Chapter 30: Of Runaways, Stowaways, & Saiyans?
Blake's Journey and Yang's Recovery
The Ship to Menagerie
Blake Belladonna stood at the passenger ship's railing, watching the endless expanse of ocean water stretch toward the horizon. The rhythmic sound of waves against the hull should have been soothing, but instead every creak of the ship's structure, every call from the crew, every unexpected noise made her jump with barely concealed anxiety.
The weight of what had happened at Beacon pressed against her shoulders like a physical burden. Adam's attack, Yang's severed arm, her own cowardly flight into the night - all of it played on endless loop in her mind. She had told herself that leaving was the right choice, that her presence would only bring more danger to those she cared about. But the guilt followed her like a shadow, impossible to escape.
The ship's captain approached with the friendly demeanor of someone accustomed to dealing with passengers carrying heavy emotional baggage. "Fine day for sailing, miss. First time to Menagerie?"
Blake's response was curt, her body language clearly indicating she preferred solitude to conversation. The captain, reading her signals with the wisdom that came from years of dealing with people seeking to leave their problems behind, smiled knowingly and withdrew with graceful politeness.
Once alone again, Blake reached up and removed her bow, letting the black ribbon flutter loose in the ocean breeze. The symbolic gesture felt both liberating and terrifying - she was no longer hiding what she was, but she was also more vulnerable than she had been in years.
What she didn't notice were the hooded figures watching her from across the deck, or the subtle movement of scales beneath the water's surface as something large tracked the ship's progress.
Yang's Struggle on Patch
Back on Patch, Yang Xiao Long sat in front of the television with the kind of listless attention that had characterized her days since returning home. The news broadcasts provided updates on Vale's reconstruction under elven leadership, efforts to restore the Cross Continental Transmit System, and confirmation that Adam Taurus had been present during the Grimm attack.
The mention of Adam's name hit Yang like a physical blow, and she quickly turned off the television with her remaining hand. The phantom pain in her severed arm seemed to intensify whenever she thought about the White Fang leader, and she wasn't ready to confront those memories in such a public forum.
Taiyang's return home brought packages and an attempt at normalcy that Yang appreciated even if she couldn't fully embrace it. Among his purchases was a state-of-the-art Atlesian prosthetic arm, personally commissioned by General Ironwood as both a gesture of respect and a practical tool for her eventual return to active duty.
"I'll try it on another time," Yang said dismissively, not ready to confront what the prosthetic represented - both her loss and the possibility of moving forward from it.
Her attempt to maintain normalcy through household chores was interrupted when a glass slipped from her grip and shattered on the kitchen floor. The sound triggered an immediate flashback - Adam's blade, the searing pain, the moment when everything changed. Yang staggered backward, her breathing shallow and rapid as she fought to regain control.
Both Taiyang and Eleryc moved to help her, but it was the half-Saiyan's presence that provided the most comfort. His hybrid heritage allowed him to radiate a subtle calming energy that helped ground Yang during her worst moments, and his dedicated presence over the past weeks had become one of the few constants she could rely on.
"I'm here," Eleryc said quietly, his hand gently touching her shoulder. "You're safe. It's just a memory."
Taiyang watched the interaction with gratitude and a touch of melancholy. Qrow and his wife Lailah had departed a few days earlier to meet up with other elves, namely Saibyrh who was accompanied by Tarro - Daikon's cousin - to help with the reconstruction efforts in the newly reclaimed Vale. After assisting with Vale's restoration, they planned to meet up with Ruby's group in Mistral. Their absence left the household quieter, but Eleryc's unwavering support for Yang had proven invaluable during her recovery.
The Sea Feilong Attack
Blake's solitary contemplation was shattered when a massive Sea Feilong burst from beneath the waves, its serpentine body gleaming with scales that reflected the afternoon sun. The Grimm's attack on the ship was sudden and devastating, its powerful tail smashing through the vessel's protective barriers with contemptuous ease.
Blake immediately sprang into action, Gambol Shroud unsheathing in a fluid motion as she engaged the creature with the combat instincts that had kept her alive through years of dangerous missions. The ship's captain proved to be more than just a sailor, his own combat skills suggesting a background that prepared him for exactly this kind of encounter.
