The Conquerors bloodline

Chapter 125: Shadow

Later that evening, Parc, Summer, and Ferry were making their ways across the island towards the compound of the criminal group Summer had mentioned. It was dusking at the time and would still require a bit more waiting before Parc would be anywhere near ready to actively go about assaulting the place. A habit he'd come to form after his stay with Night Raid and his oftentimes hours long assault by the undead and flying eyeballs in his terrarium left him rarely having peaceful nights rest, especially when he had a mission to do like he did now.

There was a slight tension between the two, mostly coming from Ferry who frequently found herself peering past Summer towards Parc only to break away with rosy hued cheeks and eyes that glistened with an animalistic desire. The expression only becoming stronger should a gust of wind run from Parc down to Ferry letting her take in a thick collection of his pheromones.

Summer of course could see this and would often nudge Ferry to get her to focus but it was quickly becoming clear she would need to get Ferry accustomed to boys. Especially if Parc could really help them take over one of those bullheads the group had.

The two had also felt a thick surge of energy stream in from the meals Parc had passed to them, Ferry, for all her age still gobbled it down like a child and a bag of chips due to just how delictable it tasted. Summer was more reserved but still ate with a hastened pace. The food was filling and made them feel re-energized especially after years of eating root vegetables, river and sea fish and the odd berry that would grow on one of the exceedingly rare less misty days. Given a few more Summer had no doubts that she would be back in tip top shape and able to capture the bullhead on her own, add that in with the new spear she had gotten from Parc and Ferry getting a strange, vine like whip tipped with what looked to be a large bee stinger, she would certainly be getting out by the morning.

Travel through the mist was slow and often lead to pauses in movement as Summer and Ferry reoriented themselves to ensure they were going in the right heading. Soon coming to a pause at the top of a little hill overlooking the mist where they would often go to observe the criminal group down at the decimated village below.

"So that's them?" Parc muttered seeing that there were several still standing building and a crumbling wall surrounding the village, outside of which looked to be a quarry like mine where several dozen men and women, most looking to be faunus, were hobbled away with pickaxes digging away at large dust crystals, breaking chunks off which they would add to large wicker baskets they could carry on their backs to a collection post where a thinly built man with long, flowing golden hair was jotting down collection amounts, quality and presumably type of dust, down into a note book.

None of the slaves looked to have any heart to them, blank faced and empty with the odd one having a limp. It was a horrible and disgusting sight and one that would be perfect for a member of Night Raid to help fix.

"Yes, that over there is where the bullheads are docked. They leave about once every week or so with whatever they've mined." Summer pointed to a decrepit warehouse on the water, its roof falling to pieces, himself too far away to see through the gaps and whether there was actually two bullheads inside.

Analysing the area around the warehouse Parc found it relatively empty apart from the odd guard off duty wandering about and was about to ask Summer another question when he paused. Coming from the inside of the warehouse he could see two form wander out, a woman, her hair a bright crimson with a single silver fringe and a tall, burly man with a green mohawk and goatee. Both much to far away for him to get a proper look at their outfits.

"Those are the two huntsmen," Summer said, "I haven't seen them really fight so I can't definitely say how strong they are, but the woman, she has some type of telekinesis, she's not as skilfull as an old friend of mine but she can do similar things. And the man, I don't know what he can do, just that he's a racist and enjoys tormenting the faunus hostages" she trailed off as from the mines two guards approached dragging behind them a young girl with dirty brown hair and a limply hanging fluffy tail. She wasn't going peacefully as she was kicking and screaming, attempting to flail herself free from the mens grasps, even resorting to attempting to bit down onto their hands but found it futile as the two men dragged her into one of the few still standing building, door shutting behind them. The two huntsmen walking past where the two men had taken the girl with not even a second look.

Summer's hand clenched into fists and her teeth threatened to snap under the pressure of her grinding. How she hated her weakness, were this any other time she would have charged down and tore the girl free leaving each and every one of these sick degenerates unconscious waiting for the authorities to come and take them in. But she couldn't, not now, not when she was so weak, not when Ozpin was about to get his hands on her precious gemstone.

Forcing herself to tear her gaze away from the building Summer turned her attention to the darkening sky finding that dusk had nearly passed and night was coming into hold across the island. A ruffling from her side brought her to look to Ferry, her sight lingering past Summer and onto Parc, who's expression had grown grave and hateful.

"Despicable," he growled, "Summer, change of plans, I'm clearing this place out." He didn't wait for her response as his body dissipated into a mirage of obsidian feathers peaked in whites that ran down the hill and towards the mine.

"Wait! That wasn't our-" she trailed into a hiss and stomped her foot, "god- fuck" she agreed with him wholeheartedly that something had to be done about these criminals. But still she was stuck on her daughter, "Ferry, lets go, idiots going to get himself killed without an aura." The two got to their feet and began to run down the hill, nimbly skirting around trees and over trunks until Ferry came to a skidding halt that stopped Summer as well. "What is it?" Summer asked turning back to Ferry.

Ferry's nose was flaring as she muttered, "I smell bloodSummer, you don't think he?"

"Oh for the love of- we need to hurry," fearing the worst, Summer let Ferry take the lead as she had the nose that would guide them to thehopefullynot dead Parc Evans.

***

Upon arrival at the outskirts of the mine, Parc had drawn to a sudden standstill and peered over the edge and into the quarry. Directly beneath him, standing on a little outcropping of stone was one of the nondescript grunts dressed in faintly medival, militaristic armour that had gone through a more modern treatment leaving them with a full head concealing helmet with only a single slit on its slanted front allowing the wearer to peak out. On his right shoulder a thin silver armband stuck out against his uniform.

Otherwise, across the mine area he could see roughly half a dozen more guards taking care of each of the four cardinal direction ensuring there were no escapees.

"Hey you!" Parc was pulled back from his analysis by a call from his left where a man was approaching dressed in a similar outfit to the man below him but with a more open helmet that let Parc see the mans darker skin colouration. "How did you get up here!? Get back down there and get us du-"

A seconds breadth was all it took for Parc to lunge, feathers following his wake as his dagger was pulled from its sheath and implanted in the gap between the chestplate and the helmet. Piercing straight through the mans neck and severing his spine, the man passed just seconds latter gurgling and choking on his own blood.

From below the grunt had heard the man shout but not his demise and turned to look to the ledge above, only for him to catch a glimpse of impending doom bathed with the moon to his back. A shadow in the night with a blood clad dagger in hand and dark glimmer to its red eyes.