Empyrean 19 - Hindsight

Empyrean 19 - Hindsight

Ironwood POV

Jaune could no longer be considered human.

He knew that there was nothing illuminating about that realization. He had a general idea of what Jaune was capable of. He’d seen the video, he’d heard the story of what happened in Phalanx. He had beheld the man himself. To some extent, he liked to believe he understood the man.

Well, that was a fucking lie, wasn’t it?

He could only stand transfixed as he watched the drone footage. He found it hard to blink, hard to breathe, as Jaune cut his way through an army of man and beast that could bring down lesser nations. 

His eyes refused to leave the screen as arcane sorceries of every element possible came together in harmonies so terrifying, it felt like primordial chaos had personally descended unto earth to remind men of the difference between themselves and divinity.

It wasn’t just humbling, it wasn’t just terrifying, it was also reaffirming.

His decision to back Jaune, to befriend the man, to show him the genuine state of the nation’s affairs. It was the right decision. Following Ozpin’s doctrine of ‘watch, don’t interact’ would have been a folly. In fact, once Ironwood got a better measure of the kind of man Jaune was, of his aspirations, of his will to be a hero, there was no doubt in his mind that approaching Jaune for help was the best action he could have taken.

Looking at the recording, the only regret he had was that he had, in his lack of understanding of Jaune’s power, ended up hampering him.

After all, they had made a plan that relied on deceit and political play. They had made a plan where Jaune was a safety net. It was a plan that Jaune had not only expedited, but made watertight through the utilisation of Emerald.

Yet, it was a plan that was made by him. A plan made by a coward, that relied on outmaneuvering his opponent, on stalling his retribution and then overpowering him with military might. Using Jaune as a part of his forces, he would have bought time for the Altesian army to gather in force, and then cut off the flagging army’s retreat.

A plan that had gone down the drain the moment the Grimm began to move, as Ozpin had predicted they would. 

He could have just asked Jaune to deliver him Jacques Arc’s head on a platter, and given his crimes against humanity, Jaune would not only have readily obliged, but also followed through on his promise with ease. That alone would have cut down Schnee’s army down to his most staunch supporters. 

It would have removed Salem from play, at least in the immediate sense. Sure, she would have enlisted the services of a few of the huntsmen who left Schnee’s service, but the others? They would find work in the remaining cities of humanity, attaining a tenuous balance.

Had he just pointed Jaune in the direction of their enemy and stepped back, things would have been so much simpler.

At least he could take solace in the fact that even as his plan failed, Jaune’s might had laid low the greatest offensive the enemies of humanity had yet mustered in his lifetime.

“He’s still at it?” 

James didn’t look towards Fria, his eyes unwilling to leave the screen. “He’s almost done. Did you enjoy your ‘stretch’?”

Fria walked up next to him. He noted that her clothes were covered by splotches of red. The sight and smell of blood would have put him off any other day. Right now? He couldn’t care less.

He was watching history unfold, after all.

“Not as much as I’d hoped I would.” Fria answered with a content sigh. “Whatever Jaune did to me, it’s made me a lot stronger. It’s kind of surreal.”

“He has that effect on people.” James commented, watching as Jaune mopped up the last holdout against him. Still pristine, without a single drop of red staining his pure visage.

“From what all I’ve heard about his exploits, and more importantly from what I’m looking at, I can tell that much.” Fria spoke, entranced by the action on screen. “That’s just not human.”

"Is anything he does human?” James asked.

“Well, the way he looks at Winter, now that’s definitely human.” Fria chuckled. “Wait, he’s talking, turn up the volume.”

“You know this isn’t a TV show, right?” James sighed.

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t have a volume knob. I know you better than that, James.” Fria snarked at him. 

James was about to tell her that the drone wasn’t close enough to hear him, when the drone pilot decided that he too was interested in catching some of the conversation. As the drone flew lower, broken conversation became audible, and the context behind it slowly dawned on James.

