323Chapter 1: Branwen
Guest: Ice Queendom is "canon adjacent" which someone has said is more akin to "Schrödinger's Canon" which tells me that it's Canon but also not Canon. Also, I find it hard to believe that Ozpin, the guy that's been living for thousands of years and one of the smartest people on Remnant was fooled by Jaune's Transcripts, hell how were both Ozpin and Glynda fooled!?
SchizoAss: Trust me, we'll see their reactions when Jaune returns from his journey, which will be the 2nd half of this story. As for more show and less tell with certain details, I will work on it. Promise.
Robbeeyy: Well, As I said, I'm putting Jaune as well as the characters that will join him on his adventure, through the wringer, which means I'll be putting them through both Physical and Emotional pain, I mean lord have mercy the amount of pain and sadness these characters are going to go through... it won't be easy. But Jaune will sort of be his goofy, kind, and loving self but not completely, trust me.
Gonsmoss: I understand your concern with the characters, Raven is Hypocritical by nature making her a hated character and in a way a coward, as for Oscar I understand the whole thing about Oz, but I'm trying to flesh out his personality based on what I assume he would be like without Ozpin which I hope fits him for when he enters the story. As for your suggestions, I will be mostly doing bittersweet endings for when certain arcs in the story end. I have also come to realize that you are right, it wouldn't be right to gloss over the realism of a Huntsmen job, so yeah, I'll be adding some darker tones to the story. Jaune's Semblance will change but not complete 180 as you suggested, I still want it to be powerful in a way, but also not be something OP or something that seems broken. As for adding Hazel or Tyrian, if they do show up, I want them to show just how far Jaune is from his actual dreams of being a huntsman if they showed up, and Jaune fought them, it would be like the Battle Beast fight in Invincible. RWBYNPR won't get much focus for the first half of the story, but I can safely tell you I won't be the same thing as some other stories, sure there will be some major tension, but nothing too bad, in fact, Blake will play an important part in the 2nd half of the story.
Edit: So far, this story has two halves, the 1st half is "Jaune's travels" and the 2nd half is "Return to Beacon". Jaune's Journey will take him from Mistral to Atlast to Vacuo before returning to Vale. With each Kingdom, Jaune will get someone to join his party.
Chapters 1-5 which will be called the "Branwen Act" is where Jaune will get his first friend and follower along his journey.
Chapters 6-11 which will be called the "Pine Act" is where Jaune will get his second followers along his journey.
Chapter 12 is the beginning of what is going to be called the "Spider Act" but is still a work in progress.
So far, 3 acts of the first half of the story have been planned out but many more are on their way that will involve people and things like Fiona, May M, Winter, Jaques, Willow, Whitely, Marrow, Carmine, Sun, and Velvet.
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In a small village in southern Anima, Jaune Arc stood at a weathered wooden counter in a modest local shop, his eyes scanning the shelves as the scent of dried herbs and leather filled the air. After a long, tiring journey across the seas—from the bustling docks of Vale to Anima's solitary southern harbor—he was finally here, ready to stock up on supplies for the next leg of his journey. The boat ride had been long and uncomfortable, but it had been worth it to reach this point.
The shopkeeper, a middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard and a thick accent, bagged Jaune's items, reciting the list. "That's one tent, a sleeping bag, a twelve-pack of MREs, and a small survival kit," he said, tapping the items onto the counter as he totaled them up. "All that will be 110 Lien."
Jaune pulled out his wallet, carefully counting out the exact amount needed. He handed the cash over, and the clerk took it with a nod, his hands quick and sure as he returned the change. Jaune took the coins, thanked the clerk, and grabbed his purchases, packing them into the bag.
Stepping outside into the warm, breezy air, Jaune surveyed the quiet village. It was a peaceful place, the streets lined with small, rustic homes, their rooftops angled just so to shed the rain that fell so often in these parts. The people were humble, moving about their daily tasks with the kind of quiet focus that only small towns could foster. Jaune felt a sense of calm here, though it was fleeting. His journey was far from over, and the road ahead was uncertain.
He bent down and began organizing his things. Thankfully, his backpack wasn't yet full. The MREs and the survival kit slid easily into the bag's main compartment. The sleeping bag was strapped to the front with a secure buckle, and the tent, compact but sturdy, was fastened to the bottom with a set of durable cords. Once everything was in place, Jaune straightened up, his pack now neatly loaded and ready for the journey ahead.
His plan was simple. First, he would travel to Shion, a nearby town where he hoped to pick up a few more supplies. From there, he'd make his way through Anima, gaining experience in survival and learning how to handle himself in battle with Grimm. The people of this region had their own way of dealing with the creatures of the wild, and Jaune knew he had much to learn.
His ultimate goal was to reach Mistral. It was a destination he had thought about for a while—its reputation for knowledge and its strong ties to the Huntsman community made it a perfect place to sharpen his skills. After Mistral, he planned to head to Argus to visit his sister, Saphron, and her family. It had been too long since he had seen them, and the visit would be a welcome break from the road.
Once that visit was over, he'd head north to Mantle, with the hope of taking a trip to Atlas Academy to see if he could train there for a while. He wasn't sure how the people at Atlas would react to his background, especially after everything that had happened with his fake transcripts, but he needed to try. The journey would take him to Vacuo next—a place he had always heard about but had never seen for himself. He didn't know much about the desert kingdom, but from what he had gathered, its people were tough, and the land itself was unforgiving.
Jaune didn't know how long he would stay in each kingdom—he wasn't trying to make a schedule of it. His plan was to travel, experience the culture, and, most importantly, grow.
Jaune wasn't ready to leave the village just yet. After the long journey from Vale and the bustling docks to this quiet southern village in Anima, he decided to take a brief respite before continuing on his journey. He found a small, unassuming motel that looked like the kind of place where weary travelers could rest for the night. The building was modest, but it had what he needed: a bed, a roof over his head, and the peace and quiet he craved.
As he approached the front desk, the clerk handed him a simple key with a tag that read "Room 4". Jaune gave a polite nod, thankful for the chance to sleep somewhere other than a cramped boat. The day had taken its toll on him—physically and mentally—but he still had a long road ahead of him.
When he reached his room, Jaune slid the key into the lock and turned it with a soft click. The door creaked open, and he stepped into the dimly lit space. The room was small but comfortable—a modest bed with plain white linens, a small shower in the corner, and a TV on a dresser. It wasn't luxurious by any means, but it was a welcome relief from the discomfort of traveling.
He smiled to himself, taking a moment to appreciate the simplicity of it all. It was a peaceful space, and it felt like a brief reprieve from the storm of thoughts that had been swirling in his mind ever since he left Beacon. He set his backpack down on the floor near the bed, careful not to let it fall over, and closed the door behind him, locking it with a click. His eyes lingered on the small room for a moment longer before he started the process of unwinding for the night.
Jaune unbuckled the leather strap that held Crocea Mors at his side and placed it on a small table beside the bed. The weight of the sword felt lighter now that he was no longer carrying the heavy burden of his failure. He let out a deep sigh, one that seemed to carry all the exhaustion he had been holding onto for days. For a brief moment, he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders as he sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face with both hands.
He thought about the others at Beacon—the friends he had left behind. His heart ached as the familiar faces came to mind.
