The room was pristine, an unblemished white stretching across the floor, walls, and ceiling. It gave off an unnatural sterility, almost clinical in its perfection. The central hub of the space sat against one wall, where a large, sleek couch faced an enormous screen. The display flickered with data streams, showing various readings and charts, but the main image was a strange, familiar creature—one resembling a cow, yet different in ways the data failed to explain.

  Four distinct pathways branched out from the main room, each marked by a simple but clear sign above its entrance: **Experiments, Biological Life, Display, Kitchen.** The names alone raised questions, but there was little time to dwell on them. A soft hum filled the air, the steady vibration of unseen machinery keeping the facility running, yet the most striking presence in the room was something far less ordinary—a swirling **purple portal**, its surface spiraling in unpredictable patterns, hovering ominously in the center of the chamber.

  Standing near the couch, Jaune Arc adjusted his red scarf, the fabric slightly shifting to reveal a devastating scar cutting across his skin—a testament to battles fought and wounds endured. His blue eyes held a unweaving focus, and his blond hair was slightly tousled, giving him a battle-worn but resolute appearance. His famous armor, still bearing the dents and scratches of past fights, reflected the cold artificial light above.

  Beside him stood Pyrrha Nikos, her presence as steady and strong as ever, her emerald eyes scanning the surroundings with quiet intensity. She stood in full gear, every inch of her warrior’s poise intact.

  To their side, **Nora Valkyrie**, shifted on her feet impatiently, her hammer ever within reach. Lie Ren stood beside her, ever composed, his sharp eyes surveying the strange environment with practiced caution.

  At the edge of the group, Ruby Rose, stood with Crescent Rose tucked at her waist. The details of her cloak and outfit bore signs of wear, but the fire in her silver eyes remained undimmed. Nearby, Qrow Branwen crossed his arms, watching the swirling portal with an unreadable expression, his ever-present flask momentarily ignored in favor of the unknown that lay before them.

  The air was thick with tension. The pathways each held an untold mystery, the cow-like creature’s data on the screen raised more questions than answers, and the portal in the center of the room pulsed as if waiting for something—or someone.

  The team exchanged glances, silent agreements passing between them. They had a choice to make, but one thing was certain—this place held secrets, and they were about to uncover them.

  "Let's go," Jaune said, his tone firm. "We've been distracted long enough." As he walked toward the portal, he suddenly turned back, reversing his steps, lifting his thumb, and pointing back at the portal with a confident smirk.

  Pyrrha folded her arms, tilting her head slightly. "Are you sure about this? We don't even know where it leads."

  Nora grinned, bouncing on her heels. "Only one way to find out! Besides, mystery portals usually lead to fun, right?"

  Ren let out a quiet sigh, his gaze steady. "Just stay alert. We don’t know what’s on the other side."

  Ruby gave a nod, adjusting her weapon. "No turning back now. Let’s do this."

  Qrow exhaled, taking a swig from his flask. "I’ve got a bad feeling about this, but I guess we’re doing it anyway."

  Jaune’s right hand struck out, grappling something slightly above his height. The space before them shifted, revealing a figure—a head covered in a black mask that seemed fused with his hair, refusing to reflect the stark white light of the room. Slowly, the masked figure's neck was exposed, until his black suit came into full view. Jaune’s grip tightened, while the figure desperately struggled to create space between Jaune’s grasp and his airflow, gasping for breath.

  Pyrrha’s eyes widened, her body immediately shifting into a defensive stance. "Jaune! Who is that?"

  Nora’s hands gripped her hammer, her enthusiasm tempered by a rare moment of caution. "Uh… guys? Should we be worried?"

  Ren’s expression darkened, his eyes analyzing every subtle movement of the struggling figure. That mask... it doesn’t reflect light.

  Ruby readied Crescent Rose, her instincts kicking in. "Jaune, be careful! We don’t know if he’s alone."

  Qrow straightened up, slipping his flask away. "I hate to say it, but this doesn’t look like a friendly chat. Might wanna loosen that grip unless you're ready to start something."

  Jaune’s blue eyes remained locked on the masked figure, his grip firm but controlled. "He was watching us. I want answers first."

  The masked figure choked out a strained noise, his hands clawing at Jaune’s wrist, but he didn’t fight back—at least, not yet.

  The air in the room grew heavier as the tension escalated. The team was now on full alert, waiting for the next move.

