Bright Steel: Onward to the Horizon
Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/Stay Night, Type Moon, RWBY or the character called Black Wing. The last belongs to the author beyond compare, Lupine Horror.
Prologue: Power and Costs
'To Master Jaune Arc,
It is with regret that we, the Board of SIGNAL Hunter's Academy, deny your application to join our prestigious school due to your failure to qualify the entry requirements. While your skills were commendable, and can only improve into the future, they have not reached the level required to enter our institution.
As this is also your third attempt to enter this Academy, and that you have reached the age of sixteen, we are forced, by policy, to refuse any other application into our school, as a student, that you will make in the future.
Your transcript, by law, has also been disseminated to all major Hunting Academies within Vytal, save that of BEACON due to being a privately funded institution and having entrance requirements that differ from our, and our sister academies funded by the government of the Kingdom of Vytal, own.
Taking this into account, it is sadly unlikely that our sister academies will accept you into their halls as a student and, again with great regret, suggest that you discuss with a career advisor what path that you should take in the future.
With sincere apologies,
Qrow Branwen
Headmaster of SIGNAL Hunter's Academy
P.S. Sorry about having to do this, kid, but my hands are tied. Q.'
For the tenth time that day, the scion, and heir, of the Arc bloodline, a family that had produced Hunters ever since the Great War, read the formally printed letter that damned his desired future and shattered his dreams.
A blonde head of hair dropped into the owner's hands, his face making the letter already in them crinkle slightly. Shoulders shook as their owner tried desperately to withhold the emotions that raged within him even as his covered eyes started to sting and feel hot, as if they were filling with salt water.
"Damn it!" He cursed harshly, wetly, "Damn it! Damn it!"
It had been his last chance to possibly become a Hunter! And he had blown it like a crate of Flame dust next to a fire!
His fist slammed into the ground beside him, leaving an imprint.
He had tried his best! He had fought to the best of his abilities in the combat test! He had studied as much as he could for the paper test, memorising the various types of Grimm and trying to ingraining various historical facts into his mind! But it had all been for naught.
Just like it had been for the two years before.
Jaune Arc snarled and practically threw the damning piece of stationery away, disgusted both with the trite, and very insincere (but painful and truthful), words that had been written on it and with himself, for his weakness, for his stupidity.
And for daring to have even a fraction of hope that he could have succeeded when he should have known better. The third time lucky concept only worked in fairy tales and novels, not in real life.
He took a long shuddering breath as he tried to get a hold of himself, to calm the raging temper that wanted to roar at the world like a Nemean into the night as he tried to rationalise things, to look at things from another angle.
He would fully admit that he was far from the best candidate to become a Hunter. He wasn't the fastest or most nimble of people, which in itself was a large requirement to become a Hunter due to sheer strength that many Grimm had, exceeding the level that the vast majority of Faunus or humans could obtain. Sometimes, when faced with the beasts that had no soul, all one could do was run, a Hunter knowing that he was completely unmatched and retreating one day in order to come back the next with enough strength to take the beast down.
Nor was he the strongest, though that was one of his greatest asset at present. He wasn't built like a brick wall, able to soak up heavy damage and deal it out just as much, but he could pull a bit more strength behind a hit with either blade or fist than one would expect after giving him a once over. That said, there were plenty, his age or even younger, with more strength than he.
He was also far from the most skilled in weaponry. His weapon of choice, if it could even be called that considering the circumstances under which he had obtained them, had been a plain steel longsword, much like the one that sat above the mantlepiece in its sheath at home, a relic from the Great War that had been wielded by his ancestor, Julius Arc. He had obtained it from an estate sale of a Hunter that had fallen in the line of duty a while back, managing to get it relatively cheaply (though it had cost a decent chunk of the cash in his savings account).
It wasn't much in the way of a weapon, but it was serviceable. Perhaps he could have simply taken his ancestor's sword off of the mantle to use, but he had more respect for his ancestors than that. He would only take up that weapon when he believed he had proven himself worthy of it. He had his honour and he would be damned to the Pit before he sullied it.
His skill with the weapon, that he had not forged himself, or had a custom made weapon from a professional smith, like he had heard many of those who attended SIGNAL and other Academies did, had also been almost entirely self taught, lacking either a tutor or teacher. His sisters, all seven of them, were younger than he by a few years at least, and as such had no experience in either weapons or fighting, having been too young to be taught anything more than basic self defence.
His parents, Elite Hunters both, were unable to help either, almost always too busy with the workload that Elite Hunters had to shoulder, and what free time they did have was devoted to his little sisters, something that Jaune didn't begrudge them, and indeed approved of, and had dealt with this lack oversight in his training in his own way. A personal tutor had also been out of the question, the expense of such people was prohibitive, being just shy of ridiculous, and they would, no doubt, have no desire to teach a boy with barely even an adequate grasp on fighting techniques.
Those two factors had lead him to being almost being creamed by a clearly better trained, and better equipped, opponent in the qualifying rounds of the combat test. He had managed to last two minutes against a smarmy blonde prick, with what was clearly a fake five o'clock shadow, in a cowboy hat who used a pair of six shooters with various typed Dust rounds. Jaune was barely able to dodge the bullets, and that was probably because the bastard looked like he wasn't even trying, and wasn't able to close the range between them either, which would have given the swordsman a small advantage for him to capitalise on. He had been put out of his misery when the gunslinger wannabe finally decided to end it, having had his fun humiliating the Arc scion by making him 'dance' from the rounds he had fired at his feet, and planted a pair of Wind Dust rounds into his gut and blast him off the stage. Jaune was still wincing a fortnight later from the bruise that that had caused on his abdomen.
To add even more insult to injury, the bastard had also shot his sword, when Jaune had been sent flying, with a Red Dust round, making the sword seem to explode into little pieces.
Jaune had glared at the gunslinger for doing that, only to receive a derisive sneer as the poncho wearing bastard spat in his direction and then walked away with an arrogant swagger, not deigning Jaune even worthy of wasting his breath to insult.
He could also admit that he wasn't the smartest of people. He liked to read, don't get him wrong, and he wasn't an ignorant moron. But he was more of a 'street smart' kind of kid, learning lessons in life through the school of hard knocks rather than from a dry and dusty tome. Trying to memorise facts and figures via studying just didn't click with him. He was more of a hands on type.
If he only had just one more chance, just a little bit more help, a nudge in the right direction...
He sighed heavily to himself, slumping down under the large tree that he used as his thinking spot. Who was he kidding? He deserved the rejection from the Academy. He just wasn't cut out to be a Hunter. Perhaps he should take the Headmaster's advice and...
The slight sound of clearing throat made him almost jump to his feet and out of his skin with a yelp of fright. It sounded like it had come from just over his shoulder! How the hell could someone get that close without him noticing?!
He twisted around on his rump, turning to face the person who had surprised him, and was met with one of the strangest sights he had ever seen.
"My apologies," the musical voice of the strange person said, something that looked like a weird sleeping mask made out of metal, etched with a weird s-shaped design, looking directly into Jaune's startled eyes. "I believe this is yours?" The stranger enquired, a slim, effeminate, hand with black tinted nails extended, filled with a slightly crumpled familiar piece of paper. The stranger's mouth was curled into a little smile, slightly exposing their teeth, which looked a little sharper than they really should be to the Arc scion.
The person looked young, younger than Jaune at least, though there was an air of experience, a metaphorical weight in the way the person held themselves that belied the outward appearance. Slim and not too tall, maybe around five and a half feet or just a touch more, shorter by a significant margin than Jaune's even six feet. The stranger was dressed in tightly fitting black clothes, with a full length sleeved shirt, full leg leggings (Jaune wasn't quite sure if they were trousers or some weird form of jeans) with, unsurprisingly, black leather boots and there were pieces of what looked to be some form of black lacquered armour over some of the person's vital spots, a possible indication of some who fought, whether it be Grimm or other, for a living. What skin Jaune could see was pale, very pale, but falling just shy of being called unhealthy and was only blemished by the intricate marking on the person's forehead, a perfect mirror of the marking upon the blindfold.
