Site is really annoying me by refusing to upload my docs because it keeps wanting to check I'm human. I'm having to copy-paste over old chapters and upload them to make this work.
Chapter 4
There were five of them in total, five against almost a hundred people, and yet they were supremely confident in themselves as they barked orders and demanded tribute. Their weapons were beyond what anyone in Rest had, especially since the military had confiscated guns and dust ammunition to serve the war effort. Donations, he imagined they called them, but it was no less theft than what was happening before his eyes.
Men and women approached one at a time and handed over what little they had. Lien in some cases, but jewellery in others. Food and produce. The bandits accepted anything, no doubt finding foodstuffs just as valuable as legal tender when they had many mouths to feed. So did the villagers, however, and Jaune found himself growing increasingly irate as the five bandits demanded more and more. There were already so many sacks that they'd have to bring a wagon or make multiple trips.
How much was enough? And were the people here really so broken that they couldn't stick up for themselves? Or had anyone capable of speaking out been drafted already? The old lady in the apothecary had called them deserters. He'd have though those drafted from other villages and towns would have more sympathy.
It didn't take long before the tattooed girl approached him. "Taxes," she demanded. "Now."
"I'm not a citizen of Rest," said Jaune, offering what he hoped would serve as a calming smile. "I'm just passing through."
Her eyes quickly sized him up. He wasn't armed with anything other than the staff he was holding onto, and she dismissed that. It was no huntsman staff with metal tips and a mecha-shift transformation. It was treated and hardened wood cut from a tree near the temple. Once she was sure he wasn't a huntsman, she was quick to sneer at him and continue.
"You think I give a shit? You're here wandering through territory owned by the Branwen Clan. This is our land. You cross through it, you pay taxes."
Jaune wanted desperately to call them out on that but one look at the many panicked faces among the villagers convinced him otherwise. It was ego pride him – the egotistical desire to prove his strength and not be seen as weaker than these bandits. And for what? Money? He and Master Ren had no use for it, and the money came from skins he'd sold. It was his to use and his to give away. With a sigh, Jaune untied the ribbon on his simple, woollen purse and tossed it at the girl. Her savage smile said it all, but when she opened it up and peered inside, she scowled.
"There's fuck all here."
"I doubt there's much of any money left in this place after your exploiting it. Do I look like I'm wealthy?" Jaune held his arms out so she could see his simple robes and lack of belongings. He didn't even have a scroll. "This is all I have unless you want to steal a wooden stick."
He'd let her. There were plenty more in the forest.
"Don't fuck with me! Where's your scroll?"
"I don't have one." Jaune balanced his staff in the crook of his elbow and held open his robes, letting her see bare skin under. "No pockets. No scroll. I'm afraid you're trying to squeeze blood from a stone here."
Vernal pointed to the herb pouch inside his robes. "What about that?"
"Medicine. The reason I'm here. It's for a sick old man with an incurable disease."
"Give it. Medicine is always useful."
Jaune's friendly smile vanished. "Not unless you have people specifically dying of lung disease. I'm afraid I need this. You can take my money. That's more than enough."
Her eyes sharpened. "I'm not asking."
Jaune stared back. "And I'm not giving it up. I'm sorry."
"Tch. Idiot."
The girl turned away, walked two steps, but Jaune saw more. Having trained with Master Ren for so long, he saw her right hand tighten and adjust on the grip of her weapon, shifting to a more comfortable hold. He saw her shoulders rise as she took a deep breath, and her feet spread just a little further apart to widen her base. He saw her right foot turn at an angle, and bite down into the dirt as she placed her weight onto it. The signs were all there, so painfully clear, that he wondered how anyone could have been surprised when she twisted and whipped her curved chakram blade toward his throat.
Jaune had begun moving the moment her foot pushed down.
He ducked under the blade and slammed the butt of his staff into her gut then, as she recovered from her shock, he stepped into her guard and slid the staff up her front, over her outstretched arm and then locked it back around the nape of her neck, trapped her arm out straight. Stepping back, he pulled on his staff and the back of her neck in one motion, pulling her down until she tumbled and fell to the floor with a startled cry. The bandit cursed and spat dust, but soon found herself staring at the tip of his staff an inch from her eyes.
The village had gone still.
"I cannot afford to give up my master's medicine," said Jaune. "Please accept the money I've given you and leave. There's no reason for us to fight."
