limp.

The final beast roared in fury, a deep, thundering howl. The General took aim and opened fire, missing as the beast evaded both shots with an agility belying it enormous frame. Ironwood squeezed the trigger again, only to be answered by a dry, metallic click.

Oh, shit.

The Griffon screeched triumphantly, moving in for the kill.

As its claws descended upon the General, the marines in the lower levels of the bridge opened fire upon it. The combined fusilade of a platoon of marines chewed through its armor, leaving its carcass a boiling ruin. The corpses of all three Grimm smoked beneath him, filling the bridge with acrid smoke. Some of the soldiers retched as they inhaled the noxious gas.

"General Ironwood, sir!" a medic blurted out, running up and saluting the General. "Do you require medical assistance?"

"I'm fine. At ease," Ironwood deadpanned, "Get the wounded to the medbay." The medic gave his arm a quick, suspicious glance before motioning his comrades into the bridge. The General released a mental sigh of relief.

An air of confusion hung around the soldiers, as many shifted their gaze between the General and the dead Grimm. The silence lingered, the groans of the injured soldiers and hushed whispers of the medics the only sounds in the bridge. The old colonel eventually turned to one of the consoles along the wall, breaking the quiet as he read out the display. "Sir, no further contacts detected outside. Bridge is secure. Orders?"

He looked at the faces of the weary men beneath him. Some were covered with sweat and grime, others with dried blood. Yet, the same courage they displayed when the Griffons first boarded remained, a flicker of bravery behind their eyes.

"We aren't done yet, men," he said, reloading his pistol. "On to the hangars. We're taking them back."

"Aye aye!" the soldiers bellowed, slapping fresh clips into their rifles and trotting up to the bridge's entrance. They resumed their march as the General walked past them, following him deeper into the bowels of the airship.

Screams of triumph and anguish, both human and Grimm, echoed through the vessel's gargantuan frame. Outside, the detonations of missiles shook the deck beneath their boots. The walls were splattered with blood, the telltale crimson of human gore intermixed with smoking, crusted ooze.

Human corpses littered the passageways, shrouded by midnight smoke. The General and his entourage coughed and gagged as they made their way through the pungent fumes, stepping over the slumped forms of their fallen comrades.

Not even the cigarettes in the trenches were this bad, Ironwood thought, calling back to his days as a young soldier on the frontlines of the Faunus War. He flexed his robotic arm as he remembered the horrors of the conflict.

That war put thousands of kids into wheelchairs and crutches. How many more is this one going to maim?

At last, they reached the cavernous mooring of the first hangar bay, with robots and marines holding off the never-ending hordes of Griffons. Machine guns placed throughout the line rattled, mowing down the Grimm as they charged by the dozens. Beyond the edge of the bay, point-defense plasma fire continued to bear down on the beasts, while jet fighters screeched by impossibly close to the hull.

"Move out! Spread out across the line!" the General boomed, moving up alongside his troops and unsheathing his pistol. The chorus of gunfire came as music to his ears, the screams of the monsters providing a beautiful melody. His own handgun added to the cacophony, as he unloaded and reloaded in the same practiced rhythm that had been drilled into him since his childhood.

A low rumble rose from the distance. Gauging its direction, Ironwood reckoned it came from the west. From central Vale. As it approached, he was able to discern its origin. A harsher, lower pitch than the soft whine produced by Atlas vehicles, yet no less comforting than the jet fighters that prowled the space around the fleet.

Took 'em long enough.

The Grimm gave one final push, swarming the bay by the hundreds, their harrowing screeches overpowering the hammering of the machine guns. Their spearhead was hacked down one by one, as beast after beast plummeted to the deck. Yet, their advance was unscathed, with the Griffons gaining ground at a terrifying rate, their piercing red eyes hungry for the slaughter.

However, before they reached the line, a demonic stutter arose from the lip of the hangar. Countless tracers scythed across the cloud of Grimm, eviscerating the beasts mid-flight. The soldiers hit the deck as the bullets screamed by only inches over their heads. The beasts howled and cried as their carcasses rained down onto the metal. The diminishing swarm revealed the outlines of four Bullheads, the twin miniguns under their fuselages still smoking, and the Twin Axes of Vale decorating their flanks.

