Chapter 32: Preparations for the Tournament!

Despite it being an entire week since you buried your father and reburied your mother, your mind is still muddled. It's been clear to nearly everyone that something is bothering you. Only the teachers know of the burial, while students think you're traumatized by whatever Merlot did to you. In truth, you've mostly forgotten about all of that – at least your time in captivity. Your mind is mostly focused on your father, mother, and uncle.

Suddenly you return to reality as Dr. Oobleck smacks your desk with a handful of papers.

"Mr. Slater, please pay attention.

"Oh, right... yeah, sorry," you halfheartedly respond.

Oobleck's eyes lighten a bit when he hears your tone. He speeds back to the front of the class and continues the lesson. He's made a mental note to speak with you before the day is over. Lucky for him, class is nearly complete. After a short lecture and some homework handed out, Oobleck dismisses the class. You slowly pack your thing and start heading out of the door.

"(Y/N)! I'd like you to speak with you," the teacher speaks.

You spin on your heel and turn to the professor. He stands at his desk, waiting for you to approach. You catch that silent message and meet him at his desk.

"How have you been, (Y/N)?" He starts with the casual question that so many ask.

"Fine, I guess. Look, I'm sorry. I don't mean to space out, it's jus-"

"Not another word," Oobleck cuts off, raising his hand. "I'm well aware of the reason and understand. Your father was a respected man. We all mourn his loss, even to this day."

"Yeah," you weakly answer, looking away.

"You know the teachers at this prestigious academy will indeed assist you in any... difficulties you have coping."

"Because I'm Jet's son?" You counter, sharply looking at the teacher. "It seems that's all I'm known for. Jet's son, the Slater, always called that at every Academy by every person, it-"

"Young man, you are not defined by your father. It's true, you follow a... twisted legacy, both of noble and corrupt men, but you are always your own man. Every teacher and student judges you for what you have done and not who you're related to."

You huff, resting your hands on Oobleck's messy desk.

"Every student?

"Every one that matters," Oobleck nods. "You have affected people in more ways than you realize, I think. Ozpin and Glynda, the students of Beacon, even other teachers across Remnant. Your personality, your charisma, that's what makes us want to help you. It may be true that some are honouring your father's wishes to train you, but you have grown beyond that. Nobody is helping you because they're forced to. We're helping you because we want to. That... is what makes a leader."

You push back on the desk, taking a step away from the teacher.

"A leader, huh? I don't think I'm a leader... I can barely work with my partner," you snicker.

"Is that so? If I remember correctly, you were the one who lead the battle against the Hydra."

You cross your arms and snicker once again, unsure how else to respond.

"I just let everyone know how to beat it," you shake your head.

"And they followed your orders to the letter. I will not argue with you, (Y/N) Slater, but you have qualities not even your father had. People flock to you, follow you, seek support from you. You always stand before your allies, ready to protect them. But remember, a leader is not alone. As you help your friends, they will always be there to help you."

You turn around and chuckle.

"I'm no leader, Oobleck. I'm just an idiot who has good friends."

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You walk through Beacon's grounds with your hands in your pockets. Oobleck's words are still circling around in your head like Nevermores to a village.

"A leader... I'm no leader... I just make jokes and have fun... and people follow me because I'm hilarious. Damn, should have said that," you scold yourself.

From across the way, team RWBY is approaching the cafeteria doors. Ruby spots you and immediately calls out your name and waves. The rest of her team looks to your direction, but, unfortunately, you failed to hear your girlfriend. Instead, you hear something completely different.

"There he is!"

You look to the right before being instantly tackled to the ground.

"WAH!"

A small group piles on top of you, weighing on your poor, frail self. RWBY starts laughing at the show before them, despite your cries for help. The small group quickly gets off you, allowing you to get back to your feet and brush the dirt off your uniform.

"We're sorry! We just... we didn't expect to find you!" The first girl giddily says.

You quickly look at the group of six before you – all girls with varying hair colour, size, and stature, but all clearly Huntresses-in-Training.

"Find me? What do you mean? Wait..." At a second glance, you notice only one of the girls has a Beacon uniform while the others have Haven, Shade, or Atlas attire. "Who... are you?"

"We're fans!" The Atlas girl shrieks. "You're (Y/N) Slater! We've all heard about you!"

"You... have?" You blink twice, completely baffled. "I... why?"

"You're the one who fought off White Fang!"

"And the one who killed the Mutated Grimm!"

