I know I said this wasn't going to be a regular thing, but here. The second chapter. My big, beautiful dog passed away today, at the positively ancient age of nearly 16, and the best way to cope with loss is to focus on work. Don't worry about me, though, enjoy the chapter!
Pyrrha Nikos was a woman of many talents.
Most, if not all, of those talents involved injuring, maiming, killing or just outright decimating foes in single combat.
The other talents involved injuring, maiming, killing or just outright decimating foes in multiple-on-one combat.
It was safe to say that the redhead had earned her title as the 'Invincible Girl' through consistent, painful practise and constant tests of physique, her record in Mistral's fighting pits leaving her a remarkably rich girl.
Then, of course, with all those wins, those who bet against her found themselves with a grudge or two towards the girl.
Now, for this all to make sense, it would be important to know the history behind Mistral's laws towards magic.
In that it didn't have any laws towards magic.
Unlike Vale and Atlas, Mistral and Vacuo shared a rather tenuous grip on their magical communities, and whilst Vacuo was so desolate it barely had a form of functioning government, Mistral decided to just let the chips fall where they may, and roll with the consequences.
So when Pyrrha's admittedly minimal magical potential was realised as her secret to success, the people who'd bet against her and lost found themselves with a rather devious idea, one that wouldn't get them into any problems.
See, Mistral doesn't have any laws towards magic in one very specific way. If you can wield magic, you don't need the law or the government to protect you.
That single concept meant that Pyrrha was very much not at all treated with the same respect as any other non-magical being in Mistral.
So when the horde of angry, grudge-wearing criminals, spectators and others arrived to dissuade her of her talent for fighting, she decided that whilst she wasn't protected by the law, she also wasn't beholden to it.
This marked the first time Pyrrha lost control of her magic.
Years of fighting, training and exercise made Pyrrha Nikos a dangerous target, so when she lost control, it was suddenly very apparent that the instincts of this girl were very much beyond what those of the various people could cope with.
The Crimson Massacre, as it then became known as, resulted in the deaths of over fifty people. Forty of which were cut apart by a javelin, eight of which had their skulls caved in by shield, and two of which whose armor looked like it had simply crushed them.
When she finally regained control, Pyrrha was coated in blood, standing in her ruined house, surrounded by the bodies of those she had felled.
And yet the Invincible Girl felt no guilt. She felt no remorse.
What she only felt was satisfaction.
Now, what Pyrrha didn't realise, was that whilst she wasn't beholden to the law, the reason so many magic-wielders didn't lose control in fights like this was because the Mistralian governing body made sure to cull any particularly dangerous individuals.
With a Mistralian regiment of anti-magics on her trail, Pyrrha Nikos fled her home kingdom, headed elsewhere.
On the coast of Mistral, she had met an older gentleman who offered her a place at his tower, so that he could train and help improve her magical abilities.
Pyrrha, having spent nearly two months on the road at this point, willingly took up his offer, and thus Pyrrha had ended up at Beacon Tower.
She was honestly happy with the decisions she'd made, making it to where she was, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss the old days in the Mistral Pits, fighting for her life for the entertainment of thousands.
But, she'd met so many people she could call friends, so it was really a toss-up between which she'd prefer. Entertainment-sanctioned murder had been such good pay, though.
Weiss Schnee, Princess of Atlas.
There was a name that was familiar to many.
The princess who had gone off the deep end.
Atlas, being the highly strict, highly militarised kingdom it was, was sure to raise a highly strict, highly militarised princess, and yet, that wasn't quite what had happened.
Weiss Schnee was always unhappy. Something was always wrong, a servant unable to get something right, an interloper doing something offensive accidentally, or on purpose.
Sometimes it was worse, sometimes not so bad, but it meant that Weiss spent the majority of her life uncomfortably angry.
She couldn't help it, it was just how she was.
Then, on her fifteenth birthday, the immense kingdom-wide celebration, they'd attacked.
The uprising, or so Atlas had called it, where a group of resistance fighters had freed a bunch of slaves, and led an attack on the royal family.
Weiss had learned of these resistance fighters, through many of her father's talks. Jacques Schnee, Emperor of Atlas, was a racist, that much was certain. He was also Emperor of Atlas, so it didn't really matter if people disliked that about him.
