'Thoughts'
"Talking"
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"That hurt a little—"
A spray of blood disagreed with that assessment.
'Scratch that. It felt like a damn—'
Thwack!
"...Sigh."
Sprawled on the grass lay Altair, who was contemplating his life choices. Fresh from a powerful swipe courtesy of the Ursa a few meters away from him. Behind that same Ursa, six Beowolves stood, waiting for the Ursa to do something.
Thankfully, his injuries weren't really that serious.
'Bad News, I'm pretty sure I'm internally bleeding. Good news is that it's more like blood coming from my tongue when I bit it a little when I got hit earlier.'
A pretty grim outcome, but it was manageable.
'Welp, time to get up.'
With a cool recovery, he stood up with a flip. As he stood, he rolled his shoulder, loosening his joints as he prepared for the fight.
His Aura shimmered, a white shine expanded from his skin, outlined by a deep black.
"What a ha—"
Altair's instincts, or rather, the instincts of Sakamoto ingrained in his body flared up, making him roll to the side, avoiding a sharp pounce from two Beowolves.
As he rolled, he quickly got up to his feet, distancing himself more by hopping backwards to the edge of the clearing they were in.
"You almost got me. But you guys are a little too slow for me."
'I almost died, but hail cheats.'
An unfamiliar feeling arose within Altair. Normally a person who gets dropped off into another world has the instincts and athletic abilities that more or less don't fit well when a six-foot, wolf-like creature tries to kill them. Let alone the composure to properly act.
But maybe due to the influence of consuming vast media portraying battles, death, and the occasional isekai slop, or the influence of Sakamoto Taro's physical template. The feeling that arose within Altair wasn't one of fear or confusion, but excitement.
'First fight. Let's try not to die.'
Altair noticed the two Beowolves pouncing from his left. Faced with the second attack, his instincts quickly took over. With a duck he avoided the first Beowolf, before taking advantage of the second one's inability to dodge mid-air to throw it against the first Beowolf.
Crack!
The sound of bones breaking loudly echoed in the forest. As the two collided, a small crater formed from the force, breaking the bone mask, and spikes the Beowolves possessed.
"RAHHH."
The other Grimm charged forward in a frenzy, not letting Altair take a rest. Composed, he assessed the situation as he prepared for the attack.
' One Ursa and six Beowolves. Take care of the weaker ones first, then go for the Ursa. '
The two Beowolves in the small crater recovered, though they struggled to move, they still joined the assault pointed towards him.
"Bring it on!"
With adrenaline in his veins and a smile, he faced the Grimm headed towards him with no worry present in his heart and mind.
A pounce came from the first Beowolf that reached him. With such an obvious trajectory, he stepped to the side and delivered an axe kick to its skull, stomping it to the ground, easily crushing the Beowolf's head.
Altair dashed forward, right after stomping the Beowolf's head, shooting straight forward to deliver a devastating drop kick to the Ursa.
Crack!
With a thud, the Ursa went crashing down, though not dead, it was stunned buying a few seconds to deal with the Beowolves that accompanied it.
Landing on the ground, Altair immediately leaned back, a claw swiped past, missing by only an inch.
Another claw came by, but was avoided by a backflip. Using the Ursa as a springboard, Altair shot forward again, though this time he slid under two Beowolves, and came face to face with the same Beowolves that attacked him earlier; currently staggering, so sluggish and slow that dodging didn't even exert much force.
"Eat excrements."
'It doesn't sound as smooth.'
With his hands against the Earth, he pushed down, his body quickly sprung up as two Beowolves got a healthy dose of shoe soles onto their snouts, leading their heads to separate from their bodies.
"What!?"
Altair's motion remained unchanging as he rose up way above what he had expected, seemingly unaffected by gravity. Startled by the phenomenon, his Aura shimmered, leading to his abrupt fall.
Quickly twisting his body, he landed on his feet, as the brief moment of weightlessness stayed on his mind for a while. Suddenly incomprehensible whispers echoed in his head, filling his head with words of filth and corruption.
Not waiting for their prey to react, the remaining Beowolves launched another attack. Though wild beasts, they displayed uncanny coordination, as they lunged forward, some aiming for Altair's neck, some aiming for his limbs, and with his frozen form he just stood there, not reacting to the attack.
