Dr. Merlot sat in his laboratory, his eyes fixed on the screen displaying the live feed from various surveillance cameras positioned throughout the facility. His fingers tapped anxiously on the armrest of his chair as he watched a man in a hood and cloak wielding a glowing green sword, carving through his security measures with ruthless efficiency.

Each flick of the hooded figure's blade sent shockwaves of panic coursing through Dr. Merlot's veins. His island laboratory's designed defenses, years in the making, were crumbling before his eyes. Grimm and Androids didn't leave a single scratch at the lone invader. Sparks flew as the figure sliced through the metal doors with ease, his movements fluid and precise. Merlot clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to maintain composure.

The alarms blared, filling the room with their shrill wails, but Merlot hardly noticed. His attention focused on the screen, where the assailant moved with a tenacious purpose, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. Panic threatened to overwhelm Dr. Merlot as he realized the magnitude of what was happening. Years of research, countless experiments, all at risk of being undone by one man.

Like a knight out to slay evil.

And that 'evil' was him.

Is this Ozpin's dog? No, he shouldn't have known I'm still alive... then who is this?

As the man drew nearer to Merlot's inner sanctum, the scientist's panic reached a fever pitch. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his heart pounded in his chest like a drum. He scrambled to activate additional security protocols, but it was futile. The knight seemed unstoppable, a force of nature unleashed upon Merlot's carefully constructed world.

Desperation clawed at Merlot's mind as he watched the attacker breach the last barrier, his green sword gleaming in the harsh light of the laboratory. For a fleeting moment, their eyes met through the screen, and Merlot felt a chill run down his spine. In that gaze, he saw determination, resolve, and an unyielding will to see his mission through to the end.

And as this figure stepped into the heart of Merlot's chamber, the scientist knew that his worst fears had come to pass. There was no escaping the inevitable confrontation. Dr. Merlot could only watch helplessly as the unstoppable force of a huntsman and his green sword stood before him in the heart of his laboratory. Sweat beaded on Merlot's brow as he raised trembling hands in a futile gesture of surrender.

"Please," he implored, his voice barely above a whisper, "stop this madness. What do you want?"

The man's expression was unreadable as he reached up and slowly peeled back his hood, revealing features hardened by conviction and blue eyes that burned with a fierce intensity. Dr. Merlot's breath caught in his throat as he met the man's gaze, unable to tear his eyes away from the man who had brought a staggering, swift infiltration of his island with such devastating familiarity as if he had been here already.

And then, to Merlot's astonishment, the man's lips curved into a crooked smile, sending a shiver down the scientist's spine. It was a smile that spoke of hidden agendas.

"I need your help, Doctor," the man said, his voice low and gravelly, sending a chill racing down Merlot's spine. "But first, we have some unfinished business to attend to."

Merlot's mind raced as he tried to make sense of this man's words. What could this man possibly want from him? And why had he chosen to reveal himself now, in the midst of chaos and destruction?

But before Merlot could formulate a response, the man moved with lightning speed, a blur of blue motion closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. And as their eyes locked once more, Merlot knew that there was no escaping.

Dr. Merlot's heart hammered against his ribcage as he stared down at the gleaming green blade that this trespasser held at his throat. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, mingling with the fear that threatened to consume him entirely. The cold steel pressed against his skin served as a stark reminder of his vulnerability.

"Of course, if you listen to this… fairy tale, it would be wonderful."

"I'll listen," Merlot stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me what you want."

The man's grip on the sword tightened, his expression unreadable as he studied Merlot with an intensity that sent shivers down the mad scientist's spine. And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, the knight lowered the blade, allowing Merlot to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Good," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Because there's much you need to know about this world and what caused all of this."

Merlot listened in rapt attention as the man spoke of ancient legends and fairy tales, of maidens with unimaginable power and a timeless conflict between Ozma and Salem. His mind hurried as the knight painted a vivid picture of a world teetering on the brink of destruction, of forces beyond comprehension locked in a never-ending struggle because of two… divorcees?

