Jaune awoke with a start as his alarm went off. He quickly turned it off before the noise could wake up the only other occupant of the room: his partner, Beryl. There was still another hour or so before they actually had to be up, and the last thing Jaune wanted to do was start stepping on toes now. Not when he had actually started making headway with everyone else. Besides, he genuinely liked Beryl. Beryl was the only one who had even tried to give him a chance when he first arrived, even when it hadn't exactly been the popular choice to do so. No matter what else happened, Jaune would always be thankful for that.

He got up and changed into some sweats, put on a sweater and some sneakers, and quietly made his way out the door.

100 pushups, 100 sit-ups, 100 pull-ups, and then running laps around the academy until it was time to head back inside. It wasn't exactly a routine to write home about, but then again, Jaune had never claimed to be an expert on the subject. All that mattered was that he improved. Combat training was pretty much a specialty of Saint Cyr, so Jaune knew that he would have plenty of 'help' in that regard. All he needed to do now was improve his stamina. Just like at Beacon, he was surrounded by people who had received training for years to be where they were, and as much as it pained him to admit it, he knew that what little training he had done on his own just wouldn't be enough to bring him to their level. Instead, he just tried to get in what little extra training he could and hoped that he would eventually be able to catch up.

The first part of his routine passed pretty uneventfully. He took his usual spot in an out of the way spot near the edge of the school grounds. There were dedicated facilities that probably would have better suited his needs, but he preferred his spot. He had chosen it near the beginning in an effort to avoid as many people as possible. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew that his initial reaction to being transferred to Saint Cyr had probably contributed to how he had been received. He knew he would have to stop separating himself from the rest of his fellow cadets eventually, but he still hadn't worked up the nerve to do it. After all, his attitude hadn't been the only reason he hadn't been the most popular guy from the beginning.

His jog around the academy came next, and he tried to ignore his already aching muscles. He hadn't actually taken a break in what seemed like forever. He stayed up later than the others and woke up earlier. All of that extra time was spent working his body to his limit. In the back of his mind, he knew it wasn't the best method to get better, and he knew he was probably doing more damage to his body than good, but he couldn't stop. Not even for a moment. It was better this way. When you kept yourself busy, you didn't give yourself any extra time to think. When you went to sleep exhausted, you didn't dream. You just went from one day to the next. Exhaustion was a small price to pay for quiet nights, though it did have its drawbacks. One such drawback was that he nearly ran right into the door that opened in front of him.

He came to a stop as quickly as he could, nearly falling forward in the process, and took a step back to allow the door to open fully. As it did, he offered a salute.

Out of the door came a group of officers and faculty from the academy. They had apparently just finished one of their morning briefs and were heading their separate ways. A small group stayed together as they moved, no doubt members of the same team. They centered around a man about a head taller than Jaune was and a bit more broad. He had confident stride that others seemed to instinctively move aside for. The graying hair around his temples offered an air of wisdom that practically begged to be trusted. The slight frown he wore looked as though it had been carved into granite, and there wasn't a single laugh line in sight. He wore a white officer's uniform that was as well kept and cared for as any Jaune had ever seen. Over his shoulders was a heavy coat, the sleeves pinned back. It covered the man's right arm, though his left was in the middle of gesturing to one of the professors walking alongside him. Dark blue eyes fell upon him, and there was a brief moment of recognition followed by a sort of casual dismissal usually reserved for litter found on the side of the road.

It flash of emotions passed so quickly that Jaune doubted any of the man's followers had even seen it, but that didn't really surprise him. Already the group was passing him by, and in a few moments, they would have forgotten that there had even been anyone there at all. They hadn't even spared him a second glance. Jaune's gaze followed them, and even from this distance he could see the two golden arcs on the back of the heavy white coat.

"Good morning to you too, Dad."

He arrived back at his room just in time for the call to sound that it was time to wake up. Beryl was already stirring, and Jaune decided to jump in the shower before his partner could see that he had been out and about already. It wasn't exactly a secret, but the less conversation involved, the better as far as he was concerned.

The hot water soothed muscles already suffering and drowned out the sounds of the rest of the world. For just a few blessed minutes, Jaune could pretend that he wasn't here. That he wasn't trapped. He could pretend that all of the water dripping on to the floor was actually from the shower. But the moment passed, and as he emerged from the shower, and nodded to his partner, his smile was firmly set in place.

The day passed about as quickly as could be expected. As tired as he was, Jaune made sure to take notes as thoroughly as possible. If he didn't do well in this class, a failing grade would be the least of his worries. He couldn't do poorly. He wouldn't do poorly. He was an Arc.

Things only began to truly pick up in the afternoon.

The first year students were all called in to an auditorium that Jaune hadn't even known had existed before the announcement had come through. He looked to Beryl questioningly, but his partner only shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, just as lost as he was.

What made it even stranger was the fact that only the first years seemed to be at a loss for why they were there. Any older students gave them only passing glances, and not a single raised eyebrow was in sight among them. They had all seen this before. Or, more likely, they had all been a part of it before.

