Here we go. Still kind of ill, but had some blood tests, etc. Which… well, they don't make me feel any less ill, lol, but hopefully will later.
Anyway, we had the hot springs filler episode last chapter, so I guess now it's time for the beach filler episode. I hope Salem brought her swimsuit.
Beta: College Fool
Cover Art: Dishwasher1910
Book 6: Chapter 9
I didn't have a weapon.
It felt like a small concern given the situation, but it was still one that caused me to panic – especially when the Mage, Willow, Weiss' mother, slammed her stave down on the ground.
The world erupted in ice.
Great spikes of blue and white pierced up from the ground, one forcing me back lest it cut me in two. Another came into existence behind me with an almighty crack, brushing ice-cold mist across my face. The attack had missed. Or at least I thought so at first. Looking back, I realised I'd been cut off from the others entirely, trapped now in a winter wonderland with cliffs of ice blocking me from reinforcements. Judging from the alarmed cries of the others, they faced the same, our forces split by pillars and walls of ice.
Territory manipulation. Weiss' mother was a powerful Mage, one far above our level. She had the force necessary to shape the very battlefield itself. And I'd lost sight of her.
And of Watts.
A crash of steel from the other side of the ice begat one more, and then another. Divide and conquer. Willow would break us apart and Watts would kill us one on one. I slammed a fist into the ice, but it didn't budge. The face was too slick, frictionless in an unnatural way. Even slamming my pathetic dagger into it didn't achieve anything other than spitting some shards of ice into my face.
"Damn it!"
Somewhere beyond my ice wall, another shattered and fell to pieces. Battle cries sounded as someone more able than me came to reinforce whomever was in danger. I wanted to help, but Watts would slaughter me if I came at him without a weapon.
Willow. I had to take out Willow. Deal with the Mage first and then the Paladin.
The ice tunnel I was trapped in twisted and turned, but I chipped lines into the ice to mark my path and never came across another, so it couldn't have been a circle. Maybe it would be a dead end, but I'd never know if I stood still and waited to die.
Mages were weak in melee; that was a given. This spell had cut us apart and prevented us reinforcing one another, but it also blocked line of sight, and an open battlefield was one of a Mage's biggest advantages. If I could get close to Willow under the cover of her own spell, then unarmed or not, I could probably take her out. A fight with a Mage was over the moment you closed into melee.
There. Ahead. The ice walls seemed to be getting smaller and judging by the roof I was close to the centre of the room. Willow would be there, and judging by the noise, Watts was still distracted. I rounded the final corner and came across her, almost ethereal in her white gown and with long white hair. She was looking in the opposite direction, her staff planted firmly before her, one hand on it, the other resting at her side.
Gripping my dagger tightly, and telling myself this wasn't Weiss' mother anymore, I rushed in.
Willow was so distracted by Watts' battle that she didn't notice my approach until the last second. The moment her shoulders stiffened, and het feet shifted, I lunged. I was no Assassin, but I had a knife, a clear approach on her back and a high Strength score. The weapon hurtled down toward her neck.
And was caught in a firm one-handed grip.
The beautiful Mage smiled sadly.
"I'm sorry."
Pain.
My teeth grit together instinctively and I glared down, at the fist buried in my side, just past my armour and up into my kidney. It felt like I'd been sucker-punched by Nora. I choked out a breath, slumping slightly.
"Strength is in context," the Mage said softly, gently. "I may be a Mage, but even with a low Strength growth rate, if I am high enough level, I can be as strong as a Knight." The way she spoke was like she was imparting wisdom to a small child. There was no dislike in it, no anger, not even a hint that for her this was a battle to take seriously.
Because it wasn't.
My eyes snapped open as I felt ice creep over my wrist and hand, the one she'd caught and squeezed tightly. My fingers wanted to snap open and drop the dagger, but I couldn't. Mt entire limb was freezing over.
"I really am sorry," she said. "I can't control myself. I can only follow his instructions. I'll try to make it painless."
By freezing me alive and then shattering me into pieces. Panic rushed through me as the ice reached my elbow. I could no longer move anything beyond it – nor feel it. My other fist buried itself in her stomach, but Willow simply grunted once and ignored it. Meanwhile, the ice reached my shoulder, close enough to my face that I could feel my cheek burn. My blood felt cold, too, my entire body shutting down.
