The Grimm Lands Chapter 24

Hunting Grounds Part 12

Crash

Jaune

Jaune stepped onto the helipad with a growing sense of unease.

It was different from the usual pre-mission nerves. He was used to the jitteriness and trepidation of waiting before a mission. It was expected and, as a result, easily planned for.

He meticulously checked through his weapons, desperate for a distraction. It was nothing more than a cold shiver down his spine, a spike of anxiety that nestled deeply in his stomach.

Had he grown so weak in only a few months? The man he was before would have rushed straight ahead, heedless of any danger or obstacle. Now, as he sat down atop his pack, staring silently outward over the bright city lights of Vale glimmering far in the distance, he felt himself filled with a growing worry.

He had checked and rechecked his equipment. There was nothing more he could do but wait. The dusk of night began to settle. The chilled air was a soothing comfort as he huffed out foggy breaths. The clear night sky showed signs of starlight as the shattered moon rose.

The night was peaceful, almost perfect in its tranquility.

Still, something nagged at Jaune–the stillness in the air, the slight ripple of wind across his neck. He was, by no means, a superstitious man. But he had learned through hard experience to trust his instincts. Something about this night felt wrong, and he, for his own life, could not figure out what it was.

He stood, stretching his long legs as he idly walked the length of the helipad. He had arrived an hour earlier than the scheduled flight. It was a byproduct of a lesson he had learned long ago during his time at the camp. Being early could save lives.

It was strange thinking back to that time. It felt like nearly a lifetime ago, he had been across the world, neck-deep in the forests of Anima. He had been a different person then–wild and unpredictable—committed to one singular purpose that defined every action and every waking moment.

He was still that person. Deep down, he knew he was. The scars the Grimm had left had never really healed. They never would. But somewhere along the way at Beacon, something had begun to change. He had found something, no, people worth opening up to. Despite his efforts and mistakes, he found people who did not push him away. He had found something worth protecting, something more important than the mission he had so one-sidedly pushed upon himself in the height of grief and anger.

This trip was a chance to prove that he could begin to accept the change within himself. He could finally push past the anger still swarming around his heart and finally try to complete the true promise he had made in that fiery hellscape so many years ago.

He would try to become a Hero.

"I will give you this," a voice called out. He turned to face Weiss. "You are, at the very least, punctual."

She seemed different than usual. Her normal combat outfit had been exchanged for a simple white jacket that blended into a knee-length skirt, and thigh-high combat boots had replaced her usual heels. Her weapon hung ready at her side. Her face was flushed red from the cold. She tightened a red scarf around her neck to ward off the sting of Vale's winter. A simple satchel hung around her shoulders.

"Old habits," Jaune replied. He returned to his gear–a simple backpack stuffed with emergency supplies and rations. His weapons were firmly in place, ready and waiting. "Is that your gear? I'm surprised you know how to travel light. I was expecting a full suitcase."

"Oh, please. This isn't my first time partaking in an event like this. I know how to conduct myself." She answered back. A sudden gust of wind caused her to shiver, and she hurriedly shoved her gloved hands back into her pockets.

"Thought you'd be used to the cold," Jaune commented. He hoisted the pack onto his back. The weight felt reassuring.

"Just because I enjoy the cold and grew up in it does not mean I am immune to it," Weiss snapped. She took out her scroll, the luminescent screen flashing as she checked the time.

"So you've been to one of these things before?" Jaune finally asked after a few minutes of silence. "A training event, I mean?"

"Once or twice during my time at the preparatory academy. They did an exchange program with Atlas Institute. It was meant to show Atlas' young and high-class women the life and dangers of being a huntress. All they did was keep us confined to the primary academy building and had us observe a few bouts of Atlas students and Grimm." Weiss said. She stepped over to the far wall, past the limits of the helipad, and sat down, leaning back against it. She waved for Jaune to follow. "We might as well get comfortable if we have to wait. Is it just us?"

"Seems like it," Jaune said. They were the only two scheduled to depart that night. The other participants had already shipped out or were waiting for the morning trip. Port had said that around a dozen agreed to the training. Most of whom hadn't even shown up yet. "So, was that why you signed up to be a Huntress? The trip, I mean."

