EDIT: Forgot the A/N at the bottom. Whoops.

Dammit all!

Jaune huffed as he hid against the outside wall of a nearby building. He could hear the heavy beating of horse hooves from that golden knight's steed moving away, even as he tried to calm his still racing heart.

First he'd been ridiculed by that man Varré, and next he was suddenly attacked out of nowhere by a knight in golden armor. Why couldn't he just catch a break?!

Fighting down what felt akin to his heart climbing into his throat, he crawled somewhat pathetically into the ruined building, only to realize he wasn't alone. Scrambling to his feet, he brought his sword and shield up, assessing the scene in front of him.

When it was clear the man before him, as well as the man's steed, were of no harm to him, Jaune slowly began to lower his weapons.

Occupied with fiddling with some kind of instrument, the man didn't look up until Jaune lightly coughed to grab his attention, causing him to startle and nearly drop his instrument.

"You…!" he began, looking at him from top to bottom with piercing yellow eyes that seemed to glow even brighter than the small campfire in front of him.

"...you're a Tarnished. I can see it," the man stated, setting down his instrument and folding his hands neatly in his lap. "And I can also see that you're not after my throat."

He very pointedly looked at Jaune's lowered weapons. Seeing this, Jaune nodded slowly and sheathed his sword, looping the brace of his shield over his sword's pommel.

"I apologize for startling you…?"

The man chuckled. "I am Kalé. Purveyor of fine goods. Why not purchase a little something?"

Jaune shook his head, approaching the campfire. With a nod of permission from Kalé, he sat by the fire, a respectable distance away from the other man.

"I'm afraid I don't have any money to buy anything," Jaune replied solemnly, "I don't have much of anything really. Armor, sword, shield, with no clue what I'm doing with them."

Kalé hummed thoughtfully, pulling his instrument into his lap; a kind of string instrument, now that Jaune had a better look at it. The stick Kalé held–what Jaune had first assumed to be a cane of some sort–was revealed to have a string laid along its length. "A Tarnished with no purpose? I suppose that isn't so rare. Do you still see it? The golden grace?"

"Golden…?"

Looking around in confusion, Jaune's eyes were caught on a glowing light situated in the middle of the decrepit building they were in, pulsing with a golden glow and small particles of light swirling in a lazy circle around the source.

"...yes, I do, I guess. You're talking about that golden light, right?"

Kalé nodded. "Only you and your kindred may see that 'light.' That is the guidance of Grace. You are not familiar?"

Jaune shook his head, his head dropping in slight frustration. "Unfortunately, no. I don't remember anything except my own name. Name's Jaune, by the way."

"No recollection of anything except your name…? That is unfortunate, Jaune." Kalé then clicked his teeth twice, and his steed, a donkey in reality, trotted over and lowered itself down beside him. Reaching into the donkey's saddle pouches, Kalé pulled out a small bundle of dried meat and tossed it at Jaune. Just barely catching it, Jaune looked at the meat in his hand and back at Kalé.

"Take it. You look a touch starved. Just consider it an investment. It's only Tarnished like yourself who keep things from drying up entirely. Let's say you're a very welcome customer, and every customer counts."

Jaune bowed his head gratefully. "Thank you, Kalé. This is the kindest anyone's been to me all day." He pulled off a strip of meat from the bundle and popped it into his mouth. Salty, and a little spicy. Quite delicious, actually.

"You've met others?" Kalé asked curiously.

"Mhm… a man in white but stained with blood… calls himself Varré. Said some stuff about Grace, too, now that I think about it. But he insulted me, the bastard; hadn't even talked to him for more than a minute. Condescending much?"

Kalé hummed. Leaning the neck of his shoulder into the crook of his arm, he began to play a slow, solemn melody. It was very soothing, but the tune held a tinge of melancholy. "I know who you speak of. Indeed, Varré is a condescending sort, but he's not the type to lay insults. What did he say?"

