[RWBY] RWBY Shorts

[ThunderBasilisk]

Ruby Does Being Seductive

Click to shrink...

Jaune: Ok 10/10 but did you really have to shoot the lights?

 

[dogbertcarroll]

I have the Power... of Attorney!

"How is it you are never jealous over Yang getting close to Jaune?" Blake asked Ruby, trying to poke her insecurities like a cat playing with a mouse, as the girls talked while the guys were off doing something... probably manly, certainly silly, possibly illegal.

"Because she has to share, I'm her sister," Ruby answered. "Besides, this way she can do the scary proposing thing and all that and I can just swoop in with her."

The girls turned to look at Yang.

"Just because our mothers did something like that, doesn't mean we have to," Yang said, amused but not really opposed to the idea.

Ruby brought out a piece of construction paper with a childish scrawl of words in crayon on it.

"Is that a contract?" Weiss asked taking a close look at it.

Yang rolled her eyes. "We were kids, I'm sure it doesn't count."

Weiss shook her head. "It's legally doubtful, but she has had it notarized. I'm not sure it will hold up, considering the ages you both no doubt were when writing it."

Ruby pulled out another piece of paper, a set of blue prints with writing on the back in grease pencil and oily fingerprints on it.

"This is more enforceable," Weiss said as she examined it, "of course it relies on you not paying back a loan of lien and time spent to repair and modify... a motorcycle. It's also notarized."

"I thought I'd paid you back... Damn, I didn't. No matter, I can handle repayment even if it cuts into my fun funds for a time," Yang said confidently.

Ruby pulled out a roll of Velum tied with a red ribbon.

Weiss accepted the scroll and unrolled it. "I... I'm not sure of the legality of this one, it's written in the script used by the Table Breakers... I think this is more of a religious proscription about clam jamming... um. This is signed by the pope. I don't know if it's legal per say, but I do know that no legal firm or any current government would go against it considering the number of faithful in public service."

"I'm not really religious," Yang pointed out, just arguing for the sake of arguing now and wondering what her little sister would pull out next.

Ruby reached into her cloak and pulled out a small jewelry box, frost wafting off it and creating wisps of fog.

The entire group stared at the box nervously. The sound of howling winds or the screams of the damned could be heard faintly in the room as Ruby removed a pendant from around her neck that held a glittering golden key.

As Ruby brought the key to the box Yang suddenly exclaimed, "But then again, sisters share, right Rubes?!"

"Good sisters share," Ruby agreed brightly and tucked all the contracts and the box back in her cloak, the other girls all slumping in relief at not needing to discover what was in the box or the horrifying idea that Ruby might have something even more worrying tucked away.

 

[Gur40]

Qrow world class spy master

Spoiler: context

Stolen From FNKI
Turbulent-Plum7328

The fact that Qrow referred to them as pawns specifically, rather than just pieces, shows his summation of the competency of Salem's current circle of followers.

CingKrimson_Requiem
IDK, the way Tyrian was 『STRONG OFFSCREEN』-ing the Mistralian Huntsman population, he's a rook, at least.


Proper-Froyo6244
Tyrian: [Holding a book called "Blackbeard's Guide To Offscreen Fights"] Ah, what a delightful read.

-
AmbivertCollegeGuy

In his defense, Salem recruited her inner-circle not too long before she began to make her moves so Qrow's message basically means "Yo, that bitch is finally doing something."

Of course, Ozpin being Ozpin read it as "Chill, she's still on hiatus. Focus on grading those kids. That shit's more important."

---

Spoiler: Good boy

"Which just so happens to be my vault for precious things I want to indulge in."

---

Weiss Dream Team

Spoiler: Swords

leading into

Spoiler: Weiss Dream

---

Husband Recharged

Spoiler: Overload

---

Step Sibling War alt timeline?

Spoiler: Thanks Penny

howlingday
Penny: I HAVE SCANNED EVERY SINGLE CONCEIVABLE POSSIBILITY IN ALL EVENTUALITIES IN EVERY UNIVERSE.

Penny: THERE IS A WORLD WHERE YOU GOT YOUR DICK WET.

Jaune: ...Tell me what to do.


weatherman667
Probably like 100 girlfriends, where all of the potential future worlds overlap in a single timeline.

howlingday
Insert that one fanart of Jaune in the cafeteria with EVERYONE staring at him

weatherman667

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The early morning light was soft and golden over Beacon's grounds. Most students were still asleep, but Pyrrha Nikos had slipped out quietly with Mia in tow, the little girl still yawning in her arms.

"I thought we could have some time just for us before everyone else wakes up," Pyrrha said gently, setting Mia down beside her bright red tricycle. "Does that sound nice?"

Mia rubbed her eyes, still sleepy, but her ears perked up when Pyrrha gave the tricycle a gentle push. "Tricycle!"

Soon Mia was pedaling with growing excitement as Pyrrha jogged alongside, giving her little pushes to keep her moving. Giggles replaced the yawns, and before long Mia was laughing brightly, wind tousling her blonde curls.

"Faster, Auntie Pyrrha! Faster!"

Pyrrha laughed, obliging with another gentle push. "You're getting so fast!"

Later, they settled on a blanket in the grass with a big coloring book. Mia concentrated hard, filling in a dragon with bright reds and oranges.

Pyrrha colored beside her, choosing a soft purple for the sky. "Purple is a fun color, don't you think?"

Mia wrinkled her nose. "It's boring."

Pyrrha giggled. "I like it. It's calm and pretty."

Mia pouted but kept coloring. After a quiet moment, Pyrrha asked softly, "Are you happy here, Mia? At Beacon?"

Mia looked up with a bright smile. "I'm super happy! I get to see Papa every day and all my aunties! I just want Papa to be happy too!"

Pyrrha's expression softened. "I want that too. I want Jaune to be very happy."

Mia beamed. "Does that mean you'll be my new mama? With all my other mamas?"

Pyrrha blinked, caught off guard. "Why… why do you want so many mamas?"

Mia shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Because more mamas means Papa is extra happy! And then I get lots of little siblings and everyone is super happy!"

Pyrrha stared at her for a long moment, then smiled gently, a touch of melancholy in her eyes. "That might mean other kids get more attention than you sometimes."

Mia blew a loud raspberry. "I'm fine with that! As long as everyone's happy!"

Pyrrha reached over and gently brushed a curl behind Mia's ear.

"You have a very big heart, little one," she whispered.

Mia just grinned and went back to coloring her dragon red.

 

[Blackicefox]

Oh look at all of the rain today I can barely see my hand for how heavy it's pouring down

 

[ThunderBasilisk]

Man Mia is such a treasure

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Blake waited outside the daycare with her arms crossed, trying not to look as nervous as she felt. When the doors opened and Mia came running out, the little cat Faunus girl's ears were perked and her smile was bright.



"Auntie Blake!" Mia squealed, throwing herself into Blake's arms.



Blake caught her easily and lifted her up. "Hey, Mia. Want to go somewhere special with me?"



Mia's eyes sparkled. "Special?"



Blake smiled. "My favorite tree on campus. It's really tall. We can watch the birds."


- - -



A few minutes later they were high up in the branches of an old oak that overlooked the courtyard. The wind rustled the leaves around them. Mia sat securely in Blake's lap, staring out at the sky with pure wonder.



"Birds!" she whispered, pointing as a flock of little sparrows wheeled past. "They're so pretty!"



Blake watched her, heart aching in that familiar, complicated way. She tried to wait. She really did. But patience had never been her strongest virtue.



"…Mia," she said quietly. "Can I ask you something?"



Mia turned to look at her, ears twitching. "Uh-huh?"



Blake swallowed. "I heard you asked all the other girls to be your new mama. Ruby… Yang… Weiss… Pyrrha… even Glynda and Velvet. But you never asked me."



