MANY YEARS AGO
KINGDOM OF VALE
POV
A Huntsman wouldn't be in a situation like this….as it was then and his only thought that cross Jaune Arc's young mind as he lay curled up on his side of the road as his very cheek partially just submerged in a puddle slowly turning pink from all the blood that just spilling out of his very nostrils now and his very knees we're tucked up to his stomach, eye's misty with tears that were only partly from the pain. The rest was from the sheer Injustices of it all and then the very shame and also the thought of just how much a failure's he really was as he's current maintain himself in the academys before getting kick out and just current event defend himself when needed and what will he say to his very family when they all see him like this as he know they might be disappointed with him being part of the very Arc family and he can't even hold against two mugger now as he's looked up a bit and saw the two muggers arguing over his body didn't care. "As Forty, fifty, sixty lien. That's it? I've seen bums with more cash on 'em. Not even a credit card." As jaune's empty wallet, a felt X-Ray and Vav collectible that he'd just won in a very magazine competition and as then it's was splashed down into the dirty puddle, spraying his face with dirty water. As then Vav's just then smiling face appeared to taunt him, smiling bravely with a thumbs held up. It was faded and threadbare, now even worse thanks to the water sinking into it." wait... He has a scroll," the others told his friend as his foot still on jaune's others cheek and keepings his head down and he still hadn't tried to break free and as not after his initial attempt to intimidate and then fight the two off. Despite having a sword and them being unarmed as he'd failed at even 'that why dad was right about me what was I thinking I can't defend himself against them and I was just then going to be a hero like my family in the.. past just how much foolish I can be.. honest ' As jaune just thought about it "I know a guy can wipe it clean and just pawn it off and we Might get a few hundo for that." As one of the two muggers told him and as the another one just nodded towards his friend just now and then "A.... few hundo" the first mocked. "What a shitshow. Worthless cunt !" As then Pain exploded through as jaune body as the heavy boot struck his midriff. He's coughed out spluttering into the water and as though he wanted to scream the best he could manage was a pitiful moan.
"Wasting our.. precious f****** time !" the man roared, rearing his foot back and kicking Jaune again. "Fuck! We stick our neck out and for what now !!!!!! sixty lien and a second-hand scroll f*** you !!!!!?" As the very mugger said before starting to kick down jaune very body now as the very pain expanded even further in the end "You're going to kill him if you keep up," the second mugger said and without too much concern as he knows that they're shouldn't
"Asshole deserves it!"
"Calm it, Pierce. What about the weapon?"
Crocea Mors? Jaune's eyes widened and he desperately clutched the family heirloom to his chest. His fingers locked around the crossguard in a death grip, but that wasn't enough to stop the much heavier man wrenching it from him.
"Please," Jaune whimpered. "It's a family heirloom."
They didn't even hear him. Jaune wasn't surprised. His ribs were so sore that he could barely raise his voice, and what little he said was lost to the plinking of the rain and distant sound of cars buzzing by the alleyway. No one was out in this weather, nor so late. He shouldn't have been out either, but he'd been so miserable that he wanted to take a walk and clear his head.
Now this, Jaune thought, tears running down his cheeks as Crocea Mors was drawn and checked by his attackers. No wonder dad wouldn't train me. I'm pathetic.
"It's just a sword."
"That it? I thought it'd be one of those fancy mechashift things."
"What, and you think a Huntsman would get their ass kicked like this?" The first sheathed the weapon again, then tossed it to the other. "Talk to Jay and see if it has any value. If not, scrap it for metal."
Crocea Mors. The Arc family weapon. Scrapped because of him.
He had to do something, even if it was hopeless. Jaune's muscles burned as he planted his hands down under him and pushed. He would leap into action, catch them off guard and tackle them down. M-Maybe if he was quick, they'd be so surprised that they couldn't react. Even the best of people could be taken if they let their guard down. All he needed was the confidence to try, the guts to make the effort.
Dad always said so.
Jaune dragged his cheek painfully across gravel and out from under the boot. The mugger who had been keeping him pinned stumbled back. This is my chance! Jaune thought, lurching up with his hands held before him. "Give my sword ba-"
A fist flashed right through his guard – literally sailing between his raised forearms before he could close them. There was no time for fear, only the sickening crunch of bone and cartilage and the cold embrace of concrete once more. The world didn't stay still. Vale's sky twisted and spun as he stared up at it, the rain seeming to cycle down onto his face like it was coming down a swirly slide.
His face felt numb.
"Damn. Feel like I cracked my knuckles." The man laughed. "Whatever. Meet back up at the tap after you've pawned it."
"Sure thing. Let's get out of here before Hei finds out what we're doing."
The first laughed. "I told you, the Xiong are done. They're finished."
"And who-" a deep voice boomed threateningly "-did you hear that from?"
Dizzy as he was, Jaune's head still fell to the side, looking toward the mouth of the alley. He hoped for a saviour, an officer or a huntsman, but what he received was a man who looked like he'd been through the same ordeal Jaune had.
