Author's Note:

Oh geeze, oh man, things are getting intense now. I sure hope nobody dies...

So as always, I would love to hear what everybody thinks, especially now in this "rising action" type of thing. Follow, fave, do all that stuff to show support.

There's something else that occurred to me recently; do any girls read this? Its a weird question, but it never occurred to me before. Do girls read this? Are girls watching? Everything is worth doing if girls are watching.

Nora's howl rang off the walls, but was able to travel no further. The enchantments on the walls were more than enough to halt the girl's desperate cries, pleas, and threats, though. Naze looked on as she struggled against the luminescent shackles that bound her to the wall. Naze looked on, interested, trying to analyze what he could of the girl before her appointment with the Paladin in the morning. He didn't know if the Paladin would be able to do as he said, but he would be standing by in case he could not, ready to slice the demon out of her. At this point he wasn't sure the analogy of amputating a limb to stop an infection was accurate anymore. It seemed that Nora was almost entirely consumed by the demon now.

She was in his room because of Yang, mostly. She had half bargained, half begged that he contain her until it was time for the appointment. The begging was for the saving of a friend, and the bargaining was that with her incapacitated, Naze could conduct whatever minor experiments he wanted. Neither Pyrrha nor Jaune had been happy about the idea of Nora being "tested", but it was the only option for them other than finding a way to contain the raging girl themselves. And so it was that Naze had removed the burden from their shoulders.

His findings thus far were fairly typical of what demonically possessed individuals experienced; heightened physical strength and resilience, immensely improved senses, physical regeneration that outstripped the best that non-demonic life could offer, and near instantaneous mood swings. If she didn't regenerate so fast, she probably would've been able to free herself from the brightly glowing circles of arcane energy that held her in place by tearing her own hands or feet off.

There had been brief periods where she gave up her struggles, and seemed to accept that she would lose whatever battle she was fighting, but those periods were short lived, and quickly gave in to the mad ravings about Ren, and why she needed to find him. Naze had listened intently for a while, but she started to repeat herself, and the extent of tests that he could do without risking permanent damage to the girl had been mostly exhausted, so he let his attention slip. Of much greater importance was the artifact, and the fact that the White Fang had brought enough supplies to lay siege to a small city. It made him glad to see that they were sparing no expense on the attack they would soon carry out, but woeful that so many were going to be injured, and possibly killed, in vain. It would give him a good supply of corpses though, as he had no intention of returning them if they were requested. They would be a kind of compensation for the inconveniences that the White Fang had caused him. Ironwood's men were en route, and would spend whatever time before the attack that remained entrenching themselves close to the extractor.

He had already organized more teams of his own soldiers, as well as a large number of mages who would be more than capable of defending the artifact once it was vulnerable, and a large enough means of retrieving the artifact once it was fully excavated had already been set in place. A rune of translocation that large would take several minutes to be adequately activated, and would likely take a large portion of the surrounding landscape with it. Collateral losses deemed acceptable, though, for once they had come into possession of the artifact there would be plenty of research to do. Every facet of the thing was going to be recorded with meticulous detail, than picked apart piece by piece until ever secret was revealed. A judgment would be made at that point about whether it would be kept at that point.

Nora flung another slurry of insults and pleas at him, which was promptly ignored. It was tempting to simply remove the demon now, instead of giving the Paladin the glory of it. The less that was thought of them, the better. Their numbers had grown recently, but it was still a negligible force. Naze wondered if letting the man go to form his Order had been a mistake. Certainly, no one was paying a great deal of attention to them, but that could all change very quickly on account of the media. He held this urge in close check, remaining vigilant in not acting upon it. A promise to one of his servants was as good as a contract, and Yang had made him promise.

He continued to think, and to plot, staring blankly at Nora as she struggled against her bonds. Things had been prepared as well as they could be, and now all that was left to do was wait. Wait for someone else to make a move, and to provoke an attack. He looked forward to the White Fang attack, in a way. It would give a perfect avenue to display the power that the undead held for the living, while it could also simultaneously say that they had been holding back, and were continuing to do so. He recalled the face and the voice of Cinder as she had made her offer to him that he could be put in a position of power behind the scenes. She had been so confident, and so seductive…

Or had tried to be seductive, at least. She tried to take advantage of organs that no longer functioned. He only hoped that he would see her face when the forces that she had pulled together for such a glorious plan were broken and driven before her. The men and women of the White Fang were no professional soldiers, and thus Naze expected that their morale would be broken easily. If not, it would be because of their nearing religious devotion to their cause. That too could be broken, if they saw enough that they were fighting a hopeless battle. He didn't expect a great deal of resistance. He might even attend the battle himself.

When the morning finally came, Pyrrha sat up from her bed and looked over at Jaune's bed. She felt like she hadn't got so much of a blink of sleep. How could she? After seeing what Nora had done to Jaune, she felt like she would never sleep again. The image of his body relaxing, and him tiredly trying to say where Ren was located. He knew how important it was that Ren stay secret, so the fact that Nora could so completely bend him to her will was nothing short of disturbing.

And she had been so strong, Pyrrha had been taken totally off-guard. Nora generally wasn't large enough to have any large amount of muscle, but it had simply been as if she were a solid wall. Her arms still hurt from pulling Nora and Jaune apart, and she was afraid that she had actually managed to damage it. She felt bad for being concerned for herself, the one that she should've been worried about was Jaune. He was still lying in bed, and had no issue sleeping through the night. Pyrrha had checked up on him several times through the night, and he appeared to be fine. Naze had assured her that the effects of Nora's saliva would wear with time. The best thing that he could do was sleep. She hated to wake him, but he had to be present when she took Nora in. She doubted that she could do it without his help.

