ITB Chapter 2 The Hunting of Wolves

Darkness slowly lifted from his mind like a thick, wet fog.

Issei’s consciousness returned gradually, dragging with it an annoying ache in his ribs, a dull throbbing behind his eyes, and a strange warmth… on his cheek?

‘Soft... Warm…’

He groaned softly and cracked his eyes open, the light above dim and flickered as it was another one of those cursed fluorescent lights that hummed like it was drilling into his skull. He groaned softly, his vision adjusting to the pale yellow hue of the world around him.

And then he saw them.

‘Oppai!’

Full, perfectly shaped, modest but firm. Slightly pressed together by the brown school uniform blazer. The fabric was tight enough to draw a man to madness. His brain flatlined. ‘Am… am I in heaven.’

His head shifted slightly and he realized he was resting on something soft and warm the thighs of a girl.

His eyes widened. ‘Wait… is this… the legendary lap pillow?!’

A gentle hand stroked through his hair, fingers gliding softly over his scalp in a slow, calming rhythm.

Issei felt his heart seize. ‘I have to be dead. This has to be heaven. There's no way I get both Oppai and lap pillow privileges after getting knocked out…’

But then his thoughts came rushing back in a flood.

The rooms that never ended. Yuuka’s scream. The black, slithering mass that had nearly torn them apart. The pain, the pipe, the red glove—

He sat up with a gasp, ignoring the ache in his ribs. “Yuuka?!”

The girl beneath him startled slightly as he moved by trying to stand up, but before he could even blink, arms wrapped tightly around him, hugging him with sudden force.

“Issei!” She whispered against his shoulder, her voice trembling. “Thank god… You’re awake…”

His eyes widened, his body stiff for a moment as her weight pressed against him. She clung to him like a life raft, and for a moment, he forgot the pain and fear.

“I—I’m okay, I think,” She said after a moment, pulling back with wet eyes but a grateful smile. “You… you protected me.”

Yuuka. Her long black hair hung over her shoulder. Her face was flushed from exhaustion, but she was alive and safe. “I… did?” Issei blinked. “Wait but how?”

Yuuka tilted her head as her arms stayed close, like she was afraid he might drop again. “You really don’t remember?” 

He shook his head, still dazed. “The last thing I remember is that thing raising its arm… and then, well, pain.”

“You were knocked across the room. But then you somehow fought back.” She said softly. “Your left arm—it lit up with this glowing red armor. You moved really fast and were strong, way stronger than a normal person. You grabbed that pipe and… you crushed them, Issei. You saved me.”

Issei’s brows furrowed. He turned and stared at his left hand. “A red glove…”

It looked the same, his normal hand with notion special. But then he wished—just lightly, a passing desire to see it again.

FWUMP.

A shimmer of light, a flicker of heat, and the red glove that covered his hand reappeared.

It covered his hand and wrist, forming out of thin air, glowing faintly like molten steel cooled into the shape of a dragon’s claw.

Yuuka gasped, scooting back slightly. “Th-That’s it! That’s the glove!”

“I don’t… I don’t know what this is,” Issei said slowly, flexing his fingers and studying it with awe. “This is new to me too…I’ve never had anything like this before.”

The gauntlet pulsed once, then faded away again, vanishing like a phantom.

Yuuka blinked in awe. “Well… whatever it is, it saved us.”

“Yeah, but…” He winced suddenly, clutching his side but was quick to ignore and hide it.

Yuuka reached out instinctively, the moment she saw a wince of pain from Issei.. “Are you sure you’re okay though? That thing hit you hard.”

“I’m fine,” He replied quickly, waving a hand. But the moment he twisted his torso to check, a sharp jolt of pain shot through his side.  “Ow, dammit. That hit still really happened.”

Yuuka raised a brow. “Uh-huh. Totally fine.”

“I mean... mostly fine,” he admitted, clutching his ribs. “It’s just a scratch…”

“Liar,” Yuuka muttered, crossing her arms with a huff. “You’re not okay. You were thrown like a ragdoll.”

