Remnant Bingo Book

Entry: 420

Name: Jaune Arc

Age: 16

Sex: Male

Race: Human

Height: 6'5" (195 cm)

Weight: 142 lbs (64 kg)

Eye Color: Blue

Hair Color: Blonde

Blood Type: O

Birthplace: Ansel, Arcadia Province, Vale

Parents:

Jacques Arc (Father)

Juniper Arc (Mother)

Semblance:

Wood Release: Jaune Arc's semblance allows him to manipulate wood and nature-based elements with devastating power. He can conjure and control massive wooden structures, entangle enemies in roots, and even cause forests to spring up or collapse on command. This ability earned him the moniker The Wooden Demon, as it leaves widespread destruction in his wake.

Feats:

Killed Adam Taurus in a one-on-one duel.

Singlehandedly defeated an elite police force.

Destroyed half of the forest surrounding Beacon Academy during his infiltration.

Attempted the assassination of Headmaster Ozpin.

Defeated both Winter Schnee and Qrow Branwen, escaping from Beacon Academy's high-security prison.

Never lost a battle, marking him as undefeated in all his encounters.

Declared war against Remnant, vowing to "establish true peace," a statement that struck fear in the hearts of civilians and military alike.

Monikers:

The Wooden Demon

The Demon King

Danger Rank:

SS – Flee on sight

Bounty:

13 Million Lien (Dead)

20 Million Lien (Alive)

Criminal Allegations:

Jaune Arc has rapidly risen to infamy, with his ruthless tactics and bold actions causing chaos across the kingdoms. His declaration of war has united Remnant against him, as authorities scramble to capture or eliminate this new, highly dangerous figure. His growing influence over dissidents and rebels has only added to his reputation as a mastermind of criminal operations, manipulating the narrative to paint himself as a revolutionary hero. His capture remains a top priority for every nation's security forces.

Proceed with extreme caution if sighted.

—X~X—

The door to the dimly lit room burst open with such force that it rattled the walls, sending a draft of air through the shadows. Tyrian stalked in, his crooked grin stretching wide across his face like a predator about to feast. His wild eyes darted toward Emerald and Mercury, who were lounging lazily in the corner, clearly out of place in the brooding chamber. Tyrian scowled. These kids weren't supposed to be here—yet, here they were. Cinder must've dragged them along when everything started spiraling in the human kingdoms. What was she thinking, bringing them here? Babysitting wasn't exactly his idea of a good time.

As he marched toward the center of the room, his thoughts twisted back to something far more pressing. The Queen's orders. He had a task that didn't sit well with him: gathering intelligence on Jaune Arc. The Queen wanted every shred of information. Now, Tyrian was great at a lot of things—murder, chaos, torture—but intel? He wasn't exactly a librarian. It was frustrating, and to top it off, Cinder was late.

Then, as if summoned by his sour mood, the heavy door creaked open again. Slowly. Dramatically. Of course. Cinder never did anything without a flourish. She moved into the room with a kind of predatory grace, her crimson eyes flickering with something dangerous. Tyrian noted the way her sleek black-and-red outfit clung to her figure like it was woven from the fire itself. She always looked like she was ready to incinerate anyone with a glare, which made her entrance less impressive and more… expected.

In her hand, a scroll. Tyrian's eyes zeroed in on it immediately.

"Well?" He sneered, arms crossed impatiently, his voice full of venom. "I hope you have something useful this time."

Cinder's glare could've burned through steel. "I'm tired, Tyrian. And I don't have time for your theatrics."

"Tired?" Tyrian leaned forward, his grin sharp, like a knife poised to cut. "Or just incapable of gathering anything worthwhile?"

Cinder unfurled the scroll with a roll of her eyes, ignoring his jab. "Jaune Arc," she began, her voice dripping with forced boredom. "Sixteen, human, male. His Semblance? Wood manipulation—"

"Wood manipulation?" Tyrian cut her off, mockingly intrigued. "Oh, how quaint! Does he also craft furniture on weekends?"

