Jaune knew that the bullhead was from Beacon, that the man was from Beacon, and that it's where they were heading. That wasn't what made him nervous.
His anxiety rather, came from the black-haired man that was staring at him, his maroon eyes boring into his azure catlike ones.
"So kid, explain to me what happened. Everything." The man, now identified as Qrow said from the way the pilot addressed him, his hand affixed to a flask that he carried on his belt.
"I was travelling, found the village, I needed money. I took a bounty, killed some big beowolf, then since that point I've been fighting for my life. Did the people make it to Vale safely?" Jaune's eyes met the huntsman's.
"Yeah, they did. They said they were bein' evac'd by a huntsman, and that he had fought the grimm and the Fang to a standstill. I read your file kid, no fuckin' way you could have, so what's the angle here? Trying to win back to the old man's good graces?" Qrow said and Jaune gripped the railing of the ship, his knuckles tightened, his eyes sharpened and the pupils constricted.
"I saved those people because that's what a huntsman does, what we're trained to do." Qrow stepped forward, his eyes looked down at the young huntsman.
"No, that's what we do, kid. You're not a huntsman, I read your transcript, that shit is faker than a bad toupee. And I don't care that you cheated, kid. I just don't think you should be out there where it's life and death, cause I sure as shit don't want you watching my back." Qrow said and Jaune stood to his full height.
"When we land, I'll be on my way. Thanks for the save. I won't be getting in your way." Jaune said, his voice colder than before, like another person was speaking.
Qrow gripped the young man's shoulder, his eyes bore into the back of Jaune. The bullhead made its descent onto the Beacon platform and Jaune opened the door as it touched down and stepped out, as if all the fatigue of the constant fighting was gone for but a moment.
"You'll get yourself or someone else killed, kid. Don't walk away from me!" Qrow insisted, his eyes sharpening as Jaune walked to the crowd of people who stared at the bullhead, at the huntsman who trailed the boy. When Qrow grabbed Jaune's shoulder he felt something distinct, something that he only ever felt from one other person, Ozpin.
"Kid, don't make me stop you, you were friends with my nieces, Ruby and Yang. You were part of their group, but then you got caught, and despite what you've done, they still care. And because they care, I do too. Don't go out there, please kid. For their sake." Qrow finished and Jaune turned and looked at the man.
"I'm looking for my friend, Qrow. That's why I'm going out there, almost everything I have done has been for them, so they'll have to understand. And I know the dangers, and yeah I'm scared. But I'm done running away, I ran from my family, from my friends, and from the truth. I'm done running, tell Ozpin I said 'Thanks', I'm leaving Qrow." Jaune could feel the rising tension, he could feel the very thoughts of the man.
The huntsman thought Jaune weak, he thought him frail. And perhaps he was right, but that meant little to the young chosen of Invictus.
"Kid, what have you gotten yourself into?" Qrow asked in a low voice as to not have the crowd hear.
"I finally got some clarity, some perspective." Jaune said and the tension had begun to fade, Jaune's eyes fixed on the horizon as he moved to the Airdocks of Beacon Academy.
Qrow's eyes burned into the young man's back, they looked for something, anything that gave way to what he had just felt. Despite his stares, nothing gave way to what he felt, nothing signaled the pure unbridled power of the young man that he had felt for just a fraction of a second.
The old headmaster approached the Qrow, his eyes finding Jaune, his form striding away, evidence of the ordeal he had suffered apparent on his body.
"Oz, that kid ain't normal, no one gets that good, that strong and that deadly, that fast. And did you feel it? His aura crashing over us? Whatever happened in the two weeks he's been gone, it was either miraculous, or more realistically, it was traumatizing." Qrow said and Ozpin nodded, his eyes closing for but a moment, as if he's trying to force thoughts from his head.
"Qrow, keep your eyes on him, I fear mister Arc may yet find more danger." Ozpin said and Qrow looked at him, the red eyes of the Huntsman stared for a second.
"Ozpin, do you think he's on the other side of the chess board?" The headmaster lifted his head, then he spoke.
"All I may say is that I certainly hope not." Ozpin spoke with finality and stepped away; his mind drawn elsewhere as he did. Qrow looked around and walked to a door that led to an outdoor hallway. The second the door shut, he was gone as a crow flew away.
Jaune began moving again, his feet carried him swiftly past the crowd of people, he didn't want to get seen, he cared little for the crowd, he didn't want to hurt his friends.
The boots on his feet were worn, the leather had been torn into by the thorns of brush that was circling the forest. Jaune slowly made his way through Vale once more, like a loop one could not break. His eyes found the wall that divided the worlds of the light and dark.
