Not much to say here, other than to thank you all again for the reviews, favorites and follows! Also to mention that this chapter came out much later than I would've wanted due to my second term of uni' starting back up, meaning less free time to jot down some writing.


Chapter 3


"Can you pipe down for like, a second?"

Jaune was very much of the opinion of doing the exact opposite of the mystery intruders' suggestion, if nothing else it allowed him to feel some sense of control as he tumbled back and reached for his weapon. The exhaustion from the prior match however, had kicked in immediately; his throat already felt hoarse from only about ten or seconds of pure shouting, followed by spluttering yelps and yips and finished off by a very masculine grunt, and not a wail, as the back of his legs buckled from under him as he crashed onto a nearby bench.

Gods above, what idiocy fell upon him to have not let Pyrrha come with him!?

There was no time to dwell on past mistakes, however, not when his very life could be on the line with whomever or whatever this thing was. Jaune scrambled to a crawl quickly, Crocea Mors thankfully had been settled neatly upon the bench prior, and due to his impromptu falling session, it had clattered onto the ground merely a few inches away from him. With an outstretched hand, Jaune managed to wrap a semi-firm grip around the hilt and swung the blade in front of him, as he did his best to calm the abstract level of fear that had no doubt spread across his face.

Only to be faced with a lifeless, and very much empty, mirror.

Oh sure, he was on the ground now so he couldn't exactly see into it as he had a few seconds prior, but even from the angle he had fallen to he still should've seen a glimpse of whatever creature or crook had somehow jumped into the reflection. Yet there wasn't even the barest flicker of those sullen blue eyes that seemed to stare into his soul, nor the dry golden hair that matched his own but pulled back into a sharp edge. Now it remained lifeless, unmoving, like, well . . .

. . . a mirror.

Jaune felt his mind begin to spin, he knew for certain he didn't imagine what he had seen; no amount of exhaustion or lack of sleep would create a sullen glare like that out of thin air. Yet any other explanation seemed just as far-fetched; for all he could see, Jaune was alone once more in the changing room of the combat arena, and he had a distinct feeling this wasn't some form of semblance, though his knowledge on the subject of abilities was still scarce. His next thought was that of a Grimm with some sort of ability, and yet the mere idea of a mindless Grimm somehow sneaking into an Academy choked full of huntsmen was almost laughable.

Yet he knew what he saw, and for that reason alone, Jaune continued to point the blade of his ancestors toward the empty mirror as he slowly came to a stand. He took several steps back, attempting his best to go in the direction of the nearest exit without once ever taking his gaze off of the mirror itself; yet no matter how much he paced his breathing, nor squared his blade, the mirror itself remained motionless and inanimate.

"You get it all out of your system yet?"

His body grew rigidly still in an instant. Not only because the voice had once more reappeared, which had his heart rate quickening at an alarming rate, but because of where it came from. No longer did the voice trail from the mirror several feet away from him, no, it instead now echoed from below, or more pointedly, from within his grasp.

Jaune liked to think of himself as an adequately brave person, certainly not on the levels of his friends but at the very least he wasn't the type to jump at his own shadow. Yet there was no stopping the tidal wave of fear that lanced through his body as his own eyes peered down slightly at Crocea Mors, still held firmly within his hands, and met the gaze of those sunken navy eyes filled seemingly filled with both mirth and annoyance that stared right back up at him.

It was in his sword.

How was it in his sword!?

Instinct kicked in, and rather than toss the Arc family's heirloom across the changing area as per his first gut reaction demanded, Jaune instead swiftly slammed, with little care nor grace, the age-old blade back into its sheath that still hung upon his hip. It was a split-second decision, and yet the fact that his blade had now become a host to whatever this thing was and now hung upon his hip did little to calm his nerves, nor stop his erratic breathing.

He must've stood there for nearly ten minutes or so. Some part of him knew it was dumb, that he should've bolted and found his team, found one of the professors, and explain everything to them. Yet he found himself rooted to the ground against his better judgment. The thing hadn't returned since he contained his weapon; every passing second Jaune expected to hear its voice, to see it's empty eyes looking at him from somewhere within the changing area, and yet seemingly, against all odds, it never once did.

