Disclaimer: RWBY was created by the late Monty Oum-may he always live within our hearts-and is owned by RoosterTeeth.

Hey guys, we're here again with another chapter of The Fall From Grace. But for some of the characters, it might be a fall to their grave eh? Eh?...alright, so anyway. We've seen him convicted of a crime he obviously didn't commit, and then was taken away by a strange third party. But if you read carefully then you can probably guess where and who he was taken by. So, this chapter, as stated in the name, is going to be focusing on his arrival in the 'Arena' that was mentioned in the previous chapter. Now here's a challenge for all of you. Can any of you figure out what semi-crossover i'm going to be introducing later on in this story? Now with the formalities out of the way, let's get right into it!


Everything was a blur of colors and noises. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness. The first time he 'woke up' he had caught a glimpse out of what he thought was the inside of a car trunk. There were an assortment of tools and even a tire. It also seemed that his kidnappers had tied him up and put a cloth over his mouth. One of the few things he heard before he fell back into unconsciousness was a conversation that two of the men in the front had.

"Hey, Eddie. Can you believe it? To think that we got an Arc in the arena now." One of them said as if he won the lottery.

"Yeah yeah. But from what the transcripts said, this one seems to be a bit of a dud." The other one said offhandedly. There was a small huff from the first man, as if trying to convey that it didn't matter.

"So? Remember the stories of 'Vlad the Merciless'? He was, like, the one who actually made it!" The grunt exclaimed, and from the sounds of it, the lackey seemed to be surprised by his claim.

Jaune listened carefully to what they were saying, mostly because he had nothing better to do, but also because he was certain that he's heard that name before...Vlad...

"Huh? You mean that one guy that won his freedom? What does he have to do with this kid?" The lackey asked, not getting what the grunt was getting at. There was a sort of excited noise before he gave an explanation.

"Well, turns out, that same guy was one of the weakest fighters around when he first showed up. But in just a few months, he started turning into this merciless killing machine. No one ever beat him in a match." The grunt was speaking of this Vlad as if he were some sort of idol of his. Jaune was still trying to remember where he heard of the name Vlad before. It was on the tip of his tongue. He just needed a bit more info before he'd get it.

The lackey seemed to still be a bit confused as to why the grunt brought this up, but was definitely more invested now. So he decided to add in his own two cents to the conversation.

"Oh yeah. But uh, didn't he have a relatively low kill count?" The lackey asked, not really getting what made Vlad so 'Merciless'. The grunt chuckled in amusement before deciding to elaborate.

"Yeah, of course, but killing people is not what gave him the nickname. No no no! He was called 'Vlad the Merciless' because he would completely dominate whoever he was facing in both strength and speed. He would find ways to pick you apart in both the metaphorical and literal ways too! not a single one of his victims left the arena in one piece. for some, he'd rip off a few limbs. For another, he'd cripple their legs with his bare fists or even blind them by gouging out their eyes with the hand he cut off." the grunt explained, sounding excited as if he were talking about the juiciest parts of an action movie. He then continued with his explanation when he knew he had the lackey entranced with the story. "And for those exceptional few that could actually pose a threat to him?" The grunt said in a way that suggested something especially heinous would happen. "He'd tear them apart limb by limb! making sure that each appendage was ripped off in a bloody heap. He'd start with shattering the kneecaps. Then, he'd break the arms at the elbows. Followed by breaking each one of their knuckles. If they even tried to resist or fight back, he'd punch them in the jaw so hard, it would shatter! Then he would go on to do the same with their feet before meticulously breaking every bone in their body. By then, the screams would have stopped by either their shock, going unconscious, or even because they were choking on their own blood!" The grunt explained theatrically. The lackey was actually awed at the man known as Vlad now. Becoming so engrossed in the story that he was almost left speechless. But he was able to ask one more question despite this.

"W-what would he do then?" The lackey asked, making the grunt smirk. There was a glint in his eye as he finished his explanation.

"After all was said and done, Vlad would pick the guy up by the head, show their skinned face and gouged eye sockets...and then CRUSH THEIR SKULLS INTO MUSH!" the grunt exclaimed, making the lackey lean back in surprise before dawning a truly awed expression. This Vlad guy truly was a legend! But there was just one thing about him that didn't make sense.

"Wait, if Vlad was as merciless as you say he was, then why hasn't anyone heard of him before?" The lackey questioned. And the grunt made a sound of acknowledgement which in and of itself sounded strained. As if it was a stain upon Vlad's very name.

"Right. Well, after he won his freedom, the Big Five at the time weren't too keen on the 'hope' that he gave by showing everyone that they could actually win their freedom. So they uh, made the entire existence of Vlad a hoax. Made him seem like a cheat. Damn bastards. But luckily, it only made the fighters more hopeful. But once Vlad left, they upped the anti on how you would escape. Now it's almost impossible to leave." The grunt answered, still a bit miffed at the prospect of diminishing everything that the man had done before. But he let it go, at least someone else was able to know of the gloriousness that was Vlad the Merciless.

"That's pretty cool, but where did he go after he got out?" The lackey asked again, making the grunt look ahead of the car in thought.