Cinder's patience was already hanging by a thread, but she continued, undeterred. "Father's name is Jacques Arc. Mother, Juniper Arc. Basic stuff, nothing groundbreaking—"

Tyrian's grin faltered, his fingers tapping restlessly against his arm. "This is all public knowledge, Cinder," he hissed, the mockery in his voice turning to irritation. "I need something useful, interesting! This isn't a damn trivia game!"

Cinder's eyes narrowed dangerously, her jaw clenching. "Like I said, Tyrian. I'm tired. You think you can do better? Be my guest." Her tone was acidic, each word dripping with venom.

"Oh please," Tyrian laughed, though the sound was devoid of humor. "You know I'm right. Without Salem, you'd be nothing more than a washed-up—"

"Watch it," Cinder growled, her voice as sharp as glass, eyes flashing. "Without Salem, you'd be nothing but a rabid dog, chasing his own tail in a cage."

The tension in the room became almost suffocating, thick with animosity. Tyrian's twisted grin only widened, feeding off the hostility like it was an energizing tonic. "Oh, I see," he said, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. "You want to be more than just Salem's errand girl. Is that it? You want to prove something?"

Cinder's lips curled in disgust, about to fire back, but then, from the corner of the room, a loud cough interrupted them.

Mercury.

"Hey, uh…" Mercury pointed toward the screen on the wall, a smug grin on his face. "You two might want to stop your lovers' spat. Looks like the news is on. And you won't believe this—Arc is the breaking news."

Tyrian's gaze snapped toward the screen, where a news broadcast played, showing none other than Jaune Arc's face. Tyrian's grin returned, wider, more twisted.

"THIS is the power of manipulation, folks!" the news anchor announced, with the kind of dramatic flair reserved for conspiracy theorists and carnival barkers. "The Wooden Demon, as he's come to be known, has tricked the people of Remnant into thinking he's some kind of hero!"

The camera cut to a young girl, her face blurred out for privacy. Her voice, however, was shaky but clear. "He risked his own life to save me," the girl said, her voice trembling with emotion. "There was this projectile coming at me, and he just... stood in the way. He didn't even try to block it with his powers, he took the hit. Then he smiled at me, and asked if I was okay like I was the one who was hurt." There was a brief pause before she added softly, "He's not a bad person. He's a hero."

Tyrian barked out a laugh. "Hero? This is priceless!" He slapped his knee, the mocking glee radiating from him. "A master manipulator indeed!"

The anchor's voice cut in again, this time more ominous. "Don't be fooled, Remnant! The Demon King is on the loose, and no one is safe."

"Demon King?" Tyrian echoed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Now that's a title befitting a man of power. No wonder the Queen's interested in him."

Cinder, arms crossed, looked disgusted. "The Queen's interested because she knows he's dangerous— a threat, not because of some ridiculous title or… mortal desires."

Mercury, trying to sip his soda, ended up choking on it from laughter. "Oh man, this is just too much." He wiped a tear from his eye, barely able to contain himself. "The 'Demon King'! Oh, Salem must be swooning right now! Lemme guess, their first date… hell?"

Emerald, her face a mask of disgust, cringed. "Ugh. Don't even joke about that."

Mercury leaned in with a grin. "You know, the Queen's been lonely for centuries... I mean, a woman's got needs, right?"

Tyrian, catching on, nodded sagely. "True, true. It's our responsibility to make sure her ahem… needs… are met. He should have stamina, passion and ruthlessness that matches the Queen's. Can't have the Queen going to bed dissatisfied, now can we?"

Mercury's grin faltered, turning to a look of pure disgust. "Dude. Just… no. Not funny anymore. That's gross."

Cinder, completely exasperated at this point, pinched the bridge of her nose. "Enough." She turned to Tyrian. "Are we done here?"

Tyrian's grin returned, all business once again. "Not quite. I want you to send your little minions," he gestured to Mercury and Emerald with a sneer, "to Vale. Find Jaune Arc, and figure out what he's really after. Test him. Push him to his limits, test his stamina and goals. Kill his friends if you must—see how he responds. Let's find out if this so-called 'Demon King' is all bark, or if he's got the bite to match."

