Today is actually the second anniversary of this story. I missed last year's anniversary, and I was actually hoping to get this chapter and the next one out by today, but alas, illness had other plans. Nevertheless I made sure you'd have content for today.

Beta: Myareska

"Because I could, and his weapon is funny enough."

RWBY

Pawn of Fate

CHAPTER EIGHT:

Power Yet Unleashed

Jaune didn't need to see the attack to know he was in trouble again. He felt the heat wash over him as fire blossomed behind him. He threw himself into a roll, letting the following explosion's shockwave fuel his momentum to get him closer to his assailant. Sprinting out of the roll, Jaune brought his shield up and his blade at his side. The hurled halberd smashed hard against the slab of metal. Pushing it aside, Crocea Mors was a silver blur as it arced through the air at Glynda Goodwitch. His charge was surer than before. His attack was more polished than before. He wasted far less movement in his counterattack.

It still wasn't enough.

She moved aside from the swipe easily. Her crop came up and slashed, electric tines trailing in its wake. He had only a moment to widen his eyes before they struck. The bolts danced along his armor, biting away at his Aura levels. He staggered away, barely holding off a follow-up strike from the halberd as it came back around. The weapon spun back, red tassel trailing as Glynda angled its silver blade and spearpoint at him for another assault. She thrust her crop forward. Jaune braced for the halberd's attack. It never came.

The beams of light lanced out in rapid succession. Two slammed against his shield. Jaune threw himself aside as the rest machine-gunned through where he had stood. Crocea Mors slashed downwards, batting the halberd into the floor before it could skewer him. The weapon bounced off of the arena floor, spun about, and caught him behind the knee with its blue haft. With a yelp he dropped to a knee. It left him open. Glynda's next barrage caught him squarely in the chest, and he was sent tumbling back, armor scraping against the floor. "Dammit," he cursed as he shoved himself back to his feet. Staying still after being downed was the quickest way to end their sparring matches.

Sure enough, lightning blasted down where he had been resting. He dashed away from the blast zone, sweat streaming across his brow as the follow-up came. Violet lances of light crashed down along his path. He burst out of the energized smoke in a leap. Touching down, he pivoted and lunged at his opponent. Glynda swung her other weapon—a massive gold-hilted sword—into his path. He smashed both sword and shield against it and both advanced fell into a stalemate.

Another typically fatal mistake in these sparring matches.

He tried to shove the weapon away from him as Glynda leveled her Semblance at him. One swipe of the crop sent him hurtling to the side from the telekinetic blow. He squawked from the first impact with the ground, winded. Jaune staggered to his feet again only for the halberd to strike once more. The spearpoint hit his shield with the force of a bomb. His scream cut off as his back smashed against the wall. The hopeful huntsman collapsed to his knees, panting and drowning in his own sweat. The tip of Crocea Mors struck the floor, his only support. He could tell his Aura reserves, plentiful as they were, were getting low. Why can't I get any closer? He raged in his head. Glynda looked like she hadn't even exerted herself as he struggled futilely.

She oriented the weapons to her side, blades aimed directly at him. Frustrated, he forced himself to his feet and readied his shield again. With a roar, he charged back into the fray.

Pyrrha's head came up from her homework revisions as the dorm room opened up. Jaune stepped in with a groan, gear slung over his shoulder. "Hey, welcome back," she greeted with a smile. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said. He dumped his armor to the floor in front of his bed with a crash, startling Nora out of her music and book. The two redheads stared as their leader dropped onto the bed. "You okay, Jaune?" Nora repeated Pyrrha's question as she set down her reading material. "You don't look so hot."

"I'm okay, Nora," Jaune said. Pyrrha saw his smile and didn't buy it for a minute. "Just… I just got my butt kicked again in training."

"Well, I'm sure you underwent some improvement," Pyrrha reassured him as she got up and took a seat beside him. He shook his head in response.

"Doesn't feel like it," he rebuffed. Just as he had the last few times he'd returned from his combat training with the Deputy-Headmistress. He'd come back each time with the same look of frustration that he smoothed over with his surprisingly good poker face. None of them bought it though. Jaune's pain was as clear as day to Pyrrha.

"Here."

Jaune looked up at Ren, who was holding the medicine vial out to him. He took it gratefully. "Thanks," he said before downing the viscous red fluid. "Ugh."

"That can't be any worse than those shakes of Ren's," Nora teased.

