Chương 34: The Awakening of the Arc

The canopy of the Forever Fall Forest hung overhead like a burning sea of crimson and gold. Every breath drawn in this wood tasted faintly of autumn sap and ancient, undisturbed earth. The leaves beneath the students' boots crackled rhythmically, a sharp contrast to the high-pitched, manic clicking of a ceramic mug against a thermos.

"Quiet down, please! Focus, settle, converge!" Doctor Bartholomew Oobleck zipped between the rows of assembled first-year students like a green-tinted blur, his glasses catching the filtered red sunlight. He stopped dead in front of Team RWBY and Team JNPR, vibrating at a frequency that seemed to defy physics.

"Today's field excursion is initiated on behalf of Professor Port's tactical ecology curriculum! We are not, I repeat, not foraging for rare foliage today, despite what happened previously! Our objective is the collection and containment of volatile Fire-Dust-infused tree sap, highly specific to the ancient flora of this sector! You will find the tapping mechanisms in your supply kits. But beware! The sudden ambient heat signatures will inevitably attract the local fauna!"

From the second row of students, Toby raised his hand.

"Uh, Professor Oobleck, if the sap is that dangerous--""Doctor!" Oobleck's head snapped toward the boy, his face mere inches away in the blink of an eye.

"It is Doctor, Toby! I did not spend consecutive sleepless nights writing a four-hundred-page dissertation on Pre-Great War socioeconomic defensive structures to be addressed by a title that implies a lack of academic rigor! Eleven times, Toby! That is eleven times this semester!"

"Sorry, Doctor," Toby squeaked, pulling his head into his collar. Beside him, Lyra, the leopard Faunus first-year, nudged Marcus and Chloe.

"Remind me never to ask about his thesis," she whispered, her soft spotted ears pinning nervously back. Throughout the entire briefing, Jaune Arc stood perfectly rigid. His blue eyes were fixed entirely on the bark of a nearby tree. The damp athletic tape still clung to his knuckles, hiding the raw skin beneath. He was physically present, but his mind was an absolute vacuum of silence.

Since the screaming match on the cliffs, the words he had hurled at Pyrrha felt like a collection of poisoned needles embedded in his throat. He didn't dare turn his head. He couldn't bear to see the expression on her face. Pyrrha Nikos stood only a few feet away, her fingers tracing the edge of her shield, Akoúo̱. Her green eyes drifted toward Jaune's side profile every few seconds, clouded with a profound, aching anxiety.

She shifted her weight, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but the words died before they could form. How do I bridge this? She thought, her chest tightening. How do I tell him I don't want him to stop, I just want him to survive?

"Now, break into your designated tactical units! Disperse, cultivate, and defend!" Oobleck shouted, taking a massive gulp from his thermos before rocketing off into the brush to scout the perimeter. The forest quickly swallowed the teams as they fanned out. Within twenty minutes, the smell of tapped sap, sweet, heavy, and hot, filled the crisp air. And with it came the dark tide. ROAR! A pack of Beowolves erupted from the red bushes, their bone-plated masks gleaming viciously.

"Engage!" Ruby Rose yelled, using the recoil of Crescent Rose to propel herself into a spinning horizontal slash that cleaved the lead Beowulf in two. What followed was a showcase of rapid growth. Ever since their grueling, ceaseless matches in Glynda's combat class under Saitama's dull, unblinking observation, something had shifted within the students. They had never managed to pass Saitama's absurd standard, but fighting normal monsters now felt like moving through slow motion.

Blake Belladonna danced through a pair of roaring Boarbatusks, her shadow clones absorbing the rolling impacts before she brought Gambol Shroud down to slice through their unarmored bellies.

"Is it just me," Blake remarked, landing gracefully next to Weiss, "or are their movements completely telegraphed now?" Weiss Schnee twirled Myrtenaster, fluidly summoning a frost glyph that frozen an oncoming Ursa solid before shattering it with a precise thrust.

"It's not just you. After trying to track a man who moves faster than sound while casually holding a broom, these Grimm feel like they're practically standing still," she admitted, her breath even and controlled.