“He just wanted those who took his world from him to burn.” The downed man spoke, and James felt his blood freeze. 

That.. that couldn’t be it, right? There was no way that a man like Jacques, a man who was clung to power his entire life, a man who would kill anyone who so much as had the slightest potential to pose a challenge to his domain, would make such a decision.

Yet, the words of Ozpin rang clear in his head.

“Do not try to predict the motives of a man who has lost everything. From my experience, you will never be right.”

“We need to move.” James barked out, only for Fria to put a hand on his shoulder. 

“There’s no point.” She commented.

“He’s going to get there first anyways.”

LB

Neru POV

He could smell her.

It was the same scent as always. The smell of fresh morning dew, mixed with the slightest hint of cherry, a combination of scents that fit her oh-so-much, and never failed to get him hard.

Finally, in his reach.

“Why play hard to get now, dear?” He asked with a chuckle. “Just accept the inevitable. I’m still the only one for you!”

He got her response as one of her summoned Ursa exploded through the wall, its claws the size of daggers, stopping inches from his chest.

Cheeky, but the chase just made him all the more horny.

Before he could cut it down, the orange-haired pissant had another go at him. She was fast, very fast. After that first hit, he hadn’t landed another on her.

Not that it mattered, as her swords stopped the same distance away as the Ursa claws, he got a good look at her. 

Such a pretty little thing. Tired, sweaty, exasperated. Had his heart not belonged to his dearest Winter, he might have just been tempted. The look of uncertainty and fear in her eyes? It was delectable.

Sadly, today was not the day to cheat. With the main dish so close he could almost taste it, he didn’t have time for snacks.

All he had to do was wait. His inertia armor, a perfect shield that perfectly countered any attack aimed at him by opposing it with an equal reverse force, was unbeatable by them. As good of a huntswoman his darling was, she had never defeated it, and she never would.

Of course, having a perfect defense ever since he had started training as a huntsman could only carry one so far, especially against other huntsmen. With semblances being as varied and weird as they were, the possibility that he would run into something that countered him was - while slight - still significant enough for him to develop offensive tools.

His rock railgun was one, but the love of his life knew of that one. So he’d simply have to use another.

He hopped in place, his mind running calculations on the momentum required to instantly bridge the gap between him and the Orange girl. A month’s worth of stored momentum was burnt in a fraction of a second as he instantly accelerated and decelerated, bridging the gap between himself and the girl before she could even begin to react.

With his hand on her shoulder, he gave her a little smile.

“Boo.” He exclaimed, and in his one second of theatrics, four glyphs, pure white in color and somehow both familiar and unfamiliar, surrounded him.

Those were not Winter’s glyphs.

He raised a hand. The problem with momentum is that it only went in one direction. To direct it offensively, he had to sacrifice his defenses, and in that moment of switch-over, he was defenseless, and it was in that moment that something impacted against his Aura. 

Nothing had touched his Aura in years.

Rage, pure rage rose, and his eyes went bloodshot. How dare they, how fucking dare.

He lashed out with his power, burning up half a year’s worth of momentum in a circle around him. The one who had attacked him backed off, but her glyphs were destroyed, and so was everything in a five foot distance around him.

It was then that he first smelt her. Fresh snow and daisies. Similar, but different. The same could be said about her face.

It was his first time gazing at the marred face of Winter’s lesser sister. Weiss Schnee, another flower, who would have made for a good consolation prize, had she not dared land a hit on him.

How dare she?

He lunged at her, his inertia armor blocking sword strikes from the Orange girl. His hand reached out, ready to blast Weiss with a wave of momentum, one month, enough to turn a human into paste, aura be damned, but before his semblance could manifest, his aura was attacked again.

Two Beowolves, both slightly different shades of white. One per sister. 

“AAAARGHHH!”

Another point blank explosion of momentum vaporised the grimm. His anger mixed with a sense of betrayal. The way they were engaging him was clinical, it was studied.

