I don't own RWBY or Bloodborne.

Both series belong to their respective studios and compaines

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"What is that Jaune?" Pyrrha asked, having changed into her comfortable brown pyjamas. Waiting for the rest of the newly minted team Juniper to tuck in. Having watched in mortification as Jaune strutted around the shared dorm room, dressed in his blue onesie.

Had it not been for how comfortable he looked; she would have thought it was her sleep addled mind playing tricks. There was no way a seventeen-year-old could walk in that without being embarrassed to death.

"What is what?" Jaune asked, sitting down on his bed, having taken the bed in the middle right, as she had claimed dips on the bad hugging the right wall. Nora had been quick to mash together her and Ren's beds, and as long as they weren't 'sleeping together' but actually just sleeping together. They would let the matter lie.

"That mark on your right hand." Pyrrha clarified, pointing at the red symbol on his hand. A red that was eerily similar to her hair.

It started as a redline going down from his wrist, an arc splitting from the line and ending just as quickly, a white x in a diamond pattern and a rising arc, that looked like a goblet. It continued down where it split in three separate lines who pointed at a single dot under where the line ended.

"Ah, that mark." Jaune said simply, shrugging as he ran a hand trough his messy hair. "Well, I don't know. It's just, it has always been there. A birth mark really."

"Really?" She asked in surprise. She had a birthmark of her own, but hers looked more like miscoloured skin. Not like intricately draw runes. Especially when the runes looked freshly carved.

She knew some cultured drew runes on their bodies to signify some grand and defining moments of their lives. Having thought her team leader had drawn the runes freshly, as being made team leader could and would be seen as a grand achievement for most. That it was instead a birthmark left her baffled.

"Yes, cool right?"

"What's this about runes marks I'm hearing?" Nora said cheerily, coming out of the bathroom in a storm of energy. Dressed in a pink pyjama not to dissimilar to the colour of Ren's eyes. Rushing to Ren who was quietly meditating on his bed.

"Just my birth marks." Jaune said, showing her the rune like birthmarks.

"That's so cool Fearless Leader." Nora exclaimed with a smile as she turned to Ren with a megawatt smile.

"No Nora. We are not inscribing runes on one another." Ren patiently said as he got up and stretched before heading to the bathroom.

While it was their first night at beacon, classes not starting before tomorrow. As their team was made up of two boys and two girls, they had established a simple system. Dress and get changed in the bathroom. Jaune had been adamant to set some simple ground rules as quickly as possible.

No peeking when someone was changing, don't change in the 'common room', shared responsibility about cleaning and chores, try not to curse or use foul language unless necessary, and being mindful if they were bringing guests over just to make sure that no one on the team felt their personal space was infringed on. Together with making it clear about personal boundaries and consent.

A short set of rules that would make sure they weren't at each other's throats and making sure everyone felt comfortable inside the dorm.

Not that anyone had any negative to say about the short rules, finding it comforting and good to have a groundwork of rules for the dorm. Even if most of the rules were just common decency.

"That reminds me. I wonder if they followed me here." Jaune muttered softly as he got up and headed over to his luggage. Cracking it open and ruffling through it. "Fuck."

"What is it Fearless Leader? You forgot to bring instant pancake mix?" Nora exclaimed in mock horror, earning a chuckle from Pyrrha as she sat and took in their team.

It was nice, being able to be just Pyrrha and not the 'Invincible Girl'. She didn't know how long it would last, but she would cherish these moments.

"No, it's just this." Jaune sighed as he threw an old and rusty flare gun on his bed, together with a thick black leather notebook and an old rusty bell that surprisingly didn't create sound when it landed.

"What are they? They seem…old." Pyrrha cringed as the words escaped her lips. She had tried to say they looked antique, but she must have been more tired than expected. It had been a trying day, full of excitement and emotional roller-coaster.