With slow, careful movements, Pyrrha crept across the floor and put a hand on Jaune's shoulder, shaking him lightly. "Jaune, get up. We have to go." The blonde let off a small groan before sliding deeper under his covers and mumbling "No, I need to sleep."

Pyrrha heaved a heavy sigh before sitting on the edge of Jaune's bed and starting to remove the covers herself. "Jaune, you know we can't delay any longer. Do you want Nora to stay how she is now? If you stay in bed, she won't get fixed." This opened Jaune's eyes at least, which slid to look at Pyrrha slowly. "Fix Nora?"

Pyrrha nodded solemnly. "Yes, fix Nora. Remember when we took Ren to Solace, and he said that he would take the demon out of her? That's today, so we have to go." She pulled the covers completely off of him, and shook him again. "Come on Jaune, get ready to go." Her efforts finally paid off, and with another groan, Jaune sat up and started to get ready to go. Pyrrha hoped that he wouldn't be as groggy as he seemed all day, because it would be much harder to manage Nora if he was. Team RWBY had agreed to accompany her on the way to Solace, which was a good thing, because given what had happened last night, she doubted that her and Jaune alone could manage the burden of Nora.

By the time Jaune had showered and readied himself, Pyrrha had dressed fully in her battle gear, and urged Jaune to do the same. This seemed to set the tone for the day. A cautious, regretful tone that was just waiting for something to break and go wrong. Both of them could feel it in the air. There was a tension of disaster, but neither could tell just yet what it was, or how they could stop it.

When they walked across the hall and knocked on team RWBY's door, they found them all in similar conditions, all looking very on edge. When Pyrrha indicated that it was time for them to go and get Nora, none seemed particularly pleased. Of all the looks, Ruby's was the most fearful. As the group passed through the door, Pyrrha dropped back, wanting to talk. "What's the matter?"

Ruby gave Pyrrha an incredulous look before rolling her eyes and saying "Oh, I don't know, there's just something about one of my friends going crazy that I find slightly worrying." Her sarcasm was clear, but so was her worry. Pyrrha decided that it would be a wise move to try and calm her down, and but a hand gently on her shoulder. "We're all worried. But Nora is going to be alright. We have to believe that, right?" Ruby gave a grim nod, and Pyrrha gave the younger girl a hopeful smile, even though she didn't feel much hope herself. While she did this, she thought to herself about hope, trying to feel more of it. Jaune was drugged, Yang was dead, and she was starting to lose faith in herself. It wasn't the best team for the job, probably, but it was all she had. They could make it work, she was sure of it.

As they neared the door to Naze's room, she felt her trepidation lessen slightly. It was quiet, which she took as a good sign. If Nora was being quiet, than it meant that she had settled down. Jaune wrapped his knuckles against the wooden door, then stepped back, waiting. Several seconds later, the door opened, and for a brief moment, the loudest screaming they had ever heard split their ears, making all of them put their hands to their heads in an attempt to block out the offending noise. The noise was cut short, however, and Naze quickly stepped into the doorway, dragging along with him Nora, who was struggling with all her might against translucent bands that seemed to be keeping her ankles, knees, wrists, and elbows tightly together. The last piece, presumably what had silenced her, was a filthy looking rag that had been forcefully stuffed into her mouth, past her teeth, and almost halfway down her throat. She didn't gag. Instead, she appeared to be trying to shout past the rather disgusting piece of fabric, her eyes darting erratically from one face to another.

All of them were shocked by this, but Naze seemed to regard her as if this was normal behavior. With one hand gripping her arm like a vice, he pushed her out, forcing her to hop on her artificially single leg. In doing this, she almost toppled herself, but Jaune reacted fast enough to catch her. As soon as he did, it was clear that he realized his mistake of getting close to her, and dropped her again, wiping his hands off on his clothes to avoid any possible contamination. Pyrrha was glad to see that he was on his toes, but the sight and sound of Nora hitting the floor and floundering like a fish out of water was nothing if not disheartening. She quickly made to pick Nora up, taking one arm in one hand and the opposite shoulder in the other, pulling her back upright. Naze crossed his arms and eyed the group before saying "Well, quite the motley crew you've assembled. Are you certain you can get the girl to her destination without issue?"

Pyrrha looked to the faces that would help her accomplish this. What she saw didn't fire any confidence in her soul. They looked scared, and they looked confused. They looked about how she felt. But they had to pull together to do this. Although she didn't want to admit it, maybe Naze coming along wouldn't hurt, just in case something happened. She looked back to Naze and said "I think it would be good if you came along, in case we fail to take something into consideration."

Naze nodded. "A wise choice. I will be preoccupied with other matters however, and will not be taking an active role in events happening. I'll just be trailing behind." Pyrrha replied with a nod, saying "That's good. Should we head out now, or wait?" Naze responded by raising an eyebrow and saying "Why wait? She isn't going to calm down, she did this for almost the entire night. You may as well go now. And I suggest sticking to alleyways and backstreets. If someone were to see you dragging a girl all bound up like that, they might have a few questions."

