Chapter 3

Survival

Disclaimer: Not getting any less rusty.

AN: I will refrain from using OCs too much, but I will use them to fill gaps in the story. As said, many, if not all of the students Jaune will interact in his year with are characters shown in RWBY canon. Sadly, the same cannot be said for existing hunters, family, or older students, given RWBY's habit of refusing to world build except in broad strokes.


A hunter has three ways to self-improvement. The first is the acquisition of technical and combat skills- learning martial arts, and improving efficiency of motion. This takes time and effort, but pays great dividends, acting as a multiplier for existing physical strengths.

Second, is the strengthening of the body- gaining muscle strength, stamina, and hand-eye coordination. The power of the material realm mostly stems from the condition of your physical body; if you cannot act, then you will not be able to use your martial arts skills. Improving the body opens up other options in the form of more strenuous training regimens, or more risky techniques.

The last is the refinement of the soul. This takes place in three primary ways: semblances, aura efficiency, and aura content. The semblance is self explanatory: the longer and more often you use a semblance, the stronger and more diverse it becomes. A hunter that begins with the ability to shoot fire out of their hands may end up gaining the power to imbue objects with a blazing edge, or invoking a fiery rage in unsuspecting victims. This also occurs when a fundamental aspect of a person is irrevocably damaged or changed. While not true for all hunters, some souls are more malleable than others.

Aura efficiency is defined as the capacity to draw out the most amount of aura possible from the soul. As far as the extent of human knowledge goes, aura efficiency can only be improved by meditation and prolonged training. However, the faunus warlords of old have been known to use aura with near maximum efficiency, suffocating entire battlefields with just the weight of their souls.

Aura content in turn is how much aura your soul contains- like aura efficiency, this can also be trained through meditation and prolonged training. While there is no scientific basis, there has been a general trend of aura increase after hardship, lending credence to a theory that aura content is directly tied to the "resilience of the soul".

Jaune predicted that if that theory were true, his aura content should have doubled by now. After they had arrived at the main hall, Ruby's "sister" (who was blonde and carried more Valean racial features in comparison to Ruby's Mistralian build, Jaune highly doubted that they were related) had hailed the trio over. Then Ozpin along with two other adults walked up to the stage, and gave the most boring speech he had ever heard.

Ozpin said something about applying his talents...? He didn't listen, and frankly, listening to Ozpin talk for ten minutes about dedication did not appeal to him in any sense of the word. Jaune was half-asleep at this point, head bobbing and desperately trying to stay awake. To his left, Blake was reading a book and Ruby looked positively enamored with the speech.

Then, one of the other two headmasters went up to give their speech. Jaune gave up hope at this point, and dozed off. He dreamed of fighting in glorious battle, crushing many small Ozpin-faced Goliaths in his wake.

A tap on his shoulder woke him from his nap. He looked up to see a pair of vivid green eyes staring back at him. With the bleary cognizance of a man just woken, he noticed two things. One, Blake, Ruby, and Yang were hiding behind a pair of chairs to his far left. Two, the girl in front of him was in the process of reeling back, a bright red blush on her face.

"Can I help you?" Jaune said in the murmur of half-sleep. While training at home required waking up at early hours, a morning person Jaune was not. And while it was not currently morning, the principle of being groggy when woken still applied.

The red-headed girl was clearly struggling to formulate a response. "Well, you see, uh- your friends asked me to wake you up!" She pointed to the obviously-trying-not-to-be-obvious cluster of people at the edge of his peripheral vision.

"We thought it would be funny!" Yang chimed in, opinion incredibly unwelcome from Jaune's point of view.

"Well, I'm awake now." the blond boy stood up, dusting the sleep from his eyes. "I'm Jaune Arc, nice to meet you, uh..." he trailed off.

Miss Sleep Destroyer looked befuddled, as if she had never been required to give her name before. Then, seeming to come to a resolution, she replied. "I'm Pyrrha Nikos, it's nice to meet you too."

Jaune felt like he was missing out on something. He squinted at her, scrutinizing her figure. She wore elaborate bronze greaves, a pair of cuisses, and a bronze, strapless top. Armor. A hunter usually did not wear armor unless they were the "tank" of the squad, or could move comfortably within it. She was either skilled or a fool. The faint aura he could feel emanating from her accessories made the "skilled" theory more credible. It took time to learn how to fight with aura implements.

"Right."

"I am too sleepy to deal with this."

