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Whitaker's voice crackled over the radio. "Did everyone miss me?" He angled the Bullhead downward, pointing the nose straight towards the Atlesian Paladin. A full-on battle raged under him, right in the center of Vale.

"Is... Is that Whitaker?" Yang asked, glancing up at the night sky.

"Everyone take cover!" Whitaker shoved the throttle of the Bullhead as far as it would go. He removed the straps that kept him restrained to the seat and glanced at Ruby.

"Ready?" She asked.

"Ready." Whitaker grinned.

In a whirl of red roses, Ruby and Whitaker disappeared from the cockpit of the Bullhead as it sped towards the Paladin. With a violent, almost earth-shattering crash, the two giant machines collided in a mess of screeching and screaming metal. Ruby and Whitaker appeared once again beside the rest of Team RWBY, Sun, and Neptune.

"Glad you could join us," Yang said. She pumped her fists, brief jets of flame shooting out from Ember Cecilia.

"I'd hate to miss a party." Whitaker unsheathed Lightning.

"Same here." Ruby drew Crescent Rose in a whirl of steel.

"Are you guys a bunch of comic book superheroes?!" called Roman as he arose from the wreckage of the Paladin. He clutched his cane, using it to stabilize himself. "Don't tell me you're all going to start playing a movie soundtrack next."

Whitaker surged forward, Lightning fully drawn and charged. Arcs of electricity trailed across the surface of the blade. When he neared Roman, his senses— his entire body— screamed at him to stop and dodge. Acting on nothing but pure instinct, Whitaker threw himself to the side just as the long, bladed point of a parasol shattered into existence where he had been but moments before.

Standing a few feet from him was a well-dressed woman in neapolitan colors. Her eyes themselves were heterochromatic, one a strawberry pink and the other a dark chocolate brown. She wore a slight smirk, like she was sharing a secret joke with someone.

"Well, it was nice playing with you kids," Roman said. "But we'll be going now. Have fun cleaning up the mess!"

The parasol-wielding woman walked up to Roman and grabbed his hand. In an explosion of glass, they disappeared before Whitaker's very eyes.

Whitaker sat up, laying Lightning flat against the asphalt as the rest of the group moved towards him. "That worked better than I thought." He nodded at the wreckage of the Bullhead and the Paladin.

"Yeah, you're telling us," Yang said. "The last thing I expected tonight was a Bullhead crash."

"How did you even get that thing?" Sun asked.

"Stole it."

"I didn't peg you as the type to steal. Much less from Beacon Academy," he argued.

Whitaker shrugged and rose to his feet. He sheathed Lightning. "My friends were in trouble. I think it's justifiable there somehow."

"It also helps that you're buddy-buddy with Ms. Goodwitch," added Blake.

"That's true."

Almost as if she was being summoned, Whitaker's Scroll buzzed within his pocket. He pulled it out, already knowing who it was. He answered the call.

"Ms. Goodwitch—"

"Mr. Ash," she cut. Her tone nearly sliced him to pieces. "I expect you, and all of your friends, to be back at Beacon within thirty minutes. And if you are not…" She trailed off and hung up the phone.

For some reason, the sheer lack of a threat was even more terrifying.

Whitaker turned to the rest of the group, eyes panicked. "She wants us back in thirty minutes."

"Or?" Yang asked.

"She didn't say."

"Oh no…" Blake whispered.

Together, they all rushed to find the nearest and soonest Bullhead that was leaving for Beacon. With fear as their motivation, it didn't take long at all to be able to locate a Bullhead that would take them back to Beacon. No, that wasn't the problem at all. The problem was the fact that they all knew Ms. Goodwitch would be waiting for them at the landing zone.

"What do you think she'll say?" Yang asked as they all sat beside each other inside of the Bullhead.

"She'll scold us, then give me detention for stealing a Bullhead, and then subtly tell us that we did a good thing and she's glad we're safe," Whitaker predicted.

"Why does that feel so accurate?" Blake murmured.

"It's just who she is," said Whitaker. He smiled at Blake before looking at both her and Yang. "Was there anyone else chasing you?"

