Chapter 1
Start of the Adventure

Safety Wall, biochemist. Soul Exhale, high priest. Indulge. Heal, self...

He looked up into the clear blue sky, the contents of the last hour repeating in his mind, unable to do anything but process the sounds and images as they filled his thoughts.

'...Incoming incarnations, assist with interception. Fiber Lock, incarnation. Soul Strike, ghost incarnation. Soul exhale, champion. Indulge. Heal, self. Heaven's Drive, incarnation...'

His thoughts… Was that what you would call them? Compared to now, where he could actually think well enough to have memories, those broken sentences could hardly be called thoughts. Barely formed subjects and actions, there was no way they could compare to the vivid play that was dancing in his mind's eye. And yet, thinking back, those fragments were the only thing that truly stuck out in his mind.

'... "NO! THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!" Projected health at 5%. Maintain distance. "I AM SATAN MORROC, DEMON KING OF DESTRUCTION!" Status: silenced. Consume green potion. Standby...'

At that moment, where victory seemed assured, his strongest thoughts were not any feeling of elation or adrenaline. He barely remembered any sort of emotional rush, nor could he remember any lingering pain. Each act of twisting his life force into spiritual energy barely registered, and the sensation of turning said spiritual energy to raw magical power was equally empty. Even the sensation of being silenced, unable to manifest his magical powers as something halted his spirit, didn't stick out.

'... Morroc fled. Battle concluded. MVP: xxxxxx. Collect fragments. Confirm supplies...'

A furrowed brow was the response to his next memory. He wasn't too sure where the term "MVP" came from, but he was fairly certain that the garbled mess that came afterwards was supposed to be a name. If the images in his memories were any indication, then the Champion with an odd light above her head was the alleged MVP, but he couldn't remember her name to save his life.

'... Follow. Approach Dimensional Gorge...'

And just like that, he followed the rest of the heroes towards the massive hole in the ground. The images in his memory didn't tell him if the arid desert air changed as he approached the rift, nor could he remember the sensation; he barely remembered what "arid" felt like. Instead, all it showed him was himself drawing closer to the dimensional gap, his position somewhere between the vanguard out front and the support behind. There was no one around him as he watched himself step into the rift.

'... Connection t-xxxx...xx-..ost ...'

And that was the last thing he could remember; a completely broken sentence that blocked the rest of the memory. That is, if you don't count him remembering the last few moments, when he finally found himself sprawled on ... the floor of some circular ruins? Well that's ominous. 'Comes with pedestals and everything.' Still, it was an odd sensation; for once, the memory's image was through his perspective, and he couldn't see himself at all. Just like now… though he was fairly certain there wasn't any sort of growling in the background at that point.

Oh.

Before he could contemplate further, the Scholar was introduced to another new sensation, as he was launched through the air and into a nearby pillar. There, he discovered the feeling of skipping across rock, air, and rock again, as well as the sharp pain of said rock meeting his back. It was unpleasant, but nothing he couldn't endure. With surprising speed, he clamoured up to his feet, sparing only a moment to check that all his equipment was still on his person. Hat? check. Books? also check. What about his fancy white gloves and pocket watch? All check. Monocle? Don't ask. Though really, he probably didn't need to check half those things, but no real harm in making sure.

A roar and another tackle from his assailant knocked him out of his thoughts, and he barely deflected the blow with the larger of his two books. The magical wards on the massive tome were strong enough to resist the blow, so its position as a shield wasn't ill-suited. Finally able to ward off an attack, the Scholar was finally given a chance to look at his assailant, and the sight of an oversized boar clad with ivory plating confused him.

'A black gullinbursti? With armour, I guess?' He reached for the name of the closest thing he could think of, and it fit well enough. Both creatures were much larger than wild boar, and enjoyed charging recklessly. Let's see if they burn the same... Reaching into his robe, he took out a bundle of thick webbing, no doubt from some deranged spider monster. Imbuing it with some spiritual energy, he launched it forward, the space in front of him glowing menacingly with a translucent spiderweb stretched along the ground. "Fiber Lock!"

He mentally cringed as he shouted out the technique's name, resolving to never do so again. Honestly, he wasn't too sure what possessed him to scream like that in the past. Regardless, the giant black boar of death charged forward, and was instantly wrapped with magically infused webbing. The next step was second nature to him, as the Scholar began collecting his spirit, lighting it with elemental flame. Unnaturally taut, the webbing remained intact as the disabled beast struggled, giving the Scholar plenty of time to finish his invocation, as ten separate streaks of fire pelted the boar in succession. A pained screech echoed from the monster's snout, fire igniting the webbing as it wrapped around the beast, freeing and immolating it at the same time.