The most striking feature, however, was the person's hair. A lustrous dark purple curtain than ran almost to the ground that was was streaked with a few hints of black. Either it was a brilliant due job, that must have cost a fortune considering how much hair that the person had, or their hair was naturally that colour, which could be possible considering some of the hair colours that the would be Hunter had seen in the past. Jaune could also swear blind that he saw the long strands move of their own accord, but he wasn't sure.
Add on the fact that the person was completely androgynous, to the point that Jaune couldn't figure out if the person was male or female, even the person's voice not giving away any hints, and Jaune could safely say that this was the strangest person he had ever seen. Hands down.
Well...except for the One Time That Shall Never Be Mentioned. Jaune shuddered inwardly. He still had nightmares about watermelons at times.
"Haha," he laughed/grimaced sheepishly, reaching to take the paper that symbolised the ruin his life had become, "Thanks. The names Jaune Arc, sir."
"Well met then, Mr. Arc," the person said with a small smile, letting go of the paper as the descendent of Julius Arc took it from the person's hand, "Call me Blackwing."
"Only if you call me Jaune, sir," the amateur swordsman countered, grimacing slightly at the paper that had now been returned to him and slipping it into his back pocket. He would brood on it later. His problems were his own to deal with, he wouldn't let them affect another, especially one that seemed friendly, if more than a little strange.
"As you wish then, Jaune," the slim person said with a small nod, before raising a slight eyebrow, thin and dark, above the metal mask, "Do you mind...?" The person asked, trailing off as they gestured vaguely at the grass beside Jaune.
"Go ahead," Jaune said with a nod, before pausing slightly in confusion, a thought occuring to him as he looked at the blindfold the person wore, "errr, I don't mean to be rude, but do..." The Arc child was swiftly cut off before he could make more of an ass of himself.
"Don't worry," the person said with half laugh/ half giggle, which really didn't help Jaune confusion about the person's gender, as they seemed to flow, with a grace that had Jaune's hairs on the back of his neck rise suddenly for no apparent reason, to the ground into a cross legged sitting position, making it look easy, even as the slimly muscled back reclined against the bark of the old oak behind him. "I am quite capable of moving around by myself," the small smile on the pale face became a smirk as a painted fingernail, that looked almost long enough to be a claw, tapped the blindfold, "I can see quite well, even with this contraption on. I just wear it more for other's piece of mind than anything else." The blindfolded head then leaned back, as if the tree and grass were a comfortable lawn chair, and looked up into the branches, proceeding to ignore Jaune completely.
Jaune felt like an idiot, and confused, but didn't say anything a word. Better to be thought a fool than open his mouth and remove all doubt.
Seeing as the person didn't seem to be fazed at all, completely unconcerned with his company, Jaune decided to copy the person, leaning back himself to look up through the branches to the slowly reddening and darkening sky, a sign that sunset and dusk was drawing near. He decided to stay here for a while longer, it was rather calming and would let him get his equilibrium back before he returned home. He didn't want to turn his frustration on his sisters, they had done nothing to deserve that.
A few moments passed in comfortable silence between the two of them, one lost in his own thoughts, running through plans and ideas of what to do in the future, and the other just counting the leaves in the tree above out of sheer boredom.
Absently, Jaune began to hum a small tune that his father had shown him years ago, when he was still but a child, a tune that had stayed stuck in his head ever since and was something that gave the Arc descendent a sense of comfort and peace.
"The March of Cambreadth," the musical voice of the purple haired stranger came suddenly, making Jaune stop humming and turn his head to meet the blindfolded gaze of the person named Blackwing, a look of questioning on his youthful face.
"Pardon?" Jaune blurted out in question, barely managing to keep a hold of his manners that his mother had painstakingly instilled in him as much as possible in his surprise.
"That tune you were humming," the weird person explained, "It was the 'March of Cambreadth'. It's a popular song amongst warriors, particularly Hunters."
"I never knew the name of it," Jaune confessed, "or even the lyrics. It was just a tune my dad use to hum when I was younger."
"He a Hunter?" Blackwing questioned Jaune.
Jaune nodded, suddenly more somber, "As was his father before him, and his father's father before that. The Arc family, my dad's side, has had an unbroken line of Hunters going all the way to the first patriarch of the family, Julius Arc, back in the Great War."
"Impressive," Blackwing said with a degree of respect, "And will you continue that legacy? That tradition?"
Jaune flinched violently, his mood sent plummeting into the abyss of despair and disappointment. He didn't say a word, just laying a hand on the paper in his pocket, before bunching a fist and crushing it. Jaune doubted -no, knew- that he wouldn't be able to. He was too weak, too unworthy, to be able to be one of those guardians of Humanity.
"I see." Blackwing's voice said softly, not taunting or comforting, just accepting what the action meant. It strangely made Jaune's mood improve a little. This person wasn't going to tease him about his deplorable skills, he wasn't going to give him false hope that he could possibly attain that vaunted rank. The purplette just accepted it, like it didn't matter to the stranger, that it wasn't of concern.
It callous, perhaps even cruel, but it was sincere and truthful, something that made Jaune feel better than the sweet false platitudes that Qrow Branwen had written, or that his mother and sisters would give when he got home and broke the bad news.
There was silence again between them, Jaune looking down, wallowing shallowly in his self-disgust, unknown to him, Blackwing eyed the slump shouldered teen that seemed older than the purple haired youth from behind the metallic blindfold.
Blackwing then spoke again, with a hint of curiosity in those melodic tones, "Are you going to give up then?" The blindfolded teen asked, quite seriously. "Will you seek another path in life? Or will you try again?"
Jaune barked a bitter laugh. If only the pale kid knew.
"I've already tried." Jaune said bitterly, his face scrunched in a flash of anger, his eyes flashing. Something that immediately drew Blackwing's attention, the seeming teen's head cocked sideways in thought and the marked brow furrowed in a speculative frown. "Twice in fact," Jaune growled lowly, an almost inhuman sound that made Blackwing's brow furrow further.
Jaune tore his clenched fist, in which was grasped his denied application, out of his pocket roughly, shaking it in front of him as he began to lose control of his temper for the first time in quite a few years.
"This was my third time trying to get into SIGNAL," Jaune snarled, his eyes becoming slightly hot, not that he noticed, as he glared at the damnable scrap of pulped wood, "It was my last chance! The Hunter Academies only let someone have three shots at making the cut, then they are pretty much blacklisted from the Hunter profession. None of the other government run Academies would even spare more time for any application I make to them that it does to look up my name and record before stamping 'Denied' in red ink on it!"
Jaune panted harshly as he vented his frustration, the boiling rage and anger and despair that simmered beneath his skin, ready to lash out. To many, it would have been a surprising, not to mention possibly terrifying, sight to see the usually mild mannered teen vent his anger. His temper had twisted his visage into something darker, more primal, and his eyes burned with all the intensity of the sun.
Blackwing, however, just remained seated, listening calmly to the blonde's angered exclamations with any sense of perturbation. It would take a great deal more than just an angry face to make Blackwing shift away. The long haired teen had seen worse, done worse, over the course of the years.
"And what of non-government run Academies?" Blackwing asked calmly, "I am sure that there are some private academies that could accept you...given the right incentive."
Jaune snorted, slumping back against the rough bark of the ancient oak again, staring moodily toward the setting sun, a ball of blood hovering above the Leviathan infested depths of the ocean in the distance. Above them, the shattered moon of Remnant began to be visible.
"There aren't any of those in Vytal," Jaune growled at Blackwing, angered at the implications of what the long haired weirdo had said. Though a part of that anger was also guilt and shame. He had thought of that possibility before. "Except for BEACON, but that has more stringent entry requirements than the government Academies. Besides," he grimaced tightly, "I still have more honour than that."
'Barely,' the snide voice of his personal devil whispered in the back of his mind. He ruthlessly crushed it into silence. He didn't need that bullshit right now.
