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G.N. Chapter 47
🕑 Added 2024-04-08 22:43:59 +0000 UTCChapter 47 Blazing Cold Blood
When Jaune was still wholly new to the Hunt and Yharnam, he attempted to commune with the mobs of locals that roamed the streets.
Back then, he had been so lost and out of sorts that his desire for knowledge had eclipsed his wisdom, resulting in a painful lesson.
His attempts to attain clarity and understanding of what was going on were met with savagery in the form of a random Yharnamite running him through with a pitchfork. He had been pitched to the hard ground, still impaled and taken apart in a showing of mob brutality that had him waking next to the lantern, only to spew across the ground immediately.
The horror of that particular death still left him feeling ill.
He had not attempted such peaceful conversation with the inhabitants of the city streets again, only going so far as to shoot a question at them with a weapon in hand and distance between them.
The results had been… disappointing.
Every Yharnamite that had taken to the streets was either half mad or mute… or both.
Jaune’s attempts at dialogue were usually met with violence and screaming. Not necessarily in that order, but both tended to make an appearance at some point during the encounter.
His first interaction with a resident still possessing their wits came from Gilbert.
In fact, it was his conversing with Gilbert that gave Jaune some poignant Insights into the city's workings and alerted him to the risk he was under. Were the Beasts not enough, and the apparent madness of the mobs roaming the streets yet another threat to contest, he also had his status to consider.
As an ‘Outsider’, he was considered untrustworthy and reviled by an insignificant portion of the population.
Taking inspiration from Gilbert’s position, Jaune would try to converse with other Yharnamites who had decided to remain inside their houses.
The results were not stellar, though much more mixed than the ones he received from the wandering mobs.
Those he conversed with behind closed doors ranged from dismissive to fearful. Some sent him off with outright verbal hostility, and others seemed hesitant even to approach the door, leaving Jaune to strain his hearing to make sense of their words.
They all tended to be far more conversational than those who patrolled the alleys and streets… though some did seem to possess a madness of their own.
Then he met Eileen and, later, the Dweller and Jaune was gifted with face-to-face conversation.
… Face to mask in the case of Eileen, but it was still an improvement.
When he first heard the voice that echoed across the rooftops of Old Yharnam, he allowed himself a sliver of hope at the sound of a relatively sane-sounding voice. Of course, by this point, he also had enough wisdom not to trust unquestioningly, hence why he had moved warily, but the hope remained.
That hope had died in a violent burst of gunfire and was replaced instead with a burning want.
Jaune had awoken next to the lantern with a slew of curses flying past his lips as he hurried to his feet and began to march around the small derelict building. He even went so far as to relieve some of his frustrations by stomping an old stone bench into crumbling ruins.
Jaune thought back to before his death at the hands of the hail of gunfire and recalled the echoing voice's words.
They knew about the Dream.
Like that, his frustrations multiplied.
He had crossed paths with no one else who had mentioned the Dream and thought it a piece of knowledge sequestered only to himself.
But now…
Jaune was still afflicted with persistent confusion. Spaces in his thoughts left him befuddled should he choose to investigate them with a great degree of focus. These same thoughts had once led him to follow Anima’s guidance to Iosefka’s clinic.
There, he had learned of Paleblood and, in doing so, found something to grasp onto as he continued to endure the Hunt. But despite his efforts, the topic became something he had failed to find any knowledge on from his investigation around this damnable city.
His quest had led him to Cathedral Ward, but that had ended most painfully, resulting in him having further spaces in his memories that roused even further concern.
Finding out that another knew of the Dream opened avenues of investigation that Jaune had not even considered. Now, though, he had questions concerning the Dream, and best of all, unlike Paleblood, he knew exactly where to get his answers.
And he was going to get his answers.
But first… he needed a plan.
YVYVYVYVY
“I’m out!” Sky shouted fearfully, looking around in a half panic, the empty gun in her hand feeling heavier than ever.
Jade didn’t waste a second before she stepped in front of her younger sibling and fired the last two rounds of her magazine into a random Creep. “Up, get up on top,” she ordered Sky, guiding her back further.
“We need to go-“
“I am fucking aware!” Jade screeched, recognising the voice as belonging to the hotel manager Keppel. Jade flicked out the magazine and reached for her belt.
She only had one left.
She had it slotted in place before she reached the front of the truck and hauled herself up, looking through the window to speak to the firefighter in the driver's seat. Before she even got a word out, she noticed the terrified look of the woman as she turned the key to absolutely zero response from the vehicle.
“It’s not starting…” the firefighter hissed.
“What?”
“It’s not even responding! I’m turning the key, but-“
Tara was suddenly there, popping up on the passenger side, the other firefighter jolting at her sudden appearance.
“Electric or Combustion?” The older Faunus woman asked seriously, cringing at the sound of a wave of fire bellowing out of the burning apartment building.
