The Distant Remnant Mirror (RWBY X LIMBUS COMPANY)

The rhythmic hum of Mephistopheles reverberated through the bus as Dante leaned against the window, the soft mechanical whirr of his clockwork head the only sound competing with the monotony. Outside, the streets of the City crawled with their usual blend of chaos and despair. Rats roaming, muted neon lights flickering, and the ever-present haze that seemed to swallow the sun. It was just another day.

<Another day in paradise, huh ?> Dante muttered, his ticking voice carrying a tone of dry resignation.

Across the bus, his misfit team of sinners bickered and bantered, their distinct personalities clashing like a symphony of chaos. Rodion was recounting yet another wild tale that earned a groan from Gregor, while Don Quixote spoke passionately about her next "heroic crusade" to Sinclair, Faust sat quietly in her usual detached way, her piercing eyes scanning over schematics no one else could comprehend. The other sinner each doing their own activity.

"Manager-Esquire!" Don's voice suddenly boomed, breaking Dante from his musings. "Where shall we ride to next ? A grand adventure awaits us !"

Dante sighed. <We're going wherever the bus takes us, Don. Not much room for 'adventure' when every door leads to some mess we'll have clean up.>

As if on cue, a faint click echoed through the air—a door at the back of the bus creaking open. It wasn't unusual for strange things to happen in Mephistopheles; Faust's design had its quirks. Still, Dante couldn't shake a sudden unease.

<Hey, Faust> he called out. <Is that door supposed to be open ?>

Faust glanced up briefly, her expression as impassive as ever. "That door should not be accessible at this moment. Faust has ensured its functionality only during specific conditions."

"Well, it's open now," Sinclair said nervously, standing near the door.

Dante felt a pull—a subtle, almost imperceptible tug that seemed to draw his attention toward the door. Something about it felt... wrong. But he had learned long ago that curiosity, even cautious curiosity, often led to answers.

<Stay put. I'll check it out.>

He stepped toward the door, the ticking of his clockhead growing louder in the eerie stillness. The air around the door shimmered faintly, as though reality itself was warped just beyond its threshold.

"Dante, I'd advise against this," Faust said, her calm tone carrying an edge of warning.

<Advice noted, Faust> Dante replied, pausing briefly at the doorframe. He turned back to his team. <If I don't come back, do anything stupid. That means you, Don>

Before anyone could respond, he stepped through.

---

The transition was instantaneous yet disorienting. One moment, Dante was in the cramped confines of Mephistopheles. The next, he was stumbling forward into a blinding light, his clockhead spinning slightly as he tried to regain his bearings.

When his vision cleared, he found himself standing in the middle of a dense forest, sunlight streaming through a canopy of impossibly tall trees. The air smelled fresher than anything he had encountered in the City—clean, almost unnaturally so.

<This... isn't a District.> His voice echoed slightly, as though the forest itself was listening.

He turned in place, taking in his surroundings. Massive trees stretched toward the sky, their trunks adorned with vibrant moss. In the distance, he could see the faint outline of ruins—ancient structures overtaken by nature's relentless march.

<Great > Dante muttered. <First I'm babysitting sinners, now lost in a Forest. Faust is going to have field day with this one.>

His first instinct was to search for a way back, but the door he had stepped through was gone. In its place stood only a gnarled tree, its roots twisting into the earth as if to mock him.

With only his clothes and his company-issued pad, Dante wandered aimlessly. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, and every turn seemed to lead him deeper into unfamiliarity. Faust's absence gnawed at him. If she were here, she'd already have concocted some elaborate solution to this situation, with an obligatory monologue about her "perfect inventions."

<Guess I'm on my own.>

He adjusted his clothes and set off toward the ruins, the only landmark in sight.

---

The trek through the forest was uneventful at first, though the sense of unease never left him. Every rustle of leaves, every distant birdcall, set his nerves on edge. It wasn't just the unfamiliarity of the environment—it was the feeling that something was watching him.

As he approached the ruins, their scale became more apparent. Towering stone pillars jutted out of the ground, their surfaces etched with faded carvings that spoke of a long-forgotten civilization. Vines and moss had claimed much of the architecture, but the structures still exuded a quiet dignity.

<Well, this is ominous> Dante remarked, stepping cautiously into the shadow of a crumbling archway.

