The Four Headmasters had convened a meeting that was more a progress report on their students than anything. It had been a week since Team CTNE was formed and already, the Headmasters were growing competitive over their protege's progress on the Crucible.

The Crucible was how a Hunter's weapon was decided. They would be given several weapons over the course of two weeks to handle. Whichever one (or ones) suited their fighting style the most would be incorporated into their weapon. There were a few exceptions to this rule.

(For example, people who possessed summoning Semblances always received a rapier as at least one form of their weapon. It channeled their Semblances easier and stronger than any other weapon known to Huntresses.)

But Team CTNE were not the exceptions this time; after they finished the Crucible, it would proceed as normal. Their newly forged weapons would be presented to them in an elaborate ceremony, they would learn the true sobriquet of their weapon, and then their true training would begin at last.

Ozpin looked proud. "I will go first," he vocalized. He thought back to just recently, when Caught had completed a milestone in his training..

Caught had shown great promise with the halberd. He had ample strength with the weapon, and it seemed to feel natural in his grasp. The training that day was exacting. Caught was handling himself surprisingly well. He seemed to enjoy it. With sweat upon his brow, he finished the final move in the 48-move chain he had been practicing for 3 days.

"FINISHED!" Caught roared to the air.

Ozpin nodded in approval. With a grin and no small amount of pride, he said the words he had been waiting to say for a long while: "You may move on to the next weapon form. You have completed the first part of the Crucible, Caught. I am proud of you."

Caught's face lit up like a neon sign. He nearly jumped 70 feet in the air. "YES! YES, I DID IT, I WIN! CAUGHT WINS! FUCKYES!" Caught shouted, losing himself in the feeling of victory.

Ironwood recalled the day he had found Tim's Semblance, with eagerness in his tone.

Ironwood had took Tim into the woods to observe his technique of battle. Ironwood had always believed in pragmatism when it came to training.

Tim's affinity with the whip was incendiary, enough that Ironwood considered it a shoe-in for his weapon. Tim was also quite good with the misericorde, as it looked.

So far Tim was shaping up to be one of, if not the, finest students he had ever taught.

Ironwood watched as Tim's whip lashed at the Grimm, licking the air. He was taking notes on Tim's technique, that he remembered. He heard the hiss of a King Taijitu. This could be interesting, he thought.

He looked up and saw a sight that made him emit a sound of surprise that sounded vaguely like 'EH.'

Tim had a hand upon the scarred mask of a Beowolf Grimm. Tim's hand was swirling with blood-red energy, and his normally black eyes now glowed amber like brands. Tim seemed to be communicating with the Beowolf. There was no doubt in his mind now. This was Tim's Semblance.

Tim turned his head towards the scarred Beowolf and nodded, taking his hand off of the Beowolf's mask.

The Beowolf charged at the King Taijitu, brutally slashing at its serpentine throat. The Taijitu was writhing in pain. Tim wasted no time in pulling out his misericorde and stabbing it. Red splashed onto his face. As the Taijitu ceased its flailing, Tim let out an inhuman snarl. The Beowolf nodded at Tim and fled into the woods.

Tim stood there for a few minutes, his breathing heavy. Then he turned his amber gaze to Ironwood, his face bloodstained and feral. Ironwood recoiled. Tim's eyes were.. bestial would be an understatement. They were hungry and savage. The eyes of a Grimm.

Ironwood realized that if what he had seen was true, if Tim really could control Grimm and temporarily become as savage as them… then most likely he could summon them as well.

He could use this.

And Glynda recounted her experiences with the depths of Evan's knife obsession…

She had targets up. Evan had thrown three knives so far, and most of them were stuck firmly in the heart. She looked on in shock as he threw three more into the bullseye with a grin.

Finally he looked at her with triumph in his eyes. Then he threw another, dead in the center. "Told you so," he gloated.

"My life would be a lie if I couldn't throw knives, Glynda."

"THAT'S MA'AM TO YOU, MR. JENNINGS."

Author's Note: Well then. This is the longest chapter yet, at 960 words. Wow. Let me clear a few things up.

First, sorry for anyone that had to deal with the initial error with chapter 1.

Second, Evan's Semblance is critical hits.

Third, yes, there is a plot to the story and trust me, once it gets going it will be badass. There will be shenanigans in-between, though.

Fourth, go check out nicedynamites on tumblr. He's not only responsible for a lot of the ideas in this fic that will come up later on (and some of the lines, as well) but he's also done some amazing art for the story (there was another one he did that has major spoilers for the upcoming arc, so i'll link that art to you when the time comes)

Adieu, my dear readers! Remember to review, it helps get the creative juices flowing.