"Gah! What are you waiting for!?" she screamed. "Kill him!"
Four men rushed him from the front. They came screaming with weapons held high – two swords, an axe and a spear. Only the spear was aimed to thrust, but the man wielding it quickly found himself unable to use it as his peers closed in and blocked him off. The two with swords had them clasped so high above their heads that there was no ambiguity as to the attack, no room for them to possibly adjust. They were undisciplined.
A simple step to the left threw them into chaos.
By adjusting his position, he'd provided for them a fresh conundrum. Now, one of them was in the way of two others. Their formation had been bad before, but now two of them with their swords raised high realised they couldn't swing them for the ally in front of them, and they were bunched so close together that they didn't have the room to adjust. Even less so the poor bandit with the spear, the shaft of which was trapped between his fellows' bodies.
Jaune struck, then. His staff flashed up and into the chin of the man with the axe, far outreaching the short-hafted weapon. The blow clacked the man's jaws shut with force enough to crack teeth, and the pain alone was enough to make him drop it. This was no hardened veteran, but a young man stricken by fear fleeing his conscription. He'd probably grown used to threatening those who couldn't possibly fight back. Snapping his staff out to the side, he brought it back into the man's temple, dropping him to the floor.
Still in motion, Jaune stepped toward the remaining three and ducked low, stabbing out his staff like a spear and striking one sword-user in the stomach. The impact served both to stun him and to propel his staff back, allowing Jaune to grasp it around the centre as he shifted and drove the butt of it into the side of the man's knee. As he fell, Jaune moved with him, stepping again to the left so that the falling bandit was between him and the second man with the sword. Better yet, the falling man slumped over the spear and pinned it down, dragging the spear-user's arms down.
It was too tempting an opportunity for Jaune not to lunge in and drive the sole of his boot into the wooden shaft. Any good spear would withstand that normally, being designed with some give, but caught between the man wielding it and the other stumbling and dragging it down, the shaft was tight and braced in place like a plank of wood across two cement blocks. His boot snapped through it with ease and the man stumbled back to escape his staff.
"DIE!" roared the last, swinging the sword down vertically.
Only to find that Jaune wasn't there.
"Always be moving," Master Ren's voice echoed in his mind. "You should never be static in combat. Every step is an opportunity to bring your weapon toward an enemy, and every moment you stand still an invitation for their own."
Those words had never seemed to matter in spars against Master Ren, but he could see the wisdom of them against lesser foes now. He'd simply never realised it, always believing himself weak because his every opponent was a master of his art. Jaune drove the butt of his staff into the last man's knee and then stabbed it between his legs, twisted and swept. The sword flew into the air as he fell, and Jaune casually batted the falling weapon aside so it wouldn't land on and injure anyone.
"Rarghhh!" a woman's voice screamed behind him.
It was good of her to announce her attack, otherwise she might have caught him unawares.
Stepping forward, Jaune held his staff up horizontally above him to block the strike. He saw the moment she realised his mistake, the sheer vindictive glee on her face as she put every ounce of her strength into an overhead strike that would easily cut through his wooden staff and lodge itself in his neck or shoulder. If not cleave his head in two.
Which was why, at the last second, he swept his staff down and behind his back and stepped boldly to the left, surrendering the parry that she had expected. The woman had thrown everything into that swing, in full anticipation that her momentum would be halted when the sword buried in his body.
Robbed of all that, her odd weapon swept down through the air and continued, dragging her arm and upper body forward. She stumbled, aided in no small part by Jaune's foot sticking out in front of hers. Though she tried to turn her fall into a forward roll, she didn't have the time and struck the mud face first. Jaune poked down on the back of her hand sharply to make her release her grip, and then shunted her weapon away with the butt of his staff.
"You fucker!" she hissed. "When Raven hears about this—Guh..."
The girl went still when he swept his staff into her skull.
Someone in the crowd whimpered.
"W—What have you done?"
"They'll kill us!"
"You couldn't have just given them what they wanted?"
It was sudden, the turn on him. They didn't dare approach him even with their numbers. They'd been no more confident outnumbering these five twenty-to-one. Watching him deal with them so easily, they were no more confident now.
"You're asking me to give up life-saving medicine for someone important to me." Jaune planted his staff down and looked over them. "If I'd done that, would you have provided new medicine?" Several eyes looked away, including the old woman from the apothecary. "You wouldn't have. I defended myself. Nothing more."