Pyrrha sighed. That was true. She hadn't considered how they were actually going to get Nora down to Solace without arousing suspicion. It was a detail that had simply slipped her mind. She made to pick Nora up, but Yang stopped her, saying "Hey, I'll take this. I'd be easier for me to take her. And besides, I'm immune to all her weird effects completely, right? She can't numb me or anything." Pyrrha glanced back at Nora, and found that her saliva was starting to soak through the rag that blocked her mouth. Instantly seeing how that could pose a problem to anyone but Yang, she nodded. "Perhaps you should take her."

Yang gave her a confident smile and said "Don't worry Pyrrha, we got this! And besides, even if Solace can't do this, we still have to back up plan of Naze's." Pyrrha smiled, trying to look reassured. That plan didn't sound very safe, or very reliable. She hoped more than anything that it wouldn't come down to that.

With the puppet body now already in use, Naze decided to appear at the extractor himself. The White Fang were bared for an attack, waiting for the slightest signal that the artifact was vulnerable. Tension was in the air, clear as the sky above. Airships had arrived a few hours earlier, and Ironwood's men were now dug in, circling around the extractor with weapons ready and piles of ammunition ready for firing. All of them were twitchy, and ready for action. They could feel the eyes of the White Fang upon them, and felt somewhat uncomfortable with all the undead around.

Ironwood walked among his men, performing equipment checks and attempting to bolster the spirits of his men. He insisted that the undead could be trusted, and that he and met with their leader, ironing out the details of the engagement. That wasn't necessarily true, he hadn't spoken about many of the details, but he had been told by one of the corpses working the machine that they were to defend to "Establish sufficient defenses to keep your own men safe, and stay out of our way."

He had taken this to mean that their presence wouldn't mean an awful lot in the grand scheme of this battle. It made sense, their participation was optional. Naze didn't need them there at all. He and his hundred-fifty men and women were ready to fight, though, and would as hard as they needed to.

He continued to prepare his men until the rune that several guards had appeared from already, and could immediately feel a horrible perversion in the air. Something was very wrong, and he knew it. His men all shuffled uncomfortably, and he knew that they felt it too. He shouted out to them, instructing them to keep their eyes of the trees, looking for any signs of White Fang, than turned to face the source of the disturbance himself.

He had reviewed the footage of Yang being resurrected numerous times, trying to learn anything that he could about Naze the Eternal, but nothing had prepared him for what he looked like up close. Withered flesh and old robes clung to the skeletal frame of the lich, and an otherworldly power seemed to radiate off of him, sending every one of Ironwood's nerves into a spiral of worry, threatening to send him into a spiral of panic. He did everything that he could to keep from giving in to the feeling, but knew that he was teetering very close to losing his composure. In an attempt to reestablish his own control, he put his hands behind his back and said "Ah, I've been expecting you." The effort to make his voice normalized was obvious, and mostly wasted. He ended up sounding just as frightened as he really was

If an ancient corpse could smile, he was sure that Naze was doing it. "I assure you general, I have no intention of hurting you." His voice sounded like a ghostly whisper on the wind, and like two pieces of metal rending each other apart. Ironwood grit his teeth and tightened his grip on his own feelings. "Yes, I am aware. It is simply that-" Naze cut him off, holding up a hand and saying "Yes, I am aware of my natural effects on the living. I must complement your willpower, being able to resist it so well. Very few are able to do so."

Ironwood nodded, then turned to look out at the woods again. "If you don't mind my asking, how long might it be until this artifact is revealed? I'm sure you can imagine how eager everyone is to see it." Naze turned his head to the trees, joints creaking as he did so, making Ironwood's skin crawl. "It should be very soon. I would estimate within the hour. Keep your men alert and ready, I'm sure the White Fang will waste no time in throwing themselves away to us."

The man nodded. That was one feeling that they could both agree on. The White Fang were tough opponents to beat, but that was because they often had a hometown advantage, and could simply remove their masks and join into a crowd. Now he had the advantage. Now they would have to come to him. There was no way to disguise oneself when charging into a battle.

Naze started to walk away, and Ironwood let out a sigh of relief. Naze was not at all what Ironwood had expected him to be in person. He seemed to radiate fear and death. He had spoken of the Paladins thinking that he was a monster, and now Ironwood could see very well why. It was easy to want to lash out at him, and Ironwood was sure that all of his own men were simply waiting for the opportunity to turn around and start shooting the lich. It would be very important to keep a tight hold on his men. If anything bad or unexpected happened, he would have to be in the most control possible. He had no doubt that the soldiers Naze had would be more than capable of remaining safe themselves, but they were dead, and practically nothing could touch them. His own men were still flesh and blood, with beating hearts in their chests, and families at home. Wives and children. He had been forced to notify families of casualties in the past, and that was a bitter duty that he had no desire to repeat. He would do everything he could to avoid it. He had to.

Naze's advice regarding back roads, alleyways, and out of sight movement proved to be very true, as before they were able to get to any of these, the group was fairly sure that they had the police called on them. Once they had seen the people pointing, staring, and pulling out their scrolls, they had decided that it was time to run. It had been a few minutes since then, and they had only slowed to a jog, Yang taking the head of the group, Nora still slung over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

It appeared that Nora had stopped struggling, and instead taken to glaring daggers of hate at those who had once been her friends, bouncing up and down with each of Yang's steps. Each person her eyes fell on found themselves feeling incredibly guilty, and tried to avoid her gaze. Her jaw and tongue worked as well, trying to dislodge the rag that had been placed there, but to no avail. The rag was now soaked almost completely through with her saliva, and all of them were careful to avoid any that happened to drip off and through.