The man was tall and broad, arms crossed over a wide chest. His black suit trousers and waistcoat over a white shirt might have made him look intimidating in any other scenario. His face gave it away. A black eye had swollen over the left side of his face. His left cheek was red and raw, as if someone had struck him with a burning hot piece of metal. If that wasn't enough, he was clearly favouring his right side and hunched at the shoulder. The man dressed smart but looked a mess.
Just like me, Jaune thought dully.
The muggers elbowed one another and stepped over Jaune's body to present a united from to the new man. The larger one cracked his knuckles, while the smaller unsheathed Crocea Mors and waved it menacingly in the air.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Junior. Heard you and yours ran into a bit of trouble of late."
"This territory belongs to the Xiong Clan," the so-called Junior replied calmly. He unclasped his arms and reached into his pocket, drawing out a pair of black gloves that he slowly worked his fingers into. "All those in it are under the clan's protection. You know the punishment for coming into our territory and causing trouble. Give the kid his stuff back and we can go our separate ways."
"And if we don't?"
The gloves creaked as Junior flexed his fingers. "You know how this goes."
They must have. The two men looked at one another, the smaller one nervous and the larger drawing a deep breath before squaring his shoulders. "Fuck off. The Xiong Clan's down and out. Don't think we didn't hear all about your muck up. Your whole gig got wrecked by a little girl. You can't look after yourselves, so what makes you think you can stop us?"
"Yeah!" Crocea Mors whistled in the air as the smaller man swung it. "You're old news, Junior. Crawl back to your hole and rot. These streets are free game."
"Tch." Junior spat to the side and reached into his pocket one last time, removing a shiny pair of red shades that he set upon his nose, covering his eyes. They glinted in the light from the nearby streetlamps. "You were warned."
He rushed forward.
The muggers swore and Jaune stared in awe, unsure why a man would charge into two others unarmed, especially when one had a sword. Junior's black shoes cracked down on the pavement as he hurtled in.
"We warned you!" the biggest mugger roared. "Get him!"
The same meaty fist that had knocked Jaune for six went screaming in toward his saviour's face. The man hardly reacted, only to slam his left foot down and draw his right shoulder back. It was enough to send the fist sailing by. At the same time, he touched one gloved hand to the man's elbow, guiding it along, before hooking his other hand under, moving his right foot in and jutting his hip against the man's stomach. With a lurch and a sudden cry, Junior pulled the man around his body and over his outstretched leg, half a trip and half a throw, sending the much bigger man splashing down into a puddle.
Crocea Mors came in with an accompanying battle cry as the smaller man slashed down toward the suited man's shoulder. Jaune tried to cry out a warning but it didn't matter. Junior drew his feet back together and stepped swiftly to the left, dodging with ease. As the smaller man overextended, Junior brought both hands up and reared back, striking a devastating blow that caught the man's face and sent him tumbling through the air. Crocea Mors clattered down on the floor of the alley.
The big man was already on his feet and charging in, but Junior turned to face him, hands up in a boxing stance. He blocked two swinging haymakers and retaliated with a sharp and sudden jab, staggering the larger man. When the brute stumbled back, Junior pressed in, delivering a one-two punch that ended with an uppercut, throwing the large man back and leaving him out cold on the floor.
"W-Wait, wait!" the smaller man begged. "We're sorry, Junior. We didn't mean to-"
Junior silenced him with a sudden kick, sweeping his leg up and over to strike the man's neck and send him spinning into the closest wall. He impacted with a crunch and then slid to the floor, moaning helplessly. In less than two minutes, both of the muggers were down and out, unable to move as Junior walked up and knelt by the smallest, rifling through his pockets.
Jaune stared at the man in awe. He was so strong, so skilled and he'd done what he couldn't in a matter of seconds. Junior approached, shoes splashing down in the puddle. A powerful hand took his and hauled him up. The sudden change in height sent a wave of vertigo washing through him. He stumbled, one foot splashing down as he tried to catch himself.
"Why…?" he croaked. punks making trouble on our territory." The girl's face sharpened on hearing that. "Turns out news of our misfortune has spread already. Common thugs," he growled. "Not been years since the trash dared cross us like this. If it carries on, the Lumen won't be far behind, and you can be sure the other families will be rubbing their hands together."
"I'll take Miltia out and do rounds later," the girl promised.
"Hngh. You do that. Take some men with you. I know you don't need them," he said to the suddenly affronted girl. "You're tougher than most of them, I know. I need them seen, however. Need them visible. You two can't be everywhere at once."
"Tch. I'm babysitter, then?"
"Pretty much. People need to know the Xiong Clan isn't down and out."
"Miltia won't like it… but I'll talk her round. What about this guy?" she asked, nudging Jaune's arm. "Just some poor schmuck you felt like helping out, is it? That's not like you."
"I always step in when someone is hurt on our turf."
"Yeah, and you usually leave the ones behind it knocked out in an alley somewhere. You've never brought a victim back with you." She tried for a cheeky smile, which faltered somewhat with how swollen her face was. "Feeling sentimental?"
"They'd have only woken up and done him in again if I left him there; I didn't put the effort in for him to get mugged a second time. Then it was either drag him here or to the nearest hospital. His wounds weren't that bad, and I'm not traipsing through the rain or waiting for a taxi."
