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Requested by:

Scrublord Yoda

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"Good day, students. Today, we will be diverting from the routine you have been growing used to over the last few weeks." The Deputy Headmistress said once they had all filed in to Monday's combat course. She paced slowly around the arena floor she so often used as a rather large lecture podium and flicked her gaze from student to student while their idle chatter died down. "I have spent the last few weeks watching you in one on one spars, appraising your skill sets and fighting styles."

"I have spent this time coaching you on your weaknesses and areas in need of improvement. And, I am pleased to say, you have made remarkable improvements across the board." The woman went on, allowing herself a small smile before moving on. "Starting this week, you will not be sparring solely with each other. Courtesy of our own Professor Peter Port, and a cadre of Third Years, you will be facing a number of lesser Grimm every Monday and Friday."

"Well that's interesting…" Mort murmured hauntingly, "I suppose their capture of the initiation's Grimm isn't a one-off, then."

"They're going to pit us against the Grimm?" Pyrrha murmured, grimacing thinly beside him. He looked down and saw her hand gripping the edge of the seat so hard her knuckles were turning white, and frowned.

"Pyr?" He asked, laying a hand on hers and drawing her gaze to him. She flinched and rounded on him, eyes hard, but he ignored it and asked through a smile. "Are you alright?"

"I'm well, just… Reminded of home in a not so fine way." She answered, smiling thinly and shrugging. "You don't need to worry, Jaune."

"I can't help it." Jaune smiled in answer. "It's my job to worry about my team after all."

"Yes, well, I suppose it is. I will just have to survive somehow, then." The woman smiled and turned back to listen to the Headmistress' speech. She was more relaxed, though, and he felt her fingers uncurl under his hand.

She didn't move hers, though, and something told Jaune not to either.

"Starting today, you will be pitted against Grimm suited to exploit your weaknesses." The Headmistress was saying, "Those of you who are fast, but less able to withstand sustained combat, will be pitted against hardened foes. While the slower and more durable among you will face enemies that are able to outpace you. All in a controlled environment where you can learn, safely, to handle such issues."

"Now then," she smiled, standing in the center of the arena, "who would like to go first?"

Hands around the room snapped up, his own among them, and less than a second passed before the Headmistress pointed and called out, "Mister Arc, you have already spent some years on the frontier, fighting Grimm like this. Have you not?"

"Yes, Lady." He called back respectfully, "And worse, once or twice, too."

"Very good." She nodded, turning to stalk towards one of the exit doors and speaking over the speaker system as she went. "Then you will be our first Grimm fighter of the year. Whenever you're ready, please, step into the ring."

It was a very real struggle not to point out that they'd all fought Grimm in Initiation, but… Well, she was terrifying, it was obvious what she meant, and both of those made it very easy to control the urge to sass. No matter what Mort had to say about it…

"As I said, I have been observing you ahead of this part of your training here at Beacon, Lord Arc." The Headmistress said once he was in the arena's center, his hand resting on the old, weathered pommel of his sword. Then, part and parcel of the rules of his rank, she bowed her head and said, "If you will permit my criticism…"

"I will." He answered loudly, adding under his breath, "Or why would I be here?"

"Thank you, My Lord." She straightened and he could swear he saw a small smile as she went on, "You are fast and agile, and sturdy enough to hold your own in most bouts even when you can't properly dodge your enemy's attacks. This, even though you only wear at best medium armor. Which tells me that it isn't a question of actual ability but rather a chosen form of combat."

"That almost sounded like a compliment…"

"However, you're a bit too slow to properly dodge, as things stand, relying on much higher than average Aura reserves and armor to make up the difference." She went on, silencing Mort's hopes as easily as a Grimm visiting a harvest festival. "So, what could be a good challenge to you, then?"

He couldn't think of anything off the top of his head, at least not that they would risk catching, but then the question was obviously rhetorical.

