Distruption of the tree and attack of the spirits
A week had passed.
The air had grown colder, and so had the nights. But in the quiet shade of the forest near Vale, Jimmy and Qrow trained together every day. Though it began with swordwork and discipline, their time had become something deeper—more emotional. For Qrow, this wasn't just about sharpening Jimmy's skills. It was about doing for him what he never fully managed to do for Ruby.
He pushed Jimmy hard—Qrow never did anything halfway—but between the sparring and grueling hunts for lesser Grimm, a connection was forming. One built on sweat, honesty, and quiet pain.
That evening, the two sat at the edge of a hill overlooking a forest clearing. A few Grimm lay in the distance, already dissolving. Jimmy wiped the sweat from his brow and smiled.
"That was great, Qrow," he said between breaths. "Thanks for training me."
Qrow chuckled, leaning on his blade like a cane. "Don't thank me yet. I still have a few bruises to collect from you tomorrow." Then his voice softened. "Hey… how was your dad?"
Jimmy blinked. The question caught him off guard.
"Well… he always trained me," he said. "Even when I sucked at it. I couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with a rifle. My first time aiming down a scope, I missed every shot." He laughed—nostalgically, but not without sadness.
Qrow gave a small grin, then looked out at the trees. "Maybe that didn't matter to him. Maybe… what made him proud was that you kept trying. That you didn't give up."
Jimmy looked down. And his breath caught. He felt it creeping in—tightness in his chest, pressure in his throat. The laugh dissolved. His eyes burned.
Then Qrow stepped forward, pulled him into a rough, awkward hug. Jimmy froze—then broke. Tears flowed like a dam cracking wide. He clenched Qrow's shirt, shaking.
"What am I?" Jimmy choked out. "Why do I feel so alone… when I'm surrounded by everyone? Why does it feel like something's missing even when I have so much?"
Qrow held him tighter, his voice low and cracked. "Kid… I'm sorry."
He pulled back and made Jimmy meet his eyes. "I know how that feels. To lose everything. To crawl into the bottle because it's easier than remembering who you used to be. I know what it's like to run from your own pain."
Jimmy looked at him, eyes rimmed with red. No lies. No sarcasm. Just pain—shared.
Qrow placed a hand on his shoulder. "I may not be the best with emotions. But I'm trying. And if you'll let me… I'll try to be better. For you. For Ruby. For all of us."
Jimmy's breathing slowed. Something shifted inside him—not light, not dark, but unfamiliar. Something… new. It wasn't from his blade. It wasn't from his training. It was something entirely human.
And he decided not to speak it. Not yet.
"You're doing better," Jimmy said, wiping his face. "I can smell it, too. The alcohol's gone."
Qrow gave a dry chuckle. "Thanks, kid. Trying to stay dry. Thought I'd take Ruby out to that new movie this weekend. You know, do things right for once."
Jimmy smiled… but then staggered. His vision blurred.
"Whoa—Jimmy?" Qrow caught him. "Hey! You okay?"
Jimmy's head swam. "Yeah, I—"
His sword cracked. Not chipped. Not bent. Cracked. And then— It shattered. The blade disintegrated into Jimmy particles, vanishing in the wind.
Jimmy collapsed into Qrow's arms, completely unconscious. Panic surged. Qrow hoisted him up with surprising strength and immediately called in the emergency beacon.
By the time the ambulance arrived at Beacon, everyone was already gathering outside the infirmary.
Ruby rushed in with Yang close behind.
"Uncle Qrow!" Ruby shouted. "What happened to Jimmy?! Why isn't he waking up?!"
"I don't know," Qrow said, still catching his breath. "One second he was fine, the next… boom. His blade shattered. He just dropped."
Yang stood frozen. Her eyes widened—panic flaring inside her. She activated her Aura. And gasped. "My mark," she whispered. "It's… gone."
Qrow turned to her sharply. "Gone? What do you mean gone?"
Yang turned her shoulder toward them. The glowing mark Jimmy had once given her was no longer there. Not faded. Not weak. Erased—like it had never been.
"That's not good," Qrow muttered.
He looked down at Jimmy, lying unconscious and pale in the infirmary bed.
"No sword. No mark. No explanation."
He tightened his jaw. "Something's wrong. Something deep. And I don't think this is just a fainting spell."
Yang sat beside Jimmy's bed, holding his hand.
Ruby stayed quiet… but her Jimmy eyes shimmered faintly with emotion—and fear. They all felt it now. The calm before a storm. And somewhere, something ancient stirred.
"Is he alive?" Ruby asked urgently, standing at the edge of Jimmy's hospital bed.
Jimmy jumped and walked out of the bed analsing everthing. "Yeah… I'm alive," he muttered. "But right now, I can't even feel my Semblance. It's like someone shut the door and threw away the key. And the voices… I can hear both of them now. The light. The dark. Clearly."
Jane stiffened. "Oh no."
"It's fine," Jimmy said, waving a hand erratically. "I can tell which is which. That's the good part. The bad part is, I don't have much time before they stop caring what I think."
His eyes scanned the room with jittery paranoia. "I can't reach my inner world anymore. Not even close. I haven't been able to do, honestly... but now it's locked. Like it's rejecting me too."
"Are you okay, Jimmy?" Ranger asked gently.
Jimmy smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm ignoring what I'm seeing, Ranger. That's all I can do right now. But I need to know… what's going on out there. What did I miss?"
Qrow stepped forward, concern in his voice. "Without your Semblance or the Beasts, this could be a real problem."
"Yeah," Jimmy said slowly, "except I remembered something. I don't know where it came from, but it's called a Spirit Link. Supposedly, I can send a piece of my power into two people. They get access to their full potential, and maybe even mine. Temporarily."
Yang frowned. "Wait—what? Where did that even come from?"
"I don't know." Jimmy looked off into space, blinking as if watching something that wasn't there. "But I saw a man in a cloak. It shimmered with three colors spiraling—black, white, and blue. He told me to remember this: 'Choose two. Give, but retrieve.' Then he disappeared."
"He okay?" Jaune asked, half-whispering. "Did he just have a stroke?"
"Nope," Jimmy replied cheerfully. "I just got bored talking. Also—almost kicked a nurse."
A woman had just stepped in, holding a tray. "Um… hello, Mr. Ember. I brought your vitals chart and—"
Jimmy's eyes flickered. "Sorry. I thought you were… something else."
The nurse stepped back, startled. Jane rose quickly. "Okay, that's not good."
"They're draining him," Ranger muttered. "We need to act fast. He needs to reconnect with the Beasts—or stabilize somehow."
Jimmy sat up straighter, speaking quickly, almost frantically. "There are rules. For the Spirit Link to work, the two people I choose must meet five criteria. One: someone without morals—a lunatic. Two: someone hyper-focused and tightly wound—so obsessed with a goal, they ignore everything else. Three: they must be in the same location. Four: I must have no emotional connection to them. And five… I have to find them and take the power back before they pass it on."
Yang stared at him. "Jimmy… your eyes are glowing. One's gold. The other's black."
"I'm fine." He grinned. Then randomly on sliding onto the floor. "I'm smoking."
His eyes went wide. "I should regain sanity before I lose it completely."
"You think I can help find the lunatic?" Qrow said. "I know just the right soul. And for the hyper-focused one… I might know someone worse than Ironwood. Her name's Winter."
Weiss immediately stepped forward. "No. That's my sister!"
"Exactly," Jimmy said from the floor, now sitting cross-legged. "Can't know her. She's disqualified."
He closed his eyes in meditation. His breathing slowed… and for a moment, he almost looked serene.
Ren leaned toward Pyrrah. "The light and dark are shredding him."
"It's the spiritual seals," Qrow added. "They're destabilizing everything. His mind and body are at odds."
Jimmy's eyes snapped open. He stood up, walked over to Yang, and kissed her. Hard. Then spun her, pinning her to the wall.
Yang didn't resist—at first. But after a breathless moment, she shoved him back, her aura flaring. "Jimmy," she said, breath heavy. "You are not yourself right now. Save that for when your Beasts come back. I'm not playing with a shadow of you right now."
Jimmy blinked. "Sorry. Darkness told me to bounce on you like a spring. Thanks for stopping me. Might've gone too far."
Then Jaune, with a hand on his forehead: "Focus, Jimmy. We've got to find the temporary vessels. That's the mission."
Qrow got a message on his scroll and turned. "Found them. Both targets are at the Headmaster's tower. Jimmy, hold it together."
Jimmy turned his head slowly, his expression blank and eerie. "A little crow on a perch… thinks he's found a seed… but doesn't know he already lost the love it was meant to bloom for."
His voice sounded wrong. Not deeper—but hollow. Jimmy blinked again. "That was the Light talking. It thinks it's funny."
Then he looked Qrow dead in the eye. "Knock me out."
Qrow nodded. "Kid… I'm sorry." He stepped forward—but Jimmy suddenly jabbed forward with a punch.
"Crap," Qrow muttered, dodging. "Forgot—he's still fast!"
Jimmy grinned. "I always go out swinging." He started to show both first up smirking threw another punch.
Qrow caught it—and uppercut him clean across the jaw. Jimmy hit the ground hard. Unconscious. Finally silent.
"At least he's not dead," Qrow muttered, shaking out his hand.
Yang stared down at Jimmy's body, still catching her breath. "Remind me," she whispered, "that I do want the dark version of Jimmy…"
Qrow gave a dry laugh. "Too late. You already got a taste."
He turned toward the door. "Let's go. We've got a lunatic and an ice queen to meet."
The Headmaster's office was quiet. The polished wood floor reflected the warm light from the tall windows, though the sun did little to ease the tension that sat thick in the air. Every person in the room was either standing rigid or seated too carefully, like a conversation was seconds away from exploding.
Ironwood stood near the fireplace, arms crossed behind his back. His expression was tight, eyes flicking between the door and the man pacing near it.
"I still don't understand why I had to bring these two," Ironwood said coldly. "And why I had to bring my most unstable agent."
"Unstable?" a voice snapped, sharp and fast. "Guess the old fogey's been sniffing exhaust fumes again."
Harriet Bree, clad in her modified Atlas tactical jacket and speed boots, leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, violet eyes sparking with barely restrained energy. She was a bullet in a human's body—fast, unpredictable, and just waiting to be fired.
"Please," said Winter Schnee, composed but clearly exhausted by Harriet's antics. "General, you brought us because this concerns something Beacon can't handle alone."
Winter stepped forward—white coat pristine, posture perfect. Her icy blue gaze was focused, but there was a tightness at the corners of her eyes. Whatever this was, it unnerved even her.
"I assume this is about Jimmy?" Ironwood asked.
"Sorry—who?" Harriet asked, brow raised.
"Flame Swordsman," Ozpin answered quietly, standing behind his desk, hands folded over his cane.
Winter blinked. "He's… here? At Beacon?" She hesitated. "My sister's obsessed with him. She saved clips, followed every rumor. Built theories. She hid it all... until I found her scroll history."
Just then, the door creaked open. Jimmy was pulled unconuise into the room.
"We're here," said Qrow, pushing open the chamber doors. "Keep your heads cool. This is delicate."
Ozpin raised an eyebrow. "What's his current condition?"
Qrow sighed. "His sword's gone. His Beasts are sealed. And… Jimmy's mind is hanging by threads. He needs to offload energy—fast. These two qualify. Even if he told me not Winter, we're out of time."
"I'm right here, you know," Weiss said flatly. "Why her?"
"Because," Qrow replied, "you care. And that disqualifies her."
Ironwood turned toward room's center. "Then what's going to happen now?"
A sound echoed—metal against marble. Jimmy shot up from the ground in a crouch, hair wild, eyes mismatched and glowing.
"Oooooh! Look at this! A ship of shining brass sails through an ocean of ash, and iron drips like tears—let the snow bathe in blood!"
He twitched, blinked, and suddenly smiled. "Who are my puppets today?"
Winter took an instinctive step back. "Those two," Qrow said with a nod. "Warning—ignore anything he says in that state. Don't respond. Just focus on your breathing and your Aura. You're about to hold a piece of a dying star."
Jimmy's gaze locked onto Winter. "Well well… hello beautiful. How 'bout you and I skip this ritual and let me plow fate itself through your—"
He slapped himself hard across the face. The impact echoed as he spun mind reset. "NOT ME. Sorry. That was… that was one of them. Ignore that."
Harriet blinked. "Is he usually like this or are we getting the VIP meltdown?"
Jimmy straightened. His voice became calm—eerily calm. "I don't know how long the link will last. Just know this: you'll carry a piece of me—and I'll take a strip of your soul in return. When I retrieve it, it all goes back to normal. If you hear whispers, talk to someone. Don't keep it in."
Winter and Harriet. Then slowly—he closed his eyes, letting silence fall over the room.
His voice was rough, cracked at the edges, but each word carried weight: "Let my vows come from freedom… Strip my enemies… Let me become the leader of both paths."
Then, with a guttural breath, he dug his hand into his chest—not physically, but through his spirt. The light around him cracked, split, and bent inward as if something divine and dangerous were being pulled loose.
He ripped something out—a searing fragment of his soul, now taking shape between his palms. A sphere, swirling violently, split in two. One half burned black and violet. The other glowed white and gold with kinetic flickers.
He looked up, face pale but steady now.
A pulse of black and white energy ripped from his chest, condensing into two shimmering orbs—one of midnight black, the other radiant golden-white.
He held them, panting slightly. "To you, the chaos…"
He handed the white orb to Harriet Bree, He shoved in into her chest. It sank into her like water into dry earth.
"…and to you, the will."
He shoved it in Winter the black orb, who stiffened as it melted into her chest like ink.
Then Jimmy exhaled—and pulled two strands of energy from both of them, combining them into a spiraling twin-core soul-thread, which he pressed into the ground. The floor cracked. And rising from it… came a new blade.
A double-bladed war glaive, one side sharp and smooth like frost-forged steel, the other jagged and flickering with motion blur like it was mid-swing at rest.
The Jimmy edge shimmered with Winter's rigid violet edge buzzed faintly with Harriet's in the center, a faint aura pulse—Jimmy's own soul-thread this hint of green—kept it together.
He reached for the weapon. It started to spin like a saw. Then stoped. When his fingers closed around it, he inhaled like someone rising from drowning.
"Finally," he whispered. "It's… balanced."
Harriet rubbed her temple. "Okay, why is there a voice in my head whispering how to overthrow the council using duct tape and jet fuel?"
Winter's face was pale. "Mine keeps calculating death probabilities… in eight languages."
Jimmy grinned, exhausted. "Ignore them. They're just… remnants. Echoes. You'll be fine."
Ironwood didn't look convinced. "And you? Are you fine?"
Jimmy rested the glaive on his shoulder. "No. But I'm functional."
He turned toward Weiss, Ruby, and Jaune. "I'm going to use this blade to open my inner world. Ruby, Jaune—you're going in to find my Beasts."
Winter blinked. "Inner world?"
Weiss stood. "We'll explain. Right now, they have to go."
When Ruby and Jaune open their eyes inside Jimmy's inner world, they don't recognize anything.
Gone is the warmth of Jimmy's fire. Gone are the familiar voices of his Beasts. Gone is the natural world that once made sense. In its place stands a realm that shouldn't exist.
The ground beneath their feet is a mosaic of contradiction—one half an endless expanse of glacial-white tile, cold and mathematical, the other half an ever-shifting blur of pavement, rusted wires, and broken kinetic platforms that spark with residual motion. Sometimes it's solid. Sometimes it forgets to be.
The air is sharp and still—too still—until without warning it screeches, like someone just tore a hole through sound itself. The atmosphere is at war with itself: one moment silent as a tomb, the next as chaotic as a battlefield.
Above, the sky is fractured into two layers: One is a bright dome of frozen starlight, constellations held in rigid, unnatural positions like time was told to stop moving. The other is a spiral of violet wind, constantly churning, ripping through itself like it's trying to outrun the future.
In the far distance, they see architecture that doesn't belong together.
A military outpost—with polished Jimmy columns and a central command tower—rises from the ground, its corridors glowing with cold-blue light. But this sterile structure is surrounded by a racetrack that loops over itself, shatters midair, then reforms elsewhere, endlessly. Vehicles race without drivers. Machinery hums without purpose.
It's Winter's control… infected by Harriet's chaos.
The fusion isn't harmonious—it's confused. At war with itself. Pieces of each soul try to dominate the space but only make it worse.
Scattered throughout the world are inverted reflections—mirrors that don't reflect your form, but instead show battle simulations, failure reports, tactical breakdowns… while others scream with laughter, show flames with no fire, or flicker through moments from lives that never happened.
In the center of this fragmented world stands a tower split down the middle—one half is an obsidian citadel clad in ice and clean steel, with gears turning in perfect rhythm. The other half is cracked open, full of moving platforms, falling debris, red warning lights, and graffiti marked with Harriet's mantra: "Speed is the only truth."
And inside it, at the very top—where both sides meet and reject each other—floats Phantom Pulse.
The weapon is no longer resting. It is pulsing, as if trying to stabilize the realm—or maybe tear it apart. Jimmy is nowhere to be found. Not even his fire remains. The Beasts are silent. The tree is gone.
All that's left is a world built from two fragments that never should've fused, and a question Ruby and Jaune are too afraid to ask aloud: "Is Jimmy still in here at all?"
"Nope," said a voice behind them, soft but eerie, like a whisper wrapped in frost. "But I'm here."
Ruby and Jaune turned sharply—and froze.
Standing beneath the fractured sky was a young girl in a white dress, bare feet untouched by the chaotic ground. Her hair was green and loose, floating slightly as if caught in water, and her eyes similar to Jimmy mother..
"Jimmy's… sister?" Ruby asked, stepping forward. "How did you even get here?"
The girl didn't answer immediately. She looked tired. Unstable. Like even being there hurt. "There's… a small problem," she said finally. "I lost the tree. I had to attach my soul to Jimmy to survive."
"What?!" Jaune's eyes widened. "How do you lose the tree? And why attach yourself to Jimmy?"
The girl wrung her hands nervously. "It's a long story. I wanted to connect to the spirit realm—to talk to Mom. But instead of the afterlife… I found a tree. One that wasn't supposed to be seen."
She glanced around, eyes darting like someone checking shadows for danger. "And then… she saw me."
"She?" Ruby asked.
"A woman. Tall. Green hair. Eyes shaped in nature. She grabbed my tree—ripped it away—and pushed me out. I don't even know what she sent after me. I ran, and while I did… I saw Solomon get pulled in. I think he was trying to protect me, but—"
She suddenly clutched her head. "Then I ended up here. But the light and dark parts of Jimmy—they caught me. And now they're insane. And I have no idea what's real anymore so—please!" she cried, grabbing Ruby's arms. "Help me."
Ruby knelt, steadying the girl. "Okay, okay—calm down. We'll help. Just breathe."
The girl sniffled, nodding. "I don't know much, but Solomon left me something. A message for Jimmy: 'Use the Dark and Light.' It's just a fragment, but he'll know."
"Got it," said Jaune. "But how do we get out of here without the Beasts? We're completely cut off."
"Oh, that part's easy," the girl said suddenly cheerful, as if flipping a switch. "When I leave the tree, I just wish it. Close your eyes, picture your body—and mean it. That's the trick."
She smiled like a child explaining how to make paper airplanes.
Jaune stared. "What—just like that? I—how do I…?"
He looked to Ruby—but she was already gone.
"Wait, Ruby? Ruby?!"
Silence. He sighed. "Well… how do I—" A pulse of light hit him square in the Crouch.
FLASH. Jaune jolted awake in the real world—collapsed on the floor of the Headmaster's office, one hand clutching his crouch and the other…
"Gah!" he yelped, instantly curling in place. "What the hell was that?!"
Jimmy, weak but smiling, muttered nearby, "Welcome back. Try not to land crotch-first next time. So the beast got any information.
Jaune shook his head slowly. "They weren't there. But your sister was—she's… anchoring something, I think. Holding onto a part of your soul. It looked like she was helping rebuild your blade. She was really stressed."
Jimmy's gaze shifted slightly. "That explains the green aura in the center. Stabilizing from within…"
Winter stepped forward, her tone calm but eyes sharp. "So I'm caught up. It seems we've got both Light and Darkness fused inside you now… but—why is one of the voices in my head telling me to 'prove my superiority over my sister' by sleeping with you?"
Weiss, standing quietly in the background, suddenly stiffened. Her lips pressed into a line.
Jimmy blinked, rubbing his temples. "Yeah… yeah, ignore that. Just keep talking out loud if the voices keep pushing. That helps disarm them."
He turned to Harriet. "What's the Light saying to you?"
Harriet was lounging with her boots kicked up on the table, twirling a pen. "Mmm… It's walking me through a really detailed plan on how to assassinate a high-ranking woman by manipulating people I haven't even met yet. Kinda zoning out. It's boring."
Jimmy let out a dry laugh. "That's… not good, but at least it's contained. The Light and Dark are off. I've never felt them this erratic. Something's wrong."
"It's not just them," Ruby said, voice low. "They're overwhelmed. Unstable. Dangerous. She told us you would know about it a fragment."
"She's right," Jaune added. "Your sister told us—some of the spirit seeds are attacking. She called it a fracture, and said you need to use it before it's too late."
Jimmy took a breath. "A fragment... Right. I get it now."
He looked over to Winter, his expression shifting from tired to focused. "Winter, I'm sorry. I need the Darkness to quiet down. Just for a moment. I'm going to silence it—and that means pulling from you again."
Winter's eyes narrowed, but she nodded. "Do it." Without hesitation, Jimmy stepped forward, reached out—and kissed her.
The room went silent. Winter didn't pull away. For a moment, her aura shimmered black at the edges, then funneled into Jimmy's hands like smoke.
Across the room, Weiss froze.
Her breath caught in her throat, fists clenched tightly at her sides. She looked away, jaw tight. Of course, her sister could give what Jimmy needed. Of course, Winter got the kiss. The connection. The trust.
Weiss said nothing—but her silence was sharp enough to cut steel. Jimmy stepped back, the dark energy swirling around his shoulders now stabilized.
"Got it," he said, eyes glowing faintly. "I found the key. The watchers. I'll need to borrow Team CFVY."
Winter stared at him—but her eyes weren't on his aura. They were distant, remembering. "Jimmy… I saw something when you kissed me. A child, crying… in the middle of a burned village."
Weiss turned quickly. "Winter? You're crying."
Winter wiped her eye, realizing it only now. "I saw a memory… Jimmy crying alone, surrounded by smoke and ash."
Jimmy didn't flinch. He just nodded. "That was my home. I… burned it. Everything. To protect the few that were left."
The words were hollow. He didn't explain further. Then he turned, this time to Harriet, and met her with the same stillness.
"Now your turn," he said quietly. "I need to pull the Light. Just enough to open the path I need."
Before she could respond, Harriet grabbed him by the collar and kissed him—fast, rough, with a smirk on her face as she pulled away. "There. That do it?"
Jimmy blinked, face flushed as he stepped back. "Uh… yeah. Light's responding. Very... intensely."
His aura flared white this time, focused and dense. With it, he formed a spike of energy and drove it down—not into the ground, but into the air itself, breaking through a false layer of reality.
In that moment, a path forward opened. The Light had granted him clarity. The Darkness had given him the key. "I can work with this."
Harriet turned to Yang and elbowed her. "So… what do you think? Hot or what?"
Yang just blinked. "Girl, that's not even the weirdest thing I've seen today."
Jimmy stood in the center of the room, his expression grim but steady. The glow around him—both dark and light—had dimmed, stabilized, but everyone could feel it: something terrible was coming. "Alright," he said, turning to face the others. "You all need to stay here. Talk it out. Ground yourselves. But me and Team CFVY—we're going."
Jane immediately stepped forward. "Why not us?"
Jimmy didn't look away. "Because the Darkness showed me what I need to survive. The Light showed me what I need to succeed. And… everyone else? You all die in every path except the one where I take CFVY."
Silence dropped over the room like a thunderclap.
Jane stepped back slowly. She wanted to argue, but something in his voice—flat, certain, like a man who'd already watched it happen—made her stop.
Qrow's voice cut through the tension. "Can someone explain what the hell is going on?"
Jimmy rubbed the side of his temple, exhaling slowly. "From what I can piece together… spirits are active. Not mine. Something else. They're invading. Spreading through the Light and Dark pathways, hijacking them, twisting their voices."
Ozpin frowned. "That's why the energy feels… off."
Jimmy nodded. "Yeah. The usual balance is being repelled by equal force—like someone's fighting the Light with Light and the Dark with Dark. It's making them unstable. Fragmented."
"And how do we fit in?" asked Winter, folding her arms, her voice steady.
"I've implanted a counterbalance," Jimmy said. "Inside you and Harriet. It'll keep them from losing control—for now. But the moment the voices change, tell them. Out loud. Give them anchors."
"Damn," Harriet muttered, pacing a bit. "These things… they're not just voices. They're trying to take over. Whispering things—strategies, threats, fantasies. Some aren't even mine."
"It's not just psychological," Ozpin said darkly. "We're dealing with power that preys on identity. It doesn't want to kill you. It wants to wear you—and rewrite your purpose."
Winter looked across the room. "So our job is to hold the line. Buy Jimmy time."
"Yes," Jimmy confirmed. "I wish I could explain more, but we're out of time. Please—trust me. And one more thing…"
He turned toward the table where Ozpin and Ironwood stood. "This stays between everyone in this room. What's happening to me—what I carry—doesn't leave these walls."
Ozpin's jaw clenched. "Understood. They'll meet you downstairs?"
Jimmy gave a sharp nod. "Yeah. There's a bulkhead. They'll guide me to the Tree."
Ozpin raised an eyebrow. "The one your sister was bound to?"
"Her Tree," Jimmy confirmed, his voice lowering. "It's where this started. If anything can stop it… it's there."
Without waiting for another word, Jimmy turned toward the door. Behind him, Winter exhaled slowly, her posture calm—but her eyes drifted toward Weiss, who hadn't said a word.
Harriet's gaze lingered on Jimmy too, but hers wasn't quiet. It was calculating.
Jaune stood with arms crossed. "Don't get yourself killed."
Jimmy grinned faintly over his shoulder. "Too late for that."
"Oh—one last thing," Jimmy said casually, pausing at the door. "I, uh… now have all Glyph sequences burned into my head. So."
He lifted his hand and summoned a Glyph—not just Weiss's, but one that shimmered between her pattern and something far older. From it, a shape pulled itself through: the shade of an Apathy Grimm, distorted, flickering like it wasn't fully there. A memory given form.
The room froze.
Winter's eyes widened. "That takes years of training. How can you wield it like muscle memory?"
Ozpin stepped forward, his tone sharp. "Is that a conjured Grimm… from a Glyph?"
Jimmy gave a faint, crooked smile. "Apathy. Just a memory, though. No bite. Just wanted to show you before someone tries to dissect me again."
He turned to Weiss. "And to answer you, sister of snow—when I took pieces of their souls, I gained more than power. I inherited resonance. Everything they were. Just for a while…" He snapped his fingers and the shade vanished. "...but long enough."
With that, Jimmy turned and walked out. But as the door clicked shut, Qrow furrowed his brow. "Ruby… did that seem like him to you?"
Ruby hesitated, glancing toward the empty door. "No. That wasn't the same Jimmy. It was like… he already knew the outcome. Like he was reading from a script only he could see."
Winter, now seated and distant, answered without looking up. Her tone was hushed. Hypnotic. "It's not entirely Jimmy anymore. That was the old master speaking through him."
Everyone went still.
Winter blinked slowly. "He's taken on the man's thoughts. His voice. His path. Until this part of the journey ends, Jimmy is… someone else."
Harriet, leaning against the wall, nodded faintly. Her eyes lost focus. "We won't remember these words. Not completely. Only those without power in this room will recall them."
Yang's eyes narrowed. "Okay. That's creepy. Are they—are they speaking through you guys?"
Winter regained her mind. "No. We're stable… but they are watching. And they are… afraid."
Ruby's expression dropped. "They're afraid? Of what?"
Harriet turned to her, voice lower than a whisper. "They were built to destroy creation. But something in Jimmy… isn't following the plan."
Ozpin's hands curled around his cane. "Solomon created the spirit tree to fight them. But now… the Tree is moving. It's hunting."
"And Jimmy?" Qrow asked, glancing toward the door as if expecting him to return.
Winter's gaze brightened up, returning to normal. "His powers are transferring. Spreading. Not randomly—with purpose."
"Why?" Ruby asked.
There was no answer. Only silence. Then Winter spoke one last time. Her voice sounded far away. "They're quiet now. Thinking. Watching. And waiting."
Ozpin exhaled slowly. "Then so shall we. No more answers… not until Jimmy returns. Or until the world forgets what it used to be."
Jimmy stepped forward, shoes echoing softly against the steel of the transport bay. Team CFVY waited—tense, curious—and beside them stood a thin, sharp-eyed man in a long green coat.
"Why, hello, Mr. James," said Oobleck with a small bow. "If you don't mind, I'll be joining you."
Jimmy didn't look back. "Fine by me. But I'll warn you now… where we're headed, you'll see monsters that were never meant to be remembered. Stay close. Stay quiet."
"And where exactly are we headed?" Oobleck asked.
Jimmy's lips curved into a dry smile. "Our home. Kakariko Village."
As the craft lifted off, engines humming, the skyline of Vale fell behind them—fading into cloud and ash. "Well, Mr. James, I suppose a proper introduction is in order—"
But Jimmy was no longer listening. He stood alone at the front, spinning his new blade in slow arcs through the air. His expression unreadable. Focused. Delighted.
Oobleck studied him from the side. Something about the way he moved—the way he touched the blade like it was alive—was different. Like the boy was meeting a part of himself for the first time.
Then Jimmy spoke, his voice low. "Hey, Fox."
Alistair—the quietest of the team—glanced up. "How do you know my name?"
Jimmy's eyes flickered, as if watching something the others couldn't see. "That name… that name… that name…" he repeated, tilting his head with a hollow grin. "Sorry. Still trying to figure out which thoughts are mine."
Oobleck tensed. "What do you mean?"
Jimmy held the blade still, staring into its reflection. "When two minds merge like this, it's not a fusion. Not a blend. It's a mosaic. And I'm still sorting the pieces."
He looked up at last. His gaze was brighter than it should've been. "The fragments I carry? They're temporary. I'm just borrowing the silence." He stepped back, thoughtful. Then smirked. "For now… call me Silver."
"Silver?" Oobleck blinked. "That's… a curious name."
Silver shrugged. "Eh. Bit of a hedgehog reference. Maybe not the best pick. But I see a lot of strange things these days."
He jumped lightly over a crate, landing near Oobelck. His tone shifted—more grounded, but no less haunted. "You're here to hold the perimeter. While me and CFVY walk into the wound."
Coco narrowed her eyes. "You're not Silver anymore, are you?"
Silver puffed his cheeks out, then sighed. "Nope. And if you're surprised, you haven't been listening."
He stepped closer, until they were eye to eye. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Coco… you're about to see something no one should ever see."
Coco narrowed her eyes. "And what exactly is it I'm supposed to see?"
Silver's eyes met hers—wild, unfocused, but somehow calm. "A beast. Not just any beast, though… a pathwalker. A creature born of humanity's oldest truths. The core beliefs that make a person a person."
He stepped back, letting the weight of his words linger, then turned to Velvet with a lopsided grin. "Oh, Velvet… if you see a rabbit, run."
Velvet blinked. "Run from a rabbit? That's... backwards."
Silver nodded slowly, eerily. "Because rabbits carry something others don't. Innocence. That kind of purity—fragile, delicate—is protected by instinct. Not just by people. But by other beasts. It's… primal."
"Why?" asked Yatsuhashi, arms crossed.
"Because rabbits are a core of gentleness—the kind that survives even in a world full of monsters. They represent protection of children, vulnerability, softness that endures. So when they appear, the others respond. It's like... the first line of defense."
He spun his finger around his temple. "Sorry if I sound cryptic. The merge is… a bit loud right now."
Coco stepped forward, studying him with rare seriousness. "So, Silver… these beasts—they each have a core? A purpose?"
"Yes," Silver said, now walking in a slow circle around them, his blade spinning in his hand like a pendulum. "They exist on a spiritual plane. Each one binds itself to a core belief, a primary emotion, and a sin and a commandment then an action."
"That sounds wierd," said Oobleck, raising an eyebrow. "You mean moral structures?"
Silver stopped, smiling strangely. "Let me explain. Take the Wolf of the Pack. Her commandment is Family—that sacred connection we vow to protect. But her sin... is Lust. Not carnal—emotional dependence. Needing others so badly it breaks you."
"Then what's the action?" Coco asked.
"Compassion," Silver said, voice suddenly soft. "The balance point. The behavior born of both. That's what these beasts teach. Not just power—but how to carry it."
Oobleck looked disturbed now. "So how do you define sin and commandment in this… system?"
"You don't," SIlver said. "They're not defined. They're revealed. When humanity was too afraid to name its own instincts, the Tree shaped them into Beasts."
Oobleck's voice lowered. "And the melding? This fusion… what are you now?"
SIlver looked up, the grin fading into something reflective. "Didn't Solomon tell you about the old master? Not his name—he wouldn't dare—but his role?"
"You're saying that's… you?" Oobleck asked, cautiously.
"I'm not him," SIlver said. "But if the spirit tree falters… if the beasts weaken… then the fail-safe activates. He and I become one. They call it the 'Nu-clear Option.' Clever, huh?"
"I don't find this amusing," Oobleck muttered, stepping slightly back.
Silver smirked. "You shouldn't. You're standing next to a soul with four minds inside it—Silver, the Old Master, Winter's command structure, and Harriet's velocity matrix."
"You stole her Semblance?" Coco snapped, raising her weapon.
"'Stole' is such a hard word," SIlver said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Call it… a temporary augmentation. I took just enough of her soul to mimic the part that remembers victory. Her triumphs. Not her defeats."
SIlver's expression grew darker. "Yours isn't a tool. It's a discipline. That control you wrap around your power? It's like a blade inside the blade. That's what I needed."
Velvet stepped back, visibly shaken. "You're not telling us everything."
SIlver walked up to her, slowly, then smiled with too many teeth. "Good. Be afraid. Fear is how you survive what's coming. Fear sharpens. Fear teaches."
Oobleck's voice wavered. "Where did you learn this?"
SIlver looked out the window, smile cryptic. "Oh, just a madman with a box."
The ship began its descent.
Coco exhaled slowly, glancing around the team. "Alright… one last question."
She looked him in the eye. "If we don't fear them—will we die?"
SIlver turned, his face now devoid of mirth. "You won't just die. You'll be devoured. Fear isn't your weakness—it's your password. Let every emotion rise. Let it scream. Hide nothing."
He turned toward the hatch. The forest below yawned open like a scar in the land—dark, fog-covered, alive with whispers.
SIlver smiled one last time and shouted over his shoulder: "Prepare for a world beyond the physical."
He winked at Coco. And then the door opened.
Silver leapt from the transport with a twirl, landing lightly on the dirt path like a dancer on stage. He spun once, arms extended, blade dangling behind him like a gleaming tail of silver and violet light. Then they Followed down.
"So tell me," he asked, mid-twirl, his grin crooked and wild, "how do you feel about me right now?"
Coco crossed her arms. "Insane."
"Beastial," Velvet muttered.
"Mythological," said Fox Alistair, eyes narrowed.
"Dangerous," Yatsuhashi rumbled.
"Interesting," Oobleck offered, cautiously.
Silver stopped, his blade swinging lazily to a halt as he pointed toward the professor with amusement. "Ah, coming from the man who once wandered into ruins for weeks… only to find nothing. Except—what was it? Ah yes… a forgotten calligraphy piece. A black pond drawn by a trembling hand."
Oobleck blinked in shock. "How do you know that?"
Silver froze mid-spin, lifting one foot like a ballerina. Then he dropped it flat. "Because I know what that pond was… and I want to tell you."
Then he vanished. Oobleck spun—Silver stood behind him.
"But I won't," he whispered, his tone now grave. "Because knowledge given without trial is hollow. To rob you of the journey would make me a thief of meaning."
He danced away again, skipping in wide, lazy arcs, blade twirling around his fingers.
"A man who spoils the fun," Oobleck muttered.
"Exactly," Silver called back. "Discovery without effort is just a cheat code. The Beast of Discovery once said: 'Who do you think you are, asking for the treasure without bleeding for the map?'" He laughed, manic but controlled.
Coco stepped forward, adjusting her shades. "So how many of these beasts are we dealing with?"
Silver froze again. This time, his smile was smaller. "Too many. Don't strike first. We don't fight to win—we fight to learn."
He began to hop again, feet light, rhythm odd—like a rabbit trying to stay just out of reach.
Velvet raised an eyebrow. "So… why are you doing this?"
Silver shrugged. "Because it's fun."
She gave him a skeptical look. "Alright, maybe not just for fun," he admitted, spinning once more. "I'm testing my new body. Muscle memory, range of motion, balance. Strength. I need to know how I'll perform when the real fight begins."
"You're recalibrating yourself," Fox observed.
"Bingo," Silver winked. "Can't fight gods if I don't know how fast I can pivot."
Yatsuhashi stepped closer. "Silver, I want to link with your mind—open commune, spirit to spirit."
Silver stopped mid-step. "Nope. Don't do that."
"Why?"
"Because your Semblance would drag your soul into a plane not meant for you. You'd see everything at once. And you're not ready."
"I don't even think that's your real name," Yatsuhashi muttered.
Silver smiled. "Exactly."
Coco exhaled. "Anything else we should be worried about?"
Silver slowed, then stopped entirely. He reached into the air like he was feeling for something invisible—pressing, tracing, touching faint patterns in space. "This… this is where it begins," he said. "Our first Beast is near."
He turned to Oobleck. "You stay here. Guard the threshold."
"Why?"
"Because what's beyond this point isn't truely physical anymore."
Silver turned to Coco. "And you… I'm sorry, but you're going to be the first to feel it."
Coco raised an eyebrow. "Why me?"
Silver stepped close, too close, voice low and dangerous. "Because what you're about to face… has eight legs."
"A Grimm?" Coco asked, stiffening.
Silver chuckled. "Your Grimm? That's a schoolyard brawl. What we're walking into is a spirit seed—pure emotion, made shape. This one is called the Beast of Traps."
"'One of them?'" Fox echoed.
Silver nodded. "Each Beast embodies a sin. A commandment. And an action. This one thrives in stillness."
"This one doesn't strike with claws or fire," Silver said, voice dropping to a near-whisper. "It uses something… fluid. Web-like, but not thread exactly."
He waved his hand through the air as if pulling something invisible between his fingers. "No… not thread. It's more like silk—soft, slow, and patient."
He glanced at Velvet with a smirk. "I figured you'd understand that texture better."
Coco narrowed her eyes. "Silk? As in—sharp threads? Razor strands?"
Silver shook his head slowly, a strange calm overtaking his expression. "No. Not sharp. Not violent. Worse."
He raised his fingers and pressed them gently together. "It's sticky. Clinging. Soft like memory… but heavy like regret."
"The silk isn't meant to cut you—it's meant to hold you. To cradle you while your thoughts rot in place."
He tapped the air once more, and a faint trail of silvery mist coiled between his fingers. "It waits. It preserves you like a lie you can't stop telling yourself. It makes you still. Makes you forget why you were running in the first place."
He looked at Velvet then, his voice just above a whisper. "You don't even feel trapped… until you've already stopped struggling."
"What's its sin?" Coco asked.
"Sloth."
"And the commandment?" Yatsuhashi added.
Silver closed his eyes. "Truth."
"And the action?"
"Calming." He opened his eyes. "This beast doesn't chase. It lets you come to it. And when you do… it shows you a truth of who your are so heavy, you'll stop fighting altogether."
Fox readied his stance. "So what do we do?"
Silver grinned. "Don't shoot. Don't run. Let it show you what you've been ignoring. That's the trial. Survive that… and you can move forward."
He placed a hand on the air again. This time, the pressure shifted. Something hummed—high and distant.
A shimmer pulsed around them. Fog peeled back, revealing what lay ahead: a forest made of clouds, thick and dense… but unnatural. They clung to the air like spiderwebs.
"Don't touch the mist," Silver said. "It's not fog. It's web."
He turned back, voice low now. Focused. "And no one else gets in after this."
The dome stayed open behind them. And the woods began to breathe.
The forest was thicker than before. Massive trees loomed overhead, their trunks gnarled and aged like ancient bones. Moss dripped in long strands. Above them, the sky was a blanket of gray fog, pierced by the spires of blackened wood. But it was the webs that changed everything.
They clung to the branches in sheets. Not delicate like a spider's web—thick, pulsing strands that shimmered with moisture. Some hung low like curtains; others stretched across the trees like stretched muscle. No spiders in sight. But they felt them.
Eyes. Hundreds. Watching. Waiting.
Coco marched ahead, her boots crunching on twisted roots, lips pressed tight. "This is taking too long."
Behind her, Silver—hummed some kind of lullaby while skipping across uneven bark, spinning his blade casually at his side like a child with a toy. Every few seconds, he would pause to poke at a tree, sniff the air, or murmur something like "not this one, too calm" before continuing.
"Could you take this seriously for five minutes?" Coco snapped, spinning around.
Silver froze mid-hop. "I am taking this seriously. That's why I'm still smiling."
Fox narrowed his eyes. "He's not wrong. Something's close."
Yatsuhashi exhaled deeply. "This is pointless. Let me connect—see if I can sense it."
He placed a hand on a nearby tree and closed his eyes, activating his Semblance. And immediately froze. His breath caught as he stumbled backward, eyes widening in horror. "Boy soul is reaching… too loud… too open… all doors open… listening… reaching… dripping… listening…"
Thousands of voices whispered in his mind. Echoing. Endless. Silver's blade flicked sideways—CLANG!—striking Yatsuhashi's head with the flat of his weapon, not hard, but sharp enough to snap him out of it.
Silver's face was contorted—angry, almost protective. "NO. NO! I said no commune through your Semblance! Speak through your mouth. Not your mind. They hear minds."
Yatsuhashi clutched his head, gasping. "They were… already in me…"
Silver's face softened a little, just a flicker. "Yeah. That's how they hunt."
Coco, frustrated and needing a release, reached out and grabbed a strand of web beside her. "What's the big deal anyway—?" It stuck to her glove. Immediately. And didn't let go.
She tried pulling her hand back—nothing. The web stretched like elastic, then snapped back. She yanked harder—still stuck. Panic flared in her eyes. "This crap won't come off—what the hell?!"
Silver blurred forward in a flicker of silver and violet. His blade spun like a drill, severing the web just inches from her wrist. The severed end coiled and twitched in the air like it was alive.
He pointed the blade at her, then slowly toward the treetops. "You think touching it was harmless?" he whispered. "You think that was curiosity?"
He turned fully now, his voice rising with intensity. "No. That was the threat. And now they know where we are. No more sneaking. Now we're here. Now the Spider knows."
He stepped back, eyes glowing faintly. "Run. No fire rounds. No sudden flashes. Just move. NOW."
Then it began. The sound. Not footsteps. Not growls. But string tension. Tight plucks of fiber. Like someone dragging their fingers across cello strings that stretched across the trees. The forest sang, in high-pitched reverberating cords.
And it was getting faster. Webs snapped overhead. Something massive moved, not like a body—but like limbs, many of them, skittering over wood.
The group broke into a sprint. Fox took point, Velvet and Yatsuhashi behind him. Silver ran beside Coco, his blade held out, his eyes darting everywhere. "Don't stop. It's weaving behind us. It's trying to box us in."
Branches blurred past. Webs swayed. They heard the chittering now—deep, guttural, and coming from everywhere. Just when it felt like they might outrun it— They stopped. A wall stood in front of them. Not a man-made one—a wall of web, thick and shimmering, stretching thirty feet high and at least twice as wide.
It pulsed. Coco turned to Silver, panting. "This was your plan?!"
Silver stepped forward slowly, blade humming. "Plan?" He looked over his shoulder, grinning. "This was the test. Now let's see if we pass."
The Web of TruthThe forest pulsed unnaturally.
Mist clung to the trees like a second skin, and though no spiders could be seen, the webs stretched thick between every trunk—shimmering like threads of memory, humming like nerves. The tension was thick.
Behind the group, Silver—Silver now—twirled his phantom-forged blade and smirked slightly.
"We're close," he murmured. "Time for the first to face the thread."
He walked calmly toward Coco, who was already scanning the strange, silent terrain with narrowed eyes.
Without warning, Silver kicked her hard in the side. "GO."
Coco yelped, stumbling forward—and directly into a sheet of dense webbing that swallowed her with a sickening snap of silk. The wall closed behind her.
"Silver!?" Velvet shrieked, rushing forward. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Fox was already grabbing his collar, dragging him back. "You kicked her in?! Are you trying to get her killed?!"
Yatsuhashi stepped in front of Velvet. "If she doesn't come back, I'll finish what's left of you."
But Silver didn't flinch. "Wait… wait," he said calmly, like they were the ones overreacting. "You know I'm right."
"What—"
"If you went with her, you'd pull her out. If I let her volunteer, she'd hesitate. That trial wants truth. You can't lie to your reflection."
They didn't believe him. They didn't have to. The web did. Coco landed on soft, sticky silk in a circular chamber. The walls shimmered with threads like nerves—pulsing in time with her breath. Then they spun.
Four webs emerged around her—each one glowing with a different memory. A different life.
The Past.
Coco stood at the threshold of her childhood home. Ten years old. Her mother, a decorated Beacon officer, towered above her.
"The world doesn't owe you anything," her mother said coldly.
"Then I'll take it," little Coco snapped. "Even if it means stepping on you."
That sting never left her.
The Present.
Her team behind her, looking to her. Velvet nodding. Fox waiting. Yatsuhashi silent but trusting.
"We follow you," Fox said.
But in Coco's own reflection—her eyes showed doubt. Exhaustion.
A Lie.
Atlas bowed before her. Her mother knelt. The world whispered her name.
Power. Obedience. Perfection.
But it was hollow. It rang false. The web around it twitched, wrong.
A Future.
Her team older, scarred, but alive. Standing in a ruined city. No glory. No fanfare. Just smiles.
"We made it," Velvet said.
It felt real. It felt… right. The air thickened. A voice emerged—not from the spider, but from the webs themselves.
"One is truth. One is hope. One is fear. One is fiction. Choose."
Coco hesitated. Her hand lifted— And reached for the power. The fantasy. The lie. Coco made the wrong choice. The moment she touched the fantasy web, the forest reacted violently. Not with magic. Not with Grimm. But with something real.
Something old. The air dropped ten degrees. The silk around her shimmered like heat on pavement, then turned black. And from above—it dropped.
It wasn't a Grimm. It had fur, not armor. Eyes, not glowing masks. The spider's body was thick, covered in coarse black hairs. Its legs were long and needle-thin, twitching with hypersensitivity. It was nearly the size of a car, with thick spinnerets flexing behind it and massive fangs clicking in rhythmic tension.
Its head was flat, like a plate of bone, and its eyes—eight of them—glowed faint amber in the dark. Velvet would later whisper its closest match: "It looked like a funnel-web. Like the kind of creature of nightmare …"
But bigger. Ancient. Primal. The spider didn't speak. It didn't need to.
As Coco backed into the webs, they pulsed with memory. The silken threads began to show her images—not magical illusions, but mental impressions, summoned from her own subconscious by the spider's pheromonal control.
Her mother: yelling, disappointed. Her team: walking away from her. Herself: standing over a grave.
Each strand she touched stuck to her, dragging emotions from her chest. Her breath came shorter. Her thoughts spiraled.
"I don't know what's real anymore—"
"I didn't mean to choose wrong—"
"I just wanted to be strong—"
The spider crept closer. Its movements were jerky, unblinking, like it hadn't stopped watching her since she entered.
When it finally stopped moving, just a few feet away—it raised its two massive front legs and clicked its fangs in unison. That was it. No roar. No psychic scream. Just the sound of nature judging her.
Coco collapsed. The threads wrapped her arms, her waist, her legs—but they didn't constrict. They waited. "I failed…" she whispered. "I lied to myself."
The spider loomed above her, legs twitching, waiting. "But I'm not done."
She looked up—into those amber eyes—and didn't blink. "If I fall again… they'll catch me. I know that now."
She reached forward—and ripped one of the false webs with her bare hand. It stung her palm, but she didn't stop. She broke another. And another.
The spider hissed. It turned. And it ran—its legs folding and leaping, vanishing up into the trees in a blur of motion.
Dozens of smaller spiders—the size of dinner plates—scattered after it, weaving into the canopy and disappearing like mist.
The web wall fell. Velvet gasped as Coco stumbled out. She wasn't glowing. She wasn't triumphant. But she was real. Coco looked them all in the eyes—Velvet, Fox, Yatsuhashi—and said:
"I touched the lie. It nearly killed me. But it also showed me who I've been afraid to be." She wiped a tear from her face and laughed—not proudly, but freely. "Next time I lead, it's with you. Not in front of you."
As the webs wrapped tighter around Coco's arms and chest, she felt her breath shortening. The funnel-web loomed—its long, bone-furred legs clicking, its amber eyes fixed on her with alien stillness.
The weight of memory, failure, and silence crushed her. She was about to break. Then a voice whispered—not loud, not heroic—just nearby, calm like wind through cracked stone:
"The spider… fears itself more than you."
Coco gasped. Her eyes shot up, catching a flicker of movement in the trees—Silver crouched on a high branch, turning his blade slowly in one hand.
"They build webs so they don't have to face the ground. They bind prey so they don't feel hunger. They stare with eight eyes because they can't bear to look inward with one."
He smiled—gentle, half-wicked. "You're a mirror, Coco. So show them what they hate."
But his words echoed—weird, cryptic, half-insane… but real.
Coco's fingers twitched. The fear didn't vanish—but something clearer slid into place behind it. "They fear… me?"
She looked back at the spider—its fangs raised, hesitating. "Then maybe I should give them something to be afraid of."
She pulled—hard—tearing the false future free from the web, piece by piece.
The spider screamed. And the forest scattered.
"Yes, yes… make them fear themselves," Silver murmured with a grin, voice smooth but unsettling. "As the sloth waits, we walk into its hunger. It's time you meet the true Spirit Seed of Traps."
The webs around them melted away, not burned—dissolved, like silk reacting to breath. The forest parted unnaturally, not by wind or force, but by permission.
A path revealed itself.
And at the end: a tree. Larger than the rest. Ancient, cracked, and gnarled—its roots split the earth like claw marks. Its trunk was wrapped in a cocoon of natural silk, twitching slightly. Not death… but anticipation.
Silver didn't walk with them. He stayed behind, slowly twirling his blade.
Watching.
Waiting.
Guarding.
Velvet looked to Coco. "What… what did you see?"
Coco's hands still trembled. She kept her voice low.
"Monsters. Not Grimm. They had eight eyes. Covered in fur. The sound of their fangs clinking—it wasn't hunger, it was ritual. They wanted to eat me whole. No battle. No glory. Just... dissolve me."
She looked ahead, blinking slow. "My fear was that I didn't matter. That my power came from lies. That when I reached for the future… I saw myself alone. Betrayed by pride. Betrayed by my own."
Silver's voice slid in from behind like icewater under a door. "Pride… the greatest sin. It kills more than rage ever could. But you… You needed to become wrath."
"Wrath?" Velvet asked, her tone laced with unease.
"Wrath is what I and did wield," Silver said softly. "It burns as flame. It is not madness—it is controlled fury. The will to never bend again."
"As the Flame Swordsman… you use that?" Fox asked.
Silver blinked. "No. Flame Swordsman is a title. A leash. That is not me… not anymore." He turned slowly to Fox. "Names give power. Like yours. Fox. A color. A mask."
Fox didn't respond.
The Tree—and the BeastThe Guardain tree loomed before them like a forgotten god. Before anyone could speak, Silver spun, arms open wide.
"HELLO—It's-a me, a-Mario!" he said in a giddy voice that made no sense in the moment.
But no one laughed. Click. Click. Click. A sound like bone tapping bone echoed from behind the tree. It rose.
The spider emerged from shadow—enormous, larger than the previous ones. Its legs were tar-colored, sleek and segmented. Each movement bent the air. A red hourglass burned on its back. A single drip of venom fell to the earth—and melted a tree down to black ooze.
Its many eyes glistened, intelligent, ancient, and entirely alien. The web around it was like architecture—woven into shapes no one recognized. Symbols. Traps. Concepts. A language of fear.
Velvet's breath caught. "That thing is—huge… You,"
The spider rasped, looking directly at Coco. "You who passed the trial of lies… Why have you returned?"
Coco straightened. "I came to stop you."
The spider's eyes shifted. It lowered its body, focusing instead on Velvet. "You. Bunny ears… but human body. What are you?"
"I—I'm a Faunus," Velvet stammered.
The spider clicked its fangs together, the sound rhythmic—almost a purr. "Good. You fear. You speak truth."
It reared up slightly, casting a wide shadow over the group. "I have never seen your kind. You are… blended. But your soul... interesting. You need no seed. You are powered by Aura—a passive shield. You wield tools that evolve. Clever. Guns, bullets laced with reactive elements… but where is your spiritual anchor?"
"Wait—you can see our souls?" Fox asked, tensing.
The spider turned slightly toward him. "I see more than souls. I see threads. Actions. Regret. The weight of choices. I see every lie you've swallowed and every truth you've run from."
"We didn't attack you!" Yatsuhashi said suddenly. "We swear—we came in peace!"
The spider's voice deepened. "You came. That is the attack. You invaded. And now... you must understand what your presence means."
Behind them, Silver's fingers brushed against the ancient tree's bark. Something in his posture changed—like a switch had flipped. The forest was still. The web shimmered with strange symbols—unreadable, twitching with intent.
Then Silver spoke, his voice light and offhand, yet oddly deliberate: "Ah, yes… I thought so. Oops. I must've left it here by accident."
He was tracing the bark of the massive tree, fingers skimming over the surface as if he could read it like braille.
Suddenly, the spider's voice rang out—commanding and cold. "You. The one by the roots. You found the entrance. Reveal yourself. Who are you?"
Silver didn't turn around. "Yeah, yeah. Spider of Traps. Weaver of false futures. You seek passage through sight, yes? Webs that bind—not limbs, but truth. But you know me."
The spider reared back slightly, her body tense. Eight eyes narrowed. "I said reveal yourself. The way you speak… it's fractured. Melded. Yet… whole."
Her eyes widened. She tilted her head, legs slowly pulling inward. "Four minds… no. Three are spiritual. Two are fragmented thought. One… I remember."
Silver smiled faintly, still not turning. "You'll know once you see my eyes."
A silence fell. Thick. Pressurized. Then, for the first time, the spider—the towering, ancient predator—hesitated. "No. I don't want to. I feel it. The spiral. The lock… the seal." Her voice cracked for the first time. Not from rage—but fear.
She whispered like a priest before an altar: "Show me, young one. Please. I have walked into your web, haven't I?"
Silver didn't answer at first. He only let his smile widen. "You fell long before I arrived."
Coco's voice cut through the fog. "Silver, turn around. She's afraid of you. Stop messing with her."
Silver—no, Silver—shook his head slowly. "No, no… not yet."
The spider bent lower, her legs pressing into the soil as if she sought to hide her own height. "He is right. I do know you. I had forgotten. In the fog of threads… I didn't see until now. I am sorry."
She lowered her voice—barely a whisper now. "You are the one who did not kill Creation, but who sealed it. The One who spun the locks into place."
Silver finally turned. His eyes—unnatural, multicolored, glinting like twin stormfronts—met hers the back with purple sworiling with gold and white in the middle all colors of the rainbow. "There it is."
The spider pulled back slightly, reverent. "I will open the gate. For you. And for those who walk behind you. But allow me to remain… to watch. To keep the passage until the tide turns again."
Silver nodded. "Then do one thing for me. When a man named Oobleck arrives… gift him a child of yours. Not for defense—but for communion."
The spider bowed her head—legs folding, her body lowering in solemn agreement. "It will be done. A spiderling will speak through silk alone. No voice. No lies. Only threads."
The tree behind them trembled, bark splitting—not cracking, but blooming. A shaft of blue-white light shone from within, forming a doorway etched with shapes too complex to name.
Silver exhaled. "Good. Now I must speak with Solomon… and with his bride of nature."
The tree opened. The web twitched one last time. And about stepped into what lay beyond.
"Tell us— Who are you? What did she mean… 'not kill Creation but sealed it'?" Coco's voice was sharp, her fingers curled tightly around her weapon's grip.
Silver froze. Then, with a twisted grin, he began to repeat himself in a rapid, muttering spiral: "No no no no no no no no no no—"
He clutched his head, rocking slightly. "I forgot. I forgot. I left it. I left it…"
"What did you forget?" Fox asked, his stance shifting defensively.
Silver's hands jerked toward the sky as if pleading to unseen stars. "My book! I forgot my book!"
The group collectively staggered in disbelief.
Coco's voice cracked with frustration grabbing his collar . "A book?! We're standing in front of a beast the size of beacon—one that speaks, one that sees through aura—and you're worried about a book?!"
Silver stared at her blankly, then spoke in a low, hollow voice. "If I told you… would you spill it?"
The question silenced them all. "We won't," Yatsuhashi said firmly. "We can keep your secrets."
Silver's expression turned severe, his eyes—still sparkling with unnatural colors—wide and trembling. "No. Not secrets. This is bigger. No 'sure.' No 'promise.' You'll change it. You'll break it."
Velvet stepped forward cautiously. "Then show us, Silver. If it's that important… show us."
"No changes," he muttered. "Only save. Save the broken. Save the lost."
"Save who?" Velvet pressed, her ears twitching.
Silver's voice dropped into a strained, almost whispered rhythm: "The fangs that turned dark… but wear white. The white who used the fangs. Defeat… and save…"
"The White Fang?" Coco narrowed her eyes. "You want us to save them?"
"Not evil. Just… misguided. Pulled into shadow by promises… not truth. Touched by the dark to hide from the light."
"That's insane," Fox snapped. "They hurt people. Terrorized cities. You want us to rescue them?"
Silver's body shook as he tried to stand upright. "Yes—yes—yes. Break them to free them. Cut their chains, not their throats. You can."
"We will," Yatsuhashi said calmly.
"Wait—you're serious?" Coco turned on him. "You're just going along with this?"
"He wants to save them," Yatsuhashi replied, his eyes flicking toward Silver's unsteady form. "Even if he can't say it clearly."
Silver stumbled forward, clutching his chest. "Yes… yes… you understand…"
Fox sighed, eyes narrowing. "Fine. But I'm not offering a hand—I'm breaking their spine until they see the sun again."
Silver's grin returned. "Yes… YES. That is enough. A spine can heal. A soul cannot."
He turned toward the spider, his fingers twitching unnaturally. "Show them… show them the past. From me."
The massive spider hissed softly, lifting a single leg. A silver thread shot from her needle leg, wrapping around the base of the massive tree. It pulsed once.
Velvet stepped closer—but Silver threw out a hand. "Wait! No touch—blank!"
Everyone froze. Silver's eyes rolled back slightly before he focused, his palm grazing the thread. It lit up. His voice dropped to a whisper, one that echoed with far too many syllables for one throat:
"Ready… ready… for the Fall of Beacon."
And with that, the tree glowed. Shadows twisted behind the bark. The past was no longer behind them. It was coming through.
The thread pulsed—silver turned black. Suddenly, the air around the tree warped. The world twisted. And then they saw it. Beacon. Burning.
Flames devoured buildings once proud and pristine. Towers collapsed in waves of smoke. The sky—blood red with smoke and dust—pulsed with violent streaks of raw elemental energy. Dust crystals—once tools of civilization—had become bombs dystorying walls.
"This isn't a memory…" Velvet whispered, eyes wide. "It's a vision of destruction."
The White Fang marched through the streets like shadows with purpose. Their masks shimmered in the firelight—faces unreadable, soulless. Explosive dust rounds struck lamp posts, walls, even the air—triggering chain reactions of flame, ice, and thunder.
Civilians screamed. Some fought. Most ran. The Grimm came next—flooding in like a dam had burst. Beowolves and Nevermores surged over the walls, attracted by the sheer volume of fear saturating the city.
A Goliath lumbered through Vale's outer gate, dust-infused spikes growing from its back, each one crackling with force.
"They… weaponized dust," Coco muttered, stunned. "They turned it into artillery."
A bridge collapsed in front of them in the vision—not from a bomb, but from a chain of Fire Dust crystals embedded beneath it, ignited in sequence.
Students were fighting in the distance—tiny silhouettes against the horizon. But they were drowning in numbers.
A White Fang lieutenant barked an order—"Push to the inner square! Crystals in place—bring it all down!"
Fox growled. "This wasn't an assault… this was a message."
Silver—no, Silver—stood still as stone, his eyes dim and unreadable. "This is what they became when no one saved them." he said softly. "Told they were monsters… so they learned to breathe fire."
A deafening roar shook the vision. From the sky descended a massive Nevermore, its wings bristling with icy Dust. With every flap, frozen shards rained down like spears.
The city began to disappear beneath rubble, fire, and smoke. Beacon Tower cracked. And fell.
Velvet trembled. "They really tried to destroy everything."
Silver slowly turned to them. His eyes flickered like coals. "This… is why you must fight and save. Because if not… they become this again."
The vision shimmered—then faded. Smoke remained in the air. Ash in their mouths. The spider hissed softly, retreating.
"So you said this shadow will save them," Coco said, her tone sharp, skeptical. "But I didn't see that. Where is this shadow?"
Silver's eyes flicked toward her, unfocused. His voice came out slow and fractured—half-whisper, half-laughter.
"You won't know... not yet, not yet... maybe when you see it. Nine heads... not fire, but emotions it breathes... and you'll understand."
Velvet frowned, stepping closer. "What does that even mean?"
The spider's long legs creaked as she moved, eyes fixed on the boy. "He means a shadow… a thing with nine heads—not a beast of flame or tooth, but one that feeds on what you feel. But are you sure it will come, boy?"
Silver gave a crooked grin, but there was nothing stable in it. "Ah… yes. All according to plan. Well—not all. Yang isn't where she should be. Team JJR… should've been here. I should've been with another."
Coco narrowed her eyes. "Who? Who should've been with you?"
Silver's face twitched. He blinked rapidly, then gave a slow, unsettling smile. "She smiled at me once… laughed in the rain… then fate snapped her away. It wasn't you. It wasn't Ruby. It was someone else. But now—now my mind is shattering."
He clutched his head, stumbling backward. "We don't have much time… for me. I'm slipping through cracks even the light and dark can't hold. But listen—if you may know this—" he pointed to the group, then the sky, "a Maiden… who has lost everything… shall be consumed by her own flame. She'll burn herself down to nothing."
He breathed in, deeply. "I will save her."
Velvet's voice shook. "He's weakening. Shit—how long do we have?"
The spider lowered her head, the fur along her legs bristling. "Two days," she whispered. "He shouldn't have fully melded. Even we beasts cannot decipher him now. He is becoming something… other. You must take him to Solomon—the Beast among Beasts, keeper of the forgotten pages. Only he can slow the fusion."
Another pause. "And his wife," the spider added, "the Beast of Nature. The only woman we beasts ever followed."
Silver was trembling now, voice barely a whisper. "Time to go… time to read… time to remember."
He grabbed at his skull, a flicker of unnatural light surging through his eyes. And then… silence.
Silver staggered forward, one step at a time, as if gravity itself was unsure whether to hold him down or let him float away. His breath hitched, his fingers twitching like marionette strings pulled by invisible hands.
The spider lowered herself in front of them, her massive legs folding with unnerving grace. Her eight eyes pulsed dimly, reading something no one else could see.
"He's crossing the veil between mind and myth," she said. "What was once Silver… what now calls itself Silver… will soon become something neither beast nor man will recognize."
Coco stepped beside Velvet, her voice tight. "Then we move. Now."
"No." Silver snapped upright, sudden clarity cutting through his madness. His voice sharpened like a blade. "You do not rush the path to Solomon. You walk it knowing you may never return."
"Why?" asked Fox, arms folded. "Why him?"
Silver stared into the distance, toward the horizon of misty trees and tangled roots. "Because Solomon was the first," he said softly. "The first to ask why we suffer. The first to survive the answers. He planned what the creation feared, gave names to the nameless, and bound residue light and dark beneath the bark of a single tree."
He raised a hand toward the portal ahead. "That tree… is the last root of his mind."
Velvet glanced toward the rest of the team, her voice low. "And if silver loses himself before we get there?"
The spider stepped forward. "Then all knowledge becomes hunger. The meld will turn… and you will face what's left behind."
Silver chuckled—too loudly. "Wouldn't that be fun?"
"No," Coco snapped. "It wouldn't."
Silver's grin faded. He looked at her, just for a moment, as if he recognized something familiar in her defiance. Then he turned to the portal. "Let's go. The shadows are growing… and Solomon's throne isn't far."
The spider watched them leave, her mandibles twitching. "And remember," she said, barely a whisper, "Silver's body walks with you… but the voices you hear may no longer be his."
They stepped into the forest again—this time with more silence, more tension, and the weight of time running out. Two days left. And the path to the Beast of Knowledge had just begun.