Was it possible that his dearest Winter had plans to oppose him? That she’d studied him, her future husband, for weaknesses?

It pissed him off more than even the indignity of taking a hit to his Aura.

“Dear.” He spoke, seething, hissing. “Is this really worth it? I have years of momentum to spare. You only have one life.”

“We have three.” Winter spoke, “As much as I’d prefer it to be two.”

Stepping over the debris of his explosions, she walked into view. He hated the look in her eyes, he hated how she looked down at him, when her rightful place was under him. Broken, but still beautiful. 

Things would go back to how they were supposed to be. All it would take was time.

“I’d rather put my life at risk than let this monster have you, sister.” Weiss stated, battle-ready, her rapier poised to strike.

He liked that. Loyalty was important. Just like he was loyal to Winter… mostly, she was the same. It put a thought in his head. The Orange girl was destined to die. She was too flighty, too much of an annoyance, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t leave this place with two prizes instead of one. There was only one question left now. In this battle of attrition, what would break first?

Their bodies or their wills?

LB

Jaune POV

Atlas was still pristine.

From this high above the city, he could see both Atlas and Mantle. Mantle, a decrepit ruin, now smouldering and uninhabitable, all sacrificed to preserve Atlas, all done by his hand, because he was so stuck pleasing people that he didn’t take the chance to lop off Jacques’ head the moment he was explained what the man had done.

His choice had put people at risk, and the only person who could make this right was him.

He removed his mask, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. The Alpha’s Domain was a useful tool, not only to project his will into reality, but also to locate and track those who would cause harm to him. He’d used it well in the fight before. 

Now, he needed something greater.

Entering the Constellation of Might felt like coming home, as the world around him shifted, and the lake of his soul appeared again. His soul had grown, just as he had expected.

With a hand raised with purpose, he willed it all to rise. It surrounded the orb that represented The Alpha’s Domain. 

Rejection.

It all started to fall, but he held firm, forcing it to rise again.

Another rejection, but this time, he got further. He felt The Alpha’s Domain deactivate, lost to him, but he kept going, willing all his power to saturate it.

The Constellation of Might dissipated, and Jaune let go of a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. 

Legendary Ability Unlocked 

Totality

The world is you, and you are the world

He winces as his senses started to expand. Thousands of pinpricks of light stabbed at his eyes, each coming from a citizen of Atlas. He looked away, only to see more, hundreds and hundreds of miles away.

He willed his mind to blot them out. Unlimited range meant unlimited distraction, an overload of information he did not need. A query was formed, and the points started to fade, one by one, as the level of vitriol was tweaked. 

He did not need to see a domestic dispute. He did not need to see an angsty teen, lashing out at his parents. Those were not his concerns, and as he fine tuned his senses, he finally found it.

And his heart dropped.

He began to move, pumping thousands of points of mana into Dies Iraes, instantly breaking the speed of sound.

Every millisecond counted.

LB

Weiss POV

They’d lost.

They’d felt hope when they landed hits on Neru’s Aura. They’d felt the chance at a victory, at survival, at the chance to live another day. 

Right before Neru had revealed the full extent of his ability.

They never stood a chance, just as he had said. Once he realized that they were targeting the one weakness of his semblance, those curved swords of his had come to play. Striking at oblique angles, being able to target two of them at a time, he was a whirlwind, and there were simply no openings.

Penny went down first, grazed by Neru’s fingers as she over-extended in a fly-by. The impact would have been deadly for anyone else, but Weiss could still see her chest rise and fall. The only reason Neru hadn’t finished the job was because doing so would sacrifice his defense.

Then, it happened.

Weiss messed up. Trying to create her own opening with a summoned Beowulf used to draw his attention, she had made it all the way through his guard, only for him to land a hand on her.

Yet, he hadn’t attacked, and the crazed sneer on his face was enough for Weiss to understand why.

It was a feint, realized as soon as Winter’s desperation-driven stab was blocked by his semblance. 

