Jaune adjusted his collar, still trying to process the fact that he was now the leader of Team JNPR. He'd assumed Pyrrha would be named leader. She was confident, skilled, and easily the most skilled member of their team, being a champion. But the decision had gone to him. How the school determined these things was a mystery he couldn't begin to solve, so he put it out of his mind. For now, he needed to focus.
Team JNPR sat quietly, watching the elderly professor at the front of the lecture hall, Peter Port, as he brandished a gleaming axe-blunderbuss, its polished steel reflecting the classroom lights. Behind him, boards displayed drawings of the most well-known Grimm—King Taijitu, Death Stalker, Beowolf, Boarbatusk, Nevermore, and Ursa. Jaune's attention lingered on the images. He'd faced some of these creatures before, thanks to his master's brutal training regimen, which often involved trapping Grimm for him to practice on. But even with that experience, he knew he had much to learn.
Professor Port, standing proudly before his class, raised his voice with dramatic flair. "Monsters! Demons… Prowlers of the night! Yes, the creatures of Grimm have many names, but I prefer to call them... prey! Ha-ha!"
His laughter echoed through the classroom, which held varying levels of attention from its students. In the front row, Team RWBY sat in a mix of reactions: Blake and Yang watched attentively, Weiss scribbled down notes, and Ruby, barely staying awake, had her head propped in one hand. At Port's laughably dry joke, she jolted awake, blinking in confusion while the room fell silent, as if awaiting a punchline that never came.
Port continued, undeterred by the lack of response. "And you shall, too, upon graduating from this prestigious academy! Now, as I was saying: Vale, like the other three kingdoms, is a safe haven in an otherwise treacherous world! Our planet is absolutely teeming with creatures that would love nothing more than to tear you to pieces! And that's where we come in. Huntsmen! Huntresses…" he gave Yang a playful wink that made her groan in discomfort, "…individuals sworn to protect those who cannot protect themselves! From what, you ask? Why, the very world!"
A student somewhere in the back thrust his fist into the air, shouting enthusiastically, "Ayyyy-yep!" His awkward cheer hung in the air as everyone turned to look at him. Flushing, he sat back down.
Port carried on without missing a beat. "That is what you are training to become. But first: A story. A tale of a young, handsome man…" He paused dramatically, placing his hand on his chest with a proud smile. "Me! When I was a boy…"
As the professor delved into his long-winded tale, Jaune's attention drifted. He glanced at the members of Team RWBY, sitting in front of him. Ruby, no longer pretending to pay attention, was sketching something with fierce concentration, her pencil scratching against the paper. Blake, leaning forward, occasionally threw Ruby a knowing smirk, while Yang appeared to be hiding a grin of her own. Weiss, however, looked irritated, her eyes narrowing as she watched Ruby draw.
Port's voice continued, swelling and ebbing with exaggerated nostalgia. "...Despite smelling of cabbages, my grandfather was a wise man. 'Peter,' he told me…"
The words faded into the background as Ruby's scratching grew louder. She stifled a giggle and, with a mischievous look, tilted her sketchpad to show it to Blake and Yang. The drawing was a surprisingly detailed caricature of Professor Port, depicted as a stout, round figure with stink lines wafting up from his head and the words "Professor Poop" scrawled in big letters beneath. Ruby grinned proudly as she blew a raspberry at the sketch. Blake snickered, and Yang stifled a laugh, but Weiss shot Ruby an exasperated glare.
Jaune couldn't help but stifle a chuckle himself. Professor Port was certainly a master of turning a classroom into a yawning pit of boredom. Even Jaune's attention drifted in and out as the professor went on about his "heroic" escapades, each story more elaborate than the last.
"Ahem!" Port's voice suddenly boomed, breaking through the muffled laughs. He cleared his throat, waiting until he had regained the room's attention. "In the end, the Beowolf was no match for my sheer tenacity, and I returned to my village with the beast in captivity and my head held high, celebrated as a hero!"
He took a bow, evidently pleased with himself, though Weiss was now visibly bristling with frustration beside Ruby, who was balancing an apple on her pencil and wearing a goofy expression.
Port continued, "The moral of this story, students? A true Huntsman must be honorable!"
