"…a curse is a type of magic that isn't simply grounded in one's own ability, but something that draws from a different sort of source known as a concept. They can come in all shapes and forms, weak and small, or concentrated and vicious."
The sound of pencils and pens writing and scribbling over crowded lecture notes echoed in one of Beacon Academy's lecture halls. The entire auditorium space was as occupied as it had been in the prior classes if not more so.
Archer was aware that some students and even professors present were skipping out on their scheduled classes just to spectate, and he had no qualms with that. Honestly, it seemed to be more of an issue for the headmaster to fuss over, but it meant little when Ozpin himself was sitting inside the crowd. Only Glynda looked annoyed, but if anything, she was helpless in what she could do. She might as well pursue her own doubts and curiosities.
This was Archer's third lecture in the transition period where normalcy was beginning to set in for Beacon's students. They had learned more about what Champions of Light and Dark were, and the 'history' left buried in the past, but today's lesson focused on other aspects rather than affiliation and stories.
Within Archer's view, a hand was raised belonging to some meeker looking student with long bunny ears. Judging from her seating on the opposite side of the first years, it was simple to conclude that the girl was part of the upper year students that took this course as an elective.
"A question?" He took the time to ask.
For a second, the girl fidgeted, her bunny ears drooping at the attention that focused on her, but she still asked the question in her mind anyway. "Curses are actually real?"
It was rather simple to tell that the girl and many others were thinking about those horror movie curses derived from superstitions. The answer to that is simple then.
"Yes," he said, eliciting a wary reaction.
"Can we do them too?" Blake coughed and asked proactively. As a fan of literature, this was something she was genuinely curious about. That, and she wondered if any of the petty curses she and Illya had leveled towards Faunus rights abusers had had any merit in them.
"It would take certain catalysts, but that can indeed be the case."
A glint twinkled in Blake's eyes. "Then you know how?"
"…" Archer didn't answer. The silence was acknowledgement itself, but this was going off tangent.
Fortunately, Glynda sighed and tried to get things back on track. "Why are we learning about curses? Doesn't it seem outside the intended curriculum?" She asked, allowing Archer to continue back to the matter at hand.
"Because often, they are branded into a Champion's artifacts either through taint of blood, or directly engraving them." Archer began pacing, making sure that everyone was listening by using movement to draw their eyes. "The antithesis of a curse is known as a blessing or a sacrament, and they too can be imbued in a weapon. What matters now is that you are made aware of them before you fall susceptible. A curse or sacrament are the embodiments of a particular revolving concept that enables their use. They are the equivalent of facing an opponent with an unknown Semblance, some more overpowered than others."
"How overpowered are you speaking of?" Pyrrha raised a hand and asked when pointed to. "Is it on the level of regulated Semblances in Arena fights?"
Ector too found himself curious while jotting down notes by this point.
"Much worse." Was all Archer said.
Expectedly, the answer wasn't up to the standard of the studious students whose perception was grounded in belief.
"Do you have an example?" Weiss asked, being the spokesperson for those skeptical.
The response was one that Archer was waiting for in order to demonstrate a simple mental exercise. Moving towards the board, he grabbed a pointer stick and extended it to the length of a normal short sword.
"Let's say I wanted to attack you with this board pointer."
Weiss nodded, following along.
"The premise is that it's imbued with a certain curse, and that you die if it touches you. I will act out how I would attack you, and you will tell me how you would react."
After a second of consideration and finding nothing unreasonable, Weiss agreed to participate. As a Schnee, excelling under the scrutiny of others was her calling.
"Hmph. Simple enough." Confidence abounded her.
"Alright, then let's start with the first attack." Shirou languidly thrusted to his left, far off from Weiss's direction, and then nodded at her. "How would you react?"
Was this some kind of joke? For a second, Weiss considered if there was some sort of trick here, but she realized that Archer was being dead serious. Forgive her if a bit of irritation bled through in her response.
"I wouldn't." She crossed her arms and snorted. "Your aim is horrid."
"...and you're dead."
"W-What?!" Weiss gawked if only for a second before sneering in petulance.
Shirou didn't explain and just continued on. "Let's try this again."
This time, he blatantly turned his back on Weiss, and then stupidly thrusted the pointer forward opposite to Weiss's direction.
