Weakness was a sin.
That was the first thing Varek ever learned. The world didn't give a damn about your excuses, your sob stories, or your scars. You couldn't fight? You were meat. You couldn't endure? You were nothing.
Life on the streets of Mantle had beaten that lesson into him as a cub. He didn't cry. He didn't complain. He broke his fists on brick walls just to toughen them up. Bit back every groan, every whimper. Weakness wasn't an option. Not for him. Not ever.
Might made right. That was the law.
The humans, for all their snobby, condescending glares, understood that well enough. They strutted around in their shiny towers, acting like gods, but deep down, they knew the score. The strong ruled. The weak got crushed. That was the way it always worked.
What pissed him off were the Faunus who didn't get it. Too many of his people clung to soft, stupid ideas: fairness, peace, equality, like those things meant a damn in the jungle. The jungle didn't care. It didn't give. Respect? You took it.
The Law of the Jungle wasn't just survival. It was written in blood and bone, carved into every living thing. Defy it, and you were a fool. And fools? Fools ended up dead in a ditch.
Varek didn't have time for fools. Fools like Ghira Belladonna, spouting his peace-and-understanding garbage as if words ever won a fight. Freedom didn't come from begging. You seized it. Clawed for it. Bled for it.
Luckily, not everyone was blind to the truth. The White Fang had finally grown a spine, dropped the act, and bared its fangs. No more soft talk, no more pretending. The world would see what Faunus were capable of.
Varek wasn't in it for speeches or slogans. He fought to dominate, to survive. And as long as the White Fang stuck to the real law—the only law—he'd fight with them till his last breath.
But nothing came easy. Strength wasn't enough. The heavens didn't hand out victories. They tested you, beat you down, made you prove you deserved to stand tall.
The Faunus were blessed, the real deal, born stronger, faster, better, fiercer. But the heavens, cruel bastards that they were, chained them to the bottom. They had the power, but not the chance to use it. The fire, but the humans owned the tools. The jungle's true heirs, kept in the dirt by those sniveling bastards.
They made damn sure it stayed that way. Especially Atlas. The rotting den of devils.
Varek had spent years clawing at its underbelly, striking where he could: cargo raids, ambushing lone Huntsmen, taking out operatives. Anything to wound the cursed behemoth, that titan of rot, Atlas. But it was never enough. No matter how much human blood they spilled, no matter how many of his brothers he buried, Atlas stood tall, untouchable.
He'd sent word time and time again, begging for reinforcements, for the other branches of the White Fang to wake up and realize the stakes. But his pleas fell on deaf ears.
Ghira had been weak, but Sienna? She was worse. A coward masquerading as a leader.
Where Ghira coddled the humans with his pathetic dreams of peace, Sienna preached about restraint. Restraint. The very word tasted like ash in Varek's mouth. It was an insult, a betrayal of everything the White Fang was meant to be. She had claws but refused to use them.
And so Varek was left to fight scraps of war, his brothers bleeding and dying for victories too small to matter. It ate at him, gnawed at his soul like a festering wound.
Weakness was a sin. Cowardice, though? That was unforgivable.
But the heavens were as cruel as they were merciful.
A thread of hope appeared.
Someone had done the unthinkable: broken into the house of the Devil himself. A Faunus had gotten close enough to the bastard Schnee to sink their teeth into his flesh and their claws into his bones. The rumors said Jacques Schnee had been so rattled, so broken, that he couldn't leave his mansion for nearly three months.
The humans? They denied it. The Schnees? Played it off like a bad joke. Not a whisper in the news. But that silence? That was louder than anything they could've said. Jacques Schnee could bleed. And if he could bleed, he could die.
The rest of the world credited Varek and his men. He neither denied nor confirmed it. That was the point. Let the humans believe he was the shadow in the night. Let the Faunus see a symbol of resistance where there was none. Fear and hope were tools, and Varek wasn't too proud to wield them.
At last, the coward Sienna caved. Fearful someone else had dared to do what she lacked the spine for, she sent reinforcements. But they were pitiful. Weak. A show of support in name only. She didn't want Varek to succeed, not truly.