"Even the giant Hydra!"

"And beat Pyrrha Nikos!"

You're overwhelmed by the sudden attention you're getting from these new, strange girls.

"I mean... that's not really a-"

"Hey, I just let our friends know he's here!"

"Your... friends?" Your eyes widen when you see another group burst out of the cafeteria.

"AAH!" The four girls of RWBY screech as they're knocked over like dominos.

A whole crowd surrounds you at this point, all shouting questions or flattering remarks while you stand dumbfounded in the middle. Admittedly, this does lighten your once gloomy mood, if only because the situation is so outrageous. So, in true Slater fashion, you decide to go along with it.

"I mean... I am pretty cool, I gotta say," you jokingly stroke your ego.

"I don't think he's wearing the jacket."

"Yeah, they say you had one."

"Well, it was tattered during the battle against the Hydra," you confidently say, eyes closed and smile wide.

"Wow, so cool."

"You've fought so many new Grimm!"

"He's as strong as he looks!"

RWBY gets to their feet, all annoyed that they were tossed to the ground like playthings by random students. However, their anger is quickly subsided when they witness the dozens of students now surrounding you.

"Well... he's gotten popular," Blake points out the obvious.

"They're all girls too," Weiss observes.

"Why... hey, he's not allowed to be with so many other girls!" Ruby pouts.

"Don't worry, I don't think he's doing anything like that. Though... it's funny to see you jealous, little sis."

"Wha- I'm not jealous! He's just my boyfriend," she crosses her arms and looks away. "Yang, am I jealous?"

"You're jealous," the three girls answer.

Ruby puffs her cheeks at her team, flustered at their eagerness to gang up on her.

"Show us your sword!"

"Yeah show us!

"Show us! Show us!" They all start chanting.

"Hehe... I wish Dylan were here. I could make a joke about all these girls wanting to- eh, whatever. Still funny to me."

You raise your hand to the air, eliciting silence from the crowd. In seconds, your blade bursts through a far door and joins with your hand. You slowly wrap your fingers around it, drawing out the little show you have going. You twirl the sword through your fingers, swaying it along both sides of your body. In a swift flash, you unsheathe the blade for the crowd, continuing to twirl both the blade and the sheath around your body. The crowd ogles this display which, admittedly, does make you a bit happy, despite everything that's happened.

This is evident to the members of RWBY.

"It's nice to see a smile on his face," Weiss quietly says.

Weiss has been keeping an eye on you just as much as Ruby. Her torturous feelings are still present within her, if buried under thirty layers of Weissiness. Your smile is something that always lightens her day, similar to how you cheer up Ruby and considering you've been absent for nearly a week... well, she's just happy at this spectacle.

"Yeah... he's been taking his dad's burial harder than I thought," Blake remarks.

"You guys haven't told him I told you, right?" Ruby looks to her friends.

The three girls shake their heads in response.

"You better be careful, sis. He might get taken away by all the girls."

"Eh? What!" Ruby shrieks, her cheeks heating up.

Your blade is sheathed once more as you hold it by your hip. You're listening to everyone's stories, taking pictures, and even signing weapons. Of course, some of the girls get... closer than you'd like, but it's just for a picture so you think nothing of it. That is until Ruby speeds through the crowd and clings to your arm. The crowd somewhat backs off at the sudden appearance of the young student.

"Oh, heya, Little Red. What's, aaah, what's up?" You lift your arm up to she's hanging off it like an animal.

"I'm... here to... remind you that we're all eating at the table like you promised?" She lies, looking up at you, upside down with her hair all flowing down.

You chuckle at the odd sight.

"Okay, then. We'll go. Um... thank you all for, uh... something," you rub your hilt on your leg. "And... I'll see you all around. If you're participating in the Vytal Festival I hope to see you there!"

In an instant, you step beside the remaining members of RWBY. The three awkwardly look at the clinging Ruby.

"Huh... somehow I'm not surprised," Yang cocks her head to the side.

"Hey, girls. I actually haven't talked to you in a while. Sorry about that," you shrug.

"It's no problem. We assumed something was on your mind and you'd deal with it," Weiss affirms.

"Yeah, thanks for the confidence, Weiss. No, all of you. So, let's get something to eat. I'm starved. Is Dylan in there, or..?"

Blake snickers.

"Well..."

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Once again, Dylan Brine is surrounded by fellow students who fawn over the Faunus.

"You're the cooler one!"

