A couple weeks later, and I was nearing the end of my first month in Vale. The healing factor that went along with an awakened Aura had me back on my feet and ready to whip twice my weight in wolves little more than a day after my run in with the White Fang survivors. How had those two gotten out? They sure as hell hadn't had a good time of it, but it wasn't my problem.
Of greater concern was my impending enrollment into Beacon. In just under five months and I'd have to test and fight on equal footing with kids who'd been training at combat schools, combat schools, what a fuckin concept, for years.
Sure, fighting, survival, tactics, I had most technical skills down pat. Two issues: Most would be Hunters had themselves a signature weapon by now, something they used, customized, and trained with to the point it was an extension of themselves. I'd never gone in for that kind of attachment to any of the guns I'd used, and my stipend would be stretched real thin trying to make something I would feel comfortable with using the rest of my life.
The other major problem? Demonstrated in full detail by me having gotten laid the fuck out for the fifth time today by a would be peer.
I stared up at the gym's ceiling, blinking stars out of my vision as the face guard of my sparing partner came into view. His face obscured by fiberglass visor both our training helmets sported. "You good man?" Came his muffled voice. I gave him a weak thumbs up and let him help me to my feet.
The difference actual training, when combined with Aura made, was night and day compared to the untrained goons and mindless beasts I'd fought until now. Case in point. I had joined a gym that had catered to less well off and less powerful Cultivators. And learned first hand that my newfound sense of power and invulnerability didn't mean jack when faced with someone who hadn't just started cultivating their Aura last week. My ego also demanded I mentally include my inability to use all the dirty tricks I would to even the odds in a non regulated fight.
Picking up my rented sword, it was sturdy but cheap; and my first opponent had a chuckle when I let myself freak a bit over it being live steel. I suppose the plastic and padded armor we wore helped some, no doubt in place to protect the gym from a lawsuit if someone didn't stop in time and got a spear to the gullet. I retreated back to the locker room with the guy I'd been fighting with. I was company unfit for man or beast, but the guy flat refused to stop trying to be my buddy.
"Hey, you had me on the ropes for a bit, you're getting a lot better at this." He jostled me a bit, sounding genuine."
"Yeah," I grunted, putting my borrowed gear up to be looked over and cleaned by the gym staff.
"Wanna hit the range next?" Clever bastard, he couldn't aim for crap, and it'd mollify me being better at something than him. I looked up, nodded.
"Sure, you figure out how to channel into your bullets yet?" I asked, the technique was a bit tricky for newbies. I hadn't gotten it yet, that he had was surprising. He gave me a sheepish grin, shook his head.
"Nah, I'm hopeless with that stuff, you'll get it before me." We both agreed, and set off.
That a gym, even one meant for a society's warrior class, had an honest to God shooting range stirred something in me. It was so violently American I had to wonder if some countryman of mine hadn't been whisked here before me.
Hours later, I was back at home, having promised to meet up with by gym buddy, and the rest of his gaggle later that week, and was set on continuing to train my Aura.
Aura was...weird. No other way to describe it. From the leading theories on just what it is, to the myriad applications, and how it shaped combat. Even to how one goes about using, and training to use it. It is a testament to my matchless cleverness and forethought that I elected to die and be resurrected against my will in this plane of existence during an information age.
There were, hundreds of disciplines concerning the cultivation and use of Aura, from across the globe. And thousands more that exist as fragments, or as orphaned techniques added onto some newer, more complete art. The most basic of powers, passive defense, physical enhancement, and healing factor, were near universal; everything else varied wildly throughout Remnant's history.
Today, the go getting kicker of ass had access to a repository of not just these recorded arts, but the latest and greatest attempts at unifying the best of all known techniques into a complete, all purpose Cultivation discipline. At least, I'm sure the average person thought the CCTS' net records had everything worth learning. But if I knew anything, and I like to think I did, I'd stake my life on there being veritable treasure troves of hidden techniques out there, passed through families or down succession lines, or simply waiting in archives or ruins.
