Vale City Outskirts High Afternoon.

The sunlight had softened to a golden haze as Jaune Arc, Velgrynd, Elena, and Scáthach gathered at the edge of the forest. The fading echoes of combat lingered, the sharp tang of Grimm dissipating into mist. Huntsman and Huntress assignments had become second nature routine tasks, hardly more than warm-ups now, for warriors of their caliber.

Jaune stretched, his armor softly creaking as he sheathed Ashen Oath. "Everyone okay?"

Velgrynd folded her arms, a confident smile dancing on her lips. "Barely even broke a sweat."

Elena brushed dust from her sleeves, eyes gleaming playfully. "You know, one of these days I'd like a mission challenging enough to justify me actually opening my spellbook."

Scáthach laughed softly, regal amusement flickering in her gaze. "Be careful what you wish for. Even the simplest tasks can spiral into chaos with us."

Jaune chuckled. "Fair point."

Just as the warmth of laughter was settling around them, Jaune's scroll chimed loudly a sharp, insistent sound that cut through their relaxed moment like a blade. Jaune pulled it from his pocket, brows furrowing as he saw the caller ID: Luna.

"That's odd," he muttered, immediately picking up. "Luna? What's wrong?"

Luna's voice came through the speaker, tense and uncharacteristically agitated. "Jaune, we have a problem."

The levity evaporated instantly. Elena stepped closer, concerned. Velgrynd tensed, eyes narrowing, and Scáthach's playful demeanor shifted into quiet vigilance.

"What happened?" Jaune demanded, voice tight.

"Ozpin knows," Luna stated flatly, the tension in her voice palpable even through the scroll. "He found out what you truly are."

Jaune's hand clenched so hard around the device it nearly cracked. "How the hell did that happen?"

There was a pause on the line, Luna's voice icy and controlled when she spoke again. "A recording of your battle the one against the armored Heretic God reached him. He recognized the divine power at play. He's connected the dots, Jaune. He knows you're a Campione."

Jaune cursed under his breath, an aura of anger and frustration radiating from him. Velgrynd took a step forward, golden eyes burning fiercely. "How dare he meddle into things beyond his comprehension!"

Elena's voice shook with disbelief. "He should've minded his own business. Ozpin had no right!"

Scáthach remained composed, but her voice was edged with lethal calm. "He oversteps himself, seeking power he cannot control."

Jaune closed his eyes, inhaling deeply to center himself. "Luna, did he confront you directly?"

"He did," Luna replied sharply, a note of lingering wrath simmering beneath her careful words. "He appeared uninvited at lunch, tried to recruit you into his ridiculous war. I warned him exactly what I'd do if he dared approach you with his foolishness."

Jaune groaned in frustration. "This was exactly what we wanted to avoid."

Elena reached out, gently placing a hand on Jaune's shoulder. "Jaune, we can't let Ozpin drag you into his endless cycle. Salem isn't our fight."

"She's barely even a threat," Velgrynd scoffed. "You and Luna prepared for her long ago her curse, her immortality all of it. We can end Salem the moment she steps forward."

Scáthach nodded firmly, voice calm yet utterly resolute. "You have the Authorities capable of breaking even Salem's twisted curse. Ozpin's desperation to pull you into his war is nothing but panic. He doesn't yet understand you stand far beyond him."

"I know," Jaune replied, his voice heavy, "but that's exactly why he won't stop. He thinks I'm a weapon he can wield another pawn on his board."

"You're nobody's pawn," Velgrynd growled protectively. "You're a king, a Godslayer. He must learn that the hard way if necessary."

Luna's voice came softer, more soothing over the scroll. "We knew this day would eventually come, Jaune. Our secret couldn't last forever. But we have a plan, and we have each other. Ozpin has nothing but fear and uncertainty."

Jaune looked at his companions, gratitude and fierce pride evident in his gaze. "You're right. But I won't let Ozpin drag any of you into his manipulations."

Elena squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "We're already involved, Jaune. Not because of Ozpin but because we chose you. You're not alone in this."

Jaune exhaled deeply, determination flooding back into him. "Alright. Luna, keep an eye on Ozpin. If he tries anything, call me immediately."

"You have my word," Luna assured him calmly. "But be cautious, little brother. Ozpin is cunning, and desperate men are the most dangerous."

"I will," Jaune promised firmly. "We'll handle him together."

Luna disconnected, leaving the four standing in tense silence.

Velgrynd broke it first, eyes blazing. "If Ozpin tries anything foolish, he'll face the full wrath of a Flame Dragon. I promise that."

Elena nodded vigorously. "And he'll learn exactly how creative a mage's wrath can be."

Scáthach smiled faintly, her voice cold steel wrapped in velvet. "I will ensure he understands the difference between seeking allies and inciting gods."

Jaune finally smiled, the fire in his heart blazing stronger than ever. "Then let him come. He'll find out quickly that trying to control a Campione is the biggest mistake of his very long life."

Together, they turned away from the battlefield, stepping forward as one unified not by a war against Salem, but by bonds forged through trust, loyalty, and the unshakable determination to protect their chosen family.

No matter what Ozpin believed or attempted, he had already lost.

Because Jaune Arc wasn't someone he could ever manipulate again.

Vale – The Kokui Mansion, War Room Balcony. Evening

The evening air was crisp, wind brushing gently through the trees beyond the fortified balcony. The stars were just beginning to emerge, peeking between the clouds like watchful eyes.

Jaune Arc stood beside a reinforced oak table that held several open maps, celestial charts, and magical sigil records. His coat was still flecked with dust from the day's mission, but his posture remained tense aware, calculating.

Across from him stood Luna Kokui, her midnight cloak wrapped around her shoulders like a second skin. She hadn't touched the wine glass on the ledge. Her expression was composed but sharp, like frost before a storm.

"He knows," Jaune said at last, breaking the silence.

Luna's silver eyes narrowed. "Ozma finally opened his eyes, did he? Pity. I was hoping he'd remain willfully blind a little longer."

He looked up at her, jaw clenched. "He saw a recording. The fight with that Heretic God who surfaced near the Solus Divide. Someone leaked it."

Luna nodded slowly, her voice dropping into something low and dangerous. "Then it's time we talk about the obvious."

"Salem," Jaune said grimly.

Luna moved to stand beside him, her fingers brushing over a constellation diagram pinned to the edge of the table. "He'll try to use her to bait you. Play the same old tune. 'You must help us, Jaune. For the greater good. The world needs you.'" She mocked his tone with an arched brow. "Pathetic."

