Jaune Arc was fighting for his life. He was the last living being alive, aside from the Grimm, Salem, her lackies and her lackies lackies. Nothing was left. Only him.
It was permanently night now, the sun having not risen in four years. It was ten years after the Fall of Beacon and Vale, each of the kingdoms falling shortly after. The remaining Huntsmen and Huntresses traversed the world of Remnant to find a way to keep Humanity and Faunus kind alive. They failed. And soon, only Jaune was left.
After ten years of watching his friends and allies die, Jaune grew indifferent about it. He grew cold, emotionless and quiet.
And here was his last stand. In his home town of Arcadia, off the coast of Mistral. He had his badly dented shield on one hand and his sword was broken in half, yet he fought. He fought the hordes of Grimm until he was on his last legs. When the last of his weapon was destroyed, he turned and ran into his home. Down to the weapons room. To where he was never allowed. A room that was locked up right, the doors red and peeling from rust, a big contrast to the dusty, usually pristine white room.
He burst through and closed the doors behind him. He panted softly. He was safe for now.
Looking around the dimly lit place, Jaune saw that there were two objects in the room. Both were in a single glass case, covering the back wall.
There, sitting on a pedestal of stone, was a helmet in the shape of a warped pyramid. It was dark crimson with rust. Sitting above it, resting on metal hooks and spanning the entire length of a room, was a sword that was as big as a Goliath is long. The sword seemed to be barely rusted, coated in scratches and nicks in it. There where giant greaves in it, like a Bowie knife. That's what it was. A giant sword with a Bowie knife blade.
Jaune read quickly the inscription, that was basically the same as on the wall outside. The one on the outside said that only the head of the House of Arc can get into the room. While the one on the plaque said that only the one with the semblance that can silence the hills can wield this blade and don this helm.
Looking back at the doors that were starting to bend inwards from the Grimm slamming into them, Jaune decided to take the chance.
With desperate strength, he slammed his gauntlet covered fist into the glass, shattering it. He put on the helmet, but it didn't block his vision. When his hands grabbed the handle of the blade, a siren rang out, peircing the silent night and silencing the howls and growls of the creatures of malice.
It was a terrifying sound, like a recording of a tornado siren that was warped beyond recognition. Not like he cared. Nor did the Grimm. They finally broke through, their crimson eyes glowing in the dark room. Shrieks of otherworldly creation sounded from outside.
Then they charged. With growls and howls of Grimm and silence from the Last Human, the two charged at each other. Only for everything to freeze. Midswing, the giant blade froze. Mid pounce, the monsters froze. Then everything disappeared and repaired themselves.
The Grimm and the Last Huntsman vanished. The room repaired itself. The blade and helm reappeared back on the shelf.
Jaune woke up, startled. He looked around, taking in the surroundings of his old room, sunlight filtering the the window, wearing the blue bunny onesy he got rid of years ago (and now way too small for him), in a bed that was too soft for him.
He looked at the clock and blinked. It was the day he would leave to train and get the bare minimum of training in before he went to Beacon.