The Burning Beacon

Chapter 5: Heat of Battle

After a short pit-stop to change back into their most comfortable clothing, Riven and Mirta shadowed their teammates into Professor Goodwitch's combat class. A required core class, every entering Freshman showed up for fear of what Professor Goodwitch might do to kill their GPA if they skipped—even if some thought the class 'beneath' them. Bloom led team BSMR down to the front row and parked them in between two other teams—one comprised completely of men in rather traditional-looking armor, and another in a colorful assortment of outfits. Another cyan-eyed redhead beamed as they slid in for class; Mirta tried to hide behind Riven's bulkier frame when the strange girl addressed them. "Yay! More new people! What weapons do you like?"

"Is that really the right way to lead off this conversation?" The girl's blond teammate asked, scratching his head.

"Weapons are always the right way to lead off a conversation!" The cheerfulness never subsided for the girl. Riven wasn't sure how he felt about that. "That and introductions, I guess. I'm Nora, and we're Team JNPR."

"Personal space bubble," Stella blurted out as the exuberant girl leaned in a bit too close for comfort. Nora leaned back into her seat again, chastised but not sorry.

"I'm afraid she tends to get a bit carried away sometimes." Bloom blushed as she soldiered through the introductions. "You two, this is team JNPR: Jaune, Nora, Pyrrha, and Ren. JNPR, meet Mirta and Riven, the final two members of Team BSMR."

"Ooh, that's a cool name." Jaune, the blond boy, leaned closer to talk to them, reaching around Pyrrha to do so. "So, how are you guys liking Beacon?"

"Not so different from my last school." Riven rolled his eyes. If Sky and Brandon had a love child, that child would be Jaune. Brandon's swagger and unmanageable hair and Sky's coloring—the boy was going to drive him crazy, he just knew it. He also wondered if he should text them a picture of the kid and ask if they had a brother in common…their responses were bound to be funny.

"With you being from Magix' school system, I'm guessing you haven't got your weapons lined up yet," Pyrrha spoke and carefully shoved Jaune back into his seat.

"My old school was a military academy, so yeah, I have one," Riven remarked. He could understand the logic, but the assumption annoyed him. "Though our fearless leader isn't sure how much good it'll do against one of your Grimm…"

"Hey, don't let my concern stop you from trying." Bloom grinned, a slightly manic gleam in her eyes. "If phantoblade tech works and we can replicate it here, the possibilities are endless."

"What's phantoblade tech?" Nora asked. "I've never heard of it before."

"And there's a reason for that." Most of the teens jumped at Professor Goodwitch's voice. They hadn't heard or seen her enter the classroom. She pretended not to notice and continued talking. "For those of you who weren't eavesdropping, Mr. Foster comes from a military academy on a different planet and is here as part of an exchange program of sorts. Phantoblade technology has become the standard in most other realms' police forces due to their simplicity and durability, but they have yet to make their way to Remnant."

"What makes them different from our weapons?" One of the other students raised their hand to ask.

"Phantoblade technology relies on the strength of the user's aura, not on dust. Aura energy is channeled into a translucent physical construct or used to fire energy rounds from the weapon. Blades made using phantoblade technology can chop through wood, stone, flesh, and some types of metal, but no phanto-weapon has been used on a Grimm…until now." The woman's vivid eyes found his; Riven sighed, knowing exactly what was coming next. "Mister Foster, would you like to be the first?"

Like hell he was turning this chance down, but first things first. "Depends on how big the Grimm is, Professor." Because what little he'd heard from Bloom taught him they came in a variety of sizes. He wouldn't mind going against something wolf-sized, but a giant snake? Not happening.

"You will be facing a smaller specimen caught in the Emerald Forest this morning. Most captured Grimm end up in Professor Port's Grimm Studies class, but I requested this one just for today's lesson." He could swear the woman was smirking at him. "Go down to the battle arena floor, Mr. Foster, and we shall see how well you fare."

He stood and walked down the steps to the arena floor, leaving Mirta to find something new to duck behind (in this case, Stella). He felt every eye in the room focus on him, including whatever was growling in the dark cage at the other end of the arena. He drew his sabre out of his back pocket and turned it on. A few soft exclamations of awe as the blade hummed to life; he ignored them and focused on the glowing red eyes across the room.

"Battle begins in 3…2…1…now!"

The cage bars retracted into the floor and ceiling as a bear-like creature the size of a compact hovercar exploded out through the opening, charging his direction with murder in its glowing red eyes. Waiting until the last possible moment, he dodged and brought his blade in an upward slice at the creature's neck. It didn't sever the head or anything else spectacular, but he felt fur and flesh give a bit under the edge of the blade. He needed more umph behind the blow, or maybe just a better angle of attack.

Despite the creature's relatively small size, it lacked the maneuverability of comparable-sized predators on Magix. It had to blow past him before looping around for another go with teeth and claws. He hunkered down, a wisp of a plan forming in his mind. The creature charged again, but instead of making another strike, he danced to the side, grabbed onto the spike on the creature's back, and swung himself on top of the Grimm's furry bulk. It wasn't much different from mounting a recalcitrant dragon in his eyes, though dragons were usually three times bigger and capable of burning you to a crisp. The Grimm reared into the air in an attempt to dislodge him, but he gripped tightly with thighs and hands and managed to keep his position. After a few hops and bucks similarly failed, the Grimm took off at a dead run straight for the gate to its holding cell. Riven gritted his teeth and began hacking at the Grimm's tough hide with the sharpened edge of his phantosabre. The first strike drew a black smokey substance akin to blood; the second in the same location carved a trench in the Grimm's flesh. He managed a third hit before getting scraped off at the doorframe.

Now he understood why so many weapons in this school possessed both ranged and close-quarters capabilities: less chance of serious injury if you could take the damn things out at a distance.

This time, the creature reared into the air, intending to bring its dangerous clawed paws down on his head. With a roar, he swung the blade at the creature's right front foot, letting his inner magic run loose and throw more power into the blade. A soft crack preceded the paw separating from the rest of the Grimm in a cloud of black smoke. Shrieking, the monster lashed out again with its remaining paw, only to lose it to another magic-powered strike. Smoke poured out of the stumped limbs like water from a tap; the Grimm landed hard on the stumps before rising again on its hind legs, letting out an unearthly shriek, and collapsed to the left, slowly dissolving before his eyes. He'd killed the damn thing, but on account of his throbbing right knee and sore arms, he wasn't going to call this anything but a near draw.

"Well done, Mister Foster." He looked up and found Professor Goodwitch walking toward him. "With more training, you could be near the top of your year group."

"With more training I'll remember to bring my knife with me to class so I'm not stuck like I was earlier." He didn't want meaningless platitudes. He'd rushed in half-cocked and nearly gotten his ass handed to him; Cordatorta would've already chewed him up and tossed him back into the bleachers by now.

"Also true." She regarded him with a calculating stare that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "Return to your seat, Mister Foster, and report to the infirmary after class to have someone look at that knee."

By the time he got back, Bloom and Nora'd already put their heads together and brainstormed four new weapons using a phantoblade, Mirta looked pale as a corpse, and that Jaune kid looked like he'd met the Great Dragon for the first time. Riven sighed. His first day wasn't even over yet and he just knew he was in for a long fall term.