Past the wall was chaos, harshness, and hell itself. But Jaune remembered too, the smiling children of the village, the old men who sold treats and food, who gave freely even to those around them.
Jaune stepped past the wall, past the life he had known, somehow the world seemed different. Like the light had changed hues in a second, Jaune watched the world darken.
'If Callows has her, he wouldn't stay in Vale long, not with Ozpin hunting him. The closest is Mistral, so that's the destination.' Jaune said as he began moving, his destination was set, his mind made up. Jaune withdrew a map, old and aged, that detailed the kingdoms and their locations, he traced his path from Vale to Mistral, his body ached, and he grit his teeth as he kept going.
Days would pass like this, crossing Anima, the lands of grimm and monsters. The repetitive cycle of travel, always being alert had worn down the young huntsman, but soon he arrived at the first village within a hundred and twenty miles of Vale, just past it would be Patch.
Jaune could smell the smolders of the village long before he arrived, smokestacks still burned, rising high into the sky as he stepped past the ruined wall of the village. Screams rang from the far side of the village and Jaune flew into action, his feet carrying him despite the fatigue, the hunger and the exhaustion. None of it stopped him as he drew Crocea from his back and trained his eyes on three men wearing red and black who were laughing at the crumbled heap of a body of a man that they had slain.
"Look at this, Gregor. Poor little man couldn't stand a single stab, now his momma is crying over his corpse!" One of the men laughed as the other two smiled and drew blades as well.
"I wonder how the mother will do!" One of them yelled and lunged at her, Jaune's mind raced, and he stepped forward. Ground around him seemed to shift, cracking and splintering as his foot forced him to lung forward. His blade rose high in the air and he roared as he slashed across the man's torso from behind, the laceration tore through even his spine as he crumbled just as his victim had. While the man looked dead, Jaune could tell he wasn't, paralysis had set in from the damage to his spine.
"Who're you?! We'll kill you for messing with the Branwen clan!" The second man, who was the largest of them yelled as he drew a machete and slashed at Jaune.
Jaune dodged just barely and pointed his sword with both hands, the tip levelled with the second and third rib of the right side of the man's body and he shoved. The point ripped through the man and Jaune could feel the bile in his throat rising. The blood that had soaked his hands felt all too warm, and the understanding that these were people and that they were worse than any grimm he had faced was sinking in.
The sickly feeling Jaune was suffering grew as he spun to see the other man, his blade against the throat of the woman, her tears had streaked her cheeks, her eyes were dull, without life.
"I'll kill her! I swear!" The man yelled, Jaune bit his lip, the blood soaked into his mouth and the taste of iron invaded all of his senses.
"Let her go and I'll let you walk away, I'm a huntsman, you know I won't attack you unless you attack me. Go back to wherever you came from." Jaune said and let his weapon fall and enter a relaxed stance.
The bandit backed up and with each step became more confident, then he turned and started to jog. In an instant, Jaune made a choice, a singular choice that made him sick.
Jaune examined the distance between him and the man and flipped his sword, gripping it by the blade, then he held it over his head and threw it at the man as hard as he could muster.
The blade sang as it spun through the air, it found home square in the man's back, blood splashed the ground around him and he swung forward from the force of the blade, finding himself impaled in the ground.
"Fuck! You damned huntsman! You said you didn't kill people who ran!" He yelled as he squirmed on the ground, blood had soaked through the wounds he had sustained and Jaune stepped forward. He gripped the hilt of the sword and ripped it from the man's body. He crouched low so that the man could hear his words.
"I'm not a huntsman, actually. And I would never let you leave after you killed an innocent person." Jaune said, his tone was cold, his eyes seemed far more inhuman. The crow that had been perched on the treetop that overlooked Jaune and the man seemed startled. Jaune looked up at it and stood, their eyes were locked and Jaune spoke.
"Crawl back to your camp, but I hope you know, your actions today have put a mark on your clan's back, any of them I encounter, any hint of hostility- any at all, I will kill them too." Jaune spoke his tone harsh and clear, the blood on his hands didn't feel so awful for just a moment as the anger took hold of his thoughts.
His eyes fell to the woman, clutching the body of what he assumed was her son, a teenager with brown hair and dark eyes, his skin was tanned but it was hard to tell from the paleness that was on him after the blood loss he had suffered.
"Ma'am, we need to get you somewhere safe; the closest settlement is Patch. Please I know, but it's too dangerous for you." Jaune said as he gently grabbed the woman's arms. His heart ached, his head hurt at the dizzying chaos that he had seen in the last few weeks.
"I can't leave him! H-He's my son!" The woman screamed, her sobs leaking into her voice and Jaune lowered his head.
