Jaune Arc wandered through the lush expanse, taking in the green space that surrounded him. His eyes flitted over the vivid emerald hues, the swaying grass, and the towering trees that seems to be taken out straight from a fairy tale. There was an odd serenity here, a stark contrast to the chaos and conflict he was used to. Yet, beneath the surface, he could feel a strange, almost palpable tension.
Jaune's thoughts began to drift, and he found himself adopting an investigative stance. He scrutinized the environment with a detective's eye, searching for clues in the smallest details. Floating in the sky were peculiar green orbs, shimmering with an otherworldly light. He fixated on them, trying to decipher their meaning as they mingled with the two suns above him.
They seemed to pulse with an energy that felt both familiar and foreign.
"What are these?" he murmured to himself, his voice barely a whisper. He reached out tentatively, half-expecting to touch the intangible orbs, but they remained just out of reach, hovering like specters.
As he continued his examination, a flicker of light caught his attention in the distance. A campfire, its flames dancing and casting shadows, beckoned him. Intrigued and slightly wary, Jaune approached, his steps cautious but determined.
Seated by the campfire was a knight in rusted armor. The armor was decrepit, marred by time, and around the knight's neck was a yellow tie with the Arc's symbol, grotesquely wrapped like a noose, its end tied into a Stopwatch Tree.
Jaune felt a shiver run down his spine as he stopped a few feet away from the rusted knight.
"Who are you?" Jaune asked, his voice steady despite the unease bubbling within him.
The knight looked up, his eyes meeting Jaune's. "I am you," he replied, his tone grave and laden with a weight that Jaune couldn't quite place.
Jaune's brow furrowed in confusion. "What happened? Why am I?"
The knight's gaze didn't waver. "You started becoming too familiar, and you're got close to taking all of it."
Jaune felt a pang of dread. "Have I gone mad?"
"Not at all," the rusted knight admitted. "But you've been using what's in my head to do better than I ever did, but you don't understand why you have me in your head in the first place. The simple explanation is, you fucked up. You drank a lot of booze, and now a 2mm hole opened up in your head, and I got in."
Jaune blinked, struggling to process the words. "Ah… what?"
"That's all I know."
Jaune sat down, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on him. "Why are things different?" he asked after a moment. "For you and me."
"Because she's not dead here, and Oz kicked us out this time," the rusted knight replied. "I have to ask. Do you hate her? Pyrrha?"
"Why would I?" Jaune said. "If I hated her, would I have bothered to use the videos she left behind? I'm just... upset. Pyrrha was the first person to ever believe in me. No one in my family ever thought I could become a warrior, much less a huntsman. My father, grandfather, and great-grandfather were all warriors, yet none of them saw any potential in me... but she did. So it hurts when... she didn't try to make a case for me like Ren and Nora did. In the end, just like my family, she didn't see any potential in me… and time naturally just drifted us apart."
"I see." The rusted knight nodded slowly.
"How about you? Do you hate him? Oz, I mean," Jaune asked, thinking of Ozpin and the tangled web of decisions and sacrifices.
"No. I respect what he does… but he's not exactly good at his job… though I think he's still attached to Salem and can't bring himself to end his wife. You don't like him?"
"Well, he did kicked me out of Beacon," Jaune trailed, contemplating the knight's words. "So why am I here again?"
"You nearly killed yourself by amplifying your aura to the extreme. If you'd continued, we would have burst like an over-inflated balloon. But it's understandable, considering you were up against someone like Raven."
"Oh. Shit."
"Yeah, Oh shit," the knight echoed.
Jaune sat in silence, the fire crackling between them.
"What do I do now?" Jaune asked finally, his voice tinged with both resolve and uncertainty.
The knight stood, the rust of his armor creaking with the movement. "You learn. You adapt. It's up to you. My future differs from yours. So who knows? Maybe you're just a madman dreaming about a fairy tale."
Jaune shook his head. "No, the Maidens, the Relics, Salem — they're real. Thy aren't just a fairy tale."
The rusted knight nodded.
"Are we going to merge?" Jaune asked, a hint of fear in his voice. "Am I.. going to lose myself?"
"I saw what a merger does to people. In my time, I saw how broken Pyrrha was at the thought of inheriting Amber's memories and losing herself in the process. I saw Neo's body get stolen by the cat and Oscar Pine, struggling like he's a terminally ill patient who's about to be erased… and I myself know how it felt like. To be an old man inside a young man's body and you really think that I'd do the same? To us? Besides, I think Saph saved you this time." The rusted knight tugged on the yellow tie around his neck. "Still, if there's one thing good about us, it's that we're stubborn. We could wait for decades, never break from a cat's taunting, and persist while grieving for those we lose.. For better or for worse, our most defining quality is that we don't know how to give up… just don't overdo it, okay?"
