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[Nevermore] 1 – Dreams of Adventure
🕑 Added 2025-02-14 07:04:53 +0000 UTC[Jaune Dreams of Nevermore]
[Synopsis A once innocent boy turned monster, 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘥 to live through neverending nightmares that have very real effects on his mind and body.]
[Chapter Begins]
Hunstmen, the heroes of humanity, are blessed with Aura, the manifestation of their soul, which provides protection, enhanced strength, and even unique abilities. Huntsmen were the warriors of humanity who fought back against the unending tide of darkness, which was the Grimm, creatures of darkness that could 'smell' negative emotions. Grimm were the enemies of Humanity and Faunus alike. The Grimm killed all in their sights and aggressively attacked the two races, battering endlessly against the walls of the cities and towns scattered across Remnant and its continents.
Yet...despite the resilience of the two races and the strength of the Huntsmen, they were few, and it was a slowly losing battle against the Grimm.
My family, the Arcs, has a long line of Hunstmen throughout history. My father and one of my seven sisters followed the same path as many of my ancestors. I wanted to follow the same path and become a Huntsman myself, just like my Father, my Sister, and my Great-Great-Grandfather, a literal hero, but my Father would not have it. He forbade me from even trying to become a Huntsman and did everything in his power to make sure that I didn't receive training.
Due to my father's...strict beliefs in Huntsmen, I won't deny that our relationship drifted apart a bit, and things became awkward between us. We fought a lot over the tiniest things, making us grow apart. By the time I neared eighteen, I grew fed up with how my family refused to support my dreams. I believed I could do it. So...one night, when all of my sisters and my parents went to sleep, I snuck into the attic, grabbed some spare armor lying around that hadn't been used in years, and found Crocea Mors...the sword used by my Great-Great Grandfather. It looked pristine; not an ounce of dust or rust marred its sheath. If anything, the sword looked brand new. When I first grabbed it, I nearly dropped it.
It had to have weighed nearly a hundred pounds, sword and sheath combined.
"What is this thing made of?" I quietly grunted out as I strained both arms to carry the sword in its sheath.
I grabbed a small breastplate, some armor pauldrons, and knee guards and strapped them over my comfortable hoodie and jeans. It took nearly twenty minutes to strap them down and ten minutes more to fit them just right so they were neither too tight nor too loose.
Grabbing Crocea Mors again, I looked down upon the blade in its sheath. I remembered the stories my dad and mom told me about my Great-Great-Grandfather and his weapons. After a bit of investigation, I pulled the sword from its sheath and watched with awe as the shield transformed into a white shield with gold trimming. At the shield's center was the ARC crest, two golden arcs pointed down.
After what felt like an eternity of staring at the sword, I let out a breath of air before shifting the shield back into its sheathe form and sliding the sword back in.
I didn't have much time, and my sisters had the habit of waking up at random in the middle of the night, so I climbed down from the attic, grabbed my bag filled with the supplies I'd need to make my journey to Beacon Academy, and left behind the note I had prepared beforehand.
On my way through town, hardly anyone was out except the town's guards, whom I kept out of sight of. When I reached the gate, I was met by one of my family's friends, Arnold Treelly, who instantly saw me as I neared the gates.
Looking over me, the middle-aged man sighed.
"So you finally decided to do it, huh," Arnold spoke tiredly.
"I had to," I said, "You know my Dad wouldn't let me train, and we both know he'd undoubtedly stop me from leaving."
Arnold raised his hand, interrupting me, "You don't need to explain yourself to me, Jaune. I perfectly understand. Let me just ask you this: what happens if it doesn't work out?" he asked questioningly with a more profound gaze than I have ever seen on him.
Swallowing drily and taking a few moments to think, I answer, "Well...there's only a few options. The first is that I'd die before I ever make it to Beacon..."
He gestured for me to go on.
"But...if I fail the exam, I guess I'd just come home, work, raise a family, like what my Dad wanted for me. But...I have to try...and if I fail? At least then, I will have known that I tried," I continued, looking at Arnold with confidence, making him sigh again.
"Just don't regret your decision, Jaune. Your father has lost enough people as it is; don't add to it. No matter what, you make sure that you get back here; you got me?" Arnold demanded.
"Y-Yes, sir," I answered with a gulp.
With another sigh, he opened the gate to the point there was a small enough gap for me to fit through.