Closing his eyes, he circulated his aura to regain wakefulness. Nothing woke you up like a semblance-fed injection of 500 ccs of pure JUSTICE and HOPE into his muscles. When he opened his eyes, he saw his friends staring at him openly. "What?" Jaune said, feeling a little bit out of place.

Blake chose this time to speak. "You closed your eyes and started glowing." What? How was this weird? People glow all the time.

"Oh, that's just an aura exercise to remove drowsiness." Jaune answered, hoping that this was true, and not something specific to his semblance.

The peanut gallery "aahed". Aura usually explained most unexplainable things. Experienced aura users could fly, shoot lasers, and heal injuries- almost like gods among men. Called sages, hunters of this level are very rare- mostly found in sparse quantities in Mistral and the rare hermit in the Vacuoan wastes.

"Teach me how to do that sometime, sleepyhead." Yang, said, mostly to fill the silence.

Beat.

"Hey, it's a good nickname!" she said indignantly.

Beat.

In the distance, Miss Goodwitch could be seen ushering students into the ballroom.

Beat.

"Sleepyhead? Whatever, let's just get to wherever Miss Goodwitch wants us to go." With a pivot and a half-smile, he strode towards the exit.


"It's like a big slumber party!" Yang exclaimed, donning ursa-patterned pajamas and an exuberant smile. It was almost curfew, but most of the students were still up and socializing.

"I don't think Dad would approve of all the boys, though." Ruby looked up, and saw several of the male students flexing and generally displaying their masculinity. Just then, Jaune entered the ballroom, with a stormy look on his face. "Hey, that's Jaune."

Blake then entered the conversation. "Didn't he say on the way here that he had his own room at Beacon? What happened to that?"

Scowl lightening, he made his way over to them. "Hey guys," he offered, mostly as a conversation starter. He had a backpack in one hand, and a bedroll under his other arm.

"So," Yang said, with a sleazy grin on her face, "What happened to that dorm room of yours, huh? Thought you were too good to sleep in the same room as plebeians like us?"

"Oh, Ozpin said something about "Having to socialize with other people my age" and "Forming generational camaraderie" as if that smug coffee guzzler knew the meaning of personal space." Jaune's face twisted into a grimace for a split second, then returned to a placatory smile. "Well, better you guys than some strangers, I guess."

"So," Ruby started, stretching out her "o"s, "Do you like weapons?"

Beside her, Yang put her face in her hands. Slightly muffled, Jaune could hear a pained "That's not how you talk to boys..."

"Yeah, I like my weapons, I guess. They're pretty useful for doing weapon-y stuff."

"Can I see, can I see?" Ruby asked excitedly. At this point she was leaning closely in the direction of Jaune. Even Blake looked vaguely interested in what Jaune had to show.

"Yeah, sure. Let me just put my stuff down." Setting down his bedroll beside Blake's (which was against the wall) he sat on the edge of his bed. Here, he pulled out a sword, a shield, and a revolver.

Ruby crawled over, eyes in the shape of stars.

"You've done it now, Jaune. You're never gonna hear the end of "weapons, weapons, weapons," with her." added Yang, with a wry smile.

"Ignore my foolish sister. What do these do?" said Ruby.

"Well, the sword and shield are run-of-the-mill weaponry. I got them at the army depot back in my home town, so they're not really worth looking at. Basic sword-and-board combo. The revolver is what I'm really proud of though. This baby can tear the wing off a Nevermore from over 50 feet away." Jaune gestured to his weapons in turn.

Ruby held the side of the revolver close to her eye. "This is a really old model. Almost fifty years before the Great War, even! Is it single-action or double-action?"

"Single-action. Self-cocking mechanisms leave the gun too fragile to fire the kinds of bullets I use."

"Really!? What caliber?"

"Well..."

As the two devolved into gun-related conversation, Blake turned back to her book. Just as she felt herself really getting immersed into the book's plotline, she heard Yang wave someone over. It was Pyrrha, in plain striped pajamas, and a small crowd of people following her.

"Hello," she waved back from afar. Even from here, Blake could see the strain visible on the girl's face.

Yang nudged Ruby. "Hey, it's Pyrrha."

"Hi, Pyrrha!" Ruby waved.

Jaune turned to look at Pyrrha as well. Taking in the small crowd, he leaned in to Blake. "Is she famous or something?"

Blake looked at him like he was mad. "She's the four-time champion of the Mistralian National Duelists' Championship, and probably the strongest of our generation."

