Note: This chapter went through a few revisions, so hopefully you enjoy the result. Also, I unfortunately lost my job recently, so my current writing schedule will be in some form of flux for the foreseeable future. Don't worry about me, I got enough money saved up to weather out easily a few months. But as far as writing goes, yeah, we'll have to see how things play out.
The training center was located close to Main Street, and yet it felt eternally empty. That was by design, of course. The grounds were exclusively meant for the Huntsmen of Vytal, and security around the facility was strong. It took several forms of identification to be allowed access. Worth it. There was a lot of work to be done.
The facility's main area was a ring that matched the exact proportions of what they would find in Amity Colosseum. It served as an excellent testing ground, and Velvet took full advantage of the space as she trained with renewed vigor.
Or, as Fox would put it: Velvet flew around as she got her ass kicked.
"Move! Move!"
Weiss's commands were harsh, and yet they could barely draw the appropriate response from her trainee. Velvet and Weiss stood twenty feet apart, the former sweating bullets, hunched over, her breath coarse in her throat. Her brown armor was chipped. The satchel of explosives she kept dangling from her hip was running low. A golden chain flew toward her, and she rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack. She was less fortunate with the follow-up. Another chain wrapped around her calf and she was forcefully dragged out of the ring. Weiss sighed and loosened her hold.
"Reset! You are dodging too slowly!"
Velvet pushed herself up to her knees, muttering under her breath. "I'm aware…"
She heard the sound of kettlecorn crackling. Fox had decided to accompany them to her training. No one actually asked him, and why he brought a snack was beyond anyone's understanding. But he sat on the sidelines, munching as he watched his teammate get wrecked.
"You've got it this time, Velvet! I believe in you!"
Velvet stepped back onto the tiled floor of the combat arena. She ignored Fox's words and focused on what Weiss had been drilling into her brain for the past forty minutes. "Small steps. Don't tank blows. Remain offensive."
Weiss squared her feet. Two golden chains floated by her side. She waited for Velvet to take up a stance, and then she attacked again. The chains rushed forward, faster than Velvet had time to react to. She narrowly stepped away from one, letting it slip past her. Two steps forward. Slip past the second chain. Reach for a grenade. Stop. Chain from behind. Her instincts took over, and she tried to jump over it. Wrong move. She barely left the ground, and the chain snaked its way around her legs, ensnaring her. She collapsed to the ground confined, waiting to be dragged away to another defeat. But Weiss didn't have it in her to deliver the killing blow.
"Okay. We're taking a break," Weiss announced. The golden chains dissipated, freeing Velvet… though she remained on the floor, stewing in her defeat for a few more seconds. Weiss eventually helped her to her feet, trying to hide her frustrations with supportive words. "You have to stop jumping."
"I know, I know," Velvet sighed. Easier said than done, though. Velvet prided herself on her technique. She would bounce across the arena while bombarding the enemy with grenades. While most Huntresses confined themselves to the ground, she loved taking advantage of the three-dimensional space to surprise and confound her enemies. Mad Hops Scarlatina was the nickname Coco came up with, though she never used it herself. But with Aura, she could perform twelve-foot verticals and stunning rolls that could carry her halfway across the battlefield. Now, she was lucky she could leap twelve inches. There was no way around it: being a normal human sucked.
"You have to focus on small movements," Weiss suggested. "I know they can be effective. I often use them myself."
"Yes, but I'm not you. I don't… pirouette," Velvet reminded her. She tried to mimic the movements Weiss at taught her, staying light on her toes, but she merely lost her balance and almost fell flat on her face. "Maybe we can practice fighting up close? I feel like this range isn't working for me."
"This range is closer than the actual distance you start fights at," Weiss explained. "If you want to get in close, you have to close that distance yourself. Sprinting right at your enemy is going to get you killed. You need to gradually work your way in—"
"Where I get killed anyway," Velvet groaned. "This just… ugh, it's the worst. I can't dodge properly. I can't jump. I can't even aim right anymore. I feel so… worthless."
Weiss knew the feeling well. This was harder than she thought, and she couldn't shake the feeling that it was in large part her fault. She wasn't a leader, as badly as she wanted to be. There were good reasons why Ruby led their combat exercises. It made sense at the time for her to train Velvet in a new style, given their shared lack of Aura. Trying to confer her specialist knowledge in such a short timeframe, however, was shaping up to be an impossible task. Yet, she couldn't give in. Velvet's safety was counting on her. She was going easy on her friend, but when she was staring down the barrel of a gun, held by someone who wouldn't hesitate pulling the trigger, what then?