Cinder sighed, the weight of the ridiculousness sinking in. She glanced over at Mercury and Emerald, her patience all but gone. "You heard him," she muttered darkly. "Get to Vale. See what you can dig up on Arc."

Mercury, still smirking, nudged Emerald playfully. "Guess we're going on another fun mission, huh?"

Emerald shot him a deadpan look, her eyes rolling to the ceiling. "Joy."

—X~X—

Jaune stared at his reflection through the shattered mirror in Casine and Billy's modest little home. His back, visible through the cracked glass, bore a tiny scratch. Not much, barely anything, but enough to remind him that he had just been through some crazy things recently. Luckily, his aura was already kicking in, healing the wound at a pace that made him sigh with relief.

"Hey, Ben, I think that stew's finally simmered down." Casine's voice floated in from the kitchen, where the sound of clattering dishes told him she was hard at work, probably cleaning up after their meal. She always fussed over him like that, even when he insisted she didn't have to.

Jaune, or 'Ben' as she called him here, nodded absentmindedly, running a hand through his blonde hair. His thoughts were elsewhere. He had to lie low, had to stay off the radar after everything that went down.

Just as he was about to get lost in those thoughts again, the door of the small hut banged open like a shotgun blast.

Billy barged in, his face red, breath coming fast. Jaune jumped so hard he nearly knocked over the mirror. Casine turned from the stove, perplexed.

"Ben!" Billy bellowed, striding over like a man on a mission. Before Jaune could react, Billy's beefy hand latched onto his collar and dragged him outside like a sack of potatoes.

"What the hell?!" Jaune yelped, his feet stumbling as he tried to keep up with the sudden kidnapping. "What's goin' on?!"

Casine, ever the worried motherly figure, wiped her hands on her apron and followed them out to the porch, squinting into the dim evening light. "Is everything alright?" she asked, her voice heavy with concern.

Billy barely glanced back at her. "Just a little… father-son bonding moment, Casine!" He forced a stiff smile before yanking Jaune further into the yard, away from curious ears.

Jaune's eyes darted around in panic. "Bonding? Bro, I didn't ask for a kidnapping package when I moved in. What's this about?"

Billy finally stopped once they were far enough from the house. His grip loosened, and he looked at Jaune with an expression that teetered between sympathy and frustration. "Look, kid... you gotta leave."

Jaune blinked, utterly confused. "Leave? Why? I mean, I've been bringin' you guys fruit from the woods! I practically fixed that stupid leaky roof! I washed the dishes! What more do you want, man?!" His voice turned desperate, arms flailing like a man trying to convince his landlord to let him stay one more week. "I even taught Casine how to bake cake from scratch! Come on, old man!"

Billy grunted, crossing his arms. "It's not about the fruit or the cake, kid. Hell, you're a good worker, but..." He hesitated, then sighed. "Jaune, there's talk. They say you tried to assassinate the Headmaster of Beacon. And that you killed students. Killed, kid!" Billy's voice wavered a little as he looked Jaune in the eyes. "I can't have that around here. I can't risk you bringing trouble to me and Casine."

Jaune's face twisted with disbelief. "What? No, no, that's not what happened! I didn't try to assassinate anyone! I didn't even kill anyone!" He clutched his hair, looking like a man whose favorite TV show had just been canceled for no good reason. "This is all one giant misunderstanding! I swear!"

Billy took a deep breath, his tone softening. "Look, kid... I believe you. I do. But the rest of the world doesn't. And that makes you a walking, talking target. I'm sorry, but... you gotta go."

Jaune flinched. Right. He couldn't keep putting them at risk. He was like a ticking time bomb with a target painted on his back. There were wanted posters with his face on them; rumors, whispers. The world thought he was some sort of terrorist mastermind.

With a reluctant nod, he glanced back at the small hut. His heart ached, but he knew what had to be done. The night air was cool and quiet as he stepped back, vanishing into the misty embrace of the night.

Billy watched him go, guilt gnawing at his insides. Deep down, he knew the kid wasn't a killer. Jaune was innocent—harmless, even. But trouble clung to him like stink on a skunk. Billy felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest. How was he supposed to explain this to Casine?

