Bloody Arc

by Kharneth666

The typical Gamer story has a character suddenly become an RPG character. Their body becomes defined by stats, quests and the vaunted Gamer's Mind. This is not one of those stories. Tonight, Jaune Arc joins the Hunt.

15. Hunter of Hunters

A/N: My apologies for the delay. Writer's block hit hard for the last couple of scenes. The first two thirds was written in like two weeks, while the rest took up everything else, including a scene that I eventually scrapped. I can only hope that my efforts are appreciated.

Edit 3/9: Sorry, I had to repost this when I saw an error.

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Chapter 15: Hunter of Hunters

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After the events of Forever Fall, several had asked those involved of what had occurred. The story quickly spread through the campus, if only the basics. A powerful Grimm attacked team CRDL, but Jaune Arc saved them and was grievously injured in the process. Desiring more information, this story naturally branched off through speculation and bias against those involved, both positive and negative, thought the more outlandish were laughed off by those with a hint of reason.

The Tuesday following the trip, an anomaly in the schedule was planned not just for the first year, but also for all of Beacon's students, excluding those on missions. The different years were usually segregated rather effectively, barring the most recent curriculum change when History became a core class instead of one where students were required to study on their free time.

The lecture halls and arena seating were, for most of the time, built for a far larger capacity than Beacon usually hosted. When it would be their turn to host the Tournament later in the year, students from other schools seeking to qualify, participate, and or spectate would arrive in the summer and attend classes.

Port took his usual place, but when the bell beginning the class sounded, he didn't immediately start as normal with boisterous story telling. "Students, you may all be wondering why the change in pace today. In light of the recent events in Forever Fall," Instead, his cadence was more normalized, like he was holding a conversation. Though small amounts of whispers sprouted, he continued as though he couldn't hear them.

"Professor Ozpin has decided that something that would normally be in your fourth year, be today instead. It is my duty to inform you all of what you may face in the world, but it will not be me that will share the tale." More whisperings and sweeping glances from the first years, with the exceptions of teams RWBY and JNPR. They knew in advance that this would happen today, and also knew why Jaune was currently absent.

"As I have not invited a guest for the first years yet, allow me to explain. Though I have traveled far and seen much in my youth, not even I have seen everything that it has to offer. For instance, I have not traded blows with the demon being discussed today, but someone who has survived two encounters with it has. Please give a warm welcome for one of your very own, Mr. Jaune Arc." Though he, and those who were friends with Jaune, clapped with varying enthusiasm, many were confused as Jaune came through the door, carrying a large rolled up paper looking different from his usual get-up.

The unusual team up of Pyrrha and Weiss, the two most exposed and experienced to public scrutiny, had persuaded him to look more presentable and approachable than his normal intimidating, off putting appearance. As he was, however temporary it may be, in a teaching position, he couldn't dress as a student either; else he wouldn't garner the desired respect or attention of his audience. He was wearing part of his combat attire, with his muted blue and gold tailcoat. This particular color was chosen for its similarity to the student uniform, and it was the same one had had faced the Malathyst in. He had foregone his hat, duster, and scarf. Rather than his hair being a wild mess like usual, his hair was tied back in a warrior's wolf tail at just shy of shoulder length. It had been the hardest touch to convince him to do, as he didn't like doing anything with his hair other than keeping it out of his eyes, but they had asked very nicely. The final result had bestowed upon him a more refined visage.

As Blake was in the front row, she could smell his cologne, and thought that the unique floral fragrance meshed strangely well with his normal scent, like they were two pieces of a greater whole.

He didn't immediately address the audience, but instead unrolled the large paper and hung it on the wall behind him with the assistance of the professor, overlapping the Boarbatusk and Beowolf diagrams. Once hung up, those who hadn't seen the beast could only stare at the detailed, colored illustration of the Malathyst. It was side face, but the head was turned to look at the viewer like it was the one observing them. Ruby had even added little details like its prominent shoulder scars and the purple tint on its bared fangs. To its right was an illustration of Jaune in combat with it to showcase its size in scale with another person. With the crimson forest background, it made for a striking image. He let them soak in the image for a moment as he settled his nerves. He didn't have much experience with public speaking, but he steeled himself like if he was on a Hunt. 'Show no weakness.'

"Yes, it's a lovely drawing, and you may thank Ruby Rose for it later." Jaune began with humor, snapping his audience out of their 'admiration', and said artist earned more than a few curious glances as she did her best to ignore the attention. Gesturing to the 2-D recreation of the beast in question, "The Malathyst. Of the many Grimm in the world, this is one of the most dangerous to plague humanity. For those in my year, the common Grimm, Beowolves, Ursa, etc. belong to the class dubbed as the Horde. Most of the civilian population will only hear of these kinds… Yes, you in the back." He stopped to address a girl in the back that raised her hand, one of three that had done so.

"Isn't that just something from a video game?" She asked, and based on how the other two lowered their hands, the other two guys had a similar question in mind, one snickering behind his hand.

"Yes and no. I'm guessing you've played the game?"

"No, I've just seen my little brother play." She admitted.

"Well, here is its inspiration. The creators of Bloodborne designed some of the bosses on rare, powerful Grimm like this one as an ironic joke. Civilians killing Grimm, especially rare ones in particular." He forced a laugh at something he had found hilarious in the past, but no longer.

"It falls under the umbrella of the Jaeger class, of which little is known or available for public knowledge, for their own safety of course." He refused to hold back a grimace of distaste for that policy. The greatest fear is the fear of the unknown, after all. Pulling out a laser pointer from his pocket, the red dot of light circled the half-mask covering its face.

"They're identifiable with their marking color, that being mostly black instead of plain red. I say mostly, as note the purple tint in the markings, for I'll get to that in a moment. A Malathyst is not like most Grimm. Rather than be composed of energy that dissipates after death, this is a completely physical being, composed of flesh and blood like us." This revelation caused a bit of an uproar, incredulity the primary emotion of the bunch. He couldn't blame them, as it went against common knowledge of Grimm.

"If you're all done, might I continue?" He 'asked' patiently but with a firm edge reminiscent of Goodwitch. "Most of the creatures of Grimm are just energy constructs with a black exterior of varying durability and bone white armor, with a solid red interior, as you all should know. But in the Malathyst, there is no such thing. If you manage to pierce its hide, which can shrug off .50 caliber bullets like pinpricks, then it will bleed… in a manner of speaking." The laser dot now circled the two shoulder scars to exemplify their significance. With regular Grimm 'flesh', scars did not form because it wasn't truly flesh, and therefore did not heal like it.

His voice carried an odd charisma, captivating even those who held him in distrust and disdain, but some were still drifting with disinterest as they went through the motions as if Port was speaking instead. Jaune pulled out a glass vial containing a familiar purple liquid, "This is a sample of its venom left over from our good Doctor Fennel's successful attempt to synthesize an antidote, as well as what the purple marking warns its prey of."

He picked up a spare scrap of wood from the desk behind him and let a single drop fall upon it. Upon contact, the wood became corrupted and blackened, a small step away from rot before Jaune burned it.

"Big deal, we have aura to protect and heal." A male student he didn't recognize burst out, earning some agreeing nods, as well as perhaps unintentionally pointing out the lecturer's 'handicap'. Jaune kept his cool, despite the reminder, and gave him a saccharine smile.

"It seems that I have a volunteer. Why not come on down and back up your claim?" He challenged the second year student with an innocuous, yet piercing stare. The dissenter came down with a self-assured stride and an arrogant smirk plastered on his dark-skinned face as he swept back his white, braided locks behind his thick, bull Faunus horns. Jaune put a drop on Yharnam's tip and asked for the student's name. "Albus Oxford."

"Hold out your hand, please. Don't worry, I have the antidote on hand, so you're in no mortal peril." He showed to everyone the white antidote in a syringe ready to go.

It was a good thing that he had previously sought approval for this practical demonstration, as there was no way he would have been allowed to do this otherwise. What he didn't day was that it was only if someone volunteered, but he had strongly suspected that someone would. Most people didn't like having their world views challenged, after all. With that, Jaune nicked the outstretched hand on the tip of the subject's index finger, the coated metal bypassing the shield entirely. After a few moments of nothing happening, the cocksure Faunus rhymed, "Huh, that's weird, but it seems your word isn't something to be adhered."

"Give it a few more seconds." Jaune rebuffed with a preternatural calm, counting down with his fingers from five, four.

"What do you mean?" Three, two. "I'm in the gree- grrgh!" To the unsuspecting audience, the older, taller, muscular teen gripped his twitching fist, clutching it tightly as he shuddered and gritted his teeth in a stubborn refusal to vocalize his pain, and that pride lasted for about ten seconds as the agony steadily intensified. Though Jaune administered the antidote as soon as the screaming began, the melody of a torture chamber still lingered for a minute that felt like a lifetime to the second year. Through it all, Jaune dispassionately stared at the kneeling victim in disappointment until he stopped, breathing heavily due to his agonizing experience.

"So, what have we learned?" Being courteous, Jaune helped the twitching student onto his feet.

"That you're a sadist. Damn, that shit hurts." So much so that he temporarily dropped his tedious rhyming.

The 'sadist' scoffed. "Of course it hurts. If you hadn't interrupted me, I would have told you what it does within the bloodstream. It's a neurotoxin that activates every pain receptor in your body it contacts. Please take your seat… and thank you for your cooperation." Before the demonstration, the bull Faunus had not been very interested. The paradigm shift in focus, for both him and everyone else, had been altered to hang on his every word.