But fate, it seemed, wasn't on her side. Even outside the White Fang, the Faunus's yearning for freedom burned bright. New recruits arrived, unbidden, drawn by whispers of rebellion. And with them came an unexpected ally in the shape of a treacherous scorpion with a cursed sting and venomous promises.
Varek didn't trust him, not fully. But trust wasn't necessary. The scorpion wanted to see the Devil fall as much as he did. For now, that was enough.
The scorpion, with his scheming grin and cursed sting, was a means to an end. Dangerous, yes, but so was Varek. They understood each other in a way only predators could. Trust wasn't needed; mutual hatred for a greater enemy was enough.
So Varek took the weapons, didn't ask too many questions, and didn't care about the Grimm following the scorpion.
Using evil to crush evil wasn't just strategy; it was pure karmic justice.
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"So, fuck off!" The Devil's scream was the only warning he had before the Sea of white creatures burst toward them.
Varek barely had time to react. He raised his gun and fired, but the wave of hares pushed through the shots. The gunfire was drowned out in the frenzy of the creatures.
With a growl, he leaped into the air, hoping to get some distance. But the sea of hares moved as one, a tide that followed him with a speed he hadn't expected. The moment he reached his peak, they were already there, swarming around him.
The first hare hit him hard and latched onto his foot. Varek stomped its head and crushed it. But more followed. They kept coming, each one making the pile heavier than before, pushing him down. Their claws dug into his Aura, biting and scratching, trying to tear through it unsuccessfully.
He tried to fight them off, but they brought him down with sheer weight. Dozens and dozens of them latched onto him. He couldn't move fast enough, couldn't get enough space to strike. Every time he fought one off, two more replaced it.
Around him, his men fared no better. Their ranks had descended into chaos. "Don't shoot blindly!" Varek barked, but his voice was lost in the noise of the battle. His men couldn't hear him over the chaos. He wasn't worried about himself. These things were a fucking annoyance, but it take them hours to bring him down
But the younglings? The ones with weak or no Aura? They had no chance.
"Brace yourself!" Varek yelled through the sound of aimless gunfire. He raised his hand, the new gauntlet the scorpion had given him flaring to life with blinding lights. With a quick motion, he slammed his palm hard into the ground.
A deafening roar filled the air as his Semblance surged to life. The ground beneath him vibrated violently as he summoned the full force of his power. A half-expanding sphere of energy ripped through the battlefield, tearing apart the sea of hares. Their bodies were scattered in every direction, torn apart as blood and fur rained down, splattering the ground.
'Not a bad weapon.' He grinned in satisfaction.
The power thrummed through him, making his arm ache, but he ignored the pain with a smirk. Finally, he had some breathing room. He took a moment to look around, assessing the state of things.
The older, more experienced fighters were barely scratched. Their Aura held strong, and they were skilled enough to deal with the hares like they were nothing more than an annoyance. But the younger ones, as expected, were a different story. Bloodied, bruised, and battered, they were struggling to hold their ground. Some were barely standing, others were barely conscious.
Varek scowled. The young ones always paid the price. But there was no time to babysit them now.
"Get the fuck up!" Varek barked at one of the younger fighters struggling to rise from the bloodied ground. "Don't let these bastards take you down!"
He didn't wait for a reply, his glare already fixed ahead. Through the smoke and chaos, he spotted their prey—or what was left of them. His scowl deepened as he saw hundreds of hares retreating, their unnatural forms bounding away with stolen targets slung across their backs.
Fuck. The realization hit him hard. The hares that attacked weren't the main force. They were a distraction, a goddamn smokescreen, while the others made off with the the humasn.
"Open fire! Don't let them escape!" he bellowed, his voice raw with fury.
Varek raised his hand, the gauntlet on his arm sparking to life once more. With a snarl, he slammed his fist forward, unleashing another blast of his Semblance in the direction of the fleeing hares. The shockwave tore through the ground, ripping a path of destruction as it barreled toward the retreating swarm.