"I'm not going to play his game," Jaune said. "Not when we already have the pieces to end hers."

Luna turned, her cloak trailing behind her. "You're still prepared to use it? The Severance Blade?"

Jaune nodded. "It's locked away in Arcadia's vault. You saw it react. That sword didn't flinch even in front of a god. The moment Salem's essence touches it, her curse will unravel."

"And if she tries to flee?" Luna asked.

Jaune's eyes glowed faintly. "Then I use the Curse of Verdara."

Luna's lips curved not quite a smile, but close. "A curse for a curse."

He looked at her then, the fire of divine resolve in his gaze. "She's not a myth to fear anymore. She's just a broken soul clinging to an old cycle. We've faced gods that made her look like a shadow cast by a candle."

Luna exhaled, stepping closer. "You don't think Ozpin will see that. He still believes the world turns around his war."

"And if he tries to turn it around me," Jaune muttered, "he'll see I'm not a piece on his board."

Luna reached out, placing a hand gently over his chest. "You were never his piece. You were always a king. And you've become something greater than even that."

He touched her hand. "We still need to be ready. If Salem shows herself, I want to end it. Clean. Fast. I'm not letting her drag anyone else into this."

"She won't," Luna said. "Because when that day comes, you and I will walk into the storm together."

Jaune gave a small, solemn smile. "And leave it behind us with the sky clear."

They stood there in the silence, the wind curling around them like a protective shroud.

Luna's voice softened. "I never said it properly... but I'm proud of you, Jaune. You've become everything they tried to stop you from being."

He looked at her not as the god-slayer, not as the wielder of divine might but simply as a brother. One who had found strength not just in power, but in the bonds he chose.

"And I had you to show me the way."

Luna's eyes glimmered faintly.

"Then we'll finish what they started," she said. "But on our terms. No cycles. No gods. Just justice."

Jaune nodded.

Together, they turned their eyes toward the horizon.

Whatever came next Salem, Ozpin, or something darker still it would not find them unprepared.

And when the final battle arrived, it would not be waged by pawns on a dusty field.

It would be settled by godslayers.

By blood.

By akill.

By choice.

And they would make sure the world never forgot it. For they are the first and seventh king

https://youtu.be/6Vyu7aFUZvc

Beacon Academy – West Wing Faculty Lounge

Late evening

The faint hum of activity outside the towered windows was a muted symphony of steel clashing, students laughing, and Vale's breeze sweeping autumn leaves across the stone paths. But inside the lounge, there was only stillness. No scroll notifications, no chatter just the soft chime of a clock counting time too slowly for Pyrrha Nikos.

She stood by the window, arms folded over her chest, her expression unreadable as she watched a pair of first-year students sparring on the lower courtyard. She could have corrected their stances in seconds. Instead, she said nothing. Let the scene unfold. Let the silence linger.

Glynda Goodwitch, standing several paces behind, gently stirred her tea. She didn't drink it she never did when something weighed on her conscience. Instead, she used the ritual to anchor herself, as if by keeping her hands busy, her mind might follow.

"I imagine you're wondering why I called you here," Glynda said at last, breaking the quiet with a voice soft, measured, but laced with meaning.

Pyrrha turned slightly, nodding. "I had a few guesses."

"You always do." Glynda allowed a faint smile to tug at the edge of her mouth. "Your instincts have always served you well."

She set the spoon down, its soft clink against porcelain the only sound before she walked toward the window.

"Tell me," Glynda said, stopping beside her. "You saw him recently. What did you think?"

Pyrrha's lips parted, then closed again. Her eyes dropped toward the students below, who had now collapsed into laughter, sprawled in the grass.

"...He didn't feel real," she finally said.

Glynda waited.

"I thought I'd see the same boy," Pyrrha continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "The one who struggled to lift his shield without wobbling. The one who grinned even when bruised. But I didn't. I saw... someone else. A man I couldn't read. Strong, grounded. Cold, even."

"You were expecting familiarity," Glynda said gently. "But you found distance."

Pyrrha nodded. "And not just in his voice. In his presence. His silence was louder than anything he could've said."

Glynda studied her. "And did it hurt?"

A beat.

Pyrrha's hands curled slightly into her sleeves. "More than I want to admit."

The silence returned again but this time, it was not empty.

Finally, Glynda spoke, her tone shifting. Firmer. Professional. "That's part of why I asked you here today."

Pyrrha looked at her, brows drawing in slightly.

"Jaune Arc," Glynda said, deliberately using his full name, "is a name that still resonates within these halls. Among the faculty, the archives, the students who knew him or thought they did."

"What about him?" Pyrrha asked warily.

"We'd like to offer him a role," Glynda said carefully. "One that doesn't tie him down as a student... but allows him to rejoin us in a different capacity."

"You want him to return to Beacon?" Pyrrha asked, confused. "As what, a Huntsman?"

"Not quite," Glynda said. "We're creating a new position a senior mentorship for promising students who've had real-world experience. Someone to act as both guide and guardian. A bridge between classroom and battlefield."

Pyrrha's gaze sharpened. "And you think Jaune would accept that?"

"I don't know," Glynda admitted. "But we believe he might consider it if the request came from someone he once trusted."

Realization dawned in Pyrrha's eyes.

"You want me to convince him."

"I want you to speak to him," Glynda corrected. "Not to pressure him. Not to manipulate. Just... talk. From the heart. You were close once."

Pyrrha looked away. "We were. But I don't know if we still are."

Glynda turned toward her fully. "You don't have to be. This isn't about the past you shared. It's about the future he could help shape."

Pyrrha hesitated. Her heart twisted with uncertainty. "You make it sound like the school needs him."

Glynda exhaled. "We do. The world does. Whether he accepts or not... we need to understand him."

Pyrrha caught the edge in her voice.

"You're not telling me everything."

Glynda didn't answer right away. Her gaze drifted to the window.

"I'm telling you what I can," she said. "But the rest... the rest must come from Jaune."

The words sat heavy between them.

Pyrrha's thoughts swirled. The market. The way Jaune hadn't even flinched when he saw her. The way his gaze held no malice only distance. She had once trained him. Pushed him. Failed him.

Now he stood above the storm, and she couldn't even see the path he'd taken to get there.

"...What if he refuses?" she asked softly.

Glynda's voice was calm. "Then we accept that he walks his own path. But at least we'll know we tried."

Pyrrha looked down at her hands. Hands that once pulled Jaune off the training floor. Hands that once rested proudly on his shoulder after his first clean parry. Hands that now felt helpless.

