That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime

My take of their initiation. Pretty sure no one has done it this way.

Pyrrha Nikos was in a bit of a dilemma. You would think a four-time champion like her would have seen everything by now, but her new partner, one Jeanne Arc, managed to surprise her three times. The first was her not recognizing Pyrrha's accomplishment, and fawning over the champion. The second was coming late to the cliffs, most prospective students having already been sent hurling into the forest by the time she stumbled there. And the last was the girl fainting in the middle of an altercation with an elder Grimm.

She knew there was a hidden joke there, but for the life of her, she was too concerned for her partner to bother pondering deeply on the intricacies of her situation.

Holding on to Jeanne, the girl leaning heavily on her chest, Pyrrha carefully bent and retrieved the fallen chess pierce and sword. Hooking the sword to the clip on her belt, she placed the rook inside her partner's pocket, apologizing silently for the personal intrusion as she did so. Maneuvering the girl to her back took more finesse, but she was able to do it, using her semblance to more or less glue their armors together.

Although it took some time to get used to the extra weight, and the subconscious concentration it took to keep hold of her polarity, not to mention the slow dwindle of her aura, Pyrrha was still sure she could manage and fight. Her grip on Miló tightened as her aura flooded her system, empowering her. With a barely noticeable grunt of exertion, she kicked off from the ground, weapon twirling deadly arcs through the air as she jumped straight towards the screeching Deathstalker.

She won't let go of her partner. Not now, not ever.

Chapter Eight - Won't Let Go

Seconds into the altercation with the elder Grimm, Pyrrha realized the full weight of the arduous task she was undertaking.

In layman terms, Jeanne Arc was one heavy girl. Though she would be a fool to say that to the blonde's face.

It wasn't carrying her that was a problem. No, that title went to her fighting style.

Having been more or less bred as a tournament fighter, her style was more showy than her peers's. Simply put, it revolved around acrobatic stunts and great shows of dexterity and flexibility. So, with the girl at her back, Pyrrha was clearly at a disadvantage.

And the Deathstalker unknowingly capitalized on that, focusing more on her than the other two partners she had teamed up with to combat it.

She ducked under a pincer swipe, flipped over another strike and lashed out with an overhead swing that succeeded in doing absolutely nothing to its carapace, all while maintaining a hold on her partner with her semblance.

She groaned as she jumped back, avoiding another pincer swipe and regrouping with Ren and Nora.

If she was any other trainee, it would have been nigh impossible to fight in this position, so to speak. It wasn't a boast. Rather it was a fact. A well established one at that.

It was not a lie to say that Pyrrha Nikos was leagues ahead of every first year, and most second year. She was capable and it was apparent in the achievements she had under her belt. Being a four-time champion was no walk in the park.

Sadly though, it didn't make her task any easier.

"What're we gonna do, Ren?" Nora whispered loudly, her hammer held in both hands as she leaned into her partner.

Ren, for his part, just shrugged.

They were all incredible combatants, but it seemed strategy weren't their strong point. They were like weapons without a user to wield them, a direction to be used in, and something to focus on.

Some might argue that attacking the Grimm intermittently would eventually lead to its demise. And while that was an option each of them had considered, it was one they opted out from taking. The guerrilla approach would be a ridiculously slow one, and they all knew they didn't have all day to waste.

It was already late afternoon, and they still had to walk back to the academy.

The stakes weren't looking too good in their favor.

"I believe it's in our best interest to double back to the rest, and form a plan to take care of the Grimm. Or at the least, relieve ourselves of the burden."

Ren's words weren't spoken with malice; they were the truth. She knew that carrying Jeanne had cut down almost all of her combat effectiveness, and this would hinder the others. Their long range weapons had been withheld in fear of scoring a hit on the girl on her back in the crossfire.

Yet, annoyance still reared within her.

It was not Jeanne's fault that she fainted. It was possible that the blonde had a medical condition none of them were aware of because Pyrrha doubted she did so from fear. Jeanne didn't look like the type to give up, and she had stayed behind the underbrush to watch Jeanne fight those Beowolves after all, before making her entrance.

She had seen her fight against the Beowolves.