"As if," Wiess laughed, to Juanes' surprise. "Those trips were disasters. It's just an excuse for the Atlas elite to ooh and awe at a few spectacles. What a giant farce. No, they did not make me want to be a Huntress. If anything, I was put off from the whole idea for quite a while."

"Oh?" Jaune said. "So what made the ever-great and venerable Weiss Schnee want to become a Huntress? Don't tell me it was for the pay."

"I didn't take you for being so openly chatty," Weiss said. "Don't think that simply because I agreed to join you, this suddenly makes us friends."

"Wouldn't even dream of it, Princess," Jaune said.

"There is that stupid nickname again," She snapped. "Cut it out. For this weekend, at the very least, we are supposed to be partners. I will do my best if you agree to do yours. That seems only fair."

"Yes, ma'am."

They lulled into an amicable silence. In the distance, Jaune could see the slow fall of the setting sun casting a warm amber glow over the horizon. He had seen sunsets all across Remnant, some less memorable than others, but even if Vale itself cast an ugly backdrop against the sky, he found himself simply enjoying the moment. It had been a long time since he could focus on something as mundane as the setting sun. It was almost peaceful.

"Thanks, by the way," Weiss said, her voice low. She tucked her chin below the scarf, huddling in herself; she seemed smaller than before. "For inviting me."

"No problem," Jaune said. It would do no good to tell her he had no other options.

"I know Ruby talked to you," Weiss said after a pause. "I swear that girl goes around intruding into everyone's business. But, again, I'm happy that she cares. I really am."

"She said you've been having a rough time the past few days," Jaune said, watching from the corner of his eyes as she played with the end scarf between her fingers. "That a gift from Ruby?"

"It is," Weiss said. "How'd you know?"

"A hunch. Red's not really your style."

Weiss scoffed. It was light, joking even. "As if you'd know what a girl's style is."

"Hey, now, I used to have sisters. I'm not saying I'm an expert, but I'm not totally helpless," Jaune said. He nearly cursed under his breath. He hadn't meant to open up; the words had slipped out before he could think them through. He saw the question in her eyes, but Weiss refused to ask. Jaune felt a small swell of gratitude.

"It's just a family issue. Nothing you need to concern yourself with. I'll handle it on my own," Weiss said. "More importantly, shouldn't you be focused on this training? We may be only first years but we are still representatives of Beacon. I will not tolerate losing out to another Academy because you were distracted."

"Oh, please. It's just some sparring with some high and mighty wannabe Huntsmen. I think we'll be fine," Jaune said.

"I am worried about exactly that kind of lackadaisical attitude. If you don't take this seriously, I will personally see to it that you regret it," Weiss said.

"I already do. Come on, I think our rides here." Jaune said, cutting her protest short. The loud rumbling of the airship's twin engines drowned out any more conversation. The air whipped and slammed across his skin as the aircraft descended.

The dropship was smaller than the large transport ship Jaune had taken into Beacon. This ship instead focused on speed, the narrower body offering a smaller profile. It was lightly armored, with no real weapons that Jaune could see. The wings jutted out, awkward and stilted, the curved hull of the airship sloping out into a tail. Jaune found it difficult to make out the whole shape, the dull gray of the metal blending into the darkening night.

Lights flashed on the backside of the airship, the wheels gently touching down onto the helipad. The roar of the engines was loud, and Jaune found himself bracing a hand against his face to block out the wind. Chancing a look, Jaune found Weiss fairing a little better. She clutched tightly to her scarf, the tail of it flapping outwards behind her.

The whir of a motor rolled out across the deafening engines as the back end of the airship began to lower, a ramp descending onto the helipad. Jaune could make out the figure of someone inside. They waved their arms in a hurried motion. Taking the hint, Jaune bent down to pick up his gear, Weiss following his lead. They rushed into the airship, the heavy thumping of feet echoing against the metal.

Jaune assumed the man was one of the pilots. He raised a hand to his helmet and said something inaudible. With a nod, the man pressed the touchpad at the back of the airship, and the ramp began to lower. With a heavy thud, the ramp latched back into place.

"Welcome aboard," the man said. He was dressed in an official Valean pilot's uniform. The cross axes embroidered on his chest offered a bright contrast to his mostly white attire, and his helmet covered his face. "We'll take it from here, so relax and make yourself at home. We'll be touching off in about two minutes. The flight should only be about thirty total."

