You might have realized that this story is written differently and that's mainly due to me trying to standardize my writing process and actually have a plan in mine when i start and end a story. so I'm going to try for now on to publish at least 1 chapter across this and Summer Of Your Love every week or every other week with one week being S.O.Y.L and the other being this.
you all probably have noticed but reading this and reading S.O.Y.L that I've gotten a few people to edit and beta read my work to keep to the separate styles with both of the stories being something of an experiment as the two are going to be very different genre wise and story wise. so i guess wish me luck and leave a review at the bottom if you think this writing style is either too fast and needs some adjustment or if you all like it.
Thank you for reading!
Jaune Arc's fingers traced the silver star on his topcoat's left shoulder, the insignia stark against the platinum grey material of his Central Governing Faction uniform. Through the viewport of the CTS Golden Horizons, he watched the last traces of Vytal's atmosphere fade into the void. The converted cargo ship's stark white interior bustled with military personnel from across the unified forces, the soft hum of the engines a constant reminder of their journey toward the frontier.
A golden-haired woman in the matte black and gunmetal grey of the Galactic Military Union caught his attention. She sat beside a younger soldier in Independent Colonies Federation gear—silver body armor fitted somewhat loosely over a charcoal grey bodysuit. When the ICF soldier's silver eyes met his, Jaune quickly looked away, his face warming as he wondered if her vivid red hair met regulations.
"I'm telling you, Yang, the frontiers are amazing!" The young ICF pilot's voice carried through the compartment with infectious enthusiasm. "You should have seen our StarLiner during the pirate engagement near Parvati. And the colonies—I've never seen so many plants in my life!"
Jaune glanced around at the other personnel seated nearby. The three-hour journey from Domremy to the frontier's edge had been shorter than expected; perhaps the rumors about CTS's outdated technology were as hollow as their cargo holds used to be.
"Don't worry too much about your ranking, Private," a voice spoke from his left.
Jaune turned to face another blonde, this one wearing an ICF uniform adorned with several golden stars across his right breast pocket. The man raised a gloved hand in greeting, black lines tracing up the white material along his fingers.
"Rankings vary between forces," the ICF officer continued. "A Sergeant in the CGF might rate as a Lieutenant in the GRC. It's all politics and numbers, man."
The officer extended his hand. Jaune clasped it firmly, noticing the practiced strength in the grip. "Jaune Arc, CGF Private. Glad to meet you... Sir?"
A laugh. "Drop the 'sir.' Sun Wukong, Militia Lieutenant, ICF." He released Jaune's hand with a casual wave. "You seem more concerned about something else than the chain of command."
Jaune made a noncommittal gesture. "Combat experience, mostly. Seems like everyone here has seen action."
"Combat experience doesn't mean much if you don't have it in a mechashift," Sun replied. "Have you trained in the sims yet?"
Jaune shook his head.
"You haven't even touched a simulator?" Sun's eyebrows rose.
"Fucking privates," a new voice muttered from Jaune's other side.
Sun leaned forward, peering past Jaune at the speaker. Jaune turned as well, his gaze drawn to the two bull-like horns protruding through the man's red hair. The Faunus soldier wore his scowl as naturally as his uniform.
"Excuse me?" Jaune turned to fully face the hostile soldier. The man wore a black Blousson shirt with crimson lines, its golden accents coiling like serpents up his sleeves before terminating in golden cog symbols on both shoulders. A white visor with red accents covered his eyes.
"Fucking CGF, sending privates with no experience to Beacon," the man spat.
"You have a problem with the CGF?" Jaune's voice tightened.
The man scoffed. "It's disrespectful. Sending some private without experience to the license exam." His eyes narrowed. "Were child soldiers not enough for you?"
"If you've got a problem, take it up with a commander," Jaune shot back. "I don't make any decisions."
"Typical CGF. 'It's not my problem,' huh? Never heard that one before."
The ship's intercom crackled to life: "CTS ladies and gentlemen, please find your seats. We are pulling into port."
