G.N. Chapter 17 (Patreon)

Hey all here is another early chapter, once again I wanna say thankyou for all your support.

I do not own Bloodborne or RWBY.

A very special thank you to Patrons; your support is the fuel that lets my creativity burn all the brighter. So, thank you to – E-Elf, Lee yang, Laplase, DocBot200, Richard, SkeletalPheonix Games, J-Rubia, Reed Gel, Alex, Jared Whitten, Tuber, Doubledoor, Dominik Michalczyk, Rice, Ryan Roberts, Tristian Marks, Kolton, Andre, Chris, Loneshadowolf, Dev123playz, WoolJarl, Richard and Biowar.

I hope this story continues to be worthy of your support.

Chapter 17 Shackles Bereft of Chains.

A wet crunch rang in his head like a gunshot as he felt his humerus snap before the barrelling force of the immense lump of flesh before him. He was sent flying back, flailing into the vile water of the sewers, both his firearm and his new weapon lost to him.

With a snarl of frustration and pain, he rolled back to his feet, the slavering thing before him squealing, a noise that did nothing but worsen the already present pain in his skull. Maybe that was why he screamed back, his face a mask of rage and savagery, sewer filth dripping from his dark leathers, his cowl sparing his mouth the worst of it.

As it stepped from the darkened tunnel into the moonlight, Jaune cringed at the grotesque visage of the creature before him. It was a colossal pig, fat and bloated with rolls of skin that peeled back from blood-stained teeth trapped in a hungering gleeful grin. The massive swine was so girthy that its rotund body nearly took up the entire tunnel from which it had exited, its bulbous gut dragging through the water as it prowled forward.

Its salivating maw opened, a hot snort of its fetid breath pushed from its snout as it lunged forward, its gluttonous hunger excited by a new potential meal. Jaune hopped back, trying to make space, but the creature was surprisingly agile as it attempted to crush and maul him, harrying him with ease.

Jaune’s eyes danced in his skull, eagerly looking for anything he could use as a weapon, his mind discarding them with a blitzing efficiency, ‘filth, waste, small stone, a dead cro-‘

His eyes widened, and he lunged his fingers, diving into the water to clasp about the bloody maimed thing. The engorged bird corpse hefted from the water, its open guts trailing behind it as Jaune hurled it at the obese abomination before him. The feathery thing crashed into the giant swine’s face causing it to squeal and chomp at the air, its bites devolving into an erratic mauling as it eagerly devoured the crow.

Jaune quickly grabbed another dead bird, the butchered thing coming apart in his hands and staining his new pants in another layer of offal as he hurled it towards the hungry maw of the pig. The bird disappeared in two bites, but Jaune was already gone by the first. He sprinted past the pig noting how despite having food in its mouth, it still tried to ram its head into his side.

He ran into the tunnel, his boots kicking up the filthy water as he powered forward, eager to get to his weapon. He slid to a stop on his knees, his hand grasping about in the water until it wrapped about his new weapon. He pulled it from the murky cover and beamed at the return of his recently bought silver sword.

The sound of the pig’s ear-splitting squeal had Jaune running towards the other half of his weapon, suddenly very grateful for its immense size as it allowed him to spot it with ease even in the dark tunnel.

He heard the sound of the abused cloven hooves thundering as the pig charged once more. Then, in a rush of pure adrenaline summoned forth in desperation, he threw his arm out, aiming to stab his sword into an upwards-facing, narrow sheathe that jutted out of the water.

He felt the click as his sword locked into place. At the same time, he felt the ground shake a little at the proximity of the gluttonous, warped animal.

With no time to lose, Jaune twisted into the sheath, now with his sword locked in place, and heaved the combined halves of his weapon onto his shoulder. His broken arm sent a flash of fresh pain at the new wait pressed atop it, but Jaune powered on, his motion unhindered by such a meagre thing as pain.

With only one arm, he used his whole body to twirl about, hauling his Trick Weapon’s massive weight as the head of a mighty hammer breached the surface of the sewer water and rose to be level with Jaune’s head.

The ungulate was near atop him, its blood-caked smile blistering down on him with immense speed. He didn’t falter or hesitate, fear absent in the face of bloody desperation, a need to generate the necessary force.

Building on the momentum of his whole body, he added to it with a back-armed swing, relieving his shoulder of the mighty hammer as the transformed Trick Weapon moved at a meteoric speed on a horizontal arc.

*Crunch*

Blood, bone, teeth, cartilage, flesh and mucus exploded in a revolting deluge as the colossal weight of the Kirkhammer collided with the pig’s protruding snout and crushed it into the sewer wall. The sensory organ was pulverised into the bricks, turning a pained squeal into a gruesome burbling screech as the pig received a gory mutilation.

But its suffering was not yet done as the momentum from its charge carried it forward so that its body twisted inwards, pushing its ruined face into the bricks of the sewers scrapping thick flesh from its skull. Then, jammed into the too-small tunnel, it crashed into the filthy water, blood rushing from its brutalised nose in significant quantities.

Jaune gave it no reprieve, stepping over its sliding body with long strides even as the squealing flailing creature bucked about in agony. Still, Jaune, unperturbed, stepped away from the suffering animal, his hammer dragging behind him.

When he shouldered his hammer next, he did not rest it atop the one connected to his broken limb. Instead, it sat atop his good shoulder but only for a moment. In a show of his new empowered strength, he pushed the large weapon upwards before, with the assistance of gravity, bringing it down with all his might.

Right atop the creature’s cranium.

*Crack*

…

*Crunch*

He brought the mighty weapon down on the swine’s brainbox twice more, the first rewarding him with silence and the second with the ruined things head splitting like an overripe watermelon.

He let the handle of the hammer slide from his bloody grip, the heavy-set thing splashing into the water with a metallic thud. The brown water quickly became soaked in viscous red as blood pooled in such quantities that even the sewer gunk could not beat it back.

Suddenly feeling the strain of what he had just accomplished, Jaune slumped against the wall, cradling his broken arm, a curse on his lips as he pulled down his cowl to spit into the blood-soaked waters.