"Called me 'maidenless'," Jaune huffed, taking another bite of the dried meat. Chuckling, Kalé shook his head.

"It was no insult, my friend. You truly have no idea what you're doing, do you?" At the annoyed look that Jaune shot him, Kalé only sighed. "Well, I may not be Tarnished, but I've met enough of your kind to get the general gist. Varré was likely referring to your lack of Finger Maiden; a companion whose sole purpose is to grant you strength through runes. All so you can claim the Elden Ring."

"And all Tarnished are supposed to do that? Get this Elden Ring and then… what?"

Kalé stopped playing for a moment and gestured with his arm vaguely around them. "Why, rule over the Lands Between as Elden Lord. Maybe even fix it."

"Fix the Lands Between? What's wrong with it?"

Kalé let loose a weary sigh, continuing to play his instrument, the somber melody echoing through the ruined building. "It began even before the Shattering… the Night of the Black Knives…"

It was a test; a test of combat to be precise. Ozpin wished to see through his own eyes what Jaune was capable of. It was pretty straightforward.

It was suspicious.

It hadn't been hard to listen in on the conversation between Ozpin and Ruby the night of his return–not with his abilities. There was footage of her fighting, and that was apparently enough to grant her admission into Beacon. That stood to reason there must have been footage of himself, so why was he being forced to take this test where Ruby had not?

'Tis obvious, no? He senseth the difference in thee. The power thou wieldest. Mayhaps, he even senseth mine own presence. His suspicion, however warranted, is an issue.'

In hindsight, that was pretty obvious. But it was too late to kick himself for getting caught up in the moment. Right now, he needed to confront the problem in front of him.

'Jaune, I senseth a plethora of Glintstone ahead.'

Jaune had to pause for a few seconds to process that, but when he did, he blinked. 'Wait, seriously?' He thought incredulously.

'I do not jest.' Marika huffed. 'Twould seem magic is more abundant than thou hast known.'

Heading into the locker room, Jaune reached out with his own senses and found that she was correct. He could sense an abundance of magic power in this room, but the cosmic flavor that normally accompanied the presence of Glintsone was missing, instead replaced by a feeling akin to static from a tv; jumbled, and too busy to make out any specific details.

'I don't see the source of it.'

'Tis all around us, Jaune. Within the containers.'

Containers? Looking around, Jaune realized that she was talking about the lockers. But Glintstone in there? What… wait…

"Dust…" He murmured in amazed realization.

'Pardon?'

Relying on his magic sense, Jaune walked up to one of the lockers and held out a hand. Focusing his magic, he felt for the power inside the locker, an energy that evoked a muted feeling of flow. Using the Dust in the locker as a catalyst, he summoned a Carian sword projection; only instead of the blue glowing cosmic energy he was used to, the weapon that coalesced in his hand was made from water that rippled with every movement, vaguely shaped in the form of a blade.

'What didst thou do?' Marika questioned with naked awe.

Jaune let out a short laugh of incredulity, a smile spreading widely across his face as he held the blade closer. Tapping the surface tentatively, the surface of the blade rippled once more, and his gloved finger came away slightly wet.

'Dust is Glintstone… or a form of it… I can't believe it!'

A small spark of amusement indicated that Marika found his excitement humorous, despite the huff that resounded in his head. 'Tis intriguing, aye. Thy home hath been touched by cosmic forces other than the Outer Gods.'

'This… this is fantastic! I can use Dust as a catalyst for my Carian Sword Arts! Imagine, a sword of flame, or lightning, or even ice! This is the perfect cover for my sorceries.'

'Tis most fortuitous, indeed. Yet, tarry no longer. Thou hast nary the time to indulge in trifle.'

Jaune grinned. 'I won't be long. I just need to find the right one…'

Navigating his senses, he made his way slowly around the locker room. Glintstone provided its power through the principles of logic and will. Crystals of it were the physical, literal manifestations of pure potential, the tangible proof of creation; as such, they held no elemental affinities unless they were made so.