"And they are. I have had them since I was born." Jaune said as he gave the items a fond look. "The Silencing Blank and the Beckoning Bell. I remember Saphron, the oldest of my sisters, always tease me that the bell beckoned spirits. Since it is silent to all mortal ears."

As if to demonstrate he rang the rusty old bell, and no sound appeared.

"Oh, OH! Let me let me." Nora bounced excitedly, snatching the bell out of the air after Jaune threw it and started swinging the bell around like mad. Yet no sound rang. Even when the clapper flew from side to side. No sound escaped.

Fresh faced from the shower, and ready to tuck in. Ren stepped out of the bathroom, eyes widening in abject horror as the world seemed to slow down as Nora lost her grip on the bell and it crashed through the window with a horrendous *CHRACK*

Sky blue, emerald green, turquoise and pink eyes all started in horror at the bell shaped hole in the window.

"If anybody asks, that window was like that when we got here." Jaune said quickly, three bobbing heads was his only response.

"Sorry Fearless Leader, I will go get your bell back tomorrow." Nora said, bracing for the usual outburst and word vomit that was often hurled her way when she let her emotions gets the best of her.

"There is nothing to worry about Nora." Jaune said with a kind smile. "If fact, let me show you a little magic trick."

With that Jaune went to the head of his bed and took of the pillow. Revealing the bell that was just sent flying trough the window. Throwing it to Nora to look, he couldn't help but chuckle.

"I'm not sure why, but no matter what I try, the items seem to always return to me. I can throw them away or hide them. But the moment I turn my back they are right back." Jaune said with a shrug. Being more than a used to the items weird, almost supernatural abilities. A familiar tought tickling his mind as he looked at the antique items 'Wonder if I can continue my little antique scam in Vale.'

It was quickly squished, but it's influence lingered as Jaune looked at the items with a calculating glint. Eyes flashing back to his bag where his old notebook was. An old leatherbound notebook that never seemed to run out of pages.

Throwing a look at the clock, Ren coughed in his hand. "While I would hate to come on as boring, it's getting late. And I don't know about you, but I would hate to be late on our first proper day."

"That sound's good." Pyrrha softly whispered as she tried and failed to hold in a mega yawn. Cheeks turning the same colour as her hair as she looked around the room.

Doing his best not to groan Jaune picked up his things and sat them on his nightstand as Ren turned off the light. Whispering a soft "Goodnight." Jaune crawled under the covers.

Laying on his back, arms behind his head. Jaune still couldn't believe this was real. He was at Beacon, he could, no he would be a hero. It would be a fresh start; he could be himself. Live up to his ancestors and be able to proudly bear the Arc name. Even if it he had to lie and cheat to get a chance.

But it wasn't like it was his fault.

Had it not been for his father he wouldn't have had to forge his transcripts. Yet, no matter how he begged and pleaded. Nicholas Arc was steadfast in his refusal to teach him. Even going as far to make sure no other Huntsman in Ansel would teach him. It didn't matter that he hadn't learned like the others, he was here to learn. And learn he would.

With a soft smile Jaune closed his eyes and fell asleep. Only to open his eyes and find himself underneath a cloudy sky. Blinking in confusion, Jaune closed his eyes and did his best to get back to sleep. Frowning as his bed had transformed into cold and hard cobbled stone.

A sleep that wouldn't come as a harsh and gruff voice rang out. "Get up you lazy bastard."

With a jolt Jaune was up, wildly taking in his surroundings. He found himself lying down on cold cobbled stone. A piercing coldness seeping into him as the familiar armour rattled as he shot to his feet. Hand racing towards his hip where he found Crocea Mors hanging securely.

Looking around he found himself standing inside a closed of area with walls of cobbled stone. Over the wall he could see an almost never-ending field of delicata pale flowers, that doted the field together with a thousand headstones and rusted weapons that worked as unnamed grave markers.