As abruptly as they started, the twisted screeches ended, with both the web and boar alike consumed by the magical flame. Hopefully, nothing heard the noise, as the last thing the Scholar needed was more attention. 'At least until I figure out where I- ... Did its corpse just turn to smoke?' Whatever. Shaking his head, the Scholar finally began to look around. 'Might as well follow my job title for once.'

And with that, he began walking to the first interesting thing that caught his eye.

'Now that's... interesting.'

It was a contemplative thought, belonging to a man who really liked the colour green; a green scarf, jacket, even his vest and slacks were some kind of dark green. His gaze was currently fixed to some spot in the distance, and his expression was not a happy one. He took a quick sip from his mug, an ornament fixed permanently in one of his hands, before turning to his associate.

"Glynda, would you be so kind as to check on the artifacts for a moment?" His expression was serious, and his words carried a slight sense of urgency.

"Of course, Headmaster Ozpin." A professional voice responded to the man's inquiry, and Glynda instantly stopped halted her concerns about some child named Jaune, before shifting her attention back to her scroll. The sleek device was a flat black block, currently displaying one of the many camera feeds throughout the forest. With a few taps, the active feed cycled between various pairs of teenagers, skimming over brawls, arguments, and friendly conversations, until she finally stopped. "Wait, what is the meaning of this?"

"That's what I'd like to know, Glynda. Either a student we had no prior knowledge of just enrolled, started, and completed the test, or we may have a trespasser in our midst." Ozpin brought a hand up to his chin, idly stroking it as he watched the individual on the screen. "Odd choice of clothing as well."

Glynda could only nod in response. The person in question wore a red, sleeveless coat, which wasn't quite suited to the weather at this time of the year. Even more curiously, he wore some kind of cloth sleeves on his forearms that... had a meter or so of fabric extending out from them? But clothes were the least of her concern, as the teacher pulled up the applicant listing. "We have no student like that registered at Beacon."

"... This is concerning." Ozpin turned from Glynda's scroll, fixing his view back towards the horizon, staring off into the woods. "I believe one of the groups is about to make contact with our... friend. Let's hope this year's test doesn't prove to be too problematic."

It was at that moment that two teenage girls saw their goal.

The first girl had flowing blonde hair and violet eyes, carefully scanning the ruins with one hand tucked inside her brown leather jacket. Judging by her black short shorts and fingerless gloves, the gesture was more for show than a need to heed the elements, as only her yellow scarf afforded any real protection. The second girl dressed in black and white the same way the first did in yellow; a black ribbon was tied atop her long black, dressed in a black gothic waistcoat and black stockings that gradually turned to purple as they approached her black shoes.

"Think this is i- Hey! Who's that?" The blonde girl's calm demeanour was broken the instant she spotted a young man at the center of the ruins, one hand holding an unreasonably large book as he examined the floor tiles, all while kicking sporadically at the cobblestone. She turned to her partner, unsure of what they should do. "Don't suppose he's a friend of yours?"

A blank, tired stare was her response.

"Okay, sheesh. I didn't see a student like that earlier, though. Did you?" The blonde girl squinted a bit, taking in the odd attire that the young man wore. Surely she'd remember if someone wore something that ridiculous during the test's little peptalk, but she was drawing a blank. And judging by the fact that her partner's only shaking her head, she was fairly certain that wasn't a student. "Okay, so, if he's not a student, do you think he's a huntsman?"

"A huntsman would know about the test taking place at the moment." The girl in black finally spoke up, her voice low and filled with suspicion as she examined the ruins. "He doesn't look armed, but these are Grimm-infested woods. We should be careful." She knew full well that appearances could be deceiving, and proper precautions were neces-

"Hey! Mind telling who you are and why you're messing with our entrance exam?!" And in one fell swoop, her partner ignored all of it. The irritation on her face must've been obvious, if blonde girl's next words were anything to go by. "What's the matter, Blake?"

"You know what? Never mind." Blake gave her partner last tired stare, before gesturing to the man in the ruins, her voice somewhere between exasperated and sarcastic. "You wanna give him your name too while you're at it?"

"Uhh... I guess so? I'm Yang! Who're you?" Having caught none of Blake's tone, the blonde girl turned from partner to stranger in one smooth motion, giving him a friendly wave. That wave stopped as soon as they saw the look in his eyes.

"Ljlfp wrk pv mplcgy jvlmgaqu wy olj iycfp. Rff P rzn'k jgjcrnzrg avp ajkczgtn. Nzca rz yfm vdc hael?" The words coming from the man's mouth sounded... wrong. Coupled with his glare, and a strange build-up of aura, Blake and Yang immediately drew their weapons.