Chapter 5 - Power Revealed


Yang let loose an impressed whistle, as she studied the carnage that was the former bandit camp, inside the entrance of Bleak Falls Barrow. Bodies were strewn all over the place; she counted a dozen bandits, a small army of skeevers, and a few spiders. If Jaune had been solely responsible for all this, she'd have to bump him up from "hunter-in-training" to "Fighters Guild Bouncer", at the very least.

Continuing her descent into the barrow only revealed more corpses, and lots of previous activity. She couldn't tell if Jaune had been there before, not when most of the signs of activity had been relatively recent, but she found herself hoping he still was; she didn't want to continue exploring this place, looking for the Dragonstone tablet, all by herself. She was a brave Nord, to be sure, but even she felt no shame in admitting that a deserted tomb filled with fresh corpses didn't creep her out a fair bit.

Finally, after perhaps ten minutes of exploring the barrow, she came across her first sign of life; a Frostbite spider the size of a horse lay dead in a big webbed room, blood still pouring from its wounds. Even she'd have had a hard time taking something like this down.

An iron sword was buried 'til it's hilt in one of it's main eyes, and closer inspection revealed it to be the cheap iron sword she'd bought for Jaune (Lucan had inked his initials on a strip of leather he'd tied around the sword's pommel). Concern shot through her for a moment, but she calmed down, remembering trying to punch him. She felt like she'd have more luck denting a metal-lined stone wall than getting through his Aura and his shield. With that said, though, Jaune was now unarmed, in the middle of an ancient Nord tomb. And she remembered the tales Raven had told her, a long time ago, about the draugr...

The sounds of a wet impact, and metal clanging, drew her attention to a corridor surrounded by torn webs, and she got up and hastened her way towards the source of the noise, descending deeper still into the barrow, until she found what she could only assume were the resting grounds of the entombed. She couldn't be sure; the hollows in the stone catacombs reminded her greatly of pictures of traditional Nordic Halls of the Dead, but these hollows were empty. Meanwhile, across the room, what she could only assume had been the previously peacefully resting inhabitants of the hollows were growling animalistically, swarming around a familiar blonde as they slashed at him with their ancient swords, surrounded by half a dozen more fallen figures.

Jaune, meanwhile, easily deflected the telegraphed blows away from himself, and even as she watched he took advantage of an overswing to step forward, into the guard of one of the mummified figures, before delivering a quick shield bash to the creature's head. The stunned creature was given little time to recover before he swung his shield in a tight arc into it's side, knocking it into the creature next to it. Rolling forward under a slow horizontal swipe, he came to a stop on his knees near the fallen sword of a creature. Gripping it's hilt, he raised his shield to block an overhead swing, and pushed the sword to the side while he stabbed the creature in the chest, right through it's rusted metal armor. Getting up, he withdrew the sword, before quickly decapitating the body.

Behind him, the two fallen creatures were slowly getting back up, and Jaune wheeled around at the movement, sword in hand, only to find Yang stomping on their heads. Nodding at her in thanks, he noted the feral grin she shot him, and placed his sword on the ground, before speaking: "Thanks for the help, Yang. Think you can give me a hand with this guy?"

Yang blinked, only now noticing that one of the wasn't a preserved mummified corpse, but a fresh body, and as she knelt down to check for a pulse, she lightly asked: "What's this? Friend of yours?"

"No... I found him webbed up by the giant spider when I got here, so after I killed the spider I cut him loose. But as soon as he was free, he just started sprinting into the tomb, ranting about how the treasure or power would be his... then, when he got here, he triggered a trap or something, and that wall of spikes just sent him flying into a wall..." Jaune explained.

Yang raised an eyebrow at his words. To her, it sounded like the body on the floor had been a bandit who'd run blindly into a Nord tomb and suffered for it. It didn't matter, anyway; she roughly dropped the body's hand on the floor, and as she started feeling up his pockets she commented: "Well, whoever he was, he's dead now."

Jaune slumped bonelessly against the wall, aghast. Yang looked towards him, alerted by the sound, and asked in a confused manner: "What's wrong?"

"There's a dead guy in front of me!" Jaune exclaimed, fighting a growing sense of queasiness as he realized Yang was feeling up a corpse.

