Wraith

Chapter Thirty Three

Beta: Smithrooks

Darkly Dreaming

Dorme, many years ago.

One month following the Fall of Amity.

The knife came down, red spilling on either side.

The tomato split in two.

John Arc stood in his kitchen, making lunch for his daughters. Bread, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese… it was all dreadfully cliché.

But it was the mundane nature of it that John enjoyed. No ungodly abominations trying to murder him, no life or death battles, no moral ambiguity, no social shunning…

Quickly enough the pile of sandwiches grew large, more than enough to feed seven people - but perhaps barely enough to feed seven people of which half were teenaged food vacuum cleaners. Not that they'd ever admit or acknowledge that, of course.

"Okay girls!" His voice carried through the oddly quiet house, "Lunch is ready!"

It wasn't meant to be like this. Not this quiet, not like a tomb. It had been like this since… well, it happened.

Quiet footsteps signalled the march into the dining area where John waited. His youngest, Grace, came in first. The normally lively girl was quiet and subdued, with little evidence of her usual thirteen-year-old energy or life about her. Sarah came next, attitude mirroring that of her twin sister before her. The two made a depressing pair. John could hardly blame them, but he made sure to smile warmly regardless.

The two sat down and started eating quietly.

Stomping down the stairs with much more vigour came Scarlet. She, being fifteen, was quite content taking sadness out in the form of anger, despite knowing that everyone knew what she was doing. Following behind her was Amethyst; a touch more subdued than her younger sister, but the resentment still simmering under the surface of the nineteen-year-old.

"I'd hurry before your sisters eat it all," John smiled weakly.

He was, of course, ignored.

His eldest three daughters all came down at once, Jade and Hazel - or the original twins as they enjoyed calling themselves - marched down with eyes only for the food. They, by virtue of impeccable teamwork built over twenty-one years of 'training' together for situations just like this, quickly claimed dominance over the plate of sandwiches.

Violet, John's eldest daughter at twenty-three years of age, slipped in quietly in the wake of the twins. Her eyes, so similar to that of her name, settled onto John for a moment before flickering to the rapidly diminishing plate of food.

It would be a charming scene to the outside observer, but all present knew differently. The air held a feeling of grief mixed with the horrible sensation of gut-wrenching anticipation.

Like they were waiting for it all to come crashing down again.

"I'll…" John said into the quiet room, "I'll be going for another walk today."

Chewing stopped for only a moment, but quickly recommenced in the face of apathy.

They were all hurt and angry… Angry at John for the perceived failure, and hurt by his absence.

Shortly following the clusterfuck that was the Vytal Festival, Jaune Arc had been declared public enemy number one, and orders were for him to be killed on sight should any sign of him or his whereabouts be found.

But no-one had found him. Jaune Arc had vanished from the face of Remnant.

Of course, that hadn't stopped the month of constant interrogations and heckling for the Arc family. People accused them of all sorts of things, but without proof - of which they had none - nothing had come of it.

Nothing official anyway. Jaune Arc was the greatest mass-murderer in the last thousand years of recorded history, and with that 'honour' came something of a reputation that unfortunately extended onto the rest of the family. The Arcs were social pariahs, cautionary tales… and outcasts everywhere except the walls of their own home.

Jaune Arc was infamous now. So infamous that they referred to him by a pretentious title the media gave him rather than his actual name. It was dumb, and only given because of the things he was screaming just before everything started going to shit. Hungry, hunger… The Lord of Hunger. John wasn't sure why Jaune was being referred to as a 'lord', but to him the entire damn thing was messed up - new name included.

The Fall of Amity, as it was coming to be known, was the single largest mass-killing… ever. Sure, there were people who had killed more, but never in a single incident. Not like that.

Add to that the fact that it had been internationally broadcasted? Yeah, it hadn't ended well for anyone involved.

The actual name of the event was a rather bitter point for John. Amity Colosseum had been poised to fall into the heart of Vale and utterly destroy the city, kill any chance of the kingdom crawling out of this… but then it had crashed into Forever Fall instead.