While she couldn't care less about who she got partnered up with — her ability would make up for the difference in strength and skill — it would still not do to have a veritable civilian as a partner. Or worse, a civilian that was a diehard fan. The former could be trained, the later would lead to an unhappy team.

Having a partner who was trained and didn't care for her accolades was, before today, a pipe dream. She had thought it impossible to find one like Jeanne Arc, and was glad she had chosen Beacon Academy. Meeting her was arguably the best thing that had happened recently.

So, though the comment was in fact true and spoken without a shred of hatred or annoyance, it didn't make it any less hurtful. Ren should be thankful Jeanne was unconscious. Who knew what it would have done to her morale?

Pyrrha made to speak, only for a hand to clamp down on her shoulders. She drew back in surprise and turned to look at the hyperactive teen, sending her an inquisitive glance.

Nora shook her head. "Don't mind Renny, he means well. It's just that he doesn't…" the girl trailed off on seeing the smile Pyrrha sent her way.

The annoyance faded as the smile blossomed. "It's okay, I…" understand? The obvious choice sometimes wouldn't be the best thing to say. And to be honest, did she really understand? "…know he meant well," she settled on that, then added, "I just didn't like the insinuation that my partner is a burden. We don't know yet the reason for her fainting, so it won't be right to judge her based on that."

Ren spun fluidly in the air, his hands steady as his weapons rapidly spat out bullets into the face(?) of the Deathstalker, eliciting a high pitch squeal as it swung wildly and ambled back. It gave them some precious time they could use to gather their wits.

"I'm sorry if my comment was taken to be an insult. That wasn't my plan." Ren was tired, and it showed in his manner of speech. They were punctuated by great gasps as he exhaled sharply.

"It was the only way I could think of for us to defeat the Deathstalker," he continued. "We need to focus entirely on it."

Pyrrha nodded, acquiescing his point with a small frown. She still didn't like the thought of likening her partner to a burden, insult or not.

"Nora, distract it," Ren intoned softly, even as he bent parallel to the ground and raced towards the 'it' in question. He maneuvered round each of its leg, making precise cuts at gaps between the armors. He rolled out of the way as the hyperactive teen, with a slightly insane smile on her face, slammed her hammer from underneath the Grimm.

Her hammer shifted mid-hit into a grenade launcher, dispelling a pink shell, and sending the Grimm upwards with the accompanied explosion.

Pyrrha was already halfway to where the other impromptu team was last sighted, trusting in Ren and Nora to follow her. They fell in sync moments later, legs pounding the ground and breaths labored, more, in Ren's case.

It seemed their endeavor would bear fruition. At this rate they would quickly make their way to the other group and—

Growls dissuaded them of their notion. They were surrounded at all sides by Beowolves, the Deathstalker contented to lay in wait.

It was not a surprising thing really. Elder Grimm were known to be smarter than the usual Grimm. Possibly because of their age, which could range from mere decades to centuries, that allowed them the time needed to form a basic conscious intellectual capacity.

They weren't as smart as a human adult. However, the highest estimated cognitive capacity of an elder Grimm was said to be about the level of a high schooler. The claims had been, since its appearance, refuted. But that didn't mean it wasn't plausible.

Grimm were as much a mystery this days as they were in the past. Literally almost nothing, apart from the essentials derived from watching them and their natural counterparts, were known about the unnatural creatures.

She was digressing.

The Beowolves lumbered towards them, and instinctively they huddled together in the middle, weapons at the ready.

With a growl, echoed by the creatures of Grimm that encircled them, they attacked.

Mindful of the person she carried, Pyrrha fell back, her left hand raising her shield as a Beowolf snarled and lunged at her. A second lunge crashed futilely against her shield. Before it could attempt a third, she dug her heels into the ground, grunted, and shoved it back. The javelin in her right hand's grip darted out, faster than the eyes could follow, exploding out of the Grimm's neck.

Her stance was defensive. She couldn't afford to keep moving for fear of losing focus and letting go of her partner, or leaving her back open to an attack.

Another beowolf pounced from the side so she spun, legs snapping out sharply at its throat. The Grimm choked even as momentum carried it to crash backwards a few yards away. Her javelin twirled elegantly in the palm of her hand before plunging deep into the Grimm's breast.

