Sunshine Chapter 38: Evergreen, a rwby fanfic

Chapter 38: Evergreen!

Reviews:

blaiseingfire: Oscar is indeed going to be kicking some ass! Also, funny enough Blaise, I read your Puppy Arc Story! Love it!

Jump a Fool: While they could've jumped Bertilak as he was wounded, I wanted Oscar to take him on alone because it is his first taste of real combat against someone as skilled as Jaune and Vernal, while also giving him a moment to shine, because it's time to prove himself, not to mention Oscar wants to prove it to himself as well, he doesn't want to rely on Jaune and Vernal to fight, he wants to be strong to fight alongside them.

EmperorSnorlax: This chapter is all Oscar! Time for our farm boy to whoop some ass! Nothing is gonna be smooth sailing from here on out as what happens on the train has consequences for what happens later on in the Act!

Arsenals: She's old she's got nothing better to do, might as well join some teens on a mission for revenge!

dean1467: Yeah! It's Oscar's time to shine! Let's see your boy in action!

XXX

Oscar's strikes came down in a relentless fury, his blade flashing with every swing, yet Bertilak, despite his injury, managed to block and parry each blow. The older man's mace met every attack with precision, even though blood still seeped from his wound, his breath labored. It was clear the rouge was hurting, but he refused to let it slow him down. Oscar could sense it—Bertilak wasn't as fast, yet somehow he was still managing to keep up.

Oscar leaped back, trying to create some space, breathing heavily. Frustration gnawed at him. He couldn't understand why he was having such a difficult time against an opponent who was clearly injured.

'Damn it! Why am I struggling so much?!' Oscar's thoughts raced with irritation. 'He's hurt—he should be slowing down! Unless... no, it can't be! Am I still not strong enough?' The thought sent a rush of anger through him, his grip tightening on his weapon.

On the opposite side, Bertilak's chest heaved, his expression betraying the fatigue setting in. 'The kid's good... but he's not good enough... Still, I need to end this fast. It's a miracle my wound hasn't torn open again... even with my semblance keeping it closed,' he thought grimly, glancing down at the faint glow around his injury.

Before Bertilak could make a move, Oscar lunged forward, pulling his sword back as if preparing for a strike to the left. Bertilak reacted instantly, swinging his mace to block, but in the last second, Oscar shifted. His blade cut towards Bertilak's right side instead, a deceptive maneuver meant to catch the rouge off guard.

Bertilak twisted his body and barely managed to deflect the blow. The clash of metal rang out, and Oscar growled in frustration, realizing his feint hadn't been enough.

A moment later, Bertilak swung his mace in retaliation. Oscar ducked under the heavy arc, feeling the air whoosh above his head. Spotting an opening, he struck without hesitation—his open palm driving into Bertilak's midsection. The impact forced a pained groan from the older man as he staggered back, clutching at his abdomen.

Bertilak let out a guttural growl as Oscar's palm strike connected dangerously close to his wound, sending a wave of pain through his body. Gritting his teeth, he fixed his eyes on the younger fighter, determination flaring in his gaze. There was no way he was going to let some kid outmatch him. With a sharp breath, Bertilak activated his semblance, and a faint shimmer pulsed across his skin, enveloping his entire body.

Without warning, he charged at Oscar, his maces swinging with deadly precision, each strike aimed to incapacitate.

At first, Oscar deftly dodged and parried each blow, his reflexes sharp. Bertilak's movements were visibly slower, and Oscar used that to his advantage, weaving between the swings with relative ease. But then, something strange began to happen. A wave of intense heat started to press against Oscar, growing hotter with each passing second.

'W-What the...?' Oscar's mind scrambled as beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. 'Why is it getting so hot all of a sudden?'

He narrowly ducked beneath one of Bertilak's wild swings, rolling to the side to gain some distance. His breath was shallow, not just from exertion but from the oppressive heat. When he finally pushed himself back to his feet and turned to face Bertilak again, a strange sensation washed over him. The air was cool. Crisp, even.

