Trees swayed in the mid-afternoon sunshine, a pleasant breeze running its fingers through blonde hair, tinted scarlet. The man knelt atop the hill, his hands resting on his blade's pommel. His shield lay beside him where it had fallen. The man's breathing was ragged, his body torn and battered. His armour was long gone, reduced to scrap. Gone too was his aura, expended almost to the last. Jaune Arc knelt alone, war torn and weary, gone far beyond the limits of humanity in his last stand.

He looked to the sky, his one good eye squinting in the light. Gathering his legs beneath him, he forced himself to his feet. His sword and shield came with him, Crocea Mors so caked in blood that even its splendour could no longer shine through. Jaune looked forward to the open fields he faced, to the untold number of corpses strewn in his wake. There had been more; but creatures of Grimm were anathema to this world, and it would not hold them past their time. One still stood; at the very centre, a great Beowolf, perhaps a pack leader.

Jaune began to walk; his steps were lurching at first, but as he moved they began to smooth out. Jaune ran; his body was failing him, his spirit was exhausted, his mind was almost gone...and so his heart sustained him, rage and pain and grief and everything he'd been holding onto thrown to the flames in one last act, the same inhuman power that had slain over a thousand Grimm that day. The massive Grimm ran too, its alien mind knowing only the urge to rend the human before it.

With a scream and a roar, the two came together. The exchange was brief, over in seconds. The Beowolf fell first, its head and right hand cleanly removed. Jaune remained standing for a few moments more; at the last, his face turned skyward, raised his hand as if to touch the sun, his blade glinting once through its scarlet shroud.

Then he fell.

The Night Before

History had never been Jaune's strong suit. He understood the need to learn from the past, but unless it pertained to battle strategy it never seemed to stick with him. One thing was perfectly clear to him, however.

Today was always going to have a place in history.

Beacon was gone. Vale's shining light was extinguished, reduced to a Grimm infested nightmare. The city and surrounding area had been likewise occupied, as Grimm from all across the country gathered there, drawn by the monstrosity frozen atop the tower. Of course, that wasn't even the worst of it. Not to Jaune at least.

To Jaune only one thing really mattered. He'd lost Pyrrha.

As soon as her name came to mind, images flashed across Jaune's mind.

Pyrrha in the locker rooms of Beacon, when they first met. A kind smile and quiet confidence, a friend waiting to be made.

Hanging from a tree in the Emerald Forest, rescued twice in a row by the red-haired warrior with the beautiful smile who accepted him as a partner.

Later that day, when she had unlocked his aura, as they shared a kinship for a split second which changed the course of his life.

Hours of training, dancing with their weapons under the stars with nothing in the world but each other.

Pyrrha, kissing him, then forcibly evacuating him as she went to try and defend the school.

The scream from the tower's peak, the flash of white light which was seen from miles away, the sickening wrench in his chest as a part of him he didn't even know he needed was ripped away...

Jaune pulled his knees up to his face, his back to a tree in the moonlight. He was just outside a staging area the Atlas military had set up just outside of Vale to be used as a rest point when their fleet was returning. Ren, Nora and several of his other classmates had been forced to drag him on to a transport as he tried to get back to Pyrrha, to save his friend who was so much more than just a friend...

Now he was here. Aimless. Purposeless. An empty shell.

Worthless.

Jaune's hands tightened. Worthless. No, not worthless. Pyrrha hadn't trained him to be worthless. She'd trained him to be a warrior, to become a Huntsman worthy of his family's legacy. She had taken a boy with nothing but ideals and a sword he couldn't use, and she had forged him into something new. He wasn't the same Jaune Arc who had snuck into Beacon using faked transcripts. He wasn't the same Jaune Arc who lost every sparring match he was in, who subjected himself to countless little humiliations because of blackmail.

He was the leader of team JNPR. He was a warrior, trained by Pyrrha Nikos. He was an Arc, dammit!

No, he wasn't worthless. Pyrrha had done too much for him to think so little of himself. But the fact remained that he hadn't been good enough. Maybe...if he'd been faster, stronger, smarter...maybe. But no - he had just been Jaune Arc, and as always, that just wasn't enough. And this time, he hadn't paid the price.

Pyrrha had.

She had done everything for him, he realised now. She had sought him out as a partner, and unlocked his aura when no one else would have. She had followed him as a leader, when such an accomplished warrior had no business following an inept bumbler like him. She had trained him, given him the skills he needed to defend himself and others. There was no part of Jaune which he didn't owe to Pyrrha...