"It's gotta be night by now, right?" Jaune mumbled to himself, staring up at the ceiling. "I wonder if Ruby's staying up late reading comics again, or if Ren's meditating, or maybe Nora's bugging him so much he can't focus," He couldn't help but smile, imagining the three of them together. "I... I wonder if Pyrrha's on the roof?"
The thought of Pyrrha hit him like a punch to the gut. He had promised her he would train, that he would earn his place at Beacon, that he would prove to everyone—and to himself—that he belonged. But now? He was here, in a strange motel room, hundreds of miles away from them, branded a liar, a cheater. He felt the weight of his failure pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket.
"God, I messed up," Jaune whispered, shaking his head in frustration. "I'm such a terrible person," He felt his stomach twist with guilt. He had let them down—he had let Pyrrha down. She had believed in him.
They all had.
And now he was just... gone. The thought of it felt like a betrayal, and the guilt threatened to overwhelm him.
"No, no, no, stop thinking like that," Jaune muttered, his voice tight. He shook his head forcefully, trying to clear the negative thoughts that clouded his mind. "I should just get some rest..."
He knew it was pointless to keep beating himself up over something he couldn't change. The decision had been made. He couldn't go back to Beacon right now, and maybe, just maybe, this was the chance he needed to figure things out on his own.
With another heavy sigh, Jaune stripped off his armor, carefully placing each piece on the small table beside the bed. He kicked off his boots and left them by the door before going to the light switch. He flicked it off and crawled under the covers, his body tired but his mind still racing. He stared at the ceiling for a few moments longer, his thoughts drifting aimlessly as the day's exhaustion began to take its toll.
The room was silent now, the only sound the gentle hum of the air conditioner in the corner. Jaune let himself relax, focusing on the simple act of breathing. Slowly, the tension in his muscles began to fade, and his thoughts quieted.
Eventually, his eyes fluttered closed, and the world around him seemed to dissolve into nothingness as sleep claimed him.
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The next morning, Jaune set off on his journey to Shion, a small town nestled a few days' travel away. He estimated it would take him five or six days to reach his destination, depending on the weather and how his body held up on the road. Once there, he would need to earn enough Lien to pay for a Bullhead ride to Mistral—a journey he couldn't afford to make without funds. That meant he would likely have to stay in Shion for a while, maybe even longer than he expected, until he could save up enough to cover his ticket.
"I'll figure it out when I get there," Jaune muttered to himself.
He hoped Shion had some work available, even if it wasn't related to being a Huntsman. Lien was Lien, after all, and he'd do what it took to get by.
As he walked along the dirt road, the rhythmic sound of his boots crunching against the gravel was the only thing that seemed real. The path stretched out before him, winding through the sparse woods and occasional farmstead. The village was now behind him, and with every step, he felt more and more like an outsider, a solitary figure in the vast landscape of Anima.
Hours had passed—or so it felt—but when he was sure it was more likely that it had only been twenty or thirty minutes. He quickened his pace, scanning the tree line on both sides of the road. Every time he turned around, however, he saw nothing but the empty trail stretching behind him. There was no one in sight. Still, the feeling of being observed refused to leave.
'Maybe I'm just being paranoid,' Jaune thought, shaking his head as if to clear the unease that clung to him. 'It's been a while since I've been alone, the last time I was by myself and traveling was when I ran from home,'
Jaune smiled faintly at the memory, though there was a slight bitterness to it. It had been months since he left his family's home in the middle of the night, full of uncertainty about his future. His thoughts drifted back to that time, the quiet desperation of wanting something more than the life that had been laid out for him. He remembered how the lights of Vale City had seemed so bright, so welcoming, compared to the dreariness of Orleans, where he had spent most of his life.
'I thought Vale was the answer to everything,' Jaune chuckled softly to himself, the sound of his voice briefly breaking the stillness. 'It felt so... different from Orleans, so much bigger, I was excited just to see the city lights from a distance,'
He thought back to his first days in Vale, staying in a little motel on the edge of the city, the kind of place that smelled faintly of old wood and cheap cleaning products. It had been cramped and lonely, but it was a start.
He had taken the first job he could find, working at a small bookstore. It hadn't been much—just shelving books, running the register, and trying not to look too out of place among the other, more polished city folk—but it was enough.
Jaune's feet carried him down the road as the hours passed, each step pulling him further away from the village and closer to his destination. As he walked, memories flooded his mind—moments of warmth and camaraderie, of shared laughter and quiet moments spent with his friends at Beacon. He thought about Ruby, her relentless optimism and the way her smile had brightened every room. He remembered the playful banter between Nora and Ren, the way they could communicate without words, their bond stronger than anything else. And, of course, he couldn't help but think of Pyrrha—her strength, her kindness, and the unspoken promises they had shared.
A smile tugged at the corner of Jaune's lips as the memories played out like a film in his mind, each one more precious than the last. But as much as he cherished them, he couldn't help but feel a sense of loss. He had failed them. They would never know what had really happened, not unless he could somehow fix it, somehow prove he was more than the lies he had told.
Lost in thought, Jaune barely noticed the road winding before him, the soft rustling of the trees at his side, and the gradual change in the air as dusk began to settle. It wasn't until he came to a sudden stop that he realized he had reached a fork in the road. Two paths lay before him, each sign marking a direction.
He sighed in relief, grateful for the signpost that helped him navigate. One sign pointed left to a place called "Kaion," but it was the sign to the right that caught his attention. "Shion." That was the path he needed, the next stop on his journey, and the town where he could finally find some rest before making his way to Mistral.
A small smile crept across his face, and for a brief moment, he felt a surge of hope, he was on the right path after all, but just as he was about to step toward the road on the right, a sharp crack echoed through the air, a gunshot.
Instinctively, Jaune dropped to the ground, rolling to his side and pulling his backpack with him, feeling the weight of it press against his back. His heart pounded as he scrambled to his feet, scanning the woods around him, his eyes darting for any sign of movement.
He didn't have to wait long.
"Son of a bitch!" came a voice from behind him.
Out from the trees emerged two figures—one a man in his early twenties, the other a girl who looked to be around Jaune's age. They stepped into the clearing, the fading light casting long shadows over their forms. Jaune's eyes narrowed as he studied them, instincts on high alert.
The young man was tall, his posture confident, with an air of someone used to intimidation. He wore a simple yet functional outfit—dark trousers, a weathered jacket, and boots that had clearly seen better days. A rifle hung loosely from his shoulder, the barrel pointed slightly downward but still within reach.
The girl beside him, however, immediately caught Jaune's attention. She was shorter than the man, but no less imposing. Her tan-colored skin contrasted sharply with her short brown hair, which was cut in a pixie style that framed her face. Her icy blue eyes flicked over him with a mix of curiosity and caution.
She wore a light brown vest with dark brown panels that were rugged but practical, the edges frayed as though she had seen plenty of action. The vest was paired with a torn white shirt, partially unbuttoned to reveal a black bra, the collar slightly turned up around her neck. On her left arm, Jaune noticed a tattoo of a bird rising from a cluster of flowers—artwork that looked as if it had its own story. Her maroon-colored jeans were rolled up on the right leg to just above her knee, revealing dark pink lining beneath. A brown belt cinched around her waist, a pouch hanging from the right side, and she wore dark brown calf guards, one of which was held in place by a garter-style strap that ran beneath her rolled-up pant leg.
