Sleep wasn't something he needed anymore, not since his Aura and Semblance had been forcibly awakened that night, almost a month ago now, and he hadn't slept even once.
Twenty six human beings, that was how many people he killed that night.
Seven hundred sixty five years, four months, three days, and a handful of hours, that was how much life he took from them that night.
By now he was able to review the events of that night many times over, so he knew how his Semblance worked. When it came into contact with a living person, after a varied amount of seconds passed, they died. And now he knew that with each second that passed, he would take a year off of the life they had lived.
And he would live out that year in that second.
With each life he stole, he also got memories.
So even though he didn't sleep, when morning came, Jaune woke up as usual. His identity reasserted himself, and the memories he had been reviewing drifted away from the forefront of his mind, then quickly, and before he had trouble recalling the life he had just been living, he wrote down everything he had thought mattered.
Fleeting thoughts and the events they were involved in, a bandit's life was jotted down on crude parchment with a thick marker. His handwriting was atrocious; he still hadn't gotten used to the writing with the metal gauntlet he was wearing, but he didn't particularly care, as long as he knew what he had written, that was all that mattered to him.
He had a reason for all this. He had killed them, he had taken their lives and memories, so as his atonement he would resolve everything that they had left unfinished. He had heard about the afterlife from his father, he had heard that there were two final destinations, and a single waiting location.
And something else his father had told him about was atonement and redemption. Jaune had killed twenty six bandits, each one with blood stained hands, and each one killed before they could atone and seek redemption, so that would be his duty as well. Although he had previously been waiting for his death, now he had something that needed to be done before he died, or else he couldn't join his family in the same final destination.
Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock-Knock!
The rapid-fire sound of knuckles repeatedly rapping against thick metal echoed in the small room he was writing in.
"You're late! You're late! You're late!" A voice repeated, and all three times were said with the same inflections.
"Coming!" Jaune called out and stood up from the desk he had been writing at. The steel sabaton he wore on his feet clanked against the stone floor with every step he took as he approached the door.
After opening the metal door, he came face to face with an elderly woman. This woman had withered and wrinkled pale skin, her hair was its usual faded gray with faint traces of brown and still resembled straw one would find in a barn, and the rabbit ears that rested on her head remained just as crooked as they had been when they had first met.
"Finally, do you know how long I've been waiting? Tell me, because I haven't the slightest idea! Finally, do you know how long I've been waiting? Tell me, because I haven't the slightest idea! Finally, do you know how long I've been waiting? Tell me, because I haven't the slightest idea!" She croaked out in a hoarse voice, and again she repeated the words she had spoken with no difference.
"Good morning Ms. Jänis." Jaune greeted politely, not bothering to answer her question, because he knew she wouldn't remember anything he said.
Suddenly her rabbit ears shifted position, and were now crooked in a different direction. "Oh, good morning Jaune. Did you say something?" A young woman, with smooth skin and silky dark brown hair, spoke in a soothing tone.
"Good morning, Miss Jänis." Jaune greeted her peacefully. "It was nothing, so what's on my schedule today? Is Salem still busy?"
"C'mon Jaune, I told you to call me Heilagr, I'm sure we've known each for quite a long time… probably anyways." She glanced down at a collection of golden stopwatches dangling off the black vest she was wearing, she fumbled around with them before examining one with his name engraved on it. "Oh, sweet, we've talked for a few minutes before, that's awesome!"
"Miss? My schedule?" He did enjoy talking to her, but he needed information from her while she was in her Ticked form.
"'Kay, just let me check." She dropped the watch, grabbed at the base of her ears, and she fiddled with them, slightly changing their positions around. "Uh huh, okay, yeah." She mumbled out as she messed with her ears and closed her eyes. Then she blinked and stared at Jaune. "You'll get beat up by Cinder, join us for a short meal, and then you'll return to your room, there's no Salem in your schedule today."
"Oh." He sighed. "Let me get ready, I'll be there in a second." He closed his door and turned around.
"Hurry! No, time to waste! Hurry! No, time to waste! Hurry! No, time to waste!" She croaked out.
If Jaune was in higher spirits, he might've sighed in relief at narrowly escaping a conversation with Heilagr Jänis in her Tocked form, but he wouldn't see Salem today, so nothing else really mattered.