“Huh?”
“The truck! Is it an Electric engine or a Combustion engine?” Tara asked, her voice becoming desperate as something swooped over the truck, gunshots following in its wake.
“E-electric-…”
“You think it’s the battery?” the passenger-side firefighter asked, tugging off his headgear. This revealed a man with dirty blond curly hair and hefty sideburns.
“I hope so,” Tara nodded. She jumped off the truck only to shriek and flounder back as a feather impacted a dangling light, sending the ruined fixture crashing into the floor.
“Right! Be ready with the key!” the blond firefighter ordered, leaping out to join Tara and guiding her behind the truck's cab.
“Don’t I need to lift the cab?” the other firefighter, a woman Jade realised, yells back.
“No time!” the male firefighter shouted.
Jade made to say something but was cut off by something slamming into the side of the fire truck shaking the whole vehicle and sending Jade back onto her ass. Jade did not remain grounded long, rolling to get her legs under her and her gun toward the unseen threat.
It wasn’t a Grimm, though. Instead, she watched as the female Huntress groaned, her body's impact having left a sizeable dent in the side of the vehicle. She wasted no time righting herself, but Jade didn’t miss the flare of her Aura.
She was tired.
“Are you okay?” Jade worriedly asked.
“Yeah, I’m good,” the woman sniffed, brushing off her brown leather jacket, before turning to Jade, her face taking on a stern expression. “Why aren’t we moving?”
“Engine problems, we’re working on it, but-“
“Jaune!”
Whatever Jade was about to say was discarded at the sound of Sky’s terrified scream. Instead, Jade whipped around to behold the sight of her brother as he swung up on the back of an upright Ursa, his Machete in hand as he hacked at the side of its neck.
The Beast roared and twisted, but Jaune did not budge from the creature's back as it twisted and shook its upper body. His Machete, practically a sword in a regular-sized man's hands, bit deep into the creature's neck. Black ‘blood’ was spurting out, coating Jaune and causing his limbs to blend in with the Grimm’s hide.
Eventually, the Grimm staggered, and Jaune leaned with it, tipping the beast off-kilter as it tripped in its bipedal stance and crashed backward onto the road. Jaune leapt as it fell, and when it was laid out, he landed atop it like a ravenous predator, his machete out and ready to swing.
Jaune wasted little time plunging his massive chopping blade into its sternum and jerking down with strength Jade was positive that ordinary people didn’t have. The Grimm stilled at last, and Jaune rose off it, dragging his hand across his face before once more slicking his hair back with the Grimm’s essence, painting it black.
“… Damn,” the blue-haired Huntress mumbled before looking once more at Jade, but this time with recognition. “You his sister?”
“One of them,” Jade nodded, pointing up at Sky, lying prone behind the truck's ladder. The younger Arc gave a nervous wave at the sudden spot of new attention but was quick to duck back down as something roared.
The now familiar crack of Jaune’s Challenger rang out as the Arc male fired ineffectually at another Griffon that had attempted to pluck him off the dead Ursa. Jaune quickly hurried over to them, his feet carrying him as he fired another shot over his shoulder, doing what he could to stem the rising tide of Grimm.
“I’m nearly out!” the police officer at the truck's rear hollered, eliciting a curse from the Huntress.
Jaune jogged over, his face a mask of calm fury, “We have bigger issues.”
“What?” The Huntress was quick to ask, plucking another dust bolt from her Jacket and slotting it into her Huntress Weapon.
“We’re out of time. Listen,” Jaune nodded over his shoulder, holstering his Challenger and pulling free his Lex.
The Huntress did as he said, and Jade tried to listen, but she couldn’t hear anything over the cacophony surrounding them. Her ears picked up nothing but the roaring conflagration of the multi-story apartment building, the monstrous sounds of the gathering Grimm, and the stuttered bursts of their few meagre guns firing into the masked abominations, which made for a dull roar of noise.
Not to mention the sound of distant wall defences raining massive ordinance into the-
“Fuck! I thought we had more time!” the female Huntress snarled, slamming her fisting to the already dented part of the truck.
“What? What’s-“
“There’s no gunfire to the south,” Jaune explained, eyeing the section of the truck that the Huntress was standing in front of.
“Wait doesn’t that mean- Fuck! Tara! Tara, how are we doing?” Jade hollered her voice, carrying to the opposite side of the truck. She went to move but was halted as Jaune jerked her back, causing a feather to impale where she would have been in just an instant if not for her brother.
The returning shots of his Lex found their mark as Jade watched the bird Grimm’s beak separate from its face.
“We can't get to it; there is rubble, and the Cab needs to be empty to-“
Jade was really beginning to feel the urge to scream, if not from frustration than just sheer fucking injustice.
They had made it to a vehicle, her brother had done as she wished… and now they were still trapped in the fallen city section with the Second Wave on its way.