Jaune's eyes then moved to her feet. She wore beige and dark brown lace-up boots, the sides folded over with white lining peeking through. The boots were worn, clearly well-used, but sturdy. Her hands were covered in dark brown fingerless gloves, and a narrow dark brown choker strap rested around her neck, completing her rugged look.
What caught his eye, though, were the two pistols holstered at her sides—both of them looking well-maintained and ready for action.
Jaune's eyes flicked back to the man, who was now standing confidently with a gun in his hand, the barrel still warm from the shot. He was tall and skinny, with unkempt, dirty blond hair that hung just past his shoulders. His gray eyes glinted with a certain sharpness, but it was the stubble on his jaw that made him look more rugged and dangerous than his otherwise lean frame suggested. He wore a dark blue and gray jacket with the sleeves torn off, exposing the muscles beneath. A long-sleeved shirt peeked out underneath, and a red bandana was tied loosely around his neck. A shoulder pad sat on his right shoulder, the sign of someone who had seen enough scrapes to need a bit of extra protection. His brown pants were worn, faded from travel, and his boots were scuffed, practical but battle-worn. Brown leather fingerless gloves adorned his hands, perfect for gripping his weapon or for when things got up close and personal.
Jaune didn't have to guess who the shooter was. The way the man was holding his gun, his stance a little too relaxed, told him everything he needed to know.
The girl beside him, who had been silently observing, broke the silence with a smug smirk. "Nice shot, Shay," she said with a teasing tone, her voice light but laced with amusement.
Shay's gaze snapped to her, irritation flickering in his eyes. "Shut it, Vernal! He just got lucky!" he snapped, his voice carrying a sharp edge. He wasn't pleased, and it was clear he wasn't used to being mocked.
Vernal, undeterred by his glare, let out a soft chuckle and ignored his frustration. Instead, her attention shifted back to Jaune, her smirk never faltering. "What's your name?" she asked, her icy blue eyes narrowing slightly, sizing him up as if she was figuring out how much of a threat he might be.
"Jaune Arc," he replied, forcing his voice to remain steady despite the unease gnawing at him. "And you?" he asked, hoping to maintain some control of the situation.
Vernal's smirk only deepened as she crossed her arms. "I'm Vernal Branwen," she said, her tone casual as she gestured to the man beside her with her thumb. "The shitty shot over there is Shay D. Mann,"
Jaune's breath caught in his throat when he heard her last name. Branwen—that name was infamous on Anima. It was the name of a notorious bandit tribe, one that had terrorized the region for years. Everyone who lived on Anima knew the stories, the Branwen tribe was notorious for its ruthless raids, its ruthless leaders, and the bloodshed they left in their wake. The fact that he was standing here, talking to someone from that tribe, made his pulse quicken in both fear and disbelief.
"So you guys are bandits?" he asked bluntly, his eyes flicking from Vernal to Shay, trying to mask the shock in his voice.
Shay's lips curled into a smug smile as he spoke, his voice dripping with confidence. "Yeah," he said slowly. "So you can guess what we want," His eyes gleamed with a challenge, as if expecting Jaune to be intimidated by the unspoken threat.
Jaune watched him carefully, his eyes narrowing as a strange feeling washed over him. It wasn't like he had met Shay before, but something about the man felt familiar. The cocky posture, the self-assured grin—it reminded him of someone, but it took a few moments for him to place it. And then it clicked. Cardin.
Shay had the same kind of brash, arrogant energy that Cardin used to radiate back at Beacon. Both of them seemed to think the world revolved around them, and they acted like it, too. But there was a key difference. Cardin, as much as Jaune hated to admit it, had power—real, physical strength. He could back up his words with his fists and his semblance. Shay, on the other hand, was a different story. Jaune could tell that without the gun in Shay's hand, the man wouldn't be nearly as cocky. His bravado was paper-thin, and if Jaune had to guess, it would shatter the moment someone pushed back.
Jaune's attention shifted, and he glanced at Vernal, who was standing next to Shay. He felt a different kind of energy coming from her—one that was more calculated, more measured. She wasn't just standing there with a smug look on her face like Shay; no, there was something more. She was relaxed, but her posture was too controlled, too trained. And when his eyes locked on the pistols holstered at her sides, he could tell right away that these weren't your average sidearms. The sleek, custom design, the way the barrels gleamed in the fading light—it screamed Mecha-shift weapons, weapons that could transform into something more lethal with just a flick of the wrist. Jaune had seen them before—pistols that could shift into a different form entirely, making them far more versatile and dangerous than a standard firearm.
Vernal wasn't just some girl carrying pistols—she was trained, and she was dangerous.
Jaune swallowed the knot forming in his throat. He had to stay calm. "And if I don't hand over my things?" he asked, his voice even but edged with a nervousness he couldn't entirely hide. His gaze flicked from Shay to Vernal, trying to read them, to figure out his next move.
Shay's grin only widened at Jaune's question. He took a step closer, raising the gun, the movement smooth and practiced. "Well then I got a question for you," he said, his tone darkening. "You feelin' lucky, punk?" Shay's smirk stretched into something colder, more malicious as he aimed the gun directly at Jaune's chest. His thumb flicked the safety off, and Jaune could hear the ominous click in the silence between them.
He had a choice to make—fight, or surrender. Jaune took a deep breath, trying to calm himself as his fingers flexed, ready to act. But deep down, he knew what needed to be done.
With a resigned sigh, he began unbuckling his backpack, the straps feeling heavier than they ever had before. Every motion was deliberate, his movements slow.
"Heh!" Shay's voice broke the silence, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction as he lowered his gun slightly. He turned to Vernal, his posture shifting to a more relaxed stance. "Look's like this one's gonna be easy!" he declared, giving Vernal a quick, almost victorious glance.
Shay had no idea that Jaune was already ten steps ahead of him. He was too busy savoring his apparent victory, too sure of his position, that he didn't notice Jaune's quick movements. As soon as Jaune placed his backpack on the ground, his fingers danced over the straps with practiced speed, and in one fluid motion, he drew Crocea Mors from its sheath. He activated his shield with a flick of his wrist, and without a second thought, he charged forward, his boots pounding the earth as he sprinted toward Shay.
Shay was too slow to react.
The moment Jaune's shield slammed into him, the impact knocked the wind out of his lungs, before he could even get his bearings, Jaune's force sent him crashing backward, his body hitting the ground with a thud. Shay groaned, his head spinning from the unexpected blow. The force of the shield and Jaune's momentum left him disoriented, and with a final grunt, he collapsed onto his back, unconscious.
Vernal's eyes widened in surprise, her hand instinctively reaching for her pistols. She wasn't expecting Jaune to move so quickly, and the sight of him taking Shay down so effortlessly left her momentarily off balance. But Vernal wasn't the type to be caught off guard for long. Her eyes flashed with determination, and in a heartbeat, she drew her pistols from their holsters, aiming them at Jaune with precision.
Jaune, anticipating this exact reaction, turned on his heel, his shield raised in front of him. The metallic clang of the shield reverberated through the air as Vernal's pistols roared to life, bullets flying toward him. The shots hit his shield with a series of sharp cracks, but Jaune held his ground, bracing himself against the incoming fire. His aura flared briefly with each impact, the shimmering shield absorbing the force of the bullets as they ricocheted harmlessly off the surface.