Mia blinked, genuinely confused. "But I do want you to be my mama! When we met Granny Kali and Grandpa Ghira! I like them lots. I want them to be my granny and grandpa forever!"



Recalling her parents... She felt guilt rise up like vomit. She closed her eyes.



"I..." Blake sighed. "Well... Maybe you shouldn't."



"Why?" Mia asked.



Blake's ears flattened under her bow. She looked down, voice soft and rough.



"I'm sorry. I just… I hurt my family for a long time. I was angry. I ran away from my parents. I joined a bad man… a man I cared about a lot. He lied to me. Used me. And I did a lot of bad things with him. Then I met you and your papa, and I really like both of you. I want to be a family again. But I'm scared. Scared I might hurt you. Or him. Or anyone who gets close to me. I don't know if I can—"



Smack.



Mia's tiny hand landed firmly on Blake's cheek.



"Stop being dumb!" Mia declared, frowning fiercely. "You're super dumb! You can be my mama too if you want! Cause you don't wanna be bad anymore! You wanna be good!"



Then she threw her arms around Blake's neck and hugged her tightly.



Blake froze for half a second… then the tears came. She buried her face in Mia's hair and hugged her back, shoulders shaking just a little.



"…Thanks," she whispered.



Mia patted her back like she was comforting a big sad cat. "You're welcome."



After a quiet moment, Mia pulled back, still holding Blake's face with both hands.



"But I don't want Uncle Sun to be sad!" she said seriously. "But I want another mama… Can I have two dads?"



Blake stared at her.



"…Um… well…"



Mia waited patiently, ears perked, as if this was a perfectly reasonable request.



Blake opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.



"…We'll… talk about that later," she finally managed.



Mia nodded, satisfied. "Okay! Can we watch more birds now?"



Blake let out a soft, watery laugh and pulled the little girl closer, resting her chin on Mia's head as they looked out over Beacon together.



"…Yeah," she murmured. "We can watch more birds."

 

[Ardrianian]

Mia being the real philosopher of the times.

 

[ExFelineServer3]

There really should be a line of dropped panties trailing to Jaune's door by now

 

[ThunderBasilisk]

LoL Mia spitting facts

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Yang pushed open the door to the JNPR common room with Mia perched on her hip, the little girl chattering nonstop.

"—and then Hawk said the blue crayon was the bestest for drawing explosions, but I told him red is way cooler, and then we played Starlight Rangers and I got to be the pink one and he was the red one and—"

"Whoa, slow down, kiddo," Yang laughed, setting her down. "Save some energy for dinner."

Jaune looked up from the stove, where something smelled deliciously like pasta and herbs. The rest of RWBY and JNPR were sprawled around the common room — Ruby and Nora on the floor, Weiss and Blake on the couch, Pyrrha and Ren at the table.

Jaune's face lit up the second he saw his daughter. He wiped his hands on a towel, scooped Mia up, and spun her once before hugging her tight.

"There's my girl! How was daycare, kitten?"

Mia beamed. "I have a boyfriend now, Papa!"

Jaune froze mid-hug. Everyone's eyes were on them. Blake's jaw dropped.

Jaune's eyes narrowed.

"…No you don't."

"I do too!" Mia insisted, bouncing in his arms. "His name is Hawk! He's my super boyfriend!"

"No. You don't. You're way too young for a boyfriend."

"He shared his juice box so we're boyfriend and girlfriend and he's gonna give me a Starlight Ranger decoder ring so we can get married!"

Jaune choked on his spit.

"MARRIED?!"

Yang immediately stepped in, hands raised. "Easy, Jaune. Easy! They're just playing!"

Weiss cleared her throat delicately. "Yes… I'm sure it meant nothing. Children say these things all the time."

Nora cracked her knuckles, eyes gleaming. "Want me to break his kid's kneecaps?"

"NORA!" Ruby yelped.

"What? I'll do it! No smooth player is making the moves on our Mia!" Nora said defensively.

Ren hid his smirk in his teacup.

Jaune actually looked like he was seriously considering the offer. Ruby, Weiss, Pyrrha and Yang immediately scowled at him.

"Jaune!" they said in unison.

"What?!" he defended. "I wasn't going to!"

Mia clutched his shirt. "Don't hurt my boyfriend!"

Jaune looked down at her, jaw set. "Only if you don't have a boyfriend."

"I do!"

"You don't."

"I do!"

"You don't."

"I DO!"

"You don't."

Mia pouted harder. "When can I have one?"

Jaune thought about it.

"When you're thirty."

"THAT'S NOT FAIR!"

The tantrum hit instantly. Mia's face scrunched up, tears welled, and she started wailing at full volume while kicking her little legs. Jaune sighed, carried her over to the designated timeout corner (a small cushion by the wall), and set her down gently but firmly.

"Timeout. Five minutes. No boyfriend talk."

Mia sobbed louder.

Pyrrha frowned and walked over, resting a hand on Jaune's arm. "Come now, Jaune… it's just a silly game for kids. That boy doesn't know what he's doing any more than Mia does."

Yang crossed her arms. "Yeah. Chill out, Vomit Boy. She's four."

"It's just harmless fun," Blake emphasized, "No need to worry... Yet."

Jaune stared at the wall for a long moment, then let out a heavy sigh.

"…Fine."

He turned back to the corner cushion and his miserable daughter.

"Mia? You can come out of timeout if you stop crying."

Mia sniffled dramatically, wiped her face with both sleeves, and toddled over. She looked up at him with big, watery eyes.

"Okay… Can I have my boyfriend?"

Jaune's expression softened. He knelt down, brushed her bangs back, and muttered,

"…Maybe."

Mia's face lit up like a sunrise. She threw her arms around his neck.

"Yay! I love you, Papa!"

Jaune hugged her back, already regretting everything.

From the couch, Nora whispered loudly, "I still think we should break the kid's kneecaps just in case."

Ruby groaned. "Nora, no."

Yang just smirked at Jaune. "You're so screwed when she actually hits dating age."

Jaune buried his face in Mia's hair and groaned.

"I know."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Some prompts:

-For Councilman Arc, Jaune needs a date to a big gala. Who does he choose?

-Yang and Jaune are stuck holding hands thanks to some jerks' weird Semblance. How do they deal?

-Weiss pays Yang to keep Jaune out of her hair... Which works just great for them!

-Yang is turning into a bird at random. Jaune takes care of her when he finds her. Hilarity ensues.

-Raven has a dastardly plan: Get Yang hitched to Jaune so she can become in-laws with the Arcs and gain more power! Yes she is an idiot.

 

[cavalal386]

-For Councilman Arc, Jaune needs a date to a big gala. Who does he choose?

Click to shrink...

There is only one safe option here.

-Yang is turning into a bird at random. Jaune takes care of her when he finds her. Hilarity ensues.

Click to shrink...

Is this one of those "would you still love me if I was a worm" thing? And does jaune know that the bird is yang? Is Blake going to try to eat yang?

 

[Bommel]

-Yang is turning into a bird at random. Jaune takes care of her when he finds her. Hilarity ensues.

Click to shrink...

What if Yang doesn't just turn in a particular bird, but some random bird?
Sometimes its a crow, which is managable, but other times she turns into something like a cassowary (violence encued, though not against Jaune).
One time Yang may have turned into a Hooded Pitohui and nearly poisoned several people dead by accident.

Spoiler: Hooded Pitohui

 

[Phillip_II_of_Macedon]

Some prompts:

-For Councilman Arc, Jaune needs a date to a big gala. Who does he choose?

-Yang and Jaune are stuck holding hands thanks to some jerks' weird Semblance. How do they deal?

-Yang is turning into a bird at random. Jaune takes care of her when he finds her. Hilarity ensues.

Click to shrink...

- Weiss and Pyrrha are the only logical choices for whatever event this is; they would have relevant experience. If the event in question is specifically some kind of "Huntsman Leadership Gala," then Ruby would be a possible option.