'Wait... it's cool now,' Oscar thought, confused. 'But it was just boiling near him... Could it be his semblance? Can his entire body generate heat?'

As Oscar felt the oppressive heat radiating from Bertilak, he began piecing it together. Something was definitely off, and now he had to confirm his suspicions. Gritting his teeth, he charged in once again, his blade poised for an upward strike. The sound of his footsteps echoed on the train's floor as he closed the distance.

Bertilak, ever-watchful, took a quick step back, narrowly avoiding Oscar's attack. In the same motion, he surged forward, swinging one of his maces with brutal force, aiming for Oscar's head. But the young fighter's reflexes kicked in—he ducked under the swing, feeling the rush of air from the mace, and immediately deflected the second blow with his blade, the clang of metal ringing out.

Seeing an opening, Oscar pulled his blade back, thrusting forward in an attempt to land a quick jab. However, Bertilak was already moving, sidestepping the strike with surprising agility. Before Oscar could react, a solid knee drove into his gut, the force lifting him off the ground and sending him hurtling backward.

Oscar's back slammed into the roof of the train with a harsh thud, knocking the air from his lungs. He fell to the floor with a grunt of pain, his body aching from the impact. Gasping for breath, he lay there for a moment, but even through the pain, a sense of clarity washed over him.

His theory had been right.

'I knew it!' Oscar thought, wincing as he slowly pushed himself back up. 'The air near him—it was hot, but over here, it's cool, his semblance... He's generating heat around his body!'

The realization hit him fully now. Bertilak wasn't just trying to overpower him physically—he was using the heat to exhaust Oscar, to sap his energy and wear him down. It was a battle of endurance, and Bertilak was counting on the rising temperature to give him the edge.

'So that's it... he's trying to tire me out by making the air around him a furnace... Smart, but that just means I have to take him down before he can drain me completely,' Oscar thought, tightening his grip on his weapon.

With renewed determination, he rose to his feet, his body aching but his resolve stronger. Now that he understood Bertilak's game, he had a chance. All he needed was the right opening—a moment where he could strike before the heat could wear him down. He could feel the pressure building, but he welcomed it. This was his chance to prove himself.

Oscar dashed forward with renewed focus, his eyes locked on Bertilak. He had to keep up the pressure, had to break through before the heat and exhaustion could wear him down. But this time, Bertilak was prepared. As Oscar closed the gap, the older man snarled and swung both his maces in a powerful double strike, aiming to crush Oscar between them.

Just as the weapons were about to collide, Oscar acted on instinct. In a split second, he leaped into the air, narrowly avoiding the deadly blow. Bertilak's maces clashed against each other with a metallic ring, but Oscar was already behind him, landing smoothly on his feet. Without hesitation, he drove his Jian into Bertilak's back, the blade striking against the older man's aura and sending him stumbling forward.

Oscar didn't give him a chance to recover. He surged forward, his feet barely touching the ground as he closed in. Bertilak whipped around to face him, a fierce glare burning in his eyes, but Oscar was faster. In a fluid motion, he drove the pommel of his sword upward, catching Bertilak under the chin with a brutal uppercut. The impact snapped Bertilak's head back, and before the older man could even react, Oscar followed up with an open-palm strike to his chest.

The force of the blow sent Bertilak reeling. His breath left him in a harsh gasp as he stumbled backward, clutching his chest in pain, struggling to regain his balance. But Oscar wasn't done—not even close.

With his sword in hand, Oscar advanced, his movements a blur as he unleashed a flurry of rapid jabs. Each strike slammed into Bertilak's aura, chipping away at it, causing the older man to cry out in pain. Oscar's eyes narrowed, sensing that his relentless assault was finally breaking through. He just needed to keep going—just a little more, and Bertilak would falter.

But then, with a growl of frustration, Bertilak's instincts kicked in. His maces moved with surprising speed, and in a sudden, desperate move, he deflected one of Oscar's jabs, throwing off his rhythm. Before Oscar could react, Bertilak swung his left mace in a wide arc, catching the younger boy in the side.