But Dust was very different in that regard. Glintstone crystals that were tuned to specific elements always gave off a feeling of containment, as if the crystal itself were being constrained by being bound to its affinity; as such, the power they provided was very Dust was nothing like that.

As he stood before a locker, a feeling of boundless energy suffused through his body, like a static shock that was yet to zap. Using telekinesis, Jaune manipulated the locker's mechanism, and the door swung open with a small creak; inside were a few personal effects along with some kind of curved sword, evidently transformable given the hinge located at its crossguard. Making no further note of it, he reached for the top shelf where a small box was located, within which was a small vial, within which was a small crystal of Lightning Dust barely bigger than his thumb. Probably for the weapon, but Jaune would make use of it here. Closing the box and the locker, and locking it once more, he slipped the vial into his glove, nestling it into his palm. Concentrating on the Dust, in a flash of blinding light, a Carian sword projection–pale yellow as opposed to light blue–appeared in his hand, crackling with lightning.

Perfect.

The combat arena was right through the next door, conveniently connected to the locker room. The door led to a set of stairs, which brought him up to the arena platform. Off to his left was an amphitheater, which was surprisingly occupied by a handful of people. Ozpin himself was among them, sitting closer to the front with an innocuous cane leaning against the seat beside him and his coffee mug nursed in his hands. The others in the seats, numbering fewer than a dozen or two, appeared to be students given the uniforms they wore.

Before him, standing a fair ways away in the center of the arena, was Glynda. In her hands was a scroll in tablet form, the screen occasionally flickering as she navigated its interface. On the other side of the arena were his adversaries: team CFVY.

It was unlikely that he would be facing the entire team; not that it would matter. He was confident in his ability to deal with one, or all of them. He would not fail this test.

Looking them over, team CFVY were similarly eyeing him, likely appraising his gear. He only thought to bring his sword and pistol, not that they were his only weapons; they were only the ones that they could see.

Glynda looked up from her scroll and beckoned him over. "You don't have a scroll, right?"

Jaune gave a small shake of his head. "No. My old one was… destroyed. I've yet to replace it."

"Unfortunately, I don't have a spare scroll to calibrate to your Aura, so I won't be able to monitor your Aura levels," Glynda sighed. She looked him over with a concerned glint in her eye. "...be careful, Jaune."

Jaune fought down a smile. It warmed him to hear the affection in her voice. "I will, you have my word."

Looking back at his adversaries, they appeared to be talking to each other, though they refrained from turning towards one another, their gaze still firmly locked onto him. Perhaps discussing a strategy? It would do them no good.

'Hark, my child. Stay thy caution. T'would not do for thee to be undone by thine arrogance.'

Marika had a point, but he was still confident in his ability to handle team CFVY. What were a few teenagers compared to demigods and the Outer Deities?

"Attention," Glynda called, "Jaune Arc, you may select your opponent, or you may have me do so for you. Do you have a preference?"

Jaune contemplated for a moment. This was a test, so a formidable opponent would lend more credence, or so he would think. So who was their best fighter? Was it the girl with the shades, whose smirk seemed to scream confidence? Maybe the tall one, the boy with a greatsword so large it might as well have been made by Iji?

Decisions, decisions…

"Glynda, by what merits is a student's combat proficiency recorded?" He asked.

"Students have a win-loss ratio recorded on their personal files and are assigned a rank according to that ratio against everyone else in their year," Glynda rattled off almost instantly.

Win-loss ratios; that was pretty standard. Jaune could faintly recall Moongrum telling him that the Carian Knights used much the same system. So that just leaves the question, who of team CFVY had the higher number?

"I'd like to fight the member with the highest rating, please."

There was a burst of noise as the small audience began to murmur. Sparing a glance at Ozpin, there was a small smirk on his face now, hidden mostly by his coffee mug.

"Velvet Scarletina, please step up to the stage."

