A story where a young Glynda Goodwitch, fresh out of Beacon Academy meets a kindly knight who has a lot of secrets while on a mission to confirm Ozpin's words. Mostly focus on the two hunting Grimm, and traveling Remnant.
Glynda Goodwitch sat in a dimly lit room, the soft glow of the monitor reflecting off her glasses. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and the faint hum of the air conditioning system. She adjusted her glasses, a habitual gesture that helped her focus. Spread out before her were stacks of documents, maps, and digital files, all pertaining to the obscure village outside the Kingdoms. Her mission was clear: gather intelligence and ensure the safety of the villagers. However, the data she had collected was a jigsaw puzzle with too many missing pieces.
Her frustration was obvious with the way she crinkled her forehead. Missing the airship had thrown off her schedule, giving her an unwelcome surplus of time to mull over recent revelations. If anything, it made her unreasonable enough to continue this. Ozpin's offer played on a continuous loop in her mind, each repetition more incredulous than the last. Maidens imbued with immense power, wizards, witches, and the bombshell that Ozpin himself was a reincarnated individual. The infinite man… and once the king of Vale.
It was a lot to digest, even for someone as composed as Glynda.
"Madness," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. The logical part of her mind rebelled against these fantastical elements, but the evidence was irrefutable. She had seen too much to deny the truth. Still, she needed to clear her head and focus on the task at hand.
Glynda took a deep breath, calming herself. She sifted through the data meticulously, her keen eyes scanning for any clue, however small, that could shed light on the village's situation. The village lay in a remote area, far from the protective borders of the Kingdoms, making it vulnerable to Grimm attacks and other threats. The latest reports indicated unusual activity, but the specifics were frustratingly vague.
She pulled up a map, tracing her finger along the path leading to the village. The terrain was rough, with dense forests and treacherous mountains. It was an ideal hiding place for anyone—or anything—looking to avoid detection. She made a mental note of routes and choke points, areas where an ambush could be set or where the villagers might seek refuge.
Her eyes flicked to another document, a report on recent Grimm sightings. The frequency and aggression of the attacks had increased, a troubling trend. Glynda's brow furrowed as she compared the dates and locations of the attacks. There was a pattern, albeit a faint one. The attacks were concentrated along a specific path, almost as if the Grimm were being herded or led. But by whom? And for what purpose?
A file marked "CONFIDENTIAL" caught her attention. It contained intelligence from a Huntsman who had ventured near the village. His notes were hurried and disjointed, a reflection of the danger he had faced. He mentioned strange figures in the forest, whispering in an unfamiliar language. A dead language that no one in Remnant spoke. There were also signs of ritualistic activity — symbols etched into tree trunks and stones, remnants of fires, dust, and peculiar arrangements of bones and feathers made to imitate the form of Grimm. The Huntsman had been too frightened to investigate further.
Glynda leaned back, rubbing her temples. The picture was becoming clearer, but it was still incomplete. She suspected the involvement of a cult or a group with nefarious intentions. The rituals suggested a link to magic, possibly even an attempt to summon or control the Grimm. She couldn't rule out the possibility that this was connected to Ozpin's revelations. He was the one who recommended it. Wanted her to see it for herself and decide. Perhaps this cult had knowledge of the ancient powers he had spoken of, or worse, they might be trying to harness those powers to their own ends.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft chime from her scroll. It was a message from Ozpin. "Glynda, any progress on the mission? Need your update ASAP."
She sighed, typing a quick response. "Still gathering intel. Unusual activity near the village. Possible cult involvement. Will update with more details soon."
Sending the message, Glynda returned to the data. She needed to find something concrete, something actionable. Her gaze fell on a photograph taken by the Huntsman. It showed a clearing in the forest, with a large stone altar at its center. The altar was covered in strange symbols, similar to those described in the report. Surrounding it were remnants of candles and other ritual paraphernalia. Glynda enhanced the image, zooming in on the symbols. They looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place them.
"Think, Glynda, think," she whispered to herself. Her mind raced, trying to recall where she had seen those symbols before. Suddenly, it clicked. She had seen similar symbols in an old tome in the academy's restricted section. The tome detailed ancient and forbidden magics, including rituals used to summon and control Grimm. If this cult had access to such knowledge, the village was in grave danger. Not that there might anything left to save with most of the villagers gone.
Wait... what happened to the rest of the villagers? Or are they part of the problem?
Her determination renewed, Glynda began to formulate a plan. She would need to gather a team and head to the village as soon as possible.
