The Legend of Remnant

The forest was beautiful.

Up above the treetops, the Emerald Forest stretched out as far as the eye could see, It was an ocean of rolling green marred only by the bright white limestone cliffs that jutted above the canopy. As he flew through the air, the wind whistling through his messy blond hair, Jaune Arc took a moment to take in the momentous view. There was something serene about passing over the lush greenery through the clouds above. It gave him time to think. Time to take stock. Time to rethink some of his more rash decisions. Decisions like wearing a bunny onesie in a room full of physically outstanding men and women. Decisions like having transcripts forged to join an illustrious combat school without having a single day of previous combat experience. Decisions like having run away from home with nothing more than the family heirloom strapped to his back and a suitcase full of clothes.

Yet, how far away those choices seemed as he continued to sail through the air, unimpeded. Earlier, he'd swore he saw something fly by him, a spear perhaps? It'd had barely missed him though, and he wondered if someone had been trying to help him, or if this was some sort of free for all. He prayed it was the former; he'd get torn apart with the latter. Either way, Initiation wasn't going to be easy, that much he knew. At least the weather was nice, not too hot with a pleasant breeze that ruffled the leaves below him like small waves upon a verdant ocean. All in all, it made the flight a very pleasant one. Or, it would have been, if not for one small, but significant detail.

Jaune Arc wasn't flying.

Jaune Arc was falling.

'I'm dead. That's it. Mom, Dad, I'm sorry. Hopefully Ozpin can find my sword and my body and send it back for a proper burial...whatever's left. What the hell was I thinking? How was I supposed to know they were flinging us from catapults for the very first test?!' Jaune internally mourned, watching as his descent toward the forest canopy below began. His mind raced. There had to be some way to survive this, right? How? Desperation set in, and he quickly drew Crocea Mors and the shield, holding it before him. If the gods smiled down upon him, maybe he could get lucky, and hit enough branches on the way down to slow his fall.

Of course, that didn't solve the issue of if he were to be trapped in the middle of the forest with a broken leg and Grimm, but he had to take things one step at a time. The trees rushed up to meet him and…

THUD! CRUNCH! WHAM! WHUMP! THWACK! SNAP! WHUMPH!

There was silence, save for the twittering of disturbed birds rising into the air, chirping angrily at having their nests disturbed by what looked to be a very yellow meteorite. Said yellow meteorite was face down in the dirt upon the forest floor, twitching and groaning. By luck, or by whim of the gods, somehow Jaune Arc had survived the disastrous trip over the Emerald Forest, having hit a particularly thick patch of branches and leaves that slowed his fall from lethal, to simply painful and bruising. Still, it hurt. He'd managed to block a number of branches, but on his way down, he'd had the wind knocked out of his lungs, was smacked in the head with a thicker branch and even thought he might have broken his back upon another branch.

Slowly, as though testing his body to make sure that nothing had been horribly broken, Jaune peeled himself from the forest floor. He was hurting, badly, but nothing felt broken. Bruised, most certainly, and he'd be feeling it in the morning (he was feeling it now, in fact) but what was important was that he was not only alive, but he was able to still move. All in all, a horribly inelegant and unprofessional landing, but a successful landing nonetheless. Jaune glanced around where he'd landed, trying to get a bead on where he was as well as looking out for any Grimm who might have overheard his landing. Once again, his luck held, as he noticed that he was all alone, save only for the angry birds over head still tweeting away. He gave a sigh of relief. No Grimm were making moves on devouring him yet, thank the gods.

Of course, his luck couldn't last forever.

He discovered this as soon as his gaze lowered back to the forest floor to try and find Crocea Mors, which he'd unsurprisingly let go of during his painful fall. The shield wasn't too hard to find; it had ended up partially buried into the dirt, but the blade…

"Oh...oh no…" Panic seized Jaune as he began pacing the small dirt clearing where he'd landed, frantically searching for his lost weapon. Not only was that a family heirloom with years of history behind it, it was also his only means of protection aside from his shield in the Emerald Forest, and he couldn't afford a new weapon. Heart racing, he wandered all over the place, searching through brushes foliage, his heart sinking. "No, no, no no no no nononononono! Damn it! Where did it go?!"

His searching became more frantic, blue eyes scanning the ground in desperation for any sign of his lost blade. Soon he was running through the forest, paying no attention to where he was going, just trying to find any sign of his blade. It was only when he'd finally run out of breath, slumping against a nearby tree, did he finally stop to look around.