The hooded figure Blake had been unaware of suddenly threw off his disguise, revealing Sun Wukong in all his energetic glory. His staff extended to its full length as he launched himself into battle with the kind of enthusiasm that had marked his participation in the Vytal Festival tournament.
"Miss me?" Sun called out with his characteristic grin, even as he deflected a stream of the Sea Feilong's electrical discharge.
Blake's response was less than enthusiastic, but she accepted his assistance with the pragmatic recognition that they needed all the help they could get. The Sea Feilong's reveal of hidden wings within its dorsal fin transformed the battle from a naval engagement to an aerial assault, its electrical attacks raining down on the ship and its defenders.
But Shallot had also been following Blake's trail, working with Sun to track her journey. As the battle intensified, the Saiyan warrior emerged from his own concealment, his power level spiking as he prepared to join the fight.
"Blake!" Shallot called out, his concern for her safety overriding any questions about why she had fled. "We're here to help!"
The combined efforts of Blake, Sun, Shallot, and the ship's captain created a coordinated assault that the Sea Feilong couldn't counter effectively. When the creature finally fell beneath the waves, dead or retreating, the celebration from the ship's passengers and crew was immediate and heartfelt.
Blake, however, had other priorities. Her first action was to deliver a solid slap to Sun's face, her anger at being followed warring with gratitude for his assistance.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, though her tone carried less venom than her words suggested.
"Following you," Sun replied honestly, rubbing his cheek but maintaining his good humor. "Ever since you left Vale the night Beacon fell. I figured you were on some kind of one-woman mission to take down the White Fang and would need backup."
"And I agreed with him," Shallot added quietly, his own concern evident. "You shouldn't be facing this alone, Blake."
Blake's expression softened slightly at the genuine care she heard in both their voices. "I'm not going after the White Fang," she admitted. "I'm just going home to Menagerie. I need time to think, to figure out what comes next."
"Then we're coming with you," Sun declared with the kind of casual determination that made arguing seem pointless.
Shallot nodded in agreement, his Saiyan protective instincts fully engaged. "You have friends who care about you, Blake. Running away doesn't change that."
Salem's Coaching Session
In the depths of Evernight Castle, Salem worked with Cinder Fall on controlling the power she had claimed from the Fall Maiden. The session was intense and clearly taxing for Cinder, whose injuries from her encounter with Ruby Rose's silver eyes had left her struggling with both physical and psychological limitations.
"Do not let it sense your trepidation," Salem instructed with the patience of someone who had trained countless servants over the millennia. "Make it fear you, not the reverse."
Cinder's efforts were visibly strained, her damaged voice making communication difficult and her missing eye affecting her spatial awareness. The power she had claimed came with unexpected challenges that her previous training hadn't prepared her for.
Their session was interrupted by the arrival of a Seer Grimm, its jellyfish-like form floating through the chamber with otherworldly grace. The creature's presence clearly unsettled both Emerald Sustrai and Mercury Black - though Mercury was no longer present, having chosen protection under the elven crown over continued service to Salem.
Emerald noted the absence, Salem observed silently, though she seems unaware that Mercury's defection was motivated by more than simple fear.
After the Seer delivered its report, Salem's attention returned to Cinder with a sharpness that made the temperature in the room seem to drop.
"Tell me clearly, Cinder," Salem demanded, her patience finally showing limits. "Did you actually kill Ozpin?"
When Cinder called for Emerald to speak for her, Salem's anger manifested in a thunderous slam of her hands against the table. "I want to hear you say it yourself."
Cinder's struggle to force out a choked "Yes" revealed both her physical limitations and her uncertainty about what had actually transpired in that final confrontation with Ozpin.
"Increase our forces at Beacon," Salem ordered the Seer. "The relic is there, I'm certain of it."
As the Grimm departed to carry out her instructions, Salem found herself contemplating variables she hadn't anticipated. The elven intervention, Mercury's defection, the unexpected resilience of the human defenders - all suggested that someone was planning moves she hadn't foreseen.
Ozpin may be gone, she mused, but his influence appears to continue through channels I haven't identified. The elven involvement suggests coordination that predates our assault on Beacon. Someone has been planning for this war longer than I realized.