Ruby slouched in her seat, holding her pencil with one finger while crossing her eyes at her lopsided apple.
"A true Huntsman," Port's voice grew louder, "must be dependable!"
Ruby yawned, nearly dozing off again as the professor listed the virtues of a good Huntsman.
"A true Huntsman," he declared, "must be strategic, well-educated, and wise!"
Ruby's not-so-subtle nose-picking proved too much for Weiss, whose face had gone bright red with frustration.
Finally, Port stopped, surveying the class with a challenging look. "So! Who among you believes themselves to be the embodiment of these traits?"
Without hesitation, Weiss raised her hand, her voice taut with barely restrained irritation. "I do, sir!"
Port beamed at her, eyes twinkling. "Well, then, let's find out!" He gestured grandly to a shadowed cage at the front of the room, where a set of fierce red eyes glowed. The cage rattled as something inside it growled and thrashed, the bars straining under the creature's weight. "Step forward, Miss Schnee, and face your opponent!"
The tension in the room spiked as Weiss rose, straightening her uniform before stepping toward the front of the room, her hand poised on the hilt of her rapier. She wore a look of determination, her jaw set as she prepared to prove herself.
The class watched in anticipation as Professor Port began to unlock the cage, his movements slow and deliberate. The rattling grew louder, and with a triumphant gesture, he flung the door open, releasing a Beowolf that surged out with a guttural roar. The creature's massive, clawed limbs struck the floor with enough force to send small tremors through the room, its eyes fixed on Weiss with predatory hunger.
Weiss didn't flinch. She raised her weapon, summoning a Glyph beneath her feet that glowed with a brilliant light. She dashed forward, her movements fluid and controlled, her blade flashing as she engaged the Grimm. With each step, her precision and technique shone, every strike expertly aimed to keep the Beowolf at bay.
The Beowolf snarled, swiping at her with claws that glinted like knives. Weiss leapt back, landing gracefully as she summoned another Glyph, launching herself toward the creature once more. She struck with her rapier, scoring a hit across the beast's thick hide, and in response, it lunged forward, teeth bared.
Jaune found himself leaning forward, captivated despite himself. Weiss's combat style was impressive, her movements as precise as a dance, and for a moment, it looked as though she had the upper hand.
But then, in a sudden move, the Beowolf twisted, using its weight to swing a massive claw at her. Caught off guard, Weiss stumbled, her footing slipping just enough for the Beowolf to gain ground. She gritted her teeth, steadying herself as she raised her blade, ready to strike again.
Ruby, who had been watching with wide eyes, suddenly jumped to her feet. "Come on, Weiss! You've got this!" Her voice was loud, filled with enthusiasm.
Weiss glared at Ruby but took a breath, refocusing on the creature. She summoned another Glyph, this time positioning it beneath the Beowolf's feet, throwing it off balance. The beast staggered, giving her just enough of an opening to deliver a precise thrust to its side.
With a howl, the Beowolf reared back, struggling against the wound, but it was too late. Weiss pressed forward, unleashing a flurry of strikes, each one faster and more determined than the last. With a final, powerful lunge, she drove her rapier into the Beowolf's neck, the creature collapsing with a shudder before disintegrating into ash.
The class erupted into applause as Weiss withdrew her blade, panting slightly but holding her head high. She turned to face the class, her expression one of barely concealed satisfaction.
Professor Port clapped heartily, a grin stretching across his face. "Excellent display, Miss Schnee! You have demonstrated honor, dependability, and strategy. Just as a true Huntress should!"
Weiss's stern expression softened for a moment, a proud smile breaking through as she gave a small nod of acknowledgment.
Ruby's voice piped up from the back, brimming with genuine excitement. "Nice job, Weiss! That was awesome!"
Weiss blinked, her face flushing as she met Ruby's enthusiastic grin. She hesitated, then gave Ruby a brief, almost grudging smile. "Thank you… I suppose."
Professor Port cleared his throat, basking in the success of his demonstration. "Let this be a reminder, class, that true skill comes from dedication, perseverance, and… a dash of storytelling flair!" He gave the class a grand bow, clearly basking in his role as the day's hero.
As the class settled back down, Jaune exchanged a grin with Pyrrha, who whispered, "She did well. Weiss is definitely as capable as she is determined."
