《RWBY — Child Of Light》 Chapter 1: First Night In Vale Peace. I drift within a realm of pure, boundless peace, as if my soul is wrapped in a mantle of warmth and hope, shielding me from all cold and doubt. My memories, my awareness, my sense of self¡ªthey stand on the edge, slowly going away. I blink, though I have no eyes, slipping in and out of consciousness like a fish breaking the water''s surface, then diving back down, only to rise again. There are fragments in my mind I can still grasp, enough to remember that I had a life¡ªa life that ended, it seems, in tragedy. And yet, this thought doesn''t bother me. I lived, and I died, giving the best of myself. Whatever or wherever I am now, it feels strangely right, like a final acceptance of the natural course of things. Change is inevitable, after all. All living things transform, no matter how tightly they cling to the past. And just as I begin to settle into this strange comfort, the sense of calm shifts, almost as if some unseen force is pulling me away. The world seems to spin around me, or perhaps it''s me who is shifting out of place. Suddenly, I collide with something familiar¡ªwater. I dive into it, and a spark of panic flares within me. Kicking, gasping, I thrash to the surface, desperate for air, even in this strange, formless state. When I reach the surface, I drag myself up onto a small platform, encircled by a beautiful garden of golden flowers, and confusion overwhelms me. Something has gone deeply wrong. My soul senses it, resonating with unease. "Human," a voice echoes, low and powerful, rippling through the air. "Arise." At the sound, I feel my strength return, energy gathering around me. I am no longer a formless essence, I now have shape. I glimpse myself in the water''s surface¡ªa figure of pure white, humanoid yet plain, stripped down to the essence of a being. But there''s no time to appreciate this new form, as my gaze lifts, drawn to an immense creature hovering over the waters. A golden dragon, scaled and radiant, fills my vision, and I am forced to sink to one knee in awe of its sheer presence. "You''re¡­" I whisper, hardly daring to breathe. "God?" "A god," the golden dragon corrects calmly. "One of many you know of. Perhaps the only one interested in your mortal soul." I raise my gaze, gritting my teeth against the weight of its radiance. "Why?" My voice trembles. "Why me?" The being''s form shifts, an ethereal motion that mirrors itself in the surface of the lake as he slowly steps down from the heavens, until it takes on a shape more like my own, a human silhouette crowned with long horns. With this shift, the oppressive force around me lightens enough for me to rise. I do not. "Knowledge," it replies, stepping toward me with a graceful, otherworldly calm. "I require a servant to act in the mortal realm. One who can fulfill a purpose long neglected." Recognition dawns on me, chilling and surreal. This god, this being of light, is indeed something I know of¡ªa character of fiction, his existence no more likely than that of any other cartoon. Yet here he stands, and I am helpless within his grasp. But at least, I can imagine what he wants. "Salem¡­" I murmur. My recognition seems to please him. "That woman must be dealt with, by any means necessary." "What about your brother?" I ask before I can stop myself, remembering all too well the fate of the last man caught between these two gods. "My brother need not know of you. The pact I made with him is binding, honest, and pure." His tone holds a kind of resigned reverence. "Should you fail, I will honor my promise to end this world. This is my final attempt to grant your kind a path toward redemption, my way to tip the scales in your favor. Remember that." His words carve themselves into my mind at his command, painfully so, as truths forged in fire, making sure I''ll remember them until the day I die. "Will you serve me?" I don''t need to ask about alternatives; the void is all that awaits me if I refuse. There is nothing else for me. "Yes," I answer, looking up into his eyes, which gleam a molten silver. "It would be my honor." "Then be reborn beneath my grace." He reaches out, touching my forehead with a single claw, and my being unravels. A thousand choices flood my mind¡ªeyes, nose, lips, hair, the structure of a face¡ªand though I do not consciously choose, the right shape emerges, as if it had always been mine. When it is done, I look into the water again. The man who stares back is young, with stark black hair framing a pale face, his expression one of quiet resolve. He is not the most beautiful man I''ve ever seen, yet there is a calm, composed strength in him that feels truer than anything I once had. He is me, he is more of me than I have ever been. And then there are his eyes. Their shape was my choice, but the color¡ªan intense, shifting silver¡ªwas not. They seem alive, changing with every glimmer of light, power hiding behind them. And knowing what''s in store for me, I cannot complain. "My servant," the god continues, "I will guide you, and if you follow, no obstacle will impede your path." Somehow, I doubt it will be that simple. "How will I be¡­ presented upon the world?"The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The god frowns, a slight narrowing of its brow. ¡°Time will shape you, and you will gain the power required for your task. Until then, you shall live¡­ a modest life, inconsequential in appearance, yet rich with meaning if you make it so. And remember, our bond must remain a secret. My brother must not learn of you.¡± A sigh of relief escapes me. I won''t need to pretend to be a child, feigning ignorance of the world for years as I slowly pretend to learn to read and write. Nor will I be thrust into conflict unprepared, expected to kill an immortal with powers I barely understand. It feels¡­ It feels like a great deal, too good to be true. "Thank you," I say honestly now. "I swear, I will do all I can." The god¡¯s satisfaction is almost tangible. ¡°You will receive further instructions soon. Coalescing with other deities, I¡¯ve arranged a modern method of communication. I believe you¡¯ll find it quite sufficient.¡± With nothing more to say, he flicks his hand, and in a rush of light, I am cast away. The worlds blur around me, light and shadow mingling as I fall from the sky into my new life. When I land, I am seated at a simple table on a windowless, dirty room. Papers scattered everywhere. A gun in my hand. Vodka in the other. I don¡¯t need to read further to know what this means. Did I just replace a guy who was about to shoot himself? Before panic can take hold, a notification flashes before me. ¡°Hell, nah¡­¡± Ping! This is a test for the God Quest System. Please, confirm your correct reincarnation! [Confirm/Deny] The temptation to hit Deny is almost unbearable. But I resist, gritting my teeth. Confirming my status is followed by the most generic videogame chime known to mankind. [Mission completed] You have confirmed being alive! Hooray! Reward: Access to the basic menu. [New mission] Explore the basic menu. [New mission] Gather as much information as possible before they arrive. ¡°Before who arrives, you damned thing?!¡± With no response to my anger, I force my attention back to the papers scattered in front of me, this time actually reading through them. A list of names, maps, building schematics, and records of transactions fill the page. My breath catches as I realize what I¡¯m following¡ªan entire lot of illegal contraband. And at the center of it all? The Schnee family. Whoever was sitting in this room before I took over wasn¡¯t just dabbling in shady dealings., they were knees-deep in them. These documents are the breadcrumbs leading to some sort of prized vault, but there''s no mention of what¡¯s inside. As if someone wanted to make sure no one, not even the buyers, knew the full picture. If the system wasn¡¯t practically pushing me to dig deeper, I¡¯d turn around and never look back. [Mission completed] The more you know! Rewards: Skill: Observe/Skill: Listen. I barely register the new Listen skill before my senses sharpen unnaturally, stretching beyond the room. Outside, a car comes to a halt down the block. I sense two large, heavy figures stepping out, their footsteps deliberate, heading for my door. ¡°Yo! Kid, you there?¡± one of them growls, his voice rough as sandpaper A quick check of the gun reveals a single dust shell. Great. Not much, but better than nothing. I tuck it behind my back and move toward the door. The two men are already there, leaning against the wall like stereotypical mob goons¡ªsunglasses and all, despite the fact it¡¯s the middle of the night. Inconspicuous. Not. Ah, yes, Vale¡¯s finest undercover operatives. ¡°Change of plans, detective. You¡¯re coming with us tonight,¡± says the taller one, attempting a faux-refined tone, as if he¡¯s auditioning for a mobster role. ¡°I thought my job was just handling the intel.¡± I try bluffing, though the odds feel thinner by the second. ¡°No can do, boyo. Boss sayin¡¯ we¡¯re skipping town after tonight¡¯s hit, so if you want ya¡¯ cut, you¡¯re coming along.¡± [New mission] Engage in theft. ¡°Well¡­ that sound¡¯s fantastic, then.¡± Forcing a smile, I let them herd me into the car. As the engine hums to life, I mentally pull up my system menu, curious if my new companions would react to it. Worst-case scenario, I could claim it¡¯s my semblance or something. Luckily, just focusing on the icon at the corner of my view brings the system to life silently. [Stats] [Skills] [Magic] [Quests] [Memories] [Inventory] [Utility] Might as well see how bad things are. Stats, then. Name: Age: 17 Level: 1 (50%) Race: Human Aura: Unlocked Title: None HP: [-100%-] MP: [-100%-] Aura: [-100%-] Stats: Str: 12 Dex: 10 Con: 10 Int: 13 Wis: 10 Cha: 10 Average stats with a little extra intelligence. I could almost blush. [Mission completed] Know thyself, whoever he is. The user has leveled up! Upa-yay! Whatever strangled sound escapes me must have been loud enough to catch the attention of the two goons. They exchange a very confused glance. ¡°Sorry, sorry,¡± I say, waving them off. ¡°I haven¡¯t been sleeping well. All this¡­ I¡¯m a bit in over my head.¡± The smaller one, the man with a mustache so thick it nearly devours his mouth, lets out a hearty laugh, slapping his knee. ¡°You can say that twice, kiddo. Pretty soon, you¡¯ll be the kind of lad who steals from the most powerful family we¡¯ll never know.¡± Oh, you''d be surprised, I think, recalling that some of them would soon be far from unknown around here. As the city lights blur past, one unsettling thought starts bothering me¡ªWhen exactly am I? Years before the main story? Has the White Fang already made its move? Is the fall of Beacon months or days away? I force the questions aside and focus on what I can control. I have a new level, and points to assign. Chapter 2: Dance With The Spider ¡°Hey, old man,¡± I mumble, trying to act with familiarity, ¡°are we sure everything we need will be there? We won¡¯t get another shot.¡± ¡°Still nervous, huh? Can¡¯t say I blame ya, but you did the math. Even if they managed to open that lot, where would they take it? No one wants that kind of heat.¡± And just like that, I¡¯m still in the dark about what we¡¯re sticking our necks out for. A quick glance on the files suggested the Schnee family had initially put three vaults on the market, each of them holding either personal artifacts or some one-of-a-kind wonder forged by their progress-and-military division. But only after the contents of one of them briefly leaked did the Malachite family get interested, even taking out a loan from some underground financier to secure the bidding. Apparently, whoever I replaced caught a glimpse of the items too and sought out these ¡°helpful¡± gentlemen to liberate them, promising to take only what he needed before disappearing, leaving the rest to them. What¡¯s more bizarre is how they don¡¯t seem fazed by my attitude¡ªor my appearance. My reflection in the car window shows the same face I had before reincarnating, which suggests they conveniently ¡°forgot¡± what the old me looked like. Useful, sure, but troubling too. Who am I supposed to be? Is there a family out there looking for me¡ªfor him? Would I even care if they were? Probably not. But it¡¯d be wise to avoid any unwanted reunions. ¡°We move in five. Put this on.¡± The rough voice snaps me back to reality, and a strange mask is shoved into my hands. I turn it over, suddenly interested. ¡°A Grimm mask?¡± ¡°Everyone¡¯s on edge about those damned creatures roaming wild these days. We¡¯re not sticking around long enough for anyone to get suspicious, but a little insurance never hurts.¡± A smirk tugs at my lips. ¡°Better safe than sorry, huh?¡± ? The Malachite manor looms in the distance, both beautiful and unnerving. From what I remember, their family has clung to relevance since Vale¡¯s early days, their power rising and waning through backdoor deals and an impressive criminal portfolio imported directly from Mistral. Despite the layers of dirt on their reputation, the mansion stands unscathed¡ªpristine, even. I¡¯d expected an estate with this kind of history to look as battered as its occupants¡¯ lives, but the place is a fortress. We approach quietly, slipping to the basement¡¯s outdoor entrance, where one of the gorillas¡¯ forces open the rusted lock. The door creaks, and we move in, one by one. The interior yawns open, shadows dancing over the cold, humid stone walls of the underground. Most of the family¡¯s security detail is notably absent; it seems the Malachites are all attending some grand celebration in the city, commemorating the anniversary of Vale¡¯s founding as one of the families involved on the great war, even if just as weapon dealers. It¡¯s almost ironic how they didn¡¯t even consider the idea of being robbed themselves. It made sense, the shipment had arrived barely three hours ago, with only a few dozen people in the entire continent knowing of its existence, and yet here we are. My steps echo in the dim light as we navigate the labyrinthine hallways back to the surface. The two gangsters lead the way, the taller one holding up a flashlight, which is killed the moment we catch the faintest sight of movement. I fall in line behind them, adjusting my own mask, feeling its rough edges pressing into my skin. The sensation brings a strange thrill, this is the most fun I¡¯ve had in a long time. It doesn¡¯t take long for us to encounter our first guard. Most of the staff here have been with the Malachites for over a decade; in all that time, no one has dared break into their household. Who would? Robbing them is like stealing from both nobles and criminals¡ªyou¡¯d have the entire city on your back for life. Overconfident and underprepared, the guard stands there until one of my partners drops a well-aimed club to his head, then falls asleep. Better to knock them out than leave bodies, I suppose. We repeat that process a couple more times. Then, With the base floor clear, we approach the grand, twin staircases leading to the upper level. In theory, our objective lies within minutes: there¡¯s only one place a prized lockbox would be kept¡ªthe head of the family¡¯s study. The door to it is ornate, almost fragile in its elegance. Ignoring the lock, one of my companions tears the handle straight off. The door creaks open¡ªand suddenly, a gunshot rings out. ¡°Intruder detected¡ªidentify yourself.¡± The taller man collapses, blood pooling around him. I dive to the side as a rusting automaton aims its rifle and fires again into the corridor, its joints creaking with every heavy step. We scatter like rats, instincts kicking in. A discarded Atlesian Knight. So that¡¯s the kind of stuff Jacques Schnee¡¯s been putting on the market¡­ As the Knight steps over our fallen partner, it fires a third time, barely missing my shoulder as I throw myself into a random room. The second I think I¡¯m safe, a pair of shocked green eyes meet mine, sharp and hostile.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Looks like not all the Malachites are fans of fancy social events. Melanie Malachite¡ªthe ¡°Little Spider¡±¡ªpirouettes through the air, delivering a vicious kick that pierces through my aura, sending me stumbling back into the hallway. If she¡¯d had her weapons, that blow might¡¯ve severed my arm. Grunting from the impact, I barely regain my footing before she¡¯s on me again. I manage a hard kick to her stomach just as the Knight¡¯s fourth shot nearly takes off her head. ¡°What the hell?!¡± she screams, her bravado fading into panic. I guess Mommy and Daddy didn¡¯t tell their precious girls about the homicidal tin can. ¡°Move, bitch, move!¡± I shout, jumping over the railing to the ground floor below. ¡°Agh! You filthy¡ª¡± The Knight keeps firing, rounds tearing through the air as we scramble to get clear. I plan to circle back and flank it, maybe try for a disarm, but Melanie¡¯s faster than me, determined not to let me roam her house freely. She lunges again, and this time, I grab her leg mid-kick, slamming her into the wall with a surge of strength I didn¡¯t knew I had. An unlocked aura really does make all the difference. With that in mind, I launch myself through the nearest window. Glass shatters around me as I dive, hitting the ground outside in a shower of jagged shards. A startled security guard shouts from the far end of the garden, but I ignore him, already making my way back towards the building. I can feel my body¡¯s newfound strength, and I want to push it further. I sprint at the wall, coiling my muscles¡ªand leap. One second later, I¡¯m flying through the air, crashing back through the second-floor window in another mess of broken glass. But I¡¯m not alone. A second knight, rusted and even more battered than the first, stands menacingly before me, having just exited the studio. Both automatons fix their eyes on me, gears creaking as they move. The new arrival sheds a few metal shards, discarding some of its armor as it takes off into a violent sprint. Unlike its rifle-wielding counterpart, this one comes straight at me with twin, jagged blades protruding from each wrist, glinting dangerously in the dim light. Of course they¡¯d have one of each! The blades slash through the air, forcing me to duck and weave in a tight dance to avoid a gruesome death. I make sure to maneuver the bladed robot between me and the shooter, knowing I can¡¯t handle both at once. Fortunately, the automatons seem as oblivious to each other as they are to me. The rifleman takes a shot anyway, the shell blasting straight into the back of his ally¡¯s skull. The hit rattles the bladed knight, but it doesn¡¯t fall. I don¡¯t waste the opportunity. Gathering all my strength, I drive myself against it, shoving the metal giant over the rail. It crashes to the base floor with a heavy, dented clang. That should buy me a few seconds. Another shot whizzes past my head, snapping me back to the fight. I duck, a sudden clarity seizing me¡ªthe intense, electric awareness that fills my body, sharpens my senses. I can feel every shift in the air, every muscle twitch in my limbs, as raw power courses through me like fire. Aura: [-50% ] With half my magical energy spent, I know I need to finish this fast. I jump forward, narrowly dodging two more shots. Each miss carves into the walls behind me, filling the air with clouds of dust and splintered wood. Closing the distance, I channel the remaining energy into my fist, willing my aura to explode outward. My strike is more than a punch; it¡¯s a force, raw energy that collides with the Knight¡¯s head before my knuckles even make contact, ripping the metal skull clean off and sending it clattering down the hall. Aura: [-30% ] Worth as fuck. The hallway falls silent, save for my own ragged breathing. With the path now clear, I take a deep breath, straightening, and move towards the studio where my prize awaits. Just as I¡¯m about to enter, a scream echoes below. My head snaps back. The automaton I threw over the rail has cornered Melanie Malachite. Her naked feet pummel uselessly against its metal shell, each impact doing little more than echo hollowly through the halls. Panic flashes in her green eyes as the machine advances, relentless and unfeeling. I hesitate, a single second stretching wide. [Additional Objective] Save the spider. That''s all the convincing I need. Drawing from the last reserves of my aura, I launch myself down like a missile, slamming my foot into the automaton and knocking one of its arms clean off. Melanie reacts immediately, sweeping her leg to take out its balance. The machine spins into the air, and I follow through, driving a knee straight into what¡¯s left of its head, crushing it like paper. As the fight ends, we both step back, breathing heavily, studying each other in the dim light. Melanie is clutching her side, a fresh cut bleeding through her fingers. It¡¯s shallow, but I can tell by the way she winces that it stings like hell. ¡°And now what?¡± she growls through clenched teeth. ¡°Am I supposed to thank you or something?¡± I grin. ¡°Better get that wound cleaned up¡ªthose trashcans were full of rust.¡± Knowing she is in no shape fight, I turn, finally making my way toward my prize. The small lockbox sits just ahead, perched on an ornate desk inside the studio. I can almost taste victory. Time¡¯s running out, but I can still make it. I step into the room, fingers itching to grab it¡ª The telltale click of a gun cocking freezes me mid-step. ¡°Daaaaamn, boyo,¡± a familiar, mocking voice whistles from the corner. ¡°Ya really pulled a fast one on us. Here I was, thinkin¡¯ you were just some pipsqueak!¡± I glance sideways. The man with the mustache stands there, pistol aimed steady. ¡°Any chance we both make it out of here rich and alive?¡± His answer is a gunshot. Pain detonates in my side, stealing my breath and sending me to my knees. My aura cushions the impact, but only barely, and then it breaks. HP: [-80% ] I choke on a laugh, realizing that my second chance at life might be over as quickly as it began. ¡°Bad choices, boyo.