He trudged back to the house, his boots scuffing the dirt. As he entered, Casine was already wandering the small living room, her hands searching the air for something—or rather, someone. "Ben? Where's Ben? I don't sense him..."

Billy swallowed hard, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Just then—knock knock. The sound echoed through the quiet house.

Casine's face lit up instantly. "Oh, Ben's back!" She rushed toward the door with a smile.

Billy's frown deepened. That kid was persistent, he thought. But when Casine swung open the door, his heart dropped.

Standing there were three Faunus men and two women, all masked. The eerie, bone-like design of the White Fang masks made Billy's skin crawl. They looked like they had walked straight out of a nightmare.

One of the men stepped forward, his sharp feline features barely visible beneath the mask, while the young woman next to him, a cat Faunus with amber eyes, spoke up first.

"We're looking for Jaune Arc," she said, her voice cold and to the point.

Casine blinked, clearly confused. "Who?"

The girl's expression didn't change. "Jaune Arc. The terrorist. The murderer. The psychopath. Does any of that ring a bell?"

The man beside her, a cheetah Faunus, grinned wickedly. "Yeah, what she said."

Billy, heart racing, stepped between them and Casine. "He's not here," he said quickly. "And who are you people?"

The cat Faunus stepped forward, her amber eyes narrowing slightly. "Someone you shouldn't—"

"We're the White Fang!" the cheetah Faunus interrupted, puffing out his chest proudly. His voice rang with excitement, as if being a part of the group was the greatest accomplishment in the universe.

The cat Faunus leader—clearly annoyed—slapped her forehead in exasperation. The tigress Faunus, one of the women in the group, gave the cheetah Faunus a swift smack upside the head.

"Ow!" the cheetah Faunus yelped, rubbing the back of his skull. "What was that for?!"

"Shut up, Han," the tigress growled. "You're embarrassing Blake."

Blake, the cat Faunus with the amber eyes, sighed deeply, muttering under her breath, "Kill me… someone kill me…"

Clearing her throat, she stepped forward again. "Listen," she said, looking between Casine and Billy with a forced politeness that clearly required every ounce of her patience. "We have intel that Jaune Arc has been spotted in this area multiple times recently. You're the only ones living in this… slum, so that makes you our best lead. I don't want any violence—"

"VIOLENCE?!" One of the Faunus, a burly boar-looking fellow, suddenly yelled, cracking his knuckles and looking around like he was ready to punch the first thing that moved.

Blake ignored him. "Like I said, no violence," she continued. "So let's do this the easy way. Tell me—where is Jaune Arc?"

Casine, still half-blind but not dumb, shook her head firmly. "I don't know anything about that. We live here with our son."

Blake's amber eyes narrowed as she pulled out her scroll, tapping a few buttons before showing a picture of Jaune. "This son?"

Billy froze. Oh no.

Casine squinted at the picture, then furrowed her brow. "Huh? Of course not!" she said with an almost offended tone. "Who is that?"

Blake raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Hmph. Alright, I'll believe you... for now." She tucked the scroll away, her voice low and warning. "But if you're lying, and you're really involved with him..."

Billy nodded quickly, already shutting the door before Blake could finish her ominous threat.

Casine turned toward him, her expression growing grim. "Billy," she whispered, "our Ben... he's in danger, right?"

Billy clenched his fists, guilt pressing down on him like a weight. He couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth. The real Ben, her real son, had been gone for years. And the boy they had been housing... well, Jaune wasn't exactly the harmless 'Ben' she thought he was.

Knock knock.

Both Billy and Casine stiffened. Another knock?

This time, Billy went to the door, steeling himself.

"He—"

Suddenly, the night exploded. A flash of light turned the darkness into day for a second.

—X~X—

The moment Jaune sensed the heat from the distant slum, his heart sank, and before he could think, his legs were moving. He bolted towards the flames with a desperation that clenched at his chest like a vice. He was almost a kilometre away, but his body cut through the night like a bullet, driven by pure adrenaline. One minute. That's all it took. But by the time he reached the slum, it was already too late.