That she was.
Jaune leaned against the wall, watching the sunset paint the sky in warm hues of gold, pink, and purple over Beacon Academy. The entire campus seemed to glow in the waning light, and he felt a rare moment of peace amidst the pressures of his new role as leader of Team JNPR. His mind drifted to his training in the Everafter, memories of grueling lessons with his master playing out against this new world he was trying to navigate.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Professor Port standing nearby, looking out over the landscape with an expression Jaune could only describe as oddly contemplative. He was used to seeing the professor puffed up with enthusiasm, telling wild tales of his supposed heroics. But now, Port simply gazed at the horizon, quiet and still.
Then, Jaune spotted Weiss approaching. She walked with her usual poise, but her steps were a bit slower, more hesitant. She stopped beside the professor and cleared her throat.
"Professor Port!" she said.
Port turned, surprised but pleased, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. "Ah, Miss Schnee! To what do I owe this fine pleasure?"
Weiss hesitated, then offered him a polite smile. "I… I enjoyed your lecture, Professor."
"Of course you did, child; you have the blood of a true Huntress in you," Port replied, his voice booming even in its gentlest tone.
Weiss's face softened as she looked up at him. "You really think so?"
"Most surely!" he replied, but his smile faltered slightly as he noticed the hint of worry behind her polite expression, her gaze drifting down to the ground. "Hmm… something's troubling you, Miss Schnee."
Weiss's usual poised demeanor cracked, and she shifted her weight, as if debating whether to speak. "Yes, sir," she admitted, glancing down at her hands.
Port nodded, urging her on. "Dear girl, confess to me your strife!"
She took a deep breath, her fingers clasping tightly in front of her. "I… I think I should have been chosen as the leader of Team RWBY."
A silence settled between them, and Jaune raised his brows, watching from a distance. He'd always seen Weiss as self-assured, maybe even too sure of herself, but he hadn't realized just how much the role of leader meant to her.
Port looked at her for a long moment before letting out a booming laugh. "That's preposterous!"
Weiss's eyes flared, her shoulders squaring in indignation. "Excuse me?" Her voice was sharp, defensive.
Port held up a hand, his tone measured but firm. "Miss Schnee, I have trusted Professor Ozpin's decisions for many years, and not once has the man led me astray. His choice in leaders is no exception."
Weiss's cheeks flushed, her voice rising. "So you would just blindly accept his decision even after seeing how exceptional I am?" Her words carried a note of frustration that surprised even her, and Jaune couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy.
"Indeed," Port replied calmly. "With all due respect, your exceptional skill on the battlefield is matched only by your poor attitude."
Weiss's eyes narrowed, her fists clenching at her sides. "How dare you!"
Port raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Precisely my point. I see a girl before me who has spent her entire life getting exactly what she wanted."
Weiss crossed her arms, looking defiant and insulted. "That's not even remotely true!" She held his gaze, but under Port's steady scrutiny, her expression faltered, and she sighed. "Well… not entirely true."
He nodded, his voice softening. "So the outcome did not fall in your favor. Do you really believe that acting in such a manner will cause those in power to reconsider their decision?"
Weiss looked down, taking in his words, the heat of her anger fading as a different emotion took its place. She gave a small nod, her face thoughtful as she looked back up at him.
"So instead of fretting about what you don't have, savor what you do," Port continued, his tone gentle but full of wisdom. "Hone your skills, perfect every technique, and aim not to be the best leader, but the best person you can be. That is the true mark of a Huntress."
A faint, almost reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Weiss's mouth as she absorbed his advice. She straightened, giving him a respectful nod. "Thank you, Professor."
Port watched her as she turned and made her way back down the path, her shoulders less rigid than they'd been before. The professor remained silent for a moment, his gaze soft, before he turned and noticed Jaune watching.
"Ah, Mr. Arc," Port called, smiling as he waved him over. "And how are you this evening?"
Jaune approached, trying to mask his own amusement. "I'm fine, Professor. Thanks."
Port gave him a knowing look. "Well, as the leader of Team JNPR, you've got a bit of a weight on your shoulders, don't you?"