“Crows, rats and now pigs… what’s next? Should I be alert for bloody giant bugs, perchance?” Jaune spat, looking down at his belt to see it devoid of Blood Vials.

“Thrice damn you,” Jaune hissed at the pig’s corpse before replacing his cowl.

Pulling himself back up to his feet, Jaune steeled himself and began to look about the water to try and find his pistol, leaving the heavy Kirkhammer lodge in the pig’s skull for the time being. In the dark locating anything was tough, and the job was made even more difficult considering the new thick stain of red turning the already revolting water even murkier.

But then a soft groan.

Turning to where he heard the noise Jaune smiled as he found a messenger holding his pistol aloft atop the carcass of the slain swine; the little critter’s luminous skin allowed Jaune to spot it with ease. “Ahh, thank you, my friend, truly your kind is a blessing,” Jaune admired, taking his pistol from its outstretched hands and shaking it to rid it of the sewer water.

The Messenger groaned in response, turning its head and pointing down the tunnel the colossal pig had been in before his arrival. Jaune followed its outstretched finger. A brow quirked as he stared into the darkness, struggling to see anything. “You want me to go down the tunnel?” Jaune queried, receiving affirmative groans.

Jaune looked down the dark corridor again before shrugging and pointing to the ethereal mist pooling about the Messenger’s hips, “very well, don’t suppose you have a torch in there, do you?”

In response, the creature disappeared, a faintly glowing pool of mist lingering for a moment longer before that vanished also. “I suppose that’s a no… very well…” Jaune mumbled, holstering his pistol before returning for his Kirkhammer.

Lofting the heavy head of the hammer onto his shoulders sent a gut-churning wave of pain through his broken limb, but he powered through, knowing it would not do to leave half his weapon behind. Adjusting, so it put more weight on his good arm, he marched into the tunnel doing his best to make sense of what he saw in the near-total blackness.

Eventually, he could tell he had entered a larger room, his steps sounding different within the broader space. But as for seeing anything, that was out of the question. Deciding that it couldn’t hurt, he tried asking instead for help. “Umm… Hello, Messenger! Sorry to be a bother, but what precisely am I looking for?”

The silence was his only answer, the darkness seeming to gain an abject stillness in the wake of his shouting. But Jaune did not falter; the little ones were mysterious, peculiar and obscure in many ways, but they were undoubtedly helpful. And as if in response to his faith, a tiny pool of glowing mist arose to his right, and a luminous little figure emerged from it.

“Gwaghha.”

“There you are… Oh… is this what you wanted to show me?” Jaune spoke quietly, his voice souring as he finally saw what the darkness had concealed. It was another fallen Hunter, dressed just as Jaune was and dead as a doornail. “Damn…” Jaune whispered, removing his hat and holding it over his heart.

Truthfully he did find the sight of another dead Hunter a little upsetting. It was a fact that he was beginning to feel a sense of loneliness at this point. Despite the presence of the Messengers and the Doll… and maybe Gehrman, he was still bereft of anyone he could hope to call a companion.

Gilbert was the one that came closest; he was a kind voice, but he was a voice and little more. Jaune truly wanted the comfort of a fellow Hunter, perhaps a teacher, maybe an equal or even one greener than himself. All that mattered was that they would be one who could understand his pain, who waded through the same horror, who could understand the same suffering.

But it seemed such a desire was folly, he had only encountered two Hunters in this city, and both had been dead and cold by the time he found them.

The Messenger let slip a more reticent groan, its spindly arms reaching out to tug back the Huntsman’s coat, revealing a necklace of sorts. The tiny figure’s arms patted the chain, looking up at Jaune with its pale eyes, expression unreadable.

“What is… wait, is this like-“ Jaune cut himself off, placing his hat on the dead man’s stomach and reaching into his coat to pull out a treasure he had found after he felled the Cleric Beast; a medallion that was shaped like a sword hilt. The silver badge was reminiscent of his new sword and was embossed and well-crafted. The medal also bore a peculiar turquoise gem in the centre, giving the silver medallion a splash of colour.

Jaune had brought it up with Gehrman, but the man had sneered at the sight of the thing, calling it ‘a mocking symbol for the treacherous and ungrateful.’ Seeing the venom the man cast upon the medallion, Jaune had made sure to keep it well out of his sight and instead sought answers from a more reliable source.

Gilbert had taught him the origins of the medallion, informing him that it was the symbol of a Church Hunter.

Jaune had been afflicted with a deep foreboding upon being informed of this. After the mysterious Insight he had gained concerning the abominable Cleric Beast, his mind had already been fraught with questions and suspicions. For him to discover that the item he had found after felling the beast was yet another symbol of the church felt like he had located yet another piece of a malefic puzzle.

But the one the Messenger led him to was almost the polar opposite of the church’s badge; it was rustic and had none of the embellishment of the other. Simple metal shaped, stamped and filed into the appearance of a saw, the words stamped on its side challenging to decipher in the dark thanks to filth and age.

Jaune lifted the badge holding it between his finger and thumb, the Messenger looming over to stare at it, almost enraptured. Jaune watched as the mysterious creature reached out and pushed the badge into his palm, closing his fingers around it. Then, with a soft warbling groan, the messenger bobbed before it slunk back into the fog, disappearing from the sewer and submerging Jaune in the darkness again.

He could feel the saw-shaped badge even through his glove, the little serrated edges biting into the material as he tightened his grip. He didn’t know why the Messenger led him to this badge, but he knew the little critters were here to help, so he tucked it into his breast pocket, right alongside the other one.

“…Right…” Jaune muttered, looking at his broken arm and redonning his hat. “Where the hell is the closest lantern.”

YVYVYVYVY

Jaune sat with his back leaning against a tree; his eyes closed as he did his best to immerse himself in the presence of nature. Bereft of sight, he let his other sense wander, trying to experience as much of the world around him as possible.

He let his fingers caress the earth beneath him, feeling the individual layers that made up the forest floor, dead leaves and plant matter giving way to the soil, how the early morning sun was already beginning to chase off the chill from the night before, blanketing the world in warmth.