Loosely piled on the ground was clothes and armor, these were the only things besides Salem he could touch without killing in some form.
After she had brought him here, to a place where he wouldn't have to worry about killing anything, she had spoken to someone, and soon Jaune was presented with things from his home. Things that had been in his family for generations, Salem called them Legacy Items, she had claimed that they would recognize his soul, that his soul would recognize them.
And she was right, when Jaune held them in his hands, he felt his Aura and Semblance accept them as an extension of himself. He couldn't turn off his Death Touch, but he could pull it back and hide it behind the thick armor.
While he was happy, that he could interact with things without killing and that he could wear clothes, he also felt sick. He felt like he was disgracing his ancestors, he wasn't a hero, he could never be one, not anymore, and so he renounced his last name.
The Arc family was dead, and they died a family of honorful warriors.
He was just a murderer and thief named Jaune.
A golden fist shot through her weak guard and slammed into her jaw, her Aura took the brunt of the punch but in the end she was still just a weak child. With a body underdeveloped from years of malnourishment, and the fact that she barely started learning how to fight two years ago, it was no surprise to anyone that she couldn't put up much of a fight against a fully grown woman.
Still, as she felt her body be sent rolling, a cruel smile bloomed on her face. It had been two years since she started to get pummeled daily, and she had managed to learn the rudimentary combat style that was being beaten into her body every single day. Even if her physical abilities were subpar, at least she still had, what she considered to be, an excellent mind.
After she brought her tactical retreat to a stop, by lodging a hand into the solid stone ground, she gave a glance at just what kind of damage her trap had done.
A woman met her glance with glare.
Perhaps once upon a time this woman had been beautiful enough to earn the scorn of goddesses everywhere, but now her face was a patchwork of burns and gold. "Bitch move, you bitch." Her mouth wasn't pretty either, and that wasn't mentioning the fact that her lower jaw had been entirely replaced with gold. And as she spoke, she used her golden left hand to grab at her golden right wrist, and then she sloughed off her melted right hand.
"Hag." She bit back and although it was just a simple insult, she knew it was also the most effective at enraging her opponent. The reason was just as simple, beauty and youthfulness had been everything to her a few years ago, and in just one day she lost both.
Something between a growl and a snarl escaped the woman's golden throat, and she stomped hard on the ground, then a golden trail of spikes exploded forth from where her golden foot had impacted the stone, aiming for the girl she was fighting.
The girl she had been fighting for two years now. Her smile blossomed, it had worked, everything had worked. The golden wave of spikes melted as they ran over the spots that she had dotted out in her roll, and the woman's golden foot had landed directly on a spot she had filled with considerably more energy, and her entire leg melted almost instantaneously.
Taking the hit that sent her flying allowed her to not only get distance but as she was rolling along the ground she had placed her spots. She knew the hook of her trap, the melted fist, would annoy the woman enough that she would open a dialogue, and then she fell for the line and because of the distance, she would use a ranged attack, and her preferred method of that was the spike rush. That fool then stepped on her landmine.
As the woman toppled over, the girl kicked herself off the ground and charged. The woman's hateful glare was that last thing she saw as darkness suffocated her, her body tumbled again, and this time she didn't plan it.
As a golden mask covered her ears, eyes, nose and mouth, she could feel it try to dig deeper into her orifices and a part of her told her to melt it, and another part screamed that while her opponent could still barely control melted gold, it wouldn't take a lot of that to clog her throat or fill her lungs.
As she was losing oxygen, her brain was desperately trying to calculate the best way to escape, but… she… cou…ldn't…th…in..k…
Her life had always been terrible.
When she was born, her mother died.
When she was one, her father remarried.
When she was two, her father died.
When she was ten, the pressure became too much for her to hold in and her step-mother, step-father, and all seven of her step-siblings, they all died as their home burned down. All that remained of everything that had troubled her was ash, embers and cinders.
Cinders. She laughed. Cinders. How many times had that mocked her for seeking warmth? She cried. All of them were reduced to cinders. Why did she cry? They're deaths made her happy. She screamed.
Laughing, crying, screaming, the girl that had held back everything, the girl who had wished to feel human warmth, the girl who had begged to be saved.
When she was ten, that girl had been reduced to cinders alongside her family.
When Cinder Fall was eleven years old, she was free and on the run.