The explosion caught a few of the hares, sending bodies tumbling and limbs scattering, but most of them kept moving, disappearing into the distance. New rabbits appeared and grabbed the humans left behind.
"Reload and chase them!" he shouted at his men, motioning for them to press forward. He grabbed the comm on his collar and yelled, "They're heading toward the city! Cut them off!"
The older fighters were already moving, but the younger ones hesitated, some too shaken to act. Varek stormed past them, grabbing one by the arm and shoving him forward. "I said MOVE! We don't stop until we get the—!"
His words died in his throat, and his breath stopped as a terrifying sensation slammed down on his soul like a crushing weight. It wasn't fear. Fear was something he could fight, something he could push through. This was worse, a primal instinct screaming at him to kneel or flee.
The others froze in their steps, their eyes wide, their weapons faltering in their hands. A pure and overwhelming bloodlust slammed into them, the kind that stripped men of courage and turned them into trembling prey.
Varek had felt killing intent before, but this was something else entirely. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to look up, his body rebelling with every movement.
There, standing amidst the chaos, was Jacques Schnee. The aura around him wasn't something that could be explained; it could only be felt as if death itself had taken human form.
His body trembled with every muscle screaming for him to run, but Varek's conviction burned true, hotter than any fear. He smiled. And what better sign could there be? A mandate from Heaven itself, promising liberation by slaying the Devil standing before him.
With a roar that tore through the choking silence, Varek pushed through the dread. He turned his palm toward the demon, the gauntlet on his arm sparking to life again. The space between them exploded into dust and smoke.
The oppressive feeling vanished, leaving Varek lightheaded. He sneered. "See that, you bastard!? Your trick—"
His words were cut short as his head snapped back, a large-caliber bullet slamming into his forehead. His Aura flickered violently but held.
Before he could recover, a blur of white burst through the smoke. A gleaming sword drove through the skull of the boy standing next to him. The boy's body hadn't even hit the ground before the blade whipped around, carving through the throat of another. Blood sprayed, and the acrid stench filled the air.
Shi-!
Instinct roared in Varek's mind as the attacker spun toward him, blade aimed for his neck. He barely managed to raise his gauntlet, the clang of metal-on-metal ringing out as he blocked the strike. The sheer force of the blow sent a tremor through his arm.
"You damn animals," A woman's voice growled.
Varek's eyes locked onto her. White uniform stained with blood, her movements impossibly precise, her eyes blazing with cold fury.
'Hoh?' This wasn't just some soldier. She was a ghost of Atlas, one of its elite killers.
"I'll gut you like fish, string your intestines on the nearest tree, and use your skulls to decorate the garden." Winter glared at him.
The sheer absurdity of the threat, coming from the supposed elites of society, almost made Varek laugh. Almost. But the blade she swung at his side wasn't laughing.
"You've got some fight in you," Varek spat, his lips curling into a grin. He pushed her blade back and lunged, swinging his gauntlet at her chest. "Let's see how long you last!"
He was met with another brutal swing of her saber. Varek braced himself, barely managing to block as the blade sparked against his gauntlet. The force nearly knocked him off balance, his boots scraping against the ground.
She didn't stop. Twisting, she drove her knee into his stomach, making him stagger. In the same motion, her blade lashed out, slicing through the throat of another of his men who had rushed in to help. Blood sprayed in an arc as he collapsed, clutching his neck.
Winter didn't even glance at the fallen man, her focus locked onto Varek. "Pathetic," she sneered, and her blade gleamed as she brought it down in a merciless overhead swing.
Varek barely sidestepped in time, the saber carving into the ground where he'd stood. He retaliated with a wild punch, his gauntlet vibrating loudly and aiming for her head, but she pivoted smoothly, the tip of her blade grazing his cheek as she moved, letting his fist pass dangerously close to her ear.
Varek grinned.
A glyph flared to life around his extended fist, trapping him in place.
"You fight like a drunken beast," she said coldly. "I'll send you back to whatever gutter spat you out. Piece by bloody piece!"
