Author's Note:
Hey everyone! I've got some amazing news to share! My 12th-grade results are out, and guess what? I got an A Plus! Hahaha, I'm over the moon right now! My overall score is 86%—definitely not the highest, but honestly, it's a huge achievement for me.
Now, it's time to buckle down and get ready for Medical College/University! Wish me luck on the next step of this journey.
Alright, without any further ado, let's dive into the new chapter!
She gripped the earth in her hand, her fingers digging into the very core of the planet. Every heartbeat, every tremor of life, echoed through her palm. She could feel them—the mortals, the weak, the animals, the forests—every living creature trembling in fear. They knew what was coming. The trees shivered, the oceans recoiled, and even the mountains seemed to buckle under the weight of her fury. The terror of billions pulsed through the dirt and stone, a symphony of dread that only heightened her anticipation.
For centuries, this moment had eluded her. But now, after all the waiting, after all the scheming, she had the entire world at her mercy. Her lips curled into a twisted smile. This was the end. Finally.
She savored the thought, the rush of power that surged through her. The satisfaction that would come from crushing the earth in her grasp was almost too sweet to bear. She imagined the screams, the chaos, the utter destruction that would follow. There was no greater joy.
With a sneer, she clenched her fist.
And then—nothing.
Her fingers, instead of sinking into the fragile sphere, met resistance. Pain shot up her arm, sharp and immediate, unlike anything she'd felt in millennia. She gasped, her grip loosening in shock. The earth tumbled from her grasp and vanished into the void below.
She looked down at her hand, her heart thundering. There, nestled in the center of her palm, was a tiny, delicate tree.
"What…?"
It was no larger than a sapling, but it grew even as she stared at it, its roots slowly embedding themselves into her skin. Thin tendrils of wood snaked up her wrist, twisting and burrowing, spreading like an infection. She could feel them inside her, writhing beneath her flesh, crawling upward. Faster. Faster.
The pain intensified, burning through her nerves, but worse than that was the realization—the power she'd relied on for so long, the boundless magic that had made her a god, was gone. It was as if something had severed the flow, cut her off from the very source of her strength. She tried to summon her abilities, to incinerate the cursed thing, but nothing came. Nothing.
Her heart raced as the roots crept toward her shoulder, twisting, coiling, spreading up her neck. She could feel them tightening around her throat, choking the air from her lungs. For the first time in centuries, she felt a primal fear stirring deep within her.
With a savage snarl, she raised her free hand, her fingers turning into claws, and slashed at the roots with all the force she could muster. Blood sprayed into the air as she severed her own arm at the elbow, the limb dropping to the ground with a sickening thud.
She screamed, a sound that echoed through the dark void like the wail of a dying beast.
Pain. Real, excruciating pain. It seared through her, overwhelming her senses. Her vision blurred, her mind reeling from the shock of it. She hadn't felt anything like this in centuries, maybe longer.
But the horror didn't end there.
From the stump of her arm, where she had cut away the roots, something grew. Something unnatural. A thick branch burst from the wound, splitting the skin and bone as it erupted outward. Leaves sprouted along the branch, bright green and vibrant, mocking her with their vitality. It grew rapidly, too quickly to stop, wrapping itself around her torso, her neck, her legs, until she was entangled in its embrace.
She was trapped, bound by this monstrous tree that was consuming her from the inside out.
Her chest heaved, her breaths shallow and ragged, as the branches constricted around her, pressing tighter with every second. Her body trembled, her mind unable to process what was happening. This wasn't possible. Nothing could harm her. Nothing could touch her.
"What… is… happening?" she stammered, her voice barely a whisper as the branches began to crawl over her face, tightening around her jaw, creeping toward her eyes.
A voice answered from the darkness.
"Your hatred has consumed you."
The words reverberated through the void, deep and resonant, yet strangely youthful. It was a voice filled with authority, with power beyond comprehension. It sent chills down her spine.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice cracking as the tree began to cover her mouth. "Show yourself!"
From the blackness, a figure appeared.
A boy.
He floated toward her, his movements calm, deliberate. His presence radiated an impossible serenity, as though the chaos around him didn't touch him at all. His eyes gleamed like polished sapphire, cold and infinite. His hair glowed like sunlight, casting a halo around his face that only added to the surreal terror of his appearance. He wore a white cloak over red armor, and atop his head was a strange headband with a swirl-like symbol.