"So? Neither of us knew him, and by the looks of it he was the bandit who stole Lucan's claw." Yang replied casually, pulling off a golden claw and a journal from the former Arvel the Swift. "Huh, not bad, his group might have had a bounty on them as well..."

"He was still a person..." Jaune murmured, shocked by her callousness.

"If you're this torn up by one wasted life, how'd you get through the bandits?" Yang asked, confused.

"I didn't! When I got here, they'd already been overrun by those giant rats... it was a horrible sight, and the smell..."

Yang looked at him, and nodded in understanding (and mentally knocking him back below "Fighters Guild Bouncer"). She'd seen that faraway vacant look before, and as she approached him, she knelt down, and asked: "You've never seen something like this before, have you, Vomit Boy?"

"Never." Jaune affirmed, shaking his head. "I've heard some stories, of settlements overrun by hordes of Grimm, but they're not common, in my time, where I come from..."

"Look, Jaune... your world sounds peaceful, minus the Grimm of course." Yang began, rubbing his back gently. "But this is Tamriel, and this in Skyrim. It is a harsh land..."

"Oh, Oum... I really am in another world, aren't I..." Jaune moaned, tears welling up in his blank eyes, and with a retch he continued: "I'm never going to see my family or my friends again! I don't belong here! I just wanted to be a hero!"

"... you can still be a hero, you know. Even if it's Skyrim and not Remnant, the people still need help." Yang consoled him. It may not have been what he wanted to hear, she knew, not being told that everything would be alright and he'd never have to kill again, but he needed to hear this, if he wanted to survive.

"How? I've never killed before!"

"You've got to get used to it, if you want to help people here." Yang replied matter-of-factly. She knew she was coming across as harsh, but she needed to get the Dragonstone to Farengar, preferably before the next dragon attack, if only so they could devise decent countermeasures for the dragons, and she could be safely on her way to fulfil her true goal in Skyrim. "Banditry's been a growing problem for years, between the Great War, and the Civil War. And it's only going to get worse, if the dragon attacks continue."

"How do I get used to this?! They were people too! I just... I just can't help but think about the lives lost..." Jaune admitted.

"Then focus on something else. Focus on the fact that they chose to become bandits. Focus on the fact they chose to steal from Lucan and camp here. Focus on the fact that Arvel chose to run from you when you freed him." Yang advised. "Remember, in the heat of the moment, nothing matters but kill or be killed. When your blades are drawn, your opponent isn't going to worry about your life story, and you can't waste time thinking about his. They wouldn't have hesitated to kill you if they could, Jaune. And so you can't hesitate in ending them. Why waste time afterwards contemplating the inevitable?"

"Like dealing with the Grimm, I suppose..." Jaune murmured, having a frame of reference to work with. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and tried to replace the image of dead bodies with Grimm. It didn't work, but it did momentarily distract him, allowing him to collect himself further.

As far as Jaune knew, he was stuck in this strange and barbaric land.

He didn't know how he'd gotten here, or why he'd been sent here.

But he was still Jaune Arc (as far as he knew). He'd promised to repay his debt to Yang. He'd promised to help Lucan and Camilla get their golden claw back. And he was in a position where he could still help the people of Skyrim, even if it was just helping Yang Xiao-Long get some information about the dragons to the local governor.

And an Arc never goes back on his word.

He wasn't fully renewed as he got to his feet, after a few minutes of contemplation, but he still managed a small smile for Yang as he answered: "You're right... I don't know if I'll ever get used to killing people, but even if it's a different world, even if the aid they need is different, people still need help."

"See? Now you're getting it." Yang smirked, lightly punching him in the shoulder. "Now get up, we've got a job to do."

"You sounded like you were speaking from experience, though, and that was... oddly nice of you." Jaune noted, even as he pointed to the pressure plate stone he'd seen Arvel step on, and the pair side-stepped it. "By the way, why are you here? Done with delivering the blacksmith's message to the Jarl already?"

