Secrets of Arc

by The Builder's Return

The Worker of Secrets is reborn into the body of a deceased Jaune Arc. Watch as the worker of Secrets embarks on a new journey to fulfill Jaune's dream of being a hero. Romances are not determined but may be possible later on. Rated M for trauma and darker themes. Infinity Blade and other games/RWBY Crossover.

7. Chapter 6

Had a free day to work on the story. Enjoy the fast chapter upload. Futures ones may take longer. Still returning from vacation. Please enjoy, let me know if you enjoyed it.

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Chapter 6

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The Tempest glided through the night sky, cutting through the air with an elegance that defied the very concept of flight. Unlike the military-grade, industrial designs of Atlesian warships or the bulky, practical transports of Vale, this vessel was sleek, seamless, and utterly silent—as if the sky itself had accepted it.

There was no roar of engines, no tremor of thrusters struggling against gravity, no mechanical groans of atmospheric resistance. The ship didn't fight the air—it simply moved.

Inside, the cabin was eerily balanced. Not a single vibration. Not a single shift in pressure. The Tempest was an anomaly—a machine so perfectly crafted that it felt more like an extension of reality than an object within it.

The panoramic glass viewport stretched across the cockpit, offering an unbroken view of the world below. They had long since left Vale's airspace, piercing through the thick cloud layers that swallowed the city's lights.

Now, beyond the reach of civilization, the sky stretched endlessly above them—a vast sea of stars, untouched and infinite.

Yang stood at the glass, her expression uncharacteristically soft. Her usual humor was gone, replaced with something quieter, something reverent.

"I don't think I've ever seen this many before," she murmured, pressing a hand to the cool surface.

"They were always there," Ren said, his voice unusually gentle. "Just hidden."

Nora, standing beside him, tilted her head back, eyes wide with a childlike wonder.

"It's like home," she whispered, nudging Ren. "Remember? Back in Kuroyuri?"

Ren nodded, his gaze steady. "The stars were the only thing that never changed."

Blake, standing further back, simply watched. Her golden eyes reflected the constellations, her ears twitching slightly at the sheer silence of their flight.

"It feels… wrong," she finally said.

Yang blinked, turning to her. "What do you mean?"

Blake's fingers curled slightly at her sides.

"I can't hear anything. No engine hum. No air pressure shifts. Even Atlesian airships make noise, but this… this is silent."

The others hadn't noticed it before, but now that she said it…

The ship wasn't just quiet. It was completely absent of noise.

And yet, they were still flying.

Weiss and Ruby weren't looking at the stars anymore.

They were staring at the ship.

---

"Jaune."

Weiss's voice cut through the air, sharp and demanding.

Jaune sat at the helm, his hands moving fluidly across the holographic controls as he adjusted their flight trajectory. His posture was relaxed, his expression unreadable, as if piloting a technological impossibility was no more difficult than breathing.

"Yeah?"

Weiss inhaled deeply, composing herself before crossing her arms. "This ship shouldn't exist."

Jaune didn't even look up.

"It does."

Ruby stomped over, her red cloak swishing behind her. "No, no, NO—see, that's not an answer!" She gestured at everything around them. "This?! All of this?! It's too smooth! There's no turbulence, no drag, no resistance—how?!"

Jaune barely spared her a glance. "I compensated for it."

Weiss narrowed her eyes.

"Compensated?" she echoed. "You don't just 'compensate' for aerodynamics, Jaune. That's not how physics works."

Jaune finally turned, resting his hands on the console as he regarded them.

"You adjust for the flaws," he explained simply. "Remove the things that cause drag. If air can't resist movement, there's no turbulence."

Weiss stared.

Ruby physically recoiled.

"THAT'S NOT HOW AIR WORKS!" she shrieked, throwing her hands up.

Weiss groaned. "You're saying you just… what? Erased wind resistance?!"

"Not erased," Jaune corrected. "Redirected. The hull disperses incoming resistance before it can affect flight stability."

Weiss blinked rapidly, her brain visibly short-circuiting.

"HOW?!"

Jaune tapped a control, shifting the display to a holographic wireframe of the ship.

"The plating is layered with an electrostatic discharge system," he explained. "It ionizes the air around the hull and repels it in a way that reduces drag to near-zero levels. It works alongside an internal inertia-dampening system that recalibrates movement in real time. So momentum, wind resistance, and turbulence don't have a chance to affect the ship's motion."

Silence.

Ruby slowly turned to Weiss, her silver eyes wide with horror.

"Did he just—?"

"Yes," Weiss murmured, visibly distressed.

"He just—?"

"Yes."

"But that's—" Ruby spun back to Jaune, pointing aggressively. "THAT'S NOT POSSIBLE!"

"It is when you make it work," Jaune said smoothly.

Weiss sat down on the floor.

Blake leaned against the wall, smirking slightly at Weiss's slow descent into madness.

"You should've known better by now," she mused.

Weiss snapped toward her. "NO. I REFUSE TO ACCEPT THIS!" She turned to Jaune, gesturing wildly. "You built this? By yourself? In a cave with a box of scrap metal?!"

Jaune gave her a flat look. "No cave."

Weiss let out a frustrated growl.

"Jaune, do you have ANY IDEA how long it takes for a kingdom to build a single airship?! A large-scale project requires years of development, prototype testing, government approvals—"

"Took me a few years to design," Jaune admitted, adjusting the ship's heading slightly. "Building it was faster. A few months."

Both Weiss and Ruby froze.

A few months.

"Months?" Weiss repeated blankly.

"Jaune." Ruby took a deep breath. "The Kingdoms have entire fleets of airships that take years to build, and you're telling me you put this together in a few months?"

Jaune nodded.

"Yes."

Weiss let out a low, hollow laugh, shaking her head. "You're lying."

"I don't lie," Jaune said simply.

"Then you're insane!" Weiss snapped, throwing up her hands. "Building a ship is not the same as modifying a weapon! The structural integrity, the core framework, the power distribution—those all take time! Research! Testing! Do you even understand how complex aerospace engineering is?!"

"Yes," Jaune replied smoothly. "That's why I made sure it worked the first time."

Ruby collapsed onto the floor, her brain shutting down.

"I think I need to lie down."

Weiss exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her forehead.

"I hate you."

"Noted."

"No, really," she pressed, glaring daggers at him. "This ship? It breaks every rule I know about aviation, and I know a lot! I studied engineering. And you—!" She gestured wildly. "You just—broke physics!"

Jaune blinked at her.

"Physics is a set of rules. You can work around them."

Weiss grabbed her head.

"I'm going to lose my mind before we even get to Mantle."

Yang chuckled, shaking her head. "I gotta admit, Jaune, this is the most I've ever seen Weiss and Ruby agree on something."

Blake smirked. "And all it took was breaking the fundamental laws of science."

Jaune turned back toward the console, dismissing their continued disbelief with practiced ease.

"It works."

Weiss groaned.

"This is going to be the longest flight of my life."

The Tempest soared on.

---

The Tempest sailed through the night like a whisper, its movement so smooth and precise that it felt more like they were drifting than flying. No turbulence. No shaking. No resistance. Just seamless, uninterrupted motion.

It had already shattered their perception of what airships were capable of.

Jaune had already broken their understanding of physics.

And yet, somehow, they weren't done.

Weiss and Ruby had barely started to recover from the mind-melting experience of learning how Jaune had casually reinvented aerospace engineering in a few months.

Then, as if the chaos had been too calm, Yang decided to make things worse.

Leaning casually against the bulkhead, she smirked, golden eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Alright, Jaune," she drawled, far too innocently for anyone's comfort. "We've talked about the ship's speed, its fancy anti-physics magic, and how you somehow built all of this without a team…"

Jaune glanced at her from the controls. "And?"

"So, what kind of weapons does this thing have?"

Silence.

A silence so heavy that the entire cabin seemed to hold its breath.

Jaune's fingers paused over the controls for a split second before continuing as if nothing had happened.

The problem?

Weiss saw it. Ruby saw it.

And they weren't about to let that go.

"WHAT?!"

Ruby shot up so fast that she almost hit the ceiling.

"NOT ANSWERING?!" Weiss shrieked, her voice hitting octaves never heard before. "JAUNE, YOU CANNOT JUST BRUSH THAT ASIDE!"

"Oh my GOD," Ruby gasped, gripping her head like the world had just collapsed around her. "I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT ABOUT THAT!"

"Why does it have weapons?!" Weiss demanded, eyes wide with sheer disbelief.

"Why WOULDN'T it have weapons?" Yang countered, grinning.

Jaune exhaled heavily through his nose.

"I don't have to answer that," he said, very carefully.

That only made it worse.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T HAVE TO ANSWER THAT?!" Ruby practically screeched.

Weiss was already grabbing his chair, spinning him around to face them. "JAUNE. LISTEN TO ME. YOU ARE FLYING AN ADVANCED, PHYSICS-BREAKING, KINGDOM-SURPASSING AIRSHIP AND NOW YOU'RE TELLING ME IT HAS WEAPONS YOU REFUSE TO DISCLOSE?"

Jaune blinked, expression unreadable.

"Yes."

Ruby clutched her chest, staggering backward.

"Jaune."

Jaune blinked again. "What?"

"How could you?"

Jaune raised an eyebrow. "How could I what?"

"HIDE ADVANCED SHIP WEAPONS FROM ME."

Jaune sighed. "Ruby—"

"DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!" she demanded, pointing aggressively at herself. "I LOVE WEAPONS! I LITERALLY TALK ABOUT THEM EVERY DAY! AND YOU—YOU OF ALL PEOPLE—KEPT ADVANCED SHIP ARMAMENTS FROM ME?! ME, JAUNE?!"

"This feels like a personal attack," Blake muttered.

"IT IS!"

Jaune pinched the bridge of his nose.

"If I told you what it had, you'd ask how it worked. If I told you how it worked, you'd ask how I built it. If I told you how I built it, we'd be here for another five hours."

"AND WHOSE FAULT IS THAT?!" Weiss shouted.

"Yours."

Weiss let out a deep, hollow laugh and then turned to the others.

"He actually said that."

"I heard it too," Blake confirmed.

"HE REALLY JUST SAID THAT."

---

As the shouting continued, Nora, who had been suspiciously quiet, suddenly leaned forward.

"Okay, okay, but real question."

Jaune sighed. "What now?"

Nora grinned, tapping her fingers together.

"Does it have a cloaking device?"

The entire room froze.

Weiss, without hesitation, scoffed. "That's ridiculous. Cloaking technology doesn't exist at this scale. The energy costs alone would be impractical, and even the most advanced research in Atlas has failed to—"

Jaune said nothing.

Nora's eyes widened.

"Wait."

Weiss blinked. "No."

Nora leaned in closer. "Wait."

Weiss turned very slowly toward Jaune, her voice sharp and deadly.

"Jaune. Deny it."

Jaune said nothing.

The entire room exploded.

"OH MY GOD, IT HAS A CLOAKING DEVICE!"

"JAUNE!" Weiss shrieked, gripping onto the chair for stability. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'VE JUST IMPLIED?!"

"HE HAS A STEALTH AIRSHIP," Nora cackled. "OUR TEAM LEADER HAS A STEALTH AIRSHIP!"

"Jaune," Blake said, horrified. "That means you could've been spying on us at any time."

Jaune sighed. "That's not how it works."

"THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT SOMEONE WHO HAS BEEN SPYING WOULD SAY!"

"WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL US?!"

"Never," Jaune admitted.

Weiss collapsed into a seat, gripping her head.

"Jaune Arc," she breathed. "You might actually be the most infuriating person I have ever met."

As chaos peaked, Yang leaned back, grinning like she was enjoying the best movie of her life.

"I have to say," she mused, "this might be the greatest moment of my life."

Jaune shot her a flat look. "You're not helping."

"I'm not trying to."

Weiss whirled on him again. "Jaune. For the love of everything, just say no. Deny it. Say it's not real."

Jaune remained silent.

Weiss inhaled sharply.

"Oh, you are actually the worst."

Ruby, who had been trembling with betrayal for several minutes, finally snapped.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS."

Ruby threw her hands in the air, pacing back and forth.

"Jaune Arc, You were my best friend, and my first friend at Beacon. And not once—NOT ONCE—did you think, 'Gee, maybe my weapons-obsessed friend would want to know that I BUILT A SUPER-ADVANCED AIRSHIP AND GAVE IT SECRET WEAPONS?!'"