From where he was, he could see no footpath on the forest floor, no signs that anyone, human nor Grimm had made their way through the area that he could tell. No ruins, no cliffs, just trees as far as he could see in every direction, and his heart sank further. He dropped to his knees, resting his head against the trunk of the tree. "Great...just great… I haven't even started Beacon yet, and I've lost my weapon and I'm in the middle of some Grimm infested forest with no way to find my way back...I really am done for…" He shook his head, pounding a fist onto the tree, causing him to wince. "No, I can't think like that! Negativity will just attract the Grimm. I-I've got to stay positive... I can find my way back, I remember the cliffs were to the east, and there's something about moss growing on the east side of rocks?"

He got to his feet once more, ignoring the ache in his body and walked around to search for a rock and upon finding one, picked up, looking it over. "Erm...I...think that's moss? Maybe?" Jaune sighed and tossed the rock over his shoulder, once more trudging into the forest.

[?]

Time had become meaningless to Jaune as he wandered aimlessly. Had it been an hour? Two? The sun was still in the sky, but he swore that despite having wandered what felt like miles, it hadn't moved an inch from where it was when he'd landed. To complicate things, as he wandered through the woods, the foliage around him seemed to crowd in around him. The longer he walked, the tighter the greenery seemed to get until the tightly packed tree trunks and thick bushes seemed to be corralling him in. Was the forest itself forcing him onto some sort of path? If it was though, it wasn't making it clear, as he'd felt like he was walking in circles. He was getting thirsty, and a bit hungry as well. All in all, things weren't looking too well for one Jaune Arc, and despite constant attempts to pep-talk himself, despair was slowly starting to set in.

It was a miracle that somehow he hadn't run into a single Grimm the entire time, but neither had he run into another Huntsman. 'I don't have a partner yet...oh gods, what if that's supposed to be a prerequisite to pass? What if everyone partners up and I'm the only odd man out!?' Jaune groaned and slid himself against a tree, slumping to the ground once more as he held his head in his hands. 'I knew this was a stupid idea...now I'm lost. I'll end up starving to death if I don't end up some Grimm's meal first…'

The wind blew, ruffling his hair. The temperature, at least, was rather nice. It was a small consolation though. However, it slowly dawned upon Jaune that the wind was all he heard. No birds, no squirrels, nothing. Not even a human being's voice, or the sound of combat. Just the rustling of the trees as the wind swept through the forest. Then, he heard it. It started off faint, so faint that at first he wondered if it were just his imagination, then, louder. It was a melody. Indistinct, and so far away, but if he strained his ears, he swore he could hear it. Slowly, he rose to his feet, cupping a hand behind his ear to try and catch the melody. The way the brush and forest had become, he had one of four paths to walk, including the direction he came from.

He approached one path, and the music seemed to fade away. He frowned and walked back, only for the melody to pick up once more. Another path was chosen, and this time, the melody seemed to increase as he walked further in the direction. "That's...weird." Jaune murmured to himself, his previous dismay overshadowed by curiosity. The paths continued to branch, and each time Jaune would test the paths to listen for the music. He quickly realized that the music wasn't natural; the closer he got to the source, the louder it should have been from all paths, and yet, on all paths but one, it felt as though only a single path let him hear the melody. It was becoming increasingly clear that whatever the melody was, it wasn't natural. Still, he had nowhere to go, and following the mysterious melody was at least better than sitting around waiting to die Grimm attack or thirst.

He continued further and further, the melody growing louder. As it became clearer, an odd sense of Deja Vu settled upon him. The melody seemed so familiar, even though he was certain he'd never heard it before in his life. Both the tune, and the voice of the woman singing it seemed so familiar, yet so far away, like a word at the tip of his tongue, only serving to further fuel his curiosity. He searched his memory as he walked, but to no avail, only causing him further annoyance.