"Can't have you breaking down on me just yet, Vomit Boy, not while you owe me." Yang sniped back lightly, shrugging, not wanting to admit she'd started enjoying his company. They'd been journeying together for less than a day, but she found his idealism refreshingly earnest; he reminded her of some of the younger children at the orphanage she'd used to play with, before they got a taste of cruel reality. "And the reason I'm here is because the Jarl's court wizard says there's a stone tablet here that could hold some information. Might be useful in telling them what they're dealing with. As for experience... the city I grew up in was not a nice one. Between the skooma riots, the Dark Brotherhood, and the Thieves Guild... I, and many of the children at Signal... we had to learn to cope quickly."

"... thanks, Yang." Jaune murmured, not trusting himself to say anything more lest he shove his foot in his mouth.

"I'll just add it to your tab." Yang shot him a toothy grin, and he couldn't help but remember Ruby's sister when she was about to make an awful pun. Fortunately for him, this Yang had a much more subdued sense of humor, and she merely said: "Now come on. We've made more than enough of a ruckus to wake the dead."

-ROAD TO WHITERUN, TWO HOURS LATER-

"You sure you okay, Yang?" Jaune concernedly asked once again, as they continued their journey to Whiterun from Riverwood. "We could've just stayed the night, you know. Lucan and Camilla even offered us a cot."

"You mean, Camilla offered you a cot, Lover Boy." Yang snapped, even as she staggered slightly into her follower. She was all for using sexual appeal to get what she wanted, sure, but Camilla's actions had been so direct and overt that even Lucan had noticed. She'd received a polite and frank "thank you for getting my claw back, here's the coin I promised, now please get your friend out of my shop before my sister does something I'll make him regret", and the embarrassment-by-proxy had made her irritable.

"... what do you mean?" Jaune asked, genuinely confused. "She only took me aside because she said she wanted to express her gratitude-"

"You cannot be serious." Yang interrupted, looking up at him, studying his face for any sign of teasing, humor, or deception. "... you're not joking, are you?"

"Nope."

"Ever had a girlfriend, Lover Boy?"

"Nope. Why?" Jaune had no idea where Yang was going with this, but saw no harm in answering.

"... how old are you?"

"I would be turning 18 this year, I guess?" Jaune answered, still unsure as to what Yang was getting at.

"... any older siblings?"

"Yeah, I've got seven older sisters."

Yang groaned, face buried in her palm, and with a sigh she answered: "Suddenly, everything makes sense. You really are that blind."

"Hey, I'm not blind!" Jaune protested, pouting, and Yang laughed at his expression, reminded of a petulant young child. Then she coughed, and stumbled again. Immediately, he propped her up, looking concerned.

"Are you sure you're-"

"Jaune, for the thousandth time, I'm fine. The big draugr in front of the Word Wall didn't even touch me" She repeated, exasperated by his continuous concern. She appreciated his concern, to be sure, but she was used to taking care of herself. And she wasn't lying; the big draugr with the greatsword would've given her lots of trouble if she'd been by herself, with only her fists against its tough armor, but Jaune had been able to deflect and parry all of its blows, allowing her to focus on snapping its joints and crippling it for a final decisive killing blow.

"That's not what I meant..." Jaune frowned. He knew he was acting like an overprotective mother (from personal experience), but over a semester as a Team Leader, faced with a girl who reminded him of his best friend's sister, who had saved his life and tried to help him adjust to this new world? He couldn't help but be worried. "I mean that weird light thing, that flowed out of the wall and into you."

"That was just the word for force in the old dragon language, Fus." Yang absently replied.

"... how do you know that?"

"... I don't know." Yang admitted, pausing. How did she know that? She'd just thought about the scratches on the wall, and she'd suddenly known the word. It'd been like reading a line from a book; you just knew what it said, or you couldn't read. But she couldn't read the ancient dragon language! As far as she knew, perhaps only scholars and the Greybeards still knew it. "I just knew it, somehow..."

"... are there any doctors in the town?"

"Doctors?"

"You know, people who treat sicknesses and wounds?"

"You mean healers? I think I'd be better off asking the Jarl's court wizard; the healers at the temple are probably busy with other people." Yang said, remembering the saber cats and bears she'd spied around the wilds outside the walls.

Jaune's ears, however, perked up at the mention of "wizard" and "healers"; remembering some of the draugr he'd fought (and the dimly-glowing greatsword he was carrying), he commented: "Oh, right, Skyrim has magic... that'll take some getting used to..."

"Doesn't Remnant?" Yang asked.

