"I'm so hungry, dang why can't animals be dumb and stick around near the grimm infested areas. I'd kill for a boar right now." Jaune said as he trudged through the underbrush, the vegetation of the forest was thick.

Vines covered the ground, like spiderwebs that had grown much too large, the lone human marched for over a mile until he found his destination.

A remote cave peered over the edge of a ravine, a deep chasm that threatened to swallow all of the light itself.

Red eyes stared out from the edge, then heavy footfalls rang from the cave as a beast prowled out. Eyes fixed on the human, Jaune drew his blade and the steel shined in the midday sun, the head filled him as he carried the weapon. Jaune stared down the monster, his eyes locked to its.

Blood flowed plentifully through his body, filling his ears. His hearing sharpened, his eyes contracted and sharpened. He could feel himself salivating almost as if he was hungry for the fight itself, rather than food.

The beast lurched forward, its eyes finding Jaune's weapon and it seemed to recognize now that the boy was a threat. It moved forward from its cave, paws landing with sharp thuds.

'Please don't be able to make that jump.' Jaune thought, his mind pleading for some semblance of mercy.

Then the beast hurled itself across the chasm, it landed harshly. A small crater was formed from the landing, dirt flew past Jaune and he raised his weapon. He couldn't shake the foreign feeling of the blade in his hands. As if the weapon, while well made had no inkling toward ever being made for him.

The beowolf was now in better view, while it had four eyes, Jaune could see one was heavily damaged. It looked as if a second set of eyes had come with age, giving credence to the 'One-Eyed' moniker that the beast had.

"You're Kuvar, right? I thought you'd be bigger." Jaune said, desperately trying to maintain his own confidence.

The beast surged, Jaune's blade flew up, the metal sang as sparks flew. Claws lashed out overpowering the boy and forcing him back as he dodged and avoided as much as he could. His head dipped to avoid a blow only for the claws to come from under as an uppercut. The claw dug into his aura and Jaune was sent flying.

Blood dripped from the boy's lip as he was sent flying, his spine creaking under the pressure as he struck a tree. Coughing fits forced their way through Jaune's throat as he looked up to the looming monster, its visage prowling at the human. Salivating maw opened, the beast surged again and Jaune was forced to roll. His body collided with the dirt and he yelled as he felt his ribs crack from the rushed movement.

The grimm turned and stared down the boy who was naught a pace from the void of the chasm.

Life in this world hasn't always been easy for Jaune, he knew this. He knew that his parents took good care of him and that they were good people. He knew he was a loved child, he knew that life had shown him quite a lot of mercy. But then he left home, and life stopped pulling its punches, then he was forced away from Beacon, and he lost his friends. Then he found and lost Cinder.

Jaune's teeth grit, his eyes sharpening and he stared up at the beast, his hand tightened on the blade and it surged forward.

Jaune knew he didn't belong out here, that he was normal, not trained to kill, not ready for war, he knew that life hadn't been harsh enough to make him a warrior. Yet, regardless he stood here and now as a warrior, perhaps not on an even playing field. But yet, he stood. Life cared not for the ability of a man, rather it cared for the man's grit and endurance. It was not the finest warrior that saw the end of the journey, but the one that could take as many hits as it took to get there.

Wisdom was never the strong suit of the Arc clan, rather they were hardy warriors, men whose muscle was as iron and their wills as stone. But Jaune wasn't like that, he was weak and feeble, but he couldn't be that way anymore. He couldn't be the bumbling fool, he had to be willing to put everything on the line. Here and now.

When the beast charged he knew what he would do.

The monster lurched forward, Jaune's hands gripped the blade and he flipped the edge into a reverse grip. As the beast made it to Jaune, he jumped and stabbed the blade into the back of the beast. He spun on the grip and drilled it further into the fleshy insides of the monster. Black blood spilled on the grass and the two went over the chasm's edge, the young huntsman riding the beowolf. Just as an old friend once taught him with an ursa.