  Jaune’s other hand, the one still pointing at the portal, reached out to take off the mask, then loosened his grip. "Hmm, a perception-blocking mask… but these kinds of things aren’t powerful enough to cover perception fully. Was it modified?" Jaune continued. "Liz, is our anti-perception cover off?"

  The screen changed its display, then replied in a robotic tone. "Affirmative. Yes, you turned it off because the alarm was annoying, and the ID of the intruder was similar—they entered using the backdoor."

  "Oh, can you turn that on for me?" Jaune asked, then turned back to the intruder. "You haven’t attacked with your sword. Seems like you have an order."

  "Yeah, an order," the raspy voice of the intruder said. "You also seem to know who you're dealing with."

  "Oh, time just seems to have caught up with me," Jaune replied while letting the intruder go.

  Jaune handed the mask back to the intruder. "Good mask, but it needs a little adjustment to get the right formula."

  The intruder scoffed. "It works perfectly."

  Jaune ignored him as he reached toward the spiraling portal. "Seems like we still have one little thing to take care of."

  The purple spiral shrank, condensing into a small, glistening **berry**.

  Jaune turned his back on the intruder, walking toward the **Kitchen**. As he passed, he casually tossed the berry toward Nora. She caught it in her mouth with practiced ease, her hands never moving. "Yum! It’s sweet!" she chirped, grinning.

  The tension in the room faded, but the unanswered questions remained. Something was still lurking beneath the surface, waiting to reveal itself.

  With a mere flick of Jaune’s finger, the endless path rippled like a mirage, the walls and floor folding inward, collapsing toward him without breaking. Space twisted, distance once immeasurable now drawn to him. Two figures emerged—a young woman with short light-blue hair, striking yellow eyes, and pale skin. She wore a dark librarian’s outfit, complete with a long coat, a white-and-black cravat, and polished heels. An amber pendant rested against her chest, its glow matching the orbs embedded in her footwear. In her hands, she carried a large, ancient-looking book.

  Beside her stood Sylvie, her silver hair flowing gently against her elegant maid attire.

  Jaune’s left eye twitched as everyone noticed his body tense. His neck bent slight then sharp snap rang through the air, then another, as he tried to steady himself.

  Pyrrha instinctively reached out. "Jaune! Don’t push yourself! Dr. Black Jack said your implants still need rest!"

  "I’m fine, Pyrrha," Jaune insisted, flashing a forced grin. But the tight clench of his jaw betrayed his struggle.

  "Angel! Lovely to see you," Jaune said, though the strain in his voice was evident. As he turned to Sylvie, the tightness in his expression didn't fade.

  "Sylvie, come here. It's alright—she won’t do anything." He extended his hand, his tone firm but reassuring.

  Sylvie moved quickly to his side, while Angel’s sharp gaze remained locked onto her.

  "I could," Angela said, her voice carrying an edge of amusement—or was it warning?

  Jaune didn’t so much as flinch. "Oh, please." His words came cold, cutting through the tension like a blade. "We both know your power isn’t working here."

  Sylvie tugged on Jaune’s shirt, drawing his attention. He turned to her, curiosity flickering in his eyes, and knelt so she could speak more quietly.

  "Master, the garden—" she started, but Jaune cut in before she could finish.

  "Yeah, I know. They came in through the backdoor."

  Sylvie shook her head, her usual composure slipping. "No! They broke samples 658!"

  Jaune blinked. "Really? Aw, that’s annoying." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Guess I should’ve reinforced the perimeter sooner. Now I’ll have to replant everything again."

  Placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, he offered a steady voice. "It’s fine. We’ll handle it later."

  He straightened and turned to Angela, his expression unreadable. "So, what do you want now, Angel?"

  Angela’s lips pressed into a thin line. "It’s Angela," she corrected, her voice low with irritation. "The name you picked."

  Before the tension could escalate, Ruby tilted her head, her innocent curiosity cutting through the moment. "Uh, Jaune? What’s 658?"

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Jaune’s serious expression flickered into amusement. "Oh, just a type of black strawberry. A bit needy."

  Angela’s eye twitched. She exhaled sharply, trying to regain control of the conversation. "Ahem. We were talking."

  Jaune shrugged, completely unfazed. "Yeah… but I don’t really feel like talking to you." He waved a hand dismissively then redirect to the giant screen. "Nothing to discuss. Why don’t you talk to Liz instead? Your sister."

