Jaune had never pretended that hand to hand combat was his strong suit.
Even now, as the timer was about to start, he felt that familiar imbalance in his chest. Awareness of where his instincts wanted to go, and where they could not. His hands curled and uncurled at his sides, fingers searching for a grip that was not there. No hilts or weight. No reassuring presence of his blades to anchor his movements.
When he had still been at Rank 0, the instructors at LUCID had taught him to fight without a blade. They were unawakened and lacking in runes and stats—the surreal advantages that came with climbing the ranks. But they had been terrifying in their own way. Men and women who had honed their bodies and reactions to the absolute edge of human potential. They had taught him how to fall without breaking, how to absorb a blow, how to breathe through pain instead of panicking under it. They taught him how to read shoulders and hips, how to see intention in the smallest shifts of balance.
It had been humbling, necessary and still not enough.
Once Jaune reached Rank 1, Ren had taken over that training. Ren was patient in a way that felt inexhaustible. He never rushed Jaune nor had he mocked his mistakes. He corrected with touch and repetition rather than words. Under Ren's guidance, Jaune learned control, restraint, efficiency. He learned how to conserve energy, how to let an opponent defeat themselves.
But Jaune knew the truth.
He wasn't great at this.
Sword combat remained his home. With a blade in his hands, his thoughts aligned and his body knew what to do before his mind finished the question. Without it, everything felt slightly off center, like walking on a floor that tilted just enough to keep you aware of every step.
Which was why Ruby's decision still surprised him.
No weapons allowed.
He couldn't even remember the last time he had seen Ruby fight without her scythe in her hands, or her rifle. The booming sounds of that beast of a gun still echoed in his memories. Her entire style revolved around those two weapons of hers. Speed and momentum, arcs and recoil, motion made lethal. To strip weapons away felt like removing part of her language.
And yet, here they were.
Jaune lifted his gaze, scanning the massive pink bakery that surrounded them. Floating pancakes drifted lazily overhead like golden shields. Waffles the size of rooftops rotated slowly in mid air. Conveyor belts carried endless trays of pastries through the space, while enormous whisks and flying scissors hovered menacingly, snapping shut at irregular intervals like traps set by a whimsical but dangerous mind.
A ridiculous battlefield. And somehow, a perfect one.
Jaune was determined to win.
The spa day was tempting, sure. A full day of warmth and quiet and indulgence sounded nice. But that was not what drove him. What he wanted was this. Motion and chaos. Testing himself against multiple opponents at once. Belmont had been overwhelming, yes, but it had also been focused. A single horrifying threat. Roman Torchwick standing at the center of it all.
And most of that fight had not even been his alone.
Ruby and Yang. Together, the three of them had managed to win against Roman. Well... somewhat. After his partner—what was her name—Neo? After Neo arrived, things took a turn for the worst. Still, it was the thought that counted, Jaune supposed.
Jaune pondered uninvited, back to Roman's runes.
Steal, in particular.
The idea of it fascinated him. The ability to take something that was not yours, not just physically but fundamentally, stripping energy and function from another's rune and turning it into strength. Roman had wielded it with terrifying creativity. Against the wrong group, in the wrong environment, he could have been unstoppable. Jaune could see it clearly now. In a large scale fight, Roman would thrive. The more opponents, the more potential fuel.
Under Rank 2, was he the strongest.
Jaune exhaled slowly.
Maybe that boast had not been empty arrogance after all.
The timer chimed.
The world exploded into motion.
Yang roared as she launched herself forward, boots cracking against the bakery floor as she surged straight toward Weiss.
"LET'S DANCE, ICE QUEEN," Yang shouted, her voice echoing off frosting coated walls. "Winner buys the loser a dozen donuts."
Weiss spun, rune flaring, one hand raised as frost bloomed beneath her feet. "Your lack of seriousness is deeply exhausting," she snapped back. "And for the record, I do not eat donuts. Besides, isn't a spa day enough for you?"
Yang laughed, bright and feral, as she closed the distance anyway. "You can't have too many things! So more for me when I win!"
Their collision sent a shockwave rippling through the nearby pastries.
Elsewhere, Blake and Ren flowed toward one another like water finding water. No words passed between them. Blake's body flickered, splitting briefly as she repositioned among towering stacks of cupcakes. Ren followed calmly, movements economical, eyes tracking not where Blake was but where she would be. Their fight unfolded in silence, precise and intent, each testing the other's rhythm.
Pyrrha and Ruby chose each other without hesitation.