With a steadying breath, Jaune didn't hesitate. He dropped his shield just long enough to sprint toward her, his muscles burning as he closed the gap. Vernal's eyes narrowed as she saw him charging, but she didn't waste a moment. With a quick sidestep, she deftly avoided his tackle, her movements fluid and precise. Jaune's feet skidded slightly as he missed, but he regained his footing almost instantly, ready to continue the fight.
Without missing a beat, Vernal quickly leveled one of her pistols at him, firing a well-aimed shot that caught Jaune in the shoulder. The impact made him stagger back slightly, but his aura flared brightly, absorbing the force of the bullet. Jaune gritted his teeth, pushing through the pain as the protective shield of his aura flickered, but held strong. He shook off the shock and readied himself, his stance solid as he eyed Vernal, both of them now fully engaged in a dangerous dance.
Vernal didn't move, her gaze steely, her fingers tightening around the grip of her pistols. She sized him up, her glare sharp and assessing. 'He's got Aura,' she thought, her mind racing as she processed the situation. 'And he's not completely green either. Some training, maybe even more than I expected. Could he be a Huntsman-in-training? What the hell is a Huntsman-in-training doing out here?' She asked herself before quickly dismissing the thought, her focus shifting back to him.
Jaune's mind worked at a similar pace. He studied Vernal with narrowed eyes, trying to gauge her next move. 'She's quick on the draw—faster than Ren,' Jaune thought, keeping his shield held high in front of him. 'Her reactions are sharper, too, she's trained, and she's not going to hesitate... I need to be careful, one slip-up, and she'll wear me down, break my aura before I know it'
The air was thick with tension as both Jaune and Vernal stood tall, neither one willing to make the first move.
Then, Vernal made the decision to act. Without warning, she raised her pistols from their holsters, and the sharp crack of gunfire echoed through the air. The sound was almost rhythmic as she unleashed a barrage of bullets, each one aimed at Jaune with precision. Jaune reacted instantly, raising his shield just in time to block the incoming fire, the rounds thudding against his shield with each impact. His feet slid back slightly with the force, but he stood his ground, using the shield to absorb the bullets.
Vernal, undeterred, continued firing, her expression unwavering as she emptied the magazines into him. Jaune took a few steps back, knowing he needed distance to maintain his defense. But then, the firing stopped, he saw the panic in Vernal's eyes as she quickly dropped the empty magazines and fumbled to reload. Jaune's mind was already moving faster than his feet. With a burst of speed, he charged forward, his shield raised high, intent on slamming it into her and sending her sprawling to the ground.
Vernal's eyes widened, and she cursed under her breath. Still feeling the pressure of the situation, she managed to load just one of her pistols in time to take a shot. The bullet tore through the air and struck Jaune squarely in his lower left side. He felt the jolt of pain, a sharp sting that made him momentarily stumble, but he gritted his teeth and refused to let it slow him down. He pushed through it, his focus on the immediate threat before him.
Vernal's expression twisted with frustration. She was prepared for him to charge, but that didn't make it any easier to handle. As he closed the distance, she waited, crouched in anticipation. When Jaune lunged forward, shield first, to bash her, she sidestepped with expert precision, her movements fluid and practiced. With a sharp twist, she delivered a powerful sidekick to the back of Jaune's leg, sending him crashing to one knee. The impact sent a jolt through his body, but he fought to stay upright.
Vernal wasted no time, quickly raising her gun and aiming it at Jaune's head, her finger ready on the trigger.
A cold smirk spread across her face as she looked down at him. "Got ya," she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "You give up?" she asked, the words taunting him.
Jaune's eyes locked onto the barrel of her gun, but there was no fear in his gaze. Despite the position he was in, he wasn't about to surrender. He knew this could be the end, but his instincts kicked in, and he decided to take the gamble. Thinking fast, Jaune reached up and raised Crocea Mors, but not in the way she might have expected. Instead of swinging the blade at her, he used the pommel of the sword, the weighted bottom, to strike the bottom of her wrist.
Vernal winced, the sudden impact causing her to drop her gun. It clattered to the ground, out of her reach. The moment her grip faltered, Jaune wasted no time. With a swift motion, he kicked her feet out from under her, sending her tumbling backward onto the ground.
Vernal growled in frustration, her eyes flashing with anger as she looked up, only to find the point of Jaune's blade hovering inches from her face. He stood tall, his stance firm, though he was still breathing heavily from the struggle. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his aura flickering faintly around him.
"Look, I don't wanna hurt you," Jaune said, his voice steady but laced with the lingering tension of the situation. His shield was still raised, but his grip on Crocea Mors loosened slightly, a sign that he was trying to calm the situation. "I just wanna make my way to Shion in peace, so, if you're willing, we can just go our separate-"
Before Jaune could finish his sentence, a sudden rush of movement broke through the air, and in an instant, something collided with his stomach. The force of the impact was like a freight train, and Jaune didn't have time to brace himself. His breath was knocked out of him as he was sent flying back, crashing into the ground with a thud. He skidded across the dirt and gravel, his body tumbling like a stone thrown carelessly across a field.
Vernal stood frozen, eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and something else—embarrassment? Her eyes flickered toward the figure that had just emerged from the trees, the one who had delivered that devastating kick with terrifying precision.
Standing before them was a woman cloaked in mystery. She wore a signature Grimm mask that obscured most of her features, save for the sharp outline of her eyes and the commanding aura that radiated from her. Her posture was confident, and there was no mistaking the power she held. Jaune couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine as he realized who it was.
Vernal's face reflected a combination of awe and shame. The woman in front of them was none other than Raven Branwen, the infamous leader of the Branwen tribe, a name that carried weight in Anima.
Raven's eyes glanced over at Jaune, her gaze neutral as she assessed the young knight slowly getting to his feet. Without so much as a flinch, she turned to Vernal. "Are you alright, Vernal?" she asked, her tone as cold as stone, showing no trace of concern for the younger girl's well-being.
Vernal's gaze dropped to the ground in shame, the weight of Raven's question hitting her harder than any physical blow. "I... I'm fine," she stammered, not daring to meet Raven's eyes.
Raven's eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze hardening as she took in Vernal's response. "Then stand up," she commanded, her voice sharper now, cutting through the air like a blade.
Vernal's hands clenched at her sides, her emotions swirling in a storm of frustration and embarrassment. She looked up at Raven, feeling the weight of her gaze, but it wasn't one of warmth or encouragement, instead, it felt like an unspoken judgment, a silent reproach. The fire in Vernal's chest simmered beneath the layers of shame. She stood up slowly, her movements stiff with both anger and the sting of disappointment. She couldn't allow herself to be weak—not in front of Raven, not in front of anyone. She had to maintain her composure, even if it meant swallowing her pride.
That's when she saw Jaune again, struggling to push himself upright. He groaned slightly, clearly hurt from the force of Raven's kick. He wiped the dirt off his hands and looked in their direction, his eyes hardening as he locked onto Raven's form.
