It's so god-damned hot. My office is a furnace. Outside is dry heat. It's thirty-three degrees here. I'm sweating so much my clothes are sticking to me and my fingers keep twitching and shaking on the keyboard. The amount of spelling mistakes I'm making is off the charts.

Oh, and one of our MPs over here has said it's "woke" to have warnings about the extreme heat and how people should drink water, use sunscreen, etc, because we're all snowflakes to be afraid of some hot weather. Never mind that 10,000 excess deaths happened last time it was this hot.

I guess in WW2 when the air sirens went off and people ran for cover that such was woke as well. It works on the same logic. Jesus Christ, politics has become so pathetic.

Cover Art: GWBrex

Chapter 25

The hulking man in full armour removed his helm to reveal a dark, young face with short-cropped black hair and a calm half-smile. He reached out a gauntleted hand that Jaune shook. He realised the removal of the helmet was a silent way of conveying he would not cheat like Jaune's last opponent. This was no woman masquerading as a man.

"Sir Yatsuhashi Daichi," he said. "May we have a good, honourable fight."

"Jaune Arc. And I'll try. Though I might have to get a little creative against someone in full armour."

"I would expect nothing less. Simply, let us have a good fight."

He and Ozpin would, which was the best Jaune could offer, and he hoped it counted as not cheating on his part. With the pleasantries observed, they stepped back to their opposite sides of the arena. Yatsuhashi donned his helmet and swept his huge sword up over his shoulder. He had chosen to go without his tower shield, perhaps confident that Jaune's sword wouldn't do much against his armour and knowing he needed to get rid of the roundshield.

Jaune surrendered to the by-now familiar feeling of having his body taken away from him. The Dark Lord was silent as he flexed his shield and sword arms and waited for the horn to sound the fight. The audience were on the edges of their seats, this being the fight they had waited for most. The gambling would be at its highest, and though he knew he was the underdog, they might favour him seeing as how he'd survived against a woman with aura and unmasked her.

The horn blared.

Yatsuhashi was quick on the attack and faster than his size and armour would have suggested. He didn't swing his weapon but instead came in with a wild shoulder bash, using his bulk to try and put Jaune off balance. Ozma had them step aside and circle, sword resting over the top of his shield with the tip forward. Go for the head, Raven had said. That was easier said than done when this guy looked like he reached seven feet.

Interestingly, Yatsuhashi rarely used the full length of his weapon. He grasped its long handle a good two hands' width apart and thrust that at them, using the first few feet of steel to push, shove and threaten, but never committing to a full a swing that would leave him completely open. He was cautious, methodical, and definitely not underestimating them as some had.

It was on the third or so pass that Ozma had them attack – a simple dodge and a lunge forward, sweeping his shield into the man's hands to knock them away and his sword stabbing down for the armoured half-plate over the man's knee. It moved independently of the armour so as not to impede movement, and Ozma had apparently decided it was the weakest chink in his armour.

The blade scraped off the side of it, not really loosening it but still hitting hard enough to make Yatsuhashi's knee twist a little. Yatsuhashi brought the pommel of his weapon and all its weight down, narrowly missing their head as Ozma hopped back. There was a sudden surge of motion however as the knight suddenly brought all six feet of his huge sword plunging around and down toward them. The first strike – finely timed as they dodged back and angled to cleave down through his left shoulder.

Ozma got the shield up in time and braced it against their shoulder. The impact struck and cracked wood – not shattering it thankfully but cracking the coated surface. The iron ring bit into Jaune's neck painfully as the full force bore down on them. Instead of drawing back and giving them time to recover, Yatsuhashi stepped inwards and swept the guard and bottom of the blade underneath, bringing his sword up and striking them with the heavy guard at the same time to throw them back. It would have been off their feet entirely if he were in control, but Ozma had them backing away under control, if cracking his sore neck where his muscles had been bruised.

A few more blocks like that and we'll be undone.

Yatsuhashi was determined to make that happen and pressed the attack. Short blows, shoves and kicks to unbalance him and then long, cleaving swings only when there was no hope for him to counter-attack. The Dark Lord moved his body well in evading them but even he was struggling to find a chance to strike back. Out of six heavy blows, Jaune's body hit back one more time, again aiming for that same leg and striking the inside of the knee.