A paltry leap.
A pair of covered eyes,
And then Velvet's organs splattered over the floor.
Weiss held her breath. There was one suggestion she had that was certain to save Velvet's life. It was the one both of them considered but neither dared speak. It was the dire option that only grew more prevalent as Velvet accumulated more cuts and bruises.
Give up. Surrender immediately. Withdraw from active competition.
They wouldn't need to consider that option yet. They had three full days of training, after all. But there was a creeping sense that surrender was inevitable. Velvet couldn't win a fight against a trainee in her current state. They had to think practically. But, if she gave up, what would that mean for their chances at the Grail? What would it mean for Velvet's future as a Huntress? If the whole world saw her surrender, forced to withdraw due to crippling injury, her career would likely be over. Weiss could see her friend's determination clearly. She couldn't abandon this chance at a life that offered her so much freedom. She couldn't give up when all of her friends were counting on her. Her safety mattered, obviously, but she wasn't a coward. She wasn't weak.
And despite how much of her Atlasian self she discarded, Weiss still found herself compelled to protect Velvet's honor. She just wished she didn't detest herself for it.
So naturally, this was the moment that Fox decided to open his mouth.
"I think you are going about this all wrong," Fox said with a sly shrug. He put his bag of kettlecorn on the floor beside him and casually stepped into the ring. Weiss pouted as she saw him approach.
"She just needs more practice," the heiress insisted.
"I don't think that's accurate," Fox said. "Look, I admit to being clueless about a lot of things. But, if there is one thing I understand, it's fighting with a disability. You are trying to teach Velvet how to duck and dodge and do all of the things she used to do, but worse, and you can't just accept being a worse version of what you are. See this?" Fox tapped his ear, where a small metal device was attached. "Without my ADA, I would have never had the chance to become a Huntsman. You can't make up for what we lack with just training… you need tech to pick up the slack."
Velvet followed along perfectly fine, though she inherently rejected the premise. "Well, that's a lovely suggestion, Fox. But what technology could I actually use?"
"The only way to improve her movement would be with cybernetics," Weiss claimed. "And I would advocate against that, even if it were feasible to get it done in time."
Fox waved his arms. "No, no, you are totally getting it wrong. She shouldn't be moving at all."
Weiss placed her hand on her hip. "I'm pretty certain she needs to move, Fox."
"Not if she sucks at moving. No offense."
Velvet bowed her head. She was offended actually, though she couldn't really counter his argument. Fox stepped closer to her, passion threatening to slip into his voice.
"Look, you aren't good at moving around? Then don't move," he explained simply. "You can't outmuscle someone with large Aura reserves. So, you shouldn't try to get close to them. You can't withstand as much damage, so we're going to let something else absorb the blows when we can. Huntsman 101: your fighting style should match whatever strengths you currently have. That means that these…" He picked up her satchel distastefully. "These have to go. We need to completely rework how you fight, and that means picking a new weapon that lets you safely pack a punch from afar without putting in too much effort. Now the real question is: can we find something like that in the next two days?"
Velvet seemed discontented, and Weiss couldn't help but feel agitated at Fox's usurping of her training. She understood his dilemma. Adjusting to a disability took time, time that they very much did not have. Yet, like many things Fox did, his ideas were reckless and shortsighted. Velvet needed to improve upon her basics, not throw away a decade of training to experiment with something new. Doing so would be akin to admitting defeat, and Weiss was not willing to let her give up so easily.
And yet, before Weiss had a chance to deliver her plea to stay the course, Velvet's mind was already racing, thinking of the possibilities. She spoke meekly, her excitement muted by the uncomfortable situation she was forced to confront.
"I… actually might know a weapon that could help me," Velvet admitted.
"You do? Awesome! Because I didn't," Fox admitted, too.
"And that would be?" Weiss asked.
Velvet looked away, almost ashamed. "It's a… family heirloom."
At once, her discomfort became understandable. The Scarlatinas: vicious brutes whose cruelty could only be appreciated by a Schnee. Velvet had been actively trying to avoid her family for months, though she had never been truly successful at it. If her family possessed a weapon that could help her, there was even an opportunity to retrieve it the very next day. On the night of the second day of the Vytal Festival, the families of each of the competitors would arrive. It was meant to be a chance to spend precious time with a loved one before marching into the heat of battle. If the Scarlatinas hadn't left Vale yet, and if they could be persuaded to bring the heirloom with them, Velvet could get a whole day of practice in before ever fighting.