Duelling tournaments in Remnant were held yearly, with victors being crowned as champion of that region. There were three main categories, with the first being for ages 10-18. The second, or the inter-varsities, were for those still in Hunting Academies. The third, or the opens, were for actual hunters. All competitions were incredibly hard to win, first pulling from the top sixteen in a preliminary, then having break rounds to determine the champion.

He looked back at the girl in question.

"Cool."

Then, he tilted his head up. In a clarion voice, both conversational and serious, he spoke. "Hey Pyrrha, what's with all the groupies?"

The ballroom turned silent. Eyes turned to the source of the statement. Scrolls were raised, both videotaping the event, and checking the background of this "Jaune Arc" person. While Beacon was not as highly politicized as other schools, both Haven and Shade were known for extending inter-nobility and internecine conflict into the school ground. That meant assessing the caliber of your opponents, and analyzing them for mistakes- information was power, and power-hungry was the nature of an environment as this. Jaune was an unknown variable, and as such warranted research.

One of the groupies stepped forward. "Hey, who do you think you are?"

Subconsciously, his aura flowed into the air around him. The air shimmered with an invisible heat-haze, both there and not. The pressure in his vicinity increased immensely, with some finding it harder to breath. The shadows around Jaune grew a little bit darker, and he could feel his own heart beating with the drum-rhythm of war. "Just a friend."

Reluctantly, the crowd behind Pyrrha scattered. The aura around Jaune immediately receded, and the heat-haze disappeared. Yang swivelled to stare at Jaune. "What was that?"

"I'm not sure." All he had intended to do was to use the courage facet of his semblance to make sure he himself wouldn't back down, and yet, an entirely different result had appeared. "This has never happened before."

"Thanks," said Pyrrha, visible relief on her face. "Those glory seekers have been following me around for a while now."

"Uh, right..."

"Anyways," Pyrrha continued, polite smiles and all, "Do you mind if I sleep next to you, Jaune? I think they'll stay away if you do... whatever you did."

"Yeah, sure, sure."

The night went on, its memory meant to be forgotten, but the bonds made to last.


Jaune woke, gasping for air. The same dream, of fire and pressure, crushing him into a single point of agony. Looking down at himself, he noticed that he was glowing white with the hazy heat of his soul. Again. This time was less severe, though. His bed was distinctly less on fire this time.

He looked at his scroll. 6:30. Well, he wasn't going to get any sleep now. Putting on a shirt, he picked up his backpack and headed towards the training room. It was good to exercise early, when the facilities weren't so crowded. As an awkward teenager, he erred on the side of "please don't look at me" in the "look at me all the time" vs "please don't" dichotomy that most pubescent children fell into.

Opening the door to the training room, he found a dark-skinned, blonde girl mid-leap over a Spider Droid. Firing bolts of aura from her palm, she rocketed to the other side of the room before destroying the bot from the back with a flick of a rope dart.

Panting silently, she stepped to the side, and sat on one of the benches lining the room. Nodding in that same silent language, Jaune pressed the button for an AK-130. The Atlesian Knight- 130 is a type of robot created to act as security for most of Remnant's institutions. Humanoid in shape, and a metallic dark-gray in color, they possess wrist-mounted blades that also have red aura distributors along their length as well as an incredibly efficient power source, allowing them to act as cheap security for many buildings in Vale and Atlas.

They were the main kind of bot contracted by Jaune's home, and as such were the training partner he was most used to. Jaune threw himself against them (when his sisters weren't around to train him) until he was strong. Strong enough to tear them in half with a swipe of his sword or with glowing hand. Still not strong enough.

Also, they were significantly more advanced than Spider Droids.

Without preamble, he charged at the droid released from the other side of the room. Hand raised and glowing, he ducked instinctively under a slash of its arm, and gave a solid uppercut to what could be called its chin. The bot, knocked to the ground, died to a crushing blow to its chest which crumpled the hull and the power source.

From an outsider's perspective, it looked like Jaune had trashed the bot. While that was true, it was partially born from having an almost instinctive understanding of the bot's reactions and subroutines. He didn't doubt that he was strong, but in comparison to Pyrrha, he might have to step up his game. That meant learning to adapt. Keeping that in mind for the next training session, he sat down on the bench, and gave the girl a silent look.

It seemed that she was slightly awed by his performance. Shaken from a reverie, she stepped and chose the option for an AK-130 as well. Idly, he watched her duck and dodge, as well as pepper the bot with aura shots from her palm. He used the time to really look at her, like how his parents had taught him. She donned a yellow robe with one wide, loose fitting sleeve over a black tube top. She wore black pants, shoes and a red sash embroidered with a white endless knot on it. Lastly, her weapon of choice was a dagger attached to her bandage wrappings, turning it into a rope dart.