"That was just from a single drop." Turning on the rarely used classroom projector, a close up of the bite mark on his shoulder came into view on the wall. "A single bite is estimated to inject the amount in this vial, or 10 mL if you wish to be precise, two hundred times the amount Mr. Oxford received." Several first years that had seen the discolored bite on his shoulder the night before Initiation recognized the photo's source, and their gazes shifted to horror. "For those of you who wish to know how that feels, take it from someone who's experienced it twice. It's much like being set on fire, and then dousing it by smothering it with salt. Left untreated, the symptoms will also include vomiting and internal bleeding, and eventual comatose or death as your brain becomes unable to cope with the stimulation and shuts down as a result. Of course, that's usually a nonfactor as you will most likely be in the process of being lunch. Silver lining, you won't feel it ripping you apart." His cheery and cheesy delivery of the less bad news didn't make anyone feel better.

As he cleaned and put away his knife, "Funny thing about aura shields. It's true that it does protect you from damage and some pain, but what do you do if it's dropped, broken, or bypassed? Jaeger is from an old language meaning Hunter, and they are called so for good reason. They have evolved and are designed to kill aura users, earning the class the appropriate name of Hunter Killers. In the Malathyst's case, its toxin is its primary weapon. Anything coated in it will bypass aura shields entirely, and the average healing will be impeded to the point of uselessness. Much like Recluse venom, come to think of it, only with almost exactly the opposite effects. Its claws are also coated in it, but it loses its ability to induce pain when dry. Everyone with me so far?" It was the most active many had been in that classroom, taking notes with rapt attention.

Cardin raised his hand, and when called upon, "First, if the toxin is so lethal, how did you survive, let alone keep fighting it?"

"Circumstances and luck of cosmic proportions." Jaune, refraining from the reflex answer of 'Fuck you, that's how'; answered curtly, clear in his desire to speak no more on the matter. Switching to a more professional tone, as the hand didn't lower, "I have a lot more ground to cover, so you get one more."

"How has the populace never heard of these things before?" Something this deadly would have been in legend and myth, at the very least.

"An excellent question, with multiple answers that tie in to what I will be discussing next. First, and the best news of all, is that there is only one at any time, the same with all Jaeger class. It is unknown as to why, but it is believed that the circumstances or requirements for its… creation are random, rare, or both. The former Headmaster of Beacon, Gehrman, killed the last one himself a little more than twenty years ago shortly before his demise, and this one is the 47th to pop up in the past millennium, but now I'm straying into Doctor Oobleck's territory." His remark earned a few chuckles and lightened the mood. "Second, it lives up to the moniker of Hunter Killer by almost exclusively going after two targets; those with aura, even partially unlocked, and Grimm. For the most part, past incarnations have left towns alone."

"Wait, a Grimm that eats Grimm?" Yang spoke up with incredulity not with Jaune, as she trusted the source of information, but in the idea of a cannibalistic Grimm.

"I can confirm that. My team and I saw it eat an Ursa before it turned its attention on us." Unexpectedly to those aware of the previous public animosity between the two, Cardin defended and added credence to Jaune's claim.

"Though I must correct you on your misconception. The people do know of it, even if not literally." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a copy of likely the most eminent book in Remnant, The Scriptures of Oum. "Hiding in plain sight."

Opening it to a bookmarked page, Jaune recited, though looking to the audience instead showing that he had memorized the passage.

"Lowenthal 1:13-14, 'Gluttony, oh what terrible things lurk deep within the frame of man? You that partake of the forbidden communion and be judged unworthy shall be carried away upon wings of fear and shadow in the dark of the night. Body and soul shall be extinguished by the abyss, dyed amethyst, and cursed with the spirit of famine. Trapped by the gnawing need to forever seek more and more, both the Dark and the Light shall perish in the virulent, insatiable maw of the beast.' " He snapped the book shut.

"The Lowenthal chapter talks a lot about these 'spirits of sin', which are in reality several of the Jaeger class. In the era that this was written, it was the common theory that the creatures of Grimm were dark spirits sent to punish the wicked for their sins. While this lead to the formation of the Exorcists of Lowenthal, I won't waste more of our time to preach or debate theology or cultural history. Now, I may have started with a boogeyman's wet dream, but it does have weaknesses, and you must exploit them to survive."

"Don't you mean kill it?" Coco asked as he took a breath.

"No, I do not." He rebuked sternly. "Facing it is considered a level seven mission; far beyond the expected capabilities of students like ourselves." Considering that a small horde usually constituted a mission of that difficulty, for one Grimm by its lonesome to warrant the same threat gave pause to any thoughts of seeking glory.

"But you fought it!" Someone in the back called out.

"After I sent the fastest people in my immediate vicinity to get one of our chaperones. All I had to do was bide time." Jaune corrected.

"This is just to teach you enough to have a larger chance of living should you come across it. Your second best case scenario is to be in the vicinity of other Hunters, either in sufficient numbers or those with above average strength. It has enough intelligence to withdraw if it believes itself to be outmatched. Case in point, it fled when it was faced with Professor Goodwitch along with six of us. But this is a gamble, depending on how hungry it is. So the best way to give it the slip is to feed it."

After raising his hand, Lupin asked, "Doesn't that go against the plan of not dying?"

"No, I mean you run and draw up every negative emotion you can. Fear and anger are the best, and easily available, and hopefully Grimm will show up to the rescue in time. What a delicious irony, no?" Checking the time, Jaune saw that there were still a few minutes to go. "That's about all I know. I'll take a few questions."

"Do you know any good delaying tactics?" A third year student on the middle aisle asked as he adjusted his glasses. "Based on its longer limbs, I'm guessing that it's running speed is faster than what is capable of most humans."

"I've never had the opportunity to try, but anything with fire should give you a few seconds, which reminds me about another trait of its toxin. It's highly flammable once exposed to the air, so if you're in a corner and manage to wound it, you'll be safer if you cauterize it, as it's unclear if it can be absorbed through the skin or not." With a nod, the spectacled student took more notes.

"What about what you shot it with? What kind of Dust was in it?" Dove asked, having seen the damage one shot with Evelyn had done.

"That's two questions, but I'll let it slide." Giving him a wink to lighten the mood, "It doesn't contain any Dust in the projectile, but in its stead is a special alloy containing quicksilver that is too costly to mass-produce." In reality, there wasn't any Dust involved, but his statement was still true. "Before anyone asks, I have a permit." He supplemented, seeing more than a few brows raised. Quicksilver was a regulated substance, as it was one of the few known materials that could bypass aura shields like the Malathyst's toxin. Its primary uses were in law enforcement for aura suppressant drugs and restraints for criminals with unlocked auras.

It also explained away the curiosity of why he was one of the scant few to not use firearms, despite having the option available. He couldn't, not without the severe possibility of the grave injury or death of others.

Before anyone could ask anything else, the bell rung far earlier than most in the audience had anticipated, time flying with such an interesting subject of discussion. "Don't worry, I'm not assigning homework or readings, even if I could do so. But I will leave you with some food for thought. Of all the Jaegers, the Malathyst is the weakest. So do not be discouraged by my doomsaying, for any beast can be slain." Jaune gave them a small bow.

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"A marvelous display for a first timer, my boy!" Port boomed as Jaune stayed behind as requested to both collect his effects and to receive a sort of grade. "Have you considered teaching in your future?"

"You're too kind, but I don't think I have it in me. I don't quite feel comfortable on stage… and no offense, but I'd be bored out of my skull." Standing in the same room, talking about the same thing, and likely answering the same questions annually ad nauseam was not something that particularly called to him.

"Bah, that is but the hot blood of youth speaking. I was much the same at your age… and a bit older too for that matter." He 'whispered' conspiratorially with a wink. "But after some time after the war, I decided to settle down, pass along my wisdom the future generations, and I've been here ever since."

"The Faunus Rights Revolution?" Though battles and skirmishes occurred, very rarely did someone label it as a war due to its scale in comparison to its predecessor.

"Hmm? Oh no, I meant the 'Great War'." Based on how he said it, Port disagreed with the supposed greatness of the war that lasted almost twenty years. Before Jaune could ask, he was casually but politely dismissed. "You have more pressing tasks to do today than listen to an old man telling war stories. Thank Miss Rose again for her charitable donation for me, will you? It would truly have been a shame for such a work of passion condemned to merely gather dust after being used only once."

With a nod, Jaune left with his respect of the portly man heightened. As the strengthening of the body and mind augment the soul, so too does it work in reverse. One long-term effect of aura is that it slows the aging process of its wielder. It was a little known feature, as most die before such effects become prevalent. 'Just like Gramps; I wonder if they served together?'

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"Did you have to name drop me like that?" Ruby asked slash whined later that evening, rightfully blaming Jaune for the temporary spotlight as word got out of her talents as an artist. "It was embarrassing."

"Good work deserves recognition, and any publicity is good publicity for an artist." He explained. "Besides, consider it payback for letting Weiss act as your negotiator."

When discussing the cost for Ruby's illustration, for Jaune would never ask for a project of that size for free, Weiss came in and bargained a higher price on her team leader's behalf. It had boggled the heiress that they had been throwing the basics of quid pro quo out the window. Previous to their arrangement, Jaune had mentioned once in passing that he was thinking of an upgrade to further expand Evelyn's capabilities. Unsurprisingly, as a proclaimed and declared weapon nerd, Ruby had wanted in on that action.

By the end of the bargaining, which was more of Weiss convincing her partner that more work even if willingly and happily offered was not a suitable price, the exchange would also have the squad leader make something for the scythe wielder. On that front, Jaune would keep it a surprise until he could work on it on the weekend.

Which led the two leaders to their current situation. They were in Jaune's room, at his desk poring over Evelyn's schematics as he finished explaining the specifics of how it fired without Dust. Channeling aura into the trigger, it resonates with the blood in the bullets and activates the propulsion, much like Dust. She seemed to get the gist of it, with her view of it being yet another benefit of his semblance. Other papers littered his desk in organized chaos containing sketches of their brainstorming and prototypes.

