Chapter 41: The First Step
Reviews:
EmperorSnorlax: I love Sun, he's a good character and I felt like he's just one of those Characters that need to shine at times!
Augustus Arc: Thank you for the advice and my previous Author's note will be addressed down below on what I'm planning to do with the story.
noahcook420: My Authors Note will be addressed down below and I might take your advice and add Chapter notes to split up the Parts/volumes of the story.
SrJ1123: Trust me, things are going to get interesting later down the line as in Part 2 of the story, we'll start getting into the Salem stuff, but she's not even the final villain!
Delta7344: Thank you! Glad you enjoyed the chapter and I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!
CriticaofRandomness: Yeah, I decided to make Xanthe a Sun Glazer! As for Maria dying or Penny showing up, I can neither confirm nor deny such statements, all I can say is that Maria, Pietro, and Penny are connected and their story will continue down the line, one way or another.
FsFalzar: Thank you for your input!
blaiseingfire: Yep nothing will go wrong at all! And thanks for the vote!
A/N:
Ok, so a lot of you have suggested keeping it all one story, and after seeing the reasons why it would be better to keep it all one story, I have to agree with all your reasons as I don't wish for this story to be hard to find or have it's viewing/readers drop, so here's what's going to happen:
I am going to keep it in one big story on Here, Wattpad, and A03 due to all your reasonings and because I did see what all of you were getting at, so no need to worry, I will be listening to you all, and keeping it as one large story!
Anyway! Thank you all for the advice and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Also, because we hit 40 chapters, I did a Story trailer on YT, so if you want to see that, just simply look up my name on YouTube and check it out!
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The next day dawned bright and warm over Shade Academy, and Jaune, along with his group, found themselves in the cafeteria enjoying breakfast. Shade's cafeteria was a surprisingly modest affair, with wide windows that let in the desert sunlight and a distinct architectural style that reflected Vacuo's rugged charm. To Jaune's relief, the dining area wasn't nearly as crowded as he'd expected.
Then again, it was summer vacation. Most students probably chose to leave for home or adventures rather than linger at school. Jaune couldn't blame them. If he weren't so tangled in his current circumstances, he might've done the same.
As he idly stirred his drink, his thoughts drifted to Beacon—those early days when life was simpler. The hum of voices around him reminded him of all the times his team and Team RWBY sat together, laughing and eating, their conversations bouncing from schoolwork to their latest antics. Eight friends, sharing the highs and lows of their lives. He felt a pang of longing for those moments, so distant now.
"Hey! Arc! I challenge you!"
The voice snapped him out of his reverie. He looked up, fork paused halfway to his mouth. Standing a few feet away was a striking figure, her presence commanding attention even in the relaxed atmosphere of the cafeteria.
The woman approaching him had lightly tanned skin and a head of dirty blonde hair swept dramatically to the left. Her sharp violet eyes caught the light, and for a brief moment, Jaune thought of Yang. There was something familiar in her confidence.
Her outfit only added to her imposing aura. She wore a sleeveless green dress with an asymmetrical hem that fluttered lightly as she moved. Beneath it, a golden scale-like one-sleeved high-neck top gleamed faintly in the sunlight, emphasizing her athletic build. A lighter green sarong was tied around her hips, adding a casual elegance to her appearance, though the golden spaulder on her right shoulder reminded him that this was someone used to battle.
Details of her attire caught Jaune's eye as she closed the distance. Two thin chain loops ran from the front of her spaulder, crossing her torso in an intricate yet functional design. Her over-the-knee scale stockings matched her golden boots, leaving the backs of her calves exposed for flexibility. On her hands, she wore accessories that blended beauty and practicality: a simple chain bracelet with a ring connected on her right hand, and a brown wristband adorned with two beaded bracelets on her left.
Finally, the young woman came to a halt in front of the group, her stance relaxed yet purposeful. Jaune, Vernal, Deery, and Oscar all turned their attention to her, but it was clear her focus lay squarely on Jaune. Her sharp violet eyes locked onto his, a spark of curiosity and challenge glinting within them.
Jaune arched a brow, his fork still poised in his hand. "And you are?" he asked, his tone equal parts curious and wary.
The woman's lips curled into a confident smile, her posture straightening slightly. "Name's Dew Gayl," she announced, her voice carrying an easygoing but determined cadence. "I'm a member of Team NDGO, and I'm here because I want to spar with you,"
Jaune sighed, already suspecting where this was going. He set his fork down and leaned back in his seat, casting a glance at his friends. Vernal raised an amused brow, while Oscar gave a slight shrug, clearly curious but leaving it to Jaune to handle. Deery quietly sipped her tea, her expression neutral but attentive.
"Let me guess," Jaune began, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "This is because of Sun, isn't it?"
Dew's grin widened. "You got it," she said, giving him a playful point. "But it's not just because of what Sun said, I also want to see if he's full of crap or not,"
Jaune blinked, confused. "Full of crap about what, exactly?"
Dew crossed her arms, her tone laced with challenge. "Sun told me you're just as strong as he is—said you could hold your own in a real fight, and, well, I've gotta see that for myself! Can't just take his word for it, you know?"