One quick graze and Winter was deposited into a wall. Injured, but alive. This time by design. 

That only left her, brought to the ground, she looked up into his bloodshot eyes, at the demonic sneer that stretched his face in ways no human’s face should be. 

“Three years.” He grunted, “One year per person. No one’s ever done that to me.” he brought his hands up to her neck with a surprising amount of gentleness. 

“To be brought so low by worthless scum like you.” he spoke, as his hands started to grip down on her throat, robbing her of air. “Trash that doesn't know its place.”

‘I’m going to enjoy you here.” He spoke through ragged breaths as she struggled against his vice-like grip. “I’m going to ruin you, break you in ways that you can’t even fathom.”

“But don’t you worry. You won’t even feel a thing.” he whispered, his voice hoarse. Her vision swam as air became scarce. Seconds were all she had, and after she was gone, Winter would have an eternity of pain.

No!

Her hand gripped around a rock that should have been far too heavy for her to lift. Hysterical strength, dragged out by desperation, picked it up like it weighed nothing. She slammed it with all the force she could muster into the side of Neru’s head.

And his Aura, what little of it was left, shattered like glass.

He stumbled off her, and she backed off with as much speed as she could muster, drawing ragged, painful breaths through her damaged throat. She had hoped that the strike would have knocked him out. All she got for her efforts was a wound on his forehead, bleeding red. 

His expression on the other hand, had lost all mirth.

“You…” He snarled, his eyes bulging in their sockets. “YOU FUCKING WHORE!”

He would have lunged at her, he would have killed her then and there, if not for the person who had appeared behind him.

She hadn’t even seen him arrive. She hadn’t even felt his presence. One second, there was no one but the four of them in the hall. The next second, Jaune had appeared. For a fraction of a second, Weiss wondered if Jaune had learned how to teleport.

Then, the wind pressure blasted over her, and she realized the sheer speed Jaune had reached on his way here. To outrun air itself.

He wasn’t looking at Neru. His gaze first went to Penny, who was lying on her back, bruised, injured. Then, it shifted to her, taking note of her reddened throat, and finally, his gaze found Winter.

Then came the rage.

She knew, deep inside, that Jaune was trying to shield her from it. It wasn’t as harsh as the pressure she’d felt from him at the HQ, yet his expression was murderous. His eyes were wide, his eyes like embers, his gaze solely reserved for Neru.

Who had fallen to the ground, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Yet, recognition dawned on Neru’s face. Wonder, amazement, and then hate. Hate that could rival Jaune’s own. In severity, if not potency.

“You…” He choked out, standing back up on wobbly legs. “Jacques told me about you.”

“You tried to steal her from me, didn’t you, you thieving little fuck?” He tried to yell, but the best he could manage was a snarl. 

“Good that you showed up! I’m gonna kill these two bitches. Why don’t I kill you too and make it an even three?” he spoke, raising his swords.

It was no moment for comedy, but such was the relief she felt at Jaune’s arrival that any thoughts of him losing, of her dying, were no longer at the forefront of her mind. Instead, the first thing that came forth was an impulse to correct Neru.

What kind of fucking imbecile didn’t know that three was an odd number.

Jaune, meanwhile, was not amused. Neither was he in a mood to speak. He raised a hand, and a sword appeared. It was more like a work of art than a sword, gleaming bright even in the shaded darkness of the hall.

The light of hope had never felt more literal.

Without a single word, Jaune struck. Again, Weiss didn’t even see him move, and by the looks of it, neither did Neru.

It was stopped by that infernal barrier of his, but something was different this time. The audible gasp, the look of worry on his face, the first traces of fear. The fact that the blade was still putting pressure on the invisible barrier. She almost felt like laughing.

Jaune had grasped the core of Neru’s technique the moment his blade had made contact, and was now fighting it in a way that only he could.

Slowly driving in the dagger, well, the sword, constantly pushing at it, exerting strength that no human could hope to match, burning down Neru’s store of momentum.