"What are we supposed to do when they wake up?" asked Baron. "What are we supposed to do when they come back with a hundred people?"
"Tell them the truth. Tell them I did this."
Stooping, Jaune collected the money he'd given away and stood. With a brief nod to them, he walked out of Rest and away, knowing he'd never again be welcome in the small village.
/-/
Master Ren listened to his story with quiet contemplation.
"Did I do right?" asked Jaune. "I stood up to them and we needed the medicine, but I get why everyone else wishes I'd have done nothing. Was there a better way?"
"That question will haunt you for a lifetime if you let it. Better men than you have become useless men by wasting decades thinking over their past mistakes. What is better? What is right? Meaningless in the moment now that actions have been taken."
"Don't you have any advice?"
Master Ren hummed and stroked a finger through his long white beard.
"In times past, each sect would carry with itself a strict code of conduct. A way to act, a duty to uphold, or simply guidelines so as not to tarnish the reputation of the sect as a whole. Those times are gone. If you wish to live a life without doubt, you should decide for yourself the code you shall live by."
"A code... like help the weak?"
"If that is what you wish to do. You should not choose lightly, however. The path you choose may determine your actions for decades to come. Meditate. Ask yourself what it is you want from life – and cling not to altruistic ideals just because you feel you should. Those with power can be said to have a responsibility to act, but did anyone in the village thank you for acting? Responsibility does not come with power. Responsibility belongs to everyone, including the villagers who think themselves powerless as they put the onus on you to sacrifice my health."
"They will tell you with one breath that you should bend the knee to protect them, but then they will tell you with another that you should stand alone against the Grimm and buy them time to escape. With great power comes great responsibility, they will say – but that translates in reverse into suggesting those without power need not be responsible for anything. All are equal." He formed a circle with his fingers and thumbs before him. "All begin and end the same. We are born and we die. What we accomplish in the time between is up to us. Some may have greater advantages, some less, but we all have agency."
"The villagers didn't seem to think they had any."
"It is easier to kneel than to stand. They could leave and try their luck elsewhere. They could fight back. They could muster their strength with other villages. But any conflict would mean losses, and they cannot abide the thought of it. Thus, they surrender."
"But I didn't."
"Indeed. Your life, your moment, your choice. Live by a chivalrous code if you wish but do not allow yourself to become beholden to the whims of others. Do not become a tool – neither for good nor for evil. You are Jaune Arc, last of your family and last of the Lotus Temple Sect."
"Should I live a life to be proud of?"
"Pride is a tempting master. It lets you look back on the actions of your past and feel bigger than everyone else. But it is controlling. Pride will have you face impossible odds, give up happiness, and die on a hill surrounded by the bodies of your enemies. What use is it? There are things I am proud of and things that I am not. Such is life. True contentment comes from simpler things. It is not a drug to be chased – and that is what pride is. A drug in your mind, a chemical reaction, stimulating your brain and telling you what you want to hear. Live in the moment instead. Let pride go."
Jaune nodded. It would be easy to just say he should help those in need and be a good person, but what was a good person? Master Ren had taken him in, but he hadn't coddled him. He'd forced Jaune to work for his food and grow as a person. Some would say he'd been cruel to a grieving child. Right and wrong weren't so simple.
If he swore himself to be the protector of Rest, he might be able to give them easier lives, but would they thank him for it? Or would they come to expect it? They weren't grateful now for the risks he'd put upon them, but hadn't they tried to do the same? They'd told him to accept losing Master Ren's medicine to make their lives easier.
"Thank you for your wise words, master." Jaune linked his hands and bowed, and Master Ren returned it. "I will meditate on a code for my future."
"I am pleased to hear so. Tell me about your battle."
"It was... It was startlingly easy, master. I don't think they were well-trained. Youths drafted to a war they didn't want, given basic training and then trusted when they shouldn't be. Deserters who took their first chance to run. They were uncoordinated, getting into one another's ways, and they didn't have their aura unlocked. Or they didn't have good control over it."
"Hm." Master Ren nodded. "It is good that you realise this. You are strong when facing them, but strength is always a comparative measure. You are weak when fighting me, strong when fighting those without training, but you should never be reckless enough to call yourself strong. Such a title will only lead to complacency. There is always someone stronger."
"Even stronger than you, master?"
"Always."
"I wish I could have seen you in your prime."
