Even with Beacon Academy’s immense height, the peak of the tower barely poked through the towering cliffs that bordered the expanse of the Emerald Forest with equally imposing mountains on the other side. A place to induct new students into the Academy through the cadet trial, the forest was a place most would eventually forget once the fledgling Huntsmen and Huntresses had moved on to bigger game and more heart pounding encounters in the world.

With the exception of a few individuals. Maybe it was the trauma of facing down Grimm for the first time or the thrill of working together as a team. But for the blonde haired man strolling through the edges of the forest, his mind roiled with concerns and fears amidst the excitement he felt deep within his chest at finally having made a big step forward in his life with the end of the recent cadet trials having landed him a spot as team leader in the newly formed Team JNPR, consisting of the pairs that had gathered the same ‘relics’ that were more or less just items placed around the many ruins that dotted the Emerald Forest.

While he felt immensely proud of himself, conflicting emotions of doubt and self-loathing stirred alongside the positivity. Was he really worthy to lead a team when he couldn't offer much in terms of offensive capability? He didn’t even have his Semblance awakened yet…

Despite the negative thinking, Jaune knew he had the talent in him to effectively coordinate a team well enough to immediately lend them the stepping stone needed to dominate a fight. Knowing the strengths and weaknesses of each member was critical to a plan, and Jaune had it in him to adjust and plan accordingly on the fly.

But he didn’t have the awe-inspiring strength of Nora, the martial prowess of Lie Ren nor the sheer strength and expertise of Pyrrha, the team’s powerhouse that had such a high level of control over her Semblance that, when combined with her physical strength and proficiency with weapons, made her seem nigh invincible.

That had left a dent in his confidence, a prick in the side that constantly reminded him of how trule ‘weak’ he was when compared to the rest of his team.

And so he had taken to sneaking down the rocky face of Beacon Hill with what time he had on hand after curriculum to ‘train’ down at the Emerald Forest, with the many Grimm within being suitable partners to dance a life-or-death tune to.

That is, if any of them decided to show up, only ever noticing the tell-tale signs of Beowolves stalking him in the dark of the trees before even they too, seemed to lose interest and flee back to wherever they had decided to nest at. Inflicting emotional damage on a scale much higher than that of a physical attack.

“Not even the little beasties want a piece of me eh? Am i good or what…probably…heh, yeah…”

Laughing dejectedly to himself, Jaune considered turning back the way he had come from to return to the Academy, finding more hopes of actually using his weapons in the training hall than out here in the wilds before a glint of light catches the corner of his eyes, turning to find himself staring at a curious gash in the face of the rock wall. As if something or someone had made a vertical cut into the earth.

But this couldn’t have been a den or man-made structure, stepping closer, Jaune takes note of how smooth the entryway was, only showing signs of moderate weathering from the many days that had passed since this opening appeared.

“Woah…don’t think this was here when the Initiation was going on! And the size of it!”

Running his hands over the sheared rock face, Jaune takes a cautionary step forward into the cave, unsure of how deep it was or what could be lurking within with how the sunlight only illuminated the entrance.

Sure, the possibility of there being Grimm was high, but the mystery of what had made such a deep clean cut had the young man’s mind racing with excitement. This could be a major discovery worth checking out.

And so he had stepped fully into the dark, ready to take on whatever laid within in the hopes of discovering hidden treasures or maybe even a relic of the ancient people that had once inhabited the Emerald Forest, vivid memories of their cave paintings and ruins running in Jaune’s mind as he vanishes into the darkness.

Before a loud sound like rock knocking against rock resounded from within, along with a comical cry of pain.

“Oww! Forgot the torch…”

–

Wandering further into the cave, it didn’t take long for Jaune to finally reach the end, marvelling at how smooth the walls and floor were as he shines the torch comfortably around the spacious interior, further reinforcing the idea that a weapon, not man or Grimm, had been the root cause.

Coming upon a pedestal of smooth stone obelisks and pillars embedded into the wall with no other way forward or down a separate path, Jaune kneels down to take a better look at the strange formation while hefting the torch closer, running his gloved hand over the engravings in the wall, a language he had never seen before as he inspects the stone.

“Strange…this looks…kinda like a sword doesn’t it?”

Noting the shape of a blade upon which the inscriptions had been carved into, Jaune’s fingers trace the outline of the curved blade along its entire length, visualizing the smooth pale metal in his head down to the ornate implements of the wide base of the sword that probably served as a guard of some sort? Jaune had never seen such a design in his life.

Before he knew it, his hand had already wandered down to the end of it, gingerly fingering the worn carving of the thin grip, eyeing the oblong edges of the pommel before standing up again.