Turning back to see his opponent, he was briefly surprised that it was the shy girl with the bunny ears. Even as she walked up to the stage, she seemed to try to make herself as small as possible.

Jaune hummed in thought, idly deciding on what he should do to deal with her. Other than a small box holstered on her back, she had no weapons; at least, not that he could see. Hand fighter, perhaps, an idea reinforced by the light armor she wore: a few plates over her arms and legs atop a lightweight outfit of form-fitting leather and cloth. Despite her hunched posture, her steps were measured, so he could guess she at least had solid footwork.

Stepping forward, he met the girl alongside Glynda.

"The rules are as follows," Glynda announced, grabbing everyone's attention again and quieting the murmurs from before. "Because we do not have a way to monitor Jaune Arc's Aura at the moment, if I deem the situation too dangerous, the fight is over and I will intervene if necessary. Otherwise, all other conditions remain in effect; Velvet Scarletina's Aura goes red, ring out elimination, or tap."

The two fighters nodded, and backed off a fair distance. Glynda herself moved off to the side, but still in the arena to jump in if it was needed.

Jaune stopped at the same time as Velvet did and drew his sword, simply letting the tip rest on the ground in a lazy one handed grip. Velvet's whole demeanor shifted, her posture broadening until she stood straight. Her hands came up before her loosely, and she bounced lightly on her feet in a hand fighting stance.

"Fighters ready?" Glynda called. After a brief nod from the two, a buzzer sounded through the arena.

The two remained unmoving.

Jaune was a little disappointed Velvet hadn't made the first move, but he supposed there was a reason this was his assessment. He'd have to make a showing, might as well take the opening shot.

Bringing his sword up, he twirled his blade in a flourish before pitching his sword back into a reverse grip. Channeling the Dust in his glove into the blade via sorcery, the claymore began to glow and crackle with electricity. That seemed to spur Velvet into action, as she quickly sprinted forward into a mad dash to close the distance.

Faster than he expected, Velvet was already almost upon him when Jaune swung forth from the side, unleashing a wave of radiant lightning that came screaming her way at blinding speed. Jaune could see her eyes widen as the wave approached, and he hummed–impressed–-when she dropped and slid underneath the attack, letting it pass over and hit the arena's barrier.

The barrier hissed and snapped, like the sound of a thousand whips cracking on end, until eventually the wave dissipated.

Launching upwards, Velvet lashed out with an upwards kick that nearly would have knocked his head off–the air whooshing with the sheer force behind the attack–had he not stepped just out of range, his body leaning back.

Faster than Velvet could blink, Jaune sidestepped, his body akin to mist as he channeled the technique of the Bloodhound Knights. He reappeared just behind her, his body coiled to strike. With a twist of his hip, he thrust his sword forward at blinding speed, and was momentarily surprised when it failed to connect and instead hit only air.

He disengaged immediately, sidestepping again and back flipping just out of reach of a wild roundhouse kick aimed at his leg.

To her credit, Velvet was quick to reacquire her target, launching herself forward with her arms spread to tackle him. A good plan against an evidently fast combatant like him; get him on the ground, restrict his movement. It was a familiar tactic, one employed by none other than Lord Godfrey himself, or rather, Hoarah Loux.

That being said, Velvet was a far cry from the First Elden Lord.

In an impressive display of agility, Jaune flipped over her, narrowly avoiding her arms as they grasped at his legs, and with a bit of magic forcefully kicked her into the ground using a small gravity sorcery.

Velvet grunted from the impact, but with her crimson Aura still glowing she tucked herself into a ball and launched into a kick from below that Jaune nearly caught on his chin had he not tilted his head to the side. Before he could grab her leg with his free hand, she hastily pulled it back and retreated with a roll, coming back into her hand fighting stance once more.

Jaune smiled lightly. Velvet was doing better than he thought she would. Granted, he was still holding back, but this brief exchange had so far shown her to be an excellent fighter nonetheless. With a flex of his hand a Carian shield projection made of lightning appeared in his hand, crackling with energy.