He was all but drowning in the scents of the world around him. The pungent aromas of the fertile soil intermixed with the many heavy odours carried by the wind. He could smell flowers begging to bloom, the humid moisture trapped in the biome about him, the smell of many animals both present and that had long since moved on.

Opening his eyes with a flutter, he focused instead on his campsite, his fire from the previous night all but dead, a few embers clinging to life desperately. His small makeshift shelter had already been knocked over by himself when he had lunged to catch his morning breakfast. The meal’s remains were the charred squirrel bones adjacent to his spent fire.

Jaune’s initial two days of travel had been a breeze; the area around Reach was full of rich forests loaded with plenty of food. On both days, he made significant headway, keeping up a pace that even Orr described as quick. He had only spoken to her once since their departure, and it was only a brief conversation to inform him that he had travelled for the allotted time.

Jaune was pleasantly surprised by Orr; she had thrown herself into her job with outstanding professionalism. A fact that was counterintuitive to his initial judgment of her character as he had first thought her to be a far more chaotic personality. But the Huntress was very professional; Jaune rarely spotted her whilst travelling. Instead, she was a blur of colour in the trees and little else.

Even now, whilst he was cleaning his campsite, he knew where she was roughly, but he also knew he wouldn’t spot her unless she wanted him to. So, performing the necessary steps to ensure his fire was properly disposed of and scattering any other traces that he had rested under the tree, he rose to his feet and dusted off his pants, ready to start the day.

He gave a shrill whistle, a courtesy he and Orr had made up so that the other knew when one of them was on the move. There were other whistles to indicate different things, the primary two being ‘moving’ and ‘stop’. ‘Stop’ would most likely be followed by ‘danger’ or ‘run’ from Orr. But, amusingly, they would most likely both end up being used to indicate a nearby Grimm.

The return whistle he had been waiting for rang out, and Jaune immediately began to head further east, his route roughly plotted in his mind. Jaune’s destination was not an exact spot but more a general area that he hoped would be suitable for him to set up a more permanent camp.

After taking heed of the weather reports before starting his journey, he knew there would likely be some heavy rainfall soon, possibly by the end of the week. For this reason, he needed to find a location that would not be at risk of flooding and provide for his other needs.

So with that in mind, he devised a plan to remove the danger of flooding altogether.

Sanus, the largest continent in Remnant, was home to many ecosystems, some more unique than others. Jaune had his eye set on one such unique ecosystem as the location he would make his home for the coming months. Located east of the Reach Plateau and notable for its objectively isolated nature was a single mountain rising out of the dense sea of green.

This mountain was a dormant volcano.

It was said to have erupted many millennia previously, along with several others, during a mass extinction event that brought nearly all life on Remnant to utter annihilation. Now it was a monolithic monument to the power of nature, a singular towering mountain of stone lording over the surrounding land. It had a very sharp shape, the volcano’s north side being taller than the south as when it had erupted, the southern side had been obliterated.

What remained was a lopsided mountain that appeared to almost claw at the sky with its broken tip. This natural wonder was officially named Blackreach Mountain, but it had another name heralding from the ancient times of Vale, Crow Crest Reach. Jaune could understand why seeing it. The way the peak's dark stone jutted out honestly gave it the appearance of a crow stretching upwards.

His plan was not to make camp on the mountain itself but rather take advantage of the elevated topography around it to avoid any floodways. And after the rain, with it being such a prominent landmark, he would be far more comfortable venturing out if needed.

Unconsciously he found his hand drifting to the bamboo shoot in his pocket. The little plant had already started to grow despite being in nothing more than a bag of dirt. With the soil of the volcano and the soon-to-arrive rainfall, he did not doubt that his mother’s boon would flourish.

There was so much to do that neededto be done. But, with another day of travel ahead of him, Jaune could not stop his mind from drifting. It was his least favourite thing about the rite so far; the amount of time he had to himself was hazardous in its own way. Without his family around to soothe old pains, his mind had begun to stir once more with things he had done his best to repress.

Already, things writhed in his dreams.

He did his best to shrug such thoughts off, allowing himself to be instead immersed in nature, the wild, free of old monsters and the taint of humanity. He was also aided by a curious concept that came to him on his first night in the forest. Despite any hardship, he would likely endure something his ancestors had also struggled with.

In a way, this did allow him to feel some of that belonging he had been looking for.

It felt nice to share something with them.

Even if it was a hardship.

… A burden… a trial… an affliction…

… A Shared Curse.

Jaune suddenly slid to a stop, his hands bracing against the thick bough of a tree as he felt his vision swim for just a moment. His ears all but twitched at a noise that shouldn’t be there, that couldn’t be there.

He was miles from the ocean.

“Damn you… no… no! It is me. I am here… I am right here…” Jaune hissed, clawing the bark from the tree, his head thumping into the wood.

“… I am awake. I do not dream, only remember, never dream… look at that sun,” he breathed, forcing his eyes up so that they were blinded by the radiance of the morning sun shining down.

“… A broken moon and glorious sun… yes… yes, I am awake,” he reinforced. The tense knot in his brow dissipated as he pushed off the large tree and continued, his mind again focused on what needed to be done.

YVYVYVYVY

Orr watched on as the kid resumed running again, her brief worry that he had perhaps twisted his ankle disappearing as he again continued his rapid pace. Not wanting him to get too far ahead of her, Orr made ready to give chase but found her nose itching.

Sniffing momentarily, Orr became even more perturbed before turning her head to the side and snorting to clear her nose. Then, giving a few experimental sniffs, she was satisfied that it was probably just some pollen or something messing with her sense of smell.

After all, why the hell would she be able to smell the ocean?

YVYVYVYVY

Jaune’s estimate about how long it would take to reach the base of Blackreach was right on the money. The afternoon sun was already beginning to dip closer and closer to the horizon, a poignant warning that time was running short. Jaune was all too aware that night would soon be encroaching, but despite this, his spirits were high.

He had come across a small stream, the shallow water barely up to his ankle, and the running water was fresh and clear. Rising off his knees and wiping his mouth, Jaune gave an appreciative look about the area, noting that while the stream was relatively small, there were clear signs of the water being much higher.

