Chapter One Hundred and Nine
Sparring with Pyrrha was always a challenge, though, as time went on, for different reasons. Originally my complete lack of skill, comparatively speaking, meant that even if I had something along the lines of fifty times as much Aura as she did, and enough raw strength to crush rocks with my bare hands, she could still kick my ass a hundred times out of a hundred, and even getting a single hit on her was an accomplishment.
One that, after our initial spar, had jumped in difficulty when she started taking me seriously.
Thankfully, Martial Talent let me close the gap of a decade worth of training very quickly, getting to the 'couple years of experience' level in weeks, though, as the difference between the two of us narrowed, my speed of skill acquisition also slowed. Additionally, my skill in Aura techniques also had jumped forward, my Soul Talent covering that gap, especially with demonstrations from Mrs. Sepper, once she'd joined Oz's staff, as the woman was my partner's equivalent to pure combat skill in using and abusing that power system we all shared, which let me leapfrog and enhance my already superhuman strength into the somewhat extreme levels.
However, while my new skill and strength enhancements took my already superior base stats and refined them, my blood was enhancing my partner's base abilities in turn, the gladiatrix reporting that she could tell the differences between where she was at the start of the school year and now, at the start of our third semester, the second term finals we would've had cancelled due the attack on Vale. However, she could do so only because she was looking for it, and because she'd learned a lot about how one's abilities could grow in her pursuit of making herself into the best fighter she could, an education that even Weiss lacked.
I would gain in base strength myself, but slowly, likely over the space of decades, if not centuries, but despite how long it felt like it'd been since I arrived, in the lifespan of a Dragon, it was the mere blink of a scaled eye.
Ultimately, though, it meant that while I'd narrowed the gap between us, Pyrrha's ability to incorporate her growing capabilities into her fighting, which I also shamelessly copied, meant that while the fights between us were no longer completely one-sided, I was very much on the losing end of that proposition despite my gains. Part of me wanted to rankle at that, but, given how that voice strengthened the longer I spent as in my full form, it was obviously just my Dragon Instincts, and, thus, even when transformed into my most powerful incarnation, were easy to ignore.
Besides, Pyrrha was Mine. How could her getting stronger be anything but a positive?
Deflecting her weapon with my shield, I faked a return rising blow, which she moved to take on Akoúo̱, her shield, only for me to shift my stance and mule-kick the metal disk, sending her flying backwards, and, manifesting my wings for a moment, followed after her, but in our spars she'd stopped pretending she didn't have a Semblance, and, as her shield glowed darkly, she let it drag her to the side, around my swing, shifting her blade into its spear configuration and, with a shot, sent it flying forward, scoring a hit on my shoulder, my Aura taking the damage for me, but, well, it was still clear who the better fighter was.
That said, turning, and unleashing a torrent of prismatic Flame, while we'd checked, and the Flames wouldn't harm her unless they were elementally aligned, they still worked as a smokescreen as I guessed which way she'd dodge when she saw me, and leapt through the Flames, slashing out.
But she was already dodging.
However, I'd learned not to just take the risk of an all-out attack, and while, waiting for me, Pyrrha struck out as soon as I'd breached my veil of Flame, I in turn was able to catch the point of her spear on my shield, my longsword flashing out to score a hit on her gloved hand, though it was deflected at the last moment as she spun her weapon, using her Semblance to pull herself back and forcing me to follow, narrowing the attack portfolio available to me.
So I didn't.
Extending a finger to press against the Ice Dust crystal I'd attached to the inside of the shield, I channeled Freeze into my Flame as I blew out a frost-aligned fireball, twisting twice quickly on my blade's crossguard to shift it into its rifle formation, bringing the weapon up as I charged forward, increasing the size of the airborne Flame using from my internal reserves while firing my assault rifle through it at Pyrrha.