He was just a child… but there was something ancient about him. Something terrifying.
"What… are… you?" she gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief as the branches continued to snake their way around her, wrapping tighter, squeezing harder.
The boy stared at her, his gaze steady and unwavering. "I am the catalyst to cleanse this world," he said, his voice calm but filled with an undeniable force. "I will be there when the sick cry for a healer. When the oppressed beg for salvation. When the darkness closes in, I will be the flame that burns through it all."
His voice grew louder, more intense, as though the very universe itself was bending to his will.
"I will stop at nothing until true peace is achieved, and evil is purged from this world. That is my promise. I will branch out my Will Of Fire. That is my nindo, my hero way."
Her breath caught in her throat as the tree tightened its grip around her neck, pulling her closer to the boy, who now seemed like a god.
"Who… are…"
"I am Jaune Arc," he said, his voice echoing through the void. "The Fire Shadow."
Before she could even scream, before she could protest, the branches closed over her face, suffocating her completely.
Salem bolted upright in bed, her body drenched in cold sweat, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. Her heart pounded so loudly she could hear it in her ears. The darkness of the room felt suffocating, pressing in on her from all sides. She gasped, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she clutched at the sheets, trying to ground herself, to remember where she was.
It was just a dream. Just a nightmare.
But it had felt so real.
The door burst open with a loud crash, and Tyrian scrambled into the room, his eyes wild with concern. "My Queen! Are you hurt? What's wrong?"
But she barely registered his presence. The terror of that dream still clung to her like a second skin, its icy grip refusing to let go. She gasped for air, her mind racing with the memory of that tree… of that boy.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she looked up at Tyrian, her eyes burning with a fierce intensity.
"Find me EVERYTHING about Jaune Arc," she hissed, her voice shaking with a fear she hadn't felt in a thousand years.
Tyrian blinked, momentarily taken aback by the venom in her voice, but quickly nodded. "Yes, my Queen. Right away."
He hurried out of the room, leaving Salem alone in the darkness, the lingering horror of her dream still gnawing at her mind.
—X~X—
Jaune wasn't exactly expecting a red-carpet welcome after the "little" incident he'd caused in the past few days, but come on—was this really happening?
"Move it!" Winter Schnee barked, giving him a hard shove from behind. Now, under normal circumstances, Winter was not someone you'd want to mess with, but for some reason, her push felt more like a light tap. He barely felt it. In fact, was he... ridiculously stronger now? Maybe this was his semblance kicking in. Yeah, that must be it. Though it was really hard to take any of this seriously when he was walking around with a pair of absurdly heavy aura-suppressing cuffs on his wrists.
"What's up with all these cuffs, though?" He lifted his hands lazily, letting the massive shackles clink together. "I mean, I get it, you're scared of my devilishly good looks, but this is a bit much, don't ya think?"
Winter didn't even flinch, her eyes narrowing. "It's so that you don't do anything... funny."
With a final shove, she pushed him into a sterile white interrogation room, the kind of room that screams, "you're not leaving until we get what we want." There was a single metal table with two chairs. She motioned for him to sit, her face as dark as a thundercloud.
"I have so much to bring out of you..." she said, her tone low and threatening.
Jaune blinked. Was she... Was she hitting on him?
"Uh, no thank you," he said, holding up his cuffed hands like he was warding off some invisible monster. "You're kinda almost hot, but definitely not my type. Plus, you're like, waaay older than me. Not into the whole 'cougar' thing."
Winter's eyes widened, and her face turned a shade of red so fierce it could probably light up the entire room. "I am NOT old, you bastard!" she shrieked, before storming out of the room like a hurricane.
Jaune raised his eyebrows. "Oh, well, my parents were married when I was born. So... no worries?"
He sighed and leaned back in the chair, rolling his eyes. What was the big deal? He had surrendered, hadn't he? They'd tranquilized him at the gates—seriously, with actual tranquilizers—and he'd pretended to be affected, just to be nice. But nooo, they had to drag him in here, throw some cuffs on him, and act like he was some kind of rabid animal. The guards posted around him looked like they were one step away from straight-up fainting, their hands gripping their weapons as though they expected him to sprout wings and breathe fire at any moment.
One of the guards was so heavily armed, Jaune half-expected him to pull out a bazooka next. Was this an interrogation or were they gearing up to fight a small war?