Earning a loud gulp of fear from Jaune as he turned to look at the lone old gothic building. Where an old man dressed in old, old valean gentleman clothes. An old form fitted three-piece suit that had seen better days, a large black windbreaker that was filled with tears and old patchwork. The old gentleman had a monocle and old top hat and looked coldly down at Jaune from his wheelchair, at the top of the stone staircase.

"So this the hunter that have come? No more than cattle for slaughter." The old gentleman scoffed with a disappointed shake of his head.

"Where am I?" Jaune asked as he stepped forward. Mustering up five seconds of faux courage as he stepped forward. Standing brave, even when he wanted no more than to escape as he stared the old gentleman in the eyes.

An impromptu staring contest that was broken of as the wheelchair bound gentleman broke out in laughter. Acting as if scaring Jaune into nearly pissing himself was a trivial matter.

"Good, you have spirit." The old gentlemen chuckled as he spoke softly. "Good that's good. Spirit is what makes or breaks a hunter."

"You didn't answer! Where am I? Where is my team?" Jaune shouted out as he felt the familiar gnawing of fear in his gut. Hand resting on the hilt of Crocea Mors in a failed attempt at intimidation.

"Intimidation don't work when your legs are shaking like leaves, lad." The old gentleman said with a shake of his head. "But where are my manners. My name is Gehrman, caretaker of the Hunters dream and the workshop within, and friend to you hunters. However, that doesn't matter. What matters is if you can use that toothpick on your hip or if you are just another disappointment."

"Excuse me?" Jaune shoot back, affronted that someone had dared call Crocea Mors a toothpick. "Crocea Mors has been passed down in my family for generations. Since my great-great grandfather used it in the Great War."

"That it may be lad. But it's a toothpick, and if you are here. Giving your would-be killers a toothpick to use after they have eaten you is either the height of stupidity or a kindness that they are undeserving." Gehrman spat as he looked down on Jaune, who seemed to wilt more and more under his look. "Not to mention you look more like a scholar or a member of the clergy than any kind of hunter."

"Remember this lad, and you might survive the night. A weapon is only as good as its wielder." Gehrman whispered hoarsely before glaring fiercely at Jaune. "And you are no hero. Only a lad filled with up with dreams and hopes and sent out in the world."

Jaune did his best not to flinch as he was berated. He was used to it. While he had loved his father, that love had turned into a mountain of frustration and angsts at his fathers staunch refusal to train him in any way possible.

A mountain of angst and frustration that only needed a spart to explode into wrath. Something that Gehrman freely offered.

"Then teach me!" Jaune bellowed out as he felt alight with emotion. Marching up to Gehrman with fire burning in his eyes as his anger spurred him on. "How am I to learn if no one teaches me? How can I get better if no one is willing to give me the time of day? HOW!"

Coming to his senses, Jaune looked down ashamed of his outburst. He was better than that, damn it. Mamma Arc hadn't raised a whiner. Mustering up the courage to apologise, Jaune steps forward only to be completely blindsided when Gehrman broke out laughing.

It wasn't a light of carefree laughter that he was used to. Instead it was heavy and rough, the laughter of a mad man at deaths row laughing as he is marched to the gallows, head held high.

"Good. GOOD!" Gehrman shouted out in mad glee as his once cloudy grey eyes burned with a twisted zeal as he looked at Jaune. "That means you are a fresh piece of paper, an unsculpted piece of clay, a fresh block of stone. You can be what you want. It might be your undoing, or it might be just what you needed to make it through this long night."

And while scared and terrified of the madman before him. Jaune couldn't help but feel a tear in the corner of his eye. Because someone dared believe in him. Someone was willing to go out of their way and give him a pat on the back and a smile as he encouraged his dreams. Something even his family, his own flesh and blood wouldn't do.

Even if that someone was a deranged lunatic that was probably a figment of imagination. 'But remember Jaune, beggars can't be choosers.'

