RWBY - Child Of Light

Chapter 14: Darkest Dungeon

The structure is colossal, like the remnants of an ancient city lost to time. The sheer scale of it is overwhelming—making it clear that this project must have demanded the labor of hundreds if not thousands to raise its towering pillars and flying bridges.

The main tower looms above us, at least ten stories tall, a testament to human ambition long since reclaimed by nature. Dust lanterns embedded in the stone provide the only hint of lingering human presence. Their glow—soft hues of blue and orange—casts faint, shifting light against the weathered walls, the large crystals within them humming faintly with lingering energy.

Everything else is a victim of time. Moss and vines crawl across the crumbling masonry, and erosion has worn away the sharp edges of stone into smooth, uneven shapes. It gives the impression that one strong push in the right spot could bring the whole thing tumbling down, and I don't like our odds of surviving the impact.

"Team One," Glynda's voice crackles from my scroll. I pull it out quickly. "We've confirmed your arrival at the designated area. I can see that you had no problems with your landing strategy. Ten points have been awarded. Proceed forward."

Once again, as in on cue, the moment the transmission dies, a distant, haunting howl echoes through the ruins. Grimm.

"Two dozen Beowolves, more on the way. What's the plan?" Pyrrha asks, keeping pace beside me.

"Everyone! We make a run for the main tower before the Nevermore swings back for seconds. If anything moves, shoot it. If it keeps moving, call Pyrrha."

With the plan set, I draw my new handgun. The grip feels solid, reassuring. I fire it toward the tower and teleport straight into the snarling jaws of a Beowolf.

The creature is a monstrous blend of fur, claws, and exposed bone, standing eight feet tall and radiating primal menace. In any other story, this would be a horror scene—a desperate fight for survival as we push through the horde.

Here? I smash my boot into its skull with enough force to snap its head to the side, a sharp crack marking its end. Not even pausing, I glance back to check on the others.

Rain and Pyrrha are tearing through these smaller Grimm with ease, their movements smooth and deadly as they carve a path toward the tower. Maroon, on the other hand, is struggling to find her footing—her attacks are shy, more evasive than offensive, as she pirouettes away while remaining at the center of the group, hidden behind the others.

Confident they can hold their own for now, I push forward, trying to get the attention of anything that stands directly in our way.

The next Beowolf I face is a grotesque sight, with half its flesh rotted away, exposing a skeletal frame and one massive arm made entirely of bone. Intrigued, I let it charge. Its claws swipe toward me, but I parry the blow, gripping its forearm before it can land a hit.

Two quick shots to its skull put it down for good.

The impact feels like being hit by a toddler with a wooden plank—awkward and clumsy, but still capable of bruising if you're careless. The claws, though, are a different story: they're like nails at the end of that plank. Doesn't matter if my opponent isn't strong; getting stabbed still hurts.

Another Grimm leaps at me, and I throw one of my axes straight at its chest. We swap places in an instant, and before it can process what's happened, I execute it from behind.

Soon enough, after what feels like a quick warm-up, we're standing inside the main tower. A few Beowolves attempt to give chase, but most of the pack retreats. They're smart enough to realize that four enhanced humans are more than they can handle.