Jaune turned away from the simmering Faunus, his attention drawn to the view outside. Sister ships—the Wealth of Stars and the Freight Sovereign—pulled alongside them, their holds equally packed with potential students.
"Let me guess," the red-haired man's voice cut through Jaune's observations, "you're a farm boy. From some frontier backwater?"
"How'd you know?" Jaune asked.
The man raised his hand suddenly, causing Jaune to flinch. "You aren't wearing gloves. You have calluses, but none from weaponry." He gestured to himself and Sun, both wearing standard-issue military gloves.
"Take it from me, farm boy—go down in the first round. Maybe you can go home, grow old, and shovel cow shit instead of wasting everyone's time."
The ship settled into its berth with a gentle shudder. As other soldiers began filing out, the red-haired man disappeared into the crowd without another word.
"Don't take it to heart, man," Sun said, remaining behind with Jaune. "Some of these CTS guys stay out on the frontier for years. Pirates are one thing. Grimm are another."
Rising from his chair, Sun revealed a golden tail that emerged through a specialized port in his ICF bodysuit. "I guess we're headed to roll call." He offered a warm smile. "See you inside?"
Jaune nodded, standing unsteadily as his white leather boots clicked against the deck plates. "See you inside." He offered a formal salute, which felt awkward even as he did it, watching the older soldier slip away into the crowd.
"Greetings, soldier!"
At the voice behind him, Jaune whipped around, snapping his boots together with a click. His fingertips pressed flat against his temple in a textbook salute as he stared straight ahead, finding only empty space.
"Eyes lower, soldier!"
Jaune's gaze dropped, azure eyes locking onto silver ones.
"Ruby, stop messing with the fresh meat," the blonde GMU soldier from before chimed in. "At ease, buddy." Her lilac eyes gleamed with amusement as Jaune let his hands fall to his sides.
"Sorry about that." Ruby's authoritative posture crumbled, her hands dropping from their dictatorial position behind her back as she shifted nervously on her feet. The high collar of her long-sleeve shirt bore a gold-lined crimson arch indicating her rank. She crossed her arms, unconsciously drawing attention to her too tight fitted uniform shirt. "My sister here says you have a staring problem. You sizing up your enemy?"
Jaune felt heat rise to his face. "No, Sir."
Ruby raised a hand to her mouth, laughing. "Cut the title, Private. If you make it through the program, we'll be equals."
A tentative smile crossed Jaune's face.
"What's your name, Private?" The younger girl's silver eyes sparkled with curiosity.
"Private Jaune Arc of the Central Governing Faction."
"CGF boy, huh?" The blonde stepped forward. "You from the inner ring?"
"No, ma'am. I'm from Domremy—it's a smaller moon near the Mistral sector."
"Corporal Yang Xiao-Long of the Greater Military Union." She wrapped an arm around Ruby's shoulders, pulling her close. "My sister and I are from Patch."
Jaune must have failed to hide his confusion at their apparent lack of resemblance, because Yang's expression darkened. "You have a problem?"
"No—no!" Jaune stammered. "Just... she's in an ICF uniform and you're in GMU."
Ruby avoided his gaze, pressing her index fingers together in a nervous gesture. "I wanted to be an explorer. Dad's GMU and Mom was ICF, so..."
Ruby pressed her index fingers together, still avoiding direct eye contact.
"I left home to explore too," Jaune offered, the half-lie coming easier than expected.
"Really?" Ruby's silver eyes lit up, her earlier nervousness evaporating.
"Yup." Jaune rubbed the back of his head. "My great-grandfather fought in one of the first CGF mechashifts during the First Grimm Incursion. He had all these stories about seeing the inner worlds and the frontier. I kind of wanted to visit some of those places myself."
"That's so cool!" Ruby bounced slightly on her feet. "Have you ever piloted a mechashift before?"
Jaune shook his head. "Nope. What about you?"
"I got my pilot's license after the reformation," Ruby replied, "but I haven't spent any time in a real mechashift yet."