The one who felt guiltiest, as well as the one she stared at the most, was Jaune. It made him very uncomfortable to think about what had happened last night. She had almost gotten him to reveal something he knew specifically to make sure she didn't find out. It had all been so easy for her. If Pyrrha hadn't been there, he didn't know what he would've done. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that he had liked it. The worst part was that some portion of his mind, no matter how small, wanted it to happen again. It desired the release from thought. How easy it would be, and how happy he would become if Nora simply did that again, and he followed her for the rest of his days.

He shook his head, realizing that he had been getting lost in her eyes. "Get a grip Jaune, don't go crazy on me now." The words were only meant for himself, but Pyrrha heard him, as she was running right beside him, and gave him a concerned look. He looked back at her, eyes wide, trying to think of something to say. He was scared of losing himself. It was something that he had never thought of before. Sure, it would feel good, but would it still really be him?

His feelings must've shone through his eyes, because Pyrrha put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a comforting look. She didn't say a single word, but he could practically hear her in his head, saying "Be strong Jaune. We're almost there." Using these words as encouragement, her put his eyes forward again, not to Nora but to the road, bowing his head slightly as he jogged. He would be strong.

Pyrrha smiled as Jaune became more focused. It hurt to see him in such a frightened state. He was normally so confident that it was jarring to see. She glanced behind her, making sure that everyone was still with them. Ruby was up next to her sister, but the rest of them were behind those two. Weiss was the closest behind Pyrrha, only a few feet away, and Blake was an even shorter distance from her. At the back of the group, maybe twenty feet behind, Naze followed. What he was doing was not quite jogging, but a rapid shamble. He was keeping distance though, which was good.

She looked ahead again, and breathed a sigh of relief when the warehouse that Ren had been left at came into view. Jaune called out to Yang "That's it! Right there!" Yang glanced over her shoulder briefly and nodded, confirming that she heard and understood.

The group turned slightly as they made their way to the warehouse, and soon were by the door. Yang stopped, and turned to face her friends, an anticipatory look in her eyes. As they all reached the door, she asked "What's the plan here? Just walk right on in?"

Jaune nodded before saying "Yeah, that's what we did last time. C'mon." He pushed past her, putting a hand the door. Before he could open it, Naze's voice came from the idle looking body behind them. "I will remain out here. I doubt a Paladin would appreciate Yang's intrusion, let alone mine." Yang nodded, saying "Yeah, alright. Just stick around until we come back out." Jaune pushed the door open, and the entirety of the group except for Naze funneled through the door.

The inside was not like it had been the last time they had come. It was brightly illuminated now, and Solace was not alone. Now there were several robed individuals with him, and all of them too covered to tell their identities. It was a somewhat imposing scene, and all of them were feeling somewhat off put by this. They walked in regardless, and Solace turned to face them. "Ah, good, you're here. And you brought the girl! Excellent! Bring her over…" as the group approached, his voice trailed off and he recognized Yang. He only let that stop him for a moment before continuing to speak. "Bring her over here, into the circle." He indicated a circle on the floor made of chalk, and Yang obliged.

Once Nora was in the circle, the robed figures moved into a formation surrounding it, and Solace said "Now, please, stand back. I would explain, but there is no time. We must get started as quickly as possible." Pyrrha and Jaune didn't want to simply stand by and wait, but it was all that they could do.

Cinder looked out from behind a tree at the machine, as well as those who stood a vigil watch over it. The machine had started to thrum loudly, sending vibrations through the ground that had been reported being felt even miles away. This had to mean that the artifact was close. But those guards would be a problem, she knew it. They could probably go one on one with even an Atlesian Paladin and come out on top. But there was something that she did know, which made a grin slide sneakily across her face as her fingers started to work, summoning flame from the dust that resided in the very fabric of the red dress she wore. Corpses that old were very dry, and dry corpses burned well. The fire crackled in her hand a while longer before she turned back to the tent that had served as her headquarters the past few days, snuffing it out with a thought.

Neo and Roman were both seated in collapsible chairs that had been brought, looking at her and waiting for her orders. Roman was swinging his cane around one finger, the metal swishing dangerously close to Neo's head. Cinder had no doubt that the woman would move if she needed to. She had seen Neo practically dodge bullets before, a cane wouldn't pose a threat at all.

As she approached the two, her hips sashayed in a seductive manner, making Roman's eyes trace her figure briefly before they returned to her face. Neo's eyes remained locked in place. "It would appear that our prize is almost ready. Inform the men that it's almost time to act." Roman gave her a gleaming smile, then stood, entering the tent and making use of a few of the communication devices within. As he did this, Cinder sat down in his now vacant seat, crossing her legs and looking over at Neo. "When this battle starts, I think you will be one of the best fighters out there."

The compliment did nothing to raise Neo's ever-present grin, but Cinder continued on as if Neo had thanked her. "As such, I think it would be best if you were to stay close to me. I will, after all, be at all the most important parts of the battle." Neo gave a terse nod, then glanced over at the tent. Even if the girl was mute, her intentions and thought were practically shouted to Cinder. "Don't worry yourself with Roman. He's slippery, and he's no child. He will know when to get away, if the need arises. Have some confidence, Neo! I have absolute faith that Roman will do exactly what he must."

The various beeps, buzzes, and static voices died down for a moment as she spoke, then flared back into life. Cinder knew that Roman had heard what she said, and that her meaning was clear. If he didn't do what was necessary, or if he chose the wrong time to flee, she would be very disappointed.

