Sunshine Chapter 40: Shade Academy, a rwby fanfic

Chapter 40: Shade Academy

Reviews:

Delta7344: LETS GOOOOOOO! Hope you enjoy this chapter! Also, we actually only have 9 (now 8) chapters left of the Shade Act before we end Part 1, and this is due to me cutting two chapters that were supposed to focus on Sun but because some themes of those chapters would be repeated later in the Act, I had to cut those chapters out, (I made an Authors note of this in Chapter 35 though of your reading this on your phone which I'm sure most are, it'll be labeled as Chapter 36).

NinjaFang1331: Thank you and hope you enjoy this chapter!

CriticaofRandomness: The chapter might have foreshadowed Deery x Oscar. Someone is gonna die... just not yet! Yep that's right, this is the Act that an important character will die! But who!? You'll just have to guess~!

RDDash: It's not really a full-on expulsion, more of a temporary expulsion while keeping Jaune's position as Leader when he comes back. Also, even if Jaune did shoot Raven, he would've lost, she still has Aura and is a lot stronger than him in every regard.

blaiseingfire: We'll get a reaction from RWBY + NPR later on, also, the timeline's a little different this time around, as the Vytal Festival takes place in the 2nd year of Beacon instead of the first, so Winter never came to Beacon yet and Jaune instead met Winter when he was in Atlas back in the Atlas Act of this story which take places in Chapter 18 (or 19 if your jumping chapters on a phone). The timeline of the story goes a bit like this:

1. The Branwen Act takes place after Vol.1 but before and at the beginning of Vol.2.

2. The Pine, Spider, and Argus Acts will be during and after what is essentially Vol.2.

3. The Atlas Act will be during what would be Vol.3.

4. The Patch and Shade Acts will be After Vol.3 but before the 2nd year at Beacon (what would have been Vol.4).

A/N:

Ok, I have something I want to ask all of you Readers and this is important.

When this Act ends, should I just continue the story as one large story? That means I won't end this at Chapter 49 (Ch.50 for those reading on A03) and have parts 2 and 3 be the actual chapters of this story.

Should I end this story at Chapter 49 (Ch.50 On A03) and just have Part 2 and 3 be their own story but just like call them "Sunshine Vol.2 & 3"? Would that be better?

I'm just asking because I feel like if I make this story too long, no one's going to read it due to how long it might be, but if I break it up, it might be better. Idk and that's why I'm asking you guys, please let me know what you think

XXX

The city of Vacuo lay under the blanket of night, its streets quieter now as most of its inhabitants found rest. Yet, in the dimly lit office of the Desert Rose Brothel and Inn, two old souls sat together, sharing stories and drinks. Maria and Mallard, both weathered by years and experience, relished the rare moment to catch up.

Maria's voice carried a mix of pride and exhaustion as she recounted her adventures with the young group that had become her unexpected companions. Mallard listened intently, the wine in his glass untouched as he absorbed the tales of danger, growth, and camaraderie. His eyes widened in amazement, and a grin crept onto his face as Maria concluded her latest story.

"I must say, Maria," Mallard began, finally taking a sip of his drink, "that's quite the tale, you've lived enough adventure for a dozen lifetimes!"

Maria chuckled, her voice carrying a rasp that only years and countless battles could bestow. "You bet it was, old friend! But despite everything, those kids... those kids are something special," She said. "They've put a little life back into these tired old bones, I've watched them grow, change, and become better people, it's... Ha! It's funny, you know?"

Mallard tilted his head, raising a curious brow. "What's funny?"

Maria leaned back in her chair, swirling her drink thoughtfully. "I haven't known those kids all that long, but I can't imagine my life without them now," she admitted. "Take that Jaune boy, for instance. He's got a good heart, but damn, that kid's fighting battles on the inside most people can't even see. He carries the weight of the world, yet somehow, he keeps going, never giving up, Aand then there's Vernal, Gods! That girl reminds me so much of myself when I was her age, though she's got more maturity than I ever did back then, she puts on that tough-girl act, but deep down? She's got the biggest heart in the group,"

Mallard chuckled softly, his glass of wine poised at his lips, as Maria's voice carried on, rich with affection and pride. Her words painted vivid pictures of the young travelers she had grown so close to, their personalities and struggles laid bare in her reflections.

"Oscar," Maria began, her tone gentle, almost maternal, "bless that child's soul... He's been through so much, more than anyone his age should ever have to bear, yet, somehow, he's still got this twinkle in his eyes—like the world hasn't fully taken away that bright-eyed, fresh-faced farm boy inside him, he's eager, you know? Eager to see the world, to learn, to grow! Even after all he's faced, that spark in him hasn't been snuffed out... It's something special,"

She paused, her smile widening slightly as she shifted her focus.