She, of course, was able to use that tiny bit of precog that Aura gave us to deflect the shots, as I heard her do so, unable to see her as the blue and white fireball grew so large it screened us from each other, the bits of metal from Bahamut flying too fast for her to grab with her Semblance, and, focusing as I Shifted my weapon back to a sword as I followed my Flame, I concentrated, the arctic comet distorting into a flying crescent of Fire, showing that Pyrrha had edged to one side, as I thought she might, her own weapon transformed into a rifle, the not-m1-garand barking, the feeling in my Aura only giving me a fraction of a second to dodge, jerking my head to my side as the bullet, which would've hit my eye, parted my hair.
Slamming my shield into my Fire, I deflected it, in a way, back towards, Pyrrha, who moved to leap into the blaze, but, with my hand in my Flames, I grabbed them, yanking them up over my head as she used her Semblanced shield to shift herself mid-air, making it nearly impossible to guess her landing point, until, spotting her spear glowing black, I realized what she was about to do, and fully covered myself with my Fire, exploding it outwards into an obscuring arctic inferno, and, knowing my wings would be heard, instead, with dancing steps, I jinked to the side, as-
Booom!
Miló, now effectively a railgun projectile, slammed down to where she thought I'd dodge, and only then did I let go of my Flames, the blue-white conflagration flash-freezing as I didn't try to control it directly, only guiding its formation into a forest of arm-sized icicles that expanded in every direction, which, looking through them, Pyrrha had managed to contort herself into somehow dodging, one foot bracing on a frozen spike, her shield another, while her other leg wrapped around a third, bracing herself as I leapt for her, and she, arm outstretched, called for her weapon.
Grinning, I twisted about, closing on her, as her spear was recalled, point first, at speed, but taking the hit on my shield both deflected it, and sped me up, my partner trying to bring her shield to bear between us, but there was an icicle in the way, catching the edge, which her shield did break apart, but it slowed her, just for a fraction of a second.
And I slashed.
Throwing herself backwards, she tried to lash out with an armored kick, but letting myself bounce off another icicle changed my attack vector just enough that my blade skimmed by the protected part of the rising metal-clad limb, slamming into her unarmored thigh, the force of the blow blasting her back, into the spiked forest that lay behind her, shattering them with her body, her unarmored shoulders breaking blows that woud've pierced an un-Aura'd combatant, the woman coming to a stop surrounded by them, and, seeing I wasn't following her, she slowly stood, smiling.
"Good one, Jaune!" she congratulated, her aura having dropped a good eight-percent with that exchange. "But you shouldn't let down your guard."
"Wha-
Booom!
I tried to turn, but Miló came rocketing in, striking me in the small of the back, just under my breastplate, sending me flying forward, getting my shield up in time to not run into my own spikes, but that was all I could do, as I hit the rock-hard ice right next to Pyrrha, and laid there for a moment, groaning.
Aaaand, I'd lost my sword again.
Cycling the shield closed, my partner handed me my sword, and, glancing at the scoreboard up on one side of the training hall, yeah, it was about time for dinner. Popping open the sheathe-slot of my shield, I put my weapon away fully, commenting, "With how slowly you were moving, I thought the spar was over."
"Did I say it was?" the redhead questioned teasingly. At my negatory headshake, she smiled, and explained, "Moving like that is a habit I developed in competitions. Making oneself seem weaker than one is can work quite well, and, had you attacked, Jaune, I would not have been caught off guard."
"So, until we say the fight's over, it's not?" I checked.
"Yes," she nodded, "thou-"
I lunged forward, and she didn't hesitate, going for a shield-bash, which I deflected with my sheathed blade, grappling with her, as she tried to lash out with an armored kick, but I blocked it with my own leg, and, getting close, I was able to grab her by the back of the neck, claws against her throat, just over her neck-armor, though, in turn, her weapon, which I hadn't seen her retrieve, was at my own neck.
At her raised eyebrow, I leaned forward, physically pushing her weapon away with enough resistance that it drained a bit of my Aura, and kissed her.
Which, after a moment of pure exasperation, she returned, a good fight getting us both going, and the fact that I'd managed to set up a solid blow on her never ceased to perk her interest.