Blackwing hummed in approval. "It is good to see that you do have that honour," the purplette said coolly, "It proves that you understand the seriousness of the jobs that Hunters perform...and know the realities of what they face."
Jaune grunted tightly. He knew well what Hunters faced out in the Grimm infested lands of Remnant. He had seen the aftermath, the price that Hunters paid in order to ensure that Humanity survived another night.
His father had two brothers, both older, both Hunters. Identical twins. Jaune remembered playing with them when he was much younger, laughing at the strange faces they made at him. They had also taught him how to swim.
His father was now an only child. And Jaune had no doubt that, eventually, either his father or mother would become a widow/er and he and his sisters will eventually only have one parent. And it would be doubtful that they would even have a body to bury, to grieve over and mourn, in their own way.
A Hunter's end is rarely met at home.
While Jaune wanted to become a Hunter, more than just anything in his life, he was not going to put people, Hunters or civilians, at risk to obtain that dream solely for the sake of his own pride. His uncles would turn in their graves if he dishonoured the profession so.
"A question, if I may?" Blackwing said, making Jaune look at the blindfolded teen with an irritated look. Didn't the weirdo know that he was brooding? "Why do you want to become a Hunter so badly, knowing the fate that will eventually await you? Surely there is more than just family pride at stake. You don't strike me as one to follow tradition blindly."
Jaune frowned slightly. That was a rather personal question, and the answer was just as private. He really didn't want to share it with a virtual stranger that he had met only minutes ago. Yet there was some part of him that wanted to get it off his chest, to make someone understand his drive, his desires. To know that they were more than just selfish whims and a lust for fame and recognition, though he would admit, in the privacy of his soul, that the latter wouldn't be unappreciated.
"...Family tradition does play a small part," Jaune admitted after a moment, "and I can't say I wouldn't mind the recognition that comes with being a Hunter," he gave a wry quirk of his lips, "I don't exactly have much in the way of self-esteem so becoming a Hunter, something to be proud of, would really give me a boost there." The quirk of his lips turned down, becoming far more somber under the unseen eyes of Blackwing, "But mostly it is because I want to be strong," he clenched his fists tight enough to pierce through the paper in one and for his nails to cut his palm, making him bleed sluggishly, in the other. "Strong enough to protect what I hold dear, to never be helpless when they are threatened and I am right there but can't do anything!" Jaune felt his eyes burn, his vision waver, and the scent of hot salt water enter his nostrils.
Jaune's mind rang with remembered screams, the rattle of chains and cruel, mocking laughter.
"Not again."
Blackwing looked speculatively at the hunched and brooding blonde haired teen. There was a story there. A big one. And the details were probably more than a little horrible.
The depravities that man would willingly inflict on their fellows never ceased to surprise him. And this was coming from someone who could be considered the incarnation, or avatar, of Angra Mainyu!
Human imagination always seemed to twist itself into nightmares if given the right push.
He turned away from Jaune Arc as his mind started to churn with his thoughts. Thinking about an experiment that he had been wanting to do ever since he had managed to find this strange world by pure accident after a bout with Gramps.
The underlying principles of this world, the Natural Laws that governed it, were quite a bit different, incredibly so, than those that were inscribed on the realities closer to his original home world. Especially in the area of metaphysics/Magecraft.
Aura and Semblances. Grimm and Dust. Men and Faunus. And a shattered moon looking over it all. It was, indeed, a world so different compared to his own.
It made the scientist in him salivate, his ever curious mind hungry for knowledge. A particular part of him, a shattered aspect of his soul, named Dream or Destruction, was particularly eager to investigate, and experiment with, the many wonders of this world that he had arrived in only a week before.
Starting with the boy that had thrown a slip of paper into his face.
One particular experiment that he wanted to investigate was that of Aura and Semblances.
Aura, in this world, was defined as the 'light of one's soul made manifest'. That description had immediately drew his attention. The description was vague, but it sounded far too similar to the magic of Heaven's Feel, or just magecraft in general, for him not to take a good look. Preliminary explorations into this 'Aura' revealed to him that it was very similar to prana, the energy used to perform magecraft. So similar as to almost be identical, but not quite.
However, the bodies of these people, to his own surprise, lacked any magical circuits through which to channel that power. Not that they really needed them. Instead, they channeled it through their own bodies.
In his world, that would have been the height of folly, much like Shirou's mistaken cannibalising of his nerves to create a temporary magical circuit, with very similar consequences. The energy of prana, of the astral plane, is not very conductive to the physical unless specifically and carefully managed and guided.
In this world, however, it seemed that this was beneficial. The Aura of the person naturally bolstering their physical attributes, like a constant Reinforcement of the body, even making an energy field around the person that blunted attacks directed at them, reducing the force and power of them.
Blackwing definitely wanted to have a deeper look into that. The possibilities that this could mean alone...
Then there was the real cream of the crop. Semblances.
Or something he knew better as Elements and Origins.
The Semblances seemed to be a combination of these two aspects of magecraft and harmoniously combine them to create an effect that mirrored the soul of the Aura user in some way, representing what they truly were in the deepest corners of their souls. An Aura user that had found their Semblance, Blackwing posited, and had trained it, could possibly equal a Master Magi in a similar field of study.
He knew magi who would kill for that type of ability. The gift of Aura even more so.
He eyed the boy, in comparison to his own age, carefully. He seemed to be just an average joe, at least on the surface. Nothing about him stood out amongst the rest of the population.
However, Blackwing was a master at 'looking underneath the underneath'.
If he was careful, with the right words and actions, he might just be able to get a test subject through which he could experiment (he was raised a magus, despite his loving family. Taking advantage of what resources you can obtain, even if it is human lives, in pursuit of one's goal was considered completely acceptable in that society.) and maybe, just maybe...
"A noble reason," the blindfolded teen noted to the depressed looking blonde, "and more realistic than many dreams that I have heard," the sole male gorgon scoffed slightly, remembering other foolish utterances he had heard, full of vanity and arrogance so thick that he was surprised the fools didn't choke on their words, "but even better, it also won't limit your growth," Blackwing continued, his slightly sharp canines nibbling his lip in thoughtful approval.
"...how do you mean?" Said the blonde, sounding curious against his will, making Blackwing inwardly smirk as the purplette brought the lessons he learned from his Grandfather, the King of Trolls, to bear, baiting the hook for the ignorant fish to bite.
"If you seek the strength to protect...you must never stop." Blackwing said seriously, furrowing his brow, "There is one irrefutable truth in this world." He raised a slim and pale hand, holding up a single finger to emphasise the importance of his next words. "There is always someone, something, stronger than you out there." Blackwing paused for a moment to let that sink in, "No matter how mighty you are, how much proof of your valiant deeds are laid at your feet, there will always be an existence that can hit harder than you, endure more than you, move faster than you, is more skilled than you, is just plain better than you... And more often than not, that existence, that being, will be your enemy." His frown deepened as those blue eyes widened, " And the only way you can delay that, or even prevent it, is to accept that universal fact and grow from it." He made his posture more stern, like a serious professor behind his lectern, "The second you believe that you are perfect, that you believe you have reached as high as you can go, that you are safe from any and all that would seek to harm you and yours, that you have stopped trying to improve, to grow...is the exact moment when you will lose everything as you are toppled from your mountain throne by that person.
"And it will not just be you who will pay the price for that arrogance."
Those words hit the boy like a hammer, making him flinch violently. Just as Blackwing planned.
Being able to look into the souls of people, to see who they were at the core of their being, what drove them, made it almost too easy to manipulate someone.
Jaune flinched heavily at those words, the hard truth they conveyed.
He knew that he was weak, in comparison to a great many out there, and after the Incident he had tried his best to become strong. Only to fail miserably if the rejection letter meant anything.
Worse yet, he had no way in which to remedy it.
He had hit a wall in his self-teaching, had done so quite some time ago if he was honest with himself. He didn't have the skills, he didn't have the brains, he didn't have the experience. About the only positive he did have was that he had a very fit body, physical conditioning about the only thing he knew he had gotten right, despite his own best efforts to expand his list of competencies.
