The overturned truck groaned as Jaune pushed himself free of its dented side. It was a good thing that LUCID's rune frame armor technology was sturdy as hell. Jaune wasn't even hurt from that massive shockwave.
His boots crunched through shards of safety glass scattered across the ruined street, each step stirring faint coils of smoke that still rose from the molten cracks in the asphalt. The air hummed with residual ozone and dust, like the aftermath of an industrial explosion.
For a moment, he just stood there, staring.
The battlefield that stretched out in every direction was a tableau of annihilation. Cars lay flipped on their backs like dead beetles, their frames still arcing with static. The walls of buildings closest to the crater were half-collapsed with their facades ripped open, exposing broken interiors, and their innards.
And in the center of it all, Nora stood. The crater pulsed faintly with residual energy, the edges glowing hot, like the street had been turned into a forge.
Every Grimm that had plagued him and Oscar only minutes before—the slavering swarm they'd struggled to dodge, wound, and wear down—was gone. Their remains were little more than drifting ash dissolving into the nothingness of the night air.
Jaune let out a low whistle and turned his head, catching Ren's profile.
Ren stood with the steadiness of someone who had long since trained his body to recover quickly, no matter how violent the storm. His face, however—Ren's face betrayed him. For a second, Jaune saw it. A flicker of awe, thrill and that manic grin from before still echoing faintly at the corners of his mouth.
And then, as if catching Jaune's stare, Ren blinked and smoothed it all away. His expression snapped back into the mask of calm, quiet apathy he always wore.
Jaune chuckled under his breath. It was so Ren. Cool, unflappable Ren. But sometimes, Jaune had to remind himself—he wasn't some stoic veteran or hardened mercenary. He was a teenager. Just like him.
And honestly, could Jaune blame him? What Nora had just done... it was cool as hell.
Oscar, though… not so much.
The boy was slightly pale, his freckles standing stark against skin that appeared drained of blood. His short-sword trembled slightly in his grip, though whether it was from wariness or simple exhaustion, Jaune couldn't tell. His eyes were wide, darting between the molten crater and Nora's crackling silhouette like he wasn't sure if he should be terrified or impressed.
Jaune was about to nudge him, maybe crack a joke to lighten the mood, when Ren's cough cut across the silence.
"Nora."
His voice carried, calm but steady, across the ruined block.
The storm goddess in the crater stumbled once, her shoulders dipping as if she were suddenly very, very human again. Then, just as quickly, she straightened and broke into a jaunty skip toward them, lightning still popping faintly from her boots with every step.
Jaune arched a brow as she drew near, noticing the faint drag in her posture, the way her breaths came sharp and deliberate.
"You good?" he asked.
"Peachy!" Nora grinned, though there was a telltale tiredness behind her eyes. "That took… a lot out of me, however."
At Jaune's raised eyebrow, she elaborated with a little puff of exasperation.
"My Rune skill's great and all, but—it eats Aura like pancakes at a festival. I can pull off something huge like that, sure, but keeping it up? Nah. Not unless I figure out how to control the discharge better. I need to learn how to scale it down—y'know, less Thor, more… portable battery."
She rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, lightning flickering between her fingertips. "Until I reach comprehension of it, though, it's kinda like… all or nothing. Big kaboom, and then…" She mimed collapsing onto the street.
"Still," her grin sharpened, eager again, "I've already got plans for my next Rune skill. If I can create the one that I'm aiming for, then—oh man—it's gonna be awesome. Two Rank 1 Rune skills? Can you imagine? Of course, I'll need to reach comprehension for both eventually, which means…ugh, lots and lots of practice."
Ren's mouth curved into the faintest smile. "Your form was good. The momentum carried through perfectly."
The wild grin she gave him in response was brighter than any lightning bolt.
Jaune blinked at the sudden warmth between them. He glanced sidelong at Oscar, who seemed to have noticed the same thing. Their eyes met.
Before either could comment, a low malicious growl broke through the happy mood.
Their heads turned.
Before them, beyond the glowing crater and the shattered remains of the street, movement stirred in the dust. From the shadows of the collapsed warehouse, the first Alpha stepped forward.
It was scarred and charred from the earlier battle and the subsequent attacks, black hide split with rents that still oozed faint wisps of black ichor. It had clearly taken damage from the residual shockwave of Nora's attack but it somehow seemed unphased. Its hunger unending. One claw dragged against the asphalt as it moved, its body low and its crimson eyes burning hotter than before.
It hadn't charged when the others did. It hadn't thrown itself into Nora's storm.
It had waited.
Jaune's stomach did a small flip. The damn thing was smarter. Wary. Patient, even. As patient as a beowolf could possibly be, he supposed.
And now, while Nora's shoulders slumped and her Aura was low, while their breaths were still catching in their throats—it was ready.
