Jaune Arc was a simple boy. Sure, his family had tale after tale of great warriors(heroes and villains alike, though many chose to 'forget' the villains) among their men, but Jaune seemed destined to be the first Arc in centuries to buck the trend.
It wasn't that he didn't feel shame in not being a fighter, but rather that he felt no strong urge to take up a blade for any cause. The Huntsmen seemed to have things well in hand as a rule regarding Grimm, the White Fang were more or less under control, and the Arcs were plenty affluent.
'Don't get me wrong,' Thought Jaune. 'I'm not actually LAZY, I just really see no point one way or another.'
Jaune was also one of the few Arc men who wasn't naturally muscular, though many of them nevertheless had special semblances that set them apart enough that they could still do wondrous feats in battle.
Jaune had jack shit.
Okay, that's not entirely accurate. A few months after his aura was awoken by his father in a last-ditch effort to make something out of him one way or the other, he was suddenly seized by a powerful urge. He walked out of the village, pausing only to retrieve the sword his father had got him(Crocea Mors had gone to Jo, his oldest sister, who he heard was making quite a name for herself in several tournaments and in the mercenary circles) along with the shield. They were passable copies of Crocea Mors and its sheath when they were made, but years of neglect had left them rusty, a shell of what might have been.
The feeling that drove him-Surely it was his Semblance, for he had never felt quite so sure that he *had* to be somewhere, even when his mother, Joanne, was running after him with a broom when he was younger. He felt that he had to reach this place with a intensity that dwarfed all survival instinct.
A Beowolf leapt into his path and he reacted as if he was expecting it, despite his internal panic. His drive caused him to draw the rusty blade and stab it through the roof of the Beowolf's mouth, killing it before it even had a chance to howl. It left behind a patch of brown fur-probably from something it'd gotten into a territory dispute with. Jaune didn't bother grabbing it, continuing to walk until he found a mushroom circle.
Without hesitation, he stepped into the circle and finds himself in what seemed to be a stone temple. Ancient writing, writing he could not read but yet could understand(sort of) covers the temple walls. He pauses to read it.
"TO THE GOOD OF HEART AND PURE OF SOUL, I LEAVE THE ATLAMILLIA"
Read the first line.
…What?
"IN TIMES OF PERIL I RETURN TO SAFEGUARD THE WORLD WITH ATLA"
…What?!
"ONLY BEARERS OF THE ATLAMILLIA MAY FREE THE WORLD FROM THE ATLA, AND SHOULD THEY FALL IN THE TRYING, THE WORLD WILL BE FOREVER BEREFT OF HUMANITY."
What? No! That's horrible! Wait, is that humanity like humans or humans and faunus? I mean, humans only would be a little less bad, he guesses. Sure would make those White Fang maniacs happy.
"THE BEARER OF THE YELLOW ATLAMILLIA MAY TRAVEL BACK AND FORTH IN TIME, BUT BEWARE, FOR THINE ACTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES. THE RED AND BLUE ATLAMILLIA ARE EACH ONE WAY, BUT ALLOW PASSENGERS."
….Time travel? Okay, now that sounds cool. Shame about the 'consequences' thing, though. Time travel stories always get preachy about consequences. It really kinda sucks.
He stepped into the temple to find three pedestals. Only the one in the middle is occupied, so he stepped forward and reads the inscription on the wall.
"TAKE ONE, BEARER. KNOW THAT ON YOUR DEATH THE GEM WILL RETURN TO THE SHRINE. THE ONLY WAY IT SHALL NOT IS IF YOU PASS IT ON WHILST ALIVE, SUCH AS IF YOU ARE UNABLE TO CONTINUE YOUR ATLA UNSEALING JOURNEY."
He seized the gauntlet bearing the massive yellow gem. Surprisingly, it resizes to fit his hand.
And then he blacked out.
When he woke up, he was in his room with a gauntlet of pure gold and a massive topaz mounted on his right arm.
"So much for not being a warrior." He muttered
"Of course a master of the Atlamillia would be a warrior!" A surprised voice came from his right arm, and Jaune screamed like a little girl.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?!"
"...Now that's just hurtful." The gauntlet sighed. "My NAME is Steve, and I'm the gauntlet housing the Atlamillia."
"Okay, new question-" Jaune is cut off by his father, Azure Arc rushing into the room with a large sword in hand.
The gauntlet stayed silent as Azure and Jaune stared at it.
"...Son? Where did you get that?"
"Tell ya what, Dad, if I can figure that out, I'll let you know."
"...I heard another voice in here."
"Oh, good, so I'm not crazy." Jaune blithely remarks.
"No, you're crazy, you're just not hallucinating." A feminine voice from the door snarks.
"...Oh my god, Lotus." Azure moaned. "Read the room."