She swung her blade at him, but the weapon veered off at the last second. Her surprise only lasted a moment before Varek shattered the glyph with brute force and slammed his massive fist into the ground where she had been standing a moment earlier.
Winter flipped through the air, landing on her feet, a curse forming on her lips, but it never came out. Inertia slammed into her like a wave, and her knees buckled under the sudden force.
"Not a good feeling, is it?" Varek laughed, rushing at her with his fist cocked back. "Having your damn brain rattled! Die, you—"
His roar turned into a choked gasp as a boot crashed into his ribs with enough force to crack them and send him hurtling into a distant wall like a cannonball. Varek hit the stone with a sickening crunch, the impact spiderwebbing cracks through the surface before he broke through to the other side.
"Fuck me, that twat talks too much," Jacques groaned in annoyance, lowering his leg and casually digging a pinkie into his ear. "Cunt's was gonna give me tinnitus with all hisz screaming."
Winter straightened slowly, shaking off the lingering disorientation as Jacques stepped forward. Despite the blood staining his forearms, he looked entirely nonchalant. She glanced behind him at the bodies torn apart in his wake.
"You good?" he asked her.
Winter nodded, adjusting her grip on her saber. "Good enough," she said. "His weapon caught me off guard. It won't happen again."
"Of course, it won't," Jacques said with a snort. "I'll handle things on this side. You help Ironwood and the security with the evacuation."
Winter opened her mouth to protest, but her eyes widened in realization, and she shut it. She let her rage blind her. Killing these animals was a secondary objective, after all.
"I get you're mad," Jacques said, his tone firm but oddly calm, "but your priority is making sure your mother and brother are safe. Ironwood said the comms are jammed, and we don't know where these bastards are coming from. I left some of my summons with them, but I'd rather you be there to make sure."
From his shadow, the same large dog she stepped on its tail rose and looked up at Winter expectantly. "It'll lead you straight to Willow," Jacques added. " It's pretty reliable in a scrap, too. So, don't worry about protecting it."
"What about you?" Winter asked, hesitation creeping into her voice. "I can't exactly leave you alone in here."
Jacques laughed, loud and sharp, cracking his knuckles as he strode ahead. "Aren't you mistaken about something?" He glanced over his shoulder at her, a manic grin splitting his face. "I'm not the one who needs protecting here."
Without waiting for a response, he dashed forward. Winter hesitated for a split second, then tightened her grip on her saber and nodded.
"Fine," she said. "But don't get yourself killed!"
The dog moved, and she moved quickly with it, her saber slicing through the air as she conjured a massive glacier of ice, slamming it into one of the terrorists who had been aiming at them and opening the path.
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Jacques' steps were light, almost playful, as he strutted toward the dozens of dickheads who had tried to blow him to pieces. A large, self-assured smile spread across his face, his hands casually resting at his sides as though he wasn't outnumbered or surrounded by armed lunatics.
The benevolent and understanding eldritch god that brought his ass here must've been pretty happy with Jacques' sacrifice to reward him like this.
"You boys look like you've been having fun," he said, his tone laced with mockery. "But I've got to say, trying to crash a party? That's a bit rude, even for amateurs like you."
One of the terrorists stepped forward, his rifle trained on Jacques. "Shut up, you arrogant bastard!" he barked. "You're not walking out of here alive."
The threats came pouring in like an open floodgate, each more ridiculous and vicious than the last.
"I'll snap your spine and wear it like a trophy, you smug piece of trash!" snarled a lizard mutt-woman wielding a rusted machete, her face—well, whatever he could see from it anyway—twisted in rage.
A burly pig-like cunt with a crooked nose brandished a flamethrower and cackled, "Hope you like the smell of burning flesh, 'cause you're about to smell like roast chicken!"
The lovely and varied cacophony of threats continued, building in as they did their best impression of the average Fist of the North mook. Jacques couldn't help it; he brought a hand to his chest, the other dabbing mockingly at his eye. "Ah, such passion! Such dedication! You boys and girls are really giving it your all, aren't you? It's almost touching."