“I’ve had worse…” Issei mumbled with a shaky grin.

“You need rest,” She said firmly, then sat back down and started patting her lap. “C’mon. Back here. Doctor’s orders.”

He blinked, his cheeks warming. “You sure? I mean—lap pillows are kind of a big deal to a guy like me…”

Yuuka looked at him flatly. “Issei. You just fought two monsters for me. You nearly died. If I say you get a lap pillow, you get a lap pillow. Now stop making it weird and rest.”

That made him chuckle despite himself. “Yes, ma’am…”

But even as he rested his head again on her lap, his eyes caught something.

Her blue eyes—still beautiful—were red around the rims. She must have been crying. Her breath, though steady, was shallow. Her hands trembled when she thought he wasn’t looking.

She was holding herself together for his sake.

“...Yuuka,” He said gently. “You should sleep. You’ve been through hell too. I’ll keep watch. I’m not going anywhere and will protect you with my life.”

She hesitated. “I don’t think I could sleep right now…”

“I won’t move,” He said, voice steady. “If anything shows up, I’ll wake you. I promise.”

Yuuka looked down at him, her expression uncertain—then finally, she sighed and gave a small nod. “...Okay. Just for a little while. But if I wake up and something’s chewing on me, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair.”

They adjusted their position, this time both sitting side by side against the wall. The air still smelled weird. The lights above buzzed, but they were now used to it.

They sat in silence for a while.

Yuuka rested her head on Issei’s shoulder, her hair brushing his neck. Her breathing then slowly evened out, as her eyes closed.

And Issei—sore, confused, still not sure what had awakened in him—stayed awake. He watched the room and the hallway leading out.

Listened to anything that made a strange sound and then silently stared at his left hand, wondering just what had awakened in that moment.

‘What are you?’ He thought, rubbing his palm.

But no answer came.

Just the soft sound of Yuuka breathing beside him, and the buzz of the lights.

—---------------------------------------------------

Remnant, Beacon

The sun hovered proudly over the cliffs of Beacon Academy, casting golden rays down upon the vast sea of emerald trees below. The air buzzed with tension and adrenaline, anticipation vibrating in every heartbeat as students, would-be Huntsmen and Huntresses, stood in line upon metal launchpads, the Emerald Forest open before them.

Weiss Schnee stood tall, polished and pristine, in her white battle dress trimmed with blues and silvers that shimmered in the morning light. Her rapier, Myrtenaster, glinted at her side, polished to perfection. 

‘This was it. The start of her story.’

The crowd had quieted. Professor Ozpin’s voice had already echoed over them, explaining the rules of the initiation. Land in the forest, find a partner, the first person you make eye contact with and retrieve a relic from the temple in the forest.

Simple. But failure was not an option for her.

Weiss’s hands tightened around the hilt of her weapon as she stared ahead. ‘No more being a Schnee heiress trapped in her father’s cage. No more dancing to her father’s tune. This was her moment of independence. Her first step to becoming something great on her own terms.’

Her mind drifted to Pyrrha Nikos. They had barely exchanged a few words at orientation, but the admiration was instant. Pyrrha was a composed and renowned champion. If she could find her in the forest, if they could team up, Weiss would be guaranteed success.

A faint hiss of pneumatics rang out to her right.

Then another.

And another.

The launchpads were firing. Students shot into the sky like arrows, leaving white contrails in their wake.

Then—

PHHFFFT.

Her turn.

Weiss launched upward like a silver-and-white comet, her hair whipping in the wind, Myrtenaster drawn instantly.

The rush was exhilarating.

She spun once midair, stabilizing with the flick of a glyph beneath her feet. Her body glided across the sky like a dancer upon an invisible stage. She placed another glyph in front of her to control her descent perfectly timed and calculated.

‘Perfect. Let them see what a Schnee is capable of.’