Glynda was running solo for this one, but it doesn't mean she'd have to do it herself. They would have to be prepared for anything — Grimm attacks, hostile cultists, and potentially dangerous magical phenomena. She made a list of supplies and equipment, prioritizing items that provide protection against the Grimm. But she also understood that it was going to take time and her guts were telling her that if she moves too late... something will happen/
As she worked, the weight of Ozpin's offer still lingered in the back of her mind. She had always trusted him, but the recent revelations had shaken that trust. She needed to speak with him, to understand the full extent of what he was asking of her. But that would have to wait. The village needed her attention, and she wouldn't let them down.
Glynda adjusted her glasses one last time, a steely resolve in her eyes. She saved her work and shut down the monitor, rising from her chair. There was much to do, and time was of the essence. With a determined stride, Glynda left the room.
No, I do this alone. Glynda thought. I can't waste more time and allow them to do what they want.
It was time to prove she was now a real huntress.
Glynda Goodwitch stepped off the airship, her eyes narrowing as she took in the village before her.
"Are you sure we should leave you here, Miss?"
"Yes, it should be fine," she said confidently.
The pilot looked at her worriedly. "Just call us with your scroll if trouble comes. Stay safe!"
"Thank you!" Glynda turned away.
The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the dilapidated buildings and the thick forest beyond. The air was heavy with an ominous silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant call of a bird. She adjusted her glasses, a flicker of determination crossing her face as she moved forward, her senses on high alert.
I was right... the village's gone... there's no sign of people... Not a scent of the dead too.
The village was eerily quiet, with no sign of life. Houses stood abandoned, their doors hanging open, and the streets were empty. Glynda's footsteps echoed as she walked, her eyes scanning for any clues. She approached the clearing she had seen in the photograph, her heart pounding as she neared the stone altar. The symbols etched into the stone seemed to pulsate with a dark energy, and the remnants of candles and ritual paraphernalia lay scattered around.
Glynda crouched down, examining the symbols closely. They were indeed similar to those she had seen in the old tome, confirming her suspicions. This was the work of a cult, one that dabbled in forbidden magics. She took out her scroll, capturing images of the symbols and the altar. As she did, a rustle in the bushes caught her attention. She stood up quickly, her riding crop at the ready, her eyes scanning the treeline.
Emerging from the shadows, several figures in dark robes appeared, their faces obscured by hoods. They moved with a deliberate slowness, encircling Glynda. She could feel the malevolent intent emanating from them. Her grip tightened on her riding crop, her mind racing as she assessed the situation.
"Identify yourselves," she commanded, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. "This is official huntsman business. Let me see your hands. NOW!"
The cultists did not respond, instead beginning to chant in a low, guttural language. Glynda's eyes narrowed as her instincts listened to the incantation. They were summoning something, or someone. She couldn't let them finish. With a swift motion, she activated her Semblance, telekinesis, and slammed the nearest cultist into the ground with a force that shattered his aura. The others reacted instantly, lunging at her with surprising speed.
Glynda's riding crop was a blur as she deflected their attacks, her telekinesis throwing cultists into the air, slamming them against the ground and ceiling with bone-crushing force. She moved with precision and grace, her movements calculated and deadly. One by one, the cultists fell, their auras shattered and their bodies broken.
She swung her riding crop, focusing her telekinetic power into the ground beneath her. The earth trembled and then erupted, forming a rotating drill of rock and dirt that surged towards the building that she suspected housed the shrine. The drill tore through the ground, heading straight for its target. But just as it was about to hit, a barrier of dark energy appeared, blocking the attack.
Clicking her tongue in frustration, Glynda retreated, her mind racing. She needed to find another way to disrupt the cult's activities. As she turned, a flash of movement caught her eye. One of the cultists had survived and was raising an artifact in the air. It was a necklace, silver and gold with a blue jewel at its center. The jewel began to glow with an eerie blue light, and Glynda's heart sank as she recognized its significance.
The cultist chanted an incantation, the blue light intensifying. Glynda's eyes widened in horror as she heard the unmistakable growl of Grimm. Emerging from the forest, hordes of Beowolves rushed towards the village. They moved with a singular purpose, their eyes fixed on Glynda. To her shock and dismay, they ignored the cultist entirely.
Reacting quickly, Glynda used her telekinesis to throw a barrier between herself and the approaching Grimm, but their numbers were overwhelming. She fought fiercely, her riding crop cutting through the air as she deflected their attacks and crushed them with her telekinetic power. But for every Grimm she felled, more took its place.