He nodded solemnly, moved by their sincerity. "You know," he began, his voice calm, almost fatherly, "I was just starting to think the Gods had abandoned me. But here you all are—heroes, every one of you—stepping forward to let me vent my frustrations."
"Shut the fuck up, you arrogant prick!" a man roared, cocking his shotgun.
Jacques ignored him, gesturing humbly with both hands. "I hear you, and I understand you. You're all clearly sick of living and have decided to seek the sweet release of death at my hands, no less. Truly, an honor."
Jacques tilted his head thoughtfully. "But, alas, I am a man of mercy. Taking lives is still somewhat... novel to me, and I'd much rather not stain my hands with all your blood. So here's what I propose: lay down your weapons, line up nice and orderly, and I'll only beat you half to death instead. What d—"
"SHUT UP!"
The gunshot cracked through the air, but the bullet disintegrated as it hit his Aura, scattering harmlessly. Jacques let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. " I suppose that's no." He flashed them a toothy grin. "Who's first?
Apparently, they all wanted to be first. Bullets rained on him, but they were too slow.
The ground beneath Jacques exploded outward, a crater forming in his wake as he vanished in a blur of motion.
"I'll make you regre—!" The pig-faced brute's words choked into silence as Jacques materialized in front of him, his fist driving through the thug's chest with sickening force. Ribs splintered, flesh tore, and the man's Aura shattered in a blinding burst of light. His body hurtled backward, a broken heap that crashed into his comrades, bowling them over like dolls.
Jacques moved again, faster than they could track, a streak of white and black.
"Where is he—?!" someone shouted, only to gurgle as Jacques appeared behind them, a knee to the spine had him crashing down.
Another scream, and a machete aimed at Jacques's head. It never landed. too slow, and too weak. Jacques' hand shot out, gripping the man's head like a vice, and with a gruesome crunch, he slammed it into the ground so hard it caved in.
Another crater. Jacques was gone. The sound of broken bones and metal meters away.
A man with twin axes rushed him, screaming obscenities. Jacques turned, his foot sweeping up in a brutal kick that shattered the man's knee and sent him collapsing forward. Jacques caught him mid-fall, gripping his throat and lifting him effortlessly into the air before hurling him at another group. The body struck with a sickening crunch, sending limbs and weapons flying.
Jacques was strong. He realized. Far stronger than he thought.
More bullets sprayed toward him, but he didn't stop. He weaved through the gunfire with inhuman speed. A man with a broken jaw tried to stagger forward, desperate to land a hit. Jacques closed the distance in an instant, driving his knee into the thug's gut with enough force to lift him off the ground.
Nue," he muttered. His shadow began to shift and writhe. It grew and bubbled, but without a single hand sign or a proper visualization, with a crack like thunder, it exploded outwards in a huge surge of electricity that seared everything it touched, metal, ground, and flesh until all he could smell was burnt meat and the smell of ozone.
Somehow, it didn't feel wrong. It felt good—too good.
Jacques felt the rush of adrenaline, the power coursing through him, pushing him to be faster, stronger, and more dangerous.
More Aura pooled within him, flowing into the expanding current of energy. The crackling pulse spread outward, growing larger, and more destructive.
The electricity in the air wavered for a moment, and before Jacques could react, a fist slammed into his chest with enough force to send him crashing off the ground. His body twisted mid-air, but in a show of grace he'd never possessed before, he landed effortlessly on his feet. He looked up and grinned. "And here I was afraid that you croaked, Gorilla."
Varek stood there, seething, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles whitened and the gauntlet in his arms vibrated loudly. "You demon spawn," he spat. He looked around at what had become of his comrades, and the glare he leveled at Jacques was filled with such hatred, it could have killed a man. "I'll tear you apart piece by piece!"
Jacques' grin only widened at the words as the gorilla Faunus lunged at him, faster than any of his previous victims. His fist ripped through the air, breaking the sound barrier as it slammed into Jacques' cross-guard.