As I started walking out, Arnold grabbed my shoulder, "And Jaune? Don't be mad at your Dad; he cares about you in his own way. And for the Twin Brothers' sake, don't forget to stay in contact with your family; don't make that mistake, trust me," Getting a nod from me, he said a few final words, "Good luck, you'll need it."
"Thank you," I thanked him, slipping through the gate.
Spending the rest of the night making as much distance from my home as possible, I headed west towards Beacon.
...
By morning, I was feeling tired and sluggish. The weight of my bag, the armor, and the sword overwhelmed me with each step.
Even as the sun rose high above, I marched on. I had to make as much distance as possible so that my Dad couldn't track and catch me. He was a veteran Huntsman; he had Aura and decades of experience and training. He'd easily be able to catch up if I faltered for even a second. It took weeks to memorize the route I'd take to get to Beacon, and I had it mapped out to where I'd use a combination of the main roads and back rounds as well as dirt paths. I had no idea how to cover my tracks, so my best bet was to take an unpredictable path and move fast.
I wouldn't go back. Not when my dream was within reach.
All I had to do was make it to Beacon, a two-week journey by foot, and pass the entrance exam. That would show them. I can be a huntsman!
By the time it started getting dark, I was struggling to take each step. The weight of all my stuff was making it harder and harder to move, and I soon had no choice but to stop and rest. I didn't take off the armor, and I had my bag and Crocea Mors within reach as I ate some jerky for dinner. I was tired, but I couldn't afford to sleep, not here, not this close to home.
Once I had eaten and drank my fill, I continued my journey into the late night, traveling further and further from home, further than I had ever been. In the dark, I heard something that sent shivers down my core.
Howls.
Just from that sound, I knew that I needed to move faster. If there were Grimm nearby, I knew it wouldn't take long for them to sense me and hunt me down as all it took was an ounce of negative emotion for the Grimm to pick up a scent, and out here? I'm the only scent they'd find.
I rushed forward, the light of my lamp making the shadows around me even more terrifying, and much to my growing horror, It was as if the shadows began to move.
That's when I saw the two glowing red orbs hidden within the shadows ahead of me further up the road.
As I stopped dead in my tracks, the Beowolf stepped out from the shadows. Grimm was living in darkness. Creations of the Brother God of Darkness to consume the Brother God of Light's creations. They did not have souls; therefore, they had no aura but the Grimm before me. My instincts screamed for me to run, to flee and escape from the Grimm, but I knew better. If I turned my back on the Beowolf before me, it would pounce. Its red eyes bore into me and as it's head came close enough to the light, I saw the bone-like white spikes along its back, arms, and the bone-white mask that was its face.
Clenching my teeth, I drew Crocea Mors and transformed the sheathe into a shield. The exhaustion I was feeling before disappeared as a chill crept through my bones and adrenaline flooded my system. My fight or flee instincts screamed at me to run, but instead, I charged forward, raising the sword high above my head as I yelled, even as fear clogged my mind.
I was terrified, but I wouldn't give up, and so, as I swung down Crocea Mors, I flinched when the Beowolf bolted out of the way and pounced onto me, slamming me into the ground, and I just barely raised my shield in time for one of its paws to slam down towards my head.
I screamed in pain when I felt the shield buckle in my arms, and for a moment, it felt as if it broke my arm from the sheer pain and shock that traveled through the shield into my arm.
Wrestling with the much stronger Beowolf took every ounce of my strength, but with a swipe, it ripped the shield away to the side with my arm and swiped at my chest, carving three deep grooves into my breastplate.
I panicked, and with a surge of strength, I swung the sharp end of the shield into its face, forcing it off of me long enough for me to try and stab it with my sword, feeling the tip of the blade easily pierce through the pitch black fur and penetrate deep into the Beowolf's side. The Grimm thrashed around and slammed its paws continuously into my shield, and I hastily rose to defend myself. The shield slammed into my face, causing my nose to bleed and my vision to go a bit fuzzy for a few moments before clearing back up.
I pushed Crocea Mors deeper into its side until. Finally, the Grimm stopped struggling and collapsed onto me with its full weight.
Huffing and groaning, I tried to shove the Grimm's carcass off of me to no luck. As the Grimm's body slowly began to dissolve, my vision started darkening as I struggled to stay conscious, the sheer amount of adrenaline leaving my system, exhaustion, and pain coursing through my body, soon forcing me to unconsciousness.
As the Grimm's carcass dissipated into the air, an infinitesimally small amount of light flowed from the 'heart' of the Grimm straight into my chest, and in my unconsciousness, everything began to change.