As they slowly trickled into the auditorium, Jaune couldn't help but stare. This place was just as large as Beacon's main hall, and that had been enough to comfortably hold all of the students taking place in initiation. There was one large stage in the front of the building, surrounded by rings of tiered seats, each higher than the last.

It was a place for announcements and presentations, and Jaune had to wonder if he might have stood in this very spot had he began the year here instead.

He and his partner sat next to each other, and the space around them quickly filled with other warm bodies. For some reason none of them wanted to sit separate from the others. Just like Jaune, they could all sense it. Whatever they had been called in here for was not any sort of trivial thing. It was going to be something that would stick with them. There was a hushed whispering all around them as each tried to figure out what was going on. The theories grew wilder and more outlandish, but they all knew that no one really had any clue what to expect. A group of figures stepping on to the stage quieted them down.

Jaune recognized the trio immediately: His father, followed by a pair of his older sisters, the twins Valerie and Valeria. The two wore nearly identical outfits, though that didn't surprise him. They had always been like that, even before they had first donned their uniforms. Blonde hair pulled in to a single French braid, bright blue eyes, and a proud expression would have identified them as the man's daughters even had you not known. They looked practically identical, and their insistence on being called 'Val' had caused more than their fair share of headaches and confusion. Only the very observant or the very familiar might notice the small things that would have given them away. That Valerie's eyes, for instance, were just a shade darker than Valeria's. Or that Valeria's nose tweaked ever so slightly to the left. Small differences you quickly learned if you didn't want to earn their ire. Needless to say, as a child, Jaune had learned quickly.

The two were dragging something under a sort of tarp. It looked vaguely like a person, but it was too stiff and unmoving. They placed it firmly in the middle of the stage, but did not uncover it. They then stepped to the side to stand behind their father. One on his left, one on his right, arms folded behind their backs. They waited patiently, and the room eventually went from merely quiet to deathly still. After a few moments, Domremy finally spoke.

"I suppose you are all wondering why you are here."

There was a brief moment of quiet murmuring and nods of assent. He allowed the moment to continue. There seemed to be a sense of ceremony about this whole thing, and he had his part to play, as did they.

"That is very simple, cadets. Today is the day we introduce you all to a piece of equipment that will be vital to you in all of your future operations. A keystone of what it means to be a graduate of Saint Cyr. You will come to know this piece of equipment as if it were an extension of your soul."

Again, a round of confused murmuring, though this one laced with tinges of excitement. With a nod to his daughters, Domremy gestured to the tarp covered object on the stage. The Arc twins pulled the cover off, revealing a mannequin wearing only a gray ring around its waist like a belt. There was a soft metallic gleam to the device, even from so far away, and it drew the eyes of every person not currently on stage. It looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on where he had seen such a thing before. Domremy continued his presentation.

"I present to you the greatest piece of equipment you will have the privilege to carry. This is the A-R-117. It is the manifestation of the ideals that we here at Saint Cyr aspire to. Each of you will be assigned an A-R-117 and will be trained in their use by your professors here at the Academy."

As he spoke, Valeria reached over and pressed a button on the belt, which released with a small click, audible in the silence of the room. She quickly placed the belt on her instead. It clicked in to place, fitting snugly on her hips, and Jaune realized that it had probably been hers in the first place, volunteered only for this demonstration.

"The A-R-117 may not be familiar to all of you, though I'm sure many of you have recognized it by now. Though this is a newer design, many of the functions are still the same as they were all those years ago. The biggest difference is that they are now much more efficient. Their predecessors found their use primarily in the conflict now known as the Great War. Many of you may know the A-R-117 by its former title: The Stonework Belt"

The murmurs that had been suppressed throughout the presentation suddenly broke out, though their Headmaster seemed to be content to ride out the storm. Jaune finally realized where he had seen one before. It had been several months before, in Oobleck's class during their discussion of the Great War. Though it hadn't been the focus of the lesson, Jaune could still remember seeing the Stonework Belt on several of the soldiers in the photos. The only problem was, those soldiers hadn't been from Vale, Vacuo, or even Mistral.

Valeria stepped forward, drawing every set of eyes towards her. With a flick of her wrist, she pressed a button on the belt, and a small red light in the center blinked on. Her aura flashed, but the pure white of her natural aura slowly began to dull, being overtaken by gray usually only seen in cement. Or Stone.

It took only a moment, but Valeria's now gray aura dimmed even further, until it was no longer visible. It hardly helped. Every ounce of color the wore, from the white of her officer's uniform, to the blue in her eyes, to the gold in her hair, it was all dull, as if seen through murky glass. She was much less vibrant, and more importantly, she seemed to have less of a presence. Her expression seemed more neutral, and flat, despite the smile she had worn mere moments before. The effect was uncanny.