She needed to disable the artifact. Glynda focused on the cultist, her eyes blazing with determination. She launched herself forward, her telekinesis propelling her at incredible speed. The cultist raised the artifact higher, chanting louder, but Glynda was faster. She reached him; her riding crop swinging in a wide arc. The impact shattered the necklace, the blue jewel splintering into a thousand pieces, before she spun and landed a swift kick on the cultist, knocking it out.
Glynda Goodwitch stood amidst the ruins of the village, her breath steady but her mind racing. The shattered remains of the magic necklace lay in her hands, each fragment glinting ominously in the fading light. She could feel the dark energy emanating from the pieces, a lingering residue of the ritual that had summoned the Grimm. Around her, the groaning cultists stirred, their bodies broken but their wills unyielding.
Glynda's eyes narrowed as she inspected the necklace more closely. The craftsmanship was exquisite, with intricate designs etched into the silver and gold. The blue jewel, now shattered, had been the source of its power. She traced the symbols with her finger, recognizing some from the old tome she had studied. These were ancient runes, used in forbidden rituals to control and summon creatures of darkness.
Her concentration was broken by a sudden chill that ran down her spine. She felt it before she heard it — the unmistakable growl of Grimm. More were coming, drawn to the village by the lingering dark magic and her presence. Glynda stood up, her riding crop at the ready, her eyes scanning the perimeter.
The first wave of Beowolves burst from the treeline, their eyes glowing with malevolence. Glynda's telekinesis flared to life, slamming the nearest Grimm into the ground with bone-crushing force. She moved with fluid precision, her riding crop deflecting attacks while her Semblance hurled Grimm into walls and against each other. It felt almost like cheating, but she knew it was her best defense.
A Beowolf lunged at her from the side, but Glynda was ready. She raised her leg in a swift, powerful kick, sending the creature sprawling. Another tried to flank her, but she spun around, her riding crop slicing through the air to deflect its claws. Her movements were a dance of destruction, each strike precise and deadly and with her Semblance?
She was a tornado, shredding the Grimm with ease.
Despite her prowess, the Grimm kept coming. She could feel her aura flickering, the constant strain of the battle taking its toll. Glynda gritted her teeth, her mind sharp and focused.
For a moment, she allowed herself to reflect on her situation. Fresh out of Beacon Academy, a newly graduated huntress running solo to clear her head. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, a chance to prove herself and escape the overwhelming revelations of Ozpin's offer. But now, as she fought against wave after wave of Grimm, she realized she had severely overestimated herself.
Glynda was a one-woman army, but even armies had their limits. Each hit from the Grimm chipped away at her aura, each moment of fatigue a reminder of her mortality. She fought with everything she had, but the sheer number of Grimm was overwhelming. Her body ached, her aura flickered dangerously low, and she knew she was in a bad state.
A particularly large Beowolf charged at her, its jaws snapping inches from her face. Glynda summoned a burst of telekinetic energy, slamming the creature into the ground with enough force to shatter its bones. But the effort left her momentarily drained, and she staggered, her vision blurring.
Another Grimm took advantage of her momentary weakness, its claws raking across her side. Glynda cried out, her aura flaring in a desperate attempt to protect her. She lashed out with her riding crop, severing the Grimm's head, but the damage was done. Her aura was nearly depleted, and she could feel the pain radiating from her wounds.
Glynda fought on, her resolve unyielding. She had to survive, had to complete her mission. But the realization dawned on her — she couldn't do it alone. Not with this number. Too many. Too fast. She needed help, needed to regroup and rethink her strategy. Another Beowolf lunged at her, but she used her telekinesis to throw it aside, her movements slower and more labored than before.
The ground beneath her trembled as more Grimm approached. Glynda took a deep breath, steeling herself for the next wave. But she needed to be smart, needed to find a way to escape and regroup.
Summoning the last of her strength, Glynda unleashed a powerful telekinetic wave, pushing the Grimm back and buying herself a moment of respite.
Glynda's breath came in ragged gasps as she leaned against a crumbling wall inside an abandoned house, her mind racing. The shattered fragments of the magic necklace lay in her pouch. Her body ached from the relentless battle, her aura flickering weakly as she tried to catch her breath.
A sudden growl made her blood run cold. She turned just in time to see a massive Beowolf, its eyes glowing with malevolent hunger, lunge at her. She tried to raise her riding crop, but the creature's backhand sent her flying into the wall with a bone-jarring impact. Her aura shattered with a brilliant flash, and pain erupted through her body.