"And then there's that Deery girl, she's the newest addition to the group, but you'd never guess it from how quickly she's settled in, she's just as eager and adventurous as Oscar, but you can tell she's carrying her own burdens—trying to make up for past mistakes, trying to prove to herself that she's worthy of a fresh start," Maria said. "She might seem like a shy, scared little thing at first glance, but that girl's got bravery in spades! She does whatever she can to do what's right, even when it scares her!"

Mallard set his glass down, watching Maria with a mix of admiration and amusement. "You speak about them like a proud parent, Maria," he remarked, leaning back in his chair.

Maria let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "I suppose I do, don't I? Funny how life works... I started out thinking I was the one watching over them, but... turns out, they've taught me just as much as I've taught them, maybe more,"

"Sounds like they've left their mark on you," Mallard said, his tone light but his eyes warm with understanding.

Maria nodded, her expression softening as she gazed at the swirling contents of her glass. "That they have, old friend... That they have,"

They both raised their glasses in unison, savoring the rich wine before setting them back on the desk at the same time. The synchronized motion brought a brief, companionable silence between them, broken only by Mallard's knowing grin.

"So... you went to Mantle, eh?" he asked, his tone teasing as his smirk widened.

Maria nodded, already bracing herself for the direction this conversation was about to take. She knew Mallard too well.

"And?" Mallard leaned forward slightly, his voice dipping into a playful drawl. "Did you see him again?"

Maria's lips twitched in amusement, but she shook her head. "No, I didn't," she replied, her voice steady yet tinged with a touch of regret.

Mallard rolled his eyes dramatically, though the smile never left his face. "And why the hell not?" he pressed. "You always spoke so highly of him! Back in the day, I used to feel downright guilty whenever you and I had our fun, felt like I was stepping into the middle of something special!" He chuckled, the sound low and rich with nostalgia.

Maria let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "You were never in the middle of anything, my sweet little duck," she said warmly, her words carrying the familiar affection of an old nickname. "I didn't see him because... well, it's been so long, I couldn't just waltz into his life after all these years without warning, it wouldn't be fair to either of us,"

Mallard tilted his head, studying her with a mixture of sympathy and mischief. "Understandable, I suppose," he said, though his grin hinted at more to come. He took another sip of wine, savoring it before continuing with a sly glint in his eyes. "But you know... you really should've tried, who knows? Maybe he's still waiting for you after all these years~!"

Maria scoffed, her lips twitching with a mixture of amusement and self-deprecation. "I highly doubt it," she said, swirling her wine glass absentmindedly. "Pietro was a genius—a brilliant mind with a heart to match, not to mention, a very handsome man back in the day... I'm sure by now he's got a family, a good life, he'd be a fool to have waited for someone like me after all this time," Her voice softened slightly, though she masked it with another sip of her wine.

Mallard leaned back, a teasing grin stretching across his face. "Ah! But Maria, all love is foolish!" he declared with a dramatic flair, gesturing as if to emphasize some grand truth of the universe. "Men do the most ridiculous things when they've found someone they'll love forever,"

Maria snorted, raising a brow at him. "We were never in love," she said firmly, punctuating her statement with another sip. "It wasn't like that,"

Mallard's grin widened, the glint of a playful predator in his eye. "Really now? Could've fooled me," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "The way you used to go on about him—always talking about your visits, what he said, what you did together! Every time you came back, it was Pietro this, Pietro that, I thought for sure I'd have to compete for your attention when you came to visit,"

Maria rolled her eyes, though a faint blush colored her cheeks. "I spoke about him because he was... remarkable," she said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her tone. "He's one of the kindest, smartest people I've ever known, and he deserved to be recognized for it, that's all there was to it,"

Mallard leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as his smile softened into something more genuine. "Maybe... Or maybe there was more to it than you're willing to admit, even now," he said quietly.

Maria hesitated, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass. "If there was, it's too late now," she muttered, looking away. "We were different people back then, life... it changes you,"

Mallard sighed, shaking his head as he reached for his glass again. "It does, but some things don't change, Maria. If anyone can handle a little messiness, it's Pietro. And if he still thinks of you, even after all these years... maybe you should give yourself the chance to find out."

Maria didn't respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the swirling wine in her glass. Finally, she let out a soft laugh, though it was tinged with melancholy. "You're such a romantic, Mal," she said, shaking her head.

"And you're a coward," Mallard countered lightly, clinking his glass against hers. "But that's why you've got me—to remind you that life's too short for regrets, even for people our age, life's a lot more shorter,"

Maria nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. "I suppose you're right," she admitted, her voice carrying the weight of reluctant agreement.

