"Jaune?"
At the far side of the room, entering the infirmary, two familiar heads of red and brown drew his eyes. He turned his head at the sound of Pyrrha's voice. Relief and warmth bloomed faintly in his chest despite everything. Pyrrha always carried an air of calm, even when her expression was tight with concern. Beside her stood Mocha, hands in her jacket pockets, eyes scanning the infirmary to see all the people inside.
"Hey," Jaune said, his voice coming out hoarser than he intended. He pushed himself up a little against the pillows, forcing a grin that probably looked as shaky as he felt. "Didn't expect visitors until later."
Pyrrha's smile was gentle but strained. "We heard you and Weiss were here so we wanted to check on you."
Mocha's eyes flicked down to his arms. "Wow, you look like hell. Like a four month old dog toy."
"Yeah." Jaune raised his arms slowly, showing them. The bandages were thick around his forearms, He flexed his fingers stiffly, the movements were slow, but possible. "You're a lot closer than you think. Guess I won't be arm-wrestling anyone for a while."
Mocha's lips twitched like she wanted to smirk, but the expression didn't quite land. Pyrrha stepped closer to the bed, her eyes studying the damage. "Does it hurt?"
"A little," Jaune admitted. "But it's bearable. The healing rune that the medics gave me… did its job. Could've been a lot worse."
He left unsaid just how much worse.
They exchanged a look, one of those silent communications between friends who had fought together. Then Mocha leaned her hip against the edge of his bed. "What happened out there?"
Jaune exhaled, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again. "An Amalgamation. It came out of nowhere from a waiter at Glacier's Crest. Spawning tendrils and grimm alike. It was... a slaughter. Weiss and I were the only operatives there. She managed to kill it, but…" He lifted his arms slightly, letting the bandages speak for him. "It managed to take a bite out of me before it was brought down."
Mocha's jaw tightened, and Pyrrha's hand curled into a fist at her side.
"That explains the reports," Mocha muttered. "We were caught up in one too. Not the same one, obviously—different part of Vale. We were lucky, though. Or maybe just blessed with timing." She jerked her chin toward Pyrrha. "It was quite... scary."
Pyrrha glanced at her, then back at Jaune. "Ours was an Amalgamation near the new shopping district in downtown Vale. It was… almost overwhelming but we had help. Someone else arrived—a Rank 2. She took control of the situation almost immediately, when we called it in."
Jaune frowned. "A Rank 2?"
Pyrrha nodded. "Her name is Winter, and apparently she is Weiss's sister. She dispatched the Amalgamation before there were any casualties."
"Except for a dog," Mocha added dryly. "Ugly thing almost got swallowed whole. Ran off yelping after. Probably traumatized, but hey—alive."
Jaune blinked, his mind rewinding to the restaurant. He remembered the glimpse of Weiss's sister—tall, poised and beautiful, abruptly leaving. At the time, he had wondered why she had left Weiss to eat alone, but now, he understood. It slotted neatly into place.
Jaune's gaze drifted, almost unwillingly, toward the bed beside his. The curtain was half-drawn, not enough to hide her completely. Her face was turned toward the ceiling, expression unreadable.
"Where's Weiss?" Pyrrha asked softly, following his gaze.
"Right there." Jaune pointed to the side without much thought. "She's… recuperating." His voice dipped lower. "She probably doesn't want to see anyone right now."
Pyrrha's lips pressed into a thin line. She nodded, but the hesitation in her eyes was clear. Compassion battled against respect for privacy.
Mocha caught it too. "She looks like she's been through the wringer."
Jaune sighed. "She has. We both have. But… I think she's carrying it heavier than me. I tried to talk to her earlier." His voice softened, a mixture of guilt and resignation. "Didn't... uh... go so well."
Pyrrha looked at him for a long moment, then touched his arm gently. "Sometimes people don't know what they need until someone shows up anyway."
Before Jaune could argue, she moved. Quietly, carefully, Pyrrha crossed the space between the beds.
Jaune watched, conflicted. Part of him wanted to stop her, to insist Weiss deserved the privacy, the quiet. But another part—perhaps the same stubborn part that had dragged him across the room earlier—hoped Pyrrha could reach where he couldn't.