This told him two primary things, first of which being that she was probably Mistralian. This made sense, given her usages of kimonos, sashes, and flexible attacks to dismantle the combat droids. Her choice of clothing and weaponry formed the image of someone who was supposed to attend Haven Academy, but was sent to Beacon in light of the recent attacks. Secondly, was that she was definitely competent. She lacked the hesitance of a greenhorn, attacking viciously, and expending the minimal movement to dodge the attacks of the robots. Sureness and efficiency, displayed in the way she weaved her semblance efficiently with her attacks and the way she flicked her rope dart with unerring accuracy.

Despite this, Jaune reckoned he could beat her in a fight. While she was definitely a skilled fighter, her build was not one that could stand up to his assault. He would bullrush her, and would be strong enough take out her aura in two clean hits. Her weapon was too weak to afford her space to attack him, and while he had no way of assessing how fast she could run, Jaune was no slouch in that department either. The memory of the journey to Vale resounded in his mind- one of blurring landscapes and blinding fast strikes. His defense against the flock of Nevermores nearly killed him, but he distinctly remembered outrunning a Lenore's feather spear at one point.

They continued this silent, alternating training for around 30 minutes. After a brief lull in the action, she locked eyes with him. Nodding to herself, she spoke. "My name is Arslan Altan."

He allowed a small smile to appear on his face. "Jaune Arc. Nice to meet you."

Silence. They were staring at each other for five solid seconds when Jaune decided this was becoming way too awkward. "Well, I'm going to change, then go to the cafeteria to eat. Wanna come with?"

She mirrored his smile. "Alright."

...

Arriving at the mess hall, he found that it was mostly empty, with the exception of a group of four sitting together at a table, and the staff manning the food. After grabbing a stack of pancakes at the counter, he walked towards the quartet sitting there, with Arslan in tow. "Do you guys mind if we sit here too?"

"Why not?"

"Sure!"

"..."

"Eh, go ahead."

Setting down his plate, he looked at his tablemates. A teenage boy with tan skin, dark blue eyes and messy light blue hair. A girl with lightly tanned skin, indigo hair brushed over to her left side, and olive eyes. A boy with green eyes and brown hair styled in cornrow dreadlocks tipped in gold clasps. A girl with light green hair swept to her right, green eyes and fair skin, as well as two black facial markings on her cheeks.

"Hi, I'm Jaune Arc."

In turn, they gave their names.

"Neptune Vasilias, at your service." The blue-haired one.

"I'm Nebula Violette, nice to meet you." Indigo hair, and olive eyes.

"Roy." Deadlocks in gold clasps.

"Reese Chloris, hi." Green hair and facial markings.

From his side, Arslan introduced herself as well. Pleasantries exchanged, Jaune turned to eating his breakfast. Exercise always left him hungry, despite it having been only thirty minutes total. Something to do with his aura consumption, and how his body metabolized food to increase aura production.

"Hey, you were the guy who got Pyrrha's groupies to scram, right?"

Jaune looked at the origin of the statement- Reese, looking at him with some level of curiosity. The light conversation at the table stopped, and they turned to look at him as well.

Reese continued still. "Yeah, it is you! Back in Sanctum, she's always had that problem with her fans. No matter how much she tried, she still wasn't able to shake them. Threats of physical violence didn't shake them, and neither did actual physical violence."

She leaned in closer. "So, how'd you do it?"

After a bite of his pancake, he replied with "Aura bullshit." The rest of the table looked distinctly unsatisfied with that answer, but they could understand his hesitancy. No one knew how the entrance exam would work, and a hunter had to keep secrets up his sleeve to have an edge over the competition. Jaune knew this, and forcing people to prepare for an unknown variable would help when he inevitably had to face them. They knew that too, and couldn't begrudge him for it.

Neptune spoke, filling the silence. "So, has anyone seen the latest Spruce Willis movie?" The table conversation resumed, with the same exuberance as before.

Jaune returned to eating, offering his own part to the discussion when needed or asked to. He wondered how many more moments like this he would have; respite from the world around them, an oasis of optimism against an ever-growing tide of darkness. The idle conversation, the slightly-better-than-average-food, the scent of maple syrup in the air...

It was an idyll, made special by how perfect and ephemeral it was. Jaune knew this was a memory he would feel nostalgia for. Their lives would be consumed soon enough by the tide of darkness, as was demanded by their profession of choice. Everyone knew how dangerous it was to be a huntsman- most did not live to see old age. Death rates were high, incredibly so, and injury rates were not much better.

