Jaune Arc, clad in a sleek black suit and yellow tie, cuts a vivid figure as he races through the chaos, red overcoat fluttering dramatically.
With Crocea Mors in Greatsword Mode, he charges forward, his voice booming as he commands the panicked civilians to seek shelter and safety.
In the midst of this frenzy, Jaune's golden aura radiates with an unusual red tint, adding a fierce intensity to his presence. Inside his mind, a trio of voices clamor for his attention.
A knight's stern voice rings with duty and honor, urging, "We must protect the civilians at all costs! Our duty is to them!"
Simultaneously, a harsher, more cynical voice sneers, the yellow tie around his neck, focusing on him. "Don't waste your time playing the hero for the rush of it. Focus on the survival, Brother. We are a Mediator, not Huntsman."
"Perhaps, a drink!?" a drunk voice tempted.
"Shut it," Crocea Mors sounded. "There are people in danger."
Amid the clamor, a fifth voice, rusty and calm, advice with precision, "Dodge to the side. Now. Infuse your aura into Crocea Mors and extend your aura to it."
Following the calm voice's direction, Jaune sidesteps deftly as a Beowolf lunges at him. Channeling his aura into his weapon, he feels the power surge through Crocea Mors. With a mighty slash, the sword slices through the air, releasing a potent, aura-infused strike that cleaves the Beowolf cleanly in two.
As the Grimm falls, Jaune stood atop a battered car, his silhouette striking against the chaos unfolding around him. With Crocea Mors pointed skyward, he shouted with all his might, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Citizens of Mistral, head to the airships! Stay calm and move in an orderly manner!"
His golden aura shimmered with a comforting light, tinged with an unusual red and blue. The radiant glow seemed to soothe the panicked crowd, drawing their attention and instilling a strange sense of peace amidst the turmoil.
"My aura will keep the Grimm towards me," Jaune assured them, his voice steady and resolute. "Don't fear, don't think, just go to the airships."
The crowd, mesmerized by the warmth of his aura, began to follow his instructions. They moved with surprising calmness, their belief in Jaune's protective presence guiding them through the chaos.
As he continued to direct the citizens, Jaune's vision blurred, and a vivid image overtook his senses.
He saw a figure, the Afteran, the rusted knight of legend, young and vibrant. The knight stood tall, his aura amplified and blazing, luring hordes of Grimm towards him in the sands of Vacuo. The scene was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, a testament to the knight's bravery and the immense power of his aura.
The vision faded, and Jaune shook his head, refocusing on the present. The airships were descending, their ramps lowering to receive the fleeing citizens. He clenched Crocea Mors tightly, his determination renewed.
"Keep moving!" Jaune shouted again, guiding the last stragglers toward safety. His aura pulsed, its comforting light never faltering. He glanced around, ensuring no one was left behind, before leaping down from the car to join the group heading to the airships.
As the citizens boarded, Jaune turned to face the remaining Grimm. "Come on, you monsters," he muttered, his eyes blazing with determination.
Jaune Arc moved like a whirlwind through the streets of Mistral, his blade a blur of deadly precision. Crocea Mors cleaved through the air, slicing through Grimm with ferocious efficiency. He sidestepped a lunging Beowolf, pivoted on his heel, and brought his sword down in a devastating arc, cleaving the creature in two. Without missing a beat, he spun, thrusting his blade into the chest of an Ursai, the creature collapsing into a heap of blackened flakes.
His golden aura flared around him, a beacon of hope in the midst of destruction. The red hue added an intimidating edge, causing the Grimm to hesitate before their relentless charge. Jaune used this to his advantage, darting between the creatures with unparalleled speed and agility.
In the distance, an airship descended slowly, its ramps lowering to allow the fleeing citizens to board. Jaune's eyes darted around, ensuring the path remained clear. With a burst of strength, he dashed up a stone staircase, his footsteps echoing against the ancient stones. He reached the top and, without pausing, launched himself over a pagoda, his body soaring through the air.
A Nevermore swooped down, its talons outstretched. Jaune's grip tightened on Crocea Mors. He twisted mid-air, his sword flashing in a brilliant arc, and the Nevermore's head tumbled from its body. He landed gracefully on the back of a Beowolf, the creature snarling in surprise. Jaune grabbed its ears, wrenching its head back, and with a powerful leap, he cleaved its head from its shoulders in a single, decisive strike.
"Impressive," the knight's voice in his head commented, a hint of admiration in its tone. "You've mastered aura control well."