It was strange to not be involved in a conversation that was about you. Jaune stayed quiet, more from not knowing what to say than fear. Melanie laughed, the noise rough because of her injuries. It didn't feel like he'd been saved. If anything, he felt like he was in a Doctor's GP surrounded by other people suffering their own ailments.
There was a long silence, and it took Jaune longer than he liked to realise they were looking at him expectantly. He would have blushed if he didn't feel so exhausted. Instead, he cringed. "S-Sorry. Did you say something?"
"Still out of it, huh? How's your head?"
"It… Only a little pain."
Junior reached out a big hand and took the left side of his face in it. The fact those same hands had smashed two people into pulp wasn't lost on him, but Junior was gentle. He used a thumb to pull on the skin under Jaune's left eye, opening it wide.
"Look left. Now look right."
Jaune followed the instructions obediently.
"Look at me. Hm. Your eyes are tracking. That's good. How is your vision? Blurry?"
"N-No. I can see fine. I just feel like crap…"
"Probably just the pain from being knocked silly, then." Junior let him go. He reached under the bar and brought out a small, sealed packet. Typical shop painkillers. "Here. These ought to help."
Two small white pills had never looked so inviting. Jaune took them straight up, swallowed and then accepted the glass of water the man offered, chasing them down. "Thank you," he rasped. "Not just for this but… saving me. I thought…"
He didn't know what he'd thought, but he'd been afraid. So afraid.
"No problem, kid. Or not your problem anyway. One week past, no one would have dared hit someone on our turf. They can smell weakness, though. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone is eating away at our borders." Junior sighed. "Not that it's anything you need worry about. You're welcome to hang around if you like, kid, but the Club is a mess. I'll call you a taxi to take you home."
Home.
Ansel? You couldn't take a taxi from Vale to Ansel any more than you could any of the frontier villages. "N-No. Junior, I-"
"Hei." the man interrupted. "The name's Hei Xiong. Junior is a nickname."
"Hei. I'm sorry-"
"It's fine. You were saying no…?"
"I live outside Vale," he explained quickly. "Far, far outside it. I… I don't actually have anywhere in the city to stay."
Hei hummed. "You came looking for work?" He'd come for Beacon, to become a Huntsman, but it felt so stupid to say that to someone who had saved him from being beaten up by thugs on the street. Hei was an actual Huntsman, so he'd see through it in an instant. "Yeah," Jaune said miserably. "I came to make a fresh start. Not been the best so far…"
"That means it's only up from here, right?" the girl laughed, slapping his shoulder. "Can't get any worse."
Jaune tried to smile. He really did. His heart wasn't in it, and everyone could tell. Hei sighed and sent the woman a quick look. He nodded to the main doors and said, "Melanie. Go do those rounds. Be seen."
"Fine. Fine. Slave driver."
The girl, who he now knew was called Melanie, kicked off her stool and sauntered away without so much as a wave. Jaune watched her go, confused and not sure why he was. Maybe it was what they were doing and why. It didn't make sense in his head that a nightclub had to worry about that kind of thing, but then most nightclubs didn't have their owner go police the nearby alleyways.
"Troublesome girl," Hei said. "Wouldn't trade her or her sister for the world. Your scroll didn't survive the tussle, I'm afraid. I've asked one of my boys to take a look at it and see if they can't fix it. If not, I'll get you a replacement."
"Why are you doing this?" Jaune asked.
Hei's eyes narrowed. "Helping you?"
"Being so generous. You already helped me. Why are you replacing my stuff?" This guy had already done more than anyone could have been expected to. He didn't have to go any further.
"It's business, ki- I can't keep calling you kid. What's your name?"
"Jaune Arc."
"Jaune, then. This is business to us. We look after those inside our territory. You were hurt on our turf – your belongings were damaged. Think of this as an insurance pay out."
That explained so little. If he was going to get everything back then he couldn't complain, however. He almost lost- Jaune froze. His heart jumped up to his throat and stuck there. "Crocea Mors!" he gasped.
Hei frowned. "What?"
"My sword! My dad's sword! Where is it?"
"That was yours…? Shit." Hei swore under his breath and moved away from the bar. He raised his voice, calling out to one of the suited men brushing up the broken glass. "Simon. Take Ben and head to the alley between the pharmacist and the bus stop. I left two men out cold. Find a sword and bring it back, quickly."
The men in question nodded and propped their tools by abandoned tables, quickly picked their way across the dance floor and jogged to the main doors. They pulled on red lenses before rushing out into the rain, slamming the door shut behind them.
Jaune's heart continued to pound in his chest. He fought the panic down. What would Nicholas say if he came back without his sword?
Nothing. The answer was immediate. Dad wouldn't raise any fuss and would never bring it up. That didn't mean he wouldn't react, though. That didn't mean he wouldn't be disappointed in his son for losing it. This would prove his thoughts about teaching Jaune right, too. Everyone said he wasn't cut out to be a Huntsman, and this only proved them right.
His mother and sisters would look at him with such pity. Pity, but not surprise. Here comes Jaune, coming back after failing to get into Beacon, and he's lost Crocea Mors as well. Oh, that's a shame, but really, is anyone surprised? He always was a bit of a cry-baby.
Jaune's eyes watered.
He'd heard it all before. A hundred times over.