The raven, watching from the branch, showed signs of panicking, as it saw Altair just stand there frozen; not even giving the slightest hint of resistance. She even considered transforming now, to take care of everything by herself, but before she could do so, she froze.
From Altair's shadow emerged a pale hand, nails painted in Yellow, adorned with a Yellow laced bracelet running from its wrist all the way to its pale slender arm.
Though it merely appeared to be a severed arm, it exuded elegance and poise befitting a sovereign. Yet, beneath that elegance lay a subtle pull, a call if you will. Its every movement, every twitch, every pause was enchanting. It pulled existence to itself, yet decay soon followed, like the void calling upon a lost soul closer to its embrace.
The raven...Raven felt her mind twist, her eyes unable to pull away from seeing the arm. Her unconscious mind demanded she look at it, her soul demanded she witnessed its form.
Her body moved, her wings spread; ready for flight, to be closer to that otherworldly entity, but her will was stronger, and she forced herself to look away, to stop her decay.
Her unconscious mind, and soul whispered to her will, but she remained steadfast, blocking out the noise, closing her eyes, choosing to remain ignorant of the existence that beckoned her will.
The Grimm fared no better, even though these creatures didn't possess a soul, they did possess intelligence and a mind to corrupt, but being soulless didn't matter to the pale hand.
At a moment's notice strings appeared out of nothing, stabbing the remaining Grimm, corrupting their very existence, cutting off any connection they had with Remnant. Needless to say they became foreigners to their own world, foreign to existence.
Altair spoke absentmindedly, his eyes unfocused, his voice incomplete; reduced to whispers.
"The Jester's toy. Ever changing, mocking. I implore that I may use such instrument."
The hand showed delight, as a long strange rectangular object emerged from Altair's shadow. Taking [Multi-tool], Altair's eyes focused, as he disappeared; like popping out of existence.
Then silence.
He was behind the Ursa, and the four other Beowolves. The [Multi-tool] in his hand clicked, as a flat blade; which also functioned as a can opener, was sticking out.
Looking at the blade, he felt a sense of satisfaction, before he folded the blade back inside.
Behind him, the Grimm already started to return to dust, but instead of fading into the wind, the dust fell into his shadow, into the void where the hand came from.
Altair turned around, and saw his shadow stretched out, and the hand that emerged from it. Strangely, he wasn't drawn to it, but he did feel a sense of familiarity to it.
The hand didn't stay for long, with its business done, it sank down, but not before forming a heart with its fingers, pointing it at Altair.
"..."
He didn't know what to make of it. He...understood, strangely enough, that the hand was fond of him; delighted that he existed, while the notion of the eldritch being left Altair stumped, aversion hadn't crossed his mind, still it was strange to say the least.
'I wonder—'
Before he could finish his thoughts, his body went limp, followed by the immediate removal of his consciousness.
His body dropped, the [Multi-tool] clattering to the ground, though still breathing, it was clear he wasn't going to get up anytime soon.
"..."
Raven landed near his unconscious body, now in her human form; her face showed fear and disbelief. Her sanity returned, the whispers stopped the moment the hand sank inside Altair's shadow, but the short period left a deep scar in her soul and psyche.
A complicated blend of emotions swirled inside her mind; her opinion of the young man beneath her changed once again. Earlier, before this fight, she had already labeled him important; essential even.
Through the notebook—despite the writing that went close to shattering her mind—contained information she wasn't meant to see, or even acknowledge. All pointing to the young man beneath her as the center of it all.
'He's unconscious now. I could easily kill him, but...'
Raven Branwen is a coward, leaving her family, leaving the war waged by Ozpin, convincing herself that returning to her tribe was the right thing.
'...'
And this coward will do what she always has.
"I'll keep you safe for now."
Lest she wanted the otherworldly entity to come for her next.
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Blue and red lights flashed as a siren flared for a second. Altair, confused, pulled over to the side walk and dismounted [ Panthera ]. Behind him a police cruiser pulled over with two officers getting off the vehicle.
"Good evening, sirs. May I ask what I may have done to warrant attention from you?"
"Good evening to you as well sir. Are you aware that you need a helmet when riding a motorcycle?"
"Also are you wearing a blindfold right now?"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"No...no, I was not"
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