VALE – RESIDENTIAL DISTRICT
A warm breeze rustles the leaves along the quiet streets of a sunny Vale neighborhood. The morning air is fresh, tinged with the scent of blooming flowers and freshly trimmed lawns. From the porch of a charming two-story rental house, Weiss Schnee steps out, dressed in a flowing white blouse and pale blue shorts, her sandals clicking softly against the wood.
She closes her eyes and takes a slow, satisfied breath.
Peace. Silence. A moment of serenity away from the demands of Atlas.
THWACK!
A sharp, metallic crack rips through the calm, followed by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass somewhere in the distance… and then Ruby's uncontrollable laughter ringing out from the front yard.
Weiss's eye twitches.
She pivots on her heel and makes her way toward the source of the noise, already bracing herself for the chaos.
Sure enough, on the front lawn, Ruby is rolling in the grass, howling with laughter. Blake stands nearby with her arms crossed, observing quietly, while Yang stands in the center of the yard like a showboat, holding a strange silver club with a flat metal end. At her feet: a small white ball perched on a wooden tee.
Weiss steps forward, brow raised. "What in the world are you doing?"
Ruby sits up between giggles. "Good morning, Weiss!"
Blake tilts her head toward Yang. "Yang's found a new obsession."
Yang grins. "Golf, baby."
Weiss glances at the strange tool in her hand. "That's… not a weapon?"
"Not unless you make it one," Yang smirks, giving the club a twirl.
"It looks like something out of a museum exhibit," Weiss mutters.
Ruby pops up. "It's a sport! You hit the ball and try to get it into a hole that's super far away. Points and stuff. It's actually kinda fun."
Weiss frowns. "I've heard the term before, but I thought it was just some boardroom excuse Atlas executives used to disappear for hours during productivity meetings."
Yang chuckles. "Nope. Real thing. Real frustrating. Real addicting."
Weiss crosses her arms. "Well, no wonder I've never played. Atlas doesn't allow recreational sports that aren't 'state-approved.' If it doesn't promote combat readiness or tactical thinking, it's considered a distraction."
Blake raises an eyebrow. "So... no golf?"
"Not even mini-golf," Weiss says dryly.
Yang holds up the club. "Wanna give it a shot? Might surprise yourself."
Weiss blinks. "I… I don't know."
Ruby grins. "C'mon. One swing. No pressure."
Blake's voice is calm. "You're already out here. Might as well join us."
Weiss hesitates, glancing between the three of them… then at the small white ball on the tee.
"…Fine," she says with a soft sigh. "But only once."
Yang tosses her the club with a grin.
Weiss catches it—awkwardly—but adjusts her grip with natural precision.
Weiss Schnee stands on the freshly cut lawn, the borrowed golf club in hand, the sun glinting off the silver head. The small white ball sits innocently on its tee in front of her, completely unaware of the drama about to unfold.
She plants her feet, trying to mimic what little technique she's seen. Arms straight, grip firm, posture tall—elegant, as always. She narrows her eyes.
Ruby walks up behind her, still grinning. "Okay, so—try not to grip it too tight. Think of it like dancing—rhythm, not force. Just swing through smoothly."
Weiss raises an eyebrow. "I am an accomplished dancer, thank you."
"Then you've got this!" Ruby chirps.
Weiss inhales slowly, refocuses, draws the club back—
—and promptly slips on the grass, landing flat on her back with a very un-royal thud.
For a full second, there's silence.
Then Yang explodes into laughter, nearly doubling over. "Oh no—Weiss, are you okay?! Because that was hilarious!"
Ruby is laughing right beside her, pointing toward the sky. "You looked like a snowflake mid-blizzard!"
Even Blake, arms still crossed, is visibly shaking, ears twitching as she tries (and fails) to contain her chuckle.
Weiss groans from the ground, her hair fanned out like a fallen queen. "I'm going back inside."
She starts to push herself up, but Ruby dashes over, eyes wide with an apologetic sparkle.