The revelation that her enemies might be more organized and prepared than her intelligence had suggested was troubling, but Salem had survived for millennia by adapting to unexpected challenges. If the elves wanted to involve themselves in this conflict, she would learn to account for their capabilities and counter their strategies.
The war was far from over, and Salem had no intention of allowing temporary setbacks to derail her ultimate objectives.
Despite her earlier order to increase forces at Beacon, Salem knew such a directive was essentially meaningless. The elven army had thoroughly purged the Grimm from Vale upon reclaiming it - even destroying the massive Wyvern that had perched atop Beacon Tower like a monument to her victory. The order was more about determining the size and disposition of elven forces now stationed there than any realistic hope of reestablishing her presence.
One thing Salem had to grudgingly acknowledge was the elves' ferocity in battle. She had never encountered warriors so utterly unafraid of death, so powerful that their very presence felt oppressive. Their awakened magic created an aura of authority that even her ancient will found difficult to dismiss.
Vale itself had become saturated with elven mana and magic to such a degree that Grimm instinctively steered clear of the city. The purifying energy that permeated every stone and street corner posed an existential threat to creatures of darkness, making the former kingdom effectively inaccessible to her forces.
The Voice in the Mirror
Oscar Pine finished securing his farm tools in the barn, the familiar routine of agricultural work providing a sense of normalcy that had become increasingly precious as his strange dreams intensified. The dark-haired boy with freckles and yellow-green eyes had grown accustomed to the weight of destiny pressing at the edges of his consciousness, though he couldn't yet name what that destiny might be.
As he hung his tools on their designated hooks, a glint of light from the old mirror mounted on the barn wall caught his attention. The reflection staring back at him seemed somehow different, carrying an intensity that didn't match his own uncertain expression.
"Hello?" Oscar called out nervously, his voice echoing in the quiet barn.
The pause that followed felt pregnant with possibility, and then Ozpin's voice boomed from the mirror with authority that seemed to shake the very foundations of the building. "Hello, Oscar."
The introduction sent the farmboy flying backward into a stack of hay, his mind reeling as he tried to process the impossibility of what he was experiencing. The voice was unmistakably real, carrying wisdom and weight that no figment of imagination could possess.
"Oscar! Be careful with those tools!" his aunt's voice called from the farmhouse, her concern grounded in the practical realities of farm life rather than the metaphysical crisis unfolding in the barn.
"I... yes, Aunt," Oscar managed to call back, his voice shaking as he stared at the mirror where Ozpin's presence continued to radiate patient authority.
The conversation that followed would change everything Oscar understood about himself, his purpose, and the war that raged beyond the boundaries of his quiet farm. Ozpin's explanation of reincarnation, shared consciousness, and the ancient conflict with Salem challenged every assumption the young man had held about the nature of reality.
Yang's Nightmare and Progress
On Patch, Yang Xiao Long found herself trapped in the recurring nightmare that had plagued her sleep since Beacon's fall. In the twisted landscape of her subconscious, she possessed both arms and faced the ghostly image of Adam Taurus as he approached with predatory menace, his hand resting on the sword that had changed her life forever.
Yang raised Ember Celica to defend herself, but the gauntlets' blasts passed harmlessly through Adam's form. As he drew closer and began to unsheathe his blade, Yang discovered with horror that both her weapons and her right arm had vanished, leaving her defenseless against the trauma that haunted her waking hours.
She woke with a gasp, her remaining hand instinctively reaching for the missing limb before reality reasserted itself. Beside her bed sat the Atlas robotic arm that General Ironwood had commissioned for her - a symbol of both possibility and the permanence of her loss.
Hearing voices from downstairs, Yang made her way to the kitchen to find an unexpected but welcome sight: Doctor Oobleck and Professor Port sharing drinks with Taiyang and Eleryc. The familiar faces of her former instructors provided a connection to the life she had known before everything changed.
"Yang!" Port's boisterous greeting carried genuine warmth and concern. "How wonderful to see you, my dear."
"Indeed," Oobleck added, his academic demeanor softened by obvious affection for his former student. "We were just discussing the reconstruction efforts. Glynda is still working tirelessly to repair Vale alongside the elven forces, while we take a brief respite before returning to assist."