A point that was proven when the other door into the arena, normally used to deploy training drones, began to grind open. The dark beyond the large gate was foreboding, to be sure, but he wasn't left staring at it for long before a chittering sound reached him. Red eyes blinked to life and a long, pointed, bony leg slipped from the shadows, joined quickly by another and then a pair of massive claws. Its wide face came next, stalk-eyes flicking right and left before centering on him while its mandibles flicked.

"A Hermit Prince." Goodwitch explained for those in the crowd that might not recognize the roughly horse sized crab. A spear was stuck into the top of its shell, over the larger of its two claws, but other than that it seemed more or less healthy. "Well armored, and faster than you think, it should pose more than an acceptable threat to you. Good luck, Lord, and I am here if you need me to intervene."

"So in case you're about to die, then." Mort hissed angrily, "Wonderful!"

"Hey, normally I'd just die if I was outmatched." He murmured, drawing the sword with both hands and turning his left side to it, the blade held back and down so the tip nearly touched the floor.

"Eh, fair."

The Grimm, surprisingly enough, didn't come straight for him. Instead it scuttled out of the shadow of the gate slowly, the mandibles of its jaw flicking curiously while its stalky eyes twisted and turned to take in the room. Then white, black veined the monster rocketed to the side suddenly. It scuttled part of the way around the arena until it found a spot it liked and slammed into the wall, using its legs to rip into the concrete of the arena wall and trying to pull itself out of the pit and into the watching crowd.

It made it, too, snarling as its pointed legs slammed into the hardlight shield that enclosed the arena. It stabbed its legs into the shields a few times while the class around it watched, some standing to move just in case it broke through. It pounded into the shields again and again, and even brought its massive claw to bear against it. The force of the blow bouncing off made it lose its purchase in the wall, though, and the Hermit screamed as it fell, slamming down into the concrete hard enough to crack it.

It skittered back, one stalk eye turning its red tip to him warily when he shifted to face it more directly while the other looked at the flickering shield.

"Not the brightest, is it?" As if prompted by Mort's words, the giant crab turned to face him head on and raised its claws, slamming them into the ground in a great display of pure, bestial intimidation. Mort sighed, "Don't say it, Arc…"

"Had to say it."

"I despise you…"

When the Grimm finally moved towards him, it moved low and it moved fast. Much faster than it had any right to, crossing the half of the arena between them in little more than a few seconds. He ducked under a claw as it came down for him on pure instinct, right into the path of a leg that kicked him in the stomach and tossed him back more than a foot. He landed and stumbled, fighting to recover his stance while the Grimm closed in. Its claw came up again and Jaune knew he wouldn't be able to dodge, but he felt Mort vibrating in his hand and brought it in front of him in a wide arc.

As the Hermit closed with him, the trap detonated in a wall of light and heat that made them both hiss in pain. One of them had Aura, though, and Jaune brought his sword up in both hands and stepped through the fire, bringing it down on the monster's face. It hissed and chittered, and Jaune had to leap back to dodge a leg that snapped out to kick him. But a broken piece of mandible came with, and he counted that, at least, as a win.

"Flame Sword." He murmured, more than aware that probably wasn't the spell name. Mort had told him before that it was less a 'fire sword' and more an 'enchantment that made the sword light on fire'.

But Jaune didn't see a difference that mattered, there.

And neither did the Hermit Prince.

It chittered and backed away as white-hot fire bloomed along Mort Noire's weathered length, steam rising off its burnt and blackened underbelly as it went. It limped on one leg and Jaune smiled for it. It was slower…

Quietly, he brought the blade down, tip pointed towards the monster and level with his shoulders, with one hand on the guard to add some push to his thrust. Then he stepped forward and the Grimm stepped to the side, trying to dodge what looked very obviously like an attack aimed for its already wounded mouth.

Jaune smiled as his foot came down and he pivoted, bringing the sword down to nearly touch the ground and then snapping it back up.

Bone and flesh sizzled and popped as Mort Noire did its work, and as the Grimm retreated, its arm collapsed and vanished in a fine black mist. But he didn't let up, lunging for the Grimm's exposed side with a thrust that would fry its intestines-

He saw stars as it spun like lighting and brought its other claw around to slam into his head. He hit the ground and rolled like a limp mass of man and metal, ending on his side with his back to the monster. Coughing, he forced himself up and blinked, eyes wide.