¡± He presses the hot barrel against the back of my head. I close my eyes, taking one last deep breath, letting the taste of freedom linger¡ªuntil I hear a sudden, strangled grunt. My would-be executioner collapses to the floor. In the doorway stands Melanie, now fully geared up, her blade-edged heel dripping with blood she flicks away without a second thought. For a moment, I just stare, hand inching toward the gun hidden at my back. I grip it, letting her see it is there. ¡°Are we even now?¡± I ask, my tone light, hoping to defuse the situation. She huffs, lifting her chin defiantly. ¡°Guess Mother will be pleased I took down two intruders tonight.¡± She flashes a crooked, dangerous smile. ¡°Let¡¯s see how long it takes her to find you.¡± With that, she turns and saunters back to her room, as if this were nothing more than a passing inconvenience. Now that¡¯s my kind of girl. Ignoring the throbbing pain, I grab the lockbox and start for the exit. With my aura drained, my escape becomes the most ridiculous part of the night. I fumble my way out, carefully aiming for the bushes below, half-limping, half-rolling to avoid snapping a leg on the way down. But finally, I make it, disappearing into the shadows of the darkened streets, the small metal box clutched tight against my ribs. Victory tastes a little like blood, but I¡¯ll take it. ? Back "home," it takes me a while to crack the lock. My fingers tremble under the weight of exhaustion, adrenaline lingering in my pulse. Finally, though, the latch gives way, and I¡¯m holding my prize. Inside, there are only two items. The first catches my eye instantly: an eight-shot handgun forged from silver and pale-blue metal, heavy and strikingly beautiful¡ªa weapon designed to make an impact. The second item is one of this world''s digital scrolls, a device that functions like a magical phone. As the screen flickers on, a document pops up, and I skim it, trying to make sense of what I''m seeing. It¡¯s... a letter from Professor Ozpin. An invitation to Beacon Academy, signed by the headmaster himself. The pieces click, and realization floods over me. ¡°There¡¯s no way Jaune would¡¯ve fought his way into Beacon like this¡­ So, I¡¯m guessing things are a little tougher in this universe, huh?¡± Grinning, I savor the moment as I sign my name at the letter''s end, grounding myself to this reality. Vesper Bolt. Chapter 3: Mightier Than The Sword I start the day the best way I can: collecting my rewards. [?20.000 added to Inventory] [Potion of Health] [Potion of Aura] [Skill Token] [Weapon Giftbox] [Beginner¡¯s Leather Plate] I have no clue how much money that really is, but it looks like a decent amount. Aside from that, it¡¯s mostly low-level basics¡ªsome equipment, a few potions. Standard fare. When I open the giftbox, it reveals an assortment of melee weapons, and I settle on a simple combat knife. A sword or spear might be better for open combat, but I¡¯d rather have something compact and easy to pull from my inventory, at least for now. Then there¡¯s the weapon that¡¯s already in my inventory. [The Contender ¨C Lvl 20 Handgun] The name appeared the moment I thought of it, like the weapon had a presence all its own. It''s the only item that reveals its details under [Observe], almost as if it¡¯s glaringly obvious just how powerful it is. Last night¡¯s combat earned me enough experience to reach level three, and completing the additional objective boosted me to level four. Still, I''m nowhere near skilled enough to match this weapon¡¯s power. In other words, it¡¯s my best line of defense right now. But I only have eight bullets. ¡°Stats.¡± Stats: Str: 15 Dex: 15 Con: 10 Int: 18 Wis: 10 Cha: 15 ¡°I¡¯d rather keep things balanced than specialize in something useless,¡± I mutter to myself. Most of my skills leveled up as well, but it¡¯s already hard to keep track of them all. Nearly everything I do becomes a skill, to the point that I¡¯ve trained myself to ignore the constant notifications. Cooking, cleaning, observing, listening, lying, convincing, running, fighting¡­ each action strengthens something. ¡°I¡¯ll give it a day or two, see which skills come out on top.¡± I strap on my new leather chest plate¡ªnot that it feels capable of stopping anything remotely lethal in this gun-loaded world¡ªand leave the rundown shack I¡¯ve called home for the past twenty-four hours. First stop: a dust shop. Normally, I''d be looking for a new place to stay right away¡ªI¡¯m not one to spend nights on the streets. But with a weapon that¡¯s five times my level by my side, my priorities have shifted a little. Knowing what students at Beacon are capable of, I¡¯m nowhere near prepared for the challenge. Somewhere along the past few weeks Blake took down twenty of those robots I fought last night like it was nothing. Sure, Adam was there, but I doubt it made much difference. Teenagers around here are just built differently, and I can either step up my game or risk becoming Jaune Arc¡¯s rightful heir. The thought alone gives me all the motivation I need. It doesn¡¯t take long to find an open dust shop, though I can¡¯t help noting that this place is likely to get robbed in the near future. Now that I know the new term at Beacon is just weeks away, it¡¯s easy to place these events on the timeline. I wonder if I should step in and stop it when the time comes. Roman¡¯s henchmen seemed weaker than the average Grimm, so it could be decent practice. I just hope I can gain experience without killing anyone. Otherwise, it would be¡­ A little difficult to explain I¡¯m just mob farming. Pushing the thought aside, I step into the shop and place one of my gun¡¯s dust shells on the counter. The shopkeeper¡ªa well-groomed man in a brown suit¡ªlooks up, his expression shifting from boredom to mild surprise as he studies the shell. It¡¯s no wonder these stores get robbed. Imagine running a shop full of highly valuable dust with zero security besides them hands. Might as well hang a Please Rob Me sign on the door. ¡°Could I ask for the price of these?¡± I say, pushing the bullet towards him. ¡°I¡¯ll be joining Beacon soon, and I¡¯m looking to stock up on dust for the new weapon I¡¯m forging.¡± [Deception has leveled up!] Deception Lvl 5 (0%) LEAVE ME ALONE. The man approaches, squinting as he examines the shell, clearly both confused and intrigued. ¡°Hmm¡­ young man, may I ask where you got this? These aren¡¯t common around Vale.¡± Yup, that¡¯s about what I expected. ¡°My father sent me a small case from Atlas, full of spare parts from broken weapons,¡± I kept shamelessly lying though my teeth. ¡°I thought of using this shell¡¯s barrel to craft a light rifle, but I wanted to check if dust ammunition would be hard to find.¡± ¡°Indeed,¡± the clerk says, nodding thoughtfully. ¡°Give me a moment; I may have something in the back.¡± He disappears, taking longer than I expected before returning with a small wooden box that looks older than my grandfather. Thankfully, the store is mostly empty¡ªdo regular people even use dust here? ¡°Apologies for the delay. I believe these will¡­ suffice for now.¡± Opening the box, he reveals eight shells identical to the one I brought in. Judging by the cushioned, ostentatious display, I¡¯m about to be ripped off.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°These are part of a discontinued line from Atlas,¡± he says smoothly. ¡°I could probably get more, though it might take a few weeks. They¡¯re disposing of their older calibers, after all.¡± ¡°And these eight?¡± He can¡¯t quite hide the smirk that edges onto his face. ¡°Since you¡¯ll rarely find these here in Vale¡­ perhaps a thousand Lien per shell? Does that sound right?¡± I had to laugh. A thousand for bullets no one else in this city can even use? Nah. I¡¯ll just ask Beacon to order me a supply directly. Not like I¡¯ll need them until classes start. But hey, thanks for your time. Hope you find someone else looking for old Atlasian ammunitions.¡± With that, I turned around and did my best impression of leaving. ¡°Five hundred each!¡± he calls, his businesslike composure crumbling. ¡°Nope. Two-fifty or sit on your losses. I¡¯m not doing favors today,¡± despite my casual tone, I couldn¡¯t hide how much I am enjoying myself. In the end, I walk out of the store with a full reload at a reasonable price. Still too much for just eight bullets, but worth it if they save my life one day. But carrying a heavy gun isn¡¯t the same as being strong¡­ [New mission] Reach level 5 before school starts. [Additional Objective] Reach level 10 before school starts. [New mission] [Daily mission] Level up once. [New mission] [Daily mission] Meet someone. [New mission] [Daily mission] Level up skills five times. Just as I think the barrage of notifications is over, a white square takes over my vision. The system has been updated. New functionality [Dungeons] has been unlocked. Would you like to participate in a free test? [Accept/Decline] Just as I thought, the system seems to be adapting itself to my needs, reacting to my thoughts more like a living entity than a standard game. With time, I might even develop skills to make my own ammunition from raw dust. But for now, I¡¯m content with what I have. Glancing around, I step into a nearby alleyway to avoid any curious eyes, then press [Accept]. Reality fractures around me, a rift of light splitting the dirty alley in half as it pulls me into another dimension. The usual stuff. ? Next thing I know, I¡¯m standing in the center of a mysterious, eerie library. Towering wooden shelves spiral upward into darkness, vanishing beyond sight. Instead of a ceiling, the space is lit by floating candlelight¡ªeach flame flickers in its own unique patter as it hovers along the space, casting a restless glow over everything. The shifting lights twist around the columns of books, weaving moving shadows that spiral across the floor, wall, and even my own skin, setting an unsettling chill in my chest as the idea of being completely isolated from any other soul starts to settle. I am on my own. [Dungeon 1] Library of Shadows. [New objective] Defeat the dungeon boss. [Additional objective] Defeat 10 lvl 3 enemies. [Additional objective] Defeat 3 lvl 5 enemies. The first thing I do is draw my handgun and rest my finger on the trigger. [New skill] Handgun mastery. Then I open my inventory and retrieve the Skill Token from my morning rewards. I press it, channeling its power straight into my new skill, boosting Handgun Mastery to level five. A bit of a waste on a skill with zero XP, but missing a shot here is not an option¡ªnot until Beacon starts footing my expenses. For now, I must make every bullet count. With that out of the way, I pick a direction and start moving forward. Every so often, I reach for the books scattered around¡ªespecially the ones left open on the old tables, pages spread as if their last readers had suddenly fled in terror, abandoning to the darkness. Yet no matter how many I scan, none are in a language I understand. But it feels wrong to leave them behind, so I slip a couple into my inventory. Just in case. A flicker of movement catches my eye. Far in the shadows, something shifts¡ªa faint blur on the edge of my vision, half-hidden. It is dark, it is faint, I don¡¯t know what it is, but I can tell it¡¯s there. Keeping my gun ready, I call out, ¡°Whatever grimdark goblin you are, if you understand words, come out slowly. Hands in the air would be your best move.¡± What emerges leaves me speechless. A massive, intricately decorated book slides forward from the shadows and stops before me. Then, with a violent shudder, it opens, pages rustling as if caught in a phantom wind. Something dark and amorphous begins to slither out from the book, materializing into a creature of pure, liquid darkness. Its oily body contorts, snapping into form with teeth that drip venom. The thing¡¯s maw opens in a silent growl¡ª I pull the trigger. Thunder roars through the library, and a blast of ice obliterates the creature in a single shot, leaving only a dark, foul-smelling puddle. Lvl 3 enemies defeated: 1 of 10. ¡°JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.¡± It worked¡ªboth the gun and my aim¡ªbut holy hell, that recoil packs a punch. If it weren¡¯t for my aura, my wrist would be shattered. Still, the firepower¡¯s incredible. My bullets are all ice, but I might as well be holding a disintegration cannon. But my excitement doesn¡¯t last long. The echo of my shot ripples through the library, drawing more creatures toward me. I see them¡ªsome still clawing their way out of books, others fully formed, their dark, animalistic shapes lurching out of the shadows, all of them rushing to close the distance. Having wasted enough, I put away [The Contender] and draw my combat knife, breaking into a sprint. I¡¯ve never felt so alive. The real battle begins as I let the horde inch closer, watching them carefully. Soon, though, their numbers start overwhelming any chances I could have in melee. I need an alternative. I drive my shoulder against one of the towering shelves, shoving it hard until it finally gives. By the time the structure comes back, I am no longer there to support its weight. The impact lands like a missile, sending a shockwave echoing down the library¡¯s narrow aisles. Lvl 3 enemies defeated: 4 of 10. With the horde slightly thinned, I leap back into action. The first to fall is a round, shapeless creature. I stab it deep, twisting my knife as it writhes, stabbing again and again as it lunges for me with snapping jaws. Another creature jumps at my shoulder, biting into my aura, nearly making me scream. I jam my knife into its single eye, shoving until it stops moving. Aura: [-80% ] Barely a breath later, a new challenger advances. This one is¡­ different. While the lesser creatures are chaotic blobs, trying painfully to mimic life, this one has form. It¡¯s some twisted fairytale spirit¡ªa half-plant, half-gnome horror, its features warped and rotting. The sight alone is enough to make my grip tighten. It is a wretched, miserable shadow of itself, and I will not tolerate its continued existence. The clash is swift, every strike precise. I pour my aura into my blade, extending it into a projection of my own soul. Growling and thrashing, the demon retaliates, but I keep pressing, forcing it down as its form crumbles into blackened mud. Somehow, seeing it destroyed feels right. They are monsters. Aura: [-30% ] Worn out, I sit down for a moment, savoring the quiet and shadows. Vesper has leveled up! Upa-yay! God, I hate this thing. ? A couple hours and a Potion of Aura later, my kill list is clean. Lvl 3 enemies defeated: 10 of 10. Lvl 5 enemies defeated: 3 of 3. Only one thing left to do. Tracking down the dungeon boss isn¡¯t hard¡ªits aura of dread stains an entire wing of the library, like a predator marking its territory. I check my status before pressing forward, more out of habit than hesitation. HP: [-80% ] Aura: [-50% ] MP: [-100%-] The boss¡¯s chamber extends like a throne room, centered around a massive fireplace that roars with unnatural, blue-white flames. Crimson carpet spills across the floor like a river of blood, every fiber gleaming in the flickering light. The entire room radiates a sinister opulence¡ªwalls lined with gilded bookcases, artifacts, and glimmering chains of gold that seem woven from nightmares. It¡¯s as if I¡¯ve stepped into the sanctum of a dark scholar-king, a place where knowledge and malice reign as one. And there, in the heart of this grim sanctum, stands the creature. Its form is almost regal, framed in an aura of dark power that seems to shape and twist the very shadows. Ancient robes hang from its wizardly frame, adorned with glinting, sickly-golden accents, the fabric swaying like it¡¯s alive. It grips a twisted staff of blackened wood, intricate and foreboding, capped with an orb that pulses with a slow, malevolent rhythm. Eyes like burning coals lock onto me, and a low, mocking chuckle escapes its maw, its jagged mouth curving into a grin that drips with arrogance and centuries of cruelty. It inclines its head, a twisted display of courtly reverence, as if savoring the arrival of its newest prey. The air hums with dark energy, charged and waiting for a showdown worthy of legends¡ª I pull out my gun and blow away half of its chest. ¡°Ekkkkka! Taka-buka-chaka!¡± It screeches in a guttural, nonsensical tongue. Not bothering to decipher it, I fire again. Ping! The data from this battle has been successfully gathered for consideration! [Dungeon completed] Would you like to go back? [Accept/Decline] Chapter 4: Vigilante Knowing that the moment I touch [Accept] I''ll be thrown back to the streets, I pause to take a breath, reviewing my rewards, skills, and stats. [New Skill] Open dungeon. [New Skill] Leave dungeon. [?10.000 Added to Inventory] [Beginner¡¯s Leather Boots] [Potion of Health] [Potion of Aura] [Lucky Giftbox] [Ring of Recovery] [+3 Skill Points] Once again, the armor I¡¯ve received doesn¡¯t exactly make me feel battle-ready, but it¡¯s still better than running around in plain shoes. I slip the leather boots on, feeling marginally more prepared. Then there¡¯s the giftbox: a small, white package tied with a bright red ribbon. Holding my breath, I untie the ribbon and open the lid to reveal¡­ [Beginner¡¯s Amulet] ¡°God, I hate this game.¡± Despite the irony stinging, I decide to put it on. Instantly, everything changes. [New Effect Discovered] Almost there: Beginner¡¯s set 3/3. Experience gain increased by 10% All pieces now provide 2 armor. I can feel the change immediately¡ªa faint, tangible aura of protection settles around me. Looking down, I notice the leather armor has taken on an almost primal texture. Small thorn-like spines are sprouting along its seams. It¡¯s like wearing the hide of some ancient forest creature. ¡°Okaaaay¡­ Now that¡¯s a bit more like it.¡± Next, I inspect the new ring, which has an intricate engraving I hadn¡¯t noticed at first. [Ring of recovery] Restores the wearer in mind and body¡ªSingle use. Without hesitation, I slide it on. A subtle warmth flows through me as it adjusts to my finger. ¡°Stats,¡± Name: Vesper Bolt Age: 17 Level: 7 (50%) Race: Human Aura: Unlocked Stats: Str: 15 Dex: 15 Con: 10 Int: 18 Wis: 10 Cha: 15 Points: 18 This time, knowing there¡¯s no risk of some mafia crime boss coming after me as I look through the menu, I take some time to really try and pay attention to everything. Strength: Measures the force you can bring to bear on the world around you, from lifting and carrying to unleashing powerful blows. Dexterity: Reflects your finesse, reflexes, and instinctive swiftness in movement and action. Constitution: Defines your resilience and endurance, your capacity to withstand both physical strain and harsh conditions. Intelligence: Captures the speed, clarity, and sharpness of your mind, as well as your capacity for reason and insight. Wisdom: Embodies your perception, intuition, and the depth of your inner awareness, extending even to realms unseen. Charisma: The force of your presence and persuasion, able to inspire trust, loyalty, and influence in those around you. Now, with no looming of an angry crime boss rushing towards my location, I finally have the time to study the menu in more detail. [Observe] Lvl 5 (97%) Each description feels like it¡¯s holding something back, like there¡¯s more to these stats than meets the eye. But, just like with the armor, my skill level isn¡¯t high enough to unlock the deeper information. As much as I¡¯d rather avoid this tedious exercise, I decide to finally commit to leveling up my skills. Rising to my feet, I begin circling the boss¡¯s chamber, examining every object, every forgotten relic and twisted tome, locking my gaze on every intricate detail I can find and taking whatever has a chance of not being junk.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Being in an otherworldly library surrounded by bizarre, possibly cursed artifacts makes it easier to concentrate, and soon, my skill starts leveling up rapidly. Even so, the process of intensely scrutinizing random, inanimate objects still feels bizarre. But I¡¯ll either have to do this in every dungeon or accept the title of Beacon¡¯s Resident Stalker. [Observe] Lvl 8 (86%) Once I make sure there¡¯s nothing else for me to do, I assign my points and exit the dungeon. Stats: Str: 16 Dex: 20 Con: 15 Int: 20 Wis: 12 Cha: 18 ? Stepping out from my personal tear in reality, I¡¯m immediately surprised by how dark it is outside. I must have stayed longer than I thought, but it was still well before midday when I entered. Time clearly isn¡¯t moving at the same pace on the outside. A chill settles in my gut as I look around, trying to confirm if this is even the same day I left. But every newspaper I find in the alley is covered in grime and several days old. Growing uneasy, I step out of the shadows into downtown Vale, suddenly aware that I have no place to crash after hours of training. I¡¯m exhausted, reeking of sweat, and starting to wonder what my next move is. Maybe I could just stop someone and ask what day it is... I mean, what¡¯s the worst that could¡ª A sudden scream rips through the night. ¡°No, please, let me go!