Jaune hated flying—the motion of the engine trembling under his feet, the close quarters of the metal, the feeling of weightlessness as he dipped and glided through the air, unable to do anything but wait. He hated it all. He felt trapped, stuck inside a coffin, simply waiting for the inevitable end.

He found his seat easily enough. The dropship was cramped, and he had to bend his head to avoid banging it into the top. The seat was bare leather, the metal frame bolted into the ship's side with a harness secured to it. Further up, the pilot disappeared behind a metal door, separating Jaune and Weiss from their main controls. Instead, the back of the ship was spartan. A touchpad near the ramp offered a small burst of steady light that illuminated against the sudden darkness as the strips of light lining the ship's top cut out.

Jaune could faintly see Weiss' outline as she sat across from him. She secured herself into the harness, tucking away her pack under her seat with a click as she fastened it down.

Jaune felt the ship lurch, and he stumbled into his seat, his sword banging awkwardly against the side. He cursed softly, fumbling with the straps of his harness. His frustration grew as he tried and failed to untangle the mess of knots he had somehow managed to create.

He pulled his sword from his belt, trying to finesse the harness and put it in place.

A smaller hand shoved his own aside. Suddenly, Weiss was in front of him. With a practiced ease, she untangled his harness and secured it against him. Fastening it, she bent down and secured his pack underneath his seat. He couldn't make out her face in the dark, but he was sure of the expression she was making.

The familiar feel of Crocea Mors settled in his hands as Weiss returned to her seat.

The hum of the engines picked up once more. And with a sudden sickness in his stomach, Jaune forced down his urge to vomit as they began to take off. Jaune was grateful that the ship had no windows in the transport bay. It made it easier for him to focus on a particular point of darkness in the corner, steadying his breathing as they left the ground.

"This is Lance 3-1," A voice buzzed over the comm system. "Liftoff is all clear. We are expected to make landing in thirty-five minutes. Expect slight turbulence."

The voice cut out. Jaune stared at that black spot in the corner, waiting for the vertigo to pass. His foot tapped insistently against the hard metal underfoot, the anxiety spiking at every jostle and shake of the airship.

Flying felt wrong. He was meant to be on the ground, feet pounding against the hard earth. Up here, he felt helpless, like an insect buzzing around, waiting to be struck down by something far bigger than he was.

The minutes dragged on, each second an eternity. Weiss sat still, poised and unbothered, with the faint outline of her frame giving no sign of discomfort or impatience. Jaune felt a pang of jealousy. Of course, she was fine. Atlas prided itself on its superior military and aerial advances. Someone as wealthy and well-connected as a Schnee would have been flying in planes since birth.

That was how he first met the Scipios, wasn't it? The aircraft touched down in the middle of camp. The memory felt distant, nearly like a lifetime ago.

How much had things changed since that day? Jaune could faintly remember his irritation and anger at that first meeting. Then came the bitter vitriol, a surge of heated rage bubbling under the surface of his skin like an itch that raced across his entire body.

He had been a different person back then. He was a much different person now.

Before, he thought his dream was possible for someone like him. To become a bright, noble hero to all of the people of Remnant. Just like his father was.

But now… Was he even worthy of it?

The airship suddenly lurched violently, pitching into a tailspin. Jaune felt his world spiral as the vomit clogged in his throat. He gripped the harness so hard that the webbing cut into his palms.

"Engine two is compromised. I repeat. Engine two is compromised. Heading down for an emergency landing." The intercom pitched again.

It was hard to focus on the words. The screeching of metal dug into his ears as the engine sputtered and stalled, the ship jerking to the right. The harness dug into Jaune's chest as gravity crushed against him.

Warning lights flared overhead. The steady rhythm of red washed across the cabin in a steady rhythm. Jaune caught Weiss' eyes, her face pale and fear washing through her. She gripped her harness.

In an endless spiral, they were falling back down to the earth, and there was nothing Jaune could do to save them.

The streaming of metal grinding against itself drowned out Jaune's own thoughts. Weiss' mouth was opened in an unheard scream.

Jaune unfastened his harness.