"I know, I'm sorry, but there's nothing you can do for him here. Please, don't die here." Jaune said, his voice was slightly shaky but he hardly let it show, fearing it would make the situation worse.
Soon shouts rang through the forest, more bandits searching for their lost members, Jaune gripped the woman's arms and dragged her away from the body. His hands wanted to loosen, he wanted to comfort her, but there was no time.
Jaune tried desperately, struggling with the woman, fighting as hard as he could without hurting her. His blood felt as if it would run cold, his heart ached for the woman. But he was too slow, when the bandits arrived through the open spot of the wall that he had found the woman at.
Jaune let her go as they charged at him, he pushed her away from the combat as he drew his blade, the edge sang to life as he readied himself. The first of the five bandits that had shown up slashed, while another charged in for a stab.
The sound of clashing blades rang out as Jaune deflected the slash, but the stab landed true against his aura, sparking and crackling against the barrier. Jaune cried out in pain and turned and slashed at the second combatant. There were few choices, the other had closed in and moved for the kill.
Hands gripped one of the bandits, forcing him in front of another stab intended for Jaune, blood dripped from the blade that had ripped through him. Jaune slammed his foot into the wounded bandit's knee, a sickening crack sounded as the man dropped and Jaune slashed through the man that had accidentally stabbed him.
'Three left!' Jaune thought as a slash caught him, sending him flying. As he landed, he saw one making his way to the woman, Jaune had little choice, if they got her than that would be the end. He could maybe stop them from taking a hostage if there was just one of them, but three wasn't something he could manage.
Jaune grit his teeth and roared, sending his sword flying again, imbedding itself in the bandit that moved toward the woman. Gurgling chokes filled the air as the man fell and Jaune rushed the next closest one, trying to get back to his weapon. As he moved, he scooped dirt into his hand and threw it into the eyes of the next bandit, the man lifted an arm exposing his torso and a knife on his belt. White knuckles ripped the knife from its sheathe and Jaune stabbed the man in the chest, blood spraying over him and rolled over the man's falling form.
The last one spun around, his feet racing him away from the struggle, the chaos of the battle no longer where he wanted to be. Jaune grit his teeth, he felt so weak and sick, like his whole body and soul were rejecting the actions he had taken.
His hands once again met his trusted blade, drawing it from the corpse it called home, then he slid it once more into its sheathe. Jaune wiped his hands the best he could, his eyes wandered the village again. They gave him no choice but to take in his surroundings, bodies littered the ground, some cut and lacerated, others pummeled, and some burned. Jaune felt so sick, but he couldn't shake one thing. He felt sick about killing, but not guilty. He couldn't bring himself to think that the men he had killed were deserving of any better.
"Keep your eyes down, ma'am. You don't need to see this, focus on something else. Tell me about your family." Jaune said and gently hefted the woman into his arms, her weight nothing compared to the sickness that had sunken into him.
"I have two sons, Logan and Lincoln, my husband died a few years back, my son Lincoln was hunting when they came, I hope he got to safety." She said softly and Jaune nodded, his eyes roamed the wasteland that the bandits had left. As they moved amongst the rubble, Jaune made a solemn vow, one to never spare a Branwen, all of them would die if he met them.
For the first time, Jaune felt hate, true unbridled hate. As if something had been let loose within his mind. His feet moved deftly, barely making a sound despite the woman in his arms, Jaune kept his head on a swivel. His eyes ran around the forest that had surrounded them, Patch had come into view, it was less than a kilometer away.
"We gotta get moving, its starting to get cold, Winter is fast approaching, I fear that we may get caught in the first frost of the season." Jaune said and the woman nodded and spoke to him.
"Master Huntsman, may I stand? I feel strong enough." Jaune nodded and set her down, her face was lined with fear and wrinkles that only came from parenthood. Jaune could feel the grief she exuded and spoke.
"Take your mind off it, thoughts like that get people killed out here. Shut your heart, close off the door to the pain. Please do yourself this favor." Jaune said and walked with the woman.
"How do you do it?" She asked Jaune, her eyes fixed on his mutated ones.
"I do as I have said, close my heart to them, I believe that those who have passed deserve no grief, their fight is over, that should be celebrated. Truthfully though, it is difficult, but emotions are wild things. If left unchecked they could spell the end of one's life." Jaune said wisely, he used the knowledge he had gotten from Beacon, the words left by Ozpin.
"Thank you for saving me." She said and Jaune spoke in response, his tone was cold.
"Think nothing of it, if I had arrived sooner, then maybe I would've saved more lives." Jaune spoke, the guilt he felt for having not gotten there sooner weighing on him.
They trekked through the forest but despite the blissful peace, harshness still struck.
"Lookie 'ere, two doves ready for plucking." A voice called from past the trees that surrounded the pair.