It was only the sudden intrusion of ringing from the academy bell that shook him from his rigid position; he felt himself release a breath he didn't even realize he was holding, and if not for how he had backed up against a nearby wall, he might've collapsed with how his legs felt burdened under his weight. His hand was raised to wipe over his face, sending one more glance back down to his sheathed weapon where it remained as quiet and lifeless as it always had - and yet he dared not attempt to unsheathe it lest the anomalous creature return.

Seconds ticked by, and with one final uncertain breath, Jaune began to make his way to exit.

He really didn't want to move, and yet he knew he had to; the class had obviously ended, and if lingered any longer his team would not doubt come looking for him. While he wasn't against the idea of being surrounded by his team, actually he was very much looking forward to it, a part of him didn't want them to walk into him as a blubbering mess and pale as a sheet, as immature as it sounded.

He just needed some time to calm down, to think about everything that had transpired before he started yelling about it to the rooftops of Beacon.


ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ/-\

Professors Ports class, as expected, had given him ample opportunity to not only allow his nerves to step down from a code-red but to also think over his next course of action. Few people paid little heed to the jolly huntsmans' tales of heroics, Jaune included, in nearly all classes the man held. Some had either chosen to rest up after Goodwitches combat class, and those that hadn't been called upon were split between taking down notes for other classes, or whispering to one another with hushed words as to not draw the professor's attention.

It was in that time that Jaune thought over his next steps; his first instinct wanted him to tell his team of exactly what had happened within the changing area; he didn't quite know if they quite believed his excuse of exhaustion causing him to be nearly late to another class, but as they sat together in one of the upper rows none had sought to ask him any further questions. Yet how exactly could he bring it up? Voices in your head, hallucinations, and people in mirrors weren't exactly common conversation starters that inspired a lot of trust, and he didn't want to put any strain on his team when they just seemed to be getting into the groove of working together.

That, and they might think he was actually insane.

Which he wasn't.

Probably.

Even with his eyes closed, Jaune could feel Pyrrha's gaze on him as he let out a small huff of air, leaning further back into his seat. She'd been doing that a lot lately for whatever reason; but he simply chalked it up to the spartan being worried about his health, which to be fair, was probably a fair concern all things considered. Jaune continued to allow his mind to wander through various plans as Port rattled on about a four-headed lion Grimm he bravely vanquished while he was still in prep school, without a weapon of course.

Try as he might, he couldn't outright ignore the professors' tale, he was simply far too loud; every exaggerated swooshing sound and overdrawn fight yarns kept drawing his mind back to his own weapon. Crocea Mors had been left securely in his locker, he'd even gone ahead to change the passcode via his scroll just to make sure it wasn't removed somehow and yet even as he pictured the family heirloom he had borrowed from home in his mind, he couldn't shake the nauseating sensation of feeling that things eyes upon him.

Whatever it was, it had to still be in the sword right? He'd been checking every reflective surface on his way to class; mirrors, windows, he was even sending cautious glances to Nora's scroll as she pulled it out to play some mind-numbing game rather than focus on her notes. There had been no sign of it, however; no sullen gaze that bore into his soul, no whispers in the back of his ears, and no weird visions.

There was only one obvious conclusion to draw from this.

His sword was haunted.

"That's so dumb." His eyes shot open upon hearing the soft mutter, his mind racing at the prospect of somehow blurting out his internal thoughts and being exposed; only to find the origin of the comment coming from JNPR's very own hammer-wielding extraordinaire, who seemed to be muttering in some tandem annoyance at the portable game in her hands. A small sigh of relief escaped him, along with an embarrassed smile slipping upon his face.

A haunted sword, seriously? He was expected to fight Grimm as a profession and he was thinking about ghosts being real? There had to be some other explanation that didn't have him resorting to myths and the supernatural like some conspiracy theorist - though his lack of belief in the haunting undead didn't mean he could ignore the obvious Goliath in the room.

He couldn't exactly forgo using Crocea Mors, family history aside, it was kind of his only means of fighting. Which meant he'd need to go and retrieve his weapon sooner than he'd rather like; though the thought of unsheathing the blade and being alone wasn't exactly sitting well in his gut. Except what other option was there?

