Chapter 1: Initiate Infusion
I've always been a little fascinated with the idea of dust in RWBY. There seem to be so many uses for it, but we rarely see it used to its full potential, despite the fact that one of the main characters is the heiress to one of the largest dust companies. This fic will explore the potential uses of dust in combat and everyday lives, as well as delve into some of the more esoteric forms of dust manipulation as described by the World of Remnant mini series (which part of the summary is taken from).
Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY. That honor goes to Rooster Teeth and Monty Oum (may he rest in peace).
'This is bad,' Jaune thought as he flailed helplessly through the air. 'This is very, very bad. Who the heck would have expected to be launched through the air as part of initiation?'
He broke out of his panic as he spotted something flying towards him. He squinted at the red and gold object as it flew through the air, and his eyes widened as he realized that a spear was on a direct collision course with him, wind whistling as it cut through the air.
"Oh crap!" He exclaimed, reaching for his sheath and sword. Pressing the button, he unfolded his sheath into a shield just in time to block the spear with a clang, sending it spinning through the air. "That was way too close," he muttered, before remembering his current predicament. He looked over his shoulder, and his eyes went wide as he saw a tree rushing up to meet him. He twisted, interposing the shield between the tree and his body as he braced himself.
He bit back a scream as he smashed into the trunk, his shield ripped from his arm and his sword torn from his grasp by the impact. He reached out with his uninjured arm, his hand clenching tightly around a branch to prevent himself from falling even as he kept his injured arm still. Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself up onto the branch and lay there, panting, for several seconds. He forced himself to his feet and looked down. "That's a long way down," he murmured to himself. He gingerly made his way to the trunk of the tree and hesitantly hopped down to a large branch beneath him. It quivered when he landed, but held. Breathing a sigh of relief, he carefully continued his decent. When he reached one of the bottom branches he lowered himself by one hand and let go, falling to a crouch on the ground. He winced in pain as his injured arm protested his fall.
"I hope it's not broken," he muttered, testing its range of movement. His arm protested, but he didn't feel the bone shift, and he let out a relieved sigh before straightening. He needed Crocea Mors; he'd be in grave danger even if he had it, but danger was always better than the certain death of encountering Grimm unarmed. In all honesty he had no idea what direction to check first, but the sword and shield couldn't have gone very far. He looked around to see if there was any sign of where they might have fallen, but couldn't find any. He grimaced and began to quietly move through the forest in a random direction.
It was unnerving to be alone without a weapon in the forest. The silence was eerie, but he almost preferred it to those few moments when he heard something move in the forest, prompting him to freeze and look around, terrified that he would be attacked by Grimm. Nothing ever came of it, but the fear remained. Grimm could smell fear, and that knowledge prompted a vicious cycle, terror rising with each passing second. He nearly sobbed with relief as he spotted the sun reflecting off of an object in a bush. He scrambled forward, nearly tripping over himself in the process, and pushed the leaves aside.
"Whoa," he breathed, awe overriding his fear. "Is that… dust?" A large yellow dust crystal jut out of the ground, and he carefully dug it out and held it up to the light, admiring the way the sun reflected off its surface. It was large enough that even wrapping both hands around it his fingers barely reached each other, and he stared in wonder as it gleamed in the light. Then reality set in, and he let out a sigh. "A dust crystal this big is nice I suppose," he mumbled dejectedly, "but in this situation, I would really, really prefer Crocea Mors." He stood, keeping a tight grip on the crystal; it might not be very useful to him now, but if he got out of initiation alive…
A soft, low growl came from behind him, filled with menace and rage. He turned around slowly, hoping against hope that it had been his imagination, only to come face to muzzle with a large Beowulf. His blue eyes locked with the Beowulf's red, and he gulped, taking a step back. The Grimm's eyes narrowed and it roared, darting forward with incredible speed. Jaune yelped and leapt to the side as it flew by, snapping angrily at his arm. He hissed in pain as jaws ripped at his flesh, leaving deep gouges in his skin. He stumbled back as the Beowulf spun to face him, growling, before turning and sprinting away. It gave chase, and he could hear its howls slowly gaining on him as he fled, before slowly dying down. He chanced a glance over his shoulder, coming to a stop as he realized there was nothing behind him.