It was a few minutes before the communication died down again, and when it did, Roman stepped out of the tent, saying "Well, the animals are riled up, just waiting for the call." He noticed that his seat was now occupied, and rolled his eyes, hooking his cane on his wrist before reaching for a cigar. Cinder knew the opportunity for making further threats, but figured that he knew her point.

Instead, she said "Good, good. Now we simply wait for the prize to be brought forth for us to take. I'm sure we can take it without too much of a struggle." She was indeed confident. If they had called in Ironwood's men for assistance, she was sure that they must have been much more deficient than she had originally thought. Maybe this battle would even be easy. She wasn't about to go and say that, though. If she did, she was sure that word would leak among the White Fang, and then they would be unprepared for the fight. She didn't care much about the losses they sustained, but the more that she lost in the battle, the fewer she would have down the line.

She looked up from her seat at Roman again, who was taking another breath of smoke, and said "Excuse me darling, could you fetch the map for me?" The red haired man gave her an annoyed look at the way she addressed him, but went back into the tent to retrieve the map. When he brought it out and handed it to her, she took it, saying "Oh, thank you, Roman." He mumbled something under his breath, and Cinder was able to make out more than a few curses, but she smiled and looked down at the paper. Roman's annoyance was music to her ears.

The local region had been mapped with all of the White Fang forces that had shown up, all in all they were about six hundred strong. Against a real military, that wouldn't get them very far, but there were only about a hundred or one hundred and fifty of regular humans, and ten undead guards. She very much doubted that the dead people who were working the machine would get involved. They had shown no interest in anything except continuing to make the machine function, and so Cinder thought that they were some kind of automatic worker, without any free will.

White Fang forces were stationed all around the machine, surrounding it. They had made sure that there was no hole in the circle, and gone to great lengths to procure the equipment that they would use in this attack. Atlesian Paladins, guns, ammunition, everything had been stolen from somewhere. And they were ready to use it, too. Attack patterns and troop layouts had all been written down and thoroughly communicated to ensure that they would do maximum damage as quickly as possible.

She put the map down after a few minutes, satisfied, and got up from her seat, walking back to the tree that she had been looking out from behind before. It was a good overlook, providing an excellent view over the machine. Something caught her eye that she hadn't seen before. A new undead, with a staff, and faded looking robes. It was walking around the machine, inspecting it. She squinted her eyes, trying to get a better view, but the distance proved too great for this tactic to be effective. The figure remained as blurry and distant as it had before. Cinder was about to call for some kind of magnification device, binoculars, or something similar, when the far away figure's head turned, and she felt herself paralyzed.

Every muscle in her body locked, and refused to move. Her eyes were affixed on the eyes of the distant figure, a pair of soul-piercing blue dots in the distance. A heavy smothered feeling came over her, and she started to sweat. She didn't know what was happening, but she couldn't look away. The pressure of the world seemed to fluctuate wildly, making her ears pop and her balance fail her. This mattered little though, as with her body paralyzed, she could not fall. A wave of nausea washed over her, and she fought with all the strength she had left to look away from the hypnotic gaze.

A hand touched her shoulder, and she jumped, gasping and looking over to see its owner. Neo was beside her, a concerned look on her face. Cinder's brain took a brief moment to reengage her mental functions, but when it did, she brushed Neo's had off softly, saying in a silky voice "I'm touched by your concern, but I am perfectly fine. If I were you, I would be more worried about Roman, at least until the fight." Both women looked behind them, finding Roman now seated in what had been Cinder's seat, smoking to his heart's content.

A loud crack echoed out among the trees, and all attention was instantly seized by the source of the noise. Cinder was careful to avoid looking at the same figure that she had before while she searched for the source of the sound. What her eyes worked together with her ears to find was the machine.

She turned to Roman, saying loudly "Put out the call! Time to fight!" He scrambled back into the tent, and it wasn't long before a war cry lifted the forest, and the pounding of feet of the grass and dirt floor fill their ears.

The earth cracked within the extractor, and a single large red pointed spine started to rise up from the ground, clumps of dirt and rock falling from it as it went. It moved slowly, and would take around half a minute to reach the height of a man. It was a good sign, though, that the earth was shaking. It meant that there was much, much more of the thing still to go. The men of Ironwood's command all looked back at the thing, wondering at it, but all of the undead kept their eyes forward, focused on their respective jobs.

Ironwood's voice rang out above the sound of the ground being ripped apart, and was transmitted through each soldiers' helmet communication system as well. "Focus, men. We came here to protect this thing, not gawk at it. Weapons ready! The White Fang will be here any minute now!"

They waited, hands tightening around the trips of their guns and fingers aching to go to release their safeties and rest on their triggers. All of them knew better than that, though. Their training had taught them better. Ironwood felt proud as he looked at all of them, how well they handled themselves. A few were nervous, but that was understandable. They were heavily outmatched in this battle.

His eyes went to the undead guards, looking for any sign of tension or anticipation on their varyingly-decayed faces. There was anticipation and alertness, but nothing akin to fear in their eyes. He wondered briefly what it might take to scare one of them. A monster too horrible to imagine, no doubt. A large flock of birds bursting suddenly out of the canopy drew his attention back outwards, and his thoughts were interrupted by a cry, moderately quiet at first, but quickly raising to massive volumes. It seemed to come from behind, but quickly encircled them as birds flew from their perches and sought a more peaceful place. The attack had begun.

