The Grimm Lands Chapter 22
Hunting Grounds Part 10
Preparations
Jaune
The Beowulf lunged for his throat.
Jaune retreated, and the creature of darkness followed. Its crimson eyes flashed in the darkness as it stalked forward. Heavy, weighted steps creaked down on the wood under its feet. It tensed for only a second before it leaped forward once more. Jaune ducked low, bringing his sword forward in a clean strike. Sharpened steel tore through its neck. The monster faded into ash before its body ever reached the ground.
A sigh of relief caught in his throat, almost causing him to choke as a Boarbatusk rammed into his back. The momentum shoved him forward, sliding against the ground. His head hit hard against the dark, and his vision swam for a moment. The Grimm was already upon him. It reared its short, powerful legs upwards and smashed them down towards his chest. His shield caught the blow. As the monster reared itself once more, Jaune struck upwards with his shield, cutting into the monster's chest. He twisted the metal only once, and the creature shivered and stilled, fading into ash.
Jaune rolled back to his feet, unsteady, and his heart thumping wildly in his chest. His breaths were short and husky, the tension weighing him down increasingly as the monsters passed in the darkness. He couldn't see them except the flashes of red that leered out. They were waiting, evaluating. He could hear the scrape of claws and flesh–they echoed. The stillness in the air gave them a rise, drowning out his thundering heart. It was almost deafening as the monsters inched forward. The low growl in their throats rumbled under his flesh.
"You're hesitating." A voice called out somewhere in the blackness. "Letting them dictate the terms of your engagement."
"Yeah, well, it's a little hard to see them like this," Jaune grumbled. He didn't bother keeping himself quiet. The Grimm could see him. They snarled at his comment, and something scuttled to his left. He turned, leveling his blade in front.
"Are you a hunter or prey?" The voice asked. "They have the advantage in the darkness. Letting them come to you only puts you further in danger. Engage. Hunt."
There was no way to know how many Grimm surrounded him. It could have been a few or a dozen. Jaune stepped forward. A shadow lunged forward, and Jaune swung his sword, hitting only air.
"Plan, advance, execute. These are basic tactics for a Huntsman." The voice said, and Jaune rolled to the side as a large, heavy shape pushed forward in the darkness. "Where is the vigor from Initiation? Where is the determination to fight back? I didn't take you for being such a coward."
Jaune growled, a low, nasty noise deep from his throat. He ran forward, shoving himself blindly into the darkness. A sound to the right caused him to strike out. He hit nothing. Something pushed into his back, and he toppled forward. A heavy paw slammed into his chest, stealing the air in his lungs. His Aura flashed as it dampened further damage. The Bewoulf's maw snapped down at him. Jaune shoved a knife through its armored skull and heaved back to his feet.
"Getting emotional won't help you. You must anticipate every move and rely on more than just your sense of sight. The Grimm won't wait for you to be ready. They will attack and hunt you relentlessly. The only way to survive is to fight back. Know your enemy. Know how they think, how they react."
The frustration welled up. The warmth of rage settled around him, comfortable and familiar. And against his better judgment, Jaune pushed it back.
Instead, he stilled. Easing the grip of the blade, Jaune closed his eyes. He waited in total darkness as the creature closed in around him. He listened and focused. The scent of blood on their fur, the scraping of their bonelike armor against the wooden flooring, the sharp snarls and growls—it all came crashing into him. The pieces began falling into place like a puzzle without color or instructions.
The short, heavy breathing of a Boarabatusk came from behind. The creature's heavy breath and pig-like squealing rang out as it charged—a simple, straight charge. Jaune stepped back, hesitated for a breath, and pierced through the creature's side with all the tightly controlled fury he could muster.
It squealed and died as the snarl of a Beowulf tore straight from his side. Crocea Mors was already in motion before the creature could reach him. He could almost see them—the scent of their matted fur, the nearly indistinguishable differences in their breaths and growls. Bit by bit, he began to see them in the darkness. The countless fights, the days and nights he had spent hunting and preparing painted a clear image of his attackers in his mind. With every swing of his sword, he became surer. Every hit forced the monsters back, and every kill gave him a growing sense of assuredness in his movements.