It's okay, Jaune. It'll be okay, Jaune. Don't worry if you're not good at this, Jaune. You only need to be more confident, Jaune. You can do it, Jaune. Well, at least you tried your best, Jaune. It's not winning that counts, Jaune, it's taking part.
I'm so pathetic. So pathetic that the owner of a nightclub smashed to a million pieces can still afford to take pity on me.
His father wouldn't be wallowing in self-pity, either. Nicholas Arc was a man of action. Aside from not losing his sword in the first place, he'd be up on his feet and hunting down those responsible. Damn it! He wanted to be better. Wanted to be like his old man, like his grandfather and his great grandfather, heroes all.
Like Hei.
"I'm not a Huntsman."
Jaune blinked and looked up at Hei. "Huh?"
"You said you wanted to be a Huntsman like me."
Had he? Jaune felt his face heat up. Oh great, he'd gone and said that out loud, and now he looked and sounded like an idiot. Wait, did Hei say he wasn't a Huntsman? That didn't make sense.
"You have to be," Jaune blurted out. "You beat up those two thugs and-" And that's it. I'm a fighter. I know how to handle myself. Huntsman, though?" Hei brought a hand up and touched his badly swollen eye. "It was a Huntress that did this to me." He gestured to the ruined nightclub. "It was a Huntress that beat up not only me but Melanie and her sister along with all my boys. All without breaking a sweat."
A Huntress did all that? But Hei was so strong! He was so fast!
"And you want to know the best part? It's that she wasn't even a proper Huntress. She was one in training. It was a kid your age," he said, laughing bitterly. "Probably a Beacon applicant."
It felt like Jaune's head was caught in a vice.
How many times had people warned him that being a Huntsman wasn't a game? How many times had he been told that people going to Beacon trained for most of their lives and how he couldn't match them in just a year or two? He'd always dismissed it. Always assumed it was just his dad underestimating him again.
Now, he knew. Hei was a man strong enough to beat down two grown men who could have left Jaune for dead, and Hei and his entire bar had been beaten up by one girl, one girl who was at the level of what he'd pretended to be. Jaune had never felt that gap more keenly.
I never had a chance of making Beacon, did I…? If I can't even protect myself then how could I have made it in a school full of people who can do this?
Reality had a crushing weight to it, a sense of finality. Beacon was not – and perhaps had never been – an option. No amount of confidence was going to get him into Beacon, and no amount of apologies would make him any less of a failure for losing Crocea Mors.
"Jaune? Jaune!" Hei snapped him out of his thoughts with a firm shake of the shoulder. "Right. You're staying here for the night. We've spare room and I don't trust letting you out my sight if you keep going in and out of focus like that. You might black out in the middle of the street and get hit by a car." He sighed and muttered, "Maybe I should have taken you to a hospital after all. I didn't think it looked that bad."
Rest sounded good. Even the mention of it had Jaune feeling woozy. With the painkillers kicking in and taking the pain away, the adrenaline that had been keeping him up was fast fading. Combined with how little sleep he'd gotten since receiving his rejection letter, his body felt like it was about to crash.
"Tony!" Junior called to another man. Another black suit with red tie and a hat. The yellow kitchen gloves he wore ruined the uniform somewhat. "This is Jaune," Hei explained to the man. "Take him up to one of the spare rooms and see him settled in. Make sure to show him where the toilets are and leave him some water."
"Sure thing, boss." The man helped slide Jaune to the edge of the bar and off. "Come on, mate. Let's get you to a bed. You look like you've had one hell of a week."
He led Jaune away, leaving Hei behind to pull out a binbag and start shovelling up broken bottles from behind his bar. Everything was in disrepair, from the tables to the dance floor, the lights to the walls. The Club was in ruins, which sort of fit with Jaune's own life. Through his despair and exhaustion, Jaune couldn't help but point that out.
"Yeah, we've been fucked up a real treat." Tony chuckled. "Guess we're not so different, hey? Both down on our luck because someone tougher decided to kick our asses. Hei will get us out, though. He always does. The boss isn't the kind of man to let fate dick him over. He takes life into his own hands." Tony laughed. "That's why he's the boss!"
A man who takes life into his own hands…
That was the kind of man Jaune wanted to be.
CHANGE LOCATION
PRESENT TIME
POV
A smile.
That was an unusual sight in her very mornings. But then Normally—like always—the as first thing Winter saw in the mirror of her bathroom was her mask and as then she carefully constructed expression of poise and discipline, the one she had perfected over the years to ensure she was always presentable. Always composed and then Always in control of the situations but today it was different ?
Today, she saw a smile instead.
It was a small simple thing, soft and almost fragile, as if it might disappear the moment she acknowledged it. And yet, it held a weight she could scarcely measure.
She brushed her teeth, her thoughts drifting back to the events of the previous day, searching for the incongruities that should have been there.
By all logic, she shouldn't have had a good night's sleep.
Rest was not something she particularly valued. It was a necessity—an obligation to ensure she remained sharp for her duties. Not a reward. Not a goal. Certainly not something to be enjoyed.
And yet, she found herself questioning that belief.
She was rested.