"Now, grab a proper weapon from the messengers and go Hunt." A terrifying bloodthirsty grin split Gehrman's face as he smiled, gesturing at the bird bath that was cradled in old vine. "A hunter must hunt. Experience is the mother of success, after all."

"But there is nothing there?" Jaune whispered as he cautiously stepped towards the bird bath. Inwardly glad that he somehow was clothed in his 'Huntsman gear'. Even if it was just his trusty pumpkin pete hoodie, a comfy pair of jeans and sneakers with some cheap armour parts hastily strapped on. At least he had gloves on, even if they were fingerless.

So being the clever lad that he was, he tucked his fingers in and tore his arm trough the poison ivy in a surprisingly successful attempt to not get any on his skin.

Looking down into the bird bath Jaune froze as he saw his sleep paralysis demons come shooting out of the bird bath with great gusto and cheer. They were grotesque and eerie creatures. Thing elongated limbs with bony, almost claw like fingers and hunched. Covered in pale, wrinkled skin and with extravagated facial features that all had wide grins and extremely sharp teeth.

Jaune almost felt his soul leaving his body. Only a frail wish of not wanting to disappoint his imaginary dream mentor figure keeping it tethered.

"What are those?" Jaune whispered hoarsely as he took in the beings that looked like tortured and disfigured childlike beings.

"Messengers." Gehrman gruffly replied. "Inhabitants of the Dream. Mute, yet they serve and worship hunters. Don't mind them."

Gulping, Jaune pushed past his fear and peered into the black and murky water of the birdbath. Watching in amazement as three forms became clearer and clearer, until three beautiful reflections of two twisted weapons and a cane lingered as mist under the water.

"Tsk." Jaune tsked as he felt an almost burning pain in his right hand. Quickly tearing of the glove he looked in shock and wonder as his birth mark shone a twisted red. His surprise didn't take away from the burning pain as he dunked his right hand into the black water.

Blinking in surprise, Jaune shivered at the cold and unusual sensation. The water didn't feel like water, instead feeling like cold mist, a tranquil moonlit evening in the park, yet there was an underlying wrongness that he couldn't describe. However, the flaming pain seemed to dissipate, almost as if it had been nothing more of a figment of imagination.

As his hand inched towards the mirage of the heavy axe, he felt it. He felt it in the palm of his hand. The thick handle, the heavy weight, and he seemed to know. It was a heavy weapon, would deal tremendous damage when connecting and had a long reach. But it was heavy, it was slow, it would be tiresome to use and would limit what little mobility he had.

Letting go, he felt his hand drifting to another mirage, this one the sophisticated gentleman's cane. Compared to it's sister in the heavy axe. The cane was light, capable of switching between two forms, had terrifying reach with quick and agile attacks. However it was fragile and would need a lot of care to not break quickly, and it was also weaker, needing to deal more attacks as it was unable to sever limbs nor crack bone. 'In his hand's atleast' his mind seemed to whisper.

Hand drifting to the last weapon, a saw cleaver. A weapon that struck a balanced middle place between speed and damage, capable of delivering quick attacks. But with more stopping power than the cane. However, just as it didn't have any particular strengths, it didn't have any glaring weaknesses. Instead striking a careful balance between speed and damage, compared to its brother and sister who was both extreme to one side or the other.

Gehrman was silent as he watched Jaune go over the choices. Not muttering a word as he let the boy chose. For that was what he was. A scared and foolish boy in over his head. Pumped up on ideas such as honour and mercy. He was doomed to die. Not like it mattered to him, maybe some decades ago he would have felt pity for the boy. But the night had been long and dream only longer, and Gehrman could not remember the last time he slept soundly, if ever. The boy would just be another face with the countless others that haunted his nightmares.

"Is that all?" Jaune couldn't help but whisper disappointingly as he palmed the hilt of Crocea Mors. Breaking Gehrman out of his familiar downward spiralling thoughts.