The true challenges in the upgrade would be in how to alter the projectile into a concentrated spray of fire, what parts would be necessary, and how to add it to the weapon without compromising its original design. Materials wouldn't be an issue, as Jaune and his father had made several ingots of the metal unique to the Hunter's armaments, just in case.

Quicksilver was non-reactive to Dust, which is why he didn't use it in the first place; so just adding Fire Dust in the bullet itself, or in an attachment to ignite it, would not work. Whereas most would have been discouraged, Ruby seemed to get even more excited by the challenge. She had toyed with the concept on non-Dust armaments before, so this was an interesting brainteaser.

Seeing her study his work with such intensity and passion brought a warm smile to Jaune's face, and he could see how she could have designed Crescent Rose on her own. Suddenly, he could practically see the light bulb turn on above her as she pointed to a peculiar part on the firing mechanism and asked, "What's this hollow spike for? It doesn't seem to serve any purpose."

"It doesn't anymore." He admitted. "When I first made it, I used to have to add blood to act as 'powder' for the ignition, like a musket. As I became more proficient, I didn't need it anymore." It had been like seeing the evolution of firearms on fast-forward, from single shot muskets to modern day 'clips'.

"Come with me." She jumped up, and tried to drag him with her, but he didn't budge. As she kept pulling his arm, she requested with a hurried tone, "Come on, up you get! I've got an idea."

"Why not just tell me here?"

"Nope, I want to see if it works." He sighed with faux resignation before following the excited girl with an amused half grin to the indoor firing range.

Despite the near incalculable amount of damage it must have received over the years from the warlike assault of dozens if not hundreds, the stretch of ground and the armored back wall behind the hard light 'Grimm' targets was in near pristine condition, minus the few pockmarks and scorches likely from the day's use.

They were not alone in the room, but it was large and loud enough to afford them a measure of privacy. Now at their destination, he asked again what her idea was.

"First I want to see her in action." She demanded. Seeing no reason to deny her, he shrugged and loaded four rounds. Picking the two closest moving targets, each about twenty yards away, he blew the first's head clean off and bored a head sized hole in its gut, producing two thunderous cracks both times he pulled the trigger with a half-second in between. Shifting Evelyn to its rifle form, the two closest to the wall received similar fates, but with a fist sized hole in both them and in the wall behind them. Back in its shorter form with a dramatic spin on his finger within the trigger guard, he blew away nonexistent smoke from the muzzle.

With a cocky smile, he looked to Ruby, who was starry-eyed at Evelyn's destructive capacity. "You weren't kidding! Your lady packs a punch."

"Just remember, overkill is always an answer." He retorted serenely. "So, what was your idea?" He had to ask before she got too distracted.

"Huh? Oh! Do that thing you did with Brador and that one arrow. I think it might act like too much powder and do a burst of fire… or it might explode, I don't know." She lost a bit of confidence in her idea saying it out loud.

Honestly, why didn't I think of that?' He thought, mulling the idea over.

"Pfft, nah. Let's do this. What's life without a bit of risk?" 'Putting one more in the chamber, he pricked his finger on the needle, feeding it with a few drops. "… You may want to stand back though, just in case."

Pulling the trigger, it didn't go quite as expected or imagined. Instead of the gun imitating either a flamethrower or a bomb, it fired a large, tightly packed burst of bright red sparks, decimating its target and leaving the floor within five yards behind it ablaze for a few seconds as it spent its fuel.

Jaune then blankly looked at his now smoking gun, and then back at the impact area, as if to make sure that the last ten seconds had just occurred as he had seen it, and that the source of the mini inferno had been him.

"Holy shit." It hadn't been Jaune who said that profanity.

"Ditto. I think that's the first time I've heard you curse." With an actual swear word, no less. The reality finally sunk in, and a manic grin overtook his shock. Looking at her, he could see a gleam in her silver eyes that held many possibilities, along with her small smirk at her idea paying off with far bigger dividends than anticipated.

After a well deserved celebratory high five, she checked their station's readout and it showed that the temperature of the incendiary round clocked in at about 1650˚ Celsius. That was over sixteen times that of boiling water, and equal to a Fire Dust round of the same grade if not a bit higher than Weiss's supply.

She whistled in appreciation, "That's some serious firepower."

"Your sister would be proud of that pun." Yang was well known for her appreciation of puns, though their quality was debatable at times.

"Should we name it? Can we, please?" She pleaded with wide, innocent eyes and the faintest quiver in her upper lip.

"If you want to, Rubes, go right ahead. Since we didn't do anything for the forge like we thought or you wanted to, it's the least I can do."

"Oh yeah." Ruby was a bit disappointed at that, as she missed the fun of being in the forge when she was crafting Crescent Rose. 'Sharing that would have been cool, or hot… cause, you know, we'd be in a forge.'

She settled down her inner monologue by shaking her head before it became worse for herself. As her sister came to mind, inspiration came as well. "Dragon's Breath!"

"Hmm, that's just badass enough to work." He barely needed a moment to think on it. "Thank you for your help."

"No problem. This was fun." Ruby had brought Crescent Rose with her, as she wanted to get some practice of her own in.

Checking the time, he sighed in resignation. "Unfortunately, I have an appointment with Matin. I'll see you later, and thanks again. It would have taken ages for me to think of this." Walking away, he didn't see her shifting bashfully or her beaming smile at his praise. The newest addition to his arsenal kept an evil smile on his face as he stared at Evelyn, imagining shoving it down the Malathyst's throat and burning it from the inside out, unheeding of the students that crossed his path giving him a wide berth with all the 'nope!' they could muster.

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As Jaune had never entered a therapist's domain, he only had preconceptions on what to expect. Walking in and seeing a interior design that would be out of place in a dojo was not what he had expected. In the center of the room was Professor Matin kneeling in meditation.

"I get that reaction with every first timer." Professor Matin spoke, though his eyes were closed.

"How did you-?"

"Suspicion, confusion, with a soupcon of intrigue. I'll take a gander and suppose you suspected a cushy office with comfortable furniture for you to sit on as you vent about your problems and I respond with the stereotypical classic, 'And how does that make you feel?'"

"… Sounds about right." Jaune admitted.

"While that method does help in most cases, I've found that to be far too plebian for many Hunters. They require a more personalized approach." That was all the warning he gave before he stood to deliver a light palm strike to his patient's sternum. Light being a relative term, as he was pushed back to the door.

"From my observations, you were taught a Vytalian battle meditation and philosophy from your father's teammate Orion, no?" He threw a quick jab, but Jaune was prepared and pushed it aside with his forearm.

"Yes, but he was unable to finish." He confessed. The two quickly settled into a routine of quick attacks with brief pauses as they talked.

"As I suspected. Well, I've got both good and bad news. The bad is that he picked the worst time to die."

"Yes, how insensitive and inconvenient of him." Jaune retorted with derision at his lack of tact.

"For you, yes it is." Matin pressed on unheeding. "You've made decent progress on the first, but without the other parts to keep them in check, it can grow to consume you."

"I can maintain control." Jaune argued as he in stepped to deliver a knee strike, only for his guard to shatter from another palm strike in the exact same spot as before.

"That remains to be seen. It pulls you along like a child walking a dog thrice their size. You can nudge it along, but it does what it wants. I can feel it, and see it eating away at you when you fight."

"I thought you were leaving the cryptic mumbo jumbo bullshit for the quacks with couches." Jaune quipped as got back up, and with a deep breath through his teeth, attacked with more fervor, the older man easily keeping pace.

"No cryptic symbolism, I'm being quite literal. One of the tools in my arsenal is visual empathy, to see the emotions of others like you might see clothing. One might say I can see the soul."

"A bit invasive, don't you think?"

"It's no different than reading body language, as it can be inhibited with the subject's self control. And despite your meager attempt at humor, I can see the fear spreading like ivy, especially as they stem from and creep around your… tattoos." His final statement, along with the pause inferring knowledge, initiated a berserker-like assault from Jaune.

"Oh, did I strike a nerve? I see them like brands on your aura, shifting and twisting your very soul, especially…" With a two-fingered tap, Matin jabbed the blond's sternum, his fingers glowing gold with his own aura as they connected with the Beast rune. "That one."

Jaune collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, lying on the matted floor before the instructor picked him up and put him back on his feet.

"How did you do that?" His rage had dissipated like leaves in the wind. He had not felt this clear minded since Orion-sensei employed a similar technique.

"A wise master never reveals his secrets all at once." The professor answered with a wink, before turning solemn. "So, did you feel like you were in control?"

Compared to how Jaune currently felt, even with the forced tranquility slowly wearing off to a more normal at rest state of mind. He hung his head with a sigh and said, "No."

"Good. The first step to solving a problem is to be aware and to admit that you have one. I saw your hesitation and objection, and I cannot help the unwilling. With that out of way, please have a seat." The two sat in the lotus position.

"What was the good news?" Jaune asked, recalling his earlier statement of both good and bad news.

"I have been deemed a master of the technique and philosophy you have been studying, and I can complete your training. Now that your eyes have been opened, we can begin to break the chains that bind you. Describe and explain your view of the first step."

"Peace is a lie, there is only passion." Jaune recited. "This is not to be taken at face value. The suppression of emotion, also called serenity, and therefore the self, to prevent conflict is futile and self-destructive as it hinders individual growth. Without conflict, stagnation sets in like rot and that will only lead to ruin."

Matin gave an approving nod. "Keep going."

"Through passion, I gain strength. Through accepting and surrendering to our nature, we gain true control over it. Through strength, I gain power. Through this control and acceptance, I may become stronger in mind, body, and therefore the soul. Through power, I gain victory is pretty self-evident. Through victory, my chains are broken. I am free. I believe these are about seeking perfection and attaining freedom, but I need to think more on them, as they seem a bit too self-absorbed."