Jaune let out a weary laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, it's… more than I expected." He glanced at the professor, then added, "Got any pearls of wisdom for me, too?"
The professor studied him, a spark of humor in his eyes. "Afraid not yet, Mr. Arc. You seem well-taught already. Quite like a squire under a knight."
Jaune's tired smile widened. "Funny you should say that. I, uh… did study under one."
"Ah, then make sure to uphold those ideals he passed on to you," Port said, nodding with approval. "Those lessons will serve you well here."
Jaune's expression grew solemn, and he straightened, nodding firmly. "I will. Thank you, Professor." He turned, a renewed determination filling his steps as he walked toward the dorms.
Port watched Jaune's figure disappear into the evening shadows, a satisfied smile on his face as the last light of day faded over Beacon.
The next day, the auditorium of Beacon Academy buzzed with excitement. It was time for combat training, and the students filled the rows of seats, their chatter blending with the faint hum of the overhead lights. The stage at the center of the massive room gleamed under bright spotlights, its polished surface reflecting the weapons of the two combatants who now faced each other.
Jaune Arc stood at one end of the stage, his armor gleaming under the lights. His hand rested firmly on the hilt of Crocea Mors, its blade drawn and steady in his grip. Across from him stood Cardin Winchester, his mace perched on his shoulder, a smirk of overconfidence plastered on his face.
Jaune tilted his head slightly, squinting as the spotlight caught the edge of his vision. He steadied himself, his muscles loose but ready.
Cardin sneered. "Ready to lose, Arc?"
Jaune didn't respond. Instead, he simply adjusted his stance, his eyes fixed on Cardin. The crowd murmured, a mix of anticipation and curiosity rippling through the students.
With a growl, Cardin charged forward, swinging his mace in a wide arc. The heavy weapon sliced through the air with a whistle, but Jaune was ready. Pivoting smoothly, he deflected the blow with a masterful riposte, using the weight of his opponent's weapon against him.
Cardin stumbled slightly but quickly regained his footing, his face twisting into a scowl. He swung again, faster this time, but Jaune blocked the attack with the crossguard of Crocea Mors. Their weapons locked, metal screeching as the two pushed against each other.
Jaune held firm, his training taking over. Cardin was strong, undeniably so, but his moves were predictable, his reliance on brute force glaringly apparent. Jaune had spent years sparring against his master, a knight who had taught him the intricacies of armored combat—how to read an opponent's movements, how to exploit their weaknesses, and most importantly, how to remain calm under pressure.
Cardin grunted, his arms trembling as he tried to overpower Jaune. Sensing his opening, Jaune shifted his weight and brought his knee up sharply, driving it into Cardin's gut. The force of the blow sent Cardin reeling backward, his mace slipping from his grasp and clattering to the ground.
Cardin dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach and gasping for air. Jaune stepped forward, the tip of Crocea Mors hovering inches from Cardin's neck. His face was calm, his breathing steady, his posture that of a warrior who had already claimed victory.
A loud buzzer rang out, signaling the end of the match. The spotlights dimmed, and Glynda Goodwitch's authoritative voice echoed through the auditorium.
"Mr. Arc, that's enough!" she called, her tone sharp but measured.
Jaune lowered his sword and stepped back, turning away from Cardin as Glynda ascended the stage. Her tablet in hand, she tapped at the screen, pulling up a projection of Cardin's Aura level, now deep in the red.
Glynda addressed the crowd, her voice firm and instructive. "As you can see, Mr. Winchester's Aura has dropped into the red. In a tournament-styled duel, this would indicate that he is no longer fit for battle, and that the official may call the match. Gauging your Aura will help you decide when it's appropriate to attack, or when it is better to move to a more... defensive strategy. We don't want you students to be gobbled up by a Beowolf, now, would we?"
The students chuckled lightly at the comment, their attention riveted as Glynda continued her explanation. "Remember, everyone, the Vytal Festival is only a few months away! It won't be long before students from the other kingdoms start arriving in Vale. So, keep practicing! Those who choose to compete in the combat tournament will be representing all of Vale!"
In the crowd, Yang Xiao Long punched the air with excitement, her golden hair bouncing as she grinned widely. Weiss Schnee sat forward in her seat, her fists clenched with enthusiasm as she whispered strategies to herself. Meanwhile, Ruby Rose vibrated with energy, barely able to keep her squeals of excitement contained.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the session.