Mallard grinned triumphantly, leaning back in his chair. "When have I ever been wrong?" he asked, his tone brimming with amused confidence.

Maria chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Plenty of times, little duck, plenty of times," she replied, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Mallard raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. "Alright, alright, you got me there!" he said, laughing. "But I'm not wrong about this, and you know it,"

Maria's smile softened as she gave a small nod. "No, you're not," she admitted quietly. She glanced down at her glass, her thoughts drifting. "Let's just hope I get to see him again before my time on this rock is up,"

Mallard's laughter erupted loudly, filling the room. "The gods haven't taken you yet, Maria, and I'd wager they won't anytime soon!" he declared with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Maria joined in his laughter, her voice carrying a rare lightness. "Maybe!" she said, her tone laced with amusement. "If a Grimm or some rogue bandit hasn't managed to take me out by now, I don't think anything will... though, if I'm being honest, it'll probably be those kids who kill me! Keeping up with them is exhausting!"

Mallard chuckled heartily at her joke, raising his glass in a mock toast before taking another quick sip. "If they don't wear you out, I might just keel over first from laughing at all these stories," he teased.

The two old friends continued their conversation deep into the night, with Mallard regaling Maria with tales of his own—the highs and lows of running his establishment, the colorful characters who passed through its doors, and the gossip that kept the city of Vacuo alive with intrigue. The room was filled with warmth and laughter, the kind only lifelong friends could share.

Neither of them noticed the faint presence outside the brothel's walls, a silent spirit lingering in the shadows. It watched them through the veil of the night, its presence unnoticed, its purpose unknown.

XXX

The next morning, the lounge of the Desert Rose Inn was filled with a surprisingly serene and pleasant atmosphere. Jaune and the others were scattered around the cozy space, unwinding after their recent travels. The brothel workers mingled among them, fully dressed and behaving just like any other friendly locals. Despite the stigma one might expect, the workers turned out to be refreshingly down-to-earth individuals, their warmth and humor bringing an unexpected sense of normalcy to the group.

Vernal and Deery had struck up easy conversations with a few of the workers, their guarded exteriors softening as they laughed and exchanged stories. Deery, initially hesitant, found herself chatting animatedly with a lively young woman about the best places to find trinkets and treasures in Vacuo. Vernal, meanwhile, was sharing a spirited debate with another worker over the finer points of weapon maintenance, their animated gestures drawing the occasional chuckle from those nearby.

On the other side of the room, Jaune and Oscar were engaged in a lively discussion with a couple of the male workers. They were swapping tales about their travels, sparking laughter and the occasional gasp as Jaune recounted some of their more outlandish adventures. Oscar, ever the modest one, occasionally chimed in with a quiet comment or a sheepish grin when the others insisted he share his own stories.

At a nearby table, Maria and Mallard sat together, nursing mugs of strong Vacuan coffee and picking at a modest breakfast. Their usual vigor was noticeably subdued, both looking slightly pale and tired from the previous night's indulgence. Though not quite a full-blown hangover, they carried the unmistakable air of two seasoned drinkers who had pushed their limits a little too far.

Mallard groaned softly, rubbing his temple as he eyed the plate in front of him. "I swear, Maria if you ever let me drink that much again, I'll ban you from this place forever..."

Maria chuckled weakly, though her hand instinctively reached for her own temple. "Oh, please, Mal... You're the one who kept topping off my glass, it's what you get for trying to keep up with an old huntress,"

He smirked despite himself. "Touché... Still, I think this coffee's the only thing keeping me upright right now,"

Across the room, Jaune glanced over, noticing their sluggish demeanor. "Rough night, you two?" he called out with a grin.

Maria waved a dismissive hand, though the effort made her wince slightly. "Just a little overindulgence, nothing we can't handle,"

Mallard chuckled, raising his mug in mock toast. "It's the price of reminiscing with good company!" he said with a cheerful tone.

The room buzzed with easy camaraderie, the group enjoying a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos of their journey.

The double doors of the Desert Rose Brothel creaked open with a sudden, resounding bang, the noise cutting through the mellow hum of conversation like a blade. Instantly, all eyes in the lounge snapped to the entryway, curiosity, and caution mingling in their gazes. Jaune and his companions, ever alert, instinctively tensed as they turned to see who had arrived so early in the day. What greeted them was a striking duo framed by the desert sun streaming in behind them, their appearance commanding attention with an almost theatrical flair.

