AN: Hi there all 813 of you! I'm actually writing this note about three hours after posting the last chapter, it's currently 2 A.M and I have to say seeing that this thing has hit 200 views in just a few hours equally humbles and terrifies me. I can only hope that you have enjoyed my work so far but I should clarify that reviews and feedback are always welcome, and while we're still very young I hope I continue to provide the same quality of content. Now then to some of the meat and potatoes I think that we're going to be on this schedule of shorter and more frequent chapters as we make our way through "Volume 3.5" as I am coining it and see how the six-to-eight months Jaune spends help shape him. (More on that whole thing in a moment).

Now then, addressing as I literally just said, there's a bit of a divergence here in the amount of time we are working with, if only because Rooster Teeth seems to not understand time and other 'canon' material clashing with what was said to be six months in an AMA. Though, without further adieu or ranting let's get back into it!

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since that fateful day and as Jaune rose with the early morning sun he could not help but feel...naked. Not due to the nipping early October chill, but the slight feeling of vulnerability he had felt ever since his family heirloom was destroyed. While it was nowhere near as fancy as Ruby's Crescent Rose or as elegantly simple as Ren's StormFlower, Crocea Mors had been something he had known all his life. Even as a boy the sword and scabbard had hung over the fireplace; The light of flames licking and dancing across its dull white exterior in the winter and dancing rays of sunlight in the summer. It had accompanied him on the journey to Beacon itself and then two years of schooling. Yet now…

Well, he didn't know.

The Huntsman, who Jaune now knew to be a man by the name of Arsenal Gray, had taken the hilt and a few shards of the broken blade soon after. He had also insisted that anything else the blonde wanted 'incorporated' be given to him and so the teen had also relinquished the fragments of Pyrrha's ruined weapons. When Jaune asked what for the man simply said 'you'll see' before telling him to rest up for the next day. Ever since that day he had felt this way, and while he could focus on what Arsenal had him do the anxiety was finally getting to him.

What is the point of all of this training if I don't even have a weapon. Jaune thought to himself even as he threw his hoodie on.

Stepping out of his tent the teen was immediately aware of the chill in the air, his breath fogging as it left his lips and grass crunching beneath his feet as the morning dew frosted over. While this was somewhat new in the last few days, the routine itself was not. Clenching his fists to get the blood flowing at least slightly, Jaune did his best to ignore the slight cold clinging to his frame before taking off in a slight jog. When Arsenal had run through this routine with him the huntsman had had a chuckle at seeing his Pumpkin Pete hoodie, however unlike what Jaune had expected, the man did not insist changing it.

"It's important to have something unique about you. If that means wearing a cute and fluffy sweatshirt, who am I to judge?" He had said.

It had been a strange moment, given that the day before he had kicked Jaune all around a clearing in the woods to see if the Blonde Knight had been 'serious' about training. Though at the same time it had pointed out a pattern he had noticed: All of the Huntsman or Huntsman-in-training he had met all seemed to be...eccentric in one way or another. Yang with her hair, Ruby with her obsession with weapons, Port's constant stories of 'back in the day'...the list went on. If that was the case, wearing a Pumpkin Pete hoodie wasn't the WORST thing in Remnant.

Now however was not the time to focus on fashion sense, for now it was time to focus on the two mile jog ahead of him.

Unbeknownst to Jaune, the Huntsman in question was not far away.

Arsenal had been busy the last two weeks, doing a number of things both above board and questionable. Aside from mentoring Jaune a few hours each day, his nights had been filled with two major tasks. The first was one that many of his colleagues would consider both a kindness and a sign of the infamous huntsman going 'soft'. The second however was something far more up his alley. Both however had required long nights stalking the Grimm infested campus of the fallen Beacon Academy.

The things I do for a favor. He had found himself complaining many of those nights.

Arsenal Gray was not often a man of his word, but a favor was a favor and Glynda's particular favor had turned out to be an interesting one. It was for that reason that the man had made himself so busy, salvaging school databases and hammering away at red-hot metal until his arms burned. Though if he was honest his original self-appointed mission had been data retrieval, but as the picture of who Jaune Arc was began to form it had changed.

Originally he had intended to simply get rid of the ruined pieces and start from scratch, but when he had handed him a bunch of bronzed scrap the plan changed; And while Arsenal would not admit to it: Jaune had made an impression on him.

From what the Grimmwalker had managed to piece together, the Blonde was from a lineage of huntsman, though he himself was not the most skilled. In fact from what footage he managed to scrape together from his initiation he had not even had his aura. However what had been the most eye opening thing had been who had unlocked it and who had become his closest companion: Pyrrha Nikos.