After a good bit, I… wasn't exactly worried about the time, so I moved down, kissing along her chin, flicking open her throat guard and laying a trail of sucking kisses down her very sensitive neck, hard enough that only Aura would prevent evidence of my passage from showing, as she replied, "Jaune, we, ooh, Jaune, we really need to get to dinner!"
"I've already got something I'd like to eat," I smirked, starting to move down her chest, already working to unlace her armor.
"Jaune, later, I promise," my lover stated, reaching down under my arms and pulling me back up, which she realistically didn't have the strength to do, but I moved with her anyways. "If we skip meals, people will notice."
"…And?" I questioned, having gone along with the entire 'keep our relationship secret because of the backlash' thing a secret, but, as time had gone on, and especially as I'd more and more become The Wizard's Apprentice, I found it harder to give a shit. "Blake and Yang already know."
Hesitating, my lover asked, "For me, please?"
While normally, keeping it 'on the DL' or whatever the phrase was, would be a giant red flag… Pyrrha was Mine, and thus… "Sure," I agree, a little regretfully, stepping away and picking up the gorget I'd taken off her, handing it to the woman to don. Our showing up in armor wouldn't be a big deal, as not only was the dinner dress code loosened, given we all were expected to do our own thing after our morning classes, with what had happened, more and more students weren't bothering with their uniforms at all.
Tensions had risen across campus, as, even for normal students, the fact that things were… not good had spread through the general populace, at least amongst the students at Beacon. Port had given us a lesson on 'Ancient Alphas', which was the company line for Behemoths, and Atlas had released footage of them taking out a few of the previous Behemoths with their warships to send a message of 'Yes, this is a thing. Yes, we've handled them before. No, you don't need to worry.'
And while that might work for the greater population, Huntsman and Huntress students had spent the past half-decade in combat schools learning about Grimm and how to fight them, along with all of the preliminary skills that were now getting refined in the Battle Academies of Beacon, Shade, Haven, and the creatively named Atlas Academy. That meant they knew that, despite what the common man might think, they knew that these things were not a commonly known quantity for people in the field.
Meeting with Oz for our normal training, there'd been some talk internationally of recalling the foreign teams and calling off the Vytal Festival altogether, and, were the threat anything else, they might've, but, as I was learning, when it came to the Grimm, PR was a weapon just as needed as bullets or blades in winning the battle, because while the defenders could handle somewhat elevated levels of Grimm, there was a limit, and, worse, protracted negative saturation wouldn't just pull in whatever what was local, it'd cause 'spawn' rates to skyrocket.
Which, if they were newly formed Grimm, with their blood red teeth and all black bodies, that'd be fine, the monsters breaking themselves upon even smaller settlement's defenses without issue. However, there was far more than just the weakest under the earth, and the longer things continued, the stronger the Grimm that would emerge. Ultimately, that was what had led to the end of the Great War, as, while under pressure, the people of Vale and Vacuo remained resolute, and determined, while the way that Atlas, and especially Mistral, oppressed their people, when the boot on the common man's neck lessened as war continued to rage, when the masses were left to their own devices, and, only partially controlled, they began to Hate.
Talking with the Wizard, who had millennia of ruling experience, it turned out the addition of Grimm to the equation led to the creation of… odd societal structures and governmental strategies meant to deal with them. A fairly well-developed propaganda system, as well as omnipresent pressure to buy into the propaganda, were both required, but in turn made for a kind of pressure cooker situation, where the populace was incentivized to stick their head in the sand and go 'this is fine' even when societal fires sprung up.
Such tendencies weren't just useful, they were almost necessary to survive on Remnant.
That was because dealing with problems would only cause more problems, as standing up to solve them would, on the surface, create more strife, and if it devolved into bloody revolution… While back home, a nation could survive such an occurrence, here, the death and devastation that such a thing would cause would only beget more as the Grimm Tides hit, and there was a good chance that the victors would be washed away in a tide of black, red, and bone white.