"Not that I know of..." Jaune commented, not knowing the true nature of Ozpin and Salem, or Cinder Fall's "Semblance" actually being the powers of the Fall Maiden.

"Then what about Aura? And... Semblances, was it?" Yang pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"Ah, those aren't magic, they're more like... superpowers, I guess?" Jaune defended weakly.

"What's the difference?"

"... you know, now that I think about it, I'm really not sure. I guess it's like, Aura and Semblances are unique to each individual, while magic's something that can be used by different people in the same way, and taught and passed on?" Jaune tried explaining, though it sounded hollow to himself, especially when he considered the Aura Transfer Machine Ozpin had stuck Pyrrha in. "I mean, I guess there's family Semblances and unique magics, but- is that a fire?"

Yang followed his finger, looking away from the gate they'd been about to enter, and peered towards the west. Indeed, a few hundred metres away, the darkening light sky was illuminated by a warm orange glow. She squinted, trying to note any further details, but the distance was too great for her to make out anything more specific than it's rough shape. Before she could reply, though, the sound of heavy footsteps interrupted her, and as the pair looked back towards the gate they saw a squad of soldiers rushing out, led by a leather-armored Dunmer, who barked: "Get out of the way! We're here to deal with the- oh, it's you, mercenary."

"The Jarl's Housecarl." Yang nodded towards Irileth in recognition. "What's going on? Why are you in such a rush?"

Irileth didn't slow her pace, but as she ran past the pair she called back: "Come on! There's an emergency!"

"What about the Dragonstone?!" Yang shouted back, even as the pair fell in line behind the guards as they rushed towards the burning tower.

"There's no time! A dragon is attacking the Western Watchtower! And you survived Helgen, so you have more experience with dragons then anyone else here!"

Yang felt a chill run up her spine at Irileth's words; the trust was flattering, to be sure, but she'd survived Helgen mostly by running and dodging the dragon, not trying to fight it without a proper weapon! But there was no time to correct the Housecarl's misunderstanding. Instead, she nodded solemnly at Irileth and her men, before whispering to Jaune: "Vomit Boy, you said you fought a dragon before..."

Jaune blanched, as he realized what Yang was getting at, and he furiously whispered back: "You cannot be serious! That was in Remnant! I don't know the first thing about dragons here!"

"They're all big flying fire-breathing lizards, aren't they?"

"The one in Remnant didn't breathe fire!"

"It's all the same principle, isn't it?"

"Even if that were true, just to remind you, Yang... I died fighting the Grimm Dragon! That's kind of how I got here, remember?"

Yang paled, as she finally processed his words, and she murmured: "By Molag Bal's unholy ballsack, we're screwed. We're going to die... and I'm still sober."

Jaune was fortunately spared from having to answer by Irileth barking: "We're here! No signs of any dragon right now, but it sure looks like he's been here. I know it looks bad, but we've got to figure out what happened. And if that dragon is still skulking around somewhere. Spread out and look for survivors. We need to know what we're dealing with."

Looking at the half-collapsed burning stone tower and the piles of rubble that surrounded the tower, Yang privately felt that they were more likely to find burnt bodies than survivors (like Helgen), but wisely kept that opinion to herself. She knew full well how strong the bonds of shared service (and suffering) could be, and at any rate she was spared from having to admit she was wrong when, as Irileth's men got closer to the tower, a survivor came out, waving them away, shouting: "No! Get back! It's still here somewhere! Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!"

"Guardsman! What happened here? Where's this dragon? Quickly now!" Irileth ordered authoritatively, and the discipline drilled into him reasserted itself over his panic.

Unfortunately, before he could answer, a loud roar echoed above them, followed by the sound of powerful wings beating the quiet night air.

"Kynareth save us, here he comes again..." The survivor murmured, gripping an amulet tightly, even as Irileth's party began looking wildly above them.

Jaune, having studied in Beacon, had needed to learn to spot the pitch-black bodies of Nevermore and Griffons against the dark night sky of Remnant. Skyrim, with its two moons and a sky full of stars undimmed by light pollution, was hardly a challenge, and he yelled out: "Flier, coming in from the mountains!"