Shu Ren guffawed. "Foolish boy – I was weaker in my prime." The answer startled Jaune. "These skills I have cultivated over seventy years of training. Go back fifty years and I'd have been no better than you are now." Master Ren smiled fondly. "What you mean is that you wish you could see a man with seventy years of experience crammed into the body of a twenty-year-old. That, I daresay, would be quite the sight, but do not make the mistake of believing I was a god amongst men in my younger years. At your age now, I was but a helpless child. You have eclipsed the me of your age tenfold."
Jaune smiled wryly. "How long until I eclipse the you of today?"
"Hmph! I see a victory has made you cocky. Come, we shall rectify that right now. Let us test your staff against someone who can fight back."
It was a humbling experience.
/-/
Two weeks later, Jaune had all but forgotten about the incident at Rest. Master Ren continued training him, and seemed to grow stronger for his medicine, breathing easier and in a way that made it clear Jaune had failed to notice signs of weakness before. In his defence, Master Ren was an impossibly spry old man. His "weak" would be classed as unimaginably fit in any other person his age. They sparred through the mornings, meditated at midday, then trained with weapons in the evening – primarily the staff but Master Ren had brought up teaching him the sword in coming days.
"The sword is an elegant but dangerous weapon," he said. "Hence why I have waited until your aura control is better to begin teaching you it."
He brought out a wrapped cloth and let it rest on his crossed legs. Slowly, he unwrapped it, revealing a straight and narrow sword far thinner than the weapon his own father used. It wasn't as thin as a rapier, but it certainly wasn't as wide as a broadsword or longsword.
"This is called a jian," explained Master Ren. "It is light and quick, nimble but not strong. Feel its weight."
Jaune took it and was shocked. "It's so light!"
"A jian is designed as a precision weapon, not a hack and slash tool. A longsword as you might see a huntsman wield weighs as much as one and a half kilos. More with mecha-shift components. This weighs a little over half a kilogram."
"Can it hold up to a heavier sword?"
"Within reason, but not indefinitely. Clash with a heavier weapon over and over and the blade will break. Our sect is not necessarily a sword sect, but we did practice the art all the same. We believe in something called sword intent."
"Sword Intent." The words were said with emphasis, so Jaune assumed they meant something. "What does that mean?"
"It means that every cut and thrust must intend to kill. Or to serve a purpose," he added, with a kindlier smile. "Disarming is enough. It's not a strict rule but an ideal, almost an art form. Practitioners would spend their lives seeking the perfect cut. A master of sword intent would refuse to attack, forever evading and gracefully parrying until they saw the moment, the brief instant, when they could use their sword with full intent." He mimed a sharp stab with an empty hand. "And then take it!" he snapped.
A moment later, he chuckled. "Of course, much of that was steeped in mysticism and nonsense about sword spirits and the belief that you could store sword intent in your weapon and unleash it in one attack for ten times the strength. Such is nonsense, but the art itself was founded in war and should serve you well. The goal is not to waste time with unnecessary attacks, swinging and blocking and clashing, but to flow into combat and end a dual in one, singular strike. One delivered with purpose, precision, and intent." He took the sword back by the hilt and held it vertical. "Sword Intent. Intent to cut, intent to debilitate, intent to kill. No less and no more. This is not a toy. It is a weapon. There may be no sword spirit for you to risk offending, but you will offend my teachings by mistreating it."
Jaune bowed his head and shoulders. "I understand, master. I will do my best to treat it with the respect it deserves."
"Hm. Good." Master Ren let it rest across his open palms. "It is yours now. From me to you. It has no name, for I do not believe naming a tool for murder to be in good taste. You may give it one if you wish. Perhaps it will aid you in keeping it sheathed."
Accepting it with open hands, Jaune carefully placed it down over his knees and let go. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't tempted to use it, to play with it, but that would disappoint his master. And it would disappoint himself. He was better than that. He was not a child to swing a toy around just because it excited him. Instead, he accepted the beautiful black lacquer sheath and gently slid the blade back inside, then looped the pale blue cloth about the hilt to keep it locked in.
Master Ren nodded, seemingly proud. "You will need tuition before you can wield it as anything other than a lump of metal. We will begin soon but, before that, I believe a demonstration is in order."
"Are you going to show me your own sword technique?"
"Hmmm. Perhaps. That depends on how this pans out."