More than that—her body felt loose, her movements unburdened. Her morning stretches had passed with such ease that she repeated a few, just to be certain she hadn't been careless in completing them. There was no stiffness, no exhaustion, no lingering weariness from a day that should have left her drained.
No stressful or aggravating day had ever led to proper sleep. She knew that from experience. Nights like last night were usually restless—tossing, turning, burning off excess thoughts until fatigue finally forced her unconscious. If not that, then at the very least she would have spent time on her tablet, reviewing reports or analyzing the teams she would be meeting today. But that hadn't happened. Instead, as she had stepped into the shower, as she had prepared for bed, her mind had drifted elsewhere. To him.
To his presence beside her as he walked her to her room. To the quiet, simple conversation they had shared. To the way the world had seemed just a little softer, a little lighter than it had that very same morning.
She was well aware that this was, in all likelihood, a side effect of the Aura fusion his Semblance induced. A psychosomatic influence working in tandem with the physical and Aura-based effects.
And that?
That was dangerous.
Unbelievably so.
If it was deliberate—if it was something controllable—it could be a weapon more powerful than anything she had ever encountered.
And yet… that was not the thought lingering in her mind.
Instead, it was the memory of that soft, fragile smile in the mirror.
And the realization that, for the first time in a very long while… she didn't mind waking up to it.
She would of course expend some extra time analysing the side effects of Jaune Arc semblance, but not with the trepidation or fear a semblance that effected ones mind demanded.
Winter was well aware that the boy had no ill intentions.
If anything, he likely wasn't even aware of the unintended side effect of his Semblance. She doubted anyone would willingly bare even a glimpse of their soul so openly—so simply—as he had the night before.
No, Jaune Arc was just a good person And that, in many ways, complicated things.
For one, it made him an easy target. Too easy. Manipulation, seduction, exploitation—Winter had seen the depths of his desire to help, his innate need to be useful to others. And she recognized it.
Because, in a way, she was the same.
Where he was driven by the need to protect and prove his worth, she was driven to be recognized—to be taken seriously, to rise beyond the weight of her name and carve out her own legacy.
To borrow the flowery language her sister was so fond of — kindred souls.
Strangely, that thought only made her smile widen.
And even after she had finished her morning preparations, that smile remained.
Perhaps, for today, her mask could allow for a small accessory.
If there was one word to describe Glynda Goodwitch, it would be impressive.
And yet, even that felt insufficient.
Winter had known of the woman's accomplishments long before setting foot in Vale. It was impossible not to. S-Ranked Huntresses were rare, and among them, none had a record as decorated as Beacon's vice-headmistress.
She was a legend. A slayer of titans. A force of nature.
Simply put?
Winter was trying very hard not to ask for an autograph.
Her admiration for Glynda Goodwitch went beyond mere respect. She had studied her fighting style, refined her own movements in careful imitation, even styled her hair with a slight variation of hers. She had dreamed of one day earning the same titles — Elder Slayer. Horde-Breaker.
Yesterday, she had thought she had ruined any chance of a good first impression.
She had barely arrived and had already started a fight, created unnecessary work—both physical and bureaucratic — for the vice-headmistress.
By all rights, she should be nervous. Stiff. Overly cautious in the woman's presence.
Twice as much, now that she was about to intrude on her class.
She needed to make it very clear that this was not an outside authority judging Beacon's students but rather a collaborative effort—an exercise in inter-Kingdom relations.
That was why she had asked Penny and Ciel to accompany her.
Naturally, both had arrived precisely five minutes before the scheduled time, a standard that Ciel never failed to uphold.
As students began filing into the arena, Winter and her two companions remained on the steps, watching as Glynda prepared to address the gathered audience.
Then, with a single word, the entire room fell silent.
"Students."
It was not a shout. Not even raised beyond a conversational tone.
And yet, it commanded absolute attention.
Winter felt the slightest twinge of envy at that effortless authority.
But anyone who didn't envy Glynda Goodwitch's sheer presence would only be lying to themselves.
"We have guests today," Glynda continued, her voice carrying across the arena. "Specialist Winter Schnee and Team PC from Atlas are here to select two teams to participate in extracurricular training and field missions during their stay."
Winter's gaze flickered toward the students.
She didn't miss the way Miss Rose—her sister's overly enthusiastic partner—was dramatically waving at Penny, who, in turn, was responding with just as much enthusiasm.
Convincing Team RWBY to participate would be easier than expected.
Her eyes instinctively found Jaune.
An easy task, given that he was seated just behind Team RWBY.
Glynda ceded the floor to her.
With practiced grace, Winter stepped forward, Penny and Ciel flanking her. She stood just off-center, keeping a respectable distance as she regarded the assembled students.
Her gaze briefly found Weiss.
A nod. A small, almost imperceptible smile.
For Schnee standards, it was positively warm.
"Good morning, students," she greeted, her voice even and composed. "As Miss Goodwitch has stated, we will be selecting two teams to train under the Atlas combat regimen and participate in select ground missions."
She paused, scanning the room.
This was a risk.
She could not afford to show favoritism. Simply selecting Jaune's team outright would invite scrutiny.
And so, instead—
"I would like the teams that wish to participate to step forward."
Let them choose.
If they wanted this opportunity, they would have to earn it.