“… Some kind of blockage… a recent one going off the lack of growth,” Jaune mumbled in observation. Walking to the waterway’s edge showed the water should be up to his upper thighs. “We are not in a drought, so… upstream….”

*Thump*

Jaune swiftly hopped forward, crouched low and turned about, rising back to his feet with stone in his hand and a savage snarl on his face.

Orr, for her part, just lifted both her hands and looked on, surprised. “Umm… sorry, I just needed to refill my canteen.”

Jaune’s expression softened almost immediately, the rock in his hand tossed to the side as the boy gave an apologetic bow. “Apologies, Ms Orr, you startled me,” Jaune voiced reticently, Orr already waving his apology off.

“Nah, none of that. That right there is a good reaction to have out here. Stay on ya toes. I’d rather have a rock tossed at me head than have to explain to Hella why her precious little ‘Sunshine’ came home with a missing limb,” Orr chuckled with a smile that didn’t meet her eyes.

“Of course, on that topic, if you don’t mind me enquiring and it doesn’t break protocol, have you had to eliminate many Grimm or have we been fortunate?” Jaune asked the Huntress as she began to refill her canteen.

“Nope, things have been real easy like, you might not have known this, but your old man paid for a couple of Hunters to do a sweep of the region before we headed off,” Orr explained, recapping her canteen before using some of the water to wash her face.

“I did not know that… curious, how long does it take for Grimm to repopulate an area after one of these culling’s?” Jaune enquired. His curiosity peaked as he had never really dealt with prey with migratory habits.

“No idea…” Orr admitted scratching at the side of her head where her hair was shaved away, Jaune’s eyes following the motion and settling on a scar that seemed to run along her skull, just over her temple. “Thing is, cullings are not usually done in areas that are uninhabited, not much point, y’know, so I genuinely have no clue how long it will be before we start seeing Grimm again.”

“Hmm… interesting that there are still avenues into our oldest enemies yet to be explored….” Jaune pondered aloud.

“Yeah, I guess. I hear Atlas has an entire R&D division dedicated to Grimm behaviour, if you can believe it. However, from what I hear, it doesn’t get as much love as the other Grimm-oriented divisions,” Orr commented, rising off the ground before slicking her hair back to one side.

“… I do not know a lot about Atlas… I find myself more interested in Mantle,” Jaune shrugged, his voice emotionless as he genuinely had no thoughts on the highly advanced city that floated in the sky.

“Eh, I have only been like a handful of times, and I didn’t enjoy Atlas all that much, but Mantle had some pretty nice parties and absolutely killer drinks!” Orr reminisced.

“Killer… as in good, strong or as in poison?” Jaune enquired, remembering how his sisters also used the adjective.

Orr gave a jovial snort before replying, “well, I meant strong, but in all honesty, that shit might have been poison!” The huntress began to laugh in earnest, and Jaune, not knowing how to respond, just gave a noncommittal grunt and waited for her laughter to die.

With a relaxed sigh, Orr changed the topic, “so, what’s the plan, blondie? Are you gonna set up here for tonight, or will we cover some more ground before dark?”

“… Upstream… I want to check upstream for something. I am hoping that there might be a suitable spot further north,” Jaune replied, turning his head in the direction he wished to venture.

“Hey, it’s your show, kid. I’m just the security detail; you do you,” Orr explained with a shrug.

“Right,” Jaune nodded immediately, beginning to follow the stream northwards, with Orr disappearing back into the foliage not long after to serve as his unseen protector.

YVYVYVYVY

“Huh… well, that’s different,” Orr commented as she and Jaune examined the source of the stream’s blockage.

“Any idea what caused it?” Jaune enquired, walking over to the abnormal damn.

“Magical beavers?” Orr quipped, joining Jaune next to the large block of ice that had seemingly sprung out of the water.

“… I don’t think-“

“It was a joke, besides I think the source of our little curiosity is right there,” Orr spoke, using her war pick to prod at the base of the tiny iceberg.

“… Dust?”

“Yep, nice size ice crystal right there,” Orr observed, holstering her war pick.

Jaune was now squatting next to the icy damn, a small smile on his face as he talked, “I have only read of this… of Dust, crystals growing large enough to affect their surroundings… amazing.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t really get to populated areas, but I once heard a story about an electric crystal that grew beneath a factory and caused all the machines inside to short out,” Orr shared.

“… I would love to be able to show this to my sisters… Jade would probably be inspired by it,” Jaune reckoned.

“Which one is she? Sorry but you all kinda look alike… that includes you, by the way,” Orr teased.

“Oh, Jade is my direct younger sister; she was the one with the coloured streak in her hair,” Jaune described, standing back up and moving back from the small iceberg.

“Oh, so that one’s Jade; your dad has like a hundred drawings and stuff in his office from her,” Orr declared.

“Mmm, she has always been very eager to display her artistic abilities; I also have a few of her works displayed around my room as well as in an album… sometimes I like to flick through it with her to show how much she has improved since she was little.”

“… You’re just a regular old softie, ain’tcha….” Orr deadpanned.

“I have been called such, yes,” Jaune claimed, recalling how his father often would use the word to describe him.

“Well… seeing as there’s no danger here, I’m gonna disappear again!” Orr loudly declared before hurling herself into the foliage swiftly. Unknown to Jaune, she did so as not to refer to him as a sis-con accidentally. ‘Damn, the kid is making this too easy… I bet Cloud put him up to this… or worse, Hella.’

Jaune seeing nothing wrong with Orr returning to her post, instead turned his thoughts to the setting sun. It took him only a short time to find the blockage, but the sky was already becoming painted in the many colours of dusk. Now at the base of Mt Blackreach, it would not do for him to be caught up the mountain in the dark.

“… Best to make camp nearby then,” Jaune decided, moving away from the creek and the icy barrier that had undoubtedly aided it in growing.

Rather than take off, Jaune walked back into the woods, his gate practically lazy compared to the usual haste he put into his actions. As he walked, he gathered sticks and any bundles of dry grass or leaves he came across, essentially anything that would work as kindling or fuel.

Luckily, he stumbled upon a tree loaded with nuts earlier in the day; he was pretty sure they were called pecans, but after munching on a few, he had loaded his pockets up to have some for later. His pants pockets could hold quite a lot of cargo, even if one was filled with the still-growing bamboo shoot.

