"On my signal." Father called out. A tone of authority ringing over the clearing they found themselves in.

Violet sank into a stance, her left foot inching out as she sank down slightly. Blade held aloft with the point towards her opponent. Tightening her grip, her leather gloves crackled and popped as her knuckles turned white.

An all too familiar pang of something sharp and ugly shot through her as she took in her opponent. The farmboy stood with a casualness that could only be forced. Especially with what few drops of sweat that came racing down his brow. The way his lips quirked and stretched. The tip of his, the tip of the cane he borrowed bit into the soft dirt. While she could just barely make out how his hand tensed, knuckles turning white, before he relaxed. Only to tense again.

Breathing, Violet focused. Changing her stance ever so slightly to make it more comfortable. Shuffling her feet to stand better and leaning ever so slightly forward so she could explode forward the second the signal was given.

Mind racing over everything she knew about Oscar. She had seen him train, she knew he was strong and enduring, but his reflexes and agility left much to desire. How he was hesitant to go in. How he fled pain, how he didn't know how to look, how his invisible passenger's help could do more harm than good.

'Go in fast, keep pressure, and put him on the backfoot. Capitalize on his inexperience.' It was a simple strategy, one that would allow her to adapt if the fight were to drag on.

Something flickered in the edge of her vision. A rook limply thrown from her father's hand. Landing with a soft thud against some roots. In an instant she dashed forward. Oscar's eyes shooting open in surprise, wincing slightly before focusing.

With a snap of his wrist, the cane transformed. The tip came racing towards her, with another snap of his wrist, the bladed whip turned into a snake. Bending and coming lunging at her from the side.

Changing stance, her longsword tailed behind her and the world slowed down, turning into a muted light blue. Taking a step to the side, she rolled under the snaking whip. Planting her foot against the ground to stopping her momentum, she let his retaliatory attack wash over her. Slipping under it as she raced forward again.

The bladed whip moved as Oscar began to move. Panicky steps shooting of to the side. Predicting how the whip would move before he acted, Violet raised her foot, and with a decisive stomp stopped his attack in its tracks. Planting her foot surely on the whip while her other leg found purchase and strength in the soil. Giving her the strength and balance to all but lunge forward.

Stepping out of the muted blue world. Twisting her core and stomping her foot down, she brought all her meagre strength into her blow. Her blade slammed into his midsection. Soft green aura flared as Oscar grunted. Some spittle escaping him, buckling forward with a weak step. With a quick twist and flex she moved into another stance. Bringing her blade down like an executioners axe and slamming it into the small of his neck.

The older boy collapsed face first into the ground with a wheeze. Groaning and rolling himself onto his back. "What kind of signal is that." He groaned, shooting a petty look over to her father.

"There is no countdown in real life." Jaune said, not sounding apologetic as much as understanding. "It's not that we have anything about taking it slow. It's that we can't afford the same luxuries out here as we could if we were in a school or academy."

His ear twitched, and Violet had to blink as thunder rang over the clearing. As one, both Oscar and Violet snapped to see the remnants of a grimm collapse forward out of the treeline. Disappearing into motes of black nothingness.

'I didn't even see him draw.' Violet blinked. One moment her father had explained gently, then he had pulled his revolver and killed a grimm in a single heartbeat.

"And we have to take into account of distractions." Her father continued, sitting down on a stump. Their camp already set up and ready for the night. It was still some hours until sunset, but they had made good distance. "And…" Shaking his head, lighting flashed through his eyes.

"Pyrrha. Do you mind going over what they did right? I have an idea." Standing up. Her father didn't ask for permission. Waving his hand, and a dozen lengths of rope and logs appeared beside him.

"Is this going to be a fun idea. Or is it that kind of idea that will make us consider a mutiny?" Nora asked with a frown. Leaning back and looking up from the fire. Poking it with a stick. Only to break out into a hacking cough as the wind changed. The smoke that leaned away from her suddenly turning to hit her face first.

