For a moment, there was no sound except for the wailing of alarms and the rush of water raining down from the activated sprinklers, hissing as it met overheated metal and pooling across a floor already slick with blood. Smoke thinned slowly, curling upward in lazy strands as the command room's emergency systems fought to contain the damage.
People stared.
Awakened and living unawakened alike stood frozen in place, eyes darting from one another to the ruined battlefield and back again, as if trying to confirm that the violence had actually stopped. Thirty seconds... barely that. The entire engagement had lasted less than a minute, yet it felt as though an era had ended inside those walls.
The Centurions which once looked as if they had been liquefied, slowly, started to move out of their slurry-like state. The materials that was once their bodies began to stiffen.
Solidify.
When the influence of his Weakness rune dissipated, any slurry-like liquid state of matter would transform back into solid matter. It was the same phenomenon he had seen countless times before when he released his rune from inanimate objects. Liquefaction was never permanent.
But fortunately, the destruction was.
Their frames were shattered beyond recovery, frozen into grotesque sculptures of collapsed armor, twisted limbs, and ruptured internal systems.
Someone broke the silence.
"What… what happened to them?"
The question echoed strangely in the ruined space. Heads turned. Eyes searched for an answer.
Jaune raised his hand.
Attention snapped to him immediately.
Dozens of eyes locked onto Jaune Arc. A few operatives stared at him as if seeing him for the first time.
Jaune spat to the side, thick saliva tinged faintly with copper landing on the bloodstained floor. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his voice steady despite the exhaustion crawling through his bones.
"I have a meta rune," he said. "It can do this."
That was all.
Some glanced back at the shattered Centurions, then at Jaune again, trying to reconcile the two images.
A few operatives stepped closer, curiosity overriding shock. Jaune could already feel the questions forming. How did it work? What were the limits? Could it be replicated?
Pietro Pollendina was already moving.
His wheelchair navigated the debris, maneuvering around shattered consoles and collapsed supports. The blue glow of his remaining shield had faded, but the tension had not left his posture. His expression was tight, jaw clenched as he took in the carnage.
Bodies were everywhere.
Unawakened personnel lay motionless where they had fallen. Rank One operatives lay among them, some alive, some not. Blood diluted by sprinkler water ran in thin streams toward floor drains that were already clogged with debris.
Jaune frowned as Pietro approached.
Something didn't add up.
Pietro was Rank Two.
Even if he was not a combat focused awakened, Rank Two was Rank Two. The gulf between Rank One and Rank Two was vast. Pietro should have been able to intervene. A single imposed act of any of his comprehended runes could have shifted the battlefield, even briefly.
Yet he had barely moved, only deploying his shield to, well, shield his assistants.
Jaune's weakness sense had always noticed that there was something off about the man's condition but he had never truly asked.
A flaw, deep and fundamental, centered around the man's spine. In addition to that, now that Pietro had actively used his aura, Jaune could feel that the man's aura itself felt… off. Thin in places and uneven. As if parts of it were missing entirely.
Jaune did not understand it, but the discomfort it caused was undeniable.
"Why didn't you step in, Doctor Pollendina?" Jaune asked, the words leaving his mouth before he could soften them. "People died."
The accusation hung heavy in the air.
Several nearby operatives froze, glancing between them. Pietro stopped a short distance away, his hands gripping the armrests of his wheelchair.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then his face twisted, grief and frustration breaking through his composed exterior. His teeth clenched visibly as he spoke.
"I couldn't."
The words were forced out, scraped raw by something deeper than fear. Jaune felt the truth of them immediately. Pietro's emotions spilled into his senses unfiltered. Solemnity, embarrassment and a profound sadness that settled like lead.
This was no deception or excuse. Just a truth that hurt to admit.
Jaune's thoughts faltered, replaced by confusion.
He looked closer, really looked, and the pieces began to shift into place. Pietro was Rank Two, yes. But his power was not built for combat. Worse than that, it was compromised. Whatever condition plagued his body extended into his awakened abilities.
A realization clicked into place.
Pietro could not survive alone in the Dream Realm.
Not at Rank Two.
