Streamer in the Omniverse

Human and Sun.

Another large chapter on (P)(A)(T), a huge POV from the CHAT, that's why the delay.

That said, if anyone wants to read 3/7 chapters ahead, that’s possible on (P)(A)(T). If not, I still appreciate you reading!

Good night and happy reading!

(P)(A)(T)/CalleumArtori

[...]---[...]

POV: Devas Asura

“Your paranoia was unnecessary.”

“It’s not paranoia if it’s a possibility,” I replied. “A big possibility, at that.”

“You expected Miss Rose to take a shot from an anti-Hunter rifle before the match was over. In what world would that be a big possibility?” Ozpin turned to me with a plate of appetizers in his hand. He had been holding it without setting it down since Qrow had stolen part of the food.

“I threatened the leader of a terrorist organization just yesterday,” I pointed out. “One that, as far as I remember, hates humans with all its might.”

I could have added Salem and Cinder to the list, but the former, from what I knew, didn’t seem like the type to do something like that. The Queen would come at me and attack head-on. Pride and all that.

Cinder, on the other hand, definitely would. From what I knew of Roman, Neo, and Jinn, that woman didn’t mind using everything at her disposal, by any means necessary. But what she lacked in scruples, she made up for in fear. Fear of Salem.

Even so, I kept an eye on everyone and everything at Amity, using my senses and the Minimap.

“...Fair. It would indeed be easier to target someone you know rather than yourself,” Ozpin agreed with a shrug. “But what about the Minimap? Shouldn’t it show you if there’s any enemy at Amity? The red dots.”

“It does. There are currently two hundred and twenty red dots at Amity,” I quickly counted before correcting myself, “Two hundred and ten, now. Two hundred and two.”

“Please tell me those decreasing numbers don’t mean what I think they do,” James sighed, rubbing his temples in stress before I could respond. He didn’t bother lowering his voice or worrying about the people around us. They couldn’t hear us, not with the wind drowning out the sound.

A trick I learned from Dahlia and perfected with Jinn’s question. It couldn’t even be considered a spell. I was just using my mana to bend the air around us into a dome, preventing sound from escaping.

Allowing sound to still enter was trickier, but I was managing to control it somehow.

“I’m not killing anyone if that’s what you’re thinking,” I snorted before taking a sip of water. The juice they served here was garbage. “The crazies of Remnant are just letting their hatred for me fade when I’m not directly in front of them.”

“An explanation would be nice,” Qrow requested. Ozpin and James nodded in agreement.

Taiyang wasn’t near us, busy preparing another plate of food while chatting with a middle-aged woman who looked wealthy and quite charmed by him.

I couldn’t care less where Jacques was, but I could hear his voice talking to some other businessmen a few tables away. Blake’s parents were on the opposite side of the room, speaking with a few Faunus.

“I’ll keep it brief then: the culture of worshiping Huntsmen and Huntresses is much more fanatical than I expected it to be.” The three of them seemed to understand what I meant with just those words, reacting with a mixture of scoffs caught between scorn and amusement.

“Ten Lien says more than half of those red dots are from that armored redhead’s fan club,” Qrow tossed a bill onto the table.

“Foolish bet,” Ozpin shook his head. James didn’t even reply. Qrow picked his bill back up with a crooked grin before taking a sip of his drink.

“Actually, today’s number is quite low,” I commented. “When I talked with Team RWBY yesterday, there were at least five hundred red dots.” They disappeared quickly, not lasting more than two minutes before turning back to yellow, but still...

The worst part was when I talked to Pyrrha in public. The girl didn’t have a fan club, like Qrow said, but something closer to a cult. The last time I’d seen that many red dots on the Minimap, I was fighting a Deerclops.

The most common whisper I heard during those moments was, “How dare he talk to our goddess so casually?!”

I had a faint hope that people like that didn’t actually exist outside the internet or, in this case, the CCT, but, as with most things, I ended up disappointed.

“Times change, men don’t,” Ozpin sighed.

“I imagine this has been around for a while then.”

“Since the academies were founded. Perhaps even before that,” he explained. “The common people have always seen Huntsmen and Huntresses as heroes. Rightfully so, of course, but some go beyond and view them as objects of worship.”

“Seeing Huntsmen and Huntresses as heroes is a good thing. It keeps morale high and tempers in check. The more heroes, the safer people feel, and the fewer Grimm are drawn in,” James added before clarifying, “Fanaticism is the real issue.”