The Invincible Girl was a casualty of the Battle of Beacon, the only physical remains being the very pieces Jaune had given him. It had been at that point that the plan had changed, and looking down at the sheathed blade in his lap Arsenal had a single thought cross his mind once more.

The things I do for a favor.

Fifteen minutes and two miles later, Jaune finally came to a halt.

Keeling over the blonde took in a number of slow, much needed breaths, savoring the cool air helping to vent heat that coursed through his body. Though on the bright side Jaune had to admit, he was thankful that he did not have to do it with his armor on. However, as it turned out, that had been because up until then the Blonde Knight had been doing it 'wrong'. While Arsenal had praised Jaune's physical strength and endurance, he was far more impressed with the former than the latter. To that end the armor had been removed and to that end the teen was instructed to simply run the two miles.

The difference being that he was to run it as fast as he could.

Sure enough, it was far more tiring; But after two weeks Jaune was starting to become accustomed to the pace and breath needed to not simply burn out halfway through. So all and all, a few deep breaths and a few minutes of rest was not the worst thing in the world. When his breath finally settled and heart no longer beat so hard in his chest, the Blonde Knight wiped his brow of sweat and started to make his way the short distance back to camp. Though even as the teen made his way back the rustle of grass behind him was enough to make Jaune weary. One of the many things his new teacher had been beating into him was situational awareness and sure enough there he was like the devil himself: Arsenal Gray.

"Havin' fun there, kid?" The Huntsman asked, a mirthful smile stretching uncomfortably across his face.

Jaune decided it did not fit him, and if anything told the Blonde Knight that something was up.

"Ssssuuurrreee?" Jaune answers slowly, an eyebrow raising slowly raising an eyebrow. "What did you have planned?"

The faux shock only reinforced the suspicion before the man had even spoke.

"Something planned? Me? And to think I was going to give my star pupil a gift." Arsenal insists, his smile becoming a slight frown as he moves closer.

"I'm your only pupil." Jaune reminds, and again the huntsman's face changes from one of slight sadness to its usual amused smirk.

"True enough. Catch." He orders, tossing a bundle towards the now bewildered Knight, who quickly moves to catch the aforementioned bundle.

The first thing Jaune immediately felt was the weight of it, which was heavier than he had expected. After ensuring he had a grip on the nearly two foot package, the next thing the blonde knight noticed was the fabric the bundle had been wrapped in. If it were just wrapping paper or plain cloth it would have been something to ignore but seeing the rich crimson made neat in simple twine had an immediate thought and reaction.

Pyrrha.

Unintentionally clenching the package drew him from his thoughts as he noticed that whatever it was that was solid. Feeling for a knot in the twine, with a gentle tug the twine slacks and the fabric shifts slightly in his hands as it becomes free. Pulling the fabric from the bundle Jaune is met with something he had hoped for, but not exactly expected. For beneath the fabric was a sheathed sword, though Crocea Mors it was not.

For starters the blades full length was shorter and wider than his previous blade if the scabbard was anything to go by. In total length, the scabbard and hilt of the blade was perhaps a foot in total if slightly longer. Entirely marble in its coloration, the only thing that broke up the rather plain look was the golden dome at its center and the embellishments at its Chape and Locket. This lead the Blonde Knight to look upon the hilt of the sword, which was far less regal in comparison to its scabbard. Appearing to be made of a carved and polished darkwood, the grip also widened out into the pommel. However, this mostly modest once over would not prepare Jaune for what the blade itself was.

Gripping the one-handed blade in his right hand the blade pulled clean, reflecting the light of the sun for the first time. Immediately Jaune noted that the blade itself was longer than the scabbard, hinting that it was no ordinary sword. While it had a rather small, almost nonexistent crossguard, the base of the blade was adorned with gold similar to the scabbards locket. From there on the metal was two toned, with the edges and points continuing the same dull gold. The fuller, however, was the same crimson as the cloth it had come in. There was no mistaking now what Arsenal Gray had done, and even as his eyes scanned back and forth across the piece the homage was clear.

"Jaune Arc, allow me to introduce you to Crocea Mors Mk. II. I hope she's to your liking." Arsenal says, making Jaune nearly jump out of his skin as the huntsman's hand pressed against his shoulder.

"I-I honestly don't know what to say." The Knight responds, sheathing what the man had coined 'the new Crocea Mors'. "I don't even know how to fight with something like this."

"Well, before you even think about that why don't you see all of her features." Arsenal suggests, gently taking the weapon from the teen and giving him enough time to stuff the cloth in his hoodie.