The wind howled in her ears, but her focus remained razor sharp. The sprawling expanse of the Emerald Forest stretched beneath her, thick with trees and shadow. Somewhere down there were the relics.

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. ‘First, I partner with Pyrrha Nikos. Then, we make our way through the forest, retrieve the relic, and return to Beacon.’

She angled her body, drifting with her glyphs, surveying the ground below.

“There,” She whispered to herself. “That clearing—open, good visibility. I’ll start there.”

She slowed, then hovered.

With one final leap off her last glyph, Weiss Schnee descended in a flourish of white and blue, dress fluttering behind her as she prepared to land and take her first step on solid ground.

The moment she stepped on the ground. She carefully looked around for danger, but all she saw was the forest and no one around her. 

But when her foot made a single step forward, the world warped around her.

In a blink, she vanished.

Where Weiss Schnee had stood a second ago, there was only the soft sound of leaves rustling—and the gentle hum of a breeze.

—-------------------------------------------------

Beacon’s Cliff

Glynda Goodwitch adjusted her glasses sharply as she stared at the screen where one of the students just vanished. “One of the cameras must be broken.”

Ozpin stared at the screen, leaned forward slightly and frowned. “Miss Schnee,” He murmured, tapping a key to rewind the footage. “Where did she go?”

—-----------------------------------------------------

The blue sky had vanished, the trees disappeared and in its place were walls of yellow and a damp brown carpet.

“…What…?” Weiss blinked.

She was no longer in the forest.

Instead, she stood in a long, lifeless corridor. Faded yellow wallpaper stretched out in every direction, discolored and peeling. The carpet beneath her boots squished faintly, brown and damp like it had absorbed the rot of years long forgotten.

Above her, flickering fluorescent lights buzzed with maddening inconsistency.

Weiss’s breath caught in her throat. “What… is this…?”

She turned slowly in place. Every direction looked the same. Every wall, every corner, every stretch of hallway stretched on endlessly, sickeningly symmetrical.

Gone was the forest. Gone was Beacon.

“No,” She whispered, backing up. “No, this… this isn’t right. This must be part of initiation. Maybe this is a test for me to pass. One of the teachers must have used a type of semblance that creates illusions on me.”

She activated a glyph beneath her to shatter the illusion.

The white glyph pulsed, but the scenery stayed the same.

She looked around and saw nothing but yellow walls leading into a ceiling that somehow felt closer now. 

The only sound around her was her breath. And the lights. Buzzing. Always buzzing.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. “Am I… dead?”

She took a shaky step forward, Myrtenaster raised defensively.

“I won’t panic,” She told herself aloud, her voice firm but trembling. “I am Weiss Schnee. I will… I will figure this out. There must be a logical explanation…”

Another step.

Another hallway. Nothing changed. Nothing made sense.

And in that moment, standing in the endless yellow hell, Weiss Schnee realized she was alone.

—---------------------------------------------------------

Weiss walked. She walked because stopping meant thinking. Thinking meant accepting the impossible.

The sound of her white boots squishing faintly against the damp brown carpet echoed through the endless yellow corridors, barely audible over the ever-present buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead. It was an ugly sound. Like static and rot. The wallpaper that lined every wall repeated the same bland, sickly pattern like it had been copied and pasted over and over again by a lazy god.

Weiss Schnee had no idea how long she had been in this place. She had lost count of how many turns she’d taken. Every hallway looked the same. Every room smelled the same. She turned left into a corridor that narrowed so tightly she had to walk sideways, her shoulder grazing the wall. 

Was it minutes, hours or days? Time didn’t function here. There were no windows, no sun, no way to track the passage of anything.

Her mouth was dry. Her hair clung to her face with sweat. Her steps had lost their grace. Her shoulders sagged just a little more with each corridor.

And worst of all—the hallways never ended.

They twisted in ways that defied architecture. One would shrink to the size of a crawlspace, forcing her to crouch or stoop. Then it would open up into a vast room that felt absurdly large, like the size of a mansion foyer… with no furniture. Just more wallpaper. More damp carpet. More flickering lights.