Logically, it was never going to hit in anyone's mind. So, when Shirou turned back to face Weiss to hear her response, she looked irked at perhaps being made fun of. Other students were even starting to muffle their amusement, Blake the only one who didn't bother doing so.
Shirou remained unperturbed and leveled the same question at Weiss again. "How would you react?"
Weiss thought better of saying something impulsive, and considered if there was some sort of trick to this? A correct answer? Whatever, might as well play it safe. "This is ridiculous, but dodge and assess I guess."
"Better," Archer let out a smile before shaking his head. "But still dead."
"..." Weiss held her tongue, and this time waited for an explanation, and it better be good.
"The hypothetical concept imbued in this weapon is known as 'Sure Hit.'" Shirou explained to the murmurs of the crowd. "No matter where or how I attack, it's going to hit you. This is made even more potent based on the lethality of the weapon. You lost the moment the attack was carried out."
"That's absurd." Weiss refused to believe it and sat back down.
Archer would have laughed at the attitude, but it was that sort of ignorance that could lead to defeat.
"Is it still absurd when there are even stronger concepts than 'Sure Hit?'" He asked.
From the material Archer had already prepared before the day's lecture, he pulled out a red barbed spear pulsing with a tangible blood lust that silenced the room. Then, under the eyes of all, he took out the same projector artifact from the prior day, and set both on the display podium.
Magic energy swirled around his palm, before an image began to form.
"The concept is 'Causality.' It aims for the heart," Archer said distantly before beginning the lesson.
The figure of a bare-chested man appeared, muscles toned and rippling with trained strength and grit. Earrings adorned the ears, and an almost savage gleam twinkled in the pupils.
On closer inspection, the distinct red eyes and almost feral beast-like ferocity felt eerily familiar to a select few.
A pair of birds watching from the ledges of a window unexpectedly preened at the image of the figure that appeared now bounding through a field of long grass.
To Ruby and Yang, it looked like a blue-haired and clean-shaven uncle Qrow. The almost playful smile while in battle only made them more certain. However, the unique colour of the eyes flashing with mirth and violence was something only ever seen in Remnant through the Branwen tribe.
A distant relative?
"Cu Chulainn, the Hound of a forgotten land known as Ulster was the owner of this cursed spear. He slew many Champions of Dark through his means and capabilities. A trained hunter, killer, and proud warrior." Archer introduced, letting the scene play out.
"You might entertain me a little."
A voice filled with roguish guile spoke smugly, denoting a confidence that practically bled from experience. Bloodlust covered him from head to toe, and yet despite that, the heroic candour of his demeanor and stride could not be hidden.
The man's entire presence screamed of an unchained beast, and it roused the spirits of those who saw it.
Across from Cu was something known as a Shadow Servant weaving around him.
"This red thorn is just the wild rose."
A grin spread over Cu's face, his red spear flourishing within his grip. His stance lowered unperturbed by the daggers launched his way, his arms squared, his shoulders leaning down.
"You wish for the cursed crimson spear?"
The words sounded like a simple taunt, but no one could consider it as such. Stifling magic energy exuded from the spear in hand, filling the air with a murderous aura none had ever felt before. It was the reek of death and numerous lives slain.
"A curse will be invoked here." Archer began to narrate as the tension rose. "Death will be all that awaits."
The figure before Cu was too fast. Faster than anything that anyone had ever dealt with, making it clear that it wouldn't be easy to land a blow if at all against such agility.
It won't matter.
"Your heart is mine!"
Seemingly without care, Cu just stabbed forward.
Here, Weiss perked up, recalling the back and forth she'd just had with Archer.
"Gáe Bolg!"
A dense flurry of magic energy congealed and actualized into its mystery. The spear distorted, twisting, and bending towards the enemy no matter what was done. A strike that had been aimed in a general direction, resulted in an immediate fatality.
Blood spurted out, the spear's blade punctured through the enemies heart before being retracted.
"What," a smirk escaped bemused derision. "Over already?"
The scene faded, leaving all to turn their attention back to Archer for an explanation.
He gave it.
"In battle, the spear alters cause and effect."
Blake's eyes immediately widened at the implication. She wasn't the only one, as those book smart swallowed the impulse to call bullshit after what they'd just seen.