The woman before Jaune was an imposing figure, a bit taller than Vernal, with a presence that radiated power and authority. Jaune couldn't make out her facial features or eyes because of the Grimm mask she wore, a stark black and white visage that obscured any hint of humanity in her expression.
Her long black hair cascaded down her back, flowing like a dark waterfall that reached the same length as Yang's wild golden locks. It swayed with a dangerous grace, as though it were part of the same storm that seemed to surround her. She wore a v-neck black and red wrap-style top, the fabric tight and form-fitting but also allowing for fluid movement. The top flowed into a black pleated skirt that had matching black shorts underneath, the entire outfit designed for practicality as much as intimidation.
Around her neck, a series of beaded necklaces hung, each one adding to her aura of mystique, while a red obi sash was wrapped tightly around her waist, cinching the outfit together. The sash was adorned with a red tasset that draped over her hips, holding the sheath for her weapon, which Jaune assumed was more than just ornamental. Attached to the sheath was a long black object, almost like fur or feathers, flowing like a tail behind her, with a red and white bandana-like material hanging from it, further emphasizing her fierce and untamed presence.
On her forearms were a pair of red armored gauntlets that seemed to bulge outward, designed for protection and to deliver a powerful strike. Underneath the gauntlets were black fingerless gloves, a mix of utility and style. Her legs were encased in black mid-thigh-high boots, each with armor plating adorned with red splatter patterns. The boots were fitted with black heels that clicked sharply against the ground, each step exuding dominance.
Jaune couldn't help but stare at the woman, his eyes locked onto her, even as she stood perfectly still, her presence overwhelming. His heart pounded in his chest, the weight of her gaze sending a chill down his spine. There was something about her—something dangerous, something that made him feel like he was a mere ant in the path of a storm. And just as he thought he might crumble under the weight of her stare, she looked back at him, her gaze cold and calculating.
Then, in an instant, she moved.
The world around Jaune seemed to slow as he saw her blur into motion, faster than anything he could have anticipated. Before he could react, she was standing directly in front of him, a flash of steel in her hand, the blade gleamed with deadly intent as she thrust it toward his neck. Jaune's eyes widened in terror as he felt the sharp sting of the blade piercing his throat.
Jaune's eyes widened with horror as he watched the blade pierce his throat. He then blinked, and now, the woman who had been standing directly in front of him was now gone. His heart raced as he frantically scanned the area, looking for her, but she wasn't there. There was no sign of the weapon, no blood, no injury. His breath hitched in his chest, and he touched his neck—just to make sure.
No wound.
No blood.
No blade had pierced his throat.
Jaune's mind raced, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He could feel the adrenaline still coursing through him, his hands trembling as they hovered over his neck, searching for any sign of damage.
His thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and fear.
'What just happened?' he thought, his eyes darting around the clearing as his breath quickened. 'I-I could've sworn she stabbed me...' Jaune's heart pounded in his chest, and beads of nervous sweat began to bead on his forehead.
The feeling of imminent danger was still fresh in his mind, and the sensation of the blade coming at him felt all too real. His hand shook as he slowly pulled it away from his neck, feeling nothing but the soft thrum of his pulse beneath his fingertips.
"Boy," Raven's voice rang out, clear and commanding, as though the very air around her was charged with authority. "What is your name?" she asked, her tone casual, but there was no mistaking the power that simmered behind her words.
Jaune felt every muscle in his body tense as she spoke. His instincts screamed at him to run, to escape, but every nerve in his body told him that this woman—this dangerous woman—was beyond anything he had ever faced. Her presence was suffocating, her aura of power almost tangible. His throat felt dry, and he swallowed nervously, trying to keep himself composed.
"Jaune Arc," he replied, his voice steady despite the storm of fear brewing inside him. He wasn't sure if his words would even reach her, but he had to speak.
There was no backing down now.
"An Arc... how curious," Raven muttered to herself, her eyes under her mask narrowing as she seemed to digest his words. She was still, calculating. "Your father... is he Nicholas Arc?" Her voice didn't carry the slightest hint of doubt, as though she already knew the answer.
Jaune's heart skipped a beat. His father? How did she know that name? His breath caught in his throat, and he felt a mixture of shock and confusion ripple through him. "He is..." he said, his voice faltering slightly as his mind raced. "How do you know that?"
Raven didn't immediately answer. Instead, she stared at Jaune, her expression unreadable. The silence between them grew heavier, thick with expectation. Jaune's heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of anticipation and fear tightening around him like a vice, he was waiting for something—anything—from her, but all she did was stand there, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her weapon, her fingers barely twitching as she seemed to contemplate something unknown.
It was then that the sheath of her weapon spun with a faint, smooth motion, almost as if it had a life of its own, a subtle warning that something was about to happen. Jaune's breath hitched as he watched her unsheathe the blade, the red steel of Omen gleaming under the fading light. She held it with effortless grace, the weight of the sword seeming to make the air around them feel even heavier.
Jaune instinctively took a step back, but before he could retreat any further, Raven pointed the blade directly at him.
The chill that ran down his spine felt like ice water flooding his veins.
Omen glowing faintly with an ominous light, was aimed straight at his chest, and in that moment, Jaune felt an overwhelming, primal urge to flee. His mind screamed at him to run, to escape, but his legs refused to move. His heart raced, and his senses sharpened, yet the instinct to retreat felt futile. The woman in front of him was no ordinary opponent—she was a predator, and Jaune was nothing more than prey.
But he wasn't about to show fear, he wasn't going to turn his back on this fight, not when it was clear that the moment he did, he would meet the end of her blade. He steeled himself, swallowing his fear and lifting his chin slightly, trying to find that resolve he had been lacking before.
"Will you surrender and be robbed?" Raven's voice cut through the tension like a knife, her words wrapped in amusement, as though she found the situation more amusing than threatening. "Or will you fight and die, young Arc?" Her eyes glinted behind the mask, the challenge unmistakable.
Jaune's throat was dry as he gulped, the fear bubbling up once more, but he didn't give in to it. He could feel the cold edge of the blade through the air, and yet, there was something deeper inside him that refused to back down.
His grip tightened on Crocea Mors as he took a fighting stance, one that he had practiced countless times but now felt more real than ever. He wasn't sure if he was ready to face someone as deadly as Raven, but he wasn't going to be a coward, either. His heart might be racing, his palms might be sweating, but his feet were firmly planted on the ground. He was standing his ground.
Jaune's jaw clenched as he locked eyes with Raven.
Raven's lips curled into the faintest of smiles, her expression shifting ever so slightly. There was a hint of amusement, almost as if she had expected this answer. "Very good," she said, the faintest trace of approval in her voice.
Without warning, Raven was upon him, moving with a speed that left Jaune's heart in his throat. Before he could even react, she appeared right in front of him, her form a blur of motion. The sheer force of her presence made Jaune's pulse spike, and the world around him seemed to close in. His instincts screamed at him, but it was too late.
Raven didn't hesitate. She pulled back her blade, her crimson weapon glinting ominously as she prepared to strike. Jaune's mind flashed back to a moment only moments earlier, when he had sworn that she had already stabbed him. The flash of her blade coming toward his throat had seemed so real. Panic surged through him as he raised his shield in reflex, hoping he could stop the attack in time.