"What do you—"
A whistling sound passed by overhead, so unlike anything he'd ever heard in nature that it stunned him to silence. The whole courtyard was silent, in fact, until something struck the side of the temple on the second floor and exploded, tearing great chunks of wood out of it, and sending them scattering down around them.
Jaune leapt to his feet while Master Ren slowly rose.
"What's happening!?" Jaune cried.
"The consequences of your actions in the village, I believe." Shu Ren was calm, linking his hands together before himself by sliding them into his overly large sleeves. "I had heard them approach over an hour ago. They are curiously patient, but it seems even that has its limits."
Jaune saw them enter by the front gate. At least twenty people, with the girl he'd beaten before among them pointing his way. In front of them all strode a woman with her face covered in a red and white mask. Her hair was jet black, her outfit smoky red and dark tones, and she gripped the hilt of a sword in a heavy and oddly shaped scabbard.
"Huntress," remarked Master Ren. "More than a deserter. Curious."
A huntress? Jaune swallowed. He felt the woman's eyes on him and stood still and loose as she nodded to her men. They spread out, quickly moving to surround the pair. Master Ren sighed under his breath and stepped past Jaune.
"What brings you to the Lotus Sect Temple, travellers?"
"He harmed one of mine," said the woman, her voice low and dangerous. "He will pay either with his service or with his life."
"Service...?" whispered Jaune.
Master Ren chuckled. "I am afraid my student is already in service to me and will be for at least another twenty years. As for yours, I do believe she attacked first. It is unwise to attack without knowing the capabilities of your opponent. My student has imparted a valuable lesson on her, and she even lives to learn it. Few would have been so charitable as to spare her life."
"I don't care. I am Raven Branwen. I rule the Branwen Clan. This is our land—"
"I have lived here seventy years and never heard of you. The land belongs to no one but the rivers and mountains."
"It is mine now." Her sword was drawn in a flash of red. The blade was pure dust. "I have claimed it for I am strong."
"Such a waste... to draw your sword for no other purpose than to enhance the wind coming from your mouth." Master Ren shook his head mournfully. "Your intent is lacking. Your focus is all wrong. You are stronger than the helpless villagers, that much is true, but you are not strong."
Master Ren took the sword from Jaune's hand, and held it horizontally before him, one hand on the hilt and the other on the scabbard, below the hilt. He stood, legs apart, body still, facing the woman with her sword drawn.
"If you wish to take my student, you must show yourself worthy of him. Best an old man in combat and he shall be yours. Fail—"
Raven surged forward with a crack of fire and swung low.
It was all over in an instant.
Because Master Ren stabbed the still-sheathed sword down and caught her blade against the floor, trapping it against the narrow hilt. His bushy eyebrows drew down, his pink eyes narrowing as he let out an exasperated sigh. With his other hand, he casually touched the woman's chin and knocked her mask off, revealing a stunned and face with bright red eyes. The woman was attractive, in her mid-thirties, but it was obvious she hadn't expected such a quick response.
"Such impatience. Ever the folly of youth."
Raven snarled and wrenched her sword back, swinging across his throat. Master Ren swayed back and under then came back up and tapped her shoulder with the sheathed weapon. It was a light tap, only a warning, but it seemed to enrage the huntress, sending her into a wild flurry of attacks that he side-stepped, ducked, deflected, and parried without ever drawing the weapon.
The crowd of bandits began to mutter among themselves. The girl who Jaune had beaten earlier, who had at first watched with a smug smile, was suddenly much more nervous. This must have been how it looked to see him face her.
And, of course, Master Ren felt the need to make it a lesson.
"Wild hacking and slashing wastes energy. See how she exerts herself?" He danced among her attacks, never once staying still, never once letting the blade so much as nick his clothing. "When every attack carries the intent to kill, your body and spirit will be worn down. Nothing lasts forever, not the sun and stars, and certainly not a combatant's stamina."
He tapped her left shoulder with two fingers, ducked her blade and then tapped her left arm, by the bicep and above the elbow. Little warning signs that he could have stabbed if he so wished. Raven responded with a vicious spinning slash that Master Ren calmly backed out of reach of, his robes fluttering gracefully in the air. He made it look simple and not even inhuman. He was no faster than Jaune, nor even Raven or Vernal, but he moved sooner, reacted sooner, and made her swings appear sluggish and telegraphed.