"Good enough for now, but that is only scratching the surface of the latter two as you will come to realize. You've completed the first step, but your problem is that you've partially skipped the second step to work on the third. This is one cause for your imbalance, as each step is a foundation for the next." He stood up. "Come on, another round."

'Maybe this won't be so bad after all.' Jaune thought as he lashed out with a sweep kick. The reason that he had felt drawn to this method was that it meshed very well with the teaching of the Oedon Codex, so well in fact that it was written within it. To solve problems, one must face them.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was in the afternoon on Saturday, steadily approaching evening as Jaune stood alone in a forge station set up for self-maintenance and weapon crafting. He was dressed in a thick vest and a leather apron, leaving his arms bare as they rippled with every impact that formed metal like clay into shape. He had missed this; the unyielding heat, the singing of hammer on red hot metal, and the cathartic stimulation that creation brought. Jaune could understand how it drew his father so.

This was a small project, so it should take no longer than a day, especially with the assistance of state of the art equipment and the fact that he had been here since last night. He would rather have the time to do it all by hand, instead of just the final details, but he had plans for this evening, and it led to a better final product if he did it all at once. 'Hopefully they can keep Ruby busy.'

He was unaware that 'keeping her busy' had involved physically restraining her before she could zip away. Ruby was back in her pajamas after morning's training as she had set aside today to catch up on her studies and to draw for fun. Courtesy of a note on the fridge that had gone unnoticed by her that morning, she had discovered that he was in the forge and was intensely curious. However, it was not to be, as the reaper's wrists and ankles were tied by black ribbon. Ordinarily, she would have been too fast to capture, but Yang had been prepared for her reaction.

The feline Faunus rubbed her arms; sore from the exertion of apprehending her leader until Yang came in helped her out. "How is she this strong?" Physical strength may not have been her forte, but it had been far more difficult than expected to restrain the frenzied diminutive girl in her excitement.

As the elder sister held down the chair so that it wouldn't bounce away, she snorted, "Well, she does swing a giant scythe. What did you expect?"

"Good point." She conceded.

"Come on, I haven't done anything. Just let me go!" Ruby pleaded.

"Really?" Yang asked with a teasing lilt, leaning to speak right next to her ear. "And where were you going in such a hurry?"

"Oh, you know… places." She answered evasively, not sounding convincing in the least.

Blake joined in, asking questions she already knew the answers to. "Places, huh. One of these places wouldn't happen to be the forge, would it? Where Jaune is working on something that is meant to be a surprise?" In retrospect, she should have hidden his note, but that would have just made Ruby curious and go explore unsupervised.

"N-no~?" The flash of a camera went off, courtesy of Yang, photographing the evidence of transpired events. "What was that for?"

"Insurance. You go to the forge, or even approach its general direction, and I send this picture." Yang explained her blackmail. "I wonder what his reaction will be to see a cutie like yourself all tied up. He might just like that sort of thing."

"Leave her alone, Yang." Pyrrha, exiting her room, came upon the scene and defended the vice leader, seeing the sad look on her face. "Don't you have a date with Blake to go to?"

"It's not a date, it's an… appointment for a meeting." Blake denied.

"Right~. And you're not doing anything else to pass the time? 'Cause a leisure activity of mutual interest is definitely not a date." The Spartan drew upon a well of previously unseen sarcasm, likely dug during her time in close proximity with her partner, and in the absence of a rapid response, she continued. "I wanted to talk with Ruby anyway, so you can untie her."

"Yes please." Ruby agreed with being released with a hint of desperation. "I'll stay with Pyrrha, I promise."

"Hm, I don't know." Her sister hemmed and hawed before, "Ah, fine. But I'm keeping the picture. Never know when it might come in handy."

Blake untied the captive, and the two redheads went into the Mistralian's room to talk or do whatever. "Come on, let's go."

"I still can't believe that you've never been to an arcade before." Now that they didn't have to babysit, they could go to Vale as planned, as Jaune had fulfilled his end of a completed bargain and set up a meeting for Blake with his sister, her favorite author, this afternoon. As the went to leave, an unfamiliar, but cultured voice commented, "What a lovely show that was. Is it always so entertaining and dramatic around here?"

The two jumped, ready to fight another unwelcome intruder, until they saw who was sitting at the table, presumably to watch the events unfold like a play, as if she belonged there, with a small but knowing smile of hidden depths.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ignorant of the intruder in the other room, Ruby asked, "So what did you want to talk about?"

"Oh, nothing in particular. I just said that to get you out of there. That teasing seemed be going a bit too far for you." Pyrrha explained her deception with a ghost of a smile.

"Well, thank you. It wasn't the worst ever, but I'll take the rescue. I was a bit excited, and I got a bit out of hand." Suddenly, Pyrrha winced and put a hand to her neck. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, it's just a pulled muscle." The Spartan waved off her concern over such a small matter. "We were trying a combo move, but it needs a bit more work."

"Oh, that's so cool. I'm thinking up some sweet combos with my team too. Oh, and I can help you."

"With the move?" She inquired as she rubbed the tender area between her neck and shoulder.

"No, I meant your neck. Yang used to get those pains all the time. Still does from time to time, I think." Ruby clarified. Punching things all the time really hard could be stressful on the body, after all. Not to mention her body type supplies a penchant for back pain too. 'But not mine.' The petite girl sighed wistfully.

"Um, are you sure?" The Spartan misconstrued the brief bout of emotion from her companion.

"Why not? It can be my way of thanking you." Taking a moment to think, Pyrrha grimaced as she felt a knot in her muscle roll uncomfortably under her fingers. "All right."

"Awesome! You'll feel a lot better soon, and that's a Ruby Rose guarantee!" Ruby perked up to her default happy mode. The two moved from their sitting positions on the bed. Pyrrha sat on the edge, with Ruby now sitting on her knees behind the taller girl to compensate for the eight-inch height difference. After a dramatic stretch of her fingers that would have been more impactful if any pops or cracks had sounded, the amateur masseuse began with her thumbs rubbing prodding circles to find the problem spots. Pyrrha gasped when she found one, and she began to focus a bit more pressure on it.

"So did Jaune tell you what he was making for me? A modification for my baby, perhaps?" She requested the info with a leading tone.

"Was this your plan? Wait until I was… aah… distracted by your fingers to probe for intel?" Pyrrha let out another sigh of bliss as a knot she didn't even know she had was kneaded into nonexistence.

"Hey, I promised to stay away, but I didn't say anything about asking. So is it working?" She put some extra force on the trapezius muscles with her knuckles, finding a strange delight in hearing Pyrrha's various sounds of appreciation and pleasure. She felt like she was playing a musical instrument, much like when Weiss played the piano that one time.

"I have the distinct impression that Jaune may be an… mmm… influence on you." Pyrrha declared. "But your nefarious plot might have succeeded if I knew. I'm just as in the dark as you."

"Drat! My plans have been foiled." Ruby giggled, and her good humor spread to her patient as well before she stopped. "Actually, there was something else I wanted to ask you."

"What is it?" She was slightly unsure about the tone shift, but Pyrrha felt a lot better now that the crick in her neck had dissipated.

"We're friends, right? I can ask you anything, and you'll answer honestly?"

"I promise." She instinctually conveyed reassurance upon hearing her faltering, nervous inflection. The two had spent more than enough time together, both with others and just themselves for her them to be friends, in her mind.

"Am I pretty?" She could feel the older girl's shoulders tense up.

"Do you not think you are?" The Spartan asked after taking a moment to think about the reason for the question, because only two reasons came to her mind why someone would ask that. 'Either she doesn't think that she is, or…' Her face, thankfully facing away, immediately flushed as she realized how intimate this scene could be interpreted.

"I don't know." She sounded despondent. "No one's ever told me so."

"What are you talking about?" After she asked, Ruby stopped her ministrations to sit next to her for eye contact and ease of conversation.

"Well, anyone who compliments me outside of fighting calls me adorable, or cute, like I'm a kid or a puppy. When it comes to looks or friends, everyone gravitated to Yang, even this one guy I liked. But when I tried to talk to him, something I never though I'd do, he only knew me as 'Yang's little sister' and asked if I could introduce him." She began to hug herself. "What's worse, I did as he asked without knowing why he wanted to, and they actually dated for a while like I'm not anyone of importance."

"That's not true. You're a great person." Evidently, that was not the right thing to say, and the younger girl started to snap in irritation.

"No, I'm not. I'm small, introverted, and prone to bouts of clumsiness. I hate crowds 'cause they make me nervous, and talking to new people is hard for me without anyone to help. I'm just that weapon-nerd that hung around the popular girl from time to time." She listed her faults as she saw them, looking and sounding more depressed. "Why am I even talking about this like you'd understand? You're too perfect, and you probably had guys lining up behind you in Mistral like my sister did."

Though that comment might have hurt in different circumstances, Pyrrha knew that she was in a bad place and forgave her for it. "You'd be surprised. I've never gone out with anyone or have been friends with… anyone before coming here. No one even tried, so I kept to myself. And I'm not perfect either." Raising the left side of her shorts, she exposed the skin between her waist and her leg, dragging three fingers across it. "I used to have a claw mark here that I got when I was ten." She told Ruby of the Grimm attack that took her father away, and the resulting training that isolated her both during and after. She hadn't even been allowed to keep the scar as a memento, due to the pressure put on her to appear flawless to the public in every way.

"Then I came here, met Jaune, you and everyone else. And you know what?" She turned and gave Ruby a full hug. "Yes, I think you're very pretty, and those 'faults' you listed don't take away from whom you are."