"I'll do it," she said. "I'll talk to him."

Glynda offered a small nod. "Thank you, Pyrrha."

As Pyrrha turned to leave, Glynda called after her, quieter now.

"Pyrrha."

She stopped.

"I don't ask this of you lightly. Whatever he's become... it's more than any of us expected. Be careful with your heart."

Pyrrha smiled faintly.

"My heart broke a long time ago, Professor."

And then she left her footsteps quiet but steady ready to chase a ghost wearing Jaune Arc's face, hoping that somewhere beneath the storm, the boy she once believed in still lingered.

Team PARN Dormitory – Late Afternoon

The sun hung low over Beacon, casting long golden rays across the academy's towers and courtyards. Inside the dorm room of Team PARN, tension hung thicker than the velvet dusk pressing against the windows.

Pyrrha Nikos stood near the window, arms folded tightly across her chest, her reflection shimmering faintly in the glass. Her hair was still damp from training, but her focus wasn't on her reflection it was on the thoughts whirling endlessly in her head.

On the opposite side of the room, Nora paced, her boots thudding softly against the carpet. "So... what do we do?" she finally asked, the words breaking the silence like a hammer on glass.

Ren sat at the small desk, fingers steepled beneath his chin, his brow creased in thought. Alister was sprawled across the bed, his arms behind his head, feigning relaxation but betraying tension in his voice.

"You say that like we have any say in the matter," Alister muttered. "Jaune made his position pretty clear the last time we saw him."

Nora stopped pacing. "He didn't even look mad, though. That's the part that makes it worse. He looked... done. Like we were just dust on his boots."

"He wasn't cruel," Pyrrha said quietly, still not looking away from the window. "He could have been. He had every right to be."

Ren's voice was calm, but firm. "But he wasn't. That tells us something. There's still a door open."

Alister snorted. "Or he's just too noble to waste his time yelling at us. You don't exactly scream at the mountain after it's already left you behind."

"No," Pyrrha said suddenly, turning from the window. Her emerald eyes burned with conviction now. "He hasn't shut us out completely. Not entirely. If he wanted to erase us, he could have. But he stood there. He listened."

"He dismissed us," Nora reminded, though her voice was soft with guilt. "And he was right to."

Pyrrha walked toward the center of the room, eyes shifting from one teammate to the other. "Ozpin wants to offer Jaune a role as a student teacher. A bridge between the new Huntsmen and those who've seen real battle. But we all know Ozpin won't be able to convince him."

"Because Jaune doesn't trust him," Ren said plainly.

"Because Jaune doesn't trust Beacon," Alister corrected.

"And maybe," Pyrrha whispered, "because Jaune doesn't trust us."

That landed heavy in the room.

Silence returned, but not for long.

"Then what are we saying?" Nora asked, sitting down on her bunk. "That we go to him? Say sorry again and ask him to come back and teach a bunch of kids who might treat him the same way we did?"

"No," Pyrrha replied. "We go to him with honesty. Not apologies. Not excuses. We don't ask him to come back for us. We ask him to come back... because he has something to give. Something those students need. And because maybe, just maybe, it's time we finally showed him we see the man he became."

Ren leaned forward, curious. "Even if he says no?"

Pyrrha nodded. "Then he says no. But we try. We owe him that much."

Alister let out a long breath and sat up. "This is starting to sound like the beginning of a redemption arc."

Pyrrha smirked faintly. "Maybe it is."

"You think he'll even listen to us?" Nora asked. "After what we said... after how we treated him?"

"I don't know," Pyrrha admitted. "But I'd rather try and be turned away than live with the silence."

She looked toward the scroll on the desk. "Tomorrow, we find him. We speak from the heart. And if nothing else, we make sure he knows we're not blind anymore."

"And if Ozpin tries to use him again?" Alister asked.

Pyrrha's eyes sharpened. "Then I'll stand between them."

The others stared at her.

And for a moment for the first time in a long time it felt like a team again.

A broken one, yes.

But maybe one ready to begin mending the cracks.

In the evening

The corridor was silent save for the soft hum of arcane machinery and the distant drip of water from unseen pipes. Faint pools of golden light glowed along the walls, illuminating the intricate runes etched into the stone runes that pulsed with ancient power. At the far end, behind a pair of reinforced doors, lay the heart of Beacon's most secret project.

Jaune voices had echoed down these halls once, but now the only steps were Pyrrha's, measured and resolute, each one weighted with dread and determination.

When the doors slid open, she found herself in a vaulted chamber much like the one she had glimpsed in her childhood dreams: the so‑called "Fall Maiden's Sanctuary." At its center stood the aura‑transfer apparatus a towering metal frame of brass and silver, glass tubes coiling like vines around a crystal dais. Seven empty clamps hung from the gantry, their inner surfaces scorched by past transfers.

And on that dais, pale and still, lay Amber the previous Fall Maiden. Her once‑vibrant auburn hair fanned across the crystal like dying embers. Her chest rose only faintly, a whisper of her former strength. Tubes connected her wrists and temples to the machine, siphoning the last threads of her aura into the crystal above.

Near the controls stood Professor Ozpin, his cane resting in one hand. His silver eyes, usually so calm, were shadowed by urgency. At his side, Glynda Goodwitch watched impassively, her aura nearly as taut as the metal clamps around Amber's frail body.

Pyrrha's breath caught. "Amber..." she whispered.

No answer came. Amber's lips were sealed forever.

Ozpin gestured gently. "Pyrrha, thank you for coming. I I know this is difficult."

Pyrrha swallowed hard, pressing a hand to her heart. "She's... she's going to die, isn't she?"

He met her gaze steadily. "The transfer must be completed. Amber's condition has deteriorated beyond healing. Cinder through Salem has half of her power. What remains must pass to you, now, if the Fall Maiden's cycle is to continue."

Tears pooled in Pyrrha's eyes. "A fairy tale," she choked, "I always thought the Maidens were stories legends to inspire. You told me once that magic wasn't real."

Ozpin's expression softened. "I was trying to protect you from dangerous truths. But the Maidens are very real, and their powers derive from the very essence of Remnant itself." He allowed the truth to hang in the golden air. "We need you, Pyrrha. Salem is gathering strength. Without a Fall Maiden to stabilize the world's seasons, her darkness will choke the land."

Pyrrha's gaze drifted to Amber's still form. The light in her eyes had gone out. "She... was so young," Pyrrha whispered. Her voice cracked. "She didn't deserve—"

"None of them do," Glynda cut in, her tone firm but not unkind. "The cycle is cruel. But without it, Salem's power will grow unchecked."