Pyrrha approached the bedside slowly, not looming but not shrinking either. She lowered herself to sit lightly at the edge of the chair stationed there. For a moment, she simply sat in silence, studying Weiss's blank stare.
Mocha wrung her fingers, muttering under her breath, "Well, let's see how this goes."
A thought suddenly occurred to him.
"What about the others?" he asked, breaking the silence. "The other teams. Ruby's squad, my own and the other upperclassmen. Do you know what happened to them?"
Pyrrha shifted her weight against the chair. She regarded him with a long, steady look, then tilted her head. "You really want the whole picture?"
"Of course I do." Jaune frowned. "I was in the middle of it. I don't want to be in the dark."
Pyrrha nodded. Her voice carried the weight of someone who had already digested the chaos and filed it into neat categories. "Alright then. Fifty-three."
Jaune blinked. "Fifty-three what?"
"Fifty-three incidents," she said flatly. "Across the city of Vale and the surrounding areas. That many Amalgamations came through. All of them are dead now, thanks to the Rank Twos and their support, but…" Her lips thinned. "It wasn't clean. Not even close."
"Holy crap!" Jaune exclaimed
"Yeah, tell me about it. It was hard just saving people, let alone trying to contain everything."
"It must have all happened at once, then." Jaune analyzed. "It seems this really wasn't some kind of coincidence. They were all coordinated. Simultaneous."
Mocha let out a sharp breath. "Yeah... Amalgamations don't spawn like that out into the open unless something goes horribly wrong. You think... there's something happening behind the scenes in the Dream that we don't know about?"
Jaune nodded. It was the only explanation.
"Jaune, you told me a while back about your experiences in Ansel, during the first week of your awakening. About that masked man..."
"Hmm. From what I remember, he let slip that there was an organization behind him. Different from LUCID. While I'm not 100% certain, my money is on them causing this stir... somehow. Probably."
The words sat heavy in the air, like smoke that refused to clear.
Pyrrha folded her arms against her chest. "In any case, the Amalgamations themselves, got put down before they could really spread. But the Grimm they spawned? That was the problem. Some slipped into the streets, and into the suburbs. Beowolves, Creeps, and a few other stragglers. People saw them. Not just a few—a lot of civilians across multiple blocks. There were car crashes, fires and stampedes. It was chaos."
Jaune felt a knot form in his gut. "But… they were all killed, right?"
"Indeed," Pyrrha confirmed, though her tone was hardly reassuring. "But civilians don't just forget what they saw. Which means the clean-up teams had to move in. Memory runes and mass sweeps from door to door had to be done, if needed." She gestured vaguely toward the ceiling, as though indicating a city much larger than all of them. "That's what most of the Rank Ones who aren't injured are doing now and even the unawakened staff. They are making sure every last person who caught a glimpse gets tagged. Then the Rank Twos go in afterward, overwrite the memory and weave a new narrative. Something the public will swallow. Something harmless."
Jaune grimaced. "And if they miss someone?"
Pyrrha's eyes met his, and she gave him a look that seemed almost amused. "Then we've got a leak, Jaune. A fisherman's net with a hole. And you know what happens if one person slips through? They talk and the story spreads. Conspiracy forums catch wind. A shaky phone video goes viral. Then LUCID can't contain it anymore. And if that happens… well, there's going to be problems. Big ones."
The bluntness of her words sent a shiver crawling down Jaune's spine.
Jaune exhaled softly, folding his hands in front of him, despite the pain. "And my team? Where were they during all of this?"
"Doing exactly that work," Pyrrha continued. "Sweeping. Tagging and reassuring panicked citizens while the Rank Twos set up the runes. Ruby's team too—except Weiss." She inclined her chin towards her right. "Guess we know why."
Jaune nodded slowly, his throat tight. The weight of her words hung heavy in the air. He reached for his phone almost without thinking, needing something to ground himself. The screen lit up instantly, dozens of notifications piling in—social media updates, news blurbs, group chat messages from classmates speculating wildly about what had happened.
He ignored most of it and opened the news feed.
Onscreen, Lisa Lavender smiled professionally beneath the bright studio lights, her hair perfectly in place, her expression one of calm authority. Behind her, a screen displayed images of burning cars and collapsed storefronts—scenes Jaune recognized all too well.