The place was on fire. No, that was an understatement. The slum wasn't just on fire; it was engulfed, swallowed whole by flames that reached up to the sky, as if the heavens themselves had opened their fiery jaws. Smoke billowed out in thick black columns, and the air smelled of burning wood, ash, and something else. Something worse. The heat was unbearable, radiating from the blaze like a living thing, pushing Jaune back even as his feet carried him forward.

This wasn't a random fire. Someone had done this. And it wasn't the first time danger had followed Jaune like a shadow.

Casine and Billy… they were in there. They were the only ones crazy enough to still live in this godforsaken place, right on the edge of the Grimm-infested forest. They should've left when they had the chance. This place was abandoned for a reason. And now…

Jaune's breath hitched in his throat, panic gnawing at the edges of his mind. The fire was too intense to enter. The heat alone would reduce him to cinders. He couldn't get in without some kind of protection. Without—

A memory surged up from deep within him, and without fully understanding why, he closed his eyes and focused. His body responded immediately. Wood groaned and creaked around him, armor taking shape over his frame. Dark, rich red, it encased his entire body, ancient yet unmistakably powerful. The armor was solid, like it belonged to another time, another world, yet it pulsed with energy, radiating an authority that demanded respect.

This wasn't just protection. It was a reminder of who he was. Of what he could do.

Without hesitation, Jaune charged through the wall. It exploded under the force of his impact, splintering into pieces as he barreled inside. The heat pressed against him like a living thing, but the armor held. It protected him, but it couldn't protect his heart from what he found.

There, in the center of the room, were two bodies. Casine and Billy.

"No…" Jaune's voice was barely a whisper, but inside his chest, his heart screamed. He rushed to them, dropping to his knees as he took in the sight. Billy's body was a grotesque mess of charred flesh and exposed muscle, his face barely recognizable. His entire front had taken the brunt of the fire, his skin burned away to reveal the raw, glistening tissue beneath.

Casine… sweet, kind Casine… Her small, frail body was blackened, her limbs twisted unnaturally. The fire had ravaged her. There was nothing left. She looked like she had been scorched by the fires of hell itself.

Jaune's hands shook as he tried to pick them up, their bodies limp and lifeless in his arms. He carried them outside, his feet moving mechanically, as if his mind had disconnected from his body. The cold air hit him, but it did nothing to numb the pain that tore through him.

He placed them on the street, the flames still roaring behind him. The firelight danced on their bodies, illuminating the gruesome extent of their injuries.

"This is my fault," Jaune whispered, his voice cracking. "They're here because of me."

He stared at them, helplessness washing over him in waves. They were already beyond saving. He could feel it. He could sense it in their stillness, in the way their chests didn't rise and fall. He should've been stronger. He should've been able to protect them.

Suddenly, his vision blurred. He swayed, a strange coldness washing over him. And then, there it was again – that voice.

"Elder brother…" the voice whispered, cold, detached.

Jaune's head snapped up. His mind swirled, fragments of something… someone else's memory clawing at the edges of his consciousness. "No… I can't… I can't lose them," he muttered to himself, his voice thick with desperation. "Medical Art: Divine Palm!"

He didn't know where the words came from. They just… appeared. Like a whisper from deep within him. His hands moved on their own, one on Billy, one on Casine.

And then, as if the heavens themselves had answered his call, green light surged from his palms. Soft, ethereal, it wrapped around their bodies like a healing embrace. He could feel it working, could feel their wounds knitting back together under his touch. Flesh reformed, the burns faded, and before long, their breathing became steady.

Casine and Billy… they were healing...

Jaune's breath came in short, ragged gasps. He stared at them, his hands still glowing with the strange green light. They were breathing. They looked peaceful, like they were just asleep.

But it wasn't enough.

He looked back at the burning hut, the flames still consuming what little was left of their home. Because of him, they had nothing.

"I'm supposed to be strong," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "But I can't… I can't protect anyone."

He felt like he was being watched, like eyes were on him from every shadow, but he couldn't sense anything. Paranoia? Maybe. But he was certain someone – or something – had done this.

Then, an idea hit him.

Wood. His semblance.