He sliced through the armored core of a small Ursa minor. He waited then for any signs of an attack. But he couldn't hear the motion of more enemies. The scent of burnt ash lingered in the air. Shifting back into his stance, he was caught off guard when a shot rang out. It pinged painfully against the side of his armor plating, crashing him onto the ground in a painful heap. His Aura flickered and shattered apart as the lights flooded the room. They were blinding, forcing Jaune to cover his eyes as the voice spoke again.
"Well done," Port called out from above. The gentle hum of a motor and chains rattled as he descended. A square metal platform with metal railings lowered itself to the floor. The plump old Huntsman swung open the gate with a sharp squeal. "I must say you've done better than I anticipated. Most of my third years still have trouble keeping up with the Grimm in the darkness."
"Then why did you shoot me?" Jaune groaned. His Aura had bounced the bullet off, but the impact would leave a bruise even with the metal plating of his armor. For as long as Jaune knew the man, he was almost positive Port had only used a nonlethal round. Almost.
"To keep you aware. Grimm evolve and adapt. They will surprise you when you become comfortable and complacent," Port said with a chuckle. He stepped off the platform, heavy leather boots squeaking on the wooden flooring of the classroom. He reached out a hand to Jaune, who took it.
"I don't think the Grimm will be using bullets anytime soon," Jaune said.
"Probably not, but it seems there may be more than Grimm to worry about these days. It's best to prepare with the worst possible scenario in mind." Port said. He clapped Jaune on the shoulder and lumbered his way past. Reaching his desk in the center of the large circular room, Port slid open a drawer and gently pulled out a bottle of dark amber liquid and a pair of glasses. He gestured for Jaune to come closer. Popping open the bottle, the Professor poured the liquor into both glasses.
"A little late to start drinking, don't you think?" Jaune asked. He pulled a chair from a nearby table, dragging it over until he settled himself across from Port.
"When I first started my career as an instructor here, I had only been out of the field for a few months," Port said with a laugh. He eased himself into the old, worn leather chair behind the desk. It squeaked in protest as he shifted. "I was a nervous wreck. It took nearly half a bottle to get me through each lecture. It took me the other half just to get to sleep after. I find a nice taste late at night is a pleasant compromise."
"And you're sure it's alright to offer me one?" Jaune asked. He cradled the glass in his hand, tipping it back to let the taste gently linger on his tongue. It was sweet. The hard pinch of the alcohol burned in his throat as he drank it.
"Most certainly, it is not." Port laughed. The man's pudgy face was flushed red, and he ran a hand through his mustache. "But I must say it is rather nice to enjoy these moments when they come. Wouldn't you agree?"
"I'm not sure," Jaune admitted. It was easier to relax around the older man. He reminded Jaune of better times. His attitude and jolly demeanor never took away from the near decades of experience hidden underneath his grand posturing and well-tailored suits. Professor Port was easy to trust. "After the fire, I honestly can't say I ever had many moments like this. There were a few, sure. But it's all started to blend together. At this point, my past is mostly just a blur. White hot flashes of emotions, bits and pieces."
"The marks of a hunter and more than enough proof to warrant a drink. It may not seem like it now. Youth has its way of making the road ahead seem larger, longer, and far more unclear. But it does get better. You learn to live with it. Those feelings become a part of you." Port raised his glass, clinking it against Jaune's own. "I must say I was pleased to see you and your team on better terms."
"We're good, " Jaune said. He tipped back his drink, relishing the gentle buzz of warmth it gave him. "Not great, but we're getting there."
"All in due time," Port said. Setting the glass down on the table, he leaned forward. The older man's face was tight, a seriousness deepening the creases of his face. "So tell me. I see Miss Nikos has officially signed up your team for the tournament. Miss Rose likewise has done the same for her own. Quite a decision. A little odd, seeing as how it was done almost immediately after your team's little vaunt through Vale."