But Jaune, smooth operator that he was, decided to keep it cool. After all, his great ancestor, Julius Arc, aka "Copy Scarecrow," had laid it all out in his secret notebook titled Make-Out Tactics. The first rule: always be smooth in all situations. He had written, "Put on a carefree demeanor, but project your aura like a prism—make others think you're harmless, an ally, someone who's no threat at all."
That's what Jaune was doing now. Playing it smooth. Too smooth, apparently.
Unbeknownst to him, instead of projecting a calm, harmless aura, he was radiating pure killing intent. The air around him practically crackled with menace. And the guards? Yeah, they were one wrong move away from soiling themselves.
Maybe some light conversation would help ease the tension. Jaune turned to the guard standing closest to him, a young guy whose face was doing a weird twitchy thing, like he was holding back a nervous breakdown.
"So, what's your deal?" Jaune asked casually, leaning back in his chair. "Got any dreams? Hopes? Aspirations? I mean, you're not gonna be a guard forever, right?"
The guard's face turned an unhealthy shade of pale, his lips trembling as he tried to maintain composure. "S-shut up!" he stammered, his voice barely holding steady. "Just... shut up!"
But Jaune wasn't about to be deterred. He nodded sagely, as if the guy had just opened up his soul. "C'mon, man. We all have dreams. You wanted to be an actor, right? I can see it. You've got that leading-man quality. Hell, you could've been the next big star, I'm sure of it."
The guard's trembling intensified. "I... I did," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes darting nervously around. "I wanted to act, but... but this..."
"There you go!" Jaune said enthusiastically. "See, that's what I'm talking about! Life's all about chasing dreams, my guy! You've gotta seize the moment, y'know? Just go for it! And don't let anyone stand in your way. Not even the shadows of your past. Crush them beneath your feet like the weaklings they are, and ascend to the glorious heights of your destiny!"
The guard let out a small, terrified squeak, his knees visibly shaking as Jaune's motivational speech somehow became an ominous declaration of destruction.
Jaune leaned in closer, eyes gleaming. "You've got the heart of a warrior, man. You just need to reach out and take what's yours. No hesitation. No regrets."
The guard looked like he was about to pass out, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "Y-yes, sir," he muttered weakly, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.
Jaune, blissfully unaware of the fear he was inducing, gave the guy a firm nod. "That's the spirit! Chase your dreams, bro. Make 'em pay attention to you!"
Satisfied with his pep talk, Jaune glanced at the giant one-way mirror across the room, a grin creeping onto his face. He could sense the people behind it—four of them, watching him like he was some kind of wild animal in a cage.
"Hey," Jaune called out casually, raising a hand in greeting. "I just wanna have a quick chat with the principal. No need for all this chaos, ya know?"
He grinned, flashing a bit of that Arc charm. "I mean, come on. It's not like I'm gonna start any trouble. I just want to make sure there's no misunderstanding, alright?"
Behind the mirror, the four figures froze.
—X~X—
Qrow let out a low whistle. "Woah, he can actually see through this? Oz, you didn't cheap out on this shitty cell, did you?"
"No, Qrow," Ozpin replied, calmly sipping his hot coffee as if they weren't discussing a potential terrorist. "He can indeed sense us." His eyes narrowed as he observed the boy on the other side of the one-way mirror. Jaune Arc was radiating so much killing intent that it was practically turning the room into a pressure cooker. The guards outside looked like they were regretting their life choices. "This boy means business."
Winter Schnee stood with her arms crossed, a scowl on her face. "Where was Goodwitch again?" she asked, her tone impatient.
"She said she had to organize the students," Ozpin said with a shrug. "Seemed like she was in a bit of a hurry. Almost like she was trying to avoid meeting Arc." He raised an eyebrow at Qrow, who was leaning against the wall, gulping whiskey straight from the flask. "Don't you want to interrogate him, Qrow?"
Qrow snorted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Nah, Ice Queen, you go first."
Winter's eyes immediately narrowed. "Do not call me that, you drunkard," she snapped, her icy demeanor cutting through the room like a blade.
"Oh, I'm sorry, General Ice Queen," Qrow mocked, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Still sucking up to Jimmy, huh? How's Atlas treating ya? Bet it's all fine and dandy with your head stuck so far up—"
"You hate Atlas and you hate Ironwood— we get it, Qrow!" Winter's voice rose, her fingers twitching dangerously close to her sidearm. "You don't have to remind us every ten minutes!"