¡± Instinct takes over. I¡¯m sprinting off the main street, rushing through the cramped spaces between tall buildings. Ahead, I see a man knocked to the ground by someone in a White Fang mask. The attacker shoves a woman, snatches her purse, and bolts. And just like that, all my pent-up frustration channels into a burst of speed. He takes off into the night, but I¡¯m faster¡ªway faster. Just as I¡¯m about to reach him, another masked figure darts out of a side street, laughing as he slips on a stolen backpack. We lock eyes for a second, surprised, before he swings at me with a metal pipe. The impact lands on my aura, barely phasing me. I answer with a punch to his face, then push forward after the first thief. But as I weave through the alleys, it becomes obvious this isn¡¯t just a random attack¡ªthere¡¯s a coordinated wave of assaults going on, masked men scattering into the night as shouts and footsteps echo all around. I slow down, realizing that taking on a dozen armed thugs alone might not be the best idea I¡¯ve had today. Instead, I keep to the shadows, quietly tailing the group, watching their movements and trying to figure out where they¡¯re all heading. The long chase comes to an end after twenty or so minutes, once they arrive at a worn-down warehouse near the docks. A little surprised at just how easy it was to find out about their little hideout, I start circling the building. If these morons are dumb enough to run straight home, maybe I¡¯ll get lucky and find¡­ An open window. Only problem? It¡¯s on the third floor¡ªway out of reach for a silent entrance. I¡¯m about to move on when something swift and dark flashes overhead, sailing through the window with a faint, metallic whirr. It¡¯s so fast I barely register that it¡¯s a person before they¡¯re gone, vanishing into the shadows of the building. Great. Now I have to see what¡¯s going on in there. Going for a far less epic maneuver, I slip around to the back, put on my own mask and start slamming my combat knife into the flimsy lock holding the door closed, hoping there¡¯s no-one standing right at the other side to hear what I¡¯m doing. After a bit, the lock falls to the ground and I make my way inside, following the muffled sounds of voices and laughter. ¡°I told you this was easy money, man! Sometimes you gotta stop being a damn sheep and take a risk!¡± one voice says. ¡°Alright, alright, I¡¯ll admit it was a good call this time. But we¡¯d better start moving this stuff soon. Last thing we need is the VCP crashing in on us,¡± another replies. ¡°The VCP? Please. Those clowns are too busy chasing Faunus freaks to care about us.¡± There are seven or eight of them gathered under a single working light in the main warehouse space, half-heartedly cramming loot into wooden crates and using them as makeshift seats. Judging by the layout of the building and how many of them I saw on my way here, there must be at least another four hiding somewhere not too far away. I stay low, listening in. ¡°Are you sure this stuff¡¯s good?¡± one thug mutters, eyeing a crate suspiciously. ¡°I¡¯m not in the mood to lose a hand here.¡± ¡°Relax. Guns, cash, bombs¡ªit¡¯s all here. All we gotta do is act like those filthy anim¡ª¡± Before he can finish talking, a dark figure drops from above, slamming into him with a brutal kick. Silence echoes through the room as the others jump to their feet. Just as I expected, a door at the far end flies open, more thugs rushing out. I slip quietly into the shadows, making my way into that small room and watching the scene unfold through the inner window. Honestly? It¡¯s not hard to guess who just crashed their little afterparty. A tall figure in dark clothes and a full mask looms over the gang, leaving only her fierce eyes visible beneath a black hood and balaclava. And if that clue wasn¡¯t obvious enough, her obsidian-black weapon surely is. ¡°Who thought this was a good idea?¡± she demands, her voice full of frustration. ¡°Who told you to run around pretending to be the White Fang?¡± Her blade gleams as she draws it and points it at them, but the gang members exchange a few looks and start laughing. ¡°Oh? Looks like we got a hero on our hands,¡± one wheezes like a pig. ¡°Guess we¡¯re not the only ones running around in masks looking for trouble. Who knows¡­ Maybe we could have some fun together.¡± They start circling her, eyes glinting with malice. I stay hidden, going through the small office, looking for anything useful. All I find is a scroll and some money I can¡¯t even count, piled on a table covered by cards. Meanwhile, the fight¡¯s already started. The first few thugs go down easily¡ªno match for a trained fighter with an unlocked aura who handles them like overgrown toddlers. But soon, as they realize they¡¯re in trouble the situation escalates violently. Most of them are carrying blunt weapons, but a couple pull out simple firearms and open fire, barely missing their own allies in the crossfire. The girl leaps back, becoming a blur as she springs off the wall, taking another jump mid-air to land on the catwalk above. The thugs stop for a moment, their eyes tracking her in disbelief. Seeing my chance, I slip behind one of them, silencing him with a quick takedown before moving on to a second. Then, without warning, a deafening explosion tears through the warehouse, the sheer force of it slamming me against the wall. My head spins, ears ringing painfully as the entire structure trembles. It takes me a moment to start thinking again. It seems someone panicked and threw a bomb in her direction, hoping to blast her off the catwalk¡ªand unfortunately, they succeeded. Just as my vision comes back, I watch her plummet from the shattered platform. She hits the ground hard, struggling to rise to her feet. She clutches her stomach, and though she¡¯s forcing herself upright, it¡¯s clear there¡¯s no longer any fight there. If I don¡¯t act now, she¡¯s done for. I pull out [The Contender], swallowing hard as a fleeting vision of turning this entire gang into red mist flashes through my mind. Instead, I aim at the ceiling and kill the lights with a single shot. With the room thrown into darkness, I pull off my mask, knowing she can see me, and sprint toward her as bullets start to fly. Her blade arcs toward me in reflex, though her weakened arm can¡¯t muster the strength to thrust it fully forward. I sweep her off her feet and press her against my chest, absorbing the painful impacts of bullets slamming into my back and shoulders. You never truly realize how hard it is to run while carrying someone almost your own size¡ªespecially while dodging live rounds. Choosing not to be cheap, I focus on my [Ring of Recovery], feeling a surge of strength reignite in my limbs as I rush out of the warehouse, leaving behind the docks with inhuman speed. ? I make a small cut on my hand, letting a few drops from a healing potion seep into it, watching the wound slowly start to close before I turn to my unconscious guest. I¡¯ve placed her on the beat-up mattress that¡¯s been unceremoniously lying in the corner of the room ever since I first arrived. She¡¯s breathing steadily, but blood seeps through her dark clothes. With no time to doubt, I peel away the fabric around her abdomen, revealing a jagged piece of metal embedded deeply, just above her hip. Steeling myself, I yank it out in a single pull, watching her body convulse in pain. I quickly cover the wound with the healing liquid, watching the color return to her skin. Knowing there¡¯s nothing left for me to do, I sit back, letting my mind go blank for a while. Then I head to the sink to splash water on my face, and just as I glance back, she jumps upright, back arching as pain visibly jolts through her. I fill a glass with water and bring it over, wishing I had something stronger to offer¡ªuntil I remember Jaune¡¯s half-empty bottle. As I approach with the drinks, her eyes, sharp and wary, track me closely, one hand slowly inching toward her small gun. Usually, I¡¯d take a more understanding approach, but the last twenty-four hours have tested every ounce of my resolve. I am exhausted. ¡°I chose to let you keep that, to help you feel safe. Do something stupid and I¡¯ll put your ass right back where I found it.¡± She blinks twice, startled, the caution in her gaze momentarily replaced by something softer. Almost embarrassed, she reaches for the water instead, her eyes darting around the room. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s a dump. And yes, I¡¯ve been living here.¡± I flash her my invitation to Beacon, hoping it¡¯ll mean something. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I¡¯m looking to set a foot on the bottom so I can push myself back up.¡± She cleans her lips with her sleeve, her breath suddenly going wild as she clearly moved far too much far too quickly. Once she steadies herself, the girl finally speaks. ¡°It¡¯s... not so different from where I¡¯ve been staying,¡± she admits, trying to sound polite. ¡°I¡¯m heading to Beacon too, but¡­ I hadn¡¯t really considered a month in some overpriced hotel before I left it all behind.¡± I give a small smile. ¡°Worst part? I finally got enough cash for a decent place.¡± I toss down what little I just took from the warehouse. ¡°But not many places let you in with an unconscious girl in your arms. Well¡­ not the good ones, anyway.¡± I swear I can see her tilt her head, as if hiding a little smile. ¡°I¡¯m Vesper, Vesper Bolt. Got a name, danger?¡± ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± she hesitates for a second before clenching her fist. ¡°I¡¯m Blake, Blake Belladonna.¡± Chapter 5: Flickering Embers I wake after only a few hours, slipping in and out of sleep throughout the night. With sunlight starting to filter through the cracked window, my head feels a bit clearer. I blink away the lingering fog of exhaustion and shift on the worn mattress, momentarily forgetting that I¡¯m sharing it with a homeless catgirl. Blake. She¡¯s beautiful. There¡¯s a world of difference between seeing someone on a screen and having them right in front of you. Her presence is mesmerizing, her sharp edges softened by deep sleep. Relaxed, with her breathing even and her face calm, she looks delicate, serene. For a moment, I allow myself to simply take it in¡ªto enjoy the quiet satisfaction of knowing I did the right thing for once. Then reality crashes back in. Blood. We¡¯re both still covered in it¡ªher clothes, the mattress, even my arms have faint smears dried into the skin. The entire scene reeks of the chaos we barely escaped. One thing¡¯s certain: I¡¯m not spending another night in this dump, this time for real. I glance at her injuries. Her wounds are fully closed now, the healing potion slowly having done its job hours ago. She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep soon after I patched her up, utterly spent. The steady rise and fall of her chest is reassuring, proof she¡¯s fine for now. Letting her rest, I slip into the tiny bathroom to wash off the grime. The shower¡¯s water pressure is terrible, and it takes too long to scrub away the stains from my hands and arms, but at least I¡¯m no longer walking around looking like a butcher in a slasher film. Clean and marginally more human, I dress quickly and head out. There¡¯s plenty to handle before I can think about relaxing. First, the stolen scroll. I sit down with it, going through the messages and files. It doesn¡¯t reveal much¡ªjust confirmation of what I suspected. A small-time gang, hired to sow chaos in Vale for cash and weaponry. At first glance, the White Fang branding looks like a convenient smokescreen for their antics, but the more I dig, the more it seems their employer had one specific condition: the masks. Whoever was funding them wasn¡¯t just interested in violence¡ªthey wanted the blame placed specifically on the Fang. Great. Another fire waiting to blow up. With that piece of intel stored away, I focus on our other issues: food, shelter, and clothes. Finding a decent hotel I can afford turns out easier than expected. Turns out I have more money to my name than I thought¡ªnot enough for anything fancy, but enough to put a roof over our heads for a couple of weeks without worrying too much. Food is even simpler: I grab something quick for breakfast and keep moving. We can sit down for a proper meal later. She¡¯s a catgirl, there¡¯s a port nearby¡ªit won¡¯t be hard to find something she likes. Then, there¡¯s Blake¡¯s clothes. Her outfit is trashed: bloodstained, shredded, not unwearable but certainly getting close to it. The place we¡¯re staying at doesn¡¯t have a laundry machine, and as funny as the image of her washing her only outfit in the sink might be, I doubt she¡¯d share my sense of humor. Wearing those clothes again until she gets home, smelling like a murder scene, isn¡¯t an option either¡ªnot unless we want to draw every thug and Huntsman-in-training within a mile radius. I sigh, browsing the racks of a discount store for something functional. It¡¯s a weird feeling, shopping for someone else. I¡¯ve spent so long fending for just myself that the concept of considering someone else¡¯s preferences feels alien. Yet here I am, holding up a short black hoodie and wondering, Is this her style? Yeah¡­ It has purple at the edges. I toss it into the basket. And a towel¡ªbecause the one I used earlier has enough holes in it to qualify as a war veteran. And just like that, half the morning vanishes. By the time I make it back, the sun is high, and the small space I reluctantly call home feels even more disgustingly cramped. My bed¡¯s empty. No sleeping catgirl. Instead, I hear the faint sound of running water from the shower. Relief washes over me before I even realize I was worried. She could¡¯ve left¡ªcould¡¯ve disappeared the moment she woke up. I wouldn¡¯t have blamed her, honestly. She doesn¡¯t know me, and trust isn¡¯t exactly easy to come by in Vale these days. But she didn¡¯t. She stayed. If she went away, I¡¯d probably find her within a week in some dark alley, battered and bloody again¡ªor worse. After all, the girl has some trouble walking away from danger. I knock lightly on the door, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the water. ¡°Danger? You alive? I got you some clothes that don¡¯t have shrapnel in them.¡± There¡¯s a short pause before I hear her voice, startled. ¡°Oh! Uh¡­ yeah, I¡¯m fine. Just¡­ um¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯ll leave them here. Take your time, but don¡¯t get too comfortable¡ªwe¡¯ll get a real place with a better bathroom soon.¡± I set the clothes down, and after a moment, I can¡¯t help but grin as I watch her hand slip out and fish around for them, keeping the door tightly shut. A few minutes later, she steps out, smoothing down the cropped hoodie and adjusting the high-waisted leggings. They suit her tall figure¡ªcasual but practical. ¡°Thanks,¡± she says softly, eyes darting around the cramped room. She hesitates before speaking again. ¡°Are you sure this is¡­ okay?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± I wave her off. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly scraping by anymore. Since I got here, I¡¯ve been able to make some cash thanks to a few thugs in White Fang masks who needed help moving¡­ well, cargo.¡± ¡°Did you¡­?¡± ¡°They very much killed each other.¡± I shrug it off casually. She stares for a beat, unreadable, her amber eyes narrowing with that familiar intensity. ¡°And¡­ you didn¡¯t think twice about taking what was left? Just took everything and ran away?¡± I smirk. ¡°As much as I love the humble Jacques Schnee, I¡¯d do it again in a heartbeat.¡± Her gaze flickers, just barely betraying a hint of amusement. ¡°I suppose you could call it¡­ fair play.¡± She catches herself, her expression cooling back to an indifferent mask. ¡°Why don¡¯t we go over the details over lunch?¡± I suggest. ¡°Believe me, this is going to take a while.¡± ? ¡°So you¡¯re telling me¡­¡± Blake finally says, breaking her silence. She¡¯s been focused on my story, but mostly just dissecting her piece of salmon with a feral focus. ¡°You¡¯re telling me the Schnee family is flooding the market with weapons? And blaming it on the White Fang?¡± I raise an eyebrow, pulling out [The Contender] and setting it on the table between us. ¡°Why would a company that built its empire on cheap Faunus labor go after the group fighting for Faunus rights? Take a wild guess. This piece here is probably a high-end model, but I wouldn¡¯t be shocked if Jacques Schnee has some stashed, discarded military cargo he¡¯s unloading right here in Vale. Guns, explosives¡ªeverything fits.¡± Blake frowns, clearly skeptical. ¡°But¡­ why Vale?¡± she mutters, almost to herself. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make sense. There¡¯d have to be someone here with connections to the Schnee family. Someone who wants the Faunus to be a target.¡± ¡°Or maybe even the White Fang themselves,¡± I suggest, testing the idea. ¡°If they want to sow fear towards themselves, this could do the trick. Humans turning on each other in panic¡ªit¡¯s the same effect as a small army rolling in, but without risking their own soldiers.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°No.¡± Her voice is firm now. ¡°I¡­ I was a member of the White Fang for most of my life. They¡¯d never work with the Schnee, not even if it meant victory on a silver platter. That¡¯s going too far, especially for them.¡± She¡¯s right, of course. I sigh, leaning back a little. ¡°Alright, Danger¡­ I¡¯ll admit, this is out of my depth. I¡¯m no expert on Vale¡¯s underworld.¡± She¡¯s quiet for a long moment, eyes dropping to her clasped hands as she struggles with her own words. ¡°I¡­ can¡¯t do this alone.¡± She looks up, amber eyes steady but carrying a hint of vulnerability, of impotence. ¡°I know it isn¡¯t your fight, and you have no reason to¡­¡± She trails off, then clenches her fist. ¡°But¡­ someone has to do something. We have to do something.¡± I can¡¯t help but smile, leaning back and folding my arms. ¡°We could always go to the authorities.¡± She just shakes her head. ¡°Nobody would believe the White Fang isn¡¯t behind this, not even if we managed to prove it. It¡¯s been all over the news, they can¡¯t just turn around and say they were wrong all this time.¡± I was just teasing, but this girl is actually pretty smart. ¡°Fine,¡± I say as if I wasn¡¯t going to accept from the very start. ¡°But on one condition: if we¡¯re doing this as a team, we¡¯re a team. No more jumping into the middle of the fight. I need to know you¡¯ve got my back too.¡± Her cheeks redden slightly, and she looks away. ¡°I¡­ understand.¡± Then there¡¯s a quiet pause as she forces herself to meet my eyes. ¡°And¡­ thank you. For everything. I won¡¯t let you down.¡± I grin, nodding. ¡°Good. Now let¡¯s go kick some teeth in.¡± ? After stopping by Blake¡¯s ¡°home¡± to gather her belongings, we began our investigation. Each night, we tracked down different gangs, anyone stupid enough to wear one of those masks was good enough for us. The goal was simple¡ªswipe scrolls, look for leads, and see if any of their suppliers might make an appearance if we pretended to be interested on some extra work. Step by step, we wanted to climb up toward whoever was orchestrating the whole operation. None of the proxies ever came out in person, but the more we rattled the streets, the clearer the picture became. Piece by piece, the patterns started to repeat. Many of these thugs had been recruited by middlemen¡ªfreelancers known for getting their hands dirty or fixers who specialized in assembling throwaway teams for low-stakes, high-risk hits. After a while, a name began surfacing repeatedly. Reluctant as they were to talk, these low-level players kept hinting at one man¡ªa figure notorious in Vale¡¯s underworld for having a hand on every plate while staying away from it all. "A nightclub?" Blake asked, looking both skeptical and surprised. "Not your style?" I tease. At this point, she just rolls her eyes. "I just didn¡¯t expect the guy terrorizing half the city to be hosting late-night parties on the side." "Maybe that¡¯s why it works," I say, adjusting my tie. "Or maybe I just wanted an excuse for a night out without getting shot." "We didn¡¯t have to get shot at last time¡­" Her lips curl just a little bit. "But someone really likes grabbing Lien here and there." "I didn¡¯t hear you complaining about getting new clothes." And I couldn¡¯t blame her. She had picked out a dark, fitted Chinese-style dress (Qipao) that highlighted her features, sober but undeniably elegant, half-covered by a design of silver flowers. For all her insistence on ¡°only taking what¡¯s necessary,¡± she¡¯d adapted quickly to our semi-funded operation, mostly because all the money I took was from the very people trying to send Faunus back to the dark ages. Between the loot from our enemies and my daily quest rewards, we were getting by pretty comfortably. Worst case, I could open another dungeon, though I¡¯d have to come up with an excuse to disappear for half a day at the very least, and I wanted to keep hold of my remaining bullets for as much as I could. Level: 9 (53%) [Current Objective] Reach level 10! My progress has slowed down a bit since beating random, untrained street thugs isn¡¯t exactly prime XP. But honestly, I don¡¯t mind. I¡¯d rather spend the time with her before Beacon kicks off. The idea of a magical high school sounds really fun, sure, but once teams are assigned, I doubt we¡¯ll get much downtime to know each other without others constantly jumping in the middle. And, well¡­ sharing a room with three other people sounds like hell. ¡°Hey.¡± Blake¡¯s voice cuts through my thoughts, and I feel her hand rest lightly on my shoulder. I blink, realizing I¡¯ve been staring at my reflection for a minute. ¡°I¡¯m not going to take myself out.¡± I shake off the daydream, smirking as I turn to face her. ¡°Right. Let¡¯s not keep Vale waiting.¡± ? Making out way into our enemy¡¯s den is as easy as walking through the front door. Despite the pulse of soft music and hundreds of people swaying to its rhythm, there¡¯s no mistaking the underlying tension. The flickering lights catch on faces both distracted and vigilant, and I quickly notice the overabundance of security: at least a few dozen men, restless as they pretend to be on their phones, each one casting sharp glances across the room, ready to jump at the first sign of trouble. The Shattered Glass is exactly what I expected¡ªand somehow, even more. Now, all we need is a way to deal with its owner. I lean forward to whisper into Blake¡¯s ear¡­ And suffer a mild aneurism. I freeze, staring at her with wide eyes, then at her ears, then back at her, then at the bow she wears. My mind loops, again and again, struggling to process the image in front of me. Does¡­ Does this thing have four ears? I¡¯m¡­ No wonder the system feels like shit, these gods are into some weird stuff. ¡°Hey, Danger,¡± I mutter, trying to get my thoughts back on track. ¡°Let¡¯s look for a place to sit until things calm down.¡± Still reeling from the psychic whiplash of this cursed realization, I wrap an arm around her waist, absentmindedly guiding us toward one of the more isolated booths on the middle level. Only when she comes to a sudden stop do I snap back to reality. She gives me a defiant stare, the kind that¡¯s half warning, half challenge. For a moment, the tension hangs between us, but then she matches my stride with a little grin, her mood shifting from offended to a little playful. Imagine having four ears and trying to act tough. ¡°Did you find our guy?