The sound of metal colliding with metal rang through the air. Raven's sword struck his shield with a resounding crash, the sheer force of the blow pushing Jaune back several steps, his footing faltering. His shield absorbed most of the impact, but the shockwave of her strike vibrated up his arm, and Jaune staggered, his breath coming out in sharp bursts. He could feel his Aura flicker weakly, struggling to keep up with the intensity of Raven's attack.
It was all the opening Raven needed. Without missing a beat, she swung her sword in an upward, horizontal arc, the blade slashing through the air toward Jaune's chest. His Aura flared desperately to block the blow, but even though the strike hit his shield, the force and precision of her attack pushed him back further, sending him tumbling to the ground.
Jaune hit the ground hard, his back slamming against the dirt, the wind knocked out of him. His mind was still spinning from the brutal assault, and he struggled to push himself back onto his feet. But Raven wasn't done yet. She didn't give him a moment to recover. In an instant, her blade was once again in motion, this time aimed at his exposed body while he was down.
Jaune's instincts kicked in. With every ounce of strength he could muster, he lifted Crocea Mors just in time to deflect the blow. The sound of metal scraping against metal rang out, but as Jaune attempted to redirect the strike, he saw something that made his stomach drop. Raven's blade wasn't just a sword anymore—it was engulfed in flame.
In that split second, Jaune's mind froze in shock. The searing heat of the blade was unlike anything he had experienced before. The fire seemed to radiate off her weapon as it moved with terrifying speed and precision, bypassing his Aura entirely. Before he could adjust, the blade stabbed through his leg, the flames licking at the wound with brutal force.
A scream tore from Jaune's lips, the pain radiating through his body in waves. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before—the intense sting of the wound compounded by the burning sensation that seemed to sear through his very soul. His Aura struggled to stabilize, to stem the tide of pain, but even with it coursing through him, it did little to dull the sensation.
Jaune's heart raced, his vision blurring with the intensity of the agony, but through sheer willpower, he forced himself to focus. 'Don't stop... Don't give up!' He thought.
He pushed more Aura into the wound, trying to numb the pain, but it was like trying to put out a fire with a thimble of water.
In a desperate move, he swung Crocea Mors, trying to lash out at Raven, but she was already leaping back, effortlessly evading his strike. His sword hit nothing but air. Raven's expression was unreadable, but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes as she landed gracefully and began to sheathe her weapon.
Jaune's gaze flicked down to his leg, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The pain was excruciating, and with every attempt to put weight on his leg, a fresh wave of agony shot through him. He gritted his teeth, but he couldn't stop the groan of pain that slipped through his clenched jaw.
Raven twirled her weapon's sheath, and Jaune watched, confused and wary, as the movement caused the blade to rotate. With a sharp, smooth motion, Raven unsheathed the weapon again. This time, the red glow of her blade had shifted to a bright yellow.
Jaune struggled to his feet, his leg throbbing with each movement. Every time he tried to stand, the pain flared anew, and his vision blurred with the intensity of the hurt. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, his mind working to push through the agony.
His eyes locked onto Raven, his gaze sharp despite the pain. He couldn't afford to let her see him falter. His Aura was weakening, but he still had enough willpower to fight. However, one thing was clear: he needed to figure out how her blade had bypassed his Aura.
The searing pain in Jaune's leg was still fresh in his mind as he staggered to regain his balance. 'Her red blade lit on fire, once it stabbed my leg, it burned up just like a fire Dust crystal…' The realization hit him like a cold wave. 'That means all of her blades are made of Dust! And now her new blade is yellow… So she might be using Lightning Dust,'
The implications of that hit him all at once—Lightning Dust wasn't just an offensive tool; it was volatile, dangerous, and capable of inflicting significant damage, especially when it was channeled into a weapon.
Jaune's breath hitched. 'But how did she bypass my Aura?' he wondered, trying to piece the puzzle together in his mind. 'Weiss uses Dust in her attacks, but I've never seen it bypass Aura! Even Dust ammunition doesn't pierce the shield of Aura, it just hits, and we can still feel the force of it, but we're not injured by it, so how the hell did she…? Could it be her Semblance?' The question hung in the air like an unanswered riddle.
His mind struggled to grasp the connection, but the pain in his leg only reminded him of the pressing reality.
Raven, meanwhile, seemed aware of the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in Jaune's mind. She could almost feel him trying to dissect what had just happened, just as his father had done when they met many years ago, after her time at Beacon.
Raven's gaze softened for a brief moment, her mind wandering back to that encounter. 'If he's anything like his father, he might not be able to figure it out right away, but he'll catch on eventually,' She allowed herself a small, almost imperceptible smirk. 'However... he doesn't have the same skill as his father did, He's good, but he's still got a long way to go,' she thought, watching him carefully.
The young man before her was clearly skilled, but there was a rawness to him, a lack of the experience and finesse that his father had honed over the years.
Jaune's voice broke the silence between them. "I forgot to ask you something," he said, his words measured, despite the tension in his voice. His mind was still racing, trying to buy himself time. "You know my name, but I have no idea who you are," he added, trying to mask the underlying anxiety with a casual tone.
Raven regarded him coolly, not immediately answering. She knew exactly what he was doing—buying time, hoping that conversation would allow him to find some way to counter her attacks. Raven didn't mind; in fact, she found it almost charming, how he thought he could outthink her in this moment. She took a step forward, her expression unreadable behind the mask, but her voice was calm and direct as she spoke.
"I am Raven Branwen," she said, her words carrying weight. "I am the leader of the Branwen tribe,"
Jaune's breath caught in his throat at the name. Raven Branwen. The moment the name registered, everything about the situation clicked into place.
His eyes widened, and his chest tightened as fear began to creep into his veins. This isn't just some bandit leader, this was Raven Branwen, the legendary leader of the Branwen tribe.
The realization crashed down on him with a heavy, suffocating weight. Everyone in Anima knows Raven Branwen. She's a legend—a monster to many, feared for her relentless combat against other Huntsmen, who she had taken down time and time again, fights that she had won… over and over again.
His pulse quickened, and his breath grew shallow. His Aura, still flickering in exhaustion from the previous attacks, seemed fragile now.
Against someone like Raven, what chance did he have?
Raven's sharp eyes noticed the slight tremor in Jaune's hand, the subtle shake of Crocea Mors betraying the fear he was trying to hide, but it was the smile on his face that caught her attention. It wasn't a confident smile, nor a smile of defiance. It was a nervous one, the kind someone gives when they're trying to mask their fear, trying to convince themselves that they have control when they truly don't. And yet, despite the nervousness, there was something oddly… genuine about it. Something Raven hadn't seen in a long time.
"W-Well, ain't this just my luck," Jaune muttered, his voice wavering slightly, but the smile—though shaky—remained.
Raven's gaze remained focused on him. It was almost fascinating, how someone could smile in the face of such overwhelming danger. Raven's voice cut through the air, her tone calm but laced with an edge. "Are you going to give up?"
Jaune's eyes flickered as he processed her words, and for a brief moment, it seemed like time stopped. The question wasn't just a challenge—it was a lifeline.
Raven knew that his response would decide everything.
In that split second, Jaune's mind raced. 'Should I just drop my sword?' he thought, feeling the weight of the decision settling like a rock in his stomach.