"Hey! This is a ripoff! I coulda been stuck with a actual warrior or a total hottie like her, and instead I get this schmuck?!" Steve yelped.
Every eye in the room turned towards the gauntlet.
"...Uuuuuuuuh… I mean…"
CLANG!
"OW!"
CLANG!
"OW!"
CLANG!
"PLEASE, JUST STOP! I'M SORRY!"
CLANG!
"AAAH! I WON'T CALL ANY OF YOUR FAMILY HOT AGAIN, OKAY?!"
"And?"
"..."
CLANG!
"AAGH! I WON'T INSULT YOUR SON!"
Jo brushes her hands clean and casually lobs the sledgehammer off to the side, where Azure catches the head between thumb and forefinger. "Right. I think you two can settle the rest of this….interesting business...between yourselves. You'll be….forthcoming, right?"
"Y-yes'm!"
"...Please stop hitting my arm with the hammer, I can feel it through…Steve…"
"Oh, I'm so sorry, honey. I didn't break anything, did I?" Jo's semblance was healing, so she had a bit of a lackluster attitude towards injury-which ironically enough, was the exact opposite of how she felt before she got it, which is why she got it in the first place.
"No, I'm probably just a touch bruised." Jaune grumbled before heading up to his room.
"Steve. Explain."
And so the gauntlet started to speak.
Once,(said Steve) thousands of years ago, there was a fifth kingdom where magic flourished.
"Wait, MAGIC?"
"Interrupt me again, Jauney, see what happens!"
"Er…. You get put on the anvil again…?"
Anyway, magic was a boon to the people. Illnesses were obliterated in mere moments. Injuries likewise. Crops plentiful. Grimm obliterated. Of course, there were always those who used it to destructive ends, but any who were not killed outright were more or less restored.
"Were there magical creatures back then?"
Yes, actually. Genies, unicorns….
Anyway, there were two siblings, Ozymandias and Salem, who were true prodigies with sword and spell alike. Unfortunately for all, they rarely saw eye to eye. For instance, Salem believed that the destructive powers were paramount, while Ozymandias believed that creation was mightier. It was this conflict that would destroy the city they both loved.
Ozymandias created four Maidens, women empowered with magic inherently. For you see, Magic required external foci. Their power was to outlast death, heralding forth a new age of magic should the city be destroyed.
Salem created four Relics, mighty Foci that would usher death to any who opposed their wielders.
Ozymandias responded by inventing a way that any person might tap their own life, either to create a barrier or work a single, simple 'spell'. It is not truly magic, as the energies that power it are different and the methodology is different; i cannot easily explain it.
And then Salem, in her pursuit to outdo her brother, read one dark tome too many and got the mad idea to create a spell that would make Grimm obey the caster.
The resultant backlash blew up the moon and leveled nearly the entire kingdom. The only intact building was their heavily shielded magical lab, with two separate magical workshops. The backlash also drove Salem mad with power and Ozymandias mad with grief. He created me and the Yellow Atlamillia to try to undo the damage, but alas, the Atlamillia can only travel to times when they already exist. So he created two more, in case tragedy befell the world, and before he sealed me away, he spoke to me.
"I am creating one last spell, one that I will call 'Ozymandias's Pain'." He said. "A bond on the essence of my soul, anchoring me to this world until I have fixed what we wrought."
And then he lifted his staff into the air, and spoke a incantation. "That nobody may remember that magic was once real, and the depth of that we have lost that day." He said sadly before creating the shrine in which you found me.
And then, last night, you barged in, found me and wore me.
"...And I should believe you why? Like I'm the only one you've been held by since."
"Okay, so I skipped a bit….but I'm not at liberty to disclose the rest."
"What about this magic?"
"Ah, now that I can prove. Go to the fireplace in the living room."
He hesitates and does so.
"Point my palm at it and intone the following words: Akla Mox Fandou."
"A-Akla Mox Fandou." Jaune manages to repeat, and a gout of flame emerges from the palm of Steve. "HOLY FUCK!"
"Ugh… that chews up my energy like nobody's business."
"That-That wasn't dust. What was that?!"
"Magic, you daft buf-" There's a clanging sound "You deft, buff young lad!" He hastily corrects himself. Jaune stifles a snort. "So, what adventures will we go on, young master?"
"We're going to Vytal next week." He says casually.
"Jaune has a crush on one of the members of one of the teams competing!" Chirps the youngest, Sapph.
"Oh? Well, I assure you, I am quite the ladies' man, if you catch my drift. Er, ladies' gauntlet?"
"...I don't think Weiss would want to have a threesome with sentient handwear." Jaune deadpans.
"Ah. Pity."
Jaune facepalms with his other hand and goes to get started on packing for Vytal.