¡± she asks, her tone shifting to business. I settle into a seat, surveying the club and its chaos. ¡°Over there.¡± I gesture at a man in a suit near the bar. ¡°That¡¯s got to be Junior.¡± ¡°A bit old to be called Junior, don¡¯t you think?¡± Her voice is so deadpan it nearly buries the humor. ¡°We should probably make sure he¡¯s the right one.¡± ¡°Fair point. Got any bright ideas for a distraction?¡± I glance at the second level, where the Malachite sisters lounge, their presence as striking as it is dangerous. ¡°See those two?¡± I nod toward them. ¡°Friends of yours?¡± she asks, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Not quite. I just have a feeling they might be in the mood for trouble.¡± My plan isn¡¯t much of a plan at all, but it is pretty simple: put on my White Fang mask, stir up some flirtatious banter¡ªMelanie did seem entertained enough by me to let me live last time¡ªand hope it sets something off. But before I can act, a new figure catches my eye: a girl with a wild mane of blonde hair, cutting a striking path across the dancefloor. My stomach tightens. ¡°Oh god¡­ hold yourself. I think our distraction just walked in,¡± I quickly warn. Blake snorts, assuming I¡¯m joking. ¡°Do all your distractions involve girls?¡± She¡¯s teasing, but before I can reply, the club owner soars through the air, and the sudden eruption of gunfire silences her disbelief, twisting her expression into one of wide-eyed horror. ¡°Should we¡­?¡± she starts, voice uneasy. ¡°Nope.¡± I shake my head quickly. ¡°Not our fight. Let¡¯s move.¡± With the club in pandemonium, employees rushing toward the brawl and patrons stampeding for the exits, we slip into the chaos unnoticed. We weave through the confusion, slipping into the back of the building like ghosts. The storehouse we find is vast, aisles of boxes stretching in all directions like a labyrinth, packed with more than just club supplies. We scan the maze until we find Junior¡¯s office. It¡¯s little more than a makeshift cubicle wedged between crates of receipts and paperwork, but the computer on his desk is unlocked¡ªand that¡¯s all we need. Blake leans in, curious like a kitten. ¡°You know how to work that?¡± she asks, watching as I slide into the chair and bring up the desktop. It¡¯s laughably outdated, a relic that feels like a Windows 98 clone. Security doesn¡¯t seem to be a priority here. ¡°You don¡¯t?¡± I counter, surprised. ¡°We¡­ don¡¯t get much tech from Atlas where I¡¯m from,¡± she admits. That makes sense. Technology in this world is a strange paradox: scarce and yet omnipresent. Atlas hoards advancements for itself, and only the most privileged, like the academies, benefit from it. By the look of it, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if most people have only ever used scrolls, since I know the internet isn¡¯t even a thing here. ¡°Here,¡± I announce, opening a string of emails between Junior and Miss Malachite. Blake peers over my shoulder. ¡°What did you find?¡± ¡°Looks like Junior was bankrolling the weapons.¡± I scroll through the details. ¡°No wonder the twins are working for him. Their mother must¡¯ve been furious after losing that last shipment.¡± ¡°And the White Fang?¡± she presses. I dig deeper. ¡°Payments, sure¡­ but they¡¯re coming straight from Atlas?¡± My voice cracks. ¡°Then Jacques Schnee is behind this!¡± ¡°No way,¡± I protest. ¡°Jacques Schnee might be a bastard, but he doesn¡¯t have the brains¡ªor the guts¡ªto start a civil war in another kingdom.¡± Or¡­ does he? A painful sense of doubt brews in my gut. So many pieces are shifting in this world, and if the head of the Schnee family is more cunning and dangerous than I ever expected, then we might be facing a far greater threat than we¡¯d ever imagined. ¡°Let¡¯s¡­¡± I take a second to pull at my own thoughts. ¡°Let¡¯s focus on Junior. How do we make sure he stays out of this without killing him?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± Blake¡¯s visage suddenly darkens. ¡°I think I might have an idea.¡± ? As the chaos on the dance floor finally subsides, Junior limps back to his office, battered, bruised, and craving a glass of whiskey to drown the sting of his defeat. He stumbles through the door, but before he can so much as sigh, a fist collides with his jaw. The world tilts and fades to black. When he comes to the waking world, Junior finds himself tied to his office chair, panic shooting through his veins as two masked figures stand over him. The large man¡¯s voice cracks as he screams, ¡°Help! Heeeeeeeelp!¡± ¡°Save your breath,¡± Blake says, stepping forward. Her blade gleams in the dim light as she presses it to his neck. ¡°Everyone went home hours ago, Junior. Now the question is¡­ will you be so lucky?¡± Junior¡¯s breath turns ragged, eyes darting wildly. ¡°Listen, I don¡¯t want any trouble! This was just a job, okay? It wasn¡¯t even my idea! That witch Malachite pulled me into this¡ªshe¡¯s the one you want!¡± Desperation bleeds into his voice. Blake doesn¡¯t flinch. She grabs a fistful of his hair and drives her knee into his gut, doubling him over. Her voice drops to a whisper, sending chills down my spine. ¡°If humans knew what we want, we wouldn¡¯t be here,¡± she says. ¡°I could kill you tonight, but someone just like you would replace you by morning. So you better pray we don¡¯t find more of those masks lying around, or I might take the risk and do business with the next human in line.¡± With a swift kick to his temple, Junior falls to the floor, unconscious once again. For a moment, I almost pity the guy. Blake, however, storms out of the office, her expression unreadable and her silence heavy. The walk back to the hotel is thick with unspoken tension, Blake¡¯s personality slipping back into that distant, unreachable space. The progress we¡¯ve made over the past week seems to evaporate, leaving her withdrawn, clutching herself as if trying to hold her own fractured pieces together. Her gaze is unfocused, fixed on something far away, something I can¡¯t see. Once we¡¯re back in our room, she heads straight for her bed. I can¡¯t stand to see her like this, so I step forward and wrap my arms around her from behind, pulling her into a gentle embrace. Her reaction is immediate and raw¡ªshe tenses and twists, ready to strike. But she stops, her eyes meeting mine, wide and teary, her breath coming out in shaky bursts. ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± she starts, her voice cracking. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± Tears spill over, and at that moment, she just looks broken. ¡°Shh¡­¡± I whisper, bringing her head to my shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s okay¡­ It¡¯s okay¡­¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s not!¡± she sobs, her fists pounding against my chest. ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to be like this! That¡¯s why I left¡ªI¡¯m not¡­¡± Her voice breaks again, trailing off into anguish. Gently, I reach up and run my fingers through her hair, slowly undoing the bow that holds back her ears. As they spring free, she shrinks, as if wanting to hide. Vulnerability ripples through her, weakening her legs, and I can feel the pain in her heart. ¡°We¡¯re all a little broken,¡± I whisper. Blake shudders, her face contorted as she fights back sobs. Her hands instinctively move, almost as if she wants to grab the bow and hide her ears again, but I catch her gaze, and for the first time, she doesn¡¯t look away. She never openly admitted to being a Faunus, but it¡¯s always been there, a quiet truth hovering between us as neither chose to say something. ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± I tell her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. ¡°You¡¯re not in the White Fang anymore. You¡¯re not one of them. You¡¯re just Blake¡­ and I like Blake.¡± Tears stream down her face, and she buries herself against my chest, muffling her sobs as though she doesn¡¯t want me to hear them. Smiling, I pick her up and carry her to the bed, lying down with the catgirl still wrapped in my arms. My fingers continue to weave through her dark hair, soothing. Her face turns pink, and she stubbornly looks down, but she doesn¡¯t pull away. Instead, her hands clutch at my back, clinging to me tightly. ¡°You¡¯re so dumb¡­¡± she whispers, her voice small and raw. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m not who you think I am. I¡¯m not a good person.¡± ¡°I know,¡± I reply, a small smile on my lips. ¡°Neither am I.¡± Chapter 6: The Edge Of Oneself Again, I wake to the sight of Blake sleeping peacefully by my side, and my heart skips a beat. I take in the warmth of her presence. I can feel the faint weight of her hand resting on my arm, grounding me, making everything real. You have spent a peaceful evening, and your status has been fully restored! [Bonus Effect] Full Night¡¯s Rest: Increases your maximum HP and Aura by 20%. Your Intelligence, Wisdom, and Dexterity have gained a temporary bonus of 5! That¡¯s¡­ Wow, that¡¯s amazing. There are no words to describe how good I feel, like taking a bath for the first time after weeks of dragging myself through the mud. I guess I never really had a chance to slow down, never felt genuinely safe in this world. Or at least, not safe enough to stop looking over my shoulder, wondering if someone was going to kick down my door that night and shoot me in my sleep. There¡¯s something unnerving about being the outsider, the wanderer, the unknown. Even when I try not to think about it, it¡¯s hard not to notice how I keep getting dragged deeper into trouble, like sinking into a sandpit that pulls me down no matter which way I turn. A part of me likes it, no matter how stupid it sounds. I genuinely enjoy the feeling of constantly being on my toes, even if it¡¯s just feeling like my life matters, like something big is happening, and I¡¯m at the center of it all. But deep down, I¡¯m scared. I never imagined my life could be one wrong move from the edge, again and again. I can¡¯t shake the feeling that I¡¯m probably not the best fit for this job¡ªwhatever it is I¡¯m supposed to do. It¡¯s just too much. Logically, I can piece together everything that¡¯s happened so far. My mind is cold and calculating, able to handle every moment and bit of information from the past few days like notes scrawled on the palm of my hand, analyzed and re-analyzed a thousand times over out of pure, desperate overthinking. Theoretical: This situation is within my control and understanding. I can dissect everything I¡¯ve seen and make an educated guess about where this is all leading. Practical: I feel sick to my stomach. Each step I take is like stacking another brick on an endless wall, weighing down on my shoulders. For now, I can bear it by pretending my failure wouldn¡¯t mean the end of this world and everyone in it. But if I let myself grasp that fully, even for a second, I¡¯d likely break beneath it. I am no god, and the lives of millions shouldn¡¯t rest on my scales. Is it even right for me to spend time like this? Do I have the right to waste hours in happiness as long as my task isn¡¯t done? If I fail, would these moments serve as a valid excuse? I don¡¯t have the answers to these questions. Instead, I wrap my arms around Blake and hold her close. The scent of her skin is all I need to quiet my demons, my thumb tracing her soft features as I hold her with all the care a weary soul can muster. My eyes drift to her lips, pink and plump, half-open in silent breath. Fighting the temptation, I press a gentle kiss to her cheek and pull us both back under the sheets, letting myself rest my head on her shoulder. There¡¯s no reason for me to doubt any path that¡¯s brought me to her side, for it must be the right one. I have the right to be scared; I¡¯ll allow myself that much. But there will be no excuses. If I¡¯m wise enough to fear the challenges ahead, then I¡¯m wise enough to prepare myself for them. They will not find me unready or unprotected. I will live this second life I¡¯ve claimed as a man should¡ªI can¡¯t promise anything more, or anything less. Theoretical: I must not fail. Practical: I will not fail. ? As we allow ourselves to pull back on out night patrols and relax for a bit, the days start passing by like gentle strangers. To say that crime in Vale just ended after out little encounter with Junior would be a gross overstatement, but it has dropped down enough to where I can convince her we don¡¯t need to be running around the city every night, hunting down lowlife criminals and risking getting arrested. After all, the police has already cough a glimpse or two of our nightly activities, not even close to enough for them to try and guess who we are, but just the right amount to spark a wave of news about the secret heroes beating down the evil Faunus of the White Fang. Ahhh¡­ You gotta love news networks, they suck just the same on every world. ¡°Hey,¡± Blake whispers shily, pushing her wild hair out of her face, barely having gotten out of bed. I stop taking care of breakfast for a moment and walk up to her, close enough to whisper in her ear. ¡°Hey yourself. Are you going somewhere? Or is it getting hard to sleep without me?¡± She rolls her eyes and smiles, placing a hand on my chest to push me away. ¡°I just wanted to talk to you¡­ My¡­ The entrance exam to Beacon is tomorrow and¡­¡± ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re nervous?¡± I chuckle, taking the eggs off the pan. ¡°It¡¯s an entrance exam. How hard can it be? I doubt they¡¯re going to be throwing bombs at you.¡± ¡°No, I just¡­ I am nervous! But¡­ I was wondering if you wanted to come and¡­ You know, watch? I know you have an invitation, so it¡¯s not like you need to come with me or anything.¡± She¡¯s adorable. ¡°I¡¯ll be there, but there¡¯s something I need to take care of before Beacon actually starts. You think you can manage a day without me?¡± Her eyes narrow, a pang of suspicion, a pang of longing. ¡°Going to meet any twins I don¡¯t know about?¡± This time, I roll my eyes. ¡°Nah, that¡¯s what your semblance¡¯s for.¡± She almost takes a step back, eyes wide. ¡°We¡¯re not sleeping on the same bed tonight.¡± We¡¯ll see about that. ? Name: Vesper Bolt Age: 17 Level: 10 (10%) Race: Human Aura: Unlocked Stats: Str: 20 Dex: 22 Con: 17 Int: 22 Wis: 15 Cha: 20 [New Objective] Complete the level 10 dungeon to proceed into the next phase! Time Limit: 103h 52m 21s I''ve been putting this off for a few days, focusing on my daily quests to scrape together a few extra points and items. The countdown makes it all feel a bit intimidating, and I want to make sure I''m as prepared as possible. On top of that, I''ve been leveling up my skills whenever I get the chance. [Observe] Lvl 16 (2%) Now even complex items reveal their information to me at a glance. [Healing Potion] Restores 50 health upon use + 1% health for every minute spent without suffering damage during the next hour.Stolen story; please report. My stats have also become clearer, easier to read. HP: [-100%-] Remaining HP: 1037 Remaining MP: [-100%-] Total MP: 100 Aura: [-100%-] Remaining Aura: 5003 That makes sense. My aura can absorb a lot more damage than my body, but the more I use it to boost my strength or agility, the more likely something is to sneak through the barrier and deal direct damage. Then there¡¯s the [Ring of Recovery] I got from my weekly mission. I had to run ten kilometers for that one, but I¡¯m not going anywhere dangerous without it. All in all, I feel pretty confident in myself. With eight bullets loaded in [The Contender], there shouldn¡¯t be anything capable of standing in my way. Taking a deep breath, I pull out the strange key I received as a reward for reaching level ten and lose myself among Vale¡¯s narrow corridors once again, ready for my next challenge. ? This time I find myself riding on a small boat through a sea of clouds. My small vessel parts the sky, taking me onward through the ethereal mist, where wisps of vapor curl and dance around the boat''s wooden hull like playful spirits. Above me, the sky burns with a surreal palette of colors¡ªpale gold streaks woven into the deepest blue, with distant glimmers of violet and the occasional burst of sunlight that sets the clouds aglow like liquid fire. Far ahead, a sleeping giant looms, a grand and fragmented fortress that defies all reason and gravity. It is built upon an archipelago of crystal islands, each one suspended in the sky as though held aloft by invisible threads. The largest of these floating masses is crowned with gleaming spires, their sharp tips glittering like diamond teeth that pierce the heavens. Bridges of rainbow light stretch between the islands, pulsing with energy. As I draw closer, I can see wind swirling between the islands¡ªvast, cyclonic streams of air that ferry glittering debris and crystalline shards in endless whirlpools. The wind itself carries a faint, musical hum, like a symphony sung by the sun, a melody both beautiful and haunting. The boat shudders as it breaches a dense fog bank, and the temperature drops suddenly. Frost forms along the wooden rails, and the clouds around me become heavier, darker. Finally, my vehicle leads itself to a small dock at the corner of one of the lower islands, and I set foot on this realm of beautiful madness. [Dungeon 2] Shattered Prism Citadel. [New objective] Defeat the dungeon boss. [Additional objective] Defeat 20 Elementals. [Additional objective] Defeat 5 Crystal Guardians. [Additional objective] Defeat 2 Living Reflections. [Additional objective] Complete the dungeon without your HP ever falling below 50% Having the objectives spelled out in front of me, I steady my breath, readying both gun and knife before advancing. This place doesn¡¯t look like any city I¡¯ve ever seen. There are no homes, no shops¡ªjust intricate, towering structures of pure crystal, refracting light and bending the high winds that pass through them. Many seem to have purposes beyond my understanding, functioning with an alien precision that I can only begin to imagine. I''m just about to experiment with the strange technology when I notice something hovering nearby. It¡¯s¡­ hard to describe. A floating dodecahedron, its body almost invisible as it shifts and reflects the light around it. Every so often, it emits a low, whooshing hum, adjusting its position with eerie fluidity. It almost looks like a floating Roomba, if it were designed by a sorcerer rather than an engineer. Not one to take chances, I creep up behind it, waiting for an opening. The moment its shell shifts, I strike, driving my knife in deep, tearing it open as a bear might crack open a crab. It jerks violently, its internal energy spilling out in bursts of mana and elemental flares. A few hit me, each one scorching through my aura with a hot, tingling burn. With a final, guttural cry¡ªlike an echoing lament cast to the wind¡ªit falls apart, the shards clattering to the ground. Elementals defeated: 1 of 20. ¡°Jesus Christ, that was dark. Can¡¯t I just fight robots? Maybe something that doesn¡¯t have a soul?