"We can make it a game, or a competition. If it makes it better. Winner gets to decide what we do in the next town." Jaune smiled, grabbing some lengths of rope and throwing them over some hanging branches. "Been a while since we did something to just relax and have fun. Both Oscar and Violet could do well with something else besides training and traveling all day."

"While Jaune works, why don't we start with you Violet." Pyrrha began. Taking a breath as her fingers erratically tapped her leg. A sense of calmness had returned to the elder girl. It was obvious the meditation exercises Oscar's invisible passenger had her going through was helping her. She was still haunted by a restlessness that never seemed to go away. But she was making progress. More coherent, instead of the shell of a woman she had been. Twitchy, restless, and constantly harrowed.

Perking up, Violet took a step back and sheathed her blade. Waiting for the verdict. Eyes glazing over to where her father threw ropes up into the canopy before snapping back to Pyrrha. There was only one person's approval she wanted to hear, but as it stood. Hearing from Pyrrha was a good sixth place. Behind Gherman, her real father, her mother, the doll, and her sister.

"You have made great progress with your stances." Pyrrha complimented with a smile. "Switching between what you need in the midst of combat. There isn't much to fault you for. There is nitpick of course. But for your age and for how long since you have started training, you did magnificently. Having sidestepped some of the biggest challenged most beginner huntsmen and huntresses experience in their training. The same is true for you Oscar, even if it might not feel like it."

"I got my ass handed to me by a child." Oscar pouted, sitting up. Snapping his wrist, in an instant the whip retracted into the cane.

"Yet you have also mastered using a whip in little under two weeks." Pyrrha pointed out with a smile. Cutting him off before he could pout. "In fact, I really think you should learn from each other. You are almost polar opposites. Violet, while your swordsmanship is good, you have been falling behind in other aspects of your training. Wielding a weapon well isn't enough. You need to forge your body into a weapon."

Violet didn't pout, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared. Pretending she didn't feel the burning in her chest, core, arms and legs. It wasn't a burning pain, just enough to know she was going to have an uncomfortable time getting out of bed tomorrow.

"The opposite is mostly true for you Oscar, but not in the way you may think." Pyrrha continued with a gentle smile. "You have a much better starting point than Violet. You are stronger, healthier, and have a good build thanks to your work at the farm. Together with your ability to draw on 'your' experience and muscle memories from The Infinitive Man, you will find your skills climb at record pace. Given the fact you don't forget to exercise."

Oscar nodded hesitantly. Scratching at the side of his head as he gave a wry smile.

"No, your biggest obstacle comes from the fact you aren't used to combat." Pyrrha said as gently as she could. "You are scared to go in. Seeing Violet as a girl and not an opponent. You close your eyes to brace for pain before you get hit. And your footwork could use some work, the same can be said for Violet's footwork as well, but that isn't part of the discussion right now. Then there is also the part of The Infinitive Man's good intentions doing more harm than good as you are right now. But it circles back to my earlier point, that the two of you should learn from each other."

Violet huffed while only Oscar looked confused.

"Violet has had a very different upbringing than us. Already blooded and used to combat and murder to a degree I still find it hard to gasp. While you come from a farm, nothing out of the ordinary, but nothing harmful and dangerous either." Violet pretended she didn't feel the pity Oscar looked at her with. Focusing on Pyrrha instead. "Then there is the opposite. Oscar, you come from a healthy background filled with physical labour. While Violet suffered from malnutrition when she first came here. Something she is just now beginning to conquer. Beginning to put on the 'normal' amount of weight and muscle for an aspiring huntress at her age."

"So you are saying that we each have something the other lacks?" Oscar asked, frowning while tilting his head.

