Chapter 2
Enrollment
Disclaimer: Still rusty.
While Jaune starts with a lot stronger here than in canon, let it not be said that I powerwank. The forces that Jaune will face are much larger in scale, and will probably diverge from canon heavily after a few chapters. Consider this giving Frodo a lightsaber, but giving Sauron the Death Star.
Vale is a large city on the western coast of the kingdom of Vale. The city of Vale is divided into multiple sectors, having an upper-class district, a commercial district, an industrial district, an agricultural district and a residential district. Taking advantage of its relative safety and proximity to the sea, Vale has no need to outsource raw resources from other sites. With dust mines to the south-east, arable land to the north, and an ocean to the west, Vale became both completely self-sufficient and a marketplace for both goods and ideas.
The perfect conditions for development. Despite relative safety, the necessity to build, to innovate was always there, with the threat of black hordes looming in the back of the collective minds of the masses. While people turn to Atlas for cutting-edge technology and the newest automatons, never let it be said that the industrial district of Vale was content to sit on its haunches. It was not the Atlesians who invented the aqueduct to irrigate the soil of the earth and double their produce, nor was it the Mistralians who invented and popularized the theory of ensouled emotions, the link between the mental state of man and the world around him.
Despite its significant breadth and field of industry, Vale is first and foremost, a city built on trade. Known for being a hub of commerce and mercantilism, it is a melting pot of nationalities and species, with humans and faunus congregating from all over Remnant. With a port that connects to two major cities on the coastline as well as a node through which the Anima-Solitas trade route runs through, merchants often pass by, having to pay tax. Gold is the lifeblood of all cities, and Vale was not lacking in riches.
With trade came foreigners, and with foreigners came new perspectives, communitarian philosophies from Atlas, Mistral's advanced theological dialogues, and Vacuo's radical freedom. Using a metric of populace representation and general democratic principles, the Kingdom of Vale can be said to be the "freest" of the four kingdoms.
While all four major kingdoms are technically run by councils, Vale's is notable for being the least bad. Compare; Atlas' military council hold an iron-tight grip on free-speech, and while there are no official records, political firebrands and revolutionary figureheads have disappeared off the face of Remnant more than once. Mistral's council can be likened to an odd plutocratic/aristocratic hybrid. To be elected and to keep a seat on the council, one generally needs the backing of one of Mistral's many noble families. Corruption and nepotism run deep, and there is no such thing as a lowborn council member. While Vacuo is technically governed by a council representing its people and their interests, the formal government's influence is nominal at best. The Huntsman Academy of Vacuo, Shade, is the only true source of law and order in the Kingdom. Now, with that destroyed by the forces of Grimm, it will be hard to rein in the excesses and abuses that are already rampant int the kingdom.
Vale, while it has its own problems, can at least boast to be the most free of the four kingdoms.
Jaune knew this about Vale, and more- even in a small village like his former home, the histories and political landscapes of the most important kingdoms on Remnant are base curricula required for a basic understanding of the world. Despite not being a genius himself, Jaune was interested in being a hero, and that meant studying up on the history of nations.
That knowledge, however, did not stop him from gaping as he stared out the window of the Bullhead. A priori knowledge from textbooks and encyclopedias did not prepare him for the sight of Vale city. Despite being segmented into five districts and clearly made out of inanimate stone and metal, it seemed as if the city was alive. It writhed and shook with the vibrancy of a creature that sought to grow and swell. It sprawled, tendrils of iron and industry snaking into the country side, raging against its natural barriers of ocean and stone. Were he a photographer, perhaps this would have been the shot that made him famous.
His mind, overwhelmed by sensation, almost forgot the tragedy that occurred not longer than two days ago. With the errant thought, Jaune's mood soured. His parents were gone. His home destroyed, and his peers slaughtered. If his sisters were there, then perhaps they could have-!
Jaune stopped himself from delving too far into his hate. "Stay rational," he thought. The chain of culpability did not extend so far as to blame his sisters for having lives of their own. They could not possibly have known the impending tragedy, nor taken actions to stop it. It was not their fault, nor was it his.