Oscar's eyes widened in shock as the blow connected with his aura, the force reverberating through his body. Pain exploded in his side, and for a brief moment, he faltered, his steps uneven as he staggered back. He could feel the weight of the blow even through the protection of his aura—it had been a solid hit, and it reminded him that despite his speed, Bertilak was still a dangerous opponent.

Seeing the brief falter in Oscar's movements, Bertilak's lips curled into a wicked grin. Without missing a beat, he twirled one of his maces, building momentum before delivering a devastating blow to Oscar's gut. The mace slammed into him with all the force Bertilak could muster, knocking the wind from the young teen's lungs. Oscar doubled over, gasping for air, the searing pain in his abdomen nearly paralyzing him.

Before Oscar could recover, Bertilak swung again, this time landing a solid strike to Oscar's arm. The impact sent a sharp pain shooting through his body, and his grip on his sword weakened.

Bertilak didn't let up. In one swift motion, he brought his mace crashing down on Oscar's head. The blow rattled Oscar to his core, his vision blurring as the world around him spun violently. Disoriented and dazed, he stumbled, barely registering what was happening. That moment of weakness was all Bertilak needed. With a gleam of triumph in his eyes, he pulled his mace back once more and struck Oscar square in the chest.

The force of the hit was unlike anything Oscar had felt before. His aura flared in a desperate attempt to shield him, but it wasn't enough. The sheer power behind the blow sent him flying across the train car. His back slammed into the door with a thunderous crash, shattering the glass behind him. Oscar crumpled to the floor, slumped against the broken door, a low groan escaping his lips.

Pain coursed through every inch of his body. His aura shimmered faintly, its strength almost completely drained. His muscles ached, his limbs felt heavy, and his head was still spinning from the earlier strike. Sweat poured down his face as he struggled to catch his breath, his chest heaving with exhaustion. The relentless heat from Bertilak's semblance had worn him down, sapping his energy with every passing second.

Bertilak watched the boy with cold satisfaction, his smile widening. He knew Oscar was nearing his limit—the farmboy had fought bravely, but it was clear he had nothing left.

"You've got guts, kid. I'll give you that," Bertilak said, his voice filled with dark amusement as he slowly approached the beaten teen. "But even with me like this, you can't beat me. You're too weak. So weak you couldn't even kill a wounded man." He chuckled darkly, twirling his mace with a casual air, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he closed in on his prey. "But don't worry—I'll put you out of your misery soon enough."

Oscar growled through clenched teeth, his body trembling as he fought to stay conscious. His vision swam, but he kept his gaze locked on Bertilak with one defiant eye. Anger and frustration swirled in his chest, but beneath it all, a deep sadness crept in.

Oscar growled as he glared at Bertilak with one eye, 'D-Damn it! I tried so hard and got so far! But in the end... it doesn't even matter...' Oscar thought bitterly as his mind raced.

Oscar's body felt like it was collapsing in on itself, the pain in his head and chest almost unbearable. His aura had taken a beating—he could feel it, flickering weakly. If he could see it, he was sure it would be teetering between yellow and red, on the verge of completely breaking.

Bertilak continued his slow, menacing approach, twirling his mace lazily as though this battle was already won. "You beating me," he scoffed, "was just a silly little dream."

'A dream... I just wanted one dream... a happy, peaceful dream,' Oscar thought, his heart heavy. His body sagged against the shattered door, his strength all but gone. 'In it, I'm as strong as Jaune and Vernal... I can help them. I save Aunt Mel, and everything they taught me wasn't in vain. I protect everyone. And they're happy. That's the kind of dream I want... but it's just that—a dream.'

His chest tightened with shame as Bertilak loomed closer. He'd fought so hard, but it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

"What if it wasn't?"

Oscar blinked, startled by the voice. 'Huh?' He thought, his gaze shifting toward Bertilak, but it wasn't the older man who had spoken.

