(Blake pov)
The faint, rhythmic writing of a marker against board filled the classroom like a metronome.
The professor's voice droned on in the background, a flat monotone that somehow managed to make even dangerous chemical compounds sound about as interesting as boiling water. "When combined with an oxidizing agent, the result can destabilize the molecular bonds, releasing heat and potential energy. This is, of course, why proper lab precautions must always…"
Blake tuned her out halfway through the sentence.
It wasn't that she didn't care. Chemistry had its place. Understanding compounds, catalysts, reactions—all of it mattered in LUCID where Rune-tech grenades and imbued weapons were standard fare. She knew it was important. She simply… couldn't bring herself to care about it right now.
Her golden eyes flicked across the room, pausing on one of the more recent additions to their ranks.
Jaune Arc.
At the beginning of class he'd offered her a quiet greeting, a simple, polite acknowledgment. No overbearing energy or forced friendliness. Just a soft "hey." It was more than most people gave her. Yang had smiled at her too, but that was to be expected—they were technically in the same unit. It would've been stranger if she hadn't.
Still, Blake had schooled her features into neutrality.
It wasn't that she disliked Yang. Or even that Nora girl, for that matter. They weren't bad people. Just… too much. Yang with her constant teasing, Nora with her hyperactive enthusiasm. It was exhausting just being near them, like standing next to an endless current of noise.
Ruby, her own squad-mate, wasn't much better. Blake liked her, of course. Ruby had heart. But she was annoyingly naïve, childish even, and Blake often found herself watching the girl flounder through conversations with people who were sharper, louder, or simply older than her. Ruby had potential, yes, but potential wasn't presence.
And Weiss—well. Blake didn't even bother wasting the thought. The Schnee girl carried herself like she was above everyone else. Maybe she was, with her money, her training and her family name, owning to the largest Bank on Earth. SBC. That didn't mean that Blake had to care, however.
No, the people she gravitated toward were those like Ren. Quiet. Collected. Laid back without being insufferable. Ren didn't demand attention or drain her patience. He simply existed, calm and unshaken, which was exactly the kind of stability Blake respected.
Though even Ren, she admitted, could be too relaxed for her tastes sometimes.
Which brought her back to Jaune Arc.
The anomaly.
He'd barely been around a week in school and only two days in LUCID. Already whispers spread through the base like wildfire. An anomalous awakening. The rules didn't apply to him—or rather, the rules had somehow, miraculously bent for him.
Blake rested her chin on her palm, letting her long hair curtain part of her face, eyes half-lidded but analytic.
The rumor was that a Relic had interfered with his awakening. That was the only explanation which some of the more seasoned Awakened were willing to entertain. Relics—those great, incomprehensible Great Runes—were the only things capable of breaking the Dream's absolutes. The examples were rare, but everyone knew how Great Runes allowed non-Awakened to enter the Dream, even if they could only move within limits... and had no chance at advancement.
And now, Jaune Arc.
Her gaze lingered on him just long enough for him to notice. He caught her looking.
Blake smoothed her expression, her eyes sliding back to the whiteboard with practiced ease. She didn't flinch or look away like she'd been caught. She simply… shifted, as if she'd never been staring in the first place.
It wasn't the first time today. And she knew it wouldn't be the last.
Blake had questions. Too many questions, really. Questions that Jaune himself wasn't able to answer. She didn't trust anomalies. Anomalies meant danger. Instability. Broken systems. Like what happened to Adam.
She paused for a moment before shaking his name out of her head. It was best not to think of him at this point.
In any case, those types of loopholes either got you killed or pulled you into someone else's mess.
But despite herself, she was curious.
What did the Dream want with Jaune Arc?
Why would a Great Rune interfere with him. Who controlled it to do so?
With the information block surrounding the Great Runes, not much was known about them besides their names and some of their simple capabilities. Destruction, Choice, Knowledge and Creation.
More questions without answers.
The scrape of a chair drew her attention. Yang, seating next to Jaune had noticed Blake's staring. She leaned over to him with a mischievous grin plastered on her face. She whispered something quick, too low for Blake to catch.
Whatever it was, Jaune's reaction was immediate. His ears went red, and he shifted in his seat like someone had just dropped a spotlight on him.
Blake almost sighed aloud. Subtlety was clearly not his strong suit.
Her eyes flicked from him to Yang, who was barely containing her amusement, and back again. Then, Jaune's gaze—hesitant, nervous—flicked in her direction.
Once, then twice.
Blake rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her notebook, pen tapping lightly against the margin. She didn't need to guess what Yang had whispered. She'd been around the girl long enough to know the shape of her teasing.
It was predictable, really. Annoyingly predictable. But... also somewhat endearing?
Still, Blake found her thoughts circling back to him despite herself.
Jaune Arc, who had survived with a clumsy earnestness that shouldn't have worked but somehow did. Who hadn't collapsed under the pressure of traversing the dream alone, even when clearly out of his depth.
It was a miracle he survived long enough for LUCID to find him.
The professor droned on, scratching more equations onto the board. Something about bonds, energy thresholds, exothermic release. The words blurred together, just more white noise.
Blake let herself drift again, eyes unfocused but mind sharp.
She didn't know what Jaune Arc was. A mistake? A danger?
But she knew this much: anomalies didn't vanish. They grew and sometimes they spread. They forced the world around them to change.
And whether she wanted to or not, she was caught in the same classroom, the same patrols, the same Dream.
Would there be more cases like his? More people awakening at the age of 16 or perhaps 18 or who knows what?
The thought made her stomach knot.