Only the Grimm's.
Yet it still hurt. He was alone now, and his sisters were off doing whatever, on extended missions, or at their jobs.
"It will be fine."
He ignored the crushing feeling of loneliness and despair.
"You are safe now."
Somehow, that didn't make him feel any better. His semblance, responding to some subconscious facet of his mind, rose to his call. Warmth filled his bones from the ground up, and he closed his eyes. The confidence and hope that marked his power's rise felt tainted and fake, like the sickly sweet of cough syrup, or the lull of morphine. Then, after seeming to war with itself, even the hazy facade fell away, leaving only burning fury. He felt like he was burning up from the inside out, and his bones replaced with molten metal. He released his grip on the handrail, noticing burn marks on the metal.
Panicking, Jaune forced it down. Repressed it. It receded immediately, a deep cold taking its place.
He opened his eyes.
"In light of recent events concerning your arrival to Vale city, I'd like to offer you a scholarship to Beacon Academy."
Jaune was fairly confused. After arriving at Vale, he was met by a a middle-aged man with tousled silver hair and focused brown eyes, introducing himself as Ozpin, the headmaster of Beacon Academy. He waited patiently for a response. The problem being, that Jaune was an awkward teenager recently rescued from a traumatic situation being given an offer that would change the course of his life.
He didn't know what to say.
"Uh, I don't know what to say." Jaune said, unsure of what to say.
An understanding tone found its way into Ozpin's voice. "I understand. You are overwhelmed by an important decision that would change the course of your life, after so recently being thrust from your home. You are disoriented, and probably unsure of what to say."
Jaune was looking off into the distance with the countenance of a man who was desperately trying not to fall asleep.
"You do not seem traumatized, however."
Jaune's eyes darkened. He swiveled to lock eye contact with Ozpin. "I'm still running high on adrenaline and aura. I don't think that I've fully caught up with the loss of my home and family. Sorry if I don't feel so attentive right now."
Now, Ozpin's voice was sympathetic. Perhaps, Ozpin thought, that he had been too eager in coercing him to join Beacon. "I apologize. I did not understand the full weight of happened to you. If you want to take some time to make a decision, I will gladly give it to you."
"No, I'll go to Beacon. I was planning on applying anyway, and I think my parents would have wanted me to come here."
There was no proper response to this- given the context of the situation. An "Alright" or a "You won't regret your decision" felt a little bit pithy, insufficient in the face of the tragedy he just faced. Ozpin recognized this, and remained silent. Then, he began to walk towards the Bullhead port.
"Hey, wait, where are you going?"
Ozpin looked back at Jaune.
"To your new school. Want a ride?"
Jaune jogged after the peculiar man. After walking for two straight days, he was not going to let a free ride escape his grasp.
"Hey, wait up!"
Situated just before a cliff's edge, Beacon Academy overlooks the city across a body of crystal clear water. At the top edge of the cliffside are several large, circular aerial docking bays, where airships and Bullheads can dock and allow their passengers to disembark. At the base of the cliffs, a docking bay, available for water-going surface vessels, and a path from there leads upwards to the top of the cliff. The academy itself looked like a castle, with large, sweeping arcs, and spires of marble and ivory.
Following the end of the Great War, Beacon Academy had been founded along with the other three Huntsmen academies in order to train Huntsmen and Huntresses to slay the Creatures of Grimm. In the 80 years since the founding of the Academy, Beacon has trained generations of Huntsmen and Huntresses, raising legends and heroes alike.
More than that, Beacon was a symbol, embedded in Valean culture as a shining jewel of hope. To most people, Beacon represented the impossible dream of salvation from Grimm, and the unfaltering conviction that humanity would carry on. It was the undercurrent of optimism that showed itself in pop culture, media, and stories. It was the motivation to survive, the force behind innovation, and the dream of hope. Beacon, and by proxy, its hunters, were the glue of Vale, that which kept it from falling to despair and kept the intricate gears of society spinning.