That was, a tantalizing fantasy. The truth is, I barely had the skill to channel my Aura through my clothes and weapons to avoid getting them damaged. Uncovering secret ancient arts with which to astound and dominate my enemies remained a distant dream.
In the void, I felt the flame within me, the currents of power, waiting to be unleashed. Along lines within my body, I guided the rivers, molten metal flowing through me, up into my head. The power swirled, pooling into where I imagined my eyes, my ears, my nose. Then, out over my skin. Everything felt...real. More real than it had before. My senses...expanded. I could hear outside my apartment, smell the cheap greasy pizza a delivery boy carried to someone down the hall. Then, I fed too much into it, My senses barraged me with information, I reeled back, pulling my Aura in ass I flopped to the ground, clutching my head.
"Aagh!" I groaned, but couldn't keep a broad smile off my face. Sensory expansion. Another technique down, just had to get used to using it.
Training went by smoothly, I'd pick up something, suck at it, and slowly work at it until I could use it in a fight, then repeat. Another couple months slipped by as I played catch up. Equipment proved to be an even bigger problem. A hole that swallowed the Lien Ozpin provided and never seemed to get any smaller.
As it just so happens, I could have all the mass produced hardware I wanted, nearly anyways, but none of it was going to compare to something all my own. And then there was the matter of making it. It was something of an exaggeration to say all the students out of the combat schools forged their own weapons. As, frankly, it was unreasonable to expect each and every one of them to be blacksmiths, gunsmiths, electricians, chemists, and every other discipline that went into the absurdities Hunters hauled around day to day.
Even so, needing to become passably skilled in all those areas of study was simply not going to be achievable on the timescale I'd been given. Which meant, If I was to have a weapon, I'd need it wholly made by someone else. Which of course, meant paying even more for the skilled labor.
Only a couple months to go, and I found myself walking out of another gun store. The abundance of iron mongers helped a bit to make Vale feel a bit more like home, but each weaponsmith I got estimates from sent me fleeing to the safety of a surplus store that had plenty that was combat proven. Most of my kit was from there, and I'd talked shop enough with the owner, Garm, a wolf Faunus with clipped ears and a face like tanned leather, that it felt almost a second home.
Walking through, Garm looked up from the magazine he was reading, and sent a grunt and a nod my way, a warm welcome by his standards. I returned the gesture and went browsing. My armor had come from here, some getup for heavy infantry from the Faunus War. Which side it was from became obvious when Garm got a sad, then approving look in his eyes when he saw me in the full ensemble. Talking shit about my own species earned me points with him. It was easy, I had plenty of bones to pick with my kind already.
The armor was heavy plates of some composite material, olive green, covering my chest pretty fully, a matching helmet, pretty close to what I was used to from earth, and some bracers and thigh plates. Garm had said I might want to ditch the helmet, most Hunters preferred to look distinctive, which headgear would hinder. I countered that I preferred not to have my brains get some fresh air the first bullet I took whith my Aura drained. He relented.
Today though, I had finally given up on having a signature weapon of my own in time for Beacon, and decided to roll with some dependable surplus until I could fix that. Ever a creature of habit, I went with what was familiar to me. I'd picked out a sturdy, steel and wood battle rifle in a cartridge similar to earth's 7.62 NATO, and a solid two handed Messer. The weapons, ammunition, and webbing and pouches to hold it all used up nearly all of my savings. But boy oh boy one guess who was a happy camper, finally kitted out in some real goddamn hardware. I still had fantasies, and drawn up plans for a true signature weapon later; but for the time I simply didn't care. I had plenty of firepower, and was getting closer and closer to not being an embarrassment.
Elsewhere,
Ozpin sipped at his coffee as reports from both Hunter and Vale's Army for the last month's Grimm patrols scrolled on his desk's holo screen. Light presence as always, no breeches, some heavier fighting in patrol zones backed by Vale's lower class neighborhoods. Everything was normal, which meant something unexpected was happening. Or rather, something he'd expected was not happening.
