I'm sorry that this isn't a chapter of Doom Driven but this story idea has been driving me crazy for a while and I finally decided to write it after rewatching My Hero Academia.

You can expect the next chapter of Doom Driven to come out by Sunday.

I don't own RWBY.

Chapter 1: The Mark of a True Hero


Mr. Loden watched as his Kindergarten class left their seats one-after-one and toddled their way over to him, forming a semi-circle made up of little kids sitting cross-legged and staring up at their teacher. He made sure to send a stern glare at little Doug who was pulling on Gwny's hair in an attempt to get her attention. It would be something to laugh about later with the other teachers of Aballo's preschool but his student's attempts at getting the attention of his crush would only escalate and lead to further disruption. The last of the children scurried over from their writing activities to join the circle causing a swell of pride to surge through him; while the town wasn't as wealthy as others, it still could pride itself on providing its children an ample education.

"So..." Loden began, watching in amusement as his students seemed to physically latch onto his words "Who wants to hear about King Oran?"

The five year olds let out a rousing cheer causing him to hide a wince as he pulled a book on his town's pride and joy from the shelf besides him. While dozens of other towns in the Valean Frontier may claim, in an attempt to drive up tourism, that the last king of Vale was born within their walls, Aballo was the only one that actually had proof and recognition from the Royal Valean Historical Society. Naturally, that became a huge part of the town's identity and its school board made sure that its educators found a way to work the last royal into their curriculum in order to make their local history seem more appealing.

"Where did we leave off last time?" he fished, trying to see if his students paid attention in class.

Doug's hand shot up confidently to which the teacher simply nodded to him "We left off when Oran smashed the traitors!" the young dog faunus exclaimed energetically.

'A bit simplistic but...' "Very good, Doug!" said Loden happily causing the child to beam with pride "Now can anyone explain why the traitors fought King Oran?"

The children looked more uncertain at that question, looking amongst themselves for someone to answer the question. The teacher pursed his lips, it was only natural that the energetic rascals would only pay attention to the most action-packed parts of their hero's tale. He turned his head and saw a small hand rise hesitantly from the small crowd.

"Yes, Jaune?" Loden called out gingerly, gently encouraging the young orphan to answer the question.

The boy's small frame became even smaller as every head in the room turned towards him and his blue eyes were fixed on the alphabet rug as he raised his voice, "It's because he was il-illegiti-illegitimate. Um, the lords didn't like him because he wasn't the son of the king and queen, only the king. They wanted someone else to be the king."

"Excellent, Jaune! Someone's been doing some reading of their own!" he exclaimed, causing the boy to offer him a small smile before retreating in on himself at the sight of his classmates staring at him. Loden frowned thoughtfully at the reaction, sympathizing with the boy who was practically all by himself; no relatives and no friends, only the orphanage's matron.

That made him wonder where he acquired such knowledge as the exact nature of the king's bastardy wasn't covered in class, only that he had risen from humble origins. Loden made a note to himself to further encourage Jaune in his studies.

The young teacher took a seat on the fine wooden chair made by one of Aballo's artisans, taking a moment to sit in a more comfortable position before showing the book off to the class while reading from the pages.

"Page seventeen..." he muttered to himself whilst flipping through the colorful pages of The Warrior King: Oran, "Here we are. Oran's victories over the traitorous lords did not come without a price: his childhood attendant and first love, Phoenix the Red, had died during the war. The green prince returned to Vale and became a green king but he had lost his spirit with the loss of his friend and love."

Loden paused as the girls and some of the boys cooed sadly at the images on the book: a handsome young man with shoulder length green hair and almond-shaped green eyes stood over the pristine corpse of a woman with long red hair and a headband with golden feathers poking out of it. While he imagined the corpse was much more gruesome in real life, the book instead made it look like she was taking a nice, peaceful nap.

"When he heard that negotiations had failed between Vale and Mantle and Mistral and that he would have to lead his people in a war against two kingdoms, he lost all hope. After all, if he couldn't protect his best friend, how could he protect the people of his kingdom? That's when he was approached by the Great Inquisitor, Osman."

He flipped the page, revealing a sharply dressed man in purple and gold with a neatly combed haircut and a moustache-and-beard combo. He entered the humble throne room armed with a staff in one hand and a lamp in the other; something was also bundled up on his back. The next page showed him kneeling gracefully before the king who was slouching on his throne, gazing at the newcomer with disinterest.