"Velvet, I'm not so sure that's a great idea," Weiss warned her. "Picking up an entirely new weapon is a huge risk."
"So is completely teaching her a new way to move and react," Fox argued. "Either way, you need a change. You can't lean on your body for support, so lean on some new tech. Or, in this case, old tech."
"But a complete style change?"
"It's really not that complicated. Old style doesn't work anymore. New style will work. Do the new style."
"We don't know that. What even is this heirloom? Have you had any practice with it?" Weiss asked.
"Never," Velvet explained. "My father wouldn't let me. We aren't Huntsmen. It was a weapon used for…" She stopped herself. "It is quite powerful, if I recall correctly. Maybe with it…"
"Velvet, you would be abandoning the one skill you haven't lost," Weiss reminded her. "I understand your frustrations. It's hard to change old habits. But your satchel is a fundamental part of your identity as a fighter. It is something distinctly you, and you would be throwing that aside to chase an old weapon that you don't even understand."
"So, let's give her a chance to understand it," Fox suggested.
"And waste the little practice time she has now?" Weiss's voice grew louder, and Fox's in kind.
"Why are you so against this idea?"
"Aside from making her rely on the family she doesn't want?"
"We have to do what we can to win. If this weapon is a shortcut to that—"
"There are never any shortcuts. There's always some kind of cost. If Velvet really has no chance without using this heirloom, then—"
"Then you should just quit now."
Weiss did not speak, nor did Velvet or Fox. They hadn't heard the bare footsteps enter the training hall. A woman, around the same age as Velvet, had taken up a spot on the other end of the tiled floor and was currently stretching. She wasn't wearing much in the way of shoes, clothing, or armor: just a sports bra and a pair of very short shorts, clinging tightly to dark skin. Blonde hair was pulled out of her face, and stern olive eyes stared through the three as they were talking. Weiss didn't know who she was, but given her age and the security around the building, she quickly deduced she was a fellow competitor.
"I'm sorry," Weiss sneered. "I don't remember inviting you to this conversation."
"Then don't talk so loudly."
The woman sat down and extended her legs. She bent as far as her waist would allow, grabbing her toes and flexing them back. Her body was one large, toned muscle, and Weiss could see light scar tissue on nearly every part of her flesh. Weiss wasn't sure if she was trying to show off or simply lacked the social background. Either way, her rudeness needed to be addressed.
"Well, our apologies for disturbing you. We'll try to be quiet, Miss…"
The stranger huffed. "Arslan."
"Miss Arslan," Weiss smiled coldly. "Enjoy your training." She was met with an emotionless stare. The woman lay flat on her back, then continued to roll backward. One leg up in the air, then another, then over, and she was quickly back on her feet. She extended her arms, continuing her stretches while standing.
Velvet could not quite recall the name Arslan Altan. Her memory had been on the fritz since her near death. She didn't seem like a pleasant person to be around, though perhaps she was just highly focused on her tasks. Not everyone shared in the high-intensity drama of Team NYBF. Velvet was eager to leave her alone when Arslan's words had a sudden effect on her.
"Quit?" She took a step forward.
"Velvet? Leave her alone," Weiss instructed, though Velvet mostly ignored her.
"One moment. I just want to…"
"You have to train."
"We don't know what we're doing," Velvet confessed. "I want another opinion."
There was a familiar, helpless pain behind Velvet's eyes that stung Weiss more deeply than intended. It was also in the words she chose. We didn't know. Because of course, a pupil was only as good as their teacher. They could throw another thing on the massive pile that was Weiss's insecurities.
Velvet casually approached Arslan, though the stranger did not look at her until she was only a few feet away. She cast her a stare that would turn a lesser soul into stone, though Velvet withstood the pressure.
"Hi. Um, excuse me, Arslan. Could I just… ask you something quickly?"
Arslan said nothing.
"I promise I'll get out of your hair… which is lovely, by the way."
Arslan said nothing.
"You see, my friends and I were discussing strategy," Velvet explained. "I'm sure you heard. I've been having difficulty with my Aura, you see, and I was just wondering what you thought I should do?"
Arslan said nothing.
"I could stay the course, obviously. Why fix what isn't broken? But without my movement, my weapons don't work as well. So, as another Huntress, what would you—"
"I already told you. Quit."
Arslan's words were as blunt as a hammer, and Velvet took a step backward.
"Well, yes, but I don't under—"
"Your body. It's dead. You move like the dead," Arslan said. "A Huntress without her Aura is a bow without its arrows. You have no instinct. No drive. You will slump and fold like cardboard. It's pathetic."
Pathetic?
