They were in a dimly lit room, a table casting a blue glow over the tired faces of those gathered. The walls of the chamber were covered in hastily pinned maps, battle reports, and scouting updates. It was here, in the heart of Vacuo's, that Jaune stood, facing the people he trusted most in the world.
Pyrrha sat at the edge of the table, her cloak still draped over her shoulders, covering her armor. Her expression was calm, but Jaune could see the weight behind her eyes. He knew she wanted to go home, but he also knew she wouldn't ask them to risk everything for her.
That was why he had to do it for her.
Jaune took a deep breath before speaking.
"I have a plan."
The room fell silent.
Weiss folded her arms. "A plan for what, exactly?"
"To send Pyrrha back home," Jaune said, his tone resolute.
The reactions varied. Ruby blinked in surprise, Yang raised an eyebrow, Ren and Nora exchanged glances, and Blake leaned forward slightly, intrigued. Pyrrha, however, kept her expression unreadable.
"We know it's possible," Jaune continued. "The portal that took us back home. We can replicate it."
Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose. "Jaune… you do realize what you're suggesting, right?"
Jaune nodded. "Yeah. We need the Staff of Creation for that."
The room went dead silent.
Then, Yang let out a low whistle. "Okay, Jaune, you wanna run that by me again? The Staff of Creation? The one Salem stole from Atlas? The one probably locked away in some creepy-ass Grimm lair right now?"
Jaune exhaled. "Yes."
"You do know who has it, right?" Blake asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Salem," Ruby whispered.
Jaune nodded. "Yeah. And we're going to take it."
The room exploded into protests.
"Jaune, do you have any idea what you're saying?!" Weiss shouted. "That's suicide!"
"Yeah, even for you, that's crazy," Yang added. "And we've seen you go loco."
Ren remained silent, his arms crossed. Nora, however, placed her hands on her hips, looking at Jaune expectantly. "So, what's the plan?"
Everyone turned to stare at her.
Nora shrugged. "What? He's Jaune. If he's saying we're doing something this stupid, then he's probably already thought it through, right?"
Jaune sighed. "I… haven't figured everything out yet."
The group groaned.
"Oh, great," Yang muttered. "So we're just supposed to wing it?"
"We always wing it so far," Ruby said. "To be fair."
"Yeah, and it usually ends with us getting our asses kicked," Yang shot back. "I mean look at where we are now."
"Look," Jaune said, cutting through the argument. "I know this sounds impossible. I know we have no idea how we're supposed to pull this off. But I also know that Pyrrha doesn't belong here. We can't just sit here and do nothing."
He turned to Pyrrha. "You want to go home, right?"
Pyrrha hesitated. "I… do. But not at the cost of—"
"This isn't just for you," Jaune interrupted. "Salem having the Staff of Creation is a problem. We need to take it back, eventually. So why not now? Why not try to do something instead of waiting for everything to get worse?"
Weiss sighed. "Jaune, do you even know where Salem is?"
Jaune hesitated.
"Exactly," Weiss said, crossing her arms. "We can't plan a heist if we don't even know where the prize is."
Blake nodded. "And even if we do find her, we'd have to get inside wherever she's keeping the Staff, survive long enough to take it, and somehow escape with our lives."
Jaune clenched his fists. "I get it. I do. But we've faced impossible odds before. We just have to try."
Ren, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke. "And if we fail?"
Jaune looked him in the eye. "Then we fail trying to do the right thing."
A long silence stretched across the room.
Then, surprisingly, Pyrrha spoke.
"I don't want you to do this just for me," she said softly. "I do want to go home, but if this puts all of you in danger—"
"We're always in danger, Pyrrha," Ruby said, shaking her head. "That's kind of our thing."
Jaune turned to Weiss. "We don't have to rush this. But we do need to start somewhere."
Weiss sighed, rubbing her temples. "Fine. But we need information. We can't just march into Salem's domain blind."
Jaune nodded. "Agreed. That means we need scouts. Intel. Anything that can give us an edge."
Blake looked thoughtful. "There is one person who might know something."
Jaune raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
Blake exhaled. "Emerald."
Everyone went still.
"No," Weiss said flatly. "Absolutely not."
"She used to work for Salem," Blake argued. "She might know something. And she also tried to kill us more times than I can count."
"She's not working with Salem anymore," Ruby pointed out. "If anything, she'd love an excuse to take something from her."
"Blake, that's a terrible idea," Yang muttered.
"Do you have a better one?"
Yang gritted her teeth but didn't answer.
Jaune sighed. "Look, I don't like it either, but if there's even a chance she has information, then we have to try."
Weiss groaned. "Fine. But I'm not happy about this."
Emerald, who had been lingering near the doorway, stiffened at the mention of her name. She had been eavesdropping, though poorly, and now found herself the center of attention.
"What?" she said, glancing around warily.
"We need information," Jaune said, stepping toward her. "You used to work for Salem. Do you know where the Staff of Creation is being kept?"
Emerald's green eyes darted between them, hesitation written all over her face. "I… I don't know."
Weiss scoffed. "Of course, you don't."
