Jaune trudged into his apartment in Vale, fatigue weighing heavily on his shoulders. The day had been long and taxing, filled with the usual chaos of life in Remnant. With a sigh, he shuffled toward his closet. His fingers fumbled with a lock hidden in the closet's base until it clicked open, revealing a hidden compartment. Jaune reached in, his hand grasping for something familiar amidst the darkness. And there it was — the jade marionette.
His gaze lingered on the marionette, a flood of memories crashing over him like a tidal wave: The Everafter, The Jabberwalker, the Paper Pleasers, and The Red Prince. Each name carried weight, a reminder of a place he had called home for the decades.
In the Everafter, where reality twisted and strange creatures lurked in every shadow, Jaune had dealt with them all. The Red Prince, after the Jabberwalker was gone, had been a constant annoyance. And it was a one of the Red Prince's toy soldier that carried the Jade Marionette which he felt needed to have.
But as he stared at the jade figure, Jaune couldn't shake the memories of those who had fallen before the Great War. Ozma and Salem's reign had left scars on Remnant that bled in the Everafter. And the creatures, abandoned by the brothers, continued to prowl the Everafter, seeking reprisal or solace in equal measure.
Jaune slipped the jade marionette into his pocket, a familiar weight against his thigh. It was a talisman he kept, a reminder of his time in the Everafter. Of course, it had a certain function that made him think of keeping it.
He turned his attention to his Scroll, the same one he had carried during his time in Atlas. The memories flooded back as he scrolled through the interface, each touch of the screen a reminder of the trust placed in them by the General who gave their trust. The Ace-Ops' tools installed within the device had been useful during his time working there.
The Scroll gave him to access technology and was the reason they broadcast messages that had saved countless lives. Still, the memory of what happened on the bridge made by staff remained a bitter reminder of the cost of their actions, the lives lost despite their best efforts.
The Scroll itself was at least two to four years ahead of the Scrolls of the current year. It was a piece of technology that was restored alongside him when he found himself back in time.
As he continues to stare at his Scroll, the glow of the display casts shadows across his troubled expression. The images of that disastrous day replayed in his mind with painful clarity — the chaos, the destruction, the lives lost.
The faces of those who had fallen haunted him — young and old, their lives cut short by a senseless act of violence by a madwoman who wanted nothing more than to see the world burn. If those civilians had an aura, maybe they would have survived the blast and the fall. But Cinder's attack had blown apart the civilians. Their remains scattered across the bridge and the yawning abyss that led to the Everafter swallowed the others. Some had met a watery grave in the Everafter's ocean when they fell. The others fell screaming and found themselves embedded in rocks. Some took days for Jaune to remove from where they fell.
He could still remember trudging through the beaches of Everafter, his heart weighed heavy with grief and horror. The aftermath of that bridge had left nothing but bodies across the places in Everafter, where the civilian from Atlas and Mantle fell.
He feeling a crushing weight upon his soul as he found the lifeless remains of those who had tried to flee to Vacuo through the portal, their broken bodies twisted and mangled beyond recognition.
All because they trusted them.
He recalled his trembling hands as he began the grim task of recovering the fallen, his heart clenching with every lifeless form he uncovered. He couldn't shake the feeling of horror that washed over him with each body he found, the sight of their vacant stares still haunting his dreams.
Some were mere children, their innocent faces frozen in expressions of terror. There was even one child who was part of his route when he was working a traffic guard in Mantle. That made him scream so hard he thought he couldn't spear after he was done. Others were seasoned soldiers who were protecting their home, their proud features contorted in agony. But regardless of age or experience, they were all united in death, their lives snuffed out in an instant by the merciless woman.
He remembered working tirelessly to recover the bodies, the weight of their loss pressed down upon him like a suffocating blanket, threatening to crush him beneath its unbearable burden. He couldn't help but wonder if their deaths had been in vain, if there was anything they could have done to prevent this tragedy.
He could remember the tears streaming down his face.
It was a cruel task that he had to go through before Team RWBY's arrival. Jaune had done what he could in the aftermath, painstakingly marking each grave as a gesture of remorse and a whisper of hope for peace in the afterlife. For failing them. For not being able to protect them.