"I love your hair!"

"Make me wet!"

"Okay, who's saying that?" Dylan finally shouts, breaking his neutral look.

The crowd parts way for a young Faunus girl with sparkling blue hair, matching blue eyes, pale skin, and a short stature. The defining feature is the gills on her neck.

"Me! I... I'm Anut War... I'm your biggest fan," the young girl says with the most amount of confidence she can spur.

Dylan sighs and pinches his nose when he sees the young woman.

"She meant water... damn Slater, making me think- ah, whatever," he shakes his head. "Alright, Anut, here you go," he waves his hand, surrounding the small girl with water.

She happily cheers as she embraces the refreshing moisture of Dylan's Semblance, despite her uniform being somewhat ruined. Moments later the door opens and you, along with team RWBY, enter the cafeteria. Some of the students around Dylan spot you and freak out.

"That's Slater!"

In a rush of screams and footsteps, a whole other crowd bulldozes you. This time RWBY moves out of the way, slipping around the crowd and heading to Dylan's table. Before they get there, you appear out of the shadows, breathing heavily.

"When did all this happen?" You moan to yourself.

"Since the Hydra was defeated. I've been dealing with it all week," Dylan explains.

You both look to Anut, who's still playing in the water.

"I like you more, Dylan. He can't make me wet like you."

A laugh desperately tries to escape your lips, making your cheeks puff out.

"Don't... say... a word," Dylan sharply threatens.

"No, no, I won't say anything," you raise your hands. "Please, proceed with the wetification of this young lady.

"Slater, I swear to god..."

"No, no, I would never want to get in the way. Look at how happy you're making her," you gesture to the woman.

"He is making me happy," she nods her head.

Dylan facepalms then drags his hand down, pulling on the skin.

"I preferred the melancholy Slater."

You sit and slide up beside your partner.

"No, you didn't."

RWBY takes a seat around the table – Weiss and Yang take a seat opposite to you and Ruby, Dylan takes a seat beside you and Blake beside him.

"I think your entourage is realizing you're not there," Weiss points out.

You shrug.

"Yeah, whatever. I'll deal with it. Hopefully not for a week, though," you snicker, eyeing your friend.

"It's annoying..." Dylan responds, then he looks over to Anut who seems slightly offended. "Not you, Anut. You're fine."

"Yay!"

"Man, there are so many students. I hadn't even noticed all these new guys and gals," you comment, looking around the room.

"Well, anyone who hasn't come would be tardy. The Tournament starts soon."

"Yeah, that's gonna be awesome. Seeing a whole bunch of fights and getting to test ourselves against other schools. Either way, I know we're coming out on top," you boldly claim.

"No way! Team RWBY can't be beat!" Ruby argues, pushing against your side.

"If I remember correctly, who beat who when we fought?"

"We beat you!"

"No, you didn't! I wasn't trying to beat you and Ozpin showed up!"

"You were on your last legs!"

"I was planning things! Plus I'm stronger now!"

"So are we!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

Everyone else watches as you and Ruby have a friendly argument. Your heads are pushing against each other while you both have a competitive smile on your faces.

"Hey! He's over there!"

You both look over to the crowd who've got you in their sights.

"Ah, Christ. I'll keep these guys away from you. We'll chat later," you say to everyone before stepping to the door. "Alright, come outside then! Don't wanna disturb th- HEY!" The crowd rams into you, dragging you out the door in a sadistic fashion.

Your friends watch and laugh at the spectacle before them, but enjoy the peace and quiet when everyone leaves.

"Well, now it's his problem... Anut, you can sit down. You don't have to stand there," Dylan offers.

"Okay!" The childish girl cheers before taking your previous seat.

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After what feels like hours, you finally free yourself from the clutches of your newfound fans. It's still a mystery how you became so popular so quickly. True, you were well known in Beacon before but this is something else entirely. Either way, you can follow-through with a certain plan you concocted. The first step is meeting your good friend Dior in the library. From what you've heard, he's spent most of this time there reading and tinkering with Calamity.

You head to the back of the library where Dior asked you to meet. When he comes in view, he's focused on something that isn't his weapon. So focused that he doesn't notice you take a seat and watch him for a minute.

"So, what's that?" You inquire.

Dior jumps at the sound of a voice, nearly falling off his chair and knocking over his tools.

"Oh, (Y/N), I didn't see you, sorry. Actually, I'm glad to see you now. How are you after..."