Jaune sighed. "Ruby—"

"NO!" Ruby pointed at him dramatically. "I am calling a friendship emergency meeting."

"That's not a thing."

"IT IS NOW."

Weiss groaned, rubbing her temples furiously.

"Jaune, do you even realize how infuriating you are?!"

"Yes."

"THEN WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THIS?!"

"Because it's easier."

Weiss screamed into her hands again.

Yang laughed so hard she had to wipe away tears.

Jaune exhaled long and slow, adjusting the controls.

"Can we drop this now?"

"NO!" came the unified response.

Jaune sighed.

This was going to be a very long flight.

---

The Tempest slowed, gliding into Mantle's airspace with a grace that made the transition almost imperceptible. No jolts, no sudden deceleration—just a smooth descent as its thrusters adjusted automatically.

The glow of Mantle's artificial skyline flickered beneath them, the sprawling cityscape of factories, residential blocks, and military outposts stretching far and wide. In the distance, the towering form of Atlas floated above the clouds, pristine and untouched by the grime of the city below.

But what truly caught their attention wasn't the city.

It was the fleet.

The Atlesian Fleet loomed like sentinels in the sky, their massive forms drifting in careful formations. Dozens of airships patrolled Mantle's perimeter—bulky, reinforced cruisers lined with heavy artillery, flanked by squadrons of smaller escort ships.

Compared to the Tempest, they looked slow. Heavy. Outdated.

"Wow," Nora muttered, leaning forward to get a better view through the viewport. "Those things look like flying bricks."

"Excuse me?!" Weiss snapped, her head whipping around so fast it was a miracle she didn't get whiplash.

Nora shrugged. "I mean, look at them! They're all slow and clunky. It's like watching a bunch of armored sloths floating through the sky."

"They're battleships, Nora," Weiss huffed, arms crossed defensively. "They're designed for heavy combat, not speed. Atlas isn't interested in making things look 'cool.' We make things that win wars."

"But they are slow," Blake pointed out, just to see Weiss' reaction.

Weiss turned scarlet with offense.

"They are precisely as fast as they need to be!"

"Sure," Yang said, smirking, "but the Tempest could probably fly circles around them."

"That's not the point!"

"Feels like the point," Ren added unhelpfully.

Jaune didn't react. He kept his eyes on the fleet ahead, adjusting their course slightly.

"We should be reaching Atlas' maximum defensive perimeter soon," Weiss muttered, still fuming. "You'll need to slow to a hover and wait for identification before proceeding further. It's standard protocol for all unidentified ships."

Jaune nodded once, fingers tapping the control panel. The Tempest's engines shifted, transitioning from active thrust to controlled stabilization as it began hovering just outside of Atlesian maximum weapon range.

For a moment, everything was still.

Then—

The display suddenly lit up.

Multiple red warning signals flared to life across the console.

A chime rang out.

MULTIPLE TARGET LOCKS DETECTED.

THREAT ASSESSMENT: IMMINENT.

A cold wave passed over the entire team as a full fleet's worth of weapon systems locked onto them.

"W-Wait—" Ruby's voice caught in her throat.

Weiss paled. "That—That's not supposed to happen!"

Before anyone could panic, Jaune's entire demeanor shifted.

His posture straightened, stiffened, his previously relaxed composure vanishing in an instant. His face, normally calm and controlled, became cold. Hard. Focused.

He no longer looked comfortable.

He looked like a man preparing for war.

Then, he pressed a single button.

The holographic display flickered, and suddenly, the entire Atlesian Fleet was highlighted in red.

TARGETING SYSTEMS ONLINE.

EVASIVE ROUTINES READY.

WEAPONS CHARGING.

ENGINES AT FULL POWER.

The entire team lost their minds.

"JAUNE, WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!" Ruby shrieked, eyes bulging as she stumbled backward.

"WAIT, WAIT, WAIT—" Yang actually grabbed onto a seat for stability.

"TURN THAT OFF RIGHT NOW!" Weiss shouted, voice cracking as her face turned pale.

Jaune's eyes remained locked on the display. His hands moved over the controls with deliberate precision, adjusting their positioning without a hint of hesitation.

"Everyone, quiet."

The tone of his voice was firm. Unyielding.

They all froze.

Even Weiss, who had never been one to back down from an argument, stopped talking immediately.

Jaune's hands continued moving, calculating. Adjusting. Preparing.

Then—

The Tempest suddenly lurched backwards, its engines propelling it out of the fleet's maximum range.

Every single weapon still had them locked.

No one spoke.

Not until a static-filled transmission came through.

A crackling voice came over the comms.

"Unidentified vessel, this is the Atlesian Fleet. You are in restricted airspace. Identify yourself immediately."

Jaune clicked a control on the dashboard.

"General Ironwood is expecting a team from Beacon." His voice was calm. Icy. Unshaken. "That team is aboard this ship."

The radio went silent.

Seconds dragged into agonizing minutes.

Then—

A new voice came through. One that carried far more authority.

"This is General James Ironwood."

The display shifted, and Ironwood's face appeared on-screen, his sharp steel-blue gaze analyzing them with unreadable calculation.

"I wasn't expecting you so soon."

His eyes flicked to the ship's interface, noting the warning signs still glowing on both ends.

"You are cleared for landing," he continued smoothly. "But let's not have my entire fleet put on weapons alert next time, shall we?"

Jaune's expression didn't change.

"I don't appreciate my ship and my team's lives being put in jeopardy after following visiting protocol."

His voice was cold. Sharp. A blade hidden behind even syllables.

Ironwood's brow twitched slightly—the closest thing to an outward reaction the man ever gave.

He let out a slow breath.

"It seems someone in my fleet got jumpy at seeing an unidentified ship. I'll address it."

Jaune nodded once. "Good."

The transmission cut out.

The red warning lights faded.

The Tempest's automated systems responded.

DEFENSIVE AND COMBAT SYSTEMS SET TO PASSIVE.

The entire team stared at Jaune.

Weiss looked like she had just experienced an existential crisis.

"You—You just—You LOCKED ONTO THE ENTIRE ATLESIAN FLEET!"

Jaune didn't respond. He simply guided the ship forward, weaving between the massive battleships as if they were stationary debris.

"Jaune!" Weiss grabbed his chair again. "Do you understand how insane that was?!"

Jaune remained silent, his mood visibly sour.

Even Ruby—who had previously been throwing a tantrum about Jaune hiding weapons—felt bad for him now.

Because at the end of the day, it wasn't just his ship.

He was responsible for all of them.

And for a moment, it had almost gone horribly wrong.

---

The Tempest glided through the final stretch of Mantle's airspace, approaching the coordinates Ironwood had sent them.

LANDING IN PROGRESS.

The announcement barely registered as Jaune rose from his chair, gripping his spear tightly.

The others watched as he marched toward the landing bay, his knuckles white from the tension.

Then, as the ramp lowered, the first thing they saw wasn't Ironwood.

It was a crowd.

Dozens of Atlesian soldiers and scientists stood frozen, watching the Tempest with gaping expressions.

They weren't just staring.

They were in awe.

Yang let out a low whistle.

"Man, look at that reception."

Weiss, still recovering from everything, groaned and rubbed her temples.

"Give them a break," she muttered. "They've never seen anything like this before."

"Neither had we," Blake pointed out.

Weiss sighed.

"I know. And I hate that he made it look easy."

The crowd of Atlesian soldiers, engineers, and scientists stood still, their eyes locked onto the Tempest as if it were something out of legend.

The sleek, seamless plating, the impossibly smooth design—it wasn't a military craft. It wasn't a transport. It wasn't anything they had ever seen before.

More than a few engineers were already holding holographic scanners, their brows furrowed as they tried to capture any readable data from the vessel. But the Tempest's hull wasn't just advanced—it was unreadable. No registration. No signals. A ghost.

Jaune, not interested in their scrutiny, activated his omni-tool with a quick swipe.

The sleek orange interface flickered to life around his arm, casting faint light against his skin as he entered a security lockdown sequence.

The crowd murmured quietly as the Tempest shifted in response, its external plating adjusting slightly, as though it had awakened.

SECURITY LOCK ENGAGED.
SENTRY MODE ACTIVATED.

A soft, mechanical voice echoed from his omni-tool:

"Unauthorized access detected will result in defensive measures. Intrusion threshold set. No tampering permitted."

The thrusters shifted slightly, stabilizing the ship's stance, as if the Tempest itself was now watching its surroundings.

Jaune entered one final command.

"Autonomous departure authorized if breached."

The moment those words left the interface, the engineers watching him visibly tensed.

If anyone tried to force their way onto that ship… it would leave.

Without them.

Without a trace.

Jaune said nothing.

And then he turned away, walking past the crowd like they didn't exist.

---

General Ironwood was waiting for them.

His presence was as commanding as ever, standing near the entrance to the military compound, his expression unreadable. Unlike his subordinates, he had long since processed what he had seen. His steel-blue eyes flickered to the Tempest for only a brief moment before settling on Jaune and his team.

"Let's move on."

Jaune nodded.

"Agreed."

No one spoke further. The mission awaited.

As they were led through the hallways of the base, Yang let out a low whistle, glancing around at the sterile white walls and the disciplined personnel moving about with mechanical efficiency.

"Man, I forgot how much Atlas loves making everything look the same," she muttered.

"This is Mantle," Blake corrected, arms crossed as she took in the surroundings. "Atlas keeps its elite in the floating city. Mantle gets the factories and military bases."

Weiss sighed, rubbing her temples. "It's not that simple. Atlas relies on Mantle's industry, and Mantle depends on Atlas' protection. It's a system that—"

"Doesn't work," Blake finished for her, golden eyes narrowing. "You don't have to justify it, Weiss. We all know why Mantle isn't treated the same."

Weiss pursed her lips but didn't argue.

Jaune remained silent, his focus forward, but Ruby glanced at him curiously.

"What do you think, Jaune?"

Jaune exhaled slowly.

"I think," he said, his voice neutral, "that we're not here to debate the ethics of Atlas. We have a job to do."

The conversation ended there.

---

The war room was bathed in the dim glow of tactical holograms, displaying the underground ruin where their mission would take them. The projected blueprints were rough, stitched together from the limited scans gathered before communications had been lost.

General Ironwood stood at the front of the room, arms clasped behind his back. His steel-blue gaze swept over the team before settling on Jaune, who stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

"Two weeks ago," Ironwood began, his voice measured, "Specialist Winter Schnee and a squad of six elite operatives were dispatched to investigate the ruins uncovered outside Mantle's industrial zone. They were tasked with gathering intel on the structure, identifying possible threats, and retrieving any historical data of value."

A flickering image of Winter and her team appeared, a pre-mission record showing them fully equipped, standing at attention before deployment.

"We lost all contact shortly after they entered," Ironwood continued. "Whatever is down there blocked outgoing signals. The last transmission we received was mostly garbled."

The hollow recording played, filled with static.

Distorted voices.

A distant shriek.

Then, something wet.

Then—silence.

The hologram flickered out.

A tense stillness settled over the room.

Jaune's eyes remained locked on the projection of the ruins.

"How much did they take with them?" he asked, his tone direct.

Ironwood turned to him, his gaze calculating. "Standard loadout for an extended mission. Rations for a week. If rationed carefully, they could stretch it to two, maybe three."

Jaune's fingers tapped against his arm, his mind already running calculations.

"Any extra supply caches left near the entry point?"

Ironwood shook his head. "Negative. They were expected to complete their mission and return before additional provisions were necessary."

Jaune inhaled slowly through his nose. Two weeks. Possibly three, if they were careful.

That meant they were either holding out somewhere, still alive but running low, or…

They had run out a long time ago.

Jaune nodded once, processing. "Understood."

The requested supplies had been prepared in advance, awaiting transport to the site alongside the team. Emergency medical supplies had been prioritized, including trauma kits, portable biofoam injectors for stabilizing injuries, and a stockpile of pain suppressants and stimulants in case of prolonged engagement. With no certainty on the condition of the missing team, Jaune had ensured they were equipped to handle not just minor wounds, but full combat casualties if necessary.

Extended rations and potable water filtration units were also included, capable of sustaining their entire team for at least two weeks. The rations were a mix of high-calorie nutrient packs and standard survival provisions, designed to be lightweight but effective. The filtration units, small but advanced, would allow them to purify any available water sources within the ruins, minimizing their reliance on stored supplies. If the missing squad had been rationing, they might still be holding out, but Jaune wasn't willing to take that chance.

In addition, additional power sources had been provided for extended operations. Compact energy cells and field generators were included, ensuring they could power any necessary equipment without being forced to retreat prematurely. Given that the ruins had already disrupted standard communications, there was no guarantee that conventional power sources would function properly inside. Having backups was necessary.

For navigation and traversal, Jaune had secured climbing and excavation gear, including reinforced ropes, pitons, and collapsible scaffolding for traversing unstable terrain. The ruins were underground, and if parts of the structure had collapsed or shifted over time, the risk of entrapment was high. Specialized cutting tools and structural supports were also included, ensuring they could clear debris or create stable paths if necessary.

Lastly, contingency equipment for combat had been supplied. Reinforced armor plating was included, specifically designed for quick deployment in hostile environments, offering additional protection for extended engagements. Contingency ammunition had also been provided, ensuring that their weapons wouldn't be a liability should the mission take longer than expected. The absence of Grimm in the ruins did not mean there was no danger. Something had caused the previous team to disappear, and Jaune was prepared for the worst.

Everything had been selected with one priority in mind—survival.

Ironwood raised an eyebrow. "You prepared for a long-term stay."

"I prepared for the worst," Jaune corrected.

Ironwood nodded, unbothered by the bluntness.

"Your requested supplies have been prepared and will be brought to the site with you," Ironwood confirmed. "In addition, we've provided additional light-based field generators for visibility in unknown environments."

Jaune studied the list for a moment before nodding. "It'll do."

Jaune turned to Weiss as Ironwood continued his debriefing.

She had been quiet.

Too quiet.

Her hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides, her breathing controlled—but strained.

Jaune knew what was coming.

And then—

"You're telling me my sister has been MISSING for TWO WEEKS, and I'm only hearing about this NOW?!"

Her voice cut through the room like a blade, sharp and filled with raw emotion.

The others turned to her, their expressions shifting.

Ironwood didn't flinch. He had expected this.

"You weren't told until we had a full assessment of the situation," he stated plainly.

"That's not good enough!" Weiss snapped, her blue eyes flashing with frustration. "I should have been informed the moment she disappeared!"

Her anger wasn't just directed at Ironwood.

It was directed at herself.

At the idea that she might have never known.

At the possibility that, if she hadn't come on this mission, she would have been sitting comfortably in Vale, completely unaware.

Jaune stepped forward before she could escalate further.

"Weiss."

She turned toward him, her frustration still boiling.

"We're here now," Jaune said, his voice calm, even, absolute. "And we're going to find them."

The words struck through her anger, grounding her.

She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to center her emotions.

Jaune was right.

Dwelling on the why didn't matter anymore.

They had a job to do.

She swallowed hard before nodding.

"Understood."

Ironwood observed their exchange before returning to the mission briefing.

"Your objective is simple," Ironwood continued, his voice steady. "Enter the ruins, locate the missing team, and extract them."

"If they're still alive," Blake murmured.

Ironwood's gaze flicked to her. "If they're still alive, you bring them back. If they aren't, we need to know why."

The weight of the words settled heavily.

Jaune nodded once.

"We'll handle it."

As the team dispersed to make final preparations, Weiss stayed behind, lingering near Team RWBY.

For the first time since stepping off the Tempest, she felt uncertain.

She looked down at her hands.

"I don't know if I would have found out if I wasn't on this mission," she admitted quietly.

Ruby, Blake, and Yang turned to her.

"You mean…?" Ruby asked hesitantly.

Weiss exhaled slowly. "I don't know if Ironwood would have told me unless it became unavoidable. Unless it became public. I might have never known."

Blake crossed her arms. "They probably thought keeping it contained would prevent unnecessary panic."

"That doesn't make it right," Weiss muttered.

Ruby placed a hand on her shoulder.

"We're going to bring her back."

Weiss nodded.

They all turned to where Jaune stood, already securing their supplies.

He wasn't wasting time.

Because as far as he was concerned—the mission had already begun.

---

The steady rumble of the transport truck did little to ease the tension settling over the team. The further they traveled, the more the industrial sprawl of Mantle disappeared behind them, replaced by a cold, barren landscape of forgotten machinery and abandoned excavation sites.

The ruins loomed ahead, massive jagged stone structures jutting from the snow like the ribs of some long-dead beast. The entrance—a vast, gaping stairwell descending into darkness—was visible even from a distance, a wound in the earth that had swallowed an entire squad of Atlesian operatives.

The closer they got, the quieter the truck became.

The fear was settling in.

They were all feeling it.

Weiss sat rigid in her seat, her fingers tightening over her arms, white-knuckled and pale.

She wasn't the only one.

Blake had been staring at the floor for the last ten minutes, her ears twitching at every bump in the road. She wasn't saying anything, but her posture was stiff, guarded, tense.

Ren had his hands resting on his knees, his usual composure hiding the fact that his fingers were gripping just a little too tightly.

Nora wasn't humming. She wasn't bouncing in her seat. She was still, the realization of where they were going sinking in deep.

Yang's usual bravado wasn't there either. She was leaning forward slightly, elbows on her knees, tapping her fingers against her gloves, a nervous rhythm forming without her realizing it.

Even Ruby—*always the optimist, always the one to bring the energy up—*was quiet, her silver eyes flicking toward Weiss every so often.

Because they all felt it.

The weight. The fear.

This wasn't Grimm.

This wasn't a training mission.

This was walking into the unknown, into a place that had already swallowed a fully trained team of elite operatives.

And there was no guarantee they would come back out.

They had faced things that defied logic before.

They had fought in the ruins beneath Beacon, felt the unnatural presence, heard the whispers that weren't supposed to exist.

And now, they were walking into another one.

None of them spoke it out loud.

But the doubt was there.

Weiss could feel the weight of their fear pressing against her.

And yet—she refused to let it take hold.

She couldn't.

Because Winter was down there.

Somewhere in that abyss of crumbling stone and suffocating darkness, her sister was waiting.

Alone.

Trapped.

Maybe starving. Maybe injured.

Maybe—

She clenched her jaw, forcing that thought away.

She wasn't going to think like that.

Not yet.

She was angry that she hadn't been told sooner. She was frustrated that she hadn't been given a chance to help until now.

But none of that mattered anymore.

She wasn't here to be angry.

She was here to bring Winter back.

The entire team shifted, stealing glances toward one person.

Jaune.

He sat near the front of the truck, silent, unmoving. His spear was propped against his knee, his fingers resting lightly against the haft, his grip loose but ready.

His gaze wasn't on them.

It was outside.

Watching the terrain.

Watching the horizon.

Watching everything.

He wasn't tense. He wasn't nervous.

But he also wasn't comfortable.

His usual, calculating calmness was still there, but there was something different about it now.

Something colder.

It was as if he had already accepted what they would find.

And for some reason, that was more unsettling than anything else.

Because Jaune wasn't the type to fear the unknown.

He was the type to prepare for it.

And if he was preparing—

That meant he knew something they didn't.

And that terrified them more than the ruins ever could.

---

The transport truck rumbled to a stop, its reinforced wheels grinding against the frozen, uneven terrain. A faint hiss of pressure released as the doors unlocked, allowing the frigid air of Mantle's industrial wastelands to seep into the cabin.

Jaune stepped out first, his boots landing silently on the ice-covered ground. The Guardian Spear was strapped securely to his back, its weight familiar as he adjusted his grip on his belt.

The others followed behind, their movements cautious, deliberate.

Because now that they were standing in front of it—*seeing it for themselves—*the weight of what they were about to do finally settled in.

The ruins were massive.

Dark, jagged structures of carved stone loomed like broken fangs, jutting from the snow and ice, weathered by centuries of time. The entrance itself was a gaping stairwell descending into the abyss, flanked by towering pillars covered in unreadable carvings that pulsed faintly with an eerie, unnatural glow.

But it wasn't just the entrance that drew their unease.

It was what stood in front of it.

A barrier.

It was faint—a barely perceptible shimmer in the air, a distortion that flickered like heat rising off pavement.

And yet, it was there.

A presence. A threshold.

One that no one had crossed.

Atlesian soldiers stood nearby, their postures tense, their faces uncertain as they observed the impossible force blocking the entrance.

It wasn't physical.

It wasn't natural.

It was something else entirely.

Ironwood approached, his steel-blue eyes fixed on the entrance, his expression hard.

"This is as far as anyone has been able to go," he stated. "Every attempt to push through has failed. We don't know what it is, but it isn't dust-based, and it's immune to conventional disruption technology."

Jaune stepped closer.

His gaze flickered over the surface of the barrier, watching as it rippled faintly in reaction to his presence.

"No one has gotten through?" he asked, voice even.

"No one."

"But the first team did."

Ironwood's jaw tightened.

"Yes."

Jaune exhaled through his nose.

"Then we're going in."

The others exchanged uneasy glances.

This wasn't Grimm.

This wasn't just another ruin.

This was something else.

Something wrong.

Blake's ears twitched.

Yang's hands clenched.

Nora's usual energy was gone.

Ren's breathing was steady—but forced.

And Weiss?

She was standing closest to Jaune, her eyes locked onto the barrier, her hands trembling just slightly.

Because she knew what this meant.

Winter had gotten through.

And now, they had to follow.

Jaune didn't hesitate.

He stepped forward.

The barrier pulsed, flickering in response—

Then, without a sound, it parted around him.

The air warped. Shifted.

And Jaune disappeared into the darkness below.

For a split second, the team didn't move.

Then—

Ruby sucked in a breath, her grip tightening around Crescent Rose.

"Go," she said, her voice steady, despite the rising tension in her chest.

One by one, the others followed.

---

As soon as they crossed, a cold weight settled onto their shoulders.

The moment the barrier sealed behind them, the outside world disappeared.

The air was thick.

Not stale, not suffocating—but wrong.

Like they had stepped into a place that hadn't been disturbed in centuries.

The stairwell stretched downward, a spiraling descent of smooth, untouched stone. The walls were covered in carvings that had long since eroded, their meanings lost to time.

It wasn't dust that coated the floor.

It was something else.

Something fine. Soft. Like ash.

Their footsteps didn't echo.

There was no sound beyond their own movements.

It was as if the ruins themselves had swallowed all noise.

The harnesses on their packs activated automatically, sending beams of harsh, cold light forward. The light shifted as they moved, illuminating whatever direction they faced.

And yet, it wasn't comforting.

The beams were too sharp.

Too narrow.

They cut through the darkness like something out of a horror story, casting long, stretched shadows along the walls, twisting the carvings into distorted shapes.

It didn't help.

It made everything worse.

And then, there was Jaune.

The glowing blue edge of his Guardian Spear pulsed softly, casting a steady, unwavering light around him.

Unlike their harsh, unnatural beams, his light was different.

It didn't flicker.

It didn't shift.

It was calm. Steady. Controlled.

And it was the only thing that felt real.

They moved deeper.

Step by step.

Their breaths slow, measured—because there was something else in the silence.

A feeling.

Not movement.

Not sound.

But a presence.

Like the ruins themselves were watching.

Like something was waiting.

No one spoke.

No one had to.

Because they all felt it.

And still—they followed the glow of Jaune's spear.

Because in this place, it was the only thing keeping them grounded.

The darkness receded, giving way to an immense open chamber, the first sign that the descent had led them into something much larger than a simple underground ruin. The team's movements slowed as they stepped onto solid stone, their boots echoing slightly against the polished floor.

Their harness lights flickered across the walls, but instead of bringing comfort, the beams cast sharp, unnatural shadows, making the carvings along the stone surfaces shift and twist as if they were moving.

Jaune's spear remained the only source of steady light, its soft blue glow cutting through the gloom, a beacon of clarity in the otherwise oppressive, shifting blackness.

Unlike the temple beneath Beacon, this place wasn't a forgotten place of worship turned into something sinister.

This was never a place of worship to begin with.

This was something else.

Something built with purpose.

The first thing they noticed was the symmetry.

The walls weren't just carved—they were engraved with precision, the stonework seamless, almost as if the chamber had been cut into existence rather than built.

There were no crumbling altars, no symbols of reverence, no offerings left behind by ancient hands.

There was no faith here.

Only function.

Ren ran his fingers lightly over one of the walls, feeling the way the stone was smooth, untouched by natural erosion.

"This place... it wasn't meant to be found," he murmured.

Blake studied the markings, her golden eyes narrowing. "It's not a temple," she muttered. "It's a prison."

Jaune didn't respond. He was already looking ahead.

Footsteps disturbed the layer of dust across the chamber floor.

Weiss was the first to notice the faint scuff marks, the indentations where boots had pressed into the stone and left subtle trails.

"They came this way," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Nora knelt beside one of the deeper impressions, running her fingers along it. "It's recent."

"How recent?" Ruby asked.

Nora shook her head. "Hard to say. Days? A week? Two?"

Jaune's gaze followed the tracks, tracing them to the far end of the chamber where an archway loomed, leading further into the ruins.

A set of metal poles had been driven into the ground, likely used for marking the team's path. One of them still had a small glowing signal light attached to it—its faint red blink the only proof that someone had been here before them.

But there was no other sign of them.

No equipment left behind.

No distress markers.

No bodies.

Weiss's hands curled into fists.

Winter had been here.

And then she was gone.

The silence in the chamber was absolute.

No wind.

No distant drips of water.

No hum of machinery, no sound of insects or creatures skittering in the dark.

Just emptiness.

It was unnatural.

Blake's ears twitched. "This place feels... wrong."

"It is," Jaune said simply.

Yang exhaled sharply, her grip flexing around her gauntlets. "Anyone else getting 'bad idea' vibes from this whole thing?"

"We're already in," Jaune reminded her. "No point in turning back now."

Weiss moved toward the nearest set of carved symbols, inspecting them with narrowed eyes.

"These markings... they don't match anything I've seen before."

"Not even in Atlas?" Blake asked.

Weiss shook her head. "No. This isn't Mistrali, or Vacuan, or any dialect recorded in our archives. It's... something else."

Ren stepped beside her, his eyes tracing the symbols carefully. "They're too methodical to be decorative."

"Instructions," Pyrrha guessed. "Or warnings."

Jaune stepped closer, his glowing blue eyes flickering between the symbols with unreadable intensity. He wasn't looking at them like they were foreign.

He was looking at them like he was trying to remember something.

Then, without a word, he activated his omni-tool.

A faint orange glow flickered across Jaune's forearm as the holographic interface of his omni-tool appeared, bathing the ancient symbols in its light. His fingers moved swiftly across the floating displays, his expression focused as he began scanning the carvings.

A soft hum filled the chamber as the tool analyzed the writing, capturing intricate details and compiling them into patterns of data.

For a moment, the rest of the team just watched.

Then—

"Uh... Jaune?" Ruby finally spoke, hesitantly stepping closer. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Deciphering it."

A pause.

"You can do that?" Yang asked, incredulous.

Jaune didn't respond immediately, still adjusting settings on his omni-tool.

"The tool can detect repeating linguistic structures," he explained, his voice even. "If there's a pattern, I can cross-reference it with known languages and extrapolate meaning."

Silence.

Then—

"Wait, wait, wait—hold on," Weiss interrupted, her hands shooting up in exasperation. "You're telling me that you can just scan an unknown language and start translating it?"

Jaune's eyes remained on the interface. "If the data is sufficient, yes."

Weiss looked personally offended.

"That technology doesn't exist!" she nearly shouted. "Even in Atlas, even with the most advanced translation AIs, it would take months—years—to even begin making sense of something like this!"

Jaune, completely unfazed, continued scanning.

"It's not perfect," he admitted, "but it's faster than waiting for a linguist."

"Faster?!" Weiss sputtered. "Jaune, you just bypassed an entire field of study!"

Ruby's eyes sparkled with wonder. "That is so cool."

Jaune ignored their reactions as the omni-tool beeped, flashing a notification as it compiled its preliminary translation.

He stared at the results, his gaze narrowing slightly.

The text had begun to take form.

And the first translated words sent a chill through him.

"Do not open what cannot be sealed."

His grip on his spear tightened.

Whatever this place was, it wasn't just old.

It had been locked away.

---

The glow of Jaune's omni-tool faded, leaving only the eerie blue light of his spear to illuminate the chamber. The others stood frozen, their gazes flickering between the ancient carvings and the translated words that now hovered in orange holographic script before them.

"Do not open what cannot be sealed."

The air grew heavier.

A deep, oppressive stillness settled over the chamber, like the weight of the ruins had suddenly doubled, pressing against their skin, their lungs, their very thoughts.

"That... doesn't sound good," Yang muttered, her voice quieter than usual.

"No kidding," Blake murmured, golden eyes flicking toward the shadows beyond their lights.

"What does it mean?" Ruby asked, stepping closer to the writing as if looking at it harder would give her the answers.

Jaune's fingers twitched.

"It means," he said, his voice sharper than before, "that something was never meant to be let out."

The team exchanged uneasy glances.

"The first team got in," Ren pointed out. "But they didn't come back."

"And this could be why," Weiss finished grimly.

Jaune's jaw tightened.

Weiss exhaled sharply, trying to push down the unease curling in her stomach.

"Are we sure this isn't just some generic warning?" she asked, though she already knew the answer. "A lot of ruins have messages like this—'turn back now,' 'abandon hope,' 'only fools enter'—"

"It's different," Jaune cut her off.

His gaze remained locked on the text.

"This isn't a warning for invaders. It's a reminder."

"A reminder for who?" Blake asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jaune's grip on his spear tightened further.

"Whoever built this."

And that was when the chamber breathed.

It wasn't wind.

It wasn't a draft.

It was something deeper, lower, more primal.

A shift.

A quiet, exhaled groan from the very stone itself.

The air stirred around them, carrying something cold, wet, and stale, a scent that was neither dust nor decay but something far older.

"Did—" Ruby swallowed hard. "Did anyone else feel that?"

Nora's hand twitched toward her hammer. "That was definitely a thing."

Jaune said nothing.

He was already listening. Watching. Calculating.

The glyphs carved into the walls began to dim.

The faint glow they had cast—*the only sign of artificial illumination in the ruins—*began to flicker.

Then, one by one, the symbols went dark.

"No, no, no," Weiss muttered, her heart pounding. "That's not good."

"Our lights are still working," Blake noted, though she wasn't reassured.

"Yeah, and they're making everything look worse," Yang added, eyes darting toward the ever-growing shadows that now swallowed the far ends of the chamber.

It was true.

The harsh beams from their harnesses cut through the darkness, but instead of offering comfort, they only made everything feel more unnatural.

More distorted.

The shadows cast by the ancient pillars stretched too far.

The carvings on the walls seemed to shift just out of sight.

And then—

Something moved.

A soft clicking noise.

Like bone tapping against stone.

Jaune's spear crackled louder, his stance shifting.

"Something's here," he said, his voice low, steady.

"Grimm?" Weiss whispered, fingers tightening around Myrtenaster.

"No," Jaune said immediately.

And that single word sent a new kind of fear through them.

The clicking grew louder.

Then another sound joined it—a soft, guttural scrape, like something dragging itself across the stone.

Ren's breath hitched. "It's coming from the walls."

They turned.

The shadows between the pillars were moving.

Not shifting.

Not flickering.

Moving.

Weiss's light snapped toward one of the pillars.

And for the briefest second, she saw it.

A shape peeling away from the stone.

It had no eyes, no defined limbs, just an elongated, glistening form, its body rippling like ink struggling to maintain its shape.

It slithered down the pillar, its movement unnatural, wrong.

Jaune saw it too.

And in one swift motion, his spear ignited.

The blue glow cut through the darkness, casting a sharp light that reflected off something wet.

Then—

The walls screamed.

The clicking turned into a deafening cacophony, like a thousand fractured bones snapping all at once.

The pillars came alive.

From the cracks, *they emerged—*shapeless things, their bodies glistening with dark, shifting substance, writhing as if they were struggling to take form.

They crawled forward, dragging themselves toward the team, their elongated limbs twisting, reshaping, never settling into a single shape.

Ruby stumbled back, her silver eyes wide. "What—"

Then one lunged.

Jaune moved first.

His spear slashed through the air, the plasma edge searing through the creature's amorphous body, cutting it cleanly in two. The thing let out a horrific, choking hiss, its form collapsing into black sludge.

But the others kept coming.

"Form up!" Jaune barked.

The team snapped to attention.

Blake and Yang took flanking positions, weapons raised.

Ren and Nora braced for close combat.

Weiss and Ruby fell to the back, ready to unleash ranged attacks.

Jaune stood at the front, his spear humming in the darkness.

The creatures hesitated.

They recognized him.

And they didn't like him.

The tension in the air snapped like a wire pulled too tight.

And then—

They attacked.

Jaune moved like water, slipping between the creatures with an efficiency that was unsettlingly perfect. His spear was a blur of blue light and steel, every strike cutting down an enemy, every motion deliberate, precise, final.

Yang had seen Jaune fight before.

Back at Beacon's temple, she had watched him move like this. It had been fast, brutal, almost supernatural in how efficiently he killed. At the time, she had been too caught up in her own battle to really process it. But now—

Now, with no distractions, no immediate threat on her, she saw it.

And she didn't like what she saw.

Jaune wasn't just fighting.

He was executing.

There was no wasted motion. No hesitation.

No struggle.

---

It was like the outcome had been decided before the fight even started.

Jaune wasn't battling these things—he was putting them down.

And that realization sent a cold feeling crawling up her spine.

"He's done this before," Yang whispered, barely realizing she had spoken. "Exactly like before."

The words felt wrong the moment they left her lips, as if saying them out loud solidified something she hadn't been ready to accept.

But then—

The ceiling cracked.

The stone above them groaned, a deep, grating sound that made everyone freeze.

Yang barely had time to look up before something massive peeled itself out of the ceiling.

A hulking figure, its body shifting as it crawled downward like a twisted insect, its limbs elongated, jagged, too many joints bending at unnatural angles.

Its head snapped downward, a hollow, elongated skull-like face stretching unnaturally, no eyes—just a gaping, dripping maw.

The temperature dropped.

Ruby's heart slammed against her ribs.

"New plan!" she shouted, instincts snapping into place.

Jaune didn't even turn.

"Handle it," he said, his voice sharp, decisive, without hesitation.

And then—he kept moving forward.

Straight into the horde.

For a split second, panic threatened to take over.

They had seen Jaune fight, and it was easy to fall into the rhythm of just watching him, trusting that he could handle everything.

But that wasn't what this was.

Jaune had made a decision.

He would handle the swarm.

They had to handle whatever this thing was.

And that meant someone had to lead.

Ruby stepped forward, her silver eyes sharp with focus.

"You heard him! Yang, Ren—flank its sides! Weiss, keep it locked down as much as possible! Blake, Pyrrha, hit it when you see an opening! Nora—" she turned, voice strong, commanding. "You and me are keeping its attention!"

Nora grinned, already lifting Magnhild. "Ohhh, I like this plan!"

The creature lunged.

And the fight began.

Jaune was already lost in the fight, his spear carving through the smaller creatures like they were nothing.

The others had no choice but to trust him.

They had their own fight now.

The ceiling beast crashed to the floor, its limbs unfolding, stretching impossibly wide, its form still shifting, never settling into something fully solid.

It moved faster than it should have, closing the distance between them too quickly.

Ruby dashed left, Crescent Rose spinning into its rifle form, firing a shot straight into its elongated skull.

The *bullet hit—*but the creature barely reacted.

"Yeah, okay," Ruby muttered. "That's not great."

Weiss was already moving, glyphs forming in rapid succession, launching ice shards straight at its legs.

The beast shuddered, its limbs locking as the ice spread—but only for a moment.

Then, with a horrible wet cracking noise, it ripped free, the ice shattering like glass.

Blake darted forward, Gambol Shroud slicing toward its legs, aiming to cripple its movement.

The blade *hit—*but instead of cutting through flesh, it felt like hitting wet stone.

"Damn it," Blake hissed, flipping away just in time to avoid a razor-sharp limb stabbing where she had just been.

"It's not reacting like a Grimm," Pyrrha called out, blocking a wild strike with her shield. "It's something else!"

Yang dodged left, Ember Celica firing at point-blank range, the explosive rounds tearing into its side—

And still, it kept coming.

"This thing is cheating!" Yang snapped.

Nora grinned, slamming Magnhild into the ground. "Good. I like a challenge!"

The creature lunged again, but they were ready this time.

Ren moved first, striking with precision, hitting weak points before leaping back.

Weiss sent another volley of ice, not trying to freeze it, but to redirect its movements.

Blake and Pyrrha attacked together, their coordination forcing the beast into predictable patterns.

And Ruby?

She was everywhere.

Darting between openings, firing into its weak spots, making sure every attack connected.

Slowly—it started to falter.

They were wearing it down.

They just had to hold out.

Jaune had given them an order.

And they were going to see it through.

---

The chamber quaked with the force of their battle, the clash of steel, gunfire, and monstrous howls reverberating through the massive stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of burning ichor, the acrid stench filling their lungs as they fought to bring the creatures down.

Jaune's second opponent was dying, its form barely holding itself together, writhing violently as it tried to recover from his relentless assault.

But Jaune did not let up.

And neither did his team.

The first creature was faltering, its grotesque, shifting body struggling to hold form under the relentless attacks.

Pyrrha led the charge, her spear flashing in streaks of gold and red, each strike fast, deadly, unrelenting.

For a week, she had pushed herself—not to be Jaune's student, not to be carried, but to be his equal.

And now, she was proving herself.

Her spear pierced deep into the creature's center, sending shudders through its entire frame. Ichor sprayed violently across the stone floor as the beast let out a warped, gurgling screech.

Weiss capitalized, glyphs forming mid-air, locking the beast's movements for just a second—long enough for Yang's fist to smash into its side, Ember Celica roaring with explosive force.

Ren and Blake struck next, their dual precision cutting through tendrils, severing limbs before they could fully reform.

Nora, grinning through the sweat, raised Magnhild and brought it down with the force of a meteor, the impact cracking the stone beneath their feet.

Ruby danced between openings, Crescent Rose a whirling storm of death, each slash carving deep, jagged wounds.

The creature was losing ground.

They were winning.

But they weren't the only ones.

The second creature—Jaune's opponent—was already finished.

It had no limbs left.

No escape.

Jaune had torn it apart, piece by piece, his spear a blur of movement, striking without mercy, without pause.

It was trying to crawl away, its shifting mass desperately reforming, attempting to escape its inevitable end.

Jaune didn't let it.

With a fluid motion, he raised the Guardian Spear, the plasma edge humming with dangerous energy as he locked onto the creature's skull-like head.

The creature froze.

It knew.

Jaune pulled the trigger.

BOOM.

The .75 caliber round tore through the creature's skull, detonating upon impact, obliterating its head and upper spine.

Black ichor erupted outward, splattering against the stone walls as the headless corpse collapsed, twitching once before melting into nothing.

Jaune exhaled, lowering his weapon.

His fight was over.

And at that exact moment—

"NOW!" Ruby shouted.

The team struck all at once.

Pyrrha's spear buried itself deep, pinning the beast to the wall.

Weiss's glyphs expanded, holding it locked in place.

Blake and Ren's blades crossed, slicing its last remaining limbs clean off.

Yang's fist smashed through its core, Ember Celica roaring with fire.

And Ruby—

She moved faster than a shadow, Crescent Rose flashing in a final, merciless arc.

The creature screamed.

And then it was gone.

The silence that followed was deafening.

The only sound was their ragged breathing, the weight of the battle crashing down on them all at once.

Slowly—

The black ichor dissolved, fading into the shadows.

They had won.

But as Jaune lowered his spear, his gaze locked onto the passage ahead.

Because whatever came next—

It wasn't over.

The creature's final shriek echoed through the chamber, its body collapsing into a pool of black ichor, writhing for just a moment before melting into nothing.

For a second, no one moved.

Their heavy breathing filled the air, weapons still raised, bodies still tense—waiting for another enemy, for another threat.

But nothing came.

The ruins were silent.

The fight was over.

And they had won.

"HA!" Nora was the first to react, throwing her fists into the air. "WE DID IT!"

Yang, still catching her breath, let out a relieved laugh, shaking out the tension in her arms. "That was one tough son of a—" She cut herself off with a grin. "But we won!"

"That we did," Ren exhaled, wiping sweat from his brow.

"It actually went down..." Weiss muttered, blinking in disbelief. "I wasn't sure it was possible."

"We worked together," Pyrrha said, a small, proud smile forming on her lips.

Ruby spun on her heel, her silver eyes bright with excitement. "Did you see that?! We actually took it down! As a team!"

Blake let out a quiet chuckle, crossing her arms. "We didn't just survive. We fought."

"And we won," Weiss finished, her confidence returning.

There was a lightness in the air now, a weight lifted. For the first time in this temple, they felt powerful.

They had faced something horrifying.

And they had beaten it.

Nora pumped her fist. "Okay, but I think we all know who hit the hardest, right? I mean, did you see the crater I left?"

"I don't know, Nora," Yang teased. "Pyrrha landed the biggest hit before we started wearing it down."

Pyrrha blushed slightly, but her smile remained firm. "It was all of us. That's why we won."

"We worked together," Blake nodded in agreement. "That's what made the difference."

Ruby laughed, shaking her head. "And we're only gonna get better!"

Jaune had said nothing.

He stood a few feet away, spear lowered, body still tense—as if waiting for something else to emerge from the darkness.

But nothing came.

And as the team continued to cheer, their energy lifting, something changed in his expression.

His grip on his spear eased.

The tension in his shoulders relaxed.

And then—

A small smile.

Not wide, not obvious.

But real.

Ruby saw it.

She stopped mid-laugh, blinking as she caught the look on his face.

It wasn't smugness.

It wasn't relief.

It was pride.

Not for himself—

For them.

For his team.

For how much they had improved.

For the fact that they had fought beside him, not behind him.

Ruby's heart swelled with warmth.

He's happy with them.

He's happy that they were his team.

Jaune's smile faded after a moment, but Ruby had seen it.

And for now—

That was enough.

She grinned, turning back to the others.

"Alright, alright! Let's not pat ourselves on the back too much! We still have a mission!"

Jaune nodded, his voice calm. "Let's keep moving."

They fell into step behind him, their spirits lighter.

For the first time since entering these ruins—

They weren't just following Jaune.

They were walking with him..

---

The echo of their victory still lingered in the air, the warmth of triumph keeping their steps steady as they moved forward. The harsh tension that had gripped them since they entered the temple had finally eased, if only slightly.

Jaune took the lead, his spear still crackling with residual energy, the glow casting faint, eerie blue reflections along the stone walls. The others followed, weapons still drawn, their breathing steadying but their hearts still pounding from the adrenaline.

They had won, but the ruins weren't finished with them.

As they advanced through the next corridor, the mood began to shift.

The walls seemed to close in, the once-vast space feeling narrower, like the ruins themselves were watching, waiting.

The air grew thicker, more oppressive.

The dim, eerie glow from the ancient carvings flickered intermittently, casting long, twisting shadows that seemed to move on their own.

And then—

"Stop," Jaune commanded.

The team halted immediately.

His spear raised slightly, the blue light reflecting off something ahead of them.

A glint of metal.

Weiss gasped softly, stepping closer.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Because there—scattered across the ground—were pieces of Atlesian armor.

The group stared.

Atlas uniforms.

Weapons.

Helmets, some cracked, others completely destroyed.

The remnants of an elite unit.

And there were no bodies.

Only the shredded remains of their gear.

Blake knelt, brushing her fingers along the fabric of an abandoned uniform. The material was ripped open, clawed apart by something far stronger than a human hand.

"This was torn," she murmured.

"By what?" Yang asked, her voice lower than usual.

Blake didn't answer.

Because she didn't know.

Weiss felt her stomach twist.

Winter's team had been here.

She stepped forward, scanning the wreckage with a growing sense of urgency.

"There's no blood," Ren pointed out, his voice unnervingly calm.

"Yeah, and that's not comforting," Nora muttered, gripping Magnhild tighter.

"So they weren't killed here," Pyrrha murmured, her green eyes narrowing.

"Or there was nothing left to bleed," Jaune said.

The words sent a cold shiver down their spines.

Because they had seen things in this temple.

Things that didn't just kill.

Things that erased.

Jaune scanned the wreckage, his jaw tightening. There was nothing else to find.

No supplies.

No emergency beacons.

No signs that anyone had escaped.

Just uniforms and broken weapons, discarded like husks.

He exhaled through his nose.

"We keep moving," he said.

Weiss hesitated.

But Winter could still be alive.

And that was all the reason she needed.

"Let's go," she agreed, stepping forward.

The team followed, leaving behind the remnants of those who had come before them.

And as they moved deeper into the ruins—

The silence grew heavier.

---

The corridor narrowed, the walls pressing in like unseen hands, ancient stone towering over them, damp and untouched by time. The air was thicker now, heavier, as if it carried a weight of something unspoken, unseen.

Each step forward felt wrong.

Like they weren't meant to be here.

Like something was watching. Waiting.

Jaune's spear remained steady, the faint blue glow pulsing softly as he took point, his movements as measured and calm as ever.

Then—

The whispers began.

At first, it was faint.

A distant hum beneath the stillness, just beyond their perception, like voices too quiet to hear but too loud to ignore.

Ren's head snapped up immediately, his eyes narrowing. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Yang asked, but her voice wavered.

She had heard it too.

Blake's ears twitched, her body stiffening, her fingers clenching around Gambol Shroud.

Then the whispers grew louder.

"It's just the ruins," Weiss muttered, but her breath was coming quicker now. "It's just—"

"No," Jaune interrupted, his tone sharper than before.

The others turned to him.

"This is part of the trial."

And that's when they started losing their senses.

The light dimmed.

Not flickered.

Not wavered.

Just faded.

Like the darkness wasn't pushing in but was swallowing everything.

"What's happening?!" Ruby's voice was higher now, shaken.

The glow from their weapons flickered, their harness lights barely illuminating the space in front of them.

And then—blackness.

Total, suffocating blackness.

They could still feel the ground beneath them.

Still feel their weapons in their hands.

But they couldn't see each other.

Then came the numbness.

It started in their fingers, a slow, creeping sensation that made gripping their weapons feel wrong, distant.

Then their arms.

Then their legs.

"I—" Blake swallowed hard, stumbling slightly. "I can't feel—"

She reached for the nearest wall but missed.

Because she wasn't sure where her body was anymore.

The floor felt farther away.

Her balance wavered.

And then she couldn't feel her own heartbeat.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"Jaune?" Weiss called, desperation creeping in.

The whispers changed.

No longer distant, indistinct murmurs.

Now—

They were voices.

"Why are you still fighting?"

"You're already dead."

"Why keep going?"

"You're alone."

"They've abandoned you."

"It's easier if you stop."

"Just stop."

The words clawed at their minds, drowning out their own thoughts.

Yang squeezed her head between her hands, shaking violently. "Get out—get out—!"

But the voices didn't leave.

"Your sister doesn't need you."

"You weren't fast enough."

"You'll never be strong enough."

Blake stumbled backward, gasping. "No—no, I—"

"Adam was right about you."

"You'll never escape him."

"You are him."

Weiss let out a soft, strangled cry, gripping her arms.

"Your family doesn't need you."

"Your sister is already dead."

"You don't belong anywhere."

Ren's hands trembled.

"You let them die once."

"You'll let them die again."

"Just give up."

Pyrrha clutched her head, breathing raggedly.

"You're only valuable as a champion."

"Jaune doesn't need you."

"You are nothing without your title."

Ruby was on her knees, her body shaking violently.

"You can't save anyone."

"You never could."

"You'll always be too late."

The whispers burrowed deeper, threading through every crack, every insecurity, every lingering doubt.

And then, finally—

They reached the breaking point.

The whispers didn't just speak.

They pulled.

They dragged.

They made the darkness stretch longer.

They made the numbness feel colder.

It would be easier to stop.

To sink.

To let go.

Weiss collapsed against the wall, her vision nothing but shadows.

Yang's fists shook, her breaths coming in sharp gasps.

Blake was curling inward, as if trying to make herself smaller, as if trying to disappear completely.

Pyrrha's hands were shaking, her weapon slipping from her grip.

Ruby couldn't breathe.

She wasn't sure if she was even still alive.

And just when they were about to fall—

Jaune stood alone.

While his team fell.

The whispers didn't touch him. The voices didn't reach him. The oppressive weight of the trial didn't even register.

Because his mind was not his alone.

The Worker of Secrets was an impenetrable wall, preventing the darkness from slipping through.

But his team—they weren't protected.

And now, they were breaking.

Weiss collapsed against the wall, her once-pristine posture crumbling, her fingers clutching at the stone as if it was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Her lips moved, muttering to herself, her voice too soft, too strained, words twisted into broken whispers.

Yang's fists trembled, her breathing ragged, her golden hair hanging in her face as she gritted her teeth, fighting against something only she could hear.

Blake was folding in on herself, her arms wrapped tightly around her body, her ears flat against her head, eyes wide with a fear she never let herself show.

Pyrrha's hands were shaking violently, her weapon slipping from her grip, her expression distant—empty.

Ren had fallen to his knees, his usual composure shattered, his shoulders shaking. Nora wasn't moving, her body stiff, her breathing uneven.

And Ruby—

Ruby was on the ground, hands pressed against her head, her silver eyes squeezed shut, her body curled as if trying to disappear entirely.

Jaune's jaw tightened.

He had seen them fight for their lives.

Had seen them push through impossible battles.

Had seen them stand beside him, unyielding.

And yet—this was breaking them.

He could see it.

If he didn't act now—

They wouldn't move again.

Jaune inhaled sharply, his grip tightening around his spear.

Then, he closed his eyes.

And he let go.

His Aura surged outward, expanding in a slow, deliberate pulse, stretching beyond his body, pushing against the suffocating weight that had settled over his team.

A golden warmth spread through the chamber, soft at first, barely noticeable.

Then—stronger.

Like a tide rolling in, swallowing the darkness whole.

The whispers hissed in protest.

The pressure wavered.

And one by one, his team began to recover.

Ruby was the first to feel it.

A warmth cutting through the numbness, spreading through her limbs. The cold vanished. The weight lifting.

She gasped softly, her fingers twitching, her body no longer disconnected.

Her vision returned first.

The blackness faded, and suddenly—she could see again.

And the first thing she saw was Jaune.

Weiss's hands stopped shaking, her thoughts clearing, her heartbeat slowing.

Yang's breathing steadied, the whispers fading from her mind.

Blake blinked rapidly, the feeling of her own body returning, the overwhelming dread retreating.

Ren's posture straightened, the chaotic weight pressing against his mind disappearing.

Nora exhaled shakily, her grip returning to Magnhild, the whispers losing their hold.

Pyrrha clutched her spear tighter, her hands still trembling, but her focus returning.

"Move," Jaune's voice cut through the silence.

They all turned to him, confused, dazed.

He stood rigid, his spear planted firmly into the ground, his golden Aura radiating outward, wrapping around them like a shield.

But he was sweating.

Even in the cold, frigid air of the ruins, sweat dripped down his face, his breathing slow, controlled—but strained.

They could see the effort it took.

"If you don't move now," he continued, his voice strong despite the weight he carried, "you won't be able to move at all."

His message was clear.

This was temporary.

The trial wasn't finished.

And Jaune couldn't hold this forever.

Ruby swallowed hard, forcing herself to stand.

Weiss followed next, her gaze flickering with uncertainty, but she didn't argue.

Yang rolled her shoulders, shaking off the lingering whispers still crawling at the back of her mind.

Blake exhaled slowly, gripping Gambol Shroud tighter.

One by one, they forced themselves to move.

Jaune watched them carefully, silently.

And as they stood together again, he knew—

They had almost failed.

But now—

Now, they still had a chance.

The golden glow of Jaune's Aura flickered, its warmth retreating from the air, vanishing like a dying ember.

And with it—the protection was gone.

The darkness crashed down.

The whispers returned, no longer a distant hum but a suffocating roar, invading their minds with cruel, twisted voices.

The cold seeped into their bones.

Their limbs felt heavy again.

And for a moment—they almost collapsed.

"You're not strong enough."

"You'll never be good enough."

"Just stop moving."

"You're already lost."

The pressure was overwhelming.

Weiss gasped, her knees buckling slightly, her vision blurring from the sudden weight pressing against her mind.

Yang's body locked up, her fists clenching so tightly her nails bit into her palms.

Blake froze, her breath hitching, her worst fears twisting inside her thoughts like poisoned thorns.

Ren's hands shook, his usual composure cracking at the edges.

Nora bit her lip hard, her grip on Magnhild trembling as she fought to stay standing.

Ruby staggered forward, her silver eyes squeezed shut, her entire body screaming at her to stop.

But then—

Jaune's words rang in their heads.

"Stay strong."

"Push through."

"Don't listen."

Ruby gritted her teeth.

And she forced herself forward.

But one person hadn't moved yet.

Pyrrha.

She had felt it all at once.

The voices, the whispers, the weight of everything crashing down on her at once.

And they knew exactly where to hit her.

"You don't belong here."

"Jaune doesn't need you."

"He's already strong enough on his own."

"You're nothing compared to him."

The words dug into her like blades, twisting into the deepest corners of her fears, her insecurities.

She had pushed herself so hard in the past week, refused to let herself be a burden, refused to be carried.

And yet, now—Jaune had saved them again.

While she had been falling apart.

While she had been weak.

No.

No, she wouldn't allow it.

She refused to let herself be less.

She refused to be a disappointment.

To him.

Pyrrha forced her foot forward.

One step.

Another.

The weight was excruciating, her body screaming at her to stop.

But she didn't.

She wouldn't.

She was Jaune's partner.

And she would not fail him.

With a sharp inhale, Pyrrha lifted her head, clenched her fists, and pushed forward.

Jaune's field was gone.

The whispers were stronger than ever.

But his words remained.

And they clung to them like a lifeline.

Weiss took a deep breath, shoving her fear aside and stepping forward.

Yang straightened, her golden eyes burning with defiance as she kept moving.

Blake forced herself onward, refusing to let the voices win.

Ren and Nora followed, step by step, dragging themselves forward.

Ruby's silver eyes hardened, and she grabbed Crescent Rose, holding it like a shield against the storm in her mind.

Pyrrha, her heart pounding, kept going—because Jaune would not be the only one standing strong.

They weren't going to stop.

They weren't going to give in.

Jaune had told them to move.

So they moved.

Together.

Toward the exit.

---

The moment they crossed the threshold, the atmosphere shifted.

The whispers stopped.

The oppressive weight that had crushed them lifted.

The temperature returned to normal, the thick, suffocating air clearing as they stepped into the next chamber.

They had made it.

But barely.

Weiss stumbled forward, nearly falling to her knees before catching herself against the wall. She let out a sharp exhale, her entire body shaking from the strain of what they had just endured.

Yang didn't even try to hide it—she collapsed onto the cold stone floor, letting out a breathless laugh. "Holy hell… we're alive."

Blake leaned back against the nearest wall, arms crossed over her chest, her breath still uneven, her ears twitching at every little sound as if expecting the voices to return.

Ren sat down without a word, his hands resting on his knees, eyes closed as he steadied his breathing. Nora immediately sat next to him, her body still trembling slightly as she let her head rest against his shoulder.

Ruby staggered, her silver eyes wide, unfocused, trying to ground herself after everything they had just gone through.

And Pyrrha—

Pyrrha was on one knee, gripping her spear tightly, her knuckles white, her chest rising and falling in heavy breaths.

She had done it.

She had pushed through.

But it had taken everything she had.

Jaune, however, remained standing.

His stance wasn't rigid, wasn't stiff.

He was calm. Composed.

His Aura, which had burned so brightly to protect them, was already rebuilding itself, the golden glow flickering faintly along his skin before fading into nothing.

He looked at the others—seeing the exhaustion, the relief, the raw emotion on their faces.

And then, finally—he exhaled.

Not out of relief.

Not out of exhaustion.

But out of certainty.

They had made it.

Barely.

But they had made it.

"That… that was worse," Ruby finally said, her voice hoarse, shaking her head.

Weiss let out a short, bitter laugh, wiping sweat from her brow. "No kidding."

"Way worse," Yang muttered from the floor.

"It was different," Ren murmured, his voice low.

"Different?" Blake scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. "That was more than different. That was…" She hesitated, searching for the right word.

"Cruel," Pyrrha finished.

The group fell silent.

Because she was right.

The last temple had been dangerous. Unsettling. Wrong.

But this?

This hadn't just been a trial.

It had been an attack.

It had reached into them, into their minds, into their weaknesses—

And it had nearly broken them.

The team stood in silence, their bodies still trembling from the effects of the trial. The weight of what they had just endured was still fresh, lingering in the cold air, pressing down on them even though the chamber itself had let them pass.

Jaune, standing tall and composed, scanned their faces.

They had been pushed to their limit.

And they knew it.

That was when Jaune spoke, his voice steady despite the exhaustion in their expressions.

"It follows a pattern."

They all turned to him.

"Beacon's temple," he continued, his gaze sharp, calculating, tracing every detail back in his mind. "It was a place of worship. It tested our worth, our will to fight, our ability to adapt. It wanted to see if we deserved to move forward."

Weiss exhaled sharply, nodding as she caught onto his train of thought. "And this place… isn't a temple at all."

Jaune's blue eyes flickered toward the ruined carvings on the walls, scanning the ancient architecture, reading the story that no one else could.

"It's a prison."

The words settled over them like a heavy weight.

"A prison?" Ruby asked, her voice hoarse from exhaustion, but laced with curiosity.

"It makes sense," Blake murmured, arms crossed. "The markings, the structure… this place wasn't made to be visited."

Jaune nodded. "The last temple's trials were meant to test us. It was built to challenge those who entered, to judge them, to see if they were worthy."

He gestured to the chamber they had just escaped from. "This trial? It wasn't meant to be passed. It was meant to break us. To keep us from moving forward. To stop us from reaching whatever lies ahead."

Yang, still catching her breath, scoffed. "Yeah, well, it almost worked."

Ren rubbed the back of his neck, his usually stoic expression strained. "It was designed to target our minds. To make us want to give up. That's not a test—it's a trap."

"Exactly," Jaune confirmed. "This place doesn't want to test our resolve. It doesn't care if we're worthy. The only thing that matters here is if we're strong enough to survive."

The realization sank in.

The first temple had been structured, orderly, deliberate in its trials.

This one was malicious, insidious, something designed to destroy the minds of those who entered.

Weiss shook her head, her fists clenching. "What were they keeping here?"

Blake's golden eyes flickered toward the dark corridor ahead. "Something they didn't want escaping."

Jaune's grip on his spear tightened.

"Whatever it was," he said, his voice low, "they went to great lengths to make sure it never left."

Pyrrha exhaled deeply, straightening her posture despite the lingering exhaustion. "And yet… something happened. Something allowed Winter's team to enter."

"And now us," Yang muttered.

Jaune's expression remained unreadable.

"That means one of two things," he said simply.

They all turned toward him, waiting for the explanation.

"Either something let us in—"

A beat of silence.

"—Or something wants us deeper inside."

The team exchanged uneasy glances.

The second option… didn't sit well with them.

Nora let out a nervous laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Yeah, okay, so that's not terrifying at all."

Ren exhaled slowly, nodding. "If we follow this pattern, then the trials won't stop here. This place was meant to contain something, and it will do everything in its power to keep us from moving forward."

"And if it follows the same logic," Weiss added, her voice quieter, "then strength alone might not be enough."

Jaune considered her words, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"No," he admitted, "but it's all that's mattered so far."

He turned, eyes scanning the dark corridor that led deeper into the ruin.

"We keep moving."

No one argued.

Because there was no turning back now.

---

The moment they stepped through the corridor, the air shifted.

The stone walls vanished, swallowed by something else.

Cold.

Snow.

Wind.

They weren't in the ruins anymore.

They were in a forest.

"What the hell?" Yang muttered, stopping in her tracks, her breath visible in the sudden cold.

Tall trees stretched high above them, their blackened trunks twisting into the sky, their gnarled branches coated in frost. Snow crunched beneath their boots, and the wind whistled through the skeletal canopy, carrying with it a hollow, haunting sound.

Blake looked around warily, her golden eyes scanning the endless expanse. "This isn't possible."

"It shouldn't be possible," Weiss corrected, hugging her arms against the cold. "But here we are."

Pyrrha ran her fingers through the powdery snow, frowning. "It's real."

"No," Jaune said, his voice calm but certain.

They all turned to him.

He was staring into the distance, his expression unreadable, his glowing blue eyes narrowing.

"This isn't a trial."

Weiss frowned. "Then what is it?"

Jaune turned to face them fully.

"A labyrinth."

The weight of the word settled over them.

"It's not testing us," he continued, his tone quiet but firm. "It's designed to make people lost. It's meant to trap them. It's why Winter's team never made it back."

A cold silence followed.

Because if this place was built to trap them, that meant—

They might never find the way out.

No one expected to find anyone alive in here.

Not after two weeks.

Not in this cold.

Not when there was no visible end to this forest.

And yet—

Jaune felt it before he saw it.

A presence.

Something watching.

Something human.

His body moved before thought.

A blur of motion.

His spear ignited, the plasma edge crackling violently, and in an instant—

He was gone.

Jaune closed the distance in seconds, his steps silent in the snow, his spear already raised—

And then—he stopped.

The tip of the Guardian Spear hummed with lethal energy, its edge hovering just beside the eye of a man in an Atlesian uniform.

The man froze, his breath hitching, his body stiff with panic.

A survivor.

Jaune's gaze locked onto him, his expression cold, calculating.

The man's blue eyes were wide with shock, his face gaunt, his cheeks hollow from hunger and exhaustion. His uniform was tattered, worn from weeks of survival.

Jaune's mind raced.

Then, behind him—

"Jaune?!"

The rest of the team caught up, weapons raised, confused.

"What's wrong?!" Ruby asked, scanning the silent treeline, Crescent Rose half-raised.

Jaune's spear didn't move.

His eyes didn't leave the man's face.

"Survivor."

A heartbeat of silence.

Then—

"General Ironwood… did he send you?"

The man's voice cracked with desperation.

And just like that—

Everything changed.

The team's breaths caught in their throats.

The soldier was shaking, his hands clenching at his sides, his entire body tense—as if afraid to believe what was happening.

"You're the rescue team?" he whispered, his voice filled with so much disbelief that it almost hurt.

Jaune finally lowered his spear, but his expression remained unreadable.

"Yes."

The soldier let out a breath, staggering back, his body relaxing slightly. He pressed a shaking hand over his face, his relief evident in the way his entire body slumped.

"Thank the stars… we thought we were dead."

Weiss stepped forward, her heart racing. "How many of you are left?"

The soldier glanced over his shoulder, toward the deeper part of the forest.

"Five of us."

"Five?" Blake echoed. "Weren't there seven?"

The man's expression darkened.

"Two went scouting two days ago. They never came back."

A cold silence followed.

Ruby swallowed hard. "Can you take us to the others?"

The soldier nodded immediately.

"Yes," he said, his voice tight with relief. "Come with me."

And so, for the first time—

They weren't alone in this place.

---

The snow crunched beneath their boots as they followed the soldier deeper into the unnatural forest, the cold pressing against them despite the heavy atmosphere of relief.

For the first time since entering this damned temple, they weren't wandering blind.

There were survivors.

And they were close.

The trees parted into a small clearing, hidden among the dense, gnarled trunks. A makeshift camp had been set up, basic survival gear scavenged from their packs, a weak fire smoldering in the center, its light barely enough to push back the surrounding darkness.

And there—

They saw them.

Four soldiers in Atlesian uniforms, their faces hollowed from hunger, their bodies covered in layers of scavenged cloth, huddled close together around the weak flame.

Among them—

Winter Schnee.

Weiss's breath hitched.

Her entire body locked, her heart slamming against her ribs as she took a staggered step forward.

"Winter?"

The woman jerked her head up, her body tensing at the unfamiliar voice—

And then she saw her.

For a moment, Winter didn't move.

She just stared, her normally sharp, disciplined gaze faltering as her tired mind tried to process what she was seeing.

Then—

"Weiss?"

It was barely a whisper, raw, disbelieving, almost afraid to say it.

Weiss ran forward.

"Winter!"

She practically crashed into her sister, arms locking around her in a desperate embrace, her entire body shaking as the dam finally broke.

Winter staggered from the impact, but the moment she registered the warmth of her sister's presence—

She clung back just as tightly.

"You—" Winter's voice caught, her arms locking around Weiss with a strength that defied the weeks of starvation."You're here—"

Weiss squeezed her eyes shut, her grip desperate, trembling, unwilling to let go.

"I—" Her breath hitched, words failing her as her mind raced between a thousand emotions at once. "We thought—Ironwood—"

Winter shook her head, pressing her forehead against Weiss's temple.

"I'm here," she whispered. "I'm okay."

Tears slipped down Weiss's face, but she didn't care.

Her sister was alive.

And she wasn't alone.

The other soldiers were watching, their eyes wide, their bodies shaking as the reality of rescue settled into them.

One of them—a woman, her short-cropped hair dirty, her face thin from starvation—let out a strangled sound, falling to her knees.

"They actually came…" she whispered, her hands covering her mouth, her voice breaking.

Another covered his face, his shoulders shuddering as quiet sobs racked through him.

The fourth, a man with a jagged scar across his cheek, let out a breathless, relieved laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "We thought—" His voice cracked. "We thought we were dead."

The woman who had fallen to her knees lifted her head, her teary eyes locking onto Ruby.

"You came for us," she whispered, voice filled with something raw, something fragile. "I didn't think anyone would…"

Then, her breath shuddered.

"I didn't think anyone would come for us."

The words struck like a hammer.

Because the team froze.

And suddenly—

Jaune's voice echoed in their minds.

"If that were us—"

"If we were the ones stuck in that nightmare, waiting for rescue—"

"Wouldn't we want someone to come for us?"

They had thought Jaune had been too serious, too direct, too blunt when he had said those words back in the task force building.

But now—

Now, those words were real.

They saw the soldiers' eyes, the exhaustion, the sheer relief.

They saw the way Winter held onto Weiss, like she was afraid she might disappear.

They saw what being trapped in this place had done to these people.

And they understood.

This mission had never been about fighting monsters.

It was about saving people.

---

The crackling fire flickered weakly in the center of the small clearing, barely enough to fight back the suffocating cold of the endless forest. The team had already begun unpacking supplies, the reality of the situation hitting them harder than they expected.

These soldiers had been living like this for two weeks.

Cold. Starving. Barely holding on.

And they had believed—truly believed—that no one was coming.

Jaune motioned to the packs. "We're setting up camp. Pass out the rations and warming gear."

The team didn't hesitate.

Weiss and Ren immediately began distributing food, handing out ration packs to the four remaining soldiers as Winter sat close by, still recovering from the shock of seeing her sister.

As soon as the first pack hit their hands, one of the soldiers—*a woman with sunken eyes and trembling fingers—*let out a breathless sob and clutched it against her chest.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice cracking.

Not casual. Not offhand.

A genuine, broken thank you.

She looked down at the ration pack like it was the most precious thing in the world.

"You don't understand," she choked, looking between them, her hands shaking too hard to open the packaging. "We thought—"

Her voice broke completely.

And then, without thinking, Ren knelt beside her, took the pack from her trembling grip, and opened it for her.

She let out a quiet sob of relief, taking the first bite with tears already in her eyes.

Another soldier, a man who had been quiet until now, wrapped a thick survival blanket around his shoulders, feeling the warmth of the fabric with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"You brought blankets," he muttered, almost to himself, as if it was the first time he had ever seen one.

"Of course we did," Blake murmured, setting down another stack near the fire.

But he shook his head, his body still trembling.

"We haven't been warm since the first day," he whispered, gripping the edges of the fabric tighter. "I thought I forgot what it felt like."

The words hit harder than any wound.

Ruby froze mid-motion, holding a pack of fire starters in her hands, watching as the man curled into the warmth, breathing deeply as if trying to remember what comfort felt like.

And suddenly, everything Jaune had said back at the task force building hit her like a hammer.

"If that were us—"

"If we were the ones stuck in that nightmare, waiting for rescue—"

"Wouldn't we want someone to come for us?"

Ruby felt her breath catch.

She looked at the soldiers, how thin they were, how their faces were hollow, how their hands shook as they opened the ration packs, their relief so overwhelming that they couldn't even eat properly.

She looked at Winter, how her usually rigid posture was slack, how even she had lost weight, her body still strong but worn down by two weeks of survival in this awful place.

Then she thought of her own team.

Of Blake curled in on herself in the trial.

Of Yang barely holding it together.

Of Weiss trembling, unable to breathe.

Of herself, on her knees, losing hope.

It could have been them.

If they had never made it out.

If they had never been found.

If no one had come for them.

And that thought—

That was too much.

Ruby's vision blurred, her fingers tightening around the fire starters, her chest tightening with a pressure she couldn't fight off.

And then—

A hand on her shoulder.

Warm.

Steady.

She turned her head slowly—

And Jaune was there.

His expression was calm, his blue eyes gentle, his face soft but knowing.

He didn't speak.

He didn't need to.

Because Ruby knew what he was saying.

"It's okay."

"You did the right thing."

"We made it in time."

She took a shaky breath, her chest still tight, but Jaune's presence steadied her.

Then—

She turned away, toward her team—her family.

And she walked straight into Yang's arms.

Yang caught her instantly, pulling her into a tight, protective embrace.

She didn't ask.

She didn't need to.

She just hugged her sister close, her fingers running through Ruby's hair, grounding her.

"I know," Yang murmured, her voice quiet, steady.

Ruby nodded into her shoulder, her breathing uneven, but the tears came anyway.

They had almost left these people behind.

They had almost never come.

And if they hadn't—if they had chosen to stay in Vale, if they had thought this wasn't their fight—

These people would have died thinking no one cared.

They would have died alone.

Yang hugged her tighter, feeling her sister tremble in her arms.

She knew.

She had felt it too.

Blake looked down at the blanket in her hands, her ears twitching, her golden eyes distant with quiet understanding.

Weiss, still holding onto Winter's arm, swallowed hard, her own grip tightening.

Pyrrha bowed her head, pressing her palm against her chest, trying to calm the twisting in her gut.

Nora, usually loud and energetic, was silent, her hands curled into fists, her eyes shining too much.

Ren, beside her, didn't speak—but his shoulders were tight, his breath slow.

And Jaune—

Jaune just stood there, watching, waiting, letting them process what he had always known.

This mission had never been about winning.

It was about saving the people left behind.

And now, they finally understood.

---

The fire crackled softly, its warmth fighting back the endless cold of the unnatural forest.

The soldiers had eaten.

They had wrapped themselves in the blankets.

They had breathed.

For the first time in two weeks, they felt human again.

But the weight of survival still hung over them.

Because there were still two missing.

It was Blake who finally broke the silence.

"You said there were seven of you."

The words lingered, pressing down on the already heavy atmosphere.

The soldiers stiffened.

Winter's expression darkened, her jaw clenching.

Ruby and the others watched, waiting for the answer they already feared.

"Sergeant Calloway and Private Ives," Winter said finally, her voice controlled but tight with something raw beneath it.

She exhaled slowly, rubbing a gloved hand down her face, as if saying their names alone was already too much.

"They went scouting two days ago."

Jaune's blue eyes narrowed.

"And they didn't come back."

It wasn't a question.

Winter's silence was confirmation enough.

The soldier from earlier—the one who had broken down just from receiving a ration pack—swallowed hard, her grip tightening around the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

"They volunteered," she murmured, her voice unsteady. "Said they wanted to find an exit… or at least figure out what this place actually is."

"We told them it was too dangerous," another soldier muttered, his face drawn, exhausted.

"They thought they had a chance," Winter said quietly, her hands balling into fists.

"They didn't."

Silence stretched between them.

Because no one wanted to ask the real question.

Were they still alive?

Or were they already gone?

Ruby felt her stomach twist.

"Do you think…" she hesitated, the words catching in her throat.

Winter met her gaze, her expression cold—but not heartless.

"I don't know."

That was somehow worse than if she had just said no.

Because it meant they had to find out.

The fire crackled softly, its weak glow fighting against the oppressive cold of the endless forest. The team sat huddled together, their bodies still heavy with exhaustion, their minds still reeling from the weight of what they had just endured.

But Jaune's mind was already elsewhere.

He had heard enough.

Two soldiers were still out there.

And he wasn't going to wait until morning to find them.

He stood up.

The sudden movement drew everyone's attention.

They all turned to look at him, watching as he slung his Guardian Spear over his back and reached for an extra supply pack.

"I'm going to find them."

The words were calm. Simple. Absolute.

"What?!" Ruby sat up immediately, her silver eyes widening.

"You can't be serious," Yang muttered, her arms crossed, but there was unease in her voice.

Weiss frowned deeply, already standing up. "Jaune, you just said we need to rest before going after them."

Winter, who had remained seated, stiffened at his words.

The soldiers looked horrified.

"You can't go out there alone," one of them said, her voice rising in urgency. "We don't even know what's out there!"

"It's too dangerous," another added.

Jaune slung the extra bag over his shoulder, his expression calm, unreadable.

"It's my decision."

Weiss opened her mouth to argue, but then—she stopped.

Because she could see it.

The finality in his stance.

The determination in his eyes.

She had seen Jaune make dangerous choices before.

But this wasn't reckless.

This wasn't impulsive.

This was Jaune Arc making a decision, knowing exactly what it meant.

Weiss let out a slow breath, her fists clenching at her sides.

"You're sure about this?" she asked quietly.

Jaune nodded.

And that was enough.

Weiss stepped forward before anyone else could speak.

Then—she wrapped her arms around him.

Jaune blinked, surprised, but he didn't pull away.

"Come back safe," she whispered, her voice softer than usual.

When she pulled back, there was a flicker of concern in her blue eyes, but she didn't try to stop him.

One by one, the rest of the team nodded in agreement.

Blake exhaled slowly.

Yang ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "Not gonna lie, this still feels like a bad idea." But she didn't stop him.

Pyrrha's hands clenched, but she nodded.

Ren and Nora exchanged a glance, but said nothing.

Ruby's eyes lingered on him the longest, like she wanted to say something—but in the end, she just nodded.

Jaune took one last look at them.

Then, without another word—

He turned and walked into the trees.

Alone.

On his way to find the last two missing soldiers.

---

The cold night air bit at Jaune's skin as he walked deeper into the endless forest, his boots crunching softly against the snow. The further he moved from the camp, the more the fire's glow faded behind him, swallowed by the towering blackened trees.

His Guardian Spear hummed faintly, its blue glow casting dim light against the frost-covered branches, illuminating his path just enough to keep him moving without hesitation.

His eyes scanned the ground, looking for anything—a footprint, a broken branch, any sign of where the two missing soldiers had gone.

But the forest was too still.

Too empty.

As if it had already erased them.

Jaune moved methodically, efficiently, following every possible lead.

A set of faint tracks, too old to be useful.

A half-buried piece of fabric, torn from a uniform, but with no clear direction.

He had searched for hours now, his movements calculated, his breathing even, but frustration gnawed at the back of his mind.

If they had wandered too far, if they had already—

No.

He wasn't thinking like that.

They were alive.

They had to be.

Then—he saw it.

A scar on the trees.

Jagged scrapes against the bark, deep gashes, some fresh enough that the wood beneath was still raw.

Jaune's eyes narrowed.

He stepped closer, running his gloved fingers over the marks.

"Something fought here," he muttered to himself.

The scrapes weren't from weapons.

They were too wild, too uncontrolled.

They were claw marks.

Whatever had been hunting in this forest, it had found prey.

Jaune followed the trail, eyes scanning the ground.

More marks on the trees.

More disrupted snow.

Then—he stopped.

Ahead of him, barely visible beneath the low light of the trees—

A massive hole in the ground.

The gaping wound in the earth was surrounded by piles of disrupted snow, as if something had collapsed inward.

Jaune knelt beside it, brushing a hand along the edge of the crater. The ground was uneven, disturbed, like something had struggled before falling in.

If he hadn't been looking carefully, he would have missed it entirely.

It was almost perfectly hidden.

But now that he saw it—

Jaune's jaw tightened.

Because he had a feeling he had just found where the soldiers had gone.

Jaune reached into his pack, pulling out a coil of rope and a set of climbing nails. His movements were measured, precise, guided by something older than instinct, older than memory.

He wasn't rushing.

He didn't need to.

Because he already knew what he was doing.

The Worker of Secrets didn't doubt.

He acted.

Jaune drove the first nail into the frozen ground, securing the rope with an efficient knot.

He pulled the cord taut, giving it two firm tugs.

It would hold.

It had to.

The soldiers wouldn't climb out of this themselves.

He glanced once at the darkness below, his glowing blue eyes narrowing slightly.

Then—he stepped off the edge.

The rope barely strained as he descended, his movements fluid, silent, effortless.

And when his boots touched the stone floor of the cavern below, he knew.

The soldiers were close.

But so was something else.

Jaune didn't pause.

His Guardian Spear hummed softly, its blue glow stretching the darkness back just enough to reveal the truth of this place.

This wasn't just a hole.

It was a cave.

No—a tomb.

The walls were slick with ice, the floor uneven, littered with scattered remnants of survival.

Empty ration packs.

Discarded wrappers torn open in haste.

A half-empty water container, frozen solid.

They had tried to stay alive.

But survival was a fleeting thing in a place like this.

Jaune moved deeper.

The cavern narrowed, constricting like a throat, and Jaune's senses honed in on the faintest signs of life.

Then—he saw them.

Two figures huddled together against the far wall, their uniforms tattered, their bodies curled inward, limbs locked in a desperate attempt to preserve heat.

They weren't dead.

But they weren't far from it.

Jaune was at their side in an instant.

He knelt, one knee pressing into the cold stone, and his hands moved before thought.

Not out of instinct.

Not out of panic.

But out of certainty.

Because the Worker of Secrets understood anatomy.

The Worker of Secrets understood life.

And these two weren't leaving this cave in pieces.

Jaune's movements were exact, methodical.

He examined their *limbs, their breathing, their pulses—*everything that could tell him if they would last.

Cold exposure.

Malnourishment.

Lacerations—deep, but not fatal.

They were stable for now.

But without warmth, without something to force life back into their bodies, they wouldn't make it back.

Jaune pulled out a portable heater, twisting the dial to maximum output.

The warm glow flickered weakly, but the cold of the cavern was swallowing it too fast.

He felt the temperature drop again.

Too slow.

They wouldn't last long enough for this to work.

So Jaune did what needed to be done.

He placed a hand over the heater, closing his eyes.

And then, his semblance flared.

A golden pulse radiated from his palm, sinking into the device.

The heater flared instantly, its energy tripling, the heat spilling outward in waves.

The soldiers twitched slightly, their bodies responding, their shallow breathing deepening just enough to confirm life.

Jaune exhaled, pulling back slightly.

It was working.

But they were still too weak to wake up.

That was fine.

They didn't need to be awake.

They just needed to be alive when he brought them back.

Jaune gripped the first soldier, hoisting them onto his back.

His free hand dragged the second, their collar clenched tightly in his grip.

The weight didn't slow him.

The cold didn't touch him.

He had done what needed to be done.

Now—he would bring them home.

Jaune worked quickly, his hands steady despite the freezing air pressing against him.

The first soldier—Calloway, judging by his uniform tag—was barely breathing, his body still rigid from the cold. Jaune shifted him onto his back, securing him in place with the remaining rope, tying a firm knot across his chest.

The second, Ives, remained unconscious where he lay, but Jaune would return for him.

His golden Aura flickered softly, fortifying his muscles against the added weight, making sure his movements would remain smooth, controlled.

And then—he climbed.

Jaune ascended the rock wall, his movements practiced, efficient.

The soldier's extra weight barely slowed him, his grip secure as he pulled himself up, inch by inch, making sure not to jostle Calloway too much.

The rope held firm at first.

Then—a groaning creak.

Jaune's eyes snapped upward.

The nail securing the rope was shifting.

The strain was too much.

For a split second, the metal scraped against the stone, the grip weakening.

Jaune moved faster.

With a final push, he hauled himself up, grabbing onto the ledge with one strong pull, rolling over onto the snow with Calloway still strapped to his back.

The rope snapped free just as his feet left it.

Jaune exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing at the loosened nail.

"Should've used two."

But it didn't matter now.

He untied the ropes, wrapping Calloway in a thick tarp, securing him tightly before turning back toward the hole.

One more left.

Jaune wasn't going to risk it again.

He pulled out a new climbing nail, pressing it against the most solid part of the ground, hammering it in with measured force.

Then—he tested it.

One hard pull.

Another.

It held firm.

This time, he secured two more nails beside it, reinforcing the point.

Only when he was certain did he toss the rope back down.

Then—he descended again.

Ives was exactly where he had left him, his body still weak, his breathing shallow but steady.

Jaune tied him in the same way, securing the soldier to his back before making the climb again.

The second ascent was slower, not because of the weight, but because Jaune was more careful.

The new nails held.

And soon, both soldiers were lying on the snow, wrapped and secured.

Jaune didn't stop to rest.

He grabbed a larger tarp, placing both of them inside, securing the edges.

Then—he pulled.

Their combined weight should have been difficult.

It wasn't.

His boots left deep tracks in the snow as he dragged them across the frozen ground, the only sound being the crunch of ice and his steady breath.

The camp is quite the distance away.

But then—they would be home.

---

The camp was silent.

The fire flickered weakly, its embers glowing faintly against the endless black of the unnatural forest. Snow drifted lazily through the frozen branches, settling against the thick blankets wrapped around the sleeping forms of the rescued soldiers.

Everyone was asleep.

Exhaustion had finally claimed them, whether from relief, hunger, or the sheer mental toll of survival.

Winter slept with Weiss nestled close beside her, the younger Schnee clinging to her sister as if afraid to let go. Even in sleep, Winter held Weiss protectively, her body curled around her like a shield, as though to reassure herself that this wasn't some cruel illusion.

Ren and Nora sat against each other, breathing evenly, their exhaustion finally overtaking them after what had been one of the most harrowing days of their lives.

Blake had wrapped herself in a blanket near the fire, her body barely shifting, only her ears occasionally twitching at the distant sounds of the ruins beyond the trees.

Yang rested on her side, one arm draped lazily over Ruby's empty sleeping spot.

Because Ruby wasn't sleeping.

She couldn't.

Not while he was still out there.

Ruby sat near the fire, her arms curled around her legs, her silver eyes locked onto the forest beyond.

Waiting.

Watching.

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably in a way she didn't understand.

It had been hours since Jaune had left.

And despite knowing—knowing—that he was capable, that he was strong, that he had proven himself time and time again, she couldn't shake the feeling clawing at her heart.

Something about him leaving, walking into that abyss alone…

It had felt wrong.

It had made her chest ache in a way she didn't have words for.

And she hated it.

Why Did It Hurt?

It wasn't just worry.

It wasn't just concern for a teammate.

It was deeper.

When Jaune had said he was going alone—something inside her had clenched.

It had been hard to breathe.

And she hated it.

She hated watching him disappear into the dark, hated the idea of him being out there, alone, without them.

Without her.

She had never felt that way before.

Not like this.

Not for anyone.

She had spent her whole life wanting to be a hero, charging forward without hesitation, dreaming of rescuing people, saving lives.

So why…

Why had it hurt so much when Jaune left?

Why had it felt like something had been ripped from her?

Why was her heart aching just from the thought of it?

Tears slipped down her cheeks before she even realized it.

She angrily wiped them away.

"This is stupid," she whispered to herself, voice barely audible over the crackling fire.

But the feeling didn't leave.

Then—

Rustling.

Ruby's breath hitched.

She sat upright instantly, her entire body tensing.

Her fingers snapped toward Crescent Rose, unfolding it in a blur, the familiar weight settling into her hands as she turned toward the noise.

Something was moving.

Coming closer.

The darkness of the forest was too thick to see through, even with her trained vision.

The sounds of something dragging through the snow made her heartbeat pick up.

Jaune?

Or something else?

Her breath quickened, her pulse pounding in her ears, her mind racing.

She almost called out.

Almost sounded the alarm.

And then—

She saw them.

Two soft, glowing blue eyes emerging from the dark.

Ruby stopped breathing.

The moment she recognized him, the moment she saw the familiar golden-blond hair, the familiar figure dragging something heavy behind him, something inside her snapped.

Crescent Rose fell from her hands, landing in the snow with a dull thud.

And then—

She ran.

She abandoned any logic, any hesitation, any second thoughts.

She ran straight to him.

Her feet barely made a sound in the snow, her body moving before her mind could catch up.

And then she hit him full force.

Her arms wrapped around his torso, her momentum knocking into him, but he barely moved.

Jaune froze.

For the first time since leaving the camp, since fighting through the freezing cold, since dragging two nearly-dead soldiers across the snow—

He was caught completely off guard.

Ruby buried her face against his chest, her hands gripping the back of his coat, her body trembling, her breath uneven.

Jaune's free arm hovered for a moment, unsure.

Then—slowly, carefully, he wrapped his other arm around her, holding her steady.

He didn't say anything.

Because he didn't need to.

He just stood there, holding her in the quiet.

And Ruby?

She finally let herself breathe.