They parted and took a chance to catch their breath. Jaune was sweating badly, the moisture collecting under his linen under-helm and matting his hair together. His face was so red it prickled and itched in the sun. As bad as it was for him, it must have been worse for the giant carrying full plate armour around. Yatsuhashi adjusted his helm, clearly fighting the urge to remove it and wipe his face clean of sweat. He tossed his head instead, shouldered his weapon and advanced slowly.

Could they wait him out? Cook him in his armour? There was no response from Ozma other than the act of beginning to circle the knight again, forcing him to slowly rotate to keep them in front of him. Jaune's body lunged and then drew back, probing and feinting, forcing tiny movements in the knight's body as he brought his gargantuan sword down to block, then settled it back against his shoulder. The thing looked to be so heavy that Yatsuhashi had to brace it against his own body to handle its weight.

The song and dance repeated a few times. Ozma would strike, feint and retreat. It got to the point where the knight refused to take the bait, challenging him to commit. Jaune knew that the moment they did, that huge sword would come into play, and Ozma knew it too and kept up his little game, teasing and probing, testing the knight's reflexes with darting stabs and quick scrapes of blade against armour.

Any engagement longer than that would mean their doom. Skill didn't much matter when your opponent was a foot taller than you, several times heavier and clad in close to impenetrable armour. All Yatsuhashi had to do was fall on him and he'd win. Jaune – or Ozma – danced around instead, trying to keep him busy and wear him out.

It didn't take long for the knight to figure that one out however, nor to decide he wasn't going to play the game. Yatsuhashi charged suddenly and this time continued charging without using his huge weapon. He barrelled towards them, changing his direction when Ozma tried to jump aside and seeking to bowl them down.

Ozma kept giving ground. He had to. If Yatsuhashi attacked and missed, it would be another chance to get in and score some of his own, but the giant refused to. He kept chasing them instead, using his longer stride to keep distance and try to force them into a battle of raw strength they couldn't win. All the cat and mouse chasing had to be having as much an effect on Yatsuhashi as it was him, and Jaune wondered when and how Ozma would take advantage.

The moment came when Yatsuhashi tried to wrap them up in his powerful arms. Ozma flung the shield up into the man's helmet but dove low, knees scraping the floor as he rammed their body into the man's leg. It didn't budge an inch. Before the knight could stomp them, he slid between his legs, took his sword in two hands by the blade and slammed the heavier pommel and guard into the back of his knee. Once, twice – on the third hefty strike, the man buckled.

The backs of his knees weren't fully armoured, or he couldn't have bent at the knee, which meant they were hitting leather and cloth padding – tough itself, but not hardened steel. When Yatsuhashi dropped onto one knee, he slung an arm back to catch or crush them, but Ozma was already up on his feet. He launched themselves onto Yatsuhashi's back, arms around his neck, hands scrabbling under his helmet for the straps.

The knight leaned his head forward to pin his hands between the metal helmet's lower lip and his breastplate, and Jaune's teeth gritted at the pain. Ozma was able to use their arms to pull his head back however, perfect to slit the man's throat if they had a knife. His sword was too unwieldy. Even so, he found a buckle and dragged on it, unravelling the strap and yanking the helmet off just as Yatsuhashi surged back to his feet and threw an armoured elbow back into their gut.

Ozma was knocked back, and the knight slammed his hand on his bent knee to rise, only to freeze as the tip of a sword tickled his chin and neck. Outstretched, Crocea Mors was held straight with the tip to his throat.

"Yield." Ozma commanded. "Yield now."

Yatsuhashi drew several breaths, the audience silent. He must have been considering the odds of drawing back, his chances of getting to his feet without having his throat slit. Ozma responded by inching it close enough to touch his neck and the man let out a hulking breath. He released his huge weapon and let it fall to the sand with a crash.

"The day is yours. I yield."

Victory.

It hardly felt real. The crowd were screaming, he caught sight of Raven howling wildly and swinging a tankard of some drink in the air spilling everything. People smashed their feet against the floor and trumpets blared out a tune lost in the sheer volume of it all. Yatsuhashi Daichi staggered slowly to his feet and saluted with his blade, limping and favouring his good leg toward the medical tents.