Which meant that there was most likely a special team that was assigned to him. Rank Two operatives who "carried" him each night, weakening or neutralizing Grimm so that Pietro could deliver the killing blow required to anchor his return. A carefully controlled operation designed to keep one of Atlas' greatest minds alive.
Ironwood would have arranged it personally.
Jaune exhaled slowly.
There was more to this. Much more. But now was not the time to pry open old wounds.
Around them, personnel began to move again. The operatives who were living pushed forward, their expressions grim as they assessed casualties. Survivors helped carry the wounded away from the worst of the debris. Bodies which were left intact were gently, respectfully covered.
An assistant hurried toward Pietro, skidding to a stop near his side.
"Doctor Pollendina," they said urgently. "There are more Centurions active in the base which are engaging other operatives. Multiple sectors. We are losing camera feeds."
Jaune's stomach sank.
The assistant swallowed. "It's likely Doctor Watts. He's overriding the internal surveillance."
For a moment, Pietro's face darkened.
Anger flared, hot and terrible, cutting through the sorrow. His hands tightened on the armrests, knuckles whitening as he stared at the wreckage of the command room and the bodies of those who had trusted the base's systems.
Then, slowly, deliberately, he mastered himself.
He straightened, posture shifting subtly as authority settled over him. Like it or not, Pietro was now the (technically) highest ranking awakened operative still functional inside the base.
Command fell to him.
"Begin evacuation of non essential personnel, and access the base-wide communication speaker. Let everyone know about this." he said. "Seal off affected sectors, if you can and close down the route to the main research facility outside the base."
Orders flowed outward, carried by assistants and operators who latched onto his calm as if it were a lifeline.
Pietro turned back to Jaune.
"Jaune… unfortunately, I'm going to be needing you and you friends help. Your rune, seems to be a natural counter to the Centurions. Can I trust you to hunt down the rest of them in the base?"
Jaune winced. "What I did just now, almost emptied me. I'm down to about thirty percent Aura. I'd be lucky if I could do that again to maybe four more Centurions before I'm empty."
Pietro studied him and hummed softly.
"Then you're going to have to learn how to be efficient in disabling them." he said. "Because right now, you are our best option."
Pietro Pollendina exhaled slowly, fingers steepled as he stared at the displays that were in his assistants' hands. Entire sections of the base were dark on the map now. Camera feeds that should have been showing corridors, labs, and checkpoints were instead replaced with blank fields or static warnings.
"We're blind," Pietro said at last, his voice tight. "Due to Watts overriding internal surveillance, we don't know where the Centurions are or where they're headed next."
Jaune nodded grimly. "Watts... why did he do all this? I doesn't make sense."
Pietro's eyes darkened. "I have a suspicion, but I can't confirm it unless I have more information to go about it. It would take too long to explain and we, unfortunately don't have that much time."
Jaune hummed his own agreement. "Alright. In any case, we can't just wander around hoping to run into them, I guess?"
"That would be inefficient," Pietro agreed. "And very dangerous. The base is too large. By the time we find one group, another could already have reached a critical system."
Jaune rubbed at his temple, feeling the dull ache behind his eyes. His Aura had started to increase back up again, and he could defnitely fight again if he had to, but not recklessly.
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
Then Jaune's pocket vibrated.
He stiffened, instinctively reaching for the device.
"What now…" he muttered.
He pulled out his LUCID phone.
Instead of the usual interface, orange static once again crawled across the display, flickering and pulsing as though the device were caught between states. The color was vivid and unnatural, not the dull gray of interference but a bright, energetic hue that seemed almost alive.
"This again?" Jaune frowned
Pietro froze when he saw it.
His eyes widened, breath hitching for just a fraction of a second before he masked it. "That static…"
Jaune looked up at him. "You recognize it?"
Before Pietro could answer, the static shifted.
It condensed inward, lines of orange collapsing and reorganizing until a familiar silhouette appeared on the screen. The image sharpened, resolving into a young girl with short hair and bright eyes.
Penny.
Jaune stared. "What the hell…?"
