Shooting a quick look to the side, Jaune gritted his teeth, moving his shoulder slightly. Not a sound escaped him as the sickle bit into him. Neither when he moved his shoulder to lock the blade between his scapula and clavicle bone.
The black shadow looking puzzled at why it couldn't tear it's sickle out. Jaune didn't know what it was. It died like everyone else, and that was all that mattered to him.
Ripping his sword out of the last madwoman, he spun and pierced into the walking shadow. Rusty old sickle bending from the force he turned with. Shooting fiery pain trough him as the metal bit into bone. Yet Jaune only used the pain to fuel the strength of his strike. Miasma ripping it apart and feasting on it. With a tired sigh, Jaune looked over the blood splattered hamlet. Blood and gore were everywhere. Tar like blood ran down the cobbled path in great rivers. Livers, intestines, and brain matter lied splattered everywhere. Sometimes even coating cobbled walls.
Looking down at Crocea Mors, the miasma had begun crawling up his arm. With a mental thug he released the enchantment, watching on in sadness as the black and red writhing mass of shadows retreated into his sword. It had almost doubled in size since he first cast the enchantment. Swirling around his loyal companion as a dense fog. The faces trapped inside having grown more ravenous, more numerous.
Running his fingers down her once yellow fuller. Her namesake having taken on a rusty crimson. With a heavy hearth, he sheathed her. His heart hurting as his once noble companion fell from grace for his sake. A hollowness that couldn't be put into words falling over him. Muting the deafening sound of his boiling blood.
Ripping the sickle out from his shoulder without flinching, having run dangerously low on aura. Having layered it over vital places instead. Twirling the bent and rusty sickle in his fingers, he began walking down the path, stepping over corpses and gore the entire way. Making sure everyone was dead, and giving a mercy kill here and there. His anger might not be clouding his thoughts anymore. But that didn't mean he would magically forgive them. They were cannibals, mad witches who happily harvested their magical ingredients from living victims. He had no room in his hearth for people like them.
"But… they have no need for their ritual components now that they are dead, do you?" Jaune asked, staring down on a still living madwoman. Half her body being eaten up by a curse, skin, arms, muscles and bones, all undergoing necrosis. Rotting and festering as the curse ate away at her body. Yet the curse was also the only thing keeping her alive. Slowing down her vital processes enough, so her missing guts and lower organs didn't kill her.
"You… you scrouge." She spat, an eye already rotted away, leaving a single hateful orb glaring back up at him. "You should have just played along. You could have been one of us. A herald of our own. There is so much we could have shared with you, taught you. But no, you had to kill everyone. Does your bloodlust know no bounds? How many will you kill before you are satiated? But it doesn't matter. Reckoning is coming. The witches will make instrument of your bones, clothes of your skin, and food of the rest. Your tortured screams will ring all the way to Yharnam."
"So you can talk. Just didn't feel like it when trying to rip my guts out, huh." Jaune said hollowly. Ignoring the hag's glare. Simply rising his boot and crushing her throat with a hard stomp. Having grown tired of her vitriol.
Rolling his shoulder, he felt the earlier wound having mostly closed up. Flexing his arm, he felt more than ready to jump back into a fight. "Don't be impatient now Jaune." He mumbled to himself. "Just because you can fight, doesn't mean you should fight."
'My aura should be in the yellow at least. And my spirituality should settle first.' He thought, aimlessly walking through the carnage he had made. Bodies piled high. Splashing trough a river of blood. Some tired, listless, groans rang out in the quiet. The last sound they ever made as Jaune made sure the job was complete. There wouldn't be a single soul alive to sneak up on him while he liberated them their catalysts and other regents.
After scouring through the hamlet trice, he returned back to where everything began. Stepping into Annie's half collapsed cottage. Walls painted with blood and guts. Being the centre of the carnage until he managed to cut a way out. It worked out in his favour in the end, but had he been weaker, his aura frailer, he would have died multiple times.
Stepping over Annie's cracked skull, he let his eyes wander over her spice rack.
"Oleander, nightshade, hemlock, rosary pea's, heh, even some leaves of tobacco. She really have everything, huh." Jaune mumbled, ringing his bell and having Isolde spirit the herbs away. "Do make sure you get plenty of rest Isolde, I have a feeling I will be needing your services a lot this night."
"Master need not to worry. Isolde knows her limits." Isolde said piously, appearing before him and giving him a deep bow.
Rising an eyebrow he looked over her again, her tattered hooded cloak had transformed into a decorated white robe. It still hid most of her body, but it was neatly decorated with golden embroidery along the hems. Giving of a feeling of nobleness and purity. The glyphs had turned more intricate, grown, and transformed from a child's haphazard drawing's to a nuanced piece of art that drew ones gaze deeper and deeper.