Despite this grim fact, it was a testament to a cultural enshrinement of huntsmanship, as well as successful propaganda that allowed for hunting to remain a highly sought-after profession. People like Cadmus, the first hero, or Setanta, who drove back the hordes from Northern Vale, had their lives and legends turned into a rallying story for people to buy into and remain hopeful. Culture heroes they were, defining the narratives that in turn affected how people dreamed and lived, acting as moral landmarks for society to keep on functioning.

A marvel of social engineering, unknowingly brought about by the collective will of the populace. Weaponizing the dreams of mankind to ward off the darkness. How romantic, and yet at the same time so cold and unfeeling. It was necessary, to lift spirits and to convince another generation of dreamers to lay down their lives for some abstraction of a common good.

He ate another bite. How dreary.

Rationally, he knew that the act of forming new bonds was not a betrayal in anyway. He was capable of both mourning his old friends and making new ones. In spite of this knowledge, he could feel himself hesitate and feel a little bit nauseated every time someone cracked a joke in that old way they did or banter like they did. He shook his head. The only way to confront this forming psychosis was head-on.

Time to make some fucking friends. And so, he started, speaking just after the conversation trailed off. "So, why'd you guys decide to become hunters?"

"Well..."

And the gears of history turned on.

...

Jaune pulled out the pack they left in locker 636, which contained water and some rations. Prolonged survival? Regardless, he emptied the given pack and put the supplies into his own backpack. And, just for good measure, he put the pack into his other backpack as well. Just in case.

Looking up, he saw the white-haired girl and Pyrrha walk towards his direction. They seemed to be in eager conversation- well, maybe not Pyrrha. She looked like she wanted to be anywhere else but there.

"-ght to whose team you'd like to be on? I'm sure everyone must be eager to unite with such a strong, well-known individual such as yourself!"

"Hmm..." she replied, "I'm not quite sure. But I think I already have someone in mind." Turning away from her discussant, she caught sight of Jaune. Instantly, her eyes lit up.

"Jaune!" she exclaimed, jubilant at the thought that she would be able to talk to someone normal.

"Hi, Pyrrha." he greeted mildly. "And hi to you, uh..."

"Weiss. Weiss Schnee." A strained smile.

Silence for two awkward seconds.

"Well, since I didn't get to introduce myself properly, I'm Jaune Arc. Nice to meet you, Weiss."

"Arc, as in Specialist Azure Arc!? The same one my sister works with!?" Weiss said, a tone of panic entering her voice. It took skill and connections to become a Specialist in the Atlesian Military's Special Operatives unit, undergoing rigorous training and background checks just to be an aspirant. Perhaps, her mind whispered insidiously, they simply share a last name.

"Yeah, she's my older sister." Any hope of that was shattered. "No hard feelings, right?"

"Y-yeah." she replied shakily. If she had made a powerful political enemy this early...!

"Cool." Jaune returned to fixing his pack. Dust cartridges, check. Lighter, check. Dust vials, check.

Pyrrha leaned forward to look at his backpack. "So..." she faltered, looking for a way to start a conversation. It was difficult for a teenager to not be awkward, even ignoring the small crush on Jaune that Pyrrha seemed to be forming. "Are you ready for the initiation?"

"Yeah, I think I'm pretty ready. Although, if it turns out to be something like a written test, I'll be quite angry."

He turned his head up to look at Pyrrha. "How about you? You seem to be pretty prepared, already strategizing for team matchups." A wry grin on his face.

A blush earned in return. He was getting back into his groove, losing the stilted manner of someone still reeling from tragedy. "Well, actually, the one I wanted to be on my team was-"

The crackle of a speaker cut through all student conversation. A smooth, cultured voice, charming and baritone filled the air. "All first-year students please report to Beacon Cliff for initiation. Again, all first-year students report to Beacon Cliff immediately."

"Time to go, guys." Weiss nodded, and Pyrrha, still red-faced, followed suit.

"Nice one, drowsyface!" he could hear Yang. Pointedly, he ignored her. Acknowledging that with a reaction would increase the propensity of it occurring in the future.

...

The view from the cliff was breathtaking. Clouds streaked the sky, silvered and ephemeral. The trees waved slightly in the breeze, and the wind blew cool air onto his face. There, students stood on silver tiles in front of a mug-holding headmaster.