Yang settled into a chair, grateful for Eleryc's subtle supportive presence as she navigated the social interaction. "How bad is the damage?"
"Significant, but manageable with elven assistance," Oobleck replied. "Their magical reconstruction techniques are fascinating from an engineering perspective. They're literally rebuilding Vale to be stronger than it was before."
The conversation eventually turned to Yang's condition, with both professors noting the untouched prosthetic arm with the kind of gentle concern that only favorite teachers could convey.
"I'm trying to accept this as the new normal," Yang explained, her voice carrying hard-won wisdom. "I can't pretend my arm will grow back, so I need to figure out who I am now."
Taiyang nodded approvingly at his daughter's perspective. "But that doesn't mean you should let this stop you from becoming the fighter you've always wanted to be. When you're ready to get back into combat, Eleryc and I will be here to help train you."
"My heritage allows me to provide unique training methods," Eleryc added quietly. "Saiyan and elven techniques for adapting to physical changes and channeling power in new ways."
The laughter that followed felt genuine for the first time in months, and Yang realized that healing didn't mean forgetting her trauma - it meant learning to live with it while still moving forward.
After the professors departed, Yang returned to her room but found herself staring at the robotic arm with renewed consideration. From her window, she could see Taiyang saying goodbye to Port and Oobleck in the yard below.
"Are you planning to go after Ruby?" Port asked quietly, his concern for his missing student evident.
Taiyang glanced up toward Yang's window, his expression thoughtful. "I have some things to look after here first. Ruby's strong, and she's not alone. Yang needs me more right now."
The exchange reinforced Yang's understanding that healing was a process that required both time and support - things she was finally ready to accept.
Team RNJR's Journey
Team RNJR approached the village of Higanbana with the easy camaraderie that had developed during their weeks on the road. The well-protected settlement offered the promise of a comfortable inn and respite from their journey toward Haven Academy.
"We've been incredibly lucky with Grimm encounters," Ruby observed, adjusting her pack as they walked. "The roads have been surprisingly clear."
"Perhaps our presence deters them," Lyra suggested, her elven heritage allowing her to sense the subtle magical currents that flowed through the landscape. "The awakened elven magic has affected more than just Vale. The entire continent carries traces of our power now."
Roy nodded thoughtfully. "It's possible. The purification magic that reclaimed Vale sent ripples across all of Anima. Grimm may be avoiding areas where they sense elven influence."
What they didn't realize was that their "luck" had a much more direct cause. On a cliff overlooking their path, Qrow Branwen lowered his weapon after dispatching another pack of Beowolves that had been stalking the young Huntsmen. His bad luck Semblance, for once, seemed to be working in their favor by drawing Grimm attacks toward him rather than his niece's group.
A raven landed nearby, its intelligent eyes studying Qrow with unsettling intensity before taking flight to follow Team RNJR's progress. Qrow's expression darkened as he recognized the bird's significance.
"Luck," he muttered sarcastically, knowing that his sister's interest in Ruby's journey carried implications he wasn't ready to confront.
The Branwen Reunion
That evening in Higanbana, Qrow sat in a bar across from the inn where his niece and her friends had taken rooms. He wasn't alone - Lailah, his elven wife and Supreme Commander of the Elven Forces, sat beside him with the poised alertness of someone accustomed to dangerous situations.
The drink that arrived at their table was unexpected, and the waitress's explanation that it came from "a lady upstairs with red eyes" confirmed Qrow's suspicions about his sister's presence.
"She's here," Qrow said quietly to Lailah, who nodded with the tactical awareness that came from her military background.
"I can sense her," Lailah replied, her elven senses detecting the portal magic that clung to Raven like a signature. "Your sister carries interesting magical residue. Where did she acquire such abilities?"
The reunion between the Branwen siblings in the bar's upper room was complicated by Lailah's presence. Raven's red eyes widened with surprise as she took in the Supreme Commander's unmistakable elven features and the quiet authority that radiated from her.
"Well," Raven said slowly, her usual confidence shaken by the unexpected development. "My baby brother married an elf. And not just any elf, from what I can sense."
"Supreme Commander Lailah Albanar Branwen," Lailah introduced herself with formal courtesy that carried an undercurrent of steel. "Your brother's wife of eighteen years."
"Eighteen years?" Raven's surprise was genuine. "You've been married for eighteen years and I never knew?"
"There were reasons for discretion," Qrow replied coldly. "Not that you would have cared enough to notice anyway."
The revelation of Qrow's long marriage was clearly just the beginning for Raven. As the conversation continued, Lailah calmly explained the events of recent months - the Fall of Beacon, the elven intervention, the reclamation of Vale, the destruction of Jacques Schnee's corporate empire, and the emergence of the Albanar Republic.
"Vale was overrun by Grimm," Raven said, her worldview struggling to accommodate the information. "It was lost."
"It was reclaimed," Lailah corrected with serene certainty. "Purified, rebuilt, and transformed into our new capital. The Wyvern that roosted atop Beacon Tower was destroyed, along with every other Grimm that dared to corrupt elven territory."
Raven's expression shifted as she processed the implications. If the elves possessed the power to reclaim entire cities from Grimm infestation, if they could establish new capitals and reshape political structures across Remnant, then the balance of power had changed far more dramatically than she had realized.
"I need to know if Salem has Ozpin's relic," Raven stated, though her voice lacked its earlier confidence.
"And I need to know why you weren't there for Yang after she lost her arm," Qrow shot back, his anger barely contained. "Your daughter was mutilated by Adam Taurus, and you couldn't be bothered to visit."
"Yang lost her arm?" For the first time, genuine shock cracked Raven's composed facade.
Lailah's expression hardened with maternal fury. "Adam Taurus severed your daughter's right arm during the assault on Beacon. She has spent months recovering from both physical and psychological trauma. Where were you?"
"The tribe is my responsibility-"
"Killers and thieves aren't family," Qrow interrupted. "Yang is family. Ruby is family. The people you abandoned for power are family."
The argument that followed revealed not just the fundamental differences in their worldviews, but Raven's growing realization that she had miscalculated the scope of recent changes. When she refused to provide information about the Spring Maiden and prepared to depart through one of her portals, Lailah spoke with the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed.
"Think carefully about your next choices, Raven Branwen," the Supreme Commander said quietly. "The world has changed more than you realize, and those who cling to old patterns of selfishness may find themselves on the wrong side of forces they cannot comprehend."
Raven paused at the portal's edge, clearly shaken by both the revelations and the implicit threat from a being whose power she was only beginning to understand.
"This isn't over," she said, though the words sounded more like uncertainty than determination.
After she departed, Qrow was left with his frustrations and a startled waitress, while Lailah observed with the tactical assessment that had made her one of the most effective military leaders in elven history.
"Your sister is frightened," Lailah noted. "Good. Fear makes people reconsider their priorities."
"Make it a double," Qrow told the server, knowing that the conversation had resolved nothing while revealing everything about the new realities his sister would have to confront.
A New Beginning
The next morning on Patch, Taiyang was tending to his sunflowers when Yang emerged from the house. The sight that greeted him filled his heart with pride and hope - his daughter wore the Atlas prosthetic arm, its advanced technology seamlessly integrated with her remaining limb.
Eleryc stood nearby, his own expression reflecting both relief and determination. His unique heritage would allow him to provide training methods that neither human nor traditional elven instruction could offer, combining Saiyan adaptive techniques with elven magical enhancement principles.
The decision to try the prosthetic represented more than just practical adaptation; it was Yang's declaration that she was ready to move forward, to become someone new while honoring who she had been. The support she had received over the past weeks had been crucial to her recovery, but this step was entirely her own.
"Let's get started," Taiyang said with a smile, understanding that his daughter was ready to begin the next phase of her journey toward healing and strength.
"We'll take it slow at first," Eleryc added, his voice carrying the confidence of someone whose mixed heritage had taught him about adaptation and growth. "Learning to work with new capabilities requires patience and practice."
The training that would follow would be challenging, requiring Yang to relearn combat techniques and adapt to new limitations while discovering unexpected advantages. But with her father's guidance, Eleryc's unique perspective, and her own hard-won wisdom about trauma and recovery, she was finally ready to face whatever came next.
The war against Salem continued across Remnant, but in that moment, Yang Xiao Long had won a crucial battle against despair and helplessness. She was becoming someone new - not despite her trauma, but because of how she had chosen to grow beyond it.
The Devils' Emergence - A New Threat Unveiled
The Watchers in Shadow
Far beneath the surface of Remnant, in dimensions that existed parallel to but separate from the world above, ancient beings stirred with malevolent purpose. The Devils - creatures of pure malice and cunning that had been the elves' most feared enemies since time immemorial - had been observing the recent events with calculating interest.
Unlike the Grimm, which were driven by instinct and drawn to negative emotion, the Devils possessed intelligence that rivaled the most brilliant minds in Remnant. Their forms varied wildly - some appeared humanoid with horns and wings, others took shapes that defied description, all unified by an aura of corruption that withered hope and twisted good intentions into instruments of suffering.
They had watched Salem's rise with amusement, seeing her as a useful puppet whose actions served their larger designs. The chaos she sowed, the division she created, the despair she cultivated - all of it weakened the barriers between dimensions and made their eventual emergence more feasible.
But it was the elves' revelation and the shattering of their ancient seals that had truly captured the Devils' attention. The magical explosion that had saturated Vale and awakened dormant elven power across Remnant had also sent ripples through the dimensional barriers that had kept the Devils contained for millennia.
The Scout's Report
In a throne room carved from obsidian and decorated with the bones of forgotten civilizations, a lesser Devil materialized before its superior with news that would reshape the conflict engulfing Remnant. The scout's form was that of a humanoid shadow with burning red eyes and claws that seemed to cut reality itself.
"Lord Thanatos," the scout hissed, its voice carrying harmonics that would have driven mortals to madness, "the situation above has developed as we anticipated. The elves have fully awakened their magical potential, Salem continues her campaign against the human kingdoms, and the barriers between our realm and theirs grow thinner with each passing day."
Thanatos, one of the Dark Kings who served the ultimate Devil lord Mordred, turned his attention to the report with the kind of focus that had allowed him to orchestrate conflicts across multiple dimensions. His appearance was more refined than his subordinate - tall, aristocratic, with features that might have been handsome if not for the aura of absolute evil that radiated from his presence.
"Elaborate on the elven situation," Thanatos commanded, his voice carrying authority that had been forged through eons of commanding lesser beings. "Their power levels, their military organization, their awareness of our existence."
The scout's form flickered with nervous energy as it delivered its comprehensive report. "Their magical awakening exceeded even our projections, my lord. The city of Vale has been transformed into a nexus of purifying energy that actively repels Grimm and would likely damage any of our lesser servants who attempted to approach. Their military coordination suggests centuries of preparation, and their leadership includes beings whose power rivals some of our mid-tier nobles."
"And their knowledge of us?"
"Significant but not complete," the scout replied. "Their ancient texts speak of us as their greatest enemy, and their defensive magics are specifically calibrated to counter our corruption techniques. However, they appear to believe we remain sealed in our original prison dimension."
Thanatos smiled with the kind of expression that had preceded the fall of entire civilizations. "Then they are partially correct and entirely unprepared for what we have become."
The Strategic Assessment
The throne room filled with other Devils as Thanatos called his council to order. Each being represented a different aspect of the corruption and malice that their kind embodied - military strategists whose tactics had broken armies across a dozen worlds, infiltration specialists who could corrupt the purest souls, magical theorists who understood power in ways that transcended mortal comprehension.
"The elves' awakening presents both opportunity and danger," Thanatos addressed his assembled followers. "Their power could potentially reseal our prison dimensions permanently if they realize the extent of our current freedom. However, their focus on Salem and the human kingdoms provides us with operational space."
A Devil whose form resembled a scholarly human with eyes like burning coals spoke up. "My lord, our analysis suggests that the magical energy released during their awakening has created fractures in multiple dimensional barriers. We could potentially open full-scale invasion portals within months rather than centuries."
"But not without risk," added another Devil, this one appearing as a beautiful woman whose shadow showed her true monstrous nature. "If we move too quickly, we could unite the elves, humans, and even Salem against us. Our strength lies in exploitation of existing conflicts, not in direct confrontation with united opposition."