"Nobody knows. He just vanished and never returned. But here's the thing, A few decades later, guess who shows up to lead the army that would end the Great War?" The grunt explained before asking the lackey. The lackey Himself was starting to get where this was going, and a look of understanding was slowly starting to dawn on his face. The Grunt then nodded to him, confirming his suspicions.

All the while this was happening, Jaune was starting to put the pieces together and figured out where he heard the name 'Vlad The Merciless'. And the memory made his eyes widen in realization. Vlad was the father of...of...

"Arthur Alexander Arc. Son of Vlad the Merciless."

As Jaune heard the conclusion, he thought about the one picture of his great-great-grandmother and the towering man next to her. He was so tall in fact, that his head went above the frame of the picture. His great-great-grandmother only reached up to the mans waist. But even from how worn the picture looked, one could clearly see how scarred and war torn he had been. Along with the picture was a quote that was written by the man himself.

"I am man who has lost everything, who had nothing else to lose. A lesser man would succumb at such misery, but I took destiny by the neck and tossed it aside to make my own future. Because destiny is nothing but a false hope that weaklings hold on to. A real warrior relies on his own strength and the support of those he cherishes." - Vladimir Arc

Those were the words written on the back of the photo by his great-great-grandfather. He found that picture when he was playing around his grandparents house and was rummaging through their attic as every small child would. When his grandmother came up to find him and saw that he had the picture in his hands, she looked a small bit conflicted at first, but smiled a moment later.

"Mi-ma, who are they?" Little Jaune asked, holding the picture up so that his grandmother could see clearly. The woman in turn smiled somberly and got down to her knees so she could stay on eye level with him. She took the picture from him as if it were a delicate flower that would wither away at any sudden movement. She looked at it fondly, as if remembering something that had long since past. Jaune had no idea why his Mi-ma was acting like this. She was usually the life of the party. That's where everybody says that his mother got it from. But he's never seen her act like this before. It's like when he thinks about his old pet fish that he used to have. It got sick from something that one of his sisters tried to feed it an they had to let it go.

"Well, That woman right there was my grandmother. Or your great-great-grandmother. She was one tough cookie i'll tell you that. Once, when she was about to be robbed by a group of bandits, she simply smirked at them before she did away with them in a second flat." His grandmother said, giggling as she recalled the story she once heard from her own parents.

Jaune was awestruck at the talent that his ancestor must have had in order to to that. But there was one more thing that he wanted to know about the picture.

"That's amazing Mi-ma, but who's the other guy?" He asked, already assuming that it was his great-great-grandfather, but wanted his Mi-ma to confirm it first. She in turn smiled a bit wider before answering.

"That would be your great-great-grandfather, Vladimir Arc. Now, Vladimir...He was a loving man. Family through and through. He worked hard to make sure our family was happy and safe. He even trained us himself when he thought we were ready. Though he never really talked about his own parents. I figured it was something personal. But one day, he went out to meet a friend of his. And when he came back, he...he had changed. It was very subtle. But he seemed to be working hard on something. A sword of sorts. But from how much metal he was using, we thought he was trying to build a giant robot or something. When we asked about it, he said that it would go to his successor. But his successor to what? We didn't know. But just before he passed away, he completed his weapon. It was this giant of a sword. Nobody could wield it. But he insisted that one day his successor would be able to." She said, remembering the last breaths that her grandfather took before something strange happened.

"When he was on his deathbed in our house, he called to me and made me promise something. He made me promise that if i were to ever find myself in a situation where i loose everything, I would never give up. I gave him my word and that was the last conversation i ever had with him. Though, when he passed away, it looked like his soul moved from out of his body and spirited itself into the next room. When we checked the only thing in there was the sword that he had crafted. But when we tried to study it, or even try to make a dent in it, not a single thing happened. None of us were even able to make a single scratch on it's surface." She said, knowing the day that the every Arc came together to try and free whatever energy that was lying inside of the behemoth of a sword. They only really tried once they figured out that the energy inside of it was an exact match with what Vladimir's Aura used to be. Her grandmother took it the worst. If there was one way that she could bring him back, she would go to the ends of the planet to do it. Needless to say, Vanessa Arc was a very dedicated wife, and an even more dedicated mother. But on the subject of her grandfather, she looked up and felt something. It sort of felt like her grandfather was there, telling her to make Jaune keep the promise that she made to him all those years ago.

She looked to the end of the attic to see the display case that held a very worn but still very cared for set of armor. It was a very dark shade of navy blue with dark red highlights. There were some chips and scrapes along the entirety of it, telling of the battles it has seen. There were various weapons that were also partnered with it. Ranging from throwing knives, pistols, and even a great sword that was a bit more than half the height of the armor. A name plaque was in front of all of this with the description 'Vladimir Arc: Commanding General of the renegade squad Berserk'. It was a small army that Vladimir assembled in his younger years. It consisted of him, a friend from what he called his 'Eclipsed' days that he considered a full blown brother, his wife, another friend that he met while fighting in the war that his son lead the fight against, and finally was the woman that had actually started off as someone from the opposing side that was sent as a spy to try and assassinate Vladimir before he was able to turn her over to their side and made her his honorary sister. He had many thrilling adventures with them. From the tales he would share and the fond memories he would tell them about. Vladimir was loved by all and was grieved over for many moons. But...