And if Jaune's team was among them—
All the better.
A total of five teams stepped forward.
Both of the teams she was interested in were among them.
Good.
"For the rest, I assume Miss Goodwitch will continue with the standard class?"
The blonde huntress nodded. "Teams that do not wish to participate, follow me to the outside arena."
Before leaving, however, Glynda turned back to Winter, her expression as unreadable as ever—but her tone carried a weight that was impossible to ignore.
"Specialist Schnee," she said smoothly. "I trust you do remember that these are Beacon students. Any use of... barbaric military disciplinary measures, or injuries inflicted through unorthodox methods, will be rectified."
A pause.
"By me. "
Winter had received many threats in her time. Some were subtle, others polite—many wrapped in layers of political civility.
This?
This was the closest any had ever come to making her flinch.
She would sooner take on the entirety of the Ace-Ops alone than willingly face an angry Glynda Goodwitch.
But she kept her composure.
Her mask remained intact as she gave a respectful nod. "They will be under my direct supervision and protection. You have my word—nothing will happen to them."
Well... aside from me possibly poaching Miss Nikos and Arc for Atlas.
Winter decided that if she did achieve that, she wouldn't be on the same city as Glynda when the information reached her.
With that, Glynda led the rest of the students away, leaving Winter alone with the five volunteer teams.
She surveyed them with an appraising gaze before speaking.
"Ladies. Gentlemen. Leaders, front and center."
She had expected Pyrrha Nikos to step forward first.
Which was why she was surprised when Jaune Arc did instead.
Twice as interesting.
Meanwhile, the leader of her sister's team—Ruby Rose—was practically vibrating in place. It was painfully obvious that she was holding herself back from running straight to Penny.
Winter exhaled through her nose.
"Introduce yourselves," she instructed, "and explain why your team wishes to participate in this inter-kingdom training."
She barely finished speaking before Miss Rose practically bounced forward.
"Oh! Ruby Rose! Leader of Team RWBY!"
Winter was beginning to understand what her sister had meant by 'incomparable enthusiasm.' . And while she could understand how such a person could easily become a nuisance, the small reaper was also undeniably cute.
"We want to help Weiss spend more time with you!" Ruby continued cheerfully. "And also, having actual missions would be an amazing opportunity for training and team-building!"
Winter arched a brow.
Not the most tactical reasoning—but given that this was the girl who had somehow made Weiss socialize, she supposed a emotive reasoning was fitting.
Then, a redheaded boy in half-plate armor took a step forward.
His stance was rigid. His smile—too cocky.
Winter recognized it instantly.
She had seen that exact expression on the faces of far too many socialites in Atlas.
It was the look of someone convinced of their own superiority— a feeling that she had yet to see be backed by skill.
"Cardin Winchester. Leader of Team CRDL." His voice carried the same self-importance as his posture, as if expecting her to recognize either his name or his team. "I've heard about the famous training of Atlas Specialists," he continued. "I want to see if it actually lives up to its reputation."
Winter remained silent for a moment, taking in his stance, his words.
It would be interesting to actually see how far he would go. If not interesting, his failure would be fun for sure.
Shame she had no actual interest in his team. If they proved impressive enough she would take them of course. But she wouldn't bet on it.
But she did not react outwardly.
Instead, she merely nodded.
"Next."
"Jaune Arc. Leader of Team JNPR."
The blond offered her a warm, easygoing smile.
In Atlas, such casual familiarity in a formal setting would be considered scandalous.
But here?
It was... disarming.
"Atlas is renowned for its tactics and field training," Jaune continued. "I believe my team could learn a lot under your guidance. And participating in missions alongside a Specialist would be the perfect opportunity to assess our current standing—with minimal risk."
Winter raised an eyebrow.
Surprisingly practical reasoning.
He wasn't boasting about his team's strength. He wasn't making baseless claims or empty bravado.
Instead, he acknowledged their limitations while actively seeking to improve.
She should have been paying equal attention to the remaining two team leaders, but...
To call them unremarkable would be an understatement. She could pass them on the street and barely remember them as anything more than vague, faceless black silhouettes.
One of them stepped forward.
"John Doe. Leader of Team NVMD." Even his voice was forgettable. "Just felt like it?" he said, shrugging. "Between a normal class and something new, we picked the new."
...And the decision gets easier and easier.
Then, the final leader made his way forward.
"Bob Mitchell. Leader of Team BCKG."
At least she would remember his appearance.
His clothes were, if nothing else, distinctive.
A sea of black leather—enough to make him look like he had stepped right out of some rebellious underground gang.
What is the use of a leather jacket over a leather shirt? And how can he move in those pants?
"My team's been itching for real missions since we got here," he said. "This seemed like the quickest way to see some action."
Winter resisted the urge to sigh. Her choices were becoming increasingly clear. Which was actually good. As she wouldn't have to justify her choice to anyone that would see this.
Now, she only needed to make it official now.
"You will be graded based on three tasks. A simple—" By Atlesian standards, she internally added, "—multiple-choice test, a sparring match, and an escort-defense drill."
She leveled her gaze at each team leader. "Team CRDL and Team JNPR will begin with the test." Penny stepped forward, handing each member a scroll-tablet with quiet efficiency.