"Get your butt kicked hard enough and you can see for yourself," came Jaune's wry reply.

"Nooo thanks. I'll pass, leader." Ren rolled his eyes at Nora's protest.

"Suit yourself," Jaune said. He sighed. "I just… I thought I'd be getting stronger by now. I'm going nowhere instead."

"You can't just give up, Jaune," Pyrrha said, wishing she could do more for him. "Not after you came this far!"

"I know that," was his exasperated reply while he threw up his hands in frustration. "But I don't understand what I'm doing wrong. I keep trying and trying, but…"

"You're stressing over it too much, Jaune," Ren told him as he took a seat on his own bed.

Pyrrha nodded in agreement, knowing how true it was when she started learning to fight. "You'll only make more mistakes if you focus on it."

"Believe me, the only thing I focus on is the fight," Jaune groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "She barely ever lets up. I just… ugh."

He rose to his feet. "I'm gonna get my shower," he said as he marched to his drawers, peeling his hoodie off along the way. He disappeared into the bathroom, grumbling all the way. As the door closed, Pyrrha, Ren, and Nora all gave each other mirrored looks of concern.

What can we do? Pyrrha wondered. If there was anything she could do to lift her partner's spirits…

The streets of Vale were rife with people, noise, and activity. Even the recent string of attacks of petty criminals and Roman Torchwick's frequent robberies did little to slow down the hustle and bustle. Sidewalks were crowded as cars moved to and fro through the streets of the commercial district. A myriad of conversations between workers, businessmen, families and others gave rise to a constant droning as Pyrrha, Ren, and Nora weaved their way down the street, glancing at each store as they passed.

"Man, it's crowded here today," Nora complained as she bumped into yet another worker. She didn't even bother apologizing, the man was already hurrying along, bushy tail waving with each step. "Is it because of the festival?"

"I think so," Pyrrha said, glancing at another sign. Where was it? "Since it's being held in Vale this time, there must be a massive amount of preparation to be done."

"And that means a lot of shopping," Ren noted. "Good for the economy though."

"And bad for travel," Nora grunted as she dodged another pedestrian. "C'mon… this is ridiculous."

"Would you have rather come on the weekend?" Ren asked, looking behind him at his partner. "When there'll be even more people about?"

Nora blanched. Pyrrha smiled at the banter before turning her gaze back to the stores. "Ah, I think it's over there," she said, pointing to a particular sign.

"Great! Let's get away from this sea of people!" Nora cheered. She started pushing her way through the masses, eager to escape into the confines of the store. She slipped through the gap between Pyrrha and Ren and swung open the doorway, skipping in eagerly. Her companions quickly followed suit, sighing in relief as the door closed and cut off the noisy street from their hearing.

"Oh, wow, there's a lot in here, isn't there?" Pyrrha remarked, looking about the store. The walls were littered with various instruments. Dozens of guitars lined the walls. Flutes of all shapes and sizes were stacked in neat rows on various shelves. A large drum set took the center stage against the back wall. To Pyrrha's eye, though untrained as it was to the art of music, they all looked of exceptionally high quality. She wasn't even sure where to begin looking, even as Nora started browsing among the various items. "This is the right place, isn't it?" she asked of Ren.

He nodded. "This is the address Weiss gave us. I doubt we'll find a better shop in the city."

"Let's get to looking then…"

Pyrrha made her way over to the wall, passing by Nora and her examination of a rounded blue flute she didn't recognize. It was the guitars that had the champion's attention. "What kind did you say he had?" she asked uncertainly. These all came in odd shapes of plastic and metal.

"Acoustic!" Nora said, placing the flute down to look over them with her. "So not these ones."

"Over here," Ren called, waving them over. Pyrrha wandered over to him and found herself among a field of wooden instruments. "These are the kind of guitars Jaune was telling me about."

Pyrrha gingerly pulled one from the wall, examining the strings and the wood finish. "These do look nice. I can see why he wouldn't want to bring his from home," she said as she gave the guitar an experimental strum. Jaune had mostly walked from his home to Beacon when he couldn't hitchhike. "Which one of these do you think he'd like?"

Ren shrugged. "I couldn't tell you. I'm no musician."

Pyrrha sighed as she returned the instrument to its rack. "What should we be looking for then…?"