"T-thank you." The younger responded with a quivering voice. Close to tears, but not in despair, with all the emotions expressed in the room, she hugged back even tighter. Originally, Pyrrha had orchestrated their privacy to talk to her about something that been bothering her about the other, but it seemed to have worked out that way without needing to ask. "Sorry for unloading on you like that."

"What are friends for? By the way, that doesn't mean that you can't be adorable too. I don't think that they would have allowed you in the forge anyway." As Pyrrha pointed at her friend's clothes, Ruby looked down to see her wolf heart tank top and rose-print pants, and began to giggle uncontrollably at her earlier silliness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

With the depressing air fully cleared and with lighter hearts, Ruby and Pyrrha came out, only to see that they had a guest that Blake seemed quite happy to see and talk to. The woman had an open parasol to obscure her face in shadow from the setting sun.

Ruby barely noticed the quirk, as she believed that she recognized the woman. "Excuse me, hi. Are you Noire, Jaune's sister?"

"Just so, Ruby." The now identified woman clad in black smiled with an intense gaze and a pleased cadence.

"Hello, it's a pleasure to meet you." Pyrrha greeted her warmly. "But umm, no offense, but I thought you were meeting in Vale."

"None taken, Pyrrha. Originally, yes, that would have been the case. However, I wished to meet my brother's companions." Noire explained her change in plans.

"I wish we had known." At least the placed had been cleaned yesterday, nipping that sort of embarrassment in the bud. "We could have greeted you at the landing pad."

"That would have been fruitless, seeing as I didn't come via Bullhead. Air travel leaves me quite nauseous for the moment." Her smile widened a mere fraction.

"So is that airsickness an Arc family trait or something?" Yang asked, remembering that Jaune had it from time to time as well in their trips to the city.

"Hmm? Oh no, I'm just not quite at my best. However, that shall be remedied soon enough." She explained, causing some confusion, as she looked practically radiant. Of course, that may be an optical illusion caused by the contrast of her pale, near porcelain skin against abyssal-black clothing and hair.

Weiss entered the room with fingers rubbing her temples in a futile effort to stave off a headache. "Where's Ren? I require him to have a talk with Nora about public behavior and dining etiquette, and she'll listen to him the best."

"You mean they're not attached at the hip?" Blake wondered. "And what did she do?"

"Apparently, she got it in her mind to go on a rampage after consuming-" Whatever Nora had eaten earlier went unsaid as the aforementioned Valkyrie burst through the door, trapping the heiress on the other side of it, with a crazed gleam in her widened eyes and practically sparking with energy.

"Ladies and more ladies! I've discovered something that could change the world! All of the…" She shouted a whisper with the gravitas of sharing of a secret of the universe before she fell down to the ground, twitching from the extreme sugar rush that finally reached its peak.

Ren finally catches up out of breath, puts hand on her neck, she comes down a bit, he seems to have a bit more pep in his step "My apologies for the delay, but I was forced to straighten all the artwork in the hallways she passed. Luckily, she has not broken anything thus far today." Nora giggled feverishly, not at all sorry for her shenanigans, until she jumped back to her normal self. "Come on, Renny! I want to punch some Grimm really~ hard with my hammer."

"Of course." As they departed through the patio, Ren turned back and added with a less reserved than average smile, "Just be glad she doesn't drink coffee."

"Hi Jaune's sister! Bye Jaune's sister!" Nora shouted as she dived over the edge.

"How delightful to see that the mundane has no place here." It was impressive to see her composure hadn't wavered in the slightest when faced with such exuberance.

Having had her eyes closed before and being blocked by a door, Weiss had thus far been ignorant of Noire's presence, and her surprise showed. "M-Mrs. Addams! It's a pleasure to see you again."

"Oh please, must I remind you to call me Noire once more? While formality has its place, excessive ceremony is for the pretentious who have nothing else to fill their pitiful, empty existences." She reminded and lightly reprimanded Weiss with an imperious bearing.

"That will not be necessary, Noire." She quickly corrected herself.

"Damn, that's brutal." The blonde referred to the not so unsubtle dig against pompous pricks with political power. 'Ha! Alliteration is fun to insult people with.'

"Truth routinely is, my dear. Now, where is my brother? I do not wish to be more than fashionably late."

Her answer came in the form of metal singing through the air as it whistled towards her until it came to a stop between her fingers. Jaune had walked in as Nora had distracted them and commented, "We Arcs are never late… nor are we early. We arrive precisely when we mean to."

"Just so, brother." Her borderline haughty expression mirrored his own, tempered with familial love, regardless of the knife that had been inches away from carving her face open. Speaking of which, the older woman inspected his craftsmanship, twisting and twirling it around as casually as a pen. She held it in the light for a moment, before throwing it back with languid, but deadly grace. "Impressive detail, Jaune. You have outdone yourself, and Father would be proud."

"Your judgment is appreciated, but it's not for either of us. I thought a practical demonstration would be better than just handing it over." Though they differed in appearance, the clear intimacy of their exchange of steel and script marked them as family.

"Why did you just do that?" Weiss practically shouted at the turn of events, but he was blasé in the face of her disbelief as he went to give his kin a hug, a more traditional greeting.

"What? It's just a game we play from time to time. You don't see her complaining, do you? Besides, that's rather tame compared to her married life." Noire instead looked rather satisfied both in the now and in nostalgia.

He had the opportunity to how they interacted living together once. Though it had been toned down in recent months, such displays had been as common as passionate side-glances and compliments. "On a completely unrelated note, you didn't do anything, did you?"

She scoffed. "There's no fun in it if the players are ignorant of the game. Just talk and an autograph, I promise."

He maintained his suspicious stare for a moment, before holding the knife by the blade and holding it out to its new owner. "All right then. Rubes, this is yours. What do you think of it?"

With restraint no longer necessary, Ruby squealed in glee and snatched it out of his hand with lightning speed to perform a more in depth examination than its forger and its first almost-victim. 'Twelve inch F-S style with a seven inch blade. Blade with a mirror shine shows lack of impurities, and a similar alloy to Crescent Rose's blade. A rose emblem at the blade's base, engraved in red for identification of ownership. How sweet! No ricasso under the 'C' cross-guard, indicating it is of the second pattern. Cross-guard is engraved with thorny vines. Lightweight, but durable black plastic hilt, textured for enhanced grip. Round pommel with flat top containing unknown Dust. Overall, beautifully crafted with near perfect balance…'

Blake cleared her throat. "Near perfect?" Her partner tried to shush her, wanting to see how long Ruby would go before she realized that she was speaking aloud, but now they would never know.

She began to blush. "W-well, it's half a gram heavy on the back end… but it's far more comfortable to me like this! Throwing knives isn't my style anyway, as I much prefer guns."

"We noticed." Weiss added, but decided to help her out by diverting the conversation. "Where did you get Taijitu Dust Crystals?"

The pommel was a black crystal cut spherically, with the bottom shorn off and Jaune's emblem and the Arc clan's dual crescent crest etched in white.

"A small jaunt in Vacuo. It's quite popular in that corner of the world, along with the style of throw and retrieve weapons. It's how I keep my weapons on my clothes without harnesses or sheaths. Just channel even a little aura into it's other half…" Holding up a leather sheath, with a white crystal with an identical symbol etched in black, "And the two will come together like magnets."

Doing just that to try it out, the sheath flew out of Jaune's open hand and into Ruby's. As an aside, Pyrrha had used this form of Dust as a smokescreen to hide the nature of her Semblance, letting people assume and not correcting them.

"So cool!" The knife's new owner exclaimed as she flew in the air to glomp the gift giver. "I love it! Thank you thank you thank you!"

"It was well earned, if I may say so. Your illustration was enticingly spine-chilling." Noire praised, as it had come up in the discussion between the two of raven hair and one of golden.

"I would say treat Silver Thorn well, but I don't believe that I have to." Jaune jested.

"Is that its name?" Ruby asked. It was fitting, considering her rose theme and the detailed cross-guard.

"But of course! Every rose should have thorns after all." He could not see any further reactions, as a garment bag was thrown in his face by his sibling.

"Enough flirting with the young lady and clean up." She teased, seeing his face and arms had quite a few soot marks as shooed him off to shower.

"Where will you be going this evening?" Weiss asked, curious as to why Jaune would need more formal attire.

"The Council's Spring Gala. Gomez and I received an invitation, but alas he was waylaid in Menagerie on business. I do not wish to attend without a dance partner, and so here I am." It was one of the most important social events of the year, especially with current events, so she could hardly have refused even if she wanted to.

"Why would he be in Menagerie?" Blake checked, wondering what interest a CEO would have in her native land. Even if Addams was involved in Dust trade, there were no Dust deposits on the cloistered isle.

"Some ancient ruins that we believe to be in the heart of its desert. However, Chieftain Ghira is proving to be quite stubborn about giving permission for an expedition, or even hinting about anything more than its existence."

"Ghira, as is the former High Leader of the White Fang?" Weiss quizzed. "He rules Menagerie now?"

"Indeed in both cases, though rule isn't a word I'd use. It would be like saying Ozpin rules Beacon." Though Blake tried her best to not look uncomfortable at being personally involved in the subject of discussion, Noire brought her attention to the younger Faunus. "Miss Belladonna, you are from Menagerie, yes? What do you think of him?"

In that moment, Blake really did not care for her literary idol. "Strong, but peaceable. It's why he stepped down from the White Fang. He did not support the growing desire for more drastic action. He, along with his wife, washed their hands of it."

"If by drastic, you mean radical barbarism." Weiss snipped. In recent years, the White Fang had a less than stellar history with the Schnee family. "In the years before the change in leadership, Grandfather Nicholas had even donated some funding to show support, and they bit our hands like rabid dogs."

"It's a cruel irony, really, because he was the last stop gap from that happening in the first place." Noire observed with detachment before asking Blake, "Do you know of the ruins we are looking for?"