Clamping my free hand on her face, my eyes flashed blue.
Willow saw it, her own eyes growing wide, and she leapt back an instant before my hand could melt her face off.
"Unexpected," she whispered, now several feet away.
Sagging to one knee, I brought my hand up to my frozen limb and began to run it up and down, slowly heating up my body until the ice began to melt. I kept the heat steady and low, unsure what would happen if I melted it too quickly. Feeling was slow to come back, and when it did it was pure agony, coursing up and down my arm. The skin was blackened in places, especially my fingers.
No weapon and my right hand now so damaged I struggled to open and close my hand. I could, but it was clumsy and slow. No dextrous work for me, let alone wielding a weapon. I had to pass the dagger into my left hand, and nearly cried out when the act of prying the hilt from the palm of my hand caused my skin to stretch and tear. A little blood oozed from the wound.
"I apologise," Willow said, and for a second it really felt like she meant it. There was a sorrowful look in her eyes. "You could flee. You could take Weiss with you. If I were distracted killing the others, Arthur might let her go. And you with her."
"I'm not leaving them behind."
"Not even to save my Weiss? Please, I beg of you. Run."
"Weiss wouldn't run either," I said. "She'd never turn her back on her friends."
"Ah…" Willow's face fell even further. Her smile was so very bitter. "It should be impossible to feel so proud and yet so sad at the same time." She was interrupted by a rumbling, cracking sound from behind me, the ice wall shaking slightly. Willow look to it, lips pursed. "Hm?"
A pillar of ice pierced through the existing wall like a sword through a plank of wood. The end of it was too heavy to support itself and crashed down, incidentally taking the rest of the wall with it. As shards of ice kicked up sparkling dust in every direction, Weiss strode through what remained, Myrtenaster held before her.
Willow shuddered visibly. "Weiss…"
"M-Mother," Weiss whispered. Her eyes were filled with grief. They flickered from Willow to me, my arm, and then back to Willow. She took a deep breath and let it go. "You're not my mother. My mother is dead. She was killed trying to avenge my father and brother's deaths. You are not her."
"It might be best for you to believe that," Willow said. "You won't be able to fight me properly otherwise." Willow's staff came up and down, sweeping before her. A wave of ice appeared from the tip of it, trailing a foot above the ground like an icy arrow shot from a bow.
Weiss cut before her with Myrtenaster, and a single icy panel, set diagonally, burst from the ground before her. Willow's spell struck it and was diverted aside, slamming into an existing ice wall and somehow spreading more ice over it.
A return flick and a thrust sent a fireball arching toward Willow. She raised her free hand and summoned a wall of ice, blocking it.
But that took her eyes off Weiss for a second, and the younger Mage took advantage, sprinting forward and around, flanking Willow from her left. When the wall fell, the fire mere embers, Weiss was no longer before Willow, and Willow's eyes widened. She leaned back in time to dodge the rapier's tip.
"I remember that," Willow mourned, stepping back. She ducked a slash aimed for her neck and twisted out the way of another. Her staff twirled and batted Myrtenaster aside, rushing up to strike Weiss on the side of one knee. "Oh, Jacques…" she went on, hardly even noticing Weiss' assault, and yet somehow still defending each blow. "The dreams we had. The plans we made. Everything. He was so ambitious, so adventurous, so driven. I was swallowed by his enthusiasm and by him whole." Willow smiled. "He loved you, of course. He spoke of you all the time, but to see you now, how Jacques would be proud. You've grown into a beautiful woman, Weiss. Beautiful, dependable and skilled. I couldn't ask for more."
"Rargh!" Weiss cut to the side, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Her hand thrust out, but Willow caught and deflected it, causing the explosion of fire to boom behind her. Weiss panted for breath, teeth gritted together. "You are making it very hard for me to fight you."
Willow closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Weiss. It's hard to see you again and not say something. It's hard to see you, to have you here, and to not want to take advantage of this moment. The time that was stolen from us. I just want to hold you, to stroke your hair, and yet... that is taken from me. And speaking like this makes it no easier for you to do what must be done, does it? Please forgive me."
Weiss was crying now. "Always. I'll always forgive you."
I didn't know what to do. My heart broke,
Luckily, Weiss was stronger than I. "Jaune," she called, voice forceful. "Help me. The others are fighting Watts. They can keep him busy. We need to deal with this one."