"Got it in one." Nora called out, huffing and sending a look their way. Wanting to be everywhere but by the fire. But she had drawn the short straw and was designated firekeeper for the evening. "Little missy over there is tearing her body apart each time she uses her semblance to turn on a dime. The only reason she can stand, let alone walk, is that her aura takes the brunt of it. Something that wouldn't happen in the first place if she was more physically able. You only need to fight, grow a battle sense of sorts, and you are good to go."

Holding up her scroll for demonstration, Violet's pout only grew. Oscar had more aura left than her. Even if she hadn't been touched in the fight, having been the only one to connect, her aura was dangerously close to being in the red while Oscar's aura was still in the early orange late green phase.

"What even is her semblance?" Oscar asked in honest curiosity. "Her eyes got this error white light. And she was like a completely different version."

"Dad says it forces me into 'the zone'." Violet huffed. Not having anything against sharing it. "It pushes me into a state of intense focus where everything is slower. Making everything easier."

Ignoring his follow-up question, she nodded absentmindedly. Finding her eyes drawn more to her father. A little tune escaping him as he worked. Already a dozen logs hung from the canopy. Some hung high, some low. There were even some ropes that had multiple logs, all in different heights.

"Jaune. Why does the logs have numbers." Ren asked, stepping back into their camp with moist hair. His clothes glued to him like his hair. "I was gone for ten minutes." The boy sighed as he hung up his towel. "What insane scheme do you have in mind."

"Noting insane." Her father said easily. Testing the ropes and giving another long a good whack with the flat of his sword. The log shot through the air, coming back with fury only to be easily sidestepped. Testing another rope, he nodded to himself. "More of a game, or a challenge disguised as training."

"No." Nora said, frowning and looking at Jaune as if insane. "No. Nu-uh. No way."

"Come on. It's not that bad." Jaune said easily. Swatting away Nora's reaction with nonchalance. "It's a variant of the beep test. Hit the properly numbered log inside the fifteen second limit. A limit that will grow shorter until you have to hit a log and hit the next log in under five seconds. The log's will also be called randomly."

"For fuck's sake Jaune." Nora called out with a heavy sigh. Completely opposite of Pyrrha. Who for once looked exited. A look Violet hadn't seen on the older girls face since the before docks. Without even waving her hand's, her spear and shield flew towards her. Grabbing them out of the air she stepped into the now log infested clearing. Violet and Oscar quickly making their way out, not wanting to be in her way.

"Start me off will you, Jaune?" Pyrrha asked with a relaxed smile. Her father nodding and taking out his scroll. Clicking on a button. "Fifteen." An emotionless synthetic voice called out.

Pyrrha sprang into action, spear biting into the side of the log and sending it up in the air. "Four." The voice called out after half a minute. The girl already moving before it finished. "Increase the difficulty for me, would you?"

A nod was all she got, the synthetic voice calling out number after number. Pyrrha danced around the swinging logs with skill and grace. Elegantly stepping around a swinging log only to bend impossibly under another swinging log that came from another side.

Violet sat transfixed. Watching the older girl train. Sweat raced down her brows as she breathed. Throwing Jaune another glance, almost electric in its intensity. "More. This serves as a good warmup. But I want to work out somethings."

Violet sat and watched what could only be described as art in motion. Pyrrha dashed, dove, pirouetted, trusted, slashed, kicked, backhanded, and danced around the logs almost faster than her eyes could follow. She wasn't a blur. Not in the way quickening made one impossibly fast. But it wasn't far off.

'I want to be like that.' Violet coulndt help but think. The desire to be strong, to be safe, a familiar thing. Something everyone born in Yharnam since the beast plagues shared. It didn't matter if it was an orphan, a merchant's son, or a ministers daughter. Safety was a special sort of luxury that few could experience truly.

She almost completely lost herself to her wandering mind. Almost. Barely managing to make out her fathers and the oldest queen's conversation.

"Your mentor is right, Jaune." The floating hussy whispered poison in her father's ear. "Don't let your kindness become something that stifles her growth instead of promoting it. Lest someone else take the choice out of your hands."

A harsh snort escaped her father as he gave the floating ghost a harsh look.

"Don't you start." Her father snorted, whispering the words sharply. "I know she is ready to graduate from the kiddy gloves."

A sigh escaped him. Scrunching her nose, the unmistakable hint of blood was whisked away by the wind. Something flashed through his eyes. Too complicated to be put into words. Marred with a cocktail of emotions that sent a chill crawling up her spine. Yet, paradoxically enough, Violet coulndt wait for what's to come.

{-ooo-}

"Place your hand on the mirror." Her father called out in a voice that was part gentleness and part order. Doing as he said, Violet placed her hand on the mirror. Blinking in shock and surprise when letters of blood wrote themselves onto the glass. They were written in an elegant cursive, powerful strokes, yet also carrying a hint of elegance.

Name: Violet Augustina Gascoigne of Arc

Level: 5

Blood Echoes: 257

Insight: 7

Vitality: 3

Endurance: 2

Strength: 2

Skill: 6

Bloodtinge: 8

Arcane: 7

A gasp of surprise escaped her as she stared. Her father only humming as he stood behind her. Brows furrowed into a frown, but there was no disappointment in them.

"Checks out." Her father nodded. "We have focused mostly on your studies, both into blood magic and swordsmanship. You are far healthier now than when we first met, but malnutrition can't just be cured by eating healthy and training."

"What is…" Violet started not knowing how to finish her sentence. Instead just waving at the words on the screen. "What does it mean?"

"It is a numerical visualisation of your physical and spiritual 'attributes', for lack of a better term. A boon from the dream to her hunter's." Her father explained gently. "The Doll can take your blood echoes and turn them into strength. It's not exponential, but it's a way for hunter's to grow as they hunt. A way to shore up on what they lack, or to specialise further."

"What are your attributes?" Violet coulndt help but ask. Looking in the mirror as her father gave her a smile. Shaking his head good naturally, he reached over her and placed his hand on the mirror.

In an instant the mirror shuddered. An invisible ripple racing over it, washing away the blood as new letters made appeared. If her letters were penned on a reflective surface. The mirror bled the letters for her father. Thick and pungent drops of blood came squeezing out of the reflective surface and raced down. Closer to sludge than blood. A lighter red than hers, yet the stench of blood drowned out all other scents inside the workshop.

Name: Jaune of Arc

Insight:59

Blood Echoes: 104,124

Vitality: 45

Endurance: 31

Strength: 22

Skill: 17

Bloodtinge: 29

Arcane: 27

Violet blinked once, twice, then trice before going over the numbers. A keening sound came from the back of her throat as she tried making sense of the numbers.

"My attributes have shot up when I wasn't looking." Jaune hummed, taking his hand of the mirror. What confusion in his eyes washed away as he nodded to himself. "Add's up that my Bloodtinge and Arcane have increased with how much I have spent studying. Add in how often I have been involved with the supernatural in quick succession, it's no surprise really."

"Dad… why are you shoving me this?" Violet asked, even if she had an inkling of why. Looking in the mirror, she saw Gehrman sit and look at them from further in the workshop. A grimace on his face. Still he didn't say anything. Instead he didn't seem really there.

"You are at that point where you can begin with your own hunt's." The Hunter said icily. Because it wasn't her father that stood behind her any longer. He wore the same face. The same kindness. The same clothes, and the same weapons. Yet there was something inhuman in his eyes. In how he moved his mouth. "There is something to teaching you step for step. But there is something to giving you the means to solve your biggest problem. That being what remains of your malnutrition."

Violet cringed slightly, remembering her Vitality being a meagre three. She didn't really know what that entailed. However three, was just a two and one away from zero. 'And having a Vitality of zero sounds like another way of saying something is dead.' Violet frowned.

"Can't I… I don't know. Can the doll offer me her services without me having to hunt?" Violet asked, voice breaking slightly as she frowned. The word services feeling foul on her tongue. "Isn't there some other way?"

Guilt gnawed at her together with the old fear of abandonment. A hasty breath as she waited for her punishment. Scared she had overstepped.

"Clever girl." The Hunter, or her Father, it got harder to tell them apart lately, gave a proud little smile. Reaching into his vest and pulling out a clump of something churning. Leaning slightly forward and bringing down his arm. Holding the ball of pulsing, churning, blood in the palm of his hand. Soft whispers, invisible shout's echoed out from the churning ball as he gently moved it over to her hand.

Her stomach flipped flopped as an invisible weight fell over her hand. The ball felt like a slippery liquid, while it's core felt solid. It churned and pulsed in beat to her heart, racing through her fingers as she twitched.

"Crush it." Jaune ordered. Violet obeyed, squishing the blob of amorphous blood in her hand. Blinking when it slipped and squeezed out of her hands as if a weird stress ball. Frowning, she squeezed again, and again. Only to be met with failure time and time again. The red amorphous ball of blood in her hand resting innocently in her hand.

"Coldblood, a special strain of the blood." Her father explained gently. "Normally it's something that popes when experiencing the slightest amount of force together with intent. It's not something that should stretch and bend." His frown deepened as he spoke, until it looked like he bit into something sour. "Normally committing murder is all that is enough… unless the dream is something intervening."

"So… what do I have to do?" Violet pouted. Feeling vindicated in her anger.

"A hunt." The Doll answered for her father with an airy emptiness to her voice. "The Child's first hunt to prove themselves worthy. And a hunt from the Son, a hunt to earn a momentary reprieve until the shackled spirits of scored daughters are ferried away, their people their procession."

"What the Dream wants, the Dream gets." Her father sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"A hunter must hunt." Gehrman whispered from the side. "While noble as your intentions are. A hunter must hunt. And I'm afraid you have forsaken your duty these last few nights lad."

"And what is it we are to hunt?" The hunter asked. Putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"A quarry, an area, both have been chosen." The Doll explained gently. "Where tragedy was buried in smoke and fire. What men have forgotten. The beast the child is to slay scours an abandoned temple of worship. The son's mark is of bone and lighting."

"Are there any other 'rule's'?" Her father asked. Brows furrowing further.

"Help can be given to the child in form of words, encouragement, and equipment. The child must alone track the beast and slay it without the son's involvement. For the son, the child may give what help they are able to muster." The Doll recited. Shaking her head, eyes changing, loosing their intensity to a familiar warm gentleness.

"Looks like we have our work cut out of us." Her father said, patting her on the shoulder before stepping away from the mirror and opening his stash. "Here, let's take inventory together before heading out."

Violet nodded, taking a step towards him. Feet feeling like lead while electricity and nerves danced inside her.

{-ooo-}

"Old Yharnam." Father muttered. Taking a deep breath, filling his lungs with the smoke and smog. Violet stared, eyes wandering over the many pillars of smoke. "Can't say I missed this place."

Violet stood, just taking in everything, the world muting into familiar grey and blue. From where they stood, she could take in the old town in all its decrepit glory. Rough and beaten roofs blotted everything she could see, only broken by a tall clocktower. Walkways and bridges sprouted from roof to roof, while further down, she could make out a ground street. Walled windows and barricaded doors lining the tall buildings. Lose tiles, bent wrought iron fences, still smouldering crosses, charred beasts, and a pungent stench of lying under everything.

'Is this what the city is becoming?' It felt like someone had grabbed her heart and squeezed. She felt weak, small, hiding under her bed with her sister when her other father went out at night. The howl of beast's a constant reminder what monster's where out in the night. "What happened?" The words escaped her as she tightened her grip around her blade.

Sharper, lighter, and more durable than ever before. Her father's explanation of fortification had for the most part gone over her head. The stress and nerves surrounding this hunt, this trail, having made it hard to focus on the quick impromptu lecture.