Once, she reached a circular room with five separate exits, each identical, each stretching into the yellow unknown. She chose one at random. It didn’t matter.

They all led to more and slowly… the weight of it all began to crush her. ‘This can’t be real. There’s no such place. This is an illusion. A test. Something created to disorient me.’

She tried her glyphs again. Nothing happened. They responded, sure, but they didn’t dispel the nightmare. They couldn’t reveal an exit. Her semblance was useless.

Her rational mind, so sharp, so disciplined, began to fray at the edges.

Every turn brought her back to the same conclusion: there is no way out.

Weiss stumbled to a halt in one of the larger rooms. She leaned against the wall, pressing her palm flat against the old wallpaper.

Her breath came shallow. Uneven. “This isn’t happening,” She whispered. “This isn’t real.”

But she could feel the texture of the wall. She could smell the mold and stale air.

‘There has to be a way out of this. There is always a path. Always a solution. Just... analyze. Stay calm.’ But her thoughts sounded strained. Forced. Like even she didn’t believe herself anymore.

And suddenly, the thought struck her like a bolt of lightning.

‘What if no one can find me? The faculty at Beacon… would they even realize what had happened? Would Ozpin know?’

And her father… Weiss’s throat tightened.

‘Would he even care? Would he pretend to mourn, then quietly replace her with Whitley as the Schnee Dust Company’s future? Would Winter look for her? Would she grieve?’

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “He’d probably turn it into a PR opportunity… I don’t want to die here,” She whispered, her voice cracking. “I haven’t done anything yet…”

She slowly slid down the wall, her legs giving out beneath her. Myrtenaster rested across her lap, but even its polished metal gave her no comfort now.

The weight of it all crashed down.

Her shoulders shook as she stared ahead at nothing but at another hallway, stretching endlessly into some unknowable fate. Her hands trembled as she curled into herself, eyes burning.

‘I will die here forgotten. ’

Tears slipped down her cheeks.

“I was supposed to prove I was more than his daughter…” She said, her voice barely a whisper. “I was supposed to become someone.” She didn’t sob. She didn’t scream.

She just sat there, silently crying, surrounded by yellow walls.

But after minutes—or was it hours?—she wiped her eyes.

The tears were gone.

Her throat still ached. Her body felt heavy. But she forced herself to stand.

She wasn’t ready to die here. Not yet.

Weiss Schnee might have been born into a gilded cage, but she had broken its bars once already. She could do it again. She would do it again. Even if the only enemy in this place was despair itself, she would fight it.

“I will not be forgotten,” She said softly, gripping Myrtenaster. “And I will not be broken by this place. I am Weiss Schnee. I do not give in to fear. Not in Atlas. Not in Beacon. And not in this… this nightmare.”

Her boots echoed as she took another step into the unknown.

—---------------------------------

Weiss continued walking.

One foot after another. Her back straighter now, eyes alert, but her legs trembled just slightly. Her earlier breakdown had left her hollow, her muscles stiff, her mind a whirlpool of exhaustion and denial fighting to hold on to focus.

The fluorescent lights flickered above her like a sick joke, and the endless wallpapered corridors didn’t change. 

But then—

She heard it.

Grrrrrrrrrrr… A low, guttural growl.

Her blood ran cold. She froze mid-step.

‘No, no no no no no.’ She knew that sound. “No, that can’t be—”

Her body reacted before her mind could catch up—her fingers tightening around Myrtenaster, her back stiffening, breath catching in her throat.

Another growl echoed from the hall behind her.

Then another. Deeper. Rumbling.

“That’s not possible…” She whispered, eyes wide, voice barely audible over the buzzing of the lights.

She turned, heart hammering against her ribs. From the far hallway—a dark shadow twitched, then shifted.

Another growl. Familiar. Grimm.

Her body started to shake. The very reason she trained to become a Huntress. The very thing she had dedicated her life to fighting. And somehow, they were here.