But that wouldn't mean jack all if he could not apply it.
He wanted to grow, oh how he wanted it, but he was an acorn on a piece of cement, denied the soil and water and sun through which he could become a mighty oak, defiant against wind and storm.
More than anything, he needed guidance, a teacher. Something that would give him a chance.
But, with the letter of rejection, he had been denied that possibility.
It was like he was a goldfish in a bowl, swimming endlessly in circles, getting nowhere fast.
Which left his reason for living, his sisters, vulnerable, unprotected. Or rather not protected enough.
He growled roughly to himself, his face twisting into a rictus of disgust, for himself, for others, for life itself. He didn't really care. Life just seemed to love shovelling shit on top of him. And he was already chest deep in it to begin with.
"What would you suggest I do then?" He snarled at the composed and serious looking weirdo that had kept him company for a while, his manners finally deserting him after the roller coaster ride his emotions had been put through recently, "How should I go about 'growing'?" He said, sarcasm thicker than the oak he had been leaning against in his rumbling tones, "I would love to be able to, believe you me, but I'm at the end of my rope, reached a dead end." He almost howled his next words, "I don't have a chance!"
The metallic blindfold watched his panting form, the slim teen's youthful features unreadable. The purple haired person's voice, when it came a moment later, was cool, comforting, smoky, even tempting.
Seductive.
"And what if you were given a chance?" Blackwing said, head tilted to the side slightly, as if examining the panting Jaune. "The chance to gain power, to gain strength? What would you do?"
Jaune's body froze, going abruptly still as a bronze statue, his face towards the ground and his blonde fringe covering his wide blue eyes from view. The swordsman's thoughts screeched to a similar halt, unsure that he had heard that correctly.
A thought seethed in the back of his mind, stoking the flames of his anger, as he examined the words the long haired stranger had spoken, and the implications that they had.
"What are you trying to say?" The blonde said lowly, a rumble in his chest. He knew a trap when he saw one, and this was almost blatantly obvious, only the flimsiest of veils being thrown over the questions. The scion of the Arc family was not in the mood to be mocked right then.
Jaune could almost feel the sly smile, a cunning smirk of delight, crossing the weirdo's face even with his face toward the ground.
"I believe you know," the purplette said slyly, before giving an over exaggerated sigh of exasperation when Jaune stopped himself from reacting overly much at those mocking words, "but, if it makes you feel better, I suppose I can spell it out for you."
Jaune raised his head to stare at the devilishly smirking person in front, the Arc's blue eyes burning with a fire that could melt steel but otherwise staying silent to listen to the stranger.
"It is within my ability to grant you power," the purplette smirked, "to unlock the potential inside of you. I can give you access to the proper materials, whether it be equipment, books or lessons, that you need to flourish and grow. To gain the strength to protect whatever is precious to you. " The smirk became a dark grin, evil and mischievous, making the strange person seem to be a delighted devil, highlighted by the swaying of the devil's long purple hair, seeming to writhe like a nest of serpents, "You just have to say the word."
Jaune's eyes narrowed and his fists clenched, tearing the grass and turf beneath them. No one was that altruistic, willing to give someone power, in any sense of the word, without getting their slice of the pie. And the dark grin on the pale moonlit face of the blindfolded teen made him pretty sure that there was something else, something that Jaune couldn't see and probably wouldn't like, to this seeming gracious offer.
"And what do you get out of doing so?" Jaune asked bluntly, more than a little angry. The weirdo was practically waving a red flag to his bull. Or perhaps, more accurately, dangling a baited hook in front of him, just out of reach. Even with the alarm bells in his head ringing, the offer was tempting. Very tempting.
About the only thing that held him back was the menacing smile on Blackwing's, if that really was this person's name, face.
The smile grew wider, "Oh just a few little things," Blackwing said airily with a small melodic chuckle, flinging a slim arm wide, making Jaune once more question this person's actual gender, the gesture was far too feminine for his taste. "Sheer entertainment being chief among them," the purplette haired demon, in Jaune's eyes, shamelessly admitted.
Jaune's jaw tensed, the Arc biting on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from voicing the vicious spiel of words he wanted to spit at the foolish blindfolded teen.
The offer, such as it was, was very very tempting, even with incredibly vague, professionally distasteful and more than mildly alarming reason that the smiling devil had for helping him. He literally had nothing left to lose if he wanted to become a Hunter.
Still, he fought the temptation and kept questioning.
"That can't be all, surely?" Jaune scoffed in ridicule. He wasn't a complete idiot. There was something more to this entire scenario that stank to high heaven. He just didn't have enough pieces of the puzzle to get an entire picture of it.
"Of course not," the person (Jaune thought he needed to really decide just what gender the purple haired teen was. It was starting to get annoying at having to think in gender neutral terms.) said, an amused look on that pale face, the smirking grin never dropping an inch, "I never doing anything without a more viable and fruitful reason. But that is all I am going to say. The rest is for me to know and you to hurt yourself wondering about."
"That really doesn't encourage me to accept your offer," Jaune growled, wanting nothing more than to take a swing at Blackwing's smug face. He had a feeling, however, that if he did he would either quickly regret it or, worse, fail to do anything at all. A flicker of thought crossing his mind halted his anger at the blindfolded teen, before letting a smirk cross his own face. Time to let the grinning bastard be the verbal punching bag for a change. "That is, if you even can do what you have offered to do. What proof do you have that can convince that you aren't just blowing smoke up my ass for shits and giggles?"
Jaune took satisfaction in the fact that his last comment completely wiped the smug expression off of the teen's face. Even if it was only for a moment.
It came back ten fold not a moment later, making Blackwing look demented and twisted, a scientist that had gone over the edge. Heck, the teen's long purple tresses flailing in the air only added to the picture of insane genius.
"How about this?" The teen offered, the tone of voice sweet and saccharine and obviously fake, making Jaune's senses scream in warning, to get away as fast as possible.
He reacted too late.
Blackwing snapped those long nailed fingers, a flicker of rainbow light dancing over them as the action was performed.
And suddenly, they were both gone, in a flash of a kaleidoscopic rainbow light, leaving the park on the hill empty beneath the fragile twilight and the shattered silver moon above.
Jaune stumbled heavily as his feet landed on a hill of coarse sand, his boots sinking into ground and throwing him off balance, and soon imitated an ostrich, falling face first into the fine, gritty, and extremely hot, ground.
His day hadn't been the best, so far, and it didn't look like it was going to improve any time soon.
At least Monty Oum, the Great and Powerful, was consistent with curveballs that he had been throwing at him lately.
With a muffled yell of pain and surprise, he rolled to the side to prevent his skin from blistering fro contact with the hit material. Only to be greeted by the blinding glare of a bright sun. His arms automatically snapped up, blocking the light produced by the great ball of flame, and also squinting to try and make out the sights around him, even as his mind was thrown into confusion.
Last time he checked, he was in small park on a hill in Vale at dusk/twilight. He certainly wasn't now if the blinding sun was any indication.
"Need a hand?" A distastefully familiar voice spoke from the side, humour in those words, making Jaune scowl to himself. He just had to poke the Ursa. Wonderful.
"I'll pass thanks," Jaune growled as his eyes finally began to adjust enough to able to see relatively clearly. Still squinting, he lowered his arms and began to heave himself to his feet, with a little difficulty due to the fine and giving sand he had found himself planted like a root vegetable in.
"Suit yourself," Blackwing chuckled from the side, seated, almost reclining, on a large brownish red boulder that jutted out of the landscape like a broken tooth from an old man's gums.
Finally back to his feet, and steady, Jaune took the time to examine his surroundings, scanning around with his eyes.
Bleak would have summed up what he saw. Desolate might be even closer.
From horizon to horizon, Jaune could see nothing but dark sand and rough red stone and skeletal dead trees, with a few bleached skeletons here and there, of men and beast and Grimm, to break the monotony and not a drop of water or a sign of life to be seen. It was the picture of a stereotypical wasteland.
