RWBY: A Lord's Tale

Chapter Eighteen: Beta Testing

Then he moved.

Backwards.

Not in a panic, actually.

It was a very calculated decision after realizing he didn't really know how to fight

Quin stepped lightly, half-sculking, half-stumbling as he made for the entrance. His back thudded against the cold steel frame of the warehouse door a moment later. He didn't trip, technically.

Though his heel did catch on something suspiciously sticky and his hands did flail just a little.

But it was fine.

He was fine.

Totally under control.

Anyways, let's just have the terrifying undead murder-doll handle this one.

Revenant, in stark contrast, stepped forward without a care… though, she was definitely annoyed with her master.

Even he could tell that much.

She reached behind her back and drew out something faint 'n' flickering.

A lyre.

Not one made of wood or string, but of magic. It shimmered like moonlight on water, and the moment her fingers brushed its strings.

The air shuddered.

A low, vibrating hum rolled out, subtle at first. Then came the second chord, ear piercing, only to have the concrete floor crack like splitting bone.

And from those cracks poured smoke.

Thick, unnatural, swirling up in tendrils and coils as it hissed out from the seams. Like blood, it pooled on the floor, before something began to form.

First, legs- skeletal and impossibly large -then the rest of it.

It was a skeleton, twice as tall as a human male, plated with armor fragments and brittle-looking chains. But where its skull should've been, there was a rusted metal pumpkin, bolted down with brittle bolts and prayers.

It wielded a club, if one could call it that, a bone-wrought monstrosity made from fused femurs and numerous skulls slowly, letting it drag across the floor with a dry shrieking scrape.

"Fredrick," he murmured, lips quirking. "Huh, not bad."

His doll didn't acknowledge him.

She stood with her head slightly tilted, before playing a few more chords.

The goons were less composed.

A few of them shuffled back instinctively, muttering under their breath. One dropped the hatchet he was holding, and the clang echoed too loud in the silent, smoky air.

It didn't take long for Fredrick to fully rise.

He stood tall, hunched slightly forward from the weight of his own existence. The rusted pumpkin on his head clinked with every slight motion, metal scraping against metal as it swiveled like a turret. His eyes, barely an ember, burned red through the hollow sockets.

It starter to move.

The massive bone club wound back, before coming down with terrifying speed, smashing into the floor just inches from a man's foot. Concrete exploded upward in a cloud of dust and gravel, and the henchmen screamed, tripped backward, and scrambled away on all fours to get behind the rest of his vile kind.

"Not a fan of the big guy, I guess," Quin muttered to himself.

He remained leaning there, arms crossed as his gaze flickered between Fredrick's bulk and Revenant's small stature, getting a nice chuckle at their expense.

"Do try not to watch so shamelessly." His summon said, almost psychically.

"Aw, come on. I'm just admiring your technique."

And he's gotta admit... she was cool as hell, but that'll just get to her head if he said it out loud.

Revenant's eyes flicked toward him, briefly.

Then back to the fight.

She stood with her head tilted, veil drifting gently despite the lack of breeze, and let her fingers drift across the lyre once more.

Soft chords, eerie and breathless.

The smoke rose again.

It coiled tighter around her feet, swirling in a ring as the music shifted, climbing into a quiet crescendo, notes high and clear, like glass being tapped by bone.

And from her side, something else rose.

This one was slight, scarcely smaller than Quin himself.

A tattered cloak, frayed pants, a high-collared leather coat buttoned to the throat and a hood- no, a sack -pulled low over the head, stitched at the edges and sagging to hide its face.

The only visible parts were the hands.

Thin, skeletal, and white as candle wax.

In one, it held a rapier, long, thin, elegant. The blade bent just slightly at the end where it meant something it couldn't pierce.

Helen.

The undead merely tilted its head once, slowly, towards Revenant... then turned its hollow gaze toward the gathered goons.

They were already backing away.

The undead page dashed forwards.

It didn't walk so much as it glided, its movements were silent, fluid and definitely practiced more then once. One moment it stood beside Revenant, the next it was halfway across the warehouse floor, rapier flashing in like a stray bullet.