However, such things worked in cycles, with Oz amusedly commenting that, once again, he was 'suffering from his successes', having secured things so well that the pain and suffering that used to be commonplace were, for the most part, a distant memory that only the oldest generation remembered, their warnings dismissed as the out-of-touch ramblings of a world long gone, the new generation's actions causing the discontent that would make those worries all too prescient. There were ways to lengthen that glide, Oz, as King of Vale, managing to make the cycle last a one-hundred and fifty-two years at one point, before things started to take a turn for the worse once more.
Furthermore, his 'high score' had been achieved with a series of leaders, each one a reincarnation of the Wizard, who had all possessed unrealistic levels of experience and who had made it very clear the dangers that lay outside one's walls, which, itself was a constant source of strife and worry, increasing Grimm problems in a tangible short-term manner, while invisibly curtailing them in the long term. However, proving what one stopped from happening was difficult for anything beyond the most pressing surface-level issues at the best of times, and, as the generations rolled on, the cause of the downfall of previous kingdoms was ignored, as Oz's warnings, despite documented evidence, despite his accomplishments, despite being the King, were dismissed. His people had, at the end of that cycle, as they had before, started to ignore him, mouthing words of obedience, hiding their perfidy, but traitorously working against him, and his kingdom, and themselves, all the same, so sure of their own intellectual superiority, and the value of their limited experience, especially if they were physically older than Oz's current incarnation, that the fall would come once more, the traitorous both mis-estimated the danger and their own strength, and the Wizard would need to be there to make sure the best among them survived, to start anew.
Well, Ozpin was a lot nicer in how he phrased it, but, reading between the lines, the weary annoyance was absolutely there. Thus, currently, we were at the point where the Great War was a distant memory, those born at its conclusion now in their eighties, and the structures that were put in place at its end, like Huntsmen, taken for granted while simultaneously beginning to be questioned once more, not as a new institution, but because what had come before was now being romanticized by the elites, who had forgotten how the old system had truly functioned, warts and all.
So, once more, this time of peace, a peace the likes of which the world of Remnant had never before experienced, was coming to an end, and, perhaps, the onslaught of Behemoths was due, in part, because of how well things had gone, the turning tide of worldwide prosperity bringing a new type of Tide with it.
Though, while Oz was working to counter it, the man wasn't that concerned, admitting that with my progress, and strength, I'd survive whatever came unless I did something truly stupid, and that even if the four great nations fell, millions upon millions died, and only ten percent of all who lived in this world survived, they'd merely rebuild, and, when we hit this level of prosperity again, we'd prepare for the coming Behemoth Tide better.
I'd… not taken that statement super well, just staring at how… sociopathic that sounded, but, mistaking my silence for misunderstanding, he'd reassured me that this was a cycle he'd gone through many a time, learning each time, progressing faster each time, and that it wouldn't be another millennium before we hit this level again, only a century or three, if he had to guess.
As odd as it sounded, he was approaching it a bit like one would a rogue-like game, getting further each time, the state of the world about two hundred years before the Great War his 'previous best'. Back then the dozens upon dozens of independent kingdoms that had made up Remnant had all gone to war each other, each one thinking they could manage the Grimm Backlash their actions created, except for the kingdom of Summerdale, which Oz, then Ozrian, ruled.
And, if one, two, or even three had done so, and done so decisively, they might have.
But while a handful of the wars were handled quickly, many were not, allowing allies to come to the aid of the attacked, and sometimes the attackers, large interlocking alliances, meant to maintain peace, creating power blocks of never-before-seen size, though, in many cases, some of these alliances were contradictory, given who was involved, which in several countries led to civil wars and coups, turning the entire thing into one giant mess.
And then the Tide had come for them all.
One that had included Behemoths.
Though not in the way that they were currently acting, now serving almost as Demon Generals, each one carving out large swaths of territory, those Behemoths only a concentration of death and destruction, and each one of that previous 'Great Tide's number was now long dead.