"Wow...He must have been so cool. Mi-ma, why don't we ever talk about him anymore?" Jaune asked innocently. The comment made a grimace spread across her usually spirited face. The reason behind that was because after he passed away, thy found out that those 'Eclipsed' days he used to talk about were when he was part of The Arena. An underground death pit if you would. Vladimir had been shunned by his parents for being so in-adept to fighting that they sold him off to The Arena. They thought that his younger brother would be more fitting of a patriarch to the family. This was proven false when that same younger sibling turned up dead in the middle of the Emerald Forest. Meanwhile, Vlad had quickly adapted to the harsh life in The Arena. He had to face many foes within those accursed walls. From Grim to other people, there were no acceptations. Very quickly did Vladimir start to lose his mind to blood-lust. But when he met his honorary brother, he started to anchor himself back t humanity. Though he still did have some violent tendencies, he was relatively calm most of the time. But when he met his to-be future wife, it was like love at first sight. The rest is history from there. But the mere fact that Vladimir had been 'Vlad the Merciless' had been enough for her son and daughter-in-law to want to cut all ties with him and never associate themselves or their children with him at all. She would have never thought her only son to be so shallow as to do something like that. Her daughter-in-law was pretty believable if she was going to be honest. She may put up a nicety act all the time, but her core beliefs and wants are far from what you'd call respectable. Even her own granddaughters were showing to be complete brats. The only one that was pure and sweet was her little banana nut muffin Jaune here.

"Well, That's because your parents...they don't like him very much. But don't worry about that. Right now, I want you to promise me something Jaune." His grandmother started, gaining the young Arc's complete and undivided attention.

"Yes Mi-ma?"

"I want you to promise me that no matter what happens. No matter if you lose everything you care for. No matter if everything seems grim, you'll pull through and stay strong." She asked him, looking him in the eye. Jaune looked down for a moment before looking back at her with resolution burning in his azure eyes.

"Okay Mi-ma, I'll stay strong, no matter what. I promise."

"And an Arc never goes back on his word." Jaune said to himself as he heard the commotion in the front of the car start to die down and the distinct noise of a market square start to blare into his ears. But this was different from the market square he was used to. It sounded like there were drugs being sold and various other things that would definitely get you arrested if you tried to sell any of them in the streets of Vale. So the only conclusion that he had was that this was the infamous Underworld of Vale. He decided to listen for any vital information that he may need to use if he were to somehow escape this place. However, he was able to find nothing of the sort. So when they were coming to a stop, He mentally prepared himself for what was to come.

At first, he heard nothing. Then, after a moment, he heard the doors to the car open and close a moment after. His hands were still tied together and his mouth was still gagged by rope and cloth, so he couldn't really do anything at the moment. He decided that the best course of action was to go along with whatever they wanted to do with him until he could find enough time to plan his escape. After a few voices were heard, he noticed that the sounds of footsteps were drawing near. He then heard the jingling of keys before the group of mobsters popped open the trunk, letting the light of day spill into the dark trunk temporarily blinding the tall blonde. He winced in protest before his arms were grabbed and he was forced out of the trunk and to the floor. Before he could even so much as utter a sound, he was forced back onto his feet and had a knife brought up in front of his face. He showed a flash of fear on his face before the knife only cut the cloth covering his mouth off. He reflexively stretched his jaw and licked his chapped lips, looking back to the mobsters that brought him here. One of them was still holding the knife while another pair were holding revolvers. The leader in the back gestured for the goons to bring him along and turned heel to walk towards a large building that seemed to reach the heavens. Yet he figured that if the ominous feeling in the air and the sounds of battle coming from inside were anything to go by, this was going to be his hell for the foreseeable future. He was shoved forward by one of the goons and was threatened to move forward. He did as he was told and followed the other goons to his fate.

The leader of the goons looked back and held his arms out while walking backwards as if introducing him to a world renowned theme park.

"Well Newcomer, welcome to The Arena!"


...So my birthday was like, last month. The twenty-fourth to be exact. But in any case, This has been the next chapter of The Fall From Grace. And i apologize for how long this took. I'd give an excuse, but I'm sure you've heard them all by this point. So I'm not going to bother. But don't get me wrong. I am still terribly sorry about the time lapse since last time, it's just that i don't have a viable excuse to give. But on another note, I'm going to be changing the course of history in this story. Just a tiny bit. Just enough to have our favorite uncle in the Arena as well. And i am still not happy with the Vic Mignogna thing that's been happening. But...i digress. It's stupid, yes, but as ling as we fans know the truth, then we can make our own stories and our own worlds. Such is the nature of Fanfictions. Our own little worlds where we are the ones in charge for once. Some of us are just better at it than others. But i've been talking too long. So with that, I will see you all in the next chapter of whatever i decide to update next. So until next time, Toodles~!