Ironwood needed a few seconds to take in the carnage left in their wake. The deck was completely obscured by a sea of Griffon corpses, with black wisps of smoke rising from the entire hangar bay. One of the pilots waved at the soldiers, inciting rapturous cheers and applause from the marines. Ironwood looked at the young man piloting the aircraft; looked at his carefree face behind the glass of the cockpit. The General could not help but picture the boy in a field hospital, missing a leg or an arm, and crying out for his parents.

The squadron of Bullheads turned east and continued on their course to Beacon. As they did, the General's earpiece crackled with static once again. "General Ironwood, sir, this is Red-1. The skies are clear. Orders?"

Ironwood allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Looking out to the assembled fleet floating beyond, most ships remained airborne, despite the beating they had just received. He dreaded to think of those that weren't as lucky, and shuddered as he imagined hundreds of crewmen doomed to the frigid waves of the lake below.

We still have a war to win, dammit, Ironwood reminded himself, returning to the pragmatism that had maintained his sanity for his entire military career. Can't afford to weep over every loss.

"Move in over Beacon and provide air support. Wipe those Grimm bastards off the face of Remnant."

"Yes, sir!"

The marines and crewmen stood before the door of the armory, reloading new clips into their plasma rifles. Yang stood behind them, toting a rifle of her own. She felt rather embarrassed having to pick up another one after ditching her first one. Having counted on the armory being clear proved to be a forlorn hope, as blood was caked over the panels of the entranceway, and feral growls resonated from the chamber within.

"Prisoner, watch our back. Make sure nothing sneaks up on us." the red-haired marine ordered. "Jenkins, keep an eye on her. She tries anything funny, you shoot her. Got it?"

"Yes sir!" he replied, and about-turned to face Yang.

She tightened her grip on her rifle and clenched her teeth in frustration. If there was anything else she despised more than being locked away from combat, it was being useless in a fight.

"Safeties off! Breach formation!" the marine bellowed, with he and his men taking positions on either side of the door. After a few seconds, Yang caught on and dashed to the right, leaning on the metal wall and aiming down a bend in the hallway. The soldiers clicked off their safeties in unison, reminding Yang of her close encounter with the Griffon in her cell. Checking the side of her rifle, she discovered the raised bump of the safety behind the trigger, and promptly pressed it.

"Fire in the hole!" one of the marines shouted as he planted a small, square explosive on the twin metal panels of the door. His hands trembled as he held the detonator aloft in his hand. The Grimm on the other side began to growl.

"Blow the charges, private! On my mark!" the helmetless marine ordered, as he and the rest of his squad braced against the wall. He brought up his left hand and counted down, the other marine thumbing the detonator as soon as the last finger descended.

Flame and smoke shot out from the entrance as the panels of the doorway thudded on the far side of the armory. The soldiers filed in one by one, guns blazing as they stepped inside. The last marine disappeared beyond the threshold, with the cries of the Griffons punctuating the chorus of relentless plasma fire.

A new note rose from within: a deeper, more harrowing snarl that overpowered the cries of the dying beasts. The creature unleashed a furious roar, followed by talons dragging across metal. Human screams then echoed out of the armory, panicked and terrified as they resonated through the hallways.

Yang lowered her rifle and ran over to peer over the edge of the blown-in door. The Grimm towered over the shaking soldier at its feet. The intricate markings on its bony plates were unmistakeable. She'd seen them countless times, both in Professor Port's class and out in the field. It stared directly at her with its two pairs of hollow, red eyes, aching to slaughter the Huntress before it.

Yep. This one's an Alpha.

Ignoring the trembling marine below it, it charged right past the line of soldiers. Their barrage was unable to halt its advance, its thick, white armor absorbing the bolts of plasma.

Yang raised her rifle and lined up its head with her crosshairs. Yet, before she could pull the trigger, an impact on her back knocked her off-balance. She stumbled and fell to her knees, the scorching plasma searing off her skin and clothing. Regardless, she felt little pain, as her Aura glowed yellow while it healed her wounds. As her Semblance absorbed the energy from the bolt, a new boost of strength surged through her entire body, with her bright blonde hair emitting a dull glow.

"Thanks, bud," Yang grunted through gritted teeth as she tossed her rifle aside, the marine's jaw dropping in horror. "I really needed that."

The Alpha Griffon leaped into the air and shrieked, its talons extended and ready to slash. Unflinching, Yang slammed her two fists together, her golden locks bursting into flame and her irises turning red. She drew back her fist, and with a scream of her own, dashed forth to meet the beast.