Only to jerk his shoulder with resistance, unable to stand with the index and middle fingers of his right hand glued to the stone.

“W-What the? This some kind of trap or something?”

Tugging at the base of his forearm with his left hand, Jaune struggles to free himself with the torch long discarded by his feet, only managing to end up in a worse off position when his furious tugging forces him off balance, leaning harder against the wall as his entire palm splays out against the cold stone.

Unaware of his surroundings, the fledgling Huntsman begins to bash against the rock with his weapon, the sword reforming itself into a shield as Jaune slams it in a crazed frenzy wrought by panic and fear, only managing to send splinters of stone flying off all while the inscription begins to glow an ominous red, spreading itself to the surroundings as a thick red cloud hangs in the air.

“C’mon! Break already!”

By the time Jaune notices the drastic change in his environment, the haggard man can do little to resist as tendrils of red begin to fill his vision, his chest tightening up further as he looks up at the bright red light, sweat dripping down his forehead, left arm hanging limply by his side as the shield lands with a thunk against the floor, throbbing muscle unable to hold on to the heavy implement, leaving Jaune defenseless before the angry outline of the sword embedded in the wall, glowing a dark red as if angered by his attempts to free himself.

Expecting retribution, Jaune had been prepared for any possible counter attack after days of being bullied at the hands of Cardin, the bully of Beacon. But the pain that suddenly engulfed his right hand had him hunched over, yelling out loud as his left hand instinctively jolts up to grip at his wrist, doing little to stem the sudden fire that had only begun to spread upward, his bones feeling as if they’d instantly been shattered, his flesh rendered useless and his mind ablaze as he foamed at the lips, teeth gnashing in focus as he fought to keep his sanity intact.

Until a loud crunch seemed to bring a moment of clarity back to Jaune, struggling to look up at his right hand, unable to believe the sight of his hand balled into a fist, punching through the toughened rock that had withstood Crocea Mors’ assault minutes ago in an effort to grip at the blood red handle of the sword as texture and more begins to paint over the stone carving, cracks beginning to spread like a spiders web out and away from the sword as the pain subsides from Jaune’s arm, feeling strength begin to return to his body as he pushes himself off the floor, tearing the large blade free from its pedestal with his right arm still gripped tightly around the hilt, his dark blue eyes reflecting the ominous scarlet of the weapon as he raises it high into the air.

Unlike Crocea Mors, Jaune had no trouble lifting the hefty blade with one hand, enamored by the stone’s transformation into silver and crimson steel as the red smog around him continued to build, audible whispers of a disembodied woman beginning to drift into his ears like poisonous whispers in the wind.

Listening blindly as his eyes glaze over, Jaune’s clothing begins to flake and burn with dark red flames, shrivelling up in certain places while shifting into a sleeker, form fitting dress that seemed to meld the qualities of ordinary cloth and heavy plate armor together while remaining as light as a feather to ensure the wearers mobility remained unimpeded.

But it wasn’t just his clothes that were changing, everywhere the black flame touched, Jaune’s body changed along with his clothes, his skin cleansing itself of body hair and other imperfections as fat seemed to burn away, the thin layers of muscle he had earned from his personal training growing in abundance while maintaining the slim figure he had begun to take on, the soft sounds of melding flesh and snapping bones accompanying the change as Jaune continued to indulge himself in the voice’s promises of power.

With a sudden drop in height, the remnants of Jaune’s now ill-fitting clothes fall off his body, exposing the drastic changes that had occurred unseen beneath the thick cloth as his neatly cut head of hair cascades down the nape of his curvy back, his broad shoulders popping inward as the fingers gripping the blade morph into dainty digits.

“This feels…way too friggin goood~”

With a soft but guttural voice slipping free of his notably softer lips, Jaune’s twisted expression loses some of it’s beastial flare, wide eyes rounding out into alluring almonds that radiated their natural beauty despite the glaring bloodlust as his cheeks puffed up lightly with soft fat, a warm blush filling them at the ecstasy flowing through his powerful new body, loving the cool lick of the air against his exposed body; a simple top wrapped around the beginnings of what would become a small but perky set of tits that left a toned midriff pulsing with muscle, toughened shoulders that linked well with slender biceps, fluttering skirt teasing a killer ass that led down to muscular yet plump thighs hugged tight by midnight black stockings that flanked the remnants of Jaune’s manhood as a thin black strip of cloth slithers down between them, concealing the head of his dick settling in atop a fresh virgin slit hidden by a thick pair of vagina lips, forming a tantalizing cameltoe as the thong rides up between her heavenly ass.