However, at the time, they had raged, and even Summerdale was not spared, having to fend off several neighbors who had teamed up to invade its verdant hills, not understanding that Ozrian's people were prosperous because of the way they lived, not some sort of 'magic dirt' the others could then acquire, the Summerdalians' king falling in a holding action against the Grimm Tide that had already swallowed their attackers, allowing his people to escape to prepared shelters.
Which is where one Ozlan, not yet a man, took refuge, and the Wizard once more led his people out of danger, though he'd, unfortunately, not kept track of recent developments in industry in his last life, the pace of which had surged forward with surprising speed. No, the shelters were basic refuges of a more medieval design, and, in the generations it took to stake out the Kingdom of Vale, to conquer 'those remnants of Remnant', that knowledge had been lost before they could gather the resources to utilize them, the survivors missing key pieces that the systems of industry needed to function.
And so the world had started anew, as it had several times before, with Oz making the determination that, while cooperation was all well and good, cooperation between a small handful of polities was far more likely than the grand patchwork of humanity that he had previously attempted to cultivate at a distance.
Checking with Oobleck, the 'Great Catastrophe' was known historical fact, though historians argued about its cause, severity, and most believing it to be overstated, the death toll given and the 'utopia' that was ended by it more of a foundational myth that many kingdoms that came after used to justify their existence, most of those who used such a method of justification of their acts in their founding long since passed.
Amongst the established thinkers, it was common consensus that the claims of 'ancient technology' to be overblown, though Oobleck was not one of those who agreed with the 'widely known truth', and, with my discovery under Vale, pertinent details were now being shared between trusted academics at the Academies, as more and more were considering those claims might have had more merit than originally believed.
Though the scope of them, given I now knew the ruined I found predated Oz, was… vastly understated.
So, all in all, things were developing in the world, in a way that, while their intensity was new, were apparently following very old patterns.
"Weiss came to talk to me," Pyrrha mused, as we headed to the main messhall, breaking the companionable silence between us.
"About what?" I questioned, passing by Professor Peach, who was kneeling down next to a several flowers with her clipboard, scribbling something down, and, glancing over to them, the daisies almost seemed to be… glowing?
Don't we have a greenhouse for botanical studies? I wondered, but, then again, if you wanted to run experiments, there was only so much data you could get from an enclosed system like that.
"About you," my partner noted, recapturing my attention. "Apparently your talk with her made quite the impression."
Taking a moment to remember what she was referring to, I sighed, "Right, that. I think that was the first time that Weiss actually failed, at least in own her eyes, and for something she thought was important," I guessed. "Mind you, victory here was 'nearly single-handledly kill a million Nevermores', but from what I can tell her training was… bloodless."
"Most of theirs was," Pyrrha argued, and, as I turned an inquisitive eye her way, the woman facing forward, considering her words carefully. "Jaune, what we saw when we returned was… not normal. Blake has probably seen something like that, because of her old… group, and Ren and Nora likely have, because of their history, but…" She trailed off, peering into memory, and, not sure what else to do, I put a comforting hand on her bare shoulder. Shooting a small, appreciative smile my way, she continued, "I've seen similar, in a few situations that went… bad."
"Like that private tournament that went tits up?" I suggested.
"Yes, though we fled before the worst started," she agreed with an odd smile, "but to have that happen, and have that happen to one of the Four Great Cities, it was throwing her into the deep end." Sending a smirk my way, she added, "though apparently she had a handsome lifeguard there to dive in and save her."
Rolling my eyes, I questioned, "So she went to you to make sure I wasn't full of shit?"
"Among other things, yes," the gladiatrix affirmed. "Though, given your public history, I cannot blame her for doing so."
I blinked, "Oh, right, I'm supposed to be a know-nothing normal farmboy. Uh, whups?"
That got a tinkling laugh from my lover, who told me, "Jaune, I do not believe you could be a normal anything. Even a normal Dragon."
"That's fair," I shrugged. "So, you had a good talk?"
"It was a… promising start," Pyrrha declared, as we entered the mess-hall, only to find it tense, a confrontation already going on.
