Steam clung to the marble tiles as Jaune stepped out of the shower, freshly scrubbed and now clean. The soreness in his limbs from training earlier, had dulled slightly, but the mental weight of planning still sat like a rock his mind.
He glanced down at the damp, crumpled bundle in the corner of the bathroom—the shirt he'd died in. He'd tried to wash the blood out during the shower, and though the once-black cloth was now relatively clean, it hung heavy with liquid. The fibers clung together in a sodden mass, reminding him not of its value, but of its history.
Jaune wrung it out one last time and draped it carefully over a drying rod near the back of the bathing room. Best to let it dry here, away from the eyes of any curious maids.
Once dressed in a neat, practical tunic and slacks—enough to look clean and presentable—he left his room and walked through the quiet, winding halls of the Arc estate.
His destination? The forge.
It wasn't particularly hard to find, given that it was connected to the manor.
Though the Arc family was filled with luxury and decorum, the forge was the one part of the estate that deviated sharply from the uniform elegance of merchant nobility. Attached to the west wing of the manor and reinforced with a dedicated chimney and containment warding, the forge was technically labeled a "miniature blacksmithing annex."
In truth, it was massive.
The entrance alone was marked by reinforced stone doors and their surfaces were embedded with a dozen runic formations—heat-dampening, sound suppression and even flame barriers. All designed not for safety, but convenience.
The Arcs had spared no expense here.
Jaune entered.
The heat greeted him first—followed closely by the rhythmic clanging of hammer against metal. The sound had a kind of music to it. Not chaotic or angry but purposeful. Focused. There was a flow to the strikes and Jaune could clearly hear a tempo to the banging.
Sparks danced in the air like fireflies as Jaune stepped into the glowing half-light of the forge proper.
At its center, standing beside a workbench cluttered with steel fragments, crystallized dust, and glowing alloy molds, was Jade Arc.
Her back was to him. Flamelight shimmered across her toned arms, which were bare despite the heat. Her hammer moved in clean, powerful arcs—each strike precisely measured and flawlessly placed. A symphony of technique.
Jade was a smith through and through.
See, not all people were happy with the Class the System granted them—some resented it, others ignored it, and even a rare few tried to defy it, go against their nature and act as a different class instead.
But Jade Arc?
She thrived in it.
The [Blacksmith] class wasn't just her path. It was her passion.
Jaune watched for a few more moments as she flipped the heated blade she was working on with practiced ease, the black steel was glowing orange along the edge. Her bare hands, functioned like heat resistant hide and was molding the blade without protection. They were steady, efficient.
He cleared his throat softly.
The strikes stopped.
Jade turned her head just slightly, golden bangs clinging to her brow, violet eyes meeting his with mild curiosity.
"Jaune?" she asked, voice casual but carrying that underlying strength he always associated with her. "Didn't expect you to drop by. Don't tell me you're here for a scabbard polishing request again."
A crooked grin tugged at her lips.
Jaune chuckled lightly, playing along. "Come on Jade, you know me. Can't I just come in to see my lovely older sister and see how she's doing? You weren't at breakfast or lunch today either. Working on a good project?"
She nodded, turned and set her hammer down, tossing it onto the bench. The air around her shimmered slightly with residual heat and her tunic clung to her curves in places where sweat dampened the seams.
A faint projection hovered above her head, visible only now that she'd stepped away from the active forge:
[Blacksmith]
This sister of his was only twenty years old. She'd never seen the frontlines nor had she even, ever, fought a Grimm.
And yet Jade Arc's level rivaled—or exceeded—that of some professional combat classers, level 31.
It was, in short, amazing. Rare to the point of it being unheard of.
But it made sense.
She didn't mass-produce weapons like most other smiths did. She didn't settle for mediocrity. Everything she made was a unique creation, designed to be useful or meaningful. When she forged, she channeled passion, purpose, and soul.
And the System noticed.
Jade crossed her arms, tilting her head at him.
She crossed her arms and tilted her head. "Funny you should ask. You remember that sword in the vault?"