  Jaune started to turn away from Angela. "Let's go. I'll open another portal."

  But before he could take a step, the black-clad intruder was already behind him. A dark, elongated sword rested just against Jaune’s neck, its edge whispering against his skin.

  "You’re not going anywhere," the intruder said, his voice low and firm. "Not without talking first."

  Jaune pushed Sylvie toward Pyrrha, who caught her effortlessly, steadying them both.

  The air turned heavy.

  Ruby’s eyes widened as her grip tightened on Crescent Rose. "Jaune—!" she started, but Qrow’s hand shot out, stopping her.

  "Easy, kid," Qrow murmured, his expression unreadable. "Let’s see how this plays out."

  Pyrrha took a sharp step forward, her hand hovering near Miló’s hilt. "That was a mistake," she said, her voice even but carrying a deadly edge.

  Nora, who had been chewing on the berry Jaune had tossed her, suddenly bit down hard. Her usual grin vanished. "Oh, now you’ve done it," she muttered, gripping Magnhild so tightly that the metal groaned.

  Ren narrowed his eyes, already calculating the best counter if things went south. "He’s either reckless or uninformed," he observed quietly.

  Angela smirked slightly, folding her arms. "Oh please, don’t start breaking people again, Jaune. That’s so tiresome to watch."

  But Jaune was already gone.

  The black-clad intruder stiffened. His sword, still hovering in the air, had lost its target.

  A breath. A shift.

  Then—

  A weight settled onto his shoulder.

  Jaune was behind him, casually leaning onto him as if he had always been there. His arm rested lightly on the intruder’s shoulder, his weight pressing down just enough to make it clear he could bring him down if he wanted to.

  "Are you Roland?" Jaune asked, his tone calm, almost amused.

  The intruder’s breath hitched. His fingers twitched, but he didn’t move.

  Ruby blinked in shock. "Wait—how—when—?"

  Qrow let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Well, that’s just unfair."

  Pyrrha released a slow breath, though her guard didn’t drop. "That’s Jaune for you," she murmured.

  Nora bounced on her heels, grinning wide. "Ooooh, that was so cool! Can you do it again?"

  Ren exhaled through his nose. "Not the time, Nora."

  Jaune, still leaning, gave the intruder a slight squeeze on the shoulder. "Well? You gonna answer me? … No, never mind—I already got it. Oh, how charming. You do know I’m as old as your grandma, right? And we’re very well acquainted." Jaune tone stern before continue. "You can ask Angela, for that."

  "So? You already had enough Light. What else—exactly—do you two need from me?" Jaune’s voice was ice.

  Angela hesitated. "Carmen… I can't beat her, she—"

  Jaune cut her off without a shred of patience. "She’s dead."

  Angela didn’t flinch, but when she spoke again, her voice wasn’t entirely her own. "Am I, Ayin?"

  Angela. "Will you make the same mistake twice?"

  Jaune raising an eyebrow, voice flat. "You sound sentimental. Not like you." He glances at the others "Maybe you should check your circuits, Angela. You’re starting to sound human."

  Angela raised her tone. "No, you not going to walk away like this, Ayin! It's our plan! We plan it!"

  "Liz, activate 6 planktons, and information proof." Jaune tone still flat out cold.

  The room suddenly felt heavier, an unnatural weight pressing down on everyone’s thoughts—like something was dampening their perception. Pyrrha and Ruby exchanged uneasy glances, while Qrow narrowed his eyes, instincts screaming at him to stay alert.

  Angela’s voice cut through the suffocating silence. “You’re still afraid, aren’t you? Just like before. You erase the past, but you can’t erase yourself.”

  Her fury boiled over as she took a step forward, voice trembling—not with weakness, but something deeper. “Even after everything, you won’t even look at me.”

  Qrow let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Well, if this isn’t the most awkward breakup I’ve seen.”

  “Liz, reduce vocal frequency by 30%,” Jaune commanded, his voice cold, measured. “I don’t have time for broken records.”

  Angela’s eyes blazed. “No! You’re not walking away like this, Ayin! It was our plan! We built it together!”

  Jaune didn’t so much as blink. “It’s not our plan anymore. It’s mine. And you lost your place in it a long time ago.”

  Pyrrha’s concern deepened. “Jaune… what’s going on?”

  Ruby, ever the one to defuse tension, forced a nervous chuckle. “So, uh… do we get subtitles for whatever this is?”

