Chương 122: Chapter 115: The Spark in the Frost

The biting, relentless wind of Solitas howled through the narrow, snow-choked streets of Mantle. The morning sky was a bruised canopy of pale gray, offering no warmth to the shivering citizens below. Yet, amidst the dreary, industrial gloom of the lower city, a concerted, desperate effort to push back the despair was actively unfolding. At a slushy, bustling intersection, Ruby Rose and Pyrrha Nikos stood like vibrant beacons of hope.

Ruby's crimson cloak whipped in the gale as she held her hand up, directing a line of hovering cargo transports to halt.

"Alright, the coast is clear! Go ahead!" Ruby cheered, her silver eyes bright as she ushered a group of heavily bundled schoolchildren across the icy street. Pyrrha stood on the opposite curb, her bronze armor gleaming under the streetlamps as she offered a warm, radiant smile, helping a small Faunus boy step over a snowbank.

"Thank you, Miss Huntresses!" the children chimed happily in unison, waving their mittened hands as they scurried toward their schoolhouse.

"You are very welcome! Have a wonderful day!" Pyrrha called back, her heart swelling with a quiet, profound joy as she watched them go. A few blocks away, near a massive, glowing holographic billboard, the atmosphere was far more volatile. A group of frustrated, freezing citizens had surrounded a patrol of unblinking Atlesian Knight-200 androids, shouting angrily and waving protest signs.

"Hey, hey, ease up, folks!" Yang Xiao Long's booming voice cut through the shouting. She stepped smoothly between the angry mob and the robotic guards, her hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Yelling at the tin cans isn't going to turn the heaters back on! We're working on the grid right now, I promise!"

"Yeah! If you want to smash something, point us at some Grimm!" Nora Valkyrie bounded up beside Yang, resting Magnhild effortlessly over her shoulder. She offered the crowd a wide, disarming grin.

"We're here to help, but breaking military property is just going to get you all arrested, and nobody wants that!" The sheer, confident charisma of the two brawlers managed to defuse the immediate tension, the crowd grumbling but ultimately stepping back, lowering their signs. Further down the avenue, Oscar Pine, Blake Belladonna, and Lie Ren were hard at work providing immediate, physical relief to the suffering populace.

They had gathered broken pallets, discarded shipping crates, and dry branches, piling them into large, rusted steel drum containers spaced evenly along the sidewalks. Ren struck a piece of flint against the edge of StormFlower, igniting the kindling. A roaring, crackling bonfire erupted within the drum, casting a beautiful, life-saving orange glow across the frosted pavement.

"Gather around, everyone. The fire should last for a few hours," Oscar said gently, rubbing his soot-stained hands together as he smiled at the shivering citizens shuffling eagerly toward the warmth. Standing near the front of the bonfire crowd was a burly, heavyset man with a thick beard and a heavily patched coat. It was Forest, an incredibly vocal, avid supporter of the local vigilante, Robyn Hill.

Just an hour prior, Forest had been so enraged by the sight of an Atlesian military transport flying overhead that he had nearly launched a brick at its hull, hoping to spark a riot. He had only been stopped when Yang and Nora intervened, casually intercepting the brick and talking him down from committing a federal crime. Forest held his freezing hands out toward the flames, letting out a long, heavy sigh before looking over at the three teenagers.

"Thanks for the fire, kids," Forest grunted, his voice gruff but laced with genuine gratitude. He looked at the rest of the students patrolling the blocks.

"I gotta admit, you Huntsmen from Vale are alright. But that doesn't change the fact that Ironwood is a tyrant. He's hoarding all our Dust and bleeding Mantle dry. We can't trust him." Blake's amber eyes narrowed slightly. She pulled her white coat tighter around her shoulders.

"General Ironwood isn't trying to hurt you, Forest. He was completely overwhelmed by the network blackouts and the invisible assassins long before we arrived. He is just doing his best to stabilize both Atlas and Mantle at the same time."

"She is right," Ren added calmly, his voice a steady anchor.

"The General's methods are harsh, but they are born of a desire to protect this Kingdom from a much larger threat."