If Vale city could be summed up in the word "sprawling" then Beacon Academy would be best called "idyllic". The grass, the clouds, the buildings, were all so much more real than anything he had ever seen before. Drenched in the color of perfection, with the aftertaste of a nostalgia for days gone by. It was as if he had been living in a painting-world all his life, then suddenly ejected into the real world. Even the swaying of the trees and the movement of the clouds were imperceptibly more detailed, with each shivering leaf and wisp of wind crystal clear in his eyes.
However, there were large sections being rebuilt, with large slabs of stone and marble being lifted into the air and placed onto similar structures.
Ozpin seemed to have noticed Jaune's curiosity regarding the reconstruction. As if hearing the question in Jaune's mind, Ozpin answered.
"We're rebuilding the academy to add a host of new classrooms and dorms. Both Haven and Shade were destroyed very recently in Grimm attacks, and the burden now falls to Beacon to act as the guiding light for the displaced students. Luckily, we have contracted the aid of hunters with telekinetic semblances, as well as competent engineering staff to speed the process along quite heavily. The new buildings should be done just before the start of the school year."
Jaune stared at him, both amazed and confused at Ozpin's seeming ability to read his mind.
"I will take your silence for gratitude for my informative and helpful lecture."
Despite his facial muscles not moving an inch, Jaune's awed stare turned into a deadpan. Truly, a powerful skill.
Before he could come up with a witty retort, the Bullhead shook with the turbulence of landing. The door of the airship opened with a hiss, and Ozpin strode out, unfazed by the dust cloud caused by the landing. Turning his head to look at Jaune, who was still inside the Bullhead, Ozpin spoke with the infuriating ineffability of a man who cared to tell you only enough to mess with you.
"It appears that we've landed. Come along now, let's get you settled in."
Still speechless, Jaune followed.
The rest of the day felt like a blur.
. . .
As Jaune flopped on his temporary dorm bed, his thoughts began to wander. What had caused his semblance earlier to mess up like that? His semblance awoke, latent power thrumming, awaiting his command. It flowed into him once more, filling him with a genuine sense of hope. It was the same as all the other times he used it back at home. The burning fury did not materialize this time.
"What changed?"
Thinking on it, he started eliminating variables. Aura level was out, as was physical condition. His strength on the airship was the same then as it was now. A little bit worn out from the administrative ordeals that came with registering at a school, but he had used his semblance while he was at full strength several times before, and this had never happened.
The location seemed possible at first, but the same logical problem arose. He had used his semblance in different locations several times before, both at his old home, and on his journey to Vale.
Perhaps the variance of his emotional state was more logical, given the stark contrast in his mood on the airship and now. The theory of ensouled emotions lent credence to this, the idea that aura and semblances respond more strongly in times of strong emotion. Again, however, it fell to the same rebuttal- he had used his semblance to calm himself at home when getting worked up, or to bolster his determination on the trek in the mountains.
Perhaps the journey had evolved his semblance. It was not unheard of, for people to go through traumatic experiences, or a resolution of the heart, and come out with radically different semblances. He willed the light to form around his hand with practiced expertise. His semblance was obedient, as it always was, shimmering a faint white.
Burn. The mental command resounded in his mind, and the light around his hand intensified. It was scorching, like putting his hand inside a toaster, or perhaps a furnace. He felt the warmth, and drowned in it- the light carried a different kind of intoxication from earlier. It was pulsing, with the beat of war drums or blood spurting from a torn artery. He was ready to fight, and to kill. He felt fire in his blood and in his bones, like his innards had been turned into a furnace, seeking to get out. He wanted to go back, to take vengeance on the Grimm and to dive in to the sea of black and hack and slash and kill and burn.
It was the smoking of his bed that snapped him out of his trance-like hate. The fire receded immediately, replacing itself with the more familiar light of hope. He cut off his semblance, scared of falling too deep into that hole.
"Well," he thought wryly, "at least I don't have to bring a lighter around anymore."