Yang guided them subtly toward the exit, following the stream of personnel flowing out of the ship. The practical, minimalist white interior of the Golden Horizon gave way to the transfer hall's more impressive architecture—sleek silver walls accented with navy blue trim stretching before them.
Jaune felt his steps grow lighter as he approached a transparent gate humming with outer glowing lights. The moment he crossed its threshold, his weight shifted, and his normal gait returned.
"Have you ever been in port before, goldilocks?" Yang asked.
Jaune shook his head, eyes scanning everything around them. "That was my first Star Sailer ride."
"You've never been in zero G's before?" Ruby's eyes widened.
"Really fresh meat then, huh?" Yang whistled as Jaune nodded sheepishly.
"Beacon has an artificial gravity field," Yang explained. "It's a bit higher than most people are used to, but that's just to help with muscle development. You should adapt pretty quickly."
"Have you been here before?" Jaune asked.
Yang's smile faltered slightly. "Spent some time here as a kid. Didn't much like it, so decided to move to Patch and stay with Dad."
The trio entered a vast chamber with luminescent white tiles bordered in black. At a podium stood a woman in a grey, maroon, and bronze uniform, a Beacon patch prominent on her shoulder. She adjusted her purple spectacles as she surveyed the room.
Jaune counted at least two hundred uniformed soldiers in the auditorium-style space. Several higher-ranked CGF soldiers stood together, wearing smug expressions. An orange-haired, burly soldier at the group's edge sneered as Jaune passed.
"Private," a few CGF soldiers whispered, their tone making the rank sound like an insult.
The woman at the podium cleared her throat. "Soldiers of the Central Governing Faction, Greater Military Union, Grimm Resistance Coalition, Stellar Science Coalition, Independent Colonies Federation, and Corporations and Trade Syndicates—please gather with your respective faction members, starting from left to right."
"See you after the exam?" Ruby asked hopefully.
Jaune managed an anxious smile. "Hopefully."
"Don't worry," Yang grinned, "I know lots of stupid people who pilot mechashifts. You've got a shot." She gave him a friendly punch on the arm before heading toward her faction's area.
Ruby offered an awkward wave as she departed. Jaune made his way to the CGF section, watching as the purple-spectacled woman left the stage. An older man with grey hair and glasses took her place, leaning heavily on a cane as he hobbled forward.
"Good evening," he began, his voice carrying effortlessly through the hall. "I am the Headmaster of Beacon Academy. You may address me as Headmaster Ozpin." He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the gathering. "Before we proceed with the examinations, there are several matters we must address."
The assembled soldiers remained perfectly still, their training evident in their rigid postures. Jaune could spot the distinctive silver star shoulder plates of the Central Governing Faction to his left, while the sleek black uniforms of Corporations and Trade Syndicates stood out to his right. The Independent Colonial Federation soldiers seemed to vibrate with barely contained energy, while the Grimm Resistance Command maintained their characteristic stoic presence.
"Each of you stands here because you possess Aura, a rare genetic mutation that enables interface with Mechashift systems," Ozpin continued. "Some of you may believe this gift alone ensures your success. Others might think their rapid advancement through military ranks, facilitated by their Aura, guarantees special consideration." His expression hardened slightly. "You would be mistaken."
The Headmaster's cane tapped once against the floor. "Beacon Academy answers solely to the Galactic Council. Therefore, all previous ranks and titles are suspended within these walls. Whether you arrived as a Private or Fleet Admiral, here you are simply students. Equal in every respect - regardless of species, gender, or origin. Human or Faunus, your status is identical."
Jaune noticed several of the Faunus candidates shift slightly at this declaration, including a tall soldier with distinctive red hair partially concealing horns. The man's ICF uniform bore the marks of a specialist, though as Ozpin had just stated, such distinctions meant nothing here.
"You train not for personal glory, nor for the honor of your respective organizations," Ozpin declared. "Your purpose is to serve as guardians for all sentient life in our galaxy. The threats we face transcend political boundaries and species divisions."