Pyrrha closed her eyes, tears spilling free. "Then... I accept." Her voice was raw.

Ozpin offered a gentle nod. "Place your hands here." He guided Pyrrha to two empty clamps on the dais, positioned so her wrists would mirror Amber's.

Her pulse thundered as she let him secure the metal bands around her skin. They were cool and heavy, humming with stored aura. A thin tube extended from her forehead clamp up to the crystal above.

Ozpin's hand hovered near the controls. "Are you certain?" he asked softly. "Once the transfer begins, there's no turning back."

Pyrrha drew a steadying breath. Every heartbeat seemed to echo Amber's fading light. "I'm certain. I... I will bear this burden."

He pressed a lever. The room dimmed as the crystal's inner core brightened, violet at its center. Amber's tubes glowed first flickering ribbons of gold and crimson aura, drifting upward into the crystal's heart. Pyrrha felt an ache in her chest as if her very soul was mourning.

For a heartbeat, the world held its breath.

Then the flow reversed.

Amber's light dimmed to a hush of stars. The crystal pulsed, and golden threads of aura streamed down into Pyrrha's clamps. She gasped, the power roaring like a storm unleashed within her. Her vision blurred, and she felt herself rising above pain, above fear into a realm of pure energy.

Tendrils of the Fall Maiden's power coiled around her conscience gentle, sorrowful, yet filled with resolve.

Amber lay still as Pyrrha trembled, tears falling against the cold metal. The last flicker of Amber's aura withdrew into Pyrrha's soul, leaving Amber lifeless but at peace.

Then the crystal's light shifted from violet to a soft rose‑gold glow, signifying completion.

Glynda released Pyrrha's wrist clamps. "It's done."

Ozpin hurried forward to support her as she staggered down from the dais. "Pyrrha..."

She pressed a trembling hand to her forehead where the last clamp had been. Memories not her own flickered in her mind Amber's laughter in a spring meadow, her gentle lullabies woven into golden wind, her unwavering hope as seasons turned.

Pyrrha's tears fell silently. "Amber's ended," she whispered. "Her story... I will carry it."

Ozpin gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "You bear only half the mantle now. The Spring Maiden, Summer, and Winter... they will stand with you. Together, you will restore balance."

Renewed violet fire glowed in Pyrrha's eyes no longer her own, but tempered by the Fall Maiden's sorrow and grace. She straightened, lifting her chin. "Then I will do what must be done."

He nodded, a small, relieved smile touching his lips. "Thank you, Pyrrha. Remnant needs you more than ever."

As Pyrrha stepped away, the chamber's light softened, its runes still humming with the maiden's cycle restored. Outside, the world waited seasons unbalanced, Salem stirring in the shadows. In that moment, Pyrrha felt her destiny settle upon her shoulders like warm autumn leaves.

She turned once toward Amber's silent form, voice thick with promise. "Rest now, Amber. I will not fail you."

And as the machine's hum faded to silence, Pyrrha Nikos, the new Fall Maiden, took her first breath of her new power prepared to face the darkness and uphold the cycle, no matter the cost.

Across Vale Jaune Mansion, Dusk

A quiet had settled over the mansion, the kind that preceded storms or revelations. Shadows stretched long across the marble floors, and the lanterns in the hall flickered with an uneasy pulse as if the air itself had shifted, sensing something unnatural. The drawing room's glass doors were open to the veranda, where the wind stirred the curtains and carried a whisper of something... wrong.

Jaune stood on the balcony, hand braced against the railing, eyes narrowed toward Beacon's tower in the distance. A faint ripple had passed through the leylines, barely perceptible to anyone else but to him, to them, it was unmistakable.

A surge of power.

Old magic.

Familiar.

Too familiar.

Elena was the first to enter behind him, her golden hair tousled by the wind. "You felt that too, didn't you?"

Jaune didn't turn to her. His voice was low. Cold. "The Fall Maiden's power. Transference."

Elena's brow furrowed, a flicker of distaste passing through her eyes. "They used that cursed machine again, didn't they?"

Behind her, Ei entered, her arms folded, gaze unreadable as usual but a faint crackle of static shimmered in her hair. "They've passed the mantle. Forcefully. Artificially."

Rias stepped in last, crimson cloak brushing the floor as she joined them at the open door. Her eyes had narrowed, burning like smoldering coals. "Ozpin."

Jaune's grip on the railing tightened until it groaned beneath his hand. "It was Pyrrha."

Elena blinked. "You're sure?"

He nodded once. "I felt her signature... diluted, but still hers. She took the other half of the Maiden power. Which means—"

"Ozpin fed her a lie," Ei said, stepping beside him. "Promised her destiny. Burdened her with a war she has no place in."

"She still believes in fairy tales," Rias said coldly, her voice like the sharp edge of a blade. "He knew that. Used that."

"They're making her a pawn," Elena muttered, disgust curling her lip. "Just like they always do. New face. Same cycle."

Jaune's expression didn't change, but something deep in his eyes burned. A smoldering fury. Not for Pyrrha. Not even for what she'd become.

For what she let herself be turned into.

He exhaled, the sound sharp. "Pyrrha... you fool."

Rias stepped closer, her presence a grounding force beside him. "Let her lie in the grave she dug herself, Jaune. You gave her the chance to stand beside you. She turned away."

"She turned away," Ei echoed. "And she ran into the arms of the man who's been hiding truths from this world for centuries."

Elena crossed her arms, aura simmering faintly around her shoulders. "She chose that side. She chose Ozpin. Let her live with that choice."

Jaune nodded slowly. "We don't go back for her. We don't warn her."

"No," Rias agreed, her voice firm. "She's not your responsibility."

"She was," Jaune said softly, his voice more to himself than to them. "Once."

A beat of silence followed quiet, heavy, but not mournful.

Then he turned from the railing, eyes clear and resolute once more. "But not anymore."

"Then we continue," Ei said simply.

"We still have our own war," Rias added, a smirk tugging at her lip. "And we'll end it in one strike, not from the shadows."

Elena placed a hand on Jaune's shoulder. "Let Ozpin keep his pawn. We've already claimed the board."

And with that, Jaune stepped back inside, the glass doors swinging shut behind him with a final, decisive click.

Pyrrha's name didn't pass their lips again.

Not out of bitterness.

midnight in Vale Dustside Tavern, Rooftop Across the Street

The wind rolled across the rooftops in low, lazy gusts, rustling loose shingles and tugging at the edges of cloaks. Beneath the flickering neon lights of Vale's underbelly, a dimly lit bar pulsed with muffled noise, glass clinks, and voices raised in drunken bravado.