She didn't remain confined to the screen. Penny stepped forward and peeled herself away from the display as if emerging from the surface of water, her form stretching and gaining depth. In the span of a heartbeat, she transitioned from flat projection to full dimensional presence, standing on the air as a chibi glowing construct that was somehow not exactly a hologram.
"Salutations, friend Jaune," Penny said brightly, hands clasped behind her back. She turned her head slightly. "Father."
Several operatives nearby froze outright.
Pietro stared at her as though he were seeing a ghost walk out of a wall. "Penny," he said sharply. "What are you doing in his phone?"
Penny blinked, then smiled sheepishly. "I may have... temporarily... rerouted my access point. It was the fastest available interface."
"When did you—whatever. That is not acceptable," Pietro said immediately. "You should not be doing this. Return to my device at once."
Penny tilted her head, expression still cheerful but now tinged with something more serious. "Father, please observe our surroundings."
She gestured lightly.
The ruined command room spoke for itself. The shattered Centurions. The bloodstains. The bodies being carried away. The damaged infrastructure and ongoing alarms.
"This situation is escalating," Penny continued. "Centurions are hostile. Surveillance has been compromised and Jaune Arc's rune has demonstrated effectiveness against the units. My circumstances allow me to assist."
Pietro's jaw tightened. "Your circumstances are precisely why you should not be placing yourself in danger."
"I am already integrated with the base," Penny replied calmly. "I have access to internal maps, live system diagnostics, and automated defenses. I can guide Jaune to Centurion locations and activate turret systems to slow or corral them."
Jaune finally found his voice. "Wait, you can control the turrets?"
"Yes," Penny said brightly, turning to him. "And door locks. And pressure barriers. And power rerouting."
Pietro pinched the bridge of his nose. "How did you even...," he trailed off. "Your rune... it's growing stronger?"
Penny stepped closer to him, her tone softening. "Yes father it is. And.. father, you know that this will get worse without coordination. We don't have the time to waste searching corridors. I can reduce his exposure time and increase efficiency."
Pietro hesitated.
Jaune could see the conflict playing out across the man's face. Fear for his daughter. Responsibility for the base. Guilt for the deaths that had already occurred.
At length, Pietro exhaled heavily. "You will not engage directly," he said. "You will not manifest beyond guidance parameters. If the situation deteriorates, you disengage immediately."
Penny beamed. "Agreed."
Pietro looked like he wanted to argue further, but the reality around them pressed in too tightly. He turned to Jaune.
"She will guide you," he said. "Follow her directions precisely. Do not overextend your Aura."
Jaune nodded. "I'll be careful."
Pietro's gaze lingered on him for a moment. "Take a small team. You'll need support to protect civilians and handle anything you cannot reach in time."
Jaune turned.
Several operatives had already stepped forward. Their expressions were grim but resolute.
Jaune drew a breath, feeling the weight of responsibility settle over him again.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Let's move."
Penny floated to Jaune's shoulder and sat down. "I have detected three Centurion groups currently active," she said. "Fourteen near the eastern research wing. Six approaching auxiliary power control and five descending toward storage and logistics."
Jaune grimaced. "They're splitting up?"
"Yes," Penny confirmed. "I recommend engaging the power control group first. Loss of that sector would compound base wide instability."
"Alright, but give me one second."
Water continued to fall from the ceiling in uneven sheets, thinner now than before, tapping against twisted metal and pooling in shallow rivulets that reflected the pulsing emergency lights. The heat had bled out of the command floor, leaving behind a cold, sterile dampness that clung to skin and clothes alike.
Jaune scanned the room. While he was talking to Pietro, he had forgotten all about Weiss and Blake. So much had occurred in a short amount of time that he was a little disoriented. Or perhaps that was still due to the hit from earlier.
In any case, it didn't take long to find them.
Weiss stood near the remains of a shattered console, one arm wrapped around Blake's shoulders. Her posture was slightly protective, rigid in that way she got when she was holding herself together through sheer force of will. Blake was slightly hunched, her head bowed, dark hair plastered to her face and neck by water. Her hands were clenched at her sides, fingers trembling almost imperceptibly.
Jaune slowed as he approached.
He understood it then.
