Disclaimer- NOTE: This is the only time I shall say this, as everyone who actually bothers to read the story should see this notice on top. I do NOT own RWBY, or the other licensed material will find in this work. Wish I did, but I don't. The concept of this story is mine, along with certain plot elements, and ripping me off without permission will bring my wrath upon you. That is not, I repeat NOT, something you want looming over your head. Thank you for reading this disclaimer, and please enjoy the story.

WARNING

This story will contain obscene language, mass & articulately detailed violence, philosophical undertones, and more than likely sexual content. If you can't stomach such content , and have the gall to flame me after reading this clearly labeled text of forewarning, you can go die in a pit & hope that I do not feel enraged enough to hunt you down so as to devour your waste of a soul.


From the Ascending Shadows

Canto I- Umbragenesis

Jaune Arc was good son. He loved his father, as he did his mother. Jaune Arc was a good friend. He stood by his friends of old, and championed those of the new. Jaune arc was good parishioner. He proudly worshipped at the House of Oum, and paid homage to the primordial patrons of his ancestors.

None of that mattered anymore.

War had come to little Domrémy, a quiet & quaint township just outside of Vale Kingdom. Faunus revolutionaries & Vale soldiers alike ransacked the town, slaughtering their respective foes & civilians alike. Having housed a peaceable mixed community of Faunus & Humans, neither side was particularly willing to accommodate the rights of "collaborators" & "miscegenists" during their conflict, as such; civilians were open game to the soldiers of both sides.

Jaune didn't care about that. All he knew that his parents were dead, as were his friends, human & faunus alike. Kneeling before the broken altar of Oum, Jaune had impaled a human soldier on said altar, his blade shattering the altar & allowing blood to seep upon it. Try as he might to free Crocea Mors, so that he may slaughter more of the blaspheming murderers, the blade would not budge. Letting out a sob, the young Arc finally released the blade. Crushed in spirit, he kneeled in front of his blade, pressing his forehead against the pommel.

Jaune remained in that position for hours, until he finally lifted his weary head to stare at the emblem of the House of Oum- the Fangs of the Cockatrice. There were bullets holes riddled throughout the emblem. His eyes glued to the scene before him, his blood boiled once more. It was a boiling that led to the same eruption that killed the corpse before them.

How dare these monsters bring their conflict here, to their peaceful town! How dare they disrespect the sanctity of the House of Oum, its universal practice of sanctuary! Throughout the crumbling remains of the Sepulcher, the bodies of refugees were strewn, murdered by Revolutionary & Military forces alike. There was no discrimination. Parent & Child, Faunus & Human, all were killed. Jaune had avenged them, yet there were still so many others that needed peace after death.

Yet the fallen altar would not surrender his blade. Perhaps he did not need a sword to call upon the doom of the murderers? But, they had clearly ignored the Sanctity of Oum. Maybe he would need to call on a power more ancient, more... primordial.

And with that thought, Jaune withdrew a talisman from underneath his armor. His grandfather, Justinian, had gifted it to him as young child. Indeed, it was less talisman, and more a lucky charm, made from bone. Specifically, a whale's bone…

Once more, Jaune would kneel before the broken altar. He lifted the charm over his neck, and hung it from the hilt of his stationary blade. The charm itself touched the bloodied steel, said blood filling the runes etched into its bony structure. Jaune clasped his hands around the charm & steel alike, the blade slicing his hands open, the pointy bone digging deep into the wound. His blood mixed with that of his enemies, both coating the charm in the red liquid of life, and black, coagulated ichor of death. And he began to pray once more asking help from somewhere, anywhere. An intercession from any power, above or beyond.

As he waited for a solution, he began to despair as no help came. Yet from his despair, a fury was born. He began to push up against the hilt, to release Crocea Mors from its stone prison, to once more reap the souls of the murderers. He subconsciously began to draw upon a power from within, his Aura. He did not notice he cared about was freeing his blade. In a rage, he cried out-

"If there is a power out there, be it above us or beyond our understanding, I call upon it! If there is a power out there, be it upon this in this temple, or from beyond the reach of Remnant, I call upon it! Let free my blade! Let me avenge the sinned, and prevail against the sinners! GIVE ME THE POWER, THE STRENGTH, THE FORTITUDE! I WILL SEE THESE WRONGS RIGHTED! And… I will see that the innocent souls around me... shall be… put to rest… *sob*…"

As Jaune said this, his Aura began to take form, resembling wings. Yet at the same time, this aura mixed with the blood on his hands, and reached the charm clasped between them.

The bloodied runes began to glow…

And a great flash of light appeared in front of Jaune, knocking him backwards. Jaune's eyes were blinded, and he put his arm up to shield them, countering this strangely dark light with that of his own aura.

Eventually, the light receded, and Jaune put his arms down, his aura fading. His eyes took a while to adjust, at first only perceiving shadows. Yet when his vision cleared, a figure stood before him…

*Greetings, young nephelim… I am the Outsider…*


Hello Everyone. I must apologize to those waiting for an update to my other stories. School has been a bitch & my ability to keep up with the Naruto series even more so. That said, I do intend to return to the fandom, so no stealing my shit. You WILL be stabbed. That being said, enjoy my new work.

Flames will be stomped out & their ashes snorted while I dance hard techno, if they are not constructive criticism. Then I shall piss those ashes out upon the graves of the flamers, which shall be covered in a fresh, fertilizing mound of manure.

R & R, and all that crap.