Lunging forward with his shield raised, he ducked just underneath Velvet's kick from the side and flat out ignored her attempt to push his shield away, the lightning causing her to yelp as it shocked her. Slamming it into her chest, he bowled her over and brought them both to the ground. With his knee pinning her outstretched arm and his shield and body weight locking her other arm between it and her own body, she was left completely open as he brought the point of his sword down.

Or at least, that's what he thought.

Something hit him powerfully from behind, a blow to his bottom that sent reverberations through his whole body. It knocked him off balance, but that was all it took for Velvet to lift her hips and send him careening forward. Falling forward, he tucked in his shoulder and bled the fall into a roll, his shield quickly coming up to take the full force of a serious haymaker that he felt even through his shield.

Clicking his teeth, he shunted her fist aside and chambered his sword at the same time, the tension in his body coalescing into a twist of his hips that sent his blade forward in a thrust that caught her in her unguarded midriff. Recoiling from the devastating kidney shot, stopped by her Aura as it was, the pain was still enough for her to curl in on herself.

She was entirely unprepared for the knee pad that struck her face, nor for the punch that followed into her sternum, the sharp knuckles of Jaune's gauntlet digging into her chest. Reeling, she stumbled on her feet before falling on her behind.

Dispelling the lightning shield, he brought his free hand up and snapped his fingers.

In a flash of blinding light, a dozen lightning Carian longswords appeared at his side, floating in mid air with their points all aimed at his downed opponent.

"Surrender."

Velvet looked at the swords beside him, and then glanced at her Aura gauge above him. Suddenly, a voice from the other end of the arena called out.

"Velvet!"

It was one of Velvet's teammates, specifically her team leader, if his memory served him correctly. She was currently stood upon her seat, her hands cupped over her mouth to amplify her voice.

"Go ahead and give him hell!"

Jaune narrowed his eyes. As if he would give her the chance. At his silent command, the Glintblades flew forth, on a direct path to Velvet's midsection.

He saw it happen almost in slow motion, but that didn't dampen his surprise. From the box on her back, Velvet had conjured a sword construct, supposedly made of Dust, and sliced his Glintblades just as they were about to hit her. With a grin, Jaune leapt backwards and allowed her to get back up.

So, she thought she could beat him at his own game? Perhaps he could afford to cut loose a little.

Rolling his wrist, a second lightning sword manifested in his hand, and he burst forward to meet her challenge. It was immediately apparent that there was something different with her, and it wasn't just the weapon in her hand. The sword Velvet had summoned was a Dust clone of his own claymore, but she wielded it in much the same manner as he did. Her defense was iron-clad, her blade only meeting his to redirect the attack before flicking out to catch his second sword. It was a series of lightning-quick exchanges, and Velvet refused to commit to any blade locks. As their bout went on, the dynamic shifted as she began to retaliate; a few stabs that she snuck in after each parry, ones Jaune was forced to engage and deflect.

He continued to exchange blows with her for a moment then broke away, summoning an arch of four flying lightning blades that he sent forward. They engaged her as he stood at a distance, his eyes scanning as Velvet defended against the onslaught.

Watching her for a moment, his eyes narrowed as he began to recognize something familiar about her movements. It was weird seeing it from the outside looking in, but as she deflected several blades in sequence–her sword flashing only minimally and without any wasted movement–Jaune recognized his own form.

Then she summoned a second sword.

'She copies thee,' Marika noted. 'Down to thy Carian arts.'

Jaune hummed an acknowledgment. With a snap, the flying lightning blades dispersed with the sound of breaking glass, leaving Velvet momentarily confused as she reeled from an attempted parry. Capitalizing on her confusion, Jaune burst forward with a bit of magic, wind propelling him forward in a blur of motion as he shoulder checked her toward the edge of the arena. To her credit, Velvet was quick to reorient herself mid-air and stabbed her swords into the ground, halting her movement just as her feet were about to reach the arena boundary.