Jaune felt a chill run down his hoodied back, despite the early afternoon heat that was practically baking him where he stood. From his geography class, he could think of only two places in Remnant that could fit the criteria for this place, and this place didn't seem to have any mountains surrounding it, thus reducing his options to one.
And that remaining place didn't have a good reputation.
Blackwing, that purple haired freak, confirmed his morbid thoughts.
"The Blood Wastes," the purplette said with a smile, unperturbed, "A wasteland that resides quite close to the Kingdom of Vacuo. Noted for it's larger than average population of Grimm and home to some of the nastier species that walk this land as well as the plentiful minerals beneath the surface. It has tried to be Reclaimed many times over the centuries. None have succeeded." The creep smirked, "It is said that so many men were killed in this place, by either Grimm or the more deplorable elements of Humanity, that the blood soaked into the very land, staining the earth forevermore, and the spirits of the slain howl their anguish in the night."
'Fuck you, Monty,' Jaune cursed inwardly, 'Seriously, Fuck. You!'
"Are you utterly insane?!" Jaune hissed/shrieked at Blackwing.
"Quite possibly," the lunatic quipped, the freak's heels kicking and swinging atop the boulder.
"Why in the name of all things holy and unholy did you bring us here of all places?!" The blonde snarled, trying desperately to keep his voice down and rein in his emotions, with little in the way of success. Though it looked to empty on the surface, the Wastes were known to be crawling with enemy of Humanity. Only the most foolish of people would dare to tread upon these sands.
Mostly due to the true dangers that lived beneath the sand and stone.
Blackwing just chuckled, melodic and mad, "Did you not want me to show you, to prove to you, that I had the power to do what I said?" The clearly insane, but still very dangerous, fool said with faux hurt, a hand place dramatically over the heart. A purple eyebrow then lifted over the metallic blindfold that the madman (or was that madwoman?) wore. "Well, what do you think? Have I proven my claims?"
Jaune growled at the teasing tone in the androgynous moron's voice as he kept moving his head, keeping a careful eye on the ground, looking for any suspicious movements. The lunatic brought them both here, though how Jaune wasn't sure, just because the insane fool had been pricked in the pride?! How fucking petty.
Oh how he wanted to be spiteful and deny the mindless moron the pleasure of having him admit that the purplette did seem to have the power to do as he had offered. However, considering where they were at that moment, he swallowed heavily on the impulse, almost choking on it. As much as he hated to admit it, the flippant lunatic held all the cards here. The moron got them here and was the only way out of the death trap the freak had brought them to. If Jaune were to insult the fool, chances were that he might just be left there, all alone and without a weapon or supplies.
He wouldn't last long in that scenario.
"Fine," he gritted out harshly, as if the words were practically dragged through his clenched teeth, "I admit that you have the power to aid me. Now get us the hell out of here!" He couldn't help but yell the last bit, anger and rage and a healthy dose of fear fracturing his already unbalanced emotional stability. The Arc scion flinched heavily as he registered just what he had done and frantically looked around, both near and far, for any sign of what he just knew, knowing his luck, would be either relatively nearby or already approaching.
The purplette hummed at him in amusement, completely at ease and driving Jaune nuts with the freak's nonchalant attitude, as if the crazy fool was in no danger. Jaune called bullshit on that score.
The Blood Wastes were deadly even for Elite Hunters. Something that made him very eager to get out of there as soon as possible.
"Then you will accept my offer then?" The lunatic questioned, a sly smile crossing the lunatic's face, "Now that I have shown you my credentials, as it were?"
"Fuck no!" Jaune bit out sharply, his eyes continuously scanning the wasteland, particularly the sandy ground, for danger, ignoring the fact that his constant spinning and twisting made him look like a madman having a fit. "I will admit that you have power but the way that you are using it..." Jaune shook his head, "I will have no part of it!"
Jaune took a vicious satisfaction in the fact that his vehement rejection seemed to ruffle a few feathers, the powerful lunatic seeming to freeze in place, becoming a marble statue of flesh and blood. Were it any other time, any other place, he would have crowed about making the lunatic's constant smile slip from the pale face of the annoying, if massively powerful, degenerate.
But not here. Not now. He would prefer it greatly if he could keep his life and hide intact. Mainly by getting the freaking hell out of here!
"Look," Jaune Arc growled, the corner of his eyes catching movement in the dusty distance, making him snap his head to the source while he inwardly prayed that his mind was playing tricks on him while outwardly growling at still frozen form of Blackwing, one that seemed to be glaring down at him ,as if indignant and disbelieving that the Arc scion had turned down his gracious offer. "You've had your fun with me, mocking and teasing, dangling bait in front of my face before revealing it to be rancid and rotten. I've had enough. No more games. Your offer has been made. I have refused it. Just take me home." Jaune frowned worriedly as the movement became clearer, a low fleeting and flowing shadow on the sand, a wave in the sea. The wave was soon accompanied by another. And another. It seemed his luck was running true to form. "Now."
The resolute response of 'No' from Blackwing made Jaune stumble forward without even moving a muscle.
"What do you mean 'No'?!" Jaune shrieked at the, to his disbelief, pouting face of the powerful whatever-the-hell-Blackwing-was (making Jaune firmly decide to refer to the lunatic as female until shown otherwise), while making sure to never take his eyes off the swiftly approaching waves of sand, ones that slowly growing bigger and taller with every moment that passed.
It made Jaune want to tear his hair out. Could nothing go his, for once, way today?!
"Just that," answered the flat chested bitch, one of the reasons that Jaune had trouble defining Blackwing's gender before finally giving up, her dainty face in a crazy smile in the corner of his eye. "I don't just offer my services to just anyone you know," she pouted, making Jaune question his own sanity for not running like hell for the nearest large rocky outcropping and instead listen to a teenage girl's complaints.
He blamed it on his well trained reactions to younger girls, having had to almost raise his own little sisters on his own due to his parents' Hunter duties. He always paid attention to his little sisters, even if he didn't always understand what they were rambling about sometimes.
"I only choose those who have a...unique potential," she smiled, looking to be completely unconcerned about the approaching danger that was moving just below the surface of the sand, moving through it with the ease that fish would move through the seas. "Those who could become something out of the ordinary, a hawk amidst kites," her smile became a smirk, "a lion among mere alleys cats." Her smirk widened as Jaune got the feeling he was missing something there, "You, Jaune Arc, have that potential. And if there is one thing that I hate in this world, it is seeing potential wasted or worse, becoming a twisted and weak mockery of itself." Her face tightened, a scowl crossing that pale visage.
"I would rather have you dead than let you walk down that last path."
Jaune clenched his fists as he stared at the sand waves that were approaching. So that was the game the bitch was playing. Fucking damn it! Talk about a rock and a hard place. He could see it now.
He could refuse the offer, strange as it was and as twisted as the bitch that had extended the offer seemed to be, and he would be left in the Wastes to fend for himself, without even weapons, supplies or even a damn map. He would give himself a week, at the very most, to live. And that was if what was hidden in those waves of sand didn't tear him apart in a couple of minutes.
That was not how he wanted his life to end. He had too much to see and do to accept that fate yet.
The other option was to accept her gracious offer, putting himself completely in the uncaring bitch's hands. She had offered him the chance to grow and become strong, something that he dreamed of being able to do properly. But he did not know the price that she would exact from him for it. He just that part of the reason was for her entertainment, which was foreboding in itself.
In doing this, he ensured that he survived this whole bullshit scenario, that was her doing in the first place, and would probably become little more than an overpowered monkey, dancing to her tune at her whim and fancy.
He snarled lowly, feeling the sticky heat of warm blood spilling over his palms and fingers as his nails dug into his hand.
Die on his own merits or Live with a chain that could be pulled at any time. That was what it came down to as far as he could see.
He closed his eyes in anger, his frame trembling. There was no real choice. Had it just been for him, had he only sought strength for himself, he would have made a choice that his ancestors would have been proud of.