- The only thing that comes to mind here is that episode of Family Guy with the B plot of Brian and Stewie getting their hands glued together.

- Two ideas:

+ Jaune is annoyed with Yang for teaching a yellow parrot to claim that it's Yang turned into a bird - and especially that she ran off to sell the joke. However, he is an honorable man, and refuses to take it out on the bird, which he has named Yin ("My name is Yang Vomit-Boy!")

+ Jaune's new pet chicken Spicy Bethany is really affectionate. Now, if only she could just stay put whenever team JNPR and RWB_ are out looking for the missing Yang.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Schnee mansion's private training hall echoed with the sharp ring of steel on steel.

Weiss—barely fourteen, hair in a tight braid, Myrtenaster still feeling oversized in her grip—lunged forward with a textbook-perfect thrust. Fafnir parried it effortlessly with Knarra's flat, the high-frequency blade humming low as he guided her strike aside without effort.

"Footwork," he rumbled, voice like gravel under ice. "You telegraph the feint. Again."

Weiss reset, cheeks flushed with exertion and determination. She circled, glyphs flickering beneath her feet for balance, then exploded into a flurry—slash, riposte, glyph-assisted pivot. Fafnir blocked each blow with minimal movement, his cybernetic wings folded like a cloak, red eyes glowing behind his face mask.

"Good speed," he allowed after deflecting her final overhead strike. "But you fight like you're afraid to commit. A real enemy won't wait for perfection."

Weiss lowered her rapier, breathing hard.

Fafnir stared at her.

"We can take a break," he said, as though unsure of the words. Weiss shook her head.

"Again," she insisted.

Fafnir inclined his head—and froze as the doors swung open.

Jacques Schnee strode in, pristine suit untouched by the chill of the hall, expression thunderous.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, eyes fixed on Fafnir. "I explicitly forbade weapons training for Weiss. She has classes—!"

"She asked," Fafnir interrupted, voice flat. He sheathed Knarra with a soft click. "Said she wants to learn how to fight. Properly."

Jacques's jaw tightened. "And you thought to indulge her?"

Fafnir met his gaze without flinching. "I swore to protect this family. My clan's way—teach the young to defend themselves. If she wants the skill, I'll give it. Better she learns from me than dies ignorant."

Weiss stood silent, rapier still in hand, watching her father with wary defiance.

Jacques exhaled through his nose, pinching the bridge. The silence stretched, cold as Atlas winter.

Finally, he waved a dismissive hand.

"Fine. Supervised only. And if her grades slip even a fraction—"

"They won't," Weiss said quickly.

Jacques's eyes flicked to her, something unreadable passing across his face before the mask of control settled back in.

"See that they don't."

He turned and left without another word.

Fafnir watched the doors close, then looked down at Weiss.

"Again," he said simply.

Weiss reset her stance, a small, fierce smile tugging at her lips.

The steel rang out once more.

 

[Sliverhero]

He man and rwby crossover.

By the Power of Grayskull


Jaune Arc had always hated flying.

It wasn't the motion itself, It was the feeling of helplessness. The very idea that if something went wrong, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it except sit in a cramped metal seat and wait to find out if today was the day he died. He'd spent the entire flight from Arcadia to Vale with his hands clamped on the armrests, knuckles bone-white, pretending he wasn't sweating through his hoodie, and to his hidden shame dealing with his motion sickness. At least there is barf bags if he needs them.

The woman beside him had tried to make conversation early on. She was friendly, Middle-aged, traveling for business, noticed he looked green around the gills and offered him a mint. He'd mumbled thanks and swallowed it without tasting it and spent the rest of the flight staring at the back of the seat in front of him. He is a bit embrassed that he couldnt respond much to her.

He was seventeen. He was on his way to Beacon Academy. He had forged his transcripts, lied to his family, and cheated his way into the most prestigious combat school on Remnant.

Not to new to anyone that knows him, he was absolutely, catastrophically terrified. The airship was a commercial transport, one of the smaller ones that ran the coastal route from Anima's northern settlements down to the city of Vale. It wasn't fancy. Rows of seats, a narrow aisle, a couple of overstuffed overhead compartments, and a window on every third row. About forty passengers total. A pair of hired Huntsmen sat near the back, professional-looking types in practical armor, their weapons leaning against the wall beside them. He hopes he will look cool as them once he successes in his dream.

They are the security for the route. Grimm didn't usually hit commercial flights this close to Vale, but the shipping companies had learned the hard way that "usually" wasn't good enough.

Jaune had counted six other people who looked like they might be students heading to Beacon. Young, fit, carrying weapon cases. He'd considered introducing himself. Making friends before they even arrived. That's what a real Huntsman would do, right? Be confident, charismatic and natural like the heroes pf stories he heard as he was growing up. Instead he'd sat in his seat and said nothing and felt like a fraud. Now the ship lurched.

Not a turbulence-lurch, Not a normal-lurch as if they were turning and needed to adjust, but a wrong lurch, the kind that came with a sound like someone taking a sheet of metal and folding it in half. The lights then flickered as this happened he could hear passengers gasping in fright. The intercom then crackled.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please remain in your..."
Suddenly the intercom died, then the lights died. Emergency strips along the floor flickered on, bathing the cabin in dim red. Jaune's stomach dropped. Then the screaming started, and it wasn't coming from inside the cabin.

He pressed his face to the window. For a moment he saw nothing but clouds and the darkening sky, sunset was painting the horizon in shades of orange and pink and then a shape moved across the glass. It was black, massive and wrong.

Somehow a Beowolf had clung to the hull directly outside his window. Its bone-white mask stared in at him with empty eye sockets that somehow still felt like they were looking. Its lips peeled back from blackened teeth in a snarl that vibrated through the glass.

More shapes started to appear, dozens of them. They swarmed over the airship like a living blanket, claws scraping against metal, weight shifting the entire vessel. Jaune to his horror saw an Ursa Minor pull itself up over the trailing edge of the hull, its bulk alone enough to throw the ship into a steep bank.

The cabin tilted. Overhead compartments burst open and luggage rained down. A man near the front shouted something Jaune couldn't hear over the noise. One of the Huntsmen in the back was on her feet, shouting orders, her partner already firing out a shattered viewport, the sharp sound of his rifle barely audible over the shriek of tearing metal.

Then the floor fell out from under Jaune.
Not metaphorically but literally. A section of the hull beneath the row he was sitting, was simply torn off, peeled away like a sardine can lid, and suddenly there was no floor and no seat and no airship, just open sky and a howling wind and Jaune Arc tumbling out into nothing.
He screamed the whole way down.

As he was falling he was able to make a glimpse of the airship and saw flying grimm lifting other grimm towards the airship.

Then the forest rose up to meet him. Branches whipped his face, his arms, his sides each impact a bright flare of pain that he'd feel properly later, if there was a later. He hit a particularly thick branch chest-first and the air left his lungs in a single, explosive wheeze. He spun, tumbled, crashed through a second layer of canopy, and slammed into the ground with a force that drove him a foot into the soft forest earth.

He lay there, Just lay there not knowing if pain means he is alive or dying. The world was a blurred smear of green and brown and pain. He could hear things, the distant whine of the airship's engines, the crack of gunfire, the howling of Grimm somewhere above but it all felt far away, muffled, like he was hearing it through water. All he could think is 'Get up'. But his body didn't move. His mind continues, thinking, no, hoping that he will move and get up.

Finally his body rolled onto its side. Then to his hands and knees, he starts to stand up but is swaying like a drunk. His backpack damage but at least it's still strapped to his back. Crocea Mors was still at his hip. He was bleeding from a dozen cuts and his ribs screamed with every breath and his vision kept sliding in and out of focus.