Perched on a rooftop across from the bar, concealed behind an old ventilation unit, Jaune Arc crouched with one hand resting casually on his bent knee, the other holding a set of compact binoculars. Beside him, her dark hair tied back and crimson eyes narrowed with foxlike amusement, Himeko knelt silently, her gaze sharp as glass.

"This is embarrassing," Jaune muttered under his breath, watching the scene unfold beneath them. "They're really doing this."

Himeko smirked, shifting slightly to peer through her own modified scope. "Is it more embarrassing that they're in a bar brawl... or that they're yelling your name like it's a summoning spell?"

Jaune sighed, passing the binoculars to her.

Below, the scene was pure chaos.

Yang had one arm around a burly bartender's neck, trying to "convince" him to talk.

Weiss was angrily waving her scroll in someone's face, her words too garbled through the window to hear, but her posture screamed 'heiress not getting her way.'

Blake was standing awkwardly by the bar entrance, her bow twitching with growing mortification, while Ruby gods bless her was trying to buy information with cookies. Literal cookies.

"This is what happens when you send four emotionally constipated teenagers into the underground without supervision," Himeko deadpanned.

Jaune snorted. "Ozpin must be really desperate to throw them into the mess."

"Or clueless," she said flatly. "Still. I kind of admire the determination. It's not smart, but it's stubborn."

"They're trying to find me," Jaune said with a sigh. "Probably want to talk. Or guilt trip. Or offer me some shiny student-teacher title."

"Let them try," Himeko said, a dark smile curling her lips. "You're not going back. And you're definitely not going to let a bunch of bar-brawling brats tug at your guilt strings."

He tilted his head. "You make it sound like I'm a villain in a spy novel."

"You're the hero who survived the betrayal arc," she replied, winking. "Now you're watching the clowns fumble the next chapter."

Inside, Yang was now being physically restrained by Blake, Weiss had given up and was furiously typing on her scroll possibly filing a complaint with the bartender's manager and Ruby was handing out her last cookie with visible sorrow.

Jaune's lips quirked into a small, amused smile.

"I should feel bad," he murmured. "But I don't."

"You already gave them your silence," Himeko said, watching him carefully. "They just don't know how loud that silence really is."

Jaune nodded slowly. "Let's go. We've seen enough."

Himeko stood smoothly, adjusting her scarf. "Back to the others?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Let Team RWBY stumble in the dark a little longer. Maybe next time they'll bring less fists and more humility."

And with that, they melted into the shadows, the rooftop empty once more leaving behind only the sound of another shattering glass and the distant, frustrated cry of:
"WHO EVEN IS JAUNE ARC?!"

Jaune smiled.

A little too widely.

Market District

The morning sun bathed Vale in a soft golden hue, and the bustling marketplace thrived with the comforting rhythm of daily life. Merchants shouted over ripe fruit and sizzling skewers, while shoppers filled their baskets with spices, meats, and enchanted cooking salts.

Jaune Arc moved with casual ease at the head of his group, a list in one hand and a sack of fresh greens in the other. Elena hummed beside him, tapping a shopping scroll while checking off ingredients. Rias kept a protective yet relaxed distance at his side, her fiery hair tied up in a loose braid. Himeko strolled behind them, her expression bored but her eyes constantly scanning—out of habit more than caution. Ei, ever silent and poised, walked at the rear, her movements precise, like the subtle hum of lightning.

"Velzard and Velgrynd really cleaned out the pantry last night," Rias muttered, glancing over her shoulder at their shared haul.

"They burned through half the meat and drank the wine cellar dry," Elena added with a teasing sigh. "I'm almost impressed."

"I'm not," Himeko said flatly. "They owe me a bottle."

They turned a corner, entering the spice lane—and stopped.

"Jaune?"

He didn't turn right away.

His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as he straightened. The air changed, and instantly, his companions fell silent. Rias stopped mid-sentence. Elena's fingers curled around her shopping bag. Himeko glanced up, unimpressed.

He turned.

And there she was.

Pyrrha Nikos. In Beacon uniform. Armor polished. Hair braided with disciplined care. Her green eyes wide hopeful.

"Pyrrha," Jaune said, voice neutral. Not hostile. Not warm.

Just a name.

Rias stepped up beside him without needing to be asked, folding her arms across her chest. Elena stood just behind him, quiet but watchful, while Himeko tilted her head and said nothing at all.

"I was hoping I'd find you," Pyrrha began, taking a tentative step forward. "I know this is sudden but... can we talk?"

Jaune stared at her. "Talk about what?"

She hesitated, fingers fidgeting against the edge of her hip armor. "Beacon. Ozpin. We....we need your help. He told me everything. About the Maidens. About Salem."

Jaune's eyes darkened. "You don't even know who Salem really is."

Pyrrha blinked. "I know enough. That she's dangerous. That Ozpin's fighting a war, and he needs allies he can trust."

A beat.

Then laughter low, cold.

Jaune shook his head slowly. "He's not fighting a war. He's hiding from it. And you're his shield."

"I'm not—!" Pyrrha took another step. "I'm doing this because it's right. Because if we don't stand together, more people will die."

"You think this is about 'standing together'?" Jaune's voice grew sharper. "He's feeding you half-truths and fairy tales. You don't even know what Salem is capable of. You don't know what he's asking you to become."

"I can handle it," she said firmly. "And I know you can too. Jaune, please... come back. Help us. You're stronger now. You could be a teacher. You could lead."

"I already lead.," Jaune snapped. "But I will not be under Ozpin's thumb."

Pyrrha flinched.

Elena stepped forward now, her voice calm but deadly. "You're asking him to chain himself again to the very system that broke him."

Rias's tone followed, icy and elegant. "You didn't come here to ask. You came to pull him back into a past he's already outgrown."

"I'm not trying to hurt him!" Pyrrha protested. "I'm trying to do what's right!"

"By following orders?" Himeko said finally, her voice like glass cracking. "Even gods don't earn our obedience that easily."

Jaune's gaze never left Pyrrha. "You still don't get it. You left me once for reputation. For appearances. Now you want me back because I'm powerful. Useful. But I've already found people who stood by me before that mattered."

His voice dipped, colder now. "And they're not from Beacon."

Pyrrha's throat tightened. "I made a mistake."

"You made a choice," he corrected. "And so did I."

There was silence again. Raw. Uneasy.