But it was the knight's mention of the relics that piqued Merlot's interest the most.

A relic of knowledge! Can it be the key to my problem?

The thought of relics imbued with untold power sent a thrill racing through his veins, igniting a hunger for knowledge that surpassed even his fear of the knight's glowing green blade.

As the knight spoke, Merlot found himself hanging on every word, his mind racing with possibilities. Here, in this man, stood the key to unlocking secrets that had long eluded him, the chance to unravel mysteries that had haunted his dreams for years.

Merlot knew that his fate was irrevocably intertwined with this assailant.

But far from filling him with dread, the prospect filled him with a sense of exhilaration unlike anything he had ever known before.

A relic of knowledge… that would certainly help fulfill the gaps between his research.

However, Dr. Merlot's brow furrowed in confusion as he struggled to comprehend why this knight had sought him out, of all people.

"Why me?" he dared to ask, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I'm not exactly a do-gooder, Mr. Knight."

The knight's gaze bore into him with an intensity that made Merlot squirm uncomfortably in his seat. "You're the third option," He replied, his tone measured. "The first option was too noble for his own good, and the second option's already aligned with Salem. You, Doctor, are more... manageable. More… independent."

Merlot's mind sped as he processed Jaune's words. The realization dawned on him with a sickening clarity. He was being chosen not for his brilliance or his intellect, but for his malleability, his willingness to be more reasonable.

"Why did you think you could convince me to work with you?" Merlot blurted out, unable to contain the doubt that gnawed at his conscience.

The knight's lips curled into a knowing smile as he pressed the tip of his green blade against Merlot's throat, a silent reminder of the threat he held over him. "Because deep down, Doctor, you want to stand triumphant," the knight reasoned, his voice dripping with persuasion. "You want to be the savior who saved Remnant, immortalized through the annals of history? The man who pacified and conquered the Grimm"

Merlot's ego swelled at the knight's words, feeding the narcissistic tendencies that had always lurked beneath the surface. He gaslighted himself, convincing himself that cooperating with this knight was not only the logical choice but the right one.

And as the knight withdrew the green blade, leaving Dr. Merlot's mind drifting into a realm of fantasy, where visions of vindication danced before his eyes like shimmering mirages. He saw himself standing before the masses, his name cleared of all accusations, his reputation restored to its former glory. They would beg for his forgiveness, those who had called him sick, obsessed, a madman with no proof. But he would stand tall, a beacon of triumph in a sea of doubt and skepticism.

But as the fantasy began to fade, reality came crashing back with a sobering clarity. He had been right all along. Someone else had been using Grimm, manipulating the very creatures that had been the subject of his research for years. His ideal, his aspiration to use Grimm to save humanity, wasn't just a pipe dream. It can be done. It was a possibility, a tantalizing glimpse of a future where his genius would be recognized and celebrated.

Turning to the knight, Merlot's eyes gleamed with newfound determination. "What do you know of the brother gods?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency. "And tell me, in detail, of the Grimm again."

As the knight explained again, Merlot listened with rapt attention, absorbing every word like a sponge. Here was the key to unlocking the mysteries that had eluded him for so long: the chance to unravel the secrets of the Grimm itself. The creation of Grimm, and their creator. Merlot felt a fire ignite within him, burning away the doubts and insecurities that had plagued him for so long. With each passing word, he grew more convinced that his destiny in mastering the very forces that had once been his greatest fear in Remnant must just come true.

Dr. Merlot's voice rang out with a fervent determination as he spoke to the knight, his words laced with conviction. "I'll change the Grimm. I'll harness their power, their potential, and use it to save the world."

But as the echoes of his declaration faded into the silence of the laboratory, a strange clarity washed over him like a cleansing tide. In that moment of rare introspection, he realized the truth that had eluded him for so long. He had become so consumed by the desire to be a savior, to ascend to the status of a god among men, that he had lost sight of his original goal.

What was I doing this for initially? What was my dream when wanting to control them?