His instincts told him it was stupid. It was idiotic; he was reckless. But he refused to die without a fight. He wouldn't let this play out without trying to save himself.

He slid Crocea Mors back into place by his hip before standing up and bracing against the side of the cabin.

"You Idiot!" Weiss' shout broke through the screeching of air and metal.

The ship's front end caved and warped as the cockpit exploded in steel and debris, and something large and heavy crashed through.

Jaune felt his body pitch backward. His head hit something hard, and he felt his consciousness slip, the wet feeling of blood trickling down the side of his head. He rolled to his feet as the airship tipped forward. He felt his body roll limply forward, smashing into another wall.

This time, they really were falling. The air pressed out of his lungs, the cabin's pressure heavy and thick.

Concentrating his Aura took every ounce of strength and focus he had. He built it up, compounding the strength of his will as the world around him dyed itself in bursts of blood red and absolute darkness.

He pushed forward, the cabin's metal bending under his force. He dug his armored hand into the side of the cabin, pinching and bunching the metal into a twisted handhold. He reached for the glowing light of the pad.

The orientation was wrong. The touchpad, which had once been at his side when they first took off from Beacon, was now straight above him. He reached out desperately.

The faint glow of the light was just within reach. His fingers danced fleetingly across the screen. An alarm blared, mixing with the sound of destruction raging around him. The ramp lowered. The sudden gush of wind nearly caused Jaune to lose his grip.

The night was dark, the faint moon's glow offering little light.

Jaune searched for Weiss in the confusion, and through his panic, he saw she was still secured in her seat. Her head lolled limply to the side, a stream of blood staining her hair.

He had no time. They were losing altitude, and they would crash at any moment. His only chance was to abandon the ship and hope for a rescue.

No one would blame him if he left her.

No one would know.

'I want to be a hero!'

He had no time for anything fancy. He leapt. He slammed himself into the other side of the ship with every ounce of strength he could muster. His gauntleted hands tore into the harness, ripping it free.

His desperation fueled his adrenaline as Jaune grabbed Weiss. He held her close, and with a silent prayer, he shoved them out of the open bay.

They fell. Into the forest, they fell.

It was a weightless moment—a calming moment in a sea of chaos. Jaune faintly saw the ship careening away from them, smoke billowing from its side. A large lump was caught in the front end of the ship. It was a blackened shape, impossible to see in the darkness.

The ship ignited in a burst of light. Flames warped the metal, sending shards of the metal hull raining down into the forest below.

Then, the world turned into a flash of pain as the forest rose to meet them.

The first impact broke something.

The second impact sent a shock of pain through his entire body.

The third rendered him unconscious.

Four Years Ago

Jaune knew he was in pain. It was a dull, constant ache all around. For a time, it was all he could feel. He was hovering in the space between life and death, floating above an endless void.

All he could see was endless blackness, an eternity of nothingness. That was before the burning started. It was a small heat at first, dancing across his immobile body, but it quickly grew hotter, searing his entire being and scorching his soul. He tried to scream, to cry, but as he opened his mouth, nothing would come out.

He was back in his burning home, his mother's corpse staring up at him. He stared into those dull blue eyes as the rope wrapped around his neck, lifting him into the air. His feet dangled over the rotting wooden floor as the stench of death clogged his lungs. The Grimm took its time slowly dragging its knife-like claws across his skin, peeling him bit by bit as he thrashed and screamed. He felt the earth shake and tremble as fire burst from the ground, consuming him and everything else in a ball of intense heat.

He struggled to open his eyes, to blink away the pain, to choke down a sob. Yet, as he finally awoke, all he could see was the lifeless body of the man who had meant everything to him, dead on the ground. Crocea Mors dripped long, steady drops of blood from its sharpened point. Jaune's hands were sticky and wet. He tried to drop the blade, to throw it, but it clung to him. No matter how he tried or begged and pleaded, the sword would not fall from his grip. And as he sobbed over the lifeless body of the man he had come to love, the hateful golden eyes of a monster priced through his mind, struck deep into his soul, and the last words he heard before finally succumbing to mounting despair in his chest was a creaky, purring sound.

"Children…."

Jaune bolted upright, flung himself out of the cot, and crashed onto the hard dirt.