Her cloak wasn't the only thing that had changed, Isolde herself had grown larger. Before coming up to his knee, now reaching all the way up to his waist. She was still hunched over; arms were still lithe with almost translucent skin. Her wings had grown larger, with a second, smaller pair sprouting under the first. Her veil had grown more transforming, her rainbow collared eyes being completely hidden from view. The only thing that really were the same was the glittering mist that followed her.
"I see you have grown?" Jaune asked confused. Not really knowing what she was. And therefore not really knowing she could grow.
"Only thanks to masters grace." Isolde replied reverently, bowing again. Her vocabulary far more refined to the childishness she replied with before. "Isolde is bound to master, your eternal willing servant. As master grows, so does Isolde."
"That's good to know." Jaune replied with a nod, Isolde shimmering out of existence. A soft mist the only indicator that she ever had been here. "That's really good to know." He muttered under his breath. 'Got to read up on what Isolde is. A parasite? No, she worships me too much. A symbiotic relationship maybe? But how and why?'
Shaking the thoughts away, he went back to scouring trough the cottage. Taking anything that he recognised as useful. Inwardly glad to see how all his 'inactive' abilities from his metamorphosis worked together. His ability to deduce letting him quickly pick out what was immediately useful, and what would be useful in the long term. Multiple seeds falling squarely under the last category.
While his ability to deduce worked it's magic, the two heavy hitters were his two amalgamations' of knowledge. His knowledge of concoction's and potions reaching all the way to most herbs and plants, how to plant, nurture, and harvest them. Foreign muscle memory becoming more and more assimilated as he touched and moved herb around carefully.
It was much the same regarding his ritual knowledge. The largest part was occupied by rituals and only rituals, but it was also filled with knowledge on how to prepare ritual catalysts, how to draw, and how to conduct rituals. All knowledge that was just as important as simply knowing the rituals. A lot like drawing, it was one thing to draw, it was another thing to know how to bring out colours, what pencils to use, and how differences in perspectives changed the final work.
Giving the rifleman a mercy killing, Jaune made his out of the cottage. Expression falling as he saw multiple crows falling from the sky. They didn't as much fly as they glid, bellies and bodies filed to the brim with blood.
Stepping over the corpses, he chuckled to himself as the crows wobbled away from his path. He had half expected them to throw themselves at him, especially given how much blood he was coated with. It was honestly a miracle his coat hadn't begun smelling of blood in the real waking world. There wasn't a single spot on him that wasn't covered by blood. There were even drops in the fringes of his hair. There were even some drops of blood trailing down his back.
Disappearing into another house, he ransacked it from top to bottom. Taking everything that could be used as a potion ingredient or a ritual regent, even seeds weren't spared. Especially since he knew some potion's that could speed up the growing process.
Making his way out from the cottage, a handful of crows tried taking a nibble out of him instead. Earning themselves a swift death. After that, the crows learnt their lesson. Choosing to gorge themselves on the corpses instead.
However, he could say having a little army of fat crows waddle into a line as he passed them made his lips twitch. It was stupid, it didn't make sense, but it did help rising his mood as he wandered from hut to hut. That the crows waddled with him from corpse to corpse as well, wanting to stay closer to him just made him smile.
He would still kill them without a seconds hesitation should they try something but seeing that blood mad animals wouldn't bite the hand that fed them did make him smile. It wasn't much, but it did make him hope that the corruptive effects from the blood could be cleansed.
It was a fools dream. But Jaune was very much a fool.
Even if it was mad. Even if he was to kill himself in the process.
Jaune wanted to truly rid Yharnam from the blood's tainted corruption.
And if he were to fail, he wanted to at least try. Most Yharnamites might be callus pieces of shit, but that didn't mean they should have to live in terror of their neighbours and friends transforming into mad beasts.
"Baby steps Jaune." He whispered, sitting on a blood splattered bench and taking a moment to gather himself. To say his haul was good was an understatement. While he still hadn't gotten his hands on the truly rare catalysts and ingredients. He had enough to freely start experimenting with potions, while also having enough left over to begin teaching Violet. That was without mentioning all the rituals that suddenly were open to him.
After all, there were multiple ingredients and catalysts he simply couldn't get his hand on in Vale. Many that were illegal, and many that would see him thrown in jail, or at least leave him with multiple marks on his records.
"And we can't have that, can we?" Jaune asked absentmindedly, running a glowed hand through the feathers of the crow that had decided his lap was a good nice to rest.
"Sqwak!" It replied, instantly going back to preening itself.
It was an interesting thing, it's eyes blue instead of red. It had also never tried attacking him. Some other crows had tried their luck, meeting the sharp edge of his sword.
Compared to them, this crow had waddled up to him unafraid. Flying into his lap before it began preening itself. Given that it's beak was as long as his forearm, he was cautious to never let it close. Always keeping his aura up in case it would think of him as a delicious snack.