The students began filing out of the auditorium, their conversations filled with chatter about the match and the upcoming festival.
Jaune stepped off the stage. As he made his way to join his team, he caught a glimpse of Cardin being helped up by his teammates. Their eyes met briefly, but neither said a word. Jaune turned away, joining the others in the cafeteria.
The cafeteria buzzed with the usual chatter of students finishing up their meals, but one voice rose above the others, pulling the attention of both Team RWBY and Team JNPR.
"So! There we were, in the middle of the night…" Nora announced, leaning over the table with a dramatic flourish.
Ren's calm voice cut in from behind her. "It was day."
Unperturbed, Nora continued her tale, oblivious to Ren's correction. She directed her words at Blake, who was engrossed in her book, and Yang, who leaned forward eagerly, her chin resting in her hands, hanging on Nora's every word.
"We were surrounded by Ursai…" Nora's voice grew louder, her eyes wide as she emphasized the enormity of their imaginary foes.
Ren, his expression barely changing, took a casual sip of his coffee. "They were Beowolves."
Nora ignored him, fully immersed in her story. "Dozens of them!" she cried, throwing her hands into the air for emphasis, her voice echoing around the room.
Jaune, seated beside her, calmly ate his food, nodding now and then while Pyrrha and Ruby listened politely. Weiss, on the other hand, sat across from them, completely uninterested, filing her nails and trying to tune out Nora's exuberant storytelling.
"And in the end," Nora concluded, throwing one final dramatic look around the table, "Ren and I took them all down and made a boatload of Lien selling Ursa skin rugs!"
Ren sighed, setting his cup down. "She's been having this recurring dream for nearly a month now."
Pyrrha chuckled and turned to Jaune. "Jaune, I have to ask—where were you taught to fight like that?"
Jaune looked up from his meal, mildly surprised. "Huh? Oh, uh… outside the Kingdoms."
Ruby leaned in, her curiosity piqued. "Really? Outside of the Kingdoms?"
"Yeah. It was… a pretty isolated place," Jaune said, his gaze drifting to a corner of the cafeteria where a group of students from Team CRDL had gathered. They stood around a girl with brown rabbit ears, their laughter and jeering growing louder by the second. "My master was… well, eccentric. He was an old knight."
Ruby's eyes widened in wonder. "So, does that make you a squire?"
Jaune chuckled, shaking his head. "Hardly. I feel more like a soldier, to be honest. My teacher was a former Captain in Atlas." He paused, a faint smile crossing his face as he remembered. "He was strict, unrelenting, but I guess you could call him a hero."
Weiss, who had been listening quietly, raised an eyebrow. "An Atlesian Captain? Impressive."
Jaune shrugged. "He probably retired ages ago, but he spoke about Atlas with a lot of pride. Taught me everything he knew. I think he wanted me to follow his path." He glanced down, his voice growing quieter. "He always told me that if I was going to be a Huntsman, I should start at Beacon. Said I'd find friends here… that was his last wish."
Pyrrha placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Jaune."
He shook his head with a faint smile. "It's okay. He was ready. Died of old age." He lifted his head, eyes warm with gratitude. "And I think he was right about Beacon."
Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden, piercing yelp across the room. Jaune's attention snapped back to the corner, where Cardin Winchester was smirking, his hand gripping the ear of the rabbit-eared girl, tugging it painfully.
"Stop! That hurts!" the girl—Velvet, Jaune remembered—pleaded, her face scrunched in pain. "Please, let go…"
Cardin snickered, his mocking laughter echoed by his teammates. "I told you it was real!" he sneered, yanking on her ear again. His lackeys, Russel and Sky, burst into cruel laughter.
"What a freak!" Russel added, clutching his sides as if this were the funniest thing in the world.
Jaune's jaw set, his face darkening as he watched the scene unfold. Pyrrha and the others exchanged disgusted glances, unable to mask their outrage.
Pyrrha muttered, "That's atrocious. I can't stand people like him."
Blake's hands clenched into fists, her gaze cold as she stared daggers at Cardin. "He's not the only one," she murmured, her voice tight.