"Do you have everything on you?" The hunter called out, cold blue eyes trailing over the rooftops. Puffing on his pipe. The gears of a plan churning in his eyes. His words snapping her out of her thoughts. Grounding her. "Let's take inventory."

"Gun."

"Strapped under my right armpit."

"Bullets."

"Here." Violet replied, flicking one of her belt bandolier's pocket open and taking out a cartridge.

"Blood vials."

"Here." Her voice came out muted as she showed him the four syringes filled with blood nestled safely around her left leg. Easier to grab, and it was easier to jab a syringe into her leg than to chug down a vial of blood as her dad did.

"Packet of antidotes?" He asked, thankfully not saying anything the syringes.

"Here." Opening another pocket, she took out the still unopened pack, before shoving it back down.

"Backup weapon?"

"Here." She replied, drawing the sharp dirk from its sheath. It was a thin thing, a sharp thing. The blade no more than two fingers' wide and coming into a razor-sharp point.

"Remember, it's quicker to draw your backup weapon than to madly scramble for your sword if it's knocked out of your hands. A dirk doesn't have to be big, just remember to not panic if you are forced to draw it. And remember the golden rule, the quickest way to a man's heart is through the fourth and fifth rib. It's true for beast's as well." Her father let those words hang in the air, taking of his hat and kneeling down beside her. Placing his forehead against hers.

The hammering of her heart disappeared from her ears; the weight that was on her shoulders gone. They stayed like that for a good while, Violet enjoying the moment for what it was. Happy that the ghosts were in the dream for tonight. Not wanting them to be her to interrupt their moment.

Placing a chaste kiss on her forehead, her father got up. Looking like he wanted to take another puff of his pipe, only to think better of it and pocket it.

"How do you want to play this?" Her father asked, the hunter swimming over his features until she coulndt tell one or the other apart. "There are some loopholes in this quest of yours. If a path to your target is already cut open, then that's just good luck. Or do you want me to take a more passive role? An observer? A shadow that only step in when you are in danger."

Violet felt her stomach twist, taking a deep breath as she braced herself. Knuckles becoming white in her gloves, biting her lips until she felt blood on her tongue.

"I want to go alone." 'I want to make you proud.'

"You already do." They spoke as one. The Hunter and Her Father the same. His voice warm and mellow, sharp around the edges, words dripping with blood. Yet the love was unmistakable.

Humming something, he reached into his vest and pulled out his revolver. Giving it to her. Nodding with a gentle smile as she holstered it under her pistol.

"She's a last resort, alright?" He said sternly. "The kick isn't something you can handle. It will hurt you, majorly. Only use her when you feel like you have no other option."

Nodding, Violet ran her finger's idly over the handle of the weapon. Winching slightly, a disgusting smell of burnt leather filling her nose. Coughing, she looked at her glove. The black, smouldering, spots on her glove telling her more than enough.

"Dad… why are your weapons so moody?" She pouted, getting the message loud and clear.

"Moody?" Jaune asked with a raised brown. Stopping to rap his finger against Crocea Mors' hilt diamond. "I wouldn't call my weapons exactly moody."

Giving her dumb father a flat stare, she moved her finger towards his blade. The diamond glowing a faint, dark, crimson. One, then two, then ten, then hundred, then a thousand, then two, ghastly faces appeared around the diamond. Crying, screaming, shouting, trapped in an echo of their demise.

Her father only blinked, taping a single finger on the glowing crystal. Scattering all the malefic visages.

"That's not good. Not good at all." He mumbled under his breath. "I need her gone, yesterday. I can't afford her to grow like that."

Violet bit down on the gip on her tongue. Giving her father the flattest look she could muster. Not understanding how he could be so quick on the uptake for some things, only to be so dense and oblivious on others.

Huffing, she looked around, choosing to take the left roof bridge. "I'm going that way."

