Golden rays of sunlight peeked over the looming Rust Mountains as a gentle breeze stirred the tall, dried out strands of grass along the beaten and dusty path. A lone, two story building basked in the early morning light. Its splintering wood and faded paint a testament of the constant struggle to stand in the rocky-desert landscape of Vacuo.
The door of this small motel swung gently open, its hinges creaking as a calm farewell was spoken before a young man stepped out into the day. This young man, no more than seventeen-years-old, was taller than most his age. His frame was lean and a touch lanky, his skin sporting a light tan. A scrap of purple cloth was tied around his left forearm. He wore a grey t-shirt with purple sleeves, grey fingerless gloves, tan faded jeans, black shoes and two brown belts. On one of them was a small pouch and the other a silver pentagon-shaped badge. There was a khaki-colored desert scarf tied around his neck. His shaggy silver hair was tied back into a small and messy ponytail low on the back of his head and two silver coyote ears perked up from this bush of hair. His violet eyes scanned the landscape in front of him as he adjusted the satchel on his shoulder.
This young man, known as Dust Fallow, stretched before descending back onto the path, turning towards the Rust Mountains as he hummed a light tune to himself. There was a small smile on his face and a slight pep to his step. He observed the patches of swaying grass, the small mounds of orange and red rocks, the small holes dug by peaceful wildlife and many other sites along the trail. He took note of all of it as he walked for a long hour, as he would not be seeing his homeland for a time.
However, it seemed Dust did not notice dark shadows moving around the large rock formations he was coming across. Small, faint growls could be heard as these formless shadows danced in between the crevices of the ancient stones. Dust continued on his way, slowly ascending a hill towards these large rocks with the motel long behind him and out of sight. As Dust rounded a corner on the path, his body disappearing behind an outcropping and into a field of grass and smaller stone formations, he was suddenly met by one of these shadows.
Streaks of sharp white claws barely missed Dust as he crouched and dove forward in a somersault into the field. Rolling to have one knee up and the other underneath him, Dust looked around at his aggressors. He was surrounded by twelve creatures of Grimm, eleven Tricksters and one Beowolf. Tricksters were coyote-looking grimm, similar in Beowolves as they stood on their back haunches but Tricksters were smaller, leaner and understandably faster. A chorus of throaty growls reverberated in the air as Dust slowly rose to his feet. He made eye contact with the Beowolf, tension palpable in the air as the wolf threw back its head and howled into the air.
At once, the eleven Tricksters barrelled towards Dust. Disengaging the clip on his bag and letting it fall to the ground, Dust immediately did a backflip with his feet landing on top of a Trickster's skull. Pushing off with all of his might, Dust soared over the creature and onto a rock formation. Dust focused his mind as he saw the Tricksters charge over to his perch. Taking a moment for a breath, he launched himself back up into the air again and landed directly behind the mob.
Spinning up and around, Dust channeled his Aura into his right fist. It glowed a bright silver as it made contact with a Trickster's bottom jaw. The impact made a sickening snap as its head spun and its body fell into a heap. On his right, another Trickster made an attempt to tear into Dust. Dropping into a crouch, Dust shot out an Aura-infused left fist that left an imprint in the Grimm's abdomen. Standing up and grabbing a hold on the Trickster, Dust threw him overhead and let the creature crash into a lunging member of his kin.
A trio jumped up over this pile of confused dark canines, bearing their fangs. Time seemed to slow down as Dust's mind briefly brushed over his badge on his belt. Taking a breath, he let his aura flow through this crystalline object as his expression turned stoic. Whipping around, Dust performed an Aura-infused roundhouse kick… however, a wake of grey fire rushed out from the kick and slammed into the creatures, setting them ablaze. The black coyotes fell with eardrum rattling howls and whimpers.
The couple of Tricksters Dust piled on each other got back on their hind haunches and charged, aiming to avenge their fallen kin. The one charging up on Dust's left reached him first. Catching the Grimm, Dust grunted with effort as he took the creature and slammed it into his comrade and sent them tumbling away.
Five growls made Dust turn to see the other Tricksters stand in a group, wary of this prey. Shaking his head, Dust flicked his left hand out towards the small pack of Grimm. Silver lightning arced across his body and flew out from his fingertips. Within a few moments, the five Tricksters were smoking piles of burnt fur on the ground. Dust then turned to face the Beowolf.
The Trickster with a fist-shaped indent in its stomach whimpered and limped towards its leader. The Beowolf growled and swatted it aside with its massive paw. The Trickster landed far away with a shuddering crack. The Beowolf's blood red eyes then focused in on Dust. For a brief moment, there was a chill in the air until it charged forward at Dust.
Eyes widening for a brief moment, Dust launched himself to the left. As he dove parallel to the ground, he threw his right hand out to the Beowolf. Ice shot forth and struck the dark wolf in the leg, sticking it to the ground for a moment. The Grimm tumbled forward and missed Dust. The young man hit the ground in a sideways roll, coming up to one knee as he saw the Beowolf crash into the stone outcropping.
Dust's mind went back to the badge on his belt. His eyes narrowed as he nodded to himself. As his fingers curled around the object, the last Trickster charged up on Dust's left. Jumping backwards as the Grimm's claws crashed into the earth he once stood on, Dust unhooked the badge midair and channeled his Aura straight through it.
Several hues of silver and purple crystal shot out from this pentagon-shaped badge, Aura guiding its explosive energy into the shape Dust desired. It took the shape of a massive single-edged sword that looked much like a cleaver… if a cleaver was five feet long from the pommel to the tip of the blade.
Grasping the hilt tightly in his right hand, Dust landed back a few feet away from the Grimm. As the Trickster tried to regain composure, Dust dashed forward and brought the sword down on the Trickster.
Evading the strike, at the cost on an arm, the Trickster tumbled into the stone outcropping. Dust turned to look at the Beowolf as it struggled to get to its haunches. The Trickster, enraged at the loss of his arm, charged forward at Dust. Spinning the weapon in his hand, Dust threw the blade at the Trickster. The sword buried itself into its chest and the Trickster was impaled onto the stone.
The Beowolf stood shakily, pieces of ice still clinging to its fur. It narrowed its eyes at Dust, its pack utterly destroyed, it roared and began its final charge at Dust. Dust, in turn, surprised the Beowolf as he too charged at the Grimm.
The distance between the two grew smaller and smaller until the dark wolf raised up its massive claws. However, as Dust ran his mind focused on the sword imbedded in the orange stone. His mind called out to it and he felt the warm, tingling sensation of his Aura flow over his body. In an instant, his body broke down into silver particles and flew around the Beowolf as it swung at empty air.
Reforming fully at his sword, Dust took the blade and spun around. The Beowolf turned just in time to see the crystalline blade slice straight through his abdomen, cleaving him in half.
Panting, Dust stood still for a moment as the scattered corpses of the creatures of Grimm faded away in black ashes. Recalling his Aura from within the sword, the dust-created blade retreated back into the badge. Clipping it back onto his belt, Dust walked over to his bag and slung it over his shoulder once again. Reaching into his pouch, Dust pulled out a small flyer. On it read in big bold letters, "Apply Today!" The picture displayed on this piece of paper was none other than the castle-structured school known as Beacon Academy.
Nodding to himself, Dust folded up the flyer and placed it back on his pouch. Readjusting his bag, he began his journey once again, humming his light tune.
End