Another trick added to his arsenal. Logically, this would be a cause for joy. A new facet to his semblance, with the power to burn and scorch intensely. Jaune forced himself to calm down manually, taking deep breaths. It wasn't a cause for joy. It was terrifying, like having a leash on a hurricane and wanting to just let go. He wondered if it would burn people from the inside too, if he used it the same way he restored aura. He wondered if he could burn himself from the inside out. It wouldn't be the first time someone's semblance turned against him.
His hands were shaking as he turned the lights off.
Jaune's eyes snapped open to see smoke on the horizon.
His home was burning. The air was acrid with the scent of sulfur and burnt flesh.
His home was burning. He saw his parents, almost tiny in the shadow of a Tyrant Scale.
His home was burning. He saw his classmates, faces set in grim lines and harsh contours.
His home was burning. He saw the guardsmen, stoic in the face of a sea of black. His home was burning. Why was no one running?
His home was burning. Why did he get to run? Why did he get to live, when he was the most cowardly out of all of them?
His home was burning. He was outside, because he lost a bet for some inane shit he no longer cared to remember.
His home was burning. It had something to do with running laps around the village.
His home was burning. He lived by chance.
His home was burning. It was so senseless, so meaningless!
As if the forces of fate conspired to make him the lucky one.
As if he deserved to live. Fuck. He could feel it too. The burning. His home. Burning.
The inferno surrounded him, consuming him, in the same way he felt his semblance.
The hot, pulsing hatred that reminded him of tribal drums and screams filled him from the ground up, from the bone out.
He was filled with molten iron, and lava, and liquid sun.
It was crushing him.
Beating him down with waves of heat and constant, heavy pressure.
Compressing him to a single point of agony.
There.
Jaune woke listlessly. He could feel the telltale signs of his receding semblance, the coldness in his bones and the gap in his aura level. It was 2 o'clock in the morning. He closed his eyes, willing his semblance-the good part- to fill him with hope. To shake off that sense of impending doom, the despair of losing your home and waking in an unfamiliar bed, and the fear that the walls are beginning to close in on you-
This time, Jaune did not dream.
The next day was important. It was the arrival date of the hunter-in-training-to-be(s). Jaune wasn't sure of the plural to that.
"Today is when I get some real life human interaction." Jaune thought, coming to the realization that the only people he had talked to after the -inferno inferno inferno- was Ozpin and the hunters on the Bullhead, and they didn't count. Ozpin was a jackass, and the hunters were more miffed about wasting their time than interested in talking to some teenager.
It was 8 o'clock. Jaune went through his morning ablutions with the same enthusiasm he had while in the forest.
"That says something," Jaune mused, noting his new hatred for the morning sun. Putting on a plain grey shirt and a pair of jeans he found in the closet, he set off for the cafeteria. He found Ozpin, cradling a mug of coffee and staring out at the arriving Bullheads.
"Don't you have headmaster-y things to do?" Jaune asked.
"Yes, I do."
"Wait, then why are you-"
"Because I am the most powerful man on campus, and as such have the power to delegate menial duties to lackeys."
"Don't you have to sign things, like personally?"
Ozpin simply stared at him. "So?"
The younger of the two shook his head, and entered the cafeteria.
It appeared that the dining hall shared the same theme as the rest of the school. Like all parts of the academy buildings, the dining hall was distinctly Valean Gothic in appearance. The walls, marked with the academy's crossed-ax logo, have a fresh sheen of paint.
Currently, they were serving pancakes for breakfast.
"Fine by me." Having no particular compunctions, Jaune bit into his breakfast with much gusto. It tasted average- as if someone took the mean of all pancakes to have ever been served, and condensed it onto his plate. The overly-sweet syrup made it slightly more bearable, but only slightly. Idly gnawing on a piece of pancake, he checked his scroll for recent news.
White Fang Raids Dust Warehouse, Two Injured.
Chew. Nothing new of note. The White Fang had been doing this for a while, and don't seem to show signs of stopping. The article calls for more aggressive preemption in the form of invasive surveillance policies.
A Critical Analysis on Beacon Elitism.