"We'll see about that," Forest scoffed, shaking his head stubbornly. The rest of the citizens huddled around the drum muttered in agreement, their distrust for the Atlesian military far too deeply rooted to be washed away by a single bonfire. Oscar, Blake, and Ren exchanged quiet, heavy glances, realizing that bridging the gap between the sky and the dirt would take far more than kindling.

While the rest of the Vanguard managed the civilian unrest and assisted the local military patrols, a solitary figure was currently turning the snow-covered streets of Mantle into his own personal crucible.

"Huff... puff..." Jaune Arc exhaled a massive, billowing cloud of white vapor, his boots pounding a relentless, punishing rhythm against the slushy cobblestones. He was dressed in his simple, slightly faded blue tracksuit, entirely drenched in sweat despite the sub-zero temperatures. He had been up since before dawn. He had systematically, agonizingly completed one hundred push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, and one hundred squats.

Now, he was on the final stretch of his mandatory ten-kilometer run, seamlessly blending his physical conditioning with his morning patrol route. Jaune finally slowed his pace, his boots skidding to a halt near a busy intersection. He bent over, resting his hands on his knees as his chest heaved violently, gasping for the freezing air.

"I did it." Jaune muttered, a fierce, triumphant grin breaking across his flushed face.

"Saitama's regime... it doesn't even feel like torture anymore. It just feels like power." He wiped a thick layer of sweat from his brow, his newly trimmed, spiky blonde hair catching the pale morning light. He stood up straight, his broad, hyper-dense shoulders rolling backward to relieve the tension.

"Alright. Time to head back to Pietro's Pharmacy, change into my armor, and get back to the team." Jaune reached toward his pocket, intending to pull out his water bottle.

"Excuse me? Hi!" Jaune blinked, turning around. Standing a few feet away was a group of five young, local Mantle women. They were huddled tightly together, their cheeks flushed a bright, rosy pink that had absolutely nothing to do with the winter cold. They were giggling excitedly, casting highly appreciative, wide-eyed glances at his broad chest and sweat-slicked hair.

"You look incredibly exhausted from your patrol!" one of the girls, a brunette with a bright smile, stepped forward bravely. She held out a pristine, sealed bottle of chilled sports drink.

"Please, take this! Thank you for keeping us safe!" Jaune froze, completely caught off guard. He already had his own water bottle, but the sheer, earnest adoration radiating from the girls made his polite, Huntsman-in-training instincts override his logic. To refuse would be incredibly rude.

"O-Oh! Wow, thank you!" Jaune stammered, his face flushing a brilliant shade of red as he awkwardly accepted the bottle.

"That's very kind of you!" The girls immediately squealed, clutching each other's arms in pure excitement as Jaune flashed them a nervous, boyish smile. Before Jaune could even unscrew the cap, the crowd parted again. A blonde woman wearing a stylish, heavy red winter coat practically shoved her way to the front. She was carrying a massive, steaming, foil-wrapped glass casserole dish. Her eyes were practically glittering with stars as she locked onto the blonde knight.

"Oh, you poor, hardworking Huntsman!" the blonde woman cooed, stepping directly into Jaune's personal space.

"U-Uh, hello?" Jaune squeaked, taking a half-step back.

"You must be absolutely starved after running through the snow to protect us!" The woman aggressively shoved the heavy, piping-hot casserole dish directly into Jaune's free arm.

"Oh, another casserole," Jaune laughed incredibly awkwardly, struggling to balance the massive glass dish, the gifted sports drink, and his own water bottle all at once.

"That's... that's really too kind, ma'am, but I couldn't possibly--""I insist!" the woman declared, her face turning bright red as she struck a highly dramatic, fashionable pose, batting her eyelashes at him.

"A strong man needs a hearty meal!" From the roof of a nearby low-rise apartment building, Ruby, Yang, Blake, Oscar, Ren, and Nora were sitting on the snowy ledge, watching the entire interaction unfold.

"Would you look at Vomit Boy," Yang chuckled, leaning back on her hands with a massive, highly amused grin.

"He spends a few months doing the cue-ball's hellish workouts, gets a haircut, and suddenly he's the most eligible bachelor in Solitas."