"No, wait! Don't go!" she pleads, pressing her fingers together in front of her chest. "We're so sorry! Right, Yang?"
Yang coughs, trying to rein in her laughter. "Y-yeah! Totally sorry! Won't laugh again."
Ruby gives Weiss the full force of her puppy-dog eyes, sparkling with sincerity.
Weiss narrows her gaze, lips tightening.
"…Fine," she mutters, brushing off her clothes. "But only because your expression defies logic."
"Yay!" Ruby hops in place. "You got this!"
Weiss sighs and walks back into position—but this time, she stops.
She eyes the ball. Then the yard. Then slowly takes several steps back, lining herself up with the tee like she's about to sprint into battle.
Blake raises a brow. "What's she doing?"
Yang tilts her shades down. "I… think she's channeling something."
Weiss gives a graceful shake of her arms, loosening up like she's on stage. She takes a breath.
Then charges forward in a full, dramatic run-up—and swings the club like she's about to smite the heavens.
THWACK!
The sound rings through the air like a gunshot.
The ball launches like a missile, arcing high over the neighborhood. It flies over rooftops, trees, and lamp posts—cutting clean through the summer sky.
The girls track it in stunned silence as it disappears far down the street.
For a beat, there's nothing.
Then—CRASH.
The distant shatter of glass echoes faintly from blocks away, followed by what sounds like the screech of a startled animal and a second, more muted thud.
Yang, whose smile had faded in disbelief, stood with her arms folded across her chest. Her usual confident grin was replaced with a slack-jawed expression. "Uh… what?"
Weiss, lowering her club with a casual flick of her wrist, smirked slightly. "That felt easy."
Yang's eyes followed the ball's path, still stunned. "That house is at least 400 yards away… maybe 500."
Weiss tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Is that good?"
Blake, who had been watching intently with arms crossed, said nothing at first. She simply gave a short nod of approval. "It's unbelievable."
Yang finally snapped out of her daze, her grin returning as she cracked her knuckles. "Hmmph. Okay, Ice Queen, you think you've got this? I bet you 20 Lien that you can't make that shot again."
Weiss gave a casual shrug, her tone unwavering. "Okay. Fine."
With a dramatic flair, Yang grabbed another ball, placing it carefully on the tee. Stepping back, she waved for Weiss to take her shot.
Blake and Ruby moved back slightly, eager to see if Weiss could repeat the same insane feat. Ruby bounced on the balls of her feet, her eyes wide with excitement. Weiss, however, remained as calm as ever.
She took a deep breath, stepping back into position. Her grip tightened slightly around the club as she adjusted her stance, her focus narrowing. The world around her disappeared. There was only the ball in front of her.
With a smooth, graceful motion, she swung again.
The sound of the club striking the ball rang out—thwack—and once again, the ball rocketed into the air with perfect precision, soaring higher and farther than anything any of them had anticipated.
Yang, Blake, and Ruby stood frozen, eyes wide, as they watched the ball cut through the air, disappearing into the horizon. There was a moment of complete silence as they tracked its path.
In a house far away, a middle-aged man, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and a grumpy morning frown, stepped out onto his porch. He held a mug of coffee in one hand, the steam curling lazily into the air. The man squinted at the bright sunlight as he took a sip, savoring the warmth.
But then his gaze shifted. He saw it. The broken window on the side of his house. Shards of glass were scattered across the floor beneath it.
"What the—"
hwack!
The ball struck him square on the forehead with a solid, resounding crack. His head jerked back violently from the impact, and the coffee mug slipped from his hand, crashing to the ground in a puddle of spilled coffee.
Disoriented, the man staggered backward, his hands flying to his forehead. His legs buckled beneath him as he let out a groan of pain.
Ruby's eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open in shock. She pointed toward the distant horizon. "You hit that guy!"
Weiss, unfazed, glanced at her teammates with a cool, almost bored expression. "He shouldn't have been standing there."