“As long as there are people, there will be fanatics.” I knew that firsthand. “...And the fruits born from the tree watered by that idea will always be rotten, infecting the soil even more as they fall, spreading the decay to all the trees around it.”

I let my thoughts wander toward a place where I knew the soil was rotten. Let the voices cursing me with horrible names run free like starving dogs. Let the memories of the past come and corrode everything like worms...

...Then, I burned it all, using it as fuel for the purple flame within me. The lake of mud churned as the flame grew stronger, bubbling as if it were boiling, even though I knew its temperature was lukewarm.

I casually tapped my fingers on the table, not betraying my thoughts, and noticed the atmosphere had grown a bit more tense, suffocated—that was the right word. Probably due to my earlier words. I mentally kicked myself before changing the subject.

It must be that time of year, or at least it should be if I were on Earth. November 1st, how I hated that day...

“Want to hear something funny?” I commented, my voice a bit tense, but genuinely amused. “When I talked with Ozpin, a few elderly ladies seemed... jealous. One of them even turned red on the Minimap for a second.”

The funny thing was, it wasn’t even a lie. The funnier part was that one of those women seemed old enough to be my great-grandmother.

Ozpin was the first to process my words, sighing with a wrinkled face and rubbing his temples. Qrow was the second, slamming his hands on the table and laughing like a clown.

“You just had to say it, didn’t you?” Ozpin sighed again. James did a good job holding back his laughter; his lips only twitched momentarily before going straight again.

“It was relevant to the conversation, so why not?” I shrugged with an amused smile. Ozpin sighed a third time, turned to Qrow, who was still laughing, and said a number:

“Two hundred and thirty-two.”

Qrow’s laughter died instantly, his grin turning into a twisted, indignant scowl. He slammed the table again, this time with a different emotion, and pointed at Ozpin.

"That damn ranking was rigged!" he shouted. If it weren't for the barrier around us, I was sure everyone in the hall would have turned their heads, assuming his laughter from earlier hadn't already done so. "Completely and utterly rigged!"

"You don't even know what that word means," James interrupted.

"Screw you, Jimmy Morningwood!" he spat, mangling the name.

"Am I missing some context here?" I turned to Ozpin, who seemed positively amused. The man ate the olive he'd speared with a toothpick before explaining.

"There's a magazine, Daily H&H, a fairly new one that's basically a gossip rag and curiosity piece about Huntsmen and Huntresses." He paused as Qrow growled at the mention of the magazine's name before continuing. "They did a street survey at the end of last year and used the data to decide which single Huntsmen and Huntresses from Vale are the most desirable."

"Please tell me the ranking only goes up to two hundred and thirty-two." I turned to Qrow with a smug smile.

"Unfortunately, no. It goes up to three hundred."

"I'm only mildly disappointed."

"Rig-ged!" Qrow enunciated the word. Judging by the emotions I could feel coming off him, he seemed more inclined to tear apart whoever conducted the survey and made the ranking. "There's no world where I'm ranked below Oobleck! The guy never leaves Beacon unless it's for a mission, no one even knows him!"

"I'm sure reeking of alcohol helped your placement a lot."

"You wanna lose another arm or a leg? Just say the word, and we can head to the arena right now."

"No mutilation, at least not at Amity. That would cause an unnecessary headache." Ozpin intervened, cutting off the heated stares between the two. "That said, I'm ranked number twelve."

I blinked. "I'm starting to believe Qrow's suspicions aren't just suspicions."

"I'm offended by that remark. For your information, I happen to be quite charming." He didn’t seem offended in the slightest.

"For ladies over sixty and women with unresolved grandpa issues." I retorted instantly, scratching my chin. "The number of elderly in Vale must be higher than I thought for you to get that ranking."

Qrow and James snorted. I heard Jinn's giggle from the relic at my waist, though she chose not to appear, watching silently.

"I don't look that old." Ozpin brushed off his suit, straightening it quickly, and tapped his cane on the floor next to his chair. "If I dress right and fix myself up, I'm sure I can pass for someone in their thirties, maybe even twenty-five."

"Twenty-five years since you retired, maybe." He didn’t actually look that old, but I couldn't pass up the chance.

Qrow burst into laughter again while James seemed to be losing a battle with himself, his lips twitching, on the verge of joining in. Even Ozpin appeared amused and chuckled.