Her fist made contact with the Grimm's head, splitting and crunching the bone underneath. A dry snap came from the Griffon's neck as the imposing creature fell limp, tumbling harmlessly to her side. Thin spirals of black smoke materialized over the carcass. Standing above the corpse, Yang exhaled in relief, the soldiers standing still and staring.

The red-haired marine was the first to break the eerie silence. "Jenkins, as much as I wanna call you a trigger-happy son of a bitch, you might have just saved all our asses," he deadpanned. Jenkins only grunted in reply.

Yang shrugged off her vest, inspecting the gaping hole left on its right side. With a groan, she slung it over her shoulder and glared at the marine who shot her. "You're paying for this, pal," she snarled, pointing at her ruined clothes. His helmet obscured most of his face, yet she swore he rolled his eyes.

"Well, prisoner, we're here on your behalf. Grab your weapons so we can get the hell out," the red-haired marine ordered. Identifying her gauntlets from the countless rifles lining the racks was no hard task, as their bright yellow metal contrasted with the dreary gray of the armory. With a gleeful smile, she reclaimed them from their slot and slid them onto her wrists, relishing their comforting weight on her forearms. After being deprived of them for close to four days, bearing them once more made her feel like a Huntress again, instead of a prisoner rotting away on an Atlas ship.

"Way better than those peashooters you guys lug around, huh?" she remarked with a smirk.

"We don't have all day!" one of the marines called out in his guttural Atlesian accent. "Get on with it!"

She gave the racks a last look-over, in case she missed anything else of note. Satisfied, she turned back to the marines. "Sooo, now what?" she asked. "We ready to head out?"

Without answering, the red-haired marine raised a hand to his ear, pushing down the single button on his comms unit.

"This is Staff Sergeant Karmesinrot of Alpha Company to Red-7. Come in, Red-7."

In the quiet of the armory, Yang could hear the static from the sergeant's earpiece. No voices replied to his hail.

"I repeat, this is Staff Sergeant Karmesinrot to Red-7. Do you copy?"

Yet again, silence was all that came from the other end of the transmission.

"Oh shit," one of the crewmen accompanying the squad groaned. "Did we just lose the fucking bridge?"

"Yeah, what are we gonna do, Sarge?" another marine spoke up. "We can't just sit around with our thumbs up our asses. We gotta do somethin'!"

"And we will, Private," the sergeant responded with determination. "Ready up, everyone. We're storming the bridge. You too, prisoner."

"Aye aye, sir!" the soldiers chorused. Yang simply smirked and nodded.

The red-haired marine trotted out of the armory, followed closely by the men and women under his command. Yang tagged along behind them, flicking her wrists to extend her weapons. They expanded with creaky whirrs of machinery, the days of neglect taking their toll on the gears and pistons. She made a mental note to grease them as soon as she returned to Beacon.

If I do at all.

The squad made its way through the cramped maintenance tunnels, winding their way up through ladders and around countless corners. Yang could hear menacing growls just on the other side of the metal walls, with occasional bangs or screeches as the Griffons beyond attempted to break in. Of course they can sense us, she thought when she saw the marine in front of her, his rifle trembling in his hands.

At last, they emerged from the dark and into the brightness of the uppermost decks, her eyes taking several seconds to adjust to the lighting. To their left, the entrance to the bridge laid tightly shut, with several corpses slumped against the closed doors. Small pockets of black smoke swirled above her head, filling the deck with an acrid stench.

"At least they went down fighting," the sergeant muttered before he turned to the soldiers behind him. "Form up on the door," he ordered. "Jenkins, plant the charges."

"On it, sir," the marine replied, running up to the door and extracting the explosives from his belt.

The red-haired marine then turned to face Yang, gesturing forward with his rifle. "You're good at handling these things, prisoner. Get up there with Jenkins. You'll be breaching."

She raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Well, that's a sudden change of heart. What happened to 'keep an eye on her in case she tries anything funny?'"

"Atlas military doctrine urges the use of any available assets to ensure victory," he recited, as if stating an article of faith. "Now get the hell up there before I change my mind."

"You're the boss," Yang retorted, raising her hands in mock concession. A smirk spread across her face as the sergeant groaned behind her.

As she approached the marine hunched over the dual panels of the door, he shifted his gaze from the charges to the Huntress standing to his left.

"So, back when I shot you in the armory… what the hell was that?" he inquired, taking quick glances at the gaping hole left on the back of her tank top, and the burnt vest slung over her shoulder.