When Naze had told him that their presence would mean little in the battle, he had taken this to mean that they wouldn't get much of an opportunity to fight. This was proven to be immediately wrong, however, as the White Fang entered into their weapon range, and they started to fire. The heavy thudding of automatic weapons filled the air, and the shouting intensified. The white and black uniforms of the White Fang started to emerge from the trees, and run into the hail of bullets. At such range as they were at, each strike would do little except chip away at their auras', and even that would be negligible at such a range. As the Faunus continued to charge, Ironwood heard the distinct sound of Atlesian Paladins crashing through the trees. He grit his teeth and looked to the undead. Didn't they plan to do anything? They were simply standing there, unmoving.

Finally, after several moments of tense waiting, the corpses that had done nothing but work the machine turned away from it, stepping to the edges of the defensive perimeter that Ironwood's men had set up, raising their hands and pushing a few of his troops aside. He was about to ask what they were doing when runes, inlaid on metal plates that had been covered with a thin layer of dirt that he hadn't noticed before, blazed brightly into life. As if they were some kind of hologram system, a thin blue line jumped from one to the other, until they were all connected in a circle around the machine. Then a strange thing happened that forced Ironwood to blink a few times and refocus his eyes before he could see it properly. A shimmering, rippling effect seemed to be spreading through the air, extending in a dome around them. He recalled Naze telling him that magic could easily deflect the kinds of dust rounds that they used. The rounds of his soldiers seemed to pass through the ethereal veil just fine, leaving small white marks that seemed to glow for a brief moment before disappearing. The strange effect did make it slightly harder to see, but every one of his men had dealt with worse in their training.

It was then that the mages (whether or not that was the proper term, he didn't know) shuffled around slightly, pushing a few more of his people out of the way. He noticed that they had placed themselves in the positions between the ten undead soldiers who stood outside of the veil, and felt like there was another part of the plan that he didn't know about. When they raised their hands above their heads, a glittering and brilliant light filling their hands as if it were a regular physical substance. Ironwood stared at this a moment too long, and realized that he was being blinded. He highly doubted that that was the intended effect, and looked away, blinking the purple and green afterimages away. As he did this, his gaze drifted around the circle, and he saw that the White Fang were coming from all around. His men were still firing, but the crowds were too far still to do any meaningful damage. He started to get very apprehensive. Even if the ten guards were the best fighters history had ever seen, it was inevitable that many of the White Fang would be able to get past them.

Just as he thought this, a huge crack rang out through the air, and a flash of near blinding intensity burned against his back. Even facing away from it, he could tell how bright it was. He saw the mage closest to him start to bring his hands down, and inferred that this was what was causing the blasts. He had the sense to bring his arm up to his eyes, and was thankful when he did so, because more loud cracks split his ears, and he was certain that most of the White Fang had been blinded, at least temporarily. When next he looked up, he found to his surprise that the layout of the battlefield had been changed significantly.

There were now huge swaths of land that glowed, each one beginning at one of the mages, and extending outwards in a cone for a large distance, almost halfway to the tree line. What this did was to create thin hallways of what Ironwood presumed to be safe land placed just between each of the ten warriors. When the dust rounds that his men were firing entered into these areas, they seemed to hang in the air, almost as if they were slowed down. It would've been entrancing, maybe even beautiful, if the shouting of the White Fang weren't continuing to draw closer.

The soldiers started to advance to the end of their corridors, making for a very menacing sight. The White Fang never faltered though, continuing to charge, starting to fire what ranged weapons they had while those with melee weapons bowed their heads and charged faster. The purpose of the shivering veil around them quickly became apparent as a few rounds impacted it and exploded, leaving no mark on the sphere or those inside it. This made Ironwood raise an eyebrow, as he didn't know how their own shells could be passing through without resistance while the opponents were denied so thoroughly. He decided he would have to think about this later though, as the first wave of White Fang hit the borders of the time distortion and slowed to about half of their original speed. Ironwood started to see how this was going to work for the undead. The time distortion wouldn't funnel the White Fang in a way that would direct a number that was unmanageable by the ten, but would give them more time, and more focused targets. It was a tactic that he found himself wishing that he had had access to in the past.

As the crowds of White Fang met with the undead soldiers, Ironwood felt his stomach turn. The first casualty he saw was a boy that, judging by his size, couldn't have been more than twenty years old. He wielded a wicked looking blade, and was just pulling it over his head to strike the soldier that manned the corridor directly in front of him. One second he looked full of rage, mouth open, shouting, and then, in a blur almost too fast to see, the undead lashed out with a vicious pair of wrist claws, putting a massive gash across the front of his chest that extended from one shoulder to the opposite side of the pelvis. He didn't even have time to process what had happened before a heavily armored boot arced into him, knocking him aside and undoubtedly breaking every bone that it contacted.

Ironwood had seen people die before, but it was something that he had learned to come to grips with. There was something haunting about the moment that the spark of life left someone's eyes, but with enough time he had hardened himself to it. He was too far to see, and even if he wasn't, the mask would've obscured it, but he was sure that he had just seen someone's life end. It was only now that he realized the scope of what was going to happen. Every single one of those charging had practically signed a death sentence already. They might've been White Fang, but it was still a massive loss of life. It would be very bad if he was reported to have been in a slaughter as massive as this one was promising to be.

His men had all but frozen from the spectacle before them, horrified in the same way that he had been the first time he'd seen death. He was quick to snap them out of it though, quickly communicating that the only way to save lives was to fight harder. This turned out to be just the right thing to say, as the automatic thudding kicked back with a new vigor.