"Hrm." He sipped, pulling up a file he'd kept on Lanius' movements. He hadn't left the neighborhood Ozpin had set him up in, but the expected result, Increased Grimm movements toward it, failed to manifest.
"Something wrong, Ozpin?" Glynda asked, setting a few transcripts from students who'd applied early on his desk for review. When she circled around, and saw who he was watching, she scowled before schooling her face down. "Mr Draco again?" She sounded exasperated. "I'm beginning to suspect you or Qrow, Qrow more likely, were wrong about the boy."
"We're not, though I wish it was the case. I just wish I knew why the...consequences of him being here are not in evidence"
"I would think you would be glad there aren't waves of Grimm throwing themselves at the walls to get to one young man." That earned a sharp look from Ozpin, Glynda relented, nodding her head with a sigh.
"I want you to go to him."
"Sir?" Glynda looked puzzled.
"Help him train, perhaps Lanius needs a push to come into whatever gifts he's been given."
"And me helping him unlock them will-"
"Trigger a response, yes. The faster it happens, the better we can ensure he dies when and where his death will not have any collateral damage."
"Very well." Her tone was pure ice. And then she was gone. Glynda spared Ozpin the full detail of her disgust, he knew it all already.
I was working on a cheap computer, modeling my most outrageous potential weapon yet. With said weapon an eventual, one day maybe, kind of project, I could afford to be extravagant. Just as I was puzzling out how to stick a flamethrower onto an ensemble that already had a machine gun, chainsaw blade, and directed energy launcher, a knock at my door shook me out of my unhinged fantasies.
I got up, started for the door, paused and realized I hadn't a shirt, or pants on. "Just a sec!" I called as the knocking got insistent. Rushing, I settled for just putting pants on. If whoever was out there had a problem with it, they could go screw themselves.
Waiting for me was Professor Goodwitch. Her cool expression lasted all of a second before she fixed me in place with a glare. I blushed. "Uhm." A moment. "I'll...go put a shirt on."
"Please do."
I did, then welcomed her inside, feeling awkward. "So...what's up?" I said as I took a seat by the table.
Glynda sighed, and looked...like she wanted to put off saying something? But what she got out was. "Its occurred to Professor Ozpin and I that you may need some help in training in order to reach the proficiency expected to pass Beacon's entrance exam."
I raised my eyebrow at that. "With, a month and a half left till the test, only now does that occur you him?" This sounded fishy. Glynda nodded.
"The two of us are busy you know." I had to concede the point, but it still sounded fishy.
"Alright then, so you reckon I need help. What's the help?"
"When I'm not...otherwise occupied, I will assist you in both Aura cultivation, and in combat training. Particularly in applying Aura techniques you learn in battle." No room for argument in her tone, but she didn't sound happy about it either. Upset at being around me? I hope not, maybe I could get an angle here.
"I appreciate it." I nodded. "And, I'll try not to waste any more of your time, bet you're not even getting overtime for this."
She side eyed me, and nodded, a hint of a smile on her face. It could just as easily have been my imagination, since she got right back to business. "Good, let's begin, first, we're going to run through what you know already about Aura, then, we're going to assess your skills in a mock battle..." Oh boy.
As it turns out, 'assess' meant, 'beat the ever loving crap of me' She'd requisitioned us a space in a nearby gym, not the one I went to, this one was nicer, and was even built tough enough to let idiots go at it with live ammo in the sparring rings.
My ability to use my new gun served me not at all. The second our match begin, a lance of purple light smacked the shit out of me and sent me flying, I rolled into a stand and drew my rifle, full auto fire slammed into a translucent barrier Glynda had up faster than I could see.
I charged, dodging another attack she sent my way, only to miss one she sent for my legs. Instead of an impact, her telekinesis had me by the ankle. She whipped me up into the air, and right back into the ground, sending my gun flying and leaving me helpless against a barrage of impacts that pummeled me until Glynda stopped. The 'fight' took twelve seconds and some change.
"As you can see," Glynda started, a hint of amusement in her stern tone. "Your Aura is currently in the red, meaning strong attacks pose a risk of piercing your passive defense. This marks the end of a tournament rules match."