Yang, her face dark with sadness, rested her head on her hand. "It must be so hard… being a Faunus."
Jaune's eyes narrowed as he watched Cardin finally release Velvet, who stumbled back, clutching her ear and quickly fleeing from the table, head bowed to avoid the stares of the other students. Blake noticed the look in Jaune's eyes, a dangerous resolve brewing there. She reached out, placing a warning hand on his arm.
"Jaune, don't," she said quietly. "It'll only make things worse."
But Jaune shook her off, his voice low and firm. "To do nothing is its own kind of evil, Blake." His gaze flickered to the ribbon in her hair, realization dawning. "You might be fine looking away… but I can't."
Without another word, Jaune stood up. Ruby, Pyrrha, and the others tried to stop him, but he was already moving toward Team CRDL's table, his face a mask of cold anger. He approached Cardin from behind, his movements calculated and calm.
Before anyone could react, Jaune gripped the back of Cardin's head, his fingers like claws digging into the boy's scalp. With one swift motion, he slammed Cardin's face down onto the table, the impact loud enough to echo through the cafeteria. Cardin gasped, and Jaune lifted his head, only to slam it down again, a sharp crack reverberating as Cardin's Aura visibly shattered under the force.
Russel and Sky scrambled to their feet, rushing at Jaune in a panicked attempt to stop him. Their fists connected with his sides, but Jaune barely seemed to notice, his body rigid, unyielding. Ignoring them, he held Cardin's head up, blood trickling from the boy's nose, a tooth loose and falling to the floor.
A hush fell over the room as Jaune turned his gaze on the rest of Team CRDL, his voice as cold as steel. "Anyone who tries this again," he said, his voice ringing with authority, "will receive the same."
He lifted his hand, a soft glow of golden Aura radiating from his palm as he activated his Semblance, sending waves of warmth and healing into Cardin's bloodied face. The bruises began to fade, the cuts sealing, but Jaune's expression remained unflinching.
"Here's a warning," Jaune continued, his voice quiet but carrying a menace that sent chills down the spine of everyone watching. "I can beat you down and heal you up as many times as it takes to make you understand."
The cafeteria was silent, everyone watching in stunned disbelief as Jaune released Cardin, who slumped onto the table, too dazed to respond. Velvet stood at the edge of the room, her expression one of mingled shock and anxiety as she watched Jaune, clearly unsure of whether to thank him or retreat further.
The silence was broken by the sharp sound of heels clicking against the floor. Glynda Goodwitch strode into the cafeteria, her face stormy as her gaze zeroed in on Jaune.
"Mr. Arc," she said, her voice sharp with authority. "To my office. Now."
Jaune didn't resist. With one last, icy look at Cardin, he let the bully drop back onto the table before he turned and followed Professor Goodwitch out of the place.
Jaune sat in the chair across from Glynda Goodwitch's desk, arms crossed, his jaw set, his expression unflinching as he awaited the inevitable lecture. The silence was thick, a tension brewing that filled the room as Glynda adjusted her glasses and looked at him with a mixture of disappointment and irritation.
"Mr. Arc," she began, her voice steady but sharp, "what you did back there was entirely out of line. Violence is never the answer."
Jaune met her gaze, his eyes unwavering. "With all due respect, Professor, Beacon claims to be a place where Huntsmen and Huntresses are trained to protect the innocent and fight for equality. And yet, the discrimination here is impossible to ignore."
Glynda's face hardened. "Discrimination or not, resorting to violence—"
"—isn't ideal, I know," Jaune interrupted. "But do you only care about violence if it's directed at students like Cardin? You didn't seem all that concerned about Velvet, even though she was being humiliated."
Glynda's expression tightened. "That's enough, Mr. Arc. You're being disrespectful."
Jaune held her gaze, his tone calm but unyielding. "My master taught me to never take my eyes off evil, Professor. He said that turning away only lets it grow. And if I did go too far, well… I healed him up right after." He shrugged, his tone matter-of-fact. "No harm done."
Glynda palmed her face, sighing as if in exasperation. "You're astonishingly self-righteous, Mr. Arc."
