Arc I, Chapter IV:

Unbroken

He awoke to a familiar ornate skylight, showcasing a plethora of dark clouds in the afternoon sky above. An omen of the ever growing seed of darkness, as his grandfather had so eloquently put it.

He tentatively raised his arm above him, praying that there wouldn't be a ring, that he didn't just speak to the dead, and that he most certainly wasn't just tasked with overthrowing an entire Kingdom.

"Woe, for thy name is Jaune Arc." He sarcastically muttered to himself. The ring had most definitely retained its seat on his finger, the dull thrum of its power coursing through his blood. That had really happened.

That had really happened.

Whatever that place was, whether it be a conjugation of his mind, the workings of the magics within the ring, (since magic was apparently a thing now) it was real. He allowed his hand to drop to his chest, content with staring through the skylight above. Thoughts raced through his mind, indecision roaring throughout his nerves.

One thing had been abundantly clear, though. Ozpin Izunia would have the answers he sought. Avus had specifically named Ozpin as someone who could guide him through whatever this was. In a way, it made sense. As a headmaster of an academy, Ozpin would have networks upon networks of information and people to help him. Whatever the case may be, Ozpin could help him. Surely.

Hopefully.

Maybe.

If luck was on his side.

Jaune yelled aloud.

Slowly rising to his feet, he studied the tomb around him. Absolutely nothing had changed from what he could tell. The statues still sat in perfect alignment, watching him from their pedestals. Sighing to himself, he began to make his way towards the exit. Upon crossing the threshold, the door began to seal itself behind him, forever closing itself to unwanted intruders.

Thunder rumbled above, echoing throughout the vast valley. Dark, stormy clouds blanketed the sky above, stretching to parts unknown beyond the horizon. A sharp gust blew by, chilling Jaune to his bone.

Something… Something wasn't right. The world, it seemed to speak to him, urge him, warn him.

'The power of the Ring brings forth the Light. If you listen closely enough, the Light speaks to us, gives us signs. Mother Nature herself cries out, foretelling the coming darkness. For you to have received a sign so unmistakable, signs that something is certainly wrong. There is a taint, an evil plaguing the land, its intents malicious and vile.'

It was a familiar voice. The second giant to have spoken, the one the woman referred to as "Sophus".

'Your memory serves you well, young prince. My name is Sophus Arcus. In my time, I was known as "The Wise". I was the first of our family to erect a magical wall around the Kingdom in the Dark Ages. I protected the realm against the darkness for ages, until it came time to relinquish the throne to my son.'

"The Dark Ages? That was before humanity discovered dust, wasn't it? Most knowledge about that time is speculation, since there are close to no historical records of it. Some say it never existed at all." Jaune commented.

'I can assure you that the Dark Age that followed The Collapse was indeed real. However, that is a tale for another time. The Light calls to you in its time of need. As we call upon it to fight against the darkness, so does it too call upon us to protect it from the corruption. It is most prudent to heed its call. The Light shall guide the way, you need only listen.'

Jaune faintly felt light buzz in his mind, as if a thought that was once there was replaced by another one. An indicator that his ancestors had left him to his own devices now, perhaps.

His eyes scanned the area surrounding the tomb, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Thunder still roared from above. Everything seemed normal. No sense of foreboding doom, or anything of the sort.

Sophus' words rang throughout his mind once more. "The Light shall guide the way, you need only listen".

Closing his eyes, he deeply inhaled the stormy air. Oxygen rushed into his lungs and with it, a sense of clarity growing in his mind. The storm above sung a great ballad of dominance and power. The trees swayed softy in the forest, humming in a unified harmony. The ground beneath his feet radiated a warm, homely feeling. In the distance, a sense of ill fate permeated from beyond the forestry, promising naught but evils upon the world.

Exhaling, his bright indigo eyes honed in on the sensation. He began a slow walk in the direction, only to stop when a bright blaze of red ascended into the sky above.

'I've got a bad feeling about this'.

The gentle brush against his mind said that his ancestors most definitely agreed with him.

Traversing the wilds was second nature by now. Months on end of learning how to efficiently and quietly move about forestry were ingrained in Jaune's subconscious. It wasn't just how to move like a Huntsman, it was how to move like a Pathfinder.