Then Pyrrha asked, almost a whisper, "So that's it? You won't even consider helping?"

"I'll fight when it matters," Jaune said. "But not for Ozpin. Not for his secrets. And definitely not for the girl who looked away when I needed her the most."

Rias took his hand.

Jaune turned without another word.

The others followed.

Leaving Pyrrha standing alone in the marketplace, her reflection caught in a cracked mirror hanging behind the fruit stall.

A reminder of what was lost And what could never be reclaimed as she turn around and left as she watch Jaune and the others leave she report to Ozpin on where Jaune going to

Jaune Estate.

The gates of the Mansion loomed ahead like the threshold of a divine realm or a trap. It depended entirely on how you approached it.

Ozpin, however, was determined.

Clad in his signature green coat, scarf neatly adjusted, tea in one hand and his cane in the other, the centuries-old headmaster of Beacon strode up the walkway with all the poise and confidence of a man who'd talked his way out of wars, alliances, and multiple reincarnations.

He rang the bell.

It chimed musically.

For exactly four seconds, there was silence.

Then... the door creaked open.

And Ei stepped out.

Jaune's second-in-command. Jaune body guard and the ruler of inazuma . Lightning Incarnate and Goddess of Eternity. And currently holding a scroll in one hand and her absurdly sharp katana in the other, as if she'd been interrupted while drafting a hit list.

Ozpin offered his most disarming smile. "Good afternoon, Miss Ei. I was hoping I could speak with Jaune Arc. Strictly professional. I even brought—"

Ei drew the blade halfway from its sheath.

A crack purple purple lightning shot down its edge like a warning shot from the gods.

Ozpin blinked. "...Coffee."

Ei didn't speak. She simply stepped forward, blade rising an inch more, her expression that of someone who had been very clear in the past that this exact scenario would result in murder.

From inside the house, someone laughed. Loudly.

"Three seconds," came Velgrynd's voice from a distant hallway.

"I give him five," Rias called from upstairs, peering out a window. "He's spry for a fossil."

Ozpin cleared his throat. "I assure you, this is a matter of great importance. The fate of Vale may very well—"

CRACK.

A bolt of lightning fried the rose bush two feet from his left shoe.

Ei tilted her head, finally speaking. "Step. Back."

Ozpin took a small step forward.

Ei blurred.

"Girls!" Jaune's voice echoed from the garden. "Someone make sure she doesn't kill him on the first swing this time!"

Too late.

Ei lunged.

What followed could only be described as a massacre of dignity.

Ozpin screamed not a dignified yell, not a brave cry but the startled, unfiltered shriek of a man suddenly reminded that he is mortal. He dove backward, flinging his coffee into the air (it landed perfectly in a bush, unbroken, and was later reclaimed by a very confused maid). His cane clattered uselessly as he bolted down the path.

"MERCY IS A VIRTUE," he shouted over his shoulder.

Ei's blade missed by inches. "So is learning to listen!"

"GODS ABOVE, I AM A PACIFIST!" Ozpin yelled

"Good!" she roared, chasing him over a koi pond bridge. "Because violence will not be mutual!"

The koi scattered.

So did a gardener.

"No running in the koi gardens!" Velzard called, lounging with a wine glass on a second-floor terrace. "You'll scare the fish!"

"SHUT UP, WOMEN!" Ozpin hollered as he nearly tripped on a rock shaped like a turtle.

Rias appeared in a silk robe on a nearby balcony, calmly biting into an apple. "Don't worry. If he gets impaled, I'll write the apology letter."

Elena passed her a quill. "I already started drafting it."

Meanwhile, back in the main sitting room, Jaune munched on a meat bun and handed one to Scathach.

"So... how long do we wait before telling him I'm not even home today so he can leave?" Jaune asked dryly.

"I say we wait until he screams, 'I regret everything,'" Scathach replied. "That's usually when he's sincere."

Back Outside

Ozpin dove behind a tree. Ei slashed straight through it. The whole trunk exploded into sawdust.

"OH COME ON!"

He zig-zagged down the lawn. A passing maid offered him a glass of water and a brochure titled: "So You've Angered Arcadia: A Survivor's Guide."

He didn't take it.

Ei cornered him at the gates. Her eyes sparked with literal rage.

"One more step onto these grounds," she said darkly, "and I will personally feed your soul to a lightning wraith."

Ozpin held up his hands. "Noted. Thoroughly noted."

Then he ran
yes, ran back to the airship. He boarded without a single word. The pilot looked at him. "Sir, we weren't scheduled to depart for another—"

"Fly," Ozpin growled. "Just fly."

As the airship took off, a final bolt of lightning arced into the sky behind them like a divine exclamation point.

Back at the mansion, Ei sheathed her sword.

Calmly turned.

And walked inside.

Jaune looked up from the tea table where he was now joined by Ei, Elena, and Velgrynd.

"That was your warning shot, right?" Jaune asked amused

Ei sat down, totally composed. "Yes."

Velgrynd handed her a macaron. "Would you like a drink?"

Ei accepted it without a word.

Then she paused, tilted her head toward Jaune, and said in a perfectly calm voice:

"He'll try again tomorrow."

Rias nodded from across the room. "Cool. I'll hide the landmines this time."

Vale's Eastern District Midnight

The air was unnaturally still.

Pyrrha Nikos strolled beside Alister down a moonlit path lined with shuttered shops and flickering streetlamps. Her hand rested gently in his, though her mind wandered. She wasn't thinking about the night's food, or the wine, or the soft smile Alister had given her over dessert.

She was thinking about the weight that now lived inside her the spark, the half-soul of a dying legend.

Amber's essence.

The power of the Fall Maiden.

Alister bumped her shoulder lightly, trying to draw her back. "You're tense again," he said. "You've been tense ever since you took that power. You should be enjoying yourself. I'm very charming, you know."

She tried to smile. It didn't reach her eyes.

And then flames.

Exploding from the alley behind them like the breath of an enemy.

Pyrrha spun on instinct. The firelight cast long shadows against the wall. A figure stepped through the smoke.

Elegant.

Cruel.

Her red and black bodysuit shimmered with ember-like patterns. Her single amber eye glowed beneath bangs of raven-black hair.

Cinder Fall.

"You," Pyrrha breathed.

Cinder smiled. "Me."

Alister immediately stepped in front of Pyrrha, drawing his twin sabers. "Run," he said.

"No—"

"RUN!" he shouted, pushing her back.

Cinder rolled her shoulders, conjuring a bow of fire in one hand. "Chivalrous. Cute. Pointless."

Flames licked across the ground as Alister dashed forward, blades catching the light. Sparks clashed in the dark, steel meeting fire. The battle was fast, brutal but one-sided. Cinder was way experience

The alley was choked with smoke and heat.

Dust-cracked stone glowed faintly underfoot, the lingering breath of recent fire. Overhead, the moon was veiled behind clouds of ash, and the only light came from the woman standing at the alley's center—Cinder Fall, her smirk a blade sharper than steel, her palms alive with molten fury.

Alister Vale advanced first, blades drawn and aura burning across his shoulders in a crackling arc of crimson. His stance was perfect—years of elite Atlesian training etched into every step.

But Cinder didn't look strained.

She parried him with lazy grace, her movements serpentine and fluid. Sparks danced along the blades as her arms twisted like flame itself. Each blow she returned came with a pulse of heat that warped the very air.

Alister growled as he brought his left sword up in a sharp vertical slash. "You're going to regret this, witch."

"Mm. Doubtful," Cinder purred, eyes gleaming.

She ducked under his next strike, twisting at the waist like it was choreographed. Her palm flashed with heat, catching his side with a blast of raw flame. Alister grit his teeth, aura flaring to absorb the impact—but the sheer force sent him skidding back.

Behind him, Pyrrha readied her spear, eyes wide with disbelief.

"She's stronger than before," Pyrrha murmured, mostly to herself.

Cinder's gaze flicked toward her, amused. "You've been paying attention. How sweet."

Alister didn't wait for more taunts. He charged again, sweeping low with one blade while the other came for Cinder's throat. She blocked the first, twisted sideways, and leaned just out of reach of the second.

Then her leg snapped forward.

A perfect arc.

A violent crack as her heel collided with Alister's jaw.

He stumbled, but didn't fall. Blood lined his lip.

"Pyrrha, go!" he shouted, voice raw. "Find Jaune! Get out of here!"

Pyrrha hesitated.

Just for a second.

And it was all Cinder needed.

She spun, her hand flicking outward in a whip-like motion. A crescent of fire lashed toward Pyrrha. The redhead tried to dodge, but the flame caught her across the shoulder. She screamed, crumpling to her knees, clutching her scorched armor.

"Pyrrha!" Alister shouted, eyes wild.

He turned back to Cinder with a roar, blades blazing.

He was fast. Furious.

But fury didn't beat precision.

Cinder moved with unhurried grace. Every dodge was like water flowing around stone. Every parry felt effortless, like she was dancing instead of fighting.

Then came her counterattack.

Swift.

Brutal.

Beautiful in its cruelty.

Her left arm wreathed in flame, she ducked Alister's high slash and slammed a punch into his gut. The aura flared. Then cracked. Her hand burned through it like paper. The wind left his lungs.

And then she pivoted.

Her right fist came up in a vicious uppercut, slamming under his ribs.

There was a sickening crack.

Bone.

Alister gasped, a sharp choking sound then staggered back, blades falling from his hands as his body refused to obey.

Pyrrha struggled upright, her shoulder still smoking, eyes wide in horror. "Alister—!"

He dropped to one knee, his face pale, eyes glassy.

Cinder stood over him, regal and triumphant, a statue carved from fire and fury. "You were brave," she said mockingly. "I almost enjoyed that."

Alister coughed blood.

"I... won't let... you..."

"You already did," she whispered.

Then she raised her hand.

The flame gathered.

Pyrrha screamed, throwing her shield like a last, desperate cry.

It struck Cinder's side.

She didn't flinch but she did turn.

Her eyes locked onto Pyrrha's.

There was no amusement now.

Only cold promise.

"You'll get your turn," Cinder said darkly.

Pyrrha's hands trembled around her spear. Her heart raced. Her mind screamed at her to fight to do something but her legs refused to move.

And Cinder turned her back on her.

Alister fell fully to the ground, chest heaving shallow, every breath laced with pain.

Cinder didn't even look back.

Her message had been sent.

Her fire had spoken.

Cinder leaned in, her breath hot with venom. "You're not worth killing. But you are in the way."

And then one final flare of fire ignited in her palm and blasted through his chest.

Alister's body seized violently as if time itself paused to witness the moment his very soul was seared by divine fire. The molten blaze erupted from his back in a jet of scorching agony, carving through armor and bone, the scent of burning flesh thick in the air. His head snapped back with a strangled gasp, and a raw, soul-wrenching scream tore free a sound of both mortal pain and immortal defiance, a final cry from a heart that still refused to surrender.

His knees gave out.

His blades fell.

The world seemed to dim around him, colors flickering like dying embers.

But he didn't collapse.

Not yet.

Through the veil of fire and smoke, Cinder's lips twisted in cruel satisfaction until she saw it.

His eyes.

Still open.

Still locked on her.

Still burning with a defiance that made the fire look small.

He moved.

One trembling hand reached downward, fingers curling around the hilt of the closest sword. The steel hissed under his grip, the handle hot to the touch, pain lancing through every nerve but he held it. His gauntlet cracked. His veins felt like lava. But he stood.

One foot.

Then the other.

Barely.

Cinder's smile faltered. Not with fear but with a curious, irritated disbelief.

"You're still fighting?" she asked, her tone more mocking than confused.

He didn't speak.

Didn't need to.

The roar that erupted from Alister's chest wasn't one of rage it was one of final purpose. It was the last sound of a man choosing death on his own terms. His blade came up in a wild swing that crashed against hers like a hammer striking an anvil. The impact sent out a ripple of force, blowing dust and debris from the cracked stone floor, staggering Cinder back half a step.

It wasn't skill now.

It wasn't grace.

It was fury wrapped in steel.

He came again, blade flashing like a falling star. He spun, dragged the other weapon into his grip, and carved an arc across her side. Blood. Real blood. Her aura flickered, cracked.

She staggered.

"You don't know when to die!" Cinder spat, raising flames in both palms.

Alister coughed, blood flecking his lips, but his grin never faded. "No. I just know how to make the most of it."

He surged forward. Steel and fire met again in a cacophony of sound, sword clashing against glaive, boots scraping against fractured stone. Sparks leapt into the night like fireflies gone mad.

They moved like phantoms through the alley nowone cloaked in elegance, the other in desperation.

Cinder flowed like molten metal, but Alister came like an avalanche.

He ducked, slammed a shoulder into her, knocked her off balance. Her knee came up caught his ribs but he grabbed her wrist and twisted, forcing her back. A flash of light, another arc of fire—it singed his face, burned his cheek but he kept going.