"Ok. I'm glad…"
Jaune then heard the distant strike of a hammer on an anvil, a sound that reverberated through the green spiritual space.
The knight's eyes flickered with a strange light. "You should go now. Your aura's back to full. I don't know what's happening… why we could see the Great Tree and hear the Blacksmith and why your Aura shattered. Good job neutralizing Raven, by the way. Honestly, you got lucky when you found yourself next to them. If you were wearing armor, Pyrrha would have bodied you with her polarity and pinned you down. Things could have been worse if they were prepared when they saw you like that. You would have been beaten to the ground."
"Wait... what about Salem?" Jaune asked urgently. "What do I do?"
"What can you do? She's immortal," The rusted knight shrugged. "So good luck with that. You still have a lot to do on your own. I… don't think we'll meet in this place again… not that I'd stop annoying you in your head."
As the words hung in the air, the world around Jaune began to fade. The green orbs, the campfire, and the rusted knight all dissolved into a blur of colors and shapes. Jaune felt himself being pulled away.
"Ah," the rusted knight turned around. "Just save who you can. That's who we are. It's not bad. Helping people. Who said a Knight needs to fight to just protect? All it takes sometimes is the words of someone. Words can save a soul."
With a final breath, Jaune closed his eyes and let the world around him fade completely.
But he heard something out of the pale void he found himself in.
NATIONS, KINGDOMS, AND EMPIRES HAVE CRUMBLED.
AT THE THRESHOLD OF EXISTENCE, PERENNIALLY THE CATALYST, A WITCH AND A WIZARD PLAYS THEIR ETERNAL GAME.
YET, ASK — WHAT REMAINS WHEN EVEN DUST DISSIPATES?
The gentle hum of Winter's airship provided a constant, almost soothing background noise as Jaune sat up. He thought the peace would last, but the familiar chorus of voices began to stir in his mind. They had been a constant presence ever since he drank himself to sleep that one time.
"You really pushed yourself this time, didn't you, Jaune? Just look at you, stumbling around like a newborn fawn," the rusty voice said, the tone quite rougher than the voice in the dream.
Jaune frowned. He had hoped that the voices would have quieted after the dream, that maybe he had conquered whatever magic had conjured them. But no such luck.
"The strain of recent events has clearly taken its toll on you. It's no wonder you're feeling overwhelmed," the Well-informed voice scrutinized.
"You really thought you could escape us, didn't you? Silly boy. We are as much a part of you as your aura or your sword," the Scheming voice laughed.
Jaune sighed again, this time with a deeper sense of resignation. He moved to the window, staring out at the wilderness.
The knight's voice chimed in, "Steady now, Jaune. You've faced worse adversaries than the voices in your head"
"Face it, kid, we're here to stay," the fanatical voice said. "Are we not the blessings of the GREAT TREE!?"
Jaune could still hear the hum of the airship, feel the cold air against his skin, but the voices were always there, just beneath the surface.
Then the Yellow tie's voice interrupted. "You brought this on yourself with your reckless behavior. All that drinking, all those poor decisions. Now you have to live with us in your head."
"FUCK OFF, WE DIDN'T FUCKING DRINK. WE WON AGAINST A MAIDEN. I THINK THAT'S WORTH A CELEBERATION!"
Jaune flinched as if struck. The Yellow Tie Voice was always the harshest, the most critical. It never let him forget his mistakes, his weaknesses. It was a constant reminder of the darker parts of himself, the parts he tried so hard to overcome. But the Drunk's voice… well, it was much simpler to deal with.
"I thought... I thought maybe after that dream, you'd be all gone. That I'd be free."
The voices laughed, a cacophony of derision that echoed in his mind.
"Free? There's no freedom from us, Jaune. We're your burden to bear," the Rusty voice said.
"A consequence of your actions, a manifestation of your inner turmoil," the Well-informed Voice said.
Scheming Voice then chuckled, "And we'll be here, whispering in your ear, until you come to terms with that. You could always break your mind again. See if that helps?"
Jaune buried his face in his hands. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
"I'm going to need a drink."
Jaune then moved with careful, deliberate steps through the lit corridors of Winter's airship. The hum of the engines was a constant background noise, almost comforting in its monotony. His thoughts were a tangled mess, the voices in his head a relentless noise. He had learned to live with them, to some extent, but their presence was never less than exhausting.