When Cinder Fall was twelve years old, she hadn't counted the number of people who she burned to death with a single touch.
When Cinder Fall was thirteen years old, she was being hunted for reasons she didn't know. A beautiful woman who could turn things gold with a touch had cornered her, and that woman was desperately searching for someone before her time ran out. That woman had said that she would kill her and take her power.
And Cinder Fall learned how to set air on fire.
And Cinder Fall melted a golden woman down to her bones.
And Cinder Fall nearly killed Talia Khrusós, a woman who had gotten too old without having turned into a Maiden.
And Cinder Fall was asked to replace her.
When Cinder Fall was thirteen years old, she was recruited by Salem.
When Cinder Fall was fourteen years old, she had been training with the former Maiden candidate, who still held a grudge against her, for a year.
When Cinder Fall was fifteen years old, another year passed, and she was slowly getting stronger.
And Cinder Fall met someone who could kill her with a touch.
When Cinder Fall was fifteen years old, she met a thirteen year old boy named Jaune.
"Cinder dear, are you feeling better?" A pleasant voice asked.
Cinder's eyes snapped open, and flames nearly exploded out from her hands. "Where's that's fuckin hag at!?" She asked the woman who had woken her up, and had likely made sure she hadn't been murdered.
"Oh my! I do think you should work on your speech, that's no way for a lady to speak." A lady with flowing blue hair spoke, but didn't answer her question.
She snorted in response. "Sorry, but I'm not going to waste my time learning seduction. I needed to get stronger, that's all."
A giggle. "Do you think you need to overpower all of your enemies? There are other ways, my dear." A smirk playfully fell on her crimson lips. "Or do you think you win your spars with Little Jaune because you're stronger than him?"
Cinder didn't answer, she knew she wouldn't beat him if he didn't restrict himself. She blinked, and began to wonder if Talia also had a trauma she could exploit.
"Cinder dear, there are more ways to use that beautiful brain of yours than just trickery, but let's postpone this discussion. While you were out, Hazel stepped in to spar with Little Jaune, let's go before he breaks him." Her eyes sparkled. "I wouldn't want to miss it." Izabelle Chèvre licked her lips and her smile showed off her sharp canines.
Elsewhere, two estranged twins stood at odds with each other, having crossed paths by accident.
Both of them were overlooking a 300 ft wide crater filled with pale fine sand.
"Look at this." The female twin said. "And tell me that you truly believe this world can be saved."
Thanks for reading!
This is probably going to be the longest AN.
I think I kinda screwed up, I hadn't realized that I didn't say how old Jaune was in the last chapter. In my head everything made sense, but if someone was just reading through that they might think he was just being way too emotional. I think I did hint at it by mentioning that Cinder had only recently joined, so I'm not too worried about it, but still, sorry if you were confused.
And oh boy, OCs.
Originally I didn't want to include them, but as I was working on a timeline, I realized I would need some characters that aren't going to be central in the main plot, but I do have things they'll do that will influence our main characters. Oh, and in case it wasn't blatantly clear in this chapter, Cinder is the Deuteragonist of this story.
Here is everything you need to know out of story about the OCs.
Talia Khrusós: Dew of God/Lamb, Gold/Process. (Myth.)
Heilagr Jänis: Holy/Sacred, Hare/Pacesetter/Coward. (Fairy Tale.)
Izabelle Chèvre: God's Promise/Elizabeth/Beauty, Goat/'s Cheese. (Historical.)
And hey, thanks for all the reviews.
Careless Mantis: Same here, man, same here.
SaucyHandles: I'll try to write a good story.
Zenhope: Thank you, and thanks for telling me about Zeref, never heard about him before, it was good research.
John Aiden Sullano: That's a death guy, so I hear.
TheRaiderKing: The thought of being dead comes from Jaune. To kill them he has to relive their life, up to the point of their death, afterward he still believed he was them for a moment. I hope that problems you had with my writing were because it was supposed to be intentionally jarring as a first person view from a traumatized thirteen year old boy, who had just lived and died through multiple lives as bandits and grimms, as he recounted his tragedy. And Salem's POV was supposed to feel emotionally detached. I also hope you keep reading.
TheSlySage: Thanks.
Guest: Sadly, Jaune will be limited in his concept of death, so no death of concepts or anything of that sort.