With a nod, I staggered over, holding my knife left-handed, trying to emulate a reverse grip like Blake used. I didn't feel confident I could take on Weiss' mother, but I might be able to distract her long enough for Weiss to do something.
Willow regarded us side by side for a moment. "Is this your lover, Weiss?"
"No."
"He is not an unhandsome man. Your Sentinel, perhaps?"
"I refused to take a Sentinel. I left Atlas."
"Oh." Willow's smile fell. "I suppose that was my fault…"
"Not yours, mother. Watts' fault. And the fault of the Assassin who attacked us."
"Yes, I suppose it is. Did James look after you and Winter, at least? Are the two of you safe?"
"We are. Uncle Ironwood adopted us both. Winter is his Sentinel."
"Uncle…?" Willow giggled. "Oh, James. Thank you. Thank you so much." The older woman stepped back and spread her arms, one hand bringing her staff around in a slow and graceful arc. "I suppose there isn't much more to say, is there? You will have to kill me, Weiss. Arthur… He brought me back with conditions. I cannot betray his word. I cannot betray him. So many conditions. I… I am hardly even my own person anymore, more the ideal of what he believes I should have been."
"His." Weiss snarled.
"Yes. If only I'd seen it sooner, I might have been able to do something. Say something. I could have eased his heart, or at least explained my feelings. Instead, I left him to suffer. To grow dark in his heart and seek his own answer."
"Don't you dare say that's your fault," Weiss cried. "It's his. It's all his!"
"Life, and love, are rarely so simple. Least of all for us Heroes." Willow let out a long sigh. "My Path is that of the Support Mage. I am she who grants her strength to another. I shape the land and seek to give my ally the advantage. This is the only way I can help you, Weiss. Kill me now. While I cannot rely on my Sentinel to protect me."
Weiss' hands tightened into fists. "I will." She nodded to me. "Go left. Engage while I distract her. Try to get her staff out of her hands. She'll be weakened without it."
I nodded back. "Right."
When Weiss thrust her hand out, a wall of fire erupted from it and chased toward Willow. I followed it, running around and to the side, my body hidden beyond hazy heat and fire.
Willow had given us the best information she could, the secret of her Path, the way in which her powers and skills had formed over her life. According to Qrow, it was based on how you lived your life, the challenges you faced, and how you overcame them. I was a Blacksmith, but because I spent my time fighting Grimm, my Path tried its hardest to give me Skills that would be useful to this. As best it could, anyway. Runesmithing and Engraving were two such examples, weak examples, but things I'd proven could be used in a fight.
Weiss was a control mage. She'd told us that early on, but I'd never realised she meant it quite so literally until Qrow's explanation of Paths. Filled with grief, bullied by her fellow Mages and refusing to trust any Sentinel to come near her, Weiss had looked for ways to control her life, inevitably favouring spells that could keep people away.
But a support-based Mage? It made sense for someone who came from a culture that espoused outsourcing the heavy-duty fighting to a melee-based Class. If Willow relied on Watts to do all the fighting, and instead focused on helping him in subtle ways, then she might have gained Skills that benefitted this. Buffing and other tricks to make Watts stronger. It was why she stayed back while he charged in.
It meant that despite how easily she'd dispatched me, Willow's greatest weakness was being engaged directly. With that in mind, I lunged for her again – aware that she could freeze me solid but accepting the risk.
She saw me coming and stepped aside. My blow was clumsy and awkward. I wasn't left-handed and had never seen a reason to learn. Instead, I swung wildly, jagged, slashing cuts aimed not at weak spots, but literally any part of her body I could get to.
When her staff knocked my knife aside, I snatched out for it with my other hand – but Willow's eyes widened, and she hopped back, treating my free hand with more wariness than she did my dagger.
She'd seen me use my skill, I realised. Even if she didn't know why, or how, she knew that if I got a hold of her, I could hurt her badly.
The lack of concentration cost her, however. Weiss howled and sent a gale of icy shards at the woman, blanketing her in white. Willow slammed her staff down and brought up a shimmering wall of light to block it off, but only after she'd taken the initial brunt of the damage. Her face was clear, one arm held up to defend it, but blood oozed from a few other cuts and scrapes on her body and arm. All of them small, but no doubt incredibly painful.