Jaune blinked. "The black one?" The one he was planning on stealing...
"It's made from a material called Black Mithril. One of the hardest, most expensive, and rarest metals in existence."
He raised an eyebrow. "It is? Wow, no wonder it's in the vault."
"Well," she nodded, with a glint in her eye, "Mom and Dad managed to get their hands on a small block of the stuff—for me to mess around with."
Jaune's brow rose further. "Seriously?"
She nodded. "I'm thinking of forging something from it. Maybe a new centerpiece for the vault. That way, we'll have two super rare, super badass weapons nobody's allowed to touch. Cool eh?"
Jaune gave a slow whistle, mind already spinning.
But curiosity tugged at him. "You sure you can handle that kind of material? It's your first time using it, right?"
There was a pause. Not long. But it was telling.
Jade rolled her shoulder. "Honestly? No clue. But my new skill from hitting level 30, might help."
Jaune's ears perked up. "Forge of creation...?"
She smirked.
[Forge of Creation]
It was a skill the System had granted her at level 30—rewarding her consistency and creativity.
The ability manifested a radiant, white-blacksmith's hammer—incandescent in its glow—and during its use, any item forged by her would have great chance of having powerful item stats. Yes, the resulting product would not only became more powerful but also grant the user several benefits.
That skill didn't simply, just made weapons. It made legends.
Jaune's smile returned. "Huh. That's actually… incredible."
Jade grinned and leaned against her workbench, eyes glittering with pride. "Damn right it is."
Jaune's eyes drifted toward the half-forged blade still resting on the anvil. "Is that it?" he asked, nodding toward the glowing steel. "The Black Mithril?"
Jade gave a short laugh, stepping back toward her bench. "That?" She tapped the blade lightly. "Nah. Just a warm-up piece. That's just iron alloy with some magic crystal dust mixed in. I'm not dumb enough to start hammering the Black Mithril on a whim. I've been practicing—trying to refine some techniques before I even think about touching that ore."
She glanced back at him, violet eyes narrowing slightly. "Why?"
Jaune hesitated. His fingers curled and uncurled at his sides, and for a moment, the words stuck in his throat. But then she tilted her head, suspicious but still grinning.
"Alright, spit it out," Jade said. "You didn't come all this way through heat and steel just to watch me swing a hammer. What do you really want?"
He exhaled, slowly.
"…Armor."
That made her blink. Not because it was a strange request coming from anyone, but because it was him.
"You?" Jade asked, arms folding. "You want armor?"
He nodded slowly. "Lightweight. Durable. Something that won't get in my way if I have to move fast." A pause stretched between them, thick with the heat of the forge and a tension heavier than steel. She didn't speak, but her eyes said it all. She was waiting, expecting more.
This was the moment of truth. According to his memories, Jade was the sister that he was the closest to. They joked around a lot and she even went to look for him whenever she made an interesting or unique item.
But...
Would she tattle on him to their parents? If she did, it would spoil many of his plans and he'd have to find a different way to sneak away from his family. However, if she didn't, he had much to gain. Potential resources that she had access to, her help for one and possibly the ability to bounce plans off her mind.
While Jaune did have many things to lose, he had to bite the bullet.
A risk he'd have to take.
"I'm leaving," he said quietly. "In two weeks."
Jade straightened. "What?"
"I'm using Verona's trade trip as cover. I'm going with her—just a tagalong, nothing suspicious. But once we hit Seabranch, I'm slipping away and taking an airship to Vale."
Her expression turned unreadable.
"I've got a plan," Jaune continued. "I'm going to attempt to join Beacon as a student, where I'll be given access to greater opportunities for growth. I'm going to take a storage pouch and that Black Mithril longsword from the vault too. Quietly. And when I'm gone… I won't be coming back. Which is why... I need your help. If, you'd help me... I would like to ask you to forge that Black Mithril ore that you're working on... into armor for me. If you agree, ill have, both, a powerful weapon and armor."