The madness continued on for another few minutes with Jaune stood panting harshly in the centre of the arena, unsure what he was supposed to do – if anything. No one had explained what the winner needed to do, and so he stood awkwardly and waited.

/-/

It took time for anything to change. Time for the audience to stop cheering and exchanging money or running in panic from the debt collectors after their own bets fell through. It took time for Jaune to catch his breath, and time for a chest filled with coin to be wheeled out for Yatsuhashi in second place. It took time, and when that time stretched on, the crier signalled to the trumpeters, who blasted out three sharp notes to call for quiet. Even then, it took a few more long minutes. Eventually, however, the crowd grew silent, and the crier began to shout.

"Victory in the Vale Grand Spring Melee goes to Jaune Arc of Ansel. I present to you your spring champion – victor of the grand melee and future wielder of the Relic of Knowledge!"

Fresh applause, shouting and cheering. Jaune pushed his hand up awkwardly, not really feeling that he deserved any of this, but at least playing the part. It was done. With this, he could find a place to settle down where Salem and the Chosen would never find him, travel there with Taiyang and Ruby and start a new life. A peaceful life.

"To present the Relic, I have the honour of announcing our queen – the Goddess herself – Eternity Queen Salem."

The applause this time was more controlled, polite, even reverential. The Eternity Queen had come down from the stands carrying a small chest balanced atop her hands. She was beautiful. He couldn't help but think it. Long, flowing hair a lighter shade of blonde than his own, pale skin and striking eyes that seemed to mix between green and blue. Her white robes were edged with gold and silver, with gemstones blinking brightly from her ears and a gentle and thin crown of white gold and sparkling diamonds balanced atop her hair.

All his life, he'd grown up being taught of her majesty and mercy and seeing her in person didn't disappoint in the slightest. There was an impossible and otherworldly quality to her. No one meeting her could doubt that she wasn't something beyond human, eternal and long-lived with magic that had allowed her to defend the realms for thousands of years.

He was afraid of her thanks to what he contained inside him, but even so, he loved her. How could he not? He'd been brought up in a goddess-fearing village and had spent many a night praying for her to save him from his nightmares. That she hadn't was no longer her fault since he knew they were memories from the Dark Lord inside him.

Jaune averted his eyes as she approached, looking down and bowing his head deferentially. Should he kneel? No one else had or was, and he didn't want to make a fool of himself. He kept to his feet instead, refusing to meet her eyes in case she somehow sensed the Dark Lord's presence. If anyone could, it would be her. He hadn't thought she would come and deliver the Relic in person.

"A courageous fight and well-deserved victory." Her voice was soft, melodic and just a little disinterested. He could tell she wasn't all there for she had that same lost in thought tone that his mother did when sometimes replying to them. "You have earned the right to the Relic of Knowledge, to be kept for the next one hundred years until I call for its return. Use it well."

His eyes rose from her white dress to the chest in her hands. It was open, the interior lined with plush red velvet, and within that lay a golden and blue object that might in some distinct and exotic way resemble a lamp. The Eternity Queen continued to hold it out, and he realised after a few seconds that he was expected to take it himself. Jaune opened his mouth to thank her.

Or he tried.

His lips would not work.

Jaune's hands rose. They rose outside his control and against his will. His panic mounted as Ozma reached into the chest and picked up the Relic. His fingers curled around it, drawing back and attached it to a loop on his belt.

My body! Jaune thought. Give me my body back!

His hand moved from his left hip where the Relic hung and brushed across the hilt of his sword. When his fingers curled around it, Jaune screamed in his own head. It went unheard. It went unknown. The Dark Lord drew the sword in a hiss of steel and swept it out in one motion, drawing and cutting across the woman's stomach.

The chest fell from her fingers as blood poured out her disembowelled midriff. Blood stained her white dress and the sandy floor. The audience – they gasped, cried and shouted. Chosen rushed to their feet. Men-at-arms howled with rage.

None of which could stop Jaune's free hand taking the Eternity Queen's shoulder to brace her, or his right hand thrusting his sword up and into her chest, beneath her breasts and through her breastbone into her lungs and heart. The steel pierced through and out her back, bending her forward over his arm so that her face was close to his, pressed against his neck.