The current theory was that one of the maintenance officers had somehow survived Jaune's rampage, realised that Amity was falling, and gave his/her life diverting the course of the crash.

But John knew the truth.

The girls were angry and sad, as contrasting as those emotions were. They didn't know what happened, what really happened.

But John did.

John passed through the maze of corridors within his own home, only stopping to idly collect a couple books and a torch as he passed through on his way to the front door.

"I'll be back later, girls!" he called out, hoping for a response.

He didn't get one.

With a sigh, John stepped out the door, utterly ignoring the the venomous glares the neighbours sent his way. Such petty people… and to think, less than a month ago they'd been friends of the family.

At more of a stroll than anything else John made his way out of the town, leaving the walls and angry stares behind him as he made his way towards the not-quite-mountain Dorme was built in the shadow of. Trees and other foliage became thick and treacherous as he moved through nature, but to a hunter like he that meant very little.

Dorme was built as a mining town some eighty years ago, the entire population finding work through the mines built through the mountain that wasn't really a mountain - technically too small, but still looked the part enough for people to call it that. The Dust had run dry about twenty years after the original setup, and while some people had left, many more had stayed.

The mineshafts were still there though, if one knew where to find them. Empty and utterly useless for their original purpose… but still viable for other things.

John neared the mountain, the verdant trees and shrubbery giving way to something altogether more depressing to behold: death.

Perhaps not death in the literal sense of the word, but death nonetheless. The grass was brown and empty, the trees were withered husks devoid of life… generally miserable to see. Not that John cared, this was what he'd come here for.

Stepping past the decay, the huntsman peered at an opening within the rock face, the gaping dark within a stark contrast to the light of the midday sun overhead.

Without hesitation, John stepped into the dark. He knew there was only one thing in this cave, and that… that was why he was here.

John shuffled the books in his left hand as he dug his torch out of his pocket with his right. The harsh white light illuminated the dark starkly, the twisting maze of tunnels and dead ends highly confusing to those who don't know their way.

But John did, and soon enough he reached his destination.

"Hello, Jaune."

Out of the darkness the dirty husk of a human being looked back, his face splitting with honest joy. "Dad."


Abandoned mineshaft, many years ago…

Hungry.

It just wouldn't stop.

The need, the desire, the want. It was endless, unfaltering and, ironically, all-consuming in its nature. It was pounding, eating away at his core, demanding that Jaune do something.

But for all the pain, all the suffering, Jaune wallowed in the dark.

Jaune was alone, but at the same time he wasn't. Over a thousand voices screamed, all crying for help or for death, but their cries fell on deaf ears. The call… it wasn't a physical thing. Not really; almost like a memory, forgotten right up until the moment of remembrance. It was enough to drive anyone mad, but the cacophony was mild compared to the real torture Jaune was feeling.

His semblance, for that is the only thing it could be, devoured the aura and souls of others. The effect wasn't limited to people either - it literally drained everything that contained the barest speck of aura, plants and animals included.

Though there was a stark difference between people and plants. The act of… consuming… the soul of a person was like eating a star, so overwhelming in its radiance Jaune was surprised he wasn't burnt away in the attempt. Devouring a plant was so… underwhelming compared to that. Like being promised the most delicious food in the world, but instead getting only a slice of stale bread.

Hungry.

And god wasn't it horrifying. Jaune was meant to be a hero, a saviour… but he was a killer. A murderer. Things died around him. All life just… ceased to exist in his presence. Thousands of people, his own team.

Dead.

People that trusted him, that had relied on him…

Dead.

All dead.

It was like a nightmare. No, it was a nightmare. But this was one dream he would never escape from.

Water dripped quietly down the walls.

This place… this was his prison. A place of refuge, but still a prison. Father had brought him here after the… after….

Well, father had brought him here.