"For years, you have trained to become warriors, and today, your abilities will be evaluated in the Emerald Forest. Now, I'm sure many of you have heard rumors about the assignment of "teams." Well, allow us to put an end to your confusion. Each of you will be given teammates... today."

Reactions from the crowd. Shocked faces and irritated expressions. Groaning and nervous laughter.

"These teammates will be with you for the rest of your time here at Beacon. So it is in your best interest to be paired with someone with whom you can work well. That being said, the first person you make eye contact with after landing will be your partner for the next four years."

More reactions, some violent and angry. Shock, from Ruby, and excitement from a girl in pink. Determination from the others.

"After you've partnered up, make your way to the northern end of the forest. You will meet opposition along the way. Do not hesitate to destroy everything in your path... or you will die.

This elicited fear. Ozpin was a legend for a reason, and the pressure that settled around their shoulders was not simply a trick of the wind.

"You will be monitored and graded through the duration of your initiation, but our instructors will not intervene. You will find an abandoned temple at the end of the path containing several relics. As long as you reach that temple and survive, you will pass. Any questions?"

Hesitant hands raise from the crowd.

"Good! Now, take your positions." A swift motion of his hand, and suddenly, they were all shot from their platforms at the same time.

When he was being flung into the air, Ozpin's smugness was the resounding image in his imagination.

In a moment of odd clarity, he found himself tasting the wind. It was crisp and clear, like that of the mountainside or perhaps a pine forest.

He shook his head. He needed a landing strategy now. His shield was too small to block the fall with. Using his sword to slide down a tree would probably dull it to the point of uselessness. The revolver was too slow to get any kind of lift with. The terrain was closing in fast-

"Fuck it." he thought. Wrapping himself in a golden sheath of light, he braced his body for impact. Again, the warmth of courage filled his heart, and he could feel his muscles becoming stronger, bone hardening to the strength of metal. He felt himself crash through a tree, then another, then another. Each was a hit to his aura, but with the monstrous heritage of the Arc's, he probably still had enough to run on full steam.

Finally, he slammed into the ground. A small crater, the diameter of a small boulder, and a dust cloud made from his landing. He picked himself up, shaking the dust out of his eyes. Around 80% left. That would be enough. It had to be.

A voice, from his left. "A-are you ok? That looked like a pretty harsh landing."

"Yeah," he replied, turning to face her. "Just some turbulence."

The speaker was female, with red hair and vivid green eyes. Pyrrha. Given their distance from each other at the cliff, either she had somehow maneuvered herself to his position, or something had interfered with her flight. It didn't matter, he supposed. There were worse people to be partnered with.

"Nice to meet you, partner." he proffered his hand to towards her, as a sign of contract.

"Uh, right. Yeah." she shook his hand way too firmly. Curiously, her face was red once more. Either the signs of a crush, or physical exertion. Physical exertion seemed the likelier option, given how she was so hesitant to talk to him earlier.

"I think we should get going, if we want to get to the temple quickly."

Aura filled his legs once more, filling them with strength. Ready to run.

Just then, two Beowolves entered the small clearing. Being dumb beasts, they did not feel the need to obey the narrative convention of allowing the hero to get ready before fighting. They charged, heedless of their surroundings, large bodies barreling straight at him. His aura flowed, imbuing his blade with sharpness and hatred for Grimm flesh. A quick practiced cut upwards with his sword tore the momentum out of the beast, knocking it upwards. Jaune had experienced surprise drills before, and knew how to efficiently acquit himself in front of an adversary. Another cut tore the torso to ribbons. The last tore its head off.

He turned to the other, only to see its left limb sheared off by Pyrrha's blade. She looked particularly vicious, hacking at it and pushing it back with each strike. Then, with a sense of finality, she impaled its head on her blade. Flicking the viscera off her blade, she responded. "Yes, I think that would be grand."

His grin was just as vicious. This would be fun.

"First to a hundred kills wins."

Awkward teenager interaction, Pyrrha would never understand. A semi-sheltered lifestyle, compounded by a life of prestige and fame ensured normal relationships forever gone from reach. Grimm murder, however, was something else entirely. This, she was trained her whole life for. Her semblance rose to her call, xiphos glowing with a metallic sheen. "You're on."

As if responding to some unseen signal, both darted in the same general direction towards the temple. Jaune grunted, body sheathed in that same courage-light. His sword flicked out, ready to kill. There. An Ursa, just fifty meters to his front. He kicked his muscles into overdrive, dashing around the trees. There. A small clearing before his target. Straight forward, now. His full barreling charge, coupled with that strange, Grimm-shearing light allowed him to literally tear the Ursa's head off its body, along with a solid chunk of head.