Unlike Weiss and him, Blake had never seen these many deaths close up. She hadn't stood while bodies were torn apart and dismembered before her eyes. Not until today.
Blake's worst experience had probably been the Sleeper.
However, the Sleeper was presence rather than carnage. Pressure rather than gore. A horror that was distant, oppressive and existential.
This was… visceral.
Chunks of bodies. Blood diluted into pink water. The smell of scorched metal and burned flesh.
It was too much for someone who had never had to see it this close.
Weiss murmured something quietly, words Jaune could not make out over the alarms. Her grip tightened just slightly, grounding.
As Jaune drew closer, Blake's shoulders rose and fell with a sharp inhale. She straightened abruptly, lifting her head as if shaking herself free from a fog. Water dripped from her lashes as she wiped her face with the heel of her hand, smearing grime and blood together without caring.
She took another breath. Slower this time.
The sprinklers above them sputtered and finally shut off, leaving only the distant hiss of steam and the omnipresent alarm tone echoing through the base.
Jaune stopped a few steps away.
"Blake," he said carefully. "Are you alright?"
She looked at him, eyes sharp despite the pallor of her face. For a split second, something brittle flickered there. Then it hardened into resolve.
"I'm fine," she said. Her voice was steady, if a bit tight. "Don't look at me like that."
Jaune exhaled softly. "That wasn't what I meant."
"I know," she replied. "But don't mistake my shock for weakness."
Weiss glanced between them, her expression grim. She did not interrupt.
Jaune hesitated. "We're going after the Centurions. Pietro wants us to hunt them down before they reach anything critical."
Blake nodded immediately. "I figured."
Jaune shifted his weight. "It's going to get worse before it gets better."
"I know," Blake said.
There was a pause.
Jaune studied her for a moment longer. He could still see the afterimage of what had happened burned into her posture. The way her shoulders tensed at sudden sounds. The faint tremor that had not quite left her hands.
If there were more deaths like this, if they walked into another slaughter…
"Blake," he began slowly, "you don't have to come. It might be better if you stayed here with the others and and helped coordinate or evacuate."
Her eyes narrowed instantly.
"So that's what this is."
Jaune grimaced. "I'm not trying to sideline you."
"You are," she snapped. "Because you think I can't handle it."
"I think you don't have to," he shot back. "There's a difference."
Blake stepped forward, water splashing under her boots. She scowled up at him, eyes burning with something fierce and defiant.
"I just watched people die," she said quietly. "I watched a fucking robot made from awakened flesh or whatever try to kill me. I also just watched as you burnt through almost all your Aura to stop them. If you think I'm going to stay behind just because it made me uncomfortable, you're dead wrong, Jaune."
Jaune opened his mouth, then closed it again.
She continued, voice low and dangerous. "If you walk out of here without me, you'll be making that decision for me, so don't."
Weiss let out a slow breath and stepped up beside Blake.
"She's right," Weiss said. Her tone was calm but heavy. "This is not the time to fall apart."
Her gaze flicked to Jaune. "If we start picking and choosing who gets to fight based on who's shaken, we won't have anyone left."
Jaune looked between them.
Both of them were soaked and standing in the aftermath of something that would have broken most people. Yet they were still here. Still standing, and still ready.
Perhaps this was what it meant to be an awakened. To have strength beyond that of those who were still asleep and fight against the horrors of the real world. Whether it was human-borne or dream-borne. It was poetic in a sense.
Perhaps that's why the Nightmare system chooses these types of people. Perhaps it had the ability to vet who could enter the dream and who shouldn't be able to.
Though, then again, Jaune supposed he was an exception. Artificial awakened and all.
He swallowed and nodded once. "Alright."
Blake's shoulders eased just a fraction.
"Good," she said. "Then let's go."
Weiss turned without another word, already moving toward the exit corridor Penny had highlighted. Her jaw was set, eyes cold and focused.
Jaune followed, falling into step beside them.
There was no more time to argue or room for second guessing.
Centurions were still active.
People were still dying and whatever Arthur Watts had set in motion was far from finished.
.
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AN: Advanced chapters are available on patreon