Jaune frowned, genuinely confused. "Isn't that what a Huntsman is supposed to be? Someone willing to take a stand for what's right?" He leaned forward, pressing her. "Why does this kind of treatment happen here, Professor? Beacon is supposed to be different, isn't it?"
"Mr. Arc, you're dangerously close to speaking out of turn," Glynda warned, though her voice wavered slightly.
He held his ground. "From what I've seen, and from what I've heard, people have died just trying to get through the initiation on Beacon Cliff." His gaze was unwavering. "Is this how the Academy 'teaches' wisdom?"
Glynda's expression turned steely. "You would do well not to disrespect Professor Ozpin."
"I'll respect him once I see something worthy of respect," Jaune countered. "So far, Beacon looks more like a trial by fire than a place where students are given the training they need to survive. You're supposed to be teaching us to be Huntsmen, not sending us off to die."
"We refuse to coddle our students, Mr. Arc," Glynda replied, her voice rising. "A Huntsman must be prepared for the world outside these walls."
Jaune shook his head, crossing his arms tighter. "You're training us to be warriors, not fodder. Throwing students off a cliff without giving them the tools they need is reckless, not preparation."
Glynda's mouth opened, but she hesitated, her gaze searching Jaune's face. She was clearly torn, unsure of how to proceed with a student who not only wasn't apologetic but seemed downright defiant.
"Why should I apologize?" Jaune asked, his tone unapologetic. "What I did was righteous. And I would do it again if it meant standing up for someone who couldn't and wouldn't stand up for themselves."
Glynda's voice grew cold. "Have you considered what effect this might have on Velvet? Inciting further animosity only puts her at greater risk."
"Trying to manipulate me with guilt?" Jaune's voice was firm, his expression hardened. "When the Academy staff does nothing? That won't work, Professor. It only fuels my resolve to act if I see something like that again."
A flicker of something—perhaps admiration, perhaps exasperation—crossed Glynda's face. "You're self-righteous to an astounding degree, Mr. Arc," she said, her tone softening slightly. "And while I understand your motivation, I urge you to keep it in check."
Jaune gave her a cold look, his tone unwavering. "I am keeping it in check, Professor. Cardin isn't beaten and broken, is he?"
Glynda's lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, a slight shift in her expression suggested she was finally beginning to see what she was dealing with. She massaged her temples, closing her eyes in an attempt to regain her composure.
"Very well," she said at last, her voice weary. "Just… don't be outrageous, Mr. Arc."
Jaune stepped out of Professor Goodwitch's office, his mind still running hot from the tense exchange. The hallway was quiet, cast in the dim light of evening, and as he turned the corner, he found himself face-to-face with Cardin.
The bruises and cuts that Jaune had healed were gone, but the hostility in Cardin's eyes was as strong as ever. He squared his shoulders, stepping closer, his lips twisted in a smirk.
"Think you're tough, Arc?" Cardin sneered, his voice low and menacing. "You might've gotten away with it once, but don't think you're gonna make me look bad again."
Jaune's gaze remained steady, unflinching. Calmly, he reached out, his fingers closing around Cardin's neck with a grip like iron. Cardin's eyes widened, the smugness evaporating as he struggled, taken aback by the sheer force of Jaune's strength. Jaune leaned in, his voice cold and level, the tone he reserved for Grimm echoing from his lips.
"If you try that again," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper but as sharp as steel, "I'll make sure you regret it. And not in a way that healing can fix." He loosened his grip just enough to let the words sink in, then let go, allowing Cardin to stumble backward, gasping for air.
Jaune turned on his heel, leaving Cardin where he'd fallen, but the adrenaline that had coursed through his veins wasn't fading. He could feel a headache creeping in, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He raised a hand to his head, squeezing his temples as memories flickered, unbidden, like shards of light in the darkness.
Flashes of his master appeared, stern and unyielding. The old knight's voice rang in his mind, the words as familiar as a mantra, ingrained through years of training and discipline.
"Slay the Grimm, and defeat the evil."
Jaune inhaled deeply, the mantra echoing like a prayer he couldn't silence. The lines between his master's teachings and his own anger felt blurred, his vision swimming with fragments of memories, orders, and righteous fury.
"Oh, Mother in the tree," he whispered. "Guide my way."