"One!" he shouted out.

He heard Pyrrha reply twenty meters or so to his left. "One!."

A gunshot. "Two!"

A grin threatened to split his face. He pushed on further into the woods.

...

He could hear Pyrrha close behind him. The score was 67-73, with Pyrrha taking the lead in kills. Looking up, he skidded to a halt. A change in scenery. In front of him was a large glade, around the size of half a football field. A ray of light shone from above, highlighting motes of dust floating lazily in the air. It drew his attention to the stone dais in the center. Intricate, but indistinguishable markings lined its circumference. On it, stood a large, musuclar Grimm almost twice his size. It was covered in black skin, with bone-like plates covering its body at certain places like armor, or perhaps moss. A reddish glow emanated from underneath its armor plates, and one eye on its disfigured mask-face.

A Beringel. Jaune recognized these from his studies back at the village. It was touched upon briefly, talked about as a strong, durable Grimm that required experience and skill to handle. In the horde, they came in droves, a vague mockery of humans with grisly, powerful jaws, and superhuman strength. This one seemed different from the ones in the event. It was glowing, which was new.

"Jaun-" Pyrrha said, cutting herself off as she caught sight of the large Grimm. "That's... a Beringel. I've never fought one before."

Assess. While heavily resembling gorillas, Beringels were not native to the forests of Vale. They belonged primarily to the wastes of Vacuo, once inhabiting its lush jungles before the advent of heavy mercantilism on the end of Atlas and Vale. Which meant one thing- it was brought here, either by a hunter or a professor. Given its placement on the center of a stone dais, it was probably meant for students to find and fight.

Which meant that it would be -relatively- safe to fight.

"It was placed here, which means that we were meant to find it. Why not, right?"

Pyrrha looked at him, reprimand on the tip of her tongue. What stopped her was his completely serious expression. "I want to test my strength," he continued, "They placed that here, as a challenge. I'm not going to back down, no matter what."

He leaned in closer, and Pyrrha could smell the sweat off his chest. "Will you help me?"

Her eyes locked with his, seeking for falsehood, for any kind of trickery. She saw burning hate, and red-hot courage. Twin pools of blue sky, pure and true. Determination. Her brain was screaming at her to say no, that this was stupid and ridiculously reckless and likely to get them killed-

"Yes."

-and the Grimm turned to face them.

Jaune stepped forward, readying shield and sword. Calm and steady, he spoke. "Pyrrha, attack it from the side. If it switches targets, back off." Flicking the mental switch for his semblance, his body shone, radiant and bright. A quiet, tranquil stride ate up the steps between him and the Beringel. From his peripheral vision, he could see Pyrrha move quickly, gracefully darting around the edge of the thicket. All the while, the Grimm watched, red pinpricks of light glowing with intelligent hunger.

Courage, hope, and a strong sword arm. The beast came to a resolution, the gears in its brain turning from Observe to Kill. In its eyes, Jaune was now prey. It roared, beating its chest, releasing a guttural, hateful noise. It charged with a swinging gait, arms swaying as it met Jaune in battle. They clashed, metal shield meeting Grimm muscle. His entire body could feel the impact, teeth ringing, but he stood his ground. It was powerful- immensely so, each part of its body working with piston-like strength. They clashed again, this time sword meeting bone-plated arm. Now, Pyrrha was upon it, fierce strikes shearing off tendon and gristle.

It turned to face Pyrrha, but Jaune, moving quickly, positioned himself to be a target underneath it. The Beringel lifted its arm to bring its fist down him, and he jerked quickly to the left to dodge. Taking the opportunity, Pyrrha jumped atop its fist as it struck the ground, attacking swiftly at its faceplate. Bringing its fist back up, she then dodged leftward, landing beside Jaune, who was already picking himself up. The large Grimm rose, seeming unhurt.

He rushed the Beringel again, this time ducking under its fist and swinging his sword to cut a large gash in its bone chest plate. Pyrrha circled around it, looking for openings in its guard.

This interplay continued for a few more minutes, with the duo wearing it down and forcing it to split its attention between them. Once more, Jaune and the Grimm struck each other head on, his shield blocking bone plated arm. His body, straining to provide himself with strength to withstand the assault. Now. With a heave and a surge of aura, he knocked the Beringel backwards, forcing it to stumble.

