The conference room within Vale's central LUCID headquarters was silent save for the faint hum of holographic projectors and cooling systems.
Unlike the public broadcasts that had occupied much of Ozpin's time over the previous weeks, this meeting was entirely private.
Only high-ranking personnel had been invited.
Dozens of holographic screens floated throughout the room, each displaying the image of a different participant. Some were Rank 3s responsible for overseeing entire kingdoms. Others were veteran Rank 2 commanders responsible for major cities and operational regions.
General Ironwood sat within a military command center somewhere in Atlas, surrounded by dozens of tactical displays and officers.
Velik appeared from Menagerie, his expression as unreadable as ever.
Several other Rank 3s occupied their own screens, such as Ying from Mistral and Bordolo from Vacuo.
For the better part of two hours, the conference had proceeded much as one might expect.
Logistical concerns and martial law implementation.
Civilian unrest, supply shortages and even political negotiations with public relations disasters.
The list seemed endless.
Yet despite all the issues currently facing humanity, every person present knew there was one topic hanging over the meeting like a dark cloud.
Eventually Ozpin reached it.
The room grew noticeably quieter. He folded his hands together atop the table.
"There is one final matter that requires discussion."
No one interrupted him. Several Rank 2s visibly straightened. Even Ironwood's expression became more severe, if that were at all possible. Ozpin looked toward a series of reports floating beside him.
"The absence of Nightmare Zones."
Immediately, several people exchanged glances. The issue had become increasingly difficult to ignore. A few weeks ago it would have sounded absurd.
Impossible, even.
Nightmare Zones were as natural to the Dream Realm as weather was to reality. Every day somewhere across the world, a new Nightmare Zone would appear.
Some were small and some were dangerous. Others could even grow large enough to require organized intervention.
That had always been the norm. Even before Sleepless had begun artificially creating Amalgamations, Nightmare Zones had existed.
They were one of the foundational threats that every awakened learned to deal with.
And yet...
Ozpin waved a hand. Several reports appeared above the table. "There have been no recorded Nightmare Zone manifestations worldwide since the theft of the Relics and... worse of all, Sleepless has gone completely dark."
A few Rank 2s frowned and others looked deeply unsettled. The silence that followed lasted several seconds.
Because everyone present understood exactly how absurd that statement truly was. One or two missing Nightmare Zone would have barely been unusual.
However, several weeks without a single occurrence across the entire planet?
That was not unusual, but impossible.
Ironwood leaned forward slightly.
"The Atlas reports confirm the same findings."
His deep voice echoed through the room. "We have observed no new manifestations whatsoever."
Another Rank 2 from Vacuo nodded.
"Same here."
A woman from Mistral spoke next.
"Menagerie as well."
Velik quietly added, "Correct."
Ozpin rubbed his forehead. "The evidence is conclusive."
No one argued as there was simply too much data and too many independent confirmations. The phenomenon was real.
Nightmare Zones had stopped appearing.
At least for now. One of the senior commanders frowned. "Could the Sleeper have stopped creating grimm for some reason?"
Several people immediately looked toward Ozpin. He considered the question for a moment.
"Possibly."
The uncertainty in his voice was more troubling than certainty would have been. Because Ozpin rarely admitted when he did not know something.
Another commander spoke.
"Wouldn't that be a good thing?"
A few people nodded.
On the surface, it certainly sounded beneficial. No Amalgamations meant no Nightmare Zones and no new Grimm populations.
This, in turn would mean, no spillover events or civilian infections.
It sounded almost ideal.
Almost.
Ozpin's expression remained grim.
"Unfortunately, no."
The room quieted again and he gestured toward another report. "The immediate consequence is already becoming apparent."
Several charts appeared.
Grimm population statistics and hunting reports.
"The Grimm population within populated regions of the Dream Realm is declining rapidly."
Understanding dawned on several faces. The problem became obvious almost immediately. Without Nightmare Zones generating fresh Grimm populations, the existing Grimm were gradually being exterminated.
Awakened hunted them every night and that had always been the system. New Grimm appeared, awakened destroyed them and the cycle repeated. As much as the awakened hated the grimm, killing them was the only way for them to escape the Dream Realm. This was what the Dream Authority exit required, after all.
