Ever since buying those dust-infused drinks.
Jaune had started his streak from a quiet corner in Atlas first and finally he was here, stumbling through the streets of Mantle, with his vision blurred and his mind clouded by the haze of alcohol. He clutched a half-empty bottle of whiskey infused with ice dust in his hand, the liquid sloshing with each unsteady step. The world around him seemed to waver, the edges of reality fraying like the leaves that rustle in the chilling breeze.
Through his drunken stupor, Jaune could make out the horizon, a great cascade of multi-colored leaves pouring down like rain. The leaves were vivid, a stark contrast to the streets of Mantle. He could hear them too, a whispering chorus that seemed almost alive. Yet, beneath the rustling sound of the leaves, there was something else — something far more sinister.
The screams. They pierced through the fog in his mind, sharp and gut-wrenching. The citizens of Mantle were running, their faces twisted in terror as they fled from the Grimm. Jaune could smell the acrid scent of fear and blood in the air, a nauseating combination that turned his stomach.
"It's all over," a voice muttered somewhere nearby. Jaune turned, squinting to see through the haze of multi-colored leaves. He could make out shadowy figures, their faces gaunt with despair, as they murmured to one another.
Then, in the corner of his eye, he saw them, the children. A group of kids, the ones he saw in that time cornered by thugs, huddled together, their eyes wide with fear. They were pleading, their small voices raised in desperate prayer to the Brothers for safety. But their cries went unanswered.
Jaune watched in horror as a Beowolf emerged from the shadows, its eyes glowing with malevolent hunger. The creature lunged at the children, and the world seemed to slow down. He saw every agonizing detail as the Beowolf's jaws closing around a little girl, her scream cut short as it bit down on her head. Blood sprayed, painting the ground in a sickening red.
"No... No, no, no..." Jaune muttered, stumbling forward, but his legs felt like lead. He watched helplessly as the Grimm tore the children apart, their small bodies mangled and lifeless. One of the kids, a boy with curly hair, was ripped in two, his torso discarded like a broken toy.
The scenes of violence continued to unfold around him, each one more brutal than the last. Jaune could see the Grimm, soulless, bloodthirsty creatures, ravaging the city. They moved from block to block, leaving a trail of death and destruction in their wake. He recognized many of the citizens of Mantle, their faces familiar from his work and interactions. He called out their names, his voice cracking with desperation, but it was too late. They were dragged away, their screams echoing in his ears.
"Where were we while this was happening?" Jaune's voice was hoarse, his throat burning. The question hung in the air, unanswered, until a rusty voice broke the silence.
"We were chasing after Oscar. Ozpin's next incarnation if he had died in Beacon four years ago. Oscar's kinder than Ozpin... maybe its because he was affected by his younger self... reminding him of ideals and goodness... far from the old man that is Ozpin. A man who cannot even answer honestly if he really thought his children could win a war... then again perhaps he knew the answer. How could they win against a Witch who had felled Nations? Who laid Kingdoms and Empires to ruined... who if she wanted to could summon the Grimm to her side and overwhelm the Kingdoms."
Jaune's mind reeled. He saw it, the mission to rescue Oscar, the battle within the monstrous creature. They had been so focused, so determined. And all the while, Mantle had burned. He fell to his knees, the whiskey bottle slipping from his grasp and shattering on the ground. The smell of alcohol mingled with the stench of blood, and Jaune retched, his body heaving with sobs. The weight of the Afteran's failure pressed down on him, crushing his spirit.
He could still hear the children's pleas, their voices haunting him. "Please, Brothers, save us." But there had been no salvation, no divine intervention. Only death and destruction.
Jaune's vision blurred again, tears streaming down his face. He saw the Beowolf, its jaws dripping with blood, standing over the lifeless body of the girl. The creature turned its eyes toward him, and for a moment, Jaune felt as if he were staring into the abyss.
"You did this," the voice whispered in his mind. "You let this happen."
"No!" Jaune screamed, clutching his head. The world spun around him, a kaleidoscope of leaves and blood. "I didn't know... I wasn't there..."
"Excuses," But the voice was relentless. "You failed. You all failed. And now they're gone."