"Pick one. It's better to learn a single weapon than experiment with many when you start out. When you get better and have multiple successful hunt's under your belt. Then you can start to freely experiment. As your experience and confidence grow you will naturally know what's best for you." Gehrman rasped as he looked at Jaune who was frowning.

Before eventually sighing as he pulled out his hand, empty handed. Resting his hand on the hilt of Crocea Mors he turned to Gehrman with determination and resolve blazing in his eyes. "I have already chosen. You might call Crocea Mors a toothpick. But I will prove you wrong and live up to my family's legacy."

"So the child has some spine inside him. Good." Was the only thing Gehrman said as he stared at Jaune with cold, apathic eyes. "Know that there is no place for honour, mercy, or other nonessential ideas when you hunt. There is only prey. And the line between who is what is blurry."

"Be careful before you end up as prey."

The words went unsaid, but they rang inside Jaune's mind like the toll of a bell. Jolting him up as he stared gobsmacked at Gehrman. Not comprehending what Gehrman was saying. He knew huntsmen died. The number of active huntsmen that lived past fifty years were few and far between. As most active huntsmen retired to more semi-active duty such as teaching. Others just quit life as a huntsman all together.

He had faced grimm. Been hunted by grimm, fled from grimm. Even having slayed grimm, even if it was a group effort where he mostly shouted ideas.

But as he looked at Gehrman, a single thing rang in his mind as alarm bells. 'I don't think we are talking about the same thing.'

Looking around the Hunter's Dream, Jaune took in the exquisite details. Branches and leaves gently swaying to a non-existent wind, the wet mud and cobbled stone under his feet that felt just like back home in Ansel. The beautiful outside of the gothic building, the dancing shadows made from flickering flame.

Jaune may be dense and somewhat lazy, but buried deep under a ton of teenage angst and insecurities laid a tactical mind. While often unused, Jaune had reigned as champion of all, if not most strategy games and tabletop games since he was six in the Arc household. Able to quickly analyse most scenarios and finding a way to come out on top.

Unfortunately it was seldom used.

But as Jaune looked at Gehrman, took in the details, and pinched his forearm, a foreboding feeling started to slowly settle in his stomach. Even if he did quickly squish the rising fear withing him. Choosing to instead follow the mantra his father had almost religiously passed down.

'All you need is confidence, son.' A saying that rang tauntingly in his mind. Before he could step forward, to act on his gut feeling. Gehrman was quick to shoot him another apathic look.

"Before you go wandering to your demise, remember to take with you one of the firearms the Messengers are offering. Take it, then go to the gravestone with a lit lantern and wake up in Yharnam proper to begin your hunt." Gehrman rasped as he glared at Jaune with apathy. "I will hold your hand no longer, now be off."

With his piece said, Gehrman disappeared. Fading out of existence, leaving Jaune alone in the hunters dream wondering if he had hallucinated a mad old man in his dream. If so, what did that have to say about him?

"What the fuck." Was Jaune's eloquent response as he stared at the spot where Gehrman last was. "How more fucked up can this lucid dream be?"

Turning back to the messengers who had sprouted from the bird bath. Carrying two distinctly different firearms. One old and large blunderbuss and a more compact and refined breach-loaded pistol.

"So big boom and or precision." Jaune said loudly, wondering when and why his lucid dream had taken on some game-esque traits. 'I know I like games, but I don't think they would start affecting my lucid dreams as well.'

Looking over the two firearms offered, Jaune felt the familiar grip of indecisiveness settle over him like an old friend. Having guessed that his 'dream' wouldn't progress until he chose.

So with that in mind he took to the two weapons again. Following the 'rule of cool'. After all, it was but a dream. And did he see himself as someone wielding the big boomstick, or was he the elegant gentleman? Closing his eyes, Jaune lost himself in fantasy inside a dream. Imagining himself with the blunderbuss at his side moving down hordes of grim. And comparing it to the more refined and elegant vision of himself effortlessly shooting grimm out of the sky.

