Chapter Text
“Be the shield that Mantle needs.”
Ironic that those words should come to him now. Mantle was gone by now, crushed under the ruins of Atlas most likely. Normally, he would say it was better than being overrun by Grimm, but…
The Grimm were overrunning them here, too. With the bulk of Atlesian and Mantlian citizens at his back, Bronn held his shield before him, a bulwark to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves. Too many people had already fallen, those who couldn’t escape Mantle or Atlas before it was besieged. To make matters worse, a thick, swirling sandstorm had engulfed them the instant they’d appeared here - wherever here was. Bronn could barely see a meter in front of him, and his Semblance was going crazy, causing him to move entirely on instinct.
The instant that giant, floating whale appeared in the skies near Atlas, Bronn knew their time was up. The bizarre warning that Ruby Rose had tried to give them was cut off prematurely, and not enough to prepare them for what was coming. All they knew was that their enemy was named Salem… and that Ironwood had betrayed them. Can no longer be trusted. Well, he wasn’t here; if he had been, he would’ve already been barking orders and giving false assurances.
A few more people were still trickling through the portal, immediately blinded by the sandstorm and frightened by the screams of those already here. The situation was getting worse by the second. It seemed like the sandstorm was picking up, or else being fueled somehow by the Grimm. Bronn braced himself against the storm, readying for another attack -
It never came. In an instant, there was an explosion of raw power. It buffeted Bronn from behind, but his visibility instantly cleared; the sandstorm was blown cleanly away, as if it had never existed. The Huntsmen and Huntresses were able to see the Grimm clearly, and went on the offensive. They were nothing to the white-and-blue blur that soared overhead, though, blade flashing furiously, an icy wind at her beck and call.
Ironwood wasn’t here. Winter Schnee, his second-in-command, was.
The Grimm were eradicated in minutes, and when they were able to look around and take stock of their situation, the evacuees from Atlas and Mantle discovered they were right where they were told they’d be: outside of Vacuo. The stone-carved buildings stood atop the desert sands, most notably the ziggurat of Shade Academy. Impossibly, the plan had worked.
Already, Huntsmen were trudging across the desert to meet them. Directly at the front was a well-built, dark-skinned man with short hair and a sharp beard. Bronn had seen him only once or twice before - Professor Theodore, Shade’s Headmaster. Winter landed directly between him and the people from Atlas, then shook his proffered hand. She struck a stark contrast to him, with her pale skin, snow white hair, and military bearing. “Professor Theodore,” Winter said, “thank you for meeting us here. We, the refugees of Atlas and Mantle, need your help.”