The most elite squadron in Mantle had been known only as 'The Stone.' They had prided themselves in squad tactics that prioritized a conscious team victory rather than individual success. It had been the way of their military over the course of the War, and had proven to be rather effective. Many of the people who faced them came back telling horror stories of soldiers who did not feel pain. Did not feel remorse. Soldiers who barely seemed human at all. In a way, Atlas's push to use robotic soldiers rather than human warriors almost seemed like a natural transition, and most certainly a welcome one. The Headmaster continued.

"As I'm sure many of you know, the A-R-117, or, the Aura Redistribution Device, is really rather simple, despite the genius behind it. This device allows you to access deeper reserves of your aura while also allowing you to avoid most types of Grimm unless you make direct contact. These became extremely valuable advantages during the Great War, nearly costing the alliance of Vale and Vacuo the war. We here at Saint Cyr aim to harness those advantages, for the good of Vale, of course, and the betterment of all of Remnant.

"The A-R-117 allows us to utilize our natural auras fullest potential using two distinct methods of suppression and redistribution. The first property of the belt, as evidenced by the young miss Arc, here, is a valuable weapon on the battlefield. The A-R-117 suppresses the user's emotions to a degree, allowing them to endure the stress of battle more readily than their unequipped counterparts. However, that is only a side effect of the equipment's true purpose. The belt's main focus is to allow you access to deeper reserves of your aura, allowing you to fight for longer. It does this be utilizing another portion of your aura usually reserved for something else. The Portion usually used to access your semblance."

Jaune's jaw practically hit the floor. He knew that every advantage came with a price, and had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, but this hadn't been what he had expected at all. A semblance could make or break a hunter's career. Asking an entire year of students to simply give up their semblance? That was insane; even more so than he had expected from his family. He looked around for similar reactions, but that was when the second biggest surprise of his day came. Not a single other person in the room seemed at all bothered by the prospect. He turned to his partner.

"Hey, Beryl, what's going on? This is crazy."

Beryl looked at him in confusion for a moment, but nodded with understanding.

"I forgot that you came from Beacon."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Beryl shook his head, but continued.

"Do you know what my semblance is?"

Jaune shook his head.

"I can retrace my steps perfectly for one hour."

". . .Well, that can be pretty useful, right? I wish I could do that."

"Sure, it's useful. When I'm trying to find my keys. Not when I'm trying to kill a Beowulf. Do you know what Cay's semblance over there is?"

Once again, Jaune shook his head.

" His coffee always comes out the perfect temperature. And Pacifica's semblance allows her to charge a battery without having to plug it in once about every 12 hours or so. Argot over there can command fruit to peel themselves. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

There was a brief moment before Jaune sighed and nodded.

"Saint Cyr is different than Beacon. No one has a fancy semblance. We all get by on our tactics and our weapons. If you want to be part of a team, if you want to make a difference, and you're like us, you don't go to Beacon. You come here."

"I . . . I see."

The sounds around them continued, but they were too involved in their conversation to really pay attention to the buzzing of the other students.

"I don't blame you for not knowing. That's why we don't use our auras in our spars. We need to work as a unit, and one of the best ways to see where we belong is to try and see where we are at our base. Everyone who applies here knows about the focus on team strategies. It's just that none of us were expecting . . .these. But it's all starting to make sense now."

Beryl nodded as he once again surveyed the stage and the people on it. In some strange way, it did make sense. If that was what you were expecting, then giving up a semblance that never really helped you in combat must have seemed like a small price to pay. It also explained why none of the higher years had seemed too concerned about them. They had all seen the same ceremony before, and had chosen to stay. A voice rang out from the stage.

"I want all of you to line up. My two staff members here will assign each of you an A-R-117. You will begin training with them immediately."

Almost as one, the cadets all stood and began making their way down to the stage. Jaune obediently took his spot among the crowd.

One by one, they all received their belts and put them on. One by one, the belts were all activated, and their auras began to slowly fade, until the room was filled with a dull gray light.

Jaune thought of spending the next four years surrounded by people who never really seemed completely there; dull, gray, and practically unfeeling. Even as low as he was, the thought sent a shiver down his spine.

Beryl walked up right before him and almost happily took his before walking away.

As Jaune stepped forward to claim his, he couldn't help but look his sister in the eye. Valerie smiled at him, though smile seemed too kind a word. It was filled with satisfaction, and just a hint of superiority, though she wouldn't show that in front of the rest of the cadets.

Her eyes flashed with triumph as he took his belt from her. He stared at the silver finish that covered the dull gray metal beneath. It almost felt as if he could wipe it away if he just brushed it with his thumb.

That wasn't what a hero would do.

That wasn't what a legend would do.

They would make the sacrifice for the good of Vale. For the betterment of all of Remnant.

Only a failure would disobey their commanding officer.

Only a disappointment of a son would spit on a gift given to them by their father.

Jaune Arc was not a failure. He was not a disappointment.

He wrapped the heavy shackle onto his waist.

He pressed the button.