Turning the weapon over reveals a pair of leather straps complete with tongue buckles, a pair of metallic loops being revealed along the locket.

"Unlike the old scabbard this is designed to strapped onto the arm like so." Arsenal explains, slipping the teens middle and ring fingers through the loops and revealing that they were in fact a mechanism within the shield. With that done he proceeded to quickly secure the scabbard using the straps, leaving the pommel of the blade a few inches behind Jaune's wrist.

"Now, you're probably wondering what the loops are for, so clench a fist for me." The Huntsman continues, with Jaune complying.

"Now, flex your wrist for me. Just once."

Upon complying and bringing his wrist towards himself there was a 'click' as in an instant the scabbard transformed. Expanding outward nearly two more feet, panels along the scabbards sidewalls split and folded out; Turning the once foot long scabbard into a nearly three feet wide and four foot tall tower shield, the golden dome that had been an embellishment now serving as a bludgeon and core. Another quick flex later and the shield retracted nearly as quickly, the once massive shield once more compressed into the hilt.

"Not bad, huh? Works like a dream and leaves you in the perfect position to draw your sword." The Huntsman praises.

"Is that all? Not that I'm ungrateful I just think it would have been easier to make another sword." Jaune asks, giving moving his left arm around in an attempt to get used to the weight.

Arsenal smiled.

"Kid, I was making fun of you for your weapon before. I'd be a bad mentor if I didn't at least give you something. Come on, draw your sword." He insists, watching as Jaune pulls the aforementioned blade from its scabbard.

With a proper grip on the blade now, Jaune was thrown off by just how light the blade was. The older blade had been a war sword through and through: balanced but weighty and designed for cutting through armor, muscle and bone. It was perfect for fighting against other humanoids and while it was able to easily cut through Grimm it did took more effort than something designed for the task. To that end this weapon was the perfect solution, light but strong, Sharp but able to take all manner of punishment. It was the culmination of over a few hundred years of technological advancement, and Jaune had to admit: it was nice.

"Not a bad cast if I say so myself. Triple bonded CATS with a dust bonded Tungsten core. Nothing short of something it's equal will cut it." The Huntsman insisted, though Jaune had no idea what any of it meant.

"Is...that it?" Jaune asked again unsure if what he was told was the extent of differences he did not know.

"Not quite. Take a second and feel the grip in your hand, there's a slightly more gritty section. Try pushing it aside." Arsenal hints, getting a slightly scowl from Jaune at the roundabout answer.

However, setting himself to the task at hand a quick tactile runover of the grip in his hand revealed that sure enough, Arsenal had been telling the truth. Just beneath the tip of his index finger the normally smoothed surface of grip was more textured and felt more akin to...metal? Trying to pull the section closer did nothing, but pushing it away certainly had a result.

With another 'click' Jaune's newest weapon transforms, the hilt expanding outwards until the pommel pressed into the earth bellow. Meanwhile above the blade splits, the cutting edges folding back and sinking into the hilt, the tip jutting forward and forming a glistening spearhead. What was once a shortsword was now a four foot spear.

Jaune had to admit, he had not expected that.

"Same as the shield, it's designed for quick transformation to maintain combat flexibility." He explains, and with another flick of the switch the spear returns to its original size.

Sheathing the weapon Jaune watches the Huntsman carefully.

"You can't seriously be just giving this to me." Jaune insists, looking at the ornate weapon now strapped to his arm.

"And why not? What I chose to do is my choice." The Huntsman insists in return, though this only serves to spur the Blonde on.

"But the co-"

"Is negligible, monetarily speaking." Arsenal cuts off, rolling his eyes before speaking again.

"Just take it before I change my mind and consider it the nicest thing I ever do for you."

Jaune was silent.

He wasn't sure what to think, let alone what to feel at the gesture. His mother and father had told him to not trust strangers, and while two weeks was a long time a few hours at most each day did not make someone a friend overnight. On the other hand this was a seemingly no strings attached offer of not only a brand new shield, but a spear and sword as well. So reluctantly the teen said nothing, instead simply opting to nod at the man.

Cracking a slight smile Arsenal simply gave him a shove before speaking.

"Go on kid, grab a bite to eat and meet me by the edge of the camp at say...noon?"

"Why? Got another training routine to run me through?" Jaune asks.

The grin he got should have been the first warning.

"Well kid, you've got a new weapon. Might as well take it for a test drive and given there's more Grimm out in that city than cockroaches no time like the present."

And with that, Arsenal simply walked away, leaving Jaune with the anxiety of seeing real combat for the first time since the Battle of Beacon.