The Headmaster gestured, and a series of metallic pillars rose silently from the floor before the assembled candidates. "These devices will analyze your Aura through blood sampling. Upon successful completion of your examinations, this genetic data will aid in developing your individual Semblance capabilities. The process will also register you for tomorrow's evaluations."
He stepped back from the podium. "After registration, proceed to the barracks for your physical evaluation gear. Rest well - you will need it. Physicals begin in 30 minutes Mechashift testing begins at dawn." With a final adjustment of his glasses, he added, "You may begin."
The ordered ranks dissolved as candidates moved toward the testing pillars. Jaune waited patiently as others pushed forward, particularly the eager CTS group. When his turn came, he approached one of the pillars and rolled up his sleeve. The scanner hummed as it read the barcode on his wrist, military identification flowing across its small screen.
A thin needle extended, pricking his fingertip with surgical precision. Jaune barely felt it. The pillar's display flashed green almost immediately.
"Sample detected. Jaune Arc. Aura confirmed!"
A small applicator emerged, depositing biopaste onto the tiny puncture. The wound sealed instantly, leaving no trace. As Jaune stepped away, he caught fragments of excited whispers from nearby candidates, their earlier military discipline already slipping away "Men on this side!" called out an instructor in a Beacon uniform, his bushy mustache prominent as he gestured toward the left hallway. His name tag read "P. PORT" in precise military lettering.
A friendly slap on the back nearly sent Jaune stumbling forward. "So, how about that speech?"
Jaune turned to find a familiar grinning blonde man in an ICF uniform. "Seemed pretty standard. Grand General Ironwood gave something similar when I joined the CGF," Jaune replied, steadying himself.
"I've heard better" the monkey faunus claimed, casually slinging an arm around Jaune's shoulders. "What's with separating the bunks though? Seems weird."
"Standard protocol in CGF basic training - separate quarters for men and women."
Sun's eyes widened. "No way! ICF bunks everyone together. Made for some great nights when the commander was out - group holo-scroll screenings, booze and everything." He grinned at Jaune's surprised expression. "Hard to believe I made Lieutenant, right?"
"A bit, yeah."
"ICF promotes based on combat experience. More fights, faster promotion. Having Aura helps too." Sun shrugged. "Never cared much for the formal stuff." He gave Jaune another pat on the back. "Hey, during the exam, how about we watch each other's backs?"
Before Jaune could respond, Instructor Port raised his tablet. "Room assignments: Adam Taurus, Jaune Arc, Lie Ren, Sun Wukong."
A low growl cut through the hallway. The red-haired Faunus specialist Jaune had noticed earlier stepped forward, his ICF combat specialist insignia now clearly visible. "Damn it!"
"Is there a problem, Specialist Taurus?" Port's voice remained neutral but carried an edge of authority.
"I refuse to bunk with some CGF Private who'll wash out in the first round," Adam snapped, gesturing dismissively at Jaune.
A third soldier stepped forward - lean, black-haired, with striking pink eyes. His GRC uniform marked him as Lie Ren. He remained silent, observing the exchange with careful attention.
"These assignments are final," Port stated firmly. "Any requests for changes must go through your CTS representative through proper channels." His tone made it clear the discussion was over.
Sun caught Jaune's eye and gave a slight eyeroll at Adam's outburst. The gesture somehow made the tension easier to bear.
The room was standard military quarters - four bunks, four lockers, minimal space between. Adam stalked in first, claiming a lower bunk with a sharp glare that dared anyone to object. Sun and Jaune followed, with Lie Ren entering last, his presence so quiet Jaune only noticed when he felt someone brush past him.
"Hello," Jaune offered to the pink-eyed soldier.
"Good afternoon," Ren replied, his GRC-trained precision evident even in those two words.
As they settled in, Jaune noticed the luggage. His standard-issue white CGF case looked almost sterile compared to the weathered black and red case below his bunk. The beast's head painted on its surface caught his attention - he recognized that symbol from military briefings.
"You're White Fang?" The words left Jaune's mouth before he could think better of it.
Adam's head snapped around, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "That a problem?"
"Nope." Jaune kept his tone carefully neutral. "Just never met someone in it before."