Jaune opened his mouth, a lie ready on his lips, but as swift as it came, one look from the professor was enough to give him pause. Port's gaze was serious but not unkind. Jaune could see the concern. It reminded him a bit of August.
"We're not fools, Mr. Arc. We here at this academy take the safety of our students very seriously," Port said. "We understand it's not possible to protect them from everything; that's simply the nature of this world. But we do not relish the thought of anyone here at this academy rushing headfirst into danger while they are still under our supervision."
"Someone has to do something." Jaune pressed.
"And we are. Since the forest attack, we have been calling Huntsmen from nearby regions to help tighten our security. We have been doing all we can to find the ones responsible." Port said. "What you should be doing now is preparing yourself for the role and responsibilities of a future Huntsman. You have the experience; now is the time to hone in and develop the areas you are lacking."
"And what areas would those be?"
"Your combat abilities against the Grimm have been proven. Of that, there can be no doubt, but I fear you still struggle quite a bit against human opponents. Not to mention a lack of formal education has left you with less than stellar sociable skills and a glaring lack of knowledge in basic academic areas."
"Pyrrha is already helping me to train. And the others are more than willing to pitch in when I need help. I'm not as alone as you think." The words felt light. Jaune had spoken them before he even realized what he was saying.
"Quite right. That would explain your friend's attempts to investigate around the city." Port said. There was no anger in his voice. He said it as a simple fact.
"So you knew."
"Like I said, we're not fools." Port poured more liquor into his empty glass. He took a long sip, letting the room's quiet settle before speaking back up. "You do understand that for your team to participate in the Tournament, an instructor needs to sign off on the official paperwork, correct?"
"Are you saying you'll stop us?" Jaune asked.
"I would prefer not to. I think the challenge would be good for you and your team. I, however, fear you are investing in the Tournament for the wrong reasons. It should be a chance to explore the bonds you've made since your arrival, not a means to an end for a crusade." Port said. "The Vytal Tournament is about new beginnings. I am willing to officiate your participation if you promise me you'll cease attempting to endanger you and your team's lives."
It would be easy to lie. It would be as simple as breathing. It was the easiness that gave Jaune pause.
"I can't do that." Jaune finally said. To his surprise, Port simply laughed.
"You may not see it now, but you have certainly changed Mister Arc," Port said. "Very well then. If you cannot stop yourself, I will propose a different arrangement. A trade, if you will."
"What kind of trade?" Jaune asked.
"Nothing nefarious, I assure you. It's just a simple exchange of information. No different than a few war stories told between professionals." Port said. He tipped the bottle once more, filling up Jaune's glass. "I would like to know about Initiation. I read the reports and watched the available footage. However, I cannot quite wrap my head around the idea that someone as capable as yourself would be done in by just a single horde of Grimm. It's possible, most certainly. But not quite believable."
The memories flashed: the burning of the trees, the thick scent of smoke, the feeling of his throat seizing in terror as those burning, haunting golden eyes leered down out of the endless darkness. Jaune felt sick. His stomach churned, and the pleasant buzz of the liquor felt heavy and volatile. His skin itched, and the heat of the room became sweltering and unbearable.
He felt like a child again, scared and alone. Yet, despite the fear, he spoke. He told Port about his experience in the forest. More surprising, he told him of his experience so many years ago. Jaune almost felt the moment relieving itself as he spoke of the spiders and his experience fighting off the monster in the mines. He felt small and frightened, like a child babbling about some nightmare they had woken from. It was pathetic; he had moved past it and buried it down so deep he had nearly forgotten it himself. As he spoke, the words tripped over themselves. The terror was as present in that moment as it had been back then.
When he finished, he was panting. Jaune's hair was matted with sweat, clinging to his skin. He picked up his glass with a shaky hand and downed the rest of his drink. The tightness in his throat almost caused him to gag, but he forced back the amber liquid. He shook his head, trying to push the mounting emotions back down.
It had been like that for years. The swelling of emotions had become harder to repress. He wasn't sure why he had spoken at all. Like an insurmountable weakness, it felt foolish to lay himself bare before someone else. However, Port made no motion. He didn't offer his apologies or condolences; for that, Jaune was grateful at the very least.