While the Jaune of old was still quite an impressive specimen of a man, the young woman standing in his place with a wide smile plastered over her face dwarfed him in every way; from her alluring face framed by a mane of wild blonde hair that leant her the appearance of a lion to her nubile young body that radiated a powerful aura, laced all over with even more muscle than that of Jaune, she was the very definition of a goddess of war.

Feel the power flow within you…grasp fate as ordained from above…dominate your enemies…and never…

Jaune’s left hand drifts up toward the hilt, guided by an invisible force as the satisfying feeling of holding the weapon in both hands engulfs her mind, as if something within her that long lay dormant had just been satisfied…

…look…

Energy blooms forth from the inscription as Jaune wields the scarlet blade with both hands, a wry smile twisting the edges of her lips as she feels even more strength embolden her, trickling flames beginning to pour forth to coat the weapon as the wide guard begins to morph and shift into a different configuration…

…back!

Bringing down the weapon with a loud war cry, Jaune is engulfed in a blinding white light as the immense energies held within the sword rushes out in a torrent of red, the deafening sound of an explosion swallowing everything as the earth rumbles with the force of the blast, sending tremors so widespread that even Beacon Academy’s walls trembled, worried students and troubled teachers halting their activities. Was it an attack? Were the Grimm mobilizing? No matter the cause, the Glynda and the other teachers moved to protect the Academy, ushering students away from the bellowing plume of smoke that rose high into the sky from the direction of the Emerald Forest, the crashing sounds of falling stone and displaced trees reaching the ears of the terrified students as they ran for cover…

–

“Have you ascertained the cause of the explosion?”

“Not yet, but we did manage to find…this;”

Laying the broken remains of a barely recognizable shield on the ground, Glynda steps back and away from the table as the silver haired man seated on the other end raises a brow at the sight of the ruined weapon.

“This…”

“...is Jaune’s, yes. We have yet to locate his whereabouts though I fear we might not even find one at all…”

“Troubling news indeed…the rest of his team are not to learn of this for the time being until we find the cause of the explosion, understood?”

With a silent nod of the head, Gylnda Goodwitch turns to take her leave, gripping the wrapped up remains of Crocea Mors close to her chest.

With the ever encroaching threat of Salem and her underlings, Ozpin could only wonder what this meant for things moving forward, never before had a possible attack on the Academy happen so close to home, which only made him worry even more about what else lay ahead and how safe the students truly were.

Perhaps some measures would need to be taken in advance to ensure his plans for the future remained unimpeded…

–

“Hahah! I’m a heck of a lot closer to Father now!”

Swinging a large blade that almost rivalled her own height, the young woman surveys the blasted landscape before her with glee, wiping the sweat of her brow as she stabs the sword into the ground, tying back her wild hairdo into a neat ponytail before kicking the weapon skyhigh, dexterous hands gripping the hilt in one practiced maneuver, posing stylishly for no one in particular as her lithe body radiated heat after another round of intense training in the wilderness, sweat dripping down her creamy skin, tracing the contours of her musculature before turning to steam in the biting cold. The thoughts of comparing herself to a forgotten team of individuals and whether ‘leadership’ was more than enough to lead a team discarded a while ago when she had picked up her signature weapon for today’s training.

While she still retained a hotheaded brashness that leant well to her fighting style, there was no trace of the open hearted Jaune left within the boisterous young woman, thinking of herself not as a human from another world long forgotten to her but as a powerful Servant summoned forth to do her Master’s bidding.

Except she seemed to find herself at the capable hands of a Master that had himself a legion of Servants he treated not as tools but rather fully fledged individuals that each had their own complex thoughts and goals, even if they had once been enemies fought against in the many realms Ritsuka Fujimaru and the other brave individuals at Chaldea had traversed.

Even her Father had been among the Servant’s thus far summoned by Ritsuka, making the usual walk around the metal walls and floors of Chaldea a strange affair when she had to come face-to-face with her.

And so she had taken to spending most of her time away from the many variations of Father she struggled to comprehend, training out in the wilderness away from the cramped corridors where she was free to wreak as much havoc as she pleased with her trusted sword; Clarent by her side.

Though she knew she still had a long way to go before she could call herself an equal to the legendary Artoria, Mordred took comfort in the fact that until their long battle against Goetia and his machinations were over, she could fight alongside her Father, looking for any opportunity to prove herself.

But until then, the shouts of a raving woman screaming the words ‘Clarent Blood Arthur’ would become a common thing amongst the denizens of Chaldea, accompanied by the usual bang of a distant explosion.

And if you listened carefully; confident cries that carried on through the air…

THE END