Weiss looked the most put out. If the concept of 'Sure Hit' was already hard for her and many to swallow, this new one was pushing beyond the bounds of their common sense.
Archer was intent on breaking their grounded notions.
The battles they may experience in the coming future would sooner or later normalize such inexplicable means. Better to prepare them now, then later.
"The spear is thrust and your heart is pierced is changed to, 'your heart was pierced, so the spear must have been thrust.' There's no avoiding it." Archer's words were stern, as if simply stating a fact. "It takes an unimaginable amount of luck and skill to think of even surviving this blow."
This raised the question in everyone's minds.
"T-Then how do you face it?"
Against people in Remnant, Huntsman or otherwise, there was only a single piece of advice Archer could honestly give. "Pray you never give them the chance, or you're out of range."
Weiss, the one who'd been put on the spot was the one most disconcerted of it all. "Is that even possible?" She asked.
"It's slim, but not undoable." Archer admitted with a shrug before moving on to answer another implication. "Many of you might be wondering why a Champion of Light such as this one isn't well known despite his abilities? Unfortunately, he too had fallen in the battle against a Champion of Dark, an Assassin whose curse bore a similar target."
T-That beast of a man died?
Yang suddenly didn't look all that comfortable. Especially if this man might be a distant relative. In contrast, the watching birds heightened their senses as a new scene began to play.
"The darkness is my ally."
A skull-masked figure appeared locked in battle against Cu.
Shrouded in a billowing dark cloak that whipped back and forth with each movement, red-laced magic energy was building around the assassin as the cloth that bound what seemed to be a lame arm, unwound.
In the background, a large type of Grimm seemed to be hindering Cu as the assailant made his preparations.
It wasn't a one versus one to begin with.
The realization was met with outcry.
"That's not fair!" Someone yelled in the background. Archer didn't pay attention to who.
Life and death battles were never fair in the first place, let alone the fact that the scene was a re-enactment of a possible fight.
"Human souls are insubstantial things."
The cloth binding the lame arm fully unwound, revealing a slender bent arm sewn at the joints. The sutures tore all at once, the entire arm pulsing with an uneasy crimson hue.
"Another curse will be activated here. A cursed arm. Recall that a curse revolves around a concept, and the one invoked by the enemy is 'Death.'"
Everyone tensed at the narrative, more so as Cu finally batted away the reaching cloth-like limbs of the Grimm attacking him and took 'that' stance with his spear aimed at assassin. The fight wasn't over. It couldn't end like this.
Regardless, it was too late even as Cu went through the motions.
"Writhe in agony!"
Before all eyes, a beating heart appeared within reach, black threads spreading out into murky wisps emitting a foul aura.
The cursed arm stretches forward.
"W-What's happening?" Weiss looked disgusted; her features paler than usual.
Archer watched on. "It is a curse that bypasses all defense by creating a mirror of the heart formed from magic then-"
"Zabaniya!"
"Crushing it is to the equivalent of crushing the heart beating in the enemy's chest."
The formed heart was directly squeezed and ruthlessly torn before Cu could thrust his spear out.
"You…bastard."
Cu's expression abruptly stilled; blood coughed out of his mouth. His features grew vacant, his arms falling to his side as the Grimm he'd been fighting prior wrapped its appendages around him and seemingly consumed him. His red spear clanked as it fell beneath him and sank to the depths before the image's scene vanished, putting an end to the spectacle.
Unlike before, this time, it appeared to be the loss of the Light side to the Dark.
All that was left of the former hero was…
In the silence, many looked at the red spear Archer was showing them, and began associating it with its former wielder.
They suddenly truly began to understand.
The weapons, no; the artifacts Archer was revealing were the legacies of those that came before them in an era of magic before the innovation of Dust.
As Archer picked up the red spear and put it away, the red eyes of two birds watching, followed his movements until the spear was entirely out of sight. Even then, the raven glared at the crow on the other side not to get any ideas.
Clap.
"This concludes the brief overview of curses and blessings, and what to expect when potentially faced with them." Archer smacked his palms together to snap everyone out of their daze and to refocus back on him. "Class will end in another five minutes, but I will use the leftover time to give you all an assignment."
Murmurs echoed in the crowd, as this was the first time Archer had such a thing. What he said next would be the start of various schemes to reach the envisioned end.