But he did not seek power for himself, not completely. He had seven other reasons to gain strength. And he couldn't do that if he was dead.
Jaune snorted bitterly. His ancestors must be twisting in their graves at what he was about to do.
"The offer you made before," Jaune enquired, his eyes still closed, his ears picking up the hissing of large amounts of displaced sand. He didn't have long before they showed up. Better get a move on. "Is it still on the table?"
"It never left," the manipulative bitch responded, a hint of smug satisfaction in her tones that made the Arc heir want to turn around level her with an uppercut, lady or not. The whorish witch had just been playing with him, making him squirm and writhe. It stoked the fires of his rage. "I take it that you wish to change your mind?"
"I don't really have a choice now do I," he said with enough sarcasm to weigh down a Bullhead.
"Everyone always has a choice," the girl's voice admonished him, making him snap his eyes open and fix her blindfolded face with a glare that would have turned her to ashes if it were capable of doing so. "It's just the choices are almost always uneven."
Jaune narrowed his eyes at the washboard bitch, biting back words he knew that he would regret voicing. She was the one with the power here, not he.
Jaune glanced back over to the direction of the approaching danger. The sand was visibly roiling now, pushed aside by the massive beasts that traveled through it, the waves reaching over his head in a dark red rooster tail of sand and dust. He was not ashamed to admit that the sight made him more than a little scared. He knew exactly what was behind the cause of those waves and the reputation that they had.
Only an ignorant fool wouldn't feel fear.
"Still," Jaune practically jumped out his skin as the word was whispered into his ear, hot breath brushing the shell and lobe, making him turn to face the cause of the surprise, the sight of which made him stumble backward.
Seeing a blindfolded face centimetres away from his face would do that to any person.
"Formalities need to be observed," the girl went on, as if she didn't even notice his surprised actions and unmanly yelp of surprised fear. Her voice then took on a deeper, and much more serious tone, her posture straightening, making her seem to tower over him despite her shorter height. "Do you, Jaune Arc," she intoned, her words heavy with purpose and authority, the air suddenly seeming to become electric, charged with power, "accept the offer of Strength and Power made to you by Harry 'Blackwing' Potter of your own free will?"
Shocked at the, now revealed to be, male's abrupt change in attitude, he could only dumbly nod.
Jaune got the feeling that the boy (and wasn't that a curve ball! The younger teen looked more feminine than his little sisters!) rolled his eyes beneath his blindfold in exasperation. "I need a formal verbal confirmation, idiot." Blackwing snapped quietly to the heir of the Arc legacy.
That caustic comment got Jaune's brain back in gear, his blue eyes narrowing in a glare at the condescending bastard in front of him. He was silent for a moment, contemplating the thought of rebellion just for the prick's arrogant attitude. But a quick glance towards the oncoming wave of sand, and what was hidden beneath it, had him stifling any flippant comment.
"I, Jaune Arc," he said firmly, if quickly, keeping a eye on the swiftly approaching danger as he did so, "do hereby accept the offer of Strength and Power from Harry 'Blackwing' Potter of my own free will."
"An accord had been reached," Harry intoned, his voice deepening and seeming to resound in the area, like a god giving their judgement, even as the air seemed to become electric and the skin of the younger, thought Jaune was beginning to have suspicions about that, man began to give off a subtle glow. Jaune suddenly felt a small pressure on his chest, making him glance down to see a slim and pale hand resting, hovering, directly over his heart, giving off a much brighter glow than the rest of the purple haired boy. Jaune could also faint see, beneath the boy's fingers, a swirling ball of ebon darkness and shining silver the size of his fist that, belatedly, made his instincts scream a warning, telling him to run, to get away. "a deal has been made. As it has been willed, so mote it be."
The bastard's hand then thrust forward, piercing Jaune's heart with the ball of swirling power and energy, not even disturbing the skin as it entered Jaune's body.
Everything, at least to Jaune, then seemed to freeze in place, the whole world going silent and still. He could see every mote of sand in the air, pinned in place like a butterfly in a collection, unmoving. He could hear nothing, his hearing oppressed by the heavy unnatural silence, not even sound waves appearing to have escaped this brief frozen moment in time.
His body refused to move, not even able to twitch a finger, as if he were a statue. It was an eerie situation, and one that brought him to the border of panic. He was helpless, vulnerable, and he couldn't get away from danger. His primal instincts screamed at him in panic.
Then he felt it.
A warm throb went through his torso. And another. And another. Each throb was accompanied by a burst of warmth that didn't go away, slowly making him feel warmer and warmer. The throbs, like heartbeats, also came closer and closer together, to the point his chest felt like it was a maracca filled with burning beads.
The heat had also spread, going along his arms and hands, down his legs to his feet, and then up his neck to the very top his head. He even thought he felt his hair grow warmer and warmer.
And it wasn't stopping. It kept rising and rising, becoming hotter and hotter, to the point that he thought he would burst into flame. And yet he felt no pain, nor did see any burns developing on his body.
The air around him, still frozen, also began to change. Starting from where his heart would be, a soft golden glow began to form, thickening as time passed to the point of becoming liquid golden light, like a syrup if he was to be honest. A liquid that then began to spread across the entirety of his body, spreading out from his heart to reach his extremities. All the while, the glow from it became more intense, more powerful, to the point of being almost painful for his eyes to watch.
Yet he could do nothing, unable to move, unable to even blink.
His entire torso and legs were encompassed by the bright golden liquid, as well as the majority of his arms, even as it also began to creep up his bare neck, making him feel like a hot ooze was flowing up his body, making him panic more than a little, trying valiantly to move his arms in an attempt to brush it off. It was unsuccessful.
The syrupy energy some reached his eyes, making his vision twist and swim, like he was underwater, almost immediately making his headache fiercely, compounded by the raging heat in his chest and the intensity of the golden light. Whatever was happening to him, he knew that this disconcerting and, frankly, terrifying position was only the prelude, a lead up to the climax.
Something that happened the moment he felt the water of light reach the crown of his head.
Suddenly, everything went white, the pressure and heat in his body suddenly seeming to explode out of him, making Jaune feel the unique sensation of his body becoming a bomb even as the golden liquid that had clung to him like a second skin was torn away from him. Pain the likes of he had never felt before seized a hold of his mind, his thoughts fracturing under the onslaught of the horrible sensation, burning away under the scorching heat and power that he had somehow had within him, even if only for a brief time.
Befuddled by pain in his body and mind and soul, Jaune vaguely thought he heard a massive roar, one that seemed to embody the hungry roar of flames, the primal roar of a beast and the hellish roaring cacophony of the battlefield.
Then darkness overtook him.
Blackwing felt something go wrong the second he touched the small construct of magical energy to the Arc boy's 'core'.
He had been going to awaken the boy's Aura, a process that was similar to awakening one's magical circuits, requiring a small amount of foreign energy to 'jumpstart' the core, like turning the ignition in a car to start the engine. This little fact had made him very certain that there was a large relationship between Aura and Prana, even if he hadn't quite pinned it down, and made him more than a little eager to explore and experiment.
Harry felt his prana settle into the Arc's being, mingling with the boy's dormant energy, and gave it a mental prod, spiking his prana inside the boy to provoke a response. He got it. Just not in the way that he wanted.
The awakening of one's circuits, and what he had seen of Aura, was generally quiet, if slightly painful for the recipient (in the case of magical circuits) or tiring for the awakener (in the case of Aura) with maybe a slight glow to accompany the procedure.
In this boy's case, however, the reaction was like a bomb going off, or like those monkey tailed warriors from that manly screaming anime ascending to another level of power.
His prana, when it touched the boy's own power, had reacted in an odd way, provoking a response from the boy's Aura, which made the prana respond strongly as well, thus provoking another strong, more powerful, Aura reaction. It repeated in an endless cycle, taking place in less than a moment, creating a cascade effect that Harry was suddenly helpless to stop. Eventually, these reactions would reach their respective peaks and then...