¡± In some ways, it reminded me of an animal¡ªaware enough to carry out basic tasks but without the full spark of consciousness. A "life," perhaps, but not a "self." I crouch to shove the broken components into my inventory, but before I can finish, a beam of pure light sears into my side, igniting my aura with a pulsing heat that only appears to grow after each second. I roll out of the way, but the beam tracks my movements with relentless precision. More of them are closing in, descending from other islands. That cry wasn¡¯t just a death rattle¡ªit was a summon, an alert, and the reinforcements are plenty. Aura: [-95%-] At least half a dozen Elementals fly behind me, forcing me to turn sharply through the strange crystalline buildings, darting into cover to avoid their scorching rays. At the rear of the pack is a tall figure in ornate armor, face hidden by an elongated, angular helmet. The Crystal Guardian moves with ominous purpose, its four arms gesturing commands to the hovering creatures, directing them like a swarm of drones, tightening the net around me. Counting seconds before I¡¯m cornered, I decide to take a wild gamble. Above us flows one of the powerful wind currents I saw spotted earlier¡ªa river of invisible force, surging like water in an ethereal channel of invisible mana. Bracing myself, I jump, making a desperate dive into the stream. The current catches me for a fleeting second before violently spitting me back out, catapulting me through the air. Light-beams flash past as I twist, momentum carrying me straight toward their leader. I drive my blade into the Guardian¡¯s chest, using my weight to bring us both crashing to the ground. He gives a final shuddering spasm before his light fades, and as it does, the remaining enemies falter, leaving me just enough time to catch my breath. [Stealth] Lvl 10 (8%) With their leader gone, the Elementals are easy pickings. Scattered and uncoordinated, they lose any semblance of strategy, retreating to their usual patterns once the Guardian¡¯s influence fades. And as long as I¡¯m patient, slipping in and out of the shadows seems to be enough for them to lose track of me time and time again. With that and the fact that the initial impact from their weapons only manages to burn through a small percentage of my aura, it¡¯s hard to call this a fight. And yet, I can¡¯t shake the feeling that something¡¯s wrong. If these creatures have long-range communication, why did they stop coming? Checking my objectives, it¡¯s easy to see that numbers are their greatest advantage. So why send just a small squad, and why allow me the time to pick them off one by one? With these questions in my mind, I decide against advancing toward the central island just yet. Instead, I turn my attention to the mechanisms and the wind currents, determined to understand how this strange system works. It takes longer than I¡¯d like, each minute gnawing at me, making me wonder how much time I¡¯m wasting on the other side. But finally, I start to piece it together. Inside certain structures are access points¡ªplaces where rubble and other objects are fed into the currents, transporting them across the islands. It¡¯s easy to see why these currents aren¡¯t used for travel. Without an aura, colliding with a flying boulder would be fatal. One more leap of faith¡­ I step into the current and let it take me, surrendering to its pull. The sensation is like becoming a hurricane. My mind struggles to keep pace with the speed as I roam across the sky. Anything I try to focus on vanishes in a blink, swallowed by the rush of wind. Below, I catch glimpses of the shapes of enemies and barricades¡ªa network of nodes spread strategically throughout the citadel, standing in formation, coordinated and ready. That¡¯s good. Landing inside another cargo building, I find plenty of room to slip through and take them from behind. It¡¯s like unraveling a tightly woven knot. I isolate a Crystal Guardian, pulling it back into the shadows, a single strike enough to disable their defenses. One by one, the threads of their carefully knit net unravel, and I find myself almost enjoying the chaos I¡¯m creating. Elementals defeated: 22/20. Crystal Guardians defeated: 6/5. Living Reflections defeated: 0/2. By the time I approach the central palace, the army that once guarded it is in ruins. More troops are coming, rushing in from the lower islands, but at this point, it hardly matters anymore. Their palace is a masterpiece of kaleidoscopic architecture, with intricate corridors that challenge my mind with endless fragmented mirrors. Light reflects and fractures into infinity, filling the space with ethereal, otherworldly hues. At the heart of the structure, a chamber splits the path: one route spirals upward, the other descends. I know I¡¯m supposed to head up to face this dungeon¡¯s final challenge, but if I¡¯m being honest, I might as well explore everything¡ªthis place likely won¡¯t see me again. The lower floor is dark, torch-lit, dirty, a striking contrast to the grandeur above. Shockingly, what I find here resembles a prison. There¡¯s just one cell, barred without a door, and from it echoes the rhythmic clang of hammer against anvil. On each side of the room, a shimmering orb of light hovers. Expecting a trick, I approach one of the orbs. It ripples, shifting, taking on a human form¡ªmy form. Reflexively, I draw [The Contender]. My reflection mirrors me. We fire at the same instant, and the impact shuts down my senses with raw, searing pain. HP: [-65% ] Aura: [-20% ] The world spins as I crash back against the wall, barely conscious enough to recognize that my reflection took the full brunt of my attack, crumbling to pieces. Dazed, I press a trembling hand against my chest, half-expecting to find a hole. No, it¡¯s just a bruise, but half of my torso has turned a vivid purple beneath my armor, blood oozing down in rivers like thick tar. Living Reflections defeated: 1/2. Gasping, I clutch a healing potion and smash it against my chest. Cool relief blooms briefly over my skin, but the bleeding persists, running down my torso, across the floor, tracing lines along the cold tiles. My blood snakes forward, pulled like a thread toward the other hovering orb of light. A raw, unrestrained dread grips my heart. Is this it? Do I die here today? I could probably survive a bit longer, maybe get myself out of this. But beyond that? Even my best arguments feel paper-thin, like excuses disguised as reasons to keep fighting. The temptation to close my eyes, to just let go, rises. Then, a flicker of warmth cuts through the numbing pain¡ªsomething distant yet vivid. A memory, woven from warmth and closeness. I think of Blake, wonder where she is, what she¡¯s doing. If I asked, would she put everything aside to come to me? Would she press her chest against mine, her heartbeat steady until I couldn¡¯t tell it from my own? "Tonight¡­" I whisper, blood dripping down my lips. "Yeah. I¡¯ll ask her tonight." With a last surge of determination, I pull myself upright, my chest heaving. The second orb begins to shift, solidifying into a clear, crystalline copy of me. It stands back, scrutinizing me with cold, familiar eyes as it forms, layer by layer, a flawless imitation of my bruised and bloodied self. ¡°C¡¯mon, handsome. Let¡¯s dance.¡± A single shot is fired. I throw my knife at the gun, making sure the explosive dust cannot exit the barrel, and the fight¡¯s over. I then drag myself to the bars, clutching my ribs as the potion slowly works its magic. The shadow inside the cell takes a moment before acknowledging me. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ not what I expected,¡± the figure remarks with heavy tiredness in its voice. Ancient¡ªthat¡¯s the first word that comes to mind. The figure resembles an old man, yet his skin is jet-black, his hair shock-white, and his eyes blaze like embers, making him seem demonic in nature. He turns from his anvil, his work complete. ¡°You were waiting for me?¡± I ask, my confusion only deepening. ¡°Everyone knows the end is coming,¡± he says. ¡°They just don¡¯t know how, or when.¡± ¡°The end¡­?¡± ¡°You¡¯re here to claim the life of this world. The last soul to even set foot on it.¡± ¡°And you won¡¯t stop me?¡± He gives a soft, knowing smile. ¡°The beginning doesn¡¯t interfere with the end. My work here is done. I¡¯ve made peace with my fate. Can you say the same, adventurer?¡± With deliberate care, he picks up something from the anvil, extending it toward me. ¡°What is this?¡± I ask, accepting the offering. ¡°A weapon. The one I wish I¡¯d had. And the one you¡¯ll need, when it¡¯s your turn to stand on this side of the bars.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t fail. My world won¡¯t end up like this one.¡± The stranger chuckles, a deep, weathered sound. ¡°I wonder¡­ How many times have those words been spoken before?¡± The moment I take the forged weapons from his hands, he vanishes, dissipating like the final wisp of smoke from an old cigar. For a beat, I question if he was ever there at all. I glance down at the twin weapons in my hands, taking in the craftsmanship. They¡¯re a pair of tomahawks, their handles fashioned from dark, charred wood with an obsidian sheen. The blades, impossibly pure silver, leave a faint, metallic taste in the air. [Ghost¡¯s Whispers ¨C Lvl 13 Dual Tomahawks ¨C Fated Weapon] ¡°Fated?¡± [Fated Weapon: Will Always Match The Level Of Its Wielder] Weaker than [The Contender] now, but with room to grow. I¡¯ll take that. Every day of the week, I¡¯ll take that. That is my last rational thought before the exhaustion overpowers me. [Secret Objective Completed] Chapter 7: The Second Step There are only two paths left for me. I could quit now¡ªcall it a day and go home to the Faunus girl who¡¯s probably waiting for me with a warm smile. Or, I could choose the reckless, stupid option. The one that risks everything for the sake of saving time and proving a few pointless things along the way. I clench my fist, feeling the comforting weight of the [Ring of Recovery] vanish as I prepare to move forward. The hall above the prison spreads out before me¡ªgrand and excessive. Every inch of the massive corridor drips with opulence, carved in luxurious detail, as if the very walls are a shrine to indulgence. At the far end, a door looms, one I¡¯m definitely not meant to cross. Guarding it are two glowing orbs¡ªthe same Living Reflections that almost killed me before. "Fool me once, shame on me..." From my inventory, I pull out two of the cursed books I salvaged from the library. They pulse with dormant malice, their pages empty but eager for life. [Inactive Cursed Book] Holds a fragment of demonic essence. The only thing I need is the right trigger, and I know there¡¯s at least some amount of mana on me, even if I can¡¯t actively use it. Making a small cut upon my palm, I allow the blood to run down into both open books. The tomes shudder in my grip before I toss them forward, summoning a pair of shadowy figures from their cursed pages. The Living Reflections flicker, immediately scanning the new threat. As they lock onto their targets, they flare brighter¡ªready to respond with overwhelming force. But not fast enough. With a single throw of my axes, I behead both guardians in one fluid motion. The demons are nothing more than an afterthought. [Secret Objective Completed] Living Reflections defeated: 4/2 I step through the door into the final chamber, and what greets me is... unsettling. In the center, a creature is trapped, encased in a sphere of glass. An entity of light, its radiant form bound in heavy chains and layers of intricate armor. It pulses like a furnace at the heart of a dying star¡ªthis world¡¯s heart. Its flickering body writhes against the bindings that struggle to contain it. I walk around the cage slowly. The creature watches me, its massive frame twitching, desperate to break free. It resembles some twisted fusion of a wyvern and a bird of prey, yet it feels more mechanical. This is the last ember keeping everything here afloat, literally. I stop beside one of the massive chains holding the prison aloft, my decision hanging heavy in the air. Then, with a swift slash, I sever it. Chains snap and recoil, the glass sphere tumbles down, and the creature roars as its prison shatters. Its wings flare, and it surges toward me, unbound and furious. [Dungeon Boss: The Last Spark] HP: [¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö] 100% I pull out [The Contender], aim for its head, and fire. HP: [¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö] 97% "What?!" I barely dodge its charge, my body instinctively rolling behind one of the towering marble-like pillars. My heart pounds as the monster¡¯s power rattles the chamber. This battle has been adjusted to match your displayed abilities. Good luck! ¡°Of course it was¡­¡± I put away the gun¡ªit¡¯s useless here¡ªand grip my axes tighter. My right arm snaps forward, launching the first tomahawk with a sharp crack. The runes etched into the second blade ignite, burning white-hot. It¡¯s strange... As I release the weapon, I can feel it, as if my mind latches onto it mid-flight. Controlling its path isn¡¯t a conscious command but more like slipping into the axe¡¯s perspective for an instant. [Ghost¡¯s Whispers] As long as you hold one half, you¡¯ll be able to direct the other. The tomahawk arches mid-air and then buries itself between the creature¡¯s glowing eyes. The wyvern screeches, the sound tearing through the air like a storm¡¯s wail. Without missing a beat, I focus on my left hand again, activating the weapon''s secondary effect. The blade rips free, yanked back to me in a trail of sparks, leaving an open wound. ¡°Now we¡¯re talking!¡± But the victory is short-lived. The creature¡¯s face remains stoic, unreadable, a mask of cold, ancient power, it¡¯s carved visage incapable of emotion. Yet I can feel its fury, see it in the way its jaws unhinge, stretching wide like a cannon preparing to fire. A searing beam of light erupts from its maw, carving a path of destruction as it sweeps toward me, the chamber shaking under its wrath. I don¡¯t wait to see what happens if that blast connects with me. Instead, I bolt, instincts screaming as I throw one of my weapons behind me without even thinking. The feeling of being in two places at once¡ªthat duality of desperately dodging while my blade soars toward my enemy¡ªis surreal. The tomahawk catches the creature on the chin, its maw snapping shut with a sudden, almost comical crack. It recoils, jerking back as if it had just bitten its own tongue. This is my opening. I summon the axe back to my hand, its return snapping into place with a sharp hiss of sparks. In one motion, I leap, jumping over one of its massive wings to land on the armored plating across its back. I swing with all the strength I can muster. The impact cracks the armor, and with it, a geyser of pure energy erupts from the fissure, slamming into my face like a furnace blast. I¡¯m sent flying, the searing heat scorching the tips of my hair. Even with my aura absorbing most of the damage, the impact leaves me disoriented. My vision spins, feet faltering as I struggle to regain my balance. Before I can fully recover, the beast''s tail whips around¡ªa massive, plated chain of destruction. It catches me right in the chest, sending me crashing into the wall with bone-rattling force. The impact drives the air from my lungs, and I hit the ground hard, struggling to push myself up.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. [Dungeon Boss: The Last Spark] HP: [¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö¡ö-----] 75% I lie there for a moment, the weight of the situation settling in. I really thought this was a good idea, huh. A bitter chuckle escapes me as I push myself up, every breath ragged, every muscle already protesting. But there¡¯s no time to doubt. I take a deep breath and dive back into the fight, knowing that what I¡¯ve been doing so far isn¡¯t enough. If I keep trying to keep my distance, I¡¯ll just have to face that devastating breath weapon again. No, this time, I need to change the strategy. The monster¡¯s tail is powerful, enough to kill me if I¡¯m careless, but up close, up front, it¡¯s less dangerous. With no arms to strike with, it has to rely on its massive jaws to tear me apart or throw its bulk around like a battering ram. The pressure from those jaws could easily rip an arm off if it catches me off guard But I¡¯m not off guard. Not today. Not anymore. As it strikes, jaws wide, I seize the moment. My tomahawk flies from my hand with precision, aimed straight into its gaping maw, targeting the core where that deadly breath of energy is born. The runes on the weapon flare with power, accelerating its speed by the pressure of my will, and I hear a satisfying crack as it lands deep inside. I don¡¯t waste a second. I leap onto its back again, moving, avoiding the seething wound I just created. Energy is pouring out from the crack like a torrent, wild and uncontrolled. With a sharp mental command, I recall my axe. The blade tears its way through the creature¡¯s insides, traveling down its throat and through its armor, until it returns to my hand by exiting from the hole in its armor. The monster roars in agony, its entire frame trembling as the internal damage spreads. The very hinges of its armor begin to buckle under the strain. Violent bursts of mana explode from the ruptures, uncontrolled and chaotic. The air crackles with raw energy, and despite my best efforts, I can¡¯t dodge every burst. Each explosion sends searing heat and arcs of wild magic across the chamber, striking me with electrifying force, but I grit my teeth and keep moving. I just need it to die before I do. As the armor falls away, the creature sheds its physical shell, becoming a storm of raw, unbound magic. I barely have time to react before it¡¯s on me, faster than before, its form a blur of light and energy. It wraps around me, crushing me to the ground, its grip ethereal yet suffocating. Fighting it is like trying to wrestle a ghost, a force of nature, a river¡ªsomething that can tear me apart while constantly slipping through my fingers. But there¡¯s one thing it can¡¯t evade. My enchanted blades cut through its form like slicing through air, leaving deep gashes in its shimmering body. Every strike weakens it, turning its once cohesive energy into a chaotic mess of flickering magic. The more I hit, the more its structure unravels, breaking apart from a flowing stream of power into a dripping, erratic mess. Yet it¡¯s relentless, its will to kill me undiminished. It pulls me closer, dragging me deeper into the storm of light and crackling lightning that makes up its very being. Pain sears through my body in waves¡ªsharp, burning, overwhelming. I can¡¯t see, can¡¯t think, my hands scrambling in the chaos for something solid to grip, something to fight back with. Then my fingers find purchase on something physical, solid, something real amidst the torrent of energy. Whatever it is, I don¡¯t hesitate. I hold on and attack, striking with every ounce of strength I have left, driving my hands into it, then pulling out my gun and putting a bullet right through it. My enemy lets out one last agonized cry, and then it dies. The moment I¡¯m released, my lungs heave, desperately clawing for air as I roll onto the ground, covered in the remnants of something too alien for me to process. Numbness floods my senses. My only hope, buried somewhere in the exhaustion, is to never have to go through that again. Ping! The data from this battle has been successfully gathered for consideration! [Dungeon completed] Would you like to go back? [Accept/Decline] I can¡¯t even summon the energy to hate the system that threw me into this mess in the first place. Instead, I let the barrage of notifications wash over me, too drained to care. [?10,000 Added to Inventory] [?30,000 Added to Inventory] [?50,000 Added to Inventory] [Beginner¡¯s Leather Gloves] [Potion of Health] [Potion of Instant Health] [Potion of Aura] [Potion of Stamina] [Skill Token] [Skill Token] [Skill Token] [Lucky Giftbox] [Black Giftbox] [Golden Giftbox] [Ring of Immortality] [+12 Skill Points] [Fragment Of The Last Spark] [Ring Of Recovery] [New Dungeon Unlocked] [New Dungeon Unlocked] Congratulations! You have officially completed the introductory tutorial! Now you¡¯ll be ready to carry out your mission on this world. [New Skill] Mana Infusing. [New Skill] Weapon Crafting. [New Skill] Elemental Affinity. [New Skill] Party Creation. Now that you¡¯re ready for Beacon, would you like to establish your Semblance? [Accept/Decline] Even as notifications flood my vision, this one slices through the noise, demanding my attention. I pause, momentarily speechless. The system seems to sense my hesitation, pushing a follow-up message: Your Semblance will be determined by a combination of your chosen stats, skills, and gathered data. Would you like to establish your Semblance? [Accept/Decline] I could decline, hold out, maybe try to optimize my stats and hope for something better. But without knowing the true impact of it all, it feels like gambling. I¡¯d rather take what¡¯s offered and get on with it. I press [Accept]. The screen pauses, then expands into a wall of streaming data, too much to process as the system crunches the numbers, arriving at a cold, calculated conclusion. [Overclock] Temporarily increases speed, strength, and reflexes by expending a small amount of Aura every second. Overuse may result in periods of weakness. You may reroll your Semblance [Once]. Would you like to accept this Semblance? [Accept/Decline] It¡¯s... pretty good. Balanced. Useful. Exactly the kind of ability someone in my position should want. But as I reread the description, something about it feels off. It doesn¡¯t feel like me. Before I can fully second-guess myself, the screen flares again as the system rerolls the ability. And the result doesn''t disappoint me. ? I¡¯ll have time to go through my loot later. Right now, there¡¯s only one thing I need to do. The night has fully settled by the time I reach the hotel. As soon as I step inside, I¡¯m greeted by a familiar sight¡ªan angry face poking out from behind the door. ¡°Oh my god, you¡¯ve been gone all day!¡± Blake¡¯s voice is sharp as she yanks me inside and pulls me into a tight embrace. I¡¯ve healed most of my wounds, but the dull ache still lingers. ¡°Hey¡­¡± I murmur with a faint smile. ¡°I told you I had things to take care of. Since when did you get so clingy?¡± Her glare could pierce steel. ¡°Since you stopped answering your scroll. Twelve hours ago. There are people looking for us¡ªyou can¡¯t just disappear like that!¡± I don¡¯t bother arguing. Instead, I cup her face in both hands, brushing my lips against hers. She stiffens, resisting for a split second before she melts¡ªreluctantly, but she does, turning into a little kitty. I kiss her slowly, savoring the way her irritation fades under the touch of my mouth, and when I pull back, her amber eyes are a mix of frustration and something softer. She tries to protest, but her lips betray her, trembling. ¡°I¡¯m not¡ª¡± I kiss her again. We repeat this dance, over and over, until her resistance breaks, until her hands finally grip me tight, pulling me closer as if she¡¯s been holding back for far too long. Lifting her effortlessly by the hips, I press her against the wall, flicking off the light, knowing she doesn¡¯t need it to see me. My lips graze her soft bottom lip¡ªbiting, teasing, savoring. I know how much this must drive her crazy, how much it forces her guarded heart to open, to let me in. I cannot wait any longer, I need her skin shivering under my fingers. By the time I pull away, she¡¯s curled into herself, hiding her flushed face behind a veil of thick black hair. Her cat ears lie flat against her head, her eyes stubbornly avoiding mine, as if that will somehow hide her embarrassment. I lean in, my breath warm against her ear. ¡°So¡­ are we going to bed together tonight, or what?¡± Her silence speaks volumes, and I take it as the only answer I need. Gently, I guide us to the bed, lowering her onto it with me. She sprawls on top of my chest, her long limbs awkward but familiar. I can¡¯t help but smile at the weight of her, her warmth, the way her presence calms something restless inside me. ¡°God, I fucking missed you, danger¡­¡± I whisper, pressing my lips to her temple. Her claws dig lightly into my back, trembling slightly as she mutters, ¡°What the hell are you saying all of a sudden?¡± I kiss her again, this time softer, less playful. ¡°I heard they share rooms at Beacon. Maybe we can keep this going¡­ if you ask nicely.