With arms full of materials to see him through the night, he was practically struck when an intense glare caught him in the eye, momentarily blinding him.

Looking away and blinking rapidly, Jaune swiftly regained his sight, his body automatically shifting into a defensive posture as he readied himself for any threat. But upon a second inspection, he discovered that the glare was coming from a tree ahead of him that was bathed in the afternoon sun.

Taking stock, Jaune was surprised to find himself in a clearing; it was by no means extensive, but compared to the density of the rest of the forest, it was like a prominent bald patch. The only exception was a huge twisted tree that dominated the centre of the clearing. Jaune noted that the forest appeared to be shunning it, as nothing else seemed to want to grow around it.

His inspection soon led him to the source of the glare that had assaulted his eyes. It was a large bird nest lodged in one of the branches with a glittering material amongst its makeup. The nest was enormous, taking up almost a quarter of the thick twisted branch it was sat upon.

“Huh, you don’t belong here…” Jaune whispered, gently placing down his gathered kindling and approaching the solitary plant. Driven by his curiosity, he could not help himself from placing his hand on the thick winding base of the large tree. Looking up, he saw its many limbs twist about, forming a cage of branches and leaves that stopped any light from coming through.

The tree was tall to boot, easily matching if not surpassing the rest of the forest; he was sure that if he were to look down on the area from above, it would stick out like a sore thumb. So stepping away, Jaune looked about the clearing, his eyes dancing along the ground and tracing the large roots. The tree, whatever it was, had an extensive outward stretching root system that seemed to creep across the floor.

The visual did not conjure fond memories.

With more care than was necessary, Jaune walked around the tree, careful not to step on any of the long breaching roots. As he did so, though, he spotted a peculiar space where the roots seemed to split, and the earth itself pulled back, revealing a large cavity beneath the tree. Knowing the inherent risk of such areas, Jaune got low and began to crawl forward, his nose rapidly inhaling to scent the air.

While the scent of an animal was in the clearing, it was coming from the nest in the tree rather than the burrow.

Biting the bullet, he peered into the hollow, his eyes doing their best to adjust to the darkness as he looked for anything that could be hazardous hidden in the shadows. Spotting nothing inherently dangerous, he crawled in, immediately noting that there was much more space than he first thought. Crouched as he was, his head only just brushed across the ceiling, and he could easily stretch his body out when he laid out prone.

Laid out on the floor, Jaune began to consider his position, assessing the benefit of having an enclosed space to sleep near a water source with an easily identifiable landmark. But on the other hand, it would need some maintenance, the hollow was spacious enough, but it could stand to be even more so, and the floor could also do with some padding for insulation. Also, he would have to test it to see how it handled the rain.

But it had promise.

Unwrapping his travelling cloak from around his waist and emptying his pockets of his mother’s bamboo and his gathered nuts, he crawled out of the cavity and back into the light of the setting sun.

It was already too late to start working on any means to prepare his new den, but an enclosed space was still better than sacrificing his body heat to the leaching cold of the night. Making up his mind to camp near the strange tree, if at least for one night, Jaune decided to continue gathering things he would need to make it through the night.

YVYVYVYVY

The small fire at his feet crackled away, the warm stream of smoke rising into the starry sky and dispersing. The wood and discarded shells of the nuts he had for dinner continued to pop and sizzle loudly, the sharp staccato punctuating the nighttime noise of insects and rustling leaves. Jaune was doing his best to focus on these things to let the presences of the world around him consume his mind.

But it was a losing battle.

With this back pressed against one of the giant roots of the strange tree, he might have appeared relaxed, but he was quite the opposite. His mind was a raging battlefield of contradictions as he was forced to once more battle with the ghosts in his memory. Such had been the case since the first night of his time away from home.

It seemed that without the security of being around his loved ones, his mind was want to stir up all manner of ill thoughts.

The forest itself didn’t help. Memories of dark woods and the writhing shadows that haunted them were a constant prowling horror in his mind. Nevertheless, he thanked Kos that, for the time being, he had not yet encountered anything of the serpent variety.

In fact, he had yet to encounter any serpents since his return from the accursed night.

“I know snakes exist….” Jaune mumbled, only to shake his head, not wanting the image of those scaly, writhing parasites in his head. Sitting up, he cast his eyes to the fire, but even in the dancing warmth of the flames, his mind could find threads to pluck that dredged-up old pains.

“… When did it come to this… when did I start to fear my mind more than the monsters I know to be real,” Jaune hissed into the fire, hoping he might gain some wisdom from the flames. But, rather than continue to dwell, Jaune rose from his seat and kicked some dirt over the fire smothering it.

“Another thing to add to the list, a fire or a coal bed in or near that den would go a long way to help me fight off the last of this lingering winter chill,” Jaune breathed, moving towards his new den.

Reaching the hole, Jaune was stopped before he could descend by the grandest enemy his mind saw fit to conjure against him. He was captured by a silver light from on high, illuminating the back of his hand, captivating his whole self. By instinct alone, he knew that light; he dreaded it, and, petrified, he watched as that same silver glow bled until it turned crimson to his eyes.

The howls started anew, the scent of sundered guts befouled his nose, and he tasted blood on his tongue.

Metallic, monstrous, powerful, sweet, alluring… Blood.

But with that taste, that temptation arose all the fury and hate he harboured in his heart, all the regret and festering hurt. Then, with a snarl befitting the monster he was, he whipped around to scream his rage into the sky at that damnable celestial body.

But it wasn’t there.

No crimson moon was adrift in a Paleblood sky, monolithic and terrible in its oppressive dread.

Only the shattered husk of a ruined reflective satellite, forever deformed.

“Heh… home sweet home,” Jaune smiled, comfortably sliding into his new den. Laying out his travelling cloak and placing his mother’s boon aside so he didn’t crush it in his sleep, he was almost ready for bed but had one final ritual before resting.

Jaune pursed his lips before giving out a low, drawn-out whistle, the noise echoing in his little chamber but carrying well to the waiting ears of his protector. The return whistle was instant, and Jaune was already turning over to sleep before it ended.