Emerald shot her a glare but didn't take the bait. Instead, she turned back to Jaune. "Look, I was never exactly high on the food chain when I was with Cinder. Salem didn't tell me things."
"She didn't need to tell you directly," Blake interjected. "You were around her, around Tyrian, Hazel, Cinder. Did they say anything?"
Emerald hesitated again, biting her lip. She looked down, clenching her fists.
"I… I think it's still with her," she admitted finally. "Salem wouldn't just let something like that out of her hands, right?"
The weight of her words settled on them. It wasn't unexpected, but hearing it confirmed still felt like a blow.
Jaune exhaled. Not like he wasn't expecting anything.
"That makes this impossible," Weiss corrected sharply.
Before anyone could say anything else, another voice joined the conversation.
"It's not impossible," Oscar said as he stepped into the room, his expression serious.
Everyone turned to him, surprised.
"Oscar," Ruby said, stepping toward him. "You heard all that?"
He nodded. "I did. And I agree with Emerald. Salem wouldn't let the Staff out of her sight. If it's anywhere, it's probably with her."
Jaune felt his stomach drop. "And you're sure about that?"
Oscar sighed. "I can't be one hundred percent sure, but…" He touched his temple briefly, a habit he had developed when thinking about Ozpin's knowledge. "Ozpin and Salem fought over those Relics for centuries. The Staff of Creation is a powerful artifact, one she would never willingly part with now that she got it.."
Yang ran a hand through her hair. "So, great. The one thing we need is being held by the one person who really doesn't want us to have it."
Ren, quiet until now, crossed his arms. "That means we need to find Salem herself."
Everyone fell silent again.
It wasn't just about finding the Staff anymore. It was about tracking down the most dangerous being in Remnant.
Jaune exhaled. "Still… we need to figure out where she is."
Blake nodded. "And then… we'll figure out a way to take it."
Weiss rubbed her temples. "If we even get that far."
Oscar looked up at them all, his expression unreadable. "Salem won't give it up without a fight. You all know that, right?"
Jaune clenched his fists.
"Yeah," he said. "We know."
The tension in the room had been suffocating. The conversation about the Staff of Creation, the plan to send Pyrrha home — it all felt like trying to build a bridge over a crumbling abyss.
Professor Theodore entered the room, it seems he was listening.
"You've all been thinking very stupidly," he said, exhaling as he leaned back in his chair. "I understand why, but damn, kids, you need to look farther than your noses."
Everyone turned toward him, confused.
"What are you talking about?" Jaune asked, still standing near the table.
Theodore took a deep breath, as if about to say something important. But then… everything changed.
The air grew heavy.
A strange static filled the space between them, a whispering pressure that was neither wind nor sound but something other.
And then…
The sky itself shattered.
Like a veil being pulled aside, something loomed in the sky, vast and all-consuming. The shape of a woman, her presence alone, suffocating.
Salem.
She stood against the storm, against the darkness, appearing like a specter from beyond time. Like a goddess of death, peering down at the world beneath her.
Her form was massive, draped in flowing shadows, her skin a ghostly pallor. Her sclerae were jet black, her irises burning a terrible crimson.
She was a vision, something that should not exist, something beyond what mortals could comprehend.
And then she spoke.
Her voice was silk and razors, the motherly coo of something that loved its children right before devouring them whole.
"People of Vacuo…"
The words vibrated in their bones. The streets below fell silent.
"I have watched you struggle. I have watched you fight. It is… admirable. But it is futile. You cannot win this war. You have defied the inevitable. And for that, I am… disappointed."
Salem lifted her arm, and from the darkness of her sleeve, she raised something high into the heavens.
The Staff of Creation.
An artifact of limitless potential. A tool that could create anything it desired.
And in her hands, it was doom given form.
"You fight, you flee, you cower in the shadows. But I am merciful."
Salem smiled. A wicked, motherly expression, full of gentle cruelty.
"I will not make you suffer needlessly…but if you refuse."
She raised the Staff higher, and the stars above flickered.
"I shall send the stars themselves to shatter your walls and home."
A terrifying hum filled the sky, an unnatural resonance as the clouds above twisted, as if the heavens themselves were being rewritten.
"I will send my children to you, in numbers beyond counting. A tidal wave of Grimm. A storm of death. They will drown your last defenses, choke your city, burn your lands."
She lifted her free hand, and in the distance, something began to move.
The horizon… was shifting.
Something vast.
Something endless.
The Grimm.
Millions of them. A tidal wave of darkness, stretching beyond the limits of the eye. A black sea, writhing with unspeakable horrors.
It was not an army.
It was annihilation incarnate.
And then, softly, almost tenderly, Salem whispered.
"Give up. Hand over the last artifact. Accept my mercy. It's time to sleep, children."
A cold, sickening silence fell over Vacuo.
Every soldier, every Huntsman, every civilian who had clung to some scrap of hope, saw the truth of it.
This was not war.
This was obliteration.
Jaune felt his heart hammer against his chest. His fingers curled into a fist, his nails digging into his palms.
This… was the Salem that had plagued Ozma's nightmares for millennia.
And she had just shattered every last ounce of morale in the city.