"The White Fang," he'd ranted and raved about, ordering guard after guard to subdue and subjugate faunus after faunus in attempts to eliminate the threat to his tenancy as the most powerful man in Atlas.
The attackers had broken through the seemingly meagre defenses at Weiss's celebration, swords and crossbows indiscriminately cutting down any and all of the attendees.
Weiss was not defenseless, though, but she was angry, though that much was unsurprising.
A group of White Fang had approached her, only to find their deaths at the end of her rapier, the swift stabs leading them to coat the princess's white gown in liquid crimson.
More of them threw themselves at the princess, but Weiss had simply cut them down where they stood, only taking small cuts herself.
And, for the first time, she found herself without anger.
These faunus, these White Fang, had cut their way through her subjects, and yet Weiss felt nothing for them. They were just people, allied with her father. She had no true friends of her own, these people meant as much to her as the White Fang did.
Weiss had spent such a long time cutting down the men and women that she realised that all that was left were not the freed slaves, or the easy fodder of the untrained men and women of the resistance.
No, all that were left were the trained fighters of the resistance, the men and women that had spent their lives preparing for such an attack.
Attacks began driving the princess back, and she felt each cut, each injury as it was delivered, her assailants proving to be far more than she could handle.
Until, of course, she awoke her bloodline trait, her magic.
Suddenly, the grand hall where the celebration was being held felt as if it was in the middle of an Atlesian blizzard, ice creeping up the windows and walls, all stemming from a single source.
Weiss Schnee, Princess of Atlas, a walking blizzard.
Glyphs hovered in place all around her, and each glyph spun with the ferocity of a blizzard's wind. Bolts of lightning, shards of ice, gouts of flame and chunks of rock began to fly out of the glyphs, seemingly forming from nothing, and suddenly the White Fang was on the retreat, taking casualties faster than any other operation they'd undergone.
Suddenly, all that were left of the White Fang that hadn't retreated were two figures, both imbuing themselves with their own magical potential.
One, red and brown hair, mask intimidating for a reason, small bull horns sticking from the top of his head, the other black-haired, small cat ears folded over from the sounds of the destruction.
And they too lost control.
Weiss, out of control and still like the eye of a blizzard, suddenly found herself driven back under the assault of the two remaining White Fang members. One slashed and cut with a massive red sword, the curved blade cutting through anything she threw at him.
The other seemed to vanish in and out of the shadows at a whim, appearing on odd angles to get a surprise strike in.
Then, the guardsmen had appeared, finally reacting to the attack. Crossbows at the ready, the chorus of twangs that followed the shouted order of the captain accompanying the flying bolts, which impacted against the two White Fang members, and the Princess herself.
This, as it turned out, was a very bad idea.
Suddenly, the three out of control magic-wielders changed targets, focusing their fury on those who had dared interrupt their fight.
The shadowcat had simply vanished into thin air, whilst the bull had simply charged the guardsmen, cutting through swaths of flesh with ease.
Weiss, for her part, simply willed her glyphs to aim and release, the torrential output of magic she released simply liquefying the guardsmen that got too close. The rest found themselves under the assault of various elements, charring, shocking, freezing and crushing those unfortunate enough to not be able to dodge.
The shadowcat had reappeared, though, and for some reason, the bull had turned on her, slashing away.
There were no teams for those out of control.
Weiss redirected her glyphs at the bull as he delivered a near-fatal blow to the cat faunus, knocking her magic clean away with that single, red-glowing strike, and as the bull fell under the seemingly infinite magical potential that Weiss output, she felt herself weaken.
A glyph shattered, followed by a second, and the sheer energy she'd been outputting simply slowed, more and more glyphs shattering from the stress, and as the bull fled, his own power breaking around him, Weiss collapsed.
A massive smile on her face.
Blake had not meant to slaughter so many people.
No, she had fought for peace, for prosperity, like her father had taught her.
And yet she followed Adam's orders to the letter, cutting through the slavers, the city guard, and then the advisors, the celebrating attendees, the innocent civilians.
Adrenaline flowed through her mind, and what was and wasn't a threat blended together until there was no difference in her head.