"Here he comes! Find cover and make every arrow count!" Irileth barked out her commands, already drawing an arrow from her quiver as she looked towards the southern mountains, and her men scattered behind the larger pieces of rubble at her voice. Jaune and Yang followed suit, finding the advice sound as they ran for a nearby ditch, but the traumatized survivor shook, unable to move. Before anyone could intervene to try and help him, a dark shadow dove down upon him, kicking up gusts of wind and dust as it drew closer to the ground. Then the guard was gone, as the large figure swooped back up into the clouds.

The guards simply stared, dumbstruck, trying to process that something so large could move so quickly.

Then a sword fell from the sky, clanging loudly against the rocks.

With that, arrows started flying wildly into the sky, and confused voices screamed incoherently.

Jaune froze, watching the scene; all he could see from the chaos was Amity Colosseum, when the White Fang had interrupted, after Pyrrha had... dismantled Penny. Irileth yelled, trying to restore order among her men, but another roar and the beating of wings drowned out her words.

Then he saw Yang looking at the chaos with a stiff expression, and he forced himself to focus. He was... had been... a team leader! This was no time to choke, not when people were depending on him! Ruby would never have frozen like that!

Yang, meanwhile, studied the panicking men around her, and couldn't help but remember the futile efforts of the archers she'd seen at Helgen, before they'd been turned to ash. At least the cover of night was helping to conceal them from the dragon as much as it concealed the dragon from them (or so she hoped; she didn't know how good a dragon could see in the dark), but at the rate they were going they'd be out of arrows long before they came close to hitting the dragon, let alone actually bringing it down. Not for the first time, she wished she'd been able to grab a proper weapon; all she had was a stone tablet and her bare fists! She turned to Jaune, to ask if he had any plans, only to find an empty spot next to her.

Jaune, meanwhile, had sprinted up from the ditch to a nearby knoll, and began slamming his sword against his shield as he shouted at the dragon like he was trying to get a syrup-overdosed Nora's attention. He had no idea if the dragon was intelligent enough to recognize the challenge, but at the very least, he needed to distract it from the archers around, give them time to try and rally.

A roar sounded to his right, and he spun, never ceasing in the beating of his shield. There, above the tower, a dark winged figure dove towards him. He ceased his unintelligible roaring, and instead yelled: "The tower! It's above the tower!"

The guards, to their credit, allowed their training to reassert itself now that they had a target to shoot at, and even as the dragon descended most of the arrows found their mark.

Little of it mattered. The dragon's scales were too tough, and it's hide meant to protect it from the fang of other dragons; the steel arrows from the oaken bows that was standard issue to the guard weren't sharp enough, and weren't fired with enough force. Of the arrows that hit the dragon, most merely bounced of it's scales, while a lucky few hit the gaps between them, but were unable to penetrate deep enough into it's thick hide to draw blood.

Little was not the same as none, however. Irileth had an enchanted bow of elven make, and the steel arrowhead crackled with lightning as she fired at the dragon. She'd been trained by the Morag Tong, centuries ago, and had felled her fair share of massive beasts in her day. She'd aimed for it's eye, and the arrogant beast had flown straight, confident in its defenses.

The sparks-infused missile hit true, burying itself in its eye, and the dragon roared in pain, half-blind, distracted by the arrow just as it had been about to correct it's course so that it could grab the defiant mortal with it's talons.

Jaune tried to dive out of the way as ten tonnes of flesh, bone, scale, and attitude slammed into the ground at terminal velocity, but was sent flying off the hill by the impact. Fortunately, between his Aura and Beacon's Initiation, he'd had ample time to develop a proper landing strategy, and easily adjusted so that he landed in a roll, bleeding off momentum.

The guards began gathering around the impact site, murmuring in awestruck tones. Irileth was the first to speak: "Let's make sure that overgrown lizard is really dead. Damned good shooting, boys!"

A sonorous war cry split the night in response, and the dust around the hole was swept away in an instant as the dragon slammed it's tail into the ground with all it's strength.

"Shoot it!" Irileth yelled, perhaps unnecessarily, but the dragon elected to ignore the pinpricks, and instead looked upon the mortal who challenged it. There was something different about this mortal, his second sight revealed as much, but it was something he hadn't seen in all the millennia he'd been in Tamriel. Whatever he was, he at least had courage and cunning, and that was something Mirmulnir could respect, as it rumled: "You are brave. Balaan hokoron. Your defeat brings me honor."