Yang's jaw tightened as her grin slowly faded, her usual cocky attitude slipping away. She glanced at the distant neighborhood. "Okay. Double or nothing."
Blake raised an eyebrow but remained silent. Ruby, still shaken, shook her head. "Yang, I think you've already made her mad. Maybe we should just—"
But Yang was already tossing a fresh golf ball onto the tee. She ignored Ruby's warning and stood firm. "Nope. You can't let someone like that just hit a freakin' guy and walk away like it's nothing."
Weiss didn't even flinch, her gaze unwavering. "Fine. Double or nothing. But I'm not making any promises."
Yang's expression was a mix of frustration and determination, though she seemed to be doubting her own challenge now.
Weiss adjusted her grip on the club, her stance tightening as she prepared for another swing. She took a breath, centered herself, and then with fluid precision, swung the club.
The sound of the strike rang out, sharp and clear, as the ball rocketed into the air. It flew with the same power and grace as the first one, cutting through the sky.
Yang and Ruby followed the trajectory, eyes wide, as the ball soared even farther than before.
At the same house where the man had been struck, his wife was standing at the window upstairs, looking out at the neighborhood. She was still trying to figure out what had just happened—why her husband had rushed outside, why there was glass all over the floor.
"What in the world happ—" she started, her voice full of confusion. But before she could finish her sentence, something caught her eye. The golf ball, heading straight toward her.
Her eyes went wide in alarm as she realized what was happening, but it was too late. The ball hit her square in the forehead with a solid thwack, the force of the impact causing her to lose her balance.
She stumbled back, unable to regain control, and before she could even react, she tumbled off the roof, sliding uncontrollably down it. The sound of her rolling echoed through the air, followed by a loud thud as she hit the floor below.
The group stood in stunned silence, their eyes wide as they processed what had just transpired. Weiss, having just sent the golf ball soaring with unbelievable force, tossed the club aside in a hasty, almost panicked motion. Her usual calm composure faltered, and she quickly glanced around, her tone becoming slightly more alert and frazzled.
"Maybe we should head inside now," she said, her voice tinged with a nervous edge, like she was trying to distance herself from the chaos she'd just caused.
Blake, who had been eerily silent through the whole ordeal, wasted no time. She turned on her heel and sprinted toward the house. "I'm going inside," she muttered, clearly wanting no part of the mayhem unfolding outside.
Ruby, still bouncing with nervous energy, suddenly snapped back to reality. "Wait! What about the bet? You owe her 40 Lien now!" she shouted, her voice a little too loud in the stillness of the morning.
Yang groaned, running a hand through her hair as she shook her head. "Ugh, fine." She pulled the 40 Lien from her pocket and handed it to Weiss with a dramatic sigh. "There. Forty Lien. Happy?"
Weiss took the money, but instead of her usual smug smile, she simply gave a relieved nod. "I'm fine. Thanks."
Yang, now visibly grumbling, stomped inside, muttering under her breath.
Weiss stood there for a moment, staring at the money in her hand. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, but the strange tension in her was still palpable. It wasn't until she looked up that she noticed something—a light bulb hanging above her from a shower rod. Her gaze flicked toward the house, and she saw Ruby standing at the window, holding the light bulb with an almost gleeful expression.
Weiss blinked in confusion, her brain not quite processing what was happening. "You're holding a light bulb?"
Ruby's grin widened as she waved the light bulb in the air like a victorious trophy. "Someone's got a great idea!"
Weiss's eyes widened in disbelief for a second before she broke into a chuckle, shaking her head. "Alright, alright. I admit it. That was funny."
NOON - GOLF COURSE
The camera captures the lush, sprawling golf course under the midday sun. Weiss Schnee stands confidently next to a tee, her posture regal as she faces the camera. She glances at the lens, her expression poised but with a hint of excitement.
"Hello," she begins, her voice clear and measured. "I'm Weiss Schnee, 18 years old, born and raised in Atlas, and currently attending Beacon Academy." She pauses for a moment, her eyes scanning the camera with cool interest. "Recently, I discovered a talent I never knew I had. A talent that... apparently comes with a lot more power than I expected."