Adam studied him for a long moment before scoffing and returning to his unpacking.
The four men changed for physical training, each choice of attire revealing something about their backgrounds. Jaune pulled on his simple white t-shirt, decorated with a golden rabbit, paired with standard PT shorts and running shoes. Sun, true to his casual ICF nature, opted to go shirtless. Lie Ren donned a precisely pressed leaf-green and white tracksuit that screamed GRC regulation wear.
Adam's choice stood out - a full-body suit in black with grey accents that sealed from neck to toe, looking more like ancient diving gear than training attire.
"You're going to wear that?" Sun asked, voicing what they all were thinking.
Adam's cocky smile had an edge to it. "This is a Mechashift suit. Most of our training will be done in them to get a feel for the interface. Might as well be ahead of the game." He pulled a katana from his luggage, the sheath humming as it magnetically sealed to his suit's waist mount.
Jaune retrieved his own weapon - a white-sheathed blade that looked almost antiquated next to Adam's high-tech gear.
"The CGF didn't issue you a weapon?" Adam's tone dripped with disdain.
"It was my great-grandfather's," Jaune explained, lifting the sword. "From the First Grimm Invasion, when they were small enough to fight hand-to-hand. He took down quite a few with this."
"It's an antique," Ren observed, his voice carrying neither judgment nor praise.
"I mean that positively," he continued, catching Jaune's uncertain look. "The simpler something is, the easier it is to maintain." He demonstrated by drawing his own weapons - a pair of machine pistols that smoothly transformed and disappeared up his sleeves. "Take StormFlower - essentially just standard machine pistols modified for Dust rounds, with integrated blades. Simple. Reliable."
Jaune studied Sun's telescoping bo staff, curiosity etched across his features. "A metal stick?" he asked.
Sun nodded, demonstrating the staff's intricate mechanism. With a practiced motion, he tossed the weapon to Jaune, who instinctively caught it. "Whoa—it's heavier than I thought," Jaune commented, testing the weapon's balance.
"Press the center button," Sun instructed.
As Jaune triggered the mechanism, the staff underwent a rapid transformation. Precision-engineered barrels and interlocking gears slid into place, converting the staff into a pair of high-tech nunchucks with integrated firearm parts.
Jaune experimentally swung the weapon, accidentally striking his own shoulder. He winced, recognizing the need for practice.
"Maybe try some training later?" Sun suggested with a knowing smile.
Returning Sun's weapon, Jaune observed Sun retrieving his white sword. "That's quite heavy," Sun remarked, testing the blade's weight. "Are you actually planning to fight with this?"
Jaune nodded confidently, drawing the blade from its sheath. Subtly, Adam's hand drifted near his own weapon. With a precise press, Jaune's scabbard transformed into a defensive shield. Sun's eyes widened. "Woah cool ever think of using it as a club?"
Jaune contemplated the suggestion. "Maybe. I didn't try that during basic."
An announcement interrupted their exchange: "All exam participants, proceed to the designated halls and follow directional markers."
Sun enthusiastically embraced Jaune and Ren. "Team Assault, prepare for action!"
"Team Assault?" Ren questioned.
"Yup," Sun explained. "The acronym breaks down as Adam, Sun, Arc, and Lie—ASAL."
"Or Team Asshole," Adam interjected dryly, moving towards the exit.
Jaune frowned. "Why am I the only one using a last name?"
Ren's response was matter-of-fact. "Arc is your last name. Lie is also my last name."
A long, dark-colored strip on the wall pulsed with arrows that pointed the way to the physical testing room. Multiple groups were already assembled inside. A track field with an overseers' box stood above the artificial green grass outer circle, which acted as a rim for the track.
Jaune's gaze focused on the overseers' box. He could see a few figures standing and sitting within, though the glare of the overhead light partially blinded him as he tried to get a better look at his observers. He wondered if the blinding effect was intentional.
The same woman's voice from the auditorium came through the intercoms: "The first of the examinations will be a basic physical readiness test consisting of a simple race."