Jaune clicked his teeth. He'd been hoping to end the bout right there, as at this point he was really more playing with his food than anything, but alas she was turning out to be more capable than he gave her credit for.

Perhaps he ought to pay her the proper respect.

Velvet scrambled toward him, her Aura flaring around her legs as they carried her into a leaping thrust at his shoulder. With a flourish of his blade he deflected the blow to the side, his lightning sword swiftly moving to parry a stab to his leg with a downward flick of his wrist. He spun out of the way as she flew past him, rolling into a crouch from which she lunged towards him once more. Dispelling his lightning blade, he twisted his torso away from her sword while his arm snaked underneath, coming up through her arms and around the back of her neck. With the aid of her momentum Jaune swung her whole head down and around his abdomen, her body following suit before he released her neck. His main hand was already poised to strike, his sword held in reverse grip when he brought it down, the point hitting her between her shoulder blades but stopped by her Aura. She hit the ground, her body flat against the floor. Before she could attempt to get back to her feet, he stomped on her back, magic surging through his foot for a brief moment before a gravity crest on the sole of his boot slammed her harshly into the tiles further.

He stepped back to allow her some space, letting Velvet decide whether she wanted to continue or not. She groaned on the floor, but her Aura–despite the heavy blow–remained flickering around her form. Jaune watched closely as her fingers tightened around her Dust blades, and he found himself impressed. He hadn't held back with his power there, and he'd seen that same crest bring low even Crucible Knights, those known for their sturdiness.

Groaning, Velvet pushed herself up slowly, and Jaune let her do so. He'd already disrespected her by not taking her seriously, but she'd more than earned it now. As Velvet stood on unsteady feet, her body slipping into a shaky combat stance, Jaune nodded solemnly.

He rushed forward, his blade coming up from below toward her leg. It never connected, and Jaune had to twist his wrist to intercept her swing from his left. With the awkward positioning, his blade gave a little as he pushed her weapon up and over his head, and he had to duck his head lest the sword clip his scalp. Velvet's other hand was not idle for long, and Jaune was forced to slap her off-hand sword away with a gravity crest, the force behind it strong enough to entirely obliterate the conjured sword with a small boom. With his momentum, he twisted into a spin, his sword coming around in a backslash that caught Velvet unaware straight to her abdomen. Even stopped by her Aura, the sheer force behind the blow sent her back a few paces, and before she could recover Jaune launched his foot into her chest with a spartan kick, launching her clear out of the arena to the sound of a loud buzzer.

"Winner! Jaune Arc!"

"I must say, Mr. Arc, you are very skilled with your blade," Ozpin noted, sipping from his mug. Leaning forward in his chair, he set down the mug and tented his fingers across his desk. "I am curious to know where you trained. Care to indulge an old man?"

The boy- no, the man before him simply shrugged.

Jaune Arc had been on Ozpin's radar for a long time. The son of two powerful Hunters–one of them a scion of House Arc no less–and a family friend of his dear secretary Glynda, it was hard not to see the boy's potential at a glance. With Arc blood in his veins and the mythical Crocea Mors in hand, Jaune had the potential to become a very powerful piece in Ozpin's war against Salem.

Then he disappeared.

Ozpin wasn't one to linger on tragedy; though he did allow Glynda to leave her post to aid in the search. When she came back with Crocea Mors in hand four months later, he simply wrote it off as an unfortunate loss. There was no body, or any evidence of even a fight in the vicinity. No blood, no scuffle, nothing.

But the sad reality was, it wasn't uncommon for someone to disappear. Death was no stranger to these lands, and the lands conquered by the Grimm were ruthless and unpredictable. Half the time, much of the danger there didn't even come from the Grimm, but the bandits that lurked among the wilds.

Jaune Arc would have simply been another unfortunate victim of Remnant's cruelty.

Had he not returned.