"Not much. They exist somewhere in the desert, there are more than a few legends about them." She looked to the side as she suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with temperature, uncomfortable with even remotely speaking of them.

"What kind of stories?" Ruby asked, fond of legends and fairy tales and blissfully ignorant of Blake's discomfort.

"The kind that are not bedtime story material." She replied sternly to quell her leader's natural curiosity in hopes of putting the matter to rest.

"Such intriguing tragedies, hardship, and bloodshed are why we wish to find them in the first place." The eldest in the room shivered in delight rather than in fear.

"No need to scare them off too much." Jaune, who had returned freshened up and dressed to the nines, announced. "Thank Oedon you actually listened to me about no pinstripe. I agreed to be your escort, not to cosplay as your husband."

"Oh, hush. I would have brought a few cigars if I were in that sort of mood. Alas, the event has a strict dress code anyway. Ladies?" She asked the opinion of his teammates. Jaune cleaned up rather well, more so than usual. His white dress shirt, burgundy waistcoat, and black tie and collarless jacket meshed well with his sister's all black, with red lipstick as the only color in sight. He kept his hair tied back, having decided to keep it that way for convenience.

"Well, I can see the resemblance now." Weiss remarked, and the others nodded mutely. With extra care, Jaune was almost aristocratic in stature instead of his default juxtaposition of wild and noble, matching in bearing to the author of the macabre. The different hairstyle accentuating his cheekbones also contributed in that regard.

Holding out a hand, he helped up his date for the night in a chivalrous fashion, revealing something that no one had picked up on with the table blocking her vision. She was pregnant, very pregnant. Yang cracked, "That explains the glow you have."

Her poise was refined and elegant. If one never looked at her full, rounded belly, no other hints would be seen. With the reveal, her mysterious smile had more meaning. "It has been a pleasure, but we must be off."

With a wave of her hand, light drained from a corner in the room, forming an arch of unearthly pitch on the wall. Without a care, they stepped through like the existing wall had ceased to exist and a tunnel had taken its place. The arch shrank behind the two travelers, dissipating back into nonexistence.

The five looked to each other to question and confirm what they had just seen had been real. "That method of travel seems kind of shady, am I right?"

"… Really, Yang?" Blake groaned, but thankful for the unintentional distraction. She noticed that though Noire addressed everyone else by first name, she had been referred to by her last name.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

In an alleyway in view of the hotel hosting the gala, a similar arch of umbra formed over the bricks and two Arcs exited without missing a step. Jaune, though having experienced that method of travel before, still shivered in discomfort.

"Have I ever mentioned how much I don't like that method of travel?" It exuded a similar pressure on him as swimming deep underwater.

"Once or twice, but its convenience is not to be underestimated. We're right on time, and please do try to have fun." By 'right on time', she of course meant fifteen minutes from its opening as they entered the elegant ballroom, full of high society types; the rich, the politically connected, but most were usually both.

A few reporters and journalists were scattered here and there to capture such a momentous occasion, along with the catering staff going around with food and drinks for those too lazy to just get it themselves. Needless to say, Jaune did not feel at home in such a setting, preferring to be out on the Hunt. Standing around and talking to posh strangers with an undeserved sense of superiority due to their bank accounts wasn't exactly his idea of fun. In contrast, his sister reveled in this den of vipers, especially since she was familiar with many faces coming to welcome their presence. 'The things we do for family.'

She kept her default same grace, unimpeded by her pregnancy, but he could note that she cared little for many of these bottom feeders. Instead of finding them repulsive as he did, her gaze dulled slightly as she dismissed the majority as too dull. Both less than stellar opinions were hidden behind near identical smirks, for they were wolves among fattened sheep. He drew some odd looks from the crowd, considering whom he was accompanying.

"So good to see you again, Mrs. Addams. Now who is this young man on your arm? Should your husband be jealous?" The leader of this little clique ribbed and his sycophants chortled in good humor, but the only reaction he got was an imperiously raised eyebrow. Jaune wasn't barely even paying attention, scanning the room for any exits, security, and familiar faces. As it happened, he could see the green and silver of Ozpin in the background facing away.

"I should think not, considering we are kin. This is my brother, Jaune Arc, a Hunter training at Beacon." Hearing his name, he guessed correctly that he was being introduced. Turning his head, he received some delight in their poorly hidden shock at seeing his cheek scar. 'Must thank Pyrrha for it again. Have these spoiled snobs never seen a scar before?'

"Good evening." He looked to them with a piercing, unblinking gaze that seemed to successfully unnerve the weaker willed, which is to say most of them as they made a point to look away from his face and turned back to who he was escorting.

"Forgive me, but you do not look alike." Both Arcs restrained the urge to roll their eyes, having heard it many times before. Jaune replied, "Yes, we all get that a lot."

"Well, it's good to see the next generation take up the duty to protect us all." One middle-aged guy in the group with brown hair and a linen suit remarked. Though with how he said it, Jaune suspected that he meant himself and those like him. "I'm proud to say that my family and I have made some considerable donations to the Academies. We might even have a wing in our name one day."

'Empty platitudes and boasting, how typical.' Jaune thought behind a plastic smile as he turned to the woman next to him. 'How Pyrrha suffered this for so long I will never know.'

His inner smirk grew just a bit wider as some blonde, fainthearted trophy wife he didn't care enough about to know her name cringed in horror as she continued stared at Pyrrha's gift, perhaps unable to look away. Perhaps she might seem attractive in appearance, in an artificial sort of way that held no appeal for the Hunter. It took more than a pretty face and shapely figure to rouse his desires.

"Would you like to know how I got it, Miss…?" He asked with no small amount of pride in his voice as he traced it with his thumb.

"Mrs. Clair Choux, and I fear that I must decline. We wouldn't want to keep you from the festivities." She was rather quick to turn him down.

"As you wish. Shame, it's quite a riveting tale." He responded neutrally as they cut through them without a word. Once past them, he whispered, "I was wrong, this is fun."

"Indeed. They are rather persistent in their efforts to discredit me at events such as this, and just as inept." She replied disinterested but amused at their failure.

Much of their time was similar. They either approached or were more often approached by others, and a few empty words were exchanged of varying levels of genuine. Rinse and repeat a few times, though there were some genuine conversations of interest.

"Noire, a pleasure as always." Ozpin greeted them, gently kissing the back of her outstretched hand.

"Likewise, Ozpin." To Jaune, it looked like she actually meant it.

"How are the two of you acquainted?" He asked, not knowing how or when the two would have met.

"Similar gatherings like this one. It is rather refreshing to see an authentic face in this crowd."

"I must say Jaune that I was not expecting to see you here tonight." Ozpin commented with his usual formality eschewed, as they were not at school. "Especially with the raison d'etre of the event."

"Likely because I'm not here for it. I'm here for my sister." Jaune didn't put any thought into what the event was for, only that his attendance was requested to fulfill his end of the bargain. "Why especially?"

"It would seem that you're about to find out." The headmaster answered indirectly as the lights dimmed, except for at the small dais and podium on the far end of the room.

Some self-important looking senior with an impressive beak of a nose stepped up to the microphone and tapped it as a test. He was swathed in the officious, ceremonial robes of a Councilor. With the metaphorical light bulb turning on in Jaune's head, he gave Noire a stiff side glance that silently asked, 'Really?' as the decrepit wheezed in a gravelly voice that exemplified the man's age.

"Distinguished guests, my fellow citizens, thank you all for coming or watching tonight. On behalf of The Council of Vale, I am honored to welcome you to the Inauguration Ceremony of our newest member of our august body. However, before I officially introduce and welcome him, please allow a moment of silence for the passing of a true public servant, Councilor Miel." He bowed his head, and most of the audience did so either in respect or because it was expected of them under public scrutiny.

After a minute's pause, "Thank you, and I hope that she would be pleased in her successor." Though he kept quiet, Jaune couldn't help but scoff. "He requires little introduction; a devout man of the people, a philanthropist, and a well-versed scholar. I give you, Councilor Cobalt Winchester." And boy, did hearing that out loud in an official capacity grate on Jaune's ears.

The man of the hour stepped up on the dais from behind and shook his now equal's hand, looking every inch the impeccable, but humble statesman as he waved to an applauding audience. Jaune and Noire each only contributed five claps, enough to escape scrutiny but not enough to imply support. He noticed that Ozpin did the same with a slightly strained, but neutral expression. 'Curious.'

"Councilor Shale, my fellow Valians, and people of Remnant, thank you for your generous welcome. Thank you for your faith in me to help carry the torch to maintain the peace of not only our Kingdom, but for all of Humanity. Four score and three years ago, the winter of our discontent was made glorious summer by the sun of unity, and people of all banner and creed came together in unity under the banner of God."

As is common in political speeches, pauses came to allow applause, and this one was no different. Jaune did not, listening intently to discern the man's true intentions. Currently, he was buttering them up with the nostalgia of accomplishment, even if most here were not around to remember it.

"Our brows were bound with victorious wreaths. Our bruised arms were hung up for monuments. Our stern alarms changed to merry meetings, and our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war smoothed his wrinkled front, and God's planted seeds blossomed into prosperity for mankind. But every garden must be maintained with constant vigilance and surgical precision. There are those weeds among us that are not shaped to entertain these fair well-spoken days, and are determined to prove villains and hate the hard earned idle pleasures of these days."

The applause only grew, and the crowd's energy grew with every passionate word he spoke, palpable in approval.

"Despite the best efforts of the good and just, crime committed by the corrupted, the lost, and the malcontent is rising, and those rudely stamped in His image shall be held accountable for their actions. The deformed in spirit by sin, cheated of fair proportion and conscience by dissembling nature, whose carnage hangs over our house like storm clouds, shall be plucked out root and stem and be defanged."

Winchester spoke with more animation, using his hands to exemplify his bold speech like a conductor; his audience was his orchestra.

"But those bestowed power and authority by the people can only do so much. It is up to you, the people, to maintain the Light that burns in us all and banish the darkness wherever it may be. This Kingdom, this world, is yours my compatriots of Humanity. It is our sacred duty to act righteously and drive out the fears that endanger every generation, both present and future. We are one heart, one home, and one glorious destiny. The oath of office that I have taken today is an oath of allegiance to all of Humanity. When we are united, we are unstoppable in seeking more noble pursuits."

His conviction almost moved Jaune, but the faintest itch on the back of his mind and his previous disposition kept him suspicious and critical of the enthralling address. Several keywords came to mind; 'defanged', 'deformed', and the constant reiteration of 'Humanity'. For the smallest moment, the newly elected official made eye contact, lingering for a second in a sweeping gaze.

"Thank you, and may the Light of God's Grace be bestowed upon all his worthy children." The cheering was positively thunderous to the Hunter's ears, but he merely gave three slow claps in appreciation, at least for the delivery of well-perfumed rot.

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The speech was followed by an opening dance, though the newest member of the highest level of Vale's government did not participate. Cobalt was more than content to stand on the sidelines and observe the waltz. The dance conformed to his worldview tidily. For while individual pairs acted independently, with some deviations due to individuality, they were as a whole united with a guide to lead them on in harmony.

He smiled to himself, pleased with how everything had fallen into place, almost to the point of predestination. The seeds had been planted, and only with attentive care would they flourish like his private garden. Scanning the orderly crowd enjoying the festivities, he was reminded that with every garden there were weeds to pluck, self-centered hedonists, obstructionists, the corrupt, and the generally inept. In the near center of the room he could see the police commissioner dancing with a Faunus, brazenly displaying most qualities Cobalt would prune from his administration. It was a blunt and bumbling effort to make a political statement to boost his public ratings in light of lesser police activity in certain residential districts.

'Speaking of weeds…' He thought while watching the two Arcs glide across the floor in perfect comfort of the other's presence as the song came to an end. They spoke a few words that he had no chance of hearing and then separated. Though the author of atrocities, however complimentary it would likely sound to her, was a nuisance in her own right, it was the younger that held his attention as he exited to an outdoor balcony.

'Why was he here?' Was it intended as a mocking gesture with his presence at a moment of triumph? Did the Hunter know that he was under scrutiny and was sending his own message? That journal was far too neat and tidy of an explanation for Cobalt, but nothing substantial or concrete had arisen as evidence of his practices or intentions, no matter how obvious it was.

"Councilor Winchester, congratulations once again." With the first of them, the self-serving sycophants milled over to curry favor, even those that remained neutral in the election process, or to discuss repaying favors. Not all at once to seem desperate, of which he was thankful, but at a droll, predictable pace that made them seem not too desperate in their fawning. 'How predictable the well-groomed sheep are. Could they have not have waited instead of rushing like impatient children demanding a reward for their "good behavior"?'

With a steady pace, he navigated through the sheep with a composed and practiced ease, deflecting them to others with careful words. With the last of them otherwise occupied, he exited to the same balcony as the possible and likely heretic to meet face to face. The Arc scion was facing away from him, staring up at the once depleting moon, and breathing slowly but steadily in meditation. The blond hair on the back of his head might have flashed blue for an instant, but Cobalt dismissed it as a trick of the moonlight clashing with the warm light from inside.

The young man slowly turned his head, likely having heard or even smelled his presence, and the rest of him followed suit. It was easily possible, given his… heritage. He was at ease with a neutral expression and a glass of whiskey in his left hand. "What a surprise. I would say congratulations are in order, but I'm sure you've heard that phrase plenty enough that it's become arduous and banal."

"To an extent. I take it you are here as a respite from the crowd?" Cobalt asked, walking to the railing and keeping a distance of three paces between them. It was a far as he could be away while maintaining a polite conversation, and not close enough to put the Arc on guard even further. He could see the small amount of discomfort his presence had inflicted.

"Just so. Formal events such as this are not my cup of tea, or glass of whiskey in my case." The light joke and chuckle were likely mean to ease tension and lower Cobalt's guard, no doubt. It was a classic move, one that he had employed often in the past, but futile to one whom expected it. Jaune, as Cobalt remembered his name, continued. "A bit of solitude in the light is calming, but what brings you out here away from your adoring flock?"

"I wished to thank you personally for saving the life of my son, and his team." He added before it could be viewed as an afterthought.

"I am a Hunter." Jaune answered to explain his reasoning, shifting to face both the moon and him. "You should be proud of him. He's improved rapidly and is surprisingly honorable."

"Surprisingly?" Cobalt asked pleasantly, stifling his urge to glare at the offhanded insult, and to his face no less. This blunt form of honesty would have been refreshing aimed at someone other than him.

"My first impression of Cardin was rather low, I must admit." He explained, wording it to steer away from implying insult. "As was the second, for that matter. But you know what they say; the third time's the charm."

"Then why save him?" Cobalt was curious as to his motive. From what he had gleaned from reports, the Arc scion did not seem the type to spare an enemy. Retaliation was more his modus operandi.

"I am a Hunter." He repeated, speaking a bit slower than necessary. "Sacrifice is practically in our job description. It was my duty to assist a comrade, personal feelings irrelevant."

"And how do you fare with the duty of leadership?"

"It's not that bad most of the time." He shrugged as he took another sip. "There are two simple things that I find help significantly in culturing loyalty. One, never ask anyone to do anything that I wouldn't do myself. Two, lead from the front, hence the term leader."

For a moment, the two stood in silence, until Cobalt once again broke it as he looked up. "Beautiful, is it not?"

"Indeed." A simple, one worded answer was clearly not what the inquisitor was looking for, and Jaune seemed to pick up on that. "The moon is quite majestic. Even as a remnant of its former self, it proves that no darkness is without light."

"Have you heard the theories that the moon is somehow regenerating?"

"I have. I wonder if it's a natural cycle, or something else entirely? Whatever the cause, while there is a poetic beauty to it as is, if that's the cost too see it in its full glory, then so be it." He indulges more in his drink. Hidden by the lack of eye contact, Cobalt's eyes flashed with stern disapproval, both in his words and in actions before his emotions were reined into their proper place.

Jaune continued, "Change is inevitable to keep moving forward."

"A wise outlook" was the politician's vague comment before the clack of heels stopping at the door caught both of their attention. It was Noire, looking at both of them with her usual smirk of satisfaction. She then focused on her brother and held out her hand in a beckoning gesture.

"It seems that our respite has come to an end. May you live in interesting times." He finished his drink before setting the glass on the stone railing and answering the summons, neither Arc giving him another glance.

Out of view, Cobalt allowed his emotions to manifest a scowl. Everything about Jaune Arc this evening was a provocation of his person, however subtle. From his very presence, to his cologne, to every word that came out of his mouth. Throughout their entire conversation, disrespectful comments to his integrity, faith, leadership qualities, and parenting skills. He even left with a curse veiled as a blessing and indirectly dismissed him without once addressing him by his proper station. One remark might be interpreted as an accusation of him having a hand in rigging the election in his favor, but he hadn't even had to. He had been setting up this opportunity for some time, and to finalize it with such a blunt method would have insipid at the very least.

But what truly grated upon the man was that Arc all but admitted to his heresy with his fondness and far from casual interest in the moon, but he said nothing explicit enough to tangibly be viewed as a confession. Ethically, there was nothing further he could do, but when had that ever stopped him before? For the appropriate end, occasions arise that such things must be cast aside to do what must be done. Even if all of the evidence were incidental, however unlikely that was at this point, if there was a less than one percent chance that his conjecture was correct, then it must be taken as an absolute certainty. The stakes were too high to be otherwise.

Drastic action would need to be taken that was for certain. But first, he needed to call an associate who had thus far proven to be reliable. Though he picked up, the line remained silent as expected, and the option for video was turned off. "Good evening. With all of the excitement that will be going on for the foreseeable future, would you be so kind as to water the garden and feed the dog until next weekend?"

"It's no trouble at all. It would be my pleasure to keep the excitable mutt company again." The silvery voice replied before abruptly ending the call. It had been this individual who had pointed him in the right direction as to Jaune Arc's true nature.

'Our Lord does enjoy irony, it seems. The flowers that stand out for their quality are the most prone to be plucked.' The thought made it easier to reapply his smile before rejoining the masses.

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No more food anymore in this wood. Those of Dark and smoke rarely sated it for long, never as long as Light and flesh, but now even they were nowhere to be found. How many times had fiery gold and gentle silver up above changed? Thrice, four, it did not know. All it knew was that any time not feeding was too long. Must move on somewhere to ease the gnawing. Curse the beast of Light and Dark! The small taste of blood had ravished its senses, and the hunger had fallen silent for a moment. But it came back, it always did. Now it was more; larger and louder and there was nothing to be found to quiet it. Feathered flesh took to the sky, and it could not be silent enough to hunt most of that which stayed on the ground. What it could hunt did not to assuage that primal need for more.

The Malathyst screeched in agony to the broken silver in the sky, but even the loudest noise could not drown out what was in its very self. However, its efforts were not fruitless, as another fell in its gaze. Another of the Light and of the Dark, like the one that had wounded it, yet it was not the same. The Light was not as bright, and the Dark was growing to replace it. It wasted no time in attacking. If it could muster the thought, the Malathyst would praise its good fortune, and wonder if this one would taste as sweet as the other. Any caution it should have had was abandoned in a rush to quench its famine.