"I… I mean…" Velvet struggled to find the words. Weiss and Fox noticed her nervousness and began to approach her. "Look, I am trying very hard, and I just need to—"
"There is no trying. You will fail, like I see you failing now," Arslan stated plainly. "Save yourself and the rest of your school any further embarrassment, and withdraw."
An embarrassment?
No… she wasn't…
"No, I can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because this is everything that I've ever worked toward," Velvet said, as if pleading to herself.
"That's not my problem," Arslan said simply. She seemingly had no idea of the impact her words were causing, though that didn't stop her from stating what she thought was an obvious observation. "You don't have what it takes. You'll never have what it takes again. To be a Huntsman is to overcome and perfect one's innate ability. You cannot do that. So… just stop wasting everyone's time."
A pain rushed through Velvet's chest, accumulated injuries becoming too much to bear. Every small bump was like a car crash. All of her missed moves replayed over and over again in her mind. Arslan had been watching her as an objective observer this whole time, judging her. Someone who didn't need to mince their words or protect her feelings.
Velvet looked away, almost ashamed of herself. The stranger spoke with the will of iron, and even though Velvet knew she had no context, she was bizarrely compelled to believe her. She wrapped her arms around her torso, hugging herself. Her hopelessness reached a peak however briefly, enough to turn the pit in her stomach into a chasm.
Weiss overheard Arslan's comments and quickly moved to separate the pair. "Okay, I think we have heard enough of this advice."
Arslan's eyes grew wide. People. Why were there more people bothering her?
"Ignore me if you want. It won't be my burden when she's splayed out on the floor in her own blood," the stranger said calmly. Hopefully, they would leave her alone now.
Nope. The offhanded, graphic comment caused Velvet to shudder, and Weiss's protective instinct that was usually reserved only for Ruby took over. Weiss started to move Velvet out of the way, but mostly so she could confront Arslan more directly.
"You know, if someone is asking you for advice, you could be a little polite to them," Weiss said not-so-kindly. "You are hurting my friend's feelings."
"I apologize," Arslan said emptily. "Please leave me alone now."
"Could you say that like you mean it?" Weiss pressured her.
"I am sorry."
The words didn't come out any better. Was this woman emotionally stunted?
"Do you not have manners in the Kingdom you come from? I think you are being quite rude to your fellow Huntress."
"She isn't a true Huntress without Aura."
"That's an awful thing to say."
"Why?"
"Because it isn't true."
"Of course, you would believe that," Arslan sighed, "considering you don't have Aura either."
Weiss was left speechless, her anger transformed into shock. Fox and Velvet looked at her in disbelief.
She must have misheard her.
There was no way…
How could she know…
"I… I have Aura—"
"Liar," Arslan frowned. "I can see it in the way you walk. Your glyphs are created with your sword; I noticed the button presses immediately. I'm assuming you have cybernetics to compensate, based on the slight protrusions in your knees. Your choice… or one foisted upon you? Based on your family, I would assume the latter."
Her family?
Hold on.
"Do you… know who I am?"
"Weiss Schnee of RWBY. Velvet Scarlatina of CFVY. Fox Alistair of CFVY. I've been studying whatever files are publicly available. It's just due diligence."
"So you know about my Kingdom? And that makes you think you know everything about me?"
Arslan grimaced. She wished she had better restraint. Reese would often describe her as a rusted windup toy: hard to set into motion, but once she was let loose on a matter of faith, she couldn't stop herself. It was a weakness that her trainers worked hard to overcome, but habits of the tongue were often the most difficult to quell.
"Don't you ever wonder why Soul Lapse affects Atlasians more than anyone else?" Arslan asked plainly. "It's because your Kingdom is the most impure. It's strayed so far from the Soul that it can no longer recognize its echoes, and the Soul reacts in kind. Cybernetic soldiers? Airships as big as nations? It's malformed. Grotesque. Many people have insulted my ways as old, but I look to your Kingdom to see the future, and the future is bleak. Forgive me for casting judgment on it. Now… can you please leave me alone so I may train, Miss Schnee?"
Weiss gritted her teeth. What was the meaning of all this? Threaten her by revealing her disease? No, Arslan didn't seem interested in that. She simply lacked tact was all, and the harsh scars that lined her body were equaled only in her words. Still, how she could discover her Soul Lapse sent a chill down her spine. There was something so off about this woman, some alien way in which she stood and talked that unnerved her. She wasn't hostile. Not yet. But Weiss decided then and there she wanted nothing to do with her, a revelation that Velvet had come to a minute earlier.