Yes, there was a difference

At least... according to Crowley, there was.

Crowley firmly believed that the average Huntsman was loud, brutish, and held no sense of tact when it came to not drawing attention to themselves. On the other hand, Pathfinders moved with an uncanny grace through any sort of terrain. Pathfinders blazed a path forward for the future, or at least that's how Crowley poetically put it.

It meant that you had to move in certain ways. Pathfinders explored the unknown regions, sometimes days and even weeks away from the nearest form of assistance. Remaining undetected while moving as quickly and efficiently as possibly were crucial to the job.

After training with a Pathfinder for two years, Jaune could safely say he was well on his way to near-perfecting one of the many arts of the "Way of the Pathfinder" as Crowley said.

He turned his attention back to his surroundings. The brilliant luminescence that shined on the forest was long gone, harsh gusts of wind and dark clouds gathering overhead. He didn't need a connection with the "Light" to know that the weather was but an ill omen of what was to come. Memento and Mori were secured in their holsters, sitting restless in anticipation for the likely battle to come.

Wait- guns could sit restlessly?

Pushing the thought aside, Jaune ducked and weaved through the forestry, breaths even and controlled as he followed the tell-tale nudges the light sent him. Small tremors reverberated throughout the ground, causing his bones to shudder in pre-fight nervousness. He could safely assume from the amount of tremors he felt, whatever battle was occurring was taking place either at close range with explosive equipment, or at long-range battle with heavy dust usage. Even then, it was just better to hedge your bets and expect all of the above, none of the above, and then every other inconceivable idea.

A ranged battle would have been preferable. Even more so, a short skirmish or no battle whatsoever would be even better. Close-ranged combat with nothing naught a knife and lack of aura would be suicidal. Crowley's guns were powerful and had incredible range given the size they were. Without understanding a lick of anything regarding what magical -he snorted at the unrealized literalness of that word- powers the ring had, it all more than cemented a ranged tactic.

He slowed slightly as he came upon a clearing. The Light sent out a pulse of urgency letting Jaune know that whatever he was stumbling on was something beyond the ordinary. Crouching behind a log which provided both suitable cover and concealment, he was finally able to ascertain what was actually happening.

Now, just as Crowley taught.

Breathe in.

Hold.

Hold.

Breathe out.

Assess the situation.

Three on one side, one on the other. A lull in combat. Red and green themed women. One with a bladed bow and the other with what appeared to be revolver...scythe...sickle...things? A silver-haired man on the team with no visible armaments. A lone brunette wielding a staff. The Light rushed his senses, overwhelming him with feelings he could barely describe.

Nature. Balance. Autumn. Light. Magic. Protect.

The message was paradoxically clear. Protect the Light.

Jaune observed the team once again, specifically focusing on the woman in the red dress. Shaking off the strange familiarity he felt for but a fleeting moment, the Light rushed his sensations once more.

Conflict. Corruption. Power. Strength. Fear. Envy. Danger.

Breathe in.

Hold.

Hold.

Breathe out.

Jaune held his position. He would wait for the ensured melee to begin again, observe, and intervene at an opportune enough time that he could grab the girl and haul ass the hell out of this place. The pinnacle of all strategies trademarked by Jaune.

Run and live another day.

Revolver girl and the unarmed boy had moved in tandem, rushing fast on the lone girl's flanks. She quickly raised her staff and sent a small series of fireballs towards the boy, except they all had run wide of their intended target who hadn't deviated from his intended course whatsoever.

Something wasn't right.

Jaune looked back to the mint-haired girl and noticed she had stopped moving, only to resume her rush shortly after. The three quickly became entangled in a fast melee, the lone girl keeping the duo at bay with relative ease. Minty-as Jaune now dubbed her-pulled back from the melee and stood at a standstill once more.

The woman in the red dress began to move, quickly circling around the present melee, obviously attempting to get to the unguarded backside of her target. Such a tactic were sound, unless your opponent could see you do it from a mile away.

However, the brunette while still locked in what was becoming a rather one-sided fight in her favor, didn't seem to notice the obvious flank whatsoever.

Something really wasn't right.

Getting ready to interject into fight, he was temporarily halted by a gentle tap on the edge of his mind.