Nora made her way over, looking through them herself. She was humming to herself as her hand trailed across the wooden cases, looking at the designs and finish on each only for a moment before moving on to the next. Pyrrha couldn't tell what her fellow redhead was thinking. Wryly, she suspected no one could. "Got any ideas, Nora?" she asked.

"Kinda? Just lemme look a moment…"

Pyrrha glanced at Ren; he only shrugged. Nora turned and backtracked down the row. She stopped at one and pulled it off the rack, whirling around to present to Pyrrha. "This one!" she recommended cheerfully.

"This one? Why?" Pyrrha asked as she picked it up.

"Because it's expensive," Nora said matter-of-factly. Pyrrha could hear the "Duh?" in the grenadier's voice.

Ren dropped his head onto his palm. "Nora…"

"Well what else are we supposed to do, Ren?" she rebutted. "We don't know guitars but we know if it's expensive it's not a crappy one!"

"I guess that's true," Pyrrha hesitantly conceded. She examined the guitar once more, looking for a price tag. She soon found it, along with a name. She ran her thumb over it. "Taylor…?"

Ren, however, saw the price listed beneath the name and grimaced. "Are you sure you want to pay that kind of price?" he asked. This was expensive.

"Oh, the price is not a problem, really!" Pyrrha was quick to claim. She smiled reassuringly. "The sponsorships and prize money I've earned comes in handy for times like this."

She didn't spend much of it after the expenses of maintaining her gear and resupplying her ammo, after all. When she was outside of combat, Pyrrha Nikos preferred living frugally—she had to deal with the cameras in public a lot less that way.

"If you say this'll do, Nora, I'll take your word for it," she told her teammate. Nora grinned and bounced on her heels twice. "Let's go buy it and get back to Beacon."

Ren grabbed a carrying case for Jaune's gift and they made their way to the register to pay the familiar-looking old man behind the counter. The door opened again as someone with long fins in their hair entered, who held the door open for the trio as they departed. Nora found herself eying the woman for a moment as they filtered back into the crowd, then looking around her surroundings and the people among it with a closer eye. Pyrrha and Ren both quickly noticed her behavior.

"Is something the matter, Nora?" Ren asked.

"… is it just me, or are there a lot of Faunus in the district?" she asked. Almost on cue, a Faunus with long, fluffy ears stepped past them, muttering something on his Scroll. Pyrrha made sure to keep out of the man's way; he certainly looked busy as he muttered about a faltering operation of some sort. Examining her surroundings more carefully, she saw there were plenty more about.

"It's not just you," she agreed. "Maybe it has something to do with the Vytal Festival?"

"Could be. A lot of them could be seasonal workers that immigrated from Menagerie," Ren speculated. "I imagine that's pretty common with the Festival's migration between the kingdoms."

"We should be on our way then," Pyrrha told them, ever mindful of everyone around her. "I'd hate to get in anyone's way."

"Yeah, let's go, let's go!" Nora cheered, grinning as she pushed on ahead through the crowd of Faunus. "I can't wait to see Jaune's reaction to his gift!"

Jaune's partner broke out into a warm smile as she hefted the encased guitar on her shoulder and picked up the pace. "I can't wait either."

Another night fell upon the campus of Beacon Academy. Most of the students had retreated to the confines of their dorm rooms when the late evening chill had settled down upon the grounds. Pale moonlight from the ruined satellite poured in through the windows of Professor Ozpin's office, warring with the soft illumination that the man had brought with the candles lit on the table set up in the center of the room. The man in question set down a teacup before his Deputy Headmistress.

"Thank you," she murmured, picking up the cup as Ozpin settled down in his own seat. Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck took their own places at the table, with scant few papers scattered across it.

"Well, now that we're all here, let's see where things stand," Ozpin began. "The sooner this training regimen bears fruit, the better. With how things are turning out in Vale, I have no doubt an incident is going to crop up soon."

"Sadly I must agree," Bart said as he rifled through some of the papers, frowning in disappointment at what he read. "More and more robberies are occurring in the city. Tensions are beginning to mount. People are concerned. And Torchwick is still loose."

"And he'll remain loose with that Atlas training of his," Peter grumbled. "Foolish boy. All that talent and he wastes it on petty thievery."

"Torchwick isn't our problem," Glynda reminded them. "Not unless our protégé has a chance encounter with him when he's not ready. Our other students should know to steer clear of him if they encounter him."