Jaune frowned, his confusion deepening. "Wait, you know Sun personally?"
Dew nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, we go way back! Sun and I trained together at Oscuro for a while! He's the best fighter I've ever seen, but I could never beat him, so I wanna see of I can beat you and see if I'm close to his level! But I'm not about to let some secondhand hype sway me! If he says you're that good, then prove it!"
Jaune groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he recalled Rumpole's warning from the day before. He'd mentioned that some students might take an interest in challenging him after Sun's words had spread. He hadn't expected it to happen so soon—or during breakfast, no less.
"Look," Jaune said, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. "I don't mind a spar, but I'd rather finish my breakfast first, deal?"
Dew tilted her head, studying him for a moment before a smirk tugged at her lips. "Fair enough," she said, stepping back with an easy shrug. "But don't keep me waiting too long, Arc, I'll be at the training area... Let's see if you're as good as Sun claims,"
As Dew exited the cafeteria, Jaune resumed eating, though his posture was slightly more thoughtful than before. Vernal, sitting across from him, watched him with a raised brow, her curiosity evident.
"Why'd you say yes?" she asked, her tone more inquisitive than judgmental.
Jaune paused mid-bite, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. "Because I want to see just how far I've come," he said simply. He set his fork down and leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. "Fighting someone from another academy gives me the chance to measure myself against people with completely different training, I want to know how well I stack up—not just against my friends or my enemies, but against other Huntsmen-in-training from all over,"
Oscar, sitting beside him, tilted his head in confusion. "But... aren't you already strong enough?" he asked, frowning. "I've seen you take on whole groups of enemies like it was nothing! You've got the skills!"
Deery nodded in agreement, her hands folded neatly in front of her. "And you've beaten most of the Happy Huntresses in sparring matches, the only one you ever lost to was Robyn,"
"And Qrow," Oscar added with a grin. "And Taiyang,"
Jaune gave them a small, rueful smile, nodding. "Exactly, I lost to them, and that's the point," he said.
He straightened in his chair, his gaze distant as he spoke.
"Since I started traveling with all of you, I've grown, I've reached the level where I can stand alongside my friends from Beacon—where I'm finally on their level," His voice softened, tinged with humility. "But that's not enough, there are people out there far stronger than they ever were, stronger than I am now, if I'm going to protect the people I care about, I need to keep growing... I need to be ready for what's coming,"
As Jaune finished speaking, his eyes flickered briefly, his expression clouding. A memory surfaced unbidden—the first time he had met Raven Branwen. He could still feel the sharp tension of that moment, the terrifying clarity when he believed she had plunged her sword into his neck. That memory served as a brutal reminder of the sheer gap in power between him and others in the world.
The memory of his first encounter with Taiyang lingered in Jaune's mind. It was an experience he hadn't fully understood at the time. When Jaune had first stood before the older blonde, he'd been certain Tai was attacking him, his presence radiating an overwhelming sense of danger. But Tai hadn't so much as raised a hand against him.
It was only later, after much reflection and conversation, that Jaune began to piece together what had really happened during that moment—and what it meant.
Tai had explained it to him in simple terms, though the concept was anything but simple. What Jaune had experienced wasn't an attack from Tai, but his own killing intent reflected back at him. In that fleeting, intense moment, Jaune had instinctively perceived Tai as a threat, his subconscious fears and doubts molding the older man's presence into the image of an enemy. His mind had constructed Tai as a danger so potent, so undeniable, that it felt like an attack all on its own.
But that wasn't what had happened with Raven.
No, Raven had killed him with her mind before the fight even began. What Jaune had felt when he first encountered her wasn't his imagination or a reflection of his intent. It was the sheer, unrelenting force of her presence—a manifestation of her strength, skill, and power. It was as if her will alone had reached out and crushed his resolve, defeating him before she ever drew her blade.
The difference was stark, and after all this time, Jaune finally understood it.
With Tai, the experience had been internal—a projection of his own mind, warped by his fears. With Raven, it was external, an overwhelming force projected by her mastery and experience. She hadn't just intimidated him; she had imposed her dominance over him, making it clear in that instant that he was utterly outmatched.
The thought lingered in Jaune's mind as he absentmindedly traced the rim of his cup. Was that what it was like to face someone like Pyrrha? He thought back to their many training sessions, how effortlessly she moved, how her strikes always seemed to find their mark. Did her opponents, even in sparring, feel the weight of her presence bearing down on them? Did they sense her skills, her strength, her mastery, like a specter striking them down before the first blow?
He couldn't say for certain, but he suspected they had.
And now, Jaune wanted to reach that level.
It wasn't just about strength or skill anymore. It was about presence—about dominating the battlefield with nothing but his will. To defeat an opponent not just physically, but mentally and spiritually, before the fight even began.
He wasn't there yet. He knew that. He was nowhere near the level where his intent alone could shatter someone's resolve. But it was a goal, a marker of what true mastery could look like.
To kill his opponent with his mind and soul before he even struck them—that was the level he aspired to reach.
Because Jaune knew that if he could achieve such a state—if his will alone could break an opponent before a single strike—the fight would be his.
Victory would be his.