Jaune stared back at the dragon unflinchingly. Not out of bravery, though, but because he was scared stiff. He had no idea what the dragon had said, but the fact that the dragon was capable of speech implied thought. Intelligence. He'd been relying on using his wits to overcome its superior strength, but if it could think, then he had no more aces up his sleeve.

Even as the earth shook with every step it took closer to him, all he could manage was to defiantly stand his ground.

Even as it grew close enough that he could smell the blood off of it, make out the dark brown coloration in the dark, like dried blood, he was incapable of backing down.

The dragon's head shot forward towards him, jaws opened wide, ready to bite into him and rip him apart.

The memory of an Ursa's paw, and Forever Fall, came to him. Training drilled into him until it had almost become instinct asserted itself.

He took a step forward as his body lowered itself into a crouch, and he began spinning his body to the side, shield gripped tightly and angled upwards between him and the dragon.

The dragon's snout was parried away from Jaune by the sheath-shield of Crocea Mors, unable to penetrate the otherworldly Aura-infused metal, most of the weight behind it's blow deflected away. There was still a significant amount of force behind the blow, of course, but Jaune's footing was steady, and while he bent he didn't buckle under it. Taking advantage of the opening, he followed through with his spin, swinging the sword in a wide arc at the dragon as he did so.

The ancient Nordic metal succeeded where steel arrows had failed, and the dragon roared in pain and fury as he sliced into it's neck. It was not a deep cut, certainly not a mortal blow, but first blood between the pair had gone to Jaune.

Before Jaune could capitalize any further on his advantage, however, the roar suddenly became a gout of fire, one that turned towards Jaune as the dragon refocused his efforts on him. Jaune quickly crouched behind his shield, but the sheer force of the dragon's breath pushed him back, gouging small furrows in the dirt as he fought to maintain his footing.

After what seemed like an eternity, the fire finally died down, and Jaune peered over his shield, exhausted from the exertion, surrounded by charred earth. Tired, but unbowed, unbeaten, unbroken. The dragon took another step towards him, and he readied his sword once more, roaring in defiance even as it reared up to snap at him again.

A figure rushed the dragon from the side, using the stuck arrows as handholds, and Jaune watched in awe as Yang used her momentum from climbing to leap unto it's head like an oversized monkey (a thought he swore he'd keep private to his next dying breath, which might not have been much further in the future if he thought about it). As she landed on it's snout, staggering it slightly from the impact, she gripped hold of a ridge on it's head with one hand, and with the other drew a sword from between her teeth, the fallen sword of the ex-survivor. She cackled maniacally, wild with bloodlust, as she began hacking and slashing at it's snout and head with the sword, even as it tried to snap at her. Blood dripped from the dragon's wounds, and for a moment, Jaune believed that Yang would slay dragon.

Then the sword, weakened from the impact of falling from the sky unto hard rocks, broke as she swung it a final time at the dragon's eye.

The dragon wasted no time in shaking it's head furiously, loosening Yang's grip, before it dislodged her with a sharp snap, sending her flying off it's head.

Yang bounced twice, before cracking a decently-sized chunk of rubble with her back.

"Brit grah. I had forgotten what fine sport you mortals can provide!" Mirmulnir congratulated it's foes earnestly, not having faced such tenacity for many centuries. Then he reared back, before letting loose a jet of fire at the long-haired blonde.

Yang, dazed, injured, saw the fire approaching her, but found herself unable to move out of the way, and so she did the only thing she could do; she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, hoping that it wouldn't hurt.

Five seconds later, when the expected heat and pain hadn't come (and she belatedly realized her heart was still beating), Yang slowly opened her eyes, wondering if the dragon had somehow missed.

A strong white glow almost blinded her, imposed between her prone figure and the incoming flames, deflecting them around her.

As her eyes slowly adjusted to the bright light, she made out a humanoid figure in the center of the glow, kneeling, pressing a heater shield against the incoming jet of flames.

Jaune, meanwhile, sighed with relief, both at the realization that Yang was still alive, and that he'd made it to her in time. Then he looked away from her and towards the dragon, and as the fire ceased, he charged forwards, channeling his Aura into the sword as he swung it.