The wall to the right of the door clicked open, and dozens of glass vials slid out, each seemingly holding a computer chip. "These are surveillance chips," the voice continued. "They will be inserted into your implants before training. They will monitor your vitals and complete a health survey while you undergo the examinations. If you do not slot the chips in or remove these chips during the examinations, you will be automatically disqualified."
The other soldiers shifted nervously. "I repeat: if you remove the chips or do not insert them, you will be automatically disqualified."
Sun moved forward, swiping a handful of chips and offering one in each hand to Jaune and Lie Ren while he slotted a chip into the chipdeck on the side of his neck. "Come on, Adam, take it," he urged.
Jaune looked to Adam, who seemed disgusted as Sun's prehensile monkey tail swayed, holding out a glass vial and chip. Adam simply growled and ripped a chip out of another examinee's hand, causing the person to raise their hands in surrender.
Shrill sounds emanated from the wall as a white, unmarked surface appeared. Names, ID photos, and vitals of each examinee materialized, with a small number appearing alongside each name.
"To begin examination, each person steps towards the starting line on the track."
"Are we going to run?" Jaune asked, and Sun nodded. Lie Ren stood at Jaune's right, while Sun stood at his left. Adam took point on the other side of the monkey Faunus.
Ozpin's voice came over the intercom: "Given that you all are potential future pilots expected to think outside the box, I will say that you are encouraged to place highly and do whatever you may believe is necessary to be one of the first 50 to cross the 2-lap mark. You will begin at the sound of the buzzer."
"Whatever we believe is necessary?" Jaune asked Lie Ren, who raised his shoulders in a noncommittal response.
Sun glanced at Adam from the corner of his eye and felt his guard rising as the bull Faunus's lip curled into a smile.
"Begin."
The crowd of soldiers shot off from the starting line, weapons resting at their hips or on their backs. Some of the more agile competitors slipped through the mob of sprinting soldiers.
Jaune felt a pressure against his chest as the long black sheath of Adam's red katana pressed into him. "Why don't I show you why Privates like you are best left in the dust," Adam sneered. Jaune gritted his teeth as Adam pulled his katana back, its end pointed behind him.
With a press of the crossguard, the back of the katana exploded, launching Adam into the air. He landed face-first on an unlucky GRC soldier, pressing his foot into the man's back before jumping off. As the group rounded the first corner, Adam hopped from shoulder to shoulder, knocking men to the ground. One soldier attempted to raise his shield, but Adam slammed the back of it into the man's nose, using it as a springboard.
Jaune trailed behind, stalking up in a sprint and watching his feet as person after person fell. Rolling bodies became tripping hazards for other opponents. "Watch your back, Private," the burly orange-haired man from earlier warned, elbowing Jaune in the ribs.
Biting through the pain, Jaune moved forward, slipping between gaps and leaping over falling bodies. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Ren bob and weave through the crowd, moving like a shadow. Ren narrowly avoided Adam's foot, just in time for a random GMU soldier to take a boot heel to the head.
Another elbow bashed against Jaune's jaw, but he faltered only momentarily before feeling a steadying arm on his shoulder. "Can't get knocked out this early, soldier," Sun said with a laugh. Jaune nodded as Sun's bo staff—held by his prehensile tail—whacked someone in the back.
Sun caught the staff in his hand and stabbed it downwards, vaulting over the crowd. Jaune heard the thudding of bodies as Sun landed somewhere ahead. Pulling forward and avoiding the shoving of two CGF soldiers, Jaune slid ahead of the pack.
On the wall, the placements of each person changed rapidly: Adam's position shifted from 212th to 198, then 180, then 167. Jumping across competitors like rocks in a creek, Jaune felt the urge to use Crocea Mors against the other competitors. Sun was in 117th place, while Ren wordlessly slipped between Jaune and another boy, moving like wind through a forest of trees—almost dancing despite the high speeds.
"If I can make it to the top 100, I can use my better stamina against them," Jaune said, glancing back at the board where his face sat next to the number 126.