In her peripheral, she could see Ren and Nora managing just fine on their own. Twisting and turning, they moved in tandem with each other, like two peas in a pod, striking after each one dealt a blow to the horde or acted as a distraction.

It was a deadly dance between two partners who already knew each other.

Pyrrha glanced at her own partner, resting comfortably at her back, the tell-tale sign of her semblance enveloping their armors. Jealousy bubbled like gas in her favorite soda brand, Everybody Loves Grapes, only to be ruthlessly squashed down as she focused on the encroaching Beowolves.

Miló whirled in her hands, altering itself until she held a sword in a strong grip. She then proceeded to throw herself at the nearest creature. A Beowolf's claw swept over her face, missing it by a couple of centimeters. She bobbed and weaved under a flurry of strikes, making sure Jeanne wasn't in the line of any of them. She doubted the blonde's aura would be able to protect her in her sleep.

Finally one smashed against her shield, and she braced herself, sliding back from the force exerted on Akoúo. Her xiphos stabbed upwards, its blade tearing at the side of its neck in a brutal fashion.

The atmosphere was drowning in the sounds of the death throes of Grimm, the labored breaths each combatant took, and the cracking as weapon met bone-plating.

Two Beowolves threw themselves at Pyrrha, and she met both at once, a whirlwind of flesh and metal. Black ichor burst free from open wounds strewn across ribcages by precise jabs and slashes. A corpse hit the ground, and she twisted beneath a strike at her face to lay open the second Grimm's chest cavity.

A third slinked low and swift towards her at that moment. It had burst up behind her, claws poised, as she slashed through the chest of the Beowolf. The wet sound of claws meeting flesh cut through the air, followed by the smacking of said flesh against the stoned ground.

Pyrrha gasped and twisted on her heels, now free of the body she bore, her blade sweeping out in a lethal arc. The Grimm's head went flying through the air, bone and flesh disconnected in one brutal fashion.

She didn't care for that. Her attention was wholly fixed on the blonde girl that slowly staggered up, clutching tightly at gash that ran along her forearm. She wasn't even aware of when Ren and Nora arrived at her side, peering carefully at her wounded partner.

However, she was more than aware of a screech and a stinger gleaming with venom, that was heading their way. Fast.

With a panicked, "Scatter!" they jumped out of the way, just as the barbed end of its tail impacted the ground with a speed and strength that cracked the stone and created a fissure.

That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime

Despite the throbbing pain from her head — her aura already starting to heal the cut on her arm, though the same couldn't be said for the massive headache she felt — Jeanne Arc was able to successfully escape the Grimm's venomous appendage and its effects on the surrounding.

Mandibles and pincer clacked with a menacing promise as the Deathstalker eyed them wearily. Suddenly, it arched its tail back and snapped it forward.

"Nora!" the pink-eyed teen — was it a medical condition? Or his normal eye color? — ordered to a orange-haired.

"Yes, Ren!" the orange-haired, Nora, gave a crisp salute as she spun her hammer in her hand, jumped, and struck the Grimm's stinger directly at its end.

Something shattered. It wasn't the hammer.

Fragments flew from the point of contact, and the creature stagger back, shrieking in pain and scampering back. Gunfire echoed through the ruins as they rained bullets at it, swallowing the pain-filled snarls and growls of the Deathstalker.

Jeanne's heart pounded in her chest, and not for the first time she wondered what the hell she was thinking, applying to Beacon Academy. Then she remembered, and softly cursed at her own misfortune.

"Look out!" a warning came from nowhere, and her body instinctively heeded it, throwing itself away, hands digging through earth to stop her flip.

Her hand went to her waist to grab her weapon, only to grab at nothing. Where was Crocea Mors?

Spotting it at her partner's waist, she ran over to her.

"Hey, Pyr!"

The teen turned towards her, a smile adorning her face once she was sighted. Jeanne stretched out her hand once she had reached the champion, her gaze at her weapon.

"Do you think you are up for fighting?"

The concern was palpable, and while appreciated, was entirely unnecessary. She was a big girl. Moreover, she was used to the unexpected bout of semblance-induced vision. She nodded and gave a thumbs up.

Pyrrha looked conflicted for a moment, her forest-green eyes becoming stormy as she thought to herself. Ultimately, she sighed and smiled.

"Alright, but don't stress yourself. Stop if you feel about to faint, or if need be, I will knock you out myself."