But his worries were unfounded, instead only what could be described as pleased caws escaped it.
Closing his eyes but still having his aura on the ready, Jaune allowed himself a moment to relax. Simply basking in the serenity around him. The gentle quiet as wind ran through the weeds, how the moonlight illuminated him, washing away all his worries as he could just take a moment to catch his breath. For he knew he would be throwing himself into a harsh fight.
He didn't know much about the witches, but they were apparently the hamlet's leaders. It was also they that had seduced a hunter in the past. Making them break their contract to the dream and escape away with a workshop tool.
He didn't know their fate, and neither did he need to.
Gehrman had called them a fool, and that was all he needed to know.
"Well. This have been nice, but it's time for me to continue." Carefully lifting the crow from his lap and setting it done beside him. Jaune stood, stretching more out of habit than need. Left hand aimlessly going over what little inventory he had left, a single blood vial, some bullets, and a pungent cocktail. All his other supplies having been used in the earlier carnage.
The crow warbled at him, jumping down from the bench and wobbling over to him. Looking up at him with its big beady eyes.
With a sigh, Jaune bent down, running his hand trough it's feathers. "You can't come with me buddy. You will die."
With those words, Jaune walked up the stairways. Blood splattering with his every step all the way to the gate. Already open, some desperate hag's having opened it in hope of getting reinforcements. They died all the same. The trolls that had once seemed so hard to overcome, growing easy when all he needed was to aim for their knees. Gravity and their weight would do the rest. Giving him an almost free kill. The spell bound executioners were much the same. Take their knee, take their mobility, and their weight would destroy themselves.
Still, Jaune knew he would be back, if only to explore more of the area. There were bound to be some greenhouses or other areas for tending to useful ingredients. There is no way that a supposedly 'coven' of witches would ignore something like that.
Following the crucified corpses, Jaune made his way towards the witches' lair. Knowing fully well that that could have been him if he hadn't managed to smell the blood in the stew. Part of him knew his vitality mostly made him immune to disease, but he didn't want to hedge his bet against multiple potent toxins.
It was one of the ways he didn't want to go.
Making his way up the hill, the crosses and gravestones grew numerous. A tension filling the air as he walked towards a fight.
Stepping into the room, he quickly sidestepped a hag. Rewarding her with a quick death for her efforts.
Checking over his inventory, knowing he was walking in with less than he wanted, he descended down the staircase. A soft prayer echoing his every step.
"The flower that once has bloomed forever dies."
The last syllable escaped him as he sat foot on the bottom. A fifth of his spirituality sat aside as miasma came exploding out from Crocea Mors. A shiver racing down his back as the miasma reached around his hand like a loving touch from the reaper.
With a flex of his spirituality, the miasma receded from his hand, coating the blade with a thick cloud of black miasma. The only other colour being red hands and screaming skulls banging at the prison.
Stepping into the witches lair, he frowned. Seeing neither hide nor hair from any of the witches.
Walking further in, Jaune began feeling his hackles rising. Knowing something was observing him, judging him.
A black pool of sludge materialized on the floor, a black shadowy form clawing its way out. Quickly throwing itself towards him the second it laid it eyes at him. A soundless scream escaping it as threw itself at him with all the fury of a hundred starving ghosts.
Slipping under its telegraphed blow, he cleaved through it. It's sickle clattering on the stone floor. The shadow being dissipating, feasted on by the swarming miasma coating Crocea Mors. It's hungry tendrils slithering up his hand, urging him on to rip and tear. But he forced it down with another flex of his spirituality.
Instead bringing his attention back to the room, scouring over the barrels and the broken wooden walkway. Cautiously making his way around the room. Dodging and killing another shadow monster.
Stopping when he saw a crimson glow out from his eye. Stepping to the side and making his way towards it. He frowned, his rune warming up when he saw the musky film that enveloped the creature.
A hunched and withered crone, draped in a tattered and hooded robe that concealed much of her body. The robe covered by eyes that seemed to grow from it. She leaned heavily on a gnarly staff, adorned with inscribed symbols and fetishes crafted from human parts. A hocked sickle in its other hands, gripped tightly by long and gingerly fingers.
"So you are the witch of Hemwick." Jaune said calmly, looking down on the withered crone as if she was already dead. Hearing the rustle off feet from the other end of the room, he turned around. Knowing he couldn't afford to have something unknown sneak up behind him.
Taking his eyes of the witch in the process. An amateurish mistake the witch was quick to punish him for. A mistake he would never do again.
A crimson ball lit up, beelining for him. Instincts blaring, he dodged to the side. Only knowing to late that he wouldn't get out of the way without being hit. Making a split-second decision he threw his free hand out, choosing to sacrifice it, instead of having his combat ability affected in any other way.