"I will be lending each team a weapon imbued with an ability-" types of Mystic Codes, "that your teams will be tasked with discovering and using tomorrow in Glynda's combat class." Archer explained while setting several items in front of him. "Your grades will be decided on the proficiency of your lent weapons and how you deal with the effects of the weapons of rival teams."
Now there was a buzz. Even some of the professors sitting in on the lecture were roused. It was one thing to see the 'magic artifacts' widely debated in the news, and it was another to be able to try using them.
Archer continued, simultaneously labeling each artifact for specific teams to pick up.
"Remember, some will have relatively weak abilities, while others will just seem unfair. However, there's no such thing as an ability without a use, nor an ability without a weakness. Finding, understanding, and adapting to the functions of a weapon's ability under limited time will then be this assignment's biggest hurdle."
"Can we keep them?"
Of course, Vernal was the one to ask that. Her eyes had been particularly focused ever since he'd begun laying the weapons out, let alone how narrowed they were when the red spear was on display.
Fine. Archer decided to humor Vernal and the others who perked up at the question. It wasn't as if he'd lose anything or cause his preparations to go awry. He might as well give some sort of reward to act as motivation.
"The winning team gets to keep their weapon or choose that of another losing team."
He could already see the way numerous eyes lit up, Vernal's the most obvious.
Archer inwardly nodded to himself.
This was set to be an observation period to detail how efficient Aura could be used as a substitute to activate the effects of the various Mystic Codes he'd distributed. It would then pave the way for analysis into how others would fare with Noble Phantasms. Qrow and Jaune whose Aura reserves were that of a veteran Huntsman, and a natural powerhouse were exempted from the test pool.
More importantly, it would give this generation of Beacon students first-hand experience of mystics rather than just through lecture.
"Dismissed."
Understandably, no student that attended Archer's lecture today could contain their excitement. It proved a headache for Glynda, and a nightmare for the students to sit through professor Port's class. Agitation caused them to be constantly jittery, more so when each team had one of those 'magic artifacts' in their possession. Already, they were imagining themselves in Archer's place in the battle of Mt. Glenn.
Thinking that they now had access to that kind of inconceivable magic made them seem like they were glaring daggers at every professor they had today.
By the time classes were over, every single team either headed to the training rings or returned to their dorms to experiment.
Team BAYN was one such team that headed straight towards their dorm.
"What did we get?! What did we get!?" Nora shouted while bouncing on her feet and trying to look over Yang and Blake who were hogging the artifact they received.
As for Jaune, he was curious too, but he was too lanky and was pushed out by his teammates. Presently, he was sulking in the corner.
Neither Yang or Blake answered, the two practically in a Mexican standoff with both their hands refusing to let go of what was clenched between them.
"Yang, you have the dagger. Let it go," Blake gnashed her teeth, her fangs showing over her lips.
"That means I have more experience in using these," Yang scoffed, pulling the artifact closer to her. "Each team only has one, so the best user should have possession! They're knuckle knives, they're practically made for me!"
Blake begged to differ. Even if they were knuckle knives, she could still use them like daggers. It was an agility weapon, she could obviously use it too.
Jaune tried to chip in at this point, saying he could also give it a try, but the two girls ignored him in favor of butting heads. Their eyes looked like they'd go blood shot with how vehemently they were glaring at each other.
"What do you even need these for you terrorist? Got another train to jack?!" Blake hissed, hair rising behind her in an application of aura.
Yang's eyes flickered red. "Oh, you did not just go there."
Backing away slowly, Jaune just prayed the two didn't devolve into wrestling the other's grip free and then starting a brawl.
"What did we get?! What did we get!?"
Unmindful of Yang and Blake's disagreement, Nora continued to pester them much to Jaune's worry. However, it was as Jaune shifted his focus on Nora that he realized an oddity.
Why were there five people in his four person team?
Jaune and Ren shared a blank stare with each other, both seeming to understand that neither had it easy in either team. They nodded at each other with almost 'you too, huh' sort of message conveyed between them before Jaune shook his head.
There was only one reason Ren would be here instead of with his current team.
"Nora, why is Ren here?" Jaune still tried to give Nora the benefit of the doubt as he said the obvious. "Isn't that cheating?"
