A/N: Boop. Surprise!

"The objective here is simple. We crush the Grimm and send the enemy running with their tails tucked in between their legs. We give no wiggle room to Imaar, as he gave none to us a few days ago, already thinking ahead and trying to cripple our forces. By now, he will have expected us, and we will have to show him that the information will do nothing for him. We will make this quick and painful. Do you understand?"

A thunderous roar echoed throughout the clearing, practically making the leaves and the trees vibrate along with them. For someone that usually only had the two emotional modes of calm or angry, Glynda Goodwitch had a knack for creating rousing speeches. She probably would have credited it to the fact that she had worked with one of the most verbose and 'interesting' men in the world, a burly name by the name of Peter Port.

Who had disappeared now, sacrificing himself so that the students would be able to escape.

Professor Goodwitch gritted her teeth a little, her heart aching, knowing that she had desperately wanted to make a stand with her colleagues as well, but also knowing that now more than ever, the students needed a teacher to guide them.

As the roaring started to tone down, Professor Goodwitch started to speak again.

"As much as I know every one of you would benefit in getting more rest… we have no more time for it. The Grimm forces have been moving since yesterday morning, and while the forces of Atlas are strong, they can't handle millions of Grimm rushing mindlessly towards them, even if they have the greatest wall ever created by mankind defending them. Sooner or later, those walls will fall."

The crowd was deathly silent, the prospect and numbers of the horde that they were going to be facing seeming to dawn on them. Many shifted uncomfortably. Professor Goodwitch nodded, knowing the effect her words had on them.

"And that is why the faster we can crush them, the faster we'll be celebrated as the heroes to stopped Atlas from falling. Now students, are you ready?!" Rarely in her life would Professor Goodwitch raise her voice, but here and now, with the mood carrying her, it would hardly be polite for her to whisper those last words. Holding up her riding crop, it wasn't long before everyone else in the clearing did the same, creating a strange sight as mech-weapons crowded the sky above them.

Another nod from the blonde witch before she started to speak again.

"Alright. Now, Professor Khan will be giving out instructions to everyone. Listen carefully, because as soon as he's finished, we will all be moving out."

Finally fulfilling her role, Glynda stepped down from the makeshift podium and returned to a nearby seat, settling down as a gruff looking man stood up and started to bark out orders.

Professor Goodwitch had learned very early on in her career on how to look menacing and focused while she was distracted. Another thing she could thank Professor Port about, she guessed. Already knowing what she was going to be doing later on, her mind turned to other problems, firmly trying not to think about her fallen… friends.

Imaar was a creature that wasn't of this world, that much was something that the professor concluded a long time ago. He looked very much like a human, acted and talked that way, but had an aura that made all of the experienced Huntress's hair stand on end. She was sure that any other full Hunter would feel the same thing from the man.

He wasn't human, and Professor Goodwitch had a feeling that if it came to a fair fight with just to two of them, Imaar would quickly deal with the situation, stomping the blonde witch before she could even scratch him. And yet…

The stern woman's gaze turned to find a mop of blonde hair in the crowd, along with it a determined face, wielding a sword and shield.

Imaar was powerful, that much was true. And yet it seemed as if he respected the blonde boy. The way the rider moved seemed cautious and careful, the way Glynda would've moved if confronted with having to fight another full-fledged Hunter.

Glynda had seen Jaune fight. A lot, seeing as how she was his combat instructor. A fast learner, but still only grasping the basics of a fight. No, if there was something to fear from Jaune, it wasn't his fighting technique. It was his mind.

As a teacher, she would laugh at the statement, easily procuring documents, tests, papers that would prove that statement wrong. Jaune wasn't anything but a slightly above average student.

But at this point of life, Professor Goodwitch knew that grades never really showed someone's true potential. You could test and teach every single aspect of being a Hunter, from tracking to history to fighting, and there would always be hidden factors that could never truly be tested.

And that was something Jaune showed when he came to fight against people several times stronger than him. His thinking was fast, and strategic. And his semblance…

It was something Glynda had never seen in all of her years of teaching.

It was powerful, it was raw, it was… frightening.

Maybe Imaar was right in respecting Jaune.

No matter what the reason was, all Professor Goodwitch knew was that if Imaar was scared of Jaune, it was something that they needed to use to the fullest of their capabilities.

Imaar was anxious.

There was a pit in his stomach that he couldn't shut away, continuously roiling.

The thing that cursed him to fall into this world and locked him away from his true heritage, the one thing that could truly defeat him…

It was in this world.

Brushing his thumb on the strange flowing scroll, pictures continued to fly by as he looked on the ornate object that lay just beyond his reach.

An Elder Scroll. On Remnant.

It's power was something scientists on this world had been trying to figure out for decades now, but could never do so, ending up hurting themselves more than actually being able to learn from the object. In the end the people of Remnant decided that the object was dangerous in the wrong hands and shut it out, making it disappear in an undisclosed location.

Imaar chuckled a little under his breath. The people of Remnant weren't wrong. In the wrong hands the world could easily be rent asunder.

But…

Imaar's eyes widened under his mask, his mind piecing a plan together. Yes… this was something he could very much do.

First though, he needed to find the Scroll.

And then, this world will end.

In another world, Cinder Fall could have been a queen. A powerful-hungry, egotistic, mad queen, but a queen nonetheless.

In another timeline, Cinder Fall would not have been thwarted by scraggly teenagers and betrayed teammates, and could have been the most powerful person to have ever laid eyes on Remnant.

In another place, Cinder Fall would be sane, and logical, someone that would point out the world's flaws and gladly lead the world into a utopia designed by her ideals.

But that wasn't the case, and the here, now, and on this Remnant, Cinder Fall was simply a madwoman who murdered many for a useless climb to power because of a ridiculous fairytale.

Now, Cinder wasn't someone to be feared, but someone to be pitied, strapped up into a straightjacket and placed in a padded room, glowing with magic that prevented her from ever drawing use of a Semblance, or even Aura.

What she wouldn't do to leave this place and murder everyone here.

"And what would you do?"

The pyromancer twisted her head and part of her body around to look at the origin of the voice.

A man, gaunt and clothed in a dark cloak, face covered with a mask, stood before her, a staff held loftily in his hands.

"Who are you?" Cinder demanded. Even after being in this cell for a year, her instincts were sharp, and her mind was like a blade. And her mind was yelling at her to run.

"Your ticket out of here." He replied, before raising a finger. "Provided that you help me with something as well." If Cinder wasn't on guard before, she certainly was now. There could be nothing good that would come out of this.

"What would I need to do?" She asked cautiously. If she had been in a higher position of power, there would have been a straight 'no' as the answer. Then again, if she was in a higher position of power, this conversation probably wouldn't be happening.

"I need to find a certain artifact, and I have a feeling someone so… invested in the mythological might have stumbled across it."

This… was something new.

"You're interested… in fairytales?" Cinder asked slowly, making sure she wasn't misunderstanding anything. The man chuckled.

"Well… I guess this would be considered a fairytale. But there's a slight difference you see. I've seen this object. And what it does is no fairytale."

Cinder had fallen, hook, line, and sinker. Unable to resist something that could potentially be so powerful, her lips curled into a cruel grin, eager to find the object of power.

"I would… love to help you find your object." Cinder purred, mind leaping with happiness, sure that she had found her ticket to a way out of this hole and a route to the power she craved.

And once she had her hands on it, she would make quick work of the man standing in front of her, and then nothing would stop her.

Funnily enough, Imaar was thinking the same thing.