Chew. A fairly interesting article, on the culture of Beacon and similar phenomena. The article concludes stating that the arrogance was not exclusive to Beacon, but instead internalized in the general pool of hunters.
Top Ten Huntsmen- You Won't Believe Who's at Number 1~!
Chew. Utter trash.
Grimm Raid Destroys Village.
Chew.
Jaune closed his eyes, focusing on the aura in his body to keep him calm. Inhale. Exhale.
Finished with his food, he exited the way he came in. On the way out, he noticed that Ozpin was no longer by the entrance of the cafeteria. Fine by him. The headmaster had probably decided to do his job, Jaune decided. He checked his scroll. 8:30. That meant he had around 10 hours before he was required to go to Beacon's Main Hall for the welcoming ceremony.
His incoming batchmates wouldn't be here for a few hours anyway, so he had some time to wander around. He had wanted to check out the shooting range and training field since yesterday, but hadn't had the time nor the mental energy to do so. Pulling out the map one of the staff had given him, he ambled towards their general direction.
The architecture of Beacon Academy was remarkably anachronistic. While containing the odds and ends necessary to a modern institution such as electrical wiring and WiFi, thank god, it kept the overarching aesthetic of a Valean Gothic castle. It drew features from the original Gothic style, including decorative patterns, finials, scalloping, lancet windows, hood mouldings, and label stops.
The Goths were a people from East Solitas who migrated from its inhospitable climate in search of warmer lands. At their peak, they dominated a vast area, which at its peak under the Gothic king Ermanaric and his sub-king Athanaric possibly extended all the way from what was current-day Vale to the northern tip of Solitas. Their downfall came after Ermanaric died without an heir, causing the partitioning of their empire by rival kingdoms. The Huns from the east, a hodgepodge of faunus tribes from the west, and a resurgence from the north with Mantlean separatists seeking freedom. The Gothic peoples were soon assimilated without a central figure or culture hero to rally to, but their influence lived on in the form of art, culture and most relevantly, architecture.
Jaune knew this for one primary reason: a burning interest in history and the actors that shape it. His defining ambition was to be a hero; the kind of person who people rallied behind and whose actions shaped the course of history. Another life would have him foolishly chase his dream by sneaking into Beacon and lagging behind his classmates. Here, his upbringing in a family of hunters and exposure to a harsh political climate allowed him to grasp the true nature of greatness- one that did not simply look at the "great man" theory of history, but the kind that understood the range of complex variables which determined revolution, war, and peace.
Mistralian philosopher Thomas Carlyle stated that "The history of the world is but the biography of great men", reflecting his belief that heroes shape history through both their personal attributes and divine inspiration.
His contemporary Herbert Spencer rebutted this, stating "You must admit that the genesis of a great man depends on the long series of complex influences which has produced the race in which he appears, and the social state into which that race has slowly grown... Before he can remake his society, his society must make him."
Both were valid claims, that change was dependent on a vast number of variables: cultural narratives, economic prosperity, and the hopes and dreams of the downtrodden, but also that great men did shape history and the geography of the land, with examples of Vacuoan warrior kings springing to mind. Jaune intended to be that kind of person, the kind that people debate about in a thousand years' time.
Arriving at the shooting range, he pulled out his trusty pistol-that-was-more-like-a-cannon. A Schnee Model 1873 Single-Action New Model Army Metallic Cartridge Revolving Pistol bought at an army depot meant for guardsmen. It fed ammunition via the rotation of a cartridge-filled cylinder, in which each cartridge is contained in its own dust ignition chamber, and is sequentially brought into alignment with the weapon's barrel. The bullets fired were powerful, incredibly so, tearing through metal and Grimm bone plates with relative ease. The downside it brought was a lack of long-range and the time it took to reload.
Being an older model, when large, legendary Grimm were more common (for a sense of the word), and the Grimm tactic of "sea of black" was not yet in full force, the gun was designed to be more powerful than newer editions, which sacrificed power for reliability and strength.