"The burial? Fine, I guess. Something about today has cheered me up. Guess even I need a little nudge from friends every once in a while," you chuckle. "Anyway, how's it coming along? Is this it?" You ask, looking at the small box Dior's working on.

Like most things he makes, this shoebox-sized container is coloured gold with beautiful, if unnecessary, designs. It could be considered an antique from the craftsmanship alone. Dior tends to go a little overboard when designing new tech, both with its functionality and look. The blonde man looks down at his box.

"I think so. I made sure to follow your instructions to the letter and added one or two things. I have to say, this surprised me."

"What? That I want to train more?"

"Well, this seems a little extreme, even for you," Dior admits, tapping the table. "I made sure to add some safety protocols-"

"Which can be turned off?" You raise a brow.

"Yes," Dior sighs. "They can be turned off. Just remember that there are three settings! Think of it as easy, normal, and hard."

You pat his arm, smiling.

"I appreciate the thought, but I won't get stronger if someone's holding my hand. This will help me improve in all the ways I need."

"Well, if used correctly it could make anyone stronger," Dior states as he stares at his creation. "Almost... makes me want to try it myself."

You lean back in your chair, lift your leg and resting your heel on the other's knee.

"Really? Are you... still bummed out about Merlot's place?" Dior's quick glance answers your question. "Dior, you're fine. You have a whole team to back you up. You don't have to beat everything on your own."

Dior snickers.

"Funny hearing that from you."

You rub the back of your head and smile.

"Yeah, I guess so. But I'm not as smart as you are, so... meh," you shrug. "So can I take it?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's all ready," he nods, pushing the box along the table towards you. "It can shrink too," he holds his hand up to imitate its shrunken size. "And I made sure to add a clip so you can store it on your belt."

"You're the best," you wink as you swipe the box up, shrink it, and hitch it to your belt. "Well, I have one more stop. We'll talk later, alright, Dior?"

"Of course. Take care of yourself."

"I never do," you joke before leaping away.

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You appear in Ozpin's office, uninvited as always. Ozpin is alone, staring out the window at the various students.

"Ah, (Y/N). A pleasure to see you," he greets as he turns to face you. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Yeah, actually..." You scratch your neck and approach the Headmaster. "I have to ask a favour from you... well, more as a teacher."

"Oh?" Ozpin raises his brow. "You've piqued my curiosity. How can I help?"

"I'd like to stop going to class... at least until the Vytal Festival is over."

"Hm..." Ozpin's fingers dance along his cane as he contemplates your words. "That's an odd request. I assume you have ample reasoning for this?"

He takes a seat in his chair and beckons you to sit across from him. You join him, resting your hands on his desk.

"I want to try a new training routine but, well, I kinda wanna dedicate everything to it. Nonstop training, you know?"

Ozpin places his hand on his chin as he thinks.

"This is a very bold request. You are a student and are graded as such. It would be unfair to the other students if you were allowed some extra training."

"Please, Ozpin. I need to do this. Here," you rummage through your pocket until you find a neatly folded piece of paper. "This is my plan. My friend Dior made a device that can help me with it."

You slide the paper across the table to Ozpin, who grabs it and gently unfolds the schedule. He takes a moment to read it, genuinely surprised at some of the goals and methods to achieve said goals. This is a training regimen beyond anything he's seen a student come up with before.

"This is... interesting... it seems you're focused on your speed more than your strength," he notes.

"Yeah... I don't want to rely on my Semblance for speed. It didn't work against you, clearly," you chuckle. "But I also think increasing my speed could balance well with my Semblance. If I can attack and react faster... well, I think it'll just make me a better fighter," you smile.

"I see... well..." Ozpin struggles to find a decision.

He's well aware of the dangers ahead and the peril you're in, both with Harrier and Salem's crew. Considering everything, you becoming stronger is the best option. With a routine like this, it's possible you'll achieve more progress than you have over the past few years. Ozpin puts the paper on the desk and steps out of his chair, looking back to the window. There are many trials coming for not only you, but every person at Beacon Academy. Becoming stronger is the reason these Academies were formed, and here you are asking to go beyond what is normal... admittedly, he likes that. He closes his eyes and smiles. His decision has been made.

"Very well. I will allow this."

"Really?" You burst out of your chair with a giant smile on your face.

"I am. You seem committed to this routine and I'm curious to see how that'll go. But you must log every hour you train and submit it at the end of each week."

"Sure, whatever you want!" You excitedly respond.