"Still as a statue the girl stands twice, and twice does our ally blatantly make fledgling errors. The two are most definitely interconnected. The question ever remains. How?" Sophus was on to something here.

'Standing still is a dependent. A stipulation. The variable or change must be affecting the girl. It can't be telekinesis that affected the fireballs, otherwise she would've seen that woman flanking her. It must affect her perception of reality somehow.'

"Indeed, a very sound deduction. Go forth now. Your ancestors shall guide and fight alongside you, simply heed your instincts."

Jaune leapt over his log rushing towards the melee. The girl was about to be caught-off guard by the woman behind her, and with Minty rejoining the fray, it didn't look good. With the element of surprise still on his side, Jaune began sliding to a halt some fifty or sixty feet away from the group.

With a deftness and dexterity one could only have after tireless hours of practice, Memento was released from its holster, rumbling in anticipation. With a small twirl, Memento faithfully rested at the ready by his hip. Fanning the hammer, Memento roared thrice into the clearing. Time slowed for a second as the combatants turned towards the sound, but it had been too late.

Memento sung and death rode the wind.

Minty and Silver took a blow each, a clean hit to the shoulder and chest respectively. Red had found a new burning hole in the right forearm of her dress. Using the lapse in the flow of battle, the lone girl dashed away from the confused skirmish and took up stance just over halfway between himself and her attackers.

"That's enough. I highly suggest you leave this place." Jaune mustered up whatever confidence could. It wasn't a whole lot, but the others didn't need to know that, did they now?

The raven-haired woman stepped forward, glaring pointed daggers at him.

"I'm afraid that will not be possible. This girl holds something that doesn't belong to her. I would suggest you leave this place, boy."

Jaune indignantly returned her glare.

"A matter of thievery is best left to a representative of the law such as myself, then." Jaune stepped forward once more, a challenging tone to his voice.

'You are the Crown Prince, child. Let your voice be heard and let your words go unchallenged.' A voice called out in the back of his head. Confidence surged throughout his body. He straightened his posture slightly, and opted to change his indignant glare for a passive gaze that conveyed dismissal.

"I was not aware they let children play police officer out in the wilds." The woman rebuked.

"My name is Crowley Venandi, Pathfinder of the Huntsman Lodge, and apprentice of the Lord Commander, Ozpin. I would suggest you take your scraggly band of prepubescent misfits elsewhere lest you find yourselves asking for much more than you bargained." Memento's hammed was pulled down with a resounding click.

'As great as that felt to say, I have a feeling that this is about to go to shit real fast.'

The raven haired woman nodded toward her companions.

Jaune readied Memento.

Minty and Silver wasted no time in charging towards Jaune, who in turn let Memento cry rage once more, fanning the rest of his clip out. Minty raised her revolvers in return, but was interrupted by a powerful torrent of wind that had blown her away clear back to her ally. Silver was uninterrupted closing the distance in mere seconds.

Jaune backpedaled, drawing Mori and hoping to put at least some distance, however small between him and his attacker. Silver's speed was beyond anything that he was capable of replicating, and thus Jaune was most certainly panicked when the boy was a mere foot from taking his head clean off in a vicious roundhouse.

An unholy screech of metal on metal rang out through the clearing leaving Jaune's ears rather pained. A newcomer had entered the fray, his red cape gently swaying in the breeze. A hulking and wicked-looking greatsword was held in front of him, partially cleaved into Jaune's would-be-killer's… mechanical leg?

In what had to be less than the blink of an eye, the attacker quickly found himself on the ground pinned by the man's foot on his chest and greatsword precariously pressed against his neck. Looking back to where the rest of the assailants were, Jaune noticed Minty was once again standing still. Not letting anything go to chance, he fired off a round from Mori at her, forcing her to break concentration and deflect the bullet with a swift twirl of her scythe...sickle...thing.

'By the brothers, what is it with modern day weapons all being absolutely bat-shit crazy?'

"Well, so much for negations. Good job, there Pathfinder." The man's deep and scratchy voice patronized him. The not-so-subtle inflection at the end didn't pass unnoticed either.