  Angela’s patience snapped. “You call me broken? Who made me this way?”

  She turned sharply, pointing at the others. “Tell them, Ayin. Or should I say… Ja--?!”

  A sudden, sharp click echoed through the room.

  Roland looked at his arm, wide-eyed. His fingers twitched involuntarily, and to his horror, he realized his glove had activated. But he hadn’t moved.

  His breath hitched. “The hell—?!”

  “You kept your mouth shut.”

  Jaune’s voice cut through the air, colder than ever before.

  The atmosphere cracked.

  A pulse rippled outward—silent, unseen, yet unbearably oppressive. The weight pressing down on them shattered into something worse: an empty, aching stillness.

  Angela staggered back, her breath hitching. She reached for her throat, eyes wide in horror.

  She couldn’t speak.

  Jaune didn’t just suppress her words—he ripped them out of existence.

  The others felt it, too. A silence so deep it hurt—not just in their ears, but in their very perception of the moment. Something was missing.

  Pyrrha instinctively stepped back, gripping Miló. “Why… does it feel like something’s gone?”

  Ruby shuddered. “Did he just—” She cut herself off, realizing she didn’t have the words to describe what just happened.

  Nora, usually so quick to react, was dead silent. Her hands gripped Magnhild tighter, her knuckles white. But she said nothing. And that was the warning sign. Her gut said “punch,” but punch what? What do you fight when you can’t even grasp what’s happening?

  Ren exhaled sharply, fingers twitching—his instincts screamed danger, but not from an enemy. From something greater than them. His aura spiked. His meditation-trained mind recognized something was being altered—something fundamental.

  Even Qrow’s smirk faltered. He flexed his fingers near Harbinger’s hilt, instinctively testing reality while every fiber of his being screamed at him to do something. But his body wouldn’t move. Not out of fear. Not out of hesitation. But because, for a split second, he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.

  Jaune’s eyes glowed faintly, eerie and unshaken. “Angela,” he murmured. “Didn’t you long ago choose to keep the Agito?”

  A pause. Calculated. Empty.

  “Or… what the fuck did we name it?”

  His exhale was barely a breath. “No, it doesn’t matter.”

  Angela gasped, still clutching her throat, still unable to form words. He didn’t just silence her. He erased her claim to the truth.

  Jaune exhaled, as if the answer didn’t matter. “You took them. Then, you became human yourself.”

  Angela trembled—not from fear, but realization.

  She doesn’t just clutch her throat. She stumbles, shaking, her circuits overheating—not from malfunction, but because her very identity just took a hit.

  Her mind fought to reconstruct the sentence she was about to say… but it was gone. The moment itself rewritten.

  Jaune had spoken the truth. And now, she couldn’t deny it.

  The silence stretched, suffocating, raw.

  Ruby hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. She was supposed to know Jaune. She was supposed to be his friend. But right now? She wasn’t sure who she was looking at.

  Pyrrha’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Not because she had no words—but because, for the first time, she understood.

  Or maybe it was Qrow who muttered under his breath: “…Shit.” Because whatever he just witnessed? He wanted no part of it.

  Jaune’s voice was steady, not cold—just certain. “What’s left stopping you, Carmen? Release the Light. Give them back their memories. Heal them.”

  The pressure in the air eased, like reality itself was waiting for her answer.

  Angela’s reply was quiet, almost fragile.

  “I want you to be there. That’s all.”

  Jaune didn’t stop. He turned, stepping toward Liz’s keyboard post.

  “What do you need me for?” His voice didn’t waver. “The past is gone. There’s nothing left to see.”

  Then, a different voice, thick with disdain.

  “Oh? So you’re just bored now? Moving on to another plaything? After everything you sacrificed—after everything you suffered—after everything you made us suffer?”

  The room tensed. A static charge crawled through the air as all eyes snapped toward the source of the voice.

  Jaune, however, did not turn. He simply stopped. His posture unchanged. His presence unmoved.

  Then, a quiet chuckle. “Kali.”

  A pause. A smirk that didn’t quite reach his voice.

  “Clever. Hiding them in a tenth dimension, then another, nesting a portal inside a fold. A lot of work, Angela. I thought you all wouldn’t come—too much of a cost to get here.”

  Behind him, the figures multiplied.

  Not just Roland. Not just Angela.

  Ten more. Each shifting in color, each an echo of something deeper.