"Team RWBY will start with a spar against Team NVMD," she continued, gesturing toward one of the side arenas.
Both teams gave affirmative nods before moving off to their designated area.
"And Team BCKG, you'll be with me for the escort-defense drill."
Winter made sure each group was properly equipped and in position before the exercises commenced.
Team JNPR and CRDL had taken their seats on the benches, closely monitored by Penny—making cheating a laughable impossibility.
Teams RWBY and NVMD were now squaring off under Ciel's supervision. Winter knew Pennys partner well enough to expect a detailed assessment before the match even ended. Miss Soleil had a gift for tactical analysis. It was only a matter of time before she rose to operative status—and eventually, Ace.
Turning her attention to Team BCKG, Winter activated the simulation.
"Your assignment is to escort this robotic civilian unit. Your objective is to protect it while I attempt to eliminate the target. You will pass if you either: force me to retreat — indicated by my Aura dropping to middle yellow; capture me — defined as rendering me completely immobilized for over sixty seconds; or delay me for fifteen minutes."
As she spoke, the large holographic display above their arena flickered to life, showcasing the entire BCKG team and their "civilian" bot. A progress bar tracked her simulated approach and engagement.
"My only goal is to land a direct strike on the target. Everything else is secondary. Any questions?"
A hulking Ram Faunus raised a hand casually. "We out on the red? Or can we go for breakin'?"
"Red," she replied firmly.
He sighed, disappointed. "Great question, Kade!" Bob, the team leader, laughed and threw a friendly punch into the man's arm, earning a dull thud .
"The timer begins at your first move," Winter announced.
The entire team froze—literally froze in place.
"…As in the first attack ," she clarified with a tight-lipped sigh.
"Got it…. We knew that." Their leader added sheppsly. "Get pumped guys!"
Winter would admit—privately—to the little trill running down her spine. Her stance was relaxed, posture measured, yet anticipation simmered just beneath her skin. Whatever Aura boost she'd experienced the day before had faded overnight, but that didn't dampen her eagerness. She wanted to feel her body in motion again, test her reactions.
Her eyes scanned the opposing team.
She'd caught their names when they flashed on the holoboard above, but that was all. She had no idea how they fought—and that, in itself, was exhilarating. Winter wasn't a thrill-seeker by nature, but she excelled in combat for one simple reason: deep down, she adored it.
The tanned Ram Faunus caught her eye first. Thick, reinforced gauntlets with red-plated spikes—dust-infused, no doubt—glinted as he cracked them together, sparks skittering off with a sharp hiss. He grinned down at her.
Brawler. Power over speed, likely. Pure close-range. Aura gauge medium to high.
"Gettin' hot already, baby!" called a voice drenched in mischief.
Winter's eyes flicked toward the speaker. A scandalously underdressed girl practically bounced next to Bob. The holoboard named her Carmen. She twirled a pair of flame-tonfa in rapid arcs, hopping like a cheerleader—if cheerleaders wore black leather skirts studded with metal and goggles that looked scavenged from a high-speed crash. The small blonde pigtails and bright red glasses completed the "motorcycle punk Barbie" aesthetic.
Brawler. Agile. Probably mid to close range. Athletic. Aura gauge looked high. The other woman on the team wore no less leather, though her outfit was—technically—more modest. Painted-on pants, metal-studded corset, long dark hair and a snake-like whip loosely coiled in one hand. Less flashy than Carmen, but somehow more intense. Dangerous.
Whip-user. Mid to long-range. Aura gauge on the lower end. And how in the Winter Ladies' name are those pants not ripping?
Then came the leader.
Bob tossed aside his jacket—which did very little to reduce the amount of leather he was wearing—and revved the engine built into his chainsaw bat. The sound was mechanical thunder. Sparks flew as the bat bit into the ground with every heavy step.
Another brawler? They really have no range support? Aura gauge: mid-level.
"Fire it up, boys!" Bob roared, charging forward. His bat gouged out sparks and chips of stone as he bore down on her like a freight train.
Winter waited. Calm. Collected.
She ducked under the first wild swing and, with surgical precision, drove her saber toward his neck. He twisted just in time, the blade slicing a glancing hit across his Aura shield before he pivoted with a growl and came back with another full-force swing.
Then— shhk! —she heard it.
A sharp hiss of gas. A flicker of heat behind him.
There's the range support.
Whatever she expected, it wasn't a wave of fire.
Carmen didn't even aim thight to avoid her own teammate. The flamethrower tonfa spat a molten tide directly toward Winter—and engulfed Bob in the process.
Winter barely had time to activate a gravity glyph, hurling herself sideways as the flames roared past. Her coat smoked at the edges, but she was otherwise untouched.
Bob, meanwhile, stormed through the fire like it wasn't even there. Flaming embers clung to his boots as he swung his bat straight at her face.
Complementary semblance. Interesting combo.
She parried with her saber, blade grinding against the chainsaw edge, then pivoted and drove a knee hard into his stomach. He stumbled back with a grunt—but didn't fall. She was already rushing to strike again.
"Oh no you don't!" came a bellow above her.
She leapt back instinctively—and just in time.