Then, they'd been driven back by a sheer gale force wind of frost. Weiss Schnee, hated Princess of Atlas, out of control.
Blake had to admit she respected the girl for that. For a princess to fight, it was strange, but to have such a pure magical potential, something that Blake could definitely sense, and to have the simple will to use it, that demanded a certain level of respect.
Of course, respect or not, the girl needed to die, that much was certain to both Blake and Adam.
The man was busy, it seemed, enjoying the screaming of a woman on the end of his blade, her slave joining in, throttling the woman.
"Adam, the Princess!" Blake shouted, pointing at the rapidly encroaching frost and death that seemed to float about the platinum-blonde girl.
Adam noticed, commanding his men to attack, and while they charged, he closed his eyes behind his mask, and Blake joined him, the two coalescing their magics, until they felt it activate.
Of course, neither had the willpower or the experience to remain in control. They too lost themselves to their powers, and suddenly the battlefield was a whirlwind of pain, anger and sheer magic.
Then Adam had turned on Blake.
His sword, glowing red with pure magic, struck her in the undefended chest, cutting straight through any and all of her magical power and severing the connection, dropping her unceremoniously on the ground, her breath coming short and sharp. She tilted her head, and watched.
The glyphs rounded on her mentor, the man who had just betrayed her, and she felt nothing as she watched him flee, his magic shattering around his body as he left.
Fully expecting to be the next victim, Blake looked towards the princess, and stared in shock as she noticed the grin on her face, the girl collapsing to the ground, unconscious.
Something that Blake was about to become very familiar with.
"Princess Weiss Schnee of Atlas, Princess Blake Belladonna of Menagerie. What an interesting conflict the two of you had."
That voice, neither girl had heard it before, and yet it invoked something deep within them.
Something more than respect, this voice demanded reverence, and yet the elderly gentleman's face was nothing but a small line of humour.
"Well, I call you by your titles, but for all intents and purposes, you are dead. Executed for your crimes against nature, I'm afraid."
The man's voice held a tone that neither girl could understand.
"I suppose you have two options. You can either spend the rest of your lives chained up down here, or you could come with me. I have need of your magics."
Blake glared at the princess, who returned the glare.
"Fine," the two chorused, before swapping glares once more.
The elderly gentleman laughed. "Do try to get along, girls. You have so much in common."
Lie Ren and Nora Valkyrie were an inseparable pair.
Ren spent his time healing the various injuries that Nora got, and Nora spent her time picking fights with people who disliked her ubiquitous, excitable attitude towards life.
They both spent what free time they had travelling amongst Mistral's frontier, killing Grimm and bandits wherever they appeared.
Ren, an expert in all things medical, was also very good at combat surgery, as he liked to call it. Precision knife blows were remarkably effective at disabling and disarming opponents.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, Nora found her passion at the end of a colossal warhammer, and used that weapon with such vicious efficiency that those that didn't simply run in fear found themselves on the end of shattered limbs, crushed limbs, or occasionally, pulverised limbs.
They'd spent the good part of their lives together, just roaming around and helping villages, until they found what they were looking for.
One Grimm, a single Grimm, had led the charge that had destroyed their home, killed their families, and the two had been inseparable since that day, the only two survivors.
They were yet to find this Grimm, the beast leaving no trace, but they were still searching.
In fact, they spent so much time searching that they didn't even notice that the camp they'd walked into was not the camp of the bandits they'd been tracking.
An elderly gentleman, a red-haired warrior, a black-haired faunus and a white-haired princess stared at them, in varying degrees of shock and amusement.
"Oh, my apologies. We had not meant to disturb you, we thought you were our quarry," Ren said in way of apology, slowly backing away.
Nora, however, was never one to back away from a fight. "Hey, you guys wouldn't happen to have seen a bunch of filthy bandits come this way?"
The elderly gentleman laughed gently. "No, my dear, I'm afraid not. Unless you count that group of bandits these girls killed."
Ren shared a glance with Nora. "How long ago was this?"
The red-haired warrior answered. "Only a day or so ago, not too far from here actually. None survived."