"If there were, we would've lost them in the chase," Sun guessed.

"Good."

It didn't take long for them to arrive at Beacon, considering Whitaker's mind raced at a mile a second. He was thinking of too many things, of everything. There were a plethora of unanswered questions that were now plaguing his mind. How did Torchwick acquire Atlesian Paladins? Where did he find the time to become so proficient with it? What did Torchwick and the White Fang plan to do with them? But most importantly, who was the woman that Torchwick commanded?

"Someone's doing a lot of thinking," Blake commented with a half-smile. "Mind sharing your thoughts?"

Whitaker nodded. "I'll tell you once Ms. Goodwitch is done ripping into us."

"Okay."

The Bullhead lowered itself to the landing zone with a deep hum, and the bay opened to reveal a very, very pissed off Glynda Goodwitch. Her arms were crossed, her brows narrowed like bolts of lightning, and her eyes were as sharp as steel.

Headmaster Ozpin stood beside her, looking as nonplussed as ever with his slight smile and partially closed eyes.

"Sun Wukong, Neptune Vasilias, and Team RWBY," Ms. Goodwitch began as they all filed out of the Bullhead. "I am glad that you are all safe and uninjured. However, I find it beyond me how or why all of you decided that an outing that lasts until this hour of the day would be a wise decision. Much less an outing that results in a highway chase, involving Roman Torchwick, an Atlesian Paladin, and a crashed Bullhead!"

"Ms. Goodwitch," Yang began, stepping forward into the verbal arena. "It's my fault. I… wanted to do something about the White Fang and—"

"No," Blake interjected. "That's my fault. I—"

"Enough! It doesn't matter whose fault it is," Ms. Goodwitch cut in. "All of you except for Whitaker Ash will be receiving three days' worth of detention."

"Except Whitaker?" Ruby asked.

Ms. Goodwitch's green eyes flicked over to him. "Whitaker will be receiving two weeks' worth of detention for his actions."

Whitaker pursed his lips and nodded. He was genuinely expecting it to be worse than that. Much worse. Maybe detentions for a month, or something. "Yes, Ms. Goodwitch."

Ozpin looked like he wanted to speak up, but he also likely didn't want to suffer the wrath of Glynda Goodwitch. It was an objectively smarter decision to not say a thing.

"Good. Get back to your dorms. Don't make me escort you there," she ordered.

Everyone nodded and tiredly plodded back to their rooms. Sun and Neptune said their see-you-laters when they separated. Team RWBY set about their nightly routines, and as they were settling into bed, Whitaker's Scroll buzzed with a notification.

It was from Blake.

What were you thinking about?

How Roman got a Paladin and what he plans to do with it.

I was wondering the same thing too. They're supposed to be prototypes just for the Atlesian Military.

Maybe the White Fang has connections there.

Doubtful. But… I can't outright refute it. I'll do more research once I'm done with detentions.

Leave me something, at least, Blake.

Not a chance. Were you thinking of anything else?

The woman that appeared with Roman at the end. She's strong.

Catch your fancy?

If my fancy is being impaled by a sword, then most definitely.

A laughing emoji. You're right, though. I don't think I would've been able to dodge her attack had I been the one charging at Roman.

You wouldn't have. I almost couldn't. She worries me, especially because she seems utterly loyal to him.

Should I add her to the list of people to be afraid of and/or run away from?

Whitaker snorted. Probably. Is Ms. Goodwitch already on that list?

Since the first day we got here.

"Hey," Yang mumbled. "Stop texting each other. I can see your Scroll lights from here. Go to sleep already."

Blake's Scroll snapped shut. "Shut it, Yang."

"Shut it, Yang," the blonde annoyingly repeated.

Whitaker laughed. "Goodnight, Yang. Goodnight, Blake."

"Goodnight…" Blake murmured.

[;]

"Mr. Ash," Glynda began. She walked over to the window that overlooked part of the central garden that surrounded the CCT of Beacon Academy. It was around six in the evening. Small lights illuminated the stone pathways, "How on Remnant did you get access to that Bullhead? And where did you learn to fly one?"