The guilt was overwhelming, a suffocating fog that threatened to consume him. Jaune rocked back and forth, his body wracked with sobs. He had always wanted to be a hero, to protect the innocent.
But now, all he could see were the faces of those he had failed in another life.
Through the haze, he caught sight of another scene, a family, huddled together in a futile attempt to protect one another. The parents shielded their children, their eyes filled with fear and determination. Jaune recognized them too, a family he had once helped during a patrol. He had promised them they would be safe.
The Grimm descended upon them, and Jaune screamed, his voice raw with anguish. He tried to move, to fight, but his body refused to obey. He was trapped, a spectator to his own nightmare as if the roots of the tree were constricting, not allowing him to move forward at all.
He saw the father fall first, his body torn apart by a pack of Beowolves. The mother's scream was cut short as she was dragged away, her hands reaching out for her children. The little boy and girl, their eyes wide with terror, were the last to go. Jaune watched as a Grimm grabbed the boy, lifting him into the air before slamming him down onto the pavement. The girl's scream echoed in his ears as she was pulled into the darkness.
"No... please, no..." Jaune whispered, his voice breaking. He could feel the weight of their deaths, a crushing burden that he would carry forever.
In the distance, the cascade of leaves continued to fall, their colors blending into a swirling maelstrom. Jaune could hear the rustling, a constant reminder of the lives that had been lost.
The streets of Mantle were filled with the cries of the dying, a symphony of sorrow that seemed to stretch on endlessly.
As the night wore on, Jaune's strength gave out, and he collapsed onto the cold, hard ground. His body was numb, his mind a chaotic mess of grief and guilt. The world around him was a nightmare, a twisted reflection of his worst fears.
Jaune whispered a silent prayer to the Brothers, begging for them to help. But deep down, he knew there would be no help, no peace. The Brothers were always silent, distant, for all their arrogance, they had left Remnant to suffer.
They did not deserve Remnant.
"THERE IS NO GOD BUT THE AVATAR IN THE TREE. FOR SHE UNDERSTANDS CREATION AND DESTRUCTION, TO LOVE AND TO NOURISH, SHE WATCH HER CREATIONS FONDLY LIKE BEAUTIFUL BLOSSOMS. HOW CAN THE JUVENILE GODS EVER COMPARE TO THE WISE AND KIND MOTHER. TO COMPARE THEM IS A GREAT SIN. TO EVEN DARE DO SO IS EVEN MORE OF A GREAT SIN. WHAT KIND OF GODS LEAVE THEIR GARDEN AFTER AN ANT BITES THEM. WHAT KIND OF GODS KICK THE DIRT AND STOMPED ON THEIR BLOSSOMS ALL BECAUSE OF A WOMAN WHO HAD LOVED SO MUCH. DARING TO TEACH HER LESSONS ABOUT LOVE WHEN THEY ARE LOVELESS CRETINS? THEY ARE NOTHING MORE THAN CHILDREN, HIDING BEYONG THE MASK OF WISDOM WHEN IN TRUTH THEY WERE SIMPLY MAD THAT A WOMAN HAD TRICKED THEM AND ALMOST SUCCEEDED. THERE IS NO GREAT LESSON, JUST TWO GODLY EGOS HURT BY THEIR INABILITY TO UNDERSTAND WHAT SOME DOES FOR THE NAME OF LOVE. A LOVE THAT THROUGH THEIR TIMELESS CURSE, CORRUPTED TO HATE."
A fanatical voice sounded. Jaune hadn't heard the voice for a long while, but hearing it in his head.
He once again doubted, loathed, and felt displeased by the Brothers.
And as he drifted into a walking nightmare, the screams of Mantle continued to echo in his mind. The city itself was shouting at him.
And then it was darkness.
Jaune's eyes fluttered open, his body stiff and aching. He was lying on the cold ground, the shattered bottle of whiskey nearby. For a moment, he thought it had all been a dream, a twisted nightmare brought on by too much alcohol. But as he sat up and looked around, the horrors of Mantle continued to unfold before him. The screams, the blood, the relentless Grimm - they were all still there.