His head pounded, adrenaline coursing. Something grabbed his arm, and Jaune spun around with a burst of Aura and shoved them away. All around him, long arms reached out, grasping at him, trying to pin him down. He hit, kicked, and swore as he pushed them away. He darted towards a tiny sliver of light and burst through the tent flaps. The chilly air shocked him free of his frenzy.

The dull sun offered little warmth and hid behind dark, stuffy clouds. Jaune's breath fogged in front of him in long, sharp gasps. His bare feet stung numbly in the snow underfoot, and he reached down to touch the aching feeling at his side, only to find his hand once more stained with fresh blood.

He started hyperventilating, air clogging in his traits as the memories pushed back with a burning vengeance. His hand shook, body numb to the pain but not the fear that had been permanently seared into him.

Someone came up from behind and gripped him tightly around the neck. Suddenly being turned around, Jaune finally registered what was happening.

He was back in the camp; he wasn't in the town. He could see the cluttered, worn tents lined in rows before him. He heard the usual sound of people and equipment being shuffled about. He could smell the burning meat and food hanging in the air. Someone was shaking him, and it took him a long moment before he could properly see them, his mind completely unaccepting of what was in front of him.

Crabbe looked as old, withered, and decrepit as a desert. The man had a nasty hunch in his back, and his hair had long since withered, but despite his age, his grip was stronger than most. He had hard, clean hands that had tended to more wounds and injuries than anyone could ever be able to count.

"You went and tore yer damn stitches, you raging buffoon. I didn't stitch you up just to watch you bleed yourself out. I might as well have left you to the Grimm for that, you ungrateful sack of roadkill."

Jaune looked down, noticing the bandages that covered his torso and neck. Blood had soaked through his side, staining the white cloth. Jaune grabbed the old man's shirt, stained and dirtied with crusted blood. The panic and fear made his voice quiver as he tried to string the words together.

"The town…August…is he…"

Crabbe's sunken eyes softened, and he eyed Jaune with something like pity. His rough, loud voice dropped as he gently patted Jaune's shoulder.

"You should rest; your injuries are still fresh, and your Aura has not fully recovered yet." Crabbe tried to pull him back towards the tent, but Jaune pulled back. Shaking his head, he tried to piece together what was happening. His head was fuzzy, and the growing pain in his side made it all the harder to collect himself.

Pushing away from Crabbe, Jaune ran away to the sea of tents, ignoring the old man's cursing and yells. He had to find August. If he found August, it would all make sense.

Blood oozed freely from his reopened wounds, and his head pulsed in agony, a horrible pounding that felt like something was trying to tear itself right out of his skull.

He pushed through the pain, shoving past people who got in his way. His feet struggled to keep up. Jaune tripped over himself in his growing panic. The bodies, tents, and snow all blurred together. His eyes lost focus, and they all blurred together. Jaune wanted to vomit. His mad rush was stopped suddenly by something hard smashing to the side of his head. His blackening feet lost balance, and he sprawled onto the icy snow. Before Jaune could blink away the stars in his eyes, something hauled him back to his feet by the bandages around his chest.

Another heavy foot split his lip. The third almost broke his nose. Capsar was cursing at him, throttling his limp, unresponsive body. Caspar reeked of booze, and Jaune could feel the heavy scent burn his nose. The large man was straddling him, heavy fists making dull, wet thumps as they cracked against his face. Jaune's mouth pooled with blood as his teeth sliced open the inside of his mouth. His vision turned dark again, but his tired and cold body made no effort to resist the beating.

"I fucking knew it!" Caspar was screaming.

"I knew you'd be the death of us all, you fucking curse! We should have left you to burn!"

Caspar screamed and shouted, each curse followed by a heavy hit. As he stood back to his full height and prepared to stomp his foot down against Jaune's face, someone finally pulled the raging drunk back.

Jaune couldn't quite see through the red tinge in his vision, but he could barely make out someone pulling a raging Caspar away. The drunken man tried to fight back, but one solid hit to the stomach from the stranger crumpled the man to the floor.

The stranger gently pulled Jaune upwards, saying something, though the heavy beating of his heart made it impossible for Jaune to hear.