She glances down at the golf ball on the tee, and then back at the camera, her smirk growing. "Today, I'm here at a golf course, at a place called a 'driving range.' I'm about to show you just how much power I've found in this... interesting skill."
Weiss sets the golf ball onto the tee and grabs a golf club. But instead of holding it in a traditional stance, she steps back, taking a few exaggerated steps as if preparing for something completely different. With a quick glance at the ball, she suddenly breaks into an almost comical sprint, running up to the tee, and swinging the club like she's taking a baseball bat to a pitch.
The thwack of the impact rings out, a sharp, solid sound as the ball shoots off, traveling high and far, disappearing from sight. The golfers nearby turn in shock as the ball soars, their voices raising in disbelief.
"What the—did you see that?!" one golfer shouts, his jaw nearly hitting the ground.
"Is she... serious?" another mutters, rubbing his eyes as though he couldn't believe what he just witnessed.
Weiss stands tall, watching the ball fly with a calm, collected expression. She crosses her arms, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth as she turns back to the camera. "I think I've just found my new best talent."
The nearby golfers are still murmuring in awe, but Weiss is already walking away, her confidence shining brighter than ever as the sound of stunned exclamations continues in the background.
TWO DAYS LATER
It had been two days since the infamous golf swing. Two days since Weiss's "simple" driving range video turned into the internet's newest obsession.
Yang sat on the couch, legs kicked up, Scroll in hand, expression locked somewhere between shock and amusement. "Seven. Million. Views." she said, enunciating every word like it was a new punch to the brain. "Are you kidding me?!"
Weiss, very much not celebrating, was crouched behind the couch, peeking over the top with wide, shell-shocked eyes. Her usually pristine composure was nowhere to be found.
"I just wanted to show my new talent," she mumbled, gripping a throw pillow like a shield. "Not become a worldwide phenomenon! I didn't ask for this!"
Ruby sat cross-legged on the floor, Scroll in her lap as she scrolled through the comments. "To be fair," she said, glancing back at Weiss, "people are calling you the 'Ice Queen of the Iron Swing.' That's kinda cool."
Weiss let out a soft, panicked squeak.
Ruby quickly added, "I mean—it could be a good thing. Maybe. Or... you know... bad. Depending on how the situation turns."
From the kitchen, Blake opened the fridge, casually fishing out a can of iced coffee. "You might wanna be careful when you go outside now," she called over. "There's probably a drone circling the house already."
Yang looked up from her Scroll. "There was a guy in a golf cart parked across the street earlier. Might've been scouting for autographs."
Weiss slowly sank further behind the couch, only her fingers now gripping the edge.
Ruby suddenly froze. Her eyes widened with a realization that hit her like a charging Beowolf. She whipped around to the others. "Wait… guys…"
Everyone turned to look at her.
Ruby pointed dramatically. "If everyone has seen the video… that means the couple Weiss hit with golf balls—"
"—know exactly where she is staying," Blake finished flatly, popping open her drink.
A heavy silence fell over the room.
Weiss's hands slipped down from the couch as she sank completely out of sight. "I'm never leaving this house again," she muttered from the floor.
Yang smirked and tossed her a blanket. "Then you better get comfy, Ice Queen. You're officially famous... and wanted."
Knock knock knock.
The sudden knock at the front door startled Weiss out of her paranoid daze. She bolted upright from behind the couch, panic flashing in her eyes.
"Nope! Not today!" she shouted, darting across the room like her life depended on it. In a blur of white, she dove behind Ruby and wrapped herself in the red folds of her cape, clutching it like a makeshift shield.
"Uhh…" Ruby tilted her head. "Weiss? What are you—are you using me as a human curtain again?"
"Shh!" Weiss hissed. "Camouflage."
Blake calmly walked over to the window and parted the curtain. She leaned in to get a better look, her golden eyes narrowing.