"Oh. Well, I must offer our gratitude to you for taking care of the problem we'd been contracted to remove. Come, Nora, we should be going," Ren said, placing his hand on the shoulder of the ginger.
"Aw. I was looking forward to breaking their legs," Nora sulked, allowing herself to be led away.
"You were contracted to hunt down these bandits?" The man asked, standing from his position on the stump of a tree that had been serving as his seat.
Ren turned to face the man. "Yes, we were. Why do you ask?"
The man gave no answer, just withdrawing into his thoughts for a moment.
"Were you aware of their rather… magical nature?" The man asked, after a time.
Ren shook his head, his face betraying nothing. "I was not aware of that fact. I can appreciate your help all the more, however."
The man smiled an enigmatic smile. "Well, Mr Lie, Ms Valkyrie, it was a pleasure to meet you."
Ren immediately drew his daggers, and Nora withdrew her warhammer, Ren's quiet personality and Nora's bubbly effervescence dying quickly as the situation suddenly became far more serious.
"How do you know our names?" Ren asked, a frown on his face.
The man simply raised his hand, a gesture to his three female companions to lower their weapons.
"I've been looking for you. For nothing bad, mind you, your names merely piqued my interest. I spend time travelling the world, acquiring and recruiting magically powerful people from all over the world. From the tales I've heard of you and Ms Valkyrie, I can see that you would be remarkable additions to Beacon," The man explained.
"Thanks, but we must refuse," Ren replied, a slight amount of heat in his voice.
"And yet you haven't heard my offer yet. Hear an old man out, if you would be so kind?" The man said with an enigmatic laugh.
Ren lowered his hands, daggers still gripped tight, and Nora placed the head of her warhammer on the ground.
"Excellent. If you come with me, train at Beacon Tower, I can help you and Ms Valkyrie find that elusive Grimm you've been tracking."
Even Ren couldn't wipe the expression of shock off his face. "How did-"
"How I do what I do isn't anywhere near as important as you think it is, Mr Lie. Do the two of you agree to my terms?"
The man waited patiently as Ren stepped back, quietly discussing with Nora.
It took less than a minute for the two to come up with an answer.
"If you'll have us, we accept."
Every moment was pain and agony for him.
Each kick, each punch, every blow felt like fire in his body.
It hurt so damn much, and he couldn't even stand up to stop it.
"Come on, Jauney! Not even going to try and fight back?" The tallest, largest boy there laughed, delivering another steel-capped kick to Jaune's chest.
Jaune's reply was to cough and splutter, feeling bile force its way up his throat. He had enough time to swallow it back down before a second, stronger kick impacted against his ribs, driving the air from his lungs with a horrifying cracking sound.
"Ooh, that one's gotta hurt, Jauney-boy. You should've just left her well alone, let us have our fun, but you just had to butt in, didn't you? You just had to play the hero."
Jaune, through the tears of pain that lingered in his eyes, met the gaze of the girl, huddled in the corner of the alley, torn clothes filthy as she shivered in fear, cowering from the four boys that assaulted him.
Another blow to the stomach drove his eyes closed as the bile spilled from his mouth, his body unable to resist the urge.
"Look at you, Jauney! You've soiled yourself. What a hero!" The boy laughed, and the other three echoed the laugh.
More kicks formed the prelude before a stomp hit him in the head, driving his consciousness into sheer nonexistence.
His vision swam when he opened his eyes once more.
The sun had travelled across the majority of the sky in a single blink, though Jaune realised that was more from the fact he'd been unconscious for hours.
He tried to stand, only to be unable to move his body.
"Urgh…" The blond groaned in pain, trying to look around.
The alley stunk of blood, bile, and various trash, and Jaune wasn't sure how he felt about that girl's absence.
Another groan of pain escaped his lips involuntarily, followed by a sharp intake of breath.
He'd broken a couple of ribs, that was for sure. He wasn't coughing up blood, though, so they hadn't pierced his lungs. That was a good thing, a silver lining on the single cloud that occupied the bright, clear sky.
"Oh, Jaune. What have you done now?"
The one voice he didn't want to hear, especially not now.
"Hey, Joan," Jaune greeted, though it came out more as a gurgle of blood and teeth.