"It's honestly comically impressive," Blake smirked, her amber eyes tracking the giggling crowd of women surrounding their friend.

"I mean, look at his shoulders," Nora pointed out enthusiastically, munching on a protein bar.

"Saitama's routine turned him into a literal brick wall. The ladies of Mantle never stood a chance!"

"He is handling the attention very politely," Ren noted, though a rare, faint smile touched his lips. Down on the street, Jaune was sweating profusely, trapped in a polite conversation with the six adoring women, desperately trying to figure out how to excuse himself without dropping the boiling-hot casserole. Suddenly, the ambient temperature on the sidewalk plummeted to absolute, terrifying zero. Jaune went entirely rigid. Every single hair on the back of his neck stood straight up.

A deeply familiar, highly unstable magnetic hum vibrated through the air, causing the zipper on his tracksuit to rattle against his chest. He didn't even need to turn his head to know who had just arrived. Pyrrha Nikos stepped smoothly to Jaune's side. She was wearing her sleek, black thermal undersuit and her polished bronze armor. Her crimson half-cape fluttered elegantly in the wind. Pyrrha was smiling. It was a perfectly polite, devastatingly beautiful smile.

But her emerald eyes were completely devoid of warmth. They radiated a dark, intense, terrifyingly possessive aura of pure, unadulterated yandere menace.

"Hello," Pyrrha greeted the women, her voice dripping with a sickly sweet, icy politeness that could have frozen the ocean.

"Is there a problem here?" The five young girls and the woman with the casserole instantly froze. They looked at the towering, heavily armored Spartan champion, felt the sheer, murderous, territorial pressure radiating from her smile, and immediately realized they had crossed a fatal line. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

"N-No! No problem at all!" the blonde woman stammered, her face draining of all color.

"We were just leaving! Have a great day!" the brunette squeaked. The women turned and scattered like a flock of terrified pigeons, sprinting down the icy street in absolute panic. Jaune stood perfectly still, holding his casserole and water bottles, his face completely pale as a comical waterfall of cold sweat poured down his cheeks.

"H-Hi, Pyrrha," Jaune whispered, utterly terrified to make sudden movements. Up on the rooftop, Ruby, Blake, Oscar, and Ren were clutching each other in sheer, comical horror.

"I have never seen Pyrrha look like that," Oscar whimpered, his hazel eyes wide with genuine fear. Ruby nodded in agreement.

"She looked like she was about to magnetically launch them into the sun." Yang and Nora, however, had completely lost their minds. They were rolling on the snowy rooftop, clutching their stomachs and crying tears of absolute, hysterical laughter at the sheer, terrifying possessiveness of the Invincible Girl. After the terrifying "rom-com" situation on the street finally cooled down, and Pyrrha's smile returned to its normal, genuinely warm radiance, the rest of the Vanguard dropped down from the roof to join them.

Before they could tease Jaune about his casserole, the heavy crunch of boots in the snow drew their attention. Robyn Hill approached the group, her mechanical crossbow shield resting easily on her shoulder. She looked at the gathered Huntsmen, her sharp eyes sweeping over the new Atlesian gear.

"Morning, kids," Robyn greeted, her tone casual but guarded. Her gaze lingered on the empty space beside Ruby.

"Where's the Schnee heiress?"

"Weiss is still up in Atlas," Ruby answered politely, adjusting her red scarf.

"She's attending to some official business with her sister, Winter." Robyn nodded slowly, accepting the answer. She looked around the intersection, noting the crackling bonfires and the relaxed posture of the passing civilians.

"I wanted to say thank you," Robyn said, her voice dropping its usual political venom, replaced by a note of genuine gratitude.

"You kids have been working yourselves to the bone maintaining the peace down here. The protests are thinning out, and the Grimm breaches have been almost non-existent since you purged the cyber-hubs. You've got incredible combat skills."

"Thank you, Robyn," Jaune smiled, carefully balancing his casserole.

"We're just doing our job. We want to help." Robyn's expression, however, hardened slightly. She stepped closer to the group, her eyes narrowing with the piercing, lie-detecting intuition of her Semblance.