A hand clapped softly on his shoulder. Another settled briefly on Oscar's.
Ren stepped forward.
The boy's face was the epitome of calm, even as the Alpha's red eyes glared at them from the dark. His expression betrayed nothing, but his voice carried with an ease that stilled the weight in Jaune's chest.
"Nora showed off her strength." His gaze flicked toward her, the faintest warmth in his tone. "I can't very well fall behind, now can't I?"
Jaune blinked, then grinned despite himself. His heart kicked up. He knew what was coming.
Ren was going to use his Rune skill.
If Nora's was overwhelming force—an unrestrained hammer smashing everything in sight—then Ren's was the scalpel. Precision incarnate.
Trajectory.
Jaune had seen Ren demonstrate it, in training before. A dagger thrown that turned mid-air and found its mark even when Ren's back was turned. Bullets ricocheting from steel plates, curving at angles that seemed impossible until they landed dead-center on the target. Each time, it looked closer to choreography than combat.
Jaune's eyes gleamed as he watched Ren walk forward, crunching glass shifting against his deliberate steps. The Alpha tracked his approach, muscles tightening and the ragged wounds along its black hide steamed with black ichor.
But then—Ren was gone.
In a burst of blurring speed.
One instant, he was striding calmly, the next—he was above the monster's head, suspended in midair like he'd teleported. His custom dual bladed pistols glinted in the broken light as they snapped down.
Bullets kissed the air and rained down like drops of silver liquid.
The Alpha snarled and dodged back, muscles rippling as it slipped clear of the line of fire. Sparks should have hissed where the rounds kissed asphalt—but none did.
Because the bullets never fell.
They hovered in mid-air.
Jaune's jaw parted slightly, as he realized what was happening. The shots which hung frozen in the air, glowed faintly as if caught by invisible strings.
Ren landed lightly, rolling across cracked pavement and immediately started circling the Alpha. His arms moved in a steady rhythm, each squeeze of the trigger sending another bullet spiraling through the chaos. Left, right, crossfire—every shot curved off target, deliberately wide.
And yet, each one, at the end of their journey, hung suspended, orbiting the beast like tiny satellites.
The Alpha growled, hackles rising. Its glowing eyes flicked between the hovering bullets, the unnatural geometry of them warping its instincts.
But hunger outweighed confusion.
It lunged.
A streak of blood-red energy exploded from its jaws, fangs extending unnaturally wide with its Rune skill—Bite. The chomp carved through the air, doubling its reach, a maw of crimson energy snapping straight for Ren.
Jaune felt the air shift, a pulse of fear jabbing into his ribs.
But then—
The first bullets struck.
A sudden volley slammed into the Alpha's jaw mid-lunge. Its head snapped to the side with a jerk, the crimson bite scattering into fading sparks.
And before it could recover, the rest of the bullets moved.
They cut inward all at once, trajectories converging like a pack of wolves striking in perfect harmony. They slammed into the beast's legs, tearing through sinew and bone with surgical precision. Every impact was angled and every shot purposeful, crippling tendons and shattering joints. The monster stumbled, crashing onto one knee with a roar of rage.
Jaune exhaled hard.
"Holy hell…" he muttered, even Oscar beside him looked more than impressed.
Ren didn't even look back at the beast. He had turned around and strode back towards the squad, as calm as a cucumber in a salad.
The Alpha was broken, but not yet dead. It tried to rise, planting one claw into the ground and lifted its head, jaw opening for another warped crimson chomp—
But then suddenly, its body stiffened.
Jaune frowned. Something was off.
The beast froze, trembling, like some unseen hand had just driven steel straight through its spine.
Then, in a sickening lurch, its head toppled free of its shoulders. The massive skull hit the asphalt with a dull thunk, rolling twice before dissolving into drifting ash.
Jaune blinked, disbelieving for a moment.
Only then did he notice.
Ren's pistols were gone.
Jaune's eyes darted, scanning the ruined street, the still-glowing crater, the fragments of glass. He hadn't seen him drop them. He hadn't seen him throw them. But they weren't in his hands anymore.
A moment later—
Something arced through the air.
The pistols flew back toward Ren like loyal hawks returning to their master. Without looking, he reached out. Caught them clean, smooth. Holstered them in a single practiced motion, hooking the bladed edges back into place against his waist.
Not a word or a glance. Just a calm, cool silence as he turned and began walking back toward them.
Jaune's lips parted slowly, then tugged into a grin.
That bastard.
Ren had thrown his own weapons—probably mid-dodge, mid-flip—just to score style points, the blades which were attached to them them had sliced straight through the Alphas neck, decapitating it. Ren made it look like the Alpha had simply just been outclassed.
"Unbelievable," Jaune muttered, shaking his head, though he couldn't stop the admiration in his voice. "He actually… threw his damn guns."