As he a slipped inside the bar, the door closing behind him with a soft click. Jaune let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
"Finally, some peace," the rusty voice murmured, its tone laced with weariness.
"You call this peace?" the drunk voice scoffed. "We still don't have a drink at hand!"
Jaune moved to the shelves, his eyes scanning the bottles until he found what he was looking for, a bottle of whiskey. He grabbed it and a glass, setting them both on the counter. His hands were steady as he poured himself a drink, the amber liquid reflecting the dim light. He took a seat at the bar, the stool creaking slightly under his weight.
Jaune pulled out his Scroll, his fingers moving quickly to find the news. He needed a distraction, something to pull his mind away from the incessant chatter of the voices. The screen lit up, and Jaune began to read, sipping his drink as the latest headlines scrolled by.
Mistral stabilizing, while Menagerie is still at war with themselves.
"You think the news will help?" the scheming voice chuckled. "You'll just find more problems to worry about."
"But it's better than listening to you lot," Jaune muttered under his breath, taking another sip.
The crew, silent and observant, watched him from the back of their bar. Their presence went unnoticed by Jaune, who was too absorbed in the news and his drink to sense their gazes. It was only when a familiar presence entered the room that Jaune felt a shiver run down his spine.
"Mr. Arc," Winter's voice cut through the silence like a knife, causing Jaune to jump slightly. The voices in his head immediately reacted, a flurry of alarm and surprise.
"Great, the ice queen," the drunk voice groaned. "And she's calling you MR. ARC. She's mad!"
"She's going to lecture you again," the well-informed voice added.
Winter approached, maintaining her characteristic professionalism. "During the past five days, you have been in a coma. Your aura has not recovered, and you remained unresponsive, impervious even to injections intended to revive you," she stated, her eyes critically assessing the bottle of whiskey in his hand. "This is not an appropriate moment for a drink, Mr. Arc. To the med-bay. NOW."
Jaune swallowed hard, feeling a pang of shame and a surge of defiance. The drunk voice in his head began to cry, a wail of despair that Jaune tried to ignore. He put the glass down, his hand trembling slightly.
"I'm... sorry," he muttered, standing up obediently.
Winter gestured for him to follow, and Jaune complied, falling into step behind her. As they walked through the corridors, Jaune's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and voices.
"Why did you apologize?" the rusty voice grumbled. "Stand up for yourself. You earned this."
"Just get through this for now," the Curious voice advised. "One step at a time. How about you ask what happened to Raven?"
"What happened to Raven?" Jaune asked, his voice subdued.
Winter didn't turn to look at him as she responded, "Raven is secured. She's being kept asleep, and she will be transported to General Ironwood's airship and taken to Atlas."
"Not Vale?" Jaune's brow furrowed in confusion.
Winter remained silent, her expression unreadable. The voices in Jaune's head began to deduce the implications, their insights filling his mind.
"They're taking her to Atlas first, then back to Vale," the scheming voice noted. "Probably for interrogation or containment. We should talk to her."
"Or they're going to take her powers away," the rusty voice groaned. "But it's likely that Oz's going to try again to convince her to join in his game. He wants his convenient portal machine."
"You could have given her death," a voice said. "She hates Ozpin and with that collar on her neck, it's going to be hard for her to escape."
Jaune echoed the voices' sentiments, his tone thoughtful. "They're taking her to Atlas first, then back to Vale."
Winter didn't deny it, and Jaune felt a knot of unease settle in his stomach. The reality of their situation, the complexities of their mission, weighed heavily on his mind. He knew there was much more to come, and the path ahead was fraught with challenges.
"You can't trust them," the rusty voice warned. "They have their own agenda. Winter, under that ice, is a good person, but she's loyal to the core. She's a Yes Woman. They think they are saving the world, when they don't even know their Greatest enemy can't be killed. They have hope."
"So focus on what you can control," the well-informed voice advised. "You still have a role to play."
Jaune followed Winter through the corridors until they arrived at the medical bay. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, and the hum of machinery provided a constant background noise. Winter led him to an examination table and gestured for him to sit.
"Take off your shirt, Mr. Arc," Winter instructed, her voice firm but not unkind.
Jaune hesitated for a moment before complying. As he pulled off his shirt, the scars covering his torso and back were revealed in the harsh dust-powered light. Some were old, faded lines from past troubles, while others were fresh, angry marks from his recent fight with Raven. A burn on his back stood out prominently, the skin marred and painful-looking. His marbled upper torso and muscled fat-less physique were now on full display.