"When you learn to fight Grimm, you fall into bad habits," he continued. "Grimm are mindless and aggressive, gladly allowing you to cut into them if it lets them reach their prey. Huntsman weapons are overly designed because they must pierce thick hide and bone plates. Useful against monsters, but less so against a person."
He continued evading her. "Reckless aggression is also useful for a huntsman as it is better to end a fight with Grimm as quickly as possible, and they can trust in their aura to protect them in return. Why block when your aura will do it for you? Why consider your defences when it does not matter if a claw or tooth makes it past? As long as you end the Grimm before they deplete your aura, victory will ultimately be yours."
Raven howled and grasped her sword with both hands, raising it high, exposing herself.
Master Ren ducked, slid the scabbard back and pulled on the hilt. The blade hissed free, quick as snake, lithe like a sparrow and as graceful as a swan. He twirled the blade around so that it was held out with the tip before him, stepped into her guard with his right foot and thrust upward.
Raven did not protect herself.
Why should she? Aura could do more than a good enough job of that, and it wasn't like she'd expended any tanking hits before that moment. Master Ren's attack was a silly thing to her, a chance to trade aura between them in a mutual attack.
But Jaune, after spending so long meditating on aura with Master Ren, knew that the earlier taps on Raven's body, small as they might have seemed, had not been for nothing. Two taps, one to the upper left shoulder and one to the upper left arm. No doubt he had pushed his aura into her, destabilising her meridians and, whether Raven realised it or not, interrupting the flow of her own aura about her body.
Raven didn't realise it because no one had taught her such was possible.
The sword pierced through her bicep and came stabbing out the back of her arm, spraying the ground behind her with blood. Raven gasped, a strangled sound of raw pain but also complete shock. People tensed when they expected pain, but when you were a huntress with full confidence in your aura, it wasn't hard to fall into bad habits and she'd left everything open expecting her aura to cover her. The complete shock of it froze her in place.
The dust blade clattered from her hand, and she stumbled back, pulling herself off the sword and clutching her arm. Master Ren whipped it to the side, dashing blood across the grass, and then held it vertically before his face. He smiled past it.
"Do you see, my student, what can be achieved if you wait for the right moment? No wasted movements, no theatrics, only preparation and focus. One stab, with the intent to debilitate, and nothing more."
"Impossible!" hissed Raven, stumbling back to her suddenly not-very-confident men. "Impossible! My aura! How!?"
"Hmm?" Master Ren looked to her, then chuckled. "I am not your teacher, child, though today I have taught you a lesson as my student did your protégé. I would advise you to depart. You may claim dominion of the land, trees, and rivers if you wish it. They do not know your name, nor will they care for your claims. But the Lotus Temple is not yours. Leave." He took a calm step forward. Several men took steps back. "Leave and never return."
Raven swallowed, scowling. "We're leaving."
"But Raven—"
"We are leaving, Vernal. Your fucking temper is what led us to this. You'll be lucky if I don't run your arm through as well." She looked back, hissing in pain. "Is that enough? We'll get out your hair. You'll never see us again."
"It is enough. Good luck to you all."
The bandits hurried away, Raven doing her best to walk calmly but limping with blood pouring down her arm. Jaune wondered how many times she'd truly been wounded before, because a huntress would only truly be hurt if their aura failed, and if it failed in front of a Grimm...? Well, Grimm didn't normally leave scars. They left bodies. It was entirely possible that she'd never been hurt like that before.
"Master Ren is incredible," breathed Jaune.
"Hm? Nonsense. She was merely weaker than I in the moment – but what does she expect? I have twice her lifespan in experience with the sword." He chuckled and held it out to Jaune once more. "Still, I am grateful she arrived in time to serve as a lesson."
Jaune laughed. "So, when do I learn to do stuff like that?"
"I'm afraid you have something else to learn first, Jaune."
"What's that?"
Master Ren pointed.
Jaune turned.
A huge heap of wood came crashing down as part of the roof collapsed.
"I... I don't know carpentry," he whispered.
"Hmmm. Then it is good that you will have this opportunity to learn." Master Ren patted him on the back. "Fortunately for you, there is much timber in the forest and much time on your hands to learn the craft. I look forward to seeing your progress."
Another wall, and a good section of the roof, collapsed inward.
Jaune whimpered.
Next Chapter: 5th March
Like my work? Please consider supporting me, even if it's only a little a month or even for a whole year, so I can keep writing so many stories as often as I do. Even a little means a lot and helps me dedicate more time and resources to my work.
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur