Last part of Rizzless Rusted Knight Jaune. Hope you guys like this one.
For anyone interested in making a commission, email me at: storylover543 gmail . com
Jaune let out a long, content sigh as he settled into the cool grass, stretching his legs out beneath him and letting his muscles finally relax for what felt like the first time in weeks. The sun was refreshingly warm, the breeze gentle, and for once, there were no Huntresses around trying to drag him into some godforsaken broom closet for 'a quickie between heroes.' They were all still busy training to get exclusive access to his dick.
He shook his head and tried to put it out of his mind. Focus on the now, he told tournaments, no fights, no professors cornering him in their offices with a suspiciously locked door, no students stalking him through the halls like hungry wolves. Just peace. Beautiful, fleeting peace. He closed his eyes, inhaled the fresh country air, and for a moment, allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, this world wasn't a complete nightmare.
Then, of course, it was ruined.
Jaune sensed the presence before he heard the footsteps. Soft but deliberate, the kind of careful movement of someone who didn't want to be noticed. He cracked an eye open, watching as a lone figure in a dark cloak approached, hood drawn low enough that Jaune couldn't see his face at first. Decades of fighting caused his body to tense, already prepared for a fight. He'd take a murder attempt over someone trying to suck his soul out through his cock.
The guy stopped a few paces away and hesitated, shifting his weight as if second-guessing whatever he was about to say. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the cloaked man let out a slow breath and spoke, "You're him, aren't you?" His voice was low and serious with a hint of a rasp, "The only man with Aura."
Jaune stared at him blankly, "...Yeah?" he said, dragging the word out, already regretting not bringing his sword. His status as the only male with Aura stayed secret for maybe a day before most of Remnant knew about him. He still cringed at the rumors from the men in Vale claiming he was 'the Chosen One', "Who's asking?"
The figure pulled back his hood, revealing a young man with tan skin, messy brown hair, and tired brown eyes. There was something familiar about him, though Jaune couldn't quite place why, "I am Ozma," he said, and Jaune's brain just about short-circuited.
He blinked. Slowly. Once. Twice. A third time, just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.
"Ozma," Jaune repeated flatly.
"Yes."
"You sure about that?"
"...Yes?"
Jaune stared harder, taking in the guy's face. The brown hair, the tired eyes, the weird sense of deja vu. Ozpin? No, not his Ozpin. The guy in front of him looked younger, probably about the same age as Jaune himself, which was...weird. Jaune had expected this world's Ozpin to be kicking around somewhere since Glynda told him about Salem, but this was unexpected. He looked like the Ozpin - Ozma - back when Remnant was still a land of fairy tales.
Which means this Ozma didn't reincarnate.
Jaune pinched the bridge of his nose, already exhausted, "Okay. Fine. You're Ozma. Cool. What do you want?" Whatever bittnerness he had to his former headmaster faded to nothing in the years he spent in the Ever After. At least this world's version wasn't forced to be an unwilling mind parasite.
The guy hesitated again, as if embarrassed, then took a deep breath, "I need your help."
Jaune exhaled through his nose, "Look, buddy, if this is about me being the Chosen One or the Messiah, then you can-"
"No," Ozma cut in, his expression pained, "This is about Salem."
Jaune stiffened. His grip on the grass tightened just slightly, "...What about her?" He knew that she didn't want to destroy the world or kill everyone, but he still didn't trust it. He'd seen her handiwork first hand. Her and Cinder. There was no version of them he'd ever forgive.
Ozma swallowed hard. His jaw clenched, his whole body tense, like he was about to confess something deeply humiliating. Then, with all the solemnity of a man delivering the most important request of his life, Ozma straightened his postured and said, "I need you to sleep with her."
Jaune stared. Ozma stared back, his expression deadly serious. Jaune kept staring. A breeze rustled through the field. Birds chirped. Somewhere in the distance, a river flowed peacefully. The two men looked at one another, neither willing to break eye contact first. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jaune let out a slow, exhausted sigh and rubbed his temples, "...You wanna run that by me again?"
Ozma, to his credit, looked appropriately miserable about it, "Look. You're the only man in the world with Aura. That means you're the only man in the world who could...handle her." He shifted from one foot to another, "And I don't mean in a fight."
Jaune blinked, "Handle her?"
"Yes."
Jaune blinked again, "...Handle her?"
Ozma's eye twitched, "Don't make me say it out loud."
Jaune spread his arms out and gave him an incredulous look, "Buddy, you already did! What, you think you can just roll up to me out of nowhere, drop that on me, and not explain yourself? What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
Ozma groaned and ran a hand down his face, "I- look! Salem is...obsessed with me." His voice dripped with a weariness that sounded far too practiced, "It's not about power or war or world domination. She just wants to make me her eternal boy toy, and I do not want that." He tightened the cloak over his face, "I'm taking a big risk coming here. I haven't left my bunker in years, Jaune. Years. But I'm doing it now and risking exposing myself because this is important."
Jaune's brain short-circuited again. This was not what he was expecting, "So...why exactly did you come to me?"
Ozma sighed, "Imagine the thirstiest Huntress you've ever met."
Jaune shuddered, "Done. Go on."
"Now imagine if that thirst had been stewing for thousands of years with no outlet." A chill went down across Jaune's entire body, "Now imagine," Ozma continued, his expression grim, "That this particular Huntress also has immortality, an army of creatures at her disposal, and an entire world conquest plan that is entirely built around collecting men like trophies."
Jaune sighed, "I already know about this."
Ozma ignored him, "She had no concept of restraint back when she was just a woman in a tower. She killed me when I rescued her!"
Jaune blinked, "...But why?"
"Because she thinks we're soulmates!" Ozma snapped, voice rising with centuries of pent-up frustration. Jaune didn't miss how he said it in present tense, "I saved her from a tower once thinking I was saving an innocent maiden. Instead, she jumped me before I even introduced myself, then she literally fucked me to death!" He sounded downright manic now, "And when the gods wouldn't bring me back a second time, she declared war on them out of spite!"
Jaune let out a strangled noise, "What the hell kind of history is that?!"
Ozma kept going, throwing his arms up like a man at the end of his rope, "Do you know how many lifetimes I've spent hiding?! I live in a bunker! I haven't seen the sunlight in decades! I've even resorted to selling workout videos on AuraFans to afford my canned food supply!" Jaune had so many questions, but he decided he did not want the answers, "So," Ozma said, taking a deep breath and staring at Jaune with tired, desperate eyes, "Jaune, you are the only man who can match her thousands of years of thirst, the only one who might actually be able to wear her out- "
"No."
Ozma didn't miss a beat, "Please."
"Absolutely not."
"Look, I know it's a big ask- "
"Big ask?! You think?!" Jaune stood up to meet his eyes properly, "You're asking me to fuck the crazy immortal witch you killed you with sex!
"If you do this, you'll be saving Remnant! Saving thousands - no, millions - of men from sharing my fate! The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few!"
Jaune just stood there, expression blank, staring at the exhausted young man practically begging him to go seduce the literal queen of darkness. He inhaled deeply through his nose, exhaled, looked Ozma dead in the eyes and said with all the deadpan exhaustion of a man who had seen too much, "...You're out of your goddamn mind."
Ozma groaned, dragging his hands down his face in despair, "Look, just think about it! If it works, she'll stop attacking civilization! If she's busy with you, she won't care everyone else anymore!" Jaune didn't even respond. He just turned around and walked away, "Wait! Come back!" Ozma grabbed his sleeve, "You don't understand! You're my only hope!"
Jaune yanked his sleeve free and kept walking, "Not my problem."
"PLEASE!"
Jaune didn't stop. He hated this dimension.
Jaune sat in the VIP section of the Vytal Arena, arms crossed as he slouched further into his chair, trying to will himself top stop existing. The preliminaries had only just begun, and already, he could feel the weight of every Huntress in the building pressing down on him. Not in the literal sense (yet...) but the sheer intensity of the desperate, hormone-fueled energy flooding the stadium made his Aura tingle with preemptive exhaustion.
It wasn't the fights that had his attention. Oh, sure, they were decent, some even impressive, but compared to what he'd seen in his own world, it was nothing special. No, what kept drawing his focus was the aftermath. Because every single time a team lost, the reaction was so violently over-the-top that it felt like he was watching a mass funeral rather than a sporting event.
The first team to be eliminated had barely made it off the field before all four of them collapsed into a tangled heap of despair, wailing as though their very souls had been torn from their bodies, "This can't be happening!" One of them, a brunette from Haven, clawed at her face, tears streaming down her cheeks, "We were supposed to win! We trained so hard! I was gonna ride him till he saw stars!" She fell on her knees and punched the ground in despair.
Her teammate, a girl with short green hair, clutched at her chest like she'd been personally shot, "I had a strategy! I had a plan! This was my only chance to get a boyfriend!"
A third, a tan girl with red twin braids, was literally rolling on the floor, kicking and screaming, "What am I supposed to do now?! Go back to my room?! Go back to my cold, lonely bed?! I can't! I can't go back! You can't make me!"
The fourth one, a muscular blonde in a high ponytail, had simply gone numb. She sat upright in complete silence, staring blankly at the ground as she muttered, "It was all for nothing. Everything...for nothing. Years of training. Years of discipline. Years of resistance. And now..." Her lip trembled, "Now I'll die alone."
Jaune stared, torn between horror and exhausted disbelief. He knew most of them would take it badly, but this was just...sad.
And it wasn't just the students.
No, the real danger came from the professors. The repressed, bitter women who couldn't even compete and were therefore condemned to sit in the VIP seats and watch as their chances slipped away before they even began. With every victory, they knew they were only getting closer and closer to being fully cut off.
Jaune stole a glance at the row of faculty. Every single woman there was visibly seething, their postures rigid, their expressions stormy. One professor, a stern-looking woman from Shade Academy, was gripping the arms of her chair so tightly that the metal was beginning to bend under her Aura-enhanced strength. Another, a Mistrali instructor with a regal presence, sat completely still, but Jaune could see the sheer fury in her eyes as she stared at the victorious team on the battlefield.
Glynda, sitting closest to him, was shaking ever so slightly, her jaw tight, her glasses slipping down her nose as she exhaled slowly through clenched teeth. He hadn't slept with her since their first time together. Turned out, the fantasy of fucking your hot professor wasn't as cool when you were still in the middle of hard PTSD.
Minutes passed. Another match ended, and another team lost.
And the reaction was even worse.
"Noooooooo!" a girl from vacuo collapsed onto the ground, openly sobbing, "I was gonna be the one! The one to claim the guy!"
Her teammate, a faunus with a flail, threw her weapon down with a shriek, her fluffy wolf tail lashing wildly, "I've never wanted anything more in my entire life!"
The third, a towering girl with dark skin and massive biceps, ripped off her headband and threw it to the ground like she was declaring war on the universe, "What did I do wrong?! Was it my technique?! Was it my diet?! Was it my aura control?! I did everything right!"
The fourth just curled into a fetal position and whispered, "The Sisters are cruel..."
Jaune buried his face in his hands, letting out a long, tired sigh. His memory of Vytal had been forever tained by the Fall. And yet, a part of him dared to hope that maybe he could find some fun in this world's tournament, even if he'd used it as a springboard to get the Huntresses of his back.
A flash of movement caught his eye. Jaune turned just in time to see a losing Huntress from Haven attempt to vault over the arena railing, eyes locked onto him like a predator locked onto prey. Jaune tensed. She leapt...only for her entire body to be covered by a purple Aura before she was none-too-gently slammed back down onto the arena floor, "Contestants are not allowed on the VIP section," Glynda said coolly, obviously relishing the power play.
The girl howled in despair as she was dragged away by her sobbing team. Jaune turned back toward the battlefield and exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples.
Hours later and Jaune was done.
The preliminaries had finally, finally ended, and Jaune was more than ready to get the hell out of the arena. Away from the sobbing, screaming, tantrum-throwing Huntresses who had lost, and straight to his room where he could barricade himself in for the night. Maybe he'd build a fort. A safe zone. Somewhere away from the madness. Maybe he could live out that childhood dream he had and make a pillow fort. Yeah, that sounded nice.
He was just about to stand up, his body already turning toward the exit, when the doors to the VIP booth slammed open with enough force to shake the walls. He turned with the sort of slow, tired inevitability of a man who already knew this was about to be something deeply, deeply stupid.
And, oh boy, he was right.
She was tall, elegant, and dressed in an elaborate red and black gown that somehow managed to be both regal and completely impractical for any kind of physical activity. She carried herself with an air of confidence, like she was meant to be here, as if her presence alone should have stunned the entire room into awe.
Her aura radiated the unmistakable energy of a woman who had been so deeply horny for so long that her mere presence was enough to make the weaker-willed Huntresses in the booth suddenly tense like prey sensing an apex predator. Huntresses were thirsty, yes, but this woman...she was thirst incarnate. The living manifestation of pure sexual frustration.
Salem. She looked...different. Her long, silver-white hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail instead of the elaborate updo Jaune had seen in his world and her Grimm-corrupted veins were completely hidden. And yet, despite all her valiant efforts at disguise, there were some very crucial mistakes. Her skin was still a perfect shade of unnatural, chalky white and her eyes were still a glowing, demonic shade of red and black. Her 'disguise' didn't change the fact that she looked like a Witch straight out of a nightmare.
Jaune stared. Glynda stared. Everyone in the VIP section stared, "...Salem?" Jaune asked flatly.
The woman gasped dramatically, clutching her chest, "Who? I have never heard of such a person!" she declared in an overly theatrical voice, like a bad stage actress fumbling her lines. He'd never met her in person before, but he had the feeling that the Salem from back home wasn't this cringe.
Jaune rubbed his temples, "Uh-huh."
"I am Samantha! Samantha...uh..." She visibly struggled, eyes darting around for inspiration, then triumphantly declared, "Samantha Shade! Yes! A totally normal woman with no dark ambitions whatsoever!" She posed dramatically, hands on her hips, "I have come to participate in this...tournament of passion! To win the heart - and body - of the legendary John of No-Last-Name! For he is a prize worthy of conquest!"
Jaune clenched his fists, "No."
"But of course!" Salem - Samantha - continued, as if she hadn't heard him, "Surely a man of such esteem would not refuse a worthy suitor! A woman of grace, intelligence, beauty, and an army of Grimm- I mean! An army of charm! And, um...love! So, so much love..." She giggled lewdly.
Jaune let out a very long breath through his nose, his grip tightening on the armrest of his chair, "No."
Glynda, who had been silent throughout this entire mess, adjusted her glasses and sighed, "Well...I suppose we can amend the rules given these unique circumstances," she said, sounding just a little too pleased with herself.
Jaune turned to her so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, "What?"
Glynda smirked, "The tournament was made with students in mind, yes, but it's clear from Sal- Samantha's appearance that this year's tournament is unique. We've already gotten complaints from numerous Huntresses. It's undermining the unity and cooperation that the tournament was created for." She gave a very pointed glance toward Jaune, "More negativity means more Grimm, Jaune. Surely, you're not saying letting that resentment fester is better than amending the rules?"
Jaune's eye twitched, "You know exactly who that is."
Glynda sipped her tea, her expression neutral, "Do I?"
Jaune exhaled sharply through his nose. He could feel Salem's self-satisfied grin radiating from across the room. He turned back toward her and pointed a finger, "Fine. Whatever. You know what? Enter. Lose. I don't care." He still hated Salem, but if she was anything like the one from his world, then running her through with Crocea Mors' broken blade wouldn't do anything.
Salem let out a delighted little laugh that sent a chill down his spine, clasping her hands together like she'd just been gifted a kingdom, "Splendid! This is the first step toward our glorious union!"
Jaune grit his teeth. First step toward a restraining order, maybe. But before he could tell her to get the hell out, Glynda cleared her throat again, still far too smug for his liking, "And of course, since we're now amending the competition rules, it would only be fair if other...qualified candidates were also allowed to participate."
Jaune's eyes narrowed, "Gods damn it."
"Oh yes," Glynda purred, adjusting her glasses, "If adult Huntresses may compete, then the Professors also may now enter the tournament."
The reaction was instant. The previously stewing, seething faculty members in the VIP booth suddenly exploded into excitement. Chairs were pushed back, scrolls were whipped out, and several of them cheered in a manner deeply unprofessional for academic figures, "Finally!" shouted one of the Shade Academy instructors, stretching her arms like she was already warming up.
"Oh, I knew this day would come," an Atlesian professor whispered, staring at her hands as though she were blessed.
"I need to go change into my combat outfit immediately," a Mistrali professor declared, already making a run for the exit.
Glynda remained perfectly composed, sipping her tea like a woman who had absolutely not just engineered a full-blown war. Jaune groaned and slumped back in his chair. This was not how this was supposed to go.
Days later, the Vytal Tournament had become a complete and utter farce. What was once an esteemed competition meant to showcase the best of the best from each kingdom had devolved into something that could only be described as a desperate, battle-crazed war for one man's dick. Okay, granted it was already like that, but there was still a sense of fairness to it all. Each student had a feasible chance of winning, and that kept it from being too chaotic (breakdowns aside).
Jaune sat in the VIP booth, rubbing his temples, wondering for the hundredth time how he'd let it get this bad. The moment the rules were amended to allow any Huntress to enter, the floodgates had burst open. Word had spread like wildfire, and Huntresses from across Remnant signed up in droves. Students who had originally been excited about the tournament now found themselves in a full-blown nightmare. The first rounds had been tense, sure, but now? The true power imbalance had become painfully clear.
Atlas had sent over entire squadrons of Huntresses, all clad in sleek military combat uniforms, moving with the deadly precision of trained soldiers. Mistral's warriors came in waves, each one an elegant, poetic vision of destruction. Vacuo's entrants were borderline feral, fighting like they had nothing to lose because, well, they didn't. And then there were the Vale Huntresses, the ones who refused to be outdone by the sudden influx of foreign competition.
To put it simply: the students never stood a chance.
Jaune exhaled as he watched yet another team of third-year students get absolutely demolished in the ring by a group of hardened veterans. The match barely lasted a minute before it ended in a spectacle of shattered Aura meters, unconscious bodies, and soul-shattering despair.
The bell rang.
The winners - an elite team of Huntresses from Shade - didn't even celebrate. They just nodded at each other and walked off, as if utterly unimpressed by the lack of challenge.
The losers?
Oh, the losers screamed.
The leader of the defeated team collapsed to her knees in a dramatic wail, arms raised to the heavens as though the gods themselves had forsaken her, "Why?" she sobbed, "I trained for this. This was supposed to be my moment."
Another pounded her fists into the ground, shaking violently, "This isn't fair! They're cheating! They have to be cheating! How are these matchups allowed?!"
One of them just curled up in a fetal position, rocking back and forth, whispering, "It's okay, I can still win his heart...I just need another chance...just one more chance..."
Jaune grimaced. He turned his head slightly to see how the professors were taking things. Predictably, they were just as competitive as the students, if not worse. Unlike the younger Huntresses, they had years - decades - of pent-up frustration and discipline. The moment they were allowed into the tournament, they threw themselves into fighting with the kind of intensity usually reserved for life-or-death missions. Even Glynda was competing, and she was downright vicious.
He watched her utterly dismantle a team of younger Huntresses earlier in the day, adjusting her glasses with barely concealed smugness as she walked off the battlefield without a scratch. Other professors weren't much better. Some, like the hardened instructors from Atlas and Haven, took this as the ultimate test of their skills, proving they were still superior to their students. Others were just out for blood, furious that they even had to fight at all for what they believed should be rightfully theirs.
He sighed again and turned back to the arena just as another team stepped forward to challenge Winter's team.
Weiss and Yang. The couples round. Jaune braced himself.
The match started and ended just as quickly. Winter annihilated them. One hit. Two hits. Done. Weiss barely had time to register what had happened before she was flat on her back, staring up at the sky with a look of pure, horrified betrayal. As the bell rang, signaling her loss, the arena fell into silence, "No," Weiss whispered, staring up at the ceiling. Her hands slowly clenched into fists, "No, no, no, no, no-"
Then the shrieking started. She shot up, pointing a trembling finger at her older sister, her pale cheeks flushed with indignant rage, "You did that on purpose!"
Winter barely spared her a glance, gracefully brushing imaginary dust off her Atlesian uniform, "I did what was necessary. If you had truly wanted victory, you would have fought harder."
Jaune buried his face in his hands. Weiss stomped her foot on the ground, her entire body trembling with a mixture of rage and devastation, "This is a crime! A travesty! I will sue every last one of you into the ground!"
Winter finally turned to look at her, her expression cool and utterly unimpressed, "You couldn't even sue the last man who filed a restraining order against you, Weiss. What makes you think you can take on an entire international tournament?"
Weiss let out a horrified gasp, her entire world crumbling before her eyes. Yang, meanwhile, was still lying flat on the ground. She was out of it, but he was sure that wouldn't last long. He got the feeling there'd be a lot of property damage down in Vale before the day was done.
Weiss immediately turned to the referees, looking personally offended that they had allowed this 'injustice' to occur, "Where is your honor? Where is your integrity?!"
One of the officials coughed awkwardly, "Miss Schnee, the match was fair-"
"Fair?!" Weiss let out a horrified laugh, gripping at her hair, "Do I look like someone who was fairly beaten?"
"Well...you did lose," the referee muttered under her breath.
Weiss let out an inhuman screech and threw herself onto the ground, thrashing around in pure, unfiltered despair, "It should have been me! It should have been meeeeee!" Jaune winced and apologized in his head to Weiss - his Weiss - for seeing a version of her like this.
Winter turned on her heel and walked off the stage, giving Jaune one last glance. He didn't know if it was the lighting or his paranoia, but he swore she smirked.
The arena was filled with deafening cheers, the atmosphere electric with anticipation. The final day of the Vytal Tournament had arrived, and only the oldest, most experienced Huntresses (plus 'Samantha'...) remained. These were women who had spent decades honing their craft, seasoned warriors who had fought countless battles, slain Grimm by the thousands, and now, at the peak of their careers, had dedicated themselves to one final, all-important mission.
Winning him.
Jaune didn't even pretend to care. He had spent the last week watching Huntresses of all ages tear each other apart in a spectacle of desperation, leaving the broken, sobbing losers to wail about their shattered dreams in the halls of Beacon. He had endured an entire tournament of weeping, tantrum-throwing women, bitter professors grumbling about how they should have won, and more thirst-fueled fights than he cared to count.
He was done. Let them fight. Let them die if they wanted to. He just wanted a damn soda.
With that, he stood from his seat in the VIP booth, ignoring Glynda's questioning look, and quietly slipped out of the arena. He wandered through the abandoned hallways of Beacon, the muffled sounds of the tournament growing distant as he approached one of the vending machines tucked away in a quiet corner of the academy. He fished a few lien out of his pocket, pressed the button, and waited as the machine clunked and spat out a can of cold, carbonated bliss.
Finally. A moment of peace.
Jaune cracked the soda open with a satisfying hiss, barely bringing it to his lips before the air beside him shimmered. A golden portal tore open right next to him, crackling with familiar energy. He blinked, startled, and almost dropped his drink as four figures emerged from the swirling light, stepping into the dimly lit hallway.
And then he froze.
Ruby, Weiss, Blake, Yang. Not the versions from this twisted world. No, he recognized their faces and outfits instantly - the real them. His team. His friends. He could tell just by the way they moved, the way they carried themselves, the way they weren't looking at him like starving wolves circling a fresh meal. There were all the familiar sights. Yang's robot arm, Weiss and Blake's questionable hairstyle choics, and Ruby's pure silver eyes.
Those same eyes widened as she took in the sight of him, a mix of worry and sadness flashing across her face, "Jaune…" she said softly, stepping toward him, "She said you were gone a long time, but..." She shook her her head, "We can fix this. Fix you. We can fix everything."
Jaune's brain short-circuited.
Weiss, standing beside her, studied him with an uncharacteristic gentleness in her gaze, "You don't have to go through this alone anymore," she murmured, "However much time you lost… we'll get it back. We promise."
"Are you okay?" Blake asked, eyes scanning him carefully, "You look..." She hesitated, as if searching for the right words. She didn't find them.
Yang smirked, punching his shoulder lightly, though even she looked concerned, "Yeah, Blondie, you...really grew up." She smiled, trying to comfort him.
Jaune just stood there, staring at them.
They were real. They were real.
His heart pounded, his breath hitched, and for a long, agonizing moment, he couldn't make himself move. He was afraid - terrified - that if he reached out, they would vanish, that this was another cruel joke played by the universe, another nightmare in this endless string of absurdity.
But they didn't disappear. Ruby kept talking, explaining something about how some "Blacksmith" had sent them here, how they could "fix everything," how they could finally bring him home. He barely heard her. His hands trembled and his body moved on instinct.
Before he could stop himself, before he could even think, he reached out and pulled them all into a crushing, desperate hug. Ruby squeaked in surprise. Weiss stiffened in his arms. Blake let out a soft, startled gasp. Yang blinked before letting out a chuckle.
None of them tried to pull away.
They didn't take it as a sign, didn't assume he was trying to propose or seduce them. They didn't giggle into his ear, didn't whisper about how much they wanted him. They didn't moan or melt or act like he'd just given them a sacred invitation to drag him into the nearest bedroom. They were just...there.
Solid. Real. Safe.
Jaune squeezed his eyes shut, gripping onto them like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline.
He'd spent years in the Ever After and then weeks here. A world where every Huntress - every woman he knew in this world - was a deranged, desperate lunatic hellbent on making him their personal breeding stock. A world where friendships didn't exist, only hunger, only want. A world where he couldn't trust anyone.
But this? This was home. He wasn't alone anymore.
The moment of quiet, desperate relief didn't last. Of course, it didn't. Because this world hated him. Jaune hadn't even gotten the chance to breathe in the comfort of his friend's presence before the moment was shattered. Laughter echoed down the hall. Familiar laughter. The kind that immediately sent a chill down his spine.
Jaune didn't even need to turn around to know what fresh hell was about to descend upon him, "Oh John~!" His entire body locked up. Weiss. Not his Weiss. No, the Weiss from this world. The Weiss that'd spent the last several weeks throwing tantrums, screaming about how it should have been her, and making aggressive, lawsuit-worthy attempts to get into his pants because she was convinced she was entitled to him due to their misunderstanding.
And she wasn't alone. Blake and Yang were with her, sauntering around the corner with the kind of confidence that only came from knowing 'No' meant 'Try harder'.
Jaune barely had time to turn his head before they were on him, "John, darling, I simply must insist-" Cringe Weiss began, flipping her hair with practiced grace, "Tournament or not, we don't have to make this complicated! We can still be together! I deserve this!*"
He opened his mouth, only for Cringe Blake to cut in, her voice dripping with faux-tragic longing, "It's true," she murmured, placing a dramatic hand over her chest, "You don't have to choose the winner of some arbitrary competition. That's so...clinical. Love should be messy, passionate, spontaneous..." She leaned in, her amber eyes practically smoldering, "Like us~" She purred. As in, literally purred like a cat in heat.
Jaune took an instinctive step back, his eye twitching, Cringe Yang smirked, placing a hand on his shoulder, "C'mon, big guy," she cooed, voice sultry, "Fuck the tournament. You know the real prize is the friends we made along the way." She winked, "And the friends we can make tonight."
It took everything in Jaune's power not to scream. He didn't even get a word in before his actual friends reacted. Weiss, Blake, and Yang were frozen in sheer, abject horror. They gawked at their counterparts, their expressions cycling through shock, disgust, and soul-deep shame.
Weiss was the first to crack, "Wh-What is WRONG with you?!" she sputtered, staring at 'herself' like she was witnessing the Schnee name being dragged through the mud in real time, "Do you have absolutely NO dignity?!"
"I don't need dignity," this world's Weiss shot back immediately, "I need a boyfriend." The fact that she was literally talking to her reflection in a different outfit didn't seem to register in the horny heiress' mind. All she saw was another woman between her and him.
Jaune pinched the bridge of his nose. Blake wasn't any better. She was staring at herself, her ears stiff with what could only be described as mortified self-loathing, "Do I...actually sound like that?" she whispered in horror, voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes," Jaune deadpanned.
"I - oh Brothers." Blake clapped a hand over her mouth and looked like she was about to throw up.
Yang, meanwhile, just stared at 'herself', her usual cocky grin nowhere to be found. Her lilac eyes flicked to Jaune, to her counterpart, back to Jaune, then back to her counterpart again. Slowly, she turned to Blake and Weiss, her voice completely blank, "If I ever act like that," she said, monotone, "Kill me."
Cringe Yang rolled her eyes, "Whatever, you blonde bimbo. I saw him first."
Ruby just stood there, watching the entire disaster unfold with the kind of haunted expression usually reserved for survivors of near-death experiences, "The Blacksmith said this world was like ours. Similar but different..." She turned to Jaune, her voice filled with deep unsettled concern, "...How long have you been stuck here?"
"Too long."
"How are you still sane?"
"I'm not."
This world's Blake suddenly stepped forward, reaching for Jaune's hand with the kind of tragic, tortured heroine of a bad romance novel expression that made Jaune want to die, "Jaune," she whispered, "Please."
Jaune yanked his hand back like she was about to stab him, "No."
"John~," Cringe Weiss whined.
"No."
"John~," Cringe Yang purred.
"No."
"John~," Cringe Blake sighed.
"NO."
Weiss buried her face in her hands. Blake was still mumbling about how embarrassing this was. Yang just kept muttering kill me under her breath. Jaune? He just wanted to go home. And he was just about to do that and leave this crazy world behind when a voice bellowed.
"I HAVE TRIUMPHED!"
Jaune didn't even flinch. Of course she was here. Salem strode in like a queen returning from war, her red and black gown flowing behind her, her very poorly disguised face glowing with victory, "The tournament is over! I have crushed all who stood before me! The prize is MINE!" She pointed at Jaune, "Now, come to my bed, my love!"
Jaune sighed, "No."
Before Salem could respond to the blatant betrayal, a sharp, familiar growl cut through the air. Jaune barely had time to blink before Ruby stepped in front of him, Crescent Rose unfolding with a metallic snap. The rest of Team RWBY followed immediately, slipping into combat stances, their eyes locked onto Salem with war-hardened fury.
Oh. Right. Jaune forgot to mention that this Remnant's biggest nightmare was somehow a cringe, thirsty disaster instead of a genocidal witch, "Jaune, get back!" Ruby snapped, her eyes burning with silver light, "We'll handle this!"
Weiss already had her Myrtenaster aimed at Salem's chest, "I don't know what the hell is going on, but we are not letting her take you!"
Blake drew Gambol Shroud, her body coiled like a spring, "We take her down. Fast."
Yang cracked her knuckles, her eyes turning red, "I call first punch."
Jaune looked between team RWBY, Salem, and the cringe version of themselves who were watching the scene in confusion. And then, an idea struck, "Ruby," he said, turning to her, "Are the portals one-time use?"
She blinked, still bristling, "Huh?"
"The portals," Jaune repeated, "Can they go both ways over and over again?"
Ruby frowned, thrown off by the question, "I-I didn't ask. But the Blacksmith never said they weren't. Why?"
Jaune looked at the portal then at Salem. He'd seen her fight in the tournament. She was powerful. Even Glynda was basically a kid throwing rocks next to her. And judging from everything else, she was also immortal and could control the Grimm.
He eyed the Cringe versions of his friends next. They weren't as harshly tested from the Fall like they were, but they - and everyone else in this school - were still Huntresses. And right now, they needed a hell of a lot more of those back in Remnant.
Jaune took a slow, measured breath, rolling his shoulders back as he faced the most powerful, most terrifying, and most cringey entity in this world. Salem stood before him, hands on her hips, eyes gleaming with triumph and something far too sultry for his comfort.
This was a terrible idea. But at this point, what wasn't a terrible idea? "Salem," he said carefully, straightening up and ignoring the way Ruby, Weiss, Blake, and Yang tensed behind him, ready for a fight, "We need to talk."
Salem smirked, tilting her head, her silken white hair cascading over her shoulder, "It's Samantha, dearest, but that doesn't matter. There is nothing to discuss. You are mine, as promised by the rules of this-" she gave an exaggerated wave of her hand, "-glorious tournament. The prize was clear. You belong to me now."
Jaune inhaled through his nose, rubbing his temples. He had been exhausted for weeks. He was beyond exhausted. But now, somehow, he had to make the impossible happen, "Look," he began, lowering his hand and locking eyes with her, "I'm not from this world."
There was a beat of silence before Salem laughed, "Oh, my love," she cooed, stepping forward with an amused smile, "You are quite the comedian. I do enjoy a man with a sense of humor "
"I'm serious," Jaune interrupted, voice firm, "I'm not from this Remnant. I come from another one. And I'm leaving. Right now. Through that portal."
That finally made her pause. Her eyes narrowed, and for the first time, he saw a flicker of something akin to wariness in her gaze, "You're...leaving?" she repeated slowly, like the very concept was foreign to her.
He nodded, "Yeah. And I have to go back."
Her face twisted into a frown, and for a second, he thought she might start throwing a tantrum like Weiss had done when she lost in the tournament (or maybe blow up Beacon in a rage), but he lifted a hand to stop her, "But," he continued, carefully, "I do have a proposition."
That caught her attention. Her eyes gleamed with interest again, "Go on."
Jaune exhaled slowly, glancing at his own version of Team RWBY, all of them looking deeply uncomfortable watching the interaction. Ruby had her lips pressed into a tight frown, Weiss had her arms crossed with a scowl, Blake's body was tensed like a spring, and Yang looked like she was two seconds away from trying to punch her alternate self on principle.
He ignored them and focused on Salem, "If you settle for just me," he said slowly, "You'll always be limited. You'll always be stuck in a world where men fear you. Cause I'll die eventually, and then where will you be? Back at the beginning making up schemes to try and get laid. But," he gestured toward the glowing portal, "What if there was a world full of men who wanted you? A world where men willingly joined your harem instead of running in terror?"
Salem froze. Her crimson eyes widened, and for a long, long moment, Jaune saw something shatter in her soul...before it was rebuilt firmer than ever before, "A world where..." she whispered, almost breathless, "...where they want to be mine?"
"That's right," Jaune said, taking a step closer, speaking in the smoothest, most convincing voice he could muster, "An entire world of men who wouldn't resist you. Who would see your strength, your power, and find it attractive. No more chasing. No more hunting them down. Just...willing followers."
Salem gasped, pressing a delicate hand to her chest, "Willing?" she repeated, almost choking on the word, "You mean to tell me there is an entire world where I would not have to conquer my lovers? Where they would come to me of their own accord?!"
Jaune nodded, keeping his face blank, "And all I'm asking in return is for you to help us stop the other you. Because she isn't trying to build a harem. She's trying to kill everyone."
Salem gasped in abject horror, stepping back, her face stricken with devastation, "Kill everyone?!" she cried, "But that's...so many men wasted?!"
Jaune didn't even blink, "Exactly," he said with a nod, "So many lost...so many that could have been yours. And she's throwing them away."
Salem clenched her fists, "The atrocity! The sheer waste! Unacceptable!" Her eyes blazed with righteous (horny) fury, "This other me - this fraud! - has utterly failed our true purpose!" Her voice shook with rage , "How could she be so blind? She was given a gift - an entire world of men to claim, and she squanders it by trying to eradicate them?! This will not stand! I will not allow such a crime against Remnant's most precious treasures!"
"Exactly. And think of how grateful the men would be when you saved them from the monster trying to kill them all. They'd worship you." Salem shuddered at that. Jaune barely resisted the urge to facepalm. Whatever, at least now he had her hooked.
Time to do the same with the others. His gaze shifted to the other Weiss, Yang, and Blake, who'd been watching with rapt attention, their eyes practically sparkling with interest. He straightened, leveling them with a knowing look, "And what about you three?" he asked, "You aren't interested in a world where men want you? Where they appreciate you? Where they see your desperation as hot instead of pathetic?"
The effect was immediate. "Yes!" they blurted in unison.
Cringe Weiss grabbed his sleeve, looking desperate, "We can have that?!" she cried, "We can have a world where we're admired for our devotion instead of mocked?!"
Cringe Yang punched a nearby wall hard enough to leave a dent, "Finally! No more guys screaming! No more guys telling me I'm too aggressive! No more restraining orders!" She turned to Cringe Blake, grabbing her by the shoulders, "People are gonna think we're hot, Blake! HOT!"
Cringe Blake exhaled through her nose, nodding solemnly, "I've never wanted anything more."
Jaune exhaled, relieved but also deeply, deeply tired, "Good," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Then we're in agreement. You help us stop our Salem, and in return, you all get a whole new world to work with. A world's that's gonna be grateful to the people who saved them."
Salem beamed, her entire blackened soul alight with joy, "Oh, my love," she purred, stepping forward, her hands resting on his chest, "You truly are a visionary."
Jaune immediately stepped back, keeping her at arm's length, "No. You can have a harem there. Keep me out of it."
She just giggled, still drunk on the idea of being wanted. Jaune clenched his fists. He was so done with this world. Team RWBY just stared at him in utter horror. Weiss spoke first, "Jaune," she said, her voice slow, careful, "What the hell did you just do?"
Jaune ran a tired hand through his hair and sighed, "Something incredibly stupid. Now come on, if we're gonna go back, we're gonna need an army."
It was over. For all the horrors that had befallen Remnant - the wars, the tragedies, the impossible battles against the unstoppable - none of them had prepared Salem for this. Her plans had been centuries, millenia in the making. She spent lifetimes constructing her perfect scheme, manipulating the very foundations of the world, guiding fate itself like a puppeteer of destiny. Her eternal war with Ozpin, all for the sake of killing herself.
And then she lost. Not to an army of heroes, not to the last defenders of Remnant rallying for one final, desperate stand. No. She'd lost to herself and a horde of the thirstiest, most down-bad women Remnant had ever seen.
It had been a massacre. Not of life, surprisingly - oh, no. The battle had been bloodless. The genocidal Salem hadn't even had time to unleash her Grimm hordes properly before thousands - literally thousands - of desperate Huntresses had poured through the portal, their sheer feral determination enough to dismantle her entire operation in hours.