A mad cackle rang out as his glow rotted away, the skin on his hand turning black as necrosis started eating away at him.
"Arrogant hunter's never learn." The witch spat, a twisted pair of eyes looking up at him.
"Necrosis, huh. So this is how it feels." Jaune replied absentmindedly, circling the witch in such a way that nothing was behind his back. His lips quirking up as he saw the curse struggling to push eat trough the vitality in his skin. "A cruel curse, but not that I expected anything else from your kind. But you forgot a tiny little detail about the curse-"
Exploding into motion he dashed into the witch, burying his entire hand into her side before she could react. Madness shining briefly in his eyes as he brough Crocea Mors down. Cutting of his hand as he moved to dodge out of another spell entirely.
Backstepping, he ignored how his stump stopped bleeding. Instead cutting through another shadow as he saw the witch fall to her knees, wailing from pain. The necrosis curse spreading from his tough it to eat trough hand, to the tender and withering witch.
"- it is extremely fast acting." He answered as he cut through another shadow. And another.
They fell like wheat, the miasma around Crocea Mors feasting on them like ravenous beasts. Growing with each and every shadow slain, tendrils of miasma wrapping themselves around his hand. Only rusty weapons littering the floor.
Looking around, Jaune felt his heart leap into his throat. A red beam of light, too fast to dodge slammed into his shoulder. The grinning maw of another witch all he saw as she snapped her fingers.
Eyes turning to pinpricks as he felt his body turn into a living bomb. "Fuc-"
He didn't hear any explosion, didn't feel one either, before he was opened his eyes to the gentle winds of the dream.
With an angry huff he sat up, frowning as he felt a bite of pain from his hand.
Looking down at his left hand, his brows furrowed further. The necrosis curse having followed him into the dream. Eating away at his hand. It travelled slowly, struggling to get through his vitality, but it was making progress, if only in small increments. Doing some quick deductions, he knew he had a month till the curse ate all the way to his elbow, two months till it was at his shoulder, and a month and a half before it became lethal. Giving him more than enough time to cure it.
Curses, while cruel, all had one critical flaw. If the caster died, the curse fell with it. However, this 'bond' between caster and recipient also allowed the caster to roughly know where the cursed person was. Meaning that the second he woke back up in the waking work, the witches would know. Giving them time to prepare more for their next encounter.
"Of course, I could always use 'that ritual to throw the curse back at the caster… But…no… That's arrogant, stupid." Jane chastised himself, a shiver running down his spine. Taking a deep breath, he felt the pure air from the dream fill his lungs. Washing away the miasma's cruel taint he hadn't felt take hold of him. Cruel thoughts of breaking their spirits, shattering their pride, before killing them disappearing. Replaced by the cold cruel efficiency he had honed inn Yharnam.
'Note to self, cast only Bloodmoons Lament when absolutely necessary. It is as much a curse as it is a boon.' Jaune thought with another shiver. Not having noticed how it crept into his thoughts. Making him crueller, more callous. It had made him arrogant; he should have simply taken his kill shot then and there, there had been absolutely no need to call out to the witch when he noticed her. But he had…
"But still… I have to thank them." Jaune said, even if he had died, his shoulders felt unimaginably light. He had finally cracked the last lock he needed to turn rituals combat effective.
Smiling to the Doll, his mind worked overdrive as he walked into the workshop. A gentle smile blossoming as he saw Violet sprawled out over her desk. Sleeping soundly. Splatters of ink over her face and fingers. Her soft breathing echoing through the workshop.
Carefully looking over her work, his lips quirked up a bit at all the many broken, half finished, and squiggly Intuition ritual circles that laid sprawled around. 'No doubt Gehrman's prodding.' Jaune mussed to himself.
From the three ritual circles he had given her, one was a communication ritual, one was a mental supplementary ritual, and one was a constant active spell. Intuition was the only spell from the list that would give her an immediate boost in combat effectiveness. Even if it only boosted her intuition, it would also be valuable in the long run. A strong intuition helping her navigate situations she wasn't prepared for. Rising her survivability.
"For someone who have just come back from the dead, you seem awfully well put together." Gehrman said wispily. Something twinkling in his eyes as he looked at him.
"I cracked the code." Jaune replied with a smile. Throwing his coat and vest over the back of a chair. Heading to the workshop table with rolled up sleaves. "It doesn't matter if I can anchor a ritual to my spirituality if there is no way for me to activate it. I need to anchor it to my body as well. Then the anchor on my body will work as a bridge when I triggered by my spirituality."
Gehrman nodded with a hum.