The group pulled past the first lap marker. Fatigue began to consume the other trainees. Their carefully calculated motions, once meant to maintain steady pace over long distances, grew sloppy and unfocused. Knees and feet lifted less and less from the ground, and gaps started to form between runners.
The more top-heavy, muscular competitors seemed to fall back as the distances widened. Adam was running on the ground now, seemingly slowing as another person clashed with him, knocking the Faunus off balance. His katana remained gripped in his hand, sweat falling from his brow.
Ren wasn't faring much better, focusing less on subtle dodging and more on quick, simple passes. Jaune pulled ahead of Ren, studying the boy's movements.
"The first competitor has crossed the finish line," a single ding announced from the wall. Jaune's fists tightened as he pushed forward, slipping past a blue-haired boy.
The finish line came into sight. Sun moved past him, giving a quick pat on the back. "See you at the finish," he said in a giddy voice. Jaune huffed and accelerated.
"Let's do it," Ren whispered quietly, slipping past.
The speaker began listing placements. Jaune felt his second wind building, muscles pumping with adrenaline. The finish line was now just a few dozen feet ahead. Another hand touched his back.
"Go home, Private. You don't belong here," the orange-haired boy said loudly. Pushing down on Jaune's back, the blonde's nose smashed against the rubber track, making him see stars. A shoe pressed against his back, forcing him down as the boy stepped over.
The available spots grew smaller. Jaune forced himself to his feet, stumbling forward as people moved past him. At least a dozen competitors got ahead of him. Then he saw something.
Adam Taurus stood before the mob of oncoming runners, unmoving, blade held in a draw stance. His foot moved backwards, as if planning to cut down the approaching crowd. The person directly in front of him was the orange-haired boy from before.
"Winchester," Adam spoke with a cocky sneer. Winchester froze in his tracks. "Didn't think I'd get the chance to cut down a Winchester on my first day." The man faltered, attempting to draw his weapon.
Jaune felt the air shift with malice. He fell into a roll, stumbling to the ground as Adam's scarlet blade screamed out from its sheath, roaring overhead. Jaune held his head, eyes closed.
Winchester screamed loudly. Jaune turned, focusing on Adam. The Faunus sneered, his mouth curved into a smile. Jaune watched as Cardin's thin clothing fell to the ground, leaving him in nothing but his underpants. Adam chuckled, jumping backwards. His eyes landed on Jaune, widening fractionally.
"You made it!" Sun yelled, pulling Jaune to his feet. Jaune's eyes remained fixed on the wall.
"Jaune Arc 48. Adam Taurus 49. Cardin Winchester 50."
Jaune exhaled shakily, a strained noise escaping his throat. "I did it!" He turned to Sun, then to Adam, watching as the Faunus barely looked winded.
Jaune shuffled over, speaking between breaths, "Hey. Thanks, man." Adam spared him no mind, turning back to the entrance and walking away.
The intercom crackled. Headmaster Ozpin's voice came through: "All participants return to your assigned rooms. Those who passed and those who failed have been noted. Please get some rest. The hardest tests are yet to come. The Neural Connection exams will begin at 0600 hours."
Jaune turned to Ren and Sun. "We all made it. Think we're going to be put in a squad?"
Adam snorted, turning around. "Mechashift pilots don't get put in squads. You get put in Brigades, Private," he said grimly, leaving the physical examination arena.
"I think smiles is against the idea," Sun said, hands on his hips.
"So do you think we'll all make it into a brigade?" Jaune asked. Ren shrugged. "Perhaps. I'm looking forward to being paired up."
"Oh ho," Sun pulled Ren into a huddle, even as a river of disgruntled failed participants moved around them. "You got a girlfriend here?"
Ren sighed. "No. But I know that they're going to pass their physical tests."
Sun's eyebrow quirked. "Not sure they'll pass the neuro test?"
"She'd bomb both," Ren said, making Sun and Jaune exchange a look.
A muffled explosion sounded from the other side of the wall.
"That's her," Ren spoke, sighing.
Moving forward, the three headed towards the door, ready to return to their room for a well-deserved night of rest.