Air ripped through the blonde's hair, his eyes were squinted as he and the grimm descended the chasm. He could see the walls of the ravine getting closer, then part of the grim collided with rock and he could see the flesh tear and be ripped off as they kept falling. Soon the ground came into view and before he could brace, one side of the grimm struck a rock, turning them both and Jaune hit a rock, then everything went black.

When Jaune awoke, mist had settled over the area of the ravine he was in. Everything in his view was fuzzy and he was struggling to breath. Azure catlike eyes roamed the area and landed on the grimm that bore a gruesome sword in its back, its eyes still on the human. Claws struggled to pull it toward the human, Jaune coughed and set both hands on the ground and shoved himself back to get even further from the beast.

The grimm clawed ahead and Jaune struggled to his knees, then the monster came again. Fingers wrapped the worn cloth-laden handle of Crocea Mors and Jaune ripped the blade out and stabbed it downward toward the head of the monster, the tip punctured easily and jammed into the ground. Black blood seeped into the ground and the boy who gripped the blade began shaking.

Tears burned his eyes, after all the walls he had put up so quickly, he still failed. He faltered, despite how much he tried he was not stone, not like his father or grandfather. Strength was not a trait he bore, it was not a mantle he was fit to carry. His head sank low, his fear coming through as the grimm's carcass began to dissipate before him.

He shook as sobs wracked his body, he couldn't hold them back, he knew that despite he and his friend's time together was short, he missed them. He knew that despite his time with Cinder was short, he missed her. The tears kept coming, the pain from the fights and conflict ached in his body, mercy was short that day as he felt every scar and cut he had recently acquired. Salty wet seeped down his cheeks as he slumped against the sword that was still in the ground. He fell next to the blade wishing things had been different.

"I'm sorry, Ruby, Cinder. I don't know if I can do this. I'm so weak, I can barely fight. I've almost died so much and I'm so scared that I'll never see you again. Why can't I just be happy? I was happy with you guys at Beacon, I was happy with Cinder. And it keeps getting taken." Jaune's sobs kept coming through the ravine, he couldn't hold anything back.

Jaune knew that it was dangerous to let such feelings out, but despite everything he knew he had to, these feelings could destroy someone.

Hours had passed when Jaune stood, dusted himself off and drew the sword from the ground, the blade found its way to his sheath and he looked around again. He could see the end of the ravine and he could see that it progressively got closer to the surface, but he had over a mile to ruck before he could make it there.

There was a sheer cliff on both sides of the ravine, edges looming over, threatening to close in on him. Jaune could see the red eyes ahead, small chittering bug like grimm, called Marionettes.

He had read about them briefly, that they burrowed into the victims flesh, that they would start to connect to the nervous system and puppet their victim.

Jaune shivered as he slowly approached and he pushed aura into the brand on his finger and called a flame into existence, then he pointed and pushed more aura and a jet of fire sang as he burned away the disgusting bugs. He watched their forms cook under him as he burned them. Thick chitin burned and bubbled, hundreds of legs singed and red eyes melted as he scorched as many as he could.

"Gross, awful Brothers damned creatures!" Jaune yelled and burned them more and more, blazing his way through the ravine. Eventually he made his way to the most shallow section of the ravine.

The sheer wall gazed at him and he looked at the edge around thirty meters up, and he nodded and turned. To his horror he saw dozens, possibly hundreds of the bugs, Jaune gripped a rock and scaled the rock as fast as he could, his hands shaking slightly.

He could hear the chittering cries of the bugs as he raced up the cliff wall, the horrendous creatures were gaining on him and he grit his teeth and pulled himself up and over the edge. But as he rolled over he felt three bites. One on his leg, one on his arm and the other in his stomach.

'Shit, if it gets too deep they'll send me over the cliff!' Jaune thought as the bug dug deeper, the tail about to sink past the skin when Jaune pinched and ripped the bug out.

Blood sprayed as the young man tore monsters from his flesh, and screamed in pain as the other two ripped through his arm and gut. Jaune screamed as he reached his right arm with his left, then he lost feeling in his right arm. The hand flew back and gripped Crocea Mors, the blade hissed out of its sheathe and dug down into the dirt, then started pulling Jaune toward the edge of the cliff.