¡± She¡¯s not happy with me¡ªnot at all. If she could wipe away the dumb, delighted grin tugging at her lips, she¡¯d probably be screaming in my face right now. Screaming about how stupid, reckless, and inconsiderate I am. But I don¡¯t give her the chance. I pull her close, holding her like she belongs to me¡ªbecause I want her to. Before she can clear her mind or get used to the sensation of featherlight touches along her perfect back, sleep pulls me under, leaving no room for arguments or regret. It was a good day. Chapter 8: The Weight Of Victory I awaken to the chill of absence. Silence greets me, soft and oppressive. I am alone. For a moment, I pretend not to care, hoping the bitter pain inside my guts to be wrong. But the truth insists on making itself known. Her things¡ªfew as they were¡ªare gone, vanished without a trace. A bitter chuckle escapes my lips, a hollow attempt at defiance. I splash cold water on my face, as though it might wash away the remnants of restless dreams and bring clarity to this new day. It doesn¡¯t. Not in the mood to linger in this now empty space, I rummage through the gear I picked up yesterday. Two items catch my attention. I start with the [Beginner¡¯s Leather Gloves]. [New Effect Discovered] Here We Are: Beginner¡¯s set 4/3. Experience gain increased by 20% All pieces now provide 5 armor. As I slip the gloves on, my armor shifts subtly. The texture of bark melds into the brown leather, transforming it into something reminiscent of Treant skin. The gloves don¡¯t just look robust¡ªthey feel it, like the weight and solidity of ancient wood. Tiny branches and glossy green leaves sprout along the hide of the entire armor, their vibrant hues almost alive against the earthy tones. The other item I just cannot ignore is the [Ring of Immortality]. [Ring of Immortality] Lethal damage will instead heal the wearer for 10% of his max Hp. I slide it onto my finger and feel a faint, pulsing warmth. A subtle sense of safety settles over me, the kind that whispers, You¡¯re not as fragile as you once were. With these equipped, I gather my belongings, settle my bill, and walk my as onto the first ship to Beacon Academy. Luckily, the sight awaiting me is enough to lift the cloud that has been hanging over my head. Beacon is a marvel. Perched atop a jagged coastline, the academy rises like something out of a dream. Its silhouette is commanding, yet it holds a strange, otherworldly elegance. The tallest tower radiates a soft, emerald glow, the light so vibrant it paints the clouds in shifting shades of green. Rivers seem to spill directly from the academy¡¯s heart, winding their way over undulating hills and vanishing into the distant horizon. My fellow passengers gather at the ship¡¯s railings as if enchanted. I can¡¯t blame them. The academy is absurdly grandiose, almost mocking the laws of physics with its whimsical arches and impossibly balanced turrets. Moss and creeping ivy claim parts of the stone, lending it the appearance of something ancient and eternal¡ªlike it was born from the earth itself rather than built. I scan the faces around me. Strangely, most are unfamiliar. Considering today is meant for would-be students to arrive, it¡¯s odd not to recognize anyone, but the thought drifts away as quickly as it came. The moment the ship touches solid ground, I step off, my scroll in hand. Administrative staff greet me, directing me to the front desk with practiced formality. There I find a familiar face. Not a gentle face, not a welcoming face. But familiar, nonetheless. Glynda Goodwitch stands visibly impatient as she adjusts her glasses. Her rigid posture softens half-heartedly when our eyes meet. She looks as though she¡¯s trying to relax but has forgotten how. ¡°Vesper Bolt?¡± she asks, her tone clipped. She steps forward, crossing her arms as she inspects me with a quick, critical eye. ¡°Not many students here at Beacon gain entry through a recommendation letter¡ªlet alone one written by the director himself.¡± Her gaze lingers, scanning me, sharp and unimpressed. My own eyes dart over her for a few seconds too long, and I hope she can¡¯t see how thoroughly impressed I am. She¡¯s¡­ A lot. ¡°Is it just me?¡± I ask, breaking the silence and glancing back at the stream of students being led in the opposite direction. ¡°For this batch? Yes,¡± Glynda replies, her tone brisk. ¡°But we¡¯ll be conducting entrance tests throughout the entire day. Of course, that won¡¯t be a concern for you.¡± She pauses deliberately, letting the words settle like an unspoken challenge. ¡°Since your abilities have already been proven, there¡¯s no need to send you to the probationary dorms. Come. We¡¯ll get you situated for now. You may take any room in the first-year building until your team assignment¡ª¡± ¡°Wait,¡± I interrupt, instantly regretting my choice. ¡°Would it¡­ be possible for me to take the entrance exam? Like everyone else?¡± Glynda¡¯s gaze sharpens, her brow arching ever so slightly. She hums, low and skeptical. ¡°You do realize that if your performance is deemed unsatisfactory, you will not be admitted to Beacon altogether?¡± I open my mouth, ready to respond¡ªbut another voice beats me to it. ¡°Oh, Glynda, must you always be so¡­ grim?¡± The voice is smooth, almost playful, and it comes from behind me. A, ashen-haired man steps forward, his expression calm and amused as he places a hand on my shoulder. ¡°If I, the director himself, saw fit to pen a recommendation, surely young Vesper here is more than capable of completing a simple test.¡± His gaze locks with mine, and there¡¯s something disarming about it¡ªa mix of curiosity, amusement and quiet confidence that leaves me uncertain whether he¡¯s testing me or reassuring me. If I¡¯d been wavering before, his presence alone seals my decision. It¡¯s clear I don¡¯t really have a choice at all. ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± I say firmly. ¡°I¡¯ll take the test, just like the others.¡± ¡°Splendid!¡± Ozpin exclaims, spinning his cane with a flourish. He turns on his heel, already walking away as though the matter is settled. ¡°Oh, and Glynda,¡± he calls over his shoulder, ¡°I¡¯ve made some adjustments to this year¡¯s introduction, please do make sure everything runs smoothly.¡± Glynda sighs audibly, the sound somewhere between exasperation and resignation. ¡°Ozpin, with all due respect, the first test begins in twenty minutes.¡± He waves her off without breaking his pace. ¡°Plenty of time! I¡¯m just making sure we¡¯re keeping them on their toes.¡± Glynda mutters something under her breath, then turns back to me with a look that says she¡¯s calculating the exact amount of trouble I¡¯m about to cause her. ¡°Follow me,¡± she says, already walking toward the next set of doors. I follow, suppressing a sigh of my own, not knowing if I just got into trouble or saved myself a lot of it. ? I stand alone on a small stone platform, the air filled with silence. The few others I can glimpse are distant, scattered around the vast, arena-like chamber we¡¯ve been led into. The scale of the room is disorienting. After just a few moments of waiting, the square of stone beneath me begins to tremble, and with a sudden tremor, it starts sinking, dragging me deeper into the earth below the academy. The descent feels endless. The grinding of ancient mechanisms fills the narrow shaft, amplifying the oppressive weight of the stone walls pressing in around me. After what must have been a full minute¡ªlong enough to make me feel like I¡¯m being buried alive¡ªthe platform shudders to a halt. In front of me, a narrow path stretches forward. It¡¯s made up of tiled squares, each adorned with a glowing blue dust crystal, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. I stand, frozen, waiting. For instructions, for some voice to explain what I¡¯m meant to do. But there¡¯s nothing. Then the wall behind me shifts with a low, grinding groan. The sound of stone opening like a rusty cage, giving way to something worse. A feral growl rips through the silence, and a wolf-like Grimm lurches into the dim light, its eyes blazing with predatory hunger. My legs move before my brain does. I throw myself forward, my boots landing hard on the first tile. The blue crystal beneath my feet shifts to red, glowing with an ominous light. I don¡¯t have time to think about what that means¡ªnot with the beast¡¯s breath hot on my heels. I simply keep going, tile after tile, as fast as my legs allow me to. But when the tile first tile I stepped on shatters, the meaning becomes horrifyingly clear.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. The tiles are collapsing. One by one. A chain reaction triggered by my every step. The more tiles that fall, the more desperate the Grimm gets. And the closer it gets, the faster I have to move, each step accelerating the destruction beneath me. It¡¯s a vicious cycle. A self-fulfilling trap designed to force me to run until there¡¯s nothing left to run on. The path stretches out endlessly ahead, offering me turns and options every so often¡ªuntil it doesn¡¯t. A three-way junction appears, and for a split second, my brain struggles to process the chaos converging there. Another path joins mine, and from the corner of my eye, I catch a blur of motion. White, orange and black streaks across my vision, and I realize it¡¯s a girl¡ªa tall, broad-shouldered Faunus, her path disintegrating under her as she races head-on toward me, a Grimm hot on her trail. Our eyes lock as we meet at the intersection. There¡¯s no time to talk, but we both understand the problem instantly. One path ahead. Two runners. ¡°Trust me¡ªthat¡¯s not a good idea!¡± I shout, my voice cutting through the sound of falling rock as she crouches, preparing to leap past me. Something in my tone gives her pause, and instead, she adjusts her pace to match mine. Together, we sprint toward the shared turn, our movements synchronized by sheer necessity. The snarls of the Grimm grow deafening behind us, but I don¡¯t look back. Instead, I draw one of my tomahawks, the weapon a comforting weight in my hand. As we are about to step together into the narrow sideway, I throw the tomahawk, the blade spinning in a silver arc, bouncing off the wall and pushing on ahead. Without missing a beat, I stop, slowing myself just enough for the Grimm to close the gap. It¡¯s a reckless move, but there¡¯s no other way. The girl glances back, her expression flickering with disbelief as I plant myself in the center of the intersection, directly in the path of both oncoming beasts. ¡°Go!¡± I shout, and to her credit, she doesn¡¯t hesitate. She pushes forward, her long legs eating up the distance as the collapsing path nips at her heels. It¡¯s a strange sensation¡ªfist-fighting dogs mid-air, surrounded by crumbling stone and the threat of falling into my end. My fists and feet connect with fur and bone, the impact weightless, but it¡¯s not enough to stop them. The snarling grows louder, and for a fleeting moment, I feel the weight of defeat. Then I reach for it¡ªthat strange, instinctive connection to my weapon. It¡¯s like grasping at threads in the dark, but they respond. The tomahawk becomes an anchor in my mind, and my Semblance surges through. In a flash of light and sheer will, I vanish from where I stand and reappear alongside the weapon, landing just ahead of the Faunus girl. She stumbles slightly as I materialize in her path but recovers quickly, throwing me a look that¡¯s equal parts shock and grudging respect. Behind us, the remnants of the pathway crumble entirely, taking the Grimm with them into the abyss. ¡°Slow down!¡± I bark, breathless. My heart pounds painfully, each beat pushing against my ribs as I blink away the dizziness brought on by the teleportation. To my surprise, she obeys without hesitation. Instantly. Her pace shifts into an almost casual stride, as though perfectly understanding my intent. I¡¯m the one lagging behind now, struggling to match the unhurried rhythm as we carefully navigate the remaining tiles, no longer rushing but pacing ourselves with precision. And yet, calling it comfortable would be a lie. The air between us brims with tension. Her predatory gaze, simmering with silent rage, sets me on edge. Her lithe, muscular frame dominates the narrow space, exuding a palpable sense of danger. With nothing else to distract me, my eyes linger on her, drawn by the sheer presence she commands. She is tall and lean, her sun-kissed skin adorned with sleek black stripes that could be mistaken for tattoos. Wild, snowy white hair frames a sharp, angular face, before falling down her back like an untamed waterfall, an avalanche of rough fluff.. Her feline ears flick intermittently, while her striped tail sways behind her swinging hips with a nonchalance that doesn¡¯t match the murder on her golden eyes. Her armor is intricate, stone-like plates accentuating her hips, legs, neck and forearms. Yet her shredded abdomen remains bare, revealed by the cropped white top she wears. It¡¯s a jarring contrast¡ªboth warrior and beast, and an immense sense of pride in both. ¡°Rain,¡± she growls, her voice low and guttural like thunder. I blink, confused. My gaze flicks to the stone ceiling. ¡°I don¡¯t think so¡­?¡± She raises a single eyebrow, the sharp angle of it almost mocking. Before I can stumble further, we reach an intersection. The fleeting chaos of other students rushing in the distance provides a momentary distraction, their footsteps echoing like whispers through the labyrinth. ¡°What you did¡­¡± she coughs, her words thick with an accent that clings like tar. ¡°Very brave. Very good.¡± Her praise lands awkwardly, foreign and jagged under her cold breath. I nod in silence, unsure of her intentions. Who is she? What is her game? The tension coils tighter with every step as we navigate the shifting tiles. Each one feels like a gamble between safety and oblivion. I count the seconds between moves, measuring our progress, and pray silently that no one will appear from the opposite direction. Finally, the corridor spills into a wide, square chamber. The floor here is unmarked, tiled but plain, offering a brief break from the constant dread. Others filter in after us, one by one, until four pairs have gathered at the chamber¡¯s heart. The moment is eerily still, the walls of the labyrinth groaning as they shift, sealing all exits. I scan the room, my eyes darting from face to face. Blake is there, standing beside a fiery blur of blonde energy. Our gazes lock across the space, without time for words. Then the tiles light up, a sudden puzzle of color¡ªred, blue, a fleeting mosaic of danger and opportunity. I glance down, but by the time I process the signal, the glow has already faded. I have no idea where I¡¯m standing¡ªor what comes next. A sharp impact sends me flying sideways. My partner, with powerful precision, kicks me into the wall. Pain blooms in my ribs like a thunderclap, the force akin to being struck by a gorilla. Dust and grit rain down, and as I push upright, I realize her gamble paid off. When the tiles rumble, half of them vanish into the abyss, leaving only screams to mark the first fallen pair. Immediately after, a grinding noise draws all eyes upward as the ceiling splits apart, revealing a swirling cloud of dark wings. A swarm of small, bat-like Grimm descends, their red eyes gleaming with feral hunger. The tiles light up again, and this time, I don¡¯t falter. I glance down¡ªsafe. But my partner¡¯s tile isn¡¯t. Worse, now everyone understands how the test works. As my Faunus teammate leaps toward an isolated patch of safety, the third team makes their move. A towering, bald man with deep, onyx skin lunges after her, his landing shaking the fragile platform she aims towards. His intentions are clear: knock her out of the game. I don¡¯t hesitate. Deep breath. Focus. One of my axes leaves my hand in a spinning arc, the other gripped tightly to guide it. As the weapon slices through the air, I throw myself into the void, heart pounding. The instant the axe strikes its mark, my Semblance activates, and we switch places. The look of shock on his face as he falls into the darkness below is a memory I¡¯ll treasure forever. My partner lands beside me, nimble and unscathed, her golden eyes gleaming with approval. We turn to face our next opponent: a short, pale girl with razor-sharp eyes and a colossal, metallic bow in her hands. ¡°Agh!¡± she groans, notching an arrow. ¡°Why do I always have to do everything?¡± Before she can fire, one of the Grimm swoops down, its claws grazing her neck. She stumbles, just as Yang barrels through like a storm. The blonde fighter¡¯s punch lands with such devastating force it sends the girl ricocheting off the wall, her elimination as brutal as it is swift. The Grimm swarm closes in on us now, their shrill cries growing louder as they circle our precarious island. I waste no time. Pulling out [The Contender], one shot is enough to turn most of them into a memory, one that won¡¯t allow the surviving pests to get any closer. My partner whistles low, an impressed note cutting through the chaos. ¡°Not bad,¡± she mutters, her tail flicking behind her. At last, a pause stretches before us, strange and heavy, creating a fragile moment of calm. ¡°Normally, at this point, the test would be considered over. However,¡± Glynda¡¯s voice reverberates from all directions. ¡°Director Ozpin has requested a more¡­ thorough examination of your group. So, congratulations on your success. And please, do continue.¡± For a moment, excitement stirs within me. The adrenaline courses hot in my veins, pumping steadily, my muscles ready for more action. Maybe I¡¯m even eager to prove myself, wondering if I can be the last one standing. But Blake takes one look at me, then down at the never-ending darkness, and leaps off the edge. And of course¡ªof course¡ªI follow. What would be a mortal fall for anyone else is little more than a rough slide for someone with an aura. The cavernous drop funnels us into a circular chute, spitting us out into a sleek, surprisingly modern underground facility. Fluorescent lights buzz faintly, the sterile glow contrasting the chaos of moments ago. Three of the figures from earlier linger in the open space. Their faces are drawn with defeat, their silence heavier than words. Blake lands lightly, her boots hitting the floor with feline precision. Before I can say anything, she¡¯s already rolling forward, putting distance between us as if I might shackle her down. I jog to catch up. ¡°Are we really doing this right now?¡± Her steps falter, but only slightly. When she finally stops and turns, the storm on her face leaves me silent. Anger, sadness, shame¡ªthey¡¯re all there, raw and unfiltered, cracking through the mask she¡¯s always so careful to wear. ¡°Leave me alone!¡± she yells, her voice splintering. ¡°What are you even doing here?!¡± I exhale slowly, trying to keep my tone calm. ¡°I thought that was the plan, Danger. You and me, partners in crime.¡± She bites her lip, her body trembling as though holding something back. ¡°No¡­ I didn¡¯t¡­ I can¡¯t! I didn¡¯t come all the way to Beacon to end up following anybody else. This is supposed to be my life, my dream!¡± Her hair falls like a curtain around her face as she looks down, hiding from my eyes. ¡°For you¡­ maybe this is just some kind of game. But I¡¯m not here to enjoy myself. This is important to me, Ad¡ª¡± Blake cuts herself off violently, as if the name she almost said scalded her tongue. Without another word, she spins on her heel and runs away, leaving me standing there in the empty space, suspended between hurt and confusion. I take a long moment, letting my hands drop to my sides. The absence of my gun feels oddly comforting. My thoughts are still swirling when a rumbling voice interrupts them. ¡°Ah, I see. Trouble with female. Happens to many. It will get better once you taller, less puny.¡± I glance over my shoulder and find the towering Faunus woman standing there, arms crossed, her striped tail flicking lazily behind her. ¡°Please,¡± I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. ¡°At least tell me you just¡­ jumped down behind me.¡± She snorts, a low, guttural sound. ¡°No. Lost very bad. Got punched in face. Very humiliating.¡± ? Later, the staff gathers us all in the auditorium. The rows stretch endlessly, packed with tired faces, some victorious, others crestfallen. I marvel at the sheer number of us¡ªdozens of students crammed together, far more than Beacon typically admits. We each receive a small bracelet, though its significance remains unclear. I turn the golden band over in my hand, its polished surface catching the light. As Ozpin takes the stage, his unhurried steps and faint smile draw the attention of every person in the room. ¡°You may be wondering why I¡¯ve gathered all of you here,¡± he begins, his voice calm yet carrying an unmistakable authority. ¡°Looking around, you may even see familiar faces¡ªthose of students you have already defeated.¡± Beside me, my Faunus partner nods subtly, as though confirming his words through my presence. ¡°As you know, teams at this academy are traditionally composed of students chosen at random,¡± Ozpin continues, his gaze sweeping across the crowd. ¡°However, depending on your performance in today¡¯s tests, you may find that your bracelets¡­ differ slightly.¡± I glance down at mine again, its golden sheen catching the light. Then my gaze shifts to the girl beside me. Her bracelet is different¡ªsmaller, plainer, its silver surface dull and unadorned compared to mine. ¡°I guess you can¡¯t always end up at the top,¡± she says lightly, her voice carrying no malice. I look up, embarrassed at having been caught staring. Before I can stammer out an apology, I¡¯m struck by her emerald-green eyes, vibrant and kind, and the way her blood-red hair catches the light. She¡­ Pyrrha Nikos. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry,¡± I manage, my voice awkward. ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying to be rude.¡± She laughs, a soft, easy sound that takes the edge off my embarrassment. Before I can fumble further, Ozpin¡¯s voice draws us back. ¡°Those with golden bracelets¡ªcongratulations. You are officially students of Beacon Academy. For those with silver bracelets, this is where the fun begins.¡± A ripple of confusion stirs through the crowd. The tension in the room swells as murmurs of unease and excitement spread like wildfire. Ozpin lets the moment stretch before continuing, a faint note of amusement threading his tone. ¡°This year, we¡¯re doing things differently. Rather than assigning teams at random, those wearing golden bracelets will have the privilege of forming their own teams. You will have until the end of the week to choose. For those of you with silver bracelets, this is your chance to prove yourselves. Show your worth, and find someone who values your talents enough to invite you to join their team¡ªand our academy.