The first few days had been the worst, the endless hunger made infinitely worse by the lack of anything to consume. The absence of anything but the stone, water and cold for comfort… It had actually taken Jaune about two weeks to realise what this place was. He and his sisters used to play in these tunnels, or they played in the higher levels at least. Down here, in the deep darkness… not that the absence of light meant anything to a blind man, but the metaphor wasn't lost on Jaune.

He'd fallen into the black as so many other hunters had. Fallen into what had been his purpose to remove.

White Aura.

Hungry.

Jaune had tried to control his semblance, tried to master the crushing weight that demanded that he eat. But that was like trying to hold back a tsunami with a paper cup. Control reigned for hardly a second, the barest moment where Jaune's will overpowered his want, then it was overwhelmed and his semblance activated once again.

Except… something odd applied to John Arc.

Maybe it was because he was a family member, or maybe it was for some other convoluted reason - regardless, Jaune's semblance washed over his father… and left him alone.

John Arc was immune to him.

Perhaps if Jaune actually tried to focus his semblance it may have some effect on John, but Jaune had no interest in this. All his effort was directed towards stopping his semblance.

"Hello, Jaune."

White light, so radiant, so comforting.

Jaune felt a smile split across his grimy and ruined face, the utter loneliness held at bay for just the barest moment. "Dad."

The elder Arc shuffled into the 'room' quietly. Perhaps calling it a room was misleading, as it was actually just a dead-end tunnel in the deepest part of the mine. But… with the cot and other little things his father had brought, it was almost homely.

Well, as homely as a dirty hovel in the middle of nowhere could ever get anyway.

Hungry.

"How are the girls?" Jaune rasped, throat unused to speaking. It wasn't like he hadn't drunken anything… but water tasted like ash in his mouth. Food tasted like charcoal…

John settled himself onto the floor opposite Jaune, aura weary but comforting. "They miss their brother."

Jaune's smile faded, the crushing knowledge that he would likely never be able to really be with them filtering through his thoughts for a moment before he shoved it away. "Well, I'm sure this will all blow over soon enough and I'll be able to see them."

It was a lie. Both men knew it. And yet neither wanted to break the hopeful illusion.

"How have you been, Jaune?" John asked into the darkness.

Jaune smiled woodenly; awful, lonely, terrified, depressed, guilty, hungry… "Fine, Dad. I've been fine. I think I'm getting better at controlling it."

If that wasn't an utter lie…

"That's good."

The silence stretched on for a moment, neither man really sure what to say. Here in the deep dark the lack of words stretched out seemingly endlessly, like the black itself was just another element of the endless hunger - but instead of souls it was eating away at the words.

"So…" John broke the silence awkwardly, "I ah… I brought some books with me. I figured that I could, ah, read them to you? Only if you wanted, that is."

Jaune's face spit into a smile, that sounded like a great idea. Something to tear his thoughts away from the infinite guilt and remorse would be a nice change. "Please," Jaune practically begged. "I need something to keep me from going mad."

Hungry.

John's aura flickered in relief. "Okay. Okay, what do you want me to read first? I brought…"


Beacon, present day…

Weiss wasn't mad.

She wasn't.

She was Weiss Schnee, heiress to the Schnee Dust Company, professional singer and huntress-in-training. She was in perfect control of her mental faculties.

"Where is he?! I'll kill him!"

Weiss jerked her head to the side, eyes refocusing on what was before her. "What was that? Can you repeat that, please?"

Yang rolled her eyes from across the table, "I said, what's wrong? You've been distracted all day, Weiss-cream."

Irritation flashed through her at the much-hated nickname. But Weiss let it slide, Yang was only concerned about her after all. It was nice to be around people who cared. "I'm fine," Weiss lied blatantly.

They were having breakfast, though Weiss was only poking at her food. Her mind was elsewhere, outside the cafeteria that she and her team currently sat in.

She wasn't insane. Things like that happened to other people; not her. Not to Weiss Schnee.

But last night… when that vision ended…

It had been so real. Both like, and unlike a dream at the same time. It was like… like a memory. An old, old memory that was half-forgotten a very long time ago… but still there, clinging to the edge of perception.