Jeanne couldn't help chuckling, a smile appearing on her face. She nodded again, took her weapon, and drew her blade, clipping the shield to her waist.

A sharp whistle garnered the attention of the other two, and she beckoned them closer as the Grimm reeled from a pink explosion to its face.

She had a plan crazy enough to work.

. . .

They each had a role to play in this plan of hers.

Nora was the distraction, attacking to ensure the Grimm's attention was on her alone…

"Nora, with me!" Jeanne shouted as she took off running down the bridge. The aforementioned teen followed suit with a manic giggle. Ren and Pyrrha took off in the opposite direction, opening fire with their guns. Bullets struck fruitlessly at the Grimm's side as it gave chase, clacking angrily as it as it made to escape, unintentionally cutting off her path

Its pincers stabbed downwards at her. Her shield came up just in time, and metal rang, echoing through the canyon as the blow was redirected into the bridge. Jeanne stepped aside, and Nora swept forward, Magnhild shifting once more into its grenade launcher mode. There was a clack of pain as explosions peppered across the Deathstalker's side, disorienting it.

…Pyrrha and Ren were the support, attacking to weaken the Grimm to make room for her…

The xiphos flashed out, and another screech tore the air as it bit into the joint of its leg. Pyrrha twisted her weapon round, cutting through one of the many legs. The earlier cuts had weaken their durability. The Deathstalker clacked in rage, flailing its pincers about until finally it caught Pyrrha under her chin, and she was sent hurtling through the air, unfortunately devoid of her weapon.

It was stuck between a gap in the carapace of it's limbs.

The spartan girl twisted midair and shot her arm out, catching Ren's hand as he swung her momentum back onto a raised platform. They shared an unspoken agreement between them, and when Pyrrha touched down, she used her momentum to lift Ren off his own feet. She spun around with the centrifugal force, and Ren flew through the air once she let go.

The black-haired boy steeled himself as the Deathstalker's pincer came in for another pass. His hand snapped out, and he gracefully avoided that, closing around Miló's haft. Ren vaulted around it and ripped it free. Blood spurted as he kicked off the Grimm's body, StormFlower rattling in his hand and stitching bullets across its body. It shuddered and writhed under the onslaught, as Ren rolled a few ways away into a crouch, blade in hand.

…the trump card… her.

Jeanne took a deep breath as she started to run across the bridge towards the Grimm, letting out a huff as she reeled back a two-handed vertical sword strike. Her arms heaved and her throat felt raw as she jumped and brought the sword down, letting loose the charged attack with a shout.

Aura amplification worked in many ways. Boosting her physical attributes tenfold for some time was just one facet of the admittedly overpowered ability. Another would be her ability to amplify her sword strikes to such an absurd degree that they displaced the very air, becoming apparent as a blade shockwave of pure aura, shaped into being by the steel-cutting edge of Crocea Mors,

This, appeared no different like the others she had summoned in the course of her training.

The arc-shaped beam flashed across the grace, deracinating dirts, roots and stones, and cutting straight through the Deathstalker. It smashed through its skull, splitting flesh and carapace alike with an ease that spoke of the power behind the attack.

It was honestly quite frightening to see the result.

She landed in a roll and slid to a stop, aura flashing weakly to take the brunt of her rough landing, just as the two sides of the Grimm vanished in a whitish glow.

There was silence as she stood, the only sound that of her heavy breathing tempering off into the calming rhythm of inhalation and exhalation. Tired as she was, she mustered enough strength to walk towards her partner before collapsing on the champion's armor covered body with a smile.

She had made it into Beacon. It was over…

Seconds later, the smile faded into a frown.

…the easy part at least.

Well, isn't that an ominous ending. Had fun writing this chapter (literally wrote it in a day, though I didn't like some part especially the interaction between Pyrrha and Jeanne. I'm pretty sure the writing dulled towards the end. Sorry for that) and don't worry (for all who are worried), Jaune would appear soon. I just need to set the stage right.

And well, I'm really busy so that's why the chapter came late. Doing courses and stuff. Wish me luck! And I know it's a bit rushed. Sorry for that too.

No omake for this update. No idea for it.

Until later. Hopefully the next chapter would be longer and better.