A/N: So, the last chapter wasn't received too well, apparently. Sorry about that - I'm still figuring out all this shit, and I never claimed to be an amazing writer. That said, thank you for the feedback. I'll try to make things less cringe in the future. No promises, though.

Also, someone sent me question about the A/N for the last chapter, specifically about the protag's abilities. To make a long story short: A Guardian doesn't generate their own paracasual force – all of it either comes from the Traveler or is gathered from somewhere else. We also know Guardians can absorb and utilize Darkness without going totally insane (Eris Morn). Essentially speaking, this means that Urs' Light is infinite in supply since he can just borrow more from the Traveler. His Darkness, however, is not so infinite. He has it, thanks to his encounter with the Winnower plus whatever he can gather from his environment, but it's a limited resource. Essentially, he falls into the category a lot of gamers do, where they hold onto a useful item forever just in case. Kind of how I was when I played Destiny. I hoarded those little consumables that you could give to the Cryptarch for glimmer, never trading them in no matter how desperate I got. Then Destiny 2 came out and they all were forgotten. How efficient.

Chapter 6: A Requiem for Ozpin

It's a lovely morning in Beacon. A fresh cup of coffee, a stunning view of the Emerald forest, and best of all, no-

"Ozpin!"

It's a terrible morning in Beacon. With a sigh, I turn and gaze balefully at the bane of my existence, clutched in the hands of my deputy headmistress.

"Glynda." I begin, "Couldn't you-"

"Ozpin." She growls, slamming the dread papers onto my desk. "You've delayed this paperwork four times this week. These needed to be signed and mailed yesterday."

I take a long sip of coffee to calm my shaking hands. The day hasn't even begun yet and I can feel the phantom pain in my fingers. I pull the first sheet towards me, pen thrust into my fingers by an irate Glynda.

Fifteen minutes and three hand cramps later, the enemy has been signed and dealt with. With a groan, I slip the last stack of paper into a folder before handing it off to Glynda. "Is that the last of it?" I rasp, weary from the struggle.

"Yes." She says, annoyed. "For an immortal wizard, you can be quite childish sometimes. You signed your name a couple of times and yet you act like I've been torturing you for the last half-hour!"

I raise an eyebrow. "Haven't you?"

Shaking her head, she places two more pieces of paper onto my desk. I glare at them, suspicious. "I thought you said we were done?" I say, a hint of despair entering my voice.

"We are." She says. "But these… when I was combing through the list of attendees, I found that somebody made a last-minute alteration. These two people-" She points to the pair of papers, "-should not be on there. I took the liberty of scrutinizing their transcripts, and all of their references are fake."

Bored, I turn to look at the pair of papers on the desk. Indeed, they appear to be transcripts. Just as I move to brush them aside into the wastebasket, my eye lands on their names.

Jaune Arc. Izanagi Urs.

My hand freezes. Both names, so familiar. Sitting upright, I scan over the papers. Both certainly appear legitimate, with all the proper seals and markings. Looking more closely, I spy an error. Both claim to have studied at Sanctum Academy, yet the markings on the headers are used for Signal graduates. It would be a simple matter to simply toss both out, but can I afford to?

Arc. A surname I have not heard of in years. The Arcs are an ancient line of huntsmen and soldiers, renowned for producing some of the most famous leaders and huntsmen in history. While their legend has faded since the Great War, the chance to raise a scion of the Arc lineage is nothing to throw away lightly.

And the second… the name of the mysterious stranger Qrow encountered on Patch. Why would he apply here? What did he want? Was he involved in Amber's attack? Having him here, where the Fall Maiden was hidden… risky, but would at least give us the chance to keep an eye on him. Amber's attackers had gone to ground, and he could be our last shot at finding them before they made their move.

I snap my gaze over to Glynda. She couldn't be told, too protective of her students. She would try to confront Mr. Urs, possibly even violently. I cannot afford that, not if he truly relates to her attackers.

Sitting up, I slide the papers back towards Glynda. "So I see," I say, clearing my throat. "However… I am inclined to let them attend."

Glynda freezes, hand reaching to pick up the papers. "Ozpin, are you sure? Why?"

"The Arcs are well-known to me." I say, meeting her intense gaze. "And this Mr. Urs has recently come to my attention as well. I would at least allow them the chance to prove themselves in initiation. Should they fail to measure up, we can always show them the door."

Glynda pauses, obviously racking her brain for a reason to refuse. "Headmaster." She says glacially. "This is highly irregular."

I gulp. Glynda only brings out the formalities in private when she is very irate. "Remember," I say, "That the headmaster has full control over admission. Why we could choose a random civilian right off the street and it would be entirely legal."

"And the council, which we depend on, would slash our budget for failing to follow their 'guidelines'." Glynda snaps.

"Regardless," I say, "I would offer them the chance to attend. If their transcripts are discovered, we can simply claim ignorance and remove them. If not, we may have two promising students on our hands."

She visibly struggles with herself for a moment, before turning and walking away without another word.

I sigh again, casting a forlorn glance at my now-empty mug. Glynda wasn't yet convinced, but I know she will accept after I speak with her. Still, why can't anything ever go smoothly in life?

"You all ready?" I grunt, arms outstretched as I prepare to open the portal.

A soft chorus of assent breaks out from the soldiers clustered around me in the dim light of the hangar bay. All six members of the recon team have finally gathered, ready to arm up for their mission. With a final push, I feel the barrier between the universe and the Ascendant Realm tear apart as a portal of greenish-black light opens.