There had been no images to tie to the sound, but the things that… the not-Weiss and not-Ruby had spoken about…? Why Jaune? Why focus on him? As far as Weiss was aware he was a buffoon, if a well-intentioned one. Why speak so gravely of him?

And worse still were the voices. Someone would say something, it didn't even matter what, and then it triggered the voices. They sounded like RWBY, but the things they were speaking about… it was all hatred. All anger and guilt and remorse and more hatred.

And all about him.

She didn't know who 'he' and 'him' were of course, not directly anyway. But given the nature of the 'vision' last night it was reasonable to assume that it was about Jaune once again. Which plainly didn't make sense. Why would she have these… 'visions' about him? What was the point? What was the cause?

She hadn't told the others of course. Friends they may be, but Weiss had known them for less than a fortnight. They could think she was mad, insane…

And she wasn't. Weiss Schnee was not insane.

"You have been rather quiet today, Weiss," Blake commented.

"Can't you see Weiss? This is my fault! He didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve any of this!"

Weiss shook the voice off, the sound of not-Blake fading away.

"I've been thinking," Weiss deflected.

The three girls on the opposite side of the table leaned forwards. "What about?" Yang prompted.

Ruby pushed her sister to the side, "You can tell us what's wrong, Weiss."

"This is wrong… so wrong… what- what did we do?!"

Weiss slammed her hands on the table with enough force to make the wood creak and bend, "Enough!" she heaved, anger building.

Her teammates stared at her, aghast.

"Weiss?" Ruby cried, "Why are you so angry?"

But Weiss wasn't listening. She was too busy storming out of the cafeteria.

She was aware it probably wasn't very reasonable of her to get so angry with her team like that, but it couldn't be helped. The voices were… distracting, to say the least. They tore away at the background, always there, constantly hovering in the frayed edges of perception.

It was killing her. Perhaps not literally, but it was intolerable. This needed to stop, it needed to stop now.

Unfortunately there was no clear way for that to be accomplished. There was, however, a piece of information in which to begin her attempts off of.

The buffoon, Arc.

He was in the infirmary, she knew that much from Ruby's babbled plans to go see how he was doing after they had finished classes. But patience had never been Weiss' strongest suit, so she was going now.


Beacon, present day…

Pyrrha was relieved.

And yet… she wasn't.

"Jaune?" Ren asked from beside her, his query directed to the boy lying prone in the hospital bed. "What's wrong?"

They were excused from morning classes to spend some time with returned leader. Nora had been ecstatic and over the moon about his return, even despite the fact that he'd snubbed them and RWBY when they'd tried to rescue him from Nihilus. Granted, he had very good reason for doing so, what with them having absolutely no chance of surviving a direct encounter with the elder Arc.

Ren was pleased too, though his happiness was of a more subdued nature than that of Nora. The small smile he wore on his face told the story, the joy in knowing that the team had come back together.

"Nothing," Jaune answered blankly, empty eyes locked on the ceiling.

Pyrrha was overjoyed to see Jaune returned and Nihilus defeated, that much was beyond question. But looking at Jaune… something was profoundly wrong. The character shift her partner had undergone in the time they had spent with Nihilus was massive; going from the happy and awkward boy she had met prior to initiation to a guilt-ridden man quailing under the weight of his sins.

Then he had died…

And with that death came change; he was something different now. Pyrrha didn't know what had happened to Jaune after she had left, and looking at Jaune now… she wasn't sure her heart could take it. When she left Jaune had been sorrowful but determined. Now… it was like he was just empty. It wasn't any kind of sadness that she could see, but something deeper than despair alone.

"Well I think it's a good thing that nasty Nihilus is gone!" Nora shouted, either oblivious or uncaring that they were meant to be quiet. "Otherwise I would have to break his legs for being a meanie!"

An amusing, if impossible, thought.

"I'm sure you would have, if he was here," Jaune answered distantly, eyes unmoving.

Nora wilted at the lackluster response.