"Oh hey Pyrrha, can you stand beside me while I pull out my sword just in case I'm attacked by a mirror demon? Thanks, partner!" It wasn't as if Jaune himself had expressed any interest in using or donning his weapon outside of necessary classes and nightly training, so it'd be out of the ordinary if he suddenly did a full one-eighty. Heck, most students seemed to leave their weapons in their lockers unless expressly told to retrieve them by a professor, really the only one who didn't was-

Huh, now that's not a bad idea . . .


ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ/-\

Standing outside RWBY's dorm wasn't all that uncommon for the blonde leader; his short time within Beacon so far had him facing this particular door all too many times - many of which it would be promptly slammed shut after yet another not-so-successful attempt at wooing their resident Snow Angel. He was rather hoping that pattern wouldn't stick this time around.

Taking a small breath, and going over the lines in his head once more just to keep himself certain, he raised his fist and moved it towards the door with every intention of knocking upon it. That was the idea anyway; it didn't work out as planned due to how the door itself was flung open before he'd even moved his hand down halfway and he found himself flash banged by a sudden intrusion of yellow.

Blue stared into lilac in silence for a few mere moments.

"Oh hey V.B, what's up?" Jaune could feel what remained of his pride twitch and die a wallowing death every time that accursed nickname was used. Seriously, you threw up once and you're labeled for life. Yang, whom had rested herself squarely on the door she'd just yanked open, on the other hand seemed to relish in it; judging by the amused smile that slipped upon her face, nor how it only grew as she watched his form slump ever-so-slightly.

"Hey." His acting certainly wasn't going to win any awards, but at the very least it seemed Yang either didn't take notice of how stilted his response had been, or simply didn't care enough to comment on it; "I, uh, came over here to ask for some help . . ."

"Help? With your performance earlier pretty' sure cereal-girl is doing a good enough job of tha-" Yang seemed cut off in thought, her eyes widening briefly for a moment as if coming to some divine epiphany - alas, it only lasted for a moment, before an all-to-familiar grin slipped upon her lips, and its accompanying teasing voice followed forth;

"Lemme guess; you're falling behind in Grimm Studies, and really need to pass the next test. So you're hoping to ask Weiss to perhaps tutor you . . . privately? ~"

Jaune felt as if he at least deserved that one; even if the heat continued to creep upon his neck and an embarrassed flush spread across his face at the mere thought of the situation. It wasn't like Yang was wrong for having a basis for his sudden appearance, and judging by the scoff and frustrated sigh that came from a certain heiress inside the dorm, she wasn't the only one. At the very least someone was having some fun with it all, Yang herself letting out a bark of laughter.

As much as he loved bathing in his own misery, Jaune was antsy to get back to his original goal;

"I was actually hoping to talk to Ruby for a second."

The atmosphere suddenly shifted. Yangs body hadn't moved from leaning against the door, but the same couldn't be said for her posture. Those lilac irises became sharper, her form tenser, more rigid, and the amusement in her eyes faded instead into curiosity . . . And something else.

"O'ho? Coming across the whole hall just to talk to my sis'?" Her tone still held that same tinge of amusement, but Jaune had heard firsthand from his first friend in Beacon just how overbearingly protective her elder sibling could become over the simplest things. Thankfully for his internal organs and their general health, he hadn't come over on some misguided attempt at love and he was very much in the opinion to quickly clear up any baseless assumptions.

"Yeah, see I was hoping she could help me check over Crocea Mors and-"

Jaune didn't quite get to finish the line he'd so very, thoroughly rehearsed; mostly on account of the blonde brawler drowning out his words with a sudden yelp, and followed curse, as Yang was promptly dragged back inside further into RWBY's dorm, and the chipper red huntress in question now stood where her sister once had with an almost alarmingly growing smile.

"Ruby! We agreed on no semblances in the room!" Huh, so that's why Yang had vanished right in front of him in a blink of an eye. Ruby however didn't seem to pay any heed to the growl of her own partner; practically crashing into the male blonde as she curled her grip to latch onto his hoodie, staring up at him with . . .