To his credit, Neru lashed out with his blades. It was nothing more than petulant flailing, the terror on his face kept growing as his blades bounced off Jaune’s ornate armor, not even making a dent in his Aura.

It was then that Weiss saw it, as Jaune took a step forward, pushing Neru back. His blade chipped a piece of rubble, a piece that put a cut through his pants. Nothing had been able to get within five inches of Neru’s skin when his semblance was active defensively, at least not till now.

She understood why. Jaune’s strike was a constant, so applying opposing force over the range of his entire body was wasteful. The sweat on his face, the pained wince, the look of terror, it all added up.

She picked up Myrtenaster, and with what little strength she had left, she formed one last glyph below her, accelerating her forward faster than she’d ever gone, too scared to lose the opening.

The tip of Myrtenaster passed through Neru without any resistance, and it wasn’t till the tip of the blade was protruding from his chest that Neru realized what had happened.

Then, his semblance failed, and Jaune’s strike continued unopposed, chopping his head off in one clean stroke.

And Neru Ghent, the strongest soldier in Jacques Schnee’s employ, fell to the floor, a head lighter than he’d been seconds ago.

Weiss fell, that last stab had used up what little energy she had left. She braced herself as the floor came closer in her blurry vision, only for Jaune to catch her.

Warmth washed over her. Not the metaphorical kind, but physical. She felt wounds close, she felt broken bones mend, and as she succumbed to the comfort of the warmth, she got one last look at Jaune’s face.

He wore that same expression of care he once reserved just for her, back when they were still friends, back before she - in her greed for validation - had ruined beyond repair.

What a fucking Idiot she was, to hurt someone so pure.

LB

Jaune POV

They would live.

Glynda was the worst of the lot. She had taken on over forty trained huntsmen all on her own, and would have bled out in the snow had he been a few minutes late.

She should have run, saved herself, yet, the look of self-satisfaction she gave him even as he healed her on what could have been her deathbed, was like a dagger to his heart.

She’d been reduced to this state because she chose to prioritize her promise to him over her own safety.

Penny was much the same. Less injured, if one could consider multiple broken bones and failing organs ‘less injured’. She’d asked him if she’d done a good job. The way she’d preened when he pat her head, like a puppy trying to please its owner, hurt him more than any sort of admonishment could.

Winter was the least injured. A broken aura, a few fractures, three seconds was all it took to heal her. He relocated her to a bed. Her physical wounds were healed, but the mental scars of her fight against a psychopath from her past? That would take time to heal.

He’d be adding to that. His job wasn’t yet done, as much as he wished it was, and despite everything he was, Jacques Schnee was still her father.

Weiss was in the same boat.

Weiss woke up soon. The comfort of his healing had sent her to sleep, but as the first to be healed, she was already up. She’d been trailing him quietly as he’d brought Winter to one of the less-destroyed rooms in the compound, where they sat next to her in silence.

She was the one to break the silence first.

“You’re going to kill father, aren’t you?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer verbally. What could he say? That he was going to orphan the woman he loved? The girl who he was now indebted to for protecting the woman he loved? What words of platitude could he give them? What words of justification, no matter how valid, could he utter?

“Make it painful.” Was what Weiss said, and for a second Jaune paused.

“This is your father we’re talking about, you know.” Jaune replied with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s the man who sent a psychopath after my sister.” Weiss replied, emotionlessly. “A psychopath who - if he had his way - would have subjected her to a fate worse than death.”

“Winter would want him punished by the law.” Jaune tried to argue, but his heart was not in it. It was on that bed, lying in the clutches of the woman who he loved.

“Winter was the first. She still holds a soft spot for father.” Weiss replied, her eyes gazing into his. “She remembers a time when Jacques was not the monster he is today, or at least pretending not to be.”

“I should have-” Jaune started, only to be interrupted by Weiss placing a finger on his lips, silencing him.