Staggering to his feet, Jaune stumbled through the streets, his senses assaulted by the smell of smoke and death that wasn't there.. The rustling of leaves echoed in his ears. He moved forward, drawn by some unseen force, until he found himself standing before a familiar building.
It was the workplace where he had spent the last four years since becoming a Mediator. The sight of it brought a fleeting sense of comfort. But that comfort was short-lived. As he approached, he saw Cyanne, one of his closest colleagues, directing terrified citizens to safety. Her voice was calm and authoritative, a stark contrast to the chaos around her.
"Go, go, hurry!" she urged, waving them towards a nearby passage.
Mr. Greene, their boss, stood beside her, holding a makeshift fire dust cocktail. With a fierce determination, he hurled it towards the advancing Grimm, creating a brief but effective distraction. Cyanne took the opportunity to charge at the creatures, her weapons flashing in the dim light.
Jaune's heart pounded in his chest as he watched the scene unfold. He saw Cyanne turn, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment. There was a flicker of recognition, then horror, as Mr. Greene was caught by a Sabyr. The Grimm's claws sliced through his body with sickening ease, his blood splattering the ground.
"No!" Cyanne screamed, her voice raw with grief. She tried to rush to the passage, but the Grimm were too fast. She drew her gun, firing off rounds of Dust at the creature's head, but it was not enough. Another Grimm lunged at her, its claws piercing her body and pinning her to the wall.
Using the last of her strength, she screamed for the citizens to go. "Run! Get to the shelter!" Her voice echoed through the hall, filled with desperation and resolve.
Jaune watched in horror as his colleagues, his friends, fought valiantly to protect the civilians. The office workers, usually buried in paperwork and routine, were now barricading the passage to the shelter with whatever they could find. Their faces were pale with fear, but their determination was unwavering.
As he stumbled further into the nightmare, the rustle of leaves grew louder. Jaune's gaze shifted to familiar faces lying face down in pools of their own blood. Mrs. Aurora Evergreen, a kind woman who had always brought him coffee and mouth watering pastries in the mornings. Professor Cedarwood, who had once given him sage advice on books lying on the ground.
Their lifeless bodies were still and motionless.
Then he saw Mr. and Mrs. Griswold, the elderly couple was huddled together in despair as the Grimm broke through their barricade. Mr. Griswold, in a desperate act of bravery, charged at the creatures, but he was swatted away like a fly. Mrs. Griswold's eyes were dull with resignation as the white-bone paw of a Grimm crushed her beneath its weight.
Jaune's knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, his hands clutching at his hair. The scenes of death and destruction played out in an endless loop, each one more horrifying than the last. He could hear the citizens praying for the Brothers, their voices rising in a desperate chorus. They called out for Huntsmen, for anyone to save them, but no one came.
"No one did," Jaune muttered, his voice hollow. "Where were we?"
The rusty voice answered, its tone filled with a cold detachment. "Heading to the Schnee mansion after the Whale exploded."
The words sent a chill down Jaune's spine. He remembered the mission, the urgency to save Oscar and the brief with Salem. But while they had been focused on their goal, the people of Mantle had been left to fend for themselves. The realization hit him like a physical blow, and he doubled over, gasping for breath.
He found himself standing before his townhouse, the place he had now called. But it was not the safe haven he remembered. The garden was a mess, the flowers trampled and the bushes torn apart. He saw a couple lying in the corner, their bodies twisted and broken.
The rustle of leaves grew louder, a relentless whisper that filled his mind. He could hear the citizens praying again, their voices filled with desperation and fear. They begged the Brothers for salvation, for the Huntsmen to come. But their prayers went unanswered.
Jaune sank to his knees, tears streaming down his face. The weight of their failure was crushing, a heavy burden that threatened to break him. He had always wanted to be a hero, to protect the innocent. But in the end, he had failed. The people they had sworn to protect were dead, their blood on his hands. And for what? Because they lied? They cornered a man who was already fragile to the brink of madness? A man who felt the world on his shoulders and was crushed by it?
The world around him seemed to fade, the edges of reality blurring into a swirl of colors and sounds. The rustle of leaves, the screams of the dying, the pleas for help—they all blended together in a cacophony of despair.