And given that it was a terrible time to do so, Fox opened his mouth once again, ruining their chance to leave.
"Hang on a second," he said knowingly. "Old ways? Aura talk? No weapon… are you one of the Solemn?"
Arslan finally shut her mouth. Fox took that as a yes.
"Holy shit, I didn't even know you guys existed," he laughed. "Ignore everything she's saying, Velvet. She's just a weird cultist who probably has never even seen a videotape."
"The Solemn?" Velvet asked. She was familiar with the old monks of Vacuo. Some said they formed during the earliest days of the Huntsmen, yet others traced their existence back to a neo-religious movement from the late Age of Kings. Their origin mattered as little as their reputation: fierce warriors who trained their bodies to resist incredible stress and push the bounds of what was physically possible. Their aversion to most modern technology was as legendary as their rumored powers. Flight. Extra senses. Strength to lift mountains. The Human Soul, unlocked and unlimited. Of course, being highly reclusive, these supposed gifts could never be demonstrated, and their strict, brutal recruitment left them with paltry membership. These days, they were best known for being recluses out in Western Vacuo, isolated from the outside world. To see a supposed Solemn herself in Vytal was like seeing the last of a dying breed.
Didn't make her any less of a bitch though.
"I am," Arslan said simply. "I suggest not taking it in vain."
"In vain? There's not much to respect about it," Fox said crudely.
"Come on, Fox, let's go," Velvet pleaded, though he ignored her.
"Do you know what they believe? It's not just that they can't use guns or whatever," Fox explained. "I looked into them once as a kid because I heard rumors they could overcome blindness. They believe in all sorts of weird, bad eugenics stuff."
"Don't speak so confidently about a subject you don't understand," Arslan warned him. Her eyes began to widen once more.
"Oh, I think I understand plenty," Fox said. "You think that people like me don't deserve to be Huntsmen, because we happen to be born with a disability. If it were up to you, you would just have us die in a ditch somewhere while everyone with 'strong Aura' gets to rule the world."
"I don't want to rule anyone," Arslan argued back. "But I know that not everyone should become a Huntsman. If you are dependent on a machine to fight, then it's the machine that is growing, not you. And there is nothing to fighting if one cannot grow."
"That's incredibly narrow-minded," Fox said dismissively. He pointed to his ADA and grinned. "The fact is: this lets me be just as good of a Huntsman as anyone else. You should be happy that people like me get the chance to be fighters. It's the sign of a more equal world."
Arslan tightened her jaw. "We are not equal, and we are not meant to be. That's what this tournament is about: to prove our path is the correct one."
"Yeah, whatever." Fox laughed at her suggestion and extended a single finger to prod her in the forearm. "Let's hope we don't run into each other in the tournament then, since you aren't developed enough to learn how to counter bullets—"
The moment Fox's skin made contact with hers, he had officially made the worst decision of the entire day. Fox didn't perceive the attack coming. Neither ADA nor Weiss nor Velvet detected Arslan move. Fox didn't even feel the palm press against his chest. He blinked, and suddenly his feet were disconnected from the ground. He sailed backward across the arena, skidding off the ground like a stone before flying off the tile completely. He crashed and burned spectacularly into his kettle corn, kernels falling over his beaten body like snow. Velvet and Weiss were left staring in disbelief at the impact of a punch so swift they didn't know it had happened.
The only trace of the impact was Arslan Altan, standing between them.
Arm extended.
Knuckles clenched.
Eye burning with fury.
And then… she felt the shame overcome her.
She just struck another contestant, in what could hardly be considered self-defense. Her features softened and she pulled her arm back, gripping her wrist to her chest like a babe. She felt the frightened eyes of Weiss and Velvet upon her. She could feel their anger rising. They deserved to be mad. That lack of restraint was unbecoming of her.
"I… I apologize," she said as sincerely as she could. She thought of excuses. Do not touch her. Do not insult her. But she refused to say them. Excuses were for those who could not accept responsibility. It was her responsibility to take the mockery and ignorance in stride. She needed to be better. "Please… leave me alone to train."
She turned and left without another word, as socially clueless as she was at the start. This time, Weiss let her go. That much power… more than she could ever muster on her own… it was as awe-inspiring as it was terrifying. Velvet, on the other hand, was less impressed with her sheer power than she was with her speed. After weeks of feeling like the world moved in slow motion, it was a reminder of how far behind she was.
Velvet would have to do something about that.
Weiss and Velvet exchanged uncomfortable glances. Fox, groaning in pain, sat up slowly.
"Well… she seems lovely."