Rather than give her the chance to counter, I charged in again, shouting for Weiss to go around the right and attack from behind. Willow heard it, of course, but there wasn't much she could do. Take her eyes off me and I'd burn a hole through her back. Take them off Weiss, and she'd be buried under an avalanche of spells. I saw her mouth open, but she bit down on her tongue hard. Hard enough to draw blood.
Had she tried to call to Watts for help?
Had she forcefully stopped herself, fighting past his control over her?
I felt a wave of pity. Pity that I refused to let stop me – since I knew that it was the last thing the woman in front of me wanted. The only way I could really help her was to kill her. Or to kill Watts. But there was no telling if she would live after.
With Salem cackling away above us, I doubted this could have a happy ending.
Willow summoned a sculpture of ice between us and detonated it outward. Shards cut through my skin and clothing, the rest pelting off my armour with little clink-clink sounds. I pushed through it, one arm covering my eyes as I lashed out blindly in her general direction, and then reached out with my free hand a second later.
At the same time, Weiss hurled a wave of ice at the woman's back.
Willow's attention was all on my free hand grasping for her wrist or her staff, whichever I could get a hold of and burn to ash. She knew it was the bigger threat clearly and put her all into ducking away from it. That meant she didn't see the attack from behind coming, though she clearly felt it as it knocked her forward, directly onto the knife in my hand.
She grunted as it cut through skin and muscle. I felt warm blood splash out onto my fingers. Even then, her hand came up to grip mine, flash-freeze it, and then pull away. Blood spurted from the wound in her right shoulder, staining her robe. She staggered away, eyes watering and her smile pinched. Her concentration broken, the ice walls that covered the battlefield weakened, collapsing in on themselves with a mighty crash.
Watts was revealed in the centre of it all, one hand wrapped around Yang's throat, the other holding his sword, Nora hanging from it, weighing it down so that he couldn't cut Yang in two. Pyrrha was on the ground bleeding. Ruby was by her, panting for breath. Sun gripped a grievous wound in his stomach, and Ren was trying to patch it up. Blake was nowhere to be seen.
Just as I took in the situation in the sudden lull, so, too, did Watts look to us – his eyes instantly seeking Willow.
"Willow!" he gasped. He hurled Yang aside, sending the Brawler skittering across the floor like a stone skipping over a lake. Nora followed, slammed down as Watts pulled his sword up and over, forcing her off by momentum alone. Watts sprinted toward Willow, covering the distance in a matter of seconds. His hands were glowing even before he reached her, and when he did he laid them on her wound, the other reaching around to the small of her back in a lover's embrace.
Weiss grit her teeth and shook beside me, and although Willow allowed it, even she seemed unnaturally tense. Unwilling.
But she did not resist it. Nor did she resit when he pulled her in and placed a kiss on her lips.
Weiss held no such control. "Don't you dare touch her!"
"Lower your voice, Weiss," Watts chastised. "Are you not pleased? I have brought her back. I have defeated death, and even defeated Salem at her own game."
Above us, Salem's laughter suddenly halted. Though few bothered to look, I did, and saw the monster frown. Was it true? Had Watts managed to craft the wish in such a way that Salem couldn't turn it on him? It was possible.
If he could honestly think of every possibility and say his wish in such a way that prevented it being twisted. His control over Willow must have been one such example, since even he had to know that if he resurrected her with her free will intact, she'd still hate him for what he did, and surely kill him without a second thought.
"Don't you see, Weiss. This is why I joined the Greycloaks. This is why I hurt you before. I'm only doing what I had to do. You should be grateful to have her back." Watts released Willow's face, though he kept his hand linked behind her back. They didn't look like husband and wife to me. Willow seemed too tense for it. When mom and dad stood like that, they melted into one another, supported one another. There was none of that here.
Watts, of course, either didn't notice or didn't care. He was too lost in the euphoria of having the woman he loved back, even if he'd been responsible for her death in the first place. In a way he was like Tyrian, driven mad by grief. But I couldn't feel for him like I had Tyrian. This was a tragedy of Watts' own making.
"You've brought her back as a doll," Weiss snarled. "She has no free will, no choice. You haven't brought my mother back. You've condemned her soul to be trapped in the body of some kind of… some kind of sex doll!"