"It's not the couple," she reported. "Just one guy. Mid-to-late thirties, maybe early forties. Nice suit. Looks like someone important."
Yang immediately perked up. "Wait—handsome important, or scary important?"
Blake gave her a side glance. "...Sophisticated handsome."
Yang zipped to the window in a flash. "Move."
She peeked out over Blake's shoulder and instantly softened. "Ohhh… okay, wow. He's like a hot CEO crossed with a Bond villain."
Blake rolled her eyes. "You've been watching too many movies."
Unbothered, Blake went to the front door and opened it.
Standing outside was a tall man in his late 30s, maybe 40. His slate-gray suit was sharp, perfectly tailored, with a silver tie that shimmered faintly in the light. His short, slicked-back dark hair matched the neatly groomed beard and mustache that framed his face. Calm confidence radiated off him like a practiced aura.
He gave a polite nod.
"Good afternoon. I'm looking for Miss Weiss Schnee. Would she be available?"
Ruby looked down at her shoulder, where Weiss was still clinging to her cape like a startled animal. "Weiss…?"
Peeking out just barely from the red fabric, Weiss narrowed her eyes. "Why?"
The man smiled slightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with calm charm. "My name is James Silver. I'm a former professional golfer—four-time Remnant Invitational champion."
Weiss blinked, slowly poking her head out further.
James continued, "I saw your video. That swing of yours… well, I've never seen raw form like that outside of a pro league. I was hoping to speak with you about it."
Yang's eyes went wide. "Wait, that's James Silver? The James Silver?! You're like… golf royalty!"
James chuckled modestly. "Well, I still clean my own clubs, if that counts for anything."
Weiss stared, stunned. "You… want to talk to me?"
"I do," James nodded. "You have something rare, Miss Schnee. And if you're willing… I'd like to help you figure out what to do with it."
The house fell into a stunned silence. Weiss slowly stepped out from behind Ruby's cape, eyes wide, heart racing.
"…This is starting to feel much bigger than a summer hobby," she muttered.
Ruby just grinned. "Told ya you had the swing of destiny."
BACKYARD – MOMENTS LATER
Weiss and James sat at the edge of the yard, beneath the shade of an old oak tree. The sunlight filtered through the leaves above, casting a soft, shifting pattern over the grass. Weiss sat with her hands folded, posture neat but clearly uneasy, while James rested casually on the bench beside her, his gaze calm and steady.
"So," James began, "because of that video, I called in a few favors. There's a spot open in the Vale Regional Qualifier. If you play well, you'll be entered into the Prestigious Tournament next month. It's one of the biggest golfing events in Remnant."
Weiss blinked, still digesting the offer. "That's… very generous. But I'm not sure. I mean, I'm currently enrolled at Beacon. Training to be a Huntress was kind of the plan. This whole golf thing just… happened."
James gave a patient nod. "Sometimes the best things do."
"I didn't mean for the video to go viral," she added. "I just wanted to show off a silly new talent."
"And now you've got the attention of thousands," James said with a slight grin. "Maybe even the whole Kingdom by now. Seems to me like the universe gave you a driver and told you to swing."
Weiss gave a small, nervous chuckle. "You're surprisingly philosophical for a former athlete. You're not even that old. Why 'former'?"
James's smile faded a touch, the edges dipping into something more reflective.
"I was on track for my fifth tournament win," he said, voice quieter now. "Everything was lined up. I was ready."
He slowly brought his arms from behind his back. "And then, it happened."
Weiss leaned forward, brows raised. "Grimm attack?"
James looked at her, and shook his head with a dry chuckle. "Nope. Damn alligator bit my hand off."
With that, he raised his right arm and tapped her lightly on the shoulder with it.
Thunk.
Weiss jolted at the knock of solid wood against her body. She turned, slowly, and her eyes went wide as she saw the gleaming, carved wooden hand where his real one should've been.
"By the Gods!" she gasped, recoiling instinctively.