‘We’re going to die.’ Jade’s vision began to blur, but Jaune was there, his filthy hand pulling her to his side in a one-arm embrace.
“Jade, get up with Sky and remember to stay down,” Jaune spoke calmly before he lifted her with ease. Jade didn’t even bother to argue. She followed her brother’s instructions and crawled on top of the large ladder, moving so she was half covered by the building the fire truck was still stuck in.
She did speak, though.
“I’m sorry… I just- I just wanted to do the right thing; I didn’t mean to… Are we going to die?” Jade whispered, tears finally breaking down her cheeks. Sky let out a whimper but was quick to cling to Jade, holding her older sister. Jade eagerly returned the embrace.
Jade was stunned when, out of all her usually stoic brother’s reactions, he returned her hopelessness with a smile.
“Not on my watch,” Jaune replied firmly, his lips tilted upwards so slightly it could barely be called a smirk. “Keep yourself and Sky safe… and be ready,” Jaune instructed, then his attention was on the Huntress.
“You need to help them with the truck,” Jaune spoke after firing his Lex into the hellish flock above.
“I’m not a mechanic-“
“You need to lift it, let them get under it and fix it, or they’re all going to die,” Jaune intoned, stepping to the side to avoid another volley of feathers.
“I’m out!” the cop shouted, fear painting his words.
Jade watched the Huntress grimace, but then she fully turned to Jaune. “If I don’t hold off the Grimm-“
“I will buy you as much time as I can… but do not tarry,” Jaune declared, moving past her to the part of the truck her body had left a deep imprint on.
“Kid, that’s-“
“The only way. Either you get this truck working, or I take my sisters and run… and we leave all of them to die,” Jaune said, looking the Huntress in the eye. His voice was filled with certainty, and the Huntress seemed to look away from her brother's stony gaze.
Jade didn’t even feel the urge to speak up… she couldn’t say anything.
With the second wave on its way… her mouth was clogged with guilt and regret.
“… That’s a lot of Grimm, kid,” the blue-haired woman remarked, firing her crossbow at another Ursa and causing it to ignite.
Jaune moved past the Huntress and loudly forced open the dented door she had been standing in front of. Jade watched as Jaune sheathed his machete and pulled out a sledgehammer with one hand, the tool seeming undersized in Jaune’s grip.
“At best, I can try to buy you two minutes,” Jaune spoke evenly, test-swinging the hammer.
The Huntress nodded, “Right, good luck,” then she was gone, and Jaune was facing down the Grimm.
Jade looked and fought back the urge to hurl as she beheld what Jaune was willingly throwing himself at.
The murderous flock of Nevermore above was as thick as the smoke from the burning building, utterly blocking out the sky as they swarmed above. Griffons flew amongst them like a stone in a stream as the smaller Grimm parted around them.
And that was just up above.
They came crawling out of the darkness. Their frames varied, but all had bone-white masks and glowing crimson eyes. No longer were they a few stray Grimm lured by the noise and fear; instead, they were the makings of a small hoard. Ursa, Beowolves, Creeps, Boarbatusk, and others were cast in the light of the blazing building.
It made Jade’s guts drop out from beneath her.
“J-jaune, you can’t; that’s-“
“Sister,” Jaune spoke calmly, “everything is going to be fine.”
“B-but-“
Jaune looked over his shoulder, his face calm, his eyes firm. Sky said something, but Jade didn’t hear it. Her mouth agaped as she tried to will herself to say something.
But no words came out.
Jaune began to walk away, not letting Jade squeeze the words out. The hammer handle slid through his fingers until his hand clenched, catching it near the bottom. His Lex was up and aimed at a Beowolf that climbed atop a car with a gore-stained muzzle.
Jade didn’t know why, but as her brother walked away, he spoke, uttering in that same strange language she had heard him use before.
Jade knew a little eastern Mistrali; she even knew some Western, though she would never admit such to their Grandmother. She knew the sound of old Zephthis from when Jaune had spoken it a few times, the language sounding as distinct as any language she had ever heard.
Jade was fluent in Mæli. She could speak and read it after learning to do so for Jaune’s Slayer Mark. She still remembered every one of the etched words she had inscribed upon her brother’s flesh in the old tongue.
But this wasn’t any of them. This was the one language Jaune used so rarely that Jade only knew of it because her brother was unwilling to speak of it.
But all the same, she heard him.
She heard him over the roaring fire, the howling Grimm, the distant explosions and the dull ring in her ears.
But more than that…
She understood every word.
Jade watched Jaune march towards the monsters, not a single falter in his step.
Jade watched as the roaring fire made the ink on his flesh come to life, the marking she had inscribed with her own hands in a single sitting that had left her unconscious afterwards.
She watched as the man she called her brother fired his gun, the weapon bucking in his hands as it sent two projectiles punching into the snarling maw of the bloodied Beowolf.