"You are good kids. I know you genuinely want to protect the weak," Robyn said, her voice turning sharp and serious.

"But I also know that you're hiding something. You know exactly what Ironwood's secrets are. You know that he has inner circle there, and they are up to something. You know it, and you're keeping it from everyone." The teenagers stiffened. A profound, suffocating dilemma gripped Team JNPR, Yang, Blake, Ruby, and Oscar. The guilt of their silence was agonizing. They were actively lying to the people of Mantle. They were actively lying to the world. Worse, Ruby thought, her silver eyes dropping to the snow.

They are actively lying to Saitama. They are hiding the existence of the Grimm Queen from the man who saved their lives. It felt like a deep, festering betrayal. But they remembered Ozpin's terrifying warning in the safehouse. If Saitama knew about Salem, he would fight her, and the resulting apocalyptic clash of physics and magic could shatter the continent. They had absolutely no other choice. They did not possess the authority or the right to disobey the Inner Circle's mandate.

They had to believe the deception was for the greater good.

"We... really don't know anything," Ruby tried to convince the leader of the Happy Huntresses.

"That's right," Oscar added.

"Even if the general did hiding something, we've never been told." Robyn watched the deep, internal conflict warring on their young faces. She let out a slow, disappointed sigh.

"I see you're still not going to spill it," Robyn muttered, shaking her head. She didn't raise her crossbow, nor did she press the interrogation. Instead, she offered a piece of grim, veteran advice.

"I won't force you. But listen to me," Robyn warned, her eyes locking onto Ruby and Oscar.

"Trust is a fragile thing. You need to ask yourselves if you are absolutely sure of the decisions you are making. Be certain that what you are doing in the dark is truly the right thing. Because when the truth finally comes to light... you are the ones who will have to live with the consequences." With that final, heavy warning, Robyn turned on her heel and walked away into the snowy streets of Mantle, leaving the teenagers standing in a quiet, guilt-ridden silence.

High above the misery of Mantle, inside the sterile, pristine, and heavily monitored corridors of the Atlas Medical Facility, the atmosphere was a completely different kind of cold. Winter Schnee marched down the immaculate white hallway, her posture impeccably rigid. Weiss walked gracefully beside her, her pale blue eyes taking in the endless array of security cameras and heavily armed guards.

"I have read the preliminary reports from the subterranean cyber-hub purge," Winter noted, her voice carrying a deep, profound note of pride as she glanced at her younger sister.

"Your combat prowess, and the coordination of your friends, has skyrocketed, Weiss. It is highly impressive." Weiss offered a small, fond smile.

"Thank you, Winter. But I cannot take all the credit. We had a... highly unconventional mentor."

"Ah, yes. The 'Special Campus Security Consultant'," Winter mused, a faint, disbelieving shiver running down her spine as she remembered the bald man effortlessly catching bullets on the tarmac.

"A man who defies the very laws of reality."

"His 'evaluations' were brutal," Weiss admitted, shaking her head at the memory of trying to strike the unmoving, nose-picking hero.

"But beyond Saitama's sheer kinetic conditioning, Professor Ozpin drilled us in advanced hand-to-hand combat back in Mistral. And the Ace-Ops... they taught us how to truly optimize our Semblances in the field. We've been very fortunate to have such excellent teachers."

"I am glad you have good mentors. Including the Hero of Vale himself," Winter smiled softly.

"Despite his... utterly baffling antics, Mr. Saitama's presence has forged you into a true Huntress." They passed through a set of heavy, reinforced doors. Two Atlesian Knight-200 androids stood at strict attention on either side. Winter led Weiss down a spiraling staircase, emerging into another long, highly restricted corridor. Four more AK-200s stood guard before a thick, vault-like door at the far end of the hall.

"Winter, what is this place?" Weiss asked, her curiosity peaking.

"What did you want to show me?"

"You will see," Winter replied cryptically. Winter swiped her high-level clearance card, and the heavy doors hissed open. They stepped into a sophisticated, dimly lit observation room. A massive, one-way mirror dominated the far wall, overlooking a sterile but comfortable patient's room. Inside the room, there was a small kitchenette, and a specialized medical machine housing a pair of glowing, cylindrical transfer pods.