When he'd finally given up on trying to figure out where the hell he'd heard the melody before, he realized that not only had the melody stopped, but he'd stepped into a wide clearing, marked by a wall of bushes that stretched higher than he could jump. It looked man-made, and Jaune wondered for a moment, if perhaps he'd somehow wandered all the way back to Vale and ended up in someone's garden. He chuckled dryly to himself; he might fail Initiation, but at the very least, he'd have a silly story to regale his family with when he had to go back. The clearing was at least beautiful though, with the sunlight streaming down between the overarching trees, illuminating everything. Even the colors of everything from the yellow sunlight, to the grass beneath his feet to the flowers growing from the surrounding hedges seemed sharper and more vivid. Jaune took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the scent of the greenery, and felt, at least for a moment, a bit more calm. Maybe this wouldn't be his last chance to become a huntsman; sure, he might have to wait a little while, but his forged transcripts had been accepted, so who was to say he couldn't try again next year? He could get in some more physical training, really push himself, and who knew? Maybe he could make it. He walked over to the surrounding hedge to investigate the flowers growing from it more closely.

So distracted by the beauty that he almost didn't notice the sudden sound of growling that cut through the clearing. Jaune's body stiffened and he slowly turned to the source of the noise, to see, standing in the middle of the clearing with saliva dripping from its open maw, a single Beowolf. It's blood red eyes were locked onto him and its body seemed to tense, if ready to spring. Panic settled onto Jaune and he stepped back, his heart pounding in his chest. Without his weapon, he was a dead man! All he had was his shielth, and that alone did not a weapon make. His eyes flickered from the Grimm's malevolent gaze to where he'd entered...only to find it blocked off; the entrance gone and replaced with more thick bushes. "W-what?!" Jaune could only gasp, snapping his attention back to the Beowolf.

Then, he heard it.

Survive!

A man's voice rang in his head, sounding very much like someone had been standing next to him, sharp and commanding. As if on cue, the Beowolf suddenly lunged at Jaune, razor sharp claws extended and fangs bared. Jaune only had enough time to bring Crocea Mors' shielth up to block the first swipe, which knocked him to the ground. His heart pounded hard in his chest, almost deafening him with its beat and adrenaline rushed through his veins as he scrambled to his feet. He'd barely dodged a bite that would have taken out his jugular if he hadn't moved as soon as he did. Jaune swung the shielth in his hands like a club and brought it down onto the creature's head, only for the sheath form to make a hollow noise as it met the creature's skull, but doing nothing else other than evidently angering the creature. As its growl grew louder, Jaune audibly gulped and lifted the shielth again, stepping backwards as he laughed nervously. "G-g-good doggie?"

The Beowolf roared and lunged again, this time knocking Jaune to the ground, snapping at his face. It was only through sheer adrenaline induced strength that Jaune was able to keep the beast back, stopping it's bite with Crocea Mors' shielth. His arms struggled as the creature snapped at him again and again, dripping hot spittle all over his face. The beast had gotten so close that he could feel its hot breath against its face, rank with the scent of rotting meat and the breath of a wild animal. "ANYONE!" He cried out, as loud as he possibly could. "HELP ME!" His voice cried out into the treetops. The beast tried to bear down harder onto him, its weight becoming nearly unbearable. Jaune's eyes began to tear up as he realized that no one was coming. Was this where he died? Killed by the first Grimm he encountered without any way to defend himself?

Are you just going to give up here? Is this how dedicated you are to being a hero?

The man's voice from before echoed through his mind once more, bringing Jaune pause. "Who...who are you? Give me a hand, would you?! I don't even have a weapon!"

Use your head!

Jaune continued to struggle, the creatures weight and strength nearly sapping the energy from his limbs. Once they gave out, the creature would surely tear him apart. His mind raced. Use his head? How? HIs grip nearly slipped, the palms of his hands sweaty with the exertion, and it took increased force and focus not to accidentally hit the shield release trigger. Then, it hit him. An idea. A desperate, possibly even stupid idea, but the only idea he had. Jaune summoned up every ounce of energy left in his tired body, and lifted the creature up further, then bringing his head up in order to slam his forehead into the Beowolf's skull. It hurt, a lot, but it apparently had enough force to force the Grimm backwards, caught off guard and stunned. The creature's jaw was still hanging open, which was exactly what Jaune needed, and with one thrust, drove the shielth into the creature's open mouth, actually pushing it into the beasts throat.

The creature flailed, choking on the large metal object, and Jaune was too lucky to not get caught by its flailing claws. He watched as the creature tried to expel the shielth by hacking it up, but the creature's movements only caused further damage as it inadvertently activated the shield's release…

SQUELCH!