Battle lines were clearly starting to be drawn, the main parties being team WHKY from Vacuo, and an upperclassman team that, from the make of their gear, and team ABRN positioning themselves behind the speakers, was Mistralian. Sun's and Artorias' teams, meanwhile, were positioning themselves far away from the conflict, to not even give the appearance of being involved.
Walking over to Blake, Yang, and team RRWN, who were watching, not having gotten their food yet, I quietly asked, "What's goin' on?"
"Not sure," Blake whispered back, watching. "Human in the sleeveless orange tang suit walked up to the Faunus in the cowboy hat and started being rude. It's just been insults so far."
"Why aren't the teachers doing something?" Weiss complained.
Glancing around, I asked, "What teachers?" causing the girl's head to whip about. "Staff's kinda busy managing the fallout of, well, everything. Maybe-"
"Fine!" the lead Mistralian sneered. "Since you refuse to admit to it, I shall dispense with the politeness you do not deserve!"
Leaning back in her seat, a cowgirl, who also appeared to be a cow Faunus, languidly watched him, arms out to rest against the table behind her, but her hands were an inch away from the dual pistols on her hips.
"If that be what you lot call politeness, maybe it'd be best if you just be on your way," she drawled, the other members of her team, a dark-haired willowy girl, a tanned lanky man, and a dark-skinned, muscular, short-horned Faunus all looking ready to throw down, but were holding themselves back.
"Not until you've returned what you have stolen!" the Mistralian demanded.
With a slow blink, the girl replied, "Yeah, sorry, desserts are first come, first serve, and ya need to be quicker on the draw, but I'm sure they might bust out some more, if ya ask all nice like." She paused for effect, adding, "Ya know, not like this."
"It's not pastries that I care about!" the complainer sneered. "The food here is slop compared to what even the lowest of my family would dine upon, though I suppose an animal like you would be possessive of scraps!"
While the horned man beside her frowned, the blonde woman just lifted an eyebrow, conveying 'Get on with it' pretty well.
"You will return my Scroll, or suffer the consequences of your crime!" the Mistralian stated, folding his arms.
That seemed to actually confuse the Vacuoan, whose eyes darted back and forth, before she finally asked, "Why in tarnation would I have your Scroll?"
With a sneer, the man replied, "To sell, obviously! Everyone knows the way you people are!"
Blake stiffened beside me, offended, but holding her tongue.
"And what do you mean 'you people'?" the horned woman questioned.
"Vacuoans of course," the man replied. "Your breeding is clearly inferior, given you do not come from the Great Clans, though you should be grateful I am willing to overlook that. nevertheless you people are known for taking that which does not belong to you! Though I suppose you are still better than those from Menagerie."
With a snort, the Faunus agreed, "True that. There's somethin' wrong with those people."
Blake reeled back, as if struck, hissing, "What!?"
Continuing, the cowgirl remarked, "But maybe ya should take better care of your stuff, seein' as yer apparently loosin' yer kit."
"I didn't lose it, it was stolen!" the man glared, an orange flash passing over his bare arms, in a way that made everyone tense, and the blonde woman's fingers twitch a little. "You were seen outside of my quarters, and you will return what you were stolen, or I will have my satisfaction!"
"Ya don't look like the type that'd know satisfaction if it came up and kicked ya 'tween yer nethers," the woman observed seemingly uncaringly, but there was an edge in her tone, and, looking around, seeing things spiral, I shook my head and walked forward, ignoring Weiss's whispered, "Jaune? What are you doing!?"
"How dare you talk to me that way!" the Mistralian growled, the orange flash back, forming ghostly scales over his arms, as he started to take a fighting stance. "I shall-"
My hand landed on his shoulder, hard, surprising him, and I noticed that only then did the woman look at me directly, as I, smiling, informed him, "Not start a fight in the middle of dinner, like a bloody barbarian?"
Turning, he swung his glowing arm into mine, but, digging my claws into his shoulder, enough to start to drain his Aura, I took the hit, which did something odd, shaving off as much of my Aura as a sword strike, but I didn't budge, the man only then declaring, "Unhand me!"