“You should have killed him when you first met him, but you know what that would have done to Winter.” She spoke. “You know how the world would have perceived you.”

“You chose the heroic path, you did everything by the book, and you dealt with the repercussions like a true hero should.” She explained, “Had you taken the law into your hands, the media would have labeled you a maverick, an uncontrollable rogue with world-changing power.”

“You want to be a hero? See this through. In this grey world, you have been given a pure black and white situation. Use it to build your legend, the right way.” She finished.

“You think I care about something like reputation?” Jaune hissed.

“You don’t, but the rest of the world does!” Weiss hissed back. Neither raised their voices, prioritizing the sleep of the woman who mattered the most in the world to both of them.

“You know better than anyone the power of public perception.” She spoke, her gaze unable to meet his. “The world needs to love its hero, Jaune. People need to know that they can sleep easy at night because you’re working to make a better world for them. The world will embrace you, it will embrace the changes you bring. Don’t ruin that.”

“And what if it costs people their lives?” Jaune asked.

“Isn’t it simple?” Weiss asked, finally cracking a smile, the kind Jaune hadn’t seen for the better part of a year now.

“You just have to be strong enough to deal with the repercussions of your choices.” he replied.

“And trust me, the irony of what I just said isn’t lost on me.” She finished, the smile fading from her face, and for a moment, Jaune remembered that by all rights, he should hate the woman who was lecturing him on how to be a hero.

He just couldn’t get himself to do it, at least not tonight. Not when he owed her.

“I’m going to go after Jacques.” Jaune spoke, getting up from his seat. 

“You know where he is?” She asked. Half an hour ago, the answer would have been no, but he was not the same man he was half an hour ago.

“Seventy miles south of Mantle, in a safe-house, alone.” Jaune replied.

“Huh, I didn’t know you had the ability to scry on people.” She replied, no surprise on her face.

“You know very little about me, Weiss.” Jaune replied. It was said as a joke, but the way her mood soured on hearing it, maybe it wasn’t the best thing he could have said.

“Trust me, Jaune. One of my greatest regrets in life is not getting to know you better.” She whispered. “If I’d just made that effort when it mattered, maybe things would have gone differently.”

“That’s hindsight for you.” Jaune replied. 

“That it is.” Weiss replied, breathing a wistful sigh. “Well, at least I’ll always be able to boast to Winter that you liked me first.”

Jaune couldn’t help but chuckle at that. It was heartening that they could find some levity, even in a situation like this.

“That’s one hell of a chip on your shoulder, you know?” Jaune countered.

“Oh don’t even start with that. You were down bad, sir!” Weiss shot back, with a smile on her face, which faded just as quick as it appeared.

“Things can’t go back to the way they once were, can they?” She asked. “Back when the biggest worries we had were passing our midterms.” She spoke. ‘Back when we were still friends’ was left unsaid, just as it should have been.

After all, they never were truly friends. Just a guy with a crush, and a girl who tolerated him due to team proximity.

“You just gave me a whole speech about repercussions.” Jaune replied. “It would be in bad form for me to repeat it back to you.”

“Then I think we should talk later, once all this is sorted.” Weiss stated. “So that I can do whatever you want to make this right.”

“I don’t think you can make this right.” Jaune spoke. “But you will be given a chance to make it better. Just remember, I can be quite a vindictive bitch when I want to.”

“I’d expect no less.” Weiss countered.

LB

Jacques POV

The ice had melted in his whiskey.

He couldn’t get himself to drink it. Over an hour had passed since the battle for Mantle ended. He knew how it would end, and the fact that the seer now lay dormant on his desk told him exactly how Salem felt about his failure.

Still, he’d gotten one over her. Forced her to expend her forces for his revenge. A part of him felt validated by that. Even at his lowest point, he’d managed to hoodwink a being as old as antiquity.

Even though his victory drink tasted like bile in his mouth.