Her target didn't even have time to scream.

The blade darted out, flicked once

snick!

And the thug stumbled backwards like he'd been tapped rather than struck. For half a second, he looked completely unharmed.

Then his coat slid off him.

Not off as in unbuttoned, off as in neatly deconstructed into about twenty-eight silky ribbons. His shirt followed a beat later, shredded into lace.

Such a display would definitely have Forel crying on the spot.

For a moment, the man stared at himself.

Then his body gave up.

The thug let out a faint whimper and pitched forward with all the grace of someone whose entire torso had just been turned into what he could only describe as lasagna.

It was as if the rapier had politely informed his organs they'd been in the wrong order this whole time, and politely rearranged them.

[ Victory - Human Defeated ]

[ Authority +1 (Temporary Combat Bonus) ]

Quin gave a low whistle.

"Huh, neat..."

Helen drew back in a slow, practiced flourish. The rapier spun once, not for show but to flick a few specks of red from its edge, landing with dainty plinks onto the tile.

The man next to him took one look between the 2 summons, the baby faced doll, and the kid loitering near the door... his brain working over time as two neurons fired up for the first time in weeks.

"SHITSHITSHIT- THEY'RE HUNTSMEN!"

Which, honestly, wouldn't be far from the truth if they were form Remnant... I mean, she definitely used what could be mistaken for a semblance.

Fredrick let out a low groan and swung again, this time taking out an entire support beam. It collapsed with an earthy crash, dust raining down from above like snow, and another flickering light blinked out with a sad little pop.

Revenant watched it all unfold, fingers hovering over her lyre. Debating whether to play another cord or just let the carnage ride.

The rest of the thugs didn't wait.

They turned and ran, shouting and tripping over each other on the way out.

Quin yawned slightly, stretching his arms high above his head.

"Yeah," he said, watching a guy faceplant into a pile of crates. "Can't say I blame you."

He waited, fingers lightly tapping as he watched the last of the thugs bolt into the night like rats from a sinking ship. One of them tripped over the doorframe, scrambled, screamed something unintelligible, and vanished.

Dust still floated lazily in the air, caught in the faint swing of the broken overhead light. Somewhere off to the side, Fredrick let out a low, gravelly rattle, then went still. Helen stood poised a few paces away, unmoving, rapier gently resting at her side.

Quin hummed, before walking leisurely towards his units.

He strolled across the cracked concrete, stepping over the remains of someone's jacket, and came up beside Revenant without a word. For a few seconds, he just stood there with her, both of them looking over the remains of their anticlimactic battle.

Then, as casual as a neighbor saying hello over the fence, he reached out and gave her a light pat on the back.

"You did good," he said lightly. "Y'know, for someone with the personality of a traffic cone."

He gave her a faint smirk before glancing down at the little lump of fabric peeking out of his coat pocket.

Mordred was staring up at him.

Quin sighed through his nose. "Yeah, yeah, I know…"

He pulled the plush free, holding it eye level. "'You should've fought, Quin.' 'Put your back into it, Quin.' Trust me, lecture received."

He shook his head, still half-smiling. "In my defense, they were carrying machetes… and I was, you know, nowhere near that level."

A couple more seconds passed.

"…Right, no excuse."

"...Great, you're insane," Revenant muttered. Her voice was flat as ever, but there was just enough exasperation behind it to almost count as emotion.

She lifted her hand and strummed a single chord on the lyre.

Fredrick collapsed first. One moment he loomed over the battlefield like a grave marker, the next his spine cracked inwards like collapsing scaffolding. Smoke hissed from his joints as he crumbled, chains clattering down in pieces, pumpkin helm falling last with a hollow clang before disappearing completely.

Helen followed without ceremony. Her form flickered like a candle caught in wind, posture perfect to the last breath as her shape unraveled into a coiling puff of black smoke, rapier vanishing with her.

Only the faint scent of scorched earth remained.

Quin let out a low breath, giving a soft shake of his head. "...And here I was, going to offer them a drink."

Oh whatever, loot time!

He spun on his heel and making a beeline for one of the crates stacked against the wall. It was big, industrial, and probably intended to be opened by someone with proper tools.