With a flex of Aura I pushed, forcing him down on one knee, informing him, "Stand Down, and I will."
His teammates finally decided to do something, which was, of course, to draw their weapons, which was… cute. "Release him!" one of the others declared, her naginata pointed towards me, though, as I Regarded her, she paled, and its tip started to sway.
Turning back to the leader, I growled, "Will you Stand Down, or shall I give you the Satisfaction you requested?"
Whatever he was about to say was lost as Pyrrha joined me, spear out as she leaned casually against it, asking, tone friendly on the surface, but conveying cold disappointment underneath. "Mr. Dilong, it has been a while. I wonder, what would your father say if he heard your teammates threatened Headmaster Ozpin's apprentice?"
That got the man to stop struggling, but he then just echoed his teammate, declaring, "Release me!"
I opened my mouth to reply, but Pyrrha's quiet, "Jaune," got me to look at her, and she nodded, so I shrugged, and let go, allowing him to rise, as he glanced at my arm he'd hit, frowning. With a look from my partner that said, 'go ahead,' I turned my back on the Mistralians, and asked the Vacuoan woman, "Did you take his Scroll?"
"Do I look like the sort of person who would?" she questioned in return.
"You look like the type of person who'd dodge a simple question," I shot back, without missing a beat, which got a snort of amusement out of her.
"Nah, I didn't, and neither did anyone on my team," the cowgirl replied easily.
Nodding to her, I turned to the Mistralian, who was working his shoulder, and who, glaring at her, demanded, "Then why were you outside of my quarters!?"
"You mean the 'visiting student quarters', where she also lives?" I questioned, somewhat rhetorically. "Gee, I wonder why she'd be walking down a hall in the building she's living in. Did you, or whoever told you, see her inside your team's room?"
"The door was unlocked!" he stated, as if that was unimpeachable evidence.
Meanwhile, I just frowned, "So either she's such a bad thief she didn't think to lock up afterwards, tipping you off, or someone on your team left while forgetting to lock up behind themselves, which means your suspect pool is, until people start supplying alibis, anyone from every visiting team to possibly every single student at Beacon."
"It was her, I am sure of it!" the man sneered.
"Cool. In that case, let's go bug the staff, and we'll search your room," I offered, jerking a thumb towards Oz's tower. "If they find your scroll, you will apologize to her, and if they don't, only then will they search her room, and if they don't find it, you will also apologize to her."
"I refuse!" the Mistralian man sneered. "I am the one who has been robbed, and you seek to invade the privacy of my room?"
Opening my mouth to respond, a smooth voice intoned, "Yet you would do the same for a fellow competitor?"
Glancing over, I saw the Mistralian guy I talked to at the Mixer entered the fray, and nodded with a, "Hello, Han," that caused the blue and black clad man to hesitate, before smile and nod in return.
"You would take the word of a foreigner over your own countryman?" the more belligerent Mistralian accused of the newest entrant into this little scuffle.
"Oh, is that the ruleset we're working under?" I questioned brightly, before Han could respond, turning to the accuser. "In that case, Mr. Dilong, since you're a foreigner to Beacon, you think I'd take your word over that of another foreigner?"
Looking very offended, the orange-clad asshat demanded, "You think I'm on the same level as some Vacuoan hussy!"
"Well, if ya want to play nation-games, who did Vale side with in the Great War?" I questioned, the dickbag paling, not having thought that far, as bullies tended not to, even as Han sent me an inquisitive glance, and Pyrrha looked slightly pained. "I mean, I'd rather take people as they are, but if that's the rules we're working under, you still lose. So, either let's get someone from Staff to make sure you haven't just misplaced the damn thing before we start searching other teams' rooms, which, if you're that certain, will clearly exonerate you, and condemn her, or you can just get your friend to call the damn thing and try and track it down. Actually," I said, turning to the woman who was still holding her naginata out, and who froze as I turned my attention back on her. "You. Call his number. If everyone else can be quiet for a moment?"