. . . were those stars in her eyes?

"You mean it!?" Jaune could do little to avoid staring into those silver pools filled to the brim with excitement and joy; it reminded him of how many times his own younger sisters had looked at him with a very similar technique when they wanted to ensure he couldn't say no. Not that he was obviously going to, it was his idea after all, but still, that was a damn powerful puppy eye stare. He absentmindedly nodded his head.

"Heck yeah!" The weight on his chest suddenly vanished as Ruby released her hold on him, pumping a fist to herself before sending him a knowing smirk; "Psh', and you argued with me for ages that you'd never let me take a whack at your sword!" He couldn't help but roll his eyes; recalling that for a few days after their initiation, Ruby was unusually insistent that she could totally upgrade his sword to be more versatile and modern if he just allowed her a few hours with it.

He'd adamantly refused.

Did no one appreciate the classics anymore?

"Come on, come on! The workstation in Beacon closes in like two hours!" Ruby, thankfully, decided against using her semblance as she began to drag him down their shared hallway; seemingly fully intent on ensuring that he couldn't back out of the arrangement. So focused, she didn't even react to Yang rolling her eyes and muttering a hushed whisper of "dorks" before the dorm to RWBY was shut.

"This'll be so much fun!"


ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ/-\

The entire thing was rather dull, in his opinion.

For him anyways; Ruby seemed to be having the time of her life. From the moment the pair had entered the rather humid area just sectioned outside the academy itself the silver-eyed huntress had been grinning ear to ear. Even the rather stoic man built like an Ursa who manned the front desk seemed to take notice; sending Jaune himself a wary glance as he handed over their passes for the evening.

For the most part, Jaune had found himself simply leaning against a nearby wall as his first friend in Beacon ran her hands over his weapon, seemingly humming in appreciation at the craftsmanship. He'd first taken up post far enough away from the blade that, if the creature returned, he'd have enough room and time to react - yet nothing of the sort happened.

Ruby had unsheathed Crocea Mors with little issue, even if his breath had become hitched when she had; there were no screams, no shouts, and certainly no strange men in reflections judging by her lack of reaction. No, Ruby had instead become engrossed in her own little world by this point and he certainly wasn't a part of it; not with how she ignored several of his attempts at starting a lackluster conversation.

So for nearly an hour he allowed his mind to drift, randomly throwing out a question that would no doubt be ignored.

"Hm, what did you say?" Oh, so she had heard him this time.

"I asked why you're pouring that stuff all over my sword." With a wary instinct to his steps, but believing the danger to be minimal, he approached closer to the huntress who was leaning over his weapon, and true to his word, was in the process of slathering the weapon in some kind of substance. It wasn't that he didn't trust the plucky girl, but it was a family heirloom after all.

"Hm', it's just some ballistol oil, I use it a lot with Cresent Rose." When the weapon was properly drenched, she began to rub a small colored wipe along the blade; "Protects' from it aging, rusting or cracking over time, though with how ancient this thing is I doubt that's gonna' be a real issue . . ." Despite the compliment to the craft of the sword, there was a lingering sense of a query in her voice - one he already knew the answer to.

"I'm not adding a gun to it."

"Why not!?" Ruby cried.

"My dad would kill me for tampering with it sooner than whatever high-wield explosive you strap onto it does." Plus, learning swordsmanship from Pyrrha was grueling enough, he didn't need to add any more to it. He let out a small laugh at the dramatic slump the rose sibling fell into, before she perked right back up a moment later, turning to resheathe his weapon and handing it back to Jaune.

"So, everything up to par?" He had to ask despite the knowing look his best friend shot him; there had been no screams nor accusations of haunting, but he'd like to be sure.

"Yup, yup! Everything looks good, but I'd totally recommend oiling your sword more often! It's made of some sturdy stuff, but without the proper care it'll wither away eventually you know?" Sure, he'd get right on that. There had to be a church in Vale with some holy water for sale, right?

"Thanks Rubes', it just felt a little . . . off by the end of the match today." It was certainly one way to explain why he was so eager to have someone else take a look at his weapon, and most certainly the story he was sticking to.