She watched his arms flex as he swung the hammer up into a Creep, sending the smaller Grimm sliding, leaving behind a splatter of inky black ‘blood’.
All with his words throbbing in her mind.
Jaune’s words… spoken in a language she didn’t know with a meaning she should have no Insight on.
“After all… A Hunter must Hunt!”
YVYVYVYVY
Jaune felt something in his chest relax for the first time since the night had gone to hell.
He sighed as he punched his Lex’s barrel into the eye of a Beowolf before pulling the trigger, pulverising the insides of its skull.
His feet were moving before the Grimm had even hit the ground, his hammer swinging with the twist of his body to splatter a Nevermore into viscera, which hissed as it rained into the fire. His newest weapon proved most effective, though it was a bit lighter than Jaune would have preferred.
But that could not dampen the surge of feeling.
The rush of life.
The lightning in his blood.
The Hunter backpedalled away from two Grimm, Beowolves, who pursued him, forcing him to retreat. The Hunter holstered his Lex and gripped the hammer with both hands. The Grimm pounced, but The Hunter was ready.
He shoved the head of the sledge deep into its open mouth, forcing its jaw open and jamming the tool in its throat.
The other Grimm swiped at him to take advantage of his sudden perceived vulnerability.
The Hunter tugged its compatriot forward and felt his blood sing as it was disembowelled by the swipe meant for him.
The Hunter pivoted, freeing one of his hands and drawing his Lex.
He planted the weapon flush against the back of its neck and dumped two more rounds into the still-living Beowolf, and watched it drop.
Younger Grimm were far less resilient than older, tougher Grimm, who had accrued size and resilience with age.
They were still more than enough to kill an ordinary man, though.
The Hunter hadn’t counted himself as ‘ordinary’ in a lifetime.
He whipped his hammer around, dragging the dead Beowolf with it. The creature flew off the head to skid and crash ineffectually into a landing Griffon.
The flying Grimm screeched.
The Hunter fired.
It collapsed as his empty magazine hit the ground, the larger Grimm requiring more shots than others to fall.
Something crashed into The Hunter’s side, and he rolled with the momentum, his body tumbling until he was on his own two feet, leaning on the sledge for balance.
A Boarbatusk squealed and charged again, not bothering to attempt its rolling charge.
The Hunter rewarded it by letting it barrel past him.
He soon repeated his first Grimm killing, only this time with a hammer instead of a rock, as he brought the sledge down on the pig Grimm’s back leg.
He left it to bleed out as he charged towards the truck.
He heard Salmon bellow his announcement that he was out of ammunition.
The Hunter slammed his gun down atop one of his last two magazines as he ran toward a Creep that had dared to approach the fire truck.
He conserved ammo, holstering his pistol to grasp his hammer with two hands.
The Hunter swung, his hammer crunching into the Grimms armoured face, but he was accurate with his swing. The area around three of its eyes cracked and bled, leaving the monster half blind as it hissed and snapped at him.
The Hunter leapt to avoid a swipe of its tail, landing and then springing from the Grimm’s side and sending it stumbling back.
His back hit the ground, and his Challenger was in his hand.
The explosive Combustion Dust did its job, and the Creep collapsed. The bullet punched into the cracked area and erupted inside.
The Hunter was quick to reload the break-action weapon, but before he could get on his feet, a Nevermore sought to be opportunistic.
The Hunter rolled and rolled, feathers smacking the ground behind him as he avoided the avian Grimm’s attacks.
The Grimm was forced to stop to regain elevation.
The Hunter didn’t let it.
He hurled a piece of rubble at the flying menace, striking it from the air.
The Hunter scrambled back to his feet, plucking one of its piercing feathers from the road as he charged the grounded Grimm.
He tackled it.
Over and over, the Hunter plunged the bird Grimm’s own feather into its guts, using the barrel of his Challenger to pin the monster's neck and keep its lethal beak away from his face.
When its struggles weakened, he sprung off it.
Not a moment later, the creature was pancaked as a Boarbatusk ran over it, causing it to burst into a mix of disintegrating smoke and bleeding oily sludge.
The Hunter darted for the Sledge, his body nearly making it, when he heard the scream.
He slid to a stop, drew his Lex and fired repeatedly into the side of a Beowolf that had leapt onto the side of the fire truck.
He killed it, but more were making their way to the group of terrified survivors.
The Hunter ducked under a swoop as he came to the realisation of what he needed to do.
His distraction cost him, however…
YVYVYVYVY
“Jaune!”
Arrastra heard the scream and looked out in time to see Jaune plucked off the ground by a Griffon and carried into the air.
“Fucking fuck!” Arrastra cursed as she lifted the fire truck more and planted it atop her shoulder. She ignored the frightened screams of the survivors at the sudden movement as she wedged herself under the vehicle. She ignored how the ceiling creaked from the truck being pressed against it and the rubble that fell around the room.
She focussed only on tracking the young man in the talons of the Griffon.
She dropped to a crouch, the truck aloft on her shoulder. One arm clenched the vehicle to prevent it from slipping and crushing the woman beneath it, trying to get it started. Her other grasped for Windlass and quickly slammed it atop the truck’s bumper as she aimed into the madness outside the ruined storefront.
There was plenty of light, especially for a Faunus, and nearly no wind. Combined with the blond’s struggling serving to slow the Griffon in its ascent, Arrastra had time to line up her shot.
Arrastra took a breath.
She pulled the trigger.
Windlass fired the bolt off with all the perfection Arrastra had come to expect of her weapon.
The bolt's light blue glow made it stand out in the night, awash in fiery orange and black Grimm bodies. She watched as it flew true and slammed into the Griffon's neck.
Were it a regular bolt, this would have been utterly ineffective, and the young man would likely be dead within moments.
But it wasn’t a standard crossbow bolt.
It was an Ice Dust Bolt.
A small glacier grew in a fraction of a second, fully encompassing the Griffon’s beaked face. The creature went rigid before plummeting down, its grip on Jaune loosening enough for him to break away from its rapidly descending form.
Arrastra honestly held her breath as she watched him free fall for an instant, worried about how he would handle such a plummet.
But to her surprise, she watched as the tall young man managed to snag a hold of a Nevermore, his fingers burying themselves into its wing and slowing his fall. The Grimm screeched and flapped wildly with its good wing, but the kid was latched on like a lamprey.
They crashed together atop an abandoned police cruiser that belonged to the officers who had been foolish enough to remain behind to help the firefighters.
What Arrastra saw next would stay with her for the rest of her life.
The Grimm in Jaune’s grasp was still flailing, its black feathered wings whipping about the crumpled indent the tall young man had left in the roof of the police cruiser. It was a blur of movement, a quick reversal, and then the blond was on top, his knee driven into the Grimm’s sternum.
Then he began to rise to his feet, all the while still tightly grasping the Nevermore’s wing.
Slowly, he rose, the Grimm’s limb clasped in his grip while his foot remained planted on its chest.
Then, he was standing upright.
With the Grimm’s wing still clutched in his hands.
She watched as the boy inhaled.
Then he let out a noise that she was sure she had heard in her nightmares once.
The blond roared.
Not like a person… Not even like some Faunus that could produce sounds like their animal traits.
This was something… wrong.
The noise scratched across her mind, and even with the significant space between them, it felt like wind clawing at the inside of her ears.
It left her chilled to the bone but also… enraged.
She could feel the blond's rage in that noise. The raw, unfiltered hate he was letting off reminded her of the feelings she could pick up from younger Aura users. In the same way, an uncontrolled Aura could leave one bare to the world; the boy's screeching roar carried the feeling of bloodlust.
And she wasn’t the only one who felt it.
“Oi lady under the truck!” Arrastra called out, scrambling to reload Windlass.
“What?”
“How close are you to finishing?”
“We’ve nearly got it! We need a couple of minutes. Why?” the woman's concerned voice rang up beneath the vehicle.
Arrastra looked back towards Jaune.
“Because we don’t have a couple of minutes…”
YVYVYVYVY
Yharnam had changed Jaune into something else.
It had stripped away at him like sandpaper, sheering apart who he was, breaking apart what he might have been. It left something else behind, something that might have had his shape but wasn’t really who he was.
Jaune became a Hunter, a dispatcher of Beasts who carved his way through the nightmare city, leaving piles of dead in his wake. He had bathed in the blood of men, Beasts, Kin and even the Great Ones.
He had tasted death countless times, imbibed madness with such voracity that he had learned things…
What he was once upon a time was so terribly removed from what he became that it was not even worth thinking about.
He had suffered pain so frequently he learned to endure it to a disgusting degree. He had killed so many that he developed a talent for dispatching any he deigned to hunt. It became… a matter of effort, of motion… of performing the act, removed from any greater design.
In Yharnam… killing could become no more than a chore, a meticulous blood-stained grind of labour.
But that didn’t mean that Jaune didn’t feel things.
He could grow numb… but he was always alive.
Always could he feel the allure. Always could Jaune recall its taste. Always did the smell linger.
It sang in his ears with each throbbing pulse of his heart, and if he had just closed his eyes… he could see it splattered across the victims' bodies.
Control was the rule, acceptance an inevitability, and understanding attained through Insight.
Others had mantras, distractions, focus… endurance.
Jaune had something else.
Jaune was something else.
Once, he could have lost himself… but now there was nothing to lose in truth.
In his veins, the Blood surged.
Grimm were soulless abominations, lured to negativity and solely focused on the complete annihilation of any and all sapient life, whether it be Human or Faunus. They were a scourge that washed across any signs of civilisation and left devastation in their wake.
Grimm were drawn to sapient life by negativity.