Ruby grinned as she leaned forward, knees bent, eyes gleaming silver. "No scythe means I get creative."
Pyrrha smiled softly in response, stepping into a ready stance. "Creativity is not exclusive to speed."
Ruby vanished in a burst of acceleration, reappearing to Pyrrha's left in a flash of rose colored motion. Pyrrha turned with her, redirecting Ruby's momentum with a careful touch, subtly shifting the metal fixtures embedded in the environment to alter angles and footing. Ruby laughed as she rebounded, already moving again, the two of them weaving through floating pancakes and rotating waffle platforms in a dizzying dance.
That left only two.
Nora Valkyrie and Jaune Arc.
Nora locked eyes with him, electricity already beginning to dance across her arms and shoulders. Her grin spread wide, wild and unrestrained, like she had just been given permission to break something expensive.
Jaune felt himself mirror it despite everything.
Nora did not wait.
She charged, boots pounding, arms thrown wide as she launched herself into a full body tackle. Electricity surged brighter across her frame, crackling and snapping through the air.
Jaune stepped forward to meet her.
He condensed his weakness rune around her in an instant.
The effect was subtle but immediate. The electricity around her flickered unevenly. Nora's timing slipped just enough. Her tackle still hit, but not with the overwhelming force it would have had otherwise.
They crashed to the floor together, sliding across smooth tiles dusted with powdered sugar.
Nora laughed the entire time.
They rolled apart, both scrambling to their feet.
"Hey," Nora said, pointing at him accusingly. "You're cheating already."
Jaune grinned, breath coming faster now. "How's that cheating? The rules were clearly stated. Besides, you're glowing like a lightning storm. I think we passed fair a while ago."
She cackled and rushed him again.
Jaune moved on instinct, stepping aside, catching her arm, redirecting her momentum. Nora stumbled past him, boots skidding, and Jaune reached for her headband.
She twisted, slipping free, and slammed her hand into a nearby cake pillar to launch herself back at him with renewed speed.
Electricity flared brighter.
Jaune focused harder and his rune pressed down on her immediate surroundings, weakening things into a slurry-like viscosity.
Around them, the bakery echoed with laughter, shouts, and the crash of simulated chaos. And for the first time since Belmont, Jaune felt himself fully present in the moment.
Not healed or fixed, certainly.
But moving forwards.
And that, was enough to start.
.
.
Ozpin adjusted the cuff of his coat as he stepped out onto the neon washed street, the night air thick with sound and light. Music thudded through the pavement in a steady, pulsing rhythm that seemed to vibrate up through his shoes and into his bones. Ahead of him, a line stretched along the sidewalk, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder beneath flickering signs and hovering lights. Laughter spilled freely from the crowd, sharp and careless, mingling with the scent of alcohol and anticipation.
Beside him walked Glynda Goodwitch, posture straight, expression composed. Her heels clicked softly against the ground, each step measured and deliberate. She did not look impressed.
The sign above the entrance glowed in bold lettering.
Dragon's Bar.
The name carried weight in certain circles. Not because of its drinks or its music, but because of who owned it. Ozpin's eyes lingered on the entrance for a brief moment, his expression unreadable, before he continued forward without slowing.
As they approached, the line shifted uneasily. A few civilians glanced at them, then looked away, frowning without knowing why. It was not fear exactly. More like instinct, some ancient part of the mind recognizing something it should not challenge.
At the front stood two bouncers, both broad shouldered, both wearing the practiced scowl of men accustomed to being obeyed. They raised their hands almost in unison as Ozpin and Glynda stepped toward the entrance.
"Hey," one of them said, his voice firm. "End of the line's back there."
Ozpin looked at him and the bouncer froze.
Not metaphorically. His muscles locked, breath catching halfway through his chest. His partner stiffened beside him, eyes widening as the same invisible force seized him. Sweat beaded instantly along their temples, fear crashing into their awareness like a wave. They were awakened. They could feel it. The pressure. The impossible weight bearing down on their will, pinning them in place without effort.
Civilians behind them murmured in confusion.
"Hey," someone said, poking one of the bouncers lightly. "You guys okay?"
The bouncers could not respond. They could only stare, shock and horror reflected in their eyes as Ozpin and Glynda passed between them, the doors opening smoothly at their approach.
The moment the doors shut behind the two, the pressure vanished.
The bouncers gasped, stumbling slightly as their bodies unlocked. One wiped his brow with a trembling hand. The other sucked in a deep breath, chest heaving.