"Dammit! Fucking bugs!" Jaune screamed as he dug his fingers through the insertion wound of the bug that had ripped through his arm and then he felt it through the searing pain. Grit teeth and clenched eyes, Jaune gripped the writing maggot like bug and ripped it from his arm and screamed as he felt feeling return slightly. He sat less than half a foot from the edge of the cliff.

Blood coated his core as Jaune drew up Crocea and looked down at the bug writhing under his stomach skin, the flesh bled deeply and the young huntsman was left with a rotten choice.

His aura was healing the wound faster and faster. Jaune cried out in pain as he felt the bug burrow deeper and he knew he had no other choice. He drew up his blade, gipping the sword by the blade and plunged the tip where the grimm was and immobilized, then he sliced slightly though and tears fell from his face as the chipped worn blade cut his flesh. Then, after cutting a two inch wide cut, Jaune pushed two fingers in and ripped the bug out as it wriggled, not yet dead. Jaune gripped the bug and crushed it in his hand and watched it fade to dust.

The wound seeped blood and Jaune bit his cheek as he crawled back from the cliff's edge, his wounded right arm kept pressure on the wound as he moved back faster and faster. Then his back hit a tree, like a quick reprieve.

Jaune leaned back on the hard wood and hissed as he bit down on his cheek. He could hardly feel his aura after all the damage that he had suffered, now he was left with one choice. He called upon the flame on his index finger. Despite his lack of aura, the flame sprang to life and he focused it into a short, sharp flame. Jaune still was learning the functions of the flame, he knew it was linked to the voice he had heard, but he hadn't yet had time to ponder the implications of the brand. His mind was flying with thoughts and speculations then, he shook his head as he banished the thoughts. That was for later, right now he needed to focus on his wound.

Jaune pointed the flame and focused the intensity until it was like a weak blowtorch. He pointed it at one far edge of the wound, then he began burning the wound shut, hoping the cauterization would stanch the bleeding.

Screams resounded through the forest as he started the process, then abruptly they stopped, for a moment Jaune had passed out his head falling and striking the tree behind him, only to reawaken and start again.

Jaune couldn't stop, he grabbed a piece of wood and put it in his mouth and bit down as he struggled to not scream. With each interval more of the wound would be burned shut and the boy would struggle to consciousness slower and slower each time.

By the time the last burning had happened the boy had fallen unconscious eleven times, his body now threatened to give out altogether. His eyes fluttered and then he saw something. A man in a cloak, The Reaper.

"Hmmm. It seems you are fond of meeting me, Young Arc. You told the girl once, 'Good men must die.' Yes? Well your time is not yet up, Invictus yet has work for you. Know this, Arc. There is much more to this world than the mind knows, ancient tales and stories that are not so fictitious. Magic and might beyond measure are real, The Black Witch and the Children of Dusk are real. The Man of Time, you have already met. So many legends wrap you, boy." The cloaked figure said and Jaune finally saw his face. Two jewels sat in a skull, one a sapphire that shined brilliantly, and the other a ruby that had dark clouds swirling within.

Jewels crested the skull and mandible, like an ornate decoration, but Jaune could feel the sheer power that the figure had. Jaune had heard tales of a Reaper, one who harvests the souls of dead soldiers to take them to the next life. He gripped the boy's shoulder and squeezed and Jaune felt his arm burn but his attention was locked on the Reaper.

"Listen closely, boy. I shall speak to you only one last time past this, that will be when your soul is mine, so do not lose a word of what I say. Tales and legends are so often not stories, they more often than not are true, and what little are fiction, they are loosely based on truth. The Maidens of yore are real. The Brothers are real, but alas they have abandoned their children. The one you call your 'Voice', your patron. He is Invictus, the God of Order, he has long watched the Brothers in their squabbling. He seeks you now to finish the war from millennia ago. You are his chosen, The Witch Hunter. But remember, beyond the veil. Where Gods dwell, there are monsters untold, and if Invictus could reach you then so can they. Watch yourself, Hunter. Only you can help with what comes next. Do be careful, as you say, 'Good men must die'. Farewell, I will play messenger for Order no more." Then he simply turned and walked away, drawing a scythe from somewhere and Jaune stared at the weapon. A twin headed scythe, one side a bright white, the other a dark onyx.