None knew how they sensed this, but it was well documented that a Grimm would pursue a target who expressed great distress over one who did not.
Above all, they would pursue any target with an unlocked Aura with such focus that they would ignore other distressed prey.
An ordinary person simply wasn’t as alluring to the Grimm as someone with Aura.
Jaune did not have Aura.
But Jaune was not ordinary.
Jaune, Hunter of Yharnam, was a ruthless killer and merciless slayer who took apart his foes with cold-blooded efficiency. He fought with a skill that belied numerous fights and killed with a talent refined over a measure of time, which was truly immeasurable.
He approached his bloody work with the same disposition a butcher might approach his meats.
But Grimm didn’t respond to numbness, and Jaune needed them to respond.
He needed all of them to respond.
When Jaune crashed into whatever it was that broke his fall, his mind did not turn to the throbbing ache in his back or the sound of things breaking beneath his impact. He had eyes only for the monster in his grasp as it fought against his clutching grasp.
This thing bereft of blood and soul that sought nothing but death and destruction.
It inspired hate in Jaune, born of two sires.
He lunged with a snarl, his free hand shoving its torso back whilst he levered it downward with the hand clamped on its struggling limb. Jaune felt the bite of its talons as it clawed at his stomach and responded by driving his fist down into its throat, the result being a brief silence to the murderous thing’s cries.
Jaune’s rage only swelled further.
When he was younger, and the lingering hurt of his past was yet a more profound ache, he had undertaken the old rite of the ‘First Quest’ in the hope of finding… something.
He had discovered much during that expedition. He had found a companion he could relate to more easily than any other he become acquainted with in Remnant in Orr. In the pursuit of survival within those woods, he found a type of calm different from the serenity of his home.
… And he found comfort in the familiar.
Jaune had found comfort in the looming threat of death.
Before the Grimm came on that stormy night, Jaune had remained lost; he had wandered aimlessly, unknowing of what it was that he sought out in the first place. He knew he lacked it, but what ‘it’ was… that was another question in its entirety.
He had found Orr, in a sense, to be the perfect beacon.
Orr was not ordinary, given that the way she was ‘not ordinary’ differed significantly from how Jaune was, but the point remained. Orr was not ordinary in a way familiar to Remnant; she was a Huntress of Grimm, a slayer of monsters by her own will.
By her choice… Orr hunted.
Jaune was a Hunter of Beasts, but the choice had not been his. When he began his journey mesmerised by the will of the Dream and the power of the Great One that ruled it… he had done as he was guided. He had ‘hunted for his own good’ as Gherman directed, and the questions, the pertinent questions… they had remained unasked.
In those woods, Jaune had sought something, following Orr as she showed him the truth of Remnant as only she could.
Although tasked with watching him, Orr Flamberge became a point of observation for Jaune. He did not harry her with questions and inquisition; instead, he chose to observe her actions. He watched Orr in those woods with a curiosity of a child eager to learn.
In a sense, Jaune found he felt very much like the Messengers that had once followed him around Yharnam.
For Orr, being a Huntress was her very nature; she did not act like a Huntress actively, as such a thing was not an act. Orr was a Huntress, and that was that. She woke up a Huntress, talked to him a Huntress, patrolled as a Huntress…
She did so all freely.
Jaune watched all this, and something curdled in him.
The part of him that was cold and ruthless very much saw her nature and found it very akin to their own.
Jaune was a Hunter, and that was also undeniable…
But he was not free.
Jaune still recalled his earliest memories of Yharnam. The confusion, the stumbling about searchingly, the way that everything seemed shrouded by the film of a dream. He wandered about Central Yharnam a lost soul, set adrift from the Dream with direction that was not his own.
It wasn’t until he was already stained by horror and half mad that he realised what he was… and what he had become.
Jaune, guided by Orr, found the first clue he had sought in his undertaking the night of the storm.
He crawled out of his hollow and felt the muck slick between his clawing hands as he dragged himself beneath the rain. The nightmares echoing in his mind of salt and screams and pain and grudges, all feeling like nails beat into his skull.
He fought, he killed, he survived, and it was then that he was confronted with the truth.
That what he was… was a creature of violence.
A part of him found comfort in its natural environment, surrounded by the din of combat, the presence of threats, and the rush of violence. That stormy night, he was taught such; he had felt such, and it had been an epiphany he had not received happily.
But there was Orr to guide once more.
He ate with her after the fight, talked with her, existed with her, and then found that as she was relaxing after the battle, she, too, seemed different.
There, Jaune learned the difference between comfortable and peaceful.
Jaune was comfortable in settings of violence as only one who had existed in them for such prolonged lengths of time could be.
That did not mean Jaune had to subsist on them, however.
So it was Jaune came to terms with his existence in Remnant.