Qrow chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying the fact that he was getting under her skin. "Oh, I hate you too, don't worry about it."
Ozpin sighed, his patience already wearing thin. "Children, please," he muttered, massaging his temples. "If you're both done throwing tantrums, I'll go talk to him myself. Clearly, this is going nowhere."
Before Winter could respond, the door swung open, and Glynda Goodwitch marched in like she owned the place. "You are not going in there, Headmaster!" she declared, her tone so sharp it could cut steel.
Ozpin raised an eyebrow at her sudden entrance, noting her unconventional attire— he could almost mistake her for somebody else. "Glynda, I can handle this. The boy isn't going to harm anyone if we approach this calmly—"
Glynda cut him off, her hands on her hips. "Calmly? CALMLY?! He practically decimated half the forest in the name of 'saving others'! We tranquilized him, cuffed him, and now he's radiating enough bloodlust to make a Grimm reconsider its life choices. And you think talking will solve this?!"
Ozpin gave her a patient smile. "There's always a solution, Glynda. And more often than not, that solution comes through talking."
Winter, looking skeptical, piped up, "I'll accompany the Headmaster. If anyone can handle him, it's—"
Before she could finish, Glynda reached into her coat pocket and, with a dramatic flourish, pulled out a... joker mask?
Everyone stared.
"What... what is that?" Winter asked, blinking in confusion.
Glynda, her face now obscured by the mask, stood tall. "I'll go with you, too. We can't take any chances!"
Ozpin blinked. "Uh... Glynda? Why are you wearing a... joker mask?"
Qrow, ever the tactful one, snorted. "Yeah, Glynda. You look like you're about to join a circus, not stop a terrorist."
Glynda crossed her arms, the mask still perched on her face like it made perfect sense. "What if... what if he has hypnotizing abilities?!"
"...Right," Winter muttered. "But how, exactly, is that mask going to help you?"
"It's... it's not important!" Glynda snapped, clearly not having thought that part through. She turned toward the door, her head held high. "We can't afford to waste time. I'm going in."
Winter gave her a bemused look. "Okay, that was... weird."
"Yeah, she's losing it," Qrow added with a smirk, taking another swig from his flask. "But who am I to judge?"
Ozpin stood up from his seat, adjusting his scarf. "Alright, enough of this. Let's go see what this young terrorist wants."
"Whatever he says, Oz, I have a bad feeling this ain't gonna be a 'hello and goodbye' situation," Qrow muttered, eyeing the door like it was about to explode.
"I hope not..." Ozpin trailed off, as the door creaked open.
—X~X—
They entered the cell like they were walking into a lion's den. Jaune, oblivious to the tension mounting around him, was sitting as casually as one could in a room full of people who were probably thinking about ways to make him disappear. He tried to maintain his cool, a half-hearted smirk playing on his lips, but the sweat forming on his brow betrayed him.
Qrow was the first to move, striding over like he had murder on his mind. Before Jaune could even ask how his day was going—WHAM—Qrow's fist connected with Jaune's face. Hard.
Jaune blinked. That wasn't part of the script, was it? He expected, at the very least, to taste blood or maybe lose a tooth, but nope. Nothing. Not even a stinging sensation. His skin, apparently, was tougher than he gave himself credit for.
Qrow, on the other hand, was staring at his fist like it had malfunctioned. He gave it a little shake, eyes narrowing at the unscathed blonde sitting before him. "What the hell are you made of, kid? Stone? Steel?"
Jaune, ever the charmer, shrugged. "Uh, good genetics?"
Qrow growled, grabbing him by the collar, his face inches away from Jaune's. "Cut the crap. What's your game? You think you can stroll in here and act like this is all some joke?"
"Alright, alright, that's enough, Qrow," Ozpin's voice broke through the rising tension, calm and commanding as always. He entered the room with the grace of someone who had seen a thousand more dangerous situations and lived to tell about it. Sipping his coffee like this whole thing was just a casual Tuesday morning, Ozpin took a seat across from Jaune. "No need to turn this into a brawl."
Jaune, still reeling from the unexpected hit, tried to save face. "Yo, you're the headmaster, right?"
Ozpin nodded, his expression unreadable behind his glasses. "Indeed. Professor Ozpin, at your service."
"Maa, maa, no need to be so formal." Jaune waved his cuffed hands as if trying to downplay the fact that he was literally chained to the table. "Let's get to the point, yeah?"