The thought was intoxicating, a tantalizing possibility that lingered in the back of his mind. But then, like a sudden flash of lightning, Rumpole's words resurfaced, sharp and clear...
"Do you aim to become Invincible under the Sun, then?"
Her voice echoed in his memory, carrying the weight of the title she had spoken of—a title held by Sun Wukong. Jaune hadn't thought much of it at the time, dismissing it as a Vacuan term of respect, a flourish of words meant to highlight Sun's talent. But now, the idea gripped him, burrowing into his thoughts like a seed.
'Could I?' he wondered. 'Could I ever become something like that?'
Invincible under the Sun
The phrase itself seemed monumental, a declaration that transcended skill or strength. It was a state of being—a level of mastery and power so absolute that it defied challenge, an apex that few could ever dream of reaching. Jaune thought of Sun, his boundless energy, his unyielding confidence, and his ability to inspire loyalty in those around him. Could that kind of invincibility be achieved by anyone? Could it be achieved by him?
His thoughts shifted to those he had admired—They had all seemed invincible in their own ways, their mastery so complete that they felt untouchable in the heat of battle.
Could he become that?
Jaune clenched his fist, his gaze dropping to the table in front of him. The idea both thrilled and terrified him. To even consider such a title felt arrogant—foolish, even. But deep down, he couldn't deny the pull of it, the challenge it presented.
'If Sun could be Invincible under the Sun, then why not me?' Jaune asked himself.
The thought hung in the air, daring him to reach for it. He didn't have the answer yet, but a flicker of resolve began to burn in his chest. If he truly wanted to protect those he cared about, if he wanted to ensure no one would ever have to suffer the way he had, then maybe—just maybe—he needed to aim for that level of invincibility.
Not to prove anything to anyone else, but to prove it to himself.
To become a force that couldn't be denied, a presence so overwhelming that the fight would be over before it began.
And so, Jaune let the question linger in his mind as he stood, readying himself for what came next. Perhaps this was just the beginning—a small step on the road to finding the answer. Could he become Invincible under the Sun?
Only time, and the battles ahead, would tell.
Jaune finished his food and carried his tray to the designated drop-off point, the clatter of dishes barely registering in his ears as he waited for the others. Vernal, Oscar, and Deery were quick to follow, each finishing their meals before standing to join him. Together, they began making their way toward Shade Academy's training area.
The path led them outside, and as they approached, Jaune took in the sight before him. Shade's training grounds were unlike anything he'd seen before, a stark contrast to the enclosed arenas of Beacon. It wasn't a polished gym or an orderly facility—it was an open-air coliseum, its design reminiscent of the gladiator arenas he'd seen in old movies. The sun hung high overhead, casting long shadows across the weathered stone and packed dirt of the battlefield below. The air buzzed with energy, the anticipation of combat thick in the atmosphere.
As they entered, Jaune noticed a small crowd had already gathered. A handful of students sat scattered across the stone benches, talking among themselves and watching the arena with mild interest. Dew stood in the center, spear in hand, her stance confident and casual as she waited for him.
Jaune's eyes narrowed slightly as he focused on her, his footsteps slowing as they neared the edge of the arena. He could feel the weight of her presence already—not overwhelming, but steady, like the hum of a coiled spring ready to snap.
"Guess this is it," Vernal said, giving him a sidelong glance before she, Oscar, and Deery peeled off to find seats in the stands.
Jaune took a deep breath and stepped forward, his boots crunching against the sand as he walked toward the entrance to the arena. The sunlight warmed his back as he passed through the archway, the shadows of the coliseum fading as he stepped into the full glare of the Vacuan sun.
Standing in the center of the arena, Jaune couldn't help but think back to the past—to the first time he had stepped into a training arena back at Beacon.
He remembered the nerves that had gripped him like a vice, the sweat on his palms as he gripped his sword for the first time in front of a crowd. Back then, he'd been so afraid of being hit, of looking foolish in front of his peers. His swings had been wild, erratic, driven more by desperation than skill. He could still recall the sting of embarrassment after every defeat, the way his heart sank each time he stumbled and fell.
But now?
Now, it was different.
He felt none of those old emotions or fears as he stepped into Shade's arena, and the absence of them left him wondering why.
At Beacon, the very act of entering an arena had felt monumental. His stomach would churn, his heart would race, and his hands would tremble as he gripped his sword. Back then, fear was a constant companion—fear of failure, of humiliation, of pain. But here? Standing in the sunlit coliseum with the crowd's murmurs in the background, he felt... nothing.
Was it because he now knew what a real fight was like?
Jaune thought back to the chaos he had faced: the screams of Grimm, the echo of gunfire, the blood staining his hands. He had stood on the edge of life and death more times than he could count. Perhaps the polished choreography of sparring simply paled in comparison to the raw brutality of survival.
Or was it because he had faced enemies like Raven—foes who embodied power, skill, and lethal intent? He remembered the crushing weight of her presence, how her strength had made him feel like an insect beneath her heel. Yet, he had stood against her. Maybe that experience had stripped away the intimidation he once felt facing someone in an arena. After all, how could sparring with a peer compare to battling someone like her?