"Damn it," the second muttered, voice unsteady.
They ignored the civilians' questions. One of them reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone with shaking fingers, dialing a number from memory. His eyes never left the door.
Inside, the nightclub was a riot of sound and color.
Lights swept across the crowd in slow arcs, bathing the room in shifting hues of violet and blue. Music thundered through massive speakers, bass heavy enough to rattle glasses on the bar. People danced in tight clusters, bodies moving in time with the rhythm, laughter and shouted conversation weaving through the noise. Drinks flowed freely, liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rims of glasses.
Ozpin took it all in with a single glance.
Glynda's lips pressed together, her nose wrinkling faintly. It was subtle, but unmistakable.
Distaste.
As they moved through the room, the crowd shifted without conscious thought. Dancers stepped aside mid movement. Conversations faltered. A clear path opened before them, widening as they advanced. No one knew why they moved. They only knew that they should.
They reached the bar, a long stretch of polished wood gleaming beneath rows of bottles. Ozpin took a seat, folding his hands loosely atop the counter. Glynda sat beside him, back straight, eyes already scanning the room with a critical gaze.
A bartender approached, smiling politely. He was a civilian. He felt nothing unusual, saw only a well dressed man and woman who looked slightly out of place among the club's usual clientele.
"What can I get you?" he asked.
"A martini, if you would." Glynda said calmly.
Ozpin inclined his head. "Whiskey. With ice, please."
The bartender nodded and turned away.
They waited in silence. Glynda's gaze moved slowly, methodically, taking in faces, body language, the subtle flow of the room. Ozpin watched the reflection of lights ripple across the bar's surface, thoughts hidden behind his placid expression.
The drinks arrived quickly. Glynda lifted her glass, examining it for a moment before taking a measured sip. Ozpin did the same, the ice clinking softly as he raised the glass to his lips.
A door at the back of the club slammed open.
A man hurried out, adjusting his jacket as he moved, eyes darting around the room until they landed on the bar. He stopped short, color draining from his face.
Ozpin met his gaze.
"Hei Xiong," Ozpin said, his voice level, cold without being raised.
The man swallowed hard. "O-Ozpin," he stammered. "And you. You're Glynda Goodwitch, aren't you? W-what are you two doing here?"
Glynda did not look at him. She continued to observe the crowd, eyes narrowing slightly.
She lifted a finger and pointed.
"That one," she said. "And her. And the group near the stairs."
Her finger moved again. "Underage. All of them."
Hei Xiong winced as though struck. "I-I didn't know," he said quickly. "I'll take care of it."
He turned sharply, barking orders into a holo-communicator. Within moments, bouncers moved through the crowd, hauling protesting youths toward the exit. The music never stopped. The dancers barely noticed.
Glynda took another sip of her drink, unimpressed.
Hei Xiong turned back, wringing his hands. "So," he said carefully. "What brings the two of you here tonight?"
Glynda said nothing.
Ozpin set his glass down.
"Where is your father?" he asked.
The words landed heavily.
Hei Xiong's eyes widened, dread creeping across his face as realization dawned. He glanced around the room, then nodded stiffly.
"This way," he said. "Please."
He led them through the back of the club, past guarded doors and narrow corridors until they reached a private room tucked far from the noise. Inside, the space was expansive and plush, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. A large couch dominated the center, flanked by low tables and soft lighting.
Ozpin and Glynda took their seats without hesitation, drinks still in hand.
The door closed behind them.
The music faded to a distant thrum.
Ozpin gently set his glass down on the low table, the faint clink of crystal against polished surface sounding far louder in the quiet of the private room than it had any right to. Hei Xiong stood a few paces away, shoulders stiff, eyes flicking between the two figures seated before him.
"So? Where is your father, Hei Xiong?"
The man cringed slightly and said with a bit of a distant tone, "My father is... currently indisposed."
"Indisposed?" Glynda asked, with a cool, cold look adorned across her face.
The man nodded but said nothing else. They all paused to stare at each other, before Ozpin broke the silence.
"Tell me," Ozpin said calmly, folding his hands together. "Are you aware of what occurred in Belmont City recently?"
Hei Xiong blinked, his brows knitting together. He shook his head, the movement quick and uncertain. "No," he said. "I heard there was… trouble, but nothing specific. Why?"
Glynda lifted her martini and took a measured sip. Her eyes never left Hei Xiong's face. When she spoke, her voice was flat, impassive, and colder than the ice floating in her glass.
"The LUCID branch stationed in Belmont," she said, "has been wiped out. All of them."