"Then it's decided. I'll inform the teachers. Don't make me regret this."

"You won't, I swear!"

"Then I suggest you start right away."

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After a trip to your dorm to change into some casual clothes, you find a small, open field to set up your first training session. Everyone from Beacon is in class so you should be safe here. Any students from the other Kingdoms wouldn't venture to this part of Beacon anyway. You unclip the box from your belt and let it expand in your hand.

"Alright, Dior, let's see how this goes," you set the box down and take a few steps back. "Initiate Final Program!" You speak aloud.

I know I'm not ready for this yet, but I want to see how far I have to go.

The box opens and shoots out various rods all over the area, over two dozen. The second set of rods are launched farther, creating a barrier that nothing can break through. The barrier stretches high in the sky, passing Ozpin's tower easily. It would be an eyesore if Dior didn't install an optional camouflage feature. Within the cylinder, a storm cloud forms above you. Lightning flows through the clouds and occasionally strikes the rods.

Lightning faster than lightning... you're a miracle worker, Dior. Let's see if I can dodge and tag your super lightning. If not, I'll start with the not actually lightning... lightning... meh, it was my idea.

The electricity travels between all the rods placed around. Some just take bolts of lightning which you're going to try and cut through. That's meant to test and improve your reaction time and attack speed. The others are meant to redirect lightning at you, thanks to a small watch you have to put on. That's meant to also improve reaction time plus movement speed. It's a simple and effective training regimen that you hope will push you to new heights.

The sounds of crackling lightning fills your ears from every direction. You're almost overwhelmed by the amount of things you have to keep track of: finding lightning that's striking the rods and also dodging the ones attempting to strike you. Your senses are on full blast, your eyes are constantly moving, you're consistently turning yourself around.

I gotta rely on all my senses for this... and no semblance...

You unsheathe your blade and grip it tightly. Rain subsequently pours down from the cloud.

"Coulda told me that, Dior," you mumble.

The rain quickly dampens your clothes, making your movements somewhat sluggish. Your hair falls flat, droplets falling from the tips onto the soaked grass below. And finally, you move.

You hear a spout come from the left of you. You immediately try to twirl over it, but the bolt tags your leg, sending you spiraling in another direction and crashing to the ground.

"Okay... that- gah!" Your body is stricken by the fierce lightning. Before you can do anything else another bolt hits your back, forcing you to slam face first into the barrier. You slowly slide down, but not before being hit by another strikes your shoulder. You fall to the ground, landing on your back, and stare up at the grey clouds. "Yeah... that's about right..."

You slowly get off the ground and brush off your clothes. You soon hear lightning strike on some of the outer poles, meaning you've completely missed some of the ones you're meant to attack. You burst off your leg and rush forward, going for a rod you guess lightning will go for. You jump off and cut through the air, hitting nothing at all. You spin around and slide to a halt, looking around for another indication of a lightning strike. However, one of the rods beside you fires lightning at your chest, pushing you back onto the ground. You dig your hand deep into the ground and throw yourself forward at the rod. This process makes you hover over another one, which was chosen by the lightning instead. You're directly hit, slamming you into the pole. It digs into your stomach, almost ripping the random shirt you've brought.

From there, you're hit again from the side, and again and again and again. You're panting on the ground, holding your chest as you halfheartedly chuckle.

"Guess this is a really shocking revelation for me, hehe... GAH!" A bolt smashes your back, forcing your face into the dirt. "Guess the lightning doesn't wanna deal with my jokes either," you weakly chuckle. "Program end!"

The rods are all suctioned back into the box while the storm above dies down. You get to your feet and exhale.

"Alright, so clearly my speed and reaction time needs some work. I don't even think I've faced someone that fast before, so if this goes right I might be unstoppable. More time to taunt," you snicker. "Alright, let's start with the basics. Dior should have left an outfit for me," you lean over the box and rummage for a set of clothes. "Ah, here we go!"

You pull out a black and purple jumpsuit, holding it up in front of you.

"Not... very fashionable... Am I supposed to wear this all the time? Ugh..." You shiver.

You swiftly take off all your clothes, including boxers, and slip your legs into the suit. While dragging it up, your hands graze over the scars on your back. You pause for a moment as flashes of that night make themselves prominent in your mind. You squeeze the suit and slip it completely on. If anything, that's encouragement to get stronger... to honour their deaths. You won't bury anyone else like you did them.