Ignoring him, Jaune looked trough all the pen's. Grabbing a calligraphy pen with the finest point, needing for this to be done extremely fine. There was no room for failure. The design he had come up with wasn't complex in the slightest, but it would control how many 'slots' he had for spells. If he wanted to add more spells, he would need to add even more slots. And if he didn't want his body to end up looking like a rejected tattoo canvass, he needed to be extremely careful that everything happened exactly like he wanted.
Dipping his pen in ink, Jaune knew exactly what he wanted. Starting he drew a small inner circle that did nothing but establish a starting boundary. "One nine, two nine, three nine." Jaune mussed to himself, quickly circling the boundary with three other boundary circles. Two middle boundaries in different sizes, and one large outer boundary. Holding his hand over the circles, he nodded to himself. Not seeing a spot where the largest circle eclipsed his hand.
"That's the easy part all done." Jaune sighed, knowing what he was going to be spending the rest of his night on. Not that it took away from the giddiness he felt. "Now, just to split the inner circle into nine equal parts, spaced evenly. And then do the same with the middle circle and outer circle. And if one 'slot' is bigger than another, the ritual is going to blow up in my face. Joy."
Before he started, he grabbed another piece of paper and began doing math. Calculating the length each slot would take. Doing his best so the ritual 'anchor' size was exact down to the millimetre. And the only reason he didn't calculate down to the exact nanometre was the lack of tools. Needing for this to be as perfect he was capable of.
With his measurements by his side, he got to work, starting with the inner circle. Inwardly thanking the versatility of his ability to deduce. It could help him connect events, clues, ingredients, and it allowed him to eyeball the exact values. To a degree that was. But it was good enough for his purpose, and that was to make sure he ended up with fifty-four slots, and not a blown of hand.
Fifty-four slots might sound like much, but it honestly wasn't. His ritual 'slots' weren't reusable. If he bound, say, Overvoice, a communication ritual. And then cast it. The ritual would still be bound to the same slot, even if he lacked the spiritual anchor to cast the spell. So if he wanted multiple casts of a ritual, that would be multiple ritual slots occupied.
"But that is the price for storing a rituals effect for later I guess." Jaune mumbled to himself, moving the pen with slow and deliberate moves. Iron determination making sure even the slightest of twitches were supressed before they would destroy his work.
Everything had to be as close to perfect as possible.
With a tired sigh, he carefully put his pen down. Letting the ink dry as he looked over his work once, twice, thrice, before looking over it one last time for extra security. One could never be too careful.
"Lad, if you had been as careful in your hunts as you are with your rituals, you would be a completely different hunter." Gehrman snarked airily from the side.
"That might be, but if I had been this careful with everything, I still wouldn't have stepped out from Iosefka's clinic." Jaune shot back with a barn of his own. Shoulders falling as he looked down at his work. "It's looks as good as I can get it… Just to jump in it, huh."
Carefully aiming his palm over the circle, making sure everything was inside, he pushed down. A huss escaping between clenched teeth. It didn't hurt as much as he expected, but then, his sense of pain was so skewed it wasn't even funny. But for one time in his life, it wasn't as painful as it was weird. Jaune lacking words to even begin describing the feeling of a bridge being built inside, connecting the spiritual inside, with the world outside.
Only a soft sense of something clicking back into place.
When the heat in his palm died down, Jaune let out a shuddering breath. A giddy smile splitting his face in two as he looked at the ritual circle. The flesh was still tender, almost as if he had gotten a real tattoo. And it also contained his family emblem in the centre. Something he hadn't planed for, neither had been expecting in the slightest.
Frowning he looked over his hand, mind working overdrive as to why his emblem was in the centre of the ritual circle. Mind comping up blank. But outside that, everything had gone exactly as he wanted. Now, whenever he performed a ritual, he could choose to anchor that ritual into a ritual 'slot', if he wanted to call out that specific ritual effect on a later date. It could be a mundane spell, or something large and complicated. Like the ritual he had held for Violet.
"But I have to be spitting mad if I walk into combat with a constructive ritual… Or… maybe I could scramble an opponent's blood? Make it so their body begins rejecting their blood. That have to be lethal, right?"
Jaune didn't get a second to think on that before mist enveloped him. Followed by small hands scrambling all over his still sleeping form.
The harsh whisper of "Master is dying!" Forcing him awake.
####
"Master is dying!" Was not one of the things Ren had expected to wake up to if he were to be honest. He had been basking in blessed silence, where everything was quiet and at peace. While he cared deeply for Nora and his team, having just some seconds of silence to himself was something he didn't take for granted.
He had heard some rustling from Jaune's bed but brushed it off as Jaune stirring awake. The man always waking up at 5 am completely on the dot. It would have been impressive if it hadn't been backed up by Jaune slowly loosing himself in a nightmare.