"The same pilot as when we were looking for Blake was on shift. I told him that my team was in trouble and needed a Bullhead," Whitaker said.

"And that was all?"

The white-haired teen lightly scratched the side of his cheek. "I… uh… also told him that I had your approval."

"I should have foreseen this." Glynda sighed. "Very well. Whitaker, you are an excellent student, this cannot be refuted. But I sincerely hope you reflect on your decisions tonight. Lying your way into doing something as risky and dangerous as crashing a Bullhead is not the sign of a good Huntsman."

"I know." Whitaker nodded. "I understand. I just… had a moment, I guess."

"A moment? What do you mean?"

"I don't know. It's hard to explain."

Glynda's normally stern countenance became soft. She was concerned. "Try to explain it to me."

"I just had an urge to do it. Like… It was just the right thing to do. Or that I needed to do it."

Glynda stared at Whitaker. Then, she started to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

Glynda cried laughing, placing her hand on the wall to stabilize herself. She wiped her eyes as Whitaker stared at her, completely and utterly confused. "So… Y-you just did something impulsively? Like any other normal teenager?"

"I… I guess that's what it sounds like, yeah."

Glynda calmed herself down before continuing. "You are normal after all."

"Because I did something incredibly dangerous?"

"You acted without thinking of the consequences," she corrected. "Most people your age have a propensity to do that. And even more so when they are Huntsman."

"But it wasn't a good decision."

Glynda nodded in agreement. "It is rare when such risks are also considered good decisions. You're lucky you got away with little to no injuries. Worst case scenario is that you and Ruby both died in the crash had something gone wrong. I'm sure I don't need to remind you how fragile your Aura is?"

"I know." Whitaker leaned back against his chair. "What am I supposed to take away fro this, Ms. Goodwitch? It feels like you're praising me for what I did."

"In some ways, I am," she explained. "I'm pleasantly surprised that you still have some traits of being a young, tempestuous teenager. It tells me that you aren't the complete robot that Ozpin seems to think you are. I am also worried about the harsh consequences of your rash decisions and how they are going to affect the rest of your team. I'm worried that your brilliance will get to your head, and you will lose sight of what it truly means to be a Huntsman."

Whitaker couldn't resist. "And what does it mean to be a Huntsman?"

Glynda Goodwitch pursed her lips.

Whitaker knew it was something she often did when she was in deep thought. Or wasn't sure what to do. Or when she didn't know what to say. He should have known better than to directly ask her such a question, especially when it wasn't directed at what Glynda Goodwitch believed it meant to be a Huntsman. The definition of what it meant to be a Huntsman was subjective. It always was. You could ask a million Huntsman the same question, and once you got to the precise reason, you would have a million different answers. Sure, they could be synthesized into umbrella terms like family, love, or duty, but that eliminated the authenticity of the reasoning.

"Why do you ask?"

"I just want to know what you think it means," Whitaker said.

"Because you believe that it will help you find your meaning?"

Whitaker shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe?"

Glynda sighed. She walked over to her desk, sitting down on the chair opposite Whitaker. She crossed her legs and leaned forward. Steepling her fingers, she said, "A long time ago, I became a Huntsman because I believed in what they represented. They were paragons of society. They were heroic, righteous, and courageous. I wanted that; I wanted to be like them."

"And did that change?"

"Parts of it did. Parts of it didn't," Glynda said. "But… I'm not going to spill my worries with a student of mine. Maybe when you graduate, I will tell you the full story, Whitaker."

"Okay," Whitaker said.

"Good. Now, with that said, we'll start your actual detention now."

"Wait, what?"

Glynda grinned maniacally. "Let's get some paperwork done, Whitaker."

Oh, gods

[;]

"You look miserable, Witt," Blake observed as he returned to the Team RWBY dorm. She was in her pajamas, sitting with her back against the headboard and a book in her hands. She didn't have her bow on. Her cat ears twitched slightly. "Did Ms. Goodwitch grill you that hard?"