He faintly remembered Clover. The man hadn't aged almost at all in the years since their brief meeting. His short brown hair was unkempt, and the dark bags under his tired eyes were the only real changes Jaune could notice. He wore a wrinkled and dirty Atlesian Military uniform, white with silver and blue linings. Clover shoved Caspar away, and as the drunk tried a haphazard swing, Clover slammed his knee into the man's side, crumpling him to the floor.

Caspar sputtered and gasped, writhing in pain in the dirt.

"You alright?" Clover asked. Jaune nodded dumbly, his mind a dull haze.

"You should be resting," Clover said. With a gentle hand, he eased Jaune back to his feet. "Took a nasty beating out there."

Jaune shook his head, the fog clearing as the urgency rushed back. "August…"

"I'm sorry, kid, really I am," Clover said. Jaune wasn't sure what he was apologizing for. It didn't matter. Jaune had to find August. That was the only thing that mattered.

Jaune stepped around Caspar, barely registering the flurry of curses, and swears the man hurled at him.

With growing panic, Jaune turned, searching wildly for any sign of August's large, lumbering form.

Nothing else mattered. Nothing else could matter.

It had all been a dream—a nightmare.

Kel Scipio, however, was all too real. His lithe, ghastly body, like that of a ghoul, slammed into Jaune with such force and fury that Jaune felt himself gasp from the impact.

"Where did it go?" Kel shook him, the force breaking apart the stitches around his chest. "Where did it go?"

Jaune gritted his teeth, almost unable to speak through the pain. "What are you..."

Kel threw him away. The impact forced Jaune to cough as this battered body tried to put distance between the man and himself.

"The creature. I know you saw it." Kel never yelled, but his shaky voice was now full of rage. "Have you any idea how long I've been searching?"

"The Grimm?" Jaune asked.

Kel crouched down, and his thin, pale hand gripped Jaune's cheeks with surprising strength. He leaned in closer.

"No, nothing quite that simple. Now, where did it go?"

"I don't…"

"But you do," Kels voice dropped to a rough whisper. His dark, beady eyes held nothing but barely held contempt. "By the time my Huntsmen arrived, the town was smoldering ash. The mine caved in, and the Grimm burnt and slaughtered. But no sign of the creature. No survivors, no witnesses. Only you. A broken, bleeding boy in the snow, ranting and screaming in a half-awake daze. I know you saw it, and I will know where it went. I've hunted it for too long, invested too much time and money for some half-wit orphan with a sword to deny me what is mine."

Jaune could barely hold himself together through the mounting pain slowly returning. The pressure of Kel's hand against his face wasn't helping to clear his thoughts either.

"That thing, it killed everyone. It had a nest, it was harvesting…" Kel cut him off, fingers digging into his cheeks.

"Where is it?"

"I don't know. It ran…towards the mountains…" Kel released him, pushing him back hard enough that Jaune collapsed.

Kel righted himself and adjusted his tailored suit before turning to another Huntsman a few feet away.

"We're done here," Kel said. "Prepare the airship. We're heading back to Atlas as soon as possible."

Jaune's mind was still piecing together what he had heard. Did Kel know what was in the town? How did he know what Jaune had seen?

"Leaving so soon?" A new voice cut through Jaune's concentration, and he watched through bleary eyes as Jack strode towards them.

"Our agreement has come to an end," Kel spat. "We have no further need for your services."

"You're breaking my heart," Jack said. " I had thought we came to some professional agreement. Yet, it seems you're cutting out halfway through."

"You're men are half slaughtered. Did you think I would continue cooperating with such a mangled organization as yours?"

"Mangled?" Jack said. The first drip of irritation pushed through his calm appearance. "Perhaps, but no less dangerous, I assure you."

"You're a relic, a disfigured, washed out has been—a failure." Kel spat. His eyes bulged, the rattle of his cough chafing at his throat, making his words harsh and worn.

"And you're a dying man, gambling with the lives of many for a chance to deal with the devil herself," Jack said. "A coward if ever I've seen one."

"What would you know of me?" Kel spat back. "You're the fraud of a Huntsman who abandoned his nation to settle in the backwater wastelands of this Planet. A frightened boy who saw the face of salvation and couldn't muster the courage to take it."