Or was it simply that his skills had grown far beyond what they were at Beacon?
He thought about the long nights spent training with his team and the countless battles fought side by side with comrades. The wild, clumsy swings of his sword had been replaced with precise, deliberate strikes. His shield no longer felt like dead weight but an extension of his arm, a tool of both defense and offense. He wasn't the same awkward boy fumbling through Initiation—he was a warrior now.
Or was it because... taking a life had become easier for him?
The thought was cold and unsettling, but he couldn't deny it. The first time he had ended someone's life, he'd been wracked with guilt and nausea. But as time went on, the act had grown familiar, routine. The weight of his decisions still lingered, but the act itself no longer froze him in place. His sword arm no longer hesitated, and his resolve no longer faltered.
Maybe it was all of it.
Maybe the boy who had once feared the sting of a blade had simply been replaced by a man who had learned to wield one with purpose.
Jaune's grip tightened on Crocea Mors as he mulled over the question. The fear was gone, replaced by something else— Was it an acceptance of what he was and what he had become? Perhaps he had simply grown into the Huntsman he was always meant to be?
But even as he tried to answer his own question, a small part of him wondered if the absence of fear was entirely a good thing. Fear had once been a teacher, a motivator.
Without it, what was driving him now?
He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. This wasn't the time for introspection. Whatever the reason for his newfound calm, it didn't matter right now.
The arena stretched out before him, the sun glaring down as Dew twirled her spear, her violet eyes locked on him. She was eager, ready to test him, to see if the tales of his strength were true.
And Jaune? Jaune was ready to show her.
"Are you ready?" Dew asked, her voice brimming with confidence as she twirled her spear, the sun glinting off its polished surface. Her smirk was playful, but her violet eyes burned with determination.
Jaune didn't respond verbally. Instead, he gave a single nod, calm and collected, as he drew Crocea Mors from its sheath. The soft shing of steel echoed through the arena, followed by the subtle hum of his shield activating.
Dew's smirk widened at his silence. "Alright, let's see what you've got, Arc!" she declared before surging forward. Her spear was leveled, aimed directly at him, her movements fluid and precise.
Jaune, however, didn't move.
He stood still, his posture relaxed, sword and shield at his sides, his blue eyes steady as they tracked her approach. There was no hint of panic or urgency in his expression—only focus.
Dew hesitated for a split second, her steps faltering as confusion crept into her mind. Why wasn't he reacting? The sight of him standing there, unshaken and unmoving, stirred a flicker of unease. It reminded her of someone else—Sun. He had the same unnerving habit of standing his ground, unbothered by an opponent's aggression, as though daring them to come closer.
Gritting her teeth, Dew pushed the thought aside. She wasn't about to let Jaune psyche her out. When she closed the distance, she lunged forward, her spear thrusting toward his head with pinpoint accuracy.
Jaune moved.
With a fluid motion, he ducked under her strike, the attack grazing harmlessly over his shoulder. Before Dew could recover, he countered, slashing upward at her exposed midsection.
The blade bit into her clothing but stopped short of drawing blood. A jolt of realization shot through Dew—if Jaune had infused his weapon with aura, the blow would've been lethal.
Her eyes widened, not just at the narrowness of her escape but at the speed and precision of Jaune's counter. He had read her attack, reacted in an instant, and exploited her opening perfectly.
She spun around, trying to regain control, her spear arcing downward in a sweeping strike. Jaune sidestepped effortlessly, his footwork fluid and precise. He didn't even raise his shield. Instead, he leaned into the motion, slashing upward toward her face.
Dew barely dodged the strike, leaning back just in time to avoid the gleaming blade. Her heart raced as she realized just how close he'd come to landing the blow.
With a frustrated growl, she batted his sword aside with her spear and reset her stance. Tightening her grip, Dew launched a rapid series of jabs, her spear darting toward him in quick, consecutive strikes.
But Jaune was already moving.
He flowed between her attacks like water, dodging and weaving with ease. When he couldn't step out of the way, his shield flicked up, deflecting her strikes without losing momentum.
It was almost as though he was predicting her moves before she made them.
For Jaune, this fight was nothing like what Dew seemed to think it was—a test of skill, a challenge. To him, her spear moved sluggishly, as though it were part of a training exercise. Each thrust, swing, and jab came at him as if slowed by some unseen force.
'What is this?' Jaune asked himself, his mind racing as he sidestepped another attack with ease. 'Were attacks always this slow? Am I imagining this? Is something wrong with my head?'
Each deflection, every dodge, felt almost effortless. He wasn't scrambling to react or struggling to anticipate her next move. Instead, it was as though her intentions were written plainly in her body language, telegraphed before she even committed to the strike.
He deflected another jab with his shield, sending her spear wide, but his focus wasn't on the fight anymore. It was on the question that now burned in his mind.
'Is it my eyes? No... That doesn't make sense...' Jaune told himself. Suddenly, a new realization struck him that caused a new question to be asked. 'Have I grown this much?'