Pyrrha wasn't the only one aware of Jaune's… state. She had given Ren, Nora and RWBY an abridged version of events regarding her time with Nihilus - they were unaware of who exactly Nihilus was, or where he came from - and they were aware, however vaguely, of some of the horrible things Nihilus had done to Jaune. They didn't know about the rings, the girl, the alternate world, but they knew enough to know that Jaune was suffering profoundly.

Even if he didn't exactly show it.

The sight of Jaune like this made her blood boil, the concept that someone did something to her friend, that Nihilus-

A shiver passed through Pyrrha, a profound sense of unease erupting in her gut as a chill fell upon her.

Jaune's eyes shifted to look at Pyrrha, previously vacant blue orbs focussing intently on the champion. There, for the first time since the conversation had begun she could see emotion in his eyes. Contempt perhaps, or maybe regret. It was directed at her, and yet… it wasn't. Jaune was looking at her, but if felt more like he was looking through her rather than at her.

The cold passed, and Jaune's gaze swept away.

Nora leaned closer to him, "Are you sure you're okay, Jaune?" Concern was plain in her voice, concern and empathy. "Is something wrong? You can tell us."

This was the first time Pyrrha had ever heard Nora sound so serious. Granted, it was warranted, but it was still somewhat jarring to hear.

"I'm fine," Jaune said softly, "I'm just… tired. Just tired."

"Well," Ren pushed back into the conversation, "If you want I could make you some-"

The doors the the infirmary slammed open, the unexpected noise killing the conversation abruptly. Weiss marched through the entry way like a storm, her frigid bearing obvious to anyone and everyone looking.

"Arc!" She barked, "I need to speak to you."

Within hardly a moment Ren, Nora and Pyrrha stood from their seats and positioned themselves between their fearless leader and Weiss. "I think not, Weiss," Ren quickly informed her, "Jaune needs time to rest and recover." Went unsaid was the belief that Weiss didn't hold his best interests in mind right now.

Weiss stepped up, either uncaring to the unspoken warning or simply unheeding of it. "This is important. It cannot wait."

"It will have to," Pyrrha replied, "Jaune is in no state-"

"It's okay," the sound of his voice from behind them stopped Pyrrha from speaking. "What do you want, Weiss?"

The three standing members of JNPR shifted to the side just enough to allow Weiss to see Jaune, but not so far as to stop them from being able to intervene if Weiss came any closer.

Pyrrha watched as Weiss' eyes flickered to her and the two others, evidently this was something she wanted to speak to Jaune alone about.

Well too bad for Weiss then, she and the others were staying.

"I would prefer to speak to you about this in private," the proud girl said in a somewhat snappish tone.

"Whatever you can say to him you can say to us as well." Ren interjected.

Weiss sneered for a moment. "This doesn't involve you."

"No," Pyrrha agreed, "It doesn't involve us. But we're staying anyway. Speak now with us here, or you may speak to Jaune privately when he has recovered."

Weiss' sneer faded, a flash of anger passing over her features. "Very well, I will let this go. For now, but I will be back later."

Without an extra word Weiss spun away and left in a huff, her presence like a stormcloud of negativity.

"What crawled up her butt?" Nora asked no one in particular, "She seemed angry."

The three of them sat back down, "She always seems angry, Nora," Ren pointed out, his eyes only briefly flickering to his friend before settling on Jaune once more.

"Angrier than usual then," Nora amended with a mutter.

Ren shook his head. "So, as I was saying Jaune. If you want I could make you some herbal tea? Or perhaps another health drink?"

Nora and Pyrrha winced, the mental image of the flowery water and green sludge unpleasant.

The only response was a soft snore.

Pyrrha's eyes softened as they settled onto the sleeping form of Jaune. The gaunt and thin look on his face was still there, but he looked altogether more at peace right now than she had seen him be since before Nihilus first took them.

She only hoped it would stay that way…


Beacon, many years ago…

Pyrrha had been reassigned.