There was a debt to be paid here.

Some moments in time, when seen from the outside, resemble nothing more than a crossroads. There might be two roads or there might be uncountable options, but the concept remains the same. Free will, the characteristic which so defines humanity, makes it impossible to always predict what they'll do. So when Jaune made his decision, one road vanished...and one journey began.

The blonde figure stood. Crocea Mors flashed on his waist, even in the moonlight. It was so simple...every part of him had been forged by Pyrrha, from the ground up. He owed her his life...so what better way to repay his debt than to offer it back?

Eyes of blue frosted over, almost dimming as the scattered mind within swirled and condensed. Every thought, every feeling, every following action would be dedicated to one idea.

Avenge Pyrrha.

The not-quite-Jaune re-entered the staging area. A minute's search yielded a notepad and pen, which the blonde sat with for a minute. When his message was complete, he folded the paper and addressed it. Tucking the folded paper into a slumbering Nora's hand, the figure left the staging area once again.

As Jaune Arc's body left the station, eyes with no more life than a frozen tundra looked to the horizon. There was no Jaune left now - all there was now was his purpose. With nothing more than the armour on his back and the weapon at his hip, the blonde took off running towards Vale.

Towards Beacon.

An Hour Later

Lie Ren returned from a long conversation with an Atlas military officer regarding his and Nora's evacuation. Due to their status as orphans, they were responsible for themselves, and Ren's mind was already spiralling with ideas he could propose to Jaune. He was, after all, the only one on their team with a fixed home outside of Beacon. Approaching the bench where he had left Nora, he found her sitting upright. Magnhild lay on the floor beside her.

She was shaking.

Ren moved to her side instantly, and noticed she was holding what was now a heavily crumpled piece of paper. Turning to see her face, he was shocked to see her crying. Nora hadn't cried like this in years – even with the destruction of Beacon she had been more angry than anything. He started to ask what was wrong, but Nora simply held the shaking paper towards the martial artist. He grasped it, and his eyes moved quickly over the writing. He began to shake too as he read.

"Ren, I'm writing this because you and Nora have been such great team mates and friends over the time we have known each other, and to simply leave with no explanation would be far less than you deserve. So here's what I wanted to say.

I would be nothing without you and the others. In fact, I would most likely have been gone from Beacon long ago. But the training you gave me, and the support you showed me, carried me on. You were the pillars that kept me up. But I know now that Pyrrha was the one I needed most.

I can't live without her. I simply can't – not any more. She became a part of me, as much as my heart or my soul. With her gone, all that is left for me is to slowly wither. So, I will own the legacy her training has left with me. I'm returning to Beacon, to take revenge for myself and for her.

I probably won't be coming back.

Thank you for everything. Say goodbye to the others for me, will you? To Ruby, Weiss, Blake and Yang, and to Nora as well. I couldn't have asked for better friends or allies.

Live well.

Jaune Arc"

Ren let the letter fall from his hand as he spun around, racing for the nearest Atlas soldier. Despite his explanation and his urgency, the Atlas military couldn't set off after Jaune at night – the risk of moving personnel in under these conditions was too high for a single life.

Nora at his side, the martial artist burst out of the staging area. A moment's orientation and the partners were facing toward Beacon, immediately breaking into a run as they raced to save their friend. Ren and Nora took the same route Jaune had, setting off with the moon at its zenith. Stormflower and Magnhild were at the ready, both running figures instant death for any Grimm they encountered.

It would take a lot more than the forces of darkness to stop them.

The pair arrived at Beacon hours later, unable to match the self-destructive lengths to which the blonde was driving his body. The sun had risen as they moved, and they could see the crouching man atop a nearby hill. They drove themselves harder, even as the familiar figure moved to its feet. It began to run with jerky movements, Ren reaching for new speed that simply wasn't there.

He crested the hill just in time to see his leader and the massive Beowolf collide, to see the flawless cut that he delivered. He kept moving over the hill's peak, moving toward Jaune who stood with his hand stretched to the sky. As the blonde slowly began to topple, Ren reached out his own hand, trying vainly to cover the distance between himself and his friend as he fell.

"Jaune!"

A quiet thump, somehow audible over even Ren's heartbeat and the sounds of his running feet, echoed through his being.

And then there was silence.

And then there was darkness.

And then there was falling.