His breathing was steady, his movements measured, and the longer the fight went on, the more surreal it became. 'Have I really come so far as a fighter that the movements of someone trained to be a Huntress feel this... slow?' Jaune asked himself
Jaune thought back to his time in Atlas. The Happy Huntresses had never felt slow. Robyn's strikes had been sharp, calculated, and relentless. Ciel Soleil's precision was impeccable, and Penny's speed was nothing short of breathtaking. Ilias Amitola's whip-like strikes had kept him constantly on edge. And Tai and Qrow? Their movements had been so fast and refined that every moment of their sparring had demanded his full attention.
But on the train...
The memory struck him like a bell. The rogue he'd fought that day—that mans movements had been slow, predictable even. Every White Fang soldier he had faced during that event had seemed... sluggish.
He hadn't realized it at the time, but now, in hindsight, it was clear.
Even Vernal's movements back then, quick and fierce as they were, hadn't carried the same speed or precision as those he now recognized in top-tier fighters.
But Sun?
Jaune's lips pressed into a thin line as his thoughts turned to the Monkey Faunus. Sun's movements had been nothing like this. His strikes were fluid, unpredictable, and impossibly fast—like water crashing and flowing in an endless current. His staff and nunchaku moved as if they were alive, striking from angles Jaune could barely register.
Fighting Sun had been like trying to catch smoke with bare hands.
'That's the difference!' Jaune realized with wide eyes. 'That's the level I need to reach,' He told himself as he narrowed his eyes and focused back on the fight.
Dew's spear came at him again, and Jaune instinctively stepped to the side, pivoting just enough to avoid it. To her, it might have seemed like a calculated dodge, but for Jaune, it was second nature—a reflex born of countless battles and hard-earned experience.
He parried her next strike and stepped back, giving himself a moment to breathe and observe. Dew was determined, her grip tightening on her spear as she prepared another series of attacks. She was skilled, that much was clear, but her movements lacked the razor-sharp edge of someone like Raven, or Qrow, or Tai.
Jaune's grip on Crocea Mors tightened as a strange mix of emotions swirled within him. He was grateful for how far he had come, realizing that he had now become stronger then someone on Dew's level... but at the same time, he felt a pang of disappointment.
This fight wasn't challenging him in the way he had hoped.
Dew lunged again, her spear thrusting forward with more force. This time, Jaune raised his shield and batted the spear aside, stepping inside her reach.
As Jaune stepped inside Dew's reach, his movements were precise and deliberate. With a swift upward slash of Crocea Mors, his blade cut through the air with devastating power, colliding with Dew's chest and sending her flying backward. Her spear was ripped from her grasp, spinning uselessly in the air, and she tumbled across the arena floor before landing hard, her breath knocked out of her.
The sheer force of Jaune's attack was undeniable. He hadn't channeled his aura into the blade to bypass Dew's defenses, yet the strike alone had drained her aura and left it at 70%.
In a single blow, he had shifted the balance of the fight entirely in his favor.
Gasps rippled through the small crowd that had gathered to watch the match. Dew's teammates, members of Team NDGO, exchanged looks of shock and disbelief at what they had just witnessed.
"Wow... guess that Sun guy wasn't lying," Nebula Violette, NDGO's leader, muttered as she leaned forward in her seat.
Octavia Ember, sitting beside her, nodded slowly. "Seems like it. I've never seen Dew get her ass handed to her like that, not even by Neb,"
"Same here," Gwen Darcy chimed in, her freckled face twisted in surprise. "She usually keeps fights under control, but this? She's outclassed..."
Vernal sat nearby, her arms crossed as she watched the match intently. She was impressed by Jaune's speed and strength—so much so that she hadn't even been able to track his movement when he delivered that decisive strike. Though she wouldn't say it out loud, a small smile tugged at her lips. She was proud of her partner, knowing full well how far he had come to reach this level.
Oscar and Deery, meanwhile, were utterly captivated.
"Did you see that?" Oscar whispered, his voice brimming with amazement. "It was so fast... Dew didn't even have a chance to react."
Deery nodded in awe, her wide eyes fixed on Jaune as he stood calmly in the arena. "He didn't even look like he was trying. That wasn't just strength—that was skill."
While the others watched with excitement and admiration, Jaune's expression remained neutral.
He stood in the center of the arena, his sword lowered, and his gaze fixed on Dew as she struggled to her knees.
But inside, he felt nothing but disappointment.
'Why does this feel so hollow?' He thought.
Jaune thought back to the him back at Beacon, the teen who had once dreamed of standing tall in battles like this, who would have celebrated a moment like this as a victory. But now, as he stood here, the cheers and gasps from the audience felt distant.
This wasn't the challenge he was searching for.
Dew, gritting her teeth, pushed herself back to her feet. Her breathing was heavy, her aura visibly flickering as it worked to stabilize her after the blow. Despite the pain, her eyes still burned with determination.
"You're... strong," Dew admitted, wiping sweat from her brow. "Way stronger than I expected... But I'm not done yet!"
Jaune gave a small nod of acknowledgment, but inside, he was already questioning what he was doing here. The strike he had delivered was powerful, yes, but it was too much. He hadn't intended to knock her down so quickly or so harshly.
'This isn't the fight I need, this isn't what will push me forward...' Jaune told himself.