As he focused, the world around him seemed to slow. The oppressive heat of the battle faded, and the sounds of Bertilak's approaching footsteps grew muffled. Then, stepping out of thin air, moving past Bertilak as if she were untouched by time or space, was someone Oscar hadn't seen in what felt like a lifetime.

'Aunt Melissa?' he whispered in disbelief, his eyes widening.

There she was—Melissa, standing tall and confident, her warm smile the same as it had always been. She radiated a calm strength, and for a moment, the pain in Oscar's chest seemed to ease. She looked down at him, pride shining in her eyes.

"It doesn't have to be a dream, Oscar," Melissa said softly, her voice cutting through the haze of pain and exhaustion. "You can be strong, you can beat this guy!"

Oscar stared at her, confusion and disbelief swirling in his mind. 'I... I can?'

Melissa knelt beside him, her presence almost tangible, as if she were truly there. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "Did I ever give up when the crops weren't growing right?" she asked, her tone light but firm.

Oscar shook his head, memories of watching his aunt work tirelessly in the fields filling his mind. Even when things seemed impossible, even when the soil wouldn't yield and the rain wouldn't come, she never gave up. She always pushed through, always found a way.

'No... you didn't,' he thought.

"And what about Jaune? Did he ever give up protecting you or the others?" Melissa's voice rang out again, firm and insistent, as if shaking Oscar awake from his despair.

'No...!' Oscar's mind screamed in response, his heart pounding at the thought of Jaune.

Jaune had never given up. Not once. No matter the danger, no matter the pain, he had always stood tall, always fought to protect the people he cared about. The memory of Jaune's unwavering courage sent a surge of energy through Oscar's battered body.

"And Vernal," Melissa continued, her voice piercing through the fog of exhaustion. "Did she give up on training you? Did she stop searching for Jaune?"

'No! Never!' Oscar cried out again in his head, louder this time.

Vernal's fierce determination, her relentless spirit, flashed in his mind. She had pushed him to be stronger, never taking it easy on him, never letting him settle for anything less than his best. And she had never once wavered in her resolve to find Jaune, even when the odds seemed impossible.

Melissa's voice grew stronger, more commanding. "Then don't you dare give up either! Being strong isn't just about the muscles you have or the skills you possess! It's about your heart—your willingness to stand up, no matter how many times you fall! It's about the courage to keep moving forward, no matter the odds! So get back up, Oscar! For Jaune! For Vernal! For Deery! For Maria! And for me!"

Oscar felt a shiver run down his spine as her words settled deep into his soul, igniting a fire that had nearly been extinguished. He couldn't give up. Not now. Not when so many people had fought beside him, had believed in him. His friends—Jaune, Vernal, Deery, Maria—they were all counting on him.

"Stand strong and firm," Melissa's voice echoed, filled with pride and love, "like a Pinetree!"

Oscar's chest swelled with a newfound sense of purpose, his breathing steadying despite the pain. Slowly, he began to rise. His legs trembled under the strain, but he pushed through it. His aura flickered weakly, but he could feel the spark of strength returning. His grip on his sword tightened.

He wasn't just standing up for himself anymore. He was standing for Jaune, for Vernal, for Deery, for Maria. And for Aunt Mel. They were with him—always had been—and now, with their strength fueling him, he felt unbreakable.

Oscar planted his feet firmly on the ground, his gaze locked onto Bertilak. The older man had paused mid-step, his grin faltering as he watched Oscar rise once more. For the first time, Bertilak looked uncertain.

Oscar stood tall, his stance unwavering, like a Pinetree that refused to bow to the storm.

"You're wrong," Oscar growled, his voice steady and filled with determination. "I'm not weak... And I'm not giving up... Not now! Not ever!"

Suddenly, it felt as if something deep inside Oscar had erupted—an intense, overwhelming surge of energy. His entire being felt like it had transformed, as if a switch had been flipped, altering the very course of the battle.