"Is that what this all was?" Jack said, stepping closer. The Huntsmen surrounding Kel matched his step, surrounding Jack, hands reaching for their weapons. "Salvation? It seems like a steep price. No, all I see is a dying man clinging to the last frightened seconds of his life, trying to avoid the damnation of his sins. There is no mercy coming for you that I can promise. My men, the ones you so casually led to their deaths, are waiting for us. They'll make sure you receive your retribution. And I trust they will do me the same kindness when I join you in that eternal damnation."

"You self-righteous, arrogant bastard." Kel roared. "Do you know who I am? With one word, I can wipe out you and your band of thieves and murderers. I do not need you anymore. I know the creature must still be near. I can find it on my own."

"You knew?" Jaune asked. The words were louder than he anticipated. The shock numbed his body as he stepped forward. "You knew it was there? That thing?"

"Of course I did. What do you think we were searching for? Those mines are all either unusable or condemned. Let the filthy Schnees fight for control of the Dust. I want something more, and that thing offers me a chance for something greater than money or Dust."

"You knew?" Jaune asked again. Something was bubbling inside of him. Something red hot. The beginnings of a storm, twisting violently in place.

"Are you stupid as well, boy?" Kel asked. His leering, demeaning face looked like something out of the stories Jaune's mother had read to him as a child—a monster in human form.

This whole time. It had been a lie. Nix, August. They had all been sacrificed. And for what? Jaune didn't know. He didn't care. They were dead. Bait used to lure that thing out of the mines.

"You knew…"Jaune said. The pieces of his heart were shattering. The pain in his chest tightened, and each breath from his lungs felt tight and heavy. Something inside him was raging, begging for release.

Jaune saw the men arguing. He felt forgotten and ignored. Their words were loud and sharp, but Jaune couldn't be bothered to listen.

His hand reached for his sword. Crocea Mors wasn't there.

Where was it?

Inside of August.

"You knew…"Jaune said.

He had killed him. Jaune had watched him die. The memory was fresh and clear. The pain in his heart ached so desperately.

"You knew…" Jaune stumbled forward a step. His body was heavy, his breaths long and ragged.

He remembered Nix, bloodied and beaten. The Huntsman fought until his last breath, giving his life to defend Jaune's own. Jaune remembered the carnage of Nix's team, their bodies torn apart, blood dying the pure white snow a dark red. They had all died. Only Jaune remained.

"You knew…" He was breaking.

The fire burned in his mind. The stench of death and ruin. The bodies, the monsters, and the fear swirling into a pit deep in his soul.

It was all for nothing. Their lives were cast aside and sacrificed.

They had meant nothing.

They died for nothing.

Jaune had killed August for nothing.

'I want to be a hero,'

"You knew!" Jaune screamed. As he charged, his feet pounded against the earth, jagged rocks cutting into flesh. He barreled forward. His heart thundered, and his soul shook with a raging violence.

Nothing mattered. His life didn't matter.

He wanted them back.

He would take them back.

He only made it a few steps before something large and heavy slammed him into the icy ground. His breath choked in his lungs as he gasped in agony. The stitches were pulled apart, blood pooling freely from his chest.

"Let me go!" He yelled. He didn't recognize his voice. It was harsh and bitter. "I'll kill him!"

"Stay quiet, kid," Clover whispered into his ear. The man's knee dug into Jaune's back. A strong hand pressed Jaune's face into the ground. "Don't do anything stupid. Just calm down."

"Give them back!" Jaune roared. The anger was erupting. The pain and agony laced together so tightly in his chest that his heart was tearing itself apart. The storm inside finally ripped free. He wanted to hurt the man in front of him. He wanted to tear him limb from limb. The rage rolled over him, seeking an outlet. He thrashed under Clover's firm grip, twisting and fighting to no avail.

He wanted blood.

He wanted retribution.

He wanted them back.

The toe end of a boot kicked him across the side of his head. His vision swam, the pain dulled by his untempered emotions.

"Sir!" Clover protested.

"Quiet," Kel ordered. "Or so help me, your career with the Atlas elite can die in the same backwater shithole as these scum-feeding barbarians."

Jaune could feel Clover tense, but the man lowered his head dejectedly. "I'm sorry." He whispered to Jaune.