"Probably just exhaustion, Cresent Rose sometimes felt super-duper heavy when I had spars with Yang back in Signal, didn't mean it actually was." The comment almost made him wonder exactly how the silver-eyed huntress swung around her massive scythe; with it's mecha-shift parts and forms, it had to weigh like a ton, right?

Then again, probably best not to ask unless he wanted an in-depth explanation for the next few hours.

"Still, thanks again, it means a lot." As they exited Beacon's workshop, he sent a genuine and grateful smile to his first friend in Beacon. With everything crazy in his life at the moment; knowing he had such a reliable friend group did ground him a little. Ruby herself didn't respond with more than a smile and a nod, and the pair continued to walk through Beacons halls together until they came across their own dorms that faced one another.

Splitting apart, even if it was only for a few feet, he pulled out his scroll to unlock the door. Ruby shouted something about "goodnight", or tried to at least, had she not been dragged into her own dorm by a pair of arms that slammed the door shut promptly after.

Jaune let out a small laugh.

A goodnight? He'd try his best, at least.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ/-\

Jaune awoke with a gasp.

It wasn't one of fear or shock from a nightmare as usual; no, this one bellowed from the roaring pain emitting from his chest that had him falling to his knees and wrapping his arms around himself. His body felt numbly frozen, yet a sensation of burning was felt under his skin that left him short of breath as he let out a wallowing groan. With a pained whimper, one that he couldn't withhold from his trembling lips, he pulled one hand from around his waist to steady himself on the ground and-

Blood.

His hand was stained with blood. It was a moody crimson, dripping from his fingers and falling upon his wrist and there was oh so much of it. His eyes trailed down to where his hand had just been laid upon, and the mere sight would have had the huntsmen-in-training tumbling to the ground had he not already fallen to his knees.

His stomach was ripped to shreds.

A mangled white shirt did little to hide the disgusting tears of flesh that bore into his skin; even if most of his chest was stained with the same scarlet ichor that his hand was, it did little to hide the gnashes and cuts that littered his stomach. Many of them were simple cuts where something sharp had been drawn across quickly - but there were others; deep, gorged, where something had sunk in and pulled pieces out.

It had to be a dream, some unruly nightmare from the stress of Beacon, and yet no matter how he tried to rationalize it the agony in his chest never once stopped. He'd never once felt pain like this before; he felt the prickling sensation of tears beginning to form in his eyes, and he might've well passed out at that very moment.

Then the banging began.

It was the first time since he woke up that he actually took a moment to look around, the uncertain fear once more creeping in as he realized this wasn't his dorm; he wasn't in the comfort of his bed and blanket, no he know knelt upon solid concrete and judging by the littered high-rises that surrounded him at equal height, he wasn't even on ground level.

Opposite of himself, however, merely a few feet away, was the origin of that dreadful sound. A door made of metal, of some kind, had been hastily barricaded with an assortment of random objects; metallic fans from vents, pipes, the brick of the roof itself and yet none of that was what drew his attention. No, his eyes were focused on how the door shook.

Every few seconds its frame would shake violently; someone, or something, was intent on breaking it down with overwhelming force. Jaune could see how the hinges of the door had already become strained and weak; he truly did try his best to ignore the almost hushed sound of laughter and skittering that had been followed after yet another attempt to break the door.

He clenched his own eyes shut.

It's just a dream. it's a nightmare. Wake up. Please, it hurts, please just wake u-

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤWhat are you doing?

Jaunes eyes snapped open at the voice; already all too familiar at the sensation of how it didn't echo forth from around him, or even from the door which seemed to be on its last legs - no, this came from within. It was the same sensation he'd felt during the fight with Cardin where his mind felt as if it were tugged apart, and the same one in the changing area where the mirror man had spoken to him.

It was the exact same feeling. Yet this voice was new; deeper, inhumane in it's tone.

"T . . This isn't a dream . . .?" His teeth chattered in a mixture of fear, disbelief, and pain. His right arm still firmly held around his blood-stained stomach, for all the good it truly did, as Jaune pushed himself to a weak, shaky stand. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, to cry, to demand a godamn explanation and yet no further words came from his mouth for how his teeth clenched in sheer agony.