In an instant, a brilliant burst of energy radiated from Oscar, his aura flaring all around him. The fatigue that had gripped his body just moments before melted away, his muscles no longer aching, his pain evaporating as if it had never existed. The soreness in his limbs, the exhaustion from the relentless battle—all of it vanished in the blink of an eye. He felt... whole. Strong. Powerful.

Oscar knew, without question, that his aura had been restored to its full strength. Not only that, but it felt as though it had surged far beyond what it had been before, as if his energy had multiplied. He could feel it in every inch of his body, coursing through his veins like lightning, making him feel unstoppable.

Bertilak, who had been approaching with confidence, froze in his tracks. His uncertain expression morphed into one of utter shock as he felt the pressure of Oscar's aura, thick and heavy like a tidal wave. The raw energy rolling off the young boy was unmistakable.

"No... way..." Bertilak muttered, disbelief and fear creeping into his voice.

Oscar stood there, taking in the moment, his eyes wide with awe. 'I... I feel different, like Jaune boosted me with his semblance,' he thought, flexing his fingers and marveling at the newfound strength pulsing through him. His body felt stronger than ever, and for the first time, everything felt... right. His movements were fluid, his senses sharp, and there was a clarity in his mind that had been missing before. 'Is this... is this my semblance?' A wide grin broke across Oscar's face as the realization dawned on him.

"What is this!?" Bertilak demanded, his voice a mixture of shock and anger, his grip on his maces tightening. He had faced opponents before with semblances that made them dangerous, but this—this was something else entirely.

Oscar didn't waste time answering with words. Instead, he charged forward in a blur, moving so fast that Bertilak barely had time to react. In one swift motion, Oscar closed the distance between them and delivered a powerful kick to Bertilak's gut.

The impact was immediate and brutal. Bertilak's body doubled over as Oscar's boot connected with his abdomen, a sickening sound accompanying the strike. The force of the kick was so immense that it sent the older man flying across the train car. Bertilak's back slammed into the far door, shattering it upon impact, and he was flung into the next car, the broken glass scattering across the floor as he crashed down with a heavy thud.

Bertilak cried out in pain as he sat up, clutching his torso. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, and his body trembled from the sheer force of the blow. His face twisted in agony as he looked down at the wound Jaune had inflicted on him earlier, his eyes widening in horror as he saw it had reopened, fresh blood seeping through his shirt.

'What the hell was that!? That speed! I didn't even see him coming!' Bertilak thought, gasping for breath. 'The power behind that kick! The little bastard sent me into a different car! He wasn't like this a second ago!'

His mind raced as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

'What the hell changed!? Don't tell me... he just awakened his semblance!?'

Oscar advanced slowly, each step deliberate, his determined expression unwavering, sword held firmly at his side. His aura flickered with renewed strength, radiating a calm yet powerful energy. The sound of his boots echoed against the shattered glass and debris as he moved toward Bertilak, who struggled to his feet, glaring at the young warrior with fury in his eyes.

Bertilak's chest heaved with labored breaths, his anger intensifying with each passing second. The very idea that a kid—someone so much younger, so inexperienced—had been able to do this to him, sent waves of rage coursing through him. His pride, already wounded, was now shattered. He couldn't accept this.

"You think you're hot shit for what you just did to me, huh?" Bertilak spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Don't you dare! Don't think for one second that just because you awakened your semblance, it'll be enough! You hear me, you damn brat! I'll still kill you! Got it!?" His eyes flared with wild hatred as he forced himself upright, ignoring the pain that shot through his body.

Oscar stopped a few feet away, his expression unchanging. He watched Bertilak carefully, his voice calm, almost unnervingly so. "I don't want to kill you," Oscar began, his tone carrying an unmistakable weight of sincerity. "I don't want blood on my hands, but I know one thing for sure... if I don't stop you now, you'll hurt more people, maybe the people I care about, and that's something I can't let happen,"

Bertilak sneered, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Big words, kid, real heroic speech! But let me ask you this: you think you've got what it takes? To kill me?" He chuckled darkly, his eyes narrowing with mockery. "You? Kill me? You're a kid who's never had to do the real dirty work before, tell me something, have you killed anyone before?"