The heel of Kel's boot ground into the top of Jaune's head, twisting so hard that it pierced the scalp, a small trickle of blood working its way down Jaune's face. "You'll kill me? You? Some small, weak little boy? Have you any idea who I am? What I've done to get as far as I have? Do you think you have what it takes to take it from me? I don't know what my daughter saw in you, boy, but all you are is a frightened, weak little rodent whose only purpose is to die out here in the deepest hole you can dig for yourself. My only job is to fill it."

Jaune grit his teeth, the blinding rage taking over. He bit down so hard blood pooled in his mouth. With every ounce of resentment strength he could muster, he raised his head, pushing back against the boot of the man he hated so much—the man who had taken everything from him. "I'll kill them. The Grimm. And then I'll kill you."

Every emotion, every ounce of passion and anger he could muster. Jaune glared at the man with as much hate, rage, and pain as he could. His blue eyes darkened like a rising storm.

Kel rose his foot. The man prepared to strike down on Jaune's head. Jack stepped forward, his cane swiping at Kel's leg, the impact forcing the man to stagger back with a yelp.

"We're done here," Jack said.

"Not without my compensation," Kel spat. "I want the beast."

"You have the manpower. Not to mention, as you've already said, You have enough firepower to wipe us all out should you so wish. With that in mind, we can no longer offer you any more meaningful assistance without time and resupplies." Jack's voice, usually soothing, was pointed. There were hints of anger. "We've completed our end. Now, I must ask you kindly to leave."

"You're still the same failed product, are you? Ozpin's falling star. I didn't think Beacon allowed such cowards into its academies."

"We all have our mistakes," Jack said, drawing his blade. "I certainly hope you don't make one now."

"A threat…" Kel said.

"A promise," Jack said. "A guarantee of mutually assured destruction. I may not be a Huntsman any longer, but I am more than capable of slitting your throat before any other guards arrive."

"You wouldn't dare," Kel said.

"I've buried a lot of good men today," Jack said. "Seems only fair the two of us should go to greet them."

A moment. Jaune couldn't see either man. The shuffling of feet was all heard before Clover finally eased off his back.

Jaune's head throbbed as he dragged his aching body to his knees. The pain was thick and heavy, thundering all over.

As Kel Scipio retreated, Jaune watched, the blood seeping into his eye and casting his world into a deep red. His gaunt form staggered back into camp, Clover trailing behind.

A hand touched Jaune's shoulder. "We'll talk later," Jack said.

Jaune brushed him off. Jack offered no resistance as he reached down for his cane. The older man walked away, heavy boots crunching the snow underfoot.

Just like that, once again, Jaune was alone.


A.N: Hey! Sorry for the delay. I hit a major slump and just stopped writing for a while. I'm hoping that by posting this, I can at least get back into the swing of things. Irregardless, here is the next chapter. It's the prelude of the next big climax and, alternatively, the beginning of the end for this specific arc. I honestly can't even begin to express my gratitude for the support this story has gotten. When I started, I never thought it would get so big, and I owe all of that to you guys. A special shout-out has to go to KabutoSInferno for being a constant support throughout the whole process. From Beta reading to listening to my content rambles, I honestly can't say thank you enough. If you enjoyed please leave a follow or a review, they mean the world, and I really want to hear what you guys think.

Asianman2: And here we are! I'm sorry it took so long.

Guest: Well, we've only just begun. What's coming up is easily one of Jaune's greatest challenges thus far. But don't count Weiss out just yet. I'm glad the recent chapters have been better; I'm trying to cut down on the extra stuff and refocus more on the story itself. That being said, it's probably going to take a couple of chapters to finish up this particular arc. After that, well then, the real fun begins. I hope you enjoyed it.

Guest: Adam has been a surprising challenge, especially with what I want to do with him. As for Illia, she definitely has had more impact than I ever thought she would. She is really just a bridge for the White Fang for this particular arc. After Beacon, she'll probably take a more backseat role. But Adam definitely has a few hard choices coming up.

Guest: Sorry for the delay. The server issue was wild. I think it's all finally fixed. But hey, I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Guest: I mean, their dynamic is going to change for sure after this. Definitely...

Somesimplereader: Oh, Jaune hasn't even had his real moment to really let loose yet.

Guest: I wonder if he can. The trip may have fallen short, but there's still plenty of danger for him still.

Guest: Better late than never, right?