Vernal watched Jaune closely from the stands, noticing the faint crease in his brow and the way his shoulders seemed heavier despite the overwhelming advantage he held.
"Something's bothering him," she muttered under her breath, her sharp instincts picking up on his unease.
"Bothering him?" Oscar asked, glancing at her.
Vernal nodded. "He's not happy with this, look at him," she said, pointing at Jaune.
Oscar and Deery followed her gaze, and as they observed Jaune, they began to see it too—the subtle signs of frustration hidden beneath his calm demeanor.
As Dew steadied herself and readied her spear for another attack, Jaune sighed inwardly.
He raised his shield and sword, preparing to continue the fight, but a single thought echoed in his mind.
'I need more... I need someone who can push me,' He told himself. 'I need a fight that makes me better—not this,'
And yet, even as he thought it, he resolved himself to finish this battle with the respect it deserved. Dew had challenged him with her full strength, and he owed her nothing less in return.
Jaune decided to end the fight in that instant.
Summoning every ounce of his speed and precision, he vanished from where he stood, leaving only a blur in his wake. In less than a heartbeat, he was directly in front of Dew. The blonde fighter barely had time to register his movement, her violet eyes widening in shock.
Jaune raised his sword high, its blade gleaming in the sunlight, but to Dew, it wasn't a sword anymore. In the split second before it came down, her mind betrayed her—she didn't see Jaune Arc standing before her; she saw the jagged, dripping fangs of a Beowolf. Worse, it wasn't just any Beowolf, but an Alpha, its gaping maw poised to crush her skull.
Her breath hitched as terror gripped her chest.
Jaune's sword came down with brutal precision, slicing through the air and colliding with Dew's aura. The sheer force of the downward strike sent shockwaves rippling through the arena. Dew's spear was ripped from her grasp again, clattering uselessly across the stone floor as she stumbled backward.
The crowd watched in stunned silence, the sound of the strike still ringing in their ears. In one devastating blow, Jaune had reduced Dew's aura to 40%. Her defenses flickered, struggling to stabilize, but Jaune wasn't done.
Before she could regain her footing or even process what had happened, Jaune surged forward again. His movements were fluid, calculated, and relentless.
With a sharp upward motion, the pommel of Crocea Mors struck Dew under the chin. The force of the blow was so precise and overwhelming that her head snapped back, and her legs gave out beneath her. Her body crumpled to the ground, unconscious before she even hit the floor.
The fight was over.
Silence blanketed the arena as the realization settled in. In less than twenty minutes, Jaune Arc had defeated Dew Gayl, a seasoned fighter from Team NDGO, without sustaining a single scratch.
The crowd began to murmur, whispers of awe and disbelief passing through the onlookers.
"That was brutal," Nebula muttered, leaning back in her seat, her voice a mix of shock and begrudging respect.
"He didn't give her a single opening," came the murmer of a random student.
Gwen glanced down at Dew's unconscious form with wide eyes. "I've never seen Dew lose like that... Not like this,"
Oscar broke the silence in their group, his voice a mix of amazement and concern. "He didn't even give her a chance, he's... So much stronger than when we first met him!"
Down in the arena, Jaune stood over Dew's unconscious form, his sword lowered to his side. The cheers and whispers of the crowd barely registered in his ears.
'Victory...'
He looked at his opponent, lying motionless on the ground, and felt nothing.
'It's mine, the fight's over... So why does it feel like I've lost something?' Jaune asked.
Jaune respected Dew's tenacity and her effort. She had come at him with everything she had, determined to prove herself, and he admired that. Her strikes had been precise, her movements disciplined, her strategy well-thought-out. She wasn't just good—she was exceptional.
But Jaune was better.
And that fact gnawed at him in a strange way.
'Why?' Jaune questioned.
The question echoed in his mind, relentless and persistent. How had he reached this level in just a few months? How had he gone from the clumsy, untrained swordsman at Beacon to someone who could defeat a seasoned fighter like Dew with such ease? Back at Beacon, he wouldn't have stood a chance against her. She would have wiped the floor with him.
So, what had changed?
Jaune's grip tightened on Crocea Mors as he turned the question over and over. But then, he shook his head, dispelling the thoughts. 'Why am I still asking this when I already know the answer?'
He glanced toward the edge of the arena, his eyes unfocused, as if looking beyond the present moment.
In his mind's eye, he saw them. Raven, Robyn, Joanna, May, Fiona, Ciel, Penny, Ilia, Tai, Qrow—each of them stood there, etched into his memory like living shadows. They had all pushed him to his limits, sometimes to the brink of death, and in doing so, they had forged him into the fighter he was now.
But as the figures began to fade, their forms dissipating like smoke in the wind, one remained. Raven's sharp, piercing gaze lingered, cutting through the haze of his thoughts. And then, behind her, new figures emerged—Sun, Pyrrha, and his old friends from Beacon.
Their faces reminded him of his roots, of where he came from, and the people who believed in him before he even believed in himself.
'It's because of them,' Jaune thought, the weight of gratitude settling over him. 'Without them, without their challenges, their faith, and even their opposition, I would never have come this far...
And yet...
He stared at the fading specters, the last traces of Raven's image dissolving into the air, leaving behind only silence.