Much like he had the two nights previous, Jaune did his best to cast his thoughts aside and fall into the embrace of sleep with all haste.

Just as he had the two previous nights, he almost succeeded.

Almost.

As he drifted into the realm of sleep once more, he could not help but think about the absurdity of his own nature and how he found more solace sleeping in what was practically a shallow grave than beneath the majestic glory of the stars above.

YVYVYVYVY

“Beast! Beast!”

“Kill him!”

“Argh! Away!”

Jaune, his arm still rendered useless by the pig, fought on with strength earned through blood and savagery birthed by his agony.

“You fi- arhllgh!”

His face was a rictus of burning bloodthirst as he drove his silver sword into the throat of yet another Yharno’s throat. The arterial spray flecked his face with red for only the briefest of moments before he was forced to twist out of the way of a blazing torch.

“I’ll kill you!” Jaune howled, his boot lunging out to kick the sternum of the man who tried to burn him. But, instead, the lanky figure was sent sprawling, his death howl audible for all as he went over the edge of the bridge and fell to his death in the sewers below.

Jaune was punished for his attack. With his sword still lodged in a throat, he could not parry an oncoming pitchfork that painfully jabbed into his gut, his armour not stopping it, only making it sink in slowly. Jaune hissed, blood staining his teeth and racing out in spittle as he rolled back, much to the misery of his broken arm.

“I’ll kill you all!” he roared, lunging back to his feet, parrying aside another jab from the pitchfork and slashing the man’s face open, their eye rupturing in a display of brutality. But he didn’t stop; he sidestepped a gunshot, the bullet puncturing his coat as he brought his sword down on the exposed clavicle of another crazed man.

The mob member could not even scream, their left side destroyed as the blade ripped through his heart, lung and diaphragm. Then, tearing his weapon free, Jaune decapitated the man who had once wielded the pitchfork; the fool had dropped it to cup at his ruined face. His severed hands and head had not even hit the floor before Jaune raced towards the rifleman.

Seeing Jaune coming, they scrambled to lift their gun, primed and ready to shoot, their finger moving to press the trigger.

But Jaune’s thrown sword was already impaled through their chest.

“Die!” Jaune screamed, hurling himself at the gunman bodily, his hand wrapped around his blade’s hilt, twisting it and wrenching it up, bathing his chest in blood as the felled man crumpled beneath his weight.

A final gurgle rang out before the night was bereft of noise save for Jaune’s bestial huff and snarling. Blood coated him, dripping from his hat and painting his very boots, his nostrils flared, and blood cleared his sinuses. “Argh… Dammit!” Jaune cried, slipping to a knee, his sword keeping his face from meeting the ground.

His body was at the end of its rope; he was lost and would soon perish without Blood.

“All because… of an overfed… pig,” Jaune spat the last word, his arm shaking as he pushed himself back up on his own two legs.

With nothing to lose, he stumbled on, his sword having to be used as a makeshift cane as he struggled through the cold numbness beginning to take over his body. His gut was bleeding a lot now, blood trailed behind him, and his vision swam with every step he took.

Coming around a corner, he was almost brought to his knees at the sight of two more Yharnos.

But as neither had seen him yet, he could not afford to waste the opportunity by succumbing to his own body’s weakness. Sheathing his blade, he pulled free his pistol; his sword was already heavy in his grip and would be useless to him at present.

Once more, the bloodlust stirred in his veins.

Two half steps carried him to the first, who was standing dazedly in the middle of the street; he did not even react when Jaune placed his pistol against the nape of his neck.

*Bang*

They fell, crumbling to the ground, their cleaver scraping over the stone as the other looked up aghast, “you plague-ridden rat!”

The second scrambled to their feet, bringing a sickle to bear. Jaune finished reloading just as they reached him, the curved blade going straight for his throat.

Jaune stepped into the swing, crashing his body into the Yharno, his pistol’s barrel pressing against their knee.

*Bang*

They fell screaming, their blade racking down Jaune’s back to little effect, his coat absorbing the damage in the place of his flesh. Jaune tried to reload his firearm, but his fingers were cold and slow, and the Yharno, while maimed, was frenzied.

“Argh!” Jaune cried out as the tip of the sickle sunk into the back of his ankle, severing tendons and muscles and forcing him to collapse atop his assailant. “Foul beast,” the man choked his foul breath casting his disgusting spit onto Jaune’s closed eyelids.

“Oh, shut up!” Jaune roared back, bringing his head down atop the man’s crooked nose. The satisfaction Jaune felt as the cartilage crunched beneath his forehead could not be understated, even if it paled in comparison to the pain currently screaming in his leg.

Pushing himself off the Yharno, he rolled to the side, eager to escape the bastard’s sickle, his fingers again fumbling with his pistol as he tried to reload it.

The Yharno would not let him.

With a crazed yowl, the man threw himself at Jaune, clawing, spitting and trying to bite his face. Jaune, with only one arm, could not hold him back for long, especially with each struggle sending bolts of searing torment through his leg and broken arm.

The man continued to push, his yellow nails trying to pry at Jaune’s eyes. They were a hair’s breadth away. Jaune closed his eyes, snarling and groaning as he tried to protect his face.

And then he was falling.

His leg hooked on something.

His bad leg.

He screamed as his descent was halted for an instant, his leg coming untangled to let him fall anew.

His impact was not atop the hard stone of a Yharnam street but instead the corpse of the same Yharno that had plunged them both off the edge of the raised block they had been on. Not that it mattered, Jaune might have had his life spare by the man’s crumpled rib cage, but he was well and truly spent.

“… Damn… damn it all, damn it,” Jaune croaked, too tired to form a coherent sentence. The smell of blood drowned him as his heart struggled to pump what little of said substance was still in his body to where it was needed. With strength he had no right to, he managed to roll off the Yharno’s corpse, having no desire to succumb upon the crazed man’s ruined body.

He did his best to ignore the wet splat of his ruined body as he lay face down on the cold cobble street.

…

He was cold…

And tired…

…And cold.

…

“Gwaghha.”