"Paperwork, Blake. Gods-damned paperwork." Whitaker fell face-first onto his mattress and let loose a tired sigh. "Where's Ruby and Yang?"

"With Team JNPR," Blake said. "Something about a video game night."

"Probably playing Legend of Remnant," Whitaker said.

Blake hummed. "I didn't know you were into games."

"They got me into it while I was staying at Patch," he explained. "I haven't played since before we started at Beacon."

"Ah. I see."

Whitaker turned to face Blake. "What about you? Aside from reading, do you have any other hobbies?"

"Uh…" Blake trailed off. She set her book down. "Training?"

"Besides training? Or any other Huntsman-related things?"

Blake shrugged helplessly. "I.. uh… No, there's not much."

Whitaker pursed his lips in thought. "Do you want a new hobby?"

"Not particularly. I'm actually happy with how my time is being spent right now," Blake said. "Any more things to do and I'd lose track of my priorities."

"Fair enough."

"Do you want a new hobby?"

"Maybe?" Whitaker half-said. "I don't really know where I'd find the time for it either."

Blake smirked. "If I'd told you that I did want another hobby, what would you have suggested?"

"Video games?" Whitaker offered.

Blake rolled her eyes. She blew a raspberry and shot him a thumbs-down. "Try again."

"I've got nothing."

"What about dancing?"

"What."

"Dancing. I mean," Blake continued. "We're both light on our feet, and the more… dextrous fighters on the team. What if we learned how to dance?"

"Is this because of that dance that's coming up?"

Blake tilted her head. "There's a dance coming up?"

"Yeah. It'll be in a few weeks."

"Oh." Blake's cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson. "It wasn't intentional or planned, I just thought that… I'd always been a little interested in dancing since I was a kid. Its part of the reason why I made Gambol Shroud into a kusarigama. Combat forms and dancing… They're one in the same, right?"

"Yeah. They are." Whitaker nodded, finding Blake's reasoning slightly amusing. He tilted his head in Blake's direction, then he smiled. "Sure. Let's learn how to dance together."

[;]

Pyrrha Nikos stepped out of the locker rooms and into the classroom arena fully dressed and prepared for combat. Within the ring stood all of Team CRDL. While it was likely an exciting match for those who didn't personally know Pyrrha, Whitaker knew that it was going to be a cake walk for the champion. Her Semblance made defeating her with any Huntsman weapon a near impossibility. It was little wonder how she became a championship fighter at such a young age.

"Begin!" Glynda's voice cut through the air.

Pyrrha wiped the floor with all of Team CRDL in less than two minutes. With a flourish, she switched Miló back into its original spear form. Her team cheered for her, the applause and whooping pulling her from her battle trance. As Glynda told her how excellently she performed, she blushed like any teenager receiving praise from their teachers.

"She makes it look so easy," Yang grumbled.

"Because it is easy for her," Whitaker answered. "She isn't even sweating."

Before Yang could respond, Ms. Goodwitch called out to the rest of the class. "Is there anyone else who would like to challenge Pyrrha?"

Whitaker glanced around at the students in attendance for the class. With the Vytal Festival swiftly approaching, many of the students from the other academies: Haven, Atlas, and Shade, popped up in Beacon over the last few days since Team RWBY's last run in with Torchwick.

A teen with spiky gray hair raised a hand. "I would."

"Mercury Black, right?" Glynda asked.

Mercury bobbed his head.

Glynda turned to Pyrrha. "Pyrrha, do you accept his challenge?"

"I—"

"She just fought a 4-on-1 fight," Whitaker interjected. "It's making me itch too." He glanced at Ms. Goodwitch. "Do you mind if I spar instead, Professor?"

"Mr. Black?"

Mercury's gray eyes flashed with anger for a second so split that Whitaker almost missed it. And that was when Whitaker knew that Mercury was aiming for something else besides a simple spar with Pyrrha. No normal student knew how to hide their emotions that well, much less have so much self-control that they know when they look angry or irritated.

Whitaker simply smiled at Mercury.

"Well," Glynda said. "I apologize, Pyrrha. It seems you've inspired your peers to do just as well as you do in combat. Whitaker and Mercury, head to the lockers and fetch your equipment. You have two minutes."