Lowering my arms, I step through the portal, feeling the familiar rush of power I always get when I enter my Throneworld. A black sky seems to stretch outwards to infinity, empty save for winding patterns of soft green aurorae and the occasional flash of lightning. Around me lies a vast plain of bare rock, scarred and cracked by titanic struggle. A path made of flat stones is visible, reaching towards the horizon where a large fortress awaits, its tall spires looming menacingly over vast walls.

Turning back, I cross my arms and wait patiently as the rest of the team step through, looking curiously around at the shattered landscape. One turns to me, raising a hand slightly. "Uh, shouldn't normal people be unable to reach the Ascendant Plane?" He asks.

I nod. "Normally, yes." I say. "Unless you're invited by somebody else."

"Then… how did you get inside Crota's Throneworld?"

I frown. How did I do that? "That's not important." I deflect, turning towards the rest of the group. A pair of soldiers have already started to wander off, clearly bored by the discussion. "Look, if you want to know more, talk to some of the Cryptarchs when you make it back to the City. They're better than me at explaining Hive magic." I say, moving to stay ahead of them.

"Couldn't you have dropped us closer to the damn castle?" Another complains.

I raise a hand, snapping my fingers. Instantly, the landscape between the fortress and us compresses, as it goes from a distant monolith to a larger, 10-feet-away monolith. Looking back towards the rest of the group, I give a small wave. "In case you forgot, Iam literally God here. Now come on, let's get you armed up. I'm not about to send you on a suicide mission with those piddly little pea-shooters you call guns."

At my mental command, the gate grinds open, admitting us to the cavernous interior. As impressive as the outside is, I'd never been good at interior design. The walls and floor are mostly bare, with only a few pieces of furniture shaped from the same glassy stone as the rest of the fortress. Leading them through the chamber and down a corridor, I will a section of the wall to melt away. Bypassing the rest of the security with a wave of my hand, I step forwards into the armory.

Several tall pillars of grey steel stretch from floor to ceiling, ringed with a series of digital displays. All connected to a vast storage matrix, capable of holding anything from armor to weapons to ships. I wave the team towards the terminals, before willing a comfortable chair into existence for me to sit in. "Go ahead," I say. "These are all keyed into my own personal vault, so feel free to take anything you want. Fail to return it…" My eyebrows draw down, as a dangerous edge creeps into my voice, "And I'll have you permanently reassigned to the Hive extermination teams in the Cosmodrome."

The soldiers collectively shudder. Flushing the Hive out of their burrows is a dreaded task. Risky, time-consuming, and most damning of all, boring. Just sweeping through endless corridors and tunnels, all to ensure not even a single worm remains. Extend that over hundreds of square miles, on multiple locations across the planet…

About a half-hour later, and the team is finally ready to leave. A fight broke out between the two wanderers over which got to carry an exotic hand cannon, but it ended after the mouthy one from earlier smacked them around for a bit. Looking over them all, I take a brief glance at the terminals to check out the damage. A few legendary weapons, a couple pieces of exotic equipment… not as bad as I thought, really. They really stocked up on heavy ammo synths and ether seeds, but I have plenty of both to spare. If it might mean the difference between victory and defeat… it's a sacrifice I am willing to make.

"Alright," I say, standing up. "I'm on a bit of a tight schedule here, so let's keep things brief. Dead Orbit stabbed me in the back like the ungrateful bastards they are, so you'll be going in without my support." Grumbles and groans emanate from the audience. "I want you to get onto the ships and shoot everything that moves. Shoot everything that doesn't move afterward, just in case. Fallen like to play dead." A few nods and murmurs from the more experienced members of the group. "No idea what sort of opposition you'll be facing, but don't be surprised if you bump into a few Barons or even a Kell, given the size of the fleet. Don't die." I say flatly. "After you clean the place out, set the Ketch on a collision course with the sun, space the armory, and fry the engines. Rinse and repeat. That's it."

"Good speech sir." The mouthy one says sarcastically, along with a few whistles and cheers from the rest of the team.

I shrug. "Learned from the best. Now let's get going, there is much ass to be beaten for the Traveler today."

Omake: Idle Chatter

As I walk through the hangar towards my ship, I can hear the whispers of the crew, enhanced by my helmet's sensors.

"Dude, did you see that Guardian that came aboard?"

"I didn't think there were any left."

"I heard they were on the Calamity before, maybe there's still a couple around?"

"They're kinda creepy though, right? Like, they don't even talk. Just walk around and stare at you."

"Yesterday, I was just sitting in the mess hall, minding my own business, when they busted in and started jumping around. Like, literally jumping for no reason. Then they just stopped moving, for like half an hour. All the others just said something about them being 'AFK'."

"I caught them trying to crawl through the port-side mixing chamber. When I asked what they were doing, they just started… dancing."

"That's the thing! They, like, dance everywhere, for no reason. They're just walking along and bam! Just start fucking breakdancing in the middle of the hallway."

"My cousin worked in the tower before the Red War. He says they do that all the time. The weirdest part is when they start dancing at each other. Staring at each other, no music, just dancing."

"Fucking weirdos. I heard them the other day, bitching to some guy about 'edge transit' and 'world loot' or some shit."

"What do they think they're in, a videogame?"

Shaking my head, I tune out their chatter and keep walking. I've got better things to do than listen to idle gossip. Probably not important anyway.

A/N: For some reason, I find it hilarious to imagine that Guardians act as players do in the game. Shoulder-checking NPCs while they sprint around the hub, jumping off the tower for fun, spamming dance moves at each other, and complaining about the Eververse and drop percentages to anybody who will listen. I half-remember some sort of Grimoire entry that sort-of alluded to this, but I can't remember the name or exactly how it went.

This chapter is also really fucking short, but that's just life now. I don't have much time to write over the week. Another bigger chapter coming in Monday.