Harry felt it coming, the rising tide of raw power that had been unleashed, a sleeping dragon awakened, a titan unchained from their prison in Tartarus, and reacted within a split second.
An almighty crack, like a massive bullwhip being swung, rent the air as he Apparated away from the bomb that was called Jaune Arc.
He reappeared with another powerful crack before the first one had finished...a mile straight up. Another twist of his will and black wings erupted from his back, allowing him to, with a degree of magical assistance, hover in place in the sky.
It was as well that he did, otherwise he would have missed the show.
A massive shockwave of power roared from the boy, golden in colour and clearly powerful. The cascade of power tore through the landscape like a fire through dry brush, a golden wave of energy and heat that consumed all that stood before it. Even the three Grimm that had been swimming through the sand toward him and the boy were not spared the fury of this power, being turned it ash and vapour beneath the now glassed sands that had hid them.
Harry was impressed with the display, showing him that he had chosen correctly when he had picked, even if it was by chance and convenience. But he was also worried, though not for himself as it would take something much more powerful than undirected raw power of this level to do him in, but for the health of his new guinea pig. This reaction was not normal in any sense of the word, even with the unknown effects of awakening Aura with prana, and bared investigation. Could he have done something to the boy? Done damage in some manner?
The wave of power ravaged the landscape for a time, extending for nearly half a kilometre, before seeming to stop in place, crackling and burning and roaring, like it had hit a wall that refused to give way before it, or perhaps a dog that had reached the end of its leash, making the blindfolded young man raise a delicate eyebrow in curiosity. That was not a natural reaction. Harry flickered his gaze into his soul sight to examine the phenomenon and his eyes, beneath the blindfold he wore, widened in shock and disbelieving understanding even as the golden energy began to reverse its course, revealing the destruction that it had wrought upon the earth.
"That shouldn't be possible," he whispered to himself as the energy rolled back, showing the grainy stained glass that the ground, of sand and stone, that the affected part of the Wastes had become, the heat that had been contained within the explosion of power glassing the very ground. His disbelief slowly ebbed from his pale face and change to an almost wild smirk of glee. "But damned if I won't find out how it is!" Harry laughed, almost cackled, to himself as he angled his wings into a dive towards the retreating energy. He had really hit the jackpot with this kid!
He landed gently on the glassed ground, right in the centre of the deep and massive crater that had been created by the outpouring of the boy's power, just near the now dimly glowing boy.
"Quite the impressive display, kid," he said to the unconscious boy with a wide smile, "once you get some proper lessons and experience, with time, you are going to be the force to be reckoned with on this planet." He frowned slightly, his eyes focusing on something that only he could see within the boy, something that told him that, when he awoke, the boy would not be the same as he had been before. "Though it won't be without cost to yourself."
He reached down and, with a graceful lift, threw the kid's insensate form over his shoulder, preparing to move away from the place they were to a more suitable location.
Twisting on his heel, Harry Apparated himself and his new experiment away, his mind already planning what to do with the boy.
A blonde boy's eyes suddenly snapped open, going from awake to asleep in a fraction of a second, alert and ready to move at a moments notice.
That alertness quickly fled as he groaned heavily, a hand snapping up to his forehead, cradling it due to the pain that emanated from it, even as he squinted through the pain to examine where he was, his confused mind only adding to the pounding headache that plagued him.
Yet even as he did so, a part of him felt wrong, detached, even hollow. As if he were missing something, something important and vital, but didn't know what it was.
The place was dark, a small blessing for his pounding skull, and dim but he could see fragile shafts of light descending here and there from whatever was above him. His hand that was not clutching his aching head felt dust and solid stone beneath his palm and he could, faintly, hear a steady drip of water coming from somewhere in the distance.
At best guess, he thought he was in a cave or cavern of some sort. However, that didn't really help things, especially since didn't know where this cave was. It could be situated near the top of mountain for all he knew. The fact that he was in a cavern, though, as begged another question.
How did he get here?
He tried to remember what he had been doing, what events had lead to him waking up to this strange place.
This proved to be a mistake.
His mind was instantly assaulted with images and words, a tangled mess with reason or order that confused him utterly and didn't make any sense. Disjointed and blurred, something that didn't help his headache.
There were a few things that stood out though, images and words that seemed significant to him somehow, but lacked the context through which he could understand them properly.
Sword.
An image of a mantlepiece, above which hung a sheathed blade. It was familiar somehow, but it evoked strange feelings within him. A desire, a promise, an oath. A drive and determination. A yearning.
Family.
A large wooden table, stacked high with plates of food, was surrounded by several people. Two adults, a male and female, and seven children, all girls, each of them with blurred out faces. They all devoured the hearty repast in front of them and, somehow, he could feel their contentment and joy, even as he could not here the words they said between themselves. Comfort filled his heart as he watched this scene. Something about it made him happy, as if it were a special occasion or a rare treat to see.
Horror and Desperate Rage.
A dark figure stood over something, someone, tied to a chair in a large open but dark room, lit only by the weak moonlight coming through a large window, throwing everything into shadows and darkness. He felt fear and rage as the image, the memory he realised, showed a brief glint of light hitting metal before it plunged down toward the helpless restrained victim. A scream, a roar and the rattling of chains erupted in the vision even as it blurred and faded out into a deep crimson.
The last memory left him gasping, the residual parts of that memory making his body tense even as his mind remained confused and that hollow feeling in his mind grew stronger. What had all those scenes meant? Of what importance to him where these memories?
More and more questions mounted up in his mind. He felt like something was wrong, as if the whole world was off kilter.
But one more than any stood out. A single question that filled him with a sense of loss and horror. A sign that something was wrong with him.
Even with the blurred memories that had been shoved into his head, grinding against the forefront of his mind, there was one thing that he didn't have an answer to. A simple four word question that he should, that anyone should, have been able to answer even half out of their mind's and dying in ditch from fever.
What was his name?
Click!
"File note: Subject has awoken from his slumber," a melodic voice spoke, seeming to address themselves, "Initial observations of his behaviour upon waking, in particular the clutching of the subject's head and the classic signs of panic, ie laboured breathing and dilated pupils, indicate possible decline in cognitive functions, particularly those in relation to the retrieval of memories." The speaker observed the furious shaking of the young blonde's head on the small screen showing the panicked young blonde man, the speaker's lips pursed in thought.
"Possible partial amnesia is suspected," the speaker continued, "even likely, due to the events taking place during the subject's Awakening and the subsequent damage that resulted. The extent of it is unknown at this time and will remain so." His brow furrowed as he noted that his blonde subject had managed to calm himself, mainly by closing his blue eyes and breathing deeply and slowly. A strong will, this one has, to be able to control himself like that. "I hypothesise that, in time, the subject's memories will completely return, despite the impossibility of it all, as he recovers from the damage that the Awakening inflicted on him, owing to his unique Origin. The length of time required for this to happen is unable to be accurately estimated at this point, due to lack of hard data, but I believe a full cycle of this planet's orbit will be sufficient, again due to the nature of the subject's Origin. End note."
A shock of purple hair, like a long serpent, depressed the record button on the dictation machine he had been using to record his thoughts.
"Well," Harry 'Blackwing' Potter, the Infinite Archive and Tenth Dead Apostle Ancestor, sighed, raising a slightly shaking hand to shift his hair behind him again, "this has been an interesting day."
And wasn't that one hell of an understatement!
He brought his shaking hand before his eyes, examining it for a moment. It was far from unblemished, large burns running across the palm and fingers, with some charring down to the bone in a few places. The injuries were the consequences that he suffered for being an impulsive idiot in trying to Awaken someone's Aura with his prana. Honestly, he was lucky to still have the hand at all considering the kid's raw power and his Origin.
Still, it had worked, perhaps even better than he had thought it would. If he had tried to awaken anyone else's Aura, he probably wouldn't have been affected at all. The kid's Aura was just really really incompatible with Harry's own natural power, which was one the reasons for the very violent reaction from the kid. The Aura had sensed what it believed to be a threat, right in the heart of its territory, and had blindly lashed out, damaging the kid in the process.