Jaune gritted his teeth, the memories that accompanied the voice flooding his mind. They were filled with pain and loss, the weight of a past not entirely his own. He forced them down, focusing on the task at hand. The Grimm was relentless, but his determination burned brighter.
A sharp tone interrupted his thoughts, his earpiece crackling to life. "Jaune, the streets are clear. This level is safe for now," a familiar voice reported.
He took a deep breath, the relief washing over him. The streets of Mistral were narrow and treacherous, their evacuation made more difficult by the city's mountainous terrain and winding paths. The other Huntsmen, though valiant, were few in number, and many moved only when Lien was involved.
Jaune's focus snapped back to the present. He couldn't afford to dwell on the past or the haunting memories merging with his mind at the moment. There were still people who needed help. He turned toward the next section of the city, determination etched on his face.
"On to the next," he muttered.
Sprinting up another level of the city, his movements were fluid and precise. An Ursa blocked his path, roaring as it charged. Without breaking stride, Jaune shoved the Grimm aside with his shoulder, then slashed its side with the edge of Crocea Mors. The Ursa staggered, and Jaune kneed it in the chest, sending it crashing to the ground. He adjusted up his earpiece, pressing it to his ear.
"Where are the Grimm coming from?" he demanded.
Winter's composed voice came through the static. "We don't know. Something happened to Mistral's CCTs, possibly sabotage."
Jaune's brow furrowed. He skidded to a halt, ducking under a Beringel's massive blow. He stabbed Crocea Mors into the ground and unfolded his shield, bracing himself. The Beringel's next strike slammed into the shield, and Jaune used the momentum to vault over it, ripping Crocea Mors from the ground in a swift motion. With a powerful swing, he lashed the greatsword's blade into the Beringel's pelvis, the edge carving through to its shoulder. The Grimm roared in pain before collapsing.
Jaune leapt back, charging his aura. He focused, pushing his aura defenses to their peak, then unleashed a shockwave that rippled outward, sending nearby Grimm staggering. Seizing the opportunity, he amped up his speed and dashed toward a group of Lancer Grimm. He reached the first bee-like creature in a blur, slicing through its neck with a precise swipe of Crocea Mors. The Grimm's head fell to the ground, and Jaune stomped on it, crushing it beneath his boot.
His golden aura, tinged with red, flared brightly as he arrived at the defense line being held by Mistral's officers. The citizens continued their orderly evacuation as Jaune scanned the area, his eyes sharp and focused.
"Winter," he said into the earpiece, "I'll keep clearing the way. Keep me updated."
"Understood," Winter replied. "Stay safe, Jaune. We will keep the Grimm in the air occupied."
Jaune took a deep breath, tightening his grip on Crocea Mors. He could feel the weight of the memories and the voices in his head, but he pushed them aside for now.
One of Mistral's officers shouted a warning, panic clear in his voice. "Huntsman, a Manticore is heading straight for the airship!"
Jaune's eyes snapped to the sky, spotting the massive, winged Grimm homing in on the vulnerable airship filled with civilians. He clenched his fists, feeling the surge of his aura intensifying.
"Not on my watch," he muttered, his golden aura flaring brighter than ever, the red tint pulsing with his heartbeat.
He took a running leap, pushing his aura to its absolute maximum, and propelled himself into the air. The force of his jump sent shockwaves through the ground below. As he soared upwards, he zeroed in on the Manticore, which was just about to reach the airship.
With a battle cry, Jaune collided with the Manticore, tackling it mid-air. The force of the impact knocked the Grimm off course, sending both of them plummeting towards the ground. As they fell, Jaune twisted his grip on Crocea Mors, aiming for the creature's neck.
"Go!" Jaune shouted at the airship, his voice strained but commanding. "Get out of here before more Grimm comes!"
The airship's engines roared to life, and it began to ascend, the ramps closing as the last civilians were secured. Jaune focused back on the Manticore, its wings flapping desperately to regain control. He wouldn't give it the chance.
With a powerful swing, he slammed Crocea Mors into the Manticore's neck, the blade cutting deep. The Grimm let out a monstrous roar, thrashing in its death throes. Jaune gritted his teeth, using all his strength to keep his grip steady. The Manticore's movements grew weaker until, finally, it went limp.
Jaune kicked off from the Manticore's corpse, using the momentum to flip and land on his feet as the creature crashed to the ground behind him and evaporating into flakes in the air. He took a moment to catch his breath, his aura glowing intensely around him as he recharges it back to full.