But he was standing, and can move and now something just landed in the tree above him. Jaune looked up. A Beowolf crouched on a thick branch maybe fifteen feet up, its head tilted, those empty eye sockets fixed on him. It made a sound low, rumbling, almost like a purr and dropped towards him. Jaune dove sideways. The Beowolf hit the ground where he'd been standing, its claws sinking deep into the earth. It turned toward him with a liquid, boneless grace that made he scream. He then did the smart thing and run.

The forest was old growth, massive trees with trunks as wide as cars, their canopies forming a near-solid ceiling far overhead. The undergrowth was thick in places, open in others. The light was fading fast, the last orange of sunset giving way to a deep purple twilight. Jaune crashed through it all without plan or direction, guided purely by the primitive imperative to put distance between himself and the thing chasing him.

His legs burned, his ribs were on fire. Every breath felt like swallowing broken glass. But the Beowolf was behind him, he could hear it, the heavy pad-padded of paws on forest floor, the snapping of branches and that was enough to keep him moving.

He burst through a wall of ferns into a small clearing and nearly collided with a second Beowolf. He skidded, changed direction, nearly fell, kept going. The second Beowolf joined the chase. Then a third appeared on his left, paralleling him through the trees, not attacking yet just running with him, herding him.

They were hunting him, not killing him but actually Hunting him. Driving him somewhere, or just drawing the kill out, savoring it. He read that Grimm could do that. They fed on negative emotion fear, pain, despair and a terrorized prey animal that ran until it collapsed produced more of it than one that was simply killed quickly.

The realization made him run harder, which of course only produced more fear, which only attracted them more. It was a feedback loop, an oncoming death spiral. But maybe just maybe even with his upcoming death, he hopefully pull enough grimm away from the besieged airship that they can survive. Then something strange happened.

It started in his chest, a warmth small, barely noticeable, like swallowing a sip of something hot. He almost missed it beneath the adrenaline and the pain and the fear. But it grew, quickly. Spreading from his chest to his shoulders, down his arms, through his core, into his legs. Like his blood was being replaced with sunlight and to his surprised he started to feel his pain and wounds to slowly fade away.

A Beowolf lunged at him from behind. He felt the wind of its swing a split second before the claws raked across his back.
Jaune stumbled forward from the impact but the claws didn't bite. They glanced off. He looked over his shoulder and saw a faint shimmer in the air around his body, like heat rising off summer pavement, barely visible in the dim light.

He had no idea what what happened. He didn't know it was it was his newly unlocked aura that saved he. He didn't know that every living person on Remnant carried this shield of light in their soul, waiting to be woken up. He didn't know any formal techniques or the meditation practices or the activation phrases that combat schools taught for Aura.

But once awoke his body knew no, his soul knew what to do with it. That part of him, hat had refused to roll over and die, the part that had gotten him to his feet in that crater, the part that got to run even when his mind was telling him running was hopeless. Its that part that woke up.
And it came out sideways, because of course it did. Because Jaune Arc had never done anything the right way in his life.

The aura didn't coat his body evenly. It blasted outward, uncontrolled, erratic, a sudden flare of light and force that pulsed out from him in a wave. It wasn't a shield. It was a shout. A beacon. A bonfire in a dark forest.

The Beowolf behind him took the brunt of it and was knocked flat. The ones on his flanks stumbled, shaking their heads, snarling in confusion.

But the pulse kept going. Radiating outward through the trees, through the darkness, carrying with it every ounce of fear and desperation and stubborn refusal to die that Jaune Arc possessed.

Every Grimm in the area felt it, and every Grimm in the area turned toward him, even the ones in the sky. "Fuck, I made it worse," Jaune gasped, still running, he even noticed he was faster. "I made it alot worse."

More howls in the distance. He can hear them getting closer and closer. The forest was coming alive around him with black shapes and red eyes and the sounds of predators on the move. He could hear Ursa crashing through the underbrush now, heavy enough to shake the ground. Something large was moving through the canopy above, Nevermore, maybe, its feathers scraping against branches.

He was dragging the entire local Grimm population behind him like the tail of a comet.

The ground sloped sharply downward. Jaune half-ran, half-slid down the incline, loose rock and dirt skidding under his boots. At the bottom was a ravine, a rocky, dry creek bed and at the far end of it, the cliff face rose up in a wall of gray limestone.

And there, at the base of the cliff, was a cave.
Not a small cave, not a crack in the rock. But an actual cave, it was thirty feet wide, twenty feet tall, an opening so large it looked almost deliberate. Stalactites jutted from the top like fangs.

Jaune didn't choose it, but his legs chose it for him. He was running before his brain registered the option, plunging into the darkness of the cave mouth with the sound of Grimm howling at his back.

The darkness was total. For a few horrible seconds Jaune was blind running on pure momentum, arms outstretched, feet slapping against smooth stone. Then his eyes began to adjust, and he realized it wasn't quite as dark as he'd thought. There was a faint luminescence here, to him it was probably something in the rock, maybe, or some kind of bioluminescent growth on the walls. It was barely enough to see by, casting everything in a dim blue-gray light like the world's worst night vision.

Jaune started to notice that the tunnel was smooth, unnatural smooth. The walls had been carved, that was obvious even in the dim light. The ceiling was arched, The floor was level no uneven paths. This wasn't a natural cave. It had been built, he doesnt know why.

He ran anyway, because the Grimm were still behind him. He could hear them in the tunnel, their claws on stone, snarling echoes bouncing off the walls in a confusing cacophony that made it impossible to tell how many there were or how close they were.

The tunnel then widened, and the ceiling rose. The walls fell back, and suddenly Jaune was in a cavern so enormous that the far walls were lost in darkness. The faint light was stronger here, coming from somewhere deeper in, and it was just enough to reveal the scope of what he'd stumbled into ancient ruins.

Massive stone pillars rose from the cavern floor, some intact, some broken, some lying on their sides like fallen soldiers. Archways connected walkways that no longer led anywhere. Collapsed stonework was scattered everywhere blocks the size of cars, carved fragments, the skeletal remains of what must have once been an enormous structure. And at the far end of the cavern, rising from the rubble like a monument to some forgotten god, a castle, or the half of one that was still standing.

It was built into the back wall of the cavern, its remaining towers reaching toward the ceiling. The stonework was gray and ancient, covered in carvings that Jaune's dim light couldn't resolve into anything meaningful. Entire sections had collapsed, the left side was almost completely gone, reduced to a slope of rubble and what remained looked like it had been battered by something enormous and violent long, long ago.

But the face of the castle, the central section, the main facade was still intact.

And it was dominated by a skull. A giant skull. Jaune couldn't tell if it was carved or real, some kind of fossil, maybe, or something stranger, to his amazement but it was still part of the building. The jaw formed the main gateway. The cheekbones were buttresses. The eye sockets were windows, dark and empty, staring out across the ruined cavern.

It should have been horrifying. It was. But it was also the only shelter in sight, and the sound of Grimm was getting louder behind him. Jaune ran toward it. He crossed the cavern floor, dodging around fallen pillars and jumping over debris. The Grimm were pouring into the cavern behind him now, he could see them in the tunnel mouth, a dark flood of bodies and red eyes and they were fast.

He hit the slope of rubble leading up to the castle's gateway and scrambled upward, loose stone sliding under his boots. A Beowolf lunged at him from behind. He didn't think, he swung Crocea Mors backhanded without looking and felt the blade connect with something solid. The Beowolf yelped and fell away. Unfortunately in the process he last the grip of his sword and it fell down into the darkness surrounding the castle. Jaune curses but he knows he has to keep moving.

He crested the rubble slope and passed between the skull's massive jawbones. The gateway beyond was dark and gaping, and Jaune plunged through it into the castle's interior without slowing.