With the Fall of Amity, many hunters and trainee hunters had either died or gone missing in the chaos of that day. More than a dozen of which were Beacon students.

Lie Ren, Nora Valkyrie, and Russel Thrush were officially listed as dead. The exact cause of death, as with so many others from that night, is unknown. Whether it be from the White Fang, the Grimm, or… him. No bodies were recovered, and thus they were simply classified as KIA.

All very official sounding. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt. She had never been overly close to them… but she still considered them to have been friends, if distantly.

Pyrrha, as with many other young hunters who had lost their team, had been paired with another team.

Three people she had never met before, and never spoken to before. They seemed nice enough, but all were originally from separate teams so no one knew each other - nor did they seem to have any interest in knowing each other. It probably wasn't their fault, given what they had all lost…

Tenne, her new partner, was uninterested in anything. Outside of class he just stayed in their room and cried occasionally. Pyrrha had tried to help… but he didn't want it. Nor did the others care enough to bother trying.

And so life continued on.

Only recently had they managed to put the fires around Forever Fall out; the damages to the city itself were severe, but not profound enough to truly be ruinous. Vale would recover in time, and though things were very strained internationally thanks to Atlas' colossal failure to contain the situation, life would continue onwards.

"Where could he be?"

Currently, Pyrrha was having lunch with RWBY for the first time in… well, first time in a while. Being around the girls had grown awkward and strained for her; RWBY was obsessed, their constant raving and furious effort was somewhat awkward for Pyrrha.

All they ever spoke about anymore was Jaune. Where to find him, where he could have gone, how to capture him, how to hurt him…

They believed he was guilty.

Everyone believed he was guilty.

Everyone except Pyrrha, apparently.

'The Lord of Hunger' was what the media was calling him. The pretentious moniker served a dual purpose though - highlighting that he was a monster, and also being a thin attempt to veil his history as a hunter-in-training. All to better allow people to cling to the safety blanket of ignorance and help prevent panic.

It was disgusting, but it was also necessary. Vale was the weakest it had been since the end of the Great War, and it couldn't survive if negativity levels grew high enough for another Grimm incursion.

So they lied, lied and demonised Jaune, claiming him to have worked with the mysterious woman who had attacked Ozpin at Beacon, and together the two being responsible for the entire nightmare.

But that wasn't right. Pyrrha knew Jaune, he was her best friend. He would never willingly do the things that were being attributed to him. He'd rather die first.

And yet…

"Getting angry won't help, Yang," Ruby ordered. "We need calm heads, so when we find him we can hurt him without risking ourselves."

And yet for all Pyrrha's certainty, she knew that the entire world was arrayed against her friend right now.

She just hoped that he was okay…


Beacon, present day…

Ozpin stared at the book, his gaze level and thoughtful.

"What is it, Ozpin?" Goodwitch asked from the other side of the room.

Ozpin's eyes never left the book. "I have found something, Glynda. Come see."

Ozpin was not a man prone to hatred. But he hated this particular task, and with good reason too. The death of the last remaining member of the alternate RWBY was regrettable, but if young Mister Arc was to be believed then it was through the sacrifice of Miss Rose that the Lord of Hunger was defeated.

But in the end, she died. They all died. And the room within Beacon that Ozpin had arranged for them to stay in had to be cleared out of any and all personal possessions that the older team may have left here. Not that there were many of course, as it was mostly things acquired since their arrival here…

And yet, looking at the tome before him, Ozpin knew that he'd found something important.

"What… is that?" Glynda questioned as she drew up beside him, green eyes locking onto the book. "Why is it in a…?"

And indeed, it wasn't just a book. In a broken but clear plastic container, the type for containing biological contaminants, was the book. The container itself looked as though it survived a war, with cracks and chips breaking the seal as well as generally giving it a mangled look.

Jaune's book.

The label on the top was telling, as difficult as it was to read. More worryingly was the fact that it was in his handwriting. Ozpin himself had never seen this before, let alone wrote that label, so that could only mean that his alternate counterpart had written this.