The older man shifted in his seat, grumbling for a moment before finally leaning forward over the table, his hands pressed tightly together in front of his face. "I would like to welcome both teams to the tournament officially," Port said. He raised a hand to stop Juane from interrupting. "However, in return, I would like you to do me one thing, Mister Arc. I would like our meetings to be more recurring. Three times a week, with the coming latter half of the semester. I have a need for a teacher's aid in handling more obscure things around my office.
On top of that, I would also like your team to abstain from any more meddling in and around Vale. I understand you feel the need to be a part of the process. I, however, cannot endorse freelance vigilantism. However, whatever leads you currently have can be followed but must be turned in to the school afterward. No further direct action can be taken."
Jaune wanted to protest. To lash out with the familiar warmth of anger. Instead, he could barely hold himself upright. The wear on his emotions and his physical exhaustion left him numb and unable to muster the will to fight. He felt like a child, a toddler being scolded, and he hated it. However, he wasn't sure whether his hatred was directed at the Professor or himself.
"There is one last thing," Port continued. His steely eyes were calm and compassionate. There was no pity in them but rather the hints of understanding. "I would like for you to participate in a special service we provide for incoming participants for the Vytal Tournament. Signal offers a special training opportunity for teams to switch partners for a few days. It aids in fostering a sense of camaraderie and understanding among the different schools and regions. I would personally like to recommend it to you. I think it would be good for you to try and branch out a little."
"You're just trying to shove me off?" Jaune asked. "First, you tell me I can't try and pursue whatever is happening in the city. I can't help but stop what is clearly something big, and now I have to travel miles away to participate in some stupid training. Screw that!"
"Nothing of the sort, my boy," Port said. He gestured for Jaune to sit. Jaune hadn't realized he had even stood up. "When I retired, there was a period where I jumped at shadows. Every creak and rustle in my home sent me scrambling. I used to sleep with my weapon tucked in my arms, ready for an attack at any moment. If what you've said is true, then there are forces in the world that are far more dangerous than just simple Grimm. I want you to be ready. I can't stop you from charging ahead. But the least I can do is ensure you are ready for whatever is out there."
"And this will somehow help me?" Jaune asked. The idea was absurd. He should be preparing, researching, and planning for his next move, and sitting idly by and waiting felt like the wrong thing to do. He had to move and be in control of his actions. He had to be.
"I think it very well may. When the enemy comes, Mister Arc, it's best to be prepared, efficient, and quick. You have the beginnings of a fine Huntsman, but you are certainly no hunter. Not yet."
"And how exactly do I become a hunter?" Jaune asked. He was surprised when Pot simply laughed. The older man rose to his feet. Reaching down, he grabbed his weapon from behind the desk, slinging it around his shoulder.
"You may know quite a bit about the Grimm, Mister Arc. A great deal more than most of my students, but allow me to teach you one crucial thing. I will teach you how to kill them properly." Port gestured to the empty classroom with his hand. Tucked away, deep inside cages locked under heavy iron and trapdoors lurked the creatures of darkness. "Now, shall we?"
Jaune was used to traveling. Ever since he was a child, moving from one place to another became a natural part of his life. He never stayed in one place for long. It was a familiar feeling as he stuffed rations and clothing into his pack. His time in the camps had trained him to travel light–only the necessities. It was almost nostalgic. His time at Beacon had only been a few months, yet it had been the longest time he had spent in one place in years. He had finished shoving the maintenance kit Ruby had offered him into his pack when his team returned from the dining hall.
Pyrrha offered him a tray of food but asked no questions about what he was doing. She knew he would tell her when he was ready. Their fight hadn't solved any of the problems from before, but there was something new between them—a sense of understanding that hadn't been there. Strangely, he felt he understood his partner better than ever, and at the same time, she was a massive complex puzzle he couldn't even begin to solve. She flashed him a warm smile before taking her turn for a shower.