Jade was quiet for a long moment. Her arms slowly dropped to her sides. She didn't speak.
"…You serious?"
Jaune nodded. "I've thought it through."
Still silence. Then, finally, she let out a breath and shook her head with a dry, almost exasperated chuckle.
"Well… shit." She smirked. "Took you long enough."
"What?"
"Jaune." Jade stepped closer, her heat-calloused hand pressed gently against his shoulder. "We all know you hate how Mom and Dad treat you. How they smother you with guards, walls, and rules. But you never said anything. Never really fought back. It was like watching a lion, raised on a leash."
Her expression softened slightly. "I'm proud of you. For doing this."
Jaune swallowed thickly, he felt an emotion that was hard to describe swimming through his chest.
"…So you'll help?"
"Of course I'll help." She grinned. "And if I'm making you armor, it's not going to just be decent. It's going to be the best damned set you'll ever wear."
He smiled, a little relief bleeding through the tension in his chest.
"But," Jade added, "that means I'll need help from Violet."
Jaune stiffened.
"Wait—Violet? But… she might tell Mom and Dad. You know how she is. Straight-laced and always plays by the book."
Jaune Arc had seven sisters. Jade and Violet were the oldest of the bunch, twins. One, a Blacksmith and the other, an Enchanter. Afterwards, came Verona, Merchant. Then, Lucille, the Scholar. Jaune was next in line with his Swordsman class. Younger than him, in order, was Indigo with her Appraiser class, Marigold who was a Cook and last but not least, Melty who was also a Scholar like Lucille.
"I'll handle her," Jade said firmly. "She's my twin, and although we might be like oil and water in a lot of ways, she listens to me. She'll understand. And she'll want you to be safe more than anything."
Still hesitant, Jaune met her eyes. "You sure?"
"She won't rat you out," Jade assured him. "Trust me."
He nodded, slowly. "Alright…"
Jade returned to her workbench, rummaging through a rack of blueprints until she found a clean scroll. She unrolled it and flattened it down, pulling out a quill to sketch with.
"I'll have to be careful with the design. Since you want armor, I only have enough of the ore to craft bracers and greaves. Maybe a few trim pieces for anchoring a harness or vest, but definitely not enough full suit."
"That's fine," Jaune said. "It's more than I expected."
"Not just that," she added, eyes glinting as her quill danced across the parchment. "If I'm making partial armor, I'll need to forge it as a set—something synergized. System recognized. Crafted to enhance each other when worn together."
"Like… set bonuses?" Jaune asked.
"Exactly," Jade nodded. "Black Mithril is extremely reactive to enchantments and intent. If Violet can inscribe the right bindings into the weave during my forging process, the synergy between bracers and greaves could give you a passive bonus—something like increased movement, durability, or maybe even magic harmonization."
Jaune blinked. "Magic harmonization?"
"Not sure. Just a theory," she said, already sketching out the runic cores. "But if you're planning to use magic as much as I think you'll be in the future. We'll want the gear to enhance that interaction. Feed into it and hopefully amplify your style. Sword Aura right? Still aiming for it?"
Jaune looked at his sister—the slight sheen of sweat on her brow, the sharp focus in her violet-blue eyes, the way her hands moved with confidence and precision.
It hit him, just then, how lucky he was. Not just because she was helping. But because she believed in him. Even when their parents didn't.
"…Thanks, Jade."
She didn't look up. But a faint smile tugged at her lips.
"Don't thank me yet. You still need to survive what's coming."
Jade glanced up from her sketching, quill paused over parchment. "So. How exactly were you planning to steal the sword from the vault?"
Jaune scratched the back of his neck, eyes drifting toward the forge's glowing embers.
"Haven't figured that part out yet," he admitted. "Still rough around the edges. I'll probably make the grab it the night before I leave or something. It'll minimize the risk of it being discovered too early."
Jade hummed, unconvinced but thoughtful.
"And Beacon?" she asked after a moment. "You realize they don't let anyone under Level 10 through the gates, right?"