There had been no strategic flanking, no well-planned ambushes, no coordinated strikes against key strongholds. It was pure, desperate thirst.
Salem was expecting heroes and warriors. She wasn't expecting herself, but horny. Nor did she anticipate thousands of deranged, desperate women who'd found an entirely new world where men actually liked them and would happily accept their advances. They didn't need to fight for scraps anymore. They didn't need to pretend they were fine with rejection. They could be free to be as horny and desperate as they wanted without fear of being universeally rejected.
And that was what had made them unstoppable.
The Grimm had been overwhelmed instantly. When faced with an army that didn't produce fear - only sheer, unbridled, manic excitement - they had no idea what to do. Never before had a Grimm experienced a foe that didn't fear them, but rather, saw them as an annoyance keeping them from their happiness.
The Beowolves were kicked aside with frustration, the Beringels were yeeted into the horizon, and an Alpha Nevermore had burst into flame after getting suplexed by a particularly enraged Huntress screaming that she wasn't going back to being alone, damn it!
And Salem herself? The great, immortal witch? The ruler of darkness? She'd fallen too.
As Jaune watched the aftermath, standing at the edge of what had once been the Palace of the Grimmlands, he couldn't help but feel a strange mix of satisfaction and secondhand embarrassment.
Salem was sealed in a reinforced magical prison - not killed, because, well, she couldn't die - but between the alternate version of herself and the sheer volume of Huntresses now flooding this world, her power had been completely neutralized. Her minions were either dead or imprisoned. He'd made that clear in the negotations. They could flirt with men, but any minions of Salem were off-limits. The Huntresses were eager to agree.
The portals between the two worlds remained open, a permanent gateway connecting them both. Whether that was due to the Blacksmith's influence or something else entirely, Jaune didn't know, and frankly, he didn't care. The two worlds were now connected, and both had quickly embraced the benefits of it. Huntresses got a world where they could be themselves, and the people of this Remnant had access to a less fucked-up version of their world.
Which, of course, meant the other Salem had gotten exactly what she wanted. She already had a harem hundreds of men strong. And it was growing by the day.
Jaune sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he watched Samantha - who insisted on still calling herself that - lounging in a massive silk-draped throne, surrounded by a very eager selection of men. Back in her world, her obsession had been seen as cringe, terrifying, and made her a threat to all of mankind. But here? The men of this Remnant saw a powerful, dominant, eternal queen obsessed with them and decided, Yeah, actually, that sounds great.
They lined up. No war. No conquest. Just a ridiculous, fairy-tale ending where a deathless witch finally got her perfect harem of adoring, willing men with more and more coming every day. They scrambled for her attention, begging her to have her way with them, and she looked so damn euphoric at that fact. It was like she was living life on a perpetual high.
And she wasn't the only one who won. Thousands of Huntresses - former students, professors, warriors of all ages - wandered through Remnant finally getting what they'd always wanted. They were appreciated. Their aggressive, over-the-top thirst was no longer seen as pathetic. No, in this world, they were considered hot. It transformed their lives completely.
Jaune had already heard the news. Weiss - the other Weiss - had successfully courted a famous Mistrali poet and was now writing ballads about their romance. Raunchy ballads, of course, but she wouldn't have it any other way. Other Yang had immediately found success in Vacuo, where being bold and unhinged was seen as an ideal personality trait in a woman. And Blake? Jaune didn't even want to know, but if half the rumors from Menagerie were true, then apparently she'd found someone as into roleplaying as she was. And that was terrifying.
He'd seen Ozpin - sorry, Ozma - too. The old man was wandering around Remnant crying tears of joy as he finally ate food that wasn't just canned beans and bottled water. People ignored him, and he relished that. Meanwhile, that world's Penny had (somehow) revived this world's Penny and the two were already the best of friends. Salutations echoed across Remnant.
In the end, they'd all gotten what they wanted. Remnant was safe and the war was over.
And what about him? The guy'd who had spent weeks in another world being relentlessly pursued and suffered in fairy tale hell for years before that? Well, Ruby was true to her word. They fixed him...mostly. His age had been reset when he came back. Nineteen again, though the stubble on his face remained for some reason. He was gonna shave it off, but Weiss insisted he keep it. Apparently, it made him look more disgnified and mature. He didn't see it, but whatever.
And as he stood there on a hill, watching this complete, absurd farce of a happy ending unfold, he ran a hand down his face and sighed, "...I am such an idiot."
A warm chuckle made him glance to the side where Ruby stood, watching with crossed arms and a half-smile, "Yeah," she said, nodding in agreement, "But, you know, you're our idiot. And you did save the world, even you had to do it by turning Remnant into the ultimate thirst trap."
Jaune groaned, rubbing his temples, "Yeah, yeah."
She patted his shoulder, "Come on, let's go home, dummy," she said, her voice warm.
Jaune let out a final, exhausted sigh. Yeah. Home. That sounded nice.
Huh, so...happy ending? Jaune makes it back home, Remnant is saved, and all the Baalbuddy Huntresses get to travel/vacation in a world where they're seen as the ultimate hotness instead of walking restraining orders.
Next Rizzless omake will be Volume 1 Jaune, chapter 1 already posted for supporters. That one is more comedic since that Jaune is all-in on Weiss wanting him to plap plap her in the park and bragging about how awesome Jaune is to everyone.
Wanna help support me (and gain access to chapters a couple of weeks early)? Then check out the link below:
P a treon . com (slash) Vendetta543