Oscar hesitated for a moment, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. He shook his head slowly, meeting Bertilak's gaze. "No... I almost did, but when it came down to it... I lost my nerve,"

Bertilak's grin widened, sensing a weakness, a vulnerability he could exploit. "Then what makes you think you can kill me now? What makes you think you have the guts to do something like that? Do you think you can live with it, huh? Striking me down? Killing a man in cold blood? You think you'll be able to sleep at night knowing what you've done?"

Oscar's eyes burned with a fierce intensity as he leveled his gaze at Bertilak. "Because I know the difference between you and the person I almost killed," Oscar said, his voice steady but charged with emotion. "Back then, I tried to kill out of anger—out of my own pain, I wanted to stop hurting, to make myself feel something different... If I had gone through with it, I would have become a monster... and maybe lost myself forever."

Bertilak blinked, caught off guard by the admission. "Huh?" he muttered, unsure of where Oscar was going with this.

Oscar shook his head slightly. "But someone else took that burden for me, they did what I couldn't, and I owe them more than I can ever," he said, his voice growing quieter, more somber. For a moment, the weight of that near-mistake lingered in his expression, but it vanished as he straightened his posture, bringing his focus back to the fight. "But this... this is different, I'm not trying to kill you out of anger or hatred, I'm doing this to protect the people I care about! This is about keeping them safe and proving to myself that I am strong enough to do it!"

Suddenly, Oscar activated his semblance, and an enormous surge of energy coursed through his entire being. His senses sharpened, his muscles tensed with newfound strength, and his aura swirled around him like a storm, tripling in power. It felt like his very soul had ignited, lighting a fire within him that made his earlier efforts seem insignificant in comparison.

Bertilak, despite his wounds, stood tall, his fists gripping his maces as his eyes narrowed. He could see the massive aura shift around Oscar, but he would not back down. The rogue huntsman bared his teeth, defiant to the end. 'I won't fall to some kid!' he told himself, refusing to acknowledge the creeping doubt. 'I'm Bertilak Celadon, one of the strongest huntsmen in all of Vacuo! I've bled, fought, and conquered too many battles to lose to this brat!'

Oscar exhaled deeply, controlling his breathing as his heart pounded in his chest. His grip on his Jian sword tightened, and he allowed his surging aura to flow into the blade, making it glow with a faint light. He felt balanced, calm, and prepared, his mind and body working as one. "This is your last chance," Oscar said, his voice firm. "Give up,"

Bertilak smirked, though his face was contorted with rage. His pride wouldn't allow him to yield, not to some young upstart. "Not gonna happen, you little bastard!" he snarled, voice seething with fury. He was panting now, his wounds aching, but his will refused to falter. He raised his maces in a final show of defiance, eyes wild with a dangerous glint. "Come on! Show me what you've got!"

In a blur of motion, Oscar appeared before Bertilak, his sword raised high, his expression a mix of fierce resolve and the weight of what he was about to do.

Bertilak's eyes widened in disbelief, 'How could he be so fast!?' He thought. But he had no time to dwell on it. Instinctively, he raised his maces, the only defense he had left, hoping to block the farm boy's strike.

It was futile.

Oscar's sword came down with such speed and force that it seemed like a flash of light. In an instant, the clash of steel turned into a devastating blow. The maces, which had once been powerful weapons in Bertilak's hands, were sliced cleanly in two, their pieces clattering uselessly to the train floor. Bertilak barely had time to process the shock before a searing pain erupted in his chest. Blood gushed from the deep, lethal wound, and his body went numb with the suddenness of it all.

His expression twisted from fury to disbelief. 'I... I was cut down... by a child...' his mind screamed in horror.

The once-proud and fearsome rogue, who had faced countless battles, now found himself on the brink of death at the hands of a mere boy. As his vision blurred, Bertilak's gaze locked onto Oscar—who stood before him, some of Bertilak's blood staining his face. But it wasn't the blood that caught his attention—it was the look in Oscar's eyes.