He finished his preparations in silence. Tossing the pack onto the bed, he moved to check his weapons. They were all still well maintained, but it never hurt to check again. Satisfied, he finally allowed himself to relax. His training with Port had started after classes left for the day and worked its way into the better part of the evening. The Professor had been kind enough to allow him to participate in more advanced combat training, usually reserved for higher classmen. In return, Jaune had spent the last few hours working through mind-numbingly dull essay papers about the early foundations of the Huntsmen Academies from the Professor's other classes.
Jaune felt the urge to lay out on his bed. He still had late-night training with Pyrrha, and the temptation to sleep was already pulling at him. Instead, he shuffled over to the shared work desk in the corner of the room. It was a simple wooden table long enough for two people to work comfortably. He ate his dinner silently, trying to tune out Nora's banter behind him.
By the time he finished, the rest of his team had already settled in for the night. Nora and Ren sat on their beds. Ren was deep in meditation while Nora eagerly flipped through a magazine. The sound of some pop song Jaune didn't know blared out from her headphones. Pyrrha sat at the other desk across the room, weapons laid out as she worked through her own cleaning and maintenance.
It was strange. To be surrounded by others his own age had taken some adjustment. But more than that, the feeling of routine that had settled around them throughout their time at Beacon had become strangely comforting. Back at the camp, Jaune had always been in motion. Pulling guard duty, leaping at the chance for a new mission. Here, there were no worries, fears, and uncertainties other than the ones they had placed upon themselves. If he closed his eyes and pretended, there was a moment where he could almost convince himself there was nothing wrong. He could almost pretend no monsters were waiting just outside.
It didn't take much to get their attention. They listened as he explained the circumstances. He told them of Port's condition and what he expected in return for their allowance into the tournament. He was as honest as he could be. He didn't tell them of the monster in the forest. That was for him alone.
"Well, I always thought we would have to come clean sooner or later," Pyrrha said.
"I agree. I think this is for the best. We can focus on bettering ourselves in the meantime." Ren chimed in.
"Yeah. Let the Bigwigs handle it for now. Then when we finally get our shot, we'll go and kick some serious villain butt." Nora said.
Jaune understood their relief—honestly, he did. But the nagging feeling of needing to be in motion weighed on him. It called for him to argue, to lash out, and to try to force himself into the situation. He wanted to be involved and needed to be in control.
Pyrrha looked at him, concern etched deep into her face, and Jaune felt the embers of his need to fight wither and fade.
"Have you considered who you might like to bring with you to Signal?" She asked. "I would be more than willing to go."
"Would kind of defeat the whole purpose, wouldn't it?" Jaune countered. Pyrrha pouted, and Jaune couldn't hide his smile. "Besides, I think I have someone in mind. I promised to try harder, so this might be the better call."
"And who exactly do you have in mind?" Ren asked.
"You want me to do what?" Weiss asked. Her light blue eyes were wide in surprise. Her snowy white hair tumbled around her shoulders in a disheveled mess. A brush hung limply in her hand.
Jaune bit down on his tongue, the sharp pain a welcome distraction as he tried to parse his words. At the moment, it was a good idea. Port wouldn't accept it if Jaune tried to take one of his teammates or even if he tried to take Ruby, the one person outside of his team he could confidently say was a friend.
The thought of asking Yang had only lasted a heartbeat. They were on better terms now, but Jaune had no reason to ask her for such a favor. Besides, Yang had been nearly inseparable from Balke since both teams had returned from the city. Whatever issues they worked through together was more important than a joint training exercise.
That only left one real option. Though as the former Schnee heiress looked at him dumbfounded and wide eyed like he was some kind of buffoon Jaune was regretting his decision almost immediately.
"It's only for the weekend, we fly out work through some team-building exercises with other students from across Remnant. I guess there's a partner competition at the end, then we fly back before classes start up," Jaune said.
"And why exactly are you asking me?" Weiss asked. It was an honest question. Ever since their moment in Port's office the tension between them was fading. They weren't friends, barely even acquaintances. If Jaune was being honest he still didn't quite trust her.
But that was his own trauma speaking.