One of the newcomers was a tall man, his physique immediately drawing notice. His form was lean but impossibly defined, the kind of wiry build that spoke of precision and deadly efficiency rather than brute strength. His clothes seemed tailored to flaunt this—he wore a checkered vest that hugged his frame, revealing his sharp muscle lines as if he were carved from stone. Over this, an ankle-length cape of stormy grey-blue draped his shoulders, clasped in place with an elegant silver chain. The rest of his outfit was equally striking: crisp white slacks with deep side pockets, silver boots, and a matching belt with a round, polished buckle that glinted in the light. His dark, close-cropped hair added to his austere appearance, but what stood out most were the red gloves on his hands. Decorated with embedded Dust crystals, they practically hummed with latent energy, marking them unmistakably as his weapon of choice.

Beside him stood a stark contrast—a woman whose stature was diminutive, barely reaching four feet tall, but whose presence was no less commanding. Her deeply tanned skin and wide, solid frame gave her an air of immovable resilience. She wore loose brown pants and a dark green tunic cinched with a sturdy leather belt, a practical and unassuming ensemble. However, the crowning piece of her outfit was a sleeveless long coat, dark brown with glittering flecks that caught the light like stars in the night sky. The fabric was rich and exquisite, clearly expensive, and an odd juxtaposition to the rest of her rugged appearance. Her sandy brown hair, braided into a long plait bound with a golden cord, reached all the way to her ankles, adding an eccentric flourish to her otherwise practical look.

The pair stood in stark contrast to the cozy, informal air of the lounge, their bearing far too calculated and deliberate to be mere travelers or patrons. The tall man scanned the room with a sharp gaze, while the woman's eyes flicked over each face with a subtle but no less perceptive intensity.

Jaune felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Something about them set his instincts on edge, the same gut feeling he'd learned to trust in countless dangerous situations. These two were no ordinary civilians—that much was clear.

"Who the hell are they?" Vernal muttered under her breath, her hand unconsciously drifting toward her weapon.

"I don't know," Jaune replied softly, his eyes narrowing. "But they're not here for breakfast, that's for sure,"

Mallard rose smoothly from his seat, brushing nonexistent dust from his jacket as he sauntered toward the two strangers. His demeanor was calm, even jovial, as though he hadn't noticed the tension crackling through the room. He came to a stop a few paces in front of them, folding his arms casually across his chest and offering them his signature smirk.

"Welcome to the Desert Rose Brothel and Inn," he said, his voice smooth and inviting. "Tell me, are you seeking a place to rest, or perhaps... a place of pleasure?"

The tall man said nothing, but the shorter woman took a step forward, her stern expression unchanging. "Neither," she replied, her voice clipped and professional.

Mallard arched a brow, feigning disappointment. "Oh, how unfortunate, then, pray tell, what brings you to my humble establishment? If you're here to cause trouble, I should warn you," he added, his smirk growing sharper, "This place is under the protection of Huntsmen and Huntresses,"

The woman's sharp gaze didn't waver. "We're aware," she said firmly, "And that's precisely why we're here,"

Her words sent a ripple through the room. Jaune stiffened in his seat, his instincts screaming for him to prepare. Slowly, his hand inched toward the sword hidden beneath his cloak. Around him, Oscar, Vernal, and Deery followed suit, each readying themselves for whatever might come.

The woman continued, her tone unwavering. "We're looking for Jaune Arc and his traveling companions,"

Mallard tilted his head, his smirk not faltering. "Oh? And what business do you have with them?" he asked his voice light but with a subtle edge.

The woman's glare sharpened. "That," she said coolly, "Is none of your concern,"

Mallard's smile faltered just slightly, his sharp eyes flicking toward Jaune. Sensing the situation might spiral out of control, Jaune rose from his chair, his movements deliberate. His hand closed firmly around the hilt of his sword as he stepped forward, placing himself between the strangers and his friends.

"I'm right here," Jaune said, his voice steady but laced with warning. His gaze locked onto the woman's, and the room seemed to hold its breath. "What do you want?"

The woman opened her mouth to respond to Jaune's question but paused, her sharp gaze shifting toward her companion as he stepped forward. The tall man's movements were deliberate, his boots tapping lightly against the polished floor as he approached Jaune with an amused smile. His piercing eyes swept over the young blonde, scanning him with a curiosity that made Jaune's skin prickle.

Jaune furrowed his brows, unsure what to make of the man's scrutiny. It was as though he were some rare artifact being examined for authenticity. Despite his confusion, Jaune stood his ground, his fingers still brushing against the hilt of his sword.