"I still have a long way to go," Jaune murmured to himself, his lips curving into a faint, bittersweet smile.
Because for all the strength he had gained, for all the battles he had won, he knew this was only the beginning. There were still opponents stronger than Dew, stronger than Tai or Qrow, and even stronger than Raven. He hadn't yet reached the heights he aspired to be at.
As he sheathed Crocea Mors and walked toward the arena's edge, Jaune resolved to carry these lessons forward. Each fight, each victory, each loss—they were steps on a stairway the led upward and onto the path he had chosen.
And he was merely taking his first step.
XXX
XXX
XXX
About an hour later, Dew stirred awake and jolted upright, her violet eyes scanning her surroundings with urgency. The stark white walls, the clean scent of antiseptic, and the faint hum of medical equipment clued her in immediately—she was in Shade's infirmary.
"I'm... in the infirmary?" she murmured, touching her side where Jaune's strikes had drained her aura. The realization hit her like a second blow. "Then that means..."
Memories of the fight flooded back to her. The overwhelming speed, the precision of his strikes, and the sheer presence Jaune carried in the arena replayed in her mind. Three hits. Three decisive, devastating strikes, and she was down.
Yet, as the clarity of her defeat set in, Dew felt no anger, no bitterness. Instead, a small, rueful smirk crept across her face, and she let out a dry chuckle.
"Figures," she muttered, leaning back against the headboard of the infirmary bed. "I should've known I'm still not there yet,"
Her mind wandered to Sun, her old training partner, and the bar he had set so high. She chuckled again, shaking her head in amused disbelief.
"Damn you, Sun," she said aloud, her voice carrying a mix of fondness and exasperation. "I thought you were the only monster I'd have to deal with, but who knew another one just like you was out there?"
She couldn't help but analyze Jaune in her mind, revisiting every moment of the fight. There was something different about him. He wasn't Sun—not in his movements, not in his approach, and certainly not in his aura. Sun fought like a force of nature, with fluidity and improvisation, his style wild and unpredictable. Jaune, by contrast, was disciplined, and methodical, like a knight in a storybook who wielded control over every moment.
Even so, Dew could sense something beneath Jaune's polished exterior—a storm waiting to break free.
"The gap between them," she whispered to herself, furrowing her brow in thought.
She could see it clearly now. Jaune wasn't on Sun's level—not yet. But that gap? It wasn't insurmountable. It wasn't the chasm she'd expected.
It wasn't huge, but it wasn't small either.
The gap between the two blonde fighters wasn't so vast that a car could drive through it, nor was it so small that they were mere inches apart. If anything, the space between them was like the width of a person—close enough to reach for but just far enough to miss a touch.
And that made Dew wonder.
What was it that set Jaune and Sun apart? She had faced Sun countless times, and every defeat had been a learning experience. Jaune's demeanor, his calm precision, his uncanny ability to predict and counter her moves—it all reminded her of Sun. Yet, there was something... off. Something intangible that kept the two from standing on equal footing, and Dew could feel it wasn't because of Sun.
No, this gap existed because of Jaune.
There was something within him, something unspoken, something unyielding that held him back from closing that final distance. Was it a mental block? A lack of confidence despite his strength? Or perhaps a weight he carried that Sun, for all his power, did not? Dew's mind swirled with questions, the analytical part of her trying to dissect the subtle differences between the two.
Her train of thought was interrupted as the curtain around her infirmary bed rustled, then was swept aside. She glanced up, and there he was—Jaune Arc, standing there with that gentle, disarming smile of his, the one that didn't belong to someone who had sent her flying across an arena just an hour ago.
Dew couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. "Heh, speak of the devil," she said, smirking as she propped herself up on one elbow. "What brings you here?"
Jaune pulled up a chair, setting it beside her bed. He sank into it with a casual ease, though his ever-present soft smile betrayed a deeper thoughtfulness. "Just checking to make sure I didn't leave any permanent damage," he joked lightly, leaning back as if to lighten the mood.
Dew rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smirk. "Please! Do you know how many hits I've taken to the head? I'm practically immune to head trauma at this point," she quipped, brushing off his concern with a wave of her hand.
Jaune chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Maybe," he said, the humor in his voice genuine.
As Dew glanced at him, her smile faded into something more thoughtful. She noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor—the way his gaze lingered just a bit too long on the floor, the faint shadow of disappointment behind his eyes. It wasn't overt, but it was there, like a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface. And she understood what it meant.
"Ya know," Dew began, sitting up straighter and looking at him more directly, "I can see why Sun sang your praises to me and just about everyone else,"
Jaune tilted his head, his brows furrowing in mild confusion. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his tone curious but cautious.
"You and him have the same look," Dew said, pointing a finger toward his eyes. "I've seen it before, he used to have it after he beat just about everyone at Oscuro,"
Jaune's confusion deepened. "What look?"
"The look of disappointment," Dew clarified, her voice steady and knowing. "The fight didn't satisfy you, did it? Be honest,"
Assuming he had offended Dew, Jaune fumbled for words, trying to backpedal. "What? No! You were—!" he began, his voice laced with urgency.