The force was enough to rattle his bones, but Jacques' Aura flared up around him, absorbing most of the impact. Still, the blow sent shockwaves through his body, making him stumble back a step. This one was different.
The Faunus wasn't done. With a snarl, he punched with his other hand. Jacques moved his head, letting the vibrating limb pass just beside his ear. His knees bent, and his body leaned to the side suddenly.
Varek's forming grin faltered and then vanished completely when Jacques, using the momentum from the Faunus' wild swing, planted his foot hard into the side of the Faunus' head. The force uprooted him like a ragdoll, sending the beast flying through the air.
The Gorilla hit the ground with a sickening thud, and the wind was knocked from his chest. His instincts took over before he could process why the same trick he used on the girl failed. Jacques' boots crashed down to where Varek's head had been only a second ago, the impact cracking the floor and kicking up a cloud of debris and dust.
Varek gritted his teeth, pushing off the ground with enough force to launch himself backward, barely dodging the next blow. His gauntlet gleamed as he aimed his palm at Jacques, releasing his gauntlet-boosted semblance with a roar.
A massive blast of raw energy shot toward Jacques. But rather than shredding him, it slammed into his palm, the shockwave exploding violently around him. Though the energy blast pushed him back a few inches, the white haired-devil, with his palm facing Varek's direction, sparks of electricity sizzling slightly.
Electricity!
Varek's eyes widened in realization. No wonder it failed. The bastard's neutralizing my vibrations with his electrical charges.
But that moment of understanding came at a steep price. Before Varek could react, Jacques vanished with a massive explosion of dirt and debris. The next thing Varek knew, he felt his guts folding around the fist that crashed into his stomach, lifting him off the ground. His body sailed through the air like a meteor, for a long moment before he crashed into something.
His mind went black for a split second, the pain too intense to process.
When Varek came to, he found himself lying on his back in a fountain, the cold water splashing around him, the pain in his body throbbing in waves. His head hurt like a bitch, and the sounds of screams and gunfire made his ears ring.
He stared lamely at helicopters circling above, his eyes spinning with their blades as he looked at the bright logos of the channels painted over them.
"-ek! Damn it, Varek, wake up!!" A voice snapped him out of his stupor. He turned his head slightly and stared at the shiny violet wings. Bat wings. Dhole had bat wings...
He straightened himself and glared at Dhole, one of his lieutenants, who was supposed to be cutting off the humans from escaping. "Why...?" he coughed, the pain nearly making him double over as his Aura shimmered in protest. "Why the fuck are you here? What happened? Were you attacked?!"
Dhole skidded to a stop beside him, a scowl on his face. "That's what I was gonna ask you, damn it! Why the hell are you here? You're supposed to attack the mansion!"
He was attacking the mansion, damn it. Varek opened his mouth to snap back, but then his eyes scanned the area, and his words faltered. His head hurt... he was... The Schnee!
He looked around him, searching for the bastard, and found himself confused. Where the fuck was he? Where was the mansion? Where was the entrance gate? His eyes roamed the place looking for the familiar flames and smoke cloud where the mansion had been reduced to rubble.
He stopped when he saw it—a distant light in the distance.
Dread washed over Varek like a cold wave, and he cursed under his breath.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me..." he muttered. He shoved Dhole out of the way and struggled to his feet, his aura flaring weakly.
"What the fuck happened?" Varek barked.
Dhole raised his hand, pointing to the battle where his men were still fighting against the security forces and police. "That's what I'm asking, damn it. We were holding them off, and then suddenly—bam! The fountain exploded, and you were here..."
Shock and anger fought for dominance inside Varek as he looked back to where he was supposed to be. His chest tightened as the realization hit him—one punch. One fucking punch had sent him flying from the entrance to the eastern gate.
That was at least six hundred meters away!
The Schnee fucker...!
His blood boiled. His hands clenched into fists. He was going to fucking kill him!
And then, a flash of movement caught his eye—a blank streak of light cutting through the sky.