If that was the case, there were going to be a lot of unfortunate deaths.
Blake forced her features into a calm mask, pretending to jot down a note. To anyone else she probably looked bored, distracted, indifferent. That was fine. That was how she liked it.
But beneath the mask, she couldn't help watching him again, if only from the corner of her eye.
Jaune Arc.
The anomaly sitting three seats away.
.
.
The last class of the day, Philosophy was always the quietest in the first few minutes. Students filed in, bags sliding to the floor, seats squeaking faintly as they settled. The professor hadn't arrived yet, which meant she could enjoy the soft lull of half-hearted chatter and the faint hum of the air conditioning, before the chaos.
Blake sat by the window, third row from the front. She liked it here—close enough to hear clearly and far enough not to be in the spotlight. The sunlight cut across her desk in a soft band of gold, warming her arm as she rested her chin against her palm.
She'd just opened her notebook when a voice drew her out of her thoughts.
"Mind if I sit here?"
Jaune Arc stood by her row, backpack slung over one shoulder, an almost sheepish expression on his face.
Blake blinked once, then gave a small nod. He slid into the seat beside her, exhaling as though he'd been holding his breath.
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Waiting.
"So," he started, fingers drumming once on the edge of his desk. "How's school treating you?"
Blake arched a brow at him. "Fine."
He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, me too. Busy though. Feels like the homework never ends."
Blake gave the smallest hum of agreement. "That's school."
They lapsed into quiet again before Jaune tried once more, voice lighter this time. "Did you do anything fun over the weekend?"
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "I went out to a bookstore."
"Oh yeah? Buy anything?"
"Just window shopping." Blake's tone was casual, but honest. "I like the atmosphere. Quiet. The shelves, the smell of the paper. It's different than reading online."
Jaune tilted his head, considering that. "Online huh? You're an avid web-novel reader?"
"Yes," she admitted, "but it isn't the same. Bookstores are… calmer. People don't raise their voices. Nobody's rushing anywhere. You can just—exist."
He nodded at that, almost seriously, as though he was filing it away as an important truth. "That makes sense. I enjoy reading too, but I mostly do it from the comfort of my room. Haven't personally been to a bookstore in a while."
Blake hummed in consideration. "So, what did you do over the weekend?"
"I... visited my family back in Ansel. Went to pick up my sister, Jade for her new term in Vale University."
She caught the strange tone in his voice—an undercurrent that hadn't been there before. Her mind drifted back to the explanation he had given her and Weiss two days prior, about his experiences in the Dream. The memory of his words lingered, sharp with unease. Yet now, listening to him, it appeared that something more had unfolded within that dream version of Ansel… something he had chosen not to share.
Blake didn't pry further. She'd find out sooner or later, she supposed.
After all, she knew better than to ask about heavier than casual conversation topics, where others could hear. Though, since he'd offered that piece willingly, she gave him a quiet nod in acknowledgment.
In any case, it was also common knowledge not to talk about LUCID matters during school hours. Too many ears and too much risk. Even with whispers and rumors around the base, the first rule was to keep civilian life and Dream life separate.
She appreciated that in Jaune.
Before Blake could decide if the conversation had run its course, another voice chimed in.
"Is this seat free?"
Blake turned her head. Pyrrha Nikos stood there, red hair tied back neatly, smile as polite as it was practiced. She gestured to the seat on the other side of Jaune.
Jaune blinked once, startled, then nodded quickly. "Uh—yeah, sure, Pyrrha!"
"Thank you." She sat gracefully, setting her bag down by her chair.
Blake studied her for a moment, though not obviously. Pyrrha Nikos didn't need introduction. Everyone knew her. Even before her Awakening, she'd been something of a star—an MMA champion who dominated her age bracket with precision and composure far beyond her years. There had been highlight reels of her fights on every screen for a while. Blake had even seen one or two, not out of fandom but because they were impossible to avoid.
After her Awakening, Pyrrha had toned down her MMA career. At least, officially. But even so, she'd gone on to win two more championships before retiring. Retiring at her age sounded absurd, but the reason was clear enough: fairness.
The moment you ranked up, your body shifted. Ten percent of the Dream carried back. Muscles, speed, reflexes—amplified. It didn't matter how careful you were, the edge was always there. An invisible weight pressing the scales in your favor. It wasn't fair to anyone else.
And Pyrrha Nikos, prodigy that she was, had already reached the peak of Rank 1 right now. Blake had heard whispers—half-rumor, half-truth—that she'd comprehended one Rune already. That she was simply waiting, accumulating experience, before breaking into her second.
Blake had to fight to keep her expression level. Compared to that, she was still struggling toward her first Rune. Pyrrha was already walking paths Blake could only imagine.
When their eyes met, Pyrrha gave her a small, polite smile.
Blake inclined her head just slightly in return. Not particularly warm.
Neutral.
Jaune, for his part, looked like he'd just been caught between two planets colliding. He shifted in his seat, glancing between them before giving a weak laugh. "So, uh… Philosophy, huh?"
Pyrrha's smile widened by a fraction, amused but kind. Blake said nothing. The professor arrived then, tapping the board with the flat of a marker, and the classroom began to settle.
Blake turned her gaze back to the window as the lesson began, though her mind wasn't entirely on the words.
Jaune Arc—an anomaly. Pyrrha Nikos—a prodigy. Two very different outliers sitting near her.
And then there was her, notebook open, pen poised, pretending not to notice the weight of it.
But she noticed.
She always noticed.
.
.
AN: Gimme your power stones, oh lovely audience.
Advanced chapters are available on patreon.