With the suit on, you grab your scroll and click through the menus.

"Alright, just gotta link it to my scroll... heh," you shake your head. "Gravity Dust-laced clothing. Should be fun."

Once you're all settled you make sure to connect the suit with your scroll, as per Dior's instructions. Once connected, you're given the option to turn it on.

"Only one setting, right? I don't see an option... hm... alright, let's see how effective your-" The moment you activate it, your body slams right into the ground. "OH MY GOD!" The amount of weight suddenly put on your body absolutely overwhelms you. "I've... never felt this... much pressure... in my life..." You barely manage to say. "Okay... first..." You let out a few coughs. "First... let's get to my feet. Alright... just push... up..."

Your arms drag along the ground, flattening the grass. You can barely even move your arms to position yourself to push up. Your muscles are shaking, your face going red.

"So much... for training... I... can't even... get up... holy hell, Dior..."

You use every ounce of strength in your body but you just can't get yourself up. In truth, it reminds you of past training sessions – throwing you into a situation you're not ready for and forcing you to push through. That's happened one too many times in your seventeen years, but since you're still here it means you've overcome every single obstacle... and you'll push past this one.

"Well, since I didn't immediately die... I should be... able to adapt..." You push against the ground once more but to no avail.

This failure doesn't stop you. Again and again, you give it your all to push up. You won't be kept down by this thing.

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Dylan approaches the dorms, opening the door for some students behind him. He spots RWBY in the distance, so he holds the door for them.

"Thanks, Dylan," Yang winks, passing him.

"Hey, where's (Y/N)? Don't you have class together?" Ruby inquires.

Dylan enters the building after the girls and shrugs.

"He never came to class. I have no idea where he is."

"I'm surprised you're not used to it yet," Weiss remarks.

"Don't lie, Weiss. If (Y/N) was your boyfriend you'd have a tracker on him."

"I-I would not! Please, I would never date someone as irresponsible as him," Weiss crosses her arms and looks away.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" Ruby pouts, stomping in front of Weiss.

"And that's my exit. Have a good evening, girls," Dylan waves at the team before heading off to his own dorm.

"Stay safe," Blake waves back.

"Dylan! Ladies!" A booming voice shouts from the door. Both Dylan and RWBY look back down the hall, seeing Kin with his arms wide and his smile wider. "I'm glad I caught you! I've a grand present for each of you!"

"Grander than his voice?" Yang whispers, eliciting giggles from the others.

Kin stops in front of the ground with six tickets in hand. He hands two to Dylan and four to RWBY.

"I said I wanted to bring us all out, and I have! Well, prepared, anyway, haha!"

The five read the details of the tickets.

"Wait, this is for Illium's! This is the biggest club in Vale!" Yang speaks with excitement.

"As astute as you are beautiful! Indeed, I want to take you all out for some child-friendly drinks and dance! I believe there is no better way to bond than something like this... besides fighting, of course!" He cheers.

"Sounds... interesting," Blake rubs her cheek. "Could be better than when Yang took us to a club."

"Hey!"

"Please, think on it. It's for this weekend. I would love to become friends with you all, especially you, Ruby! I'd like to see how you tamed the leviathan known as (Y/N) Slater! Speaking of my dear friend, where is he?"

Everyone's body language quickly tells Kin that they're unaware of your location.

"I see, well, Dylan Brine, I beg you to deliver the news to him! I'd like to catch up with him once more!"

"I'm sure he'd enjoy that as well. Nonetheless, I have homework to do. I'll speak with you all another time. I'll let you know if (Y/N) returns to the dorm, Ruby."

"Thanks, Dylan. Have fun!" She waves.

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You did not return that night. Too stubborn to give up, you've been working with this intense weight all night. There were times you wanted to give up, to turn off the suit or leap out of there. But your training mindset is different from your casual one. The goal of sleeping in your bed, the goal of eating a cooked steak, these things drove you to push past everything and... still, fail. The sun is rising on Beacon Academy and you're still on the grass. Granted, you managed to lift yourself to your hands and knees. Some would say that's not progress, but considering the immense handicap you have, you'd say it's a hell of a lot better than before.

Your arms and legs are shaking from the strain of this exercise, but you haven't faltered yet.

"Okay... okay... one giant push... that's all I need... get to your feet, (Y/N), get to your feet..."

With a strained shout, you push yourself against the earth to stand victorious or fall flat on your face again. Thankfully the latter doesn't happen... but neither does the former. You fall back to your knees, barely keeping yourself at that point.