"The guards stared at the newcomer with suspicion but allowed him to kneel before their hopeless king. He said: 'My king, I come bearing gifts and a reminder' as he presented a mysterious bundle to Oran. The king leaned forward in interest, his attention caught by the wizard's movements as he unfurled the bundle revealing a simple, humble sword. 'My king, I present to you Crocea Mors.' Oran, depressed, responded negatively, asking if the inquisitor was actually a jester sent to entertain him. 'My king, all I ask is that you wield it. If you are truly worthy of becoming the ultimate protector of your people, Crocea Mors will bring you untold power.'"

He paused once more, listening with a smile as the class ooh'd and ah'd.

"Oran's guards advanced on the visitor for daring to question their king but he stopped them and waved them off, his curiosity piqued. He took the sword from Osman's kneeling form and was immediately shocked by the onset of power coming from the plain-looking sword, his form alight with his newly unlocked aura. The guards and the courtiers all stopped what they were doing and knelt before Oran's magnificent new form."

The class gazed in amazement at the vibrant colors on the page: the previously slouching king stood up from his throne, his back straight and his arm holding up the bright sword as if it was a bright torch or beacon illuminating the room. The drawing showed multiple forms, including Osman's, kneeling before the noble figure from which a bright green light emanated.

"Annnnd, that's all the time we have for today." Loden said cheerfully as multiple groans resounded throughout the room, coinciding with the shrill sound of the school bell. "Have a nice day, you hear? Get home safe!"

Mr. Loden watched with a satisfied smile and his hands on his hips as the room was vacated by the students, most rushing to play while there was still daylight. As he slid the book in between two others on the shelf he noticed that someone was still in the room with him. He turned around and saw Jaune fidgeting, waiting awkwardly for his teacher to finish whatever he was doing.

"How can I help you, Jaune?" he asked politely, kneeling so that he wouldn't be talking down to his student.

"I was wondering..." he began shyly, gripping the straps of his messenger bag tightly.

"What is it?" Loden asked gently, his tone soothing.

Jaune looked up, "I was wondering if the sword in the stone is actually real."

The teacher sighed, thinking of the monument dedicated to King Oran, "Now where did you hear that?"

"I asked some grown-ups about the sword and they said that it was a fake, that the real one was back in Vale... They said I was stupid for thinking that Oran's blade would actually be here." he said quietly, staring back down at his feet.

"Unfortunately, they are right about the sword." said the teacher with a sigh, "The sword that's here is just a part of the monument, tons of people have tried to pull it out before, myself included, but it's just stuck in that old stone. The real one was probably buried with the king so that no one else could get their hands on it."

"Oh..." said the boy in disappointment.

"What? Were you going to try and pull it out?" Loden asked in amusement, chuckling slightly as Jaune looked away in embarrassment, his round cheeks red, "Well you don't need a fancy sword like Crocea Mors to be a great huntsman, Jaune. If you keep studying as hard as you do, you'll be at Beacon, slaying Grimm in no time!"

The teacher was startled as Jaune looked up at him and offered him a brilliant smile before rushing out the room.

'That's the happiest I've ever seen him.' thought Loden happily, scratching his head.


Jaune felt a pair of hands grip his shirt as soon as he exited the school. He squirmed restlessly until he was able to turn and see his attacker. Doug Hemlock looked down at him with an imperious grin, his sharp canines jutting out prominently as his ears twitched in excitement. Two of his lackeys, Daisy and Silver, stood beside him, cracking their knuckles menacingly with frightening grins marring their young faces. Jaune let out a frightened squeak and squirmed even more in a futile attempt to escape his bully's grip.

"Hey now what's the big deal, Jauney Boy? We're friends aren't we?" asked Doug sarcastically as he shifted his grip so that he had his arm wrapped around the smaller boy's shoulders.

"Leave me alone, Doug. I just wanna go home." said the Arc despondently as he let the larger boy drag him to a spot where they wouldn't be interrupted.

"Come on now, you know I can't let you off the hook that easily. Not after you showed me up in front of Gwyn." he whispered menacingly in the other boy's ears.

"I-I couldn't help it, y-you made it too easy." stuttered Jaune causing the party to stop in it's tracks, he turned his head and whimpered at the angry look on the dog faunus's face.

"Oh man, you're going to regret that Jauney Boy." he growled as he began dragging the blond in earnest to a more secluded destination.

They stopped by the gates to the nice park located near the school before Doug turned to his stooges, "Stand by the gates, make sure no one stops me."

Daisy and Silver simply grinned menacingly before pulling out a deck of cards setting up a game nonchalantly by the rusted iron gates.

"You and me are gonna have a long talk..." said Doug as he pushed Jaune further down the path into the park.