"Oh, that's my Semblance!" she replied, feeling no small measure of pride. "I can absorb the energy from any attacks and use them to make my own stronger! Pretty cool, huh?"

"Fucking freaks, the lot of you Hunters," he muttered, his voice laced with envy. "We can still make use of it, though." He fiddled for a few seconds with the explosives, before hitting a button on the central panel, causing the charges to emit a faint green light. In prominent red letters, the word 'ARMED' appeared on the device's analog display. Jenkins retreated back to the line of marines, leaving Yang alone at the end of the hallway.

Ah, I see what you're up to. Not bad for a bunch of army pukes, she thought, bracing herself in front of the explosive.

Once again, the red-haired marine raised his palm. "Blow the charges! On my mark!" he bellowed. Yang took a deep breath as the sergeant lowered his fingers one after the other, the end of the countdown marked by a sharp beep.

Her entire vision was consumed by a white flash, as flame and heat washed over her in an enormous wave. Her eardrums reverberated under the might of the blast, leaving a persistent ring she thought would last forever. She shielded her face with her hands, the skin on her palms and forearms boiling away. However, her Aura and Semblance began to kick in, as her entire body was encased by a faint yellow glow, closing her wounds and regenerating her flesh. She clenched her fists as her muscles overflowed with strength, her hair once again setting itself ablaze. As soon as the explosion washed over her, she lunged into the bridge through a screen of smoke, emerging with a furious shout.

A Griffon charged forth the moment it spotted her, releasing a sharp, terrifying screech. Yet, before it could make contact, Yang brought down her arm, hitting the beast right between the eyes as Ember Celica roared. The monster flew backwards, smashing through the consoles on the upper level before slumping in the open area below.

Two more Grimm dashed forward, seeking to avenge their fallen brethren. Yang delivered a brutal uppercut into the jaw of the first, sending it crashing into the bulkhead above. She then crouched as the final griffon attempted to gouge her, its beak scything through the air above her head.

"That was close, buddy!"Yang taunted. "But not close enough!"

As she rolled to the right to strike the Griffon, a single strand of yellow hair fluttered down in front of her face, on its serene fall to the metal ground. Gently, it touched down on the deck, coiling up as soon as it landed.

"OH, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" she screamed, her eyes shifting from lilac to crimson. She twisted to give the beast a swift kick in the neck, knocking it onto its side. Standing up and cocking her weapons with a pump of her arms, she began to fire into the Griffon's torso, slug after slug encrusting themselves into its flesh. Eventually, Yang's relentless flurry was met by a dry click from her twin gauntlets, with red shell casings littering the ground around her. Three new tendrils of black fumes now rose into the air within the bridge.

Her rage subsiding, she relaxed her fists, exhaled, and spat on the rapidly disappearing remains of the Grimm that had dared harm her hair.

"You weren't the first to make that mistake," she muttered, wiping small beads of sweat off her brow. The broken Griffons at her feet reminded her of the deathly wound she had inflicted on the poor, Mistralian student… Mercury, she recalled.

Well, at least I'm not killing humans anymore, she consoled herself, exhaling in relief. Once I get back, you and I have a LOT to chat about, Blakey.

Outside, the clattering of boots approached the entrance, the sergeant and his men passing through the threshold. "Well, that was quick," he said, looking at the sprawled out corpses of the Grimm. "Spread out. Secure the area and identify the bodies."

With the bridge reclaimed, she was able to look around and take in the scene before her. Multiple human carcasses cluttered the floor, dried blood pooled around all of them. One in particular stood out to her: the corpse of a woman, laid out in the lower level of the bridge. Yang had no idea how to identify military ranks, but if the deceased crewmember's ornate shoulder padding and medals adorning her tunic were any indication, she must have been the vessel's captain.

She looked out the bridge's viewscreen, expecting the endless expanse of the sea. Instead, she saw the soaring spire of Beacon Academy, the entire complex spreading beneath her just as it had almost a year ago when she first arrived. A small tear began to form under her eye. This entire time, she believed she was on a direct course for Atlas, on the way to be interrogated and imprisoned by military authorities. Seeing her home eased her fears, and revitalized her hopes of escape.

Shifting her gaze across the vast plateau, she realized the academy was in bad shape. Gargantuan smokestacks rose from its buildings and equally large masses of thick, dark smoke spiraled alongside them. The courtyard was in ruins, with an enormous trench gouged into its soil. The remains of dozens of Atlesian Paladins dotted the grass, their wreckages still burning. As she looked more closely, she spotted more creatures of Grimm, closing in on the fortified positions that guarded the entrance. While their advance was broken and hasty, they moved forward nevertheless.