But the weight of those lost souls lingered no matter what apologies he made, a heavy burden that Jaune carried with him wherever he went. The thought that these civilians suffered all of this because they put their trust in them… was an immense blow.
May the Tree give you happy lives.
With a thought and a heavy sigh, Jaune pocketed his Scroll. He aired out his apartment, cleaned the dust off the room, and locked it. It was good to have a place for himself, no matter how modest it was. As Jaune stepped back onto the streets of Vale, the bustling cityscape felt both familiar and foreign to him. Remnant, with all its noise and chaos, still felt like a stranger compared to the twisted realm of the Everafter. He had spent more years in the Everafter than he had ever lived in Remnant, and in some ways, it had become more of a home to him than the world he had been born into.
His first life had ended in the Everafter. The memories of that place, of its madness and its mysteries, still lingered in the corners of his mind like shadows refusing to fade. And despite the uncertainties that lurked within its twisted acres, there had been a strange sense of peace, a quiet serenity that seemed to exist alongside the strangeness.
The memories of the Everafter tugged at his heartstrings, a strange and bittersweet longing for the tranquillity he had once known. Amongst the concrete and bustling people of Vale, he couldn't help but miss the strange calm of the Everafter's Acres had.
It was strange how he was now thinking this. He once considered the Everafter as nothing but cruel and unforgiving. But as time passed and truths were revealed, his perception of that world shifted, transforming into something far more complex and nuanced.
The revelation of the Tree's true nature had been a turning point for Jaune about how he saw the Tree. Instead of the soul-devouring monster he had once believed it to be, the Tree was a being of kindness and patience, nurturing life with a delicate touch to maintain a fragile balance. It was a realization that shook him to his core, challenging his assumptions and forcing him to confront to accept the reality he had ignored until his life ended.
In the Everafter, life was not simply consumed and discarded; it was recycled, transformed, and reborn. Each Ascension, each cycle of life and death, served to make the inhabitants of that strange realm stronger, wiser, and more resilient. Even in their rebirth, the memories lingered, the heart retaining fragments of the past like echoes in the wind.
It was a cruel yet kind place. Jaune had realized that the place was an oddity of beauty and brutality woven together inextricably. It also gave him a fresh perspective about the Gods.
While The Blacksmith found joy and beauty in creation, the Brothers saw only imperfection and sought to reshape their creations in their image.
The Tree took care of life, even through tough times. But the Brothers didn't see the beauty of letting its creation fumble and make mistakes. They wanted instantaneous perfection and would have made and remade them as they pleased.
After realizing the truth, The Everafter to him was no longer just a realm of madness and isolation; it was a place where tapestry of life and death, beauty and cruelty, woven together in a delicate dance of existence.
The place gave him a lesson that made him who he was now. Patience — it was a virtue he had honed to perfection amidst the chaos and madness of that world.
As decades passed in the Everafter, it tested Jaune's resolve and pushed him to the brink of madness. Yet, through it all, he had clung to his patience with an iron grip, refusing to break despite the weight of despair that threatened to crush him.
It was only when Team RWBY had left him behind that Jaune's facade of patience had finally cracked. In that moment of abandonment, he had felt the madness consume him whole. But even then, there had been a flicker of willpower, a stubborn refusal to surrender completely to despair. But looking back at it now, he was simply a fool barking at the wrong tree.
Yes, Jaune had been maddened by the betrayal, but somewhere deep within him, buried beneath layers of pain and anger, there had still been that core of patience. Still, he was sure that if he hadn't died of old age in the Everafter, and got immediately thrown back to Remnant. He would have not been able to hold back and tried to kill them for leaving him behind. The memory of the betrayal had faded with time, softened by the passage of decades, and yet the scars it had left behind remained as fresh as ever.
Still, it was a blessing, for he gained insight into the truth of the Brothers, and their motivations laid bare before him like an open book
Alongside the insight, Jaune had also gained a deeper understanding of the world through the touch of weapons found in the Blacksmith's workshop. Each blade, each weapon, told a story, a tale of triumph and tragedy and allowed him to see through various thoughts that lingered on them, like echoes.