And yet, when Ozpin looked at the man before him and compared him with the boy that Glynda adored, the difference was akin to night and day. Where Glynda spoke of a timid and indecisive boy, Ozpin instead saw a stoic and determined warrior. Where the pictures often showed a promising young man of a bright disposition, the Jaune before him was of somber steel; there was fire in those eyes, and though it was scarcely visible in the light of day, those sapphire blue irises shone with a golden hue.

"I trained in the wilds," Jaune answered nonchalantly. "Fought all manner of ne'er-do-wells and monsters alike; learned to survive on my own merits."

The answer was vague, and that seemed intentional.

Jaune Arc–for all his potential–was never trained by his family according to Glynda. The plight of overprotective parents, of which Ozpin could sympathize with. But the fact of the matter was that Jaune should have barely been able to swing a sword.

Yet today, that same man had outclassed a student nearly two years older than him, and Ozpin had a feeling Jaune was still holding back. Six months was a long time to be gone, but it wasn't nearly enough time to forge oneself from an untrained welp to a formidable fighter.

"Surely you had a teacher?" Ozpin probed. "Your footwork, agility, and swordsmanship… it's very polished." He then turned his monitor around, upon which was a playback recording of Jaune's fight, specifically the point at which he summoned blades of lightning Dust. "And to call your Semblance versatile would be an understatement."

And another quirk of Jaune's abilities, too.

He had magic.

It was very possible he was unaware of it, and the magic presence that radiated off of Jaune was admittedly fairly weak. Ozpin, too, hadn't been in touch with his magic senses for quite some time either. But the possibility of Jaune being an agent of Salem was a risk too dangerous to ignore.

The only flaw was the manner in which Jaune used magic. It was a subtle thing, but at the end of the day it was easily detectable to those who were attuned to magic in the first place. The world at large may never be able to tell, but to a magus such as Ozpin, even as rusty as he was, it was very obvious.

Salem didn't operate with "obvious."

She was a tactician at heart, akin to a serpent waiting patiently for the opportunity of a perfect kill. This blatant use of magic went against everything she was, but that too was a reason why Ozpin couldn't simply write it off: it wouldn't be the first time Salem tried to switch things up on him.

But if Jaune wasn't of Salem's lot…

"What can I say?" Jaune grinned. There was confidence there, maybe even a bit of cockiness. "I am a man of many talents."

If Jaune wasn't of Salem's lot, he might just be the piece Ozpin needed to end this struggle.

Once and for all.

A/N: And that's a wrap!

A longer chapter as an apology for the late update. Thanks for being patient y'all; vacation was cool and I got to see friends and family I haven't seen in a long-ass time. It was a much needed recharge, if I do say so myself. Missed my flight, though, so that was an unfortunate expenditure, but hey, mistakes happen. Lol

Anyway, back to the story: Dust is Glintstone!

It was one of the main features of my vision for this story, simply because it would help to explain Dust's existence in Remnant very easily. Cosmic influence, Outer Gods, all of them touched Remnant at one point, and yet the only evidence of their existence is... what... four relics and magical girl powers only prevalent in like, six or so people? Yeah, nah.

Then again, RWBY didn't exactly last long enough to expand upon the God's influence on the world, so... sadge.

Also, Ozpin is in the know. This is something I struggled on deciding, simply because it would shape future interactions between him and Jaune with this context. Jaune is searching for the Relics and Ozpin is protecting them. And, objectively speaking, their goals are entirely different. Jaune wishes to gather and use the Relics to take the fight directly to the Outer Gods, while Ozpin wishes to hide and prevent the Relics from ever being collected, all to avoid the Twin Brothers from coming back and possibly eradicating Remnant once more.

They're at odds, but neither of them knows of the other.

Yet.

Anyway, thanks for checking, I appreciate all of you and the feedback you provide. Nearly 300 favs and 400 follows is... well it's more than I was expecting, if I'm being candid. So, truly, thank you guys.

See ya' next time!