Taking a single step forward, a thundering sound rang over the oldtown. Followed by a shrill shout closer to a thunderstorm. A crack, an explosion, a dust cloud exploded in the distance. Flickering blue snakes of lighting dancing inside it.

"I knew there was something I had forgotten." The hunter growled. Giving her a stern nod before taking a running start and jumping from the ledge. Touching down with a loud thud, he raced over cobbled stones and muddy road towards the walking storm. Leaving her standing alone on the rooftops.

Suddenly feeling very alone and very small, she furiously shook her head. Forcing the sudden fear away. Biting her lip, she grabbed her longsword with both hands.

Carefully making her way over the bridge, she felt her heart hammer in her ears. The safety blanket that was her father completely ripped away. She didn't feel like a hunter as much as she felt like a little girl dressed in too big boots carrying a big and clunky sword. The still smoking pillars together with charred and burnt beastly corpses not helping.

Taking a deep breath, it was a struggle to not break out into a cough. The smoke irritating her throat, nose and eyes. Blinking away the tears, something shifted in the smoke.

Blue and grey washed out everything as she pushed her semblance like never before. Hearing something in the smog.

The world stood still. She coulndt move, coulndt breath, her eyelids moved with a snail's pace. The form almost impossible to make out in the smog and smoke.

Ideas and insecurities stampeded through her mind, making it feel like all her training had been for nil. Ever so slowly she felt something thick and moist crawl out from her nose. The grey and blue losing its hold on the world. Sounds, snarls, the shadow of the beast took form.

In a second instinct and muscle memory came and booted the insecurities out of her. Rolling on her feet, moving her blade, and when grey and blue turned to a fogy smog, her blade struck true. Angled up and forward, the beast impaling itself on it in its mad quest. Spittle falling on her face like dew, sharp claws hammered into her aura as it impaled itself further. Waling madly at her even when it was losing strength.

Beady eyes burning with malice, snarling at her, gums blacked, teeth stained with remnants of its last meal.

Taking a step back, she twisted, bringing all her meagre weight behind her cleave. Blood and guts splashed out from the wound. Her longsword cutting through the beast like it was butter. No resistance, no snags, coming out almost pristine. What few drops of blood on it shaken of by the swing itself.

'What did he do?' The thought raced through her; her sword had never been this sharp. This easy to wield. Followed just as quickly by another one. 'I can do this.' The corpse of the beast stared up at her with empty eyes. A surge of strength, of confidence, bubbled inside her.

Wiping away the drop of blood that ran down from her nose, she frowned. Putting it out of her mind as she took in her surroundings. Spotting a prowling beast wrapped in bandages coming slinking the building further down. Sniffing the air, pearls of blood on pearly white teeth. A shrill roar, like the crackle of lighting, washed over the old town. Like one, Violet and the beast threw their heads of to where the sound came from. Fear mirroring in their eyes.

'Remember. Always capitalise on weakness.' Her fathers voice whispered in her ears. Letting go of her blade with her left hand, she drew her pistol. Pulling the trigger and burying a ball of silver in it's skull.

The beast snapped it's head to her. Shaken but not dead. Droll dripped from its mouth, a roar silenced with a bullet to the mouth. Collapsing on its back it coughed. Wheezing, strong claws rabidly tearing at its throat. Ripping it open, blood, flesh and furry hair scattering everywhere.

Violet let it. If the beast wanted to kill itself, she wasn't going to stop it.

Exhaling, she felt her nerves settle. Still there, just muted, pushed to the side instead of overwhelming.

"I can do this." She whispered to herself. Taking a step forward, bringing her blade down like an executioner. The beast didn't have aura to protect itself. Her edge bit through what remained of its neck with terrifying ease. Cleaving right through bone and ligament, coming out cleanly on the other side. It's head rolling ever so slightly on the worn and broken tiles.

Moving past the corpse, carefully making her way down the staircases, Violet frowned. Having no idea where she could find this 'temple of worship' the Doll had spoken about. "Is it there." She frowned, throwing her gaze out into the distance. Barely making out something that looked like a church behind multiple columns of smoke.