"No!" she cried aloud. Rolling to the side, Glynda narrowly avoided the Beowolf's claws. She slapped away another attack with her riding crop, her movements sluggish and desperate. Her legs, smooth yet toned, came up in a defensive axe kick, blocking another swipe from the Grimm. But she felt it — a terrifying emptiness, as her aura didn't protect her.
It had been shattered already.
Panic surged through her as another Beowolf grabbed her, lifting her off the ground and slamming her into the wall again. Her body bent painfully, her right arm and leg twisting at unnatural angles. The world blurred as she hit the ground, her vision swimming with tears.
Sheer horror and dread washed over her. Her confidence, once unshakeable, shattered like her aura. Desperately, she tried to crawl away, her fingers clawing at the dirt and debris. But the Beowolf Alpha's claws sank into her thigh, dragging her back. It lifted her effortlessly and slammed her into the ground like a ragdoll, then threw her aside.
Tears streamed down Glynda's face as she tried to stand, but her body refused to cooperate. She was out of strength, out of options. A sense of hopelessness enveloped her, the inevitability of her fate pressing down like a suffocating weight.
The scent of blood and the acrid stench of Grimm permeating the air. Glynda could barely keep her eyes open, her body heavy with exhaustion and pain. Her limbs felt like lead. She struggled to maintain consciousness, her vision swimming as she tried to gather enough strength to stand.
Then, through her blurred vision, she saw him—a man with blonde hair streaked with white, charging at the Grimm with a broken sword in hand. The sight was almost surreal, as if she were witnessing a scene from a dream. The Beowolves, sensing an additional threat, turned to face the intruder, their growls echoing through the clearing. But the man moved with deadly precision, his steps light and swift despite the weapon's condition.
He was a blue blur of motion, a whirlwind of steel and fury. His broken sword, though a mere remnant of its former self, sliced through the Grimm with ease, one swing cleaving through multiple enemies. The blade, jagged and worn, glinted menacingly in the dim light, each strike precise and powerful. His aura flared, a brilliant gold, forcing the Grimm back as he unleashed an aura-infused flash, cutting down those that dared approach.
The man's movements were like a simple dance. He spun and moved without big movements, his blade and shield a natural extension of his body. Each motion was simple, calculated, and devastating. Glynda could see the fluidity in his movements, the way his muscles coiled and released with perfect timing.
In mere moments, he had cleared the area; the ground littered with the bodies of fallen Grimm evaporating into black flakes. The field, once a chaotic mess, was now eerily silent, the only sound being the soft rustle of the wind and the man's heavy yet stable breathing. Glynda's heart pounded as she watched him fight, a mixture of awe and disbelief flooding her senses. Who was this man? How had he managed to turn the tide of battle so swiftly?
The man rushed to her side, his eyes widening in shock as he took in her battered state. His gaze softened, concern evident in his expression. Did he recognize her? He knelt beside her, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice steady and reassuring. "Name's Jaune, I'm here to help."
Glynda tried to speak, but her voice was barely a whisper. "Who... who are you?" she managed to croak out. The man's face was close now, and she could see the lines of worry etched into his features. Despite his rugged appearance and the fierceness he had displayed in battle, there was a kindness in his eyes that put her at ease.
He glanced around the clearing, his expression growing more serious. "We need to get you to safety. Can you stand?"
Glynda nodded weakly, though she wasn't entirely sure she could manage it. The man seemed to understand her hesitation. He slipped an arm around her waist, supporting her as she struggled to her feet. The world tilted precariously, and she had to lean heavily on him to stay upright.
He moved with surprising ease, considering he was practically carrying her. They made their way through the forest, Glynda's mind a haze of pain and exhaustion. She clung to consciousness, focusing on the rhythmic sound of their footsteps and the feel of the stranger's robust arm around her. He was a solid presence.
As they walked, Jaune kept up a steady stream of conversation, his voice a soothing balm. He talked about his travels, the battles he had fought, and the friends he had made along the way. Glynda listened, the sound of his voice grounding her while his aura soothing her wounds. She found herself drawn to his stories, his strength and determination shining through his words. Though she couldn't remember much with the blood she lost.
After what felt like an eternity, they reached a small clearing with a makeshift shelter. He guided her inside, carefully lowering her onto a bed of soft leaves and blankets. "Stay here," he said, his tone firm but gentle. "I'll get some water and see if I can find something to help with your wounds. I can't deal with infection."