For years, he had dedicated himself to the study of the Grimm, driven by a singular purpose: to unlock their secrets and use them for the betterment of humanity. But somewhere along the way, that noble ambition had been overshadowed by his own ego, his insatiable thirst for recognition and power.

Turning to the knight, Merlot's gaze softened with a newfound humility. "Give me time," he pleaded, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I need to reassess my priorities, to rediscover the true essence of my work. With your help, perhaps I can still make a difference."

And as he spoke those words, Dr. Merlot felt a weight lift from his shoulders, the burden of his own hubris replaced by a renewed sense of purpose. He then found a place of quiet… just to think.


As Jaune stood in the heart of Merlot's laboratory, waiting for Dr. Merlot to return, he couldn't shake the sense of unease that lingered in the air. The scientist's absence left an eerie silence hanging over the room, broken only by the soft hum of machinery and the occasional drip of liquid echoing in the distance.

Inwardly, Jaune couldn't help but reflect on the peculiar nature of Dr. Merlot's demeanor. In another timeline, when they came upon his laboratory accidentally, despite the destruction wrought upon his research by Team RWBY and Team JNPR, Merlot had displayed an almost unsettling calmness and rationality. There were no outward signs of anger or resentment towards them, no outbursts of rage or hostility.

It struck Jaune as odd, given the circumstances of that time. Merlot was being far too nice to them, considering the havoc they had wreaked upon his life's work. The only time he had seen Merlot truly lose his temper was when they had defeated his mutant deathstalker. Even then, Merlot had given them plenty of time to escape the laboratory before detonating the laboratory. It didn't make sense to him. How this man accepted defeat easily… or perhaps he wasn't and had found a way to escape.

Jaune couldn't help but wonder about the man behind the scientist's façade. Was Merlot another victim of Ozpin's disapproval, battered down and twisted into a madman by the weight of his own failures? It was a chilling thought, one that sent a shiver down Jaune's spine as he contemplated the implications.

And yet, despite his misgivings, Jaune couldn't deny the nagging feeling of understanding that tugged at his heartstrings. Merlot may have been an enemy, but he was also a man who had suffered greatly at the hands of fate. Just like Ironwood in another timeline, forces had pushed Merlot to the brink of madness beyond his control.

No, a man who'd experiment on Grimm and use them... is simply nothing more than a mad scientist.

As Jaune's thoughts drifted, he found himself grappling with a newfound sense of understanding of Dr. Merlot. Perhaps, in the end, they weren't so different after all. Two men, both driven to extremes by circumstances beyond their control.

Jaune then watched Dr. Merlot stand in front of him with a newfound clarity of mind. Jaune's gaze was unwavering as he sought to understand the mad scientist's true intentions.

"What is your goal, Dr. Merlot?" Jaune asked, his voice steady despite the tension that hung in the air.

Merlot met Jaune's gaze with a calmness that eluded understanding. "My goal," he admitted, "is to create a version of Grimm that can infect other Grimm. A chain reaction that would eventually purge all non-pacified Grimm from Remnant. If I can modify them, then we would find the antidote, the cure to the Grimm problem... or at least pacify them and use them against their own kind."

Jaune's lips curled into a mocking smile as he recalled the devastation wrought upon Mount Glenn by Merlot's experiments. "And how did that work out for you? With what happened with Mt. Glenn?" he taunted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

But to Jaune's surprise, Merlot's expression remained unchanged, his eyes betraying a profound sadness. "There is no path that is clean and without failure," he replied quietly. "I tried to do something about it, but Ozpin, in his infinite wisdom, saw only failure. I understand where he is coming from… considering the death toll. But he cannot see beyond his already solidified beliefs."

A bitter edge crept into Merlot's voice as he continued. "And now I understand why. Ozpin, chosen by the brother gods, believes himself to be above reproach. If he had that kind of approval, he would think of himself as a god ruling over men. What are we, but children to him? He sees himself as a Shephard to cattle. Of course, he'd think of me as mad when I thought of changing the creation of a god!"