Inside was a shambles, collapsed hallways, rubble-choked rooms, fallen beams. But to his surprise he can feel that there i something here thats when he sees it. A light. Faint, pulsing, blue-white, coming from deeper inside the structure. It wasn't much, but it was the first non-threatening light source Jaune had seen since the ship went down, and something about it pulled at him. He followed it. Of course the Grimm followed him.

The corridor was narrow enough that they couldn't all come at him at once, which bought him time. He could hear them behind him, snarling, growling, the scrape of claws on stone. But the passage twisted and turned and occasionally narrowed to the point where only one or two could fit through side by side.

The light grew brighter., Then he was through—into a circular chamber, domed, surprisingly intact compared to the rest of the castle. The walls were covered in carvings. Figures in armor. Scenes of battle. Symbols he didn't recognize. And in the exact center of the room, on a simple pedestal of gray stone. Is a sword, Jaune skidded to a stop as if he is pulled towards it.

It was an odd-looking thing. The blade was broad and straight, thicker than a typical longsword, almost crude in its construction. The crossguard was wide and plain. The grip was wrapped in old leather. The pommel was a simple round orb. The whole weapon had a heaviness to its look, a sense of solid, uncompromising weight that had nothing to do with its actual physical dimensions.

And it was glowing. Faintly, pulsing, that same blue-white light he'd been following. The blade hummed with it, not an audible sound, exactly, but a vibration he could feel in his bones.

Behind him, the corridor filled with growling.
Jaune looked over his shoulder. The lead Beowolf was squeezing through the doorway, its shoulders scraping the stone on either side. Behind it, more shapes jostled and snarled. Red eyes filled the passage.

He looked back at the sword.

There was no time to think. No time for strategy or planning or any of the things a real Huntsman would do. There was only the door full of monsters at his back and the strange glowing weapon in front of him.

He grabbed the hilt, then he world stopped.
Not slowed down. Not shifted. Stopped. Like someone had pressed pause on reality. The growling cut out mid-sound. The pulsing light froze. The air itself went still, neither warm nor cold, just neutral, like being submerged in nothing. He could a beowulf in mid ponce frozen in the air. jaune couldn't move. His hand was locked on the sword's grip, his fingers frozen in place, his body a statue. But he could still see, still think, still feel and what he felt was the sword. It was... asking him something.

Not in words. In impressions. In feelings. In sudden, vivid flashes of understanding that appeared in his mind fully formed, like memories that weren't his.

Who are you? The question wasn't hostile. It wasn't gentle either. It was appraising the way a master craftsman might examine a piece of raw material, turning it over, looking for flaws, measuring its worth.

"I'm Jaune," he said or thought, or tried to say. In this frozen place, the distinction didn't seem to matter. "Jaune Arc." Why are you here? "The Grimm. I was running. The ship crashed and I..."

No...Why are you HERE?The question was different this time. Deeper. It reached past the surface-level answer and into something underneath, the real reason, the one Jaune barely admitted to himself.

"Because I'm trying to be something I'm not," he said, and the admission felt like pulling a splinter out of his own heart. "I lied my way into Beacon. I faked my transcripts. I don't have any real training. I just... I didn't want to be the only one in my family who wasn't a hero. I didn't want to be useless."

And yet you run toward danger, not away from it.
"I was running away. I was running away the whole time."

Were you?

Images flashed through his mind, not his memories, but the sword's. A towering figure in white and gold armor, swinging this very blade through a horde of shadow creatures. A castle, whole and magnificent, its skull-face gleaming in sunlight. A world of magic and wonder and terrible beauty that was nothing like Remnant.

This power has been wielded by warriors, by kings, by heroes. It has also been wielded by fools, by cowards, by those who had no right to hold it. The difference was never strength. The difference was never skill. The difference was this: when everything was taken from them their weapons, their allies, their hope, did they still stand?

The frozen world around Jaune seemed to tighten. The question pressed in on him from all sides. Your weapon is gone. Your allies are gone. Your hope is nearly spent. Do you still stand? Jaune thought about running. The thought was right there, bright and clear and tempting. He could drop the sword. He could try to dodge past the Grimm. He could hide in the rubble and hope they lost interest.

He could surrender. "I don't know if I can beat them," Jaune said quietly. "I don't know if I can do anything. But I'm not going to just lie down and let them kill me. If that counts as standing... then yeah. I'm standing."

The pause that followed felt like an eternity compressed into a single heartbeat.

You will do.

And then a second presence. Different from the first, not the vast, ancient appraisal of the sword itself, but something warmer. Softer. Unmistakably feminine. It brushed against his consciousness like a hand on his shoulder.

"By the power of Grayskull," the voice whispered, and there was something in her tone, amusement, tenderness, a strange kind of irony, as if she knew exactly how absurd the words would sound. "Say it. Say the words."

Jaune blinked in the frozen void.
"By the... power of Grayskull?" he repeated, feeling deeply, profoundly confused.

The voice didn't correct him. The sword didn't correct him. The void simply waited.

He drew a breath, not a physical one, since his lungs weren't operating in any normal sense here, but a spiritual one, a pulling-together of everything he was and everything he had and everything he wanted to be.
"I HAVE THE POWER!"

The words tore out of him in a voice that wasn't his, or maybe was his, amplified and deepened and resonant, a voice that belonged in thunderstorms and avalanches. Light exploded from the sword, a column of blue-white fire that blew through the doorway of the chamber like a cannon blast.

The lead Beowolf simply ceased to exist. The two behind it were hurled backward down the corridor, their bodies slamming into the walls with enough force to crack stone. The rest of the pack, the ones still squeezing through the doorway, the ones filling the corridor beyond, were hit by the shockwave and scattered like leaves in a hurricane.

And from the heart of the light, a figure emerged.
He stood seven feet tall. His body was a monument to power, every line hard, every angle sharp, every muscle defined beneath armor that was white and gold and covered in designs that looked like they'd been inspired by the carvings on the chamber walls. A red cape hung from his shoulders, heavy and regal. His hair was blonde but bright almost white-gold, catching the fading light of the transformation like a halo. His eyes blazed blue-white.

He looked down at himself.

He looked at the sword in his hand, which now felt like an extension of his arm rather than a separate object.

He looked at the corridor full of Grimm that were already getting back to their feet. "What the..." His voice was deeper. Richer. It echoed off the stone walls. "What the hell?"

An Ursa Minor broke though the tunnel and charged him. Shards of stone flung everywhere. It was enormous, easily twelve feet of muscle, fur, and rage, but it might as well have been a child for all the threat it posed. He sidestepped its charge with a casualness that would have been insulting if the Ursa were capable of understanding insult, and brought the sword down in a vertical strike.

The blade passed through the Ursa's spine like it wasn't there. The creature split into two halves that hadn't even finished falling apart before they dissolved into black smoke.

Three Beowolves came at him in a pack. He swung once, a wide horizontal arc and the sword cut through all three of them in a single line. They didn't even have time to register the hit before they were gone.

A Boarbatusk, the largest Grimm in the group, lowered its head and charged, its bony armor plating gleaming. He planted his feet, raised one hand, and caught it. The impact created a shockwave that blew dust and debris in a perfect ring. The Boarbatusk hung in the air for a fraction of a second, its momentum utterly arrested, and then he threw it. It flew out through the skull gate of the castle, across the cavern, and disappeared into the darkness of the far wall with a crash that echoed for ten full seconds.

The remaining Grimm, fifteen, maybe twenty, a mix of Beowolves and a few smaller Ursa looked at what had just happened to their packmates. Then they look at jaune and to their senses they only saw death. And so they ran, they fled from something they cant understand. Grimm, which did not feel fear, which did not retreat, which existed only to destroy life, ran like cowards. They poured out of the castle, across the cavern, and into the tunnels, and the sound of their howling faded into nothing.

He stood in the ruined corridor, sword in hand, breathing hard, surrounded by dissolving black smoke. The power was intoxicating. He could feel everything, the stone beneath his feet, the air currents in the cavern, the heartbeat of small animals hiding in the rubble. He felt like he could punch through the cliff face and walk to Vale. He felt like he could fight a Nevermore bare-handed. He felt like he could do anything.