While Jaune wasn't exactly a sharpshooter, he could hit a target with consistency, and had a steady arm to fire with. He primed the gun with a dextrous motion, lining up the sight and cocking the hammer back at the same time. Then, he fired, with the shoulder of the human-shaped target being torn off.
Again.
The next shot hit closer to the chest, but not yet a bull's-eye.
Again.
The next shot hit the clavicle bone. Not a bull's-eye.
Again.
There. A bull's-eye.
Again.
In another life, Jaune would be driven by a desire to leave the shadow of the Arc legacy and make a name for himself.
Again.
In this life, Jaune was driven by an aching despair to eradicate the Grimm. An intensity that filled his bones with energy and his heart with hatred shaped his ambition into a single, uncompromising point.
Protect his friends. Protect humanity, and faunus kind. Make sure this never happens again, to anyone else.
Again.
Never again.
After the oddly melodramatic shooting range experience, he decided next to try some warm ups in Beacon's training room. The training room was probably unoccupied, with the teachers and students currently preoccupied with preparing for the students' arrival at Beacon, or simply being asleep by virtue of it being still 10:00 and a non-school day.
The training was boring, but helped him keep his muscles in shape- it wouldn't do to become flabby. He liked having washboards abs and sick biceps. You'd think that by now, he'd deserve the right to be a little bit vain.
As he turned to walk back to his room, his Scroll received a text. This was weird, primarily because everyone who had his number in his village was dead, and he was sure that he didn't give his number to Ozpin. Thus, the sender of the text: Violet Arc.
Jaune had seven sisters, Blanc, Rose, Violet, Noir, Vert, Argent, and Azure, each sibling only a year or two apart, with the cute naming scheme of Gallic Valean colors. Jaune was the runt, born four years after Azure, the youngest of the sisters. Each one of them a successful hunter, the elite of their generation, and highly sought after by companies and institutions. Blanc, Rose, and Noir worked as professional contractors, taking extermination missions on a regular basis which lasted for months on end. Azure was a specialist in the Atlesian army, and Violet was a teacher in Atlas Academy. Vert and Argent were heavily involved in the geopolitical situation of Vacuo, resolving internecine conflicts between warring clans, and participating in Grimm hunts.
It made sense that Violet would be the first to receive the news, given that as a teacher, she would be the least likely to take on a mission. It read:
FROM: Violet Arc
TO: Jaune Arc
I heard about what happened from Ozpin, about the attack on home and the Nevermores. I will visit you in Beacon as soon as time permits. Given the current mission schedule, I will get a week's leave from Headmaster Ironwood in about a month, so stay strong.
I love you.
Jaune closed his eyes, unsure of how to feel. Happy, that his sister loved him and was willing to spend her leave with him. Annoyed, that he would have to wait a month to see her. Angry, that she wasn't here yet, and that she wasn't there for them- And, always, the underlying current of despair.
It was confusing, and as mature as Jaune was, he was still a teenager. He needed time for the emotions to subside, and to process how he felt about a situation. He wasn't a robot, could never be a robot.
A pause, a lapse in the action.
Then, an explosion. Or at least, the sound of an explosion. Strength entering his legs, he sprinted towards the origin of the noise- the courtyard. There he saw the milling crowd of aspiring hunters, and in the center, a duo. A small girl, clothed in red, and another in white. The one in white was covered in soot, and was shouting at the younger one. He caught part of the conversation.
"-ou complete dolt! What are you even doing here? Aren't you a little young to be attending Beacon?"
"Well, I-I..."
"This isn't your ordinary combat school. It's not just sparring and practice, you know!"
Feeling a bit sorry for the girl, he decided to step in. It's not like it could get any worse, right?
"Hey," he said, stepping into the conversation, "I heard an explosion from inside the training fields. Is anyone hurt?"
The girl turned to him, glare still in place. "Just me, after this idiot sneezed on a vial of dust and blew it up in my face!"
Just then, a cat faunus in black approached them, vial in hand. "Here," she said curtly, and handed it to me. I held it closer to my eye. The cap was screwed on very loosely, and with a tilt, a small amount of red dust fell out.