I elected, not to comment that I knew as such, Nodding as I picked myself up and confirmed the status of my Aura on my scroll. Handy little doodad that, I should get a visor or some goggles with that function. "Hrm, Right." I dusted myself off, Glynda continued her lecture.
"You were unable to channel your Aura into your bullets, they might have broken my barrier otherwise. That technique is reliant on sensory expansion, so it's good you've learned to do that, we will go over ranged channeling later. For now," She gave a small grin, the witch was having fun. "Once you recover, we're going to try this again."
I opened my mouth, and immediately stuck my foot in. "Normally I'd have to pay for this kind of punishment, lucky me." I grinned feebly, even as her own became fierce. That I'd be paying for.
I paid. I never laid a hand on her. The closest was my second to last ass beating for the day. I had learned the knack I had seen of being able to react to incoming attacks I had noticed. My Aura enhanced senses picked up the wave of Glynda's riding crop before she even started, in my headlong rush for her, I ducked under a bolt of her telekinesis, then over one sent to trip me up.
Closing in, I went high, overhand swing. Expectedly, it hit her barrier, but it was a feint. I leg flashed up and out, under her shield. Glynda's eyes widened just a fraction, then hopped back gracefully. My shot spent, I braced, and got the reprisal I expected. I was picked up bodily and pelted with TK bolts before being slammed into the ground until my Aura hit the red.
By the time my 'combat training' was over, I had almost began to suspect Glynda was working through some frustrations out on a, mostly, willing punching bag. What it says about me that I only minded in so much that I wondered how much I was responsible for said frustration? I chose not to ponder.
"You're already showing some improvement, we will keep at this each time we meet for training." She states matter of factly. Real slave driver that one.
"With friends like these..." I started, the saying earned an almost, surprised look from Glynda. Huh, odd that.
She recovered quickly. "You did agree to this, and don't think Beacon itself will be any easier. There's only so much catching up we can do before then." I take it she didn't gladly suffer the kind of bitching I was accustomed to offering. I shut up.
Just because it didn't involve getting beaten to a pulp, firearms practice didn't get any easier. I was in the range, sighted into a target that would only register an Aura enhanced shot. I let my Aura out following Goodwitch's instruction to the letter. Not full fledged sensory expansion, but the principal was the same. In the void, I felt whisps of my soul snake out ahead of me. The smokey tendrils finding, then coalescing onto my target.
My Aura pooled around the bullet in the chamber of my rifle next, the whisps I sent out straightening, forming in my mind's eye, a tether directly from my weapon to my target. To my side, Glynda watched impatiently, this had taken hours of practice. Finally, I squeezed the trigger. My rifle bucked in my hands, bullet cracking out with an odd sound as a bullet, wrapped in my Aura, shot out and struck the target. It resounded with a loud ping, indicating a successful Aura Shot.
"Very good, Mr Draco." Glynda praised. "Now, again."
"Yes Ma'am." I nodded back, and set to setting up another shot.
For now, Aura Shots, or, ranged channeling, it went by both, was beyond me to use mid fight, though I supposed I could pull off a sneak attack provided an enemy didn't have their own senses expanded to detect my Aura.
As practice was winding down, the pace Glynda had driven me to keep had gotten me, more curious than anything else. Was she trying to put me under enough stress to unlock my Semblance? It was one of the more reliable methods.
"You will report here each day for training. I've already written a regimen for you to follow, any day I can't make it out here, you'll have other sparing partners." It was just like being in basic, only my Drill Sergeant didn't look as good.
I must have said that out loud, Glynda cleared her throat and gave me a glare. "Focus, young man." Then, after a moment, she continued in a lower voice. "The entrance exam will be the easier part of getting into Beacon."
"Oh? Rookies get put through some kind of gauntlet?"
"Yes, I can't say what you'll face, I'm not even supposed to say that much, but you will die if you are not ready." That got my attention, I nodded.
"Thanks, I'll keep my head on straight."