Glynda watched him go, her vision beginning to clear as the pain subsided slightly. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The shelter was simple but well-constructed, offering protection from the elements. She could hear the sounds of the surrounding forest, the chirping of insects and the rustle of leaves.
Jaune returned a short while later, a flask of water and a small pouch in hand. He knelt beside her, carefully helping her drink before tending to her injuries. His touch was gentle, his movements precise as he cleaned and bandaged her wounds. Glynda winced occasionally, but the pain was bearable.
As he worked, she found herself studying him more closely. He was young, likely not much older than her, but there was a hardness in his eyes that spoke of experience beyond his years. His blonde hair, streaked with white, framed a face that was both rugged and kind. There was a strength in him, a resilience that she couldn't help but admire.
When he finished, Jaune sat back, his expression thoughtful. "You were amazing out there Miss," he said quietly. "Seeing you in action... it's something else."
Glynda felt a flush of pride at his words, despite her condition. "Thank you," she replied, her voice still weak but steady. "You were incredible as well. I've never seen anyone fight like that with a broken sword."
He smiled, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "It's not the sword that matters," he said softly. "It's the will to protect those who can't protect themselves."
"Ah, I forgot to introduce myself," he said "The name's Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. Ladies love it. "
Glynda blinked, her mind struggling to process his words. In the midst of her pain and terror, his ridiculous greeting seemed almost surreal. She managed a weak, incredulous smile. "What... a way to introduce yourself?"
Jaune's expression softened. "My mom liked it, good enough."
She nodded weakly, her eyes closing as she let herself relax in his embrace.. there was something warm coming from him. Exhaustion overcame her, and she slipped into unconsciousness, her mind finally at peace, knowing she was safe, at least for the moment.
When Glynda awoke, she still found herself in a makeshift camp, a fire crackling nearby. With her wounds tended to, she felt a bit stronger, though still incredibly sore. Jaune Arc sat across from her, sharpening his broken sword. He looked up and smiled when he saw she was awake.
"Hey, but seriously, how are you feeling, Miss Goodwitch?" he asked, his tone gentle.
Miss Goodwitch? Did he go through my IDs?
Glynda managed a faint smile. "Better, thanks to you."
Jaune nodded. "Good to hear. You had me worried for a bit there."
She looked around, taking in her surroundings. "Where are we?"
"Not far from where I found you," Jaune replied. I think you rest before we try to make it back to the Kingdoms."
Glynda nodded, gratitude swelling in her chest. "Thank you, Mr. Arc. I... I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't shown up."
Jaune's expression turned serious. "You don't need to thank me, Miss. I just did what anyone would have done."
She shook her head. "No, not anyone would just charge at a horde of Grimm like that. You saved my life."
He smiled again, this time with a hint of bashfulness. "Well, I couldn't just leave a damsel in distress, now could I?"
She thought, how dare he call her a damsel in distress, but she let it go. Glynda laughed softly, wincing as the movement sent a jolt of pain through her body. "I suppose not. Let me introduce myself… I'm Glynda… Glynda Goodwitch."
Jaune stared before repeating his silly introduction.
Glynda simply stared and wondered if she should laugh or simply ignore it. His introduction felt silly, but at the same time, she felt he was nervous about something.
They sat in companionable silence for a while, the crackling of the fire the only sound. Glynda's mind wandered back to the cultists, the necklace, and the magic that had brought so much destruction. She looked at Jaune, her eyes filled with determination.
"I need to get back to the Kingdom," she said. "There's a lot I need to report. The cult, the Grimm... everything. I think the Headmaster would appreciate your work, Huntsman."
"Uh, about that," Jaune smiled slyly. "I'm not exactly a licensed huntsman."
Glynda blinked and then winced. "I-I see… you're not a licensed one… it's fine. But I recommend having one."
Jaune nodded, his expression turning serious again. "Then I'd get one. Do you think they'd allow me?"
"I think you'll passed with flying colors," Glynda said.
Jaune studied her, then nodded in appreciation. "You need to rest. We can't have you collapsing on the way back. I took care of most of your wounds with my Semblance, but the physical and mental exhaustion will remain. You'll… have to ease up on that leg too, Miss."
Glynda nodded, knowing he was right. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax. She was safe for now, and with Jaune's help, she could return to Vale safely.
Her thoughts then came to a halt.
The dread… the claw that nearly killed him. Gods, Magic, Wizard, Witches, and even a cult… it all seems so overwhelming.
Ozpin's offer… became a subject of annoyance.