Watts tutted. "So vulgar, Weiss. No child of mine would speak like that." He smiled and his hand dipped lower, onto Willow's rear end. "No child of mine will speak like that. I had thought to invite you to join us, Weiss. Even if you are not mine by blood, I could… put up with you for her sake."
Weiss' voice came out in a furious hiss. "Never."
"Very well. Once you are dead, Willow and I shall start afresh. Free from the past, and the mistakes each of us has made." He cupped Willow's cheek again, forcing her to look at him. "Tell them, my love. Tell them what I told you."
Willow's voice was weak, brittle, and filled with pain. "I am to never leave you. I am to never look at another man like I do you. I am to love you. I am to never leave you. I am to let no one separate us. We are to be together forever."
I swallowed and tasted bile. Weiss trembled, and I heard her choke back an angry sob. I could understand her fury, even if I could never pretend to know what it felt like.
"You're a real piece of shit, aren't you?" Yang shouted suddenly. Watts froze, slowly turning to her. "The mistakes you've made? Acting like her picking someone other than you was a mistake. How arrogant can you be? You're just some jealous prick that didn't know when to let go." The brawler grinned. "No wonder she didn't want anything to do with you."
"It seems you have not learned from our fight," Watts hissed. "Are you that eager to die?"
"I'm eager to not have to listen to your constant boasting," Yang drawled lazily. "Seriously, you ever think that had a hand in turning her off, too? I mean, all you talk about is yourself. That's pretty fucking lame."
"M-Maybe he doesn't know better," Sun wheezed, still on the ground with Ren beside him. He raised his voice nonetheless, grinning past blood that dribbled down his chin. "After all, look at what happened with this chick. Must hurt to have an ego so big she'd rather die than be around it."
Watts' lips twisted, and he stepped away from Willow. Yang and Sun laughed, and I was surprised when Nora burst out laughing, too.
I understood why a second later – as a shadow materialised a little behind Watts and Willow, Blake dashing forward from the back wall, feet near-silent on the tiled floor, daggers in hand. Neither Watts nor Willow had noticed her.
Salem had, and her lips twitched upwards.
She remained silent.
"Yeah, not a great record so far," I joined in, causing Watts' attention to whip to me. "You say your wish was to bring her back, but it might as well have been to impose your will on her. You didn't want Willow Schnee back. Willow was someone who loved another man. You wanted Willow enslaved. Even if she was alive, you'd probably still have done this, wouldn't you?"
"You pretend you wanted to bring mother back because it makes you feel better," Weiss said. "You use it as a pathetic justification for your crimes. But the truth is, Watts, you killed your Mage. You killed Willow. A Sentinel who betrayed his Mage."
Watts shook with barely restrained fury.
Blake's legs tensed, body lowering, prepared to leap.
Watts' head twitched towards her. His left foot shifted back.
He'd heard her. Blake leapt, and I knew in an instant that Watts would turn and cut her down while she was in the air, unable to dodge. I was the only one close enough to intervene. Weiss was closer, but she'd need time to cast a spell. The others were further away, wounded and winded. I was the only one in a position to do anything.
Without a second's thought, I tossed the knife over to my badly frost-burned hand, catching it by the blade between finger and thumb. My entire hand shook as agony coursed through my fingers, but I pulled my hand back regardless.
Watts and Willow were thirty or more paces away. Smaller targets than I'd have liked. My hand was shaking badly, my fingers unresponsive. I didn't even know how to throw a knife, let alone over so far a distance and at two people who could bat it out of the air with ease, if Willow didn't summon a barrier to stop it. She would have to, as demanded by Watts' wish.
But that was fine.
My arm came around and I yelled as I hurled the dagger with all my strength.
It slammed into the middle of Salem's back.
There was a shriek from her, followed by a sound like thunder as white light cascaded out over the entire arena, just like it had when I attacked her last. It poured out, brighter than the sun, and I was flung back a second time, crashing to the floor as Salem shrieked in pain and fury. Much like Crocea Mors, the knife exploded into tiny fragments.
The light washed over everyone else, too, and they all gasped, shielding their eyes against it.
Everyone had to. Even Watts.
Even Blake, really, but she was already mid-flight, unable to stop trajectory.
Blind as she was, she crashed into Willow's back and her legs wrapped instinctively around the Mage's waist as she locked herself in place. Instincts and training kicked in despite the lack of vision. It was a position as old as time itself. The Assassin finding the Mage. Through black spots that dotted in my eyes, I saw Blake lean forward and place both blades on either side of Willow's pale neck, arms crossed.