Thanatos nodded approvingly at the tactical awareness his subordinates displayed. "Precisely. We have spent millennia learning from our previous defeats. This time, we will not be driven by pride or impatience. We will be strategic, calculated, and above all, we will ensure that our enemies remain divided until it is too late for unity to save them."
The Puppet Master's Web
The revelation that the Devils had been manipulating events from the shadows cast the entire conflict in a new light. Salem's rise to power had been influenced by subtle whispers from beings she believed to be mere nightmares. The tensions between kingdoms, the corruption that had infected institutions like the SDC, even the specific targeting of Beacon Academy - all of it had been guided by intelligences that understood manipulation on a scale that dwarfed mortal comprehension.
"Our agents have been in position for decades," reported a Devil whose specialty was long-term infiltration. "Corporate executives who believe they serve only profit, military leaders who think they act from patriotic duty, even some of Salem's inner circle who remain unaware of our influence. The groundwork is laid for our emergence."
"And the timing?" Thanatos inquired.
"Soon, my lord, but not yet. The elves are still consolidating their power, Salem is still useful for creating chaos, and the human kingdoms remain fragmented. When we do reveal ourselves, it should be at a moment when our enemies are too committed to their existing conflicts to mount unified resistance."
Thanatos stood from his throne, his form radiating the kind of power that had once challenged the gods themselves. "Then we continue to watch, to whisper, to guide events toward our ultimate goal. Mordred's resurrection draws closer with each act of violence, each moment of despair, each breakdown of the order that once kept us contained."
The Coming Storm
As the council dispersed, each Devil returning to their assigned tasks of observation and subtle manipulation, Thanatos remained in his throne room contemplating the grand design that had been centuries in the making. The resurrection of Mordred, the ultimate Devil lord whose power had once threatened all of creation, required specific conditions - massive magical energy releases, widespread despair and conflict, and the weakening of dimensional barriers.
The elves' awakening had provided the magical energy. Salem's campaign provided the despair and conflict. Soon, the dimensional barriers would weaken enough to allow their full emergence.
"The elves believe they face only Salem and her Grimm," Thanatos mused to himself, his voice echoing in the obsidian chamber. "Salem believes she faces only Ozpin's legacy and human resistance. Neither realizes they are both pawns in a game that predates their civilizations."
The image he conjured in the air showed Remnant from a perspective that revealed both the surface conflicts and the deeper magical currents that flowed beneath them. Points of light marked elven strongholds, pools of darkness showed Salem's influence, and spreading like a web throughout it all were the subtle signs of Devil manipulation.
"Soon," he promised the darkness around him, "we will say hello to the world of Remnant properly. And when we do, even the mighty elves will learn what true terror means."
The Hidden War
The Devils' emergence would represent a threat unlike anything Remnant had faced before. Unlike the Grimm, which were essentially animals driven by instinct, or Salem, who was a single immortal with understandable motivations, the Devils were a civilization of beings whose intelligence and malice had been refined through millennia of warfare against the most powerful magical races in existence.
Their knowledge of elven weaknesses, their mastery of corruption techniques, and their ability to manipulate events from the shadows made them potentially more dangerous than all other threats combined. They had learned from their ancient defeats, adapted their strategies, and prepared for a campaign that would not end until either they achieved total victory or were completely destroyed.
The war that was coming would test every alliance, every bond of friendship, every principle that the heroes of Remnant held dear. But for now, they remained hidden, content to pull strings and whisper poison into willing ears while their enemies exhausted themselves fighting shadows.
The Devils' greatest weapon was patience, and they had waited long enough to know exactly when to strike for maximum effect. When they finally emerged from the shadows, it would be at the moment when Remnant was least prepared to face the ancient enemy of all that was good and pure in the world.
The stage was set for a conflict that would determine not just the fate of Remnant, but the balance between light and darkness across all dimensions. And the Devils, led by beings like Thanatos who had spent eternity perfecting the art of corruption and conquest, were confident that this time, victory would be theirs.
To be continued in Chapter 31: Menagerie & The Hidden War