The words hung in the air.
Hei Xiong's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. "All of them?" he echoed. "I... don't understand. That's not possible. Was it a Rank Three Grimm?"
Ozpin shook his head slowly. "No. This was not the work of a Grimm."
He leaned back slightly, gaze steady. "It was a small scale war. One fought between a terrorist organization known as Sleepless and the Belmont LUCID branch."
Hei Xiong stared at him, disbelief giving way to something closer to fear. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Sleepless? That's… I've never heard of them."
Ozpin nodded once. "Few have. That is part of the problem."
He paused, then continued. "In the aftermath, evidence surfaced. Evidence that ties Dragon Gang to Sleepless. Specifically through one of your branch leaders. Arias."
The name landed like a blow.
Hei Xiong's mouth fell open slightly, his mind racing. "Arias?" he said hoarsely. "That doesn't make sense. He wouldn't…"
His words trailed off as the implications settled in. He swallowed hard.
Ozpin watched him closely.
Then he asked again.
This time, his voice did not change, but the air in the room did.
"Where is your father," Ozpin said, "the leader of Dragon Gang?"
Pressure flooded the space.
It was not visible, but it was undeniable. Hei Xiong cried out as pain exploded through his veins, heat surging through his blood like it had been set alight. His legs buckled and he collapsed to his knees, gasping, fingers clawing at the carpet as he struggled to breathe.
"I-I..." he choked, then forced the words out through gritted teeth. "He's dead!"
Ozpin raised an eyebrow.
The pressure vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. Hei Xiong sucked in a deep, shuddering breath and slowly pushed himself upright, trembling but standing.
"Explain," Ozpin said.
Hei Xiong wiped sweat from his brow, his hands shaking. "Two weeks ago," he said quietly. "He entered the Dream Realm for a routine operation. His spirit never came back. His body never woke up. That's… that's death."
His gaze dropped to the floor. "I've been trying to find out what happened ever since. There were no leads. No witnesses. Nothing."
Ozpin nodded slowly. "I see."
For a moment, his expression softened just a fraction. "You have my condolences."
Hei Xiong looked up, surprised by the words.
Then Ozpin continued.
"However," he said, "with the passing of Dragon Gang's leader, the responsibility now falls to you."
Hei Xiong's face drained of color. "Me?" he said weakly. "I don't know if I'm ready for that. I'm not sure if I can…"
Ozpin interrupted him, his gaze sharpening. "You are at comprehension level for both of your runes, are you not? And at the peak of Rank 1?"
Hei Xiong hesitated. "Y-yes. But that doesn't mean I should…"
"Then it is time," Ozpin said calmly, "for you to rank up. To Rank Two."
Hei Xiong opened his mouth to protest.
The pressure returned.
It was heavier this time, pressing him down, forcing the air from his lungs. He cried out as Ozpin rose from the couch and stepped toward him, movements unhurried, deliberate.
Ozpin placed a hand gently against Hei Xiong's neck.
His smile was "kind."
"An entire contingent of my LUCID operatives are dead," Ozpin said softly. "I am angry and I am tired. I am not in the mood to hear excuses."
His fingers tightened just slightly. "Dragon Gang was involved. Whether knowingly or not is irrelevant. Reparations will be paid."
Hei Xiong nodded frantically, fear shining in his eyes. "Yes," he gasped. "I understand. I'll do whatever is necessary."
Ozpin leaned closer. "If you refuse," he continued, voice calm and terrible, "Dragon Gang will cease to exist."
Hei Xiong swallowed hard and nodded again, more slowly this time. "I won't refuse."
Ozpin released him and stepped back, the pressure dissipating once more. Hei Xiong slumped, barely keeping himself upright.
Ozpin returned to the couch and retrieved his glass, taking a final sip.
"That will be all," he said.
Glynda rose as well, smoothing her coat. She threw a folder to Hei Xiong.
"Complete the assignments in there by the end of this week. We'll be checking."
As they moved toward the door, she paused and glanced back at Hei Xiong.
"Oh, and one more thing," she said coolly. "Change the name of this establishment. Dragon Bar is no longer appropriate."
Hei Xiong looked at her, confusion flickering briefly across his face.
"Call it Junior's," Glynda finished.
Then she turned and followed Ozpin out, leaving Hei Xiong alone in the quiet room, the weight of his new reality settling heavily upon him as the distant music of the club continued to play.
"Damn it!"
.
.
AN: The volume is almost over.
Advanced chapters are available on patreon