"A fresh start." He said finally. "I promised Pyrrha I would try to be better. If you don't want to, that's fine. I can find someone else."
"No…it's alright. I'll go." Weiss said after a moment of hesitation. Something flickered across her face; it almost looked like uncertainty and fear but it was quickly hidden behind her usual air of self-assuredness. "I will start preparing immediately."
She turned and walked away, leaving Jaune standing awkwardly in Team RWBY's doorway. Jaune grabbed the door handle and began to pull the door shut behind him as he left. A small hand caught his wrist, and he stopped.
"Hey," Ruby said. Her smile was soft. She spoke gently, waiting as Weiss disappeared into the team's shared bathroom. The door closed before she spoke again. "Thanks for doing this. Weiss has been having kind of a rough time since she found out about the whole Heiress thing. She may not say it, but I think she's kind of happy to have something else to focus on."
"Yeah, it's no problem," Jaune said. He tried to step away, but Ruby's grip was surprisingly strong.
"Look after her for me, ok?" Ruby asked. The sincerity in her eyes gave Jaune pause. It was just a simple training exercise, but it was clear Ruby meant more than that. "She acts all tough and indifferent, but she's having a really rough time right now. Promise me, Jaune. Promise you'll look after my Partner.
"Yeah. I promise."
A.N: Hello! This one took a little longer. I had a bunch of the introduction written but ended up scrapping it. We are now moving into the actual main story again. I think all the preparations are complete. The next chapter is Illia, and then we are full throttle. Jaunes is taking back center stage. Again, thank you all so much for the support and feedback. It really means a lot. If you liked it please leave a follow and a review. I can't improve if I don't hear from you guys. All the credit in the world goes to Kabuto S. Inferno for being the beta and listening to my random jumble of ideas.
Guest: Regarding the endgame romance, you may be surprised who it is. I haven't actually given much thought to the romantic parts of the story; they all just kind of happened by chance. The endgame was set in stone before I started writing and hasn't changed since.
ZenithTempest: Yes! A thousand percent yes. When I was writing initially everything was streamlined into very rapid events all right after each other. As I wrote through, things changed, and the characters and pacing all shifted around me. Thank you for this, though; it helped me a ton with this recent chapter and pushed me to steer things back around. I really appreciate it.
Insane Wombat: I mean, I get it. I could have handled her little Ruby fan moment a bit better, but Lucia still has a role to play.
Guest: Hey! I hope this wasn't too long a wait. In terms of Lucia and Jaune's backstory, it reaches its conclusion in, I'd say, two or three more chapters. This is a big moment for Jaune's story at Beacon. His relationship with Lucia and Weiss is all coming to a head, so I hope you enjoy what's coming next.
Guest: I'm glad you enjoyed it, and here's the next one, as promised!
Beamingkangaroo: I'm not sure if you made it this far. If you did, I hope you enjoyed it. If not, I'm sorry it didn't work out. Thank you for even reading it, though!
Asianman2: I'm glad you're enjoying it. The next part should be coming soon.
paradoxreader: I think that's what makes her way more interesting than most of the other cast. I have struggled with Weiss. I have really struggled with writing for her, and it has made her so much more enjoyable now. I never gave her much thought in the show, but her flaws, struggles, and attitudes all make for compelling stories and engaging growth.
Guest: I promise the rest of their story is coming. I hate holding it like a lure in the Author's Notes, but I promise I have been saving it for a critical moment. As for Jaune, he is taking back the story. I think I'm satisfied with everyone else now. Just a little more buildup, and then it's all on Jaune.
Aetherium21: So, a couple of things. The illusion was the Grimm. It's why he stabbed August; the whole thing was a ruse by the Grimm to force Jaune to kill someone important to himself, as for why Jaune infiltrated the base on his own. It's because he's boneheaded and impatient. He felt the need to put himself at risk over dragging those around him into danger again. I was aiming for a connection with the slaughter in his flashback, and his overwhelming fear of loss led him to push away those who would come to his aid. I'm unsure if it came across that way, but it was the intention. Regardless, I hope you've enjoyed it so far.