"…damage across Vale has been attributed to a series of attacks involving explosives from a terrorist group." Lisa said smoothly, her voice as clear and practiced as ever. "Officials have reassured the public that the perpetrators were contained quickly, with emergency crews responding in record time. Although property damage has been significant, casualties remain minimal. Citizens are advised to remain calm and await further updates from local authorities."
Jaune scrolled through the ticker at the bottom. Each line was a carefully crafted lie.
He swallowed hard. "They really are spinning it."
"Of course," Mocha nodded, not even glancing at his screen. "LUCID owns half the networks and Lisa Lavender's practically their mouthpiece. If they say it was a terrorist attack, the public will believe it. The only thing that matters is whether every eyewitness gets swept. Otherwise, all the pretty words in the world won't save us."
Jaune didn't know whether to be grateful for her clarity or unnerved by how casually Mocha seemed to regard rewriting people's minds. Especially since she was once an unawakened like he had been. Recently too.
Before he could respond, the door opened again. A woman in a pale blue coat entered, a satchel of tools strapped at her side. Her hair was tied neatly back, her expression brisk but not unkind. A small pin glinted on her collar—the sigil of a trained medical operative.
"Jaune Arc?" she asked, scanning the beds.
"That's me," Jaune said, raising a hand carefully.
She approached with efficient steps, setting her satchel down on the rolling tray beside his bed. "I'm here to check your condition. You received a preliminary healing rune earlier, correct?"
"Yeah," Jaune said, flexing his fingers slightly. "They said it stabilized me and was able to heal most of the damage on my body and my arms."
The operative nodded, already unwrapping the gauze from his forearm with deft hands. "Good. I'll need to confirm that the runic energy has settled correctly before proceeding."
Jaune hissed as cool air hit the raw, scarred flesh. His arms were a map of scars, gouges, and half-healed ridges where the Amalgamation's chest maw had torn through. Pyrrha looked away with her brows furrowed, while Mocha leaned in with the detached curiosity of a scientist watching an experiment.
The operative pressed two specially made rune-tech gloved fingers to his skin, and activated it. Transparent lines of pale gold appeared, tracing over the injuries. After a moment, she gave a short nod. "Stabilized. The energy has knitted well into the tissue. You're ready for another healing rune application."
"What'll that do?" Jaune asked.
"Accelerate recovery. The pain will fade, and you'll regain all of your arm's functionality. But—" Her eyes met his, serious now. "The big scars will unfortunately, remain. Runes can restore flesh, close wounds and even regenerate nerves. But scarring is almost permanent, unless we apply for a Rank 2 healer to come and heal you. So for now, consider them… as reminders."
Jaune stared down at his arms. If this was to be a reminder of his weakness... he would accept it. He would internalize it and he would grow from it. Like he always did. "I'll take it."
"Good." She reached into her satchel and withdrew a thin, carved slate etched with concentric green rune on it. As she pressed it against his forearm, the air shimmered faintly and a green light seeped into his arms. Warmth bloomed through his skin, deep and soothing, chasing the ache away with every heartbeat.
Jaune let out a slow breath. "That's… better than painkillers."
The operative gave the barest hint of a smile. "Healing rune application is more efficient. Painkillers only mask the body's warning signals. This corrects the damage."
Mocha, standing nearby, raised her brows. "Wish I could get one of those after pulling an all-nighter."
The operative shot her a dry look. "These are for trauma patients, not insomniac students."
"Shame." Mocha was unbothered.
After a minute, the slate's glow dimmed. The operative withdrew it, checked Jaune's pulse, then began re-bandaging his arms with fresh gauze. "That should do. The worst is past. Keep them rested and avoid strain. For one day at least, and you'll be back to full strength by tomorrow."
Jaune flexed his fingers again, amazed at how smooth and responsive the movement felt. The pain really was gone. "Thank you," he said sincerely.
The operative packed her things with brisk efficiency. "It's my job." She glanced once at Pyrrha and Mocha before leaving the ward, the door swinging shut behind her.
Silence lingered for a moment. Jaune looked down at his scarred arms, now carrying marks that would follow him forever.
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AN: Advanced chapters are available on patreon