"Gods, Jaune, this is serious. Come on, let's get you out of here." Joan said, bending down and lifting him up, her face contorting with a wince as the boy groaned in pure, unrelenting agony as she carried him.
She helped him out of the alley and towards the town's infirmary, where she gently laid him in a bed that Jaune had spent nearly as much time in as his own.
"Jaune and Joan Arc. What a surprise. Who did he pick a fight with this time?"
Joan looked towards the person who was speaking. "Healer Ray! I… I don't know, but it's serious!"
The healer nodded in agreement, placing a hand against Jaune's chest, as Jaune gave a sharp breath at the pressure.
"Yes, it seems so. You'd think your brother would have learned his lesson the last hundred times he was in here," the healer said, shaking his head.
Magic began to glow at the healer's fingertips, diffusing into Jaune, and Joan watched as the boy's laboured breathing began to steady, slowly but surely.
Teeth began to regrow in the boy's mouth, and flesh that had been torn open began to mend, stitching itself back together.
Even shattered bone reformed, moving back into place and reestablishing connections.
The swelling on Jaune's face died down, and he could finally open his eyes fully, the blackened bruises around his eyes slowly returning to his regular skin tone.
And the concussion began to heal, allowing the boy to think a little clearer.
"Damnit, Jaune! You damned fool! Stop doing this to yourself!" His sister exclaimed, gently slamming a fist on his now healed arm.
"Sorry, Joan. I had to," Jaune groaned, the pain still receding yet still present.
"Jaune, you don't have to. You never had to!" Joan exclaimed again, becoming more hysterical.
"They were about to have their way with a girl, Joan. I couldn't look at myself if I didn't step in."
Joan's reply was cut off as the girl stared, anger etched into her face. "They… who, Jaune?"
"Winchester, and his friends." Jaune's reply was strained and quiet, but Joan heard it well enough.
The sheer growl that left his sister's lips brought a small smirk to Jaune's face. "That utter bastard. He won't get away with it this time!"
Jaune shook his head. "Of course he will. His father's the head of the guard, and his mother's the mayor. There isn't much he can't do that won't get overlooked as 'rambunctious boys being boys', Joan."
"I'm going to make sure he doesn't do it again, Jaune. In the square, where he can't just do what he wants. If he wants to use his parents to avoid consequences, we won't give him an option. See what he does then," Joan said, and Jaune reached up, gripping his sister's hand tightly.
"Don't, Joan. It'll only make him target you, too. I can take it, but there's no way I'm letting you deal with what I deal with."
Joan stood up. "Do you feel better?"
Jaune nodded, standing up.
"Healer Ray! Thanks for the help! What do we owe you?" Joan called out.
Healer Ray, who'd walked off the moment Jaune had been healed, poked his head back in the room. "I'll send the bill to your parents. I'm certain they'll be happy to hear about getting the opportunity to support the infirmary for the next month all by themselves again."
Jaune and Joan both paled, but the muttered thanks was all that Healer Ray needed to hear. "I'm kidding, kids. This one's free, just… don't go making it a habit. Next time your parents get a pretty big letter."
Jaune and Joan nodded, before Joan practically dragged Jaune out of the infirmary.
She led him to the square, the town in the middle of its bustling day, and she stepped into the center of the square, up on the raised dais.
Jaune winced as his sister, who did not share his utter nervousness as the center of attention, shouted.
"Cardin Winchester! Come out here, or so help me!" Joan shouted, her sharp voice splitting through the hustle and bustle of the square.
It drew the attention of the majority of people walking around, and it was only moments before Cardin stepped out of the tavern, a frown on his face.
"What do you want, Arc?" He growled loud enough to be heard.
"You beat my brother within an inch of his life because he tried to stop you from raping a girl!" Joan shouted, her words drawing the attention of everyone, even those who'd been ignoring what had happened thus far.
Cardin paled, but only for a second, before he stepped up to the dais, glaring at Joan. "I didn't do that, you blonde moron!"
Joan stared daggers at him, not backing down. Jaune stepped up next to his sister, placing a protective hand on her shoulder.
"You think you can just accuse me of something like that without any kind of evidence? I'll show you what happens to people like you!" Cardin shouted, stepping up onto the dais, but Jaune stepped in-between Cardin and his sister.