The air grew colder, the light dimmer. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was intruding on something ancient, something that didn't want him there.

And then he heard it—a low growl, followed by the sound of something moving through the underbrush.

Dante froze, his hand instinctively moving toward the pocket where he kept his pad. A pack of shadowy figures emerged from the forest, their glowing red eyes fixed on him. They resembled wolves but moved with an unnatural fluidity, their bodies wreathed in tendrils of darkness. Before Dante could process the scene, the wolves turned their attention toward him.

<What are those ? A new type of Peccatulae or Abnormalities> he muttered, his clock ticking faster as the beasts closed

The creatures circled him, their growls growing louder. Dante's mind raced. He had faced abnormalities, peccatulum, and all manner of monstrosities in his short tenure as the manager of the sinners, but these things were different. There was an intelligence in their movements—a calculated hunger.

One of them lunged. Dante barely managed to sidestep, swinging his clock-headed body around to strike the creature. It yelped, more in surprise than pain, and retreated back into the pack.

<Yeah, that's right. I'm not as defenseless I look> Dante muttered, trying to convince himself as much as the wolves.

But as the rest of the pack closed in, he knew he was outmatched. His mind flashed to his Sinners. If only they were here.

A blur of red streaked past him, colliding with one of the wolves in a spray of black mist. Dante stumbled back, barely processing what had just happened.

"Get back!" a voice called.

A young girl, no older than her teens, landed in front of him. She wielded a massive red scythe, its blade gleaming in the dim light. Her silver eyes locked onto the wolves, a mixture of determination and exhilaration in her expression.

"Don't worry, mister!" she said, glancing back at him briefly. "I've got this!"

Before Dante could respond, the girl charged into the fray, her weapon transforming seamlessly between scythe and rifle as she dispatched the wolves with ruthless efficiency.

Dante watched in stunned silence, his mind struggling to keep up with the chaos unfolding around him.

<What… what the hell is going on ?> he finally managed to mutter, though no one seemed to hear him.

As the last wolf dissolved into a wisp of darkness, the girl turned to him, a wide grin on her face.

"Are you okay, mister ?" the girl asked, her silver eyes glowing with curiosity. She spared him a brief glance before turning her attention to the wolves.

<What the hell is happening ?> Dante muttered under his breath. His voice betrayed his bewilderment as he eyed her scythe-gun hybrid. 'A weapon like that… Is she a Fixer?'

The girl's demeanor remained oddly cheerful despite the chaos. "You're not from around here, are you?" she asked, her voice light and melodic, though tinged with concern.

Dante blinked. She understood him? That realization made his situation even stranger. Before he could respond, more figures emerged from the woods.

A stern woman in white approached first, her rapier flashing as she dispatched the remaining creatures with precision. Her commanding aura made Dante instinctively wary. Behind her, a brawler with bright blonde hair and explosive fists grinned confidently, while a catgirl with a calm and focused demeanor brought up the rear.

"Ruby," the white-haired girl snapped, her piercing voice directed at the first girl, "you can't just charge in like that without coordinating with the team!"

Ruby, the red-caped girl, winced. "Sorry, Weiss! I'll make it up to you later, but" She gestured toward Dante. "We've got company !"

Weiss glanced at Dante, her sharp blue eyes narrowing as she took in his strange clock-faced head. "Ruby, what is that ? A… person with a clock for a head ?" Her tone was equal parts disbelief and irritation.

Dante bristled. He had heard worse, but her bluntness stung nonetheless.

The blonde brawler, Yang, grinned and folded her arms. "Not the weirdest thing I've seen, but it's up there." She smirked, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

"Focus," the cat-like girl, Blake, said coolly, her amber eyes scanning the surroundings. "We can question him later. For now, we finish this."

Ruby nodded, her grip tightening on her scythe. "Alright, everyone, take down the Grimm!"

The team sprang into action, their synergy and skill leaving Dante speechless. Ruby's scythe carved through the wolf-like creatures with deadly elegance, Weiss's glyphs immobilized and countered with precision, Yang's punches erupted like miniature explosions, and Blake moved like a shadow, her strikes precise and deadly.

Dante watched, dumbfounded. 'Grimm… Is that what these things are called? And these girls… they're fighting like seasoned fixers.'