In that moment, Jaune saw a glimpse of the man behind the madness, a figure caught in the web of his own ambition and hubris. And as he listened to Merlot's words, he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to Merlot's conflict with Oz more than met the eye. A thoughtful expression settled over Jaune's features. "If you look at the history," Jaune began, his voice measured and contemplative, "you know now that the Grimm were created as forces of pure destruction. Pure destruction is never good. But what if you could direct that destruction? Was that you goal?"

Merlot's eyes widened in surprise at Jaune's astute observation, a glimmer of recognition sparking in his gaze. "That's what I wanted to do," he admitted, his voice tinged with a sense of resignation. "To harness the power of the Grimm for a greater purpose. But the problem is, Grimm was never meant to be controlled in the first place... is that I truly believe."

Jaune nodded in agreement, his understanding deepening with each passing moment.

"Only beings of darkness can truly command them," Dr. Merlot said, his voice tinged with sadness. "In this case, Salem would be the 'queen bee' of the Grimm mind. You'd have to corrupt yourself in order to direct the Grimm, and if you were to do that, you would end up just like this Salem."

Merlot's admission took Jaune by surprise, his willingness to acknowledge the truth of Jaune's words catching him off guard. Hell, the fact that Merlot believes him was even stranger all the same. In that moment, Jaune saw a flicker of humanity in the scientist's eyes, a glimmer of self-awareness amidst the darkness that had consumed him.

Jaune's brow then furrowed as he posed the question that had been nagging at him for some time.

"Why did Ozpin disapprove of your research, Dr. Merlot?"

Merlot's lips curved into a wry smile as he considered Jaune's inquiry. "I would guess," he began, his voice tinged with bitterness, "that Ozpin wouldn't like it because it can undermine his power structure throughout the kingdoms. He has made himself and his huntsmen necessary by essentially gaining a monopoly on fighting Grimm. If this new breed of Grimm designed to combat Grimm came about and was extremely effective, then Ozpin would lose his power. And therefore, his goal of being the only one to prevent this Salem from destroying everyone would be impossible."

A mirthless chuckle escaped Merlot's lips as he mocked Jaune's naivety. "Do you honestly believe that the so-called Infinite Man would have no problems playing politics?" he scowled, his voice laced with scorn. "Ozpin, Ozma, whatever his name truly is, is a master manipulator, a puppeteer pulling the strings behind the scenes. He will do whatever it takes to maintain his hold on power, even if it means sacrificing the greater good in the process. Pawns to his game. Pawns he can disposed. I used to work with the man, you know?"

As Merlot spoke, Jaune felt a chill run down his spine. The implications of his words weighed heavily on his mind, casting a shadow over his already troubled thoughts. If even Ozpin, the supposed guardian of Remnant, was willing to sacrifice everything to protect his own interests, then what hope did they have of defeating Salem and her forces of darkness?

What if he's planning to keep this game between? I know he that he can't destroy Salem, but what if even all this time, Ozma still has affection for her? I know she's impossible to kill within normal means, but is that really the case? Can a man who had spent lifetimes possibly not thought of imprisoning her? Or using the relics to seal her? There are so many ways and if anyone could think of it, then it's surely the man who had enough lives and mistakes than anyone in this world...

Despite everything he had learned about Ozpin, despite the doubts that had plagued his mind, Jaune knew in his heart that the headmaster's intentions were ultimately noble. Ozpin may have his flaws, his secrets, but at the core of it all, he only wanted to protect Remnant from the looming threat of Salem and her forces. He saw the truth behind the man's intentions.

"I believe Ozpin genuinely wants to protect Remnant," Jaune asserted, his voice firm with conviction. "No matter how he goes about it, his goal remains the same."

Dr. Merlot regarded Jaune with a mixture of skepticism and resignation. "Perhaps," he conceded, his tone heavy with doubt. "But people who always try to see the good in everyone often blind themselves to the evil that'd otherwise stare them right in the face."