Blade raised, he moved, searching for weaknesses in its form. There. Between the pectoral plate and the stomach plate, a gash made by one of Pyrrha's earlier attacks. His sword plunged forward, slipping through the bone plates of the Grimm. At the same time, Pyrrha attacked, spear gouging out large swathes of flesh from its exposed back. The red light glowed ominously bright, and Jaune knew this meant nothing good.

"Pyrrha, back off now!"

He jumped backwards, holding up the shield to protect his body. Pyrrha did the same, choosing to take the opposite side of the glade. Red haze leaked from the gaps in its flesh, acrid and sulfurous. Some touched the grass, and he could see it wilt and decay almost immediately. Looking back to the Grimm, he noticed small, limb-like growths extend from the gaping wounds. Shit.

Adaptive mutation, a trait seen in specific species of Grimm, such as the Hydra or the Humbaba, evolving new features after regenerating from damage taken. This was theorized to be in other species such as the Beringel, but never empirically proved. Now, there was proof. Unfortunately, that made it exponentially more dangerous. We have to kill it now.

"It's adapting! We have to kill it now!" An ominous cadence, rushed and desperate.

His body screamed at him, complaining from the extreme strain of the fight. Aura at around 40%. He had to kill it, now. He ignored the body, feeling the wash of courage once more. Shield and sword raised, he charged. There. The same gap in the armor as earlier. Exploit its weakness. Pyrrha aimed to do the same, xiphos and shield in hand, running for its exposed back. He picked up speed, legs pumping heavily, and heart beating loudly in his ribcage.

The Beringel, with a triumphant roar, stretched out its arms in some mockery of a hug, bearing its chest. The red mist dissipated. What it revealed was chilling; the gash was completely covered in bone-marrow plate. Fuck.

He was running straight into its arms, and there was no way for him to stop himself now without leaving himself open to the assault of the Beringel. Weighing his options quickly, he decided to continue with the attack. Trust in Pyrrha, his mind seemed to say, and his body moved on its own. In a graceful, somehow practiced twist of the body, his stance lowered, closer to the floor. Then, with an explosive motion, he leaped. The sword, leading the way with the same metallic sheen of Pyrrha's, rose upwards to pierce through its cracked and scratched bone plate. In the same moment, she severed the beasts Achilles' tendons, forcing it to kneel down. With a jerk upwards, his sword ripped through the bloodied and burnt mask of the Grimm and the head it covered.

He could not keep the grin off his face. Pyrrha had helped him there, somehow, using her mysterious semblance. They did it. A Beringel, giant and mutated, felled by their hand. He looked at his partner, and saw the grin on her face as well.

The sound of rustling bushes to his back alerted him- more Grimm?

A girl. Assess. Light green hair swept to her right, green eyes and fair skin, as well as two black facial markings on her cheeks. Wait, that looks like someone- oh, it's Reese.

Another beside her. Assess. Wearing a kimono and bandages around her arm- that's Arslan.

They were looking at him with some level of shock- he could tell by the dropped jaws and wide eyes.

He looked down at the corpse of the giant Beringel, then at Pyrrha, looking at him expectantly, then back at the pair of girls. His grin threatened to split his face.

"Hey, Arslan and Reese. Mind helping us get to the temple?"


GRIMM REPORT:

Boarbatusks are large, armored, wild boar-like creatures of Grimm. A quadruped originating from the wilds of Vacuo, they have many distinct features such as cloven-feet, a line of hair sprouting from its spine, a snub snout, and tusks.

Boarbatusks tend to charge directly at their target, relying on its massive tusks to grapple with opponents. However, it also has displayed the ability to spin forward along its spine in cases where its tusks have been broken off.

The Boarbatusk's upper body is heavily armored. It has demonstrated the ability to withstand stabbing and cutting attacks to its upper body without any apparent injury under a what little controlled testing it has had. These plates are some of the strongest seen in common, low-level Grimm, beaten only by Ursa Majors and Beringels.

Despite the Boarbatusk's heavy armor around its body, its underside has little to no armor and is the Grimm's only apparent weak point. As a result, it is completely defenseless when on its back and is easily dispatched in this position.

Mature Boarbatusks can grow to sizes exceeding that of small houses. Some, such as the Erymanthian Boar and the Calydonian Boar have kill counts in the hundreds, barreling through village walls with ease and leaving a path of destruction in their wake. See "Erymanthus" and "The Hunt of Calydon".


AN: Divergence! Team matchups will most definitely not be the same, but I'll still keep canon partners. You can probably guess Jaune's team, but I'll keep the other teams secret.