The who he was before Yharnam, a forgotten memory, only looked back upon with a sort of longing tempered by acceptance. The thing he had become in Yharnam was as much a facet of his nature as his existence as a son, brother, uncle, and friend.
It was who he was now that he was still learning, the person who was free of Nightmares.
A Hunter free of Dreams.
And a Hunter he was.
Jaune slid his foot up onto the Nevermore’s chest, pressing down hard enough that were this a regular bird, its chest cavity would have surely collapsed. Jaune heard the rushing of his Blood in his ears and smelt the little that swelled from his injuries.
It stoked the fury higher.
Jaune bared his teeth, his lips pulling back in a snarl. Spittle flung from his mouth, and he breathed through his clenched jaw. His Blood seared in his veins, and his breath came out hissing and like venom on his tongue, tainted by everything that made him the way he was.
Jaune let the memories flow; he thought solely of the pain he had endured, the failures he had suffered, the sins he had perpetrated.
He thought of friends lost, friends slain, friends ended by his own hand.
He thought of betrayal, control, shackles unseen and manipulations fulfilled.
He thought of the hurt of his body, the hurt of his maddened mind, the hurt of his soul.
Then he felt.
He felt it all.
He felt the memory of profound grief, of cloying fear, of bubbling disgust, of devastating despair, of profound loneliness and abyssal hopelessness.
Then he felt the rage.
Only the rage.
Jaune began to rise atop the crumpled roof of the vehicle; his fingers clawed into the flesh of the Nevermore’s wing as he rose to stand. It flapped and tried ineffectually to claw at him, but Jaune continued to rise.
He rose until his arm was straight and taught.
He rose until the Nevermore’s struggles transformed into something akin to vibrations of failing strength.
He rose until he heard the strain of meat.
He rose until the Nevermore’s wing couldn’t anymore.
…
Then he tugged.
The limb and a large portion of the Grimm’s innards were torn free, the insides spilling out and looking almost like offal.
His chest heaved with air that soon turned hot in his breast as hate now conjured refused to be contained. Jaune cast away the very notion of professionalism as he let himself feel everything, both past and present.
His heart thundered in his chest, pushing raw energy through his body as he felt his limbs shake the wing in his grasp, splattering his legs with oily black ichor from the trembling motions.
Jaune was a Hunter of Yharnam… and Yharnam’s Hunters were amongst its most horrifying monsters.
Jaune inhaled.
…
But he did not exhale.
He roared.
He roared as he once had in the throws of the most abusive bloodlust when his mind was a haze of red, and he truly raced upon the razor's edge. Back to when he had imbibed the foulest mixtures of Yharnam’s horror and allowed the malediction of Beasthood to stir to life in the Old Blood in his veins.
It ripped out of his throat a half scream as it spewed the vileness of his mind into the air as a tearing vibration that twisted and writhed. It was less noise and more a raw, primal force that exploded from his core, carrying with it the tumultuous feelings writhing within.
When the noise subsided, Jaune allowed his eyes to slide open.
What he beheld was confirmation of his plan's success.
The Grimm were all looking at him.
Where once he and Arrastra had been fending off the few lured in, now their numbers were easily that of a mob. All of them were looking at him, chitters and snarls pooling from their mouths as their numerous crimson eyes stared on hungrily.
Jaune threw the disintegrating, dismembered wing to the wayward.
At last, one of the Grimm gave a bellowing whine, and Jaune’s eyes found it among the gathered mobs.
A Deinos, the Horse Grimm.
It was as if a starting gun had been fired, and in an instant, the Grimm pursued.
Jaune uttered a war cry as he leapt from the crushed car and hurled himself at the nearest Grimm with his teeth bared.
YVYVYVYVY
Jaune landed atop a Boarbatusk, his balance steady for only a moment before it moved, but that was more than enough. As it bucked, he leapt, doubling his momentum.
So he travelled running atop the backs of these foul things.
One finally caught on, and Jaune dove as a Beowolf tried to snatch him out of the air.
He hit the ground and rolled, coming up with a rock in one hand and his Challenger in the other.
He brought the rock down in a brutal blow to the head of a Beowolf, sending the monster stumbling. Jaune didn’t relent, bringing his foot up to stomp it into the already dazed wolf Grimm, crunching his heel into its eye.
The thing reared away, and Jaune made to pursue it but darted to the side instead avoiding a set of swiping claws.
He couldn’t stop moving.
Surrounded as he was, it would be certain death.
But this… this was his norm.
Yharnam had made him no stranger to being outnumbered, and one of its earliest lessons was how to fight against multiple opponents.
He weaved around a charging Boarbatusk, sending a kick to its side that threw it off balance and caused it to collide with another Grimm.
A cry from above sparked to life inspiration, and he reached up, catching a Nevermore as it attempted to swoop, and used it to carry him over an Ursa, releasing its legs to land atop a Creep he used as a springboard to clear two more of its kind.