The weight of Merlot's words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over Jaune's certainty. Was he too blinded by his faith in Ozpin to see the truth for what it truly was? Was he naively clinging to an idealized version of the headmaster, unwilling to acknowledge the darkness that lurked beneath the surface? He may not liked the man fully, but he respected his drive to protect Remnant.

As Jaune wrestled with these unsettling thoughts, he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps there was more to Ozpin's motivations than met the eye. And as he looked into the depths of Dr. Merlot's eyes, he saw a reflection of his own doubts and fears, a reminder that sometimes, the truth was far more complicated than it seemed.

How do you even fathom the mind of a man who had lived multiple lives that spans across ages like Ozma?

Dr. Merlot then regarded Jaune with a calculating gaze, his expression unreadable as he posed the question that hung heavy in the air. "Do you still want to work together? It seems your thoughts about Oz are not the same as mine. But I am a man of reason and if you think I am unreasonable then let us part quietly."

Jaune met Merlot's gaze with a determined nod. "Yes, let's work." he replied without hesitation, his voice steady despite the weight of the decision he was making.

A flicker of surprise flashed across Merlot's features before he extended a hand towards Jaune. "Then let us begin," he declared, a hint of anticipation sparking in his eyes.

As Jaune clasped Merlot's hand in a firm shake, the scientist's gaze softened with a hint of curiosity. "But I cannot work with a man who I don't know. What is your name?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine interest.

"Jaune Arc," came the reply, offered without hesitation.

To Jaune's surprise, a shadow of recognition crossed Merlot's face, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Jaune Arc," he repeated, as if testing the name on his tongue. "The man who fought Adam Taurus and died when Amity Arena fell."

For a few moments, silence filled the air as Merlot processed the revelation. And then, to Jaune's astonishment, the scientist let out a low chuckle, a sound filled with bitter irony. "Two supposedly dead men trying to play saviors now?" he remarked as if it was funniest, the weight of his words then hanging heavily between them.

Dr. Merlot's gaze bore into Jaune with an intensity that seemed to pierce through his very soul. "Tell me everything again," he demanded, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the dimly lit laboratory. "Not as the man with the green sword threatening me, but as Jaune Arc."

And so Jaune began, his words tumbling forth in a torrent of revelation. Then he spoke of Ozma and Salem, of their tragic love story and the curse that bound them for eternity. He spoke of the brother gods' truth, of the eternal struggle between light and darkness, and the stakes that hung in the balance as the maidens and the relics come in play.

But as Jaune spoke, he carefully omitted the intricate details of Everafter. Dr. Merlot listened in rapt attention, his expression growing increasingly somber with each passing moment. The weight of Jaune's words settled upon him like a heavy shroud that somewhat cleared the madman's gaze. He didn't understand why the Doctor wanted him to tell it again, but Jaune could guess he was trying to assess what the lies were and what he omitted to compare and contrast. Jaune had to hand it to the Doctor; he was thorough.

When Jaune finally fell silent, the echoes of his words lingering in the air, Dr. Merlot let out a weary sigh. "How deep the waters truly are," he murmured, his voice heavy with resignation. "We are all frogs in the well, Mr. Arc. We have so much work to do."

In that moment, Jaune saw a glimpse of the man behind the façade of cold indifference, a man burdened by the weight of knowledge and the enormity of the task ahead or perhaps a man whose ideals were too glamorous that it was making him feel the weight of the world?

Jaune shifted, the weight of his recent actions settling upon his shoulders. "I have to admit," he began, his voice tinged with remorse, "I have destroyed a few of your defenses on my way here."

Dr. Merlot regarded Jaune with a calmness that bordered on indifference. "That's quite alright," he replied nonchalantly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You've given me some ideas, and besides, they can always be recycled. I am not so poor to miss out on a chance of this knowledge you were looking for, Mr. Arc."

Jaune studied Merlot's unexpected response, a glimmer of suspicion flickering within him.


Hello. I've been MIA, but I want to finish this fic at least.

Also, Lusus Naturae is such a banger of a theme.