Jaune stood up, his fists clenching at his sides. He clasped his hands together, focusing on the image in his mind. A modest two-story house. Something small, but sturdy. Something that could give them a second chance.

"Wood Release: Humble Genesis!" The words left his lips before he could stop them, an instinctive command that startled even him.

The ground trembled beneath Jaune's feet, a deep rumbling that seemed to respond to his very thoughts. His hands clenched together as he poured his focus into the earth beneath him. Slowly, wooden walls began to rise, not haphazardly, but with purpose. They grew tall and steady, branches intertwining like a fortress born from nature itself. The flames that had consumed the slum were swallowed by the wood as if the fire were nothing but an afterthought to the strength of his will.

He could feel the earth bending to him, its energy coursing through his veins like lifeblood, shaping itself to his desires. The walls grew higher, thick and sturdy, their grain fine and smooth. The wood pulsed with life, absorbing the fire, replacing the destroyed furniture, even as the ground shifted, spreading beneath him to form a foundation as strong as stone. Within moments, a house had risen from the ashes, as if born of the forest itself.

He took a step back, staring at the two-story wooden structure that now stood before him. It wasn't grand or overly elaborate, but it had a quiet beauty about it. The kind of beauty that came from the simplicity of a home built with care. The windows were clear, letting the moonlight filter inside. The roof curved gracefully, as if mimicking the natural rise of a hill, and the walls were lined with delicate patterns of leaves and vines, each one a testament to Jaune's control.

He exhaled, his chest tight with a mixture of awe and disbelief. He had done it. He had built them a new home, more than just a structure—an apology, a promise. But as he stood there, the weight of everything else pressed down on him again.

Casine and Billy… they were still unconscious, resting peacefully against the new walls, their breathing steady. Jaune knelt beside them, his hand hovering over Casine's charred clothes, now mended but still a reminder of what had happened.

"This… this is all because of me," he muttered under his breath, guilt gnawing at him from within. He had healed them, rebuilt their home, but nothing could erase the fact that they had nearly died because of his presence. The fire, the attack—someone was hunting him. And as long as he stayed, they'd never be safe.

A sudden rustle in the air made him freeze. He felt it again. That sensation. The feeling of being watched. His eyes scanned the darkened forest that loomed nearby, but he could sense no one. No movement.

It was then that a voice echoed in his mind, faint but clear, as if someone—or something—was speaking to him from the shadows.

"You've built something remarkable, Jaune… but do you really believe this is enough?"

Jaune's eyes widened. He whipped his head around, but there was no one there. Only the wind, blowing gently through the leaves.

The voice chuckled softly, as if amused by his confusion. "It doesn't matter how many houses you build or how many people you heal. Destruction follows you… and it always will. Don't you think it is high time someone stopped the cycle of destruction? "

Jaune's heart pounded in his chest. He didn't know where the voice was coming from, but deep down, he knew it was right. No matter what he did, the danger would never stop. He was a magnet for trouble, for violence. He'd always been that way, even before the world turned on him.

He looked back at Casine and Billy, their faces peaceful despite everything that had happened. They didn't deserve this. They didn't deserve to be caught in the crossfire of his life. His chest tightened with resolve.

He couldn't stay here. Not anymore.

Jaune took one last look at the house, the embodiment of his guilt and gratitude, before turning his back on it. His eyes stung with unshed tears as he whispered, "I'm sorry… for everything."

And with that, he leaped into the night, disappearing into the shadows, leaving behind the slum, the fire, and the only family he had left. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew one thing for certain: He had to keep moving. He had to run before the darkness that followed him consumed everything he touched.

Or…

"Light up the world with your the Will Of Fire."

—X~X—

Cinder stood at the imposing door of Salem's dark chamber, her fingers curled into a tight fist as she knocked, the echo sounding eerily loud in the quiet hall. The wood of the door felt cold beneath her knuckles, sending a shiver down her spine, though she wasn't sure if it was from the chill or the weight of what lay behind it.

"Enter," Salem's voice, low and velvety, floated from within.