The man stopped just short of Jaune, his smile broadening as though he'd reached some kind of conclusion. "Interesting..." he mused, his tone carrying an odd mixture of admiration and intrigue. "Despite being a first-year, you carry yourself like a seasoned Hunter, there's a sharpness in your stance, a weight in your eyes... Oz was right about you—you really are a fascinating young man, Mr. Arc,"

Jaune's eyes widened at the familiar nickname. "Oz? You mean Headmaster Ozpin?" he asked, his voice tinged with both surprise and suspicion.

The man chuckled, his deep voice carrying an infectious warmth. "Indeed, I do," he replied. "I ought to know him well—after all, I am the Headmaster of Shade Academy,"

A stunned silence followed his revelation. Jaune's jaw went slack, and his friends exchanged wide-eyed looks of disbelief. Even the workers of the Desert Rose paused mid-task, glancing at one another as if to confirm they'd all heard correctly. Mallard, too, blinked in astonishment, his usual composure momentarily slipping.

"You're... the Headmaster of Shade?" Jaune repeated, struggling to process what he'd just heard.

The older man nodded with a broad grin, a quick, hearty laugh escaping him. "Indeed, I am! Headmaster Theodore Gale, at your service!" he said, his voice warm and lively. "And please, call me Theodore—or Theo, if you like, it's not every day I get to meet someone Ozpin speaks so highly of!"

Jaune blinked, taken aback by the man's upbeat demeanor. He had been expecting someone cut from the same cloth as the other Headmasters he'd encountered. Ozpin had always carried an air of enigmatic wisdom, a man whose words seemed to hold layers of meaning. Ironwood, on the other hand, was the embodiment of professionalism and discipline, his stoic nature commanding respect. Jaune had never met Lionheart, but from what he'd heard, the Headmaster of Haven was said to be a cheery, motivational figure.

But Theodore? Theodore Gale was nothing like what Jaune had imagined. He radiated energy and charisma, almost like a young man fresh out of the academy, eager to take on the world. The contrast was so stark that it left Jaune momentarily speechless.

Sensing no immediate danger, Jaune let out a quiet breath and eased his grip on his sword. "It's nice to meet you too, Headmaster," he said cautiously, offering a small but genuine smile.

"The pleasure's all mine, Mr. Arc," Theodore replied, clasping his hands together. His tone was brimming with enthusiasm. "Oz has told me quite a bit about you,"

Jaune's eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Really?" he asked, his skepticism creeping into his voice.

Theodore nodded eagerly. "Oh, absolutely!" he said, gesturing animatedly. "He's told me about your journey to Atlas, your time at Beacon, and, of course, your recent heroics on that train! Risking your life to save those hostages? That kind of bravery doesn't go unnoticed, young man. It's safe to say you've piqued my interest,"

"Well, uh... thank you," Jaune replied, a bit awkwardly. He wasn't used to receiving so much attention from people in positions of authority, and it was slightly overwhelming. "What brings you here, Headmaster?"

Theodore's smile widened, and he leaned slightly forward, hands resting on his hips. "Well, Ozpin saw the news last night," he began, his tone casual but clear. "And let's just say, he wasn't too thrilled about the idea of you and your friends roughing it in Vacuo without a proper base of operations, so, he asked me to extend an offer: come stay at Shade Academy! We've got plenty of space, and he wants to make sure you're safe while you're in my neck of the woods,"

Jaune blinked in surprise, his mind momentarily racing. He wasn't sure why he felt so shocked—Ozpin had shown faith in him before, after all. The man had given him a second chance after his expulsion, vouched for him time and again, and even pulled strings to bail him out back in Atlas after the incident with Ciel and Penny. Still, the thought of Ozpin keeping tabs on him from afar, enough to arrange such accommodations, left him both grateful and slightly self-conscious.

"Thank you, Theodore," Jaune said earnestly, his voice steadier now. He glanced at his teammates and gave a small nod. "I think I speak for all of us when I say we'd be happy to stay at Shade Academy while we're here,"

Maria, who had been quietly sipping her drink, set it down with a definitive clink. "Good!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with approval. "This place is no place for youngsters like you to be spending your time anyway!" She gave Jaune a pointed look, though there was a warm smile on her face.

Deery, sitting cross-legged on a nearby couch, shot the older woman a blank stare. "Oh, sure, now she agrees," she muttered under her breath, earning a quiet chuckle from Vernal.

Maria waved a dismissive hand, ignoring the younger woman's comment. "As for me," she added with a sly grin, "I'll be staying right here, thank you very much, I've got some catching up to do with Mallard, and I haven't had my fun yet!"

Jaune raised an eyebrow, unsure if he wanted to know what Maria meant by fun.