Whitaker walked off to the lockers with Mercury at his heel. The walk to the lockers was a brief one, but as Mercury followed him, Whitaker realized something. Or rather, the lack of something. Mercury's footsteps were nearly imperceptible. Not because he was light-footed or was somehow hovering above the ground. No, the reason was mundane, but even more impressive.

Mercury matched his gait perfectly.

"You and the redhead a thing?" Mercury asked once they were inside of the locker room.

"Nah," Whitaker said.

"Then why did you wait until I challenged her?"

Whitaker popped open his locker. He grabbed Lightning's sheath and strapped it around his waist. "Because I thought you'd be worth fighting."

Mercury leaned against the locker beside Whitaker's. "And how'd you figure that?"

"The way you walk." Whitaker closed his locker. He stared straight into Mercury's eyes. "Like a killer."

Mercury looked back at him in silence.

"But," Whitaker whispered. "I'm just a student of Beacon Academy. So what do I know?"

Without another word, Whitaker walked out of the locker rooms and back to the arena.

[;]

Whitaker Ash and Mercury Black stood opposite each other in the arena. Their Auras were synced up to the system, displaying their names and pictures accompanied with bright green bars. Whitaker still hadn't drawn Lightning. Mercury didn't appear to have a weapon either. The two fighters simply stared at each other, waiting for Glynda's signal.

"Begin!"

Mercury launched towards Whitaker, his legs blasting like cannons. He leapt off of the ground and twirled his body around— his right leg striking downwards in an axe-kick. Whitaker swerved on his heel. He spun out of the way as Mercury landed, the floor of the arena cracking behind the weight of the strike.

Strong legs.

Whitaker ducked beneath a swift roundhouse. He threaded himself between a flurry of kicks that Mercury fired off at his head and his chest. Whitaker quickly dived back, making space between him and Mercury.

"You're fast," Mercury said aloud. "That your Semblance or something?"

Whitaker shrugged. "I don't know myself, honestly."

Mercury rolled his eyes. "Let's find out, then."

He reared himself back slightly. Mercury appeared in front of Whitaker with his leg cocked and aimed directly at Whitaker's chest. At his heart.

Whitaker's Semblance snapped into action.

Time slowed to a crawl. Years passed in milliseconds. Whitaker slipped free of the kick. He unsheathed Lightning, electricity arcing across the surface of the blade.

He sliced across Mercury's chest.

The intoxicating scent of blood filled his nostrils. It was… delicious.

Yes… More… More blood!

Click!

More. More! MORE!

More blood. They needed more blood? Whitaker would give them blood.

Click-click!

TEAR HIS FLESH FROM HIS BONES. FEED HIM TO THE RATS.

Click-click—

"—taker! Whitaker Ash, calm yourself!"

TOCK!

Something in the back of Whitaker's mind resounded. He was restrained by Glynda Goodwitch's Semblance. Rocks and stones that had been lifted from the arena were pressed against him and his ribs, digging painfully into his flesh. "What is…" Whitaker looked up at the Aura monitor, confused.

Mercury's Aura was depleted. He was on the ground, covered in a pool of his own blood. Paramedics were tending to him. Mercury was lifted onto a stretcher and swiftly escorted out of the classroom.

Lightning was out of Whitaker's hands. It was absolutely covered in blood.

Whitaker glanced at Ms. Goodwitch. He was feeling lightheaded all of a sudden. The lights that illuminated the arena were getting too bright. Too distracting. His arms and muscles felt weak, like he'd spent the last two hours doing nothing but exercising.

Team RWBY and Team JNPR all stared at him in horror. Hands covered mouths. Eyes were wide with shock, disbelief, and terror. Yang shielded Ruby's eyes. Whitaker looked at Blake; she refused to meet his gaze, her eyes firmly locked on the blood blade of Lightning.

"Everyone, I—"

Darkness filled his vision.

[;]

"I told you this would happen."

He opened his eyes to meet Harros Vesta's. The man was kneeling over him, his hand extended to Whitaker. Whitaker accepted the help and unsteadily rose to his feet.