When the battle ended, Dante finally found his voice. <What… are you people ?>

Ruby turned to him, her smile bright but tired. "We're Huntresses-in-training. And you?"

Before Dante could respond, a stern voice cut through the aftermath. "Trespasser, identify yourself and leave the premises immediately."

A tall woman with blonde hair strode toward him, her piercing gaze reminding Dante uncomfortably of Outis. She exuded authority, her staff tapping against the ground with deliberate intent.

Dante sighed internally. This was bad. Usually, the Sinners did the talking—or the fighting (Usually ends with a fight). But here, he was alone.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. <I surrender.>

---

Beacon Academy: Professor Ozpin's Office

Dante sat stiffly across from Professor Ozpin, the soft hum of the clock on his chest breaking the silence. Before him sat a steaming cup of cocoa, untouched. The older man's calm but piercing gaze seemed to study every tick of his timepiece, unraveling the mystery of his existence.

"Dante," Ozpin began, swirling his own mug thoughtfully. "Your arrival is… unprecedented. You claim to come from another world."

Dante shrugged. <One moment, I was in the company bus. The next, I'm here. Honestly, blame Maker> Thank the Head Faust wasn't here to hear that

Glynda Goodwitch, who stood nearby, frowned in disbelief. "Another world? How is that possible?" she demanded, her expression stern and skeptical.

Dante leaned back, the ticking of his clock a steady rhythm. <With my luck? Anything's possible.>

Ozpin's brows furrowed. "You mentioned rewinding time for others. That's… unusual, even for a Semblance."

Dante hesitated before replying. <It's not exactly a gift. I can only rewind people who've contracted with me, and every time… feel their pain. Their death.>

Ozpin leaned forward, intrigued. "That is no small burden."

Glynda's gaze softened slightly, though her skepticism remained.

Ozpin smiled faintly. "Dante, I believe you may have a place here. Remnant is on the brink of conflict, and you have skills that could be invaluable."

Dante tilted his head. <You want me to teach?>

"Not quite," Ozpin replied. "Serve as an advisor to our students—Team RWBY, in particular. In return, we'll provide resources and information. Perhaps even a way back to your world."

Dante considered the offer. The steady ticking of his clock felt oddly reassuring for once. Finally, he nodded. <Alright. But don't say I didn't warn you—my methods are… unconventional.>

Ozpin smiled. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

----

Mephistopheles

The tension in the Mephistopheles was palpable. The ticking of the infernal engine was drowned out by the restless murmurs and clashing personalities of the Sinners as they tried to make sense of Dante's disappearance.

Faust stood at the front, her hands clasped neatly behind her back, staring at the now-closed door with an intensity that suggested she was trying to will it back into existence.

Don paced frantically in the center aisle, her gauntlet gleaming under the dim lights. "Manager-Esquire has embarked on a grand quest without us ! How could WE let him go alone? This is a grievous error !"

Heathcliff groaned from his seat, his hands over his ears. "Bloody hell kid, could you tone it down? Some of us are trying to think without you screeching in our ears."

"But the Manager—!" Don started, her voice rising.

"The Manager is gone, yeah, we know," Gregor interrupted, rolling his eyes as he leaned back against the wall while lighting his cigarettes. "We're all thinking it, but yelling about it isn't gonna bring him back."

Sinclair nervously glanced between the group and Faust, his hands fidgeting. "Faust, you're sure this door wasn't supposed to open?"

"Faust is certain," she replied without looking at him, her voice cool and detached. "The door was not part of Mephistopheles' original design. Its appearance is anomalous."

"Ah, but anomalies make life more fun, don't they?" Hong Lu chimed in, his ever-present smile contrasting sharply with the tense atmosphere. "Who knows, maybe Dante found himself in a lovely place with nice food and a good view. I envy him already."

Outis narrowed her eyes, standing rigidly with her arms crossed. "Do not trivialize this, Hong Lu. If the Executive Manager is lost, it is not due to his whim but mismanagement." She turned her sharp gaze toward Faust. "You claim this machine is perfect. Yet this happened. Explain."

Faust met her gaze calmly, her expression unreadable. "Perfection does not mean infallibility, as Faust has always stated. However, this outcome was unforeseen. It requires further study."

"Study?!" Don exclaimed, leaping onto a seat and pointing dramatically. "We must act, not study! Onward, comrades! We must charge into the unknown to retrieve our valiant leader!"