"See to it that you do." She paused, then, puzzled, asked. "You were in the military? At your age?"
Oops. "Uhm. I'm a little older than I look, and what my ID says."
She didn't look like she bought it, but hummed thoughtfully. "That possibility was raised, but, you didn't answer my question, Mr Draco."
I thought I kept my face neutral, but she must have picked something up, despite not answering, she nodded, and spoke again, softly. "Do be careful, Lanius. Oh, you still need a weapon, correct?"
"Yeah, I'd settled on what I have until after entering Beacon, though. Didn't seem like I'd have the time to get one without some," I was about to say crime, but had a sudden flash of wisdom. "Extra income, and no time to get it."
Glynda hummed, and pulled up something on her scroll, then held out her hand. "Give me your scroll, there's an armorer you can see about having one made, you'll have the budget for it."
I handed over the scroll. "You in my corner for real?" I asked, point blank, earning an annoyed glance. "Don't get it twisted, I'm grateful, but everything I've gotten has been tied to vaguely defined debts. Don't blame a guy for getting cynical about Ozpin's bunch. Okay?"
Glynda thought about that, actually shifting a bit uncomfortably before she replied. "I am, Ozpin has an entire kingdom to worry about, Hunters, and those in training to become Hunters, are a resource to use to that end. It's my responsibility to see you, and your eventual peers, have what you need to survive."
There was a long pause between us, she wasn't telling me everything, but I got the picture easy enough. It confirmed my own suspicions. I smiled. "Thanks then, you're alright." Glynda raised an eyebrow at that, but accepted the compliment.
"You're welcome young man, make sure you do your part, and I know you'll excel." She handed me my scroll back, we exchanged goodbyes, and split ways. I wandered back to my apartment. My troubles had still not decreased a single bit, but at least I had someone looking out for me.
Days ticked down, the second I got used to my workload, Glynda ever so thoughtfully, ratcheted up the intensity. She seemed at first more frustrated, then reluctant. Was she herself being pushed to push me harder? I thought that was the idea, she seemed a firm believer in the more you bleed in training, the less you bleed in battle. Which, seemed to be the point of this. So sensing she was worried to force me to grow was strange.
The upside, if you can call it that, was a dislocated shoulder from one of our bouts left me a day to recover. I'd spent most of it in meditation, but I finally had the time to take up Glynda's offer of paying to have a weapon commissioned. Depending on how long it took, I ought to have a couple weeks to practice with it before the entrance exam.
I'd come prepared. As I trained, I got a handle on how I'd like my breadth of experience to congeal into a specific fighting style. And, I settled on something I could feel comfortable using in the range of situations I'd meet. That Beacon Academy was footing the bill meant my only real limits were that of practicality, and what I reckoned I could learn to maintain.
The armorer she'd recommended to me was up in the high class district. I could feel the self importance was over me as I crossed into the zone. My scruffy, milsurp armor drew looks. A few geezers looked personally offended, one even looked like he wanted to reach for a gun that he didn't have. Must be a vet. I resisted the urge to go 'boo!', that would've been low down, even for me.
Luckily, I made it without incident. Either I looked like to much trouble to fuck with, or Remnant's bougie douchebags were nicer than the bougie douchebags used to be on Earth. I'd entered a squat two story building, and saw the shop's owner sitting behind the counter, reading.
She looked to be in her twenties, short, well proportioned from what I could see, a real punk rock look,, leather jacket, thick makeup, and a collar around her neck. Her hair, a steel grey, was done up in a side cut over the left side of her face, she looked up from her book with searching icy blue eyes. The shopkeep cocked an eyebrow at my appearance. "You raid a surplus store for that shit?"
"Yup, hasn't got me killed yet." I snarked back, sensing she didn't mean it, I saw a few old military pieces around the shop myself. "Here to commission a weapon, Beacon's picking up the tab." I approached and gave her my ID. She looked something up, and gave me a big ol smile,
"Fantastic, let's go spend some taxpayer money. I'm Cinza," Cinza held her hand out, I shook it, for a small woman she had a hell of a grip. Then, she led me back behind the storefront into her workshop. It was a gun nut's wet dream. I saw guns, partial guns, and individual parts in more varieties than I'd seen outside of a doomsday prepper's personal stash. There were machine guns, rifles of all sizes and makes, some obscene big bore that was apparently magazine fed. And more than a few of them had absurd melee weapon combinations built in. And...