They were once again floating— standing? — within the "physical manifestation of his soul," as Harros put it. It was still nothing but a dark void.

"You need Lightbearer, Whitaker Ash," Harros said. "Not using it for this long… I'm surprised it hasn't already killed you."

"I'm lucky, I guess," Whitaker said. "What happened earlier?"

"A consequence of ignoring Lightbearer," Harros explained. "How much do you know about Aura?"

"Only as much as I've been told," Whitaker said. "Which is not much. It's one of the many mysteries of Remnant."

"I figured as much," Harros grumbled, clearly frustrated. "Sit. I will explain it to you now."

Whitaker followed Harros orders and sat down upon nothingness. "Wait, how much do you know about Aura?"

Harros sat in front of him. "We used it nearly every day. Much like your relationship with your modern tools, if we did not know how exactly it worked, then we would have been destroyed by the Grimm. We needed to know its limits, its potential, and its strengths."

Whitaker nodded. It made perfect sense to him. Technological advancements had changed the face of Remnant years ago. They had modern comforts to rely upon. Most of them didn't need to worry about whether or not they would need to face Grimm the next morning. And for a Hunter, technology lessened the reliance on Aura. They had medicine, surgery, armor, firearms, and mecha-shift weapons. During Harros' time, they had nothing but swords, bows, and what little medicine they had available to them.

Harros, within the mindscape they shared, shaped a humanoid figure out of dark brown clay. It looked like any typical historical sculpture of a person. "This is your typical person whose Aura is unactivated"

He conjured an exact replica of the clay sculpture. "And this is someone whose Aura has been activated."

"They're… the same?" Whitaker questioned. There were no changes between the two.

"On the outside," Harros said. He set the two sculpture down, and Whitaker watched with wide eyes as they began to walk on the same nothingness that he sat on. "Where do you think the soul is kept, Whitaker?"

"The heart?" Whitaker guessed.

"Correct." Harros picked up the non-Aura-activated sculpture. He dug his finger into its chest and opened it up like one would open a door. Inside the sculpture was its heart. It was a dull brown, the same color as the rest of it. "The soul, inside of a normal person, is stored within their heart. It is kept there, protected and shielded, and forever hidden away.

"But the soul of someone with Aura…"

Harros grabbed the Aura-activated sculpture and opened its chest. Whitaker expected it to be the same dull color as the non-Aura sculpture. But instead, it was glowing brilliantly. It was like the sculpture had captured and stored a star within its chest. All across the inside of the sculpture, its golden heart pumped golden ichor through its body.

Harros continued his explanation. "Their soul is spread throughout their entire body, permeating their entire physical being. The prime directive of the soul is to protect the person, which is why it protects Hunters from direct harm like a shield normally would. This is purely why Hunters are able to fight against Grimm. They can withstand stress and damage that a normal person would never be able to handle. Aura keeps you alive, as well. It's like your batteries for your… devices. Aura recharges with rest and food, only being used up when you need it most."

"Right. That makes sense so far."

"Good. Because it's about to get confusing."

"Great."

"Semblances, as you know, are derived from people's character traits. Who they are defines what their Semblance is, right?"

Whitaker nodded.

"The Firestarters shared a different opinion. We believed that our Semblances were a form of fulfillment. That our Semblances represented things we wanted the most, things we feared the most, or things we loved the most— not aspects of our personalities," Harros said. "Take your Semblance for example."

"Reaction time?"

Harros looked at Whitaker in disbelief. "Reaction time?"

"I… That's what it is, isn't it?"

"No, that's not your Semblance. It might be a beneficial side-effect of it, however."

"Then what is my Semblance, if you're so wise?"

"Think, Whitaker. What is something that you believe in? Something you are fully convinced to be true, and have allowed it to guide you your entire life? Something that you want so desperately to be true?"

"Destiny?"

Harros nodded once.

"That doesn't make any sense. How does my reaction time relate to destiny?"

"Perhaps only you will ever know the answer to that question," Harros offered. "I don't believe in destiny, Whitaker. You do."

