The Conquerors bloodline

Chapter 118: Welcome to RWBY

Crashing water alerted Parc to his appearance on his new world and lead him to inspect his surroundings taking in his situation. At his feet was a sheer, stony drop into a dark ocean that when the foamy water washed away would reveal dozens upon hundreds of jagged spires of stone threatening to impale anything that dare to fall into their grasps.

"Well that's dangerous," he leaned over the ledge and guessed it was a good fifty to seventy meter drop before getting impaled. "Least its not a tundra this time," turning to face the inland, Parc was drawn to silence at what appeared to be a forest. Problem being it was hard to tell considering the thick white fog leaving him only able to see a few metres into the mass of ground touching clouds and see the few rising trunks of trees whose green leaves barely peaked through the top of. "Mist," he snorted, "its going to take ages to find anything in this." A joke he knew only a few of the more niche people he knew would understand.

As he stood wandering over the thick wall of mist, he soon felt a presence lock onto him a heard a gruff, rumbling growl emerge from the depths alongside a few crimson lights peaking through. Stomping noises followed and from the mist two large, humanoid creatures appeared. They looked like regular men but their bodies were dyed in a dark black colouration and clad with many bone white platings in a mockery of clothing. Their lower jaws also turned white with plating with lips curled back showing off bright yellow teeth. Their eyes a pure crimson glow revealing their desire to feast on his flesh as they hobbled towards him like those undead he had seen in movies and tv series.

"Huh, zombie Grimm. Don't remember you guys being in the series. Just goes to show that my info wont be completely reliable," he mused aloud just as the first of the zombie grimm charged him with sloppy movements and arms held out flailing to grab and 'devour' Parc's brains.

A simple dodge to the side and spartan kick to the back was enough for him to send the grimm flying off the edge and into the rocky depths below.

"I would have screamed 'This is sparta,' but I don't feel like straining my voice today." He said turning back to face the other zombie which had also begun its slow, hobble like charge. Slowler than the other one as one of its feet was twisted at an abnormal angle.

Sighing, Parc began to roll his hand as if to speed up the zombie and once it got close enough to him and reached out to grab him, did he rush behind the beast a flurry of feather and unsheathe his dagger, plunging it into the skull of the undead. Pulling the blade from its skull, the zombies arms drooped and it fell to its knees, its body hunching over as speckles of shadows rose of its body, collapsing into a dark mist just moments before it clashed with earth leaving nothing but Parc behind on the cliff.

"Nice to see they still go poof when they die," Parc commented, the hackles on his back launching on end sending him to instinctively throw his hand out, launching his dagger towards the mist where it buried to the hilt into the closest tree. A sound of surprise and rapid thumping telling him that whoever had just seen him had bolted away. The voice though, he could tell it was feminine in nature, 'a huntress?' he thought recalling what he knew them from his knowledge of RWBY.

They were more or less a form of privitized mercenaries disconnected and loyal only to themselves and not to one of the four kingdoms. Each specializing in taking care of the Creatures of Grimm, or just Grimm for simplicity. Creatures like those zombies formed from an unknown material and are dedicated to hunting down humans and are specifically attracted to negative emotions. It was superficial knowledge, but it was enough for him to keep himself up to date.

Making his way to the tree he had so rudely impaled, Parc pulled his dagger free. A strand of stringy blue hair coming to drift to the ground when he did. Leaning down, he plucked the strand from the ground and inspected it, comparing how it resembled Esdeath's in silkiness but was a shade of darker blue. Gazing off into the mist, Parc hummed. Curious if he'd be getting to meet his watcher but shrugged and moved back to the edge of the cliff.

Eyes still locked on the forest and lifted his head to the bright blue sky filled with a few fluffy cumulonimbus clouds passing by with the wind. The perfect weather to fly, he thought and opened his arms wide, his lungs sucking in a large amount of fresh untainted air as he focused on his new ability, Nephilim's Wing. The longer he did he felt a wet, feeling raising off his back and felt his shirt tighten as a wing pushed out from his skin and suddenly tore through his shirt before flaring out with all its glory with a wingspan nearly twice the height of Parc.

Casting his gaze over his shoulder to the giant wing reminiscent of that of a Raven, he hummed and reached a hand up to stroke against the obisidian hued feathers. A smile rapidly growing over his face as he controlled it with muscles he had long since forgotten about and wrapped it around his body, nestling himself in its warm, fluffy confines. It was larger than he remembered, much larger, twice the size of his initial wing prior to having it sawed off. "Oh I've missed you," he said realizing that for years he felt something was missing from him only now to have the gap refilled.

Stretching his wing behind him, Parc groaned a pleasurable sigh, his muscles loosening into a manner he had long forgotten with a ruffling sound coming from his feathers rubbing together. Opening his eyes to the sky, Parc grinned, if his skill was correct, he would be able to fly, something he had never been able to do even when he did have his previous wing as even the Valkyries like his mother and aunts were required to flap them for lift. But him, having one wing would have never been able to take to the skies.

Except for now.

Flaring his wing, Parc quickly motioned it downwards, launching a powerful gust of air across the ground tossing up dirt and throwing small pebbles around. But he stumbled from the pressure of lifting off the ground a small centimetre.

"Ha-hahaha!" he laughed heartily at the fact he had actually lifted from the ground.

Getting back into position, Parc prepped himself for lift off and threw his wing down with even more strength and found himself launching into the sky. Unbeknownst to him at the moment a light shimmer was growing to the tips of each of his feathers giving them a faint white to black gradient. In just seconds Parc had passed the tree tops and entered the sky laughing all the way as the wind swept against his face, waving his hair around from it usual swept back styling.

Coming to a stop nearly a kilometre above the earth, Parc was panting, sweat coating his face as a tide of exhaustion took to him, leading him to hold his head and groan, "uses a lot of energy, ugh" Wiping away the sweat he shook away as much exhaustion as he could, he came to focus on the surrounding land. Seeing that where he was flying above was in fact an island, one entirely shrouded in mist with sever jutting pieces of earth resembling the bones of giant, ancient animals.

Far in the distance, atop the only hill where the mist was strangely the thickest, Parc could see what looked to be a collection of decimated buildings, crumbling and ancient. Likely ruined by assaults from the zombie shaped grim.

That was by far the last thing Parc could catch sight of before the exhaustion of flying took hold and lead him to start rapidly descending to the earth, making full use of his wing to catch the wind and act as a makeshift parachute that brought him to softly land on the ground by the cliff where he then collapsed to his knees, his wing wading away and retracting back into his back.

"So much for having a new wing," he groaned as his panting slowed to regular breathing, he forced himself to his feet.

Looking to the close by mist, his eyes narrowed to slits, "come out! I saw you two on my way down!" and placed his hand overtop the pommel of his dagger ready for a possible assault by his two watchers whose shadows appeared from behind the shadows of trees. Both feminine in shape with noticeably wider hips and thinner forms then men. The one on the right was taller than the one on the left and was carrying a long rod with a faint triangular tip. A spear? Parc thought, his hold of his daggers pommel growing tighter.