A whoosh of wind was the first sign he got that he wasn’t alone in the room, the second being the tall, avenging avatar of the man who he had hoped would one day inherit his life’s work.

“Welcome, Jaune Arc, to my humble abode.” He joked. “I’d offer snacks, but I’m afraid you killed my first choice cook, and the second, and the thir-”

“Cut the crap.” Jaune stated. There was no emotion in his tone, only pure, unadulterated command. There was no pressure, no hint of that feeling of certain death he’d gotten when Jaune had run into Weiss, just cold, certain control.

And it was all the more terrifying.

“I assume you want to know why I did it then?” He asked.

“Specter already told me. Save your breath.” Jaune countered, “All I want you to know is, your plan failed, every facet of it.”

That gave Jacques pause, then a wave of relief washed over him, surprising Jaune.  “Then it seems I truly underestimated you. For that, you have my apologies.”

“You seem to be quite relieved by that.” Jaune asked. 

“That’s the thing about revenge, Jaune.” Jacques spoke, downing the rest of his whiskey. “When your mind is blinded by rage, you covet revenge like a thirsty man craves water.”

“Once those red curtains finally part, when your mind finally comes down from its high, that is when you realize exactly what you’ve set into motion, and by then, it’s often too late to reverse it.”

“Can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube.” Jaune added his two cents.

Jacques chuckled. “An apt saying, if a bit crass for my tastes.”

“Do I look like I care about your taste?” Jaune asked, his face emotionless, no, suppressed.

That was the thing about rage. Try as hard as one may, to the keen-eyed, it was impossible to hide in its entirety. The way Jaune’s knuckles were whitening was enough for someone like Jacques.

“I’d assume my head would be rolling on the floor if you didn’t care about what I had to say.” Jacques finished. “So, let me make it simple for you.”

“In every world, in every possibility, in every single way this scenario could have gone down, I’d have done the same thing.” He spoke. “While a part of me is relieved that the worst didn’t come to pass, a part of me still howls for revenge.”

It was a way to seek commonality, and the way Jaune’s fists clenched, he knew he’d found it. Good, that meant Weiss was still alive, and Jaune was still conflicted.

As long as that conflict remained in the back of Jaune’s mind, Jacques Schnee would remain immortal.

“Anything else you want to share?” Jaune asked, and Jacques realized that his time was drawing to an end.

“Under better circumstances, in a better world, in another life, I would have liked to share a bottle with you, inducting you into my loving family.” he chuckled.

“Sadly, this isn’t that life, and I’m still Jacques Schnee, so, do it.” he finished, expecting his head to go flying off his body.

Instead, he screamed as he felt cold steel stab through his solar plexus. The sword exited just as fast as it had entered, leaving behind a fountain of blood.

And it fucking hurt.

“Weiss asked me to make it painful. I’m just repaying a favor.” Jaune commented, as Jacques fell to the floor. His vision swam. Blood loss and excruciating pain combined to give life to his personal hell.

Yet, his gaze, hazy as it was, did not miss as the Seer on his table rose.

“It’s not often that someone manages to exceed my lofty expectations of them.”

Jaune’s gaze left him, moving to the Seer. If there was any surprise he felt, he did not show it, nor would Jacques be able to tell. As perceptive as he was, he was also dying.

“I assume you’re Salem.” Jaune replied, monotone, unimpressed.

“I will forgive your impudence this once.” The voice echoed in his tiny chambers, he let out a little whimper of pain. A pitiful death rattle for a man such as himself, yet, somehow fitting.

“I am Salem, queen of the Grimm.” The seer echoed.

“And I believe it’s high time we spoke, Jaune Arc.”

LB

And so ends the Atlas arc.

The next chapter will be an epilogue of sorts for this arc. Realisation, romance, and direction towards the next arc.

The chapter after that will be an intro towards the next arc, as well as a setup for the arc that follows.

I think it's pretty apparent I'm trying to build Jaune's character through doubt and suffering. it's going to get worse. Please look forward to it.