Oh no… Ruby… Weiss… Blake…

She ran down to the front of the bridge to get a better look, peering down at the huge lake below them. An enormous black tide rose forth from the waves and up the cliffs, much larger than the remains of the one on Beacon's doorstep. It inched its way up the rocks, sending many boulders on their long plummet downwards.

"Oh, fuck, there's more of 'em?" one of the marines shrieked. "If they get up there, Beacon's done for!"

Yang trembled at the thought. Left alone on an Atlas ship, with her sister and friends killed by the endless numbers of the Grimm.

And I'll be damned if I let that happen, she concluded, as an idea went off in her head.

"Yo, Sergeant," she called out to the red-haired marine, currently removing the dog tags off a poor crewmen's neck.

"What is it, prisoner?" he replied, standing up and turning to face her.

"Which one of these buttons fires the weapons?"

Ruby's ears continued to ring, a deep, piercing drone that consumed the entirety of her senses. Slowly, other sounds punctuated the persistent buzz. Plasma fire. Screams. Boots clacking on concrete. Eventually, a single voice overpowered the rest, a shout clear as the sun breaking through cloud.

"Charge! Charge! Charge!"

As it had back at the colosseum, her vision returned alongside her recovering hearing. She laid on her stomach, with a stout barrier of sandbags mere inches from her face. An insistent tugging on her shoulder caused her to sit up and look to her right. Weiss kneeled above her, Myrtenaster at the ready in her left hand.

"Come on, Ruby!" she screamed. "Get up!"

Shaking her head and blinking multiple times, she stood up and gazed upon the devastation before her. A massive ditch had been carved into the earth by the charges, with mountains of dirt scattered at its edge.

Among the dual trenches, countless Beowolves and Ursai sprawled out, their limbs twisting at impossible angles. A single Taijitu was draped over the remains of the stone pathway, pillars of smoke billowing from its midsection. Those that survived were dazed and confused, attempting to regain their momentum as they shambled over the ruined grass.

The entire battalion rose from their cover and jumped over the sandbags, firing their rifles in unison as they charged. The Huntsmen and Huntresses of Beacon loped alongside them, the melee fighters tearing through the stunned Grimm while those behind them finished off the stragglers. Cheers and whoops swept through the courtyard as the enemy's numbers dwindled.

"Let's go get 'em, Weiss!" Ruby called out to her partner, vaulting over the sandbags and extracting Crescent Rose from her back. With practiced expertise, she unsheathed it in her hands, spinning her weapon as its curved blade folded outward. Behind her, Weiss and Blake followed suit, the former casting a glyph under the trio. It resembled the face of a clock, its two hands rotating at an ever increasing speed. Ruby felt a surge of new energy course through her entire being, and coupling it with her Semblance, she dashed straight towards the remaining Grimm.

As she passed the gouge in the earth, the ground beneath her trembled. Spotting the cracks in the concrete ahead, Ruby halted and leapt backwards, just before a bright yellow stinger shot out from the opening. Two enormous pincers followed suit, attempting to pierce the nimble Huntress as she darted back and forth. Eventually, the full frame of a Deathstalker emerged, the clacking from its claws punctuating its furious shriek.

From behind, the marines unloaded their rifles into the beast, its thick armor absorbing the barrage. The hulking monster scuttled forward, bringing its enormous stinger down on Ruby. She vaulted over it as it pierced the ground, stabbing Crescent Rose into the flesh at its base. The Grimm screamed as the blade dug deeper, thrashing its tail back and forth in agony.

Coming to her aid, Weiss jumped onto the beast's carapace, holding Myrtenaster above one of its many eyes. Yet, one of the Grimm's great pincers swung sideways and swatted her off its back as if she were a mere flea, sending her rolling onto the dirt and into the depths of the ditch.

"Weiss!" Ruby shouted, the grip on her weapon beginning to waver. Her view of the world was reduced to an unrecognizable blur, as the Deathstalker's tail flailed back and forth. Finally, with a single, mighty swing downwards, Ruby's hands broke free. She slammed into the concrete, her Aura taking the brunt of the impact. However, by the time she stopped rolling and her vision stabilized, her entire torso ached with pain. Barely able to lift herself, she looked over the lip of the stone pathway and into the trench at its side, spotting a pair of pale hands emerge as Weiss crawled her way out.