“No…” She said again, this time more panicked, taking a step back. “No, this place—it’s wrong. Grimm shouldn’t be here! They can’t be here!”

But the sound of claws on wet carpet scraped closer.

Her heart beat faster.

A sudden thunder of heavy footsteps echoed through the space like an avalanche crashing down the walls.

She turned and ran. She sprinted around a corner, arms pumping, Myrtenaster in one hand, panic flooding her senses.

A few turns in, she reached a larger open room—and stopped dead in her tracks.

Her boots skidded against the moist floor. Her pupils shrank. “…No…”

Dozens of them. Clawed, heavy, sprinting across the squishy carpet with horrifying speed. A stampede, shaking the very air around her.

Beowolves. Large, hulking, inky-black beasts with bones like armor and white masks carved with blood-red slits. Their claws clicked against the carpet, their eyes locked onto her.

‘Why?! Why were Grimm here? How did they get here? How did she get here?’

Her entire body screamed at her to fight. To summon glyphs. To raise her blade. To prove herself. But her hands wouldn't move fast enough.

Her heart froze her body. ‘I can’t…’

The Beowolves let out a deafening collective howl, the sound reverberating off the warped walls like it was bouncing through a cathedral made of static and madness.

Her training kicked in—even as panic clawed at her throat. She raced down the nearest hallway, boots thudding in rhythm with her hammering heartbeat.

Terror gripped her chest like a vice.

She flew down the corridors, dodging one turn, then another, trying to throw them off—but she could hear them behind her. Their claws tearing into the carpet. Their feet slamming against the ground. Their howls following her.

Her breaths were rapid, ragged, her vision swimming with sweat and tears. Every instinct she had trained for told her to turn and fight—but they were too many.

‘This isn’t fair! I didn’t come here to die!’ She turned another corner—only for the hallway to end in a solid yellow wall.

A dead end.

“No—no, no, NO!” She spun around just as the first of the Beowolves appeared in the hallway’s mouth.

Saliva dripped from its fanged maw. Its red eyes glowed in the flickering light. It stepped forward. Then another appeared beside it. Then another.

Weiss backed up slowly until her shoulders pressed against the wall, the cold wallpaper clinging to her back like wet parchment. She held up Myrtenaster with both hands, blade trembling.

Her glyphs pulsed to life beneath her feet.

“…You want me?” She hissed, forcing every ounce of rage and fear into her voice. “Come and get me, then.”

The Beowolves roared and Weiss Schnee screamed.

—---------------------------------

The hallway was strangely wide this time. The yellow walls arched above like a cathedral. The carpet was the same damp and spongy.

But none of that mattered to Issei Hyoudou right now. Because his hand was warm.

More specifically, Yuuka’s hand was warm, and it was wrapped snugly on his own. Their fingers were laced together tightly.

Issei couldn’t help himself. ‘Her hand’s really soft…’ His heart thudded just a little faster. ‘Even in this twisted horror maze of doom, I’m holding hands with a cute girl. Somewhere, the gods are smiling down on me.’

A small, sheepish smile tugged at his lips, even if his eyes scanned the room.

Beside him, Yuuka was focused, her eyes flickering from corner to ceiling to dark corridor. Her grip on the metal pipe Issei had scavenged earlier was tight. Her blue eyes were sharp not letting anything escape her sight.

They walked in silence for a while. Yuuka spoke first. “...If we get separated, we head back to that room with the broken filing cabinets. Agreed?”

“Yeah,” Issei nodded. “Hopefully we don’t need to as I’m not letting go of your hand.”

They turned a corner.

Then stopped.

A sound rumbled from the hallway ahead.

Grrrrrrr...

Both froze.

Yuuka’s grip tightened immediately. “What was that?”

Issei narrowed his eyes.

And then they saw it.

Emerging from the shadows down the hall was a large, black creature, easily the size of a horse, loping forward with unnatural grace. Its body was covered in sleek black fur, its face hidden behind a white bone mask, and its claws tapped menacingly on the carpet.