Her blade caught his arm, slicing deep.

His sword opened her side.

Both cried out, one in fury, one in defiance.

Cinder stumbled. Alister didn't give her time.

He leapt.

The alley exploded with the clash of steel and flame as he brought both blades down in a crushing, crossing strike that she barely dodged. The pavement beneath cracked like glass. Dust spiraled into the air.

He landed, breath hitching.

The wound in his chest pulsed. The world tilted.

Still, he moved.

Still, he fought.

Cinder's flames spiraled up, flaring like wings as she took to the air for just a heartbeat. She came down with fire lancing from her fingertips, but he twisted beneath her, rolled, and came up in a slash that nearly opened her throat.

She gasped.

Not from pain.

From disbelief.

The warrior was dying but he refused to die.

Alister slammed his head into hers. Skull to skull. The crack echoed. Cinder reeled, disoriented, her vision swimming.

That's when he struck.

Blade to her side.

It wasn't deep. It didn't need to be.

It was enough.

Her aura cracked like glass under strain.

She screamed.

Fell back.

Fire exploded from her palms pure reflex, pure rage. The blast hit him point-blank. He went flying, his back crashing into the stone wall so hard the bricks fractured. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he slid down the wall, one hand still clutching his sword.

He hit the ground on his knees.

His body trembled.

Collapsed forward, but his hand stayed clenched on the blade.

Still breathing.

Still alive.

Just barely.

Cinder stood across from him, her body trembling, one hand pressed to her bleeding side. Her eyes blazed with hatred but beneath it, fear flickered.

"You're dying," she said, more to herself than him. "You should be dead."

He raised his head slowly, chin caked in blood, eyes glassy but locked on her.

"But I'm not," he whispered. "And that's all I need."

His hand lifted the sword again. Shaking. Weak. But steady.

"You won't touch her," he rasped. "You won't take her power. You won't win."

Cinder flared with rage. Flames rose around her fists.

"Then die!"

She lunged

And then he fell.

Cinder turned to Pyrrha, flames spiraling around her. "Let's finish what we started."

But Pyrrha was already running stumbling, burning, sobbing.

She didn't look back.

She couldn't.

Behind her, the alley was painted in firelight.

And Alister Vale's body lay crumpled in the ash

The explosion rocked the street, sending glass shards tumbling from the shattered windows above. Flames licked at the walls of the old bell tower, casting eerie shadows across the scorched stone courtyard where Pyrrha had just fled, breath ragged, heart pounding.

Cinder Fall stood alone now, smoke curling from her fingertips. Alister's blood still dripped from her blades, steam rising from where it hit the fire-charred cobblestones. Her expression was impassive as she turned to pursue Pyrrha, each step deliberate, inevitable.

But then

A rift opened in the air behind her.

A crimson glow like dying stars rippled outward and through it stepped Rias Gremory.

She walked with regal indifference, heels clicking against the rubble like judgment incarnate. Her eyes burned with ancient power, and her aura flared in visible pulses, scorching the air around her.

Cinder turned.

Her smirk twitched.

"You're not with Ozpin's circle," she said, tilting her head. "Who are you?"

Rias didn't respond.

She raised her hand and the entire plaza shook.

Cinder's eyes widened as the pavement beneath her cracked like glass under pressure. Before she could leap away, a burst of blood-red magic detonated beneath her feet, sending her flying backward like a ragdoll flung from the heavens.

She hit the far wall with a boom, the bricks cracking behind her. Smoke curled from her dress.

"What " Cinder snarled, rising to her feet, aura blazing now. "Who the hell do you think—"

Rias was already on her.

She teleported, closing the distance with a blink-step so fast it left afterimages. Her fist connected with Cinder's jaw crack and the air split with a sonic ripple. Cinder's body was launched again, tumbling across the plaza like a discarded doll.

Blood pooled in her mouth.

Cinder rose with a scream, casting a wave of flame spears toward Rias, dozens of them spiraling through the sky like flaming javelins.

Rias raised one hand and all of them stopped midair.

Held.

Frozen.

Then, with a flick of her fingers, they turned.

And rained back down on Cinder.

She barely dodged, tumbling to the side, her left arm sizzling from a direct hit. Her eyes were wide now, frantic. Furious.

"You bitch—"

Rias walked forward, expression unreadable.

"You killed a boy," she said coldly, voice like frost on steel. "For power."

Cinder snarled. "He was in my way! That boy meant nothing—!"

"He meant something to her," Rias interrupted, gesturing toward the trail Pyrrha had fled along. "And I don't even like her. But you took something from someone I tolerate... and that makes me very angry."

She vanished again appearing behind Cinder in a burst of demonic sigils.

Cinder turned

Too slow.

Rias's heel slammed into her ribs, and the sound of cracking bones echoed through the street. Cinder screamed, her flames flickering wildly.

"Is this all the Maiden has to offer?" Rias mocked, her eyes glowing brighter now. "You're nothing but stolen power and a vendetta."

Cinder cast a massive firestorm in desperation, her final ace, a cyclone of molten flame and exploding magic.

Rias didn't flinch.

She walked through it.

A protective barrier of hellfire encased her like a second skin, her own energy obliterating the storm around her.

Cinder's knees buckled.

She tried to run.

Rias grabbed her by the throat mid-step.

"No more games," Rias said, lifting her into the air. "No more excuses. You're not a queen. You're not even a real threat. I am even surprised Alister did damage enough to make you weak"

She clenched her fist and Cinder's aura shattered with a shriek.

With a final surge of crimson energy, Rias snapped her neck.

Cinder's body dropped to the ground smoking, lifeless.

And then... the Maiden power fled her.

The remnants of burning gold and embers lifted into the air, crackling like lightning searching for a new vessel.

From the alley, Pyrrha stepped out her eyes wide, her hands trembling.

The power saw her.

And chose her.

The spark of the Fall Maiden surged into her chest like a sunbeam through glass, and Pyrrha cried out, her body arching as the magic filled her, reshaped her, claimed her.

She collapsed to her knees.

Rias didn't help her.

Didn't look at her with kindness.

She simply turned, flicked the ash off her gloves, and walked away.

"You're not welcome in my world," she said to Pyrrha over her shoulder. "Don't mistake survival for forgiveness."

And with that, Rias disappeared into the night, her figure melting into the shadows of a city that now held one less enemy... and one more burden. Pyrrha did not hear or see Rias

Because Pyrrha Nikos had become the full Fall Maiden.

But the cost... had been steep.

And forgiveness?

That wasn't part of the equation.