Catching a bit of green hair quietly retreating, I waited, the call placed, and, yeah, almost immediately there was the sound of a ringtone, on the other side of the cafeteria, where Emerald had just left.
Pointing towards one of the umber-jacketed dickbag's teammates, I jerked a thumb towards the sound, and the sour-looking woman walked over, those watching parting before her, with amused looks. Getting to the source of the sound, the woman hesitated, then got down on her hands and knees to reach underneath it, retrieving the Scroll, and, standing, hit the 'end call' button, whereupon naginata-woman's ringing also quieted.
Looking at the Mistralian whose Scroll had been recovered, he just stood there, caught completely flat-footed, the circular loop of 'I was wrong, but I can't be wrong, but I was wrong, but I can't be wrong' nearly visible as it flashed behind his eyes.
"So, apologize," I commanded, looking to the suddenly unsure team leader, while Han looked at the man like the other Mistralian team lead was a bug he'd scraped off of the bottom of his shoe.
Puffing himself up, the false-accuser declared, "I, I will do no such thi-"
"I Wasn't Asking," I growled, prismatic embers flitting through the hole in my mask, my wings and tail manifesting.
Turning pale, the man jerkily turned to the cow Faunus, and stated haltingly, "I a-apologize. I was wrong. Good day."
And then he turned, fleeing, to the laughter of those gathered, his team rapidly following him out.
With a long-suffering sigh, Han turned my way. "I would also apologize for the actions of my countryman. We are here to represent our nations, while the only thing Bai represents is his own idiocy."
"It's fine," the Vacuoan offered, still seated, and smirking. "We all got bad apples ya can't throw out, for one reason or another."
The rest of my team walked over, Yang offering, "I mean, we've got Cardin. Only reason he's not spoutin' off was Light Knight over here shut him down so hard he bounced out of Beacon. Too bad he bounced back in."
Frowning slightly, Han inquired, "Councilor Winchester's heir?" Pyrrha nodded, and the man leaned back a little, expression considering. "Hmm, most interesting. Now, if you will excuse me, the 'meatlovers pizza' over there looks rather enticing."
"Seeya around," I smiled, and he walked off with the same sort of flowing steps he'd arrived with.
The Vacuoan woman stood, holding out a hand, stating, "Names Whitney, Whitney Teodorski, and these ruffians are Harper Hernandez," the slender girl nodded, "Khol Abernathy," the tanned man hmmmd in greeting, "and Ash Youngblood," the other Faunus waved, a little unsure, offering a "Hiya?" of his own. "And we're team Whiskey. No need ta introduce yourself, we've done our homework on both of ya."
"Cow Faunus?" I inquired, causing the woman to chuckle.
"Udders give it away?" she shot back.
Giving a confused glance to her flat stomach, I slowly replied, "No, that'd be the horns."
Weiss snorted, "If that was enough, Yang would be one too."
With a sour look, the brawler replied with, "Shut it, Straight-A."
"What do my grades have to do with anything?" the pale girl questioned.
Harper chuckled, the two guys on her team turning surprised looks on her, as she reddened, and glared at them until they looked away.
Their leader shook her head, telling me, "Thanks for steppin' in. Was sure he was gonna try somethin' stupid." Glancing around as the other Huntsmen and Huntress students had gone back to whatever they were doing, she added, "Surprised ya did, though."
"Why?" I asked. "Isn't this whole thing about getting to know the teams from other kingdoms?"
"It's 'bout beatin' the tar out of 'em on the CCT," Whitney argued.
"No reason it can't be both," I shrugged. "You mind if we sit with you?"
For a moment, it looked like she'd say no, before, with an explosive exhale, her shoulders dropped, and the Vacuoan team lead said, "Yeah, sure, go get some grub and pop a squat. No reason we can't be all friendly-like, 'least for now."
Ruby smiled, "Oh, don't worry, we'll be friendly when we fight you in the Vytal Festival too! There's no need to be rude!"