"Tell dear Salem, I'm waiting, she will know me by the name, Aginhild." Now, Aginhild said, his voice level yet somehow furious. Then he lifted the scythe and slammed it down and in a flash he was gone.

Jaune stared ahead, his eyes fixed on where the lord of death once was, something in the air had shifted, it was now like a fog was pulled from Jaune's eyes and he saw the world clearly for the first time. As the figure had spoken, images appeared in Jaune's mind's eye. He knew who The Black Witch was, that she was the one who forged the grimm he knew today, but he also knew of the God.

Invictus, the God of Order, the eldest god, he forged the first blade and twined the first rope. Jaune knew what the God was doing, he was seeking to end the feud of the brothers and humanity, but not by destruction. Rather the God preferred avoidance.

Jaune looked at his sealed wound and he knew the flesh was tender, he was a sitting duck out here. He stood and began moving east, where he had last known the village to be.

"C'mon Jaune, gotta get moving. Sun's going down, I can't be out here at dark." He said to himself as he moved through the Valean Woodland, the Badlands. Jaune's hands shook, his eyes were glassy in exhaustion. His face was sunken now, almost like he had starved for a week.

"Why the hell is all of this happening?" Jaune asked out loud, now he was calm and mobile, he let his mind wander a little.

'Some God named Invictus, had chosen him to fight some crazy witch, one who according to what Aginhild had said, is the same Black Witch from the kids stories.'

Jaune shook his head at the lunacy, then he spoke.

"Then, as if that wasn't bad shit crazy enough, now I have been spoken to by the Reaper of Souls himself. And he told me that apparently kid's stories in general are real! Like, does he mean all of them? Like the tales of the Vampires of the night and the fucking Witches of the Devils Forest? Or the Seven Devils of the Wastes? The line is so blurred. And to top it off, I, the weak Jaune Arc, am instrumental in the demise of Salem, The Black Witch?" Jaune shook his head, he had gotten struck during the fall, he was now dreaming or delirious, or dead. All of this had to be in his head.

Jaune moved through the forest and eventually stopped when he saw a small road that headed to the village. He strapped his sword to his back and slowly sped up his pace. Soon he arrived at the village, he walked in and saw the bounty board and followed it to a small kiosk. Inside was a short, plump man who was checking bounties.

"Here to return that bounty, eh?" He asked and Jaune shook his head.

"I'm here to turn it in, I killed the beast." The man behind the kiosk smiled, then he withdrew a machine from beneath the counter.

"Hold out your hand, lad, lets see if that's truly the honest answer." Then he pulled out a small device, similar to a pulse oximeter. He opened the device and Jaune could see a small needle that would prick his finger.

Jaune gave the man his hand and the man tried to pull Jaune closer to the kiosk, only to pull himself off his chair, almost falling on his behind.

The man quickly dusted himself in a huff and frowned. Then, harder than what was probably necessary, he clasped the device to Jaune's finger and closed it tight.

"Speak truthfully, did you slay the beast?" The man said and Jaune nodded.

"I did kill Kuvar, the One-Eyed, though that is a bit of a misnomer." Jaune said and the man looked at him, shocked.

"How did you kill it?" He said quietly, Jaune's ears picked it up easy enough.

"Sent it flying off a ravine with me riding its back, and a sword in its back." Jaune said and gestured to the blade on his back.

The man nodded and gave Jaune back his hand, then a small bag of gold, silver and copper coins found their way to his hand. Jaune threw the bag gently a few inches and caught it.

"Thank you, sir." He said and slowly made his way to a food cart, ready to experience the closest thing to nirvana most people will ever experience.