He winced internally. "Yeah… about that," Jaune said. "I've recently just hit Level 8."
That made her pause. Her violet eyes snapped to him.
"You what?"
"Level 8," he repeated. "Just recently."
Jade stared at him for a long second before narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "I thought your experience gain was soft-capped? Did you find someone to spar with? A secret mentor, maybe? Or some new sword style tucked in a corner of the estate?"
"No," Jaune said, voice quiet. Then, after a pause: "I went looking for it."
"For what?"
"A Grimm."
Her eyes widened. "You what?"
"A while back, I made a hole in the wall, using the old drainage pipe that close to our house, near the wall." Jaune confessed, voice calm but firm. "This morning, I used it and went out on my own."
"You—Jaune, are you out of your mind?!" Jade set her quill down hard, rose from her stool and stepped toward him angrily, her tone somewhere between disbelief and panic. "You could've been torn apart! What if there was more than one? What if it wasn't a low level one. Or what if it was a stronger variant that you couldn't handle?!"
"It wasn't," Jaune assured her. "It was just a stray. A smaller one, a beowolf. It went better than I expected, actually."
"That's not the point!" Jade snapped. "You've been wrapped in cotton your whole life and now you're picking fights with monsters?"
He didn't answer. The forge's heat filled the silence between them.
Eventually, Jade exhaled, running a hand through her sweat-damp hair. Her voice softened.
"Jaune… I get it. I really do. You're not meant to be locked up in this place like some… fragile heirloom. But you can't be reckless. Please. You've only just started changing. Don't get yourself killed before it means something."
Then, without warning, she pulled him into a hug. A tight and fierce one. One that was protective.
He froze at first, surprised. But then, slowly, returned the gesture. Though, Jaune couldn't help but blush at the close contact. He could feel her... bountiful assets pressing against his chest. Oddly enough, even though she was slick with sweat, she didn't smell bad. Like tulips, actually.
After a moment, she pulled away too. She then turned without another word and walked to the back of the forge.
The clatter of crates shifting echoed behind the heavy shelves. A few minutes passed before she returned—holding two objects. One was a storage pouch, finely crafted and reinforced with glimmering runes. The other was a sheathed longsword with a steel-gray hilt and subtle curve. Closer to a saber, really.
She shoved both into his arms, without ceremony.
"Here," she, conveyed. "If you're going to continue to fight those monsters and level up, you'll need this. Consider it a jumpstart. Now you don't have to use one of those training swords that can barely cut jack-shit."
Jaune blinked, staring at the items in his hands. "Wait… seriously?"
"Don't get used to this," she muttered, but her cute smirk gave her away. "That longsword is better than that blunt stick you've been swinging around, anyway. Not quite a masterpiece, but it's balanced and sharp. Something real. And now that you've got a pouch, sneaking the rest of your gear will be easier."
He nodded slowly, thankful. "Thanks, Jade. Really. You have no idea what this means."
"Oh, and one more thing," she added, pointing toward the still-glowing blade she'd been working on earlier. "That? The warm-up piece?"
"Yeah?"
"I was thinking…" She tapped the edge with a knuckle. "I've studied the sword in the vault a dozen times. Shape, color, inscriptions and even the forging pattern in the steel. I could forge a replica. A lookalike."
Jaune's eyes widened.
"A decoy? I hadn't thought of that."
"Exactly," she said, a little fire lighting in her voice. "If I make it convincing enough and we swap it the night before your departure or something, it'll buy you even more time. Hell, Mom and Dad might not notice it's missing for weeks. They barely check that vault anymore. Well, at least I think."
"You'd do that for me?"
"I am doing that for you," Jade corrected. "But only because I'm in deep now. Might as well go all the way."
Jaune let out a breath, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.
"I'll owe you for this."
"You already do," she said with a smirk. Then her gaze turned serious again. "You still sure about this, Jaune?"
He didn't hesitate.
"Yeah. I'm done waiting for permission to live my own life."
Jade nodded slowly, approvingly.
"Then let's make sure you've got everything you need before you leave."