Jaune turned around suddenly, hoping to surprise his foe but he was sent flying back onto his butt when Doug simply shoved him with a cruel laugh.

"You think you're better than me? Huh?" asked the dog faunus as he loomed menacingly over the young Arc.

'So cliché!' thought Jaune, his eyes widened in fear as he scrambled in backwards.

"So now you're running away!" the bigger boy laughed, "And you think you can become a huntsman! What a joke..."

Jaune stopped in his tracks as heard Doug's words.

"You come out of nowhere and you show me up! Constantly! Just some no-name, little boy who thinks that he's better than someone who actually deserves to be a huntsman!"

"What- what are you talking about?" asked the Arc in disbelief, getting back up to his feet.

"Look at you! You're the smallest person in our entire grade! You show up a year ago and everyone just starts acting like you're the center of the world! Everything was fine before you got here... just give up and get out of my way." yelled Doug in frustration.

An awkward silence enveloped the pair as the dog faunus breathed heavily and attempted to get his temper under control. Behind him, Jaune could see Silver and Daisy looking back at the pair curiously before going back to whatever card game they were playing. He stared down at his feet, listening to the rustling of the leaves as a breeze blew through the trees. He clenched his fists and looked up, putting on his best game face.

"I'll never give up on becoming a huntsman!" shouted Jaune, surprising himself and causing Doug to jump slightly, "Not after how Mr. Loden said I could become a huntsman!"

To his surprise, his bully actually started laughing, doubling over as he clutched his sides.

"Bwahahaha! You- you actually think he meant that?" he shouted in between bouts of hysterical laughter "He only said that to make you feel better, you dope!"

"What?" asked Jaune faintly.

"Jeez, you think these people actually care about you? Man, you're actually pretty stupid. He's just worried widdle orphan Jaune would run away if he said something else." he said miming tears "Get real, Jauney Boy."

The last Arc sniffled as the harsh words hit him like a truck. Hot tears poured down his face like a waterfall as he aggressively rubbed at them trying in vain to make them to disappear before Doug could see them and become even meaner.

"Aw man, you're actually crying!" said the bully, beginning to laugh again.

"Shut up!" shouted Jaune, his voice cracking, "I'll become a huntsman! I'll be a hero like King Oran no matter what anyone says!"

"You know Jauney Boy, I'm getting tired of this." Doug cracked his knuckles and bared his fangs, "It's time I taught you a lesson. For good."

"You guys are having a crazy-deep conversation for a pair of kindergartners." a feminine, adult voice called out from further down the path.

Jaune turned and saw a cloaked figure walking towards them casually, their footsteps not making a sound as they approached the duo. Jaune's eyes were drawn downwards to the sword that poked out of the cloak; the cogs on its hilt indicated that it was one of those fancy mechashift swords as opposed to a simple one like Crocea Mors. Given her choice of weapon and her gaudy clothing she was probably a huntress. Memories of his own parents flooded his head causing him to avert his eyes sadly.

'What's a huntress doing here?'

She stopped next to the young Arc, laying a small hand on his shoulder.

"Fighting isn't good, 'kay?" she said gently but with a hint of steel, sending a stern expression Doug's way, "Now why don't you run along to your parents?"

Doug looked between the huntress and his victim in confusion before running to the gates in fear, not wanting to incur the wrath of someone who slayed Grimm for a living. Jaune wiped his eyes idly, feeling a small amount of joy warm up his spirit at the sight of his bully fleeing before he looked up to the figure besides him. It turned its cloaked head and looked own at him revealing a pair of kind silver eyes and a small, motherly smile.


"What the hell am I supposed to do now?!" cried out Jaune in frustration, his hands gripping the letter from Beacon tightly.

"Sooo, do you have any more packages you're waiting for?" said the pretty girl behind the counter as she twirled a long strand of grey hair between her fingers while idly chewing on a piece of bubble gum.

The Arc looked up sharply, remembering that he was in a room full of people waiting for their mail, not in the privacy of his own crappy little home. The mailwoman behind the counter stared at him boredly, seemingly unconcerned by his crazed outburst but, as he turned around, he noticed multiple people in the queue behind him tapping their feet impatiently or checking their watches. Those were the type of passive-aggressive manners that Aballo instilled in its citizens.

"Sorry..." he muttered, stepping away from the counter and looking down at his feet so he wouldn't see the annoyed gazes that surrounded him.

"Have a nice day..." the mailwoman called out lazily, "Next!"