It couldn't have meant the Jaune Ozpin knew, the one currently in the infirmary. As far as he was aware, the only time young Mister Arc had met any of the alternate RWBY was when Miss Rose killed him. So that meant that the book belongs, or belonged to, Nihilus.

That would beggar the question as to how the book came into the possession of RWBY and the alternate Ozpin. Perhaps this was something taken from Nihilus when he was captured? Or perhaps it was taken at an earlier point.

Although, the book wasn't in good condition; looking half-charred from fire and half-decayed by water, it seemed to be in dire straits - but beyond that it appeared a normal, if horribly damaged, book.

But it wasn't.

Ozpin peered at the book curiously. There was something within it, an aura that looked - to his aura sight anyway - as though someone had poured a soul into the book. RWBY had claimed Nihilus to be a master user of aura, so could he have done this? If so, why?

"Do you see it?" Ozpin questioned his assistant. "What is within it?"

"Is that…" Glynda gazed at the book, "aura? How could it possibly have aura?

"Perhaps this warrants further investigation," Ozpin murmured as he pulled the lid from the container, the plastic giving way easily under Ozpin's might.

The Headmaster's fingers strayed towards the book.

"Sir, perhaps it would be best if we didn't do anything just yet," Goodwitch cautioned, "We don't know what exactly this is."

But Ozpin wasn't as worried. The book had aura within it. But the aura felt… melancholy? Sad? Like it was remembering something, or perhaps like it was regretting something. Not anticipation, not as though it were a trap waiting to be sprung. It was emotion. An emotion trapped within a book…

"Fear not, Glynda. I suspect there is much we could learn from this," Ozpin reassured his friend.

Ozpin touched the book.

All at once, it felt as though he was standing in the heart of a star, but it did not burn him. The heat was all-encompassing and all-consuming, but it felt like standing in the sun on a hot day, or perhaps like it was greeting an old friend not seen in years.

Then a voice came to him. So similar to that of Jaune Arc, and yet… it sounded older. Quieter, in a more jaded way.

"...and then father, it was as though the dream came crashing down around me. You taught me that evil is just a word, that under the skin it is simple pain. But I know now that innocence is chrysalis… a phase designed to end. For you, mercy was victory. You sacrificed, you endured, and when given the chance you forgave... always."

"Ozpin?" Glynda's voice cut through the narration.

"Hold a moment, Glynda," Ozpin commanded, his aura intent upon the book.

"When I was young, I dreamed and desired. But for all my want of the life of a hunter, you shot me down. Didn't you want me to be like you? I was so sure I could save everyone… But I regret. I regret more than ever… My semblance is a curse. Would that I could never have unlocked it.

For me, the dream of being a hunter is over… and in waking, I am alone. I have looked into the heart of the world, and I am afraid. Afraid of all that I have seen, all that I could see… the world is about to change.

Perhaps there is no name for what I am, but I know the world is about to change. I had thought that I would be a defender, a protector… yet, as you and I sat in the dark together, I wondered if even I could be redeemed.

But father… I am afraid."

Ah…

That was definitely Nihilus, though… hearing that, Ozpin couldn't help but wonder about what RWBY had said about their fallen enemy. They claimed that he'd gone insane the moment his semblance activated. And yet the 'book' spoke of the semblance in past tense…

Something wasn't right. Maybe there was more to the story of Nihilus than he had previously thought. Though thinking that now was of little point, what with all the people he could gather the relevant information from being dead.

Or perhaps not? Young Mr. Arc had told them the tale of his time with the dark iteration of himself; the information about the rings in particular was interesting. An emotion within a ring, just as the book was a captured emotion. Perhaps the rings that were now bound to young Jaune held a story too, something to be unraveled if one looked closely enough.

Perhaps…


1237


A/N

This chapter was a bit of a cool down from the clusterfuck of the last couple, but no less important for all that has happened and all that will happen. Think of this as setting the stage for what comes next.