"Move!" Varek shouted, pushing Dhole aside as he jumped out of the way, just in time to avoid the projectile that slammed into the fountain. The explosion hit with such force that it left nothing but dust and debris where he had just been lying.
The dust parted, and a missile came at him. A vibration blast sent him into the air to avoid it, letting the Schnee fucker skid across the ground. On all fours, the devil stared at him with a grin.
The ground cracked, and he disappeared. Panic rose in Varek's soul. He tried to move, only for his face to nearly get crushed in the devil's grip. "Got you," the devil laughed, hurling him into another wall painfully.
Varek's body crashed and rose from the impact before he felt the Schnee's feet slam down on his chest through the wall. Through the haze of pain, he barely registered his leg being grabbed as he was thrown into the sky.
His head tilted to the left, seeing the wide eyes of the human reporter bitch inside the heli yelling something in her headset before a fist brought him down, crashing in the middle of the gunfire between his men and the security. His mind was too focused on the devil's mocking laughter.
The Devil landed next to him, still laughing like a cursed child in a candy store. Varek was vaguely aware of his men trying to shoot the bastard, but the laughter and their screams crushed his hope of ridding himself of the tormentor of his kind.
With a desperate roar, he raised both palms, pushing all his power into the gauntlet burning on his arms. He unleashed everything he had left, blasting the fucker with an explosion of raw energy, the force of the attack tearing through the air with enough intensity to rattle the ground beneath him.
The Devil's footing faltered for just a split second, but it was enough. The blast sent him staggering back, offering an opening for his lieutenant.
A set of steel cables snapped around the Schnee before a dark blur slammed into the Devil and yanked him into the air. "Kill him! Crack his head, Dhole!" Varek yelled, laughing as his lieutenant soared upwards, lifting the tied Schnee into the sky.
The Schnee struggled, kicking and thrashing to no avail. No matter how strong he was, the cables kept him in an awkward position, preventing him from breaking free. Dhole reached the apex of his ascent, and like a falcon, he spun, preparing to crash the bastard's head first into the ground.
Varek's grin stretched wider, nearly splitting his face, until he saw the Devil's grin return, twisted and confident. Even with the speed they were descending, Varek saw the Devil take a deep breath, his Aura settling around the his throat.
The Devil opened his mouth wide next to Dhole's large ears.
He didn't hear it.
He felt it.
The scream came all at once, and it didn't enter through his ears. It hit his chest. It rattled his teeth. It crushed into his lungs and crawled up his spine. His thoughts scattered before he even knew he was scared.
The glass around them shattered as the helicopters fought to stay in the air, desperate to avoid crashing as the sound blast slammed into them. Blood seeped from Varek's ears, and he watched as Dhole's limp and lifeless body plummeted to the ground while the Schnee broke free and landed on his feet.
Varek's vision blurred as he saw the chaos around him of the fighters holding their ears, the helicopters swaying in mid-air, struggling to stay intact. His Aura finally shattered.
Varek stared dumbfoundedly as the Schnee dusted himself off with a self-satisfied smirk. He was casually walking toward him, and lifting a whole ass truck over his head.
Varek's ears were fucked, but fortunlately (or unfortunately), he could read lips.
"I'm gonna pull your fucking guts out through your mouth and choke you with them while I laugh so hard I piss blood! Ya fahking Cunt!"
At that moment, something inside Varek clicked.
It was as if the core of his mind had broken through, and an eureka bloomed:
Like how Ghira (old, overly patient, soft-spoken, and reasonable Ghira) might've actually had a point. Maybe peace wasn't just for people who gave up. Maybe "diplomacy" wasn't weakness, just something he'd never really tried to understand.
And perhaps the Law of the Jungle wasn't a universal truth so much as something edgy he picked up in his angry phase.
The Law of the Jungle was meant for actualjungle animals; It was a degrading, racist belief. This idea that Faunus had to act like predators to survive was something for his people to abandon.
He had truly become different from the racist humans he hated.
He would reflect on that later. Later was good. Later was safe.
Without a word, he turned and ran.
Fuck this freedom-fighting shit.