The seventeen year old pushed open the door to Aballo's post office, ignoring the blast of cold wind that assaulted him as soon as he left the building and he found himself moving on autopilot as he went over in his head the contents of the letter he had received from Beacon. In the back of his mind, he knew that attending Remnant's most prestigious Huntsman Academy was a pipe dream as he would have had to have gotten by without an aura and even without a weapon. It's not like he had the education required to attend such a famous institution; despite how Aballo prided itself on its education system, it provided no huntsman courses, instead relying on outside contractors to take care of any bandit or Grimm problems that would pop up occasionally. That's how he ended up in King Oran's birthplace, his parents were a pair of wandering huntsmen that had taken a job to clear out a local Beowolf infestation and, while they did that, they left him in the hands of a local daycare while they departed for the wilderness to complete their objective. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months before another huntsman found the bodies of Juniper and Albert Arc; Jaune had just assumed that they abandoned him because he was dragging them down. To this day, he couldn't figure out which truth was better.

The faint sounds of gunfire from the town's militia echoed from the horizon as he walked down the cobbled streets to the town square. It was a normal sound if you lived on the Frontier as most towns couldn't afford to maintain a permanent military base or any high-quality defenses.

'If you keep studying as hard as you do, you'll be at Beacon, slaying Grimm in no time!'

His Kindergarten teacher's voice rung throughout his mind as he found himself sitting on one of the benches by the stone that supposedly held the sword of King Oran, Crocea Mors. Maybe Doug was right, after all. Maybe Mr. Loden really did say that just to make him feel better, he had to have known that an orphan from a town like Aballo would have no chance of attending a Huntsman Academy. Maybe everyone else who had encouraged him to follow his dream were joking too; his coworkers at the teamsters office and Mr. Frazier, a retired prize fighter, were probably making fun of him when they said that he would crush any competition for a spot at Beacon just by showing off his strength.

All that time spent training and studying to get into Beacon and it was all for nothing. Jaune would probably end up being one of those old men who hang out at the tavern all day, drinking their lives away and musing on the good old days when there were none. He would probably end up being stuck in Aballo for the rest of his life, wondering what the rest of the world look like. He would-

His depressing thoughts were interrupted as the town's bells tolled. Jaune checked his watch in confusion.

'It's only 4:16, the bells aren't supposed to ring again until 6:00, what's going on? Maybe it's...'

Jaune's head shot up as he heard screams and the pounding of feet on cobblestone, smoke was forming on the horizon near the town walls and he could see a crowd rushing down the avenue to the town square where he was located.

'It's a fire? Why are people panicking so much?!'

He felt a hand roughly shaking his shoulder, he turned around to see one of the town's merchants, Mr. Neve, staring down at him angrily.

"What are you doing, boy? The Grimm are coming!" he shouted in his face.

Jaune winced at the smell of his coffee breath before what the older man said hit him, "The Grimm?!"

"Yes! The Grimm! Do I need to repeat myself or are you going to go to the evacuation area?" the merchant growled in frustration.

Jaune gulped in fear as he jumped to his feet and moved to join the crowd that was moving towards the fortified hill that the town had been built around. The amount of fear he felt at that moment was probably proof that trying to become a huntsman was a mistake. He turned around to get one last look at the monsters he would've been hunting had he been accepted into Beacon when he saw something that made him stop in his tracks.

A young man around his age with unruly black hair and a pair of grey dog ears poking out of the top of his head was sprawled on the ground and none of the people in the crowd were stopping to help him up as they were caught in the hysteria of a Grimm attack. Jaune's eyes drifted upwards from the pitiful sight and they widened in fear; the front line set up by the town's militia was broken, the men who seemed so brave to Jaune when he was a child were fleeing with tears streaming down their faces, Beowolves hounding their steps.

'When all seems lost and the fear overrides your thoughts...' a woman's voice called from the deep recesses of his mind 'But your body moves to help those who need it... that's what it means to be a huntsman!'

The letter which almost convinced him to give up on his dream fluttered down to the ground, forgotten. Jaune ignored the shouts of the people behind him as he rushed towards the stone thoughtlessly.

'So when the time comes, don't think about what others think of you, just lift your head proudly and rush forward to fulfill your duty!'

The memory of a pair of kind silver eyes lit a flame inside Jaune as he reached the pedestal that held up the sacred stone.

'If you are truly worthy of becoming the ultimate protector of your people, Crocea Mors will bring you untold power.'

In hindsight, it was probably a dumb move but everyone was dumb when the time came for them to rise to the occasion. Whether that lack of intelligence led to one acting to save other people or just to save themselves was what distinguished huntsmen from regular people. Jaune gripped the plain hilt of the sword melded into the white stone and felt the stirrings of something deep within his spirit.