He'd lost his sword…

He heard a number of massive legs on concrete and turned to see the Prince rushing towards him, intent to finish the job. Mort was between them, laid on the concrete of the arena and bare of its magical fire. It was only a couple feet away, but the monster was so fast. Still, he leapt. His fingers wrapped around the pommel and he grit his teeth, trying to bring the weapon up as the Grimm's claw came down. But he was too slow, and his shoulder flared painfully for his effort, and nearly seized entirely.

Then, as if possessed, he felt his armor shift, adding force to his strike and directing it up, to cleave between the monster's pincers. It screeched as its claw came apart, but Jaune didn't relent, planting a foot and carving across its face so deeply it lost an eye stalk. Then he brought it back and down and thrust up as the monster bellowed, burying the length of the weapon in its head through its jaws.

Mort didn't need to be told this time, and flames burst to life inside the monster, which spasmed and seized as it was flash fried. After a second, it went still and fell, dissolving around the sword and leaving him to sink to an exhausted knee.

"A fine kill!" The Headmistress called out over the intercom, "Unfortunately, a close one. Your Aura is in the red, Lord Arc, and had you not recovered so splendidly I was going to intervene on your behalf."

"I apologise, Lady." He groaned, standing and forcing his gaze up to the Aura reader. The red of his Aura was so thin even Weiss could have blocked it out, if she stood in front of it…

"Do not apologize to me, you did more than well." The Headmistress answered, "However, I think you know where you failed."

"I was too aggressive?"

"Quite right, My Lord Arc, and while the maneuver did what you needed it to, you expended a lot of your Aura to withstand your own attack. Which is not exactly a tactical decision, I'm sure you understand." She smiled and he frowned. It was an old, familiar critique. He tended to rush into things and that usually ended poorly for him, like it almost had courtesy of the crab. "Remember, Lords, Ladies, and students all, that keeping your cool and moving with purpose and tactical understanding is chief among your methods to stay alive. Still, you managed to recover, and that is more than enough to earn a passing grade for the day."

"Yeah." He nodded, turning and flicking a gaze to his silent partner. "I managed. Somehow."

She at least had the good manners to grimace and look at the floor.

Nora, though, leaned in front of her and glared, pointing two fingers at her eyes and then back at him. Ren saw her do it and sighed visibly, tapping her back and pointing at her seat patiently until she took it. Still, she met his eyes, sliding a hand over her throat and raising her eyebrows in an obvious challenge.

Jaune only rolled his eyes for it, though, turning back as the Headmistress went on, "You are dismissed, Lord Arc. Please stow your equipment and have yourself looked over for injuries. You took a few nasty blows in that bout.

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His team was waiting for him by the time medical cleared him about an hour later, most of his time spent waiting while the medical staff dealt with a young third year's fractured eye socket. He wasn't really sure what had happened, but her injury looked painful, so she had his sympathies. Regardless, he was cleared shortly after and stepped out of the medical ward, and nearly into Pyrrha who was pacing anxiously by the door.

"Jaune!" The Mistralian smiled, turning to him and reaching out to press a fist to his chest in what he supposed was some kind of Mistralian greeting he didn't know about. She let the arm drop after a second and asked, "Are you alright, though?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You blew up?" Nora tried from behind Pyrrha, her arms folded while Ren watched her. "I'm an explosives expert, I know blowin' up isn't exactly fun. Or, well, for you normies at least."

"What she means to say," Ren offered quietly, "is that you took that explosion to the face, along with some powerful hits. Hits that knocked you around."

"I'm alright." He shrugged after a second, slipping by and starting the long walk back to their dorm. "I had a few bruises coming out of the fight, and a bit of a headache, too, but my Aura saw to both."

"I'm glad!" Pyrrha said brightly, falling into step just behind him as she so often did. "You took several rather grievous blows after all. They looked like they hurt, too."