Winter's cold, analytical gaze swept over him, and Jaune felt a shiver run down his spine. He buckled slightly under her stare, feeling exposed and vulnerable as she ran her eyes on his scar and scratch-filled eight-pack. Turning to the Doctor, he followed the doctor's instructions without question, the voices in his head momentarily silenced by the weight of the moment.
"This isn't good," the body remarked. "You're pushing your body too far."
"Listen to him," the rusty voice advised. "You need to heal."
As the doctor began examining his injuries, Jaune's mind drifted back to the mission, to Raven and her strange abilities. He needed answers.
"Why are you letting Vale take the Maiden?" Jaune asked, his voice steady despite the discomfort.
Winter's gaze snapped to his face, her eyes narrowing slightly. "How did you know about that?"
"It's my job to understand people, to broker peace and investigate what's wrong to solve a problem," Jaune replied professionally. "I saw the evidence, remember? She also conjured the elements, opened portals, and transformed into a bird. It's enough to know she's something else. That's no Semblance."
"Smart," the scheming voice commented. "Always observant."
Jaune subtly shifted his position, wincing as the doctor checked his burn. "Did the General tell you anything about it?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
Winter squeezed her arm, a rare sign of discomfort. "He has not yet," she admitted.
"That's strange," the well-informed voice mused. "General Ironwood trusts Winter. She should know by now. What changed?"
Jaune nodded thoughtfully, absorbing the information. "It seems odd. The General trusts you. You should be in the loop."
Winter's expression tightened, and she took a moment before responding. "Perhaps he has his reasons," she said, though her tone suggested she shared some of Jaune's unease.
"Keep pushing," the rusty voice urged. "You need to know more."
Jaune decided to tread carefully, not wanting to overstep his bounds. "I understand. It's just... with everything happening, transparency is crucial. We all need to be on the same page If I am to continue to work with your organization."
Winter's eyes softened slightly, and she nodded. "I agree. I will speak to him. For now, focus on recovering. We need you at your best. You still have people to speak with, Mr. Arc. People who are eager to know that a certain 'white fang leader' has been captured."
Jaune managed a small smile, appreciating her concern. "Thank you, Ma'am."
"Rest," the body voice insisted. "You need to be strong for what's ahead."
As the doctor finished checking his wounds, Jaune lay back on the examination table, his mind racing with thoughts and questions as the Doctor did some tests.
After a while, Jaune sat up and concentrated, feeling the familiar warmth of his aura as he amplified it to heal his internal injuries.
After a moment, he glanced at Winter. "What happened to my yellow tie?" he asked, remembering the distinctive piece that was part of his usual attire.
"We recovered it," Winter replied. "Though the black suit you were wearing was singed completely."
Jaune nodded, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. He listened to a few more words from the doctor, who advised him to take it easy despite his accelerated healing. Once the doctor was done, Jaune slipped his shirt back on, covering the scars and the new wounds that had already begun to fade by his Semblance.
He stood up, his mind already turning to the next steps. "What's next?" he asked, his tone steady. "Mistral should be stabilized, and judging by what I saw in the news, Menagerie is still in civil war. I should go back to Mantle."
Winter stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "That is true. But Menagerie refugees are coming in droves, and they trust you more than they would trust anyone else. I... they would not believe a Schnee."
Jaune shook his head slightly. "You're overestimating me."
Winter's eyes softened as she genuinely wondered aloud, "Are you humble, or do you not know how to appreciate what you've been doing?"
Jaune paused, considering her words. The voices in his head were unusually quiet, allowing him a moment of introspection.
"Maybe a bit of both," Jaune admitted finally. "I just do what I can. It never feels like enough."
Winter placed a hand on his shoulder, a rare gesture of camaraderie. "You've done more than most, Jaune. Don't sell yourself short."
"Yeah, listen to her," the rusty voice encouraged. "You've come a long way."
"You're making a difference," the well-informed voice agreed. "Even if you don't see it."
Jaune managed a small smile, feeling a flicker of hope. "Thanks, Ma'am. I'll do my best."
Winter nodded. "Good. For now, get some rest and prepare for the conference. We'll need you at your best look on that podium."
"Already back in the shit factory? We didn't have our drink yet! Damn her! That reminds me," the drunk's voice said. "Have they paid us in cold hard Lien yet?"
Jaune's face turned serious.
That's right.
Did he even got paid yet?