Determination, yes. But there was something else—something that gnawed at Bertilak's final moments.

Sadness.

'Why?' Bertilak wondered, confusion clouding his mind. 'Why is he sad?'

His knees buckled, and the weight of his body pulled him forward. Bertilak collapsed onto the floor of the train, his lifeblood pooling beneath him. As his consciousness began to slip away, his thoughts fragmented into questions he would never find answers to.

Oscar stood still, his breath heavy as the adrenaline coursing through him slowly began to fade. He stared down at the motionless body of Bertilak, his mind racing, yet his heart heavy. The sound of the train's rhythmic movement against the tracks was the only noise now, a stark contrast to the chaos of the fight that had just ended.

For a moment, Oscar didn't move, his eyes locked on the lifeless form of the man he had just killed. He could feel something warm on his face, and as he absentmindedly wiped at it, his hand came away stained with blood. His hand trembled—just for a second—and a cold wave of reality washed over him.

'I did it...' he thought, but the victory felt hollow.

He stared at the blood on his hand, the crimson liquid that now coated his fingers. The weight of the action, the finality of what he had done, began to press down on him. His breath hitched, and for just a moment, his body threatened to shake under the emotional strain. But Oscar clenched his fist, tightening his grip until the trembling stopped. He couldn't allow himself to break now—not after everything.

With quick, forceful movements, Oscar wiped the rest of the blood off his face. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, but the sadness in his heart lingered. He didn't want to kill, and yet he had. His reasons were clear—he had done it to protect his friends, to stop Bertilak from hurting anyone else—but the weight of taking a life was something no one could have prepared him for.

He looked down once more at Bertilak's body, now still, a far cry from the menacing and powerful huntsman he had faced only moments ago.

"I'm sorry," Oscar whispered, his voice trembling as the weight of his actions settled in.

Oscar wiped the blood from his blade, the red streak staining the cloth before he slid his sword back into its sheath with a quiet shink. His hands lingered on the hilt for a moment, his mind racing, as if his body was reluctant to leave the scene.

But he couldn't stay.

There was no time. He turned away from the body without another glance, his legs carrying him forward with renewed purpose, yet a burden on his shoulders.

He sprinted through the train, the sound of his boots pounding against the metal floor barely audible over the roaring in his ears. He pushed past the aches and fatigue that had consumed him just moments ago, his body feeling stronger, lighter, and more capable than ever before.

'Evergreen,' He thought, the name echoed in his mind, a tribute to his Aunt Melissa. She had been there with him, in his lowest moment, a voice in the storm of doubt that nearly swallowed him whole. 'Thank you, Aunt Melissa, for the gift,' His heart swelled with gratitude, and a soft smile graced his lips, despite everything.

This power—this semblance—was more than just a means of survival. It was a reminder of who he was fighting for, of the strength that came from those he loved, It wasn't just about power—it was about endurance, about standing tall in the face of adversity and not bending to the winds of fear or doubt, and like his namesake, he would stand firm, unyielding.

'I won't let anyone else fall!' Oscar thought.

His pace quickened, not just out of urgency, but out of hope. His friends—Jaune, Vernal, and the rest—were out there, fighting their own battles, and they needed him.

The clattering sound of distant combat reached his ears as he neared the next car, and Oscar's heart tightened with worry. His friends were in danger, and there was no time to waste. 'Hold on... I'm coming!' He thought.

XXX

How do you think Oscar's very own Chapter was?

I'll be honest, I loved writing this chapter because I finally was able to bring a part of Oscar's story to a close and now he's accomplished what he's been doing for the first part of the story! He's become strong enough to help Vernal and Jaune, he's no longer believing himself weak... but now has to deal with the fact he's taken a life.

Yay... new problem...

Anyway! I hope you enjoyed the chapter and are eagerly waiting for what happens next because things on the train will finally come to an end, but something else begins~!