Red eyes locked onto them. A Beowolf.

Yuuka inhaled sharply. “What the hell is that?!”

“I don’t know,” Issei said instinctively, though the word felt alien on his tongue. “But it sure as hell doesn’t look friendly, this might be bad.”

The Beowolf lowered its head and growled again.

Issei stepped in front of Yuuka without hesitation, his left hand raising.

‘Come on… come on…’

FWUMP.

The red glove shimmered into existence with a pulse of power, wrapping his hand in dragon-shaped armor.

Yuuka, not hesitating either, stepped beside him and raised her pipe like a baseball bat. “Guess we don’t have time to be confused.”

“I got the front,” Issei muttered. “You look for another one coming from behind.”

But no others came. Just this one.

The creature charged with a feral roar.

Issei braced himself—and then lunged forward.

He threw a punch with his left hand, boosted by raw force and instinct. His knuckles collided with the Beowolf’s bony snout—and sent it stumbling back with a loud, cracking crunch.

But it didn’t go down.

It shook off the hit, black blood dripping from beneath its mask, and snarled louder.

“Oh, come on!” Issei hissed. “The last thing died in one hit! What makes you so—WHOA!”

Claws slashed toward him. Issei ducked left, the swipes just grazing the air where his face had been. The creature’s speed was monstrous—faster than the shadow beasts before. It attacked with fury and precision, like a predator backed into a corner.

Issei twisted, pivoted, delivered another punch into its shoulder, staggering it. The red glove pulsed with each blow.

The Beowolf lunged again, mouth open and claws outstretched.

This time, Issei ducked under its leap and spun—

“Eat this!!”

—and drove his fist straight into the side of its skull.

A loud CRACK echoed through the hallway.

The mask on its face splintered, a spiderweb of cracks running through the bone. The creature howled and stumbled, staggering back into the wall.

Issei didn’t let up.

With a yell, he launched another punch—a brutal uppercut—slamming the Beowolf’s head into the ceiling. Its body dropped down, twitching.

Yuuka stood frozen, the pipe still raised—but her eyes were wide with awe.

The creature groaned once more, trying to stand.

Issei drew in a breath, then shouted, “Just stay. DOWN!”

He brought his fist down one last time, smashing through the fractured mask.

The Beowolf gave one final convulsion—then dissolved into black smoke.

The moment the Beowolf dissolved into smoke, Issei slowly lowered his fist, chest rising and falling with every breath. The red glove still clung to his arm, humming with residual energy, faint light pulsing beneath the armored surface.

He didn’t dismiss it. As he had no idea when they might be attacked again.

His knuckles still ached, his side still stung, but the adrenaline hadn’t left him. He looked down at the corpse as it was already beginning to fade.

Yuuka stood beside him, pipe lowered, her other hand subconsciously reaching for his again.

“This one was different from the last two.” Yuuka said, breathless. 

“Yeah.” Issei replied quietly. “This big black wolf moved faster, and they didn’t die easily.”

He turned his head slightly, eyes scanning the next hallway.

Buzzing lights. Yellow walls. Stale air. The same as always.

“Let’s go,” he said. “We need to move before another one shows up.”

—-------------------------------------------

They continued walking.

The yellow walls, of course, offered no reprieve. The corridors curved like intestines, snaking around at impossible angles, with rooms too wide or too narrow to serve any purpose. Ceiling heights changed with no logic. 

Their footsteps squelched against the wet floor. The damp carpet had gotten worse—stickier, almost, like it had absorbed blood and hadn’t dried properly.

They turned a corner and stepped over a tipped-over desk that had no drawers.

Issei’s shoulders stayed tense, his left hand still encased in the red glove. The armor had not faded. It waited, just like him.

“I hate this place,” Issei muttered. “I really, really hate this place.”

Yuuka nodded absently. “You think those things are following us? They always find us.”

Issei nodded, brow furrowing. “Yeah. Even when we’re quiet. Even when we stay still. Like they can... sense us.”