Also, I know it has come up before (extremely briefly), but now we finally get to see the original Violet Arc - Jaune's eldest sister, and namesake of the Violet seen in other chapters. I do enjoy looking forward to writing out her final fate…

As for Weiss - please bear in mind that this is only two weeks after initiation, she is still going to be rather stuck up for the time being.

All that being said, let's look at the reviews:

TalonIbnLaAhad:

Thanks for reviewing.

Alter-Weiss is dead, of that there is no doubt, but what made her who she was still lingers - her soul was shattered, not completely destroyed. Weiss, both of them, will be major parts of the story to come.

As for the name - try thinking more along the lines of anima and exspiravit (these aren't it exactly). I studied Latin in high school, so I know a little here and there. I do, however, have a tendency to bastardise Latin and English words together, so I'd keep that in mind if you keep trying to nut out the name.

Indeed, the events of the Fall of Amity are winding down - and with it comes the cruel reminder that the world is a heartless and cold place. The next part of Jaune's story will be character building for him, as it is mostly him coming to terms with his new lot in life and how the world views him (yes, what you said made sense). All eyes are on him now, including those of the other Lords and that of Salem.

As for whether another Nihilus can be prevented... well, Jaune won't exactly be without people watching him, especially knowing what he could eventually become. The real problem, as you said, is that nobody's exactly sure how Nihilus became what he was - even the Alter-RWBY only had the vaguest of ideas on how it happened specifically - shown by their horrible misinterpretation way back in chapter two.

Shaded Azure:

Thanks for reviewing.

Not quite 'has' but is 'getting'. This is indeed an unintended effect of how Nihilus killed Noir-Weiss (love that name), though the effect won't exactly be precise.

"It was almost beautiful, in a terrible, sad way. Cracks splintered and coursed over the ethereal light, and a moment later it broke apart - hundreds and thousands glittering pinpricks of light just… fading.

Even Nihilus stared in shocked silence at what he had just done, his sickly yellow eyes wide open with disgusted horror.

'He's killed her.'

Pyrrha again. But Jaune didn't see why she sounded so disgusted or why Nihilus looked so horrified - Weiss had been dead anyway, what made this any different?

'It's different because he didn't just kill her!" Pyrrha's voice snapped, 'Jaune just ruined her. There will be no afterlife for Weiss Schnee; what remains will be trapped in the space in-between forever.'" - chapter 27.

Weiss will only get parts, not the full picture. Noir-Weiss is dead, of that make no mistake, but who she was - what she was, that still remains. As for the how... you'll see.

REALLY12:

Thanks for reviewing.

There are a few different ways to answer that question.

In the past? Yes, obviously.

In the present? Harder, considering he wasn't technically alive anyway - just a 'ghost' possessing a body. I will say this, however, aside from the lack of a physical body to inhabit nothing has changed for Nihilus.

"Glynda shivered, a silent chill settling onto her for a moment.

Dull blue eyes sharpened for a moment and settled onto her, moving for the first time since the conversation had begun. Jaune Arc stared at her, something akin to hatred or perhaps sorrow colouring his eyes for a moment before he looked away.

What had that been?" - Chapter 32.

N8iV:

Thanks for reviewing.

Indeed, having the killer of your wife (yes) and daughter speak to you on a weekly basis is kinda sucky. The worst part is that Ruby legitimately believes she's doing it to be kind by keeping him company and letting him know she's sorry. Jaune, quite reasonably I feel, does not see it this way - to him it is a massively cruel thing to do, that she is mocking him over his failures.

A fan:

Thanks for reviewing, and your support!

Yeah, that was basically what I thought about the comments too, though I… tempered it a little. I greatly appreciate your kind words about me and my writing, I don't think I'm too special - but I really am thankful of the nice things you said.

In regards to one-shots, I wouldn't actually be too averse to them. The main problem currently is that I'm extremely busy and barely have enough time for my morning coffee (for everyone else's protection of course…). But I do plan on doing one-shots in the future, when things are less busy for me.

Thanks again for the kind words.


Thank you all for reading, and remember to leave a review!