The truth was, he was outmatched. Every move Raven made was effortless, her control over the situation absolute. Jaune had no experience against someone of her caliber. If he kept going, if he continued this fight, the outcome was inevitable. He would die. It was the harsh reality that his mind couldn't escape.
'If I drop Crocea Mors, I can walk away... Maybe she'll let me go, maybe I'll survive this' The thought was so tempting. But then, something else stirred within him, a small, quiet voice that cut through the doubt. 'What's the point of surviving if you don't fight for something worth living for?'
The small part of him, the part that made him an Arc, spoke louder than the fear.
'I didn't come this far to give up now, I didn't train for this, didn't struggle through everything just to bow down and die without a fight!' the voice cried in his head.
He thought of his dream, the reason he'd left his home, the reason he had become a Huntsman in training. He thought of Beacon—of his friends. Pyrrha, Ren, Nora, & Ruby. They believed in him, even when he didn't believe in himself.
And in that moment, Jaune realized something that hit him like a thunderbolt. 'If I run, if I give up now, I'll never go back... I'll never see my friends again, I'll never make it to my dream!'
The small part of him that wanted to survive and fight for his future finally broke free of the fear and self-doubt.
Jaune's shoulders squared as his mind cleared. He inhaled sharply, his chest rising with the deep breath, and for the first time since this confrontation began, Jaune's nervous smile transformed, it changed from something full of uncertainty to something more genuine, a smile full of life, full of determination.
His grip on Crocea Mors steadied, and the trembling of his hands stopped, it was as if something inside him clicked into place—he wasn't just Jaune the scared boy anymore, he was Jaune Arc, a Huntsman in training, and he was going to fight like it.
Raven's eyes widened just slightly, her sharp gaze studying the change in Jaune. For the first time, she saw something new in him—a flicker of resolve that hadn't been there before. She had expected him to break, to falter under the pressure. Instead, he stood a little taller, the weight of his fear replaced by something much more dangerous: confidence.
Vernal, standing off to the side, was equally surprised. She had watched the boy stumble, watched his fear, but now—now there was something different in his eyes. There was no longer any hesitation. He had found his courage.
"No, I'm not going to give up," Jaune said firmly, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart in his chest.
Raven's cold eyes locked onto him, and she tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable behind the mask. "Then are you willing to die today?" she asked, her voice smooth, almost casual, as if she were asking about the weather. The challenge in her words was palpable, like she was daring him to make a choice.
Jaune didn't hesitate. He shook his head, his grip tightening on Crocea Mors. "I won't be dying," he replied with quiet resolve. A small, determined smile tugged at his lips, a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, but was there all the same. "See... I-I have to do something, there are people I want to see again, so until I do... I won't die,"
'Is he that idiotic?' Vernal thought, watching the exchange unfold. 'Or is this his arrogance showing?' Her brow furrowed in confusion as she watched Jaune stand tall, a boy who should be trembling in fear, yet stood resolute in his defiance.
But Raven saw through the exterior, sensing what was really at play. This isn't idiocy, this isn't arrogance or pride. What Jaune was showing wasn't a lack of fear or an overestimation of his abilities.
It was conviction.
Conviction to fight, to survive, and to see his mission through—whatever the cost. And for that, Raven respected him. She had seen this same fire in others, those who were willing to risk everything to stand against the inevitable, unwilling to back down even when the odds were stacked against them.
"Very well then," Raven said, her tone shifting slightly, a hint of approval in her voice, though it was subtle.
She wasn't going to underestimate him. This boy had more than just raw talent, he had resolve, and that was dangerous.
Without another word, Raven disappeared in a blur of motion, and Jaune's instincts kicked in. His eyes tracked her movements, but she was too fast. She reappeared above him, her sword, Omen, raised high. The next moment, she swung down with blinding speed, her blade aiming straight for him. Jaune reacted, raising Crocea Mors in a desperate attempt to block the strike. The sound of metal clashing was deafening, but he held firm.
Or so he thought.
Raven's grin was barely visible beneath her mask, but it was there, hidden behind her calm demeanor. The moment their blades collided, Jaune felt a sudden, intense shock pulse through his body. The force was more than physical—it was like a jolt of electricity tearing through him. His Aura flared desperately in response, but it wasn't enough to stop it.
The shock from the Dust-infused blade surged through his body, causing every muscle to tense, every nerve to fire in agonizing pain. Jaune cried out, his body freezing up as if the very essence of his being had been locked in place. His vision blurred, and for a terrifying moment, he couldn't move at all.
Raven didn't let up. She had seen the opportunity and took it without hesitation. As Jaune struggled against the paralysis, she pulled another Dust-infused blade from her side, this one was cyan. Jaune's eyes widened in horror as he realized what was happening, but it was too late.
With a fluid motion, Raven thrust Omen forward, the cyan blade aiming directly for his side. The impact was instantaneous. The blade pierced through his Aura, bypassing it entirely, and lodged deep into his side.
Jaune grunted in pain, his breath ragged as the intensity of the wound coursed through him. His eyes widened with shock and fear as he slowly turned his head to look down at his side. Raven's blade, Omen, was embedded deep in his flesh, the edge of it still crackling with the remnants of Lightning Dust.
A bitter cough racked his chest, and blood splattered onto the ground in front of him. His vision flickered, the edges of everything becoming hazy as he tried to steady himself. Part of him was still in shock, a voice screaming in the back of his mind that he was done for. The other part of him, however, was in disbelief, struggling to comprehend how he had ended up in this moment—so close to losing everything, so close to death.
His hand trembled as he gripped the hilt of Crocea Mors. The sword felt like an anchor, keeping him tethered to the reality of the fight even as everything around him seemed to spin uncontrollably. Jaune's body trembled, his legs barely able to hold him up, and his breath came in shallow gasps.
He looked up at Raven, his eyes burning with a mixture of anger, desperation, and the unmistakable sting of sadness. His heart was pounding in his chest, and though every fiber of his being wanted to give up, he refused to let himself fall. He wasn't going to let her win—not like this. Not without a fight.
With all the strength he could muster, Jaune tightened his grip on his sword. He could barely feel his arm at this point, his body felt like it was shutting down, but he pushed past it. He swung with everything he had left, his body jerking forward in a desperate attempt to land a blow. The movement was slow, shaky, but to his surprise, Raven flinched back, a look of mild shock flashing across her face as she stepped away from him.
The blade in her hand—the one that had driven through his side—was suddenly out of her grasp.
Vernal, standing off to the side, watched in stunned silence, her mind racing. 'Incredible...' she thought, her eyes wide with disbelief. 'Despite everything, he's still fighting?'
She had expected him to collapse, to give in to the pain, but Jaune had done the unthinkable—he had struck out when most would have been immobilized by fear and agony.
Jaune's body trembled with the effort, his knees buckling as he tried to stay upright. He looked down at Omen, the blade still buried in his side. His vision was fading, the edges of his sight darkening, but something inside him refused to let go.
He knew what had to be done.
He gritted his teeth, the pain almost unbearable, and grabbed the hilt of Omen with his free hand, the agony that shot through him as he pulled the blade from his body was enough to make him scream.
"AAAAHHHHHHH!" Jaune cried out, the scream tearing through him as he yanked the blade free.