Vernal grimaced, her face twisting in sheer revulsion as an uninvited mental image forced its way into her mind. She slapped a hand over her eyes as though trying to shield her brain from the horror. "Ugh! Gross! Keep it in your pants, ya hag!" she cried, her voice loud and full of genuine distress.

Maria, far from offended, burst into a fit of raspy laughter, her cackle echoing throughout the lounge. "Oh, sweetie," she wheezed between laughs, wiping a tear from her eye. "You're far too young to understand how life works, I've still got plenty of fire left in this old furnace!" She wiggled her eyebrows, doubling down on the joke, much to Vernal's growing discomfort.

Deery, sitting stiffly on a nearby chair, visibly shuddered. She stared at the floor as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world, doing her utmost to block out the conversation. "I... I need to think about literally anything else," she murmured.

Oscar, sitting beside her, had gone pale, his wide eyes fixed on some indeterminate point on the far wall. "Y-Yeah, same," he muttered, looking as though he wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

Jaune sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Despite his friends' reactions, a small, bashful smile crept onto his face. He knew better than to try to rein in Maria—once she got started, there was no stopping her. "When can we leave?" he asked, turning back to Headmaster Theodore, his voice tinged with exasperation.

Theodore chuckled, clearly amused by the entire exchange. "Right now, if you're ready," he said, his tone light and cheerful. "There's a car waiting just outside, I made sure it's got plenty of space and, most importantly, air conditioning,"

Jaune's expression brightened at the mention of air conditioning. "Music to my ears," he said with a relieved sigh. He stood and gestured to his team. "Alright, guys, let's grab our stuff and get moving,"

"Thank the gods," Vernal muttered, already on her feet and heading toward the stairs. "The sooner we leave, the less chance I have of hearing another comment from her!" She jabbed a finger in Maria's direction without looking back.

Maria just laughed louder, clearly reveling in Vernal's discomfort. "Oh, you'll miss me when I'm not around!" she called after her.

Deery and Oscar exchanged weary glances but quickly followed Vernal, eager to escape the awkwardness.

As Jaune turned to follow them, Theodore clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, kid," the headmaster said with a grin. "You'll be in good hands at Shade, and who knows? Maybe some peace and quiet will do you all some good!"

Jaune chuckled softly, casting a final glance back at Maria, who was now whispering something to Mallard with a mischievous grin. He shook his head. "Somehow, I doubt that..."

After gathering their belongings, Jaune and his companions returned to the lounge to say their farewells. Maria stood with a mischievous grin, and Mallard leaned casually against the counter, his ever-present smirk in place.

"Thanks for everything, Mallard," Jaune said, shaking the brothel owner's hand firmly.

Mallard chuckled. "It was my pleasure, kid, and don't be a stranger!"

"Promise to visit!" Vernal called as she loaded her bag into the car. "We need to make sure you don't burn this place to the ground," she said, pointing at the small elderly woman.

Maria's laughter echoed as the group climbed into the vehicle. Once everyone was settled, Jaune, Oscar, Vernal, and Deery glanced out at the sprawling city of Vacuo as Theodore and his deputy, Xanthe Rumpole, took their seats in the front.

Xanthe, a stoic yet sharp-eyed woman, adjusted her sunglasses before starting the engine. "Hold tight," she said, her voice steady but firm. "Traffic might be a bit of a nightmare this time of day."

As the car weaved through the bustling streets of Vacuo, the imposing silhouette of Shade Academy loomed in the distance. Its pyramid-like structure stood tall and proud in the city center, its ancient stone glowing softly under the desert sun. Compared to Beacon's elegance or Atlas' technological grandeur, Shade was raw and monumental, exuding a sense of timeless strength.

Jaune leaned forward, his eyes wide as they approached. "That's incredible... It looks so different from the other academies,"

Theodore glanced back at him with a proud grin. "Welcome to Shade Academy, the oldest Huntsmen academy in the world!"

Oscar, seated beside Jaune, tilted his head in curiosity. "Oldest? How old is it exactly?"

Theodore chuckled, his tone warming with nostalgia. "Older than any of us can imagine, before it became a Huntsmen academy, this building was a temple—a sacred place of worship where people came to seek wisdom and guidance from the Four Great Spirits,"

"Four Great Spirits?" Vernal echoed from the backseat, her brow furrowing. "Never heard of them."

"The Four Great Spirits," Theodore began, his voice carrying a reverent tone, "were believed to be the guiding forces of life, whispering wisdom to humanity and Faunus alike, they represented the paths we might choose to walk and each spirit was said to guide individuals down these paths, shaping their lives and destinies,"

He adjusted his seat slightly to glance back at Vernal and Deery, a small smile playing on his lips. "Their influence was deeply ingrained in Vacuo's history and culture, however..." his smile faltered, "Over time, belief in the spirits has waned, much like the belief in Oum, the modern world moves forward, and in its haste, it often leaves its oldest stories behind."