Shocked and not in control, Jaune could hear her raspy laugh. He could feel her hands laying on his shoulders and squeezing gently, as a close friend might. "Oh Ozma…" she breathed out in a bloody gurgle. "A-Are you back? After so many centuries?"

Ozma wrenched his sword up and down to widen the wound, leaned in and hissed through Jaune's mouth. "Your reign ends, witch. I will bring you to justice. But it won't be today. Not here or now."

Dragging his sword free in a shower of blood, the Dark Lord stepped back and raised it high, scraping off his helmet so that everyone could see Jaune's face. He roared his defiance, brought forth his aura – his magic – to swirl around him in bright wisps of green mist-like light. People screamed and ran, vacating the stands so wildly that they knocked down Chosen and men-at-arms alike that were all trying to rush in and stop him.

"The Dark Lord lives!" Jaune's voice roared out. "An end to an age, an end to this farce!"

The green light flickered and coiled around him, engulfed him, and then he felt the magic do something. What, he couldn't place, it being the first time he'd truly experienced it, but he felt it as though an invisible third limb stretching out into the distance. An awareness of a forest, of trees and a grassy knoll beside a stream.

With a crack the magic swirled in and swamped him, blinding him and everyone, and when the light faded he wasn't in the capital city at all. He was in a forest beside a stream with the sounds of screaming still audible from the city walls less than a mile away. And with a gasp, he fell, his body back under his control but him having not been prepared for it.

"What have you done…?" Jaune gasped. His words were his own, his body his own, and yet it was far, far too late. "What have you done!?" he repeated.

There was no answer. Not even an attempt at an excuse.

Betrayed. Tricked. Taiyang had been right – Goddess, he'd been right. The Dark Lord had used him, taken his agreement and thrown it back in his face. Why-? The Eternity Queen wouldn't die from that. All he'd done was throw the city into chaos. By tomorrow, everyone in Vale would know his name and face. The Chosen would be hunting him. Perhaps even within the hour.

Fumbling, Jaune took the Relic of Knowledge and stared down at it. He shook it, hands trembling, then rubbed and poked at it. "Work. Please work. Just work!"

A mist began to spread out of it. A form, a woman, her body blue and indistinct as though formed of the very mist itself appeared before him. Her hair was a darker shade of the colour of her skin, and her body was featureless.

"Jinn, the Spirit of Knowledge, stands before you," she said tiredly. "You have three questions remaining." Her eyes landed on him at last, widening briefly. "And I greet you, Jaune Arc. You have my greatest sympathies."

No time. No time. Jaune's eyes were watering.

"W-Where can I go," he stammered. "Where can I go that the Eternity Queen and the Chosen will not follow me?"

"Mine answers can only lay in the present."

"Then give me the name and location of a place where I can be out of their reach! Tell me where I can travel that the Eternity Queen would refuse to follow!"

"There is only one place that fits your criteria." Jinn said.

Jaune clung to that. "Yes? Yes! Tell me!"

"The Eternity Queen would not follow you into death." There was a sadness to her voice, a pity to her eyes, borne of the knowledge that nothing she could say would satisfy him. "Aside from that, there is nowhere on Remnant you can go where she and her Chosen would not follow. Ozma has made sure of that now. You are hunted, Jaune Arc, and no distance shall be too great for her to follow."

His legs buckled. His knees struck the grass.

Jinn's cool hand touched his cheek. Her head tilted, her smile wry and sorrowful. "I am sorry, my wielder, that I cannot spare you from that which Ozma has wrought. Your fate is sealed now, tied to his and hers, and your only salvation shall be to see it through. My answer works too ways. You could escape the Eternity Queen in your death, or you can escape her by killing her."

Become the Dark Lord. Embrace it.

"No…"

"Those are your only options."

"No!"

"I am sorry."

Jaune threw back his head. "Nooooo!"

Tiny bit shorter chapter due to the heat kind of sapping me to pieces.

Ooof. Ozpin being a dick and dragging Jaune into the war whether he likes it or not. I know the question asked is a "little bit future" but I meant it as though Jinn is telling him that there is nowhere currently that Salem would shy away from, so she's answering based on present knowledge. It's the same unfortunate truth from Jaune's PoV.

Next Chapter: 24th July

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