We talked a bit more while waiting for the interview and awards ceremony for the top three tournament teams to finish. Penny had decided not to compete for third place against team JNPR and forfeited. I still had to talk to that little robotic girl.

I didn’t pay much attention to the interview, only casually noting that Ruby looked more like a zombie than a human. I made a mental note to toss some Purification Powder and spray a few drops of healing potion on her later.

I also had to ask what the hell that thing she did with her Semblance was. She seemed to become the rose petals that usually trailed behind her for a moment. I knew Semblances could evolve, but it was the first time I'd seen anything like that. Her Aura, and something in her soul, seemed to just... shift. It was strange.

As Qrow complained about the Daily H&H ranking being rigged again, I turned my attention to the corner of the hall where I'd sensed something moving—the wind, charged with my mana, shifting—and I left only part of my focus on the table.

I wasn’t too surprised when Qrow revealed that Glynda was ranked number one, nor when I realized that the movement in the corner was an invisible Neo, stealing everything in sight. Not just wallets and valuables like watches, necklaces, and rings, but sweets too.

I shaped the mana already filling the room into wind and controlled the existing breeze around Neo. She seemed to notice the change quickly, but before she could react, I spoke.

["Didn’t you promise Roman you’d behave?"]

I had disappeared from that place the moment I could. Except for the RWBY team and a quick conversation with the JNPR team, just existing there made me want to kill someone, and many of them wouldn’t even weigh on my conscience if I ripped their heads off with my bare hands.

Penny wasn’t there either, which was a shame, even though I agreed with James not bringing her here.

After the girls went to bed — Weiss and Ruby dragging a very drunk Yang to bed, with Blake following behind with slightly unsteady steps, also from drinking — I headed to the rooftop of Amity to look at the moon.

I couldn’t care less if it was off-limits or not.

“No matter how many times I see it, I’ll always love this view,” I said, not to the air, but to Ozpin, who had followed me for some reason.

[...]

POV: Ozpin

"I’ve always been a bit fascinated by the moon too." I approached Devas, who stood at the edge of Amity. He didn’t seem at all worried about falling, and something told me that even without the ability to fly, he still wouldn’t be.

"I don’t think it's for the same reasons as me," was his response. I just smiled, agreeing.

We spent the next few minutes in silence, just gazing at the starry sky above, of which I had memories of being far less polluted. The price to pay, I suppose, for technological advancement. Remnant had come a long way in just a few hundred years.

... Tiny and fast hundred years.

"Salem was my wife," I suddenly said with a sigh. Devas didn’t seem surprised. "Did Jinn tell you?"

He shook his head. "Yes and no. I avoid asking her those kinds of things. I don’t like invading other people’s privacy."

"The question you asked," I affirmed. He didn’t deny it.

"I had a hunch before that. It was kind of cliché, to be honest." That made me chuckle, and it brought a smile to his face.

"But yes, it was the question that confirmed my suspicion. She showed me you and Salem learning magic together, training and... just doing random things with magic." He didn’t look away from the moon. I did the same.

"You left something out in that sentence. At the end."

"Am I that easy to read?" He laughed.

"No, but when you’ve lived as long as I have, you learn a trick or two along the way."

Devas went silent for almost an entire minute, staring at the moon, unmoving, and I noticed, not blinking.

"... I saw her attempts to try and bring you back to life." His voice was heavy. "The desperate attempts of a wife to create a spell that could bring her beloved husband back from the dead..."

... It was what I feared.

Before I could speak, Devas turned to face me, looking at me for the first time since we began this conversation.

"Are you sure you want to talk about this?" He gestured to the side, where I knew the broadcast camera was. He hadn’t turned it off yet.

"These are old memories, Devas. A past long, long gone. I don’t mind telling it, even if it’s not just to you, but to everyone watching." I tapped my cane on the ground, one of the few things that never changed, no matter how many lives passed.

The Long Memory. I named the weapon, tool, and, in a way, companion for a reason.

Devas’s response to my words was simple: he made a square plastic table appear next to us, along with two white plastic chairs with a simple design. We sat down at the same time.

"Beer or wine?" He asked, a can of beer appearing in his hand.

"I’ll take the same as yours." A copy of the same can appeared on my side of the table.

"A toast, before anything else?" He raised the container, which I assumed was made of aluminum. I clinked my beer against his.