"Right?!" Yang Xiao Long stepped directly into the path of an oncoming Ursa Major, her eyes flashing crimson as she caught the beast's massive paw with one hand. She smiled fiercely, absorbing the impact with ease.

"I used to think Glynda's classes were tough, but our reaction times have completely gone through the roof. Watch this!" With a point-blank blast from Ember Celica, she blasted the creature into evaporating black mist.

"Wow, you guys aren't kidding! They really are moving like they're stuck in molasses!" Nora Valkyrie laughed, spinning Magnhild in a joyous circle before launching herself skyward, riding the recoil of a grenade to smash another Grimm flat into the dirt. Ren moved with fluid grace right beside her, his StormFlower pistols clicking rapidly as he targeted the weak points of a flanking pack. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

"Our baseline conditioning has adapted," Ren noted calmly.

"Saitama's presence alone pushed our psychological limits. Fighting a standard horde is no longer overwhelming."

Deep within a rocky ravine lined with bleeding red trees, the hot, sweet scent of the gathered sap began to pools heavily. Pyrrha had pivoted toward a massive, ancient trunk to secure a rich sap vein that the first-years had located. Suddenly, a subterranean tremor shook the canyon. A massive Creep, far larger than standard variants, erupted directly from the earth beneath her feet.

The explosion of rock and dirt triggered a violent localized landslide, sending a massive wall of boulders crashing down between the upper ridge and the ravine floor. The heavy debris cut off her path completely, sealing the narrow pass and separating her entirely from Team RWBY, the rest of Team JNPR, and the first-years. Before she could call out over her scroll, the shadows against the canyon walls grew thick. Dozens of glowing red eyes materialized from the gloom. The landslide hadn't just isolated her.

It had unburied a massive, deeply entrenched nest. Three heavily armored Ursai Majors, a half-dozen spine-covered Creeps, and a towering, silver-backed Beringel led the advance. Pyrrha immediately took a defensive stance, Milo transforming into its short-sword form.

"Back down," she whispered fiercely. She engaged with the flawless, lethal precision of a champion. She parried a Creep, using its own momentum to drive her blade through another, while using her Semblance of polarity to subtly tug the armor plates of an oncoming Ursa, throwing it off balance. But the sheer numbers were overwhelming. Her muscles, still carrying the lingering stress of the emotional turmoil from the past few days, betrayed her for a fraction of a second.

As she pivoted to avoid the Beringel's sweeping arm, the giant Creep that had caused the collapse lunged from her blind spot, its bone-plated head slamming violently into her side. CRACK. The impact shattered her Aura with a bright flash of light. Pyrrha gasped, thrown forcefully against the jagged stone wall of the ravine. Milo flew from her grip, clattering entirely out of reach across the rocks.

She fell to her knees, clutching her ribs, blood trickling down her temple as the massive horde closed the distance, their jaws snapping in anticipation of the kill. The towering Beringel stepped forward, its massive, muscled arms beating against its chest as it raised a giant, clawed hand to deliver the final, crushing blow. Pyrrha squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the impact. CLANG!!!

A deafening, metallic ring echoed through the ravine, followed by a shockwave of displaced air that blew the fallen leaves away in a wide circle. Pyrrha opened her eyes, her breath catching in her throat. Standing directly in front of her, his boots dug inches deep into the crimson earth, was Jaune Arc. He was trembling violently, his teeth bared in a snarl of pure defiance as he held Crocea Mors's shield high with his left arm, single-handedly absorbing the downward crush of the Beringel's massive fist.

"Jaune?!" Pyrrha screamed, her voice cracking with terror.

"Get... back!" Jaune roared. With a desperate heave, he deflected the Beringel's arm upward and lunged into the surrounding horde. He fought like a man possessed, completely disregarding his own safety. He slashed through a Beowulf, slammed the edge of his shield into the snout of a Boarbatusk, and forced the front line of the Grimm back by sheer, stubborn volition. But his body was screaming.