Deery frowned, leaning forward. "That's kind of sad," she said softly, her gaze turning to the massive pyramid ahead of them. "Beliefs like that... they're part of a culture's soul, aren't they? It's like losing a piece of who we are,"

Theodore nodded solemnly. "You're right, it is sad, but that's why those of us who still see the value in these beliefs strive to keep them alive—not necessarily as truths, but as part of our heritage," He told her. "Through stories, records, and even simple traditions, we preserve what we can, if one day, far in the future, the belief itself fades entirely, there will still be evidence that it existed. Proof that it once mattered deeply to those who came before us,"

Deery's expression softened, her earlier awe returning. "It's like leaving a marker on a trail," she said. "Even if no one walks it again, they'll know someone did,"

"Exactly," Theodore said, a warm smile spreading across his face.

The car came to a smooth stop in front of Shade Academy, its towering pyramid-like structure casting a shadow that seemed to reach for miles. As everyone stepped out, they found themselves momentarily awestruck by the sheer scale and age of the building. The sandstone walls glowed faintly in the sunlight, the centuries-old carvings along the base speaking of the history and resilience of Vacuo.

Theodore and Xanthe Rumpole, his deputy headmistress, motioned for the group to follow. They led them through the arched front entrance, the heavy iron doors groaning slightly as they swung open. The grand hall beyond was sparse but functional, with wide corridors and open spaces to accommodate Vacuo's often tumultuous weather. The air was thick with a mix of tradition and practicality.

Stopping just inside the entrance, Xanthe turned to face the group, her sharp gaze sweeping over them. She adjusted her long coat before speaking. "We'll have your room number sent to you shortly," she began, her voice clipped but not unfriendly. "Each of you will receive instructions on which floor you're on and the quickest routes to your accommodations, unfortunately, we won't be escorting you personally—our duties don't allow for any more delays,"

"That's fine," Jaune said with a small but sincere smile. "We'll manage on our own,"

Xanthe nodded curtly, but before she turned to leave, her expression shifted slightly, a hint of caution crossing her features. "One more thing, Mr. Arc," she said. "I'd advise you to be mindful of a few of the students during your stay,"

Jaune's brow furrowed in confusion. "Be mindful? Why?"

A faint smirk tugged at Xanthe's lips, though her tone remained serious. "Not at all," she replied. "But many of the students here saw the news yesterday, they saw you standing alongside Sun Wukong, and earlier today, Mr. Wukong himself was here, singing your praises,"

Jaune exchanged puzzled glances with his companions. "Why would they care what Sun has to say about me?" he asked.

Xanthe tilted her head slightly, her smirk widening just a fraction. "Ah, so you don't know," she said with a glint of amusement in her eyes. "Allow me to enlighten you, among our student body—particularly those who previously attended Oscuro Combat Academy—Sun Wukong is something of a legend... He's widely regarded as the most skilled fighter Vacuo has seen in years, many of the students here admire him, some even idolize him, and almost all aspire to one day surpass him."

Jaune's jaw dropped slightly, his eyes widening in shock. "He's that good?" he asked, his tone incredulous.

"The very best," Xanthe Rumpole reiterated with an air of finality. "We offered Sun Wukong a full scholarship to Shade because he was the standout fighter at Oscuro, not just good, but unparalleled! He defeated every student he faced, no matter their semblance or skills, Mistral might have its pride in Pyrrha Nikos, but we have Sun Wukong, and, if I were to give my honest opinion... I believe Mr. Wukong surpasses even her as a fighter," Her sharp eyes gleamed.

Jaune froze at her words, a mix of disbelief and quiet reflection washing over him. Pyrrha Nikos—the Invincible Girl. She had been his mentor, his teammate, and his friend. In his eyes, she wasn't just a great fighter; she was the pinnacle of combat excellence. The idea of someone outclassing her seemed... impossible.

But then his thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Raven Branwen. The bandit leader, a woman whose skill in battle was legendary, had earned her reputation as the most dangerous woman on Remnant. Jaune had seen firsthand just how formidable she was—faster, stronger, and far more skilled with a blade than anyone he'd ever encountered, even Pyrrha.

And yet, somehow, in one fateful spar, he'd bested Raven. It was a memory he couldn't quite make sense of, no matter how many times he revisited it. His hands clenched reflexively, a familiar anger and frustration rising within him. But he shook the thoughts away; now wasn't the time to dwell on the past.