"I'm sorry, Weiss!" Blake screamed. "Forgive me!"
The daggers I'd forged met in the middle, tearing out a chunk of Willow's throat in the process. Willow Schnee coughed and brought her hands up before her in shock. They, like much of her breast and neck, were stained with an ever growing amount of blood.
Jacques and Whitley Schnee fell to an Assassin's dagger.
And now she would, too.
"How… fitting…" Willow rasped.
"NO!" Watts swept his sword to the side, catching Blake's daggers as she brought them up. She was launched away. Rather than follow, Watts reached for Willow with hands already glowing. "Stay still, my love. I-I can fix this. I can fix you."
"No," Willow said with a tiny smile. She placed one hand on his chest. "No, you cannot."
Four jagged spikes burst from Watts' back like blood-red wings. The ice, stained pink and dripping blood, held for a moment, and then shattered into motes of dust. What was left was a giant hole through the middle of the Paladin's torso. His organs, most from the waist up, had been obliterated. Watts' mouth opened. No words came forth. He didn't have the lungs for them.
"I am to never leave you. I am to let no one separate us." Willow smiled. "Together forever, Arthur. That was what you said." Her eyes took on a vicious, victorious glint. "You should be careful what you wish for."
When Willow fell, she took Watts with him, the two collapsing atop one another.
Weiss rushed forward with an agonised sob, but I knew it was too late.
I'd gained Exp for Willow's death. I could feel myself gaining a level. Growing stronger. I'd gained a level. Willow had been a ridiculously powerful Mage. It was still coming. I'd gained two levels now, and it didn't-
A wave of black crashed into me.
"DECEIVER!"
Salem's voice boomed like thunder. Felt like it, too, as my body was slammed down into the ground, pinned under a wave of what looked like black light, but felt as solid as rock. Her face was twisted, not in joy at Weiss' grief, nor Watts' agonised betrayal, but fury. Rage. All of it aimed at me.
I struggled to breathe.
"Stop!" Blake cried.
"SILENCE!" Salem barked. All sound was snuffed out. "KNEEL."
Everyone collapsed instantly. Even Weiss, despite that she was already on hands and knees. She fell atop Willow and Watts, crying uncontrollably. My attention was torn back to Salem as the force crashed into me, the command demanding I kneel. Curl up. Die.
T-Three Levels.
Still, the Exp came.
My eyes flickered fitfully.
"Deceiver," she hissed. "I will crush you like the worm you are. Too long have I waited. I have allowed your trespass because you amused me. But to strike at me twice, once when I was distracted? To wound me two times? Yours is an existence I have tolerated." She sneered down on me. "No longer. There will not be a third time."
My vision began to black out. My chest was being crushed, my entire body, and I couldn't draw breath into my lungs. I was going to suffocate before she squashed me like a bug. My free hand flailed toward the mass of black, plunging into it, for all the good it did. It wasn't her arm, more a mass of demonic energy.
The Exp from Willow continued to pour into me.
F-Four… Levels….
Something inside me moved. Shifted. Information crashed into my skull, into my very soul. My eyes flashed bright blue, as did my hand, lodged inside of the black mass crushing me. I felt a rush of heat, of force, of something more. My fingers closed around something in the darkness, something familiar. My amulet. Her amulet.
My lips formed words I'd never uttered. Shouted them.
"Purify!"
Light exploded in front of me. It pushed me down, but it also let me breathe – tearing away the dark energy that threatened to crush us all. The oppressive nature of it was shattered, and from the corner of my eye I saw everyone move, suddenly free of Salem's influence.
As the Exp I'd gained finally ground to a halt, the information filtered into my head.
I'd gained a new Skill. Purify Object. The descriptor of which read that I could remove curses from cursed items or weapons and imbue them to resist or protect against demonic taint.
Demonic taint…?
I'd gained a Skill that would only work against one creature. Only a single individual. The only `demon` I had ever faced, and the one currently floating in the air, gripping her wrist with one hand, snarling down on me with hate-filled eyes.
I'd never even heard of cursed items and weapons before. Why would I, a Blacksmith, gain a Skill like this?
The answer hit me instantly. My Path.