"I must have outpaced it," he gasped, chest heaving and sweat dripping from his brow. He caught his breath and looked around cautiously, crystal held tightly in his hand. "That was way too close," he muttered, straightening up. "I need to find Crocea Mors and get to the temple before something attacks me again." One hand flew to his mouth as if to take the words back, and he shifted into a defensive stance, looking suspiciously around the forest. On seeing nothing, he relaxed slightly but remained prepared to flee at the first sign of danger.
He tore off a part of his shirt and wrapped his arm in it, preventing more blood from being lost, warily eying his surroundings. A slight rustling was his only warning as the Beowulf charged out from the undergrowth, and he barely had time to turn and face it before it slammed into him.
He fell, managing to interpose the hand that wasn't clutching the crystal between the Grimm and his face. He couldn't hold back the scream that erupted from his mouth as the Beowulf latched onto his arm and bit down, teeth scraping against bone. It gnawed on his arm, and he felt himself begin to black out from the pain, but forced himself to remain conscious. 'It can't end like this,' he thought desperately. 'Not like this. I was going to be a huntsman! I… I don't want to die!'
He felt something well up from within, light erupting from his body and forcing the Beowulf back with a pained whimper. He stood up, clutching his arm, only to stare in awe as his arm healed, skin visibly flowing over the wound to seal it shut. He was so entranced that he didn't notice the Beowulf charge until it was too late to do anything but throw up his arm as he closed his eyes. He was bowled over from the force, but aside from the impact he didn't feel anything.
He cautiously opened his eyes to find the Grimm clawing and snapping at him, but its attacks were deflected by a faint veil of light that clung to his skin. He would have laughed in relief had there not been a snarling Beowulf on top of him. He lay there, desperately trying to think of a way out of the situation. He felt pinpricks of pain as the light covering him flickered, and his gaze darted to the crystal. He knew that dust was incredibly potent; perhaps if he could harness it…
He swung the crystal with all his might at the Beowulf, smashing into its head with an audible thunk. The crystal shattered, and the Beowulf just shook its head and glared at him, eyes promising a painful death. 'Well, that didn't work,' he thought to himself. The veil of light flickered one last time and died, and the Beowulf roared in triumph, claws ripping a gash down his chest. He shrieked, and in a surge of adrenaline, threw the Beowulf off of him. He rolled onto his hands, desperate to get up and run, but was slammed into the ground, shards of crystal stabbing into his wound as the Beowulf leapt on top of him. Time seemed to slow down as he glanced over his shoulder as the Grimm prepared to end his life, and he shut his eyes.
What seemed like a second or two later, he opened his eyes, confused at the lack of pain. The Beowulf's claw moved through the air as though it was molasses, and as he stared, he could feel a frantic energy start to build within him. He didn't fight it, embracing the surge as it raced through his body. He screamed as it reached the surface, light once more erupted from his body. The Beowulf howled as a clap of thunder echoed through the forest, and it was thrown from his prone form. Its howl became a whimper before going silent as its body disintegrated, black sand floating on the wind.
Jaune lay there, panting, as the adrenaline faded from his body. He groaned as the pain hit, but struggled to his feet. He glanced down at his wound, and winced at the crystals and ground dust that protruded from it. He gingerly reached for a crystal to pluck it out, but hesitated. Prying out all of the crystals would take time, and would aggravate his injury. Looking closely at the crystals, he could see they were almost… stuck to his wound. He swayed on his feet, woozy from blood loss, and he knew that he had to do something to stop the bleeding.
He scooped up a handful of the larger fragments of crystal and cautiously held them to the wound. He bit back a scream as lightning arced, but before he could pull them away they merged with his body and the pain died. He felt strength rush into him, and soft yellow light covered his wound, pulling the skin together. He relaxed as it closed, before realizing that the dust crystals were beneath his skin. He frantically scratched at his chest, trying to remove one of the large protrusions on his chest that indicated where a crystal had been.
As he attempted to remove them, the protrusions slowly faded, and his skin returned to normal. His scratching slowed and came to a stop as he stared at his healed chest. "What in the world was that?" He wondered, then shrugged. "Ah well, better get a move on! I need to find Crocea Mors and get to the temple!" Despite his recent close encounter, he was filled with energy, and immediately darted off into the forest, not noticing the brief sparks of electricity he left in his wake.
One of the main reasons I chose Jaune to play the role of the main character is because at the beginning of the series, he really doesn't have a fighting style. All the other characters have a very specific combat style, which limits them to only certain uses of dust. With Jaune, I can build his fighting style to incorporate using dust (within limits; dust is expensive, I imagine), which will hopefully result in more options when it comes to applications of dust. Until next time!