"Yes," Glynda chimed in, stepping forward, her Joker mask still firmly in place. "But before we get to the point, let's go over your little... debut into villainy."
Jaune's eye twitched. He was trying, really trying, to keep cool. "Alright, Ms. Clown."
Glynda clenched her fists, but Winter, standing beside her, jumped in before things could escalate. "You helped Roman Torchwick escape after he robbed a dust shop. Why?"
Jaune blinked. "My father always told me to be a gentleman, to do the right thing, so I—"
"Next," Glynda cut him off, scribbling furiously on her tablet: Helped Roman Torchwick because of a misguided sense of chivalry.
Jaune didn't know what she was writing, but he had a feeling it wasn't anything that would help his case.
"You killed Adam Taurus," Winter continued, her voice colder than a Vacuo winter. "Why?"
Jaune's eyes widened slightly. "Killed? I didn't want to kill him! I was trying to help him, but he got aggressive. I didn't have much of a choice, so—"
"Next," Glynda interjected again, barely paying attention as she jotted down more notes: Killed Adam Taurus in cold blood during a minor altercation.
Jaune groaned internally. This was going sideways fast.
"And your declaration of war against Remnant?" Winter pressed, her eyes narrowing.
Jaune threw his hands up in frustration. "Declaration of war?! That's a misunderstanding! I just want peace! There's been too much chaos, too much anarchy, and people are taking things the wrong way!"
Glynda didn't even look up this time, jotting down: Delusions of grandeur, desires to sever the fate of Remnant.
This was going about as well as a trip to a dentist without anesthesia.
"And why," Winter continued, her voice dripping with disdain, "did you attack civilians? Specifically, young women?"
Qrow, who had been quietly seething, suddenly grabbed Jaune by the collar again, yanking him forward until their noses were practically touching. "Yeah, young women, kid. Especially my niece!"
Jaune blinked, utterly confused. "...Uh, who?"
Qrow's eyes bulged with fury. "YOU GOTTA BE KIDDIN' ME!" He slammed Jaune's head into the table. The entire table cracked in half from the impact.
The guards standing by the door visibly winced. Even Ozpin raised an eyebrow. But Jaune? Still not a scratch on him.
Jaune, however, was internally screaming. Oh god, oh god, please don't hit me again! I'm going to wet myself!
Qrow was trembling with anger, and Winter's glare was so icy it could've frozen the sun. They weren't playing around anymore. Jaune had officially made it to the top of their hit list.
"Alright," Ozpin sighed, setting his coffee down and leaning forward, trying to de-escalate the situation. "Tell me, Mr. Arc, what is it that you want?"
Jaune blinked. This was his chance to explain. "Well, you're famous, right? Got connections, yeah?"
Ozpin nodded humbly. "I suppose one could say that."
"So," Jaune leaned forward, as if he was letting them in on a secret. "I want to make it clear—I'm not a killer. I'm not a psychopath. I didn't kill anyone. I don't want to kill anyone. I've been forced into this position. I want peace, no conflict, no chaos. I'm not a—"
Suddenly, Ozpin's coffee mug slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor. His face turned pale, and he clutched his chest, gasping for breath.
"OZ?!" Qrow's voice was frantic as he rushed to Ozpin's side, gripping his shoulders. He shot a murderous glare at Jaune. "What the HELL did you do?!"
"I— I didn't do anything!" Jaune stammered, panicking.
"He's poisoned!" Winter growled, her fists clenching. "I don't know how, but somehow, he poisoned Ozpin!"
Glynda snapped into action, barking orders. "GUARDS! Get Kitsune on the line, NOW! Prepare a medical evac!"
Ozpin's body began to convulse, aura leaking from him at an alarming rate. The guards, soldiers, everyone in the room was on high alert, but things were spiraling out of control fast.
Qrow, seeing his mentor in distress, turned his rage back on Jaune. His fist connected with Jaune's face again, harder this time. Jaune's head snapped back, but once again—no damage. Not even a bruise.
"Maa, maa, old man, calm down!" Jaune said with a forced smile, but inside? He was a wreck. His heart was racing, his palms were sweating, and the fear of pissing himself was becoming more real by the second.
Glynda, seeing the situation escalating, ordered one of the guards to call for backup. "We can't wait! Get Kitsune ready for immediate extraction!"