‘Wait… wha,’

An eye, singular, flickered open, the darkness all but consuming his vision to the point where only a blurry narrow point was at all comprehendible.

But that was enough.

A lantern.

And it was only three, god-forsaken, meters away.

“Gwaghha.”

“…H-hear… you,” Jaune breathed his one good arm, for all that particular distinction was worth, with a nearly dead body fumbling with his chest. He was clawing weakly at the buckle holding his sheath, or more specifically, his sword and the massive hammerhead atop his back.

After far too long, it clicked, allowing the heavy trick component to roll over his bad arm and onto the street with a resounding clang, dragging his sword and sheath with it.

It was a good indicator of the amount of trouble Jaune was in, for despite going over the break in his arm directly, Jaune did not feel a thing.

With the not-insignificant weight removed, all that was left was to try.

And Jaune was getting pretty good at that.

It was pathetic, his body barely moving, but his fingers clumsily looked for purchase in the street grooves. When they found one, Jaune pulled until his cumbersome digits, slick with blood, would slide free and force him to paw about blindly once more.

So it went; Jaune did not know how far away it was, his vision having succumbed to the darkness and the groans of the Messengers sounding distorted in his head.

But he crawled on all the same.

Until he couldn’t.

He reached out, desperately grasping for a lantern he knew was not in reach.

He could have screamed in frustration had he the strength for such a thing.

‘One… more death… for the tally,’ Jaune thought as his mind began to become… distant.

He heard a muted groan, a final encouraging cry, to rouse strength long since spent.

But out of pity, Jaune reached up for his hat, the tricorn coming away sticky as his hair clung to the blood-caked apparel.

…He lifted it as high as he could.

…A parting salute.

…His arm fell flat, the hat hooking atop something.

…

His world went dark.

…

…

…

“Gwoghho.”

YVYVYVYVY

“Now, students who here can tell me who created the modern system of Huntsman employed by all four major kingdoms?”

Jade’s hand shot up, eager to answer a straightforward early question so the teacher didn’t single her out later, a little tip she had learned from her big sister.

“Jade,” the teacher proclaimed.

“It was created by Vale’s Warrior King, Ozymandias the Third,” Jade answered nonchalantly.

“Correct, it was this event that we celebrate every year with the Vytal festival. The reason for the modern system of Huntsman being created at the peace talks was due to the massive amounts of territory lost during the Great War and the numerous Aura-enhanced individuals now devoid of purpose.” The teacher lectured, clicking her remote and turning on the smart board; the image that was pulled up was a display that showed the four nations’ territory before and after the war.

Jade saw it and could not deny that a small part of her cringed at the difference.

“In the years following the Great War, no nation has fully recovered, whether in population or territory. Of the four nations, Mistral has had the greatest success, and even then, there are still large swathes of territory that have yet to be reclaimed… can anyone tell me why,” the teacher queried, becoming somewhat dour due to the topic at hand.

Jade didn’t even bother putting her hand up. “The Grimm.”

“Yes, the Grimm are certainly a driving factor… there have been many attempts to try and reclaim that lost glory between all four nations, the largest in Vale being Mountain Glenn… but all of them inevitably failed.” The teacher voiced her remote clicking to show images of a ruined settlement. Jade immediately knew it wasn’t Mountain Glenn because her mother had shown her pictures of the once hopeful settlement.

“One of the primary requirements to create a successful settlement is having some means of defending it. Who can tell me how Reach defends itself?” the teacher spoke up again, posing the question to the class. Jade decided to stay out of it; she had already interreacted once. So instead, she opened her book and listened in with half an ear as she doodled.

“The Auto guns,” some boy said behind her.

“The walls,” another voice chimed up to her right.

“Hunters!” Someone cheered from the back of the room, earning some enthusiastic whoops.

Jade rolled her eyes and took a break from her drawing to quickly scribble the answer the teacher was waiting for on her book before sliding it over to her friend Malt. Then, kicking her shin gently to get the girl’s attention, she nodded at her book, giving her friend the answer so she could get in the teacher’s good graces also.

“Oh… umm, natural barriers!” Malt hollered amongst the voice, immediately earning the teacher’s attention.

“Correct, all of you, but mostly you miss Cheer,” the teacher announced, clicking her remote again. This time the screen shifted to show an ariel view of Reach or, more accurately, the Reach plateau. “Natural barriers have long been toted as the source of many settlements’ success, with Reach boasting particularly abundant ones as the reason for its longevity.” Another click and the screen shifts to highlight the elevation and cliffs surrounding the plateau.

“While all the other answers are indeed important components of Reach’s defence, the fact is that were it not for Reach’s natural barriers, it is unlikely that we would have ever made it to the size and prosperity we boast of now.” Yet another click of the teacher’s remote shifted the screen to display two contrasting images. One was a modern photo of Reach, probably taken in the last two years, and the other was a realistic painting from before the Great War.

Jade barely paid the photo any interest; the painting had her full attention. She had always loved landscape pieces. This one was exceptionally gorgeous, done from one of the eastern peaks to capture the whole of Reach in the glow of the morning sun. It had been much smaller back then, the two most significant buildings being the old storehouse and-

“Hey… what’s that weird building?” Sheer asked, pointing to the other large structure present in the picture.

“Oh, this was where Reach’s noble family lived,” the teacher responded, her eyes unconsciously drifting towards Jade, who did her best not to react.

“Doesn’t look like where a noble would live? I thought they all lived in manners and stuff,” Brick, the tallest boy in her grade, voiced.

“Oh, that’s because Reach’s nobles were considered quite… unorthodox,” the teacher explained again, her eyes darting to Jade, who couldn’t keep a smile from appearing on her face at the apt description of her ancestors.

“Were they poor?” a girl asked, ruining Jade’s amusement.

“Umm, I admit I don’t know how they stacked up compared to other nobles of the time…” the teacher admitted, actually now looking uncomfortable with the line of questioning.

Jade envied her brother once more; he probably never had to deal with things like this when he attended school.

“They had to have been! Nobles lived in like castles and estates and had lots of lands and beautiful gowns and threw decadent parties-“

“And many were responsible for horrific atrocities and the perpetuation of slavery before the abolishment,” Jade sniped. Never had she been so grateful that her father and brother were such history nerds who held the family history in the highest regard.