Jaune winced as the shielth expanded into the shield form, literally beading the Beowolf as it expanded and ripped through either side of its neck, spraying black ichor around the creature. Its head hit the ground, then its body a moment later. Jaune stood, panting hard, shocked. He'd did it. He'd actually managed to kill his first Grimm, and without a sword! The blond boy began to laugh, softly at first, then uproariously. "Holy crap! I did it! I really did it! I beat it!" He rushed forward, picking the shielth off the ground and watching the Grimm blood turn to smoke and clear off of it. "Oh man, I am awesome!"

What responded to him was not a congratulatory expression, but instead more growling, this time in an eerie stereo, and Jaune slowly turned to see not one, but two more Beowolves staring at him now, claws flexing. His jaw fell open and he stepped back, disbelief, fear and even a bit of exasperation welling in his chest. "Oh come on!"

What are you doing? Run!

The voice spoke within his mind once again, as though the man was standing right next to him and had shouted. Jaune's gaze flickered back and forth, only to notice that bramble wall opposite to where he'd entered the clearing, was suddenly free of foliage and open to him. He didn't need to be told twice; with only a single glance back to the now approaching Beowolves, he took off like a flash, barely missing a lunge from one of the Grimm.

Jaune might have been quick through sheer panic and adrenaline, but he was still no match for a pair of predators, and he knew it. He rushed back and forth, zig-zagging down the path that had been created for him. This new path through, looked to be rough and ragged; the trees started to lose their leaves, leaving skeletal branches that seemed to reach out to grab Jaune. The sky seemed to darken and the wind picked up, howling in tandem with the two wolf Grimm that kept on Jaune's heels with the fervor and tenacity born from the Grimm's everflowing hate. His lungs burned, his legs ached, and fear once again gripped his heart, but he forced it down. He'd defeated one Beowolf earlier, right? Couldn't he do the same with two of them? He shook his head; without a weapon, a true weapon, it was useless. He'd die fighting, he knew that.

"So-huff huff- voice in my head-puff puff- any bright ideas?" Jaune managed to spit out in between gasps of air.

There was no response.

Jaune growled and threw himself harder into his run. He may have stopped to wonder where that voice had come from earlier, or who the voice belonged to, but it was more concerned with not ending up dead, not after having struggled so hard to survive against the first Grimm. Still, he couldn't keep running forever, and he needed a way to stand and fight or he'd simply die tired. As the seconds passed into minutes, Jaune wore he could feel the breath of the Grimm on the back of his neck, and feel the wind from their claws swiping mere inches from his flesh. Then, the strangest thing occurred: As he ran, he suddenly felt as though he had hit a wall of something thick, but yielding, like a barrier of invisible Jello. It was only for a moment, enough to cause him to pause, but instead of getting hit by two angry, hungry wolf Grimm, nothing but silence and the sudden chirping of birds greeted him.

He blinked and looked around, suddenly realizing that he'd entered yet another clearing, much like the one from before. This one however, was littered with what looked like ruins, crumbling and covered in vines. What caught his eye though, was a single pedestal sitting at the far end of the clearing, or more specifically, what lay inside of it. Jaune approached it, wondering why he no longer heard the Grimm, nor why suddenly the sky had switched once again from dark clouds to now streaming sunlight. Everything about the situation felt so unreal, so unnatural. Was this all just a dream? It wouldn't surprise him, but if it were, it were a very, very vivid dream. It could still feel his muscles aching, still feel himself desperately gasping for breath.

He arrived at the pedestal and stared at the object embedded within it. A sword. The pedestal it was in seemed rather dusty and surrounded with tall grass, showing that it had been there for a good long while, but the sword? The sword itself looked like new. A silver-white blade that looked as razor sharp as it had when it was most likely first forged. Its hilt was a deep blue color with a green string entwined on the blade. Etched into the blade itself was a strange sigil, a triangle comprising of three triangles. The crossguard was curved upward, looking like a pair of wings that were folded upward and there was a gem embedded in the crossguard, but it was black, as though the color was drained from it.

Jaune reached out to touch the blade, and once again, the feeling of Deja Vu seemed to overwhelm him. This blade...it felt so familiar. Had he seen it in a storybook? Heard about it in a tale? As his fingers brushed against the hilt, he swore he could hear the same melody that had led him on this chase echoing in his mind. He grasped the hilt, and he swore that it felt more natural in his hand than Crocea Mors' blade ever had. The chirping of the birds had ceased now, and the only sound in the clearing was the simple whistling of the wind as it blew by the crumbling limestone ruins. He paused…

...and drew the blade from the pedestal.

A/N: Yep, I'm back. Check my profile for more details.