Dew held up a hand, cutting him off with a smirk that radiated amusement. "Don't bother lying, I already know," she said with a playful glint in her eyes. "For someone like you, I sucked, right? Just say it, I won't get mad,"
Jaune hesitated for a moment, his instinct to soften the truth clashing with the honesty in her tone. Finally, he let out a resigned sigh. "Yeah," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "The fight was... disappointing for me,"
Dew burst into laughter, the sound rich and unrestrained. "I knew it!" she exclaimed. "You don't need to sugarcoat it, Jaune, I'm not fragile,"
He blinked, caught off guard by her reaction. "You're taking this surprisingly well," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Dew shrugged, still grinning. "It's not the first time I've heard it," she replied. "Back in the day, Sun told me the exact same thing,"
Jaune's brows rose in surprise. "Really?" he asked, genuinely intrigued.
Dew nodded, leaning back against her pillows. "Yep, he admitted straight to my face that there wasn't a single person at Oscuro who could give him a real fight, didn't matter what weapon they used or how fancy their semblance was—he'd beat them all without breaking a sweat,"
Jaune couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. Then, a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. "Even Pyrrha Nikos?"
Dew tilted her head, considering it for a moment before letting out a snort. "I bet he could," she said, flashing a grin.
Jaune raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You think so?"
Dew nodded again, her expression thoughtful. "I do, I watched Pyrrha Nikos' final regional tournament, when I saw her fight, I saw her skill, her power, and her strength, she was incredible, no doubt about that, and yet..." she trailed off, her words lingering in the air.
Jaune tilted his head, curiosity etched across his face. "Yet what?" he pressed gently.
Dew let out a small breath before continuing. "Yet she still couldn't compare to Sun," she said, her tone unwavering. "There's something different about her, it's not just about skill or strength—it's something else, something that makes her not as strong as him... or as strong as you,"
Jaune's eyes widened in disbelief. "You... you think I'm stronger than Pyrrha Nikos?" he asked, his voice carrying both surprise and doubt.
Dew nodded, her gaze steady. "Yeah, I do,"
Jaune took a moment to process her words, his mind racing. Finally, he asked the question that gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. "Am I... as strong as Sun?"
Dew chuckled, the sound low and amused. "No, not yet," she said, shaking her head. "But you're close, the gap between you two isn't as big as you might think, but it's not as small as you'd like to believe, either, it's close, Jaune, really close, there's just... something holding you back,"
Her words struck a chord, and Jaune's grip tightened slightly on the edge of the chair. "Something holding me back?" he repeated, more to himself than to her. "What do you think it is?"
Dew leaned forward slightly, resting her arms on her knees. "That's not for me to say, that's for you to figure out," she replied.
Jaune's brow furrowed as he considered her words. After a moment, he glanced back at her, the hint of a challenge in his voice. "So, if I tried to fight Sun now... would I win?"
Dew smirked, her confidence in her answer immediate. "No," she said bluntly. "You'd give him a hell of a fight, though, you might even find whatever it is you're missing in the process, but in the end, you'd lose, that, I know for sure,"
Jaune nodded thoughtfully, his gaze drifting to his hands as he clenched and unclenched them, deep in thought.
'I'm close... but not close enough,' he mused silently. 'So what am I missing? What does Sun have that gives him that strength? What makes him so strong that even Dew believes he could beat Pyrrha? And what did he see in me that made him think I could ever be his equal?'
The questions circled in his mind like restless birds.
'Just what am I missing...?'
"You should go and see him," Dew's voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.
Jaune looked up, surprised by the suggestion. "See him?" he echoed. "I wouldn't even know where to start, I don't know where he is,"
Dew smirked, leaning back against her cot. "He's probably at his cousin's place—the Flower-Fruit Dojo, it's in the city, not far from here,"
Jaune tilted his head, considering the idea. "Flower-Fruit Dojo, huh?" he repeated, nodding slowly. "I'll think about it... Maybe seeing him isn't a bad idea,"
"Trust me, it's not," Dew replied with a knowing smile.
Jaune returned her smile, though a part of him was still hesitant. "Thanks for the advice," he said.
"No problem," Dew said, swinging her legs off the bed. "Well, I should probably let the nurses know I'm good and head back to my team before they come barging in looking for me,"
Jaune chuckled, pushing himself up from the chair. "Yeah, I should get going too, thanks for the talk, Dew,"
"Anytime," she said, her tone light and teasing. "You know, I wouldn't mind a rematch one of these days, maybe then I'll actually land a hit on you,"
Jaune rolled his eyes with a grin. "We'll see about that, take care of yourself, Dew,"
"Oh, you can count on it," she said with a sly smile, watching as Jaune waved goodbye and left the infirmary.
As Jaune walked down the hallway, his thoughts returned to Dew's suggestion. Seeing Sun... It wasn't a bad idea. But something held Jaune back—an instinct to try and solve this puzzle on his own first.
'Maybe I can figure this out by myself,' he thought, determination flickering in his chest. 'But if I can't... if I hit a wall... then I'll find him,'
For now, though, he'd keep moving forward, one step at a time. The answers he sought weren't far—they couldn't be.
He just had to reach out and find them.