It had made have to change a few things around, but his experiment was still viable and would yield results with time. Perhaps even better ones than he had originally intended. The backlash of the kid's Aura was a blessing in disguise really. He would be able to keep his side of the bargain with the blonde young man, granting him the Strength and Power that he so desired and that Blackwing had offered, and would barely have to lift a finger more than he already had.
Especially after the little tricks he had performed on the kid while he was out cold, something that he was able to do after he had understood why the kid's Aura had acted in such a manner. He could just sit back and observe how the kid reacted to the situation he had put the blonde in with various instruments and spells and he would have the vast majority of the data he needed to make sense of this world and all its mysteries. Dust, Aura and Grimm.
He laughed softly to himself as he idly watched the young and ignorant Jaune Arc look around himself in the dark cavern, his blue eyes slightly bright, before they opened slightly wider at seeing a small pile of useful items that the Infinite Archive had left for him.
It was couch potato science at its best! A reality show with a scientific twist!
His blindfolded eyes noted movement on the edge of the surveillance spells frame on one of the magical monitors he was using to view the area and his subject, and mentally shifted the view just a touch. The sight revealed to him made him smile slightly, taking in the numerous red eyes, bestial and maddened, that were shown.
Time to see how his intrepid little guinea pig dealt with his first challenge.
Author's Notes
Well, I hope you guys all like this new story.
I was inspired to make a Jaune-focused RWBY story after reading 'The Games We Play' by the famous author, ryuugi, on Spacebattles. His realistic depiction of Remnant, how it was formed and the history behind it, was absolutely staggering and is beyond compare. The amount of work it must have taken to hammer out all those small details must have been back-breaking! But, as a result, it has created a story that has little to no equal. All praise the mighty ryuugi, King of all Authors! And keep up the good work!
I doubt mine will be as good, but I plan to make at least a good attempt at it.
You will note that I have also borrowed the character of another author, Harry Potter from Lupine Horror's Fate's Gamble, who will be a sort of narrator/chronicler of the story, watching the actions of Jaune from afar. He will occasionally show up in person, acting as either a plot device or a deus ex machina as needed, so keep an eye out.
He is also there due to the fact that I noticed how close Origin and Semblance seem to be to each other, at least in a way. Further explanations into the exact relationship between them, and between Aura and Prana, with their similarities and differences, will be shown later in the story.
Also, to all those RWBY purists out there, be prepared for some head spins, as Jaune is going to be a badass, eventually, on the level with some of ryuugi's characters in TGWP. I mean, seriously, some of the Semblances and other tricks that his characters have are so ridiculously overpowered and utterly bullshit that it puts Wildblow's Worm or DC and Marvel out of business! And he still manages to make it so that they have to work for their victory!
(I personally think that Conquest from TGWP is an absolute overpowered asshole. I hope that he gets his in the story when he and Gamer Jaune no doubt meet again. There will be blood and I hope the White Tiger will be the one to spill it.)
In any case, Jaune's new abilities will be slightly showcased in the next chapter, along with small revelations of the 'tricks' that Blackwing pulled on the goofy blonde. He will also be acting rather OC, though I think you call all had a good guess why he would. If your are all observant, you might just be able to guess what Jaune's Origin is, and perhaps the abilities he will demonstrate in the future because of it, and perhaps where I got the inspiration for his new abilities, though they will be at their most basic at the moment, mostly due to Jaune not really having a clue what is going on.
A cyber cookie, as well as a chance to design a powerful Grimm, will be offered to the person who gets it first. And by powerful Grimm I mean something that stands out above the rest, a named Grimm like the Ziz from TGWP, though not quite as powerful but still legendary and old.
Also, at the end of every chapter, I will do a Grimm Profile. Something that will show the abilities of whatever new Grimm I decide to make myself. Here is the first one.
Species: Shamir
Description: They appear to look like massive worms, with bony ring segments lining every foot of its often immense body, the normal black flesh of these Grimm only seen either in the thin slots between each ring of bony armour or when it opens its four jaws to devour its prey.
Habitat: Blood Wastes in the Unclaimed Lands, just outside the Vacuo border. But it is also, rarely, encountered in other sandy deserts around Remnant, though it is noted that those inside the Wastes are the biggest.
There is also an unconfirmed rumour of one of these monsters being seen outside of deserts, in more fertile lands, able to move through soil with just as much ease as others of its kind do sand. This claim is, as yet, unable to be substantiated due to lack of hard evidence.
Behaviour: They are sand swimmers, gliding beneath the sand's surface like a shark through the water, often in packs up to five to six, though it is noted that the larger the pack the smaller they are individually. Their favoured method of attacking is either the stealthy approach, appearing directly underneath the poor soul it has chosen and and swallowing them as they drop into it's massive maw (a method that is usually reserved for the most massive of the species) or the aggressive approach, charging across the sand, pushing the material aside, in an attempt to lunge and grasp their prey in their jaws.
Abilities: This species is downright horrifying to fight, requiring either a specialised tool or Semblance and a damn good plan, hellish accuracy and good luck or lots and lots of fire and enough Flame Dust to level BEACON. Generally, especially in the older specimens, one doesn't even know that they are around until you are already falling into their mouths, in which case it is a bit late to try and fight them.
They can travel deep enough underground as to be out of the range of most sensory techniques and can cover that distances, if motivated, faster than a Hunter can run or a Bullhead can fly.
Their segmented armour is also a nuisance, very thick and close together, to the point that a slip of cardboard would find it hard to slip between those small gaps. The only truly vulnerable spot is when it opens the four beaks of its mouth, revealing the fleshy insides when it does. However, they generally only do this when they either go for the kill or when it wants to spew forth a biological acid that can etch glass and eat through stone like a fire would consume paper. To make it even worse, this substance can excreted through the creature's skin.
The damage this liquid, thought to be a derivative of a normal Grimm's toxic flesh, can cause to either human or Faunus is abominable and painful beyond telling, often resulting in either extremely heavy scarring or crippling injuries, if they survive an encounter with one of these creatures in the first place. Hunters caught by it often amputate the appendage just to get rid of the pain.
One advantage, though I hesitate to say so, that a Hunter has over this creature is eyesight. This creature is, in fact, completely blind. It more than compensates for this, however, with the ability to sense vibrations through the air or through the ground, pretty much rendering the weakness void.
It most horrifying ability, however, is its ability to regenerate at astounding speeds, a wound sometimes closing a mere second after it has been inflicted, which is why either copious amounts of Flame Dust or a Hunter with powerful skills revolving around flames and Fire are absolutely essential in taking one of these monsters down, due to the nigh impossibility for burns to heal properly.
The most terrifying aspect of its healing ability is shown when some fool manages to completely cut the creature into two pieces horizontally through the gaps between the ring segments. Its healing ability works over time and soon, like some nightmare come to life, the poor fool ends up facing two Shamirs instead of one, each half of the creature becoming a new one.
Again, it is fire that solves this problem, the cauterisation of each stump completely negating this massive worm's troublesome ability.
Add in the fact that these creatures have been recorded to be as long as a Schee Dust Company freight train, and can be about twice to thrice as wide, along with the enhanced reaction time that is common to all Grimm and the flexibility that the being has due to being based upon a worm like creature and you having something that is truly the stuff of nightmares for even Elite Hunters.
Tactics: Either get off the ground, get on a surface of solid stone, run like hell to said areas or try and kill it with lots and lots of fire and hope it works. To try and do otherwise will just result in a letter to your next of kin and a closed, but empty, casket at your funeral.
Danger Rating: Rank A (Rank SS if one is unfortunate enough to encounter Crom Cruach, the King that Crawls.)
Powerful bastards aren't they? And it makes Jaune even more intriguing considering he wiped out three of these hellish monsters just from the backlash of having his Aura improperly Awakened.
Hope you enjoy the story.
As always, please leave a review.
Cheers,
Kujikiri21