Before they could even take Ozpin out of the room, Qrow turned back to Jaune, hitting him again, and this time, the soldiers lining the walls aimed their guns at the blonde, their fingers itching on the triggers.
Ozpin's body was shaking, his aura leaking out like a dam had broken. This was bad. Really bad.
"I didn't—" Jaune tried to explain, panic rising in his voice.
Clank.
The sound of metal hitting the floor froze everyone in their tracks. Jaune looked down at his wrists in disbelief. The 'unbreakable' aura-suppressing cuffs... had shattered. He didn't even know how he'd done it.
The guards, acting on instinct, pulled their triggers.
"Oh shit—" Jaune barely had time to react as his semblance flared to life. Wooden shields burst up from the floor, encasing him in a protective cocoon. Bullets bounced harmlessly off the barrier, but now Jaune was stuck in a small cell with a bunch of highly trained, heavily armed hunters who were ready to tear him apart.
"Well," he muttered under his breath, staring at the angry faces outside his shield. "This is just great
The ceiling crumbled under Jaune's force, chunks of brick and concrete crashing down as he made his escape. Debris rained down on the others, sending them diving for cover. Qrow shielded himself with his cape, and Winter raised her weapon defensively, eyes darting up at the hole Jaune had just punched through. Glynda just used her semblance. But in the chaos, one very important thing was forgotten.
Ozpin.
Jaune glanced back in mid-leap, realizing the old man was still lying there, convulsing on the floor. His heart skipped a beat. Hero instincts kicked in faster than his brain could process what was happening. In a split-second decision, he encased the Headmaster in a wooden cocoon and, in his haste, accidentally brought him along for the ride.
"He's kidnapping the Headmaster!" Winter shouted, her voice rising in alarm. Her weapon, a finely tuned military-grade sword-gun hybrid, was already in her hands, ready to strike the moment the path was clear.
Qrow, eyes narrowing, transformed his scythe into a sword. "Damn it, kid!" He leaped up through the falling rubble, ready for blood.
Jaune landed with a dull thud, the wooden sphere around Ozpin bouncing slightly as it hit the ground. He rolled his shoulder, adjusting his posture. In the distance, he could hear Winter shouting commands, and Qrow's boots crunching on the ground as he approached, but Jaune's mind was elsewhere. He could sense the Headmaster was still seizing inside the ball, his aura unstable. Jaune clenched his fists, projecting his own aura inside to calm the man.
"Just hang on," he muttered under his breath. "I got you."
But that calm wouldn't last long.
Qrow was the first to strike, lunging at Jaune with a speed that defied logic. His blade was a blur of silver, slashing with deadly precision. Jaune barely had time to react. He raised a wall of wood from the ground, the thick branches twisting and growing in front of him to block the attack.
The clash was deafening.
Qrow's sword smashed into the wooden shield with enough force to shake the ground, splinters flying everywhere. But the shield held strong.
"Gonna hide behind your trees, huh?" Qrow spat, circling around to strike from another angle.
Before Jaune could respond, Winter appeared on his other side, moving with icy grace, her blade slicing through the air like a sharpened icicle. Jaune was forced to summon another barrier, thick roots curling up from the earth and intertwining in front of him. Winter's blade collided with it, her sharp cry of frustration cutting through the battlefield.
Jaune glanced between the two seasoned hunters, his brow furrowed in concentration. He wasn't attacking. He couldn't afford to. Not with Ozpin still in danger inside the ball.
Winter and Qrow, on the other hand, were relentless. Their strikes came faster and harder, Qrow's scythe slicing through the air while Winter's blade cut with deadly precision. They worked together in perfect sync, their fighting styles complementing each other. Qrow was all about raw power and unpredictability, his attacks wild and forceful, while Winter was cold and calculated, her movements sharp and methodical.
Jaune's wood release was the only thing keeping him from being torn apart.
Every time they got too close, he raised another wall of wood, blocking their attacks at the last second. The ground around them was quickly turning into a battlefield of twisted roots and shattered wood, but no matter how much they pushed, Jaune kept them at bay. His defenses were solid, and his control over the terrain was near flawless.
Still, the strain was beginning to show. Sweat beaded on Jaune's forehead, he could just end this right now. But what if he hurts them too badly? More consequences will follow. No, that's not affordable. He could feel the weight of the fight pressing down on him, but he wasn't going to back down. Not yet.
Only defence it is.
Inside the wooden sphere, Ozpin's aura was finally stabilizing, the man's convulsions slowing down as Jaune's calming energy flowed into him.
"Almost there," Jaune muttered, dodging another strike from Winter. He needed to end this soon.
From a distance, a girl was sitting on a tree branch, watching the battle unfold with wide eyes. Velvet Scarlatina had been relaxing, enjoying the peaceful day, when the chaos below her erupted. She was a faunus, with long, rabbit-like ears and soft brown hair that fell over her shoulders. Her uniform was neat, though her legs dangled lazily off the branch as if the world below didn't concern her.
That was until she realized who was in the middle of the fight.
Jaune Arc. The infamous terrorist.
Her heart nearly stopped. She froze, gripping the branch so tightly her knuckles turned white. What in the world was he doing here? And why was he fighting two of the most powerful huntsmen in all of Remnant?
Jaune, too focused on defending Ozpin, barely noticed the girl. But when a stray projectile—a sharp, deadly blade—came hurtling toward the tree, his eyes widened in horror.
Velvet didn't even have time to react. The blade was inches away from her when Jaune's body moved on pure instinct.
With a burst of speed, Jaune leaped forward, putting himself between the blade and the girl.
"Why didn't he just use a wall?!" someone yelled from behind him, but Jaune wasn't thinking. His only concern was shielding her from harm.
The blade slammed into his back with a sickening thud. Jaune grunted, feeling the sharp edge slice through his aura, but not deeply enough to cause any real damage. It hurt, but not nearly as much as it should have.
Velvet's eyes widened in shock as she realized what had just happened. The terrorist—no, Jaune Arc—had just saved her life. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared down at him, her heart pounding in her chest.
Jaune glanced over his shoulder, giving her a goofy, lopsided grin. "You okay?"
Before she could respond, he vanished in a blur of movement, disappearing into the trees before anyone could catch him.
"Damn it!" Winter shouted, stomping her foot in frustration. "Not again! He's always one step ahead!"
Qrow didn't respond. He was already kneeling beside Ozpin, his expression one of deep concern as he gently shook the Headmaster's shoulders. "Oz! You with me? Do you hear me?"
Ozpin's eyes fluttered open, his voice barely a whisper. "I... I saw her dream..."
Qrow leaned in closer, frowning. "What dream? What are you talking about?"
Ozpin's eyes were distant, his gaze unfocused as he mumbled, "The boy... He's the Child of Prophecy."
And with that, Ozpin's eyes closed again, his body going limp in Qrow's arms.
Qrow stared down at him, confusion etched on his face. "Child of Prophecy?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "What the hell does that mean?"
Meanwhile, high up in the tree, Velvet sat frozen in place, her heart still racing. She hadn't moved since Jaune had saved her. Her mind was spinning, trying to process what had just happened.
"He... He risked his life... to save me..." she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief.
—X~X—
"Ladies and gentlemen," Lisa Lavender's voice echoed dramatically through the airwaves, her tone dripping with feigned concern and just the right amount of scandal to keep viewers glued to their screens. The camera zoomed in on her face, which held an expression somewhere between dread and sheer entertainment. "This is your favorite reporter, Lisa Lavender, coming at you live with the breaking story on none other than... Jaune Arc: The Wooden Demon!"
She paused for dramatic effect, as a flashy graphic of Jaune, animated with glowing red eyes and vines curling around his body like snakes, popped up beside her. The logo for 'Breaking News!' flashed repeatedly.
"Yesterday," she continued, her voice dropping into that too-serious-to-be-real tone only professional news anchors could master, "the terrorist Jaune Arc infiltrated the prestigious Beacon Academy—" she let that word linger, as if it were a sacred place Jaune had sullied with his mere presence "—and killed off several students during the initiation ceremony. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, KILLED. OFF. The bodies have yet to be recovered, but our brave hunters are on it."
She glanced dramatically to her left, where a list of names began scrolling, each one with a solemn picture beside it. "The martyrs of yesterday's tragedy are as follows:"
Lisa leaned into the screen slightly, as if sharing a terrible secret with the audience. "Renée Deca, Carl Frish, Marrie Cuy, and Steve Works." The names flashed across the screen in bold letters, accompanied by overly sentimental violin music in the background.
In reality, there wasn't a shred of solid evidence that Jaune had killed them. In fact, many believed it was likely the work of the Grimms during the chaos of initiation. But hey, facts were flexible when you were trying to push a narrative, and Lisa was practically stretching them across the city of Vale like a yoga instructor at dawn.
"And that's not all!" she gasped, her eyes widening dramatically, as if she herself had only just discovered this next piece of shocking information. "Sources reveal that Jaune Arc may have been on a mission to ASSASSINATE the esteemed Headmaster Ozpin!"
Gasps were added in for sound effect, even though the entire production team knew those were just studio interns pretending to be shocked.
Lisa continued, her face the perfect mask of concern. "Did he succeed? The authorities have been tight-lipped, giving us very little to go on at first." She took a long, deliberate pause, before leaning in, whispering conspiratorially to the camera. "But just moments ago, we received an official statement." She straightened her back, voice firm, eyes narrowing. "Headmaster Ozpin is currently in a deep slumber!"
For a split second, Lisa almost lost her composure. Of course, the Headmaster was probably just taking a well-deserved nap, but that wouldn't make for nearly as good a headline. She recovered quickly. "What did Jaune do to him? We may never know. The boy mocked the finest huntsmen of our time by TURNING HIMSELF IN, only to BREAK OUT moments later. Even Atlas's own military specialist, Winter Schnee, was on the scene, but alas, she too was left in the dust of his escape!"
The camera shifted to show a carefully edited graphic of Jaune, running through a fiery backdrop while Winter Schnee stood in the background looking absolutely helpless, crying her heart out, creating an ocean that flooded the world. The image wasn't real, of course, but reality had little place in this broadcast.
"And as if that wasn't bad enough," Lisa sighed, "some people are STILL praising him!"
The screen cut to a series of internet videos and reels, each one showing an increasingly ridiculous depiction of Jaune Arc. The first showed an animation of Jaune sitting on a throne made of vines, a cigar hanging lazily from his mouth as beautiful women surrounded him like he was the king of the world. The caption underneath read, 'Demon King Arc — The Legend— The GOAT.'
Another reel popped up: Jaune standing in front of a crowd, delivering a grand speech, with flashing subtitles that made him look like a political figurehead rallying the masses. The words 'War on Remnant' blazed in bold beneath his image, though no such speech had ever taken place.
And yet another video followed: Jaune, surrounded by women—his harem, as the internet had dubbed it—smiling like some kind of underground celebrity. The reel was set to obnoxiously triumphant music, the kind used in over-the-top superhero movies.
Lisa's expression became more severe as she gestured to the screen. "THIS is the power of manipulation, folks!" she proclaimed. "This is how the Wooden Demon has taken hold of the public's hearts. He's crafted an image, a HEROIC image, to fool the people of Remnant into believing he's some sort of savior!"
The camera cut to an interview clip, with the face of a girl blurred out for 'privacy reasons'—more like, for dramatic effect. Her voice, though, was crystal clear.
"He risked his own life to save me," the girl said, her voice trembling with emotion. "There was this projectile coming at me, and he just... stood in the way. He didn't even try to block it with his powers, he took the hit. Then he smiled at me, and asked if I was okay like I was the one who was hurt." There was a brief pause before she added softly, "He's not a bad person. He's a hero."
Lisa's eyes narrowed even further. "See? This is exactly what he wants you to believe!" She turned her head slightly, raising an eyebrow at the camera. "But don't be fooled. This so-called 'hero' is nothing but a master manipulator. Don't let the Wooden Demon fool YOU."
The warning text flashing across the screen was almost comically exaggerated, but that was the point.
"Stay alert, Remnant. This Demon King is on the loose, and no one is safe."
And with that, the screen faded to black, leaving the audience in a strange mix of horror, confusion, and morbid curiosity.
—X~X—
Author's Note:
I really value your feedback, and I hope this chapter reflected that.
I know some of you might be a bit disappointed to see fewer of the usual funny, sarcastic moments. I'm sorry about that, but this chapter was always meant to take a more serious tone. Don't worry, though—things will go back to their usual vibe soon enough!
And just for the record, Jaune was kept in custody for twelve hours before Ozpin met him. The cell was deep under the grounds of the Beacon Academy, that's why Jaune straight reached that place.
It's time for our boy to face the hard truth: the world isn't listening to him the way it used to. Things are about to change in a big way.
Let me know your thoughts in the review section! Your support motivates me to write faster, better, and with more depth.
Till next time!
~Phoenix.