However, it turns out he had been wrong. He didn't know what miracle caused Violet to wake up first, and he didn't smell any blood. So he had that going for him, which was nice. Meant that whatever was happening wasn't as acute as the blood fountain incident. Ren had seen cut throats, cut some himself, and blood didn't gush out like that. Maybe a weak spurt if they had high blood pressure, but it was mostly flesh splitting open and blood flowing down the neck.
But that didn't stop the panic in Violet's whispers as she stared down at him. Big blue eyes on the verge of tears as she grabbed his hand and did her best to drag him towards Jaune.
Sitting up, Ren followed the little girl over to Jaune's bed. Where the man in question sat upright, awake and alive. Looking the very picture of health. Jaune throwing his daughter in all but blood a fond but exasperated look. Making him roll his eyes. 'As if Violet didn't say master, but mean father'.
Not that Ren couldn't blame her. If someone had gone out of their way to give him and Nora a safe place to grow, and actually care for them. They wouldn't have minded if he was the instrument of evil and were grooming them to become their successors. Simply because he cared. And that was rare out on the road. But that hadn't happened, instead he and Nora relied on one another to get by.
It didn't stop him from wondering, what if someone had stretched out their hand to help them. Would they have accepted?
Ren didn't know, and honestly, he didn't much care.
Violet glared up at Jaune, scrambling up at him and pulling out his left hand. Pushing it into one of the last rays of moonlight that peeked trough the blinders. Illuminating an ugly black splotch smelling of rot and decay that ate away at the skin between his index and thumb.
Grabbing his scroll, he illuminated the splotch, glad he hadn't eaten breakfast. He had seen much while living on the road. Done just as much he wasn't proud of. But even rotting bodies had never made him as outright disgusted as this splotch. Moving and wriggling as if alive.
"Jaune. What it that?" Ren demanded in a harsh whisper, glaring at him. Demanding him to try and wiggle his way out of this with his excuses.
"Necrosis, don't worry about it." Jaune shrugged, taking his hand back. Standing up and stretching in his stupid blue onesie. Showing of to Violet that he wasn't close to dying in any shape or from. Not that it stopped her from glaring at the splotch.
"Jaune. People don't get spontaneous necrosis." Ren replied in a heated whisper, shooting a quick glance to the top bunks. Thankful to find Nora and Pyrrha still asleep. It wasn't that he didn't trust him, it was quite the opposite in fact. The trusted them with his life. But this and that was two different things.
The problem was that they would push Jaune for answers while he had already decided this conversation was done and over.
Jaune was that type of person that wouldn't accept help even if he was bleeding out in the back of an ambulance.
Ren didn't know if he had been like that before the Dream, but after it, it seemed Jaune did everything in his power to keep a barrier between the Dream and them. Only relenting when he was pushed, and even then, he tried keeping as much as possible close to his chest.
Ren knew what kind of person Jaune was, because he was also like that. If not for Nora, he would never have started healing after his hometown was razed. It was her that gave him the push he needed to leave the orphanage before a gang could get their claws in them. It was she that acted as their moral compass; Ren had no problems performing hit's for different gangs if it kept food on the table. While it was her that pushed them to take less and less clandestine jobs, instead simply peddling drugs from town to town as they travelled.
He guessed that's why he clicked so easily with Jaune, there was no lines they wouldn't cross to keep their loved ones safe. If that meant that Jaune would rather choke the life out of himself alone, then so be it.
But Ren wasn't going sit idly by as the light in his brother from another mother's eye's slowly lost their light.
"It isn't dangerous, if that is what you are wondering about." Jaune said, lifting Violet up with an arm. "It will be gone by tonight."
With that said, Jaune carried Violet into the bathroom.
Looking at the bathroom door with a heavy hearth, all he could do was sigh.
"You will break his trust; he may hate you for what you will attempt." The airy voice of Iosefka whispered in his ear. The spectre's cold breath sending a chill down his spine, thin arms possessively wrapped around his neck.
"Then… so be it." Ren whispered with resolve. It would be a fair price to pay, if he managed to give Jaune the kick in the ass he needed to get his head out of his ass.
Sitting down on his desk he pulled out his hidden talisman notebook.
He wouldn't hesitate to play the bad guy if that was what Jaune needed.
After all, he and Jaune was cut from the same cloth. But where he had Nora to give him that kick in the ass, Jaune had no one. And it was time that was fixed.
####
"Crisis averted." Jaune mumbled to himself when he was back in the dream. Allowing himself a breath of fresh air as he looked down at the curse. It hadn't spread further, but it had deepened. He could still move his hand no problem, but the feeling of static had grown.
He was sure Ren had seen through his excuse's, perspective bastard he was. And thankfully Nora hadn't noticed he had used a bit of her foundation to hide the curse. While he was no makeup artist or anything, he had grown up with seven sisters. He knew more than the basics when it came to make up. Three thin layers of foundation on his hand enough to make the curse mark disappear.