"Need to make my way there first." She muttered, finding a little pack of beasts further down by the stairs. They hadn't noticed her yet, but it was only a moment until they did.

Resting her foot at the top of the second staircase, she took a deep breath before she jumped. It wasn't far, her lunge wasn't as powerful as she wanted. But it was enough. Wind whistled in her ears, her blade coming down in a mighty cleave. It's torso slid right, it's legs toppled left.

Moving into a fool's guard, blue and grey muted the world in a dim light. 'Remember, every weapon has their strengths and weaknesses. A longsword has great reach, and is capable of powerful cuts, but it's length makes it cumbersome to wield in tight and narrow places. Length and reach.' Her father's words rang through her mind.

Leveraging her blade, she threw it in a large spinning slash. Translating into the high guard, taking a single step forward and brining her weapon down like lighting. Utilising it's weight to spin, pulling it tighter to herself and stopping in the tail guard. Bashing the closest beast with the pommel.

Blood flew everywhere, she stepped on a hotdog of intestines, squirting black blood on her boots. Pain flared from the side of her face, her aura shining as it blocked sharp claws. The dirk was in her hands before she knew what happened. Burying itself in the beast's hairy chest not a second later. Passing through the fourth and fifth rib. It's rancid breath hit her like a hammer to the face. Soft golden aura holding firm against its pristine teeth.

Pushing it away and taking a step back. The world crashed into her. Blue and grey washed away as colour returned. Red being the most prominent. Breathing out of her nose, a bubble of blood popped. The world seemed to tilt; it was hard to stand, to breath.

Breathing, she wiped her bloody nose away on her sleeve. Frowning when only more blood to spill forth. Shaking her head, she tried using her finger's to stop the ringing. Blinking innocuously when her ears were wet.

Wet with blood. Her blood.

Breathing, her eyes shot open in horrific realisation. Her mouth moved, but she didn't hear anything. Not the smouldering of fire, not the dripping of blood, not even her own panting breathing.

That familiar chill grabbing at her heart. Heart leaping all the way to her throat when a shadow fell over her. Turning around, a beast stood before her. Draped in a white cloth. Larger than any of the other beast she had slain.

Blue and grey drowned out everything. Before she could think, she reached into her vest. Wrapping her hand around the smouldering handle, she drew and pulled the trigger.

Her aura shattered like glass. Golden motes trapped in the air as the world stood still. The next was her hand. Her thumb sheered off. Then her wrist, the bones in her forearm jutting out of the flesh like a dozen small knives. Her elbow exploded; an invisible wave trailed over her upper arm until it crashed into her chest. And Violet knew no more.

{-ooo-}

Note: For comparison, the following is/was Jaune's first stats

Name: Jaune 'Of' Arc

Gender: Male

Level:10

Blood Echoes: 235

Vitality:20

Endurance:12

Strength:18

Skill:4

Bloodtinge:4

Arcane:2

Note: Most of his current stat jump comes from the ritual for Aurora, and teaching Violet about Arcana and Blood Magic. Some stat's like strength have barely grown, while other have shot up.

Note: I hope I caught the feeling and nervousness of child's first sports meet for Violet. Sure she have killed grimm and fang and beast, but that is always with the safety pillar that is Jaune around her.

Note: 'OP' as Violet's semblance is without no upper limit, her body is the only limit. And focusing to the point the world goes still isn't healthy, at least not with more Vitality. Her weapon is Ludwigh's Holy Blade. The part of the weapon she actually can carry that is.

Note: And, curious question, who did wrong in the chapter? Jaune, for leaving Violet alone. Violet, for biting of more than she could chew. Or the Dream, for pushing the situation in the first place.

Note: I remember reading a lot of comment's in the lie of 'Thank god, the little girl is saved.' And honestly, the only thing I could think was: Saved?