Swallowing her nerves, Cinder pushed open the door slowly. The air inside was thick, oppressive, as if the darkness itself was pressing down on her. In the center of the room, surrounded by the swirling shadows of Grimland outside the wide, cracked window, stood Salem. Her silver hair fell in cascading waves over her shoulders, her eyes gleaming with ancient, unfathomable knowledge. In her palm, a mass of dark, oily mist twisted and writhed, like a living thing yearning to escape her grasp.

The room itself seemed to pulse with the cold energy of the Grimland, every corner drenched in inky black shadows. A low, constant hum buzzed beneath the surface, as if the very air was alive with something unseen.

Salem didn't turn to acknowledge Cinder's presence. She didn't need to. Her voice, cold as the deepest parts of the abyss, broke the heavy silence. "Have you brought something useful, little one?"

Cinder's jaw clenched, her teeth grinding together for a split second. She hated when Salem called her that—like she was some insignificant creature at her feet. But she kept her composure, stepping forward into the room. "Yes, my queen. I have… information. About Jaune Arc."

Salem's head tilted slightly, the only sign of interest, though her eyes remained fixed on the Grimland outside. "Oh?"

Cinder nodded, though she knew Salem couldn't see it. "He possesses… abilities, stronger than I anticipated."

Salem's hand paused in its slow, mesmerizing movements. The dark mist in her palm swirled faster, coiling tightly around her fingers. "Do tell."

Cinder felt a bead of sweat trickle down her temple, though she didn't dare wipe it away. "I sent Emerald and Mercury to deal with him. They blew up the place he was staying at. But… he wasn't there."

Salem's shoulders stiffened slightly, her eyes narrowing. "And?"

"My subordinates blew the place up." Cinder's voice faltered for a moment, but she pressed on. "The residents… they were left with injuries. Injuries that should have killed them." She hesitated, trying to find the right words. "But Arc… he appeared in a flash and healed them completely."

The mist in Salem's hand stilled completely, hovering in her palm like a living shadow.

"He not only healed them," Cinder continued, her voice now barely above a whisper, "he… rebuilt their home. As if it had never been destroyed."

For the first time since Cinder entered, Salem turned to face her. The intensity of her gaze sent a chill racing down Cinder's spine. "And he didn't sense your subordinates? Not even a hint of their presence?"

Cinder shook her head. "No. They used a BeeBot, one of those little metal bees. Arc never even noticed. I think."

A long, tense silence filled the room. Salem's pale lips pressed together in a thin line as she looked past Cinder, her eyes distant and calculating.

"So…" Salem muttered, her voice soft, but laden with something dark, "he is growing stronger."

Behind the door, barely hidden by the shadows, Tyrian leaned against the wall, eavesdropping with all the subtlety of a child spying on Christmas presents. His eyes gleamed with a manic light, his grin stretching wider as he giggled to himself, the sound sickly sweet and disturbingly lecherous.

"Restless… for Arc's embrace…" Tyrian whispered, the thought rolling around in his mind like a filthy joke.

Inside the room, Salem raised her hand, her fingers brushing through the air. The black mist in her palm swirled upward, coiling into the atmosphere before drifting toward the open window. It lingered there for a moment, as if listening to some silent command.

"Go," Salem whispered to the mist, her voice like a deadly lullaby. "Do what is necessary."

The mist shuddered, as if acknowledging her will, before it slowly evaporated into the air, vanishing into the night.

Cinder watched the mist dissipate, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion. "My queen…" she began hesitantly, her voice uncertain. "What was that?"

Salem's eyes flicked toward her, sharp and dangerous, but her words were calm. "Something, I know" she replied softly, her tone betraying no emotion, "that will not be enough for him."

In the hallway, Tyrian's muffled giggling turned into something more grotesque. His eyes twinkled with perverse delight as he muttered under his breath, his mind now fully ensnared in his own depraved fantasies. "Indeed, it cannot satisfy him. After all, the Demon King deserves the Grim Queen's… night…"

He dissolved into manic, wheezing laughter, the sound echoing through the dark corridors like nails on a chalkboard, sending shivers down the spine of anyone unfortunate enough to hear it.

—X~X—