“Do they sense fear?” she asked.

He glanced sideways at her. “Maybe. Or maybe we just really smell. It’s been a while since I took a bath.”

Her fingers twitched around his. “Uggh. Don’t remind me.”

A distant growl echoed from a corridor behind them.

Neither looked back as they continued walking

When the next one came, it was from above.

They had just passed under a cracked tile in the ceiling when something heavy crashed down like a meteor. Issei pulled Yuuka back just in time as another Beowolf landed with a snarl, claws outstretched.

It lunged.

This time, Issei didn’t wait.

He surged forward, red glove pulsing.

“Not this time!”

CRACK!

His punch connected directly with its ribs. The force sent the creature staggering, but it wasn’t down. It spun and slashed. Issei ducked low, letting its claws pass overhead.

Yuuka swung her pipe toward its legs—not a clean hit, but enough to stagger its footing.

“Nice!” Issei grinned.

“Don’t drop your guard!” Yuuka shouted.

“Never do!”

Issei launched another hit—one, two, then a third uppercut under its chin. The final punch lifted the Beowolf into the air, and it crashed against the wall.

Before it could recover, Issei charged and drove his fist straight into its chest.

The bone mask cracked.

It screeched—then dissolved into smoke like the others.

Panting, Issei let his hand drop, red energy still flickering at the edges of the glove.

“That makes… four,” he muttered.

Yuuka wiped her forehead. “And they’re not getting easier.”

“No. But I’m getting better at killing them.” He flexed his fingers.

She gave a tired smirk. “Brag later. We need to move.”

They turned another corner.

More hallways.

More choices.

And still, no end.

—--------------------------------------

After a while, they ducked into a room with only one entrance and collapsed to the floor, backs against the wall.

The room was small. An old desk sat in the corner. No drawers. Just enough space for them to breathe.

Yuuka finally broke the silence.

“Why do they always know?”

Issei was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. It’s like they’re drawn to us or something.”

“Like… like we’re marked?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then, looking down at his gauntlet, he said, “What if it’s this?”

Yuuka’s eyes narrowed. “The glove?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I didn’t have it before… and the moment it showed up, so did the monsters.”

“They showed up before it too,” She reminded Issei.

“Yeah… but maybe I triggered something. Or maybe this world responds to it. Like it knows I have it.”

Yuuka said as she continued walking. “I hate this place.”

“Yeah,” Issei agreed, looking up at the flickering light above. “Me too.”

“But I would hate it more alone.”

His eyes turned toward her. She wasn’t looking at him—but she didn’t need to. A small smile touched the corner of his lips. “Same.”

—-----------------------------------------------

After dealing with some of the Grimm in the narrow corridor. Weiss was able to bring the fight into something wider. Walls still stained and flickering with that sickly light. The ground beneath her boots was soft, squishing faintly with each step, soaked with something she refused to identify.

Weiss Schnee panted, chest rising and falling with shallow, ragged gasps. Her once-pristine white dress was torn and stained, grime caking the hem of her dress and soot smearing across her cheeks. Her silver hair clung to her forehead, damp with sweat. Myrtenaster glowed faintly in her hand, the dust chambers rapidly rotating, one after another, as she unleashed elemental fury.

A glyph flared beneath her as ice. Sharp and jagged rose up, impaling a Beowolf mid-leap, freezing it solid before she shattered it with a precision stab.

Another came. She turned the dial using her fire dust. Myrtenaster erupted with heat, a lance of flame burning through the beast’s side.

Then wind, slicing another apart in a sweeping arc.

‘One left… No. Three.’

More emerged from the darkened halls.

Her teeth clenched. “There’s no end to them…”

A new pack of Beowolves stormed in, howling as they charged. She launched herself into a dodge, glyphs springing up beneath her—boosting, shielding, flipping.

She slashed. Stabbed. Dodged.

Froze. Burned. Electrocuted.