Frost suddenly coated the blade as it bit into the dragon's snout, and where the enchanted sword came into contact with the dragon frost rapidly formed, biting into it's flesh and making it brittle. The dragon howled in pain and shock, before Jaune stabbed at the shallow cut he'd made in it's neck. Ice blossomed from the deep within the neck wound, and the dragon choked as it's throat was blocked by blood and ice. Then he slashed a final time, cutting through sinew and hide, and the dragon died as it's neck was ripped open.

Jaune merely stared at his sword in shock, not having known the blade was capable of... well... any of that. He'd seen the big draugr swing it a few times, but it had only left a small coating of frost where it had struck, not... well... that. Then he looked back at Yang, and his sword fell to the floor as he rushed to her side.

Yang, for her part, fought to breathe, as she stared with grim satisfaction at the dragon's corpse. Vomit Boy... no, Jaune Arc of Remnant, hadn't let her down in the end. When it came to kill or be killed, he'd proven himself a killer. Songs of her would be forever sung, even if only as part of his saga. Strangely enough, she could live with that. She coughed, reflecting that that had been a poor choice of words. Then she found herself staring at his concerned features, and she saw his lips moving, but she couldn't make his words out.

Still, she struggled to speak, to let him know that she didn't even feel pain, just a bit of cold. To ask him to find out what had happened to Raven Branwen, and to get word of both her and Raven's fate back to Taiyang, in Bravil, but then a white light engulfed her.

Jaune, meanwhile, desperately tried to feel for a pulse, set her bones straight, think of anything he could do for wounds this serious. Unfortunately, he'd only learned basic field aid so far, and most of the protocols for severe injuries boiled down to "call a Bullhead and start praying". He grew desperate, repeating "no" as he felt her breathing go shallow, but he refused to give up as he laid her against the floor.

All his life, he'd wanted to be a hero, to help those in need, to save people.

But now, when faced with a dying person, a person who'd saved his life, tried to teach him how to survive in a new world he'd been unprepared for, he'd just fail her, let her die?

Preposterous.

He didn't know what he could do, but he refused to simply give up. Dimly, he heard the guards around him speaking to him, but he ignored them, focusing on his friend.

He hadn't failed Pyrrha.

He hadn't failed Ruby.

He wouldn't fail Yang.

Not now.

Blocking out all distractions, he reached inwards desperately, feeling for his Aura, and tried channeling it into her body like he had done with his sword.

And as the onlooking guards watched in awe, a faint shimmering sound could be heard, and a glowing white aura began enveloping Yang's body.

Behind them, forgotten by the onlookers, the dragon's body began burning up. As the flesh dissolved away from it, a multi-hued fiery glow began rushing out of the dragon's skeleton and towards Yang, before flowing into her along with Jaune's Aura.

Yang's eyes shot open and she gasped, as her wounds were healed by the Aura Jaune channeled into her while her dormant and weakening spirit was jump-started by both Jaune's soul energy and Mirmulnir's soul. Power welled deep within her, from a source she couldn't name, and for some odd reason she instinctively felt like Shouting, letting loose a victorious Shout to celebrate her triumph.

Jaune looked at her expectantly as she opened her mouth.

Unfortunately, while her newly-awakened dragon soul instinctively knew how to Shout any Word she knew... intellectually, she'd only encountered and learned one Word so far.

To the amazement of the onlookers, she Shouted: "FUS!"

An unprepared Jaune screamed shrilly as he was sent flying away.


Author's Note: Well, this took a while...

Yes, Jaune's mourning over what, in the game, are just fodder for you to level up. After all, he's prepared to fight, but that doesn't mean he's able to stand back and helplessly watch someone die. Especially for a person who's never experienced it; it's one thing to intellectually know about disasters and death, it's another to see the aftermath first-hand. And Helgen doesn't count; he only woke up after they'd already escaped the city.