Cardin reacted to that as one would expect, shoving Jaune off the dais with a hefty fist, and proceeding to backhand Joan across the face, launching her off the dais and onto the stone floor.
Jaune, anger written onto his face, crawled to his feet, quickly reaching Joan.
"Joan, are you okay?" He asked, but there was no response. "Joan?"
Still no response. Jaune grabbed his sister by the shoulders, giving her a gentle shake. "Joan?!"
His voice was ramping up in intensity, and it wasn't until the fifth time he said her name he noticed the trail of blood leaking from the back of her head, or the fact that his sister wasn't breathing.
Jaune slumped back, kneeling, his sister in his arms.
Tears streamed down the blond's face as he wept.
"Serves her right," Cardin muttered.
Jaune's world went very, very white.
"Ruby? Ruby? You back with us?"
Silver eyes fluttered open, unfocused.
The sudden, overwhelming urge to throw up filled her body, but she resisted, steeling her nerve as pain filled her body.
"Urgh, I don't remember it hurting this much last time," Ruby groaned out, blinking away the tears that pooled at the corners of her eyes.
"Welcome to the life at Beacon Tower. If you aren't in pain, you aren't doing it right," Jaune quipped from his seat at her bedside.
Ren, on the other side, his palm glowing with magic, nodded in amused agreement.
"What happened? I didn't hurt anybody, did I?" Ruby asked, suddenly worried. She tried to sit up, but the combination of weariness and Jaune's arm pushing her back down prevented it.
"Well, you gave us all a good workout, and nicked my arm a little, but nothing serious. Don't worry, I've been hurt way worse," Jaune said with a casual smile, showing Ruby his arm. "Not even a scar."
That didn't stop Ruby from feeling guilty, though. "I'm so sorry, Jaune!"
Jaune waved off the apology. "Nah, don't fret about it. It was nothing."
"It wasn't nothing! I- I hurt you!" Ruby exclaimed.
A new voice joined the conversation. "If that had hurt Jaune, he'd never have made it this far in Beacon."
Ruby looked to the door, to see Blake gently closing it behind her.
"Ren, Jaune," Blake greeted, the two nodding their greeting in return.
"But I-" Ruby began, but Blake quickly interrupted.
"I've sparred with Jaune a few times now, Ruby, and the idiot can take a beating. A small cut is nothing in comparison to what I've seen him take. The bed next to you is unofficially his, for a good reason."
Jaune laughed good-naturedly. "I've probably spent a quarter of my nights in the infirmary since I've gotten here. A combination of pushing myself too far too fast, and failing to perform."
Blake's smirk widened slightly. "According to Pyrrha, 'failing to perform' isn't a problem you suffer from."
Jaune's face tinged pink, but he laughed it off. "At least I know how to wind down without 'Ninja's of Love', Blake."
Blake's smirk disappeared as quick as it came. "You-"
"Enough, you two. You're traumatising Ruby," Ren chastised, a small smile gracing his face.
Ruby's bright red face was enough to remind the two that there was another in their presence, one that wasn't as used to their good-natured bickering as the rest of Beacon.
Bashfully, Jaune rubbed the back of his head. Blake at least had the decency to look away, embarrassed.
"Is Ruby ready to be discharged?" Blake asked, once she'd recovered.
Ren nodded. "If she feels fine. My healing is finished, so it's up to her."
"I feel fine now, thanks Ren. I have to apologize to the others, though," Ruby said, sidling out of the bed and brushing her clothes down, attempting to physically urge the creases out.
Blake shook her head. "You don't have to apologize to anyone, nor do you have the luxury of finding everyone right now. We wouldn't normally plunge you into something so fast after something like this, but we don't have much of a choice."
Jaune stood from the seat he'd taken, a concerned look on his face. "Blake, what's going on?"
"The Atlesian Empire just declared war on Vale."
Some stuff happening, and despite the fact that this story still has no concrete plot I'm doing what I do best and improvising. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I have to say, I'm stunned at the support the first chapter received!
Thanks to all of you who left reviews, and everyone who fav'ed and followed!
And, as always, see you next chapter
~AFatFlyingWhale