The agonizing protest of the self-destructive, constant training regime he had forced himself through every single day had left his muscles torn and frayed beneath his armor. He wasn't fully healed. He was running on pure adrenaline. An Ursa Major caught him with a heavy, sweeping paw across his chest plate. BANG. The force lifted Jaune off his feet, launching him violently across the dirt. Crocea Mors slipped from his fumbling, blood-stained fingers, spinning across the stone.

Jaune crashed into the dirt, coughing up a spray of crimson, his remaining Aura sputtering violently.

"No! Jaune!!" Pyrrha cried out, trying desperately to drag herself toward him, but her wounded leg buckled beneath her. Tears of absolute helplessness spilled over her cheeks. The Beringel ignored Jaune, turning its massive, red-eyed gaze back onto the wounded champion. It ambled toward her, its heavy footsteps shaking the ground, raising both of its giant, sharp-clawed hands high above its head to execute her. Jaune dug his fingernails into the dirt, trying to force his trembling arms to lift his torso.

The pain was blinding. Every fiber of his body felt as though it were being torn apart by hot pincers. I'm too weak. His mind screamed. I couldn't even match the routine. I'm just a fake. I can't do what he did... Then, like a bell tolling through the thick, suffocating fog of his agony, Saitama's flat, low voice echoed in his mind:'You are not me, kid. You can't be like me.' Jaune's breath caught. He stared at his bleeding, bandaged hands in the dirt. He can't be like Saitama.

In that instant, the thick, toxic weight of his inadequacy finally shattered. He realized the profound, simple truth behind the bald hero's words. Saitama hadn't been telling him he was entirely incapable of strength. He was telling him that trying to copy a ghost from another world was a path to absolute nothingness. Saitama had trained in a vacuum of complete, hollow isolation. No friends, no teammates, no one to hold him together when his bones melted. But Jaune? Jaune wasn't alone. He was never alone.

He had Ruby. He had Nora and Ren. He had Weiss, Yang, Blake, his sisters... He had Pyrrha. He didn't need to be an unfeeling, invincible god who was bored of the world. He didn't need to split the sky with a single punch. I am not Saitama... He didn't need to be Saitama. He is the hero of his own. I am... With a sudden, violent surge of raw willpower, a brilliant, blinding white light erupted from Jaune's body.

His Semblance, his immense, dormant Aura amplification, flared to life, entirely engulfing him in a towering pillar of pure energy.

"I am Jaune Arc!" The Beringel brought its massive, clawed hands down toward Pyrrha. BOOM! Jaune appeared in a flash of white light, stepping directly between them. He didn't have his sword. He raised his left arm, his shield locking into the Beringel's downward strike with a horrific screech of friction. The ground beneath his boots cratered, but his knees didn't buckle. He stood immovable, a human wall of solid white light.

The Grimm roared, pushing down with all its massive weight, but Jaune held the line, his teeth grit, his eyes burning with absolute, unwavering conviction. Slowly, Jaune drew his right hand back. His fingers curled into a tight, trembling fist. The brilliant white light of his amplified Aura converged entirely onto his knuckles, swirling like a localized hurricane. He looked the towering monster dead in its glowing red eyes.

"Stay..." Jaune growled, his voice vibrating with a terrifying, resonant power.

"... Away... From her!!!" Jaune delivered a straight, devastating punch directly into the center of the Beringel's bone-plated chest. WHAM!!! The impact was like a cannon shot. A shockwave of energy erupted from the point of contact. The massive, multi-ton ape-Grimm was lifted clean off its feet, launched backward through the air like a ragdoll. It crashed violently into the dense cluster of Ursai and Beowolves behind it, plowing through their ranks and flattening them into a tangled heap.

The massive creatures rolled across the stone, screeching in agony. Their bone plates remained intact, but they were deeply weakened, clutching their bodies as they struggled in vain to stand, crippled by the sheer force of the impact. The clearing fell silent, save for the heavy, rhythmic breathing of the young captain. The brilliant white shroud around Jaune slowly faded, leaving him standing tall, his right fist still smoking with the residue of his amplified energy.

Behind him, lying against the stone wall, Pyrrha stared at the back of his armor, her lips parted, her emerald eyes wide with absolute, breathless shock.