Returning to the conversation, Jaune straightened and looked back at Rumpole. "If what you're saying is true, Ms. Rumpole," he said, his voice steady, "Then I think I'd like to fight Sun myself,"

Xanthe arched a brow, her sharp features softening slightly into a wry smile. "Is that so? Do you aim to become Invincible under the Sun, then?" she asked, her tone carrying a faint note of challenge.

"Invincible under the Sun?" Jaune repeated, tilting his head in confusion.

"It's an old saying," Xanthe explained, her voice taking on a hint of nostalgia. "A title from ancient times, bestowed upon warriors who were considered the greatest in their era, it's a symbol of unmatched skill, resilience, and strength... Sun Wukong holds that title now, here in Vacuo, he's never been defeated in combat,"

Jaune shook his head with a modest smile. "I'm not chasing something as grand as that," he said earnestly. "I just want to test myself—to see how much I've grown, how strong I've become,"

Rumpole studied him for a moment, her sharp gaze unwavering. "Then, in a sense, you do seek such a title," she countered, her tone carrying the weight of wisdom. "Those who strive to grow stronger, to test their limits, and to prove themselves often do so for deeply personal reasons, so, tell me, Mr. Arc—why do you seek to grow stronger?"

For Jaune, the answer was immediate, his voice steady and clear. "To protect the people I care about," he said.

Rumpole's lips curved into a faint, approving smile. "A noble reason," she acknowledged. "But remember, strength isn't solely a matter of muscle or skill, a truly formidable warrior possesses not only physical prowess but also mental clarity and emotional resilience, one's mind must be as strong as one's body,"

Jaune nodded thoughtfully, the weight of her words settling over him. "I understand," he said. "I'll keep that in mind, Ms. Rumpole,"

"See that you do," Rumpole replied, her expression softening just slightly. "Because if you truly wish to have a chance at holding your own against someone like Mr. Wukong, you'll need more than strength or skill... You'll need to be free,"

Jaune blinked, tilting his head in confusion. "Free?" he echoed.

Rumpole chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of mystery. "Freedom, Mr. Arc," she said cryptically. "Freedom in spirit, in thought, and in action... Perhaps you'll understand what I mean when you face him,"

With that, Headmaster Theodore and Deputy Headmistress Rumpole departed, their footsteps echoing faintly down the ancient halls. Left to their own devices, Jaune, Vernal, Oscar, and Deery exchanged a quick look before agreeing to head to their assigned room. Dropping off their belongings seemed like the sensible first step before exploring the academy grounds.

As they navigated the expansive corridors of Shade, its design both simple and elegant, they couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Eyes seemed to follow their every move from shadowed alcoves and slightly ajar doors.

The weight of Rumpole's earlier warning settled heavily in Jaune's mind. If some students were itching for a confrontation, he hoped they would wait at least long enough for him and his companions to settle in.

Still, Jaune couldn't deny a part of him welcomed the idea of being challenged. Since Atlas and Patch, his battles had primarily been against seasoned Huntsmen, outlaws, or Grimm far beyond the training level of an average student.

Those encounters had sharpened him, forcing him to grow stronger, but they also made him realize just how vast the gap was between where he stood and where he wanted to be. If Shade was anything like its reputation, it might provide him with the tests he needed to measure how far he had come—and how far he still had to go.

Shade Academy was unlike any place Jaune had ever seen. Its weathered sandstone walls whispered stories of countless battles, rivalries, and victories. Yet, its aura was one of constant challenge, a place where only the resourceful and resilient thrived. He couldn't help but reflect on Vacuo's most enduring rule:

Only the strong survive the harsh lands of Vacuo.

That proverb rang in his mind like a bell, each word hammering home the stakes of their new environment. Vacuo was not a place of comfort or second chances. If he wasn't strong enough to endure its trials, then his journey—everything he had fought for—would end here. Whether by Grimm, combat, or sheer unforgiving circumstance, failure in Vacuo left no room for retreat.

As Jaune and the others continued through the labyrinthine halls, the oppressive desert heat outside felt distant but ever-present, like an unspoken challenge waiting beyond the academy's walls. Every student they passed seemed battle-worn, their gazes sharp and appraising. They were the kind of people who thrived in chaos and hardship. The thought lit a fire of determination in Jaune's chest—he couldn't falter here.

As Jaune and the others roamed the halls of Shade, another figure traversed the unforgiving desert landscape, riding atop a massive armored jackalope. His rusted armor gleamed under the relentless sun, each dent and scratch telling a story of countless battles.

His destination was clear: the City of Vacuo, where the inexorable flow of Causality was drawing him closer to.