Then the light began to fade.The armor dissolved into motes of white and gold. The muscle receded. The cape vanished. Jaune shrank, seven feet down to five-nine, the white-gold hair darkening to its usual dirty blonde, the blazing eyes dimming to their normal blue. His body reverted to its familiar, unremarkable proportions, and the sudden absence of all that power was so jarring that his legs buckled and he dropped to one knee.

The sword of power hit the stone floor with a heavy clang. In his normal hand, it was almost too heavy to lift.

He knelt there for a long moment, staring at his hands. Normal hands. Thin wrists. No armor, no power, no glowing eyes. Just Jaune. "I..." He swallowed. "What just happened to me?" No answer. The chamber was silent and dark. The carvings on the walls stared blankly.

He reached for the sword, grabbed it, and nearly pulled his shoulder out of its socket trying to lift it. He ended up dragging it by the crossguard, the blade scraping a groove in the stone floor.
"I'll figure it out later," he told himself. "Survive first. Figure out later. That's the rule."

He dragged the sword out of the chamber, through the corridor, over the rubble, and out through the skull gate. The cavern was empty. The Grimm were gone. Faint moonlight filtered down through whatever opening he'd originally fallen through, illuminating a path back toward the cave mouth.

The climb out of the cave system took nearly an hour. The sword was agonizingly heavy. His body was a catalog of injuries, cuts, bruises, probable cracked ribs, muscles that were going to be screaming at him tomorrow. But the Grimm were gone, and he was alive, and that was more than he'd expected an hour ago.

The crash site was still burning when he emerged from the tree line. The airship had come down hard about a mile east, a crumpled wreck of metal and wire, half-buried in the forest floor, fires still flickering in the wreckage. Emergency flares had been set up in a rough perimeter, and a small cluster of survivors huddled near the still-warm engines.

Seven people. Maybe eight. Jaune counted as he approached. Injured, shellshocked, but alive. One of the hired Huntsmen, the woman was still on her feet, her arm in a makeshift sling, a pistol in her good hand. Her partner was nowhere to be seen.

She spotted Jaune coming out of the trees and raised the pistol before lowering it. "Survivor?" she called out. "Yeah." Jaune's voice was hoarse. He was aware that he looked like he'd been dragged through a forest by a pack of animals, which, in fairness, he had. "Got thrown clear."

"You hurt?" "Maybe? I think I'm okay."

She gave him a once-over. Her eyes lingered on the torn jacket, the one with claw marks across the chest where the Beowolf had raked him and the unbroken skin visible underneath. She frowned slightly but didn't say anything about it.

"What's with the sword?" she asked, nodding at the thing he was dragging behind him. Jaune looked down at the sword of power. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "Family heirloom," he said.

She stared at it. It was the size of a small person, covered in cave dust, and looked absolutely nothing like any weapon she'd ever seen. "Okay," she said, in the tone of someone who had already used up her daily allotment of energy for questioning things. "Sit down. Rescue ships'll be here by morning."

Jaune sat. He leaned the sword against a piece of debris. He stared at the broken moon, both pieces of it, hanging in the sky like a shattered plate and felt the phantom echo of that power still humming somewhere deep in his chest.

I have the power.He said it silently, to himself, like a secret, Like a promise. He live up to the legacies of the previous users from that vision.

Another part of Remnant: location unknown

He did not know how long he had been frozen.

There was no way to measure it. No reference points. No ticking clock, no rising sun, no heartbeat to count. There had been a single moment of terrible clarity, the cold rushing in, his body locking in place, his scream dying in his throat and then an eternity of nothing. Not sleep. Not death. Something between. A void where thought was impossible and time was meaningless and the only sensation was cold, and the void
Then suddwnly there was warmth.

Faint. Distant. Like the first ray of dawn on the far side of a long, long night. It seeped into the void, melting the edges of the ice, and with the warmth, came sensation first in his fingers, then his hands, then his arms, spreading through his body like fire through dry kindling.

The ice cracked.

He gasped, a sharp, involuntary inhalation that was more reflex than biology, since the lungs that would have drawn that breath had long since rotted away. His body jerked. His hands, bone-white, clawed, familiar pressed against cold stone.

There was more cracking and the ice that had encased him shattering, falling away in jagged pieces that rang against the floor like broken glass. He straightened up, and the motion sent more ice tumbling off his shoulders, his back, his skull.

Skeletor stood in a rough, natural cave that was not his throne room. The disorientation hit him like a physical blow. He swayed, one hand shooting out to brace against the cave wall, and it took him several long seconds to reorient himself. His body was stiff wrong like a machine that had been shut down for too long and was struggling to remember its own functions. His magic was a dim ember where it should have been a roaring fire.

"How long..." His voice was a rasp, unused, the vocal cords equivalent of rusted hinges. "How long was I..."

He couldn't finish the question. He didn't have the answer. The void had erased any ability to track time.

He reached for his power, the dark magic that was as much a part of him as his skull, and felt for Snake Mountain. For the connection he'd always had with his fortress, the bond that let him feel its stones as extensions of his own body.

It was there. He could sense it. It was below him, deep below, Buried even. The realization made him go very still. Snake Mountain, his fortress, his seat of power, the symbol of his dominion was underground. Entombed in earth and stone and root systems, hidden away like a dirty secret. As if the world itself had tried to bury it and forget it existed.

"No."

He reached down through the bond, through the stone and dirt, and grabbed his fortress with both hands of his will.

"NO."

Above ground, the forest didn't so much explode as rearrange itself. Trees toppled. Boulders launched skyward. The earth split along a jagged fault line that ran for nearly a mile in either direction, and from the wound in the planet, Snake Mountain rose.

It came up slow at first, the peak breaking the surface like a breaching leviathan, stone and black metal and serpentine architecture emerging from the torn earth. Then faster, the main body of the fortress surging upward, shedding tons of soil and rock and the roots of trees that had grown over it during its burial. The snake-shaped pillars emerged, their carved fangs dripping with mud. The main keep rose, dark windows blinking open like eyes adjusting to light after years of darkness. And finally the observatory at the peak, the skull-shaped dome that crowned Snake Mountain, broke free and pointed its empty gaze at the sky.

The shockwave flattened a perfect circle of forest for a quarter mile in every direction. Dust rose in a column that was visible for miles.
Skeletor stood at the summit, his purple cloak whipping in the wind, and threw his arms wide.

"YES!" His voice was coming back now, stronger, louder, fed by the rising power of his reconnected fortress. "YES! I HAVE RETURNED! YOUR MASTER LIVES AGAIN!"

He laughed, a wild, triumphant, slightly unhinged laugh that echoed off the mountainside and rolled through the forest like thunder. Somewhere in the distance, a flock of Nevermores took flight in panic. Grimm that had been drawn by the commotion paused, their instinctive aggression warring with something they didn't understand, a primal recognition that the thing standing on the mountain was not prey.

The laughter died as Skeletor tilted his head back and looked at the sky. He saw the moon, or what remained of it. It was shattered, Not one moon but a cluster of large fragments floating in loose formation, surrounded by a haze of smaller debris and dust. The pieces caught the starlight in a way that scattered pale light across the landscape below, beautiful, in its way, but profoundly, unmistakably wrong.

Skeletor's jaw dropped open.
He stared at the broken moon for five seconds... Ten... finaly Twenty seconds. His skeletal hands, still raised in triumphant posture, slowly lowered to his sides.

His eye sockets narrowed. He looked away from the moon and turned his gaze downward, to the land itself, the dark forest, the unfamiliar terrain, the wrong-shaped mountains on the horizon. He reached out with his magic, thin and rusty as it was, and tasted the world.