'I'll save everyone!' he called out within his mind.

Jaune gasped as white energy poured from his body, blinding those around him while also serving as a beacon of hope to those who were about to die. Crocea Mors, the sword that was once thought to be a fake, was wrenched from its resting place sending Jaune stumbling backwards from the low pedestal. Others would have seen his eyes glowing with the white energy of his soul but Jaune only saw the oncoming wave of Grimm and the people that were about to be slaughtered by them.

The stone ground of the plaza cracked beneath his feet as he crouched lowly and prepared to dash forwards into the people up the avenue. Jaune didn't know what possessed him to do such a thing, it was as if a series of instincts flooded his mind and overrode any preconceptions he had on how to use a sword.

He dashed forwards, the wind blowing his hair backwards as he appeared suddenly before Doug and the black wave of Grimm tearing the cobblestone beneath them as they surged forward in a charge fueled by wanton bloodlust. Jaune felt large amounts of heat flooding his right arm and the blade of Crocea Mors as he instinctively coiled his arm backwards like a spring as he prepared to unleash a blow on his enemies.

When people heard tales of the last big battle of the Great War and how King Oran had laid waste to countless enemies, they usually scoffed and simply explained his victory by using factors such as the weather or the enemy general's incompetence in desert combat. Jaune used to count himself among the number of skeptics who doubted the veracity of such fantastic claims.

The Arc swung Crocea Mors clumsily but the quality of his strike didn't matter as a wave of white energy sprung from the legendary blade and raced down the wide avenue, ignoring the citizens of Aballo and crashing into the black mass that chased them. The white wave bisected the monsters that had breached the walls causing them to crash forward against the ground, their momentum carrying them forwards.

An eerie silence filled the street as their bodies slowly began to disintegrate, forming a large cloud of black dust that rose upwards into the atmosphere, shrouding the town and creating a dark atmosphere despite how early it was in the afternoon. Jaune felt everyone's eyes on him as fell forward onto his face, the legendary sword clattering besides him. He yelled in pain as the backlash of the attack hit him: it felt like his right arm was practically torn out of its socket and he couldn't move either of his legs, he could only feel the massive amounts of white-hot pain emanating from them. Tears ruined his vision causing the crowd of people whom he saved to seem more like blobs on a child's water painting.

Darkness encroached on his vision as he began to lose consciousness. Several figures began to approach him from the edges of his eyesight, each shrouded in shadow and each with glowing, monochrome eyes. The sight made Jaune slightly fearful.

'Are they coming to take my soul?' he wondered sleepily.

He finally lost consciousness as the one with glowing green eyes reached out towards him.


Jaune groaned as sunlight assaulted his closed eyes, worsening the headache he woke up with. The sound of fingers tapping softly on glass paused for a second before resuming again.

'This mattress is way too comfortable to be my bed...' thought the last Arc, wondering where he was.

He opened his eyes.

'Oh.' he thought as the memories of the previous day came to him; he was probably in the town's infirmary.

He looked up and saw that his bed had a rack surrounding it from which a white curtain was drawn back. A jug of water and two empty cups sat on the nightstand besides his bed. Propped up against it was Crocea Mors which now rested in a neat leather sheath, its hilt looked brand new compared to its previous decrepit state. Jaune's gaze drifted to the man sitting on the chair positioned by his bed.

The man wasn't necessarily tall but he was pretty big with wide shoulders and a stomach that wasn't big enough to be considered fat but still jutted out quite a bit. His grey hair was parted neatly down the middle and his big bushy moustache completely covered his mouth making him seem like an old frontiersman from a history book. Jaune wondered what he would look like with a coonskin cap perched on his head. His big, meaty fingers tapped relentlessly against the scroll's screen. The advanced piece of technology along with the strange weapon laying against the side of his chair (a double-headed axe mixed with a blunderbuss) indicated that he was probably a huntsman, or that he was at least from out of town.

"Who are you?"


A/N: I was slightly tempted to have Jaune shout "SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!" as he swung Crocea Mors for the first time but I felt like that would be too on the nose and would make this story more corny than it already is.

Anyways, this is pretty much just a sneak peek at some of the storylines and powers featured in this fic. I haven't really planned it out yet so I'm going to need to take a couple of days to write outlines for the next chapters before I start writing chapter 2.

I hope you all enjoyed it and that it caught your interest. Haven't decided on a pairing yet so feel free to suggest some.