James gave a crooked smile. "Yeah, that's usually the first reaction."
"You were bitten by an alligator?!"
"Swamp-side hole in a private course. Ball went into the reeds. I bent over to fish it out, and the gator was waiting. Took my hand before I even knew it was there."
Weiss stared at him, mouth slightly open. "That's… horrifying!"
"Eh," he shrugged. "Worse things have happened to better people."
He knocked the wooden hand once more against his leg. Thunk thunk.
Weiss shuddered again. "Could you please stop doing that?"
James chuckled, then stood up and looked out over the backyard.
"I may not have the swing anymore," he said, "but I know talent when I see it. And Weiss… you've got it."
She looked down at her own hands, still unsure—but a tiny part of her, the part that relished precision and mastery, lit up just a little brighter.
Weiss exhaled slowly. "This summer just got a lot more complicated."
The two walked along the side of the house, a quiet stroll shaded by the tall hedges and dappled sunlight. Birds chirped in the trees as James continued to explain the opportunity.
"You'd be surprised how many pros start out as accidents," he said. "You've got natural swing mechanics, control, and raw power—and that's without training."
Weiss glanced sideways at him. "You make it sound like I've been chosen by some mystical golf prophecy."
James grinned. "You might've been. Every now and then, someone comes along who doesn't just play the game—they change it. And with your skills, you could—"
Suddenly, James's foot caught on a half-buried rock sticking out of the grass.
"Whoa—!"
He stumbled forward with a grunt. Weiss instinctively grabbed his arm to steady him, keeping him upright.
But something unexpected happened.
POP!
His wooden hand detached with a soft clunk, flew into the air like a tossed baton, bounced once—twice—then rolled out onto the road.
Weiss gasped. "Oh my Gods! I—I didn't mean to—!"
James straightened up, brushing off his coat. "No worries. It's made of solid oak. Real sturdy—"
VRRRRRROOOOM!
A passing truck roared down the street, tires thundering. Weiss turned just in time to watch the wooden hand get flattened under the massive wheels with a loud CRUNCH.
She winced. "Oh no…"
James turned, peered down the street, and sighed. "Well… there goes my Tuesday backup."
Weiss stood there, speechless, trying to decide if she should apologize or run.
After a brief moment, she took a breath, offered a sheepish smile, and said, "Well… thank you for the offer."
She reached out to shake his hand… only to be met with the rounded wooden stub at the end of his sleeve.
There was a beat of silence.
"…Right," Weiss said, quickly pretending to shake thin air, her hand closing around nothing. "I'm heading back inside now."
She turned and briskly walked toward the front door, heels clicking slightly faster than usual.
James just stood there, watching her go with a small smirk and a shake of his head.
"Yep," he muttered. "She's got it."
DAYS LATER - VALE QUALIFIERS
Dozens of hopefuls dotted the wide green fields of Vale's prestigious golf course, each with their gear, focused expressions, and personalized swings. The sun beamed overhead, and a light breeze rolled across the course. Flags flapped gently near the holes, and the sound of distant swings echoed through the air.
Near the player's section, Weiss stood beside James, arms crossed, her signature poise on full display. She wore a crisp white skirt and a tailored sleeveless vest—classy, regal, and entirely inappropriate for the scorching weather.
"I can't believe you managed to persuade me," Weiss said, her tone flat but with just a hint of reluctant amusement.
James grinned beside her, his wooden stub resting against his hip. "Even if you lose, there's always next year."
Weiss raised a brow. "Next year, I'll be nearly a Huntress. Not much time for golf."
He shrugged, relaxed as ever. "Still… never hurts to have a backup plan. You never know when the world might need a golf-swinging Huntress."
Weiss rolled her eyes but smirked slightly.
A short distance away, Ruby, Blake, and Yang stood near a shade tent, sipping cold drinks as they watched Weiss prepare.
"I'm surprised Weiss dressed so nicely for this weather," Ruby said, wiping sweat from her forehead. "She's like… immune to heat, or something."