And he froze, not from cold that imprisoned him this time, but from recognition. He knew this world. It was... impossible, but this world was Eternia. It had to be. The bones of it were right the lay of the land, the position of the mountain ranges, the shape of the coastlines far to the east that he could feel through the stone beneath his feet. The geography was correct. The fundamental architecture of the planet was the same. This was Eternia. But it's wrong now.

It was like looking at a painting that had been left out in the rain. The shapes were there, the composition was recognizable, but the colors had bled and faded and the canvas was warped and everything that had once made it magnificent was now dull and thin and diminished. The magic of the land, the vibrant, pulsing, alive force that had once saturated every stone and river and breath of wind on Eternia, was barely a whisper. A mare shadow of a shadow. As if the world's splendor had been systematically taken from it. Stripped away. Smothered under something heavy and cold and suffocating until what remained was barely recognizable.

Skeletor's clawed hands trembled at his sides not from weakness, not from cold, but from something that might have been fury and might have been grief and was probably both.

"This is Eternia," he breathed. "But diminished. Ruined. Something... something took it. Something smothered it. The magic, the life, the, this world should be singing and instead it's barely whispering."

He closed his eye sockets and reached deeper, past the thin, anemic magical residue that coated the land like dust, down to the bedrock of the world itself. And there, buried deep, almost too faint to detect, he found it.

The heart of Eternia. Still beating. Still alive. Faintly, weakly, like a dying ember buried under ash. But there.

And as he stood on the peak of his newly risen fortress, as his own dark magic seeped back into the stone and soil of the land he had once sought to conquer, he could taste it.

Returning.

Slowly. Incrementally. A fraction of a fraction of a fraction. But returning. As if his very presence his will, his power, his existence in this place after so long absent, was acting as a catalyst. A spark in dry kindling. The land remembered him, and the memory alone was enough to stir something that had lain dormant for longer than he could calculate.

His eyes opened.

"This is Eternia," he said again, but this time his voice was different. The bewilderment was gone. The shock was gone. What remained was something cold and sharp and hungry. "My Eternia. Broken. Diminished. Smothered. But mine."

He looked at the shattered moon with new eyes. Not confusion now. Not horror. Assessment. The moon was broken. The magic was fading. The world was a shadow of what it had been.

Which meant no one was strong enough to stop him.

The grin that spread across his skull was not a pleasant sight. It was the grin of a predator that had just realized the fence around the sheep pen had fallen down.

"I can feel it waking," he murmured, flexing his fingers, feeling the land's magic respond to the motion like a dog pricking up its ears at its master's whistle. "Even now. Even with my power barely kindled. The land remembers its master. And as I grow stronger, so will it. As I rise, so will Eternia rise, under my hand."

He turned from the edge of the summit and strode toward the entrance of his fortress, his cloak snapping behind him. His boots rang on the obsidian floor. The walls of Snake Mountain hummed around him, responding to his will, eager and hungry after centuries of silence.

"Let the moon be broken," he said, his voice echoing through the stone corridors. "Let the magic be thin. Let this world be a dim and pathetic husk of what it once was. It doesn't matter. All of it, the land, the power, the splendor that was stolen from it, it will all return. And when it does, I will be the one holding the leash."

He paused at the threshold of his throne room still half-buried in rubble, but clearing rapidly under the push of his magic, and placed one hand on the doorframe.

"This world was taken from me once. By He-Man. By the Sorceress. By every fool who ever stood in my way." His grip tightened. Stone cracked under his fingers. "They won't get the chance again. By the time anyone realizes what's happening, Eternia will be mine every inch of it, every spark of its faded glory, every last drop of power wrung from these broken stones and this shattered sky."

He stepped inside his throne room and let the darkness swallow him. "And I will start," he said softly, "by finding whoever just touched the Sword of Power."

Somewhere to the east, in the ruins of a crashed airship, a blonde boy in a torn hoodie sat with his back against a piece of warm debris, staring at a sword that was far too heavy for him to lift for the moment and wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

He didn't know he was being hunted.

Not yet.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

He man and rwby crossover..

He didn't know he was being hunted.

Not yet.

Click to shrink...

Write me more! This is great!

 

[Sliverhero]

Write me more! This is great!

Click to shrink...

Will take time as have to figure out a few things, but one thing I will say a certain immortal ex couple are going to be meeting alot sooner then planned.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Arc family farmhouse table in Radian was heavy with the rich, hearty spread of a proper summer lunch—fresh bread still warm from the oven, thick stews, and platters of garden vegetables that Lilac had helped harvest that morning. Team RWBY and JNPR sat scattered among Nick, Isabel, Lilac, and the quiet presence of Orchid Arc, who tapped away at her computer at the far end of the table without looking up.

Nick leaned back in his chair, a familiar mischievous glint already lighting his eyes as he regarded the girls.

"You know… while you're here, ladies… I was wondering if you'd be willing to do some taste testing for us?"

Ruby tilted her head. "What kind of taste testing?"

"Well… I mean, our hospital does make a fair amount of money, but we're all trying to make more cash for the farm. Sooo… we're trying some new foods! Stuff I ate all the time as a kid that Lilac and Tangy think might be luxury goods!"

Weiss's eyes narrowed with polite interest. "Oh?"

Jaune nearly choked on his water. "Wha? This is news to me too!"

Isabel walked in from the kitchen just in time to hear it, her expression already long-suffering. "Oh dear, Jaune, I wonder why that is…"

Jaune winced a bit, as Ruby and Pyrrha frowned. Still, Isabel did smile warmly, which softened her rebuke.

Lilac only smiled, calm as ever. "Well, we're always trying to expand, Jaune."

Yang's grin was pure challenge. "Anything spicy?"

Nick's answering grin was wider. "Yes!"

Nick was already at the cabinet. He snatched down a jar of deep, angry red salsa and held it aloft like a trophy. "Who wants to try some of the Super Hyper Hot Salsa I made with Papa Shirou?"

Jaune's eyes went wide with pure, remembered trauma. "Oh no… dad, don't tell me… you and grandpa—"

"This is made from peppers we harvested in the jungles of Vacuo!" Nick declared proudly.

Isabel's voice rose. "You told me you went there on a Grimm hunting expedition!"

"I can do two things at once! It grew on the grounds of a former insane asylum!"

"Honey… that's still not a good sign…"

"And it's rated at least fifteen million on the Scoville Scale!"

Yang slammed a hand on the table. "Challenge accepted!"

"NO YANG!!! IT'S A TRAP!" Jaune nearly vaulted across the table.

Yang only laughed, tipping her chin up. "Nothing's too spicy for me~!"

Nora bounced in her seat. "I wanna try too!"

Chips were poured. Yang wasted no time dipping one deep into the lethal red sauce and popping it into her mouth. For half a second she chewed with pure bravado.

Then her face went scarlet.

"HA! I can… take… anything… I…"

"Yang, drink some milk," Ruby said worriedly. Yang shook her head, even as her hair lit up.

"N-No... I'm... Fine... This... Is nothing...!"

"You're literally on fire," Blake observed.

"I'm fine...!"

Jaune was already thrusting a carton of milk at her. "JUST CHUG THE MILK YANG!!!"

"NO! M-Milk… is for quitters… Give me another chip!"

He leaned right into her space, voice low and deadly serious. "Yang… drink… the… milk."

Yang twitched.

Five seconds later, she was in the corner, guzzling water and milk like her life depended on it, eyes watering, cheeks still burning. Isabel only sighed and muttered something about an emergency bed on standby.

Pyrrha straightened, determined. "I'll try it next!"

"NO!" Jaune barked.

Nora had already stolen a chip. "NOM!"

Silence.

Then Nora exhaled a perfect little tongue of actual flame.

"UWAHHHHHH!"

Orchid blinked. Nick applauded.

"HAHA! AWESOME!" The tall bearded man cheered.