The airship was safely ascending, moving away from the danger zone. Jaune's shoulders sagged with relief, but he knew there was still work to be done. He pressed on his earpiece once more. "Airship is clear," he reported. "Let's make sure the rest of the city is safe."
"Roger that, Jaune," Winter's voice came back, steady and reassuring. "The upper levels are fighting back. It seems like Mistral's students are defending Haven."
"From what?"
Winter didn't answer. "The slum area is under attack. Can you check!?"
Jaune started running. "What about anyone?"
"There's none."
Jaune leapt off the edge of the platform, plummeting hundreds of meters towards the ground. As he freefall, he focused inwardly, channeling his aura to amplify his defenses. The golden light around him intensified, and just before impact, he released a shockwave, cushioning his fall. Crocea Mors in shield form, absorbed the brunt of the impact, and Jaune twisted his body, flipping forward in a fluid motion. He quickly switched Crocea Mors to its greatsword form, hitting the ground and running.
He zipped through the slums, ducking under debris and rubble left in the wake of the Grimm attack. His shouts for survivors echoed through the desolate streets, but all he encountered were scenes of carnage. Dead civilians lay in gruesome heaps, their bodies turned to paste and chewed by the relentless Grimm.
The rusty voice inside his head surged with fury. "Kill them all," it demanded, its rage seeping into Jaune's very being. He felt himself slipping into a blind rage, his vision narrowing as he tore through the slums, slaughtering every Grimm in his path with a ferocity that bordered on madness.
Eventually, the rage began to subside, and Jaune regained his senses. The yellow tie's voice tightened around him like a noose, warning him not to lose himself again. "Stay in control," it urged, the pressure a constant reminder. Crocea Mors remained silent, the weight of the sword and shield grounding him in the present, keeping the voices out at the moment.
Jaune continued his desperate search for survivors, but all he found were a handful of people, too scared or heartbroken to leave their loved ones. Their vacant eyes met his, and he begged them to go, but they remained listless and unresponsive.
Determined, Jaune moved forward, weaving through the slums until he reached an open area. There, a Nuckelavee stood triumphantly, its grotesque form towering over a trail of blood that led to the treeline as if savoring its prey.
The Grimm turned its attention to Jaune, but before it could react, Crocea Mors was already in motion. With a powerful swing, Jaune severed the Nuckelavee's front legs, sending it crashing face-first into the ground. Without hesitation, he stepped to the side and brought Crocea Mors down like an executioner's blade, beheading the creature in a single, decisive stroke, creating a crater around him from the sheer force of his Semblance amplified aura.
"Aura amplification strengthens Aura and Semblance. With our boosted Semblance, we can create a feedback loop that allows our Semblance to continuously boost itself and our Aura," the rusty voice said bitterly. "So as long as we have any Aura left and the consumption is manageable, we can theoretically… able to strengthen ourselves to fight for days. That's how I keep on moving, guarding a village of suicidal people made of paper while having the strength to explore an endlessly expanding acres."
Jaune stood over the fallen Grimm, his breath coming in heavy pants. He scanned the area, ensuring there were no more immediate threats.
"Let's follow the trail," the rusty voice said, seemingly afraid. "Hurry."
"Oho-my, there might be someone in there," the curious voice chimed in.
Jaune followed the blood trail into the dense woods, his pace quick and determined. He shoved through thick bushes and low-hanging branches, his mind focused on the possibility of finding survivors. The forest grew darker and more oppressive as he went deeper, the sounds of the city fading into a distant memory.
Finally, he emerged into a small clearing, and his heart clenched at the sight before him. A ginger-haired woman was kneeling on the ground, her long, pink and white sleeveless coat stained with dirt and blood. The light blue lapels and white collar were barely visible under the grime. She wore a black short dress, and her white sleeves ended in black fingerless gloves. Her hands were pressed desperately against the gaping wound of a black-haired young man with long braids. He was wearing a sleeveless turtleneck, and a dark green top with white long sleeves, clutching a small, curved dagger with a dark green handle and a red grip.
The young woman didn't notice Jaune as he approached, her tear-filled eyes focused solely on the young man in her arms who were getting paler every seconds passes, his aura slowly leaving his body.
"Stay with me, Ren," she pleaded, her voice breaking with sorrow. "Please, stay with me. You can't leave me."
The voices in Jaune's head went dead silent at the sight.
But he could hear the loud tick of a clock.
And then something snapped into Jaune's head as he let that bitter rusty voice inside take on the reins.
Afraid that he'd messed up if he didn't let that rusty voice in right now.