"Come on, (Y/N)..."

"You always stand before your allies, ready to protect them."

Oobleck's words echo in your mind, stirring your resolve.

"I... have to stand in front of everyone... like my dad did for me... I... have to... stand..." You attempt to stand up again, but this time your legs manage to fully extend if a tad wobbly. "Haha... haha... hahahahaha, suck it, world!" You victoriously cheer. "Now... hehe... I'm hungry... Lets just..." You put everything you have into lifting your leg and stepping, but the best you can do is drag your shoe across the grass. "Good enough."

To make sure you move all your muscles, you dramatically walk with all your body, throwing your arms front and back with each step... if you could really even move. You're practically the definition of sluggish right now. It takes you about ten minutes of constant struggling and deep, paced breaths to leave the training area. Once you break through the camouflage you see Ozpin standing before you with a plate of food in his hand. Unfortunately, it's not a steak. It's what one would consider a "balanced breakfast."

"Training going well?" He politely asks.

Ozpin instantly notices your shaking body, indicating massive strain. He also notices the suit underneath your regular clothes.

"You know... just... getting into it..."

"You seem to be carrying a lot of weight on your shoulders. Why not stop for some food?" He slickly throws a joke in there, but still hands over the plate.

"I was... just going for that. Thanks..."

You shakily grab the plate he's made and start eating.

"I see you've taken this place for your own. Have you tested your abilities, yet?"

"Yeah... I couldn't... dodge the lightning... hell, I couldn't even... react to it..."

"I thought not," he responds while you take a bite. "Are you going to be remaining in that suit?"

"All the time... yeah... I want to... get used to this weight..."

"Hm... that's rather bold. I'm curious to see how your training will go. Make sure to stay rested and fed. Your body won't grow if you ignore those things."

"Yeah, don't worry," you smile. "I'll, uh... I'll make sure to... keep up with it..."

"Excellent. Well, I'll leave you to your training. Good luck, (Y/N)."

Ozpin spins on his heel and calmly walks away from you. You quickly fall to your knees and start gouging the meal... as fast as you can with your massive handicap, of course.

Yes, another short chapter, I know. It's not my fault. I always say I write until I feel the chapter has completed its purpose. Sometimes that's longer, sometimes that's shorter. I remember I said there was two chapters until Volume 3 officially starts, but it might be four or so. It depends on how things work out. Anyway, there's a big announcement in this chapter!

OC CONTEST!

Yes, it's finally here! I mentioned this a while ago, I think, and I'm happy to finally bring it to you guys. To thank you all for your constant support, I want to give you guys the opportunity to have your OC in the story! Now, there are a few rules and such which I'll be going through now. Of course, the chosen OC's will have their creators credited.

Requirements and Conditions!

So this is pretty straightforward. If you want to submit your OC I need a character biography. Name, age, race, appearance, weapon, and backstory. Those are the basics, but if you have more then send it too. Now, there's something very important I have to say. If you submit your OC, you're also allowing me to change them however I wish to fit the story. That's just the way it has to be. Honestly, I very much doubt I'd change anything other than the backstory (if that conflicted with anything). I just want to make sure you're all aware of that!

How to Enter?

It's simple, but I feel its different for every website. If you have drawings, pictures, whatever for your OC then I would rather you send those and the bio through Twitter. If you don't have Twitter then get in contact with me and we'll figure it out. If you don't any pictures and its just a regular bio then follow the instructions based on what website you're on.

Fanfiction: I would prefer you send the details through a PM. If you're a guest on the site, leaving it in the review section is perfectly fine.

Wattpad: I absolutely hate Wattpad's PM system. So please leave your OC bios here – Submissions.

Quotev: PMs are preferred but it doesn't really matter.

AO3: Considering there isn't a PM system then you can just leave it in the comments.

That's about everything! If you have any more questions feel free to ask me! I'm really excited to see what OCs you guys come up with! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and I'll see you next time!

Want to keep up with me? Know what chapter's coming out next and the progress of them? Follow me on Twitter! Twitter . com (slash) Chinsangan

If you REALLY like me you could consider supporting me on Patreon. You can make a request for any stories you want! Of course it's optional but it helps. Pat reon . com (slash) Chinsangan

Questions? Comments? Concerns? Advice? Send me a message! See ya!

A special thank you to Patreon supporters: Ride The Lightning, Manuel Garcia