The wall near the hospital bed was decorated with a few colorful, hand-drawn paintings, and an easel rested nearby. Lying quietly on the patient's bed, hooked up to a heart monitor, was a frail, elderly woman. Winter gestured for Weiss to remain in the observation room.

"Wait here." Winter stepped through the connecting door into the patient's room. Her military rigidity softened entirely, replaced by a gentle, incredibly warm bedside manner.

"Good afternoon," Winter greeted softly, approaching the bed.

"Feeling better today?" The old woman slowly turned her head, offering a weak, trembling smile.

"Good morning."

"Would you care for some tea?" Winter asked.

"I do like hot tea on a cold day," the old woman murmured, her voice fragile as glass.

"Reminds me of home." Winter moved gracefully to the kitchenette, preparing a tray with a steaming porcelain teapot and carrying it over to the bedside table.

"Is it cold outside?" the old woman asked, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Yes, dear," Winter replied gently. She sat down in a plush chair next to the bed, pouring the tea and engaging the elderly woman in quiet, peaceful conversation. Behind the one-way glass, Weiss stared at the frail figure in the bed. Her mind raced, piecing together the heavy security, the transfer pods, and the sheer level of classified clearance required to reach this room. Weiss's breath caught in her throat. That's the Winter Maiden.

After twenty minutes of quiet conversation, Winter ensured the woman was comfortable before stepping back out into the observation room, the door clicking shut behind her.

"Her name is Fria," Winter stated softly, standing next to Weiss and looking through the glass.

"She has held the Maidenhood for a very long time, and she is living her last days in here." Weiss looked at her sister, a profound realization settling heavily in her chest.

"She could pass any day now," Winter continued, her voice dropping into a solemn, heavy register.

"Until that happens, I'm the only person Fria is allowed to see." Weiss looked at Winter's face, seeing the grim burden of destiny etched into her sister's features.

"General Ironwood chose you..." Weiss whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

"To be the next... w-when she dies. How long have you known?"

"Since Beacon," Winter answered without hesitation.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Weiss asked, her aristocratic composure cracking as sisterly concern flooded her heart.

"He practically groomed your entire military career for this exact purpose."

"It did at first," Winter admitted, closing her eyes and letting out a slow breath.

"When the General first proposed it to me, I felt like just another asset on a chessboard. But the more I thought about it, the more I saw it as a privilege. A chance to do some real, undeniable good for Atlas. For Remnant." Winter opened her eyes, turning to look Weiss dead in the eye with absolute, unyielding conviction.

"But your destiny was chosen for you," Weiss argued softly.

"Without your input."

"Perhaps," Winter conceded.

"But I'm choosing it now. I've made it my own. And I take great pride in it. That has nothing to do with Father, or the General... That belongs to me." Weiss stared at the fierce, unbroken pride in her older sister's eyes. A soft, deeply understanding smile touched her lips.

"I guess we've both had to do a little bit of that," Weiss murmured, thinking of her own journey away from the Schnee Dust Company.

"Carving out our own way."

"I suppose we have," Winter smiled warmly. BEEP-BEEP. The tender moment was abruptly shattered by a sharp, encrypted chime from Winter's Scroll. Winter pulled the device from her pocket. The top of her screen flashed with a stark red banner: [This message comes from a contact who has marked all communications with you as CLASSIFIED.] It was a direct message from General Ironwood, sent at 18: 05. It contained only three words, followed by a hyperlink.

'Check the news' Winter frowned, tapping the link to open a live news broadcast from the Atlas Broadcast Network.

"Speaking of the family name," Winter noted dryly, angling the Scroll so Weiss could see. On the glowing screen, a video feed showed the grandiose, opulent exterior of the Schnee Manor. Striding arrogantly up to a massive podium flanked by microphones was Jacques Schnee, his white mustache perfectly groomed, a smug, victorious sneer on his face.

"What is he doing?" Weiss demanded, her blood running cold as she stepped closer to watch.