He didn't have any.

Didn't stop him, though.

Humming to himself, he planted his feet, gripped both sides of the crate like a kid trying to wrestle open a cookie tin before-

SKRRAAK

-the entire wooden panel tore off like wet cardboard.

He blinked, suddenly holding an entire panel of the crate.

"…Uh."

...

"I wasn't expecting that to work."

He stared at the wooden panel a little longer, then casually tossed it over his shoulder. It landed with a dull thud against the floor and slid aside.

Smoke still drifted faintly in the air, but the crate's interior was visible now.

Inside were rows of sealed canisters, all neatly labeled in Remnant script. Cold gray metal, each one the size of a large thermos stacked atop each other

At the back, stacked behind the front layer, were several smaller cases.

Along the top edge of the crate, was a metal strip with words etched in.

POWDERED DUST

PROPERTY OF S.D.C

DO NOT OPEN WITHOUT PROPER TRAINING

Quin leaned forward slightly.

"Huh."

He looked over his shoulder at Revenant.

She was peering over his shoulder… though, she definitely seemed a bit lost about what dust is.

"...Is it edible?"

Quin merely sighed before returning his gaze to the crate, then paused.

Tucked into a corner, maybe once taped to the side, now just barely wedged between two canisters was a faded, laminated pamphlet. The cover was peeling, the font cartoonishly large, and the title, in cheery block letters, read:

DUST FOR DUMMIES

and other inadequate individuals

He blinked once, then stifled a laugh.

"Oh," he murmured, plucking it free. "This is perfect."

Without hesitating, he turned and unceremoniously tucked it into her pocket.

"There you go, read that for me."

Revenant stared at the pamphlet.

Then at him.

Then back at the pamphlet.

"…Are you being serious right now."

"Deadly."

"...I know what dust is."

"You asked if it was food."

"Edible." She corrected.

…

She snatched the pamphlet with a low sigh, flipping it open with one hand. Her eyes scanned the first page, brow twitching as she read aloud in monotone:

> "Dust is one of our most important resources and a very necessary part of our lives. It powers almost every device we use, from cooking ovens to lights, vehicles, and even weapons"

She stopped, looking at Quin for some more definitive answers.

He gave her a cheery thumbs up.

"…I hate you," she muttered, and kept reading.

Quin turned back to the crate, grinning, and pocketed a couple vials. "That's fair, but think of this as your big educational arc… you'll thank me later."

Probably.

Hopefully.

Behind him, Revenant flipped to the next page.

> "Warning: Do not eat Dust. Yes, we have to say this."

"…I'm going to set you on fire."

"Now, that's just plain rude."

Quin casually slid a few more vials into his coat pocket- one blue, one orange, one a strange shimmering purple that glowed faintly even through the metal. He wasn't sure what that one did, but hey, mystery spice.

"Alright," he muttered, glancing around. "We've got elemental thermoses and…" He stepped up, walking over to the abandoned poker table, and managed to sniff out a bunch of abandoned hatchets and two compact machetes bundled in worn leather.

"…some cutlery, perfect."

He slung the pouch over his shoulder, gave the crate a satisfied pat, then turned back toward Revenant. She was still flipping through Dust for Dummies, face blank with disbelief.

"There's an entire section on 'fun party tricks'... Why would they-"

"C'mon," he said, already heading for the exit. "We're not sticking around for the cops..."

She followed, pamphlet still in hand. "You didn't even check the other crates."

"I know," Quin replied instantly. "Self-control, proud of me?"

"No."

"Ouch."

The lingering scent of smoke and ghostly resonance clung to the air like dust on old curtains as they passed the scarred battlefield… or well, vandalized warehouse*

Eventually, they made it out, pushing through the busted door and into the open.

They continued walking for a few minutes, eventually stopping in front of a large building

It was a wide, overgrown parking lot, or what had once been one. Long-faded lane markings cracked through the mossy pavement, while rusted light poles leaned at precarious angles. A few broken-down cars, stripped for parts long ago, stood like skeletal sentries along the perimeter.

Revenant blinked up at the wide sky overhead. "Why here?"