Jaune's vision darkened, and he felt himself slipping away. The nightmare was endless, a torturous loop from which there was no escape. Jaune wandered through the streets, the rustling leaves whispering in his ears, carrying voices of the past and present. His senses were dulled by the alcohol, but the horrors were vivid, sharper than any blade. As he walked, he felt eyes on him. Turning, he saw the citizens of Mantle watching him, their expressions a mixture of hope and desperation.
It was another.
Among them were children, their faces bright with an innocent bravery. They whispered to each other, "Big Brother Jaune is here. It will be alright. He always watches over us, so it will be fine." Their trust was like a knife twisting in his heart.
In the haze of his vision, Jaune followed the sound of rustling leaves, his footsteps echoing in the silent streets. The children looked back at him with wide eyes, filled with trust and glee. They believed in him, believed he would lead them to safety.
The scene shifted, and Jaune found himself watching through a portal. He emerged, his Huntsman License held high. The children cheered, their eyes shining with admiration. They saw him as a knight in shining armor, their protector. These were the same kids Jaune had always helped, their faces familiar and beloved. They bravely led the way, trusting that the Huntsman guiding them across the street would keep them safe.
But then an explosion rocked the bridge. The blast tore through the air, and Jaune watched in horror as citizens were engulfed in a spray of blood and limbs, their bodies falling into the void below. The children's bravery faltered, their eyes wide with fear. One of them, a small boy with a red coat, found his courage and urged the others to hurry.
Jaune's heart ached as he watched the kids find hope in his words. He saw himself telling Nora that civilians were their priority, and the kids echoed his words, "Big Brother Jaune said so." They were so close to the portal to Vacuo when another explosion shook the ground. Jaune watched helplessly as one of the children was thrown into the air, his body lifeless as it fell.
The scene shifted again, and Jaune found himself on the sands of Vacuo. The same boy in the red coat stood before him, desperately trying to protect his friends. Jaune's heart pounded as he saw Nora charging at the Grimm, tears streaming down her face. Winter Schnee, the Winter Maiden, fought valiantly with droplets falling from her face as she faced off an army by herself.
Jaune screamed, "Where were we?" His voice was a broken whisper.
"Falling into the Everafter," the rusty voice answered, its tone cold and distant. Jaune collapsed to the side, his body trembling. He crawled towards the wrought-iron table in his garden, the familiar surroundings offering no comfort. "Will this happen again?" he asked, his voice barely audible.
The rusty voice paused before answering, "I... don't know."
Jaune's heart sank. "Then what happened?"
"Vale falls. Vacuo fights to the bitter end with Remnant at its side. You, on the sands, facing Grimm while your enemies wield the relic."
"Did we win?" Jaune's voice was filled with a desperate hope.
"I don't know," the voice replied.
"You don't know?" Jaune's frustration and despair were palpable.
"This story ends in misery ever after, the pages are torn, and there's no final chapter."
Jaune felt the weight of the words, the hopelessness crushing him. "Then what hope do we have?"
"Maybe the story will be written one day...but this one... is for you to decide, Jaune."
Jaune swallowed hard, the weight of his guilt and fear pressing down on him. His vision blurred, and he felt his strength fading. The last thing he saw before everything went black was the rustling leaves.
In the darkness, Jaune's mind was a storm of memories and nightmares, the faces of those he had failed haunting him. The children, the citizens of Mantle, his friends and comrades — all of them lost because he couldn't save them. He was looking at the target, not caring about those who were going to be affected by it. They were so engrossed in the enemy, they had failed the people.
The weight of the Afteran's failure was a heavy burden, one he feared he would never be able to lift.
He didn't want this.
It would have been great if he had remained ignorant.
Who would want to hear voices all time?
Sure, they've been a great help some time.
But they were also a curse that was burdened to him.
As he lay there, unconscious and vulnerable, the world around him continued to shift and change. The nightmare was relentless, a never-ending loop of despair and regret. The rustling leaves whispered secrets he didn't want to hear, their voices a haunting reminder of the lives he couldn't protect.
But somewhere in the darkness, a small spark of hope remained. Jaune knew that the future was uncertain, that the story wasn't finished. He clung to that hope, even as the nightmares threatened to consume him.