As Jacques began to speak, a rapid, terrifying news ticker scrolled continuously across the bottom of the screen, highlighting the escalating chaos Watts and Tyrian had sewn into the kingdom: Missing Journalist Found Slain In Her Midtown Apartment Perimeter Wall Damaged Last Month - Resources and Funding Are Stalled Surface Level Grimm Attacks Increasing - Mantle Protection Agency Advises Staying Indoors Weather Special - How to Keep You and Your Family Safe From Hypothermia and Frostbite"If I'm elected Councilman, I've made it no secret I will be opposing General Ironwood and his senseless embargo that is crippling all of Atlas."

Jacques's voice echoed smoothly from the speakers, dripping with manufactured, political empathy.

"It is my belief that these measures are not only reckless, but criminal." Inside the imposing office of Atlas Academy, General James Ironwood stood rigidly behind his desk, his cybernetic eye narrowing with absolute fury. Qrow Branwen and Clover Ebi stood beside him, watching the exact same broadcast on the massive holographic projector.

"What in the hell is he doing?" Qrow growled, his hand tightening around his flask as he watched the manipulative CEO. The broadcast continued, Jacques's face filling the screen.

"With no shipments allowed to enter or leave the kingdom, I know many are suffering," Jacques lied flawlessly.

"And my family has been weathering the same storm as many of you." Down in the freezing, dark slums of Mantle, the broadcast was playing on a massive hologram TV screen mounted above a crowded bar. Shivering patrons paused their drinking, staring at the screen in grim silence. Deep within the frigid, unstable Dust mines, exhausted workers huddled around a single Scroll, watching the CEO's speech. The broadcast continued.

"Effective immediately," Jacques announced, leaning into the microphones, his voice ringing with absolute, tyrannical finality.

"I am forced to shut down all nonessential SDC operations." Outside on the snowy sidewalks of Mantle, the citizens who had been warming themselves around the burning trash cans and drum bonfires stopped. Forest, his beard covered in frost, turned his head to watch a massive hologram screen projecting across the street. Team JNPR, Oscar, Ruby, Yang, and Blake, alongside Robyn Hill, paused their patrols, gathering behind the small crowd to watch the devastating announcement.

"If elected to office," Jacques promised, a sinister, victorious gleam in his eye,"I will make the changes necessary to fix what Ironwood has broken." Inside Pietro's Pharmacy, the warm atmosphere instantly vanished. Pietro Polendina, Maria Calavera, and Penny stared at the clinic's small television monitor, their faces etched with profound, deepening worry.

"I hope you ask yourself before the vote." Jacques challenged, staring directly into the cameras.

"Can you trust anyone else to stop Ironwood? Will Robyn Hill be able to get your jobs back?" Down in Mantle, Ruby, Yang, Blake, and Oscar gasped in shock at the blatant, targeted political attack. Robyn Hill's face contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, her fists clenching so tightly her knuckles cracked. On the broadcast, a dozen news anchors eagerly surged forward, shoving their microphones toward the podium, shouting over each other to ask questions.

Jacques simply raised a dismissive, arrogant hand, turning his back on the cameras and walking back into his mansion as the broadcast abruptly ended. The silence in Mantle lasted for exactly three seconds. Then, the lower city erupted.

"HE'S SHUTTING DOWN THE MINES?!" Forest screamed, throwing his hands in the air.

"HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO FEED OUR FAMILIES?!"

"IT'S IRONWOOD'S FAULT!" another citizen roared, kicking a nearby metal trash can into the street. The fragile, desperate calm that the students had spent all day meticulously maintaining instantly crumbled to dust. Shouts of anger, panic, and sheer, freezing desperation echoed through the snow-choked alleyways as the citizens of Mantle turned their absolute fury toward the sky. In the quiet observation room of the Atlas Medical Facility, Winter lowered her Scroll, her face completely drained of color.

Weiss stared at the blank screen, her heart sinking like a stone.

"I think..." Winter whispered, the horrifying reality of the political checkmate crashing down upon her.

"I think Father may have just provided the spark that's going to set this kingdom on fire."