Still, Jaune couldn't help but wonder what might have been if his body hadn't succumbed to death in the Everafter. Perhaps he could have followed Team RWBY back to Remnant, confronted them about their betrayal, and found some semblance of closure.
But fate, or rather the tree, had other plans for him. Instead of returning to Remnant as he had hoped, Jaune found himself thrust back in time, his younger body remolded by the hands of the blacksmith to serve as a vessel for his older soul. It was Alyx's last wish. The Blacksmith shoved him into a younger body and then dressed him up in his restored gear. Perhaps that's also the reason he adapted well despite it all. Having memories of his younger body allowed him to blend in naturally. It was more like remembering what he had lost, and he made use of this younger body he had merged with to his advantage, acting like what he looked like outside, but still remaining an older soul inside.
Perhaps because he was still older inside that he couldn't help but feel a sense of detachment from the excitement that seemed to mesmerize the surrounding people. While everyone else was eager for the spectacle of combat matches of the Vytal Festival, Jaune found himself uninterested in it.
Perhaps it was the weight of his years, the accumulated experience of a lifetime lived and lost in the Everafter, that left him with a deep-seated aversion to fighting. Despite inhabiting a younger body, who should have been full of youthful bravado, Jaune couldn't shake the weariness that settled in his bones, a weariness born from years spent as a crazed protector in the Everafter.
Or perhaps it was something more profound — a realization that fighting was merely a means to an end. It was not as glamourous as he thought of when he was young. After a decade of constant fighting, Jaune had enough of it to last a lifetime. He knew firsthand the toll that fighting took on the body and soul, the way it tore at the fabric of one's humanity until there was nothing left but emptiness and regret alongside numerous physical and mental scars.
And then there was the memory that haunted him above all others — the moment he had driven Crocea Mors into Penny's heart. Despite possessing a Semblance capable of healing, Jaune had been unable to save her. The weight of that failure bore down on him like a lead weight, a constant reminder of the innocence he had betrayed and the purity he had stained with his own hands.
Healing her had made the act all the more agonizing, like a dagger through his own heart as he felt the lingering touch of her soul with his. In that moment, Jaune had felt the full weight of his sins, a burden that threatened to crush him beneath its unbearable weight.
The memory of Penny's sacrifice weighed heavily on Jaune's heart as he reflected on her selflessness. Despite her own desires and dreams, Penny had willingly allowed him to end her life, all in the name of saving others.
It was a testament to her boundless compassion and unwavering dedication to the greater good as a protector. Even in the face of her own mortality, Penny had put the lives of others above her own, relinquishing her most cherished dream of becoming a real girl for the sake of her friends and the people she wished to protect.
She was not human, yet she was the most human out of everyone.
Penny's sacrifice struck Jaune to his core, a reminder of the extraordinary lengths to which some were willing to go in the name of duty and love. Her willingness to lay down her life had left a mark on Jaune's soul that would never heal.
And it was something that he'd never allow to repeat.
However, the events in Mt. Glenn served as a grim reminder of the cruel and unforgiving nature of reality. Every action carried with its consequences.
Removing Roman from the equation had set off a chain reaction he could not have predicted. In Roman's absence, a new threat had emerged in the form of Adam Taurus, a figure whose presence loomed over Vale now like a dark cloud and even in the joy the festival brings. The fear of the White Fang's attempt to open a passage in Mt. Glenn remained.
And knowing that such action cost ripples made him lonely, knowing that he had to deal with them alone if need to. Because despite being surrounded by his team, Pyrrha, Nora, and Ren. Jaune couldn't shake the feeling of utter loneliness. The troubles of Remnant weighed heavily on his mind, and knowing the future made it even heavier.
And the worst part of it all?
There was one only person who could understand the situation he was in. A person who'd understand having responsibilities and secrets that would cost division if revealed.
And that was Ozma.
Like him, he was trapped in a young body. Jaune knew Ozma could empathize with his loneliness, his struggles, his fears. It was the understanding they could share for being men trapped in younger bodies.
But even as he longed for understanding, Jaune knew better than to confide in Ozma. The immortal wizard's secretive nature and enigmatic demeanor made him a figure to be both respected and feared. Revealing his innermost thoughts and feelings to Ozma was a risk Jaune wasn't willing to take, not when the consequences could be so dire.