"A toast, before anything else." And then we drank. This was the first time I’d seen the man drink since I met him.

... So, drinking cheap beer, I told a story I hadn’t told in a long time.

I told this story to the man in front of me, who listened to everything in silence, not missing a single word.

I told the story of a young knight with dreams of greatness, courage, and few friends to tell him that what he was doing had a high chance of leading him to an early grave.

I told about the young girl trapped in the tower whom that young knight fell in love with, about his horrible attempts at courting and how he saved her from her abusive family, taking her from that tower never to return.

I told about the life the two of them had, about their marriage and the small party they held, about their adventures and their love.

I told the man in front of me how that young knight, who had survived monsters, horrors of a long-forgotten time, and cruel men, succumbed and died to a simple illness at an early age, leaving the girl, now out of the tower, alone in the world.

I told him how that no longer so young knight returned to life for a moment, revived by the younger of the two Brother Gods, only to be destroyed by the same moments later, when the older brother told the younger that he had been tricked by the no longer girl to revive her husband.

I told everything I could remember, of the mission the Brother of Light gave that not-so-young knight when he revived him a second time, and how he discarded that mission in an instant upon seeing the, now woman, again, even though her appearance was different, more cruel and destructive.

I told how the two of them lived together, once again, for lifetimes, for years, dozens, and hundreds of years, guiding a broken and different humanity, without magic, restarted by the fall of the pieces of the moon, toward a future they tried, with all their might, to make better.

I told how, somehow, impossibly, they had four beautiful, innocent, and amazing daughters, their most precious jewels.

I told how The Infinite Man loved Summer.

I told how The Infinite Man loved Spring.

I told how The Infinite Man loved Fall.

I told how The Infinite Man loved Winter.

I told how The Infinite Man loved his four sweet girls and his beautiful and kind wife, his Queen.

I told everything with a face made of stone, taking longer and longer with my words with each new sentence that left my lips, with each new can of beer that appeared on the table.

I told, without expression or emotion, how The Infinite Man chose to stand against his Queen when she, in a moment of rage and anguish with her subjects, offered him the idea of destroying humanity and recreating it in her image, with the gifts that this humanity, as flawed as the previous one, did not have: magic.

I told how their daughters, impossibly, had received this gift, this magic, and that their next children could have it too. The seed that gave birth to the Queen's idea.

I told how The Infinite Man denied that idea, standing against his wife, who had been with him for centuries, choosing humanity and its flaws.

I told even when it started raining on our heads. The sky darkening into a pitch-black.

I told even when the rain fell on my face, running down my cheeks to my chin, falling onto my already soaked suit.

... I told even when the rain had become salty on my lips.

I told of the battle The Infinite Man and the Queen had, of how and how many innocents died that day, and how their four sweet girls were caught in that futile and pointless conflict.

I told how a broken man turned his Queen to dust, only for her to return moments later, as if nothing had happened, and kill him, starting an endless torment.

I told how that same man, as broken as he could be, was destroyed and reduced to dust, life after life, in every attempt to stop the one who had been his wife and Queen.

I told of his millennia of failures.

I told of every pathetic attempt he made but failed.

I told of Ozma.

I told of me.

The man in front of me remained silent, his orange eyes fixed on mine, not blinking. Even though I could barely see his gaze, my vision was blurred by the rain.

He handed me a piece of metal — a cell phone, I remembered among the memories of very old lives — allowing me to read the words that appeared on that device. I could barely remember how it worked.

I read, on that device, words I could hardly remember how to read. Words that made something withered and almost dead inside me tremble, laughing in happiness and self-loathing for yet another failure.

Then, the man stood up, looking toward the horizon, where there were no more rain clouds, though drops still fell on my face. He gazed at the orange of the morning dawn with eyes as orange as the sky.

The human stared at the Sun.

Both turned and looked me in the eyes.

"You can rest now."

[...]---[...]

I think I've said this before, but I really like the character Ozpin. I appreciate Ozma and what he represents; how he is human, and even after all the crap he's been through, he still remains human.

As for what Ozpin read, it's pretty obvious, but I won't mention it here since it will be revealed in the upcoming chapters, which, by the way, are the last ones of this arc and should last about 5 more chapters. The last one will be a summary, just like in HOTD.

Well, I won't keep you here for long; good night and happy reading!