Now the first half of that equation had vanished. One commander frowned. "Wouldn't that eventually mean less danger overall?"
Ozpin shook his head.
"Perhaps temporarily."
The distinction made several people uneasy.
Ironwood crossed his arms.
"Our operatives are already reporting difficulties acquiring sufficient Grimm kills to reliably exit the Dream Realm."
That earned a number of nods. Everyone present had received similar reports. Ordinarily an awakened could locate Grimm without much difficulty.
Now many were being forced to travel significantly farther from their established patrol routes.
Some even had to venture beyond the remnants of the Dream Realm's broken cities and into the vast wilderness regions.
Those areas remained dangerous even for experienced operatives. Fortunately there were still countless Grimm roaming those distant territories.
Enough that the situation had not yet become critical, but it was undeniably becoming inconvenient.
And that was merely the smaller problem. The real concern was something far worse. Ozpin finally voiced what everyone had already begun suspecting.
"The lack of Nightmare Zones is not what concerns me."
Ozpin looked around the room.
"The implication of them not appearing concerns me."
Several expressions darkened. A Rank 2 commander from Vale slowly nodded. "You're thinking the same thing as the rest of us."
Ozpin sighed.
"Most likely."
The commander swallowed.
"The calm before the storm."
Those words settled heavily over the conference room.
Nobody disagreed, because Nightmare Zones had never been random but what they were, were symptoms.
Evidence.
Manifestations of an ongoing process. For that process to suddenly stop altogether suggested one of two possibilities. Either something fundamental had changed. Or something far worse was being prepared.
Neither possibility was comforting.
Velik finally spoke.
His calm voice cut through the silence. "If the Relics truly are the final component of Sleepless's plan, then it is possible that Amalgamations are no longer necessary."
The statement was simple, but horrifying. Because it implied a possibility nobody wanted to consider.
The stage of preparation was truly over. Perhaps whatever came next no longer required Nightmare Zones.
The Grimm required amalgamations and nightmare zones in order to enter reality. But what if that process wasn't required any longer?
What if the Grimm no longer required covert infiltration through dreams? No longer required gradual expansion?
Perhaps all that was left was the final act before it became hell on Earth.
Ironwood's expression darkened considerably.
"I dislike that theory."
"So do I," Ozpin admitted.
A humorless chuckle passed through several participants. Nobody liked the theory, yet nobody could dismiss it either.
The data supported it too well. For almost two years, Sleepless had accelerated the creation of Amalgamations and Nightmare Zones.
If the analysis was correct, then, everything had pointed toward preparation.
Now suddenly all of it had stopped.
It was difficult not to see a connection. Ozpin eventually stood from his chair and the movement drew everyone's attention.
"We will continue investigating."
His voice remained steady.
The voice of a leader attempting to project certainty even when certainty no longer existed.
"All branches must maintain heightened readiness. Continue monitoring Grimm populations and continue investigating any Sleepless activity. Just because they have gone dark doesn't mean that they still aren't operating in the shadows."
The room remained attentive. Ozpin paused before speaking again. And when he did, his voice carried a weight that few had ever heard from him.
"Most importantly... prepare yourselves."
Nobody asked for clarification, because none was needed. Every veteran operative and every commander, no matter their rank—they all understood.
Nightmare Zones disappearing should have been good news. It should have been cause for celebration. Instead it felt like standing within the eye of a hurricane.
Everything had become quiet.
Far too quiet, in fact. And everyone present knew exactly what made silence so terrifying. Silence meant something was coming.
They simply did not know what.
.
.
The Vacuoon wilderness stretched endlessly beneath a merciless sun.
Sand dunes rolled across the horizon like frozen waves upon an ocean of gold, rising and falling for hundreds of kilometers in every direction. There were no signs of life here.
Only sand.
And heat.
Yet a lone figure crossed that vast expanse at impossible speed.
Jaune Arc ran across the desert faster than any racecar could travel, his body blurring across the dunes as scorching winds crashed against him and parted around his frame. Every step should have displaced enormous amounts of sand beneath his feet.
Instead, nothing happened. The dunes remained perfectly undisturbed. It was as though he weighed less than a feather. As though reality itself had decided that resisting his movement was no longer worth the effort.