Ironwood still found himself unable to ignore the killing, though. In a short moment, less then it took to breath, tens had been felled by the blur of a warrior, and knocked to the side like ragdolls. He turned his head, wanting to see if the White Fang were just as hopeless in every other situation. They were. No matter what weapon it was, scythe, blade, or other form of device, it killed with the same terrible efficiency. Their blades cut through flesh like a bullet traveled through hot butter.

He drew in a sharp breath as an Atlesian Paladin approached one of the warriors. Both had apparently been made to withstand the maximum amount of punishment as possible while dishing out the same amount of damage. It seemed, however, that the undead warrior was giving the metal monster no attention. It drew a huge metal fist back, while simultaneously firing a battery of missiles from shoulder mounted launchers. Both its arm and the projectiles rocketed towards the warrior, and Ironwood was sure that it was going to do some major damage.

An explosion engulfed the two of them, smoke obscuring the battle. No sound could be heard well over the screaming, thudding of feet, or pounding weapons, but a single missile veered out of the smoke, tilted wildly off to the side, spiraling into one of the zones of distorted time.

A few seconds later, the main body of the Atlesian Paladin was thrown towards the extractor, landing on its front and skidding, both legs having been replaced by sparking stumps. He could hardly believe it. He'd had a large hand in designing those mechs, and he knew that the power required to do something like that was enormous. The smoke started to clear, and the warrior became visible again. If it had been damaged, it didn't show. There were soot marks and dirt on its armor, indicating that it had been knocked to the ground, but it was still killing just as fast as before.

The Mech on the ground started to move again, now forced to drag itself with its arms. This rendered most of its weapons useless, but if it got close enough, his men's weapons wouldn't do much more than dent it.

He was just about to turn and tell someone about this when he felt the cold eyes of Naze, not necessarily looking at him, but certainly near him. A second later, a beam of the glittering magic that had been described as arcane, a little thicker than his fist, shot from somewhere to his right and slightly elevated, striking the machine in its center. The walker exploded, sending metal shrapnel and superheated slag spiraling in every direction, a few of the larger pieces even thudding heavily into the shield that kept Ironwood and his men so distant from the horrors that were so close before falling limply and embedding themselves in the dirt and mud. Ironwood's eyes went to the ground, noting that there seemed to be more mud than there had before. Even the earth he stood on was softer than it had been before. He pushed a boot down, and watched the liquid that was causing the change well up around his heel. Crimson and thick, blood had run the whole way, staying hidden in the blades of grass, dead or alive, and soaking into the soil.

He retched, his stomach turning out its contents onto the saturated ground. The sound of the battle was too great for his men to hear him though, which was good. If they could, it would be a very bad thing for morale.

As he bent over, spitting and ensuring that all the bile was gone from his mouth, he thought about the blood. Never before had he been in a battle that was as shocking as this. The thought of how many people must have died to spill that much blood was simply a thought he could not shrug off. While he was bent over, something behind him caught his eye. The artifact, forgotten in the sudden rush of battle.

It had come more out of the ground, and was now about four times the height of a man. The thing was red all over, and numerous spines protruded from it surface. Each one looked like it was sharp enough to go straight through any armor, even that of the undead warriors. He also noticed something else, something that he thought couldn't possibly be good. Blood from the ground was starting to rise up along the sides of the thing, flowing along hairline cracks all over the thing, all going towards the top. He couldn't explain exactly why, but the sight made his feel ill again, and made his nerves prickle with a trepidation he had never felt before. It was even worse than what Naze had made him feel.

The blood that made its way up the top of the spiraling mass of spikes seemed to well there a moment before pulsating down away from the top spike, running along another series of cracks. It took him a moment of staring to figure out why the thing seemed so familiar, but eventually he realized it was because it reminded his of a beating heart.

His eyes widened, and his pupils dilated as he took a few unconscious steps towards the thing. He could swear that there was some kind of sound emitting from it, like a song. It reminded him of something from his past, though he couldn't quite place what it was. He started to reach out towards it, wanting to feel its surface. It was so smooth, but numerous cracks wove across its surface like veins through a body. There was something incredibly hypnotic about the pattern.

As soon as his finger touched the red stone-like material, he felt a sharp pain in his skin, and pulled it back, examining it. Blood was starting to well up out of a new hole. How the totally flat surface had pricked him, he did not know, but his aura started to warn him of a danger speeding towards him. Acting only on the instinct that he had spent years sharpening, he dropped down, using one arm to keep himself from crashing into the ground. At almost the same time as he did this, a long, thin spine shot out of the side of the artifact, stabbing through the air where his head had been seconds before.

The wet splattering sound behind him alerted him to the possibility that his men hadn't been as alert to the danger as he had been. Without getting up, he looked back, seeing one of his men go limp, the spike now protruding from the back of his skull. Ironwood shouted out to his men, but before any of them could do anything, a wail was emitted from the top of the red structure, and a sudden blast of what felt like sickeningly warm air blasted him down to the ground. He saw his men react the same way. Undead soldiers, Atlesian Paladins, White Fang, all were knocked flat by the force.

The only one who remained on their feet was Naze, who was examining the artifact closely.

Nora's screaming was horrible to listen to, but it was all that they could do to stand by the side of the room, watching. The robed individuals were all working with Solace, arms raised as they cast a golden light towards Nora, as if they were blasting small bits and pieces of darkness away from her. Each flash of light was accompanied by a brief tint of red, indicating that they were purging the demon one small part at a time.