'Who knew it would come to use like this?' Jaune thought idly as he stepped into the workshop, he began taking of some unnecessary layers. First, his piggy backing apprentice, then his great coat, and finally his vest. Rolling up his sleeves he cracked his knuckles, going over a mental list over what rituals he wanted to anchor. Blinking as he remembered a little titbit he had glossed over.
"Well there went that plan." He tsked, as he settled on six base rituals, three from the negation aspect that made sure what happened last night never happened again. And three others from the reanimation aspect that made sure he always had some backup healing on demand.
Unfortunately, blood magic wasn't capable of 'pure' combat spells given their nature as rituals. Each ritual served one objective purpose, that that purpose could be twisted into a combat setting. That spoke more about human cruelty and ingenuity. Even curses, who could be counted as an offshoot combat spell were more to cause harm than outright murder. After all, blood magic was malefic in nature. It was born from sacrifice.
"What do you mean, master?" Violet asked, shooting a glare at his left hand again. Before turning her attention back to him.
"Well, there exists some 'shell' rituals. Their purpose being to wrap another effect around the rites."
"Like the Boundary?" Violet asked, fully focused.
"Yes, the boundary allows a ritual meant to target a single person to target an area. And like it, there are other supplementary, or 'shell' rituals meant to lightly twist rituals." Jaune explained. "Not enough to change a ritual to something else, doing so would simply lead to backlash. But to lightly twist the rituals in such a way that they are more than the sum of just a ritual. The plan had been to use another 'shell' ritual to trick the world into thinking I had performed the same ritual twice, to cut down time. But that won't work if I want to wrap a much more important shell around my rituals."
"Wouldn't have worked in the first place, lad." Gehrman snarked airily from the side. Cloudy eyes twinkling with mirth as he looked at Jaune. "You are… ambitious, I will give you that. But you should know better than me, that it wouldn't work the way you intended. Or if it did, it would cost you something you weren't prepared to sacrifice."
"Allow a man to dream, at least for a moment, won't you?" Jaune snarked, shooting Gehrman a ugly look as he sighed. "But either way, I wouldn't go with it either way. Protecting my own spell's against other negation magic is too important to give up."
"Why?" Violet asked curiously, standing up on a chair and trying to read as he was flipping trough pages in his notebook.
"Because if I can dispel other's magic, then others can do the same to me." Jaune replied simply.
And it was just that simple, it was a weakness he couldn't allow himself to have. Even if it meant he had to sacrifice away better 'shell' rites that could make his rituals even better, that didn't mean shit when what he casted was dispelled with the flick of a wrist.
"Good, if you remove your opponent's advantages, and they can't remove yours, you have as good as won." Gehrman replied from the side. Turning and wheeling himself out.
"Well, tonight you can choose between two exercises." Jaune started as he began picking out catalysts and ritual candles from his stash. Making sure he grabbed double, and triple regents for some rituals. None of the rituals were close to being as complicated as the one he held for Violet, but that didn't make them any less important.
"You can either choose to continue your exercises from yesterday, working more on your boundaries and ritual circles. Or you can sit and take note as I hold some simple rituals." Jaune said, shooting her a quick look. "But if you spend the night watching me, I won't add an extra day on your other deadline little miss."
With his piece said, he took one look on his catalysts before adding another ritual. There would be no fight the next time he met the witches. He would make it so he would win by default.
Rolling his shoulders he started with the first dispel circle. A ritual he would make sure he always had one active cast of. Part of him couldn't wait till he saw the Vicars expression of shock when he dispelled her healing.
Drawing the circle, lighting the candles, performing the chants, making the hand gestures. Ten minutes flew by in an instant, and at the end of the ritual, instead of gesturing with his hand and aiming the ritual. He instead performed a quick mnemonic action with his hand. Making a grabbing gestured towards the ritual circle as he felt the ritual matrix in his hand burn. The candles dying. And with a turn of his hand, he saw the result of his many tireless nights of study.
A broken chain glowing crimson in his hand. A 'seed' of spirituality in his spirituality waiting to be used.
"One of many." Jaune mumbled to himself, running his finger over the icon. Feeling how all he needed to release the ritual was to will it. It wouldn't even cost anything.
And that was the core of Blood Magic as a whole, all cost and difficulty was holding the ritual. He could throw twenty spells out in quick succession if he wanted. And his spirituality wouldn't dent in the slightest. Because the price was already paid.
"Four more to go." Jaune said and rolled his shoulders. Throwing a little look over to Violet who looked to be both in awe and furiously scribbling into her notebook.