The image of a red-cloaked girl with a scythe twice as long as she was tall flashed through Ozpin's mind, leaving fluttering petals in its wake. He noted with a wry grin, hid behind his cup, that the same girl flitted through the teachers' minds as well.

"… most of them, anyway," Glynda conceded. The others nodded as she took a sip from her tea.

"As it stands though, Mr. Arc has been staying on the campus grounds," Bart said. "He's quite serious about his training, and his education is coming along rather splendidly. I've even spotted him asking advice from a second-year student."

Glynda, however, only grimaced as she set down her teacup. "I haven't had as much luck with his physical training," she revealed.

"What seems to be the problem?" Peter asked, arching a bushy eyebrow.

"Jaune Arc's abilities have improved by a considerable margin since he first enrolled. He's still not at a level I'm satisfied with, and from what our last few sessions have been like, it will be a long time before he is. Far too long."

"Curious! Has he reached the limit of his potential?" Bart inquired.

Glynda shook her head. "I don't think he has, and if he's what Ozpin says he is, his potential will outstrip my experience… but he's come across some sort of mental block. I half suspect that's why he's been approaching the older students, to get around it. But it hasn't done him any good."

"Has he been faltering in your battles?" Port asked. "Not giving it his all?"

"No, nothing of the sort. It's clear he's trying his best."

"Trying, huh?" Peter sat back, chair creaking from his weight. His voluminous mustache twitched as he grew lost in thought.

"A lien for your thoughts, Peter?" Ozpin prompted, curious as to where his mind took him.

"Glynda, my dear, when is your next session with the boy?" Port asked.

"The night after tomorrow."

"Perfect. Take the night off."

"Excuse me?"

Peter chuckled. "If he's not improving under tutelage and the solution hasn't come to you, it's time that the boy see things from a different perspective," he explained. "Take the night off. I'll handle his training for the evening! Rest assured, we'll get to the bottom of his predicament in no time."

"Are you certain you can get through to him?" Ozpin asked. There were specific values he hoped to instill in Jaune when he assigned Glynda and Bart to his remedial training. What he would've had the rotund professor teach him normally, the headmaster had thought Jaune already had in abundance.

"Not to worry!" he exclaimed, mustache twitching with a grin. "I know just the thing. Sometimes all it takes is to confront the problem, man to man."

Glynda looked to Ozpin, gaze questioning. Bart's quickly followed, peering over his glasses. Ozpin, however, only shrugged. "Very well," he said. "I'll leave it to you to correct this, Peter."

Like Bart and Glynda, he just hoped Jaune knew what he was going to face…

"… and that should cover the situation surrounding the tower's construction! Now, as that concludes our time in class today, be sure to read up on tomorrow's subject of the ramifications of its completion!" Oobleck finished, zipping to behind his desk with thermos in hand. "Class dismissed and have a good evening!"

The lecture hall came alive as the students gathered their things and conversed among themselves, forming up their teams when possible as they vacated the room. Jaune sat back in his chair with a grimace while Pyrrha and the others departed without him. On every other night, he'd stay behind to talk with Doctor Oobleck, actions the others assumed was just him taking the class more seriously. Tonight, however…

A hand came to rest on his shoulder. "You okay?"

He looked up, met silver eyes, and forced himself to smile. "Yeah, I'm fine, Ruby. Just a little tired today," he lied.

"Maybe skip out on your late night training then," she suggested. How did she…? Oh, right. Weiss.

"I'll think about it. Go on, go join your team, Ruby," he said, then grinned. "Say hi to Snow Angel for me."

"Tell her yourself, Vomit Boy," she chuckled. She waved as she left. "See ya, Jaune."

"Later."

Soon he was the only student left as he gathered up his things. Oobleck gave him a sympathetic smile. "Feeling a little under the weather, Mr. Arc?" he asked.

"Nah. Just wondering how badly I'm gonna get my butt kicked tonight," he answered honestly. He finished gathering up his stuff.

"I'd say it's nothing you should worry yourself over! After all, a loss in the arena is only another lesson to learn."

"I've been learning a lot of those lessons lately," Jaune grumbled. "Wish Coco didn't use a minigun, she might actually know something to help me in one-on-one combat."

"I find it hard to believe that Miss Adel had little to enlighten you in that regard."

"She keeps telling me to talk to Professor Port," Jaune lamented. He shrugged. "Like that's any good. I'd just get bored to tears."