Pyrrha and Jaune were seated at a table by the far wall, hands clasped together in an attempt to comfort each other in this hard time. Team RWBY was also present at the table, all sitting close to one another. All of them looked on at the ritual with different expressions. Pyrrha and Jaune were worried, but hopeful. If there was any way to fix Nora, this was it. Weiss, Ruby, and Blake's faces however held more worry. What they were doing to Nora sounded like torture, and they couldn't be comfortable with it continuing to happen.

In spite of the huge amount of light being thrown out by the ritual, all of them could look upon it with ease. They didn't feel their eyes even strain at the light. It was as if the light was naturally benign, and didn't have the ability to hurt them. They could gaze directly at its golden brilliance as long as they wanted, and there would be no effects. The one exception to this, of course, was Yang. With every new flash, she winced, and every time she looked over at it she was forced to put an arm between its source and her eyes. Whereas the others saw it as warm and inviting, to her it was harsh and painful. All the others had noticed the way that her reactions varied so much from their own, and they knew exactly why. None of them wanted to say anything about it either.

They had been sitting for what felt like hours, but they all had checked their scrolls at some point, and this had revealed the unfortunate truth that they had only been here for about half an hour. Nora had been screaming nearly the entire time. It had started off as pleas to be allowed to see Ren, then transformed into some of the most vicious threats and most offensive insults that any of them had ever heard, and was now simple, guttural screaming. The kind that would silence even the biggest Grimm, no matter what it was doing. All of them knew that they would hear the screams again later, in their minds in either nightmares or recollections. Among the thoughts of the group was Ren. None had been allowed to see him, and he had not been allowed out while the ritual was going on for fear of sending Nora into another fit of rage. If she went into another fit, it was unsure if their methods of containment would be able to hold her.

Nora had just finished a particularly violent series of convulsions when Yang got an incredibly bad feeling. She couldn't explain it, but she was certain that something bad was about to happen. She was immediately reminded of the first time this had happened, and she had been overcome with paranoia, thinking that everyone was in on some great plot against her. This was different, though. The last time it had been completely unfounded, and blindsided her. This time it seemed that there was a purpose for the feeling. She couldn't place what it was, but there was definitely a reason. The feeling grew stronger, and she jolted up out of her seat, sending the chair skittering across the ground. The eyes of all of her companions went to her, and she became sharply aware that this was much the same way that her first "episode" had gone. Naze had said that he would shield her more, but he had been very busy lately, it was possible that her feelings were simply what was slipping through the cracks. But still, it felt much too real for that.

Ruby gave her sister a worried look. "Yang, what's wrong?" Blake and Weiss looked more on edge, Yang could see their hands creeping slowly towards their weapons. And it wasn't just her imagination, she was sure of it. "I don't know, something's coming!"

All of them stood, Pyrrha and Jaune looking confused. "What's she talking about? What's coming?" Jaune sounded very confused, but they couldn't take the time to explain. If Yang was having another episode, it would be important to get her away from the Paladins so that she couldn't disrupt the ceremony. "It's nothing, just help us." Blake said before stepping towards Yang, putting her hands up cautiously. "Yang, it's not real. Remember the last time? Remember how that was all just in your head? This is like that. Just calm down, and we can take you to-"

Blake put a hand on Yang's shoulder, and Yang brushed it off. "Guys, I know how this looks, but its real this time. We have to get ready." Ruby gave a small sigh, then said "Yang, what if it isn't? Remember how you felt after you hit Blake? What if you do something worse here?"

What they were saying made sense, but she still couldn't let herself simply relax. There was too much on the line for that. In the end, she couldn't argue with her friends. What they said was the most logical. "Fine, but I want you guys to have your weapons ready. If something does go-"

She was cut off as what felt like a blast wave tore through the room, not harming the structure of the building but raising a might wind inside it. The air seemed to be tinted red for a moment, and as soon as the wave hit them, they all felt sick. It wasn't a natural nausea, but felt like they had been poisoned. Their auras did nothing to offset the effects.

Yang didn't feel this, though. What she felt was the pressure of Naze's mind, giving her instruction. Her head snapped to the side, back to the circle of Paladins. None of them were conjuring the light anymore, and the sudden gale had blown most of their hoods off. One of them next to Solace, a woman with blonde hair and the telltale elongated jaw and sharp teeth of some kind of canine faunus said in a voice full of concern "What's happening?"

All eyes went to Nora, who was kneeling in the center of the circle, her restraints having faded sometime in the midst of the operation. No one dared move for fear of disturbing her. Eventually, slowly, she brought herself off the ground, standing up like a cat, stretching as she did so. Her eyes were full of a kind of wonder that they had not held before. It was like she was seeing the world as it had been all along, but with a new color. Her eyes passed over everyone in the room before darting to the side, her ears pricking up, and her saying almost under her breath "Ren."

Yang's body moved on the volition of Naze, who knew what was coming. Yang leapt into action, her fist cocking back as she flew through the air. At first there was nothing at the point she was flying to, but then there was the sound of several people being shunted out of the way of something, and Nora appeared in her path. It hurt her to do this to her friend, but she knew that there was no alternative now. Her fist connected with Nora's head, and she felt her arm buckle under the blow. Her bone stayed strong though, and Nora was flung off her path, even flipping in the air once before smashing into the wall of the warehouse, metal folding like tissue paper as she was thrown into the sunlight. Yang felt her control return to her body, but she knew better than to let her guard down.

As Nora got back to her feet, Yang shouted out to not only her friends, but the Paladins as well, saying "Everybody get ready! We can't let her get away, and we can't let her get Ren! Get whatever you've got ready, and form up!"