"Minty over there -a snigger from the silver-haired boy on the ground- is an illusionist. She can't use her semblance unless she's standing still." Jaune retorted, allowing himself a small smirk at the man's surprised features.

A flash drew Jaune's attention back to the other two attackers, and soon enough a massive fireball that continued to grow in width and size was barreling towards them, the sheer heat already not-so healthily roasting Jaune's skin.

"Amber, now's a great time to get your magic mojo going!" The man called out.

The girl glanced back with a panicked look on her face. "I don't have enough left!" She cried.

A vision flashed before his eyes.

He stood in a massive ornate hallway, the ceiling looming dozens of feet above him. A pale, white-haired woman who was rather beautiful given her unique features stood across from him. Malicious red eyes bore into his sole, promising naught but death and pain. A massive blast of energy hurtled towards him, growing in size and strength by the second.

A pause in time. And then he felt it. A raging ocean of power roaring deep within the recesses of his soul. Unbound in distance and infinite in depth.

This overwhelming power, so ancient and potent came rushing to him in a mere thought. An overwhelming power that was his.

On instinct alone as just in the vision, he leapt in front of the red-caped man, throwing the brunette behind him. Ignoring whatever protests they may have had, Jaune raised his hand. The ring glowed and hummed with unbridled power.

Power that just like in the vision, was his.

'You are a wall against the darkness. You will not bend. You will not yield. You will not be broken. You are the wall in which the darkness breaks. Thus, you will give it no quarter.' It was a new voice that spoke, this time.

With a mighty shout, the power lurched forward from within the depths of his soul and projected outwards into a wall of magical energy. Hexagons of blue magic locked together, shielding a large radius in front of him. This wall would not fall.

He would be unbroken.

The roaring flames crashed against his barrier, pushing against his magic like a crazed bull. He dug his heels in pushing back against the flames. The barrage was unrelenting, but he would be unyielding. The sheer ambient heat was enough to uncomfortably cook his skin.

The flames only seemed to grow in size and force, and Jaune found himself slowly losing ground. He needed help. More power. He needed to protect himself and his allies.

Something clicked in the back of his mind. A ruler long since passed, one who was renowned for their mastery and innovation in the arcane arts. They could help.

He needed only…

"Somnus! Come to me!"

Somnus' familiar presence engulfed him. His prayer had been answered. Knowledge of the intricacies of magic flooded his mind, and with newfound clarity, he knew precisely what he had to do.

As if Somnus were standing right beside him, he fervently pushed back against the inferno. He would give it no quarter. As if he was viewing himself from outside his body, he pushed against the inferno once more, feeling as if some greater force was controlling his actions. It empowered him thus he released himself to his instincts.

With a mighty leap forward, the flames and world disappeared around him in a flash of purple-blue and the sound of shattering glass. Similar to how his ancestors appeared before him, he reappeared in front of the red woman, shock strewn across her face.

His ringed hand reached in front of him, even greater power coursing through his body. The veins in his had glowed like lava-streams, radiating with ancient power. Purple lightning sparked angrily and his fingertips.

The distance was closed.

The power was released.

No quarter.

No mercy.

Sorry it took so long to update. Took me quite awhile to find my muse while also figuring out which direction I wanted to take this story in. Most notably, you'd see that Jaune and Pyrrha aren't the primary pairing on this story any more. The pairing is pretty much up for grabs right now, but I do have a pretty good idea of which way I want to go with it. That's to say that Jaune and Pyrrha won't be a pairing, but I simply won't be announcing it from the launch of the story.

I expect the next update to come out within the next few days or week or two. This chapter was a hump to get over for whatever reason, and it gave me a lot of time to find new referencing material while also getting plenty of new ideas to incorporate into the story.

A few notes: Jaune's abilities are visually similar to that of warping in FFXV, though it's much closer to the theatrical version that's shown in the Kingsglaive movie. I'm sure plenty people will get turned off by the sudden John Doe "magic ex machina" that just occurred, but as I mentioned before, magic comes with a price. Well, that, and the same trick usually doesn't work twice.

As always, thank you for your patience and your continued viewership. Any and all ideas are welcome. Chapter may have errors as this was not reviewed by a beta. Please feel free to post mistakes/corrections in reviews or PMs. Thank you!

-Praelio