But it could not touch the to-be feast, dancing out of its grasping claws and maw like the smoke of the slain Dark. Its prey made strange, melodic noises with an object in its hand, taunting its failure to consume. Until a sound came from the prey's hand, a soft yet loud ringing that came from both far away and within its mind. The sound came three times, and with each time the Malathyst's body grew heavier with fatigue until it collapsed on the ground like a limp marionette. A similar weight shrouded its mind, luring its eyes to close and silencing the omnipresent hunger that had been a barrier preventing respite in the realm of dreams.

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A woman almost out of her teenage years awoke lying on the ground, wondering where she was and how she got there. She was in a forest at twilight, lost and confused, her memory fragmented like a broken mirror. Her head was in pounding agony, but it was slowly fading. The oppressive atmosphere of the harsh, wild wood without a path made her uneasy. '… Her?'

She looked down and was amazed to find trembling hands, human hands. Everything was as it had been, except a small, bleeding cut on her arm that she did not remember receiving. Seeing a pool of water not far, she scrambled to see her reflection. Upon seeing her face for the first time in what had felt like an eternity, the girl began to weep tears of joy. Drop after drop fell into the water, but nary a ripple disturbed the reflection of her face, nor of the silver orb above her. Joy turned to despair in recollection of the nightmare she had experienced for what had seemed like an eternity.

"It's over. It was just a bad dream." Too busy staring at her features to notice, blood trickled down her arm until a single drop fell into the pool. Her reflection vanished as the water turned as black as a starless night.

"It was no dream, my child." A woman's voice of unknown origin called, both soothing her and filling the listener with dread. Startled at no longer being alone, the girl frantically searched for the source of the noise. Her head and ears swiveled from side to side, but she found no one. What she did find was that she was no longer in the forest. In its stead, she was at the edge of a town, with a forest of the same color in the distance.

This place felt familiar in her panicked mind, but it was unclear as to why. Her memory of the place was fragmented, disjointed. As she walked in the town, the buildings twisted like molding clay in the hands of a twisted artist, yet no sound came except from her. She ran, hoping to flee this nightmarish place. All around her, more and more of the quaint village shifted in numerous, but equally horrifying ways without rhyme or reason; bursting like soap bubbles, disintegrating into sand in a nonexistent wind, burning in flames of all colors, each worse than the last.

Hearing movement ahead, she dived in an alley to hide. She was unarmed, defenseless against what might lay ahead. As the thought passed, a once forgotten weight covered her hands and forearm. Up to the elbow, they were now covered in spiked metal, ending in long, scything claws at each fingertip. Another piece of her identity had returned to her. 'That's right, I can fight.'

Her thoughts were clearer, yet she could not remember who or where she was in total. That could come later, for the town's 'inhabitants', for lack of a better term had found her. In the shape of hunched, misshapen men, they approached her in a shambling gait and without friendly faces, or any faces at all. Their heads were featureless skulls, gore melting to show stained bone; but she was armed now, and ready to rid herself of that which caused her fear. She dashed with newfound strength and speed to rip and tear. With every slash and dismemberment, her hope grew until nothing but her stood in the street, her attackers sinking into the ground or turning into smoke as they fell by her hand. She let out a cry of victory, but it was not unanswered.

The screeching cry of a beast, followed by smaller chittering and the fluttering of leathery wings filled the air and made her blood run cold. Her unearthed well of courage dried up as fear further settled into her heart. Terror dominated all thought as she fled as fast as she was able, every step echoing in the silence.

Now in the center of the town, she found one house that stood firm, an oasis in a desert of pandemonium. Crossing the town square, the cobblestone rippled like water with every step until she tripped and fell to the ground. Looking down as she rose, her shadow was overtaken by another, with others circling around and overhead. She could feel breath on the back of her neck and smell the fetid stench. Not daring to look behind her or above, all that passed in her mind was the fight or flight instinct in all creatures; in her case, it was very much the latter. The monster gave chase, its wings beating the air like thunder. But no matter how far she ran, her sanctuary moved no closer, seemingly further away with every fear-fueled step. The monster was nipping at her heels until she was suddenly inside with the door slamming shut.

Another screeching cry echoed from outside as a feeling of safety washed over her. Her reprieve from the outside chaos was earned as she closed the door, but she did not feel relief yet. She huddled in the fetal position, whimpering as the weight of fear and despair crushed her with the weight of the deep, dark ocean.

"Welcome home, my child." That weight vanished with the words of a woman that the lost girl barely remembered. Looking at her, recognition dawned upon the haunted and pursued.

"Mom." She ran to hug the now familiar figure, clinging onto the first shred of hope like driftwood out at sea. "Is this real, or just a dream?"

Her mother's hand reached up to stroke the back of her head, like she had once done when she was a child, only pausing to scratch the back of her jackal ears affectionately.

"Of course this a dream, Jacqueline, but why should that mean that it is not real?" It was not her mother's voice that answered. Jumping back from the revealed imposter ready to defend her sanctum, the figure she had once held fell with a growing pool of scarlet grew underneath. Jacqueline had forgotten about her claws, now covered in that same red.

Jacqueline, now recalling her life in near entirety, screamed in despair. Hiding her face from the sight, she paid no mind to the pain as her clawed fingers left vertical gashes marring her face as she wept for all that she had lost.

"Now, if you're done screaming, might we talk sensibly?" The matronly voice that had plagued this living nightmare crooned, but no longer as a disembodied voice. At the dining table, nearly groaning as it was laden with an abundance of food, on the other side of the room sat a woman unlike any other. Her figure was regal, and imposing even sitting down. She might have even been considered stunningly beautiful, were it not for her impossibly pale skin, blackened veins, and eyes that fit a Grimm. But these black and red eyes were not filled with mindless rage and bloodlust, but instead warmth, compassion, and understanding. They were the eyes of a mother, and they were all the more terrifying for it.

Jacqueline scrambled, seeking to flee the woman and voice she now remembered. She sought to escape outside, for it would be more comforting to her in that moment. Her efforts were in vain, for the door was no longer there.

"That is no way to treat a guest." In the moment immediately after the kind yet firm warning; she was sitting at the table with the woman with Grimm eyes. "Do you remember me now, child?"

She couldn't move her body, her lower half stuck to the chair, paralyzed in fear. Finding no chance of escape, she spoke for the first time since she 'awoke', her voice raspy from lack of proper use. "Yes, I remember what you did to me!"

"I did nothing to you. Your fate was writ by your hand, and yours alone. I simply gave you another path to take. It was your own choice to make your dream come true." The woman that was and was not Grimm pointed out dispassionately; she merely stated fact, and that angered her victim.

"You lied to me! That was no dream; it was a nightmare!" She shouted in denial.

"Nightmares are dreams too. Their content does not take away from what they are, nor does your perception, my child."

"Don't call me that." She spat with all the bile and hatred she could, but it garnered no reaction but a small smile of condescension. "I am not yours in any way."

"Oh, but you are. It was I that gave you life anew. Does that not make me your mother, in a way? I have even prepared a meal for you." The woman took a small sip from a glass of red wine, or Jacqueline hoped it was at least.

"You must be hungry after such a trying journey. Eat." She commanded, and the younger woman felt compelled to obey. She could not remember the last time she had eaten real food. Gorging herself on the cornucopia in front of her, she just as swiftly spat out what tasted like ashes in her mouth, though nothing was wrong with it. It interacted with her taste buds exactly how she had imagined it to, but it was so bland that it held little to no appeal. A sickly sweet scent caressed her senses, and Jacqueline searched the table for the source, but none of it proved to be the culprit.

Behind the woman who had brought back the famine, lay the still, corpselike imitation of her mother, the red beneath her beckoning her to come closer. The gnawing that had been ever present for the past year grew exponentially, and she leaped over the table. Ripping and tearing meat with her claws, each ounce of flesh and blood was ambrosia, and she moaned in bliss, unheeding of the dark woman's observation. It was the look of pride a parent gave to a child.

When the flesh was gone, she gnawed at the bones, seeking the marrow within. When the bones were gone, she licked up the blood off the floor and off her own body. Only when every trace of what had been her mother by blood was consumed did she realize that the hunger had had overwhelmed her every thought in the waking world held no power here. She had succumbed of her own free will.

"How do feel now?" The woman had watched silently up to this point. Jacqueline had regained her senses, but neither of the tormentors of her life, hunger nor the terror it replaced, were present. This was what she had wished for, and now it was what she had wanted as well. "I feel… rapturous."

"Excellent." The woman, having succeeded in her venture, pulled an identical item that the man earlier had before, now recognized as a bell, and rung it thrice. Each knell had the same reaction as the first, with the world around her enveloping in the same fog that she felt dragging her to sleep.

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The Malathyst awoke in the Forever Fall, still the same as it was but yet also fundamentally changed. It's thoughts extended further and deeper than merely a primal need to consume more and more, both Grimm and aura. Since it's rebirth, it now had a sense of identity. It was Jacqueline Straw, and yet it was not, a paradox of both being less, yet also so much more. With new self-awareness came a purpose. Whether it was her own or not, she would follow it nonetheless.

The beast went north, giving the one who had attacked it and put it to sleep no more than a passing glance as he stared at her form in reverence. If anything, she was thankful to the man teetering in the unbalance of mind and soul, for he had introduced her to the Lady of the Night. And as the hunger returned, albeit lesser in intensity, she welcomed it as an old friend.

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Chapter End

For this chapter, the reference contest opportunities will be for Star Wars, specifically in the Old Republic era, and Naruto. Be warned, these are both tricky, and the former has a red herring. The rules for this contest are in Chapter 14's post-A/N.

The trophy wife's (Yes, the same from Volume 4) name is derived from éclair, a pastry that when baked is hollow on the inside and can go stale rather quickly (pate a choux). The colors even match with a golden brown skin tone and hair color matching diplomat cream. Also, Choux is French for cabbage.

I hope the trip down nightmare lane proved to be entertaining. Until next time, I bid you all adieu.