Oobleck sighed and sat his thermos down. "Is that how you see it, Mr. Arc?"

"C'mon, Doc, you gotta know what he's like in class," the trainee pleaded. "How is he supposed to help?"

"I understand that his class isn't the most exciting for some reason, Mr. Arc, but Professor Port is one of our most excellent teachers and Huntsmen," Oobleck pointed out. "You would do well to pay attention to his tales in class."

"Seriously?" Jaune was bewildered.

"Indeed! In all of the years I've worked and fought alongside him, I can safely say that Peter neither brags nor exaggerates."

Jaune stared. "He's just telling it like it is?"

"Precisely. He is here, after all, to teach. He can't do that without being truthful in his exploits. You would do well to remember that going forward," the Doctor warned.

"R… Right," Jaune said. He didn't really believe it. The man was shorter than him and weighed more. It had to be exaggeration, right?

"Well, best be off now, Mr. Arc!" Oobleck dismissed him, waving him off with the thermos now back in his hand. "You don't want to be late for your training session."

Jaune took his leave and hurried out of the building, making a beeline right for his rocket locker. Though he had his weapon and armor on him, he still hated fighting in his uniform, and it was a relief when he donned his hoodie and jeans once more, his armor fitting snugly on the worn fabric. Once Crocea Mors was belted onto his hip, he turned to head to the arena.

If only he didn't feel a growing pit in his stomach with each step.

His pace slowed the closer he got to the arena. Each footstep resounded in the hall as his destination came into sight, reducing him to a plodding pace. It's just training, he told himself. Just like Oobleck said. Just a lesson you need to learn. The notion didn't make him feel any better. Time wasn't on his side—they said as much when he agreed to this insane regimen. He couldn't afford to attempt catching up to his peers with normal training. Yet when his hand grabbed the handle to the arena, he hesitated. Would tonight be any different? Was his session going to feel as pointless as the last handful?

Jaune sighed. What choice did he have? Ozpin said the option to back out was gone. One way or another… I have to get over this. I need to try.

He opened up the arena door and froze the moment he stepped past the threshold.

"Jaune, my boy! It's about time! You're running a little late and I was afraid you wouldn't show!"

"Professor Port?"

"The one and only!" he greeted. The portly professor was resting his hand atop the butt of his weapon, in between the axe blades. "Tonight, this old man joins the hunt!"

"What… what are you doing here?" Jaune demanded. "Where's Professor Goodwitch?"

"Ah, she's taking the night off to catch up on other things," Port said dismissively, waving it off with his free hand. "And it's about time you got a change of perspective. We'll have you out of that rut in no time!"

Jaune froze again. "She knew?"

"Of course she did, lad. And now that you're in one, it's my job to pull you out of it. Let's not waste any more time," he said, gesturing Jaune to enter the ring opposite of him. "Now don't think you should go easy on me just because I'm an old man, ha ha!"

He unsteadily made his way onto the battleground. Professor Port was short and jolly, a complete braggart with a gun that looked like he'd cut himself every time he fired it. And yet Jaune's instincts told him loud and clear: he was in trouble. Oobleck's words echoed in his head again.

Peter neither brags nor exaggerates.

Doctor Oobleck had known it wasn't the Deputy Headmistress that he'd be facing tonight. He had known Port had stepped in and tried to warn him. He had to take this seriously, or there was no hope of ever improving, was there? He had to try his hardest to win.

He placed Crocea Mors on his hand and pulled the blade free, snapped the shield open with a flick of his wrist. Falling into his combat stance, he watched as Professor Port hefted the Blowhard up into a firing position. Port smirked. "Let the game begin!"

Jaune had only a moment to defend himself. The opening shot crashed against his shield, sending him sliding back on his feet. A second and third shot splashed across the metal before he threw himself aside. A fourth shot torched through where he'd been standing. He's a crack shot with that thing!

He couldn't let him keep firing. Jaune charged shield first. Port guffawed as he flipped his weapon around. The axe blades rent a metallic shriek against the shield. Strong! Jaune marveled. His sword flashed out at the man's side. It never hit.

He dodged it?! Jaune panicked. How? The axe struck again. The boy parried it aside, slashing again. Port side-stepped the attack. Crocea Mors struck back down and was deflected. Again and again, Jaune pressed his attack. Port deftly struck each slice aside, twisting and spinning Blowhard expertly. "Is that all you've got?" he taunted.