So instead, Jaune would rather keep his struggles hidden beneath a mask of stoicism. This loneliness was a silent burden he had to bear alone. Still, he drew strength from the knowledge that he wasn't truly alone — even if he often felt that way.
Because despite the strain of loneliness and the burden of age that weighed heavily on Jaune's shoulders, there was one thing that kept his spirit blazing — his team. Pyrrha, Nora, and Ren were like a bonfire in the darkness, a beacon of light and warmth that guided him through even the darkest of nights.
They were more than just teammates; they were his family, his pillars of strength. It was through them that Jaune finds the strength to carry on.
For Jaune, seeing his team through the trials and tribulations of Remnant was perhaps the only purpose he found in fighting. The reason he would bother to spend another lifetime doing this. Despite his weariness and his age, their presence filled him with a renewed sense of determination, a fire that burned bright even in the face of overwhelming odds.
He leaned on his team for a purpose.
Perhaps it's why Jaune couldn't help but admire at the resilience of Ozma, the infinite man who had lived countless lifetimes and faced more trials and tribulations than anyone could imagine. Despite his flaws and his mistakes, Ozma's drive and willpower remained unbroken, a testament to the strength of his spirit.
And yet, even Ozma was not infallible. His mistakes had been numerous, his missteps countless. Perhaps it was only Salem that could match him in the amounts of death and destruction they had done in the name of their goals.
How Ozma carried through countless lifetimes fighting an eternal war with the woman he truly once loved was itself worthy of respect. And probably one of the reason Jaune couldn't completely hate the man.
Jaune was only in his second life, and he was already this tired.
He couldn't imagine or even fathom how Oz feels living through ages, watching friends and family die when he remained Remnant's protector against Salem.
He could… sympathized with the man's struggle. But liking him was another matter.
His Scroll rang, taking him out of his thoughts. As Jaune retrieved his Scroll, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. The device flashed to life, displaying a white knight chess piece momentarily before transitioning to a screen showing three dots representing his enemies departing from Vale.
This development troubled him deeply. The departure of those three from the city suggested a shift in their plans or a strategic maneuver of some kind. Jaune understood all too well the consequences of such movements, having witnessed firsthand the devastation they wrought when they succeeded the first time.
Analyzing the situation with a tactical mindset, Jaune considered the potential implications of them heading out of Vale. Were they regrouping elsewhere? Planning a coordinated attack on another target? Or perhaps they had uncovered a vulnerability in Vale's defenses and were exploiting it to their advantage? He doubts those three would retreat easily, and he was sure they'd dug their heels. Did they learn something? An information that made them decide this course of action? Or has some idiot made them reconsider their position?
Jaune groaned. Every decision, every action carried weighty consequences and anticipating the actions of others, especially enemies, was a daunting task. Unlike chess pieces on a board, human motivations were complex and often unpredictable. Enemies, in particular, had a knack for defying expectations and throwing plans into disarray at their unexpected moves.
No matter how skilled one might be in strategy or tactics, there was always an element of uncertainty in dealing with enemies. They had their own agendas, their own motivations, and their own methods of operation. Trying to anticipate their next move was like trying to predict the weather — sometimes you could get it right, but more often than not, you were left scrambling to adapt to the changing conditions. People were hardly static and emotions and reasons would sometimes topple strategy.
"Priority one, the people," Jaune told himself.
Jaune held onto a sobering truth: the only achievable goal was to save as many lives as possible. To expect more, he knew, bordered on arrogance. The world was a place of constant turmoil and danger, where lives hung in the balance with each passing moment.
But that doesn't mean he wouldn't seek for perfection, but he also recognized the limitations of his own abilities and the unpredictable nature of the world.
To save as many lives as possible was Jaune's guiding principle. He knew he couldn't save everyone, no matter how desperately he tried. But by focusing on what he could accomplish rather than dwelling on what was beyond their reach, Jaune found a balance he could work with.
It was a painful truth to accept, but Jaune knew that sometimes it was the only path forward.
He knew he didn't have a genius intellect or the influential connections. He wasn't the most powerful fighter, nor did he possess any special abilities like a maiden would.
But none of that mattered to him
He couldn't just stand by and let it happen.