Quin stretched his arms, shaking out his shoulders like he was about to hop into a gym montage.

"Because out here, there's less chance of people seeing us."

Revenant dropped the pamphlet on the hood of an old car and folded her arms, watching him.

"So what now?"

Quin cracked his knuckles, then took a deep breath.

"Now?" he said, taking a few steps back.

"Now we see what this body can actually do."

…

Sometime later…

"I regret asking you to help…"

Quin groaned, sprawled like a discarded rag doll in the middle of the cracked car park. His shirt clung to him, soaked in sweat, his chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm. One hand weakly clutched a dented hatchet, the blade notched and chipped after maybe 50 minutes of use.

Across from him, Revenant leaned back against a car hood, resting the machete against the front bumper.

He asked her to refrain from using her claws... as he didn't exactly have a way to defend against it. Aside from a few scuffs and scratches on her porcelain, she looked frustratingly unfazed.

"Told you to use the machete," she said flatly, nudging him with her foot. "Longer reach, less depressing flailing."

Quin flopped his head toward her, wheezing. "It was... not flailing, that was tactical... unpredictability."

"You nearly took off your own foot."

It wasn't an exaggeration. During one particularly hopeful charge, he'd spun too wide, and the hatchet had nearly flown out of his grip… arcing backwards instead of forwards. It clattered across the pavement, narrowly missing his own heel.

"Minor miscalculation."

She crouched down beside him, brushing sweat-matted hair from his face like she was inspecting a broken toy.

"So," she said. "Learn anything, 'boss'?"

He held up one finger weakly. "One. You're stronger than you look."

She had grabbed his arm in the opening minute and promptly hurled him clear over the hood of a sedan like an unwanted sack of potatoes, though, she can use greatswords and colossal weapons with ease in the lands between, so no surprise there.

"Flattering."

"Two," he wheezed. "My regeneration works.... just slowly... and it hurts, a lot."

It had taken nearly ten minutes for the swelling in his ribs to go down after she'd knocked the wind out of him with a pommel strike. At first he'd thought something internal had collapsed. Turned out it hadn't, but the pain of it healing hadn't exactly reassured him.

Revenant hummed. "So, that's what those screams were about."

"And three," He closed his eyes, letting his weapon clatter to the floor.

"I suck with an axe."

There had been one moment, (okay, maybe two), where he'd reach back for a mighty swing with all his weight behind it, only for the handle to twist in his sweaty grip. The axe didn't just miss the target, it went sailing end over end into a bush twenty feet away.

"At least you're self-aware."

"Could you not sound so satisfied."

"Could you not be horrendous at fighting?"

He groaned again, covering his eyes with one arm... let's just ignore that one.

"I need a nap, or a tutorial."

"You already do-" she reminded, flicking the Dust for Dummies pamphlet at his chest.

"That's for dust, not how to fight."

"Semantics."

He let his arm fall to the side, watching the clouds roll across the sky. His breathing was finally starting to even out. The ache in his limbs was steadily healing, like the dull throb after a gym session you took way to far.

Still, beneath the bruises and battered pride, there was a small flicker of something else. A growing awareness. He now knew just how much those stats affected him... he was stronger, faster, hells it even gave him access to magic.

Magic!

He'd surely get the hang of it.

Maybe not the axe, though, that thing had it out for him.

"…Okay," he finally muttered. "Next time, I'm choosing something else."

Maybe that forked greatsword?

"Good," Revenant said, standing back up while grasping a machete. "Maybe I won't go easy on you next time."

"…That was you going easy?"

She turned on her heel, and started walking toward the lot's far end. Guess that's a yes.

"I'm going back... are you coming, or should I let you suffer in peace?"

"Suffering sounds nice."

"Suit yourself."

He watched her go, then sighed, long and dramatic, and rolled to his feet with a quiet groan.

"Note to self," he muttered. "She's not the empathetic type."

3134 Words

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Rejoice! For heres a new chapter.

Also, turns out I can really only write proper at 1am, good to know.

If you have any suggestions to better my writing, don't be afraid to comment— I wanna give yall the best 🙏

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