Jaune stared. "…Well… that's not entirely unprecedented for her…"

Ren, ever prepared, calmly pulled a fire extinguisher from under the table and fired into into Nora's mouth.

"Haaa... Thanks Renny!"

"You'll get used to it," he deadpanned.

Jaune turned on his father. "Dad… maybe we can put up the salsa… you've proven your point I think."

Nick laughed it off and produced a small tin instead. "Okay, okay… maybe not that… Oh! Who likes caviar?"

Weiss's hand rose immediately. "I like it!"

Pyrrha nodded. "Yes, I am fond of it."

"Well… WE MADE SOME!"

Jaune squinted. "Wait, how? We don't have any tanks for fish to spawn in—"

Ruby blinked. "Wait, what's caviar?"

"Fish eggs!" Weiss answered.

Ruby looked faintly horrified. "Why would you eat those?"

Yang, still recovering, managed a hoarse, "Why do we eat chicken eggs, Ruby?"

Nick puffed up. "No no! These… are escargot caviar!" He opened the tin to reveal pearly white spheres. "Snail eggs."

Ruby's voice cracked. "SNAIL EGGS?!"

Nora leaned toward Jaune. "Jaaaune, why is your dad committing food crimes?"

Jaune only shrugged, fond and resigned. "In his defense, he actually knows what he's doing… he just likes to push boundaries."

Weiss considered the tin with new interest. "Hm. That's actually rarer than fish caviar… I'll try it."

Pyrrha's quiet smile followed. "As will I."

Sour cream and crackers appeared. Weiss took a measured bite, then hummed. "…Huh. It's actually pretty good, if a bit common tasting."

Nick beamed. "I'm super common!"

Lilac's voice was soft and certain. "No, Father. You're one of a kind."

Isabel's quiet agreement carried across the table. "That's for sure."

Jaune muttered into his glass, "And thank the Breaker for it…"

Yang leaned sideways toward Pyrrha, voice low enough that only the redhead caught it. "Maybe not too unique if Nick's physique is a hint of the future, eh P-money?"

Pyrrha went scarlet. "I don't know what you're talking about… and besides, you were looking too!"

Yang's grin turned wicked. "Oh, so you're saying he's open market! Then I'll just go stake my claim!"

"No! I didn't say—" Pyrrha shoved a cracker piled high with caviar straight into Yang's mouth. "OH NO YOU WERE SO HUNGRY YANG HAVE IT ALL!"

"MMPH!"

Ruby, chewing thoughtfully on her own sample, only shrugged. "Huh… this isn't too bad!"

Nick clapped once. "Okay! Lilac… bring out the pâté!"

Lilac returned with a plate of soft, perfectly formed meat patties that looked almost elegant.

"But…" Nick held up a finger, eyes sparkling, "I can't tell you what it is until you eat it! But it is meat!"

Jaune's suspicion was instant. "Dad… at least a hint."

"Lamb."

Jaune relaxed. "OH… well that's not too bad."

A little later, after the pâté had been sampled and found perfectly respectable...

"So, what's the surprise?" Weiss asked happily. "What part of the lamb is this made from? It's not the liver, I know that much."

Nick grinned broadly as he popped another loaded cracker into his mouth.

"Lamb brains!"

Silence. Weiss turned green.

"Excuse me please... I'm going to go be violently ill out back."

"You're excused," Isabel said wryly, as Weiss fled out the door. Retching sounds were soon heard. Nora and Ren shrugged, and continued eating.

"Food is food, and this is yummy!" Nora declared.

"Indeed," Ren nodded.

"It is a delicacy in Argus," Pyrrha added, "I might help advertise for it?"

"Wonderful!" Lilac cheered, clapping her hands together. Jaune beamed at Pyrrha.

"Thanks Pyr. That's great!"

Pyrrha blushed heavily and nodded. Yang and Ruby scowled. Blake smirked a bit, enjoying the show and the pate'.

Weiss came back in, blushing.

"Ah... My apologies," she said quickly.

"It's not for everyone!" Nick declared. "Now... The last offering! ICE CREAM!"

He produced two tubs of ice cream that looked innocent enough. Everyone was wary though. Lilac beamed.

"I helped with one of them! It's Lavender Honey Flavor!"

"Oh, that sounds lovely!" Weiss said with a smile. Lilac opened her tub, and it was a pleasant purple flavor.

"Yeah!" Ruby said, "And the other?"

Nick grinned and pulled his tub open. It was practically glowing with how bright red and orange it was.

"Menagerian Death Pepper Flavor!"

"Seriously, Nick?!" Isabel demanded. Nick pouted.

"What? It's super good! And a challenge of bravery!"

Blake's ears flattened. "Menagerie? Sir… Menagerians won't eat those peppers!"

"Which makes anyone who has some even braver!"

All of RWBY and JNPR went for Lilac's ice cream... Save for one.

Yang, still determined to reclaim her dignity, dove into the glowing ice cream without hesitation.

"YANG!" Ruby cried.

"Th-That was just a fluke! I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED! Plus it's ice cream, how hot could it be?"

The answer, it turned out, was very.

Yang's face went from determined to panicked in seconds. "I'm… I'm fine…!"

Weiss's voice rose in pure alarm. "YOU'RE LITERALLY ON FIRE!"

"THAT'S MY SEMBLANCE!"

"THAT'S WORSE!"

Nick took a serene spoonful of the same ice cream. "Mmm… I don't know what your issue is, this is great!"

Jaune stared at his mother. "Mom, have you checked dad's taste buds for… irregularities… or just general presence?"

Isabel's smile was soft and long-suffering. "It's just him, sweetie. I ran the test at least four times. His taste buds can take the heat better."

"I don't know if 'better' is the right word, Mom…"

"You have the same, you know," Isabel drawled.

Jaune shook his head.

"Yeah but I'm not a glutton for punishment," he muttered, as Yang washed down the spice with more milk. She glared at him, her competitive fire flaring again despite the lingering heat. "What…? You think you can handle hotter food than me?!"

"Wha—I didn't say that!"

"Then you try it!"

"I didn't say—"

Nora started the chant. "TRY IT! TRY IT!"

Yang didn't wait. She shoved a spoon full of the Death Pepper Ice Cream straight into Jaune's mouth.

Jaune chewed once. Twice. Then blinked, thoughtful. "Huh. It is spicy… but the good kind."

And then—without breaking eye contact—he caught Yang's wrist, guided her melted ice cream-slick fingers to his lips, and slowly licked them clean.

The table went very quiet.

Yang's face flushed a deep, burning red that had nothing to do with peppers. Weiss's cheeks pinked. Pyrrha's hand fluttered uselessly near her mouth. Ruby's silver eyes went wide. Blake only smirked and quietly opened a notebook, scribbling something that looked suspiciously like notes.

Yang's voice came out high and strangled. "What the—HOW?!"

Pyrrha's was soft with pure admiration. "Oh my… amazing, Jaune!"

Nick's laughter boomed across the kitchen. "HAHAHA! My boy's tasted so many hot things!"

Yang only turned a deeper shade of crimson.

Jaune sat back, tongue still tingling, and muttered to no one in particular, "I think my taste buds burned off…"

Yang, in a snap decision, punched him while blushing up a storm.

"A-ASS!"

"OW! WHAT?!"

 

[ExFelineServer3]

In the tradition of the Kool-Aid Man…"OOOOHHH YEAH!!!!

 

[TheFabulousCustodes]

"This is made from peppers we harvested in the jungles of Vacuo!" Nick declared proudly.

Isabel's voice rose. "You told me you went there on a Grimm hunting expedition!"

"I can do two things at once! It grew on the grounds of a former insane asylum!"

"Honey… that's still not a good sign…"

Click to shrink...

I remember this Simpson's episode, Homer and Chief Wiggum at the chili cook off.

Thanks for the chapter!