Like magic, mentioning Ren's name seemed to immediately shift Nora's attention away from Blake and Yang, her gaze turning shifty. "R-Ren's part of the team! Tehe~"
Ughhh? Jaune knew that was bullshit, and acting cute only worked when one still had baby fat, not close to fully grown.
"You wish." Blake grunted as she tried to shake Yang's grip loose. Bickering with Yang or not, Blake was still paying attention to her surroundings and narrowed her eyes on Ren. "You were sent as a spy, weren't you? It seems to be exactly what your partner would say to you."
Nora blinked, huffing. "I'm Ren's partner, you silly~ and I didn't say that to him though?"
Jaune felt like he heard glass shattering.
"Not you Nora, the other one." Yang said, grunting as she smacked her forehead against Blake.
("Y-You actually head butted me!")
"Oh, her." Nora said icily, Blake's indignant voice echoing in the background.
Right, Ren's partner was Vernal, and that girl was already bragging about her team's inevitable victory.
Something in Nora's cheerful expression cracked, but she sternly chose to deny everything and force her narrative. "Ren's not a spy. He'd never listen to a fake sloth…Right Ren?!"
"Nora, you're doing it again," Ren pointed out flatly.
"Doing what?"
Jaune began to back away, but unlike him, Yang and Blake were too focused on prying the others' hands off to scrutinize Nora's features.
"Vernal asked you to spy when she noticed Nora drag you away, didn't she?" Blake ignored Nora and appealed to Ren.
Ren was a reserved man, but his integrity and sense of morals was quite stern. Despite knowing his partner may be in the wrong, he'd still try to defend her. "I am not the type to gossip-"
"So, she did." Yang cut Ren off, trying to get him to leave the room so that Team BAYN could focus on finding out what their artifact does.
"…" Ren deflated.
"Nora, he needs to leave." Blake was of the same mind as Yang in this instance, the two calling a temporary truce.
"Sorry Nora, they're right. It wouldn't be fair." Fortunately for everyone involved, Ren was a prudent guy and excused himself after knowing he really shouldn't be here for the sake of fairness.
However, Ren sighed. Vernal was going to give him an earful. Fair wasn't in her vocabulary. He didn't mind his teammate, but he'd probably have to somehow work a plan to eventually mellow her out.
A part of him hoped Vernal would be grateful...yeah, as if.
He slouched at the uphill battle.
Staring at Ren's slumped back until it disappeared, was Nora.
/-/
It was only a couple minutes after Ren had left that Nora began to move. She headed towards her bed, slipped off her academy shoes, and replaced them with her combat boots. She found a headband, and tied it around her hair before going to her make-up set. Dabbing two fingers into the blush, she then painted streaks down her cheeks like war paint. Jaune avoided her like the plague as he was suddenly reminded of initiation.
"Nora," Blake was the one to call out while nodding at Yang. They'll settle their differences later if only because they sensed that someone was going to get murdered. "Where are you going?"
Nora froze, her head mechanically turning to her team, expression pleading.
"Just her legs?"
"Uhm, no." Jaune tried to dissuade.
Nora grunted, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "Her arms?"
"No." Yang said, slightly appalled.
Nora raised a single shaking finger as if it were her final ultimatum. "J-Just her head?"
"That would kill her." Blake winced, and then winced again at Nora's eyes.
"…Your point?"
Ugh, the face Nora was making right now. Even Yang backed away and that was saying something.
"Jaune! Jaune, pull out the banner!" Yang said.
"R-Right," Jaune stammered, a field of soothing light pulsing out from the Saint's banner the moment he injected his Aura into it.
The light bathed everyone in the room, submerging Nora in positive energy that had her slowly calming down enough for Yang and Blake to lead her back to her bed to rest.
"B-But my Renny needs me. She's a tyrant! She's not meant for him!" Nora pouted while her team awkwardly patted her on the back with quiet 'there there's.
It was only after half-an-hour that Jaune withdrew the light and team BAYN focused back on the given magic artifact.
Blake was the one who looked far more excited than Yang at this point, and it showed.
From her notes, she tried to recall the power in a concept that was carried in this weapon. What it did, and how to activate it were two separate things, and her curiosity was stronger than any cat's.
Soon enough, under the cooperation of the entire team, they eventually managed to do something, the effect of which caught all by surprise.
"Did it just…?"
Yes. Yes it did.
Everyone glanced at each other dumbly.