And so, with that fragile hope burning in his heart, Jaune's unconscious mind began to dream of a better tomorrow, a world where he could be the hero he had always wanted to be.
Then… he felt the warmth of a campfire. Guiding his way through the darkness.
"I searched the sky and hoped to find a star who'd send a light"
Jaune woke up on his couch, the familiar surroundings of his home slowly coming into focus. The comforting hum of a lullaby reached his ears, and he realized there was a damp towel on his forehead. His head throbbed with a dull ache, but instinctively, he used his Semblance. His aura flared, coursing through his body, ridding him of the hangover and the lingering aches.
As the pain subsided, Jaune sat up and turned to his side. He saw Penny sitting there, her expression a mix of concern and relief. His heart broke as a vision flashed before his eyes.
Penny on that bridge, pleading with him to make a choice, to give up her life so she could transfer the Winter Maiden's power to Winter. The agony of that moment repeated itself, searing into his mind.
The vision shattered, and reality took hold. Penny, who was usually kind, pleasant, and almost parental, looked at him with uncharacteristic harshness. "Jaune, this drinking isn't good for you," she said, her tone firm. "Even if you can use your Semblance to rid yourself of the effects, it's not healthy."
Jaune readjusted himself, the tears falling freely down his pale cheeks. Penny's stern expression faltered, and she panicked, reaching out to him. "Jaune, what's wrong?"
"I had a very bad dream," he murmured, his voice trembling.
Penny's eyes softened. "It's just a dream, Jaune."
"Even if it was just a dream... I was afraid. Very afraid." Jaune's body began to shiver, the residual terror from his nightmare gripping him.
Penny moved closer, first holding his hands, then pulling him into a hug. It was rough, her metal frame sturdy and unyielding, but to Jaune, she was the warmest thing in the world right now.
"Don't be scared, it'll be alright," Penny whispered, her voice gentle and reassuring.
"I saw you die in my dream. It made me very upset," Jaune confessed, his voice breaking.
Penny stroked his hair softly. "It's alright. I'm... just a machine."
"Not to me. Never," Jaune replied firmly. "The fact that you have an aura means you have a soul, Penny. There is no one in Remnant as kind as you."
"You're exaggerating," Penny smiled, her eyes shimmering with gratitude. "But thank you."
"Penny," Jaune continued, sobbing as he looked into her eyes. "Don't die, please."
"I won't," she promised.
"Promise me," Jaune insisted, his grip tightening on her hand.
"I promise," Penny repeated, her voice resolute.
"If you have anything troubling you, if you can't fight it alone, please tell me. Even if the sky falls, and even if the land burns, I promise you that I'll be there when you need me. And I gave you my word... and an Arc... never goes back on his word. You are my friend, Penny. I don't want something bad to happen to you."
"I'm kinda a Huntress too, Jaune. It's going to be alright, Jaune," Penny said as she gently separated from him.
"I know," Jaune replied, trying to steady his breath. "Can I have some water?"
Penny nodded, pouring him a cup of water instead. She left the table and went to the kitchen. Jaune stared at the cup in front of him, his mind still swirling with the remnants of his nightmare. He opened his palm and saw a multi-colored leaf. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, but the leaf was real. It floated down, eventually touching the water in his cup, causing the liquid to sparkle as if it were a firework.
A new vision assaulted him through the rustle of the leaves — Ruby downing the tea, her body briefly glowing with the same multicolored hues before the tree consumed her. Jaune's eyes widened in horror, and he instinctively swatted the cup away.
The liquid spilled, but as it hit the floor, it vanished, only the cup remains.
Jaune's mind raced. "What the… why does the tea work here in Remnant?"
He heard Penny returning from the kitchen, her footsteps light but deliberate. She looked at the cup with concern. "Jaune, are you alright? What happened?"
"I... I don't know," Jaune stammered, his voice shaky.
He covered his face and then went silent.
He didn't understand.
Then he heard it again even more loudly.
The hammer striking on the anvil.
Then he saw.
The Blacksmith of the Great Tree, striking again and again.
Then she held a figurine carved from wood.
A creature that Jaune thought was… kind.
Then his aura shattered.
His eyes rolled back and he fell to the floor with a heavy thud.