Yang, wearing shades and leaning lazily on the fence, nodded. "Yeah, that outfit screams Ice Queen meets Country Club. But hey, at least she didn't show up in that."
She pointed across the field at another competitor—a tall man dressed in full cowboy attire, complete with a leather vest, wide-brimmed hat, and snake-skin boots. The man tilted his hat back with the head of his putter.
"If Weiss showed up wearing that," Yang added, "she'd have to kick her own ass."
Ruby burst into giggles, nearly spilling her drink.
Blake, who had been silently observing, cracked a rare smile and nodded. "That's true."
Back at the tee, Weiss glanced at the competition, gave a subtle sigh, and adjusted her gloves. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she scanned the course—focused, composed, and just the tiniest bit nervous.
James leaned in, giving her a knowing nod. "Alright, champ. Let's see what you've got."
Weiss closed her eyes, letting the world around her fade away for just a moment. The sound of the breeze, the distant chatter of competitors, the soft thud of golf balls being struck—all of it dulled as she focused.
She took a slow breath, feeling the cool air fill her lungs. Just give it a shot, she told herself. You've got this.
Her mind wandered briefly to the days spent with her team, the laughter, the surprise, and even the chaos of the golf balls hitting unsuspecting people. But today was different. Today, she wasn't just showing off her talent. She was here to prove herself.
The weight of the club in her hands felt familiar, comfortable—like a weapon she was meant to wield, just like her rapier. She could feel the precise way her body was positioned, the rhythm of the swing, the power building in her legs.
With a sharp exhale, Weiss opened her eyes, now crystal clear and focused on the hole in the distance. She stepped forward, positioning the ball with care on the tee. Her grip tightened around the club's handle, her stance widening just slightly.
A few more breaths, and with a smooth motion, she swung. The club cut through the air with a satisfying whoosh. The ball took off with a sharp crack, soaring high into the sky, disappearing into the vast blue above.
For a brief moment, the course was silent. Then, slowly, the whispers of awe started to ripple through the onlookers. It felt like the world paused for just a second as the ball continued its arc, heading toward the green with unnatural speed.
Weiss watched with a mix of satisfaction and disbelief as the ball flew further than she could've imagined. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Maybe, just maybe, this would work after all.
And then she opened her eyes.
Sunlight poured gently through the tall windows of a cozy, well-kept home nestled somewhere quiet in Vale. The room was calm, almost reverent, filled with golf memorabilia that told a story of perseverance, passion, and a wildly unexpected path in life.
Framed photographs lined the walls. One showed a younger Weiss mid-swing on a pristine course, her form flawless. Another had her proudly holding a massive silver trophy, surrounded by her smiling team—Ruby, Blake, Yang, all older, all still beside her. There was even a photo of her standing beside James Silver, his wooden hand still just as comically out of place as ever, both of them laughing like old friends.
On the far wall hung a singular framed medal—her Beacon Academy graduation medal, glinting faintly in the light.
Now, twenty years older, Weiss stood in the center of it all. Her once short hair now fell past her shoulders, streaked slightly with silver, but her posture was as regal and composed as ever. A quiet smile tugged at her lips as she looked over the memories, letting herself soak in what she'd built.
In her hands, she held a golf club—the golf club. The very first one she'd ever used. The silver gleamed, the handle worn from years of grip and swing, but it still held that same weight. That same spark.
With a fond sigh, she stepped toward the center stand and gently placed the club into a special mount. Below it, a small plaque read:
"O'Lucky"
The club that started it all.
Weiss stared at it for a long moment, her eyes soft. "Not bad… for a summer accident," she murmured to herself.
She gave the room one final glance. This life—these achievements—weren't what she imagined as a young heiress, nor as a determined Huntress-in-training. But with the support of her team… and one wooden-handed mentor with a ridiculous grin… she'd carved out something extraordinary.
Turning toward the door, Weiss walked out of the room, her silhouette glowing in the sunlight.
Ready to live the rest of her life.