Jaune Arc stood at the edge of his family's farm, the wind tugging at the edges of his cloak. The horizon stretched out before him, bathed in the last dying light of the day. For so long, he'd dreamed of something greater, something beyond the constraints of his small town and his family's expectations. But now, as he stared into the unknown, that familiar feeling of inadequacy gnawed at him once again.

"You'll never amount to anything, Jaune," his father's voice echoed in his mind. "A huntsman? You can barely swing a sword without embarrassing yourself. You don't have the strength for that life."

His mother's sharp gaze had been no kinder. "You're a failure. We should have never let you dream like this."

The harsh words, the constant comparisons to his siblings—none of it had ever been enough to break his resolve, until now. Until the weight of their disdain had finally crushed his spirit.

Jaune didn't belong here. He didn't belong in a family that only saw him as a disappointment. His hands trembled, not from fear, but from frustration. They'd never believed in him. They'd never seen the potential he knew he had buried deep within himself.

With a determined breath, Jaune turned his back on the farm. His path was set. He wasn't going to waste another day being told what he couldn't do. He would leave it all behind and become something more.

He set off toward Beacon Academy, where every hero started their journey. The life of a huntsman—fighting the terrifying creatures known as Grimm—was the path he had chosen. He wasn't going to let anyone tell him he couldn't. He would prove them all wrong.

It didn't take long for Jaune to realize just how far he was from the life he'd imagined. The journey had been harder than he expected, filled with harsh terrain and the constant presence of Grimm. But he was prepared, or so he thought. His sword, a family heirloom, felt heavy in his hands as he fought off the creatures that stalked him.

That night, when he stumbled into the forest, exhausted and bruised from his battles, he didn't expect the horror that awaited him.

A pack of Grimm appeared from the darkness, their predatory eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Jaune's heart pounded in his chest as he tightened his grip on his sword, but his legs refused to move. Fear gripped him like a vice, paralyzing him in place.

He had fought Grimm before, but this… this was different. The creatures were bigger, faster, and far more vicious than anything he had encountered. Jaune swung his sword wildly, desperation taking over, but it was no use. The Grimm closed in on him, teeth bared, claws ready to tear him apart.

Just as the first creature lunged at him, a streak of crimson slashed through the air. The Grimm howled as it was torn apart, falling to the ground in a heap. A figure emerged from the shadows, swift and merciless, her movements fluid as she tore through the remaining creatures with the precision of a master.

Jaune could only watch, wide-eyed, as she slaughtered the Grimm with ease. It wasn't just her speed or strength that struck him—it was the sheer ferocity in her eyes, the determination that burned within her.

When the last Grimm fell, the woman turned her gaze toward Jaune. He stood there, stunned and awestruck, unable to process what he had just witnessed.

"You're lucky I was nearby," she said, her voice low and commanding. "Get up. You're not dead yet."

Jaune's legs shook as he forced himself to stand, his sword hanging limply in his hand. "I… I don't know what to say. Thank you… for saving me."

The woman, clad in dark leather armor with a crimson cloak billowing behind her, regarded him with an unreadable expression. "I don't do things for free. You'll owe me. But you're lucky. Not many survive a Grimm attack like that."

Jaune swallowed hard, his heart still racing. "I want to be strong," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I want to be like you."

The woman tilted her head, studying him with a critical eye. "You want to be strong, huh? What makes you think you have what it takes?"

"I… I'll do whatever it takes. Train me. Teach me how to fight like you."

She studied him for a long moment, her eyes narrowed in thought. "You don't know what you're asking. Strength isn't something you can just wish for. It comes at a price."

Jaune clenched his fists. "I'm ready to pay it. I don't care what it takes. I'll prove to everyone, to my family, that I'm not weak."

The woman's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. "Very well. I'll train you. But not in the way you're used to. If you want to survive, you'll need to learn the harshest lessons. You'll need to learn what it means to truly be strong."

Jaune didn't hesitate. "I'm ready."

"Good," she said, turning away and walking into the darkness. "Then follow me. I'm Raven Branwen, and you'll learn what it means to walk a path darker than any you've ever known."

Jaune stood frozen for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. But his resolve was unwavering. This was the path he had chosen—the path to strength, to power, to proving himself. And nothing would stop him now.

With a final glance at the fading lights of the village he'd left behind, Jaune followed Raven into the night, ready to begin his new life as a disciple of the darkness.