Also, just a reminder: at this point in the story, Jaune hasn't fought anybody in actual life-or-death combat, besides Cinder. He wasn't there at the docks, he wasn't there to fight the White Fang before the Breach, and when the Fall happened he followed Pyrrha as soon as everything went to Hell. Sure, he's fought (read: lost) a few spars, he's probably heard a few stories about fallen towns and villages like Mountain Glenn and Kuroyuri, and he was prepared to die to stop Cinder Fall and save Pyrrha, but that doesn't mean he's prepared to kill, or witness a massacre. It's not something he's ever actually been through, and he has no frame of reference. But life is much cheaper in Tamriel than Remnant. Nobody in Skyrim would even bat an eye over killing a few bandits, seeing as how stealing a sweetroll or killing a chicken gets an army of guards after your head...

Don't think about why the criminal turned to crime, don't think about the circumstances that may have pushed him to such desperation; focus merely on the crime, and forget about the life story of the person behind it. Everyone's got a choice, ultimately; free will includes claiming responsibility for your actions. And hey, if the victim's dead, they can't argue back if you blame them. I'm not espousing this philosophy as morally correct, I'm just pointing out that, especially in a world where life is cheap and death is common, this would be a common coping mechanism, especially for one's first experience with death.

As for why I changed the sequence of events so that the Mirmulnir fight takes place on the way back to Whiterun... rule of drama, firstly, but also because I wanted to put Yang in a situation where she'd be at even more of a disadvantage. Sure, her main fighting style is as a brawler, but that doesn't mean she's suicidal or arrogant enough to go up against a dragon with her bare hands.

Yang's definitely exceptionally strong for Nord, able to dent metal plates without breaking her knuckles, but unarmed combat (especially without superpowers, Semblances, or Aura) is more about trying to nail your opponent in a soft spot, like the face, a joint, or the solar plexus, rather than simply smashing your fists repeatedly into a hard target and hoping you break his bones before yours do. And while she gets away with it fighting bandits and Stormcloaks (leather and furs being well-suited for surviving in the wilds, to be sure, and protecting from cuts and slashes well, but leather's not exactly the best at absorbing blunt force while furs don't really stop penetrations), a dragon is a multi-tonned flying lizard bigger than a house. It has some weak spots, to be sure, but it's scales do a good job of deflecting most slashes (like claws and swords, namely), while it's thick hide means punching it is like punching a stone wall; you're just hurting your hand. Moreover, Yang had yet to eat any dragon souls before the battle with Mirmulnir, and so she's still at human-level. Peak human level, to be sure, but she's still just a human with no experience fighting giant flying lizards. With Mirmulnir dead and his soul consumed, the word for Force now resonates within her, strengthening her every blow with the might of a dragon behind them.

As for Jaune and the Thu'um or magic... the way I try to play these concepts is to limit world-specific perks to the natives of those worlds. For example, everyone's got a soul, but only people from Remnant have Aura, while magicka requires an ancestry hailing from the Mer. So no, Jaune would be physically incapable of learning Elder Scrolls magic. As for the Thu'um, Words of Power... theoretically, it should be possible for anybody to learn them. Only dragons and Dragonborns have the innate understanding of the Words, of course, but mere mortals like the precursors of the Greybeards were able to learn the Words and pass them on through strict meditation and reflection of said words, often requiring decades of seclusion to learn a full Shout.

Even if soul magic metaphysics wasn't complicated as hell and all dependent on the author, even if I wasn't going with the explanation that Aura is the externalization of the soul while the Thu'um is the internalization of the Word to transform the soul and are thus incompatible, Jaune's definitely not going to spend a dozen years on a mountain just to maybe learn some magic words. And him exchanging Aura with Yang while she absorbs a dragon's soul did let some of it rub off on him, but not nearly enough to innately learn even a single Word of Power, let alone have anything approaching a full dragon's soul (not to mention the unlikeliness of such an event reoccuring). It does still strengthen his Aura and deepen his reserves, especially as he uses his Semblance on Yang more and more, but its unlikely that he'll notice it, let alone figure out the rationale behind why its occurring.

With that said, as in TWOA, just because he has no magicka and is unlikely to learn a Thu'um, doesn't mean he's completely incompatible with magic. Enchantments in the Elder Scrolls run on Soul Gems, the energy of the soul. Jaune's able to channel Aura, soul energy, into his sword, and with his Semblance of Aura Amplification and insane Aura reserves? Fun times, I say!

I've got no idea when the next chapter will be, but it'll definitely take a lot longer than this one did.

Translations:

Brit grah - Beautiful battle

Bahlaan hokoron - Worthy enemies