####
"Five casts of dispel, three casts of counter spell, and one cast of cancel for if I or Violet for that matter botch a ritual." Jaune said as he ran his thumb over the rituals, taking a moment to catch himself. Even if they had been 'easy' rituals, he had still cast eighteen rituals in a row. That was without mentioning the 'cleansing' ritual's he cast between each ritual. "Five casts of regeneration, two casts of harm delay, and one cast of overclock reboot if shit hits the fan and I need a lot of immediate healing. And lastly, one cast of suffocation."
Multiple broken chains, a broken circle, and multiple bloody seals. A heart strangled by vines, a blood droplet with a lightning bolt inside, a droplet of blood trapped inside an hourglass, and five pulsating hearts.
His hand looked like a work of art; the icons spread about the ritual matrix.
"Master… Why could you cast these rituals inside the Dream? And not in the waking world as we did last time?" Violet asked, having sat patiently as he performed the rituals. Awe never having left her eyes the entire time.
"Some rituals are more involved than others, and the one I cast for you was doubly so. If I lost focus for even a second… well, we won't think of that. Just know that there is a difference in difficulty between rituals, and the more powerful rituals all require more involvement. If a gesture is half a beat too early, or half a beat too late, the entire ritual can fail. The ethereal nature of the dream did have an effect on the rituals, but it didn't change the ritual in any meaning full form." Jaune explained, his spirituality more than recovered as he sat and answered some of her questions.
After a comfortable hour or so just answering his apprentices numerous questions, Jaune stood up. Rolling his shoulders as he got dressed. Ready to continue his hunt. He didn't plan to come back without the rune tool.
Placing a chaste kiss on Violet crown, he gave her a soft smile. "I'm proud of you, don't push yourself and take move in your own tempo. I know you will figure things out not before long."
Violet looked up at him with misty eyes, giving him a resolute nod as she threw herself back at the task he had set for her.
Jaune's smile fell as he marched to the headstone with grim determination. Waking up back in Hemwick. Feeling as a string snapped into his curse, making the caster aware of where it was.
Not that Jaune minded. The walk through Hemwick was as bloody as it was the first time. The only real difference was that Jaune didn't let his anger, nor the miasma get the best of him. Cutting down hags, trolls, and shadows with cruel efficiency.
Stepping foot down the way leading down to the witches lair, Jaune walked with determination. While he felt no mercy for these monsters, he knew what he was going to suspect them to was a cruel death.
"Hunter… have the dream treat you nicely? Our offer still stands, bend the knee, and we will make you our herald." A wispy voice echoed out as he stepped into their lair.
Instead of answering them, Jaune snapped his fingers. Feeling the suffocation 'seed' in his spirituality burn and disappear as the rituals effect took hold of the room.
It wasn't a grand ritual, it didn't cause any flashes of light, or any other thing to show itself. Yet it already was in effect. Having turned all the air expect that in their lungs 'unbreathable.'
"The arrogance of you hunters. Thinking your dream invincible, uncorruptible. Foolish" The wispy voice echoed again. Only this time filled with malice. "Well, it won't matter in the end. You have just as much use to us alive as dead."
Jaune didn't answer, having already turned this farce of a fight into a competition to see who could hold their breath the longest. And so far, he was wining.
After all, why should he play by their rules? Sure, he could run around like a headless chicken and search for their invisible forms while dodging spells and living shadows. But why waste his time doing that? He had better things to do with his time.
They were playing by his rules now.
Calmly strolling trough the room, he sidestepped and ducked out of the way of a shadow. A rusty sickle clattering to the ground as loud, greedy gulps of air rang out. Followed by harsh coughing.
"What! What have you done!" Another voice rang trough the room. The witches losing focus and collapsing down on all fours as they panted for breath. Filling their lungs with unbreathable air. Only hastening their demise. So assured had they been in their might and magic that they had invited him into their place of power. And now dying, panting for breath, they didn't think for a second to leave it. After all, the door was open.
All they had to do to escape was leave their place of power.
A thought unimaginable to them.
"What… What have you done?" The other witch rasped out, breaking out into greedy gulps of air as she tried glaring at him.
"Poor choice of last words." Jaune replied calmly, feeling his rune heat up as the first witch died. Having let all the oxygen in her body be replaced by unbreathable air. The second witch following right after.
####
Note: Pssth, hey, Jaune. You have people that care for you. You just need to get your head out from your arse.
Note: You can imagine the ritual circle on his hand as the skyrim claw puzzle doors. With one outer, one middle, and one inner circle. Only instead of animals, each 'slot' is a rune or icon fitting for the ritual anchored.
Note: If it isn't obvious, or if I explained it badly, the core principle of blood magic is to perform a ritual, and store the magic effect inside, to be called out at a later date for almost no cost. The price for spellcasting is the ritual and all its components. You can store as many rituals you can successfully perform. While there are spells that can blend between Blood magic, Arcana, and standard Wizardry Ozpin and Salem performs. All 'Schools' of magic have a core principle and their own speciality.