The ground she'd been standing on a moment ago erupted in a geyser of stone shrapnel. The Ram Faunus, Kade, had launched himself over Carmen's flame arc and came crashing down like a meteor.
In a blur of motion, Winter flipped backward and summoned a flurry of glyphs mid-air.
A pack of spectral Nevermores burst forth—white wings unfolding in unison—screeching toward Kade.
The first hit landed from the girl with the whip – Gia she belived.
As soon as the firewall dissipated, the whip cracked toward Winter's face—a move she could've easily parried if not for Bob's sudden interference. He used his bat to bat the whip cord midair, redirecting its arc. It snapped over her guard and bit into her back.
Not a devastating blow—but clever. Coordinated. Well-executed.
This was shaping up to be an absolute delight of a fight.
Shame she'd have to end it so quickly.
Team BCKG had made a simple mistake. A fundamental one.
This wasn't a spar.
This was an escort mission .
Winter dodged another whip strike, then summoned two large glyphs behind her with a flick of her wrist. A split second later, a Boarbatusk summon burst from the glyph and charged straight toward Carmen—the furthest back in the enemy line.
With third glyph at her feet, Winter accelerated forward like a bullet. She closed the gap on the whip-user in a blink, caught the cord mid-snap, and with a sharp Aura-infused tug, spun the girl like a top—straight into Kade. The big Ram Faunus caught his teammate with a grunt, halting his own advance.
Winter didn't pause.
She pressed forward and began trading strikes with Bob. His chainsaw bat roared and sparked, but he was completely outmatched. Her blade danced between his guard, quick and relentless, carving away his Aura with stabs and slashes that landed faster than he could counter.
All she needed now was time.
Kade charged the moment he had his hands free. His fist swung like a wrecking ball, ready to pulverize something — either her or another section of the arena.
She sidestepped, letting his momentum carry him past her. Then, in one fluid motion, her leg hooked over his shoulders and locked around his neck. She twisted, flipping over him, and landed squarely on his back.
From her sword pommel, a condensed ice dust crystal glowed. She activated it with a focused pulse of Aura.
Kade froze solid mid-swing.
Only his head remained free—his expression equal parts stunned and confused. The gigantic ice spikes enclosing and keeping him on place
"Kade!" cried the whip-wielder as she lashed out again, whip aiming dead for Winter's face.
Winter didn't flinch. She let the weapon wrap around her saber, calmly catching and holding it there.
The fight was over already.
A second later, the horns blared.
Team BCKG stood frozen—well, not literally, aside from Kade. But the rest of them looked equally stunned. They had no idea what had just happened.
"Hey! What gives? We're still green! Well, yellow... but you get my drift!" Bob said, motioning with his bat.
Winter casually untangled the whip from her saber.
"Mister Mitchell," she said evenly, "what was the test?"
"Protect the bot? Beat you up?" came Kade's muffled voice from inside his icy prison.
"And what, pray tell , is the bot's current Aura level?"
All heads turned toward the holoboard.
Bob and Kade: Yellow.
Gia and Carmen: Green.
Bot: Broken.
The display shifted, showing the kill cam: While Carmen had been busy fighting the summoned Boarbatusk, a larger Nevermore had slithered out from beneath it—camouflaged and perfectly synced. The moment an opening appeared, it launched itself past the chaos and buried its claws into the designated robots neck.
"Carmen?" Bob called.
"Sorry, hon... She snuck it by," the girl replied sheepishly, lifting her goggles.
Winter nodded. "I'll give you credit for your coordination. Team BCKG shows strong frontline synergy and a reliance on fire and shock tactics. But it's clear you lack experience in protection-based missions." She kept her tone diplomatic. They were competent—surprisingly so—and this match could have dragged on much longer if it were a straightforward brawl.
"You're free to regroup and relax until the fifteen-minute cycle resets," she added. "Then we'll rotate the tasks."
"Kay! Carmen, let's go defrost Kade!" Bob called cheerfully.
It was a positive sign that he wasn't blaming anyone for the failure. But... it was also mildly concerning how little he seemed to care at all.
Of course they didn't grasp the weight of the simulation. It was just a bot in a fake arena. They had no frame of reference for what it meant to actually lose a civilian. And truthfully, she didn't want to be the one to teach them that.
Winter turned her attention back to the other teams.
JNPR and CRDL were still seated, finishing their tests under Penny's merciless supervision. Across the sparring arena, RWBY was annihilating poor Team NVMD. The only one who'd taken any real Aura damage was Yang. Unsurprising, as she was a brawler and seemed to lack true long range options.
As the timer ran out, Winter raised her voice again.
"Team JNPR and Team CRDL to the sparring ring! Team NVMD and Team BCKG to the written test! Team RWBY, prepare for the escort mission!"
As she watched the teams shuffle into their next stations, a small smile tugged at her lips—one she didn't bother to hide.
The fight had been fun. Engaging in a way she hadn't expected.
Her shoulder, once wounded, felt as if it had never been touched. Her body still moved with a lightness that lingered from the boost the day before.
And now, she'd get to test her little sister's team. Spend more time with her once the morning's evaluations were complete too.
And—if her instincts were right—perhaps with that blonde boy as well.