"They did." He nodded, taking a breath and flicking his gaze up and down the mostly empty halls for anyone that might have been listening. When he didn't see anyone paying them any mind at all, he asked, "Is that why you cheated, Pyrrha?"

"I-I…"

"Oh for fuck sake." Nora cut in, sliding between him and the Mistralian and yanking him around to point a finger in his face. "You were in trouble, she helped. That's what a team should do."

"Not when it goes that far, where she could get hurt for it." He hissed, turning and growling under his breath while he looked for anyone paying too much attention to them, "And keep moving, and quiet about it, unless you want someone to hear about it, Nora."

"Fine." The Valkyrie growled, "It can wait"

The rest of the walk passed in a tense kind of silence that persisted right up until the moment their door clicked shut.

"Pyrrha just wanted to help, Jaune! You can't be mad about that." Nora immediately started, as if she'd put her argument on pause like her head was a tape player. He sighed and turned a flat look on her, but that only made her scowl even harder and drop onto her bed with a huff. "What?"

"Nora, do you actually think I'm angry she helped me?"

"...Well, I did, but now I feel kinda silly for that because it sounds like that ain't it." She muttered, face softening for her confusion when he shook his head. "Then what were you so- Oh, shit."

"She remembered." Ren sighed, laying a hand on the upset champion's shoulder and explaining, quietly, "He's not mad at you. You can relax."

"Can I?" She asked, "I feel… Terrible."

"It can't be helped now, Pyr." He sighed, collapsing on his bed and paying her a small smile. "No one said anything, so maybe no one noticed. But… I just don't get why you'd risk doing something like that."

"It was instinct… I didn't even realize I was doing it until I had done it." Pyrrha said in quiet response, knees pressed together and hands folded into her lap. She flicked him a look and then turned her gaze back on her hands in her lap. "It was foolish, I know, but… I've seen what Hermits can do to a man when his Aura is low."

"Goodwitch would have intervened."

"The Arena had guardians, too, Jaune." She said quietly, "They were meant to intervene in bouts that were for glory, not blood. Still, I lost bunkmates and friends to those matches. Often, by the time the Guardians realized the danger, it was too late to intervene. Human error, as they say."

"Ah…" And now he felt like a dick, too. Sighing, he pulled Mort Noire off his belt and set it to the side. Kicking his shoes off he shrugged, "Let's just ignore it, then. Nothing came of it, and I get the reasoning. But next time, I would prefer to take the loss than for you to put yourself in harm's way, Pyr."

"I… Will try."

"Uh huh." He snorted, "Nora, if she tries to step in again, you have permission to initiate aggressive cuddling."

"Ohohohohoh~!" The Mistralian bounced in her spot, beaming a wide smile, "Really? For serious? Cuz I'm a mean cuddler!"

"She really is." Ren warned, "Don't let her out of the cage."

"I'm…" Pyrrha blinked, "In danger?"

"Oh you have no idea." Nora grinned widely, standing and leering at the other Mistralian until she blinked and made to escape. Then, like a spider waiting for its prey to try and run, she leapt and tackled the taller woman. "Heeeeeeere's Nora!"

"Nice save, Arc." Mort whispered quietly, "Managed not to upset the cuties. Good job."

While the two wrestled, Jaune laughed and laid back on his bed, content to just rest for a bit. Mort warned him about 'missing out on the view', because of course he did, but he ignored the spirit.

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So fun fact, but Jaune's spells are based on tabletop game spells. Admittedly applied with some creative liberties, but still.

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Chappy Grimdark (Chp 11) :

To be fair, they are in canon. I've just been pitting them against high tier, ancient Grimm. The likes of Beowolves are still chaff, except in numbers.

Smokey Panda :

Convenient!

Human Dragon :

Grimm deteriorate on death, so getting a picture would be hard. Further, any picture of any Grimm could do. I could download one from online and spend time in the woods, then come in and say I killed the Grimm. My point here is that at some point trust comes in.

Trust and 'You'll never work in this region again if you lie' that is. Because word of a liar would spread unless you prevented it, which would probably be more work and risk than doing the job.