"Not yet!" Jaune cried. He struck shield first, swinging for the shorter man's head. Port ducked beneath it. He slashed with it again, aiming for his sizeable gut. Port danced away from it. Jaune lunged, only for Port to pivot around him with mobility the boy couldn't fathom existed. He spun about desperately to face him, bringing his shield up to defend. Port cocked his weapon with one hand. The fireball splashed against his defenses, scorching the white metal. Jaune fell back as the plate was torn free from his hand by the blast.

"Thought so." Port was disappointed. "That's all you had."

Jaune snarled in frustration. Gripping his sword in both hands, he threw himself at his opponent. Port met his charge with a laugh, crashing his axe against it. Around and around they danced in battle. Blades shuddered against each other's counterblows. "You're a fine warrior!" Port declared, anger in his voice. "So why!?"

Jaune slashed over and over. Port snaked around each attack, a red and silver blur. One strike of Crocea Mors went wide. Jaune felt a jolt as an attack glanced off his hip. He stumbled, regained his footing, and pivoted. The professor was nowhere to be seen. "What? Where'd he…!?"

He twisted, and Port was right in his face. Their weapons flashed out. Each man caught the attack by each other's wrist. Jaune found his arm quaking in the teacher's hardy grip.

"Like I thought, you're a sensible one," Port said as they struggled. "You know your weapon, you figure out an enemy's strength with a glance, and go for the right tactic when the situation calls for it. And yet you only fight not to lose!?"

Jaune gasped. Port's foot smashed into his gut. The boy was hurled back onto his rear, his grip on Port's wrist easily torn away by the kick. "It's such a waste!" Port growled.

"That's not true!" Jaune shouted as he rolled back up onto his feet. Port fired Blowhard again. Jaune ducked away from the fireballs, bringing up his sword to counter. "I'm doing my best here!"

Port scoffed as he charged in. "That's the limit you've placed on yourself!? Your so-called best!?"

"That's not true!" Jaune repeated. Blowhard and Crocea Mors smashed against each other and locked. Sweat was dripping from his brow as Port threw his weight into the clash. "I've tried so hard. I've… I've been trying hard all the damn time!"

"Don't you dare use that phrase to console yourself, boy!" Port snarled back. "Those are for cheering on others!"

Jaune recoiled from the declaration. His grip on Crocea Mors shuddered, sweat weakening his grasp on the hilt as Port continued to rage.

"You say you did your best or you tried hard like it's a talisman!" Port condemned. "You're ruining yourself!"

Blowhard crashed down triumphant. Crocea Mors was torn from Jaune's hand, slammed against the floor.

"Dare I say it?" Port leaped into the air in a grand display of acrobatics. He spun like a top, axe flashing. "We are Huntsmen! And we have no limits!"

The axe came crashing down. It was a magnificent blow, cleaving right into his breastplate. White energy blazed bright against the strike. Jaune sailed through the air from the force. His flight halted abruptly as his back smashed against the wall. He collapsed into a slump, unable to comprehend how easily he'd been beaten.

Port once more rested the barrel of his gun against the floor, hand atop its stock. Even with his Aura reserves barely scratched, Jaune knew the battle was over.

His head drooped as tears stung his eyes. He was relatively unharmed, but the professor's words had cut him to the core as cleanly as his axe had his defenses. "It's not my performance… or my talent in fighting…" he admitted, his voice cracking. "The problem's in my heart, isn't it? Because my heart's weak… I let myself turn out like this. It's all my fault…"

Port frowned in sympathy. "Jaune…"

A tear rolled down the boy's cheek. "This is great…!"

Port paused as Jaune looked up. He was smiling through his tears in epiphany.

"I can still change!" he exclaimed. "I can break the limits I made and change myself! I can become stronger!"

Port smiled. A weight lifted from Jaune's shoulders.

"It's a damn tough road to travel," Port told him. "But if you have the courage to walk it, there's no better path for men like us. It's the only road worth taking."

Jaune pulled himself to his feet, wiping his eyes on his arm. "Professor, one more time! I can still fight!"

The teacher laughed. "My boy, we can fight as long as you can stand!" he exclaimed. Jaune eagerly gathered up his weapons. "Once more, from the bottom of our hearts! Hold nothing back!"

"Right!" Jaune nodded. His readied his sword once again. He felt light. And the arena rang with the sound of battle once again.