"Relax, Don. You'll pop a vein if you keep yelling like that," Rodion said with a smirk, blowing a puff of smoke from her cigarette. "Though I'll admit, the Manager wandering off without us is a bit concerning. He's not exactly built for solo adventures."

"TBSS," Ryoshu muttered

Sinclair tilted his head. "TBSS? Ryoshu, could you clarify?"

"Throwback to stupid situations," Ryoshu replied, her tone dry and dismissive.

"Ah," Sinclair nodded, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "That… does seem accurate."

"Regardless," Yi Sang interjected softly, his gaze distant as if lost in thought, "the Manager's absence creates a vacuum. A guiding star lost amidst the cosmos leaves those in orbit unbalanced."

"Cosmos, my ass," Heathcliff muttered, leaning back with an annoyed grunt. "He probably tripped through that door 'cause he wasn't paying attention. Typical Dante move."

"I would not underestimate Dante" Ishmael said from her seat, her tone firm but measured. "He may not seem like much, but he has a way of pulling through. We should give him that credit."

Meursault, ever the pragmatist, crossed his arms and spoke in his usual monotone. "The probability of Dante's survival increases if he is not exposed to hostile environments. However, it is equally likely he has encountered unforeseen threats."

"Thanks for the optimism," Gregor said dryly, shaking his head.

"Perhaps the Manager has stumbled upon fortune," Hong Lu offered, his grin widening. "Who knows, he might return with a delightful story and some trinkets to share."

"Or he'll return in pieces," Heathcliff muttered under his breath, though no one seemed eager to respond to that thought.

"FDS," Ryoshu muttered again, her blade flashing in the dim light.

Sinclair glanced at her and translated immediately. "Fear-driven speculation. She means we shouldn't jump to the worst conclusions."

Rodion snickered. "Not bad, Sinclair. You're getting better at Ryoshu-speak."

Sinclair flushed but didn't respond, his focus shifting back to Faust. "So… what do we do? Just sit and wait?"

"Faust will determine the anomaly's properties," she replied simply. "Until then, it would be unwise to act without proper information."

"But waiting feels wrong," Sinclair said, his voice trembling slightly.

"I agree with Faust," Ishmael said, leaning forward with her arms on her knees. "Charging in blindly will only make things worse. We wait for confirmation."

"And in the meantime, what?" Outis asked sharply.

"Prepare," Faust said.

"For what?" Rodion raised an eyebrow, exhaling another puff of smoke.

"For the possibility," Faust replied, her voice calm but heavy with meaning, "that we must breach the anomaly ourselves to retrieve the Manager."

The room fell into a tense silence as the weight of her words sank in.

"Then let's get ready," Ishmael said after a moment, her voice steady.

"I shall ready my lance for glorious adventure !" Don declared, striking a heroic pose.

Rodion grinned. "Guess it's time to dust off my weapon. This could get interesting."

"Keep your optimism in check," Outis warned, though her hand drifted toward her weapon instinctively.

Hong Lu clapped his hands together, his smile never wavering. "Ah, adventure awaits! I'll make sure I look good for it."

"Fools, the lot of you," Heathcliff muttered, though his grumbling carried a hint of begrudging acceptance.

Yi Sang leaned back, his gaze still distant. "The cosmos may yet align in our favor. Perhaps this path was always meant to unfold."

"FAFA," Ryoshu muttered while smoking her cigarettes.

Sinclair sighed and translated again. "Forced abstraction for amusement."

Rodion chuckled. "Yeah, sounds about right."

Through it all, Vergilius remained silent at the helm, his cold red eyes open and fixed on the sinners. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low but commanding.

"Stop bickering. If Dante truly is lost, then we'll retrieve him. But only when we're ready."

His words silenced the room, leaving only the hum of Mephistopheles to fill the void.

For now, the Sinners would prepare. But their Manager's absence was a void they all felt, and it gnawed at them in ways they wouldn't admit aloud.

----

A/N: Hello, everyone! I'm here with the rewrite. I hope you're all satisfied with it. I know I promised to rewrite it in January, but I had some free time ;) I hope you enjoy this, and after this, I'll be working on rewriting the next chapter, It's almost done by the way.

Give me powerstone and comment to motive me ;)