Silence took over the room at such a heavy topic being brought up in a room full of prepubescents.

The teacher, with a sigh, ended the pervasive quiet, “Jade is correct. One need only look at history to see that slavery within Vale was directly linked to the nobility, as they benefited from it most.”

Another awkward silence seemed to take place when the same girl who had been romanticising nobles, Thrush, spoke again. “Is that why Reach’s nobles lived away from the rest of the town?”

“No,” Jade spoke up, focusing on her book where she was again doodling distractedly.

“I asked the teacher, not you, Arc,” Thrush nipped.

“Umm, actually, Miss Plume, I think you will find that Miss Arc probably has a far better understanding of Reach’s former nobles than most,” the teacher voiced nervously, her words becoming more formal.

“Huh, why?” Thrush uttered, her face scrunching up in displeasure.

“Because the Arc’s were the nobles of Reach before the abolishment… and we did not own slaves,” Jade growled, finishing her picture before she looked up to the rest of the class. Looking about, Jade saw that she had the whole class’s attention in one way or another, including the teacher, so seeing she wouldn’t be silenced, she decided to press on.

“My brother told me that the reason we lived close to the edge of the plateau was that we needed the space for training and defence purposes… he said we weren’t super rich because Reach wasn’t well suited for that stuff, and our mines were for like, useful metals.” Jade continued, the teacher giving her an encouraging smile and nod.

“Besides, the Arcs weren’t made nobles because we were good at running villages and stuff; we earned our titles and lands because we did one thing really, really well…” Jade explained, trailing off and doing her best to communicate to the teacher with her eyes why it would be a good idea for her to take over again.

Thrush, though had different ideas, “What have delinquent older brothers?”

This time no silence was left in the wake of Thrush’s words as Jade shot up in her chair, her seat scraping noisily behind her as she turned on the other girl. The teacher was already in motion, her authoritative voice cutting through the class as she called for silence. “Miss Thrush, you will be staying after class, and Miss Arc, please sit down.”

Jade wanted to shout, pick her chair up, hurl it at Thrush’s stupid head, and make her cry. But she also knew that the school was watching all the Arcs with an extra degree of scrutiny, so she settled for sending the rude pest a loathsome stare while wishing for the girl to drop dead.

“Such comments have no place in this classroom, and if I hear any more, I will send you straight to the principal’s office. I would think our assembly on morals and behaviour would have had some effect, but if it hasn’t, discipline is not out of the question.” The teacher berated her words carrying a not insignificant threat.

“Now, because up until Miss Plume’s little outburst that had turned into quite an informative little discussion, I would ask that you please inform the class of what it was that earned the Arc’s their rank as nobility,” the teacher asked of Jade, her tone far more cordial.

Jade stared at her book angrily, debating whether it was worth speaking before kissing her teeth and answering the teacher. “We subjugated the former kingdom of Bedivere,” Jade uttered, her eyes not leaving her book.

“W-what?” the teacher stuttered, looking surprised.

“Gunhild Arc, the Banshee’s wife. She was also called the ‘Midday Wraith’ and the ‘Old King’s Promised Wrath.’ In addition, you can find mentions of her being allied with… I don’t remember which king, but he was called ‘The Conqueror,’ but yeah… for her efforts, her son was granted the title of noble in honour of her service to the creation of what is now the Kingdom of Vale.” Jade explained, looking up from her desk to make eye contact with the teacher, who was stunned silent.

“… You can, umm, ask my dad for, like, a better explanation. We have a lot of old records in my house, but they are all written in some kind of old northern Raider speech, and only my dad and Jaune can read it,” Jade continued in the silent room, her nerves acting up at the earnest reaction presented by the teacher.

“I-I see… I might just do that, Miss Arc. Thank you for talking to us about your family’s history,” Jade nodded her head to the teacher’s gratitude and not a handful of seconds later, the bell rang, indicating it was time for the next period.

With great speed, Jade shunted her stuff into her bag and all but fled the room, her mood wholly ruined.

She should have been super happy to share all the cool history stuff her brother had taught her, but…

But talking about it made her remember that her brother wasn’t here right now.

“Fucking Thrush… my brother isn’t a delinquent,” she spat under her breath, stomping into her next class. She was the first to arrive and had her book open in mere seconds, her pencil blurring across the page as she distracted herself by drawing.

By the time her class started, she had sacrificed a whole page for a single image. Then, quickly flipping the paper over, she did her best to appear attentive despite her mind being consumed by her picture.

She found it curious that she had the overwhelming urge to draw crows as of late.

A.N.

Howdy, guys hope you are all doing well.

I am excited to say that aside from a few portions of this chapter, I was really feeling it, like writing this was enjoyable.

So I want to cover a few things of note, firstly the things explored in this chapter’s Yharnam portions.

Now I know that in Bloodborne proper, our perfect little messenger lads aren’t actually super communicative and ultra helpful, but for the sake of how much I love the little nightmare babies, I am saying they can be.

Yes, I know that many of the Yharnos (Yharnamites) carry blood vials, but I can’t have things be too easy now, can I?

Also, we got our first look at the first addition to Jaune’s arsenal and with the retrial of the Saw badge, more are sure to come! I might leave which one he uses next up to a poll. I am lazy like that; decisions are tiring.

Oh, and about the Jade scene, I find it very amusing that the only legendary historical figure we hear about of note is Malik the Sunderer, so fuck it, I will make my own. The ancient Arc referred to here was the last Chief when the Arcs were still a roaming company, and upon her death, the king rewarded her son with lands out of gratitude for her service in helping to unify Vale.

Also, the reference to Arc’s not enslaving people isn’t from them being super goody goody; it’s that slaves are antithetical to the Arc mindset of capability and tight family cohesion. Gunhild, for example, definitely earned her titles, and it wasn’t for being a merciful politician.

Right anyway, next chapter, we will explore another episode of Jaune undergoing outdoor therapy as he does his best to tame the wild and come to grips with a few lingering ghosts.

May you have luck in the Gacha.

And as always.

Until next time.