¡± The room erupts. The noise is a chaotic blend of hurried whispers, nervous laughter, and sharp, urgent discussions. Silver-bracelet students exchange determined glances, while golden-banded ones suddenly find themselves under intense scrutiny. I glance at the red-haired girl beside me. Her eyes are steady, her smile warm, but the firm set of her jaw betrays her resolve. Before I can even think of what to say, a storm of movement overtakes the room. Students rise in a rush, their focus shifting to golden bracelets like wolves circling prey. I feel the crush of urgency too and instinctively reach out to her¡ªbut before my hand even makes contact, I feel a firm, deliberate grip on my wrist. ¡°What are you¡ª¡± A mechanical voice chimes, emanating from the bracelets. ¡°Vesper, Rain. Your affiliation has been confirmed. Please enjoy your time together at Beacon Academy.¡± ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± The Faunus beside me nods, her expression calm. ¡°Works very well. Very easy. Now we know what to do.¡± She releases my wrist unbothered by the brewing storm around us. My confusion only deepens as a wall of silver-bracelet students surges forward, their eager, hungry gazes locked on us. In the distance, I catch a glimpse of Pyrrha walking out with her head down, her signature red hair disappearing like a flame swallowed by the wind. Rain remains unfazed, her steely eyes betraying no emotion behind their intensity. I swallow hard, my pulse racing as the circle around us tightens. At this moment, as desperation and tension collide, one thought takes over: Thank God I¡¯m not holding my gun. Chapter 9: Smoke And Embers The sounds of the party roar through the dormitory''s first floor like a wildfire, laughter and music spilling into the hallways. The air vibrates with energy¡ªloud, infectious, and utterly relentless. I¡¯d expected tension¡ªa night of hushed whispers and wary glances as everyone digested the day¡¯s events. But instead, the atmosphere felt buoyant, almost celebratory. Cheerful faces blur past, laughter echoing against the walls. It seemed as though they¡¯d decided to embrace the fleeting joy of possibly making it into Beacon, instead of dwelling on the slim odds. Yet, as I steer Rain through the chaos¡ªgrasping her wrist more than once to stop her from going off course¡ªa small part of me envied them. The steady pulse of the music tugged at my focus as I breathed in the sour-tasting smoke, a siren call inviting me to stay, to let go, to forget. I shake the thought away and push forward, weaving through the multitude until the staircase comes into view. We climb to the second floor, where the din of the party fades into a welcome quiet. The air here is cooler, the atmosphere subdued. The room we enter is spacious, built to house a full team. Its warm, practical d¨¦cor gives it the feel of a compact home. Soft lighting casts long, gentle shadows on the walls, and the faint scent of polished wood lingers. Smaller, private rooms branch off to the side¡ªspaces waiting to be claimed by a squad still in the making. Inside, the golden-banded students are already gathered. Some sit, others lean against walls in loose clusters, their voices weaving a tapestry of chuckles and murmurs. Ozpin is the only one who stands apart, his presence commanding the room without effort. He rises slowly as we enter, his calm demeanor cutting through the low hum of conversation. ¡°Ah, it seems everyone¡¯s finally here,¡± he says, his voice smooth and unhurried. ¡°Good. I¡¯ll keep this brief.¡± Before he can continue, a sharp, feminine voice cuts through the air. ¡°I think we¡¯re still missing someone.¡± The speaker is unfamiliar, encased in the gleaming polish of knight-like armor. But I already know who they mean. Yang steps forward, her golden hair catching the light like a flame, her younger sister trailing close behind. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± she says with an easy grin. ¡°She¡¯s with us.¡± She flashes her golden bracelet. The small panel glows, displaying three bold letters: RBY. The armored figure sighs, removing her helmet to reveal a warm, round face framed by chestnut hair. She slumps into a chair, her frustration evident. ¡°What¡¯s the point of this gathering if half of us have already started forming teams? Shouldn¡¯t the focus be on giving an opportunity to those who actually need it?¡± ¡°Not my fault my sister and I kicked ass today,¡± Yang shoots back, rolling her eyes, visibly annoyed. Before the conversation can escalate, Ozpin brings his cane down with a sharp crack against the floor. The room stills instantly. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ actually one of the reasons I¡¯ve called you all here,¡± he says, allowing the weight of his words to settle. ¡°I won¡¯t go into too much detail, but let¡¯s just say I have reason to suspect someone had been tampering with our test¡ªand its participants.¡± A ripple of surprise spreads like wildfire. Students exchange uneasy glances, the earlier bravado replaced by uncertainty. ¡°Then why not cancel the stupid test and start over?¡± Cardin calls from a distant corner where only his teammate accompanies him. Ozpin exhales tiredly, shaking his head. ¡°Because anyone bold enough to attempt infiltrating my academy wouldn¡¯t be deterred by something so trivial. Instead, I chose to give them a chance.¡± ¡°A chance?¡± The question slips from my lips before I can stop it. Ozpin¡¯s piercing gaze turns to me, and I feel the weight of his scrutiny. ¡°Yes,¡± he says, almost amused. ¡°An appropriate test¡ªone that would reward those willing to trample over others to earn their way into Beacon. That¡¯s why I can now confidently say that if any¡­ unexpected guests managed to find their way here, they are most likely in this room.¡± His eyes then soften, settling on the girl in the red hood. ¡°Though I¡¯ll admit,¡± he continues, ¡°I didn¡¯t expect the one student I personally invited to use her Semblance to disqualify every single one of her opponents.¡± Ruby laughs nervously, scratching the back of her head. ¡°I¡­ might¡¯ve ruined the test for everybody else, huh?¡± Ozpin takes a deep breath, his expression caught between amusement and exasperation. ¡°You¡¯re students. Try to play the part. I¡¯ve allowed you the privilege of forming your own teams this year because I believe your judgment, in this instance, may be more reliable than mine.¡± His gaze sweeps over us one final time. ¡°Enjoy your privileges. Don¡¯t be too responsible. And above all, choose wisely. Spend the next four years with people who will not only complement your strengths but challenge you to grow¡ªas Huntsmen, and as people.¡± The room empties quickly after that, most students eager to escape the weight of the headmaster¡¯s words. I¡¯m ready to follow, relieved to avoid earning myself another moment of his scrutiny. But Rain lingers by the exit, her towering frame unmoving, arms crossed. Her stillness is deliberate, her gaze fixed as the last of the students shuffle out. When it¡¯s just the three of us, Ozpin pauses by the desk at the far end of the room. His hand rests lightly on his cane, and his calm eyes regard her with interest. ¡°Was there something you wished to discuss, Miss Zvereva?¡± ¡°Why lie to them?¡± she asks, her words carrying the blunt force of a mace. ¡°You say test better if aggressive. We not aggressive. We work together. Do very well.¡± Ozpin raises an eyebrow, genuine surprise flickering across his face. But the expression softens into something resembling curiosity. ¡°You¡¯re correct,¡± he says, tilting his head. ¡°You and your partner demonstrated exceptional teamwork. It¡¯s no small feat to trust and coordinate yourself with a stranger in the midst of chaos.¡± He reaches into his pocket and withdraws his scroll. The faint glow of its screen illuminates his features as his fingers move with practiced ease. ¡°Rain Zvereva,¡± he muses, his voice thoughtful. ¡°I¡¯ve had the privilege of meeting your father. A remarkable man¡ªone of the few Faunus to reject the concept of Menagerie outright, even with his many ties to the White Fang.¡± Rain¡¯s reply is cold. ¡°Humans fill house with cheese and tell the rats it¡¯s not a cage.¡± Ozpin¡¯s lips twitch, a faint smile betraying neither approval nor offense. If anything, her response seems to confirm something for him. ¡°Enlighten me,¡± he says, his tone unhurried but probing. ¡°How does a Faunus from such a proud family¡ªone unwilling to align themselves with the White Fang¡ªcome to place her trust in a human with such ease?¡± Rain¡¯s intense gaze narrows, and the silence stretches between them like a taut string. Finally, she speaks, her words measured. ¡°If every human jumped in front of Faunus in danger, you¡¯d see why Menagerie¡¯s an atrocity.¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Ozpin¡¯s smile deepens, though it carries the weight of understanding rather than humor. ¡°An admirable perspective,¡± he says softly, genuine. ¡°It speaks to your character¡ªand your partner¡¯s.¡± He steps closer, nonchalantly making his way to the door. ¡°The test,¡± he continues, ¡°was designed to reveal intent as much as skill. Anyone¡­ incorrectly motivated would likely draw attention to themselves by defeating everyone in their path.¡± ¡°In truth, you¡¯d have passed simply by enduring¡ªby staying on the test floor until most of it collapsed. After all, why would someone start attacking those around them without rhyme or reason?¡± That¡¯s when I decide to join in. ¡°You expected these guys to figure that out on their own?¡± Ozpin chuckles lightly, his words laced with a cryptic warmth. ¡°I expected them to act as they saw fit. Some will rise by stepping on others; some will rise by lifting those around them. Both paths reveal something important. The difference,¡± he says, stepping out of the room, ¡°is what happens next.¡± His cane taps lightly against the floor as he walks away. ¡°For now, enjoy the evening, both of you. You¡¯ve earned it.¡± He leaves without waiting for a reply, the door closing softly behind him. Rain doesn¡¯t move for a long moment, her piercing eyes fixed on the door as if weighing everything he¡¯d said. Then she turns to me, her expression as stoic as ever. ¡°I don¡¯t like him,¡± she states, blunt as a hammer. The bluntness of it catches me off guard, and I laugh. ¡°He¡¯s not wrong.¡± Rain huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. ¡°Still don¡¯t like him.¡± There¡¯s something about the way she says things¡ªso direct, incapable of giving a damn. Her face remains locked in its usual mask of quiet resolve and simmering frustration, yet her words tumble out with a strange, disarming simplicity. It¡¯s... endearing, in its own awkward way. I smirk, tilting my head. ¡°C¡¯mon, Whiskers. Why don¡¯t we see if we can find ourselves another teammate tonight? Got anything in mind?¡± She raises an eyebrow, her tail flicking playfully behind her. ¡°Every group needs a smart, a quiet, a strong, and a handsome.¡± I give her a sideways glance. ¡°Which one am I?¡± She pauses, studying me with the same intense focus she¡¯d pointed at Ozpin moments before. Her lips quirk slightly, almost imperceptibly. ¡°You got good heart.¡± ? There¡¯s still something I need to do before the night is over. I pace through the dorms, up and down the halls, searching for Pyrrha Nikos. An hour slips by in a midst of frustration, my legs growing heavier with every step. No sign of her¡ªnot even a whisper of her presence. Finally, worn down and slick with sweat, I collapse into a corner of the common room, the hunt abandoned. The party rages on around me, an unstoppable tide of movement and noise. Bodies surge and sway across the dance floor, silhouettes thrown against walls by the pulsing glow of neon light. Midnight has come and gone, but the energy remains electric¡ªuntamed. I inhale deeply, allowing the thick, purple haze blanketing the room to engulf me. The air is heavy, almost syrupy, clinging to my lungs and skin with a warmth that¡¯s both suffocating and oddly comforting. The rhythmic pounding of the bass merges with the muffled murmur of voices, dulling the sharp edges of thought. But then¡­ something shifts. A presence, faint at first, but undeniable, stirs within the smoke. Not just a sensation, but a force carrying intent. Watching. Waiting. Reaching. It¡¯s as if a predator has surfaced in this sea of indulgence, a shadow circling just beyond the edge of awareness. My eyes snap open. I sit upright, heart pounding against my ribs. Though the presence fades, its mark lingers¡ªa phantom pulse, not my own, vibrating insistently in my chest. I stand, legs unsteady beneath me, and shake off the invasive sensation. Confusion swirls into curiosity, then hardens into resolve. There¡¯s a scent now, a thread of something sweet and alluring pushing past the thick fog of smoke and sweat. It pulls me forward, deeper into the chaos. The crowd parts around me as I move, as if some invisible force clears my path. My steps are guided by an instinct I don¡¯t fully understand, until finally, I see her. She stands at the heart of the party, commanding it. Elevated by swirling tendrils of violet mist, almost ethereal, a dark mirage framed by shadows. Her hands glide over the DJ table with an effortless rhythm, her every movement synchronized with the hypnotic heartbeat of the music. Our eyes meet. She doesn¡¯t smile, doesn¡¯t speak¡ªshe simply gestures, a flick of her wrist that carries the weight of a command. I follow the siren¡¯s call, weaving through the crowd until I¡¯m standing before her makeshift stage, leaning against it, out of breath. ¡°How?¡± The word escapes me, barely audible over the music. Her laugh is low and honeyed, carrying over the noise like a melody all its own. She reaches for a massive cup on the table, taking a long, deliberate swig. The acrid scent of raw alcohol hits me immediately, sharp and overwhelming. She exhales slowly, releasing a dense, shimmering cloud of smoke that wraps around us like a curtain. ¡°Relax, Babyboy,¡± she drawls, her voice rich with amusement. ¡°We¡¯re just tryin¡¯ to have a little fun and you¡¯re just lookin¡¯ so tense.¡± She leans forward, brushing a finger against the bridge of my nose. The moment she touches me, the world shifts. My mind is pulled upward, past the lights, the smoke, the sound, until we¡¯re standing above it all, perched on the edge of the illusion. The chaos and presence of the party feels distant now, like a dream fading into memory. ¡°You¡­¡± The words catch in my throat as I piece together my thoughts. ¡°That¡¯s why no one¡¯s worried about passing or not... It¡¯s you.¡± Her smile widens, a flash of stark white against the dim backdrop of the dark room. ¡°M-hm.¡± She tilts her head, studying me with an almost predatory curiosity. ¡°Name¡¯s Maroon. I give people what they want, handsome. But hey¡ªit¡¯s not like I¡¯m forcing anyone to enjoy it.¡± ¡°Then why¡­?¡± Her expression shifts, darkening with an edge of mischief. She leans closer, her voice dipping into a teasing whisper. ¡°Because I can¡¯t give you what your heart¡¯s really askin¡¯ for, Babyboy. I¡¯m good, but not that good.¡± She takes another swig from her cup, her movements slow and deliberate. I know I should be angry, frustrated even, but the emotion slips through my fingers, replaced by an unwilling smile. Maybe it¡¯s the way her halo of wild, inky black curls frames her face, or the way her glowing red eyes seem to cut through me with disarming precision. Or maybe it¡¯s the raw truth she carries so easily, a truth I can¡¯t deny. Maroon watches me, her features softening into something contemplative. The faint light catches against her shiny ebony skin as she shifts, curious, as though she¡¯s deciding what to make of me. Then, with an almost lazy gesture, she extends her cup toward me. The smell alone is enough to knock me back¡ªsharp, biting, and undoubtedly lethal. Some kind of homebrew mixture brough straight from hell. I shake my head, and she laughs again, a low, throaty sound that wraps around me like the smoke curling from her lips. Instead of pushing, she quirks an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly. ¡°What¡¯s on your mind, sweetheart? C¡¯mon, a girl take a little peek.¡± An idea sparks in my mind. ¡°Could you¡­ get a message out for me? I¡¯ve two places on my team, if Pyrrha Nikos would take one¡­ Let¡¯s just say the other can be saved for fun.¡± Maroon leans over and into the table, a flicker of sultry mischief lighting up her half-lidded, wine-red eyes. For a moment, she just watches me, the faint curl of her lips hinting at an absent smile. Then, with a smooth motion, she rolls over and leans into the mic. Her voice booms through the speakers. ¡°Alright, party people! We¡¯re looking for Pyrrha Nikos, the one and lonely. Can someone find my girl? Night¡¯s almost over, and we¡¯ll be needing her hips on this dance floor to close things out.¡± The crowd responds with scattered laughter, a mix of whistles and murmurs rippling through the haze. But after a few repeats of the announcement, it becomes clear¡ªPyrrha isn¡¯t here. The lack of something to do doesn¡¯t really sit well on my chest, and I feel the exhaustion of the day catch up with me. With a sigh, I decide I¡¯ve had enough stepping into the cold embrace of the night. The chaotic energy of the party fades behind me, replaced by a sharp, biting chill that clears my head like a slap to the face. I wander aimlessly for a while, the crunch of gravel beneath my boots the only sound accompanying me. Eventually, I find myself in the soft halo of a flickering lamppost, a lonely wooden bench beneath it. I sink onto the bench with a heavy exhale, letting the stillness press against me. My thoughts are a tangled mess, circling back to the same frustrations I can¡¯t seem to let go of. On one hand, I¡¯ve been here¡ªon Remnant¡ªfor less than a month. None of this should matter as much as it does. This isn¡¯t even part of my mission. So what if things aren¡¯t going exactly as planned? On the other hand¡­ Well, fuck me. ¡°Wow,¡± a cheerful voice breaks the silence, startling me. ¡°You two must¡¯ve really done a number on each other if the whiplash¡¯s this bad.¡± I look up to find Yang Xiao Long standing over me, her grin as wide and mischievous as ever. The flickering light catches the fiery strands of her hair, making it shimmer like molten gold. ¡°Crying over spilled tits?¡± she quips, leaning closer with a mockingly concerned expression. ¡°What? No,¡± I stammer, sitting up straighter, caught off guard by her sudden appearance. ¡°I¡¯m just¡­ tired. That¡¯s all. You know, getting into Beacon, training for years¡ªbest day of our lives, right?¡± She plops down beside me, her fiery hair catching the lamplight. ¡°She¡¯s in our room,¡± Yang says casually, her grin softening into something more empathetic. ¡°If it makes you feel better, she looked pretty miserable too.¡± I blink, caught off guard. Swallowing my pride, I glance back at her. ¡°Does¡­ does everyone just know?¡± Yang just laughs. ¡°Well, when you make a scene on your first day of school¡­ yeah, pretty much. You know how it is.¡± I manage a shrug, forcing a half-smile. ¡°Guess people just suck, here and everywhere.¡± Silence stretches between us¡ªnot awkward, just easy. For all her teasing, Yang doesn¡¯t push further. She just sits there, the warmth of her presence pushing back the cold. A quiet psst catches my attention as she cracks open a can of beer. She takes a long sip, then wordlessly hands it over. I eye the can for a moment before accepting. The cheap beer tastes as bad as I expect¡ªlike piss¡ªbut for some reason, it doesn¡¯t matter. I don¡¯t even notice the taste until I¡¯ve drained half of it. ¡°What is this? Your charity of the day?¡± I finally ask, laughing softly at myself. Yang smirks, shaking her head. ¡°Nah. Just thought¡­ if someone teamed up with my girl to try and beat my ass, I¡¯d probably want to punch them in the face. You think you¡¯re having a bad day, then an asshole like me shows up¡­¡± Her words trail off, but there¡¯s no malice in them, just a strange kind of honesty. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ surprisingly good at giving a damn about people.¡± I pass the can back to her. ¡°But you didn¡¯t come out here just for that, did you?¡± Yang rolls her eyes, smirking like she¡¯s been caught. ¡°Heard you were looking for Pyrrha. Figured I¡¯d let you know¡­ I tried shooting my shot with her earlier today. Didn¡¯t go well. She¡¯s not looking to join a team¡­ or much of anything, really. She looked almost as bad as you two.¡± ¡°And what about today made you think I¡¯m amazing with girls and might somehow change her mind?¡± She chuckles, shaking her head. ¡°Hey, you¡¯re the one who got a bad bitch bawling her eyes out. I just needed to see if it was for the right reasons.¡± I turn to her slowly, arching an eyebrow. ¡°And if things hadn¡¯t gone so well?¡± Yang takes her time, sipping her drink and spinning the can idly in her hands. ¡°Well, let¡¯s just say it wouldn¡¯t be the first time I walk away from a party to take care of a bad boy.¡± Quietly, I reach into my inventory, pulling out [The Contender] and pressing the cold barrel lightly against the bare skin of her side. ¡°If you love losing that much, I can still kick your ass. I really wanted Blake on my team.¡± She freezes, her lavender eyes widening in surprise before narrowing as she matches my gaze. Slowly, her expression shifts to one of amused defiance. Without missing a beat, Yang stands and dusts herself off. ¡°Don¡¯t you have enough trouble without trying to blow a load all over my back?¡± Without waiting for a response, she turns on her heel, her golden hair swaying behind her as she saunters off. ¡°I¡¯ll keep an eye on your girl,¡± she calls over her shoulder. ¡°So you better make sure Pyrrha doesn¡¯t quit before I get my shot at her.