"Do not come closer, I have several of your men, and I promised that I will kill any of your clan that may cross my eyes." Jaune spoke and drew Crocea Mors. This fight suddenly felt different, the hesitance was gone, amidst the forest Jaune felt safer, calmer, and sharper.
"Boys, kill the huntsman!" Another voice called and Jaune felt the familiar sensation of power bubbling up, his aura flared as a man struck a blow against his back. Jaune stood tall and turned then he slashed, his blade met another aura, the strike creating sparks as he did. Jaune felt something again, something he felt far too much.
Fear struck the young huntsman, these were aura wielding bandits, some form of elite. Jaune turned and saw the woman he had pulled from the destroyed village start to cry; she feared the worst.
He remembered the conversation he had with the Reaper, he remembered how close to death he had come so many times, the difference was now it wasn't just his life. These weren't grimm, they were men, men were far more violent and terrible. Hands tightened on the hilt of his sword and he drew his shield, not to defend himself, but those he sought to protect.
Jaune raised the shield to block an incoming strike, the attack landed solidly sinking into the shield, forcing Jaune to take a step back, his eyes met the Bandit's, and he made a choice.
He lunged forward, the Bandit dodged to the side, then a bullet struck the back of his thigh, the metal tore through his aura as it didn't have enough time to shield him, the hot lead ripped through his leg and out the front, Jaune screamed as pain flared through his body.
Blood spurted from the wound and Jaune abandoned the sense of tactics he always used, something had been rising within him, his aura and his soul. A feeling so deeply resounding and profound, something he felt in kinship with Invictus. Knowledge of things he'd never read lanced into his skull, power he never imagined and a war that spanned centuries, but Jaune pushed it all away, there he loosed a string of words that carried a profaned weight. They were something of sacrilege of the highest order. The words made the trees shake and the very air vibrate, it cast into being power last seen at the Departure of the Twin Devils.
"By the order of The Last God, Invictus, he who forged the first soul by the Iron Rite, I cast the asunder, damn your soul to the Darker Depths, may the Watchdogs rend they heart, may the Scornbearers tear thine limbs, may no mercy be granted. Absolute Condemnation!" Jaune yelled, the words lit the very air around the bandits on fire, the land responded to his call, his mind split from the pain of all of the knowledge, his heart ached from the pain of the world he saw. Jaune could see the very laws of reality bend to the words he spoke, and things much older, much more dangerous than any grimm smiled through the black pits that opened beneath the bandits.
There he saw it thousands of eyes staring into him, he could feel them burn into his soul and mind and speak, words hollow but human, nonetheless.
"We accept thy offering, Chosen of The First. While your deity may not be awake, you may call him back to life in time, consider this fair compensation for having given us the first meal in many eons. Our power is yours as this pact is formed, wield it well. We grant you our pride, never let another stand above you, and should they stand taller, cut them down or climb up." The being spoke, and as Jaune spoke the outline became clearer, its eyes more defined and Jaune saw that the eyes were not separate beings in the dark, rather they were in the very dark itself, the dark was a being, a collection of horrible terrors beyond imagining.
A feeling Jaune had hardly felt in his life tore through him, his left eye burned, and his aura flashed, the color changing briefly to a dark violet hue before a crest burned itself where his pupil was, he saw more, infinitely more, like the secrets of reality itself were lain out before him.
"I accept, I will bear your pride as my own, and I will never recognize a superior, there is power in pride, I shall carry it well." Jaune said as he held his hands over his burning eyes, the words were not his own and it felt as if despite the pain he was in, his body worked with him.
The bandits had sunken into the ground, the screams mute amongst the chaos that had flooded Jaune's mind. Blood dripped down his left cheek, Jaune could feel it instinctively, the mark that the Chasm, or the Darker Depths. And that being The Watchdog, pleural depending on interpretation as they were more of a hive mind.
Jaune looked at his bleeding wound in his leg and grit his teeth in pain. He had to move; the trees that surrounded him had burned from the sheer power he had let loose. As his remaining good eye roved to the woman, he found her passed out from the shock of the encounter, her eyes rolled back into her head. His hands gently lifted her, and he carried her away. Unknowingly, a crow perched upon a tree had seen the encounter, its eyes wide. In a single wave of shadow, the form changed to Qrow staring at the young man. His eyes were just as wide, his heart pounded with a fear all beings felt, fear of death. Not death as we know it, this was the unending fear of nonexistence that all beings felt, the fear of entering somewhere so dark you never find your way out of it.
The fear that was imbedded deep in Qrow was the fear of what looked past the human eye, what clung to the shadows he so often found himself in, for just a second, he saw past normalcy, past reality itself. And now he needed a drink.