Yang started cackling while shyly twirling her bangs around her index finger.
This had to be favoritism, but what was she expecting? She was on this team!
"Heheheh...oh were so fucking winning."
/-/
The same thought was one shared by many other teams as well.
Each would have their own advantages and weaknesses.
It had been a long time since Ozpin could recall Beacon Academy bustling with such fervor and competitive spirit. Why it reminded him much of the time when the academy had first been established, a place of ideals and hope to put an end to the excursion of the Grimm. Such goals had long since shifted into defending what lands the kingdoms still had, but nonetheless, the feeling was the same.
Night was falling over Beacon by the time Ozpin found himself back at the top of his tower, peering out into the stars from a small veranda beside his office. A cool breeze blew overhead, prickling at his skin and giving his cheeks a rosy hue. It was the kind of night where one would find it comforting to sit with a hot cup of chocolate, or maybe tea.
Ozpin wasn't in the mood for either, letting the wind bring his temperature down and soothe his mind as he recollected on recent events. He still had many questions for Archer, but he'd since retracted many of them in favor of a proposal he simply could not refuse.
He was greedy. That much was sure as a tinge of anticipation he hadn't felt in decades caused him to dare to hope again for a different outcome.
Of the proposals Archer had stated on their last meeting, Ozpin had chosen the option with an immediate gain to quickly flip the board in its entirety.
Details of a ruin purportedly containing a weapon that could slay an immortal was too much of lure not to bite. After all, immortality was the basis of why this shadow war had been ongoing for so long.
With the information now in hand, Ozpin had arranged for Qrow to investigate the specific ruin by the start of the next week. Qrow had ventured to gain Raven's support, but Ozpin put a stop to that rather stiffly. It was a miracle in itself that Raven was keeping active and in contact, but more importantly was what she'd do with such information.
A weapon that could potentially kill an immortal couldn't be trusted in someone like Raven's hands. This much, Ozpin was aware. It wasn't exactly as if he and Raven had just put aside their differences or disagreements of the past. He'd rather not give her a means to attempt some form of retribution so he'd briefed Qrow to keep intelligence on a need-to-know basis.
If the information proved true, he may decide to momentarily depart from Beacon, leave Glynda and Summer in charge, and then accompany Qrow to recover the artifact.
Ozpin would enlist Archer's cooperation if he could, but it wasn't as if he'd built enough trust with the renowned mercenary yet. Trust came with time and experience, and a single interaction wasn't going to cut it.
So then, why give the benefit of the doubt?
Honestly, it was a hunch mixed with age-old conviction.
He ruminated.
Soon enough, everything would fall into the hands of the next generation…
He deeply mulled the thought over, but honestly, it wasn't at the top of his mind anymore.
A Champion of Light, huh?
How long has it been since that specific title was known widely?
Ozpin began to muse to himself. From the Huntsman of Red, and even Archer, there was this presence around them that they carried whether they were aware of it or not. The bearings of a person of importance guided by a light intent on saving others, something distinctly familiar to Ozma of the past that Ozpin no longer felt he had.
It was difficult to admit, but the instances where he found himself glimpsing at the visage of prior Champions still shining radiant even in a dying era, he became reticent amidst the awe of the younger audience.
Each and every Champion based solely on what he had seen and felt strove unwaveringly towards their aspirations and goals. Whether it was duty to strike down the offender, or even remorse at tearing down former allies that had succumbed to the dark, all fulfilled their purpose. Even in obscurity, leaving only records of their achievements in ruins buried through time, their actions, discovered to be what helped build the Remnant of today.
What about him? What had he left behind to be remembered? What actions? What legacy would remain in the face of his constant cowardice to avert and delay over decisive action?
There was just no denying it.
The impulsive youth of yesterday had aged into the meticulous old of tomorrow.
Ozpin did not miss the underlying intent Archer may or may not have been trying to convey to him during their last conversation and during class lectures.
The meaning and conclusion inferred was what refused to leave Ozpin alone.
He thought to himself…did he still have it in him to be like that as a living Champion of Light? Could he still rise up?
He sighed.
A tired old soul stares out into a distant broken moon.
Where crackling embers gather, a fire may still remain.
.
.
.
Morning soon came, and with it, all attention would focus on Glynda's combat classroom.
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