The pain was sharp, searing, like nothing he had ever felt. Blood gushed from the wound in his side, staining his hand, his shirt, the ground beneath him. The moment the blade was out, he tossed it aside, his body trembling as he collapsed slightly, almost falling. His breath was ragged, his chest heaving with each exhale.
His mind swam in a haze of agony, but he refused to give in. With every ounce of willpower left in him, Jaune forced himself to focus, pushing Aura into the wound in an attempt to heal it. He could feel the faintest flicker of his Aura wrapping around the injury, but it was a feeble attempt.
His vision was clouding over again, the world around him spinning as the edges of his consciousness began to fade.
Yet, he refused to collapse, refused to give up in front of Raven, in front of Vernal. He wasn't going to die lying down, not after everything he had fought for. His legs wobbled as he tried to stand, blood dripping from his side, his body screaming at him to stop, to just fall and surrender. But Jaune lifted his head, his chest still rising and falling with each agonized breath.
Tears streaked down Jaune's face, but despite the tears, a fierce glare twisted his features. "I... I can't die!" he cried, his voice trembling, a volatile mix of anger and sorrow pouring from him. "I still have to... see them!" His voice cracked, a raw sob escaping him.
He gripped Crocea Mors tighter, the weight of his sword a reminder of his promise, his commitment to those he loved. Despite the blood staining his side and the overwhelming pain threatening to pull him under, Jaune took a shaky step forward. His knees buckled, but he refused to stop—his eyes never leaving Raven, his determination unwavering. He took another step, but this time, the pain was too much. He collapsed to one knee, a sharp gasp of agony escaping his lips as the world around him blurred with the force of his suffering. His body screamed, every muscle on fire, but his will remained strong, his mind shouting at him to keep moving.
Jaune gritted his teeth, trying to push himself up, but the pain surged through him, intensifying with every heartbeat. A strangled cry left his throat as he collapsed back onto his knee, clutching his wound.
'Get up! Get up, you idiot!' Jaune yelled at himself, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of pain and defiance. Tears continued to fall. 'For once in your life, don't fail! Get back up and fight! You can't die now! You promised... You promised you'd go back! You've got to get back up for them! I'm going to see them again!'
The internal scream roared in his mind as he pushed against the earth beneath him, his arms shaking with the effort. His body begged him to stop, but the promise he made to himself—to his friends—burned hotter than the pain.
'For Ruby!'
Jaune forced his body to rise, gritting his teeth against the overwhelming wave of pain. His leg buckled for a moment, but he steadied himself.
'For Nora!'
With sheer will, he slowly, painfully, pushed himself upward again, every movement an excruciating battle, but he refused to stop.
'For Ren!'
Jaune's body trembled as he pushed himself up with every ounce of strength he had left. Blood dripped from his mouth, staining his lips as his chest heaved with labored breaths.
'FOR PYRRHA!' Jaune cried to himself, his heart pounding as he stood, barely holding himself upright.
Her face, her memory, and the promise he had made to her—the vow to become stronger, to never give up—drove him forward.
Raven watched, her sharp eyes narrowing as she took in the young knight's tenacity. She was surprised—impressed, even—by his resilience. Most would have collapsed by now, their bodies unable to endure any more punishment. But Jaune, despite his bloodied state, was still standing. His determination was palpable, a fire that refused to be snuffed out, no matter the odds.
But as Raven studied him, Jaune's knees buckled, and he swayed dangerously on his feet. He had pushed himself to the limit, and all his energy was spent. His eyes fluttered, then rolled into the back of his head, and with a final, agonized gasp, he collapsed backward, his body hitting the ground with a soft thud.
Raven blinked, momentarily taken aback by his sudden collapse. His body had reached its breaking point, but in that brief moment, he had shown more strength than she had anticipated. A small flicker of something like respect crossed her features as she observed the unconscious boy before her.
Vernal, still reeling from the unexpected struggle, seized the opportunity. Her hand shot out, grabbing her gun with swift precision as she moved toward Jaune's prone form. She aimed it down at the unconscious teen, ready to end it once and for all. But as she prepared to pull the trigger, her wrist was suddenly gripped by a firm hand.
She froze, her heart skipping a beat as she looked to her left, only to find Raven standing beside her, Raven's grip firm on Vernal's wrist, halting her movement.
"Don't," Raven said, her voice low and commanding. It was the kind of voice that brooked no argument.
Vernal was taken aback, her mouth opening in surprise. "But Raven—!" she began, her voice rising in disbelief.
"But nothing," Raven cut her off, her tone hard. Her gaze flicked back to Jaune's unconscious form. "The boy has shown fearlessness, bravery, and his strength, as well as his conviction... I think he'll be of use to us, we can use someone like him,"
Vernal blinked, stunned by her leader's words. Her mind reeled, unable to comprehend the sudden shift in Raven's attitude. "What!?" she cried, her voice tinged with confusion and frustration. "You can't be serious! You want him to be a part of the tribe?! He nearly killed me!" Her words were a mixture of anger and disbelief, as she struggled to grasp what Raven was suggesting.
"He wasn't going to kill you," Raven said, her voice unwavering, "He's still too soft for that, but he proved his strength against you, and he won, that's something not many in the tribe can say... Perhaps this is a wake-up call for you to resume your training, I know you've been slacking off as of late,"
Vernal's teeth clenched, the sting of Raven's words hitting harder than she expected. She wanted to protest, to argue back, but deep down, she knew Raven was right. And that realization only fueled her anger and shame. The mix of emotions made her fists tighten involuntarily, her nails digging into her palm as she fought to control her response. Slowly, reluctantly, she lowered her pistol, holstering it with a sharp motion.
"Good," Raven approved, her tone soft but firm. "Now, while I stop the bleeding, wake up Shay, tell the fool that his punishment for being so easily defeated is to carry Jaune back to the base."
Vernal's jaw tightened, but she didn't argue. She knew better. The anger swirling inside her couldn't be directed outward, not now. She turned away, her hands still trembling from the anger and frustration bubbling inside her.
As she moved toward Shay, her mind raced with thoughts she couldn't shake. Her body was alive with rage, embarrassment, and the lingering sting of her own failure. Her eyes flicked back to Raven, who was kneeling beside Jaune, tending to his wounds with a focus that Vernal couldn't quite understand. The very same boy who had nearly killed her was now being treated by her leader like he was something special.
'What makes him so special? What use could someone like him have for the tribe?' Vernal thought, her chest tightening. The questions burned in her mind, anger rising with each passing second. 'One of these days, Arc... You're gonna regret pissing me off,'
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Oh man... this doesn't look good for Jaune, what could happen when Jaune wakes up and finds himself being held by a bunch of Bandits? It also seems that Jaune is on Vernal's bad side, this ain't gonna end well...
How was Jaune able to beat Vernal? Well, again, Vernal's well trained but as Raven stated, she was slacking, so she's a little rusty and doesn't have her signature pistols as she does in volume 5 as well doesn't have her Aura or Semblance unlocked yet. Speaking of Vernal's weapons, I might change them up a little, I mean I know RWBY makes up some interesting weapons, but Vernal's weapons baffle the hell out of me. This is weird because most of the time, I don't question the weapons of RWBY but there's just something with Vernal's that just seems odd to me.
Also, the updates/new chapters will be slow as this story is going to be deep and I want to explore its themes, characters, and relationships, closely.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed today's chapter!