¡± Her words linger in the cold night air as she disappears, back towards the shadow of the dorm¡¯s building It¡¯s¡­ strange. Talking to her didn¡¯t solve anything, not really, but somehow, I feel lighter. Maybe it¡¯s her confidence, that reckless warmth she seems to radiate without trying. Yang Xiao Long¡ªdefinitely someone I wouldn¡¯t mind having on my side. But I guess you can¡¯t have every bad girl in town. ¡°Shame.¡± Chapter 10: Reflection I roll into the first day of class riding on a passable six hours of sleep. The buzz of dozens of students rolling into the classroom makes it easier to pretend this is just another ordinary day. No expectations, sense of pressure¡ªjust the murmur of strangers settling into seats, each one carrying their own uncertainties. The morning unfolds predictably. Teachers take turns introducing themselves, each trying to balance authority with a hint of approachability. They explain the plan for the day: a whirlwind tour of subjects designed to assess where we stand academically and patch up any glaring gaps before the real grind of the school year begins. Eight hours of bouncing between topics and assignments¡ªlike trial by academic fire. At the end of the reception, we¡¯re instructed to form groups of four to help each other navigate the day. Most students cluster instinctively into groups, gravitating toward familiar faces usually with one or two gold-band wearers at the center of it all. And then I spot her. Pyrrha. She¡¯s tucked into a corner, seated alone with an almost defiant stillness, like she¡¯s daring anyone to approach¡ªor maybe hoping no one will. I hesitate a bit, caught between curiosity and apprehension. Whatever I expected to find today, Pyrrha sitting by herself wasn¡¯t it. And seeing as how not even the most desperate-looking of students seem eager to approach the towering, shredded Faunus practicing her stealth three steps behind me, it seems a good a moment as any. And apparently, I¡¯m not the only one who noticed. ¡°Hey¡ª¡± I start, stepping toward her. ¡°Pyrrha!¡± The interruption comes from my right. I turn to find Weiss Schnee standing on Pyrrha¡¯s other side, her perfectly composed expression faltering as our eyes meet. Weiss clears her throat, her voice crisp but wavering. ¡°Ehem. I¡¯m sorry, but we¡¯re both already swamped with offers from other teams. I just don¡¯t think we¡¯ll be able to attend to you today.¡± I glance at Rain. She looks around the room, her gaze bouncing from group to group before she shakes her head. ¡°No¡­ No one¡¯s coming.¡± Weiss bristles, her face reddening as she snaps, ¡°That¡¯s because the two of you are standing there, making it look like we already have a team!¡± Her loud voice draws a few curious glances from nearby students. I catch Rain¡¯s worried look, and instinctively I raise my hands, backing off. ¡°Alright, alright¡­ maybe we should¡ª¡± ¡°Wait!¡± Pyrrha¡¯s speaks up, and for the first time, she lifts her head fully. There¡¯s something in her expression¡ªa plea that catches me off guard. ¡°Since you¡¯re already here¡­ I would be glad if we could count on your company. It¡¯s just an assignment, after all.¡± Her words linger for a moment and even Weiss doesn¡¯t complain, crossing her arms tightly but no longer objecting outright. After a tense beat, Weiss sighs, clearly exasperated. ¡°Fine. But we have to start looking for a real team after this, Pyrrha. I mean it. We¡¯re too good to risk being stuck with just anyone. The administration might even step in if we¡¯re not careful! Do you want them to think we¡¯re intentionally¡ª¡± She¡¯s already moving to grab her chair, her voice trailing off into a muffled ramble. I glance at Pyrrha, tilting my head slightly. ¡°She¡¯s¡­ got a silver band, doesn¡¯t she?¡± Pyrrha flinches, her expression tightening with something like shame. ¡°Please. Just¡­ give us a chance. She¡¯s¡­ Incredibly talented.¡± It wasn¡¯t like I was going to let this opportunity slip away. But hey, who doesn¡¯t love playing a little hard to get every now and then? ¡°Are you sure?¡± Rain plops into an empty chair beside me, her posture equal parts boredom and disappointment. ¡°That one¡¯s handsome, but where¡¯s smart? See? Humans always talk, thoughts just fall right out of mouth.¡± ¡°¡ªand don¡¯t even get me talking about male-only teams! I¡¯m like¡­ Uh? Excuse me?! That¡¯s one way to tell everyone you don¡¯t like spending time with girls.¡± As Weiss returns, her chair scraping loudly against the floor, I sigh and shoot Pyrrha a look¡ªa mirror of the apologetic one she just gave me. ¡°Why don¡¯t we just focus on the tests for now? If everything goes well, maybe Pyrrha can handle the brains, and I¡¯ll work on being¡­ a little quieter.¡± Rain blinks, visibly caught off guard by the comment. Her indignation falters into mild embarrassment before she rests back into her chair, her chin on one arm, feigning disinterest. ¡°Fine¡­ but missy better be strong, then. I¡¯m more than just pretty face.¡± After that, the day goes¡­ surprisingly well. Weiss, unsurprisingly, excels in nearly every academic subject. No doubt a product of spending most of her life alone inside a castle. Pyrrha and Rain aren¡¯t that far behind, each navigating the material with their own quiet competence. Meanwhile, I find myself lagging a bit. Math is manageable; I even seem to have a slight edge over Remnant¡¯s average. But the moment we dive into physics, biology or chemistry, it all falls apart. Concepts that should click don¡¯t, and formulas that seem straightforward refuse to stick. The problem? I don¡¯t really know anything about this world. Even gravity is different here. Hell, who knows what other fundamental rules are bent or broken? I spend most of the morning scribbling down notes, pretending I understand while hoping no one notices that I¡¯m basically an overgrown toddler. At least I¡¯m leveling up skills. [World Knowledge] Lvl 3 (2%) Eh, better than nothing¡­ By the time the lunch break rolls around, the tension has faded enough for us to sit together without awkward silences or nerves, just¡­ Having a good time, taking a breather. ¡°So¡­ Rain,¡± Pyrrha begins, leaning forward slightly, her curiosity shining through her otherwise reserved demeanor. ¡°Where are you from? I¡¯ve never heard an accent so¡­ unique.¡± Rain, more preoccupied with taking exaggerated bites from her loaf of salami, barely spares her a glance. ¡°Anima.¡± ¡°Anima?¡± Pyrrha echoes, brow furrowing. ¡°But I¡¯m¡ª¡± ¡°You¡¯re from Mistral? And you don¡¯t know who Pyrrha Nikos is?!¡± Weiss cuts in from across the table, practically scandalized. She gestures wildly in Pyrrha¡¯s direction. ¡°She¡¯s won the Mistral Regional Tournament four years in a row!¡± ¡°The what?¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡­ just something we have at Haven,¡± Pyrrha mumbles, cheeks flushing as she waves off the attention. Rain, unfazed, continues chewing. ¡°Ah, Haven I know. South. We not go there¡ªtoo many people. Very hot. North better. Quiet.¡± ¡°You¡¯re from Anima¡¯s tundra, then?¡± That¡¯s about the extent of my geographical knowledge. ¡°Why come here, though? Doesn¡¯t sound like your family¡¯s too fond of Vale, either.¡± Rain nods proudly, wiping her mouth with a napkin so delicately its comical. ¡°Tundra tiger. Very cute. Best tiger. Before, we Atlas. Then bad Atlas, we Anima. Father goes on long travel, learn human tongue, start dating human, bring home. I don¡¯t really like, so he send letter to Ozpin, send me away.¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Her broken speech mixed in between bites is truly something to behold, but we get most of it¡­ I think. ¡°So¡­ you got into a fight with your dad because he¡¯s dating a human?¡± I ask, tilting my head. ¡°Small human. He wanted me to call mother. Very strange,¡± she replies with a completely deadpan expression. ¡°People go south, come back weird.¡± ¡°No, I totally get it!¡± Weiss laughs, her pristine composure cracking as she presses a hand to her chest. ¡°Can you imagine your father suddenly marrying a Faunus? And just¡­ bringing it home? Oh, that¡¯d be hilarious.¡± Pyrrha and I exchange a look, both baffled and mildly horrified by whatever alien common ground Weiss and Rain have just discovered. But hey, at least they¡¯re bonding¡­ somehow. As the lunch break ends and we head back toward the classroom, Pyrrha tugs at my arm, pulling me aside. ¡°Hey¡­¡± she whispers. ¡°Would you mind if we¡­ took a moment longer? There¡¯s something I¡¯ve been meaning to ask.¡± Seeing as my friendly predator has finally found someone else to latch onto for more than five minutes, I shrug. ¡°Sure, we can take a walk.¡± The words leave my mouth casually, but following Pyrrha Nikos around Beacon¡¯s radiant campus under the warm afternoon sun is anything but ordinary. She walks with a measured elegance, her pace slow and deliberate, arms clasped behind her back as she meanders with no clear destination. It feels less like she¡¯s leading and more like she¡¯s drifting¡ªwandering, really¡ªjust¡­ away. I adjust my semi-formal outfit¡ªnothing flashy, just something dark and practical I picked up to wear under my armor. It¡¯s functional, but walking beside Pyrrha, it feels out of place. She¡¯s like a character pulled straight from the pages of an epic tale, perfectly at home in this fantasy world. ¡°Listen, Vesper.¡± She stops suddenly, turning to face me. Her words are eloquent as ever, but there¡¯s a nervous edge to them. ¡°I truly appreciate this opportunity to prove our abilities, but¡­ may I ask why?¡± ¡°Why?¡± I echo, caught a little off guard. ¡°Why us? Why me?¡± Her gaze drops to the ground, her composure faltering for the first time. ¡°I saw the recognition in your eyes last night. You¡­ know who I am, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°I do,¡± I admit, though I¡¯m not sure where she¡¯s going with this. ¡°Then it doesn¡¯t make sense.¡± She takes a breath, her voice quieter now. ¡°My strength wasn¡¯t enough, not when it truly mattered. If you¡¯re looking for a proven champion, I¡¯ve already failed. So, why would you choose me?¡± I open my mouth to respond but hesitate. Her doubts laid bare, like a crack in the polished armor of a hero. ¡°Maybe I just like you,¡± I say without much thought. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ what?¡± ¡°I mean, yeah, you¡¯re strong¡ªthat¡¯s a given. But, if I¡¯m being honest? I¡¯m not picking teammates purely for strength. That only matters if I plan on getting my ass kicked anyway.¡± I shrug, my tone lightening. ¡°I probably would¡¯ve chosen the sad-looking girl sitting beside me during the announcement even if she wasn¡¯t Pyrrha Nikos. The fact that you¡¯re one of the few people I actually recognize? Let¡¯s just call that luck.¡± Her expression shifts¡ªconfused, maybe a little intrigued¡ªbut I keep going, trying to thread a needle between honesty and the things I just can¡¯t say. ¡°Living outside the kingdoms¡­¡± I pause, weaving lies with just enough truth to make them believable. ¡°You hear stories. You imagine what it¡¯d be like to stand here, with those people. I don¡¯t care if you got eliminated on the entrance exam. Honestly? I¡¯d be more worried if all that fame had gone to your head. But you¡­¡± I give her a wry smile. ¡°You¡¯re surprisingly not an asshole, and I feel like my team could use that.¡± For a moment, she just stares, as if trying to decide whether I¡¯m serious or insane. Then, to my surprise, she laughs¡ªreally laughs, the sound spilling out of her as she clutches her chest, struggling for breath. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she gasps between chuckles, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ people don¡¯t usually talk to me like that. And much less a fan,¡± she adds, her tone playful now, the word drawn out like a teasing jab. ¡°Ha-ha,¡± I deadpan, rolling my eyes. ¡°Does that mean you¡¯ll give us a chance?¡± Her laughter fades, replaced by a more thoughtful look. The shift is subtle but unmistakable, like clouds dimming the edge of the sun. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m not leaving Weiss behind,¡± she says finally, her voice steady but tinged with something deeper. ¡°I know she can be¡­ controversial. But she¡¯s been nothing but kind to me since I got to Beacon. I think she deserves a place here.¡± ¡°Done,¡± I reply without hesitation. ¡°As long as she¡¯s cool with the big cat, I actually think she¡¯s funny. A little too violent for her size, but that¡¯s not the worst thing for a Huntress.¡± Pyrrha exhales slowly, as if trying to release some invisible weight. But there¡¯s something in her eyes, a hesitation, that tells me she¡¯s still holding something back. ¡°And¡­ I¡¯ll need some time to make my choice. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re not just looking for a shield to stand behind, but¡­¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t we meet after class?¡± I suggest. ¡°I know a place.¡± The afternoon shift passes in a blur, with only Weapon Crafting and Upkeep managing to hold my attention. Out of the half-dozen subjects I¡¯ll need to master to avoid getting thrown out of school, it¡¯s the one I¡¯m actually eager to learn. The rest? A mountain of books waiting to remind me how far behind I am. But for now, I push all that aside and focus on the night ahead. Stepping out of the classroom, the change in atmosphere slowly settles in as the sun starts to go down. A dense purple mist engulfs the first floor, thick and intoxicating, as students gather to escape the grind of their new reality. Laughter and shouts fill the air, a chaotic symphony of people determined to ignore the weight of responsibility, if only for a few hours. I¡¯d like to say I¡¯m surprised the administration turns a blind eye to the mess, but honestly? Considering the chaos this school thrives on¡ªand the fact that most of these faces won¡¯t even last the week¡ªit feels appropriately inevitable. Among the crowd, an unmistakable scene grabs my attention: a half-drunk Weiss perched on Rain¡¯s shoulders, her voice rising above the noise as she shouts something unintelligible but undeniably commanding. It¡¯s absurd. Impossible to ignore. And somehow, I think it¡¯s exactly what Pyrrha needed¡ªa vivid reminder that even logic can let loose. The haze thickens, its sickly sweet aroma blurring the edges of reality, until it feels like there¡¯s only the two of us left in the room. Or maybe I just want it to feel that way. The music pounds, a steady rhythm that drowns out everything else, and even though dancing is far from one of my leveled-up skills, I let myself stumble through it. Pyrrha, ever graceful, matches my awkward steps with her own easy elegance, and we find a strange, shared rhythm. It¡¯s not perfect¡ªit¡¯s not even good¡ªbut we laugh through the missteps and pretend like we belong. In that moment, the weight of the day falls away, leaving only the fleeting joy of pretending, of letting go. And I let myself enjoy it, even though neither of us fully believes in the illusion. ¡°Hey,¡± I whisper, leaning closer to Pyrrha¡¯s ear, the music muffling my words. ¡°Mind if we take our leave?¡± Her head tilts slightly, eyes meeting mine with surprise, amusement, and perhaps a trace of flattery. That¡¯s probably the alcohol talking. ¡°And what we are you talking about?¡± ¡°Well, we are a team, aren¡¯t we?¡± The word hangs between us. I notice her flinch as soon as I say it. ¡°Maybe I should show you your room. I¡¯ll message Rain, I doubt Weiss will stay on her feet much longer anyway.¡± ¡°S-Sure¡­ Yeah, that sounds like a plan,¡± she stammers, a little off-balance. Beacon had assigned Rain and me each a spacious apartment on the second floor meant for a full team, and since I had little more than a backpack to my name, I¡¯d ended up moving into hers. The wristbands we wore doubled as keys, a nice security feature that spared me from worrying about opportunistic classmates looting our stuff out of spite before heading home. ¡°This one¡¯s yours,¡± I say, gesturing to the door as we enter. ¡°We¡¯re on the other side, so Weiss will probably end up next to you.¡± The room is pristine, its walls a soft grey accented by cream curtains and a large bed dressed in pale blue linens. The furniture gleams, polished and new, lending the space the kind of cozy charm you feel when opening a carefully wrapped gift. Pyrrha steps inside slowly, carefully. She takes it all in with an air of quiet acceptance¡ªgrateful, yes, but distant. It¡¯s a demeanor I¡¯ve come to recognize, now that I¡¯m paying attention. ¡°You¡¯re not staying, are you?¡± I say, chuckling under my breath. She looks back at me, offering a small, apologetic smile. ¡°This¡­ As I said, I¡¯m thankful. It¡¯s just that¡­¡± Her voice trails off, and I arch an eyebrow, silently urging her to continue. ¡°It doesn¡¯t feel right,¡± she admits at last. ¡°I could have another chance next year at any academy I choose. Maybe even this year¡­ Mistral wouldn¡¯t reject me.¡± I can¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°So your plan was to just ditch Weiss here? Play along until we agreed to babysit her like some stray puppy you picked up?¡± ¡°No!¡± she snaps, her voice sharp with indignation. ¡°I just wanted her to have a team¡ªa chance. To be happy instead of going back to a cold home where no one appreciates her!¡± I tilt my head, studying her carefully. ¡°Are we still talking about Weiss?¡± Pyrrha¡¯s face falls, her arms wrapping around herself defensively. ¡°Look,¡± I say, my tone softening but still firm. ¡°I¡¯m not here to tell you what to do. But if you want people to treat you like a real person, you need to start acting like one.¡± She blinks, taken aback. ¡°You¡¯re not the only one here who¡¯s worked hard, Pyrrha. I know you¡¯re trying to do the right thing, I get it. But no one¡¯s going to be happy if the only reason they made it into Beacon is because you decided to step aside for them. You can¡¯t keep saving people from living their own lives. You¡¯re not some kind of martyr. Let them lose. Let them get back up. They might be weaker than you, but that doesn¡¯t make them children.¡± The room falls silent. Pyrrha stares at me, her expression a mix of shock and something deeper, something harder to define. ¡°If you keep putting sacrifice before your own life, you won¡¯t make it far enough to actually help anyone. Believe me, I¡¯ve seen it before.¡± Her gaze drops, and the weight of my words hangs in between us. With nothing else to say, I leave, tired, glad that my own room is just down the hall. The mix of dizziness and tangled thoughts quickly morphs into a throbbing headache. Before I can start second-guessing everything I just said, I collapse onto the bed, close my eyes, and let sleep take over. The next thing I know, it¡¯s six in the morning, and someone is knocking¡ªgently, but insistently¡ªon my door. I pull myself up and open it, squinting against the early light. Pyrrha stands there, looking as though she hasn¡¯t slept a minute. Her eyes are heavy with exhaustion, but there¡¯s something else in them: determination. What truly catches my attention, though, is the chaos in the living room behind her. The table is flipped onto its side like a makeshift barricade, with carpets piled on top for some reason I am far too sober to imagine. ¡°Rain,¡± she says, noticing my confusion. ¡°They¡­ came back a couple hours after us. They sounded¡­¡± ¡°Wasted,¡± I finish, groaning as realization hits me. ¡°Oh¡­ I think I forgot that message I was supposed to send.¡± ¡°Can we¡­?¡± ¡°Yeah, no, sorry,¡± I cut her off, already retreating to sit on the edge of my bed. I leave the door open, and she steps inside, quietly closing it behind her. Sitting on the edge of a long dresser, Pyrrha takes a moment, clearly choosing her words carefully. ¡°I thought about what you said,¡± she begins. ¡°You¡¯re right. I wouldn¡¯t want to get into Beacon just because someone else decided to give me their place.¡± ¡°And that means¡­?¡± ¡°That means I¡¯ll join your team,¡± she says. ¡°Once I¡¯ve earned it. I don¡¯t want you to hand this opportunity to me¡ªor to Weiss, for that matter. She¡¯s my friend, and I promised I wouldn¡¯t abandon her. So, I¡¯ll do my best to stay by her side, no matter what.¡± Her resolve is genuinely comforting, and for a moment, we simply share a glance. A soft chime interrupts the silence, and Pyrrha quickly pulls out her scroll. ¡°Oh! It¡¯s¡­ Weiss?¡± she says, her brows furrowing with worry. I grin. ¡°Wanna give her the good news? I don¡¯t think we ever mentioned you two could join the team. She¡¯ll probably hate it.¡± Pyrrha hesitates for just a second before her expression softens into a smile. ¡°You know what? Let¡¯s do it together.¡± The second she accepts the call and puts it on speaker, Weiss¡¯s unmistakable, slurred voice fills the room. ¡°Beeeeestieeeee! I¡¯ve¡­ Ugh¡­ I¡¯ve got soooo much to tell you¡­¡± I can almost feel the scent of puke. ¡°Y-Yes, me too. I¡¯m here with Vesper, and¡ª¡± ¡°Ugh! Vesper¡­ That guy thinks he¡¯s soooo cool, just because he¡­ Ugh¡­ he has a team. And a Faunus. Well, I have one too!¡± ¡°A Faunus?¡± ¡°No, dummy! A team! Like¡­ I met this reeeeally nice girl, and she immediately saw how awesome I am, so¡­ now I¡¯ll just have to find the little rat that almost got me expelled and put her in her place!¡± Pyrrha inhales deeply, clearly bracing herself to respond, but before she can get a word out, the call ends with a sharp beep¡ªno goodbye, no explanation. The effort it takes not to laugh is titanic, monumental. I press my lips together and glance at Pyrrha, who just looks thoroughly defeated. But somehow, the red-haired girl manages to collect herself, setting her scroll down with a careful, almost meditative motion before striding out of the room. ¡°Vesper?¡± she calls, her voice tinged with concern. ¡°Yes?¡± I reply, already getting up to follow. When I catch up to her in the middle of the hallway, I find her standing still, her gaze sweeping over the scene before her. She points at one room, where someone is sound asleep, snoring faintly. Then another, where someone else is equally out cold, their arm dangling off the side of the bed. ¡°If Weiss isn¡¯t¡­¡± Pyrrha begins, her voice trailing off as she turns to me. ¡°Welcome to the team,¡± I say with a shrug. I turn around and head back to bed.