Liking the refined air of the pistol more, he took it out of the small hands. Smiling as he let out a small giggle as he felt the weight and heft of the weapon in his hand. Loving how the moonlight reflected of the exquisite silver carvings.

Letting his finger trail over the firearm, Jaune couldn't help but smile. Expertly making the gun breach open, giving him an opening for where to load paper cartridges that was used in weapons like this.

While he never would be the weapon enthusiast that was Ruby. He had been a teenager once, or a younger teenager. And he might have been a bit obsessed with older weapons such as cannons, flintlocks, and other older weapons in his youth. But it wasn't his fault that they were so cool and stylish.

The classics were classics for a reason after all.

"Now if only I could have some ammo." Jaune turned to the messengers who lifted out a wooden ammo box that could be fitted to a belt with fifteen paper cartridges i pattern. Touching the wooden box with his right hand, a searing pain shot out as knowledge seemed to drill into his skulls.

The migraine left as quickly as it came, making Jaune frow as an almost magical ability seemed to have been ingrained into him. The ability to sacrifice health and vitality to magically conjure a row of five quicksilver bullets. Cartridge, gunpowder and everything else included. Pop the ability and he would get five ready to fire bullets.

"This dream just keeps on becoming more and more bizarre." Jaune muttered as he absentmindedly reloaded the gun with a familiarity one could only develop after knowing the ins and out of the weapon. "But that's all, right? The dream isn't going to become even more bizarre. The old doll isn't going to suddenly come to life, right?"

With the flintlock in his left hand, something that felt disturbingly normal. Jaune drew Crocea Mors with his right and headed towards the large granite headstone with a flickering lantern hanging over an array of lit candles. The name and date of who it was in honour for too weathered out to properly read.

But Jaune could make out the letters Lud. It could be for Ludo, Ludwig, Ludis, Ludvicous, if that even was a name. Jaune was mature enough to know that he didn't know and blindly guessing would just be disrespectful. Hand hovering over the headstone Jaune couldn't help but take a gulp as he steeled his nerves.

The crying and almost sobbing from the messengers in the bath not helping.

With a heavy sigh and a grumble. Jaune marched back to the bird bath and the messengers within. Wincing at the joy and ecstasy that seem to radiate from the messengers. "Look, I'm only taking the cane because it looks cool, ok? And while I'm sure you wouldn't give any subpar weapons. I'm still going to use Crocea Mors in battle."

Strapping the cane to his hip, resting a bit behind the shield and sheath combo. With the wooden ammo box siting a bit before that, close to his belt buckle and resting over his pocket. Jaune felt as prepared he could be, feeling almost ready to tackle what lied inside Yharnam. Even if he had absolutely no idea what Yharnam was.

"After all, it can't be worse than initiation. Right?" Jaune muttered as he rested his hand on the gravestone. Blinking as he disappeared from the 'Hunters Dream' as Gehrman called it.

Shaking his head to shake away the disorientation, Jaune found himself in the first level of many of the horror games he played when he was young and unafraid.

It was dark and oppressive, medical instruments that looked more like old torture devices. Bloodstained bed's that looked like someone had been horribly murdered on. Large bored up windows that thin silvery rays of moonlight peeked through. Not to mention the beastly snarling that fit perfectly into the atmosphere.

"Beastly snarling!" Jaune's eyes shoot open as he threw himself to the side. Crashing heavily onto the ground and scampering to get up as a black and twisted from rammed trough the sickbed he had stood beside.

Jaune was quick to get to his feet, Crocea Mors pointed towards the twisted half wolf half dog half monster. Drool ran down the monsters hungry maw as it stared Jaune down with beady red eyes filled with frenzied bloodlust.

"That's no grimm." Jaune whispered hoarsely as sweet prickled down his skin. And in the blink of an eye the monster was upon him. Jaune leapt to the side and brough his sword down, leaving a thin red line in the blackish grey fur. Something that only seemed to enrage the beast further. As a lightning quick clawed arm rocketed towards his gut.