ㅤㅤA dream? What are you babbling abou-

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . . Oh, it's you.

It had heard him. It had responded to him.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤTo think my vassal would relinquish control so recklessly. Foolish child.

Jaune didn't get to ponder on the words of the voice; it only took a few moments after they had been muttered for the inevitable to happen. With one final shuddering slam, the metallic frame of the door across from him sprung from its hinges. It flew through the air, skirting across the concrete of the roof with a soft skree, kicking up rubble as it came to an agonizingly slow stop right at his feet.

As the dust settled, it was silent.

Jaune didn't dare breathe less he make a sound.

From the shadows of the doorway, a figure emerged slowly. Jaune could feel his surprise morph onto his face to see a rather aloof-looking woman step through; donned in a simple white dress that hung to her knees, a serene smile on her face as her shoulder-length black hair bristled in the wind. Even with his mind racing in his current state, he could feel even more shock and confusion fill him at the mere sight.

She was what had been breaking down the door? Her body was so lithe she might've been thinner than Weiss!

Yet there was something off about her that Jaune couldn't quite place, ability to break down a door aside; her face showed little other than the small smile upon her lips and little else, her hair seemed to blow and contort even more widely despite the wind around them not picking up, and there was this eerie skittering sound that seemed almost present since she walked ou-

His thoughts fell silent as he finally saw it.

The strands of her inky locks weren't just simply moving with the wind, they weren't locks of hair at all. There were legs, dozens if not hundreds of them; an organic weave of an uncountable amount of spider-like creatures crawling around and sticking to one another, the skittering sound that was presently emitting from their movement. Each step she took closer to him only brought out further details; their beady red eyes which peered out through the hive, their gnashing fangs that seemed to drip with a familiar red substance. It was impossible to tell if any of the woman's hair wasn't an oversized arachnid of some kind.

Yet he had little time to process it all; a sickening, gurgling whine emitted from the arachnid-infested woman yet the smile upon her face never once vanished. She did however hunch over, body twitching and groaning not too unlike how he had just acted prior, yet within a moment the differences certainly showed themselves. Her chest erupted, literally splitting apart in a spray of crimson and gore that seemed to flood the area below her in the same color. One, then two then three, huge coal-black spindle legs spurted forth from her wound and sunk into the concrete below; more would erupt one after another until it would eventually stop at eight.

By the time it ended, eight oversized arachnid-like legs had ruptured from the girl's chest and had formed around her akin to an exterior ribcage, and yet she showed no signs of discomfort nor pain; that ghostly smile never once left her lips.

"W . . What the hell is that . . . !?" He stumbled back, the pain erupting from his chest all but forgotten. Yet he'd only managed a few steps before he could feel his shoes clip against the ledge of the roof. Heart thumping in his ears, eyes wide with panic, Jaune didn't even feel the sensation of another voice sliding into the back of his mind.

"Our job."


And chapter done! Only took like over a month . . .

Damn Uni takes all my mojo for writing. Quick mention on why Jaune isn't running to his team, or the staff at Beacon, right away after spotting a literal phantom in reflections when you might consider that idiotic, or even out of character for the blonde Arc -

I try my best to keep things in line with canon (for the most part, for now). Jaune is still at his weakest in the series at this point, both physically and mentally; we're led to believe he's constantly worried that someone, anyone, will find out he faked his way into Beacon and is trying to fly under the radar as much as humanly possible. He's not going to run to the teachers in fear that, while solving whatever this is, they might dig more into his past. And while he's quickly forming fast and true bonds with his team, and RWBY by extension, it's only been a few weeks and he isn't willing to risk what he's built up so far with them to be hurt by raving about a man in the mirror.

Plus he's an idiot.

He still takes some steps in trying to figure it out, like having Ruby look over his weapon - but any further plans he might've had are thrown out the window the following night. Well, off a building is probably more apt.

As for the ending, well, this is tagged as a supernatural story - you didn't think ol' Jaune was gonna be the only extra-ordinary thing in this thing did you?

Anyways hope you enjoyed it! Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long lol