Because I, whether I'd realised it or not, had spent all my time wearing an item created by Salem, cursed by her, and had spent the last two years or so exposed to it. All this time, I'd assumed my Path was leading me to fight against Grimm, giving me the Skills I needed to hold my own. But that wasn't true. Or it wasn't the full story.
Runesmithing, an ancient and lost arm to forge magical effects and bonuses into weapons. Engraving – so that I could create Runes with a single touch, mid-battle. And now this. Purify Object. I could remove curses and imbue other weapons to do the same.
My Path wasn't gearing me up to fight Grimm like I'd first thought. It was trying to help me fight Salem.
And Salem knew it. She knew it because she looked down on me with anger, but also a sudden wariness. Something that might have resembled fear, if it were shown in a being that neither recognised nor understood it.
"You know not the path you tread, Deceiver. Beware of it. There will be no more games between us. When next we meet, I shall call in the price of our contract. It will cost you your life."
With a swirl of dark light and a flash, Salem vanished.
We'd done it. We'd survived.
I staggered to my feet with a hysterical laugh on my lips, entire body shaking, from relief, from joy, from the fading adrenaline that left me weak at the knees. With a little help from Salem, and from Willow, we'd killed Watts. Roman and Neo were still unconscious, but alive. Our prisoners now. It was done. We'd finished the Quest.
But no one else was laughing like I was. They were quiet, silent.
I turned to them, a question on my lips. It was their expressions which stopped me. Shock, disbelief, confusion, horror. They stared at me with an array of expressions, but all of them stared at me. Ruby did, too, but her lips trembled.
"J-Jaune," she whispered, terrified. "Your… Your…" She pointed weakly.
Not at me. But above me. Where everyone stared.
Purify.
I'd purified my amulet, and at the same time caused it to become something that could repel her power, saving myself. But in doing so, in removing her power, I had removed the very essence that made it what it was. It felt warm on my chest, comforting, but its purpose was now to protect and to repel.
Not to change the truth, or to hide it.
I was a Blacksmith once more.
And everyone knew it.
Well, this feels like a good spot for a wholesome cliff-hanger ending. It's been a while since I had one of those (not).
So, yes, things revealed, and other things changed. Jaune's `Path` has been reacting all this time not to the Grimm, but to the presence of Salem, and her influence. Your Path is defined by what you face and how you use your powers, and whether he realised it or not, Jaune has been using his powers against Salem. He's been exposed to her ever since he donned the amulet.
Oh, and Jaune gained so much Exp because Willow's death was split between three people; him, Weiss and Blake. Think of it in terms of allocations of a resource. Watts died, too, but his Exp was split between Sun, Yang, Blake, Ruby, Pyrrha, Nora, Ren and even Willow herself (which ironically means even more for Blake, Weiss and Jaune).
Naturally, Watts and Willow were very high level. Somewhere between 70 and 80, and easily raid boss level. It would have been hard for anyone to really hurt them, but Blake is stupidly high level herself, and thus able to kill Willow with her low Con. And Willow was able to kill Watts because her spells hit like a truck and he lowered his guard.
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Jaune Arc
Level 37 (+4)
Blacksmith
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Str: 117 (+21) (A)
Con: 91 (+16) (B)
Dex: 23 (+3) (D)
Agi: 42 (+8) (C)
Int: 55 (+7) (C)
Wis: 80 (+15) (B)
Cha: 16 (+1) (D)
Res: 136 (+26) (A)
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Passive Skill
-Fire from the Forge-
Immunity to heat, flames and associated damage caused from his forging process.
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Known Active Skills
-Stoke the Forge-
Generate intense heat in the hand for a short period of time, capable of super-heating metal to forging temperatures without the use of a forge.
-Quench-
Rapidly cool metal-based material to achieve a hardening effect during the forging process. Quench can only be used in metallurgy, as opposed to Stoke the Forge, which can generate heat in the hand irrespective of what it is then used on.
-Runesmithing-
The ability to etch Runes onto weapons, the effect of which is determined by the Rune itself. Limited to a single Rune per weapon.
-Engraving-
Engrave intricate patterns into metal-based material without the use of tools. Speed of technique determined by complexity and size of design.
- Purify Object –
Remove Curses from Cursed Objects, Weapons or Equipment. Imbue items to resist and repel Demonic Taint, and effects associated with it.
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Next Chapter: 13th August
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur
