The air was still.
Cold walls loomed around them, ancient and unmoving, untouched by time. The corridor leading to the Vault stretched before them in eerie silence, the dim glow of dust-coated lanterns barely illuminating the path. Shadows stretched long, flickering against the cold metallic sheen of their armor.
Two figures moved with purpose, their footfalls quiet but deliberate.
The first was clad in full plate armor. His helmet concealed his face, the visor casting a shadow over his eyes. Crocea Mors was strapped to his waist, its edge resting against the scabbard as he walked with steady determination. They had to be careful just in case Oz put some guard here.
The second figure walked just ahead of him, her cloak flowing behind her \. Autumn carried herself with same practiced ease, her posture fluid and confident, as if she had walked these halls countless times before. She held a pair of cutlasses with golden hilts, one curved like a saber, the other straight and sharp, more akin to a katana.
Jaune eyed the weapons. "Didn't see you with those before."
Autumn smirked slightly, glancing down at the blades. "That's because I don't usually carry them." She lifted the saber, tilting it so the light caught its edge. "This pair belonged to a woman named Tock. A killer, through and through."
Jaune raised a brow beneath his helmet. "And why exactly are you carrying them now?"
Autumn chuckled, twirling one of the cutlasses before resting it against her shoulder. "Can't exactly walk around with Sundered Rose in an operation like this, can I? Borrowed it from the Blacksmith's Gallery."
Jaune sighed. "You could, you just shouldn't."
She grinned. "Exactly right!"
As they approached the last gate, the towering steel doors loomed before them, their surface etched with ancient symbols. The Vault where the Relic of Choice was hidden by Ozpin.
Jaune paused, eyeing the massive doors. "So… how the hell do we open this?"
Autumn exhaled, stepping forward.
A sad smile tugged at her lips.
Then, her silver eyes began to glow. No, burn.
The moment her fingertips brushed against the surface of the vault, the ancient lines pulsed, light racing across the metal like veins coming to life. The ground trembled slightly as unseen mechanisms groaned to life, the massive doors shuddering before slowly parting with a deep, resonant boom.
Jaune took a step back instinctively, watching as the passage revealed itself beyond the threshold.
"…How did you do that?" he asked, voice quiet.
Autumn didn't answer immediately. She lowered her hand, flexing her fingers as if shaking off some unseen weight.
Then, she sighed. "My former friends… they had powers like the Maidens," she admitted softly. "Powers they never wanted. But those powers came to them, anyway."
Jaune frowned slightly, but said nothing, letting her continue.
"And as for why I have them…" Her voice wavered, barely above a whisper. "There was simply no one else left for these power to go to...other than me."
A silence settled between them, heavy and unspoken.
Jaune's grip on his sword tightened slightly. "I'm sorry for asking."
Autumn shook her head, offering a tired smile. "It's okay."
They stepped inside.
The Vault was grand.
The air inside was impossibly still, untouched by time or dust. Smooth marble stretched endlessly beneath their feet, reflecting the eerie blue glow of the countless crystalline structures lining the walls.
At the center of the chamber stood a lone pedestal.
And atop it was The Relic of Choice.
A relic of untold power, its golden frame glowed faintly, its design intricate and ancient. The moment their eyes landed on it, a weight seemed to settle in the room, as if the very air had thickened.
Autumn wasted no time. She strode forward, reaching into the sack she had brought with her. Carefully, she lifted the crown from its resting place and placed it inside. The moment it left the pedestal, the room shifted, the quiet hum of magic that had rested within the vault suddenly ceased, leaving only silence.
Jaune exhaled. "That's it?"
He reached out to touch the satchel—
And immediately, something moved.
A blur of motion, then a sharp crack as something slammed into his armored forearm.
Jaune staggered back, cursing as a cudgel, of all things, leapt from seemingly nowhere and swung again, aiming directly for his head.
He barely managed to raise his shield in time, the impact rattling through his bones.
"What the—?!"
Autumn, watching from the side, laughed.
Jaune scowled beneath his helmet. "You knew that was going to happen!"
Autumn twirled one of her cutlasses, amusement dancing in her silver eyes. "I may have had an idea."
Jaune huffed, ducking as the enchanted weapon swung at him again. He sidestepped, gripping his sword tightly before slashing downward, his aura flaring. Crocea Mors cut through the air.
Only for the cudgel to vanish the moment his blade made contact.
Jaune blinked. "…Huh?"
Autumn smirked. "Smart boy. It only attacks when you try to touch the sack without my permission."
Jaune straightened, shaking his head. "Okay. Then how do we take it without getting smacked into next week?"
"You don't have to touch it," Autumn smirked, stepping forward. Without hesitation, she reached out and plucked something from within her cloak.
A near-perfect forgery of the Relic of Choice.
Jaune's brow furrowed. "Wait, you had a fake ready before we even got in here?"
Autumn grinned. "What, you thought I'd just wing it?"
Jaune considered that for a moment.
Then sighed. "Honestly? Yes."
Autumn rolled her eyes, carefully placing the forgery onto the pedestal where the real crown had rested. The moment it made contact, the faint hum of magic returned, the vault seemingly satisfied.
She stepped back, nodding at Jaune. "There. Now we're good."
Jaune exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Next time, warn me about the cudgel."
"No promises," Autumn teased, slinging the satchel over her shoulder. "She told me that I have to carry them, okay?"
As they turned toward the entrance, Jaune took one last glance at the relic's resting place.
They had what they came for.
The journey out of the vault was uneventful.
Jaune stole a glance at Autumn, who was inspecting the weight of the crown in her satchel. Her expression was unreadable, her silver eyes flickering with something distant.
"What's next?" Jaune finally asked.
Autumn didn't answer immediately. She adjusted the strap of her bag before glancing at him. "We deliver this to the right place."
Jaune raised a brow. "And the right place is…?"
Autumn smirked. "You'll see."
Jaune sighed. "Yeah. That's not ominous at all."
She chuckled, shaking her head. "Don't worry, Jaune. I know what I'm doing."
Jaune exhaled, running a hand through his helmet. "That's what worries me."
Autumn grinned but didn't argue, as they disappeared without a trace.
The air shifted as Jaune and Autumn stepped through the veil, the transition seamless yet disorienting, like walking between dreams.
The Blacksmith's Workshop was as surreal as ever, a place untouched by time and reason. The floor was like a clear lake, yet not a single ripple formed beneath their boots. Above them, an endless starry expanse stretched outward, twinkling lights dancing in an eternal sky.
At the heart of the workshop, the Blacksmith stood behind her grand wooden table, with her forge behind her, her hands never still, always creating.
She carved with precision, her hands shaping wooden figurines—Afterans, waiting to be born anew. Each carving was unique, waiting for a story to be written.
But Jaune's eyes were drawn to a familiar figure lying upon the table.
Covered in full armor, still as stone. It was as if he had been placed there not as a warrior, but as something waiting to be reforged anew.
Beside him, Autumn's silver eyes softened as she stared at the wooden figurine in her hands. It was small—delicate—and the way she cradled it spoke of a sadness Jaune did not ask about.
Instead, she slowly reached into her satchel and pulled out something far greater than any mere carving.
The Relic of Choice.
Jaune felt the air hum with energy the moment it was unveiled. The weight of its presence was suffocating, yet the Blacksmith merely tilted her head, examining it with a thoughtful hum, as if it were no different than an unfinished blade.
She was tall, an almost mechanical figure adorned in a leather apron, her segmented metallic plates giving her an ethereal, inhuman presence. Her hollow sockets held no eyes, and yet they seemed to see more than most. From the back of her exposed spine, a contorted wooden trunk branched outward, resembling a tree, one that bore no leaves, yet stood firm as if it had been there since the dawn of time.
Jaune always found her presence comforting.
The Blacksmith worked patiently, diligently, her motherly nature reflecting the role she played in the Everafter. She had always been kind to those who sought her, offering rest, renewal, and choice.
And yet she rarely intervened.
Jaune took a slow breath before asking the question that had weighed on his mind since they had come here.
"…Why did you step in this time?"
The Blacksmith did not pause in her work. Instead, she answered with the same calm certainty she always carried.
"I did not," she said simply.
Jaune blinked. "But—"
The Blacksmith turned her head slightly, the soft creak of metal accompanying the movement. "It was your choice. His choice. Hers." Her gaze flickered toward Autumn and the motionless Rusted Knight. "You all saw a sad fairy tale with its pages torn away… and decided to write the story instead."
Jaune had no response to that.
Because she was right.
They had made their decisions.
They had chosen to act.
The Blacksmith finally reached out, taking the Relic of Choice from Autumn's hands. The moment her fingers wrapped around it, the power that had radiated from the artifact simply… vanished.
Gone.
Jaune tensed, expecting some grand display of energy, some force of resistance.
But no.
The Blacksmith held it as one might hold an unruly child, her fingers brushing over its surface with an almost fond touch.
She let out a quiet sigh. "Ah… the Brothers," she murmured, as if scolding wayward children. "Such silly boys."
Her fingers flexed.
"They have left their children alone for far too long."
And then, just like that, the Relic of Choice was gone.
Jaune exhaled. "That… was easy."
The Blacksmith smiled. "Balance is an ecosystem. It restores itself without force, manipulation, or calculation." She gestured to the endless stars above. "What has been lost… can always be found again."
Jaune wasn't sure if that was comforting or terrifying.
Instead, he slowly sat cross-legged, removing his visored bascinet and placing it onto his lap. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling.
"So that's two," he muttered. "Choice and Knowledge are with us."
Autumn, who had been quiet, suddenly produced two staves, setting them on the table. "Make that three."
Jaune's eyes widened. "Wait—"
Autumn smirked. "Yes, Jaune. I got the Relic of Creation already." She crossed her arms. "Atlas didn't fall, you know. Taking it out without another staff would have been a disaster."
Jaune stared at her.
Then laughed.
A genuine, surprised laugh.
"I swear, sometimes I feel useless around you."
Autumn chuckled, nudging him with her elbow. "Oh, please. You think I was just doing nothing while waiting for you to graduate as a Huntsman?"
Jaune's laughter quieted as realization settled over him.
She had waited.
Not for the world to change. Not for the right moment.
For him.
Autumn looked at him quietly, her silver eyes steady, before she finally asked the question that mattered most.
"…Are you ready to take the sword away from Vacuo?"
Jaune inhaled deeply.
Then he nodded.
"Yeah. Let's go get the Relic of Destruction."
The Vault beneath Vacuo was not that different from the others.
Where the Vault of Knowledge had been grand and regal, filled with the hum of ancient power, the Vault of Destruction was… silent.
It was as if the very air had been stripped of life.
The walls were carved from jagged stone, uneven and rough, untouched by the elegance of the other Vaults. The only light came from the dim glow emanating from the sword itself, resting upon a solitary pedestal.
Jaune and Autumn stood before it, their reflections distorted in the metal.
This was Destruction.
Jaune exhaled. "No defenses?"
Autumn smirked. "None we need to worry about."
Jaune gave her a look but didn't press.
Instead, he stepped forward.
He reached out—
And stopped.
The moment his fingers hovered inches away from the sword, something whispered in the back of his mind.
Are you sure?
Jaune's grip on Crocea Mors tightened.
Yes.
He was sure.
He reached forward once more and pulled the Relic of Destruction free.
The Vault shook.
The walls groaned, the very air splitting apart.
And then Silence.
The sword rested in his hands, its weight heavy, its energy pulsing through his fingers.
He turned to Autumn.
"…That's it?"
Autumn grinned. "That's it."
Jaune let out a slow breath.
Jaune cast one last glance at the Vault before turning away. "Alright," he murmured. "Let's go."
With a final flick of Autumn's wrist, the fabric of reality bent, the walls of the Vault dissolving into the swirling leaves of the Everafter.
And just like that they were gone.
The moment they stepped back into the Blacksmith's domain, the familiar feeling of weightlessness returned. The starry void above shimmered, its endless expanse stretching into infinity. The still, glasslike floor beneath them reflected the vast cosmos, as if they were walking upon the surface of an undisturbed lake.
The Blacksmith was where she always was, at her workbench, her hands carving away at a small wooden figure, crafting another story yet to unfold.
The Rusted Knight still lay upon the table, motionless, waiting.
Jaune and Autumn stood in silence for a moment, the weight of everything pressing down upon them.
Then, Jaune let out a quiet breath. "What's next?"
Autumn didn't answer immediately. Instead, she placed the satchel onto the Blacksmith's table with deliberate care. Then, slowly, she turned to face him.
Her silver eyes held something deep, something final.
"We must fulfill our role now."
Jaune closed his eyes briefly, his fingers clenching at his sides. He had known this was coming. He had always known. And yet, now that the moment was here, the reality of it settled over him like an anchor.
"…Well," he exhaled, forcing a small, humorless chuckle. "It was good to have been in Remnant."
Autumn's gaze softened. "I know it's hard."
Jaune looked at her then, something unreadable flickering in his blue eyes. "Do you?"
Autumn didn't flinch.
"Yes."
The answer came simply, without hesitation.
Jaune let out another slow breath before shaking his head, his shoulders slumping slightly. "This isn't what I thought my life would be."
Autumn stepped closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. "No one ever does."
Jaune chuckled dryly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I should've seen it coming."
Autumn offered a sad smile. "You signed up for it."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, Jaune lifted his head, glancing past Autumn, toward the Rusted Knight.
His voice was quieter now. "So… this is it, then?"
Autumn followed his gaze, staring at the still figure lying on the table. She nodded.
"Yes."
Jaune exhaled through his nose, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Guess I should've known." His voice was barely above a whisper now. "In the Everafter… there is always a Rusted Knight."
Autumn's grip on his shoulder tightened slightly. "And there is always a Cat."
Jaune turned his head, meeting her gaze.
A slow, solemn nod.
"And the fearsome Jabberwalker."