Her aura shimmered, flaring with every hit she took—every dodge that wasn’t perfect. It cracked once when a claw grazed her arm, again when another Beowolf slammed its massive paw into her shoulder.

She staggered back, sweat rolling down her temple.

Her breathing grew labored as her muscles screamed. Her legs could barely respond.

She gritted her teeth. “Not yet… I’m not done…”

But the reality was plain. Her aura was flickering.

Breaking.

A claw raked across her side.

She cried out and rolled aside, stabbing into a creature’s jaw with Myrtenaster, but her arm was shaking. Her grip weak.

And then another Beowolf got close and with its claws swiped at her side.

Her aura shattered.

The visible light of her soul protection—her final line of defense—burst in a faint ripple and vanished.

A moment later, she fell to her knees.

‘No… not here… not like this.’ Her limbs trembled. Her heart pounded.

Only three Beowolves remained, circling her like vultures around a dying flame.

‘I was so close…’

She tried lifting Myrtenaster again, but her hand refused to rise.

She blinked slowly, vision blurring.

‘I’m… sorry, Winter…’

Then—

CRACK.

One of the Beowolves was suddenly launched backward, its body crashing into the wall and crumbling into black smoke.

A gust of air swept past her.

Her blurry vision settled on a figure—a boy, brown-haired, in a torn school uniform, standing between her and the beasts with his left hand clenched into a red glove that shimmered with red energy.

He turned to her, eyes wide with concern.

“Are you okay?!” He said quickly, his tone full of urgency but Weiss barely registered the words. His voice was foreign. 

She stared at him, dazed, heart still hammering in disbelief. ‘Another person? Someone else… here?’

His eyes softened as he crouched just slightly, a hand reaching toward her shoulder. “You did well. Seriously. You held out all this time? That’s amazing.”

She couldn’t understand what he was saying.

But his expression… His warmth, his presence. It was enough to make her loosen her give in to exhaustion. 

Weiss’s vision finally gave out. Her body slumped forward as her eyes fluttered shut.

“…H-Hey—!” Issei exclaimed, catching her gently. “Ah, crap—she passed out!”

He laid her down slowly, then turned sharply—just in time to see the second Beowolf charging in.

With a shout, he swung his red-gloved fist, catching the creature mid-pounce and sending it sailing into the wall with a heavy smash.

The third came at him from the side.

He pivoted—kicked it in the jaw, launching it into a shelf of splintered cubicle debris.

“Is that all you got, huh?!” Issei growled, his gauntlet glowing brighter. “You think you can just corner someone like that and win?! No way I’m letting that happen again!”

The first Beowolf tried to rise.

He stepped forward.

SLAM.

His punch crushed the mask entirely.

It dissolved into smoke.

The other two leapt together—twin snarls echoing through the room.

Issei didn't flinch.

With a burst of speed, he spun into a wide sweep, landing a hammering punch into the first and immediately pivoting into a rising uppercut on the second. Both Grimm hit the floor, writhing for a moment—then burst into black vapor.

Silence fell once more.

Issei stood over their remains, panting, heart racing.

He turned back to the girl—the white-haired one, who now lay unconscious on the floor.

Her outfit wasn’t like any school uniform he knew. And her rapier looked like something out of a fantasy series. She was injured, exhausted, and beautiful even in her unconscious state.

“…Who are you?” He asked softly, crouching beside her. “Yuuka, it's safe now.”

“Honestly, why did you rush forward? What if this was more than you can handle.” Yuuka said as she came out of one the hallways and crouched down to see the white haired girl. 

“Sorry. I just saw that she was in danger and I couldn’t control myself.” Issei says while scratching his head, sheepishly. 

Yuuka sighed and stood up after checking that the girl didn’t have too many injuries. “Well, let's find someplace safe. This girl needs to rest.”

“Yeah,” Issei then carried Weiss' bridal style, both soon left the room, hopefully not running into any more monsters on the way there.

Done. Comment, tell me what you think and if I messed up or made a mistake.