He was quick to bring up his aura, the thing that saved him from a long and cruel death by being disembowel. Instead he was launched trough a pair of doors, into another more open room.

"Fuck that hurt." Jaune whispered as he rolled to the side, dodging the beast by a hair's breadth as he brough his aura back up. Quickly delivering a shoot to the side of the head. While no expert marksman. Jaune knew two simple things, point gun towards what you want to shoot and pull trigger.

*Bang!*

The shot thundered out in the silent room as the arm of the beast was shot straight off. The blood rushing out as a fountain. And Jaune watched on in fear and terror as his armour and body was painted red. Sitting almost catatonic until the teeth of the beast was wrapped around his throat.

"Ungh!"

Only to let out a grunt of pain as his head was torn from his body.

"HnnGH!"

A grunt of pain, shock, and a whole host of emotions he couldn't place tore through Jaune as he rocked up. Hand over his chest as his hearth hammered away. Wild eyes taking in the somewhat familiar surroundings of the Hunters Dream.

"What was that?" Jaune whispered hoarsely, throat dry as he ran his fingers over an unblemished throat. No bite marks, no blood, no nothing. Expect for his beating hearth and still warm pistol. Yet he remembered death. That brief instance of nothing.

Popping open the breach, Jaune fished out a paper cartridge and loaded the pistol again. A foreign action that made his emotions settle, if only barely.

"Was it real? Did I die?" Jaune whispered hoarsely, before letting out a self-deceptive chuckle. "No, of course not. This is only a dream. A lucid one at that."

With that he holstered the firearm and drew up his sheath and switching to its shield form as he cautiously laid his hand on the lantern. Walking forward with reckless abandon and anger burning in his gut. He wasn't going to die to some weird dream monster. Not in his dream.

Stepping foot back into the dark and oppressive darkness of the medical clinic. Jaune instantly noticed how everything was back in place. Almost as if the medical clinic was caught up in one of those time loops, he read about in an old Mistralian novel. Where time was forced to endlessly loop in areas unless they were 'unlocked' or banished.

Forgoing old Minstralian philosophy, Jaune instead focused on something much more important. The snarling beast that launched itself towards him. Ramming snout first into the unforgiving steel of Crocea Mors shield. Jaune was quick to capitalise on the opening given to him.

Stabbing his sword deep into the neck of the monster. Pulling the sword out, Jaune stepped back in both shock and horror as blood flowed out like a river. Legs shaking in barely supressed fear as he looked at the dying beast before him. It glared at him as it tried to stand up.

But he must have gotten lucky and pierced something vital. Because the beast only managed to take two steps forward before collapsing under its own weight. Only the sound of rough panting that got weaker and weaker until it was silent.

Inching forward, Jaune poked the beast with the tip of Crocea Mors. Ready to escape behind his shield the moment it dared move. However instead, it lied unmoving and dead.

And a familiar searing pain burned on his hand, Jaune quickly sheeted Crocea Mors and tore of his glove. Freezing as bloody number hovered over his hand. Reading 235 after the bottom part of the rune of his hand. Under it stood a big fat zero trailing behind what looked like to be an open eye.

"What the fuck." Jaune muttered as his fingers trailed trough the bloodred numbers. Willing them to go away, the rune stopped glowing. Much to his surprise. When he willed it to glow the rune lit up with that familiar crimson glow and the numbers returned.

"This dream just keeps becoming more and more weird and twisted." Jaune softly whispered to himself as he pulled the glow on. Willing the rune to glow and blinking in surprise as the blood red numbers shone over his hand.

Keeping his shield up, Jaune stepped around the corpse. Doing his best to keep what was in his gut, down. It was different when something reminded behind, compared to how grimm turned to ashes and dust upon death. "What I wouldn't do to just wake up."