  Jaune didn’t stop. Didn’t even flinch. His posture remained composed, his steps steady as he reached Liz’s keyboard—utterly indifferent.

  With a flick of his wrist, he retrieved a deck from a slot in the keyboard’s post.

  “Damn it, Ayin! You don’t get to ignore me! Not after everything!”

  Kali’s voice cracked through the air, sharp with frustration.

  “Oh great, we’re doing this. Fantastic.” Netzach murmured, rubbing the back of his head. “Come on, let’s just drop it. He’s not coming.”

  Jaune didn’t acknowledge her. His fingers continued shuffling his deck—effortless, practiced, mechanical.

  The group—Ruby, Nora, Ren, Pyrrha, and Qrow—shifted uncomfortably.

  The air grew heavier.

  Not with malice.

  Something worse.

  Awkwardness.

  Then, seeing no reaction, Kali’s sword shifted toward Sylvie.

  “Alright then. I’ll make you care.”

  A green blur. Netzach.

  “Kali! No—”

  But he didn’t even get the chance.

  KSHHK!

  Kali’s blade flashed forward—aimed straight at Sylvie’s throat.

  But before steel could bite flesh, something shifted.

  A single card flickered into existence, materializing from Jaune’s direction.

  KSHHK!

  The card split cleanly in half, its halves fluttering through the air like severed wings.

  Then—two more Sylvies appeared.

  Not illusions. Not afterimages.

  They were real.

  They moved in unison, their hands pressing against the original Sylvie’s shoulders—gently pushing her back, out of harm’s way. Their eyes glowed faintly, not with fear, but quiet understanding.

  KSHHK!

  Kali’s blade carved through them without hesitation.

  No blood. No pain. No scream.

  The two Sylvies convulsed mid-air—then melted. Their forms twisted, stretching, reshaping—

  Becoming something else entirely.

  Chains.

  Thick. Unyielding. Alive.

  They lashed out like striking vipers, twisting around Kali’s wrists, her torso, everything.

  KRRRCHK!

  The restraints snapped tight.

  Kali grunted, muscles tensing—but the chains had weight.

  They weren’t just bindings.

  They carried something deeper.

  She fought against them, but her strength wasn’t enough. Not against this.

  Jaune still hadn’t turned.

  Hadn’t even looked her way.

  And that was the worst part.

  The silence, the indifference—

  It burned.

  “You should know better, Kali.” His voice was calm. Almost disinterested. “Attacking someone I placed here? That never ends well.”

  Kali bared her teeth, her frustration seething through every breath.

  “Damn it, Ayin! Is this how you fight now?! Hiding behind tricks?! You don’t even care who you—”

  The chains tightened.

  Not cruelly. Not violently.

  Just enough.

  Enough to remind her that he was in control.

  Enough to remind her that she wasn’t.

  Jaune finally turned his head.

  Not all the way.

  Just slightly.

  Just a fraction.

  Just enough.

  That was all.

  And yet, for a split second, Kali felt it.

  Not fear.

  Not pain.

  Something worse.

  Something she couldn’t name.

  Something that told her, very clearly—

  “She already lost.”

  Jaune finally turned to face her fully.

  His voice was steady. Final.

  “Gebura. Kali. I don’t refuse because I’m bored. I refuse because there’s no meaning in returning. Not anymore.”

  A pause.

  His gaze locked with hers—unwavering.

  “If you want me back—then drag me there yourself.”

  The words struck deep.

  They didn’t challenge her strength.

  They dismissed it.

  Kali’s teeth clenched, her breath sharp and ragged.

  Then—red mist.

  A familiar aura. The Crimson Mist.

  But this time—

  Something was different.

  It didn’t just trail from her weapon.

  It coiled. It expanded. It pulsed.

  Like a living thing.

  It swallowed her whole.

  The room darkened as the mist thickened, twisting, compressing—

  Forging something else.

  Armor.

  Not the bloodied rags of a Color Fixer.

  No.

  This was denser.

  Heavier.

  Absolute.

  A moment passed.

  Then another.

  The chains around Kali crumbled, falling away as dust—vanishing like they were never there.

  She lifted her sword.

  And this time, it was no longer just a blade.

  Qrow's mouth let out whistle, slight amaze of the scenery.

  "Wo-w." Ruby eyes sparkle in Kali's form.

  "Sylvie, wouldn't you mind leading Ruby and the others to the kitchen? Looks like things are about to get a little messy." Jaune smirked, glancing at her.