He palmed a Beowolf’s open maw downward as he landed, allowing him to roll across its back.
At last, he reached his goal.
The Deinos reacted to his presence immediately and reared back, its front legs poised to kick him, but Jaune was expecting this.
He rushed under the horse Grimm’s kick and caught it about the middle while it was still upon only its hind legs, his arms wrapping about its abdomen.
Jaune felt his whole body scream in protest as he heaved, but ignoring the pain was second nature by now. His face red with strain, he lifted with every muscle group available and let out a roaring cry as he managed to lift the powerful Grimm.
The Grimm tipped, and Jaune released his hold to backstep out of the way.
Grimm all have habits that are as defining as their appearance.
Beowolves rarely hunt alone.
Deathstalkers prefer to ambush their prey.
Boarbatusk tends to backpedal or stomp their feet before charging.
But Deinos have a habit that makes them very useful in niche situations.
They go mad when they are forced off their feet.
Jaune watched with satisfaction as the Horse Grimm began to kick and spasm on the ground. Its back legs found a victim in the exposed flank of a Creep that was soon laid out on the ground, dying from a collapsed chest.
Its front claw-like hooves gutted a Beowolf and devastated an Ursa’s forelimb before the Grimm finally gave the flailing Deimos space.
But Jaune wasn’t nearly finished.
He slammed into a Beowolf. The Grimm snarled viciously and tried to maul his face, but Jaune leaned back with flexibility that had surprised everyone he had ever trained with. The Grimm was nearly over his entire body when Jaune dropped to the ground and wedged his legs under the wolf Grimm’s ribs.
He kicked with both legs, sending the Grimm flying to land atop the still-grounded Deinos that proceeded to bite the back of the Beowolf's neck and savage it.
Now, there was a break in the body of the mob, and Jaune was left out in the open.
The Nevermore needed no further invitation, raining feathers down in wild volleys.
Kicking himself off the ground, Jaune dashed across the street, heading roughly in the direction of the fire truck ahead of the storm of arrow-like plumage. He took a moment to glance their way and saw Arrastra still holding the vehicle aloft, as well as the terrified looks of his younger sisters.
Jaune felt like his insides blazed. ‘How dare these things force his sisters to feel such terror,’ his mind roared, and Jaune responded aptly.
He charged straight toward an Ursa, the bear Grimm roaring in the challenge as Jaune approached.
Jaune fired his Challenger into its open maw, dismembering its mandible and opening its throat down to its clavicle.
Jaune dropped into a slide, the slick Grimm ‘blood’ letting him pass beneath the larger Grimm’s legs easily before it fell. Mid-motion, he pulled his machete free of its sheath.
He exited behind the Ursa and, using his elbow, forced his body upright. Swiping with his machete, he opened the snout of another Beowolf.
At last, though, he was caught.
A Creep caught him in the back of his thighs, throwing him forward, his face bouncing off the asphalt. He kicked back on instinct and felt his feet impact something that let out a hissing snort. Jaune twisted and stabbed back, his machete bouncing off a Creep’s armoured face.
Jaune growled and instead swung with his fist.
The crack of his knuckles on its face reinforced that attacking the Grimm with his bare hands was ill-advised, but it was satisfying nonetheless to send the Creep reeling with a blow.
Jaune got to his feet, blood gushing from his nose as he snarled at the Grimm closing in.
The few he killed didn’t even appear to make a dent in their numbers.
Jaune was engulfed in frustration and shouted his frustrations for the hoard to hear.
Anything to keep their focus on him.
Jaune reloaded his Challenger, snapping the weapon closed as he continued to back away from the enraged Grimm's snapping jaws.
He ducked a fired feather, swiping out to catch another Nevermore that tried to swoop from his blind spot, amputating a wing.
He punished a wild swipe of a Beowolves claw by swinging his machete through the limb entirely.
He fired his Challenger into a Griffon, sending the thing crashing into a smattering of ground-based Grimm, but he was rewarded with the realisation that he had only three shots left.
Then he heard it.
The sound of an engine roaring to life.
But before he could feel relief, he heard an accompanying roar join it.
He looked up and beheld the sky collapse in a hail of flaming debris and booming wings as something crashed through the top of the blazing building.
He hurled himself over the hood of a nearby car as concrete and other materials rained down on the gathered Grimm, killing several and wounding as many more.
But it didn’t matter.
The Second Wave was here.
Comments
Adelphos Praeses
Damn that action hits just right
Laplase
This is getting good! I wonder if this will be enough to awaken him though? I'm still looking forward to what powers he has besides Dream Walking. There was a glimpse of something in the forest that night but, not enough to say that he's awake yet. At least his Hunter abilities for a start, if not his Trick Weapons or Eldritch Powers.
SirTockelton
A hunter must hunt indeed. BTW, "He had found Orr, in a sense, to be the perfect beacon." You hit enter in the middle of sense that broke up the line.