His long rough golden hair whipped behind him while the endless desert rushed past in a blur. The air shimmered from heat and distance, creating mirages that danced upon the horizon.
Jaune ignored them all.
His destination had been a little while ago. The desert suddenly changed. Far ahead, the sands began to sink inward.
At first it appeared to be nothing more than a depression in the dunes, then the scale became apparent.
An enormous chasm stretched across the desert floor, large enough to swallow entire cities. Rivers of sand flowed endlessly downward into its depths like cascading waterfalls made of gold.
Jaune slowed slightly, then stepped forward and vanished over the edge. The wind roared around him as he plummeted into darkness. The deeper he fell, the stranger the surroundings became.
Eventually the structure revealed itself.
An enormous inverted pyramid rested within the depths of the chasm.
Unlike the monuments of old civilizations, this one pointed downward into the earth rather than upward toward the heavens.
It looked disturbingly wrong. Like something that had been forced into reality from another place.
Jaune grinned.
"There you are."
His body twisted midair and he drew back a fist. Power gathered and the air around his arm distorted. The moment his fist connected with the apex of the inverted pyramid, the structure exploded inwards.
Stone shattered and shockwaves rippled throughout the massive monument. Entire sections collapsed as Jaune punched directly through the upper layers and continued falling deeper into its interior.
Floor after floor burst apart beneath him.
Ancient hallways, collapsed chambers, forgotten ruins. All of it became rubble as he descended.
Then suddenly...
Reality began behaving strangely. The sensation was difficult to describe. Time seemed to thicken around him.
Like invisible molasses coating the world. His body continued falling, but everything else appeared to slow.
The drifting debris. The clouds of dust. Even the sound of destruction itself.
Jaune clicked his tongue.
"Tch."
His eyes narrowed.
"Break."
The word was spoken softly, yet the world answered. The air surrounding him shattered.
Crack.
Invisible fractures spread throughout reality itself. The slowing sensation immediately collapsed and time snapped back into place.
The strange influence trying to restrain him was destroyed and normality returned. And several seconds later Jaune reached the bottom.
His body impacted the lowest chamber of the pyramid like a meteor. The resulting explosion shattered the floor and sent cracks racing throughout the colossal structure.
Boom.
For the briefest instant everything became still, then...in an instant of a second, the entire pyramid rotated.
One moment the room faced one direction.
The next it faced another as space itself shifted and reality folded. And suddenly Jaune found himself standing within a vast sandstone throne room.
His expression darkened.
There he was.
Nicholas Arc lounged casually upon a sandstone throne at the far end of the chamber. One leg rested over the other.
An amused smile sat upon his face, as though he had been expecting this exact outcome. As though his son crashing through several hundred meters of ancient ruin was merely a minor inconvenience which he had foreseen.
For several seconds neither of them spoke.
The silence felt heavy.
Ancient and dangerous.
Jaune's shadow began to move. The darkness at his feet twisted unnaturally as ripples spread throughout it.
Then eyes opened.
Dozens.
Hidden eyes blinked within the darkness, staring toward the man upon the throne. The temperature within the chamber seemed to plummet.
Jaune's voice followed shortly afterward, cold and controlled.
Far colder than any anger.
"Hello, father. It's been a while."
Nicholas raised an eyebrow. His gaze lingered briefly on the shifting darkness. Then slowly he rose from his throne.
Unlike Jaune, he appeared perfectly relaxed, perfectly calm. As though this were simply another conversation between father and son.
"It has, hasn't it?"
He brushed nonexistent dust from his sleeve. Then smiled a small smile. One that carried entirely too much confidence.
"Shall we have a little chat before we get started?"
Jaune didn't answer, words were unnecessary. His shadow surged upward and darkness flowed from the floor like liquid smoke. It wrapped around both arms before condensing.
Compressing and sharpening.
Two black blades materialized within his hands.
They were not metal, were instead made entirely of Umbra and shadow runic energy. They existed somewhere between both concepts.
Weapons forged from something deeper. Something hungry. The countless eyes within his shadow focused entirely upon Nicholas.
Nicholas sighed. "I supposed that's a no."