"It looks like the cap was just screwed on loosely. No harm done nor intended, so let's just calm down, ok." Jaune saturated the air with his aura- allowing it to seep and mingle with the ambient aura of others.
The girl looked back at him, scrutinizing him a bit harder. "Fine. I-" she hesitated, clearly not wanting to back down. "I apologize for being harsh with you."
He turned to the smaller girl, who was looking at him with no small amount of awe. "Uh, yeah, I apologize as well, for, y'know, exploding and stuff."
Then, he turned to the faunus, who just shrugged. The girl in white turned quickly, and walked away with a slight huff.
An awkward pause.
Eager to break the silence, the girl in red said excitedly, "Hi! My name is Ruby Rose! Thanks, for, uh, being cool and stuff."
"It was my pleasure. I'm Jaune Arc, nice to meet you." He extended his arm in the form of handshake, as his father always taught him. In politics, there was no need for pussyfooting around if you crushed his arm, he recalled his father saying.
After looking at the hand for an awkward half-second, she shook it with exaggerated force, blushing bright red.
The faunus interjected, "Arc, as in Argent Arc, the figurehead for the Silver Wings movement in Vacuo?"
Jaune smiled brightly. "Yeah, I'm her younger brother." He said with a faux-whisper- "Don't tell anyone, but she can't do her chores to save a life."
A faint half-smile on her face. "I'm Blake Belladonna, and I've admired your sister for her success in pushing for greater policy change in Vacuo."
"I'll make sure to tell her that, Blake. It's nice to meet you too. Anyway, you guys are going to the Welcoming Ceremony, right? The main hall should be this way." said Jaune, beginning to walk down the main path of the courtyard. He turned his head, and saw the two were following suit.
"Thanks! Uh, yeah." replied Ruby, face still red. "Uhh, how long have you been studying at Beacon?"
"I'm an incoming freshman, just like you."
"Uhh..."
Jaune chuckled good-naturedly, finding her awkwardness funny.
"H-hey, don't laugh at me! It was an honest mistake."
Blake spoke up. "He's not wearing a uniform, just like us, and he's not a teacher. It would make sense for him to be a freshman too."
"Not you too!"
Blake, while not outright laughing, certainly had a smile on her face as well. Even Ruby, bouncing back with a sunny disposition, was smiling.
Hey, maybe it won't be so bad after all.
The formation of new bonds is the first step to healing the ones torn away from you.
GRIMM REPORT
Beowolves
Beowolves are large, dark, werewolf-like creatures of Grimm.
While Beowolves vary from location to location, all incarnations share certain common traits. Consistently, Beowolves stand on their hind legs, albeit with a slouch, and are extremely muscular. They attack like a regular wolf would, with clawing and lunges, and no special skills or abilities demonstrated as of yet.
They are extremely agile, using powerful muscles to launch themselves at prey, and quick reflexes to respond adeptly to new situations.
Their behavior varies depending on age. Younger Beowolves do not act like normal wolves, lacking any sense of self-preservation. They relentlessly attack no matter how hurt they are or how many of their pack members are slain. Older Beowolves gain a sense of self-preservation like normal wolves and eventually become more intelligent than them, observing their allies, retreating when needed and developing strategies for future encounters against Huntsmen and other threats.
When Beowolves hit an as of yet undiscovered threshold, they become Alpha Beowolves. Alpha Beowolves are a much more dangerous, armored version of the Beowolf. Alphas are easily capable of destroying automated drones, literally ripping them apart, or outsmarting their rudimentary AI. Unlike the standard Beowolves which are easily dispatched in droves by trainee Huntsmen and Huntresses, they are a foe to be wary of by even an experienced huntsman.
AN: The first divergence from canon! Blake is openly a faunus here, and Jaune doesn't totally mess up in front of the ladies. Next chapter, you're going to see some characters who were supposed to be in other schools (ABRN, BRNZ, NDGO, and SSSN) interact! Wahoo.