"Is that fucking power armor?" I asked, mouth agape, I must have drooled. Cinza chuckled.
"Ain't she somethin? Personal specialty of mine, that what you had in mind?" I wanted, so, so badly to say yes. I could see the open armor, it's exoskeleton standing rigid. All angular plates and servos, a helm with a mirrored visor, it had mounts for weapons, a set of thrusters, my god, it even had projection ports for Hardlight Dust.
But...damn me, I couldn't, I didn't even dare to hope I had the budget for it, and keeping the thing maintained was way beyond my skill...
"One day." I said, wistfully, feeling a profound sense of loss as I walked away from that glorious vision. Cinza patted my shoulder and led me to a computer. She had a devious grin on her face, knowing damn well she had another payday coming the instant I had the money for it.
"Goodwitch told me you'd been working on some designs, why don't we look through em and finalize one?"
I nodded agreement and slotted my scroll into her computer. In seconds, Cinza booted up her modelling program and we were sorting through my crackhead ass weapon concepts. I disturbed her with a few of them, mainly cause I made sure even my most deranged concepts were technically in the realm of physical possibility before loading them into my scroll to take here. "You got problems kid." She accused, I had no rebuttal.
In the end, we'd settled on something merely large and impractical, instead of something bordering on devil worship. We'd tapped out the budget Glynda had conned out of Beacon's funding, nearly all my own stipend, and Cinza had given me a discount after I proved my bona-fides by defending the feasibility of my designs. Mainly because, it was two weapons, both mecha-shifting with some real versatility, and both heavy enough that, when calculated, I first had to prove to Cinza I could haul the weight easily, before she agreed to inflict my imagination on the physical plane.
The main weapon, when folded for travel, was an ungodly metal rectangle, and the horrors began when it unfolded. It held within, a medium machine gun, firing the same cartridge as my soon to be replaced rifle, with a receiver that could take drums, belts, and even magazines. For a melee weapon, most of the weapon's weight in fact, went into a chainsword blade that ran under the machine gun's barrel. Power concerns led me to have the saw blade retract, an an unpowered blade slide into place over it for emergency work. The whole monstrosity could shift between a rifle form with a stock and fore grip, with the blade acting as a bayonet; it's other form straightened, grip extending into a two handed hilt, and the chainsaw unfolding to a greatsword length that no doubt suggested insecurities about a certain other blade of mine. For shits and giggles, the stock of the gun form had yet more material to slide over the hilt to extend it into a horribly top heavy polearm, fond memories of my half ass glade back in Forever Fall inspiring that last addition.
To call my other weapon a shield would be an understatement. It was large, rectangular, and ugly. It too, had tricks aplenty. It's main form slid over my forearm with a slot to brace my weapon's gun form over. It could retract for storage, or split into two squat plates to attach to my shoulders for use when using my obscene sword in both hands. It's final trick was to unfold into a tripod I could mount my gun on for greater stability.
Derranged and excessive, it was a result of me trying to fit every conceivable function I could think I'd need. The only thing keeping yet more functions being added on was cost and physical inconceivability. When I told Cinza an earlier form had a rocket launcher, she threatened to shove one such weapon up my ass. Finally, when everything was finalized, Cinza stepped back and started sorting hunks of metal to start processing, she turned to me again.
"You got a name for these monstrosities?"
"Yeah,"
"Are they good names?"
"Nope" I admitted, "The gun and sword are Dragon's Roar. The shield's Dragon's Hide."
"Little on the nose there bud."
"Yeah, but I think they're cool." I said in feeble defense of my naming expertise.
With that, I set off for home again, giddy as a kid that caught a peek at his Christmas presents.