Whitaker clutched the side of his head. "This is insane. My Semblance can't just be destiny. You and the Firestarters had to have missed something."

Harros shrugged. "I am simply telling you what I know and understand. But in truth, we know more about Aura than Semblances. Do you want to return to the topic of Aura?"

"Yes. Please," Whitaker answered. "What does Lightbearer have to do with my Aura?"

"How simply do you want me to say it?"

"As simply as possible."

Harros locked eyes with Whitaker. A weight suddenly dropped onto Whitaker's shoulders and chest. "It is replacing your Aura."

The weight became an anvil. "W-what?"

"Lightbearer is a sentient weapon, Whitaker. It is through Lightbearer that I am able to speak to you. That Corinth was able to speak to you," Harros explained slowly. "It has its own Aura. Have you noticed that you've been acting… unlike yourself?"

"Yeah. I have," Whitaker murmured. "What happened earlier… That wasn't me, was it?"

Harros shook his head. "No. It wasn't. That was the wielder before Corinth. A bloodthirsty hound of war that used Lightbearer to conquer all of Sanus."

"But how did he… become me? How did he do that?"

"As I said before: Lightbearer has its own Aura," Harros said. "This Aura is an amalgamation of all its previous owners. The souls of every wielder before you is embedded into Lightbearer, and eventually yours will join with it."

"Hold on, my soul will join with Lightbearer?"

"Once you die, either of natural causes or on the battlefield," Harros said.

"That's not— I don't want that."

"It's not a matter of you wanting it or not, Whitaker. It's already being done."

"That's not fair…" Whitaker found himself fighting tears. "I don't even get a choice?"

"Steady yourself, Whitaker." Harros moved closer to him— kneeled before him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "As Huntsman, or otherwise, we rarely do. As Corinth said once before: Lightbearer is as much of a burden as it is a gift. You will learn this in time, as we all did."

Whitaker swallowed to wet his dry and coarse throat. "I understand," he choked. "What… What should I say once I regain consciousness? About Lightbearer and how it wasn't me that did that to Mercury."

"It will be a difficult truth to tell," Harros admitted. "Ozma will be there once you awake. Tell him the truth."

"Now? I thought you would be against that."

"I was initially. But Kalarel has revealed himself to you," said Harros. "You need Lightbearer, Whitaker. The more you continue down this path, the more you avoid using the weapon you are destined for, the more Kalarel— and other wielders of Lightbearer— will be able to usurp your will. Who knows what damage they will be capable of causing?"

"Right." That was something both he and Harros could agree on. The absolute last thing that Whitaker needed was to hurt those he cared about, be it those at Beacon or his parents. "I'll tell Ozpin."

"And someone else. Someone you can absolutely, implicitly trust." Harros' grip on his shoulder tightened. "You may have many friends and acquaintances, Whitaker Ash, but I know that you do not trust them as deeply as you say you do."

Whitaker pursed his lips. He tried to find a point that he could argue from but to no avail. He nodded his head. "I understand."

"Good." Harros released him. "Now awake. You will be very busy these next few days." Harros snapped his fingers.

Whitaker's vision filled with color.


Some spicy stuff happening this chapter. Thanks for bearing with me while I suffer through some writer's block. I finally found the time to sit my ass down in a chair and write this chapter. Expect updates maybe every Saturday or Sunday? We'll see. I won't promise anything.

Review responses below:

Idknows: Here you go! Flames of imagination received and your new chapter has been delivered.

Allheaven Paragon: Thanks for sharing your thoughts on the dialogue choices. I won't try to defend them, they were hastily written (and thus poorly written). And hopefully this chapter answers your questions about Whitaker's Semblance.

RandomPerson2709: Thank you! The pairing at this point is a genuine toss-up. I'm leaning more towards Blake though, considering that the two of them have fairly good chemistry.

Kodaking: Ah ha! More questions about Whitaker's Semblance. In truth, it's not a cut-and-dry Semblance. Between that and wielding Lightbearer... Semblances are bound to evolve and become more than what they were originally.

See y'all in the next one.