Before the enormous monster could move in for the kill, Blake leapt in front of it, wielding the dual blades of Gambol Shroud. Enraged, the Deathstalker charged once more, plunging its pincer straight through Blake's abdomen. However, her figure dissipated into a black shadow, with her real form now poised directly above the creature's tail. She brought her sword down as she fell, severing the pincer from the tail in a single strike. The Grimm reared back and screamed, tendrils of dark fog forming on the stump.

Blake turned her attention to the fallen Ruby, picking Crescent Rose off the ground and running back. She crouched down next to her leader, extending her arm.

"Are you alright? Can you stand?" she asked, checking her arms and legs for any visible injuries.

"I'm fine. I think," she replied, standing up with the help of her teammate. "Thanks."

Silent as ever, she handed back her scythe, its blade dripping with black sludge.

Reclaiming her weapon, Ruby returned her attention to the Deathstalker, as it shook its head to regain its composure. All of its empty, red eyes focused on the two Huntresses, glowing with fury and hatred. Unleashing a harrowing shriek, it bounded forward at incredible speed, its multiple legs clacking on the ground.

Remove the stinger, and the Deathstalker becomes useless, Ruby recited mentally, recalling the endless hours she spent in Professor Port's class. Lacking its most powerful weapon, the Grimm flailed its pincers as she approached the two girls, the pair of Huntresses easily avoiding the hasty strikes. They vaulted onto its back, parrying its claws as the beast made a futile attempt to knock them aside.

Above them, a white blur streaked over the Grimm, with bright bolts of pure Dust arcing down from it. They encased its legs and pincers in pure ice, the beast screaming and thrashing as its frozen limbs refused to respond. Looking to her left, Ruby spotted Weiss as she landed on the other side of the pathway, the blade of Myrtenaster casting a dull glow.

"Now, you two!" she shouted at Ruby and Weiss. "Before it breaks free!"

When Ruby looked at the ice surrounding the Deathstalker, long cracks began to appear on its surface.

"Go, Ruby," Blake said, extracting a Fire Dust crystal from a pouch on her hips. "I've got a plan."

She jumped off the carapace of the Grimm, leaving a copy of herself behind. This one, however, did not dissipate, and instead shone an intense orange, growing brighter with each passing second.

You always were the clever one, Blake, Ruby thought, dashing upwards off of the Deathstalker. She turned around in midair, folding Crescent Rose back into its rifle form and aiming down its scope. Blake's shadow clone detonated, engulfing the Grimm in ball of fire and smoke. As it cleared, Ruby glimpsed the bubbling remains of the beast's armor, sizzling atop its now exposed skin. She pulled back on her weapon's bolt, ejected the spent casing, and grinned as another red-tipped bullet was inserted into the chamber.

She pulled the trigger and Crescent Rose spat flame. The bullet flew through the air and piercing the monster's skull. Another, smaller explosion came from its head, as the Fire Dust within the round ignited. Ruby landed back on the concrete, and the Deathstalker before her went limp, with wispy tendrils of smoke spiraling over its corpse.

"There. You didn't need to empty an entire clip into its head, now did you?" Weiss scoffed, glancing at the beast's disintegrating carcass. "This was much more elegant. Thank you, Blake."

"Anytime, Ice Queen," she replied, stowing her weapon on her back.

"But it would have been sooo coooool…" Ruby pouted.

"More like wasteful. Dust rounds don't grow on trees, you know, and with the factories out west being completely overrun, I don't think–"

The ground beneath them shook once again, catching the three girls off guard and knocking them on their knees. The once-triumphant cries of the marines turned into a din of confusion and alarm, many faces focusing on the cliffs from which the first wave came.

"Oh, come on!" Weiss stomped as she got back up, reloading a new chamber of Dust into her rapier. "Don't they know when to give up already?"

"They're persistent, I'll give them that," Blake added. "But giving up? If only it were that easy."

Ruby converted Crescent Rose back into its scythe form and looked out to the docks and the skies beyond. The fleet of Atlesian ships, while now smaller in size, loomed much closer to the academy than they did when the invasion began. Their